The Complete Morgaine

by C. J. Cherryh

Vanye chose first watch . . . even in this matter they were more comfortable, for the four of them sharing watches meant longer sleep. He yielded his post afterward to Lellin, who rubbed his eyes and propped himself against a tree, standing, while he lay down to sleep without a qualm of apprehension of treachery.

  But he was roused again by a touch on his back, and at once terror seized on him. He rolled over and saw Lellin likewise touch Morgaine. Sezar was already awake. “Look,” Lellin whispered.

  Vanye strained his eyes against the dark, following the fix of Lellin’s stare. A shadow stood among the trees on the other side of the stream. Lellin gave a low trilling whistle, and it moved . . . manlike, but not a Man. It waded the stream with soft splashes, long-limbed and jerking in its precise movements. A chill tightened Vanye’s skin, for he knew now that he had seen such a creature before, and in the same vicinity.

  Lellin arose, and so did they all, but they stayed where they were, while Lellin walked to the stream and met the creature. Its height was greater than Lellin’s; its limbs were arranged like those of a Man, but the articulation was different. When the creature looked up, the eyes were all dark in the starlight, and the features were thin and the mouth pursed, very small for the enormity of the eyes. The legs when it moved flexed like those of a bird, knees bent opposite the direction of a Man’s. Vanye crossed himself at the sight, and yet more in awe than in fear, for there seemed less menace in it than difference.

  “Haril,” Morgaine whispered in his ear. “Only once have I seen the like.”

  It came onto the bank, wary, and looked them all over with its large eyes. Whether it was male or female was impossible to tell. The body, dusky-hued, was ambiguous under its thick, fibrous robes, which were short and matched the shade of its skin, whatever the color was in daylight. Lellin spoke softly and signed to it. The haril answered in a lisping chitter and made a gesture of its own. Then it turned and waded the stream, heron-like in its cant of body and its movements.

  “There are strangers,” said Lellin. “It is distressed. Something is fearfully amiss that a haril has approached us. It wants us to follow.”

  “What are they?” Vanye asked. “How much can you understand of what it wants?”

  “They are from long ago. They live in the deepest parts of Shathan, the wild parts where we seldom go, and generally they have nothing to do with qhal or Men. Their speech is their own; we cannot learn it and they cannot learn ours . . . nor wish to, I suppose . . . but they will sign—and if a haril has come asking us to do something, then we should do it, my lady Morgaine. There is something vastly amiss to urge it to that.”

  The haril waited, across the stream.

  “We will go,” Morgaine said. Vanye spoke no word of objection, but there was a tightness at his belly that settled in like an old friend. He gathered up their gear and started for the horses in haste and quietly. Whatever they had evaded in these last slow days was suddenly upon them, and from now on, there seemed no hope of coming peacefully to Nehmin.

  • • •

  They rode across the stream, moving as quietly as the horses might, and the haril went before them, a shadow that the horses did not like. It chose ways difficult for riders, and often they must bend beneath branches or negotiate difficult slopes. At each delay the haril waited, silent, until they had overcome the obstacle and began to close the gap.

  “Madness,” Vanye said under his breath, but Morgaine did not regard him. The haril stayed in sight, but now and again there was another presence: the horses detected it and threw their heads and would as gladly have fled. It flitted now on this side and now on the other, a tail-of-the-eye presence that was gone before one could turn the head, or which rustled a leaf and stopped before one could fix the place of it.

  Another, Vanye reckoned . . . or maybe more than one. He slipped the ring which let his sword fall to his hip, and ducked low against Mai’s neck as they took a new turn through dense branches and down a slope.

  The trees thinned. Their guide brought them out into the midst of an almost-clearing, where something like a white butterfly seemed suspended above a shadowy form . . . a little nearer and they saw it for a body, haril, and dead. The butterfly was the fletching of the arrow in its back. Their guide chittered a string of words that seemed to reproach them.

  Lellin dismounted and signed what looked like a question. The haril stood still and did not respond.

  “It is no arrow of ours,” said Sezar; and while Morgaine and Sezar stayed ahorse, Vanye slid down and went carefully to the dead haril, examined the arrow more closely in the starlight. The feathering it bore would not give it near the accuracy of the arrhendim’s brown-fletched shafts at long range. This was the feather of a sea-bird, here in Shathan woods.

  “Shiua,” he said. “Lellin, ask them: where?”

  “I cannot be—” Lellin began, and then looked about in alarm. Morgaine’s hand went to her back, where she carried the lesser of her weapons, for all about them were tall, stalking shadows, heron-like in their movements. No brush rustled. They were simply there.

  “Please,” Lellin breathed, “do not do anything. Do not move.” He faced the first haril, and repeated the question-sign, adding to it several others.

  The harilim chittered reply all together. There was anger in that sound, which was that of mice or rats, but deeper. One came forward to stand by the dead, and Vanye backed a step, but only a step, lest they mistake it for flight. He stood very close to that one, and dark, enormous eyes flickered over him minutely. A spidery arm extended and it touched him; fingers ran lightly over his clothing, clinging slightly at each touch. He did not move. Starlight shone on the creature’s smooth dark skin, showed the gauzy weave of its thick garments. He shuddered involuntarily as it moved behind him and touched his back, and he cast a glance at Morgaine, seeking counsel. Her face was pale and set, and in her hand was the weapon which had killed the deer. If she used it, he thought, then he would not be riding out with her: he much feared so.

  Signs passed between the haril and Lellin, angry on the haril’s part, urgent on Lellin’s. “They believe you part of the strangers’ force,” Lellin said. “They ask why we ride with you. They have seen you two here before, alone.”

  “Near Mirrind,” Vanye said very quietly, “there was one. I know what it was now. It ran away when we chased it.” The haril’s hand descended on his shoulder from behind, gentle as wind, and tightened, betraying enormous strength, wanting him to turn. He did so, and faced it, heart beating wildly as he stared up into that dark, strange face.

  “It is you,” Sezar said from horseback. “It is you that disturb them . . . a tall Man, and too fair for a Shathana. They know that you are not of our blood.”

  “Lellin,” said Morgaine, “I advise you do something before I do.”

  “Please, lady, do nothing. We are all alone here. Our folk have given no warning of this, and I do not think there are any of the arrhendim in the vicinity . . . little they could help if they were. These woods are the harilim’s just now, and our chances of escape are not good. They are not violent . . . but they are very dangerous.”

  “Bring one of my arrows,” Vanye said; and when no one moved: “Bring it!”

  Lellin did so, moving very carefully. Vanye held it so that the haril could see it and indicated the feathering, which was brown; and pointed at the arrow in the corpse, which bore white feathers. The haril spoke something to its fellows; they responded in tones that seemed at least less angry.

  “Tell him,” Vanye asked of Lellin, “that those Men out there in Azeroth are not our friends; that we come to fight them.”

  “I am not certain I can,” Lellin said in despair. “There is no system to the signs; subtleties are almost impossible.”

  But he tried, and perhaps succeeded. The haril spoke to its fellows, and some of them gathered up the body of their dead and bore it into the woods.

&
nbsp; Then the one behind set hand on Vanye and began to draw him away too. He resisted, planting his feet, and now he was very frightened, for the thing was strong and they were still completely surrounded.

  Lellin put himself in the haril’s path and signed a negative. The haril spat back a chittering retort, and beckoned.

  “They want us all to come,” Lellin said.

  “Liyo—get out of here.”

  She did not. Vanye turned his head, trying to reckon his chances of breaking for his horse and living to reach it. Morgaine did not move, doubtless weighing other considerations.

  Sezar muttered something he did not hear clearly. “Their weapons are poisoned,” Morgaine said more loudly. “Vanye, their darts are poisoned. I think Lellin has been persuaded by that from the beginning. We are in somewhat of a difficulty, and I fear that there are more of them that we do not see.”

  Sweat trickled down his face, cool as it was in the night. “This is a ridiculous situation. I apologize for it. What do you advise, liyo?”

  “Vanye asks for advice,” she said to Lellin.

  “I think we have no choice but to go where they wish . . . and not to do anything violent. I do not think they will harm any of us unless they are threatened. They cannot speak to us; I think that they want to assure themselves of something or to demonstrate something. Their minds are very different; they are changeable and excitable. They rarely kill; but we do not enter their woods, either.”

  “Are these their woods, where you have led us?”

  “They are ours, and we are now nearer Azeroth than I would have liked to come, following this one. Your enemies have roused something that we may all regret. Khemeis Vanye, I do not think they will let you go until they have what they want, but I do not think they will harm you.”

  “Liyo?”

  “Let us go with this a little way and see.”

  Lellin translated an affirmative sign. The haril tugged gently at Vanye’s arm, and he went, while the others were allowed to go ahorse: he heard them following. The haril’s hand slid to his wrist, a gentle grip, dry as old leaves and unpleasantly cold. The creature turned and chittered at him now and again as they came to rough ground, helped him up slopes, and when a time had passed in their journey, it let him go seeming to judge that he would stay with it. Then his fear diminished despite the strangeness of the face which occasionally turned to him in the dark. They were being urged to haste, but not threatened.

  He looked back more than once, to be sure that they had not lost the others; but the riders stayed with them, more slowly and by a course the horses could follow. Sezar brought Mai along, which he was glad to see. But when his looking back delayed him, a touch came on his shoulder: shuddering, he faced the haril, which seized him a time and hurried him on.

  He tried signs of his own, making what among Andurin signed for where?—A pass of the open palm back and forth supine. The haril seemed not to comprehend. It touched his face with clinging, spidery fingers, replied with a sign he did not understand, and hurried him on, through the thicket and up slopes and on and on until he was panting.

  They came briefly into the open between trees. The haril seized his arm again to be sure of him, for suddenly there was a dead man at their feet, and another, as they crossed that area, bodies almost hidden in the dark and the leaves. He saw the leather and cloth in the starlight and knew them for the enemy. One carried arrows, white-feathered. He resisted the haril enough to bend and gather one up, showing the creature the nature of the feather. The haril seemed to understand, and took the arrow from him and threw it down. Come, come, it beckoned him.

  He glanced over his shoulder and for a moment panicked, for he no longer saw the others. Then they came into view, and he yielded to the haril’s pulling at him. It began to go very quickly, so that he was rapidly exhausted by the pace, for he was in armor and the creature strode wide with its stalking gait.

  Then they were at a complete break in the forest: trees ceased, and starlight fell clearly across a wide plain. Something else glowed there, the glare of fires spangled across the open. Where they stood there was wood hewn, trees felled, their wounds stark in the faint light. The haril pointed to those, to the camp, and signed at him, at him, accusingly.

  No, he signed back. Whatever it wanted or suspected that had to do with himself and that camp, the answer was no. Morgaine and the others overtook them now, and harilim were all about them. He looked up at her, and she gazed at the campfires of the enemy.

  “This is not their main strength,” she whispered for Lellin’s benefit; and that was true, for the camp was not nearly large enough—nor would Roh or Hetharu likely give up possession of the Gate of Azeroth’s center.

  “This is what the harilim brought us to see,” Lellin said. “They are angry . . . for the trees, for the killing. They blame us that this has been allowed.”

  “Vanye,” Morgaine said softly. “Try; mount up quickly.”

  He moved, without prelude or hesitation, flung himself for Mai’s side and scrambled into the saddle. There was a stir among the harilim, but none moved to stop him. He remembered the poisoned weapons and sat the nervous horse with his heart pounding against his ribs.

  Morgaine turned Siptah slowly, to regain the shelter of the woods. Harilim stood gathered in the way, stick-like arms uplifted, refusing them passage.

  “We are not wanted here,” Lellin said. “They will not harm us, but they do not want us in the area.”

  “Will they cast us out onto the plains?”

  “That seems their intent.”

  “Liyo,” Vanye said for a sudden he read her mind and liked not what he read. “Please. If we strike at them, then we will not ride far in the forest before there are others. These creatures are too apt to ambushes.”

  “Lellin,” she said, “why have not your people been hereabouts? Where are the arrhendim who should have warned us of this intrusion of enemies?”

  “The harilim probably forced them out . . . as they mean to do with us. We do not dispute passage with the dark folk. Lady, I fear for Mirrind and Carrhend. I fear greatly. That is surely where the other arrhendim have retreated, to protect and warn those places with all haste; they would not have come this far when they knew the dark folk were here. Lady, forgive me. I have failed miserably in my charge. I led you into this and I do not see a way out. None of the arrhendim hereabouts had reason to suspect there were those who would ride past their warning-signals. They gave them, but we rode through. I thought only of sirrindim, that we could resist. I did not reckon that the harilim had taken possession here. Lady, it may be that the keepers of Nehmin have stirred them up.”

  “The arrha?”

  “There is rumor that the keepers of Nehmin can call them. It is possible that they are part of Nehmin’s defense, summoned against that. If that is so, then I myself would be surprised; they are as difficult to reason with as the trees themselves; and they hate both Men and qhal.”

  “But if it is true, then it is possible that Nehmin itself is under attack.”

  “It is possible, lady, that this is so.”

  She said nothing for a moment. Vanye felt it too, the sense that beneath the peace of Shathan, which had wrapped them securely thus far, things had been going dangerously, utterly amiss.

  “Beware, all of you,” she said, and slipped Changeling from her shoulder to her hip. Holding one palm aloft, in a gesture which somewhat stilled the harilim’s chittering apprehension, she unhooked the sheath.

  Then, two-handed, she drew it slowly, and the opal light of the blade swirled softly in the dark. The light glittered in the dark eyes of the harilim, and grew as she drew it forth. Suddenly it blazed full, and the well of darkness at the tip burst into being. The harilim drew back, their large eyes reflecting it, red mirrors of that cold light. The wind of otherwhere stirred the trees and whipped at their hair. The harilim covered th
eir faces with spidery hands and backed and bowed at that howling sound.

  She sheathed it then. Lellin and Sezar slid from their horses and came and bowed at Siptah’s hooves. The harilim kept their distance, chittering softly in fear.

  “Now do you understand me?” she asked.

  Lellin looked up, his pale face stark with dread. “Lady, do not—do not loose that thing. I understand you. I am your servant. I was given to be, and I must be. But has my lord Merir knowledge of that thing?”

  “Perhaps he suspects. He gave you for my guide, Lellin Erirrhen, and he did not forbid my seeking Nehmin. Tell the harilim we will go through their forest and see what their mind is now.”

  Lellin rose and did so, signing quickly; the harilim melted backward into the trees.

  “They will not stay us,” he said.

  “Get to horse.”

  The arrhendim remounted, and slowly Morgaine urged Siptah forward. The gray horse threw his head and snorted his displeasure at the harilim, but they passed freely back into the forest, while the harilim stayed with them like shadows.

  “Now I know the grief that is on you,” Sezar whispered as they came near in the dark. Vanye looked at him, and at Lellin, and a weight sat at his heart, for it was true that the arrhendim began to understand them, who carried Changeling . . . recognized the evil of it, and the danger.

  But they served it, as he did.

  Chapter 7

  The harilim moved about them still, shadows in the first fading of the stars. They rode as quickly as they could in the tangled wood, and the harilim did not hinder, but neither did they help; while Lellin and Sezar, beyond the woods that they knew, could only guess at the quickest way.

  Then at the very last of the night the forest gave way before them, and dark waters glistened between the trees.

  “The Narn,” Lellin said as they drew rein within that last fringe of trees. “Nehmin lies beyond it.”

  Morgaine stood in the stirrups and leaned on the saddlebow, stretching. “Where can we cross?”