Still engrossed in the wonder of that new blooming, she passed beneath the stone arch, into a way which would have been as utterly dark as the secret passage of the keep had she not had the flower to hearten her.
The walls were of dressed stone. Within a few paces of the entrance these became dankly damp with trickling moisture. Thirsty as Brixia was, she could not bring herself to attempt to catch that. For the drops were thick and oily, as if formed by unwholesome liquid oozing through the crevices.
Fighting against the dank smell was the fragrance of the flower. Not for the first time Brixia wondered how long the blossom might last before withering. She marveled that such fading had not yet begun… Deeper and deeper bored the passage. By the light of her flower-torch she saw paw marks on the floor. So the others or at least Uta, were still before her.
What did Lord Marbon seek? To his disordered wits had that old doggerel he had sung become a truth he must prove? If so he might push on, uncaring, until he dropped, worn out by the demands of a body which he did not rest nor tend. Or would the boy be able to break through that web of confusion, and, sooner or later, rescue his lord?
Zarsthor’s bane—Brixia shaped the words with her lips but did not repeat them aloud. What was Zarsthor’s Bane? There were tales a-many about lost talismans—things of power which could grant their possessors this or that favor—or in turn bring about this or that fate. It would seem that Zarsthor’s Bane was of the latter sort. Then why did Marbon seek it? To bring revenge on his enemy?
The war was over. Even to such wanderers as Brixia had drifted the news that the invaders had been driven back until, caught between the bitter hatred of the Dalemen and the sea, they had been ground into nothingness. Outlaws there were in plenty, and scavengers out to loot and kill where no lord could marshall a force to beat them off. This was a blasted land in which each man’s hand was raised in suspicious against his fellow. There might be many reasons for a man to long for a “bane” to use as a weapon.
She wondered how far ahead of her the others now were. If man and boy and cat had pushed on they might be a whole day’s tramp ahead. But surely they must have rested—
There was a scuttling noise. The thin radiance of the flower was reflected by two sparks of greenish light near the floor. Brixia paused, took a firmer grip on her spear. She held the flower out, stooping a little, striving to catch a glimpse of what moved there.
A narrow head upraised. This creature was not unlike the lizard she had seen perched upon the rock when she first entered the Waste. It was not one of the foul toads to be feared. When the beam of flower light touched it, the thing did not flee, as she had half expected. Rather it strained to hold its head higher, and that weaved back and forth on a supple neck. Its jaws parted and a tongue flickered at her. There sounded a hiss, as it backed a little away. Keeping always the same distance from her, it made no other move to either advance or retreat
“Haa—” she uttered that, hoping her voice might banish it when light did not. Though the creature did not seem large enough to be a threat, she could not tell if it were poisonous.
Her voice did not send it into hiding either. Instead the lizard paused and reared. Now she could see it was six-legged—different from a lizard of the outer world. It balanced on the four hind feet, lacking any length of tail save a stub jutting from the hind quarters. The two forepaws were oddly shaped—more like her own hands, the clawed digits resembling fingers. These dangled over its lighter underbelly as it watched her.
Brixia stood still. Lizards could move with lightning speed. She doubted whether she could counter any attack with her spear. Though when it was erect it stood no taller than her knee, so size and weight were in her favor. Her best hope was perhaps the flower.
“I mean no harm—” Why she spoke to the creature the girl did not know, the words came from her much as those others had when she addressed the tree. “I only wish to pass this way, seeing that it is set upon me that I must. Remain free from any harm from me, scaled one.”
The tongue no longer flickered. Instead the narrow head cocked a little to one side, the unblinking beads of eyes regarded her, as Uta was wont to do, with a measuring stare.
“I am no unfriend to you and your kin. By this gift of the Green Mother,” she stooped farther, holding the flower still lower and closer to the lizard one, “see that I am without harm.”
A tongue, seeming so long that it could not be furled within the space of the creature’s mouth, lashed forward, held for a moment but finger distance from the flower, snapped back into hiding once more. Still balanced upon the two pair of hind feet, the thing edged away to the left wall of the passage, leaving open the way immediately before her. Brixia believed she understood.
“My thanks to you, scaled one,” she said softly. “Whatever you desire—may that thing be yours.”
She walked by the upright creature, schooling herself to show no apprehension. To it she must convey that she accepted without question what it offered, free passage without harm.
Nor did she allow herself to quicken her pace. If the creature was of the true Dark, then the flower had again proven its worth as a safeguard. If the lizard were allied perhaps to the Light, the blossom must have been her passport.
The way continued and Brixia wondered how large a hill she did traverse, for the way had neither dipped nor arisen, but ran straight. Though there was no gravel here to cut the sadly worn wrappings on her feet, the soles burned and ached, and she was tired. Still, to rest in this dark pocket—no, that she could not bring herself to do.
At last she limped once more into the open. What she saw was a valley shaped like a huge basin, high lands marking its rim, sloping gently downward. Nor could she detect from where she now stood any visible break in that wall of the heights.
What meant the most to her was that the center of the vale cupped a stretch of water. On that part of the bank closest to her burned a fire from which a thin thread of smoke arose. Up from the edge of the water came the boy. Of Lord Marbon she could see nothing—unless he lay in the tall growing grass.
Water more than company drew her stumbling on. She halted once to tuck the closing flower back into hiding under her shirt. Then again using her spear as a support she went on; gaining some relief from the soft grass underfoot.
She was half the distance toward the lake when Uta appeared out of the grass beside her. The cat mewed a loud welcome before, turning, she matched pace with Brixia’s, escorting her toward the small camp. But the boy did not equal Uta’s friendliness.
“Why do you come?” His hostility was as open as it had been at their first meeting.
The words with which Brixia answered him came not from any conscious thought at all. It was almost as if they had been dictated by another.
“There must be three—three to search—and one—one to find and lose.”
Lord Marbon heaved himself up from where he had indeed been lying near, concealed in the grass. He did not look to her, rather replied as if her words had stirred him again into either partial memory or coherent thought:
“Three must be—and the fourth—It is so. Three to go—one to reach outside—It is truly so.”
8
The boy snarled.
“Do you dare to strengthen him in this haunted dreaming then?” he spat at Brixia. “No word of reason from me has reached him since he came through the escape way. He would have only the Bane and will drive himself to death for it.”