The strangest thing was, she was still Grial, with her same ancient-young, very black, very wise eyes. The same intimate expression filled them, as she gifted each of the girls with her profound gaze.
And yet she was now someone else.
“Oh . . . Grial!” whispered Lizabette.
“You know me as Grial, and it is my mortal aspect,” said the familiar stranger. “I have taken the greatest Oath upon the sacred waters of the River Styx, to keep my silence and be diminished and live in the mortal world among you—until the reasons for the Oath are no longer. It has come to pass and it is done now, and my lips are unsealed at last, so that I may speak freely and resume my true aspect.”
“What—who are you?” Niosta muttered, while Marie’s eyes opened wide and she started to tremble.
“My beloved children, you may now know me as I truly am,” said the goddess. “I am immortal, and I preside over Crossroads and Choices and Doorways and all the things that linger Between. I am Hecate.”
Chapter 3
As Percy opened her eyes, she felt a powerful cold breeze and the contrast of sudden unseasonable brightness of the dawning sun on her cheeks. She held Beltain’s hand, as though he were her last anchor in the world, and he in turn squeezed her fingers tight, fighting a moment of vertigo. And she heard Jack’s startled neigh, as the great black warhorse was pulled along with them into whatever supernatural vortex that had brought them here.
They found themselves in a strange place. Neither of them had ever seen the sea up close, but they recognized this was a beach. A vast expanse of vibrant blue-green water lay before them on one side, stretching to the haze-filled horizon where it paled into mauve silver, and on the other, a strip of darkened wet sand upon which they now stood, defined the boundary between water and land. Beyond the strip of sand was more sand, piled up in dunes, and they formed a general incline rising inland, dry and crumbling, and the powder that comprised them was of a bleached cream hue.
Wherever this was, Death—who was Hades—had brought them here for a reason.
Somewhere in the vicinity was the Lady Leonora D’Arvu, the Cobweb Bride.
And her death shadow hovered above the sand right next to Percy and Beltain, obediently having followed them also.
“Where are we?” Percy said, hearing her voice sound faint and small and blown about by the crisp salty wind from the sea. Her woolen shawl ballooned with the wind and filaments of her hair were swept wildly up in the air, so that she had to hold the shawl down with one hand under her chin.
“Are you all right?” Beltain examined her intently with his clear slate-blue eyes. He still held her hand, gently moving his fingertips against her palm in a calming manner he might use with a wild creature, and the warmth at the point of contact between them served to give her an immediate focus.
Percy blinked, narrowing her eyes at the rising sun that floated on the eastern horizon directly over the strip of wet sand, so that it appeared to rise halfway between land and sea. “Yes . . .” she said in a dreaming voice. “And you?”
“Everything seems to be intact,” he replied, with a touch of relieved amusement, letting go of her hand to tuck away his brown wisps of wavy hair at his forehead and adjust the tight coif hood that was part of his chain mail hauberk over his head. And then he glanced behind him to observe that Jack was equally unharmed.
The wind was very strong here—coming in sharp gusts then relenting, then sweeping them again, full body, so that they were bathed in sea air, inhaling spray and the scent of seaweed and salt.
“This far south, at the edge of the great sea. . . . What a wonder this is!” Beltain inhaled deeply and stared at the boundless panorama of water. “I believe we must be in the Domain once again, very likely the Kingdom of Tanathe. It alone touches the sea. Or maybe not—Solemnis too might share some of the southern shoreline. In any case, we are very far away from home.”
Percy took in a deep breath of sea air also, feeling it sting her lungs, and looked out into the distant horizon. “I no longer know where home is,” she said. “I don’t think it’s Oarclaven.” And then she turned back to look at the black knight, her earnest gaze meeting his.
He gazed back at her, intense and serious, and completely open to her. She noticed how, most recently, his eyes seemed to turn darker-colored than normal when he looked at her, the pupils expanded and deep, overtaking the surrounding slate-blue irises. With such deep dark eyes he looked, rarely blinking, and so very intimate.
Percy realized that it was for her alone that his eyes became thus, different, deep, vulnerable. And the awareness of it brought a peculiar heat to her cheeks.
“It does not matter where home is now,” he said. “Since the land itself is uncertain, and places can fade away and disappear at any moment.”
“Oh!” she said. “Yes, I did not even consider—for a moment I’d forgotten. Oarclaven may no longer even be there! And what of my parents and sisters? Where would they be? But—you’re right, it doesn’t really matter, not any of it, not now. First, I must finish this task given to me.”
And Percy turned to glance at the death shadow, and she spoke to it. “Go,” she said, both with words and with thoughts. “Go find her who is yours alone. . . . Go!”
And the death shadow billowed then started to drift softly along the strip of wet sand in the direction of the sun and then turned inland.
Percy and Beltain followed, choosing to walk on foot for the moment, their winter-shod feet sinking in the sand as it became dry and lost its resistance. The black knight led his warhorse behind him.
They emerged about a quarter of an hour later past the sandy beach and found a path leading up a chalk-white line of low cliffs punctuated with ravines, onto more fertile land, and then gentle rolling hills. The earth here was an even mix of red clay and rich black soil, and the pale cream sands gave way to grassland. Tough heather and weeds grew in abundance, shrubs covered with leaves—a thing unheard of in Lethe during winter—and there were strange obelisk-like shrubs that were neither tree nor bush, but something that Beltain called “cypress” for he had read of it in books that his mother had given him to study, so many years ago.
Percy watched him talking, and thought with new admiration how this man who was known to all as a warrior was also someone who did not eschew learning, and actually read and studied. Not many other such military men were inclined to read a bit of parchment much less entire volumes—as he described his mother’s library. Indeed, Percy would have very much liked to meet this woman who had borne and raised such a son as Beltain, and regretted with a strange pang of sorrow that she never would, since the Duchess Chidair was long since deceased.
After another half hour of walking, they encountered a small roadway, and here Beltain lifted Percy up onto the saddle and mounted after her, wrapping his arms closely around her with pleasing protectiveness, and letting Jack take them forward the rest of the way.
The death shadow of the Cobweb Bride moved before them steadily, and Percy often reached out to it with her death sense and tested its bearing, and kept it on a reasonable path in the general direction where it wanted to go—such as this road.
When the sun rode the clear cornflower-blue sky close to noon, the road meandered northeast and finally started to climb up another gentle hill.
On the topside of the hill began a plateau, filled with verdant trees and fruit orchards. And in the middle of the plateau rose a prominent castle of white stone surrounded by a town settlement. Bright white square houses with roofs of the same chalk as the cliffs filled the vista on both sides, and greenery was everywhere.
At the same time the road finally had traffic. A few peasants dressed in light shirts and jackets moved along in carts pulled by donkeys and occasional draft horses, some covered with wide-brimmed hats, and the women in colorful kerchiefs.
The sight of the black knight in his imposing suit of armor, and his giant warhorse caused quite a few stares. Indeed, pitying eyes followe
d Percy who was seated up in the saddle before him, seemingly locked in the circle of his metal-clad arms. Likely they thought she was his victim and prisoner. . . .
“What town is this? And what castle?” the black knight inquired of one pedestrian.
The peasant raised his head hidden by a wide straw hat, and his wrinkle-surrounded eyes widened with alarm at being addressed.
“I mean you no harm,” Beltain said, wondering for a moment if maybe his language was unrecognized. “Tell me, good fellow, where are we?”
“San Quellenne, Mi-Lord,” the peasant replied in a heavy foreign dialect.
“Ah . . . so we’re in Tanathe?”
“Yes, Mi-Lord.” This was obviously a man of few words.
Beltain then pointed at the castle. “And what is this?”
“San Quellenne, Mi-Lord, San Quellenne Castille.”
“My thanks.” Beltain nodded, seeing that not much more could be gotten from this conversation, and the peasant raised his hat, and was again on his way.
Percy meanwhile observed that the death shadow moved steadily in the direction of the white-roofed town and castle. “I believe,” she said to Beltain, “that the Cobweb Bride is in there.”
He nodded, and they continued on the road, past growing traffic.
It was interesting to note that there was no sense of war here, no soldiers marching, no urgency; nothing to indicate that this part of the Domain was engaged in military conflict. Indeed, it felt the opposite—such overwhelming serenity, a gentle peace and lack of tension. If anything, the black knight on horseback was likely the most threatening thing these people had seen for days.
And as for the local dead, Percy could feel a few of them in the vicinity, but nothing out of the ordinary. Apparently the peasants of Tanathe had resigned themselves to the situation as best they could, at least for the moment. Occasional dead old men and women sat on the side of the road and were calmly ignored by everyone. Percy even saw one practical pedestrian leading an overladen dead donkey bearing a heavy load of baskets, its poor quadruped death shadow plodding just a few steps behind.
They reached the edge of town in a few minutes, and soon enough moved past whitewashed houses and cheerfully strung laundry lines flapping with bed linen and coarse shirts and pants, past back yards overflowing with green trees and climbing vines.
Percy was starting to grow very hot, bundled as she was in her winter coat and shawl, which she slipped from her head to her shoulders and over her coat, letting her head with its plainly gathered braided hair breathe in the pleasant mid-noon air. And as for Beltain, his dark armor attracted the sun—even if it was the merciful sun of winter—and she could see streaks of sweat sheening his forehead and rolling down his cheeks. She had long since removed her mittens, and he his heavy gauntlets, and both longed to divest themselves of the rest of their unsuitable attire.
“I would think the Count D’Arvu and his family would either acquire a house in a better part of town, or maybe find themselves a place in the castle,” the black knight reasoned.
“There!” Percy pointed down a small side street from the main road, leading into a large affluent courtyard covered in forest green ivy and a house that had three stories and appeared finer than many of its neighbors.
Because the death shadow of the Cobweb Bride was now pulling at her, pulling strongly in this direction, Percy was certain. . . .
Beltain said nothing, merely guided Jack into the smaller street. Soon they stopped before an archway of closed double gates of wrought iron, beyond which could be seen a long approach-way with a gallery of cypress on both sides, and then a fine façade of a building in the distance, framed with tall trees.
Beltain picked up a small metal mallet and struck the brass bell that swung from the top of the gates.
The sound of the bell chime had a high soprano cadence, beautiful and echoing into the distance. They waited for several moments then Beltain struck the bell again.
At last, a man appeared far among the greenery, walking hurriedly to the gates along the approach-way. He was dressed simply and wore a straw hat similar to many of the peasants they had seen on the road and in town. Up close he was revealed to be an older man with a dark weather beaten face and a grey beard.
“Is this the residence of Count Lecrant D’Arvu?” inquired the black knight.
The man stopped on the other side of the gates, squinting his eyes and peering at them through the grillwork, and did not reply immediately.
“No such here,” he said curtly after a long pause, his face retaining a blank expression, and turned to go.
“Wait!” Beltain said. “I am a friend of the Count. Please inform him that Lord Beltain Chidair of Lethe together with Percy Ayren is here to see him on an urgent matter.”
The man paused, considering. Then he nodded and said, “Wait here.” And he turned around and half-ran, half-walked back to the house.
Having paused before the gates, the death shadow of the Cobweb Bride billowed in a fine grey smoke stack in Percy’s supernatural vision. It was straining to move forward now, like a bird caught in a net. . . .
The Count D’Arvu received them inside the great house within minutes. The same servant returned, this time with a completely different, friendly demeanor, and they were taken through the gates and up the walkway into the house—leaving Jack in the purportedly trustworthy care of two stable-hands—and then, past the cool columns of stone up a dramatic staircase and into a small but elegant and comfortable parlor with furnishings upholstered in faded cream silks and brocade.
Count Lecrant was a middle-aged man with a dark complexion, his face lacking vanity and his dark hair lacking the artifice of a wig worn inside his own residence. He was still vigorous for his years, dressed in plain clothing hardly different from that of his servant. The moment he saw them, he walked spryly toward Beltain and Percy, his face taking on a warm expression.
“My dear Lord Beltain! And Percy, my dear girl!” he said, taking the knight by the hand and then taking Percy in a similar manner, with the difference that he brought her hand up to his own lips for a proper courtly greeting worthy of a lady.
Percy was so amazed and chagrined that for a moment she said nothing while the men exchanged greetings as though nothing was amiss.
“However did you find us? And how did you manage to be here so swiftly?” the Count asked. “I admit to being amazed, for when we parted ways at the Sapphire Court, our two parties were headed in opposite directions!”
Beltain explained briefly that they had traveled with the help of nothing less than the gods. He then cast one careful glance at Percy, not venturing to explain their reasons for being here just yet.
Percy meanwhile, was observing the behavior of the death shadow that was waiting obediently at her side, as she had told it to wait. But at the same time it was vigorously pulling at her, pulling to be reunited with the Cobweb Bride.
“How is the Countess Arabella and—and Lady Leonora?” Percy inquired, deciding that directness was the best way to proceed.
The Count’s expression momentarily changed from warm amiability to something a bit more uncertain. “They are quite well, thanks to you, naturally, dear girl. We’ve had a very hasty ride here, and to be honest, have just arrived ourselves early this morning. Again, I marvel how you’ve found us, for I have just acquired the keys and the lease to this house, and no one but a trusted handful knows we are here—certainly no one up in the San Quellenne Castle knows, nor any of the local nobility. We have taken such great care, you know—”
And the Count went on to describe the intricate plans he had laid in place many months earlier, for just such a possible need to escape from court and its increasingly dark politics. Even before their daughter Lady Leonora fell ill and was hidden away by the Sovereign several weeks ago, and then freed by Percy from the Sovereign’s secret chamber filled with sorcery and cobwebs—even before that, the Count had made arrangements to procure a residence in distant Tana
the, and to have all means ready for his family to uproot themselves and travel, just in case things became dire and such a last resort became necessary.
“And thus, here we are,” he concluded. “My wife and daughter are still resting upstairs, and I do think the journey has taken its toll on them—Leonora especially. My poor child has suffered such an ordeal, and she is particularly weak and very pale, and has no appetite. I should be concerned about her recovery, but it will come later, soon as we get the change to rest and recuperate—”
Percy and Beltain exchanged glances.
“Ah, but do forgive my lack of hospitality!” the Count D’Arvu said loudly, recalling himself as host. “You must be parched and famished, and I will order a room prepared for you—though you must forgive the fact that our own belongings are hardly unpacked, and the carriage stands in the back while the servants unload and make the rest of the house ready for all of us.”
And the Count rang a bell to call his servants and ordered refreshments to be brought up in haste.
“I am armored for war, and it would be some relief to the girl and myself to remove our winter clothing,” said Beltain, deciding to let Percy be the one to make the first mention of their true reasons for being here, in her own good time.
“In that case, off you go, my dear Lord Beltain, I will not keep you in your plate and chain mail! A change of clothes and refreshment will find you upstairs. By the time you are restored, we can dine together, and the women of this household will be up from their sleep and ready to properly receive you.”
Percy took a firm hold of the death-shadow of the Cobweb Bride with her mind and directed it to move closely at her side. She then followed Beltain and two maidservants leading them up yet another flight of marble stairs to the upper third floor where the corridor of bedchambers was located. The house was an older venerable villa, erected around a solid framework of cool stone and with solid soundproof walls of sufficient thickness and clever masonry to retain a pleasant temperature indoors regardless of weather outside.
Cobweb Forest (Cobweb Bride Trilogy) Page 5
