“My lady.” Herrel’s hand still held mine in a warm, sustaining grip. “I would make known to you this my fellow Rider. He is Halse, the Strongarmed.”
“My lord,” I strove valiantly to play well my role, “friends and comrades of yours are high in my sight and regard—” The words were formal but perhaps that was not wrong.
Halse’s eyes glowed not green but red. And his smile was like a whip laid upon bare skin for those who could see.
“A fair lady indeed, Herrel. Luck has played you good wisher this time. And what think you, my lady, of luck’s efforts?”
“Luck, my lord? I do not know what you mean. But by the Flame,” thus did I retreat upon the language of the Dales, “I have grasped great happiness this hour!”
Now I had aimed whip lash, though I had not intended so. He continued to smile, but under that stretching skin and lip boiled emotion he kept in check—so much emotion that I began to wonder if more lay behind him exchange with Herrel than that explanation given me
“May it continue, my lady.” He bowed and stepped aside, going with no more farewell.
“So be it.” commented Herrel. “Now, I think, we face war. And for your own sake, Gillan, guard your tongue, your smiles, your frowns, your very thoughts! Never did Halse believe that he would be one to ride hence unaccompanied by a cloak-mate, and to have me succeed where he failed sets him double afire.”
He held out his hand again and I noted that those about us were also rising, their feasting done.
“It is time to go?”
“Yes. Come—” He set his arm about my waist and drew me with him, walking as all those other couples under the flowering trees and out of the bower, to a place where horses stood.
A shaggy pony of the hills, sure footed and yet slow of pace, had carried me here. But these mounts were far different. They were strangely dappled of coat, grey and black so intermingled that unless they made some movement they were hidden in plain sight because of their melting into the winter landscape, for we had passed once more from spring to winter.
Tall were these horses of the Riders, thinner of body, longer of leg than any I had seen in the Dales. Their saddle cloths were furred and the saddles smaller, less cumbersome. All suggested a need for speed. Some wore packs, though I noted that, just as we had left behind all that had been in the tents, so also we appeared to abandon that which had refreshed us in the bridal valley.
Herrel brought me to one of the mounts and it swung its head about, surveying me as if it were no mere beast, but carried intelligence akin to mine in its narrow head.
“This is Rathkas, and she will serve you well.” Herrel told me.
Still the mare looked upon me in that measuring fashion. I stepped forward and laid hand upon her shoulder. She shivered throughout her body, then throwing up her head she whinnied. Around the other horses looked at me.
Herrel moved quickly, laying his hand above mine on the mare’s neck. She dropped her head and looked no more at me, while the others also lost interest. But I saw Herrel’s lips were tight set, and once again his eyes held the wrestler’s watchfulness.
“Guard.” he made a whisper of that word as he aided me to the saddle. And he glanced over his shoulder, but it would seem that none of those near us had marked that small happening.
Thus we rode from our wedding. Though I did not feel that I was truly bride, nor Herrel groom. It was plain that such doubts were not shared elsewhere in that company. So once again I was set apart from those whose life I was destined to share. This was no amble of a pony in the hills, this was a swift, tireless covering of ground at a pace I had not thought possible for any four-footed creature. Though none of the mounts showed any signs of distress at holding to it as time passed. Time, also, took on a different rhythm—hours—what hour held us now? I could not truly answer that. It had been morning when we come to the place of the cloaks—was it even the same day? For I had the feeling that the Riders might, with their bedazzlement also alter time at their pleasure.
Perhaps there was that in the food and drink which we had shared that banished both fatigue and hunger for a space as we did not rest nor eat. We rode—through the night, and into the day, and again into night. Horses did not tire and the hours were part of a dream, flowing together. I do not believe that any of the others marked any passing of time, for they rode with tranced faces in which a kind of delight had frozen. And this also I tried to maintain, though it was hard, for I could not hold long to the surface sight, my will not being equal to my desire.
Those such as Halse, who had gone unpartnered from the wedding, mustered at the head and rear of our party, as if set on guard against danger. But though the land was wild and barren, we saw no life through the miles. Bleak though that country was, I saw so little difference between it and the lesser dales, that I wondered why it was spoken of always as “the waste”, a word which brought to mind desert unfriendly and sealed to man. Here were open plains with the brittle brown grass of yesteryear covering them, showing in hillocks through light snow. And there were tree copses and brush.
No, it was not the land itself which did not welcome man, it was rather what brooded over that territory. For as we rode I knew a heaviness of spirit, a fear, of what did not know. This grew the more with every mile, until I had to summon power of will against crying out, that my voice might break that shadow spell.
We came at last to higher ground and here I saw first the handiwork of man, for a wall of boulders had been yet up, standing perhaps the height of two men or a little ore, roofed above with an untidy thatching of tree limbs and brush. Or so I saw it. For I heard Kildas say:
“My lord, fair indeed is this hall!” Then once more I put will to the task of seeing as the Riders would have me see. Thus I, too, rode into a court—where stone was cunningly wrought and finely carved wood roofed the buildings set around. Herrel arned to me, saying:
“This is our biding place until we go hence, my lady.” As I dismounted all the fatigue which should have been mine from the hours behind rne, struck, and I think I would have fallen had Herrel’s arm not been there to steady me. Of the rest, it was a dream of which I could not sort out true or false, a dream which became sleep indeed...
Until I awoke in the dark! And beside me there was quiet breathing so that I knew I had a bedfellow. I lay taut and tense to listen. Save for that come and go of breath there was no sound. Only I had come from sleep at some summons, the call was still clear.
It was very dark, I could see only denser shadows against the lighter. Moving with caution I sat up in bed, harking ever for any change in that small sound to my left. The room was warm as if a fire blazed on a hearth where there was neither flame nor fireplace. I wore my shift only yet I was not chilled—not outwardly. But in my body there was a spreading cold. All of a sudden it was very necessary to see—to see not only the room, the bed, but most of all what lay upon that bed and slept so soundly. My bare feet were on deep fur, skins must make a carpet. I moved on one step at a time, sweeping my hands before me lest I stumble against some piece of furniture. How did I know that somewhere before me lay a source of light and that would satisfy my desperate need?
A wall—across its surface my hands moved with haste which was not of my conscious willing. A window—surely this was a window—shuttered and with a bar across. My fingers tugged at the bar. I thrust at the shutters, sending them flying open. Moonlight—it was very clear and brighter than I had ever seen it before, so bright as to dazzle my eyes for a moment. “Ahh—” Voice—or snarl?