“Perhaps I have another safeguard—I had forgotten it.”
It was so slender a thread, but one about to fall will clutch any rope. I pulled aside the cloak on the bed, the one which had plunged me into this. Under that lay the one thing I had brought out of Norstead for my own, the bag of simples. Why I had clung to it, I could not tell, but now perhaps I could be glad.
Healing salves and balms, most of them. But in the last pocket a small amulet which I had made for an experiment and which I had never shown to Dame Alousan, lest she turn on me for following the country beliefs in a fashion unbefitting one who dwelt in a holy place.
Wild angelica, and the dried flowers of purple mallow, with a pressed ivy leaf or two, and also the berries of rowan, sewn into a tiny packet, with certain runes stitched on it. All lore coming from records, yet never so combined before. There was a cord to it, and I looped that about my throat where it could not be seen under the high collar of the tabard. Dame Alousan herself had admitted that some old lore had a foundation of truth, the which she had proved by her own experiments. But this was from tradition older than her religion and alien to it.
Against my skin it felt warm, almost as if some heat generated within it. I turned to face Herrel. His hand went up as if he could ward me off.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“Herbs, leaves, berries from the field.”
His hands moved in gestures and then he gave a sharp exclamation and the fingers of one went to his lips, his tongue licking as if he would so cool them against some heat.
“ ’Tis a bane, right enough.” He smiled. “And perhaps not a thing they will be expecting. Or, if they find it, they will deem it a safeguard natural. I do not know how that will hold against any determined sorcery. Let us hope it will not be put to any such test.”
Our company rode forth from the hold of the Riders, and this time there were more horses with packs, for there would be no returning. We were bound for the gate of their vanished homeland. Our pace was less demanding on our mounts, but the land through which we travelled repudiated us as it had the day before, inimical to man, and perhaps to the Riders also. Or was that aura some defence they had set against those not of their blood and kin?
The heights on which the hold had been set was only the beginning of land which climbed. It did not snow, but the wind cut coldly. And we were glad when the unmarked trail we followed wound through woods, shelter which kept off the worst of the blasts.
Herrel rode at my left hand, but he spoke little. Now and then he held high his head, his nostrils expanding as if he would scent something in the air which might be the odour of danger. As I looked cautiously about me, I saw that others of his company did likewise, though the girls were still deep in their contented bemusement. Herrel’s crest was that of the mountain cat, but that of the man who rode with Kildas was a bird—an eagle perhaps—its wings outstretched a little as if it were about to launch into the air. And beyond him was one who wore the semblance of a bear, the viciously tempered, red-brown coated dweller in the mountain forests, wily and cunning so that hunters dreaded it almost beyond any other beast.
Bear-helm turned his head, and I recognized him for Halse. Bear, cat, eagle, I strove to identify the others—finding, without making too obviously my eye-search, a boar, tusked and head lowered for the charge—a wolf—Shape changers, sorcerers, were they also beast and bird at will? Or was what I had seen last night merely part of a spell sent to disgust me with Herrel?
I felt no disgust, however fear, a little, as the unknown always awakens first the emotion of fear. How had the Were Riders proved so formidable in war? As men bearing swords and bows, fighting as the men of High Hallack fought, or as beasts with the brains of men, tearing, stalking, leaping as the furred and the feathered? Before the day was out I was to have my answer.
Our ride was not steady, though it was undoubtedly ground covering. We paused in a small clearing to break our fast when a pale sun marked a nooning. And I thought we were swinging farther to the east than our track had been heretofore. Herrel was uneasy, that I noted first. His testing of the wind increased. And I saw that others of the Riders moved restlessly about, their pacing almost being that of animals scenting a danger yet afar.
Those without brides gathered to Hyron by the picket line and three of them rode out. None of the girls appeared to note any of this so was I restrained to be likewise unheeding. But when Herrel brought me a cup of the amber-hued wine, I dared to whisper: “What has gone amiss?”
He did not fence with me. “There is danger—to the east. Men—”
“High Hallack?” But I could not believe they were so honour-broke, for the code binding the High Lords to certain customs was not easily shattered. “We do not know. It may be Alizon—”
“But Alizon is finished on these shores! There are no more—” I could not at once tame my surprise.
“Alizon was broke. But there might be those who fled. Desperate would they be with their ships gone and no path left for their returning home. Such a band under an able leader would try to turn Hallack’s tricks upon her lords and live in the wilderness to raid. They are not soft men, the Hounds, nor ones to throw down sword and call for peace because the tide turns against them.”
“But this far north—”
“One of their long boats could slip along the coast, that would take them away from the ports fallen to their enemies. And they would come north because they know that High Hallack does not patrol in this direction—leaving the waste to us—”
“But surely they also know—”
“That the Riders bide here?” His lips drew back, and for a second did I see a faint shadow form across his face? “Do not misjudge the Hounds, Gillan. Long did the Lords of High Hallack fight them. But all men are not formed the same. Oh, they have two arms, two legs, a head, a body, a heart, a mind—But what lies within to animate all that—that may differ much. There were those of the coast lands, of Dales’ blood, who did lay down sword and accept Alizon’s overyoke years ago. Many were hunted down and put to the sword when we finished off the invaders. Still perhaps not all such turncoats were so finished. And do you not think that there has not been much talk through these years just past the Great Bargain? What better stroke might a band of desperate men deliver than to cut us off now, leaving dead whom they could, perhaps making us believe that Hallack broke faith, so in turn we would return to rend the Dales?”
“You believe this?”
“It is a suggestion we do not throw away without question.”
“But to attack the Riders—” So deeply had I been schooled in the beliefs of the Dales that I had come to accept the common opinion that those I now rode among were invincible, and no man, lest he be bereft of his senses, would go up against them willingly.
“Gillan,” Herrel was smiling a little, “you do us too much honour! Powers we have which those of other races do not use. But we bleed when a sword pierces, we die when it cuts deeply enough. And we are now only as many as you see. Also, we can not detour too far from our chosen trail lest we do not reach the gate we seek in the appointed time, and so must rove on unsatisfied.”
Thus once more was I caught in another race against time. Only I could not credit that the Were Riders were not as all powerful as their reputations made them. Perhaps my face mirrored my doubt for Herrel then fitted another portion of the puzzle into place for me.
“Do you not understand that to maintain an illusion or bind a spell on another’s mind wears upon a man? Twelve in this company ride in spell. More than just the will of he who companies with each holds steady that illusion. You asked me last night—was I as you saw? Yes. I am that, at times—in battle. For our own sakes in fighting we are all shape changers. But to put on one shape or another is an effort of mind and will. These maids from High Hallack see as it is laid upon them to see. Should we be attacked then they would see what you have witnessed. From that true seeing could come an end to all we sought in the Bargain. Speak now the full truth, Gillan—which of those who rode hither with you would accept such a full sight and have it make no difference?”