“I love you,” I said, letting my hand fall to my side.
Strangely, I was not afraid, for in showing Rushton how to open the compartment door, I had defied Ariel and the power of his futuretelling abilities. Now there were only two possible outcomes: I would die or I would not. And Ariel had done all in his considerable power to make sure Rushton would have an unassailable desire to kill me. If Ariel had foreseen this moment, he would not have taken the risk of setting this is motion, because if Rushton killed me, the Seeker would never come to the weaponmachines to try to shut them down. The Destroyer needed the Seeker to try and fail to stop the weaponmachines before he could take control of them.
Ariel must have foreseen that I would be locked in, and he might have seen Rushton battering himself against the door, but it would never occur to him that I might show Rushton how to open the door.
Of course, the most likely outcome was that I would die. But even thinking this, I was not afraid. I felt only a strange liberating elation at the knowledge that, for the first time in my life, I had acted wholly as Elspeth Gordie and not as the Seeker.
Rushton lifted his fist over his head as if it were a club, his face blank and mindless. I looked into his eyes and said, “I am your shield.”
He hesitated. His fist trembled, but it did not descend. Rushton gave a groaning cry and seemed to fight with himself, his fist still upraised. I dared not move, for I had introduced something fragile and random into certainty, and the outcome of this moment was so finely balanced that a single breath would push him to attack.
Suddenly Rushton dropped to his knees with a horrible half-strangled snarl. He lunged at me, but he stopped short of grasping me. His expression in the red light shifted maniacally between mad rage and terror. He snarled and groaned, now creeping toward me with clawed hands, now falling back and shuddering. His dreadful inner battle seemed to go on for hours, and in all that time, I did not move or speak. At last he grew quiet. His head was bowed, so I could not see the expression on his face, but suddenly I could not stay still any longer. I knelt down and reached a hand toward him, palm up. I knew he was looking at it. After a long, slow age, he leaned forward and laid his blood-slicked cheek against my hand.
I gave a gasping sob. “My love! My dearest love.” I put my arms around him and drew his dark head to my breasts. He gave a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, and I felt the rage and strength flow out of him as he collapsed against me in a dead faint. I sat back on my heels, cradling his body in my arms. I loosened one hand and reached up to unclasp the demon band about his neck. Then I held him tight, kissed his head, and entered his mind.
It was as if I had entered the ferocious, keening heart of a storm. All was blackness and screaming chaos. Nightmarish creatures flew around me and over me and under me. The only thing solid in the maelstrom was a stony track leading steeply down. Limping along it was the scarred bear of the shape Rushton had worn inside Dragon’s dreams. I had thought that image her creation, but I saw now that this wounded beast was the essence of Rushton. I could see scars and open wounds all over his body. I tried to touch him, but he did not seem to feel or hear me. His whole being was focused on the road. Now, far away, far down at its end, I saw a gleaming thread. The mindstream.
“No,” I whispered, but Rushton did not hear me.
Without thinking, I did something I had never done before. I entered the mind of the wounded bear. To my astonishment, I found myself knee-deep in freshly fallen snow. Was this a memory that I had entered? I wondered.
Before me was a house formed entirely of ice. It was beautiful, but there was a cruel and deadly coldness in its beauty. Footsteps in the snow led to the house. Paw prints. I ran to the door, and it opened even before I touched it. The bear was vanishing into the vaporous mist that filled the corridor inside.
I went after him, slipping and skidding on the smooth gleaming ice. My feet ached, and I realized that I was barefoot. I ignored the burning cold and went down icy steps into a vast white chamber. It was exquisitely beautiful but deathly cold. Veils of mist hung like scarves in the air. A chandelier of ice crystals glittered like a fall of diamonds, and beneath it stood Ariel, as white and fair and deadly as this house of ice. He was tall, and his shoulders were wide, his neck and chin those of a man now; yet his mouth and eyes were those of the cruel spoiled child I had met at Obernewtyn. His hair hung about his shoulders like a cape of some sleek fur, and he stroked it with evident pleasure.
At his feet was Domick. Ariel was caressing his head as if he were a well-loved hound. “Go, Mika. Go and tend to your kennel mate.”
Domick slunk to an alcove where the bear lay, panting and shuddering. He was dragging a whip that left a bloody smear of gore on the shining white floor. I ran past Domick to Rushton, ignoring him, for he was only an image from Rushton’s broken mind. I stroked the bear’s matted fur, horrified at the depth of some of the wounds, which had surely grown deeper and wider since I had seen him on the road. Then I realized that this bear was within the bear I had seen on the road, and the markings on both bears were only reflections of the damage that had been done to the different layers of Rushton’s mind.
On impulse, I probed the bear’s mind again.
This time I found myself standing by a sunlit steaming pool. The bear sat on the edge of the pool watching a woman swim. Incredulous, I saw that the woman was me, but this Elspeth was taller and stronger than me and so beautiful as to take my breath away. She was a warrior woman with proud eyes that glowed like jewels. Her hair splayed out in the water like a silken net as she swam, and when she smiled, a radiance flowed from her face and a sweetness filled the air.
I turned to the bear and found Ariel was now standing beside him. He ran a long elegant white hand over the bear’s head.
“It is not I who hurt you,” Ariel said persuasively. “It is she who will do you the greatest harm. She will teach you the true meaning of pain.”
The Goddess-Elspeth in the pool emerged, and I saw that she was carrying a long, thin-bladed knife. I tried to cry out a warning, but no one heard me.
“I do not love you,” she said coldly to the bear. “You know that I always meant to leave you.”
She lifted the knife. I threw myself into her as she reached out with her other hand to stroke the bear’s fur. She/I felt the thick, warm coarseness of fur in one hand and the hardness of the knife hilt in the other. I could not stop her as she drove the knife into the bear. He gave an agonized growl, and she/I felt him slump against me.
I left the Goddess-Elspeth and dived into his mind. The bear was falling away from me. I followed him, stretching myself out, arrowing down. I caught him and closed my arms around him, catching handfulls of his fur. I tried pulling him back up, but the impetus of his descent was too great. All I could do was slow him, but we continued to descend through his deepest mind and through images of torture so horrible that I felt I was in danger of losing my own mind just witnessing them. If Domick and Ariel had not been mad before they tortured Rushton, their minds had surely crumbled under the corrosive insanity of their deeds.
All at once, we were hanging above the mindstream. The bear struggled, but I clung to him, knowing that if I let go, he would surely enter the mindstream. For a long moment, I held him safe, but then my strength began to fade. Bit by bit, we began to drop. I would not let him go, I swore to myself. If he went into the stream, then I would follow.
“You must not go!” I recognized the voice of Atthis.
“Help me!” I cried.
“I cannot. I am still much weakened from the spirit merge, and I have not the strength for what you want,” she sent sternly. “You must let him go.”
“No! Help me save him or we will both go into the stream.”
“Then the Destroyer will win.”
“Help me.”
“There will be a price,” said the bird.
“I will pay it.”
“It is not you who will pay,” Atthis answer
ed, but I felt a warm flow of energy coursing through me.
“Tell me what to do!” I cried, for the pull of the mindstream was growing stronger.
“To prevent him from seeking death is not enough,” Atthis said, her voice growing faint. “If you would save his mind and soul, you must enter his deepest mind.” And then her voice and presence were gone.
It seemed impossible that there would be another layer of his mind when we were so close to the mindstream, but I entered the bear. I found myself in a vast shadowy cavern. The bear was curled motionless in a pool of black blood at my feet. Ariel was standing over him, laughing. He spoke to me, over the bear. “Did you think I would not be here as well? There is no part of him that I have not invaded and violated. He will never be free of me until he is dead.”
My heart faltered until I remembered that this was not Ariel. It was only a loathsome image he had stamped in Rushton’s mind. He was not real. But I was.
“You are not real,” I said.
I lifted my hand and directed the golden energy from Atthis at Ariel. His pale beauty melted as if he were made of candle wax. Then I was alone in the vast cavern that was Rushton’s Talent. Here, a hundred minds could merge and be contained, and still there would be room for more. I was alone in this miraculous secret fastness; alone, save for the bear that was Rushton’s soul. Here he had come, seeking sanctuary, and even here had Ariel come, with Mika’s help, for Domick had known what lay locked inside the mind of the Master of Obernewtyn. He had once merged with Roland and others inside his mind, to find and save me.
I sat down and lifted the bear’s head into my lap, surprised at its weight. I stroked his fur, and the gashes closed and scars healed at my touch. I stroked him until his fur was sleek and beautiful and smooth. Then the gleaming fur shortened and became pale flesh under my fingers, and it was Rushton I held in my arms.
Green eyes opened, and he gazed up at me for a long time, his expression grave and wondering.
“I love you,” he said.
Someone was shaking me. I had the queer, unnerving sensation of falling up, and then I was conscious of being in my own body. I opened my eyes and found I was seated exactly as I had been inside Rushton’s deepest mind, but the Rushton lying in my arms now was clothed, unconscious, and badly hurt.
I looked up to find Brydda squatting beside me.
“Elspeth?” His eyes searched mine, and I saw relief in his expression.
“How did you …?” I began, and found I had not the strength to finish.
“The ship boat capsized, and we could not find the way into the cove. I was near to drowning when I seemed to hear a voice in my mind, saying you had need of me. It led me to the inlet, and the others followed me. We finally figured out how the rest of you had got up to the surface. I sent Gwynedd’s armsman after him and came here with the Sadorian man who had mastered the ship boat. There were signs of fire or some sort of explosion, and Gilbert was unconscious, but Hakim had awakened in time to see Rushton enter the trapdoor, muttering and snarling your name. Rushton must have got off the Umborine as soon as it dropped anchor and headed here, though I do not know how he got past the Hedra. I bade Selik take care of Gilbert and Hakim, and I came down after you.”
“Ariel planned it all,” I said hoarsely. “He would have made sure Rushton knew exactly how to get here. He must have left orders to the Hedra guarding the path up from Fryddcove not to hinder him.”
“You think Ariel knew he would come here?”
“I think he foresaw our coming here and intended for Rushton to die trying to kill me.”
“He must have a black hate for Rushton,” Brydda said grimly. “The voice—”
I cut off his words to ask about Andorra, Jak, and Hakim.
“Andorra was knocked out on the metal walkway. I roused her, and she was with me when we found you two here. I left her to watch you while I went and helped Selik move Hakim and Gilbert to a little chamber facing the courtyard where a fire had been lit. I fetched blankets and so forth, and then I left Selik again to come back down here.”
“What about Jak?”
“Andorra and I could not find him, but Jakoby searched and found him wandering in darkness, lost in the labyrinth of this place.”
“Jakoby!”
“You have been here for a long time, Elspeth, and much has happened as you slept. If sleeping it was,” he said. “Dardelan guessed that Rushton would come here, so the moment she could, Jakoby came ashore, borrowed a horse, and rode here.”
“The … the battle is over?”
“It was in the process of being won when Jakoby rode from Covertown, but leave that for now. We need to get Rushton out of here. He is cold and shocked and battered, but aside from a dislocated arm and a gash on the brow that needs stitching, I do not think he has taken any mortal wound.”
I heard footsteps and turned my head to see Jakoby. Behind her came Jak.
“I am so sorry, Elspeth,” the teknoguilder said, looking down at Rushton with horrified pity. “I should have come back sooner, but I found a whole lot of storage rooms filled with what I think are weapons. I was looking for the plague seeds when my lantern went out. I tried to grope my way back to the entrance and got lost. I had truly begun to despair when I heard Jakoby shouting out my name. Never have I heard a sweeter sound in all my life.”
Jakoby acknowledged his declaration with a faint smile, and then she squatted down and looked into my eyes. “All is well?” The gravity in her voice struck me, but I had no strength for questions. I nodded, and then she and Brydda gently lifted Rushton onto a stretcher, explaining that they had rigged up a basket to raise him to the hatch but had not wanted to touch him or me until I woke.
“Can you walk?” Jakoby asked.
“I can manage, but take Rushton up,” I croaked. “I need to show Jak something.”
Jakoby and Brydda carried Rushton out as Jak helped me to my feet. I cried out at the stiffness of my legs and back. Jak knelt and began to massage my legs vigorously. “No wonder you are stiff. You were sitting there for an entire day and night,” he said. “I wanted to lay you down at least, but Brydda said he had a strong feeling you ought to be left to wake naturally.”
I managed to smile, despite the pains shooting up my legs and back, wondering if Brydda would ever acknowledge that his feelings and hunches were Talent. Perhaps it does not matter how he defines them, so long as they serve him. It took some time, but finally I was able to stand straight. I bade the teknoguilder help me walk and directed him where to go. Soon we were in the tiny chamber off the torture room. I pointed to the little black and yellow symbol, and he drew a swift breath.
“I see no seeds and yet …,” I began.
“This is it, Elspeth,” Jak said, kneeling and holding up his lantern as I had done to cast light through the window. “These will be sicknesses. This is how the Beforetimers stored them. Ines showed me pictures of cupboards like this. Ah!” he cried, and I knew he must have touched the glass. He touched it again and bent to examine the round knob surrounded by numbers. “This is how the coldness is controlled. See how the numbers go from red to blue? The Beforetimers used blue to symbolize cold and red to symbolize heat.”
“Do you want me to unlock the cabinet?” I asked.
He smiled and shook his head. “That would be dangerous, and there is no need, for it is the cold that keeps the seeds alive. They are not truly seeds, of course, but the word serves well enough. Making them hot is enough to kill them.” He turned the knob in the direction of the red numbers. Then he stood up. “Strange that something so deadly is also so delicate.”
“Are you sure they will die?” I asked.
“There would not be such careful control of the cold if it was not important. Now let’s get out of here.”
I was startled to hear a teknoguilder so willing to leave a Beforetime place full of ancient knowledge, but perhaps being lost in the darkness and finding bottles of plague had soured his appetite for knowledge, at
least for the moment.
THE GRAY CLOUDS that clogged the sky and shadowed our dawn departure from Norseland had dispersed by midmorning, and a fresh steady wind blew, so the Umborine seemed to fly over the waves.
I kept to my cabin for the day, watching over Rushton and talking quietly to Jak and Jakoby and to Brydda and Dardelan, all of whom called in briefly to check on him. Aside from being bruised and cut, with a broken wrist and several gashes in his scalp deep enough to need stitches, Rushton showed little sign of the ordeal he had endured, save for the depth of his sleep. He had not awakened during the journey across Norseland to Fryddcove, nor did he wake aboard the Umborine until deep in the night.
I was sitting vigil, curled in a chair reading, when a soft movement from Maruman drew my attention. I looked over to find the old cat peering intently into Rushton’s face. Laying aside the book, I moved swiftly to the bed, thinking that he was suffering another of the nightmares that had racked him on and off through the day and night, for he was grimacing and his face shone with sweat. I was about to touch his hand to rouse him when Maruman leaned down and touched his nose gently to Rushton’s. I caught my breath as Rushton’s eyes opened. For a long moment, green eyes gazed into blazing yellow, and then Maruman curled back to sleep.
Rushton turned his head and saw me, and I was relieved that his eyes were clear, his expression calm. “How do you feel?” I said.
He smiled. “Emptied out. Weary. A little confused,” he said. “We are aboard the Umborine?”
I nodded. “We are bound for Sador with a fair wind filing our sails and triumph behind us,” I said, reaching out to touch his cheek.
“What happened with the … Hedra?”
I saw that he would not rest until he knew something, so I told him that Gwynedd’s arrival in Cloistertown had galvanized the Norselanders. The news he shared about the Faction’s fall on Herder Isle had spread like wildfire and roused the Norselanders just as he had predicted. His impromptu army had swelled as people joined him from every farm and small village, despite the storm that raged. By the time they reached the Hedra encampment, situated atop a plateau some five leagues before Covetown, there was such a horde that the only reason they had not been spotted was the foul weather and the fact that columns of Hedra were marching from the camp in response to Jakoby’s demands signaled from the Umborine.
The Dreamtrails: The Obernewtyn Chronicles Page 72
