The Complete Morgaine

by C. J. Cherryh

  “You would fall. Shathan would be utterly open to the Shiua horde.”

  “We fought the sirrindim,” said Merir. “The arrhend will drive these invaders back too.”

  Morgaine stared at them, one after another, scanning all the company. And at last she folded her arms and looked at the floor, glanced up at Vanye. He tried to say nothing with his expression. She turned last to Merir. “Will you take my help? I would not leave you with such a gift as waits out there. Aye, Vanye and I could slip past, go another route . . . reach Azeroth in seven days. But what sits out there is—mine. I do not want to leave you to that.”

  The elder approached her slowly, leaning on his staff. He bowed, deeply, and gazed at her when he straightened, like a man looking into the Gates themselves. “There have been—many passages for you.”

  “Yes, elder. I am older than you.”

  “Much so, I suspect.” The frail hand reached, touched Vanye’s arm, and the dim gray eyes turned to his. “Khemeis to such an arrhen . . . We sorrow for both of you. For both of you.” He looked at Lellin, and bowed, and to Sezar and the other arrhendim; and lastly at Merir and Morgaine once more. “You are experienced in wars. We are not. We need you. If you are willing, we need you.”

  “This, at least, must be on my terms. We consult together.”

  “We accept that,” said Merir.

  “You say that you can signal those who now hold Nehmin. Bid them expect me, and soon. You shall hold here, as you can; and they must hold Nehmin until we can reach them. My lord Merir—” she nodded to him to join her, and started to the door, unsteady suddenly; at her side, Vanye felt her lean against him, and took her arm, lending his strength. The sword took, of body and soul; he had held it, and knew the pain of it. “Roh,” she said suddenly, distractedly. “Where is Roh?”

  He had that worry on him too; there were too many things random, too much slipping their grasp.

  But Roh waited outside, a huddled figure at the base of the third standing stone, arms tucked about him. He saw them coming, and rose, torment in his eyes.

  “They let you go,” he said. “They let you go.”

  “They agreed,” Morgaine said, “to seal Nehmin themselves. That was their choice.”

  The look went stricken, dazed; they walked past, and Roh followed after.

  Chapter 16

  They found the horses still safely in the clearing, with some of the arrha watching over them—four qhal, male and female, dressed in white, with faces which still were innocent of what had passed in the dome. The arrha offered neither courtesy nor resistance, but backed from them in seeming distress as they came close—perhaps there was a mark on all of them, Vanye thought, for there was a grimness about the arrhendim, the same fey desperation which had troubled him in Lellin and Sezar: he understood now that bleak, lost manner . . . that of men who had seen the limits of their world.

  And of all the arrhend, it rested most heavily on Merir.

  “My lord,” said Morgaine to him. “The arrhendim—must be brought here. If we are to save this place—they must be brought. Can you do it?”

  The old lord nodded, turned, the reins of the white horse in his hand, and stared in the direction of the river. Even through the trees the roar of many voices could be heard, shouts raised; the horde was on the march.

  “I would see this thing,” Merir said.

  It was madness. But not even Morgaine opposed it. “Aye,” she said. “Lellin, Sezar?”

  “The hill is still ours,” Lellin said. “Or was, lately.”

  • • •

  Arrha stood sentinel in the woods, and farther on, in the meadow. “Do not stay here when they come,” Morgaine said to the last. “You will only lose your lives. Take shelter with your elders.”

  They bowed, after their silent fashion. Perhaps they would heed and perhaps not. There was no dispute with men who did not speak.

  There rose their own goal, the stony hill at the side of the meadow, and the trail which wound among the trees. The shouts of the horde sounded very near to this place, hardly beyond the screen of trees at the far side of the hill.

  They climbed the height on horseback, and rode farther, Morgaine guiding them among the trees which crowned that slope and far to the other side. Rocks were frequent here, a tumbled basalt mass which became a naked promontory, highest of all points hereabouts.

  Here Morgaine drew rein and slid down, leaving Siptah to stand. The rest dismounted and tied their horses among the aged trees, and followed her.

  Vanye looked back; the last of them rode in, Roh, who left his horse too, and came. Roh might have fled. Do so, Vanye wished him with part of his heart; but that which loved the man knew why he had stayed, and what he sought, that was his soul.

  But he did not wait for Roh; what battle Roh fought was his own, and he feared to intervene in it. He turned instead and followed after Sharrn and Dev, up among the rocks.

  The hill gave them view across the open meadow, higher than it had seemed, for it overtopped most of the trees at this one point, which upthrust broken fingers of stone. Slabs stood like standing stones on this crest, no work of qhal, but of nature. Morgaine and Merir stood between two of them, sheltered there, with the others of their company.

  Vanye moved up carefully past Dev to the very brink next to Morgaine, and gained a view which spanned the river and showed far across into the harilim’s woods, so subtly did the ground hereabouts slope. Trees extended into gray-green haze on all sides of this place, on this side of the river and the other, and even part of the curve of a clearing was visible.

  And nearer . . . ugliness moved. It was as Lellin had said, like a new forest grown upon the shores of the Narn, a surging mass bristling with metal-tipped pikes and lances of wood, dark and foul. Occasionally there showed a small khalur band, conspicuous in the sunlight glancing off their armor . . . most of those were horsemen. The horde filled all the shore and surged up the throat of the low place that led to the meadow, moving steadily and in no haste. Their voices roared as if from a common throat.

  “They are so many,” breathed Vis. “Surely there are not so many arrhendim in all Shathan. We cannot find that many arrows.”

  “Or time to fire them,” said Larrel.

  Morgaine stepped closer to the edge. Vanye seized her arm, anxious, although the distance was far and the chance was small of being seen in this sheltered point against the rocks. She regarded his warning and stopped. “This place,” she said, “is impossible to hold, even if we would. The slope on the other side is too wide. This height would become a trap for us. But the enemy’s circle is not yet closed. If the arrhendim could be brought . . . before they start to work at us with fire and axe, and if we could keep the horde from breaching Nehmin’s gates . . .”

  “It can be done,” said Lellin. “Grandfather, it must.”

  “We cannot fight,” said Merir, “not after their fashion, armored and with horses. We are not like them, of one mind and one voice.”

  “Yet we must have help,” Morgaine said, “of whatever fashion.”

  “Do not trust—” Roh said, edging forward; Vanye whipped out his dagger and Roh stopped still a distance from Morgaine, leaning against the slanting rock. “Listen to me. Do not trust appearances with the Shiua. I taught them. Hetharu took the whole north of Shiua in a matter of days. He is a student more apt than his teacher.”

  “What do you reckon of them?”

  Roh looked toward the river, grimacing into the wind and the light. “Eight, ten thousand there, if they extend much beyond that point of the trees. What they have coming in on the other side of Nehmin . . . three times that many. Probably more coming up that little river north of here, until they have us framed. Any riders of ours who try to escape this wedge of land now—will be cut down. They are screened in brush and on every side of us. This—show—is to distract us.”

 
; “And the higher crossings of the Narn? How many are we dealing with?”

  “Believe that Shiua will have reckoned first of those crossings. Every possible escape will be held. And the whole number of the horde . . . that is uncounted; even the khal do not know. But they reckon a hundred thousands—all fighters, killers. Even the young ones. They plundered their own land and killed their own kind to come here into this one. A man who falls even to the children will be cut to pieces. Murder is common among them; murder, and theft, and every crime. They will fight; they do that well when they think their enemy helpless.”

  “Shall we,” asked Merir, “believe that advice this one gives?”

  Morgaine nodded. “Believe,” she said softly, “that this man wishes you well, my lord Merir. His own land was such as Shathan, even more so in the age before him, which he may remember—in his better dreams. Is it not so?”

  Roh looked at her, shaken, and reached forth a hand to the rocks, leaning there.

  “My lord,” said Morgaine, “I do not think even the arrhendim could fight with more love of the land than this man.”

  A moment Merir looked on him. Roh bowed his head, looked up with eyes glittering with tears.

  “Aye,” Merir said, “aye, I do think so.”

  The voices from the lower meadow chanted the louder. The sound began to strike them with immediacy, reminder of their danger.

  “We cannot stay here,” Vanye said. “Liyo—”

  She stepped back; but Merir lingered, and unslung the horn which he carried . . . silver-bound and old and much cracked.

  “Best you get to horse,” said the old lord. “We are bound to attract notice.—It is a strange law we have, stranger-friends, . . . that no horn shall ever be blown in Shathan. And yet we do keep them, silent though they have been these fifteen hundred years. You asked the arrhendim be summoned. Get you to horse.”

  She looked beyond him, to the horde which swarmed toward the hill. Then she nodded, started back quickly with the others. Only Lellin and Sezar stayed.

  “We shall not leave them,” said Sharrn.

  “No,” Morgaine agreed. “We shall not. Ready their horses for them; I think we shall have a hard ride leaving this place.”

  They reached the horses and mounted up in haste.

  And of a sudden came a low wailing that grew to the bright, clear peal of a horn. Vanye looked back. On the height they had quitted Merir stood, and sent forth a blast which rang out over the meadow . . . exhausted, he ceased, and gave the horn to Lellin, who lifted it to his lips. Uncertain the sound was at first, in the raging shout of the horde who took it for challenge. Then it rang out louder than all the voices of the enemy, woke echoes from the rocks, and sounded again and again and again.

  There was silence for a moment; even the voices of the horde were stilled by that.

  Then from far away came another horn-call, faint as the wind in leaves. A howl from the enemy drowned it, but the faces of the arrhendim were wild with joy.

  “Come!” Morgaine shouted at the three, and now they left the high rocks, Lellin and Sezar helping the old lord.

  Vanye led the white mare across their path, gave Merir the reins as the two youths helped him into the saddle; then Lellin and Sezar ran for their own horses as Morgaine turned them all for the trail off the hill.

  They ran, weaving in and out the trees of the grove, around the rocks; and sudden and chilling came a howl on their right, on the gentle slope of the hill. Shiua were pouring up it toward them.

  “Angharan!” the cry went up, “Angharan! Angharan!”—That to them was Death.

  A bolt of red fire came from Morgaine’s hand, a single arrow from Perrin’s bow. Several of the horde fell, but Morgaine did not stay for more, and Vanye spurred his horse between her and them, bent low for the hazard of branches and answering fire. The down-trail was before them. They hurtled down that winding chute, the horses twisting and turning at all the speed they could manage.

  The enemy had not yet reached the point of the hill; at the bottom of the trail Morgaine bent low and headed Siptah for the forest and the path concealed there, and in that moment Vanye cast a look over his left shoulder. There were Shiua aplenty running up the slope of the meadow, foot and riders, demon-helms with barbed pikes and lances.

  Sharrn and Dev, Perrin and Vis and Roh: they rode rearguard, and sent a few arrows back. Larrel and Kessun were with Merir, guard to him, for Lellin and Sezar bore no weapons . . . all too vulnerable they were, with three of their number unarmed. But into that arrow-fire which shielded them the Shiua were less than willing to ride.

  Vanye had his sword in hand: vanguard, he and Morgaine, and there was no use for his bow in head-to-head meeting. Morgaine would pull ahead of him . . . insisted so, for fear of taking him as she had taken one of their comrades: the black weapon and the sword needed freedom for their effective use; and in ilin’s place at his lord’s left hand, shield-side. Vanye kept there now, as best he could, while they rode a mad course through land that demanded more caution. Branches raked them; horses jostled one another avoiding obstacles or making the turns. But the khalur riders, less skilled, hampered with their barbed lances and half-blinding helms, could not follow so swiftly here, and in time the sounds of pursuit faded into distance behind them.

  There was a flash of white in the woods; they rounded a curve in the trail and Morgaine drew up suddenly, for there stood two of the arrha, young women.

  The arrha waved them past.

  “No,” Morgaine said. “You waste yourselves. Even the force of the jewels cannot hold back what is behind us.”

  “Obey her,” Merir said. “Climb up with us. We have need of you.”

  It was Lellin and Sezar who took them up, being unarmed and least likely to involve them in fighting. The arrha took their hands and scrambled lightly to the rear of the saddles. Morgaine started off again, at reckless pace as they crossed the small clearing, quickly slowed by undergrowth as they veered aside from the aisle of stones and the dome.

  “This way!” It was the only time that Vanye had ever heard an arrha speak; but the young qhalur woman behind Sezar pointed them another direction, and Morgaine reined instantly off upon that track.

  Swiftly it became a broad way among the trees of an aged grove, cleared ground where their horses could find easy passage, without brush to hinder.

  They ran them, weaving when they must, until the horses were blowing with the effort and the trees, darkening their way, grew wider spaced. The Shiua seemed now to have lost their trail. They walked for a time to rest the horses, ran again, slowed again, making what time they could without completely winding the horses.

  And suddenly they burst through upon cleared ground, a vast open space, and Vanye forgot all their haste in that instant.

  Two hills upthrust, the farther of incredible steepness, although all the clearing else was naked and flat, hazy with distance and the westering sun. A vast hold sat atop that high place, dominating all the land round about, looking down on clearing and on forest, square, a cube such as the great holds of power tended to be.

  Nehmin.

  And before them on the flat of the vast clearing was mustered the host of Shiuan, the glitter of arms ascending the side of the rock of the fortress, shining motes, rare in the dark tide of Men, all misty with afternoon haze.

  Morgaine had drawn rein yet within the cover of the woods. Dismay seldom touched her face, but it did now. The number of those about Nehmin seemed that of the stones at Narnside. They stretched as a gray surging mass across the floor of the clearing in the far distance, stretched up the farther hill like the waves of Shiuan’s eroding seas beating at the rock, tendrils of humanity which straggled among the rough spires and wound constantly higher toward the stronghold.

  “Liyo,” Vanye said, “let us work round the side of this place. To be caught between that and what already
pursues us . . . little appeals to me.”

  She reined Siptah about so that her back was to the clearing and her face toward the woods from which they had come. There was audible again the distant sound of pursuit. “They have us between,” she said. “There is ambush everywhere; they have come in by all three rivers. Days—days—before the arrhend can match this kind of force.”

  Merir’s face was grim. “We will never match it. We cannot fight but singly. In time, each will come, each fight.”

  “And singly die,” Vanye said in despair. “That is madness, to go by twos against that force.”

  “Never all die,” said Sharrn. “Not while Shathan stands. But it will take time to deal with that out there. The first to oppose them will surely die, ourselves surely among them . . . and thousands may die, in days after. But this is our land. We will not let it fall to the likes of these.”

  “But Nehmin may fall,” said Morgaine. “Enough force, enough weight of bodies and doors will yield and even the jewel-force cannot long stop them. Their ignorance—let loose in Nehmin—amid the powers it holds—no. No, we do not wait here for that to happen. Where, lord, is the access to Nehmin?”

  “There are three hills, not apparent from this view; there is the Lesser Horn, there to the side of the greatest hill, a fortress over the road itself: gates within it face this way and the far side . . . that is the way up. Then the road winds high to the Dark Horn, which you cannot see from here, and then to the very doors of Nehmin. We cannot hope to reach more than this nearest and least, the White Hill, before they come on us.”

  “Come,” she said. “At least we shall not be waiting here for them. We shall try. Better that than sitting still.”

  “They will know that horse of yours, even at distance,” Roh said. “There is none such in their company, yours or Lord Merir’s.”

  Morgaine shrugged. “Then they will know me,” she said. There was distrust in her look suddenly, as if she had of sudden reckoned that Roh, armed, was at her back in a situation where none could prevent him.