Sur Sceaf hid his surprise as he replied, “Good sir, I now know you to be worthy of the status of a spirit master and I willingly give you all honor. Pray tell, Master, do I know you?”
“That depends on events yet to come, my son,” the wayfarer offered, as he continued his steady pace with such an easy stride. “What brings you traveling alone on your white charger to the high desert?”
This man was no spy. The Ur Fyr burned in Sur Sceaf’s chest witnessing to him that this man could be trusted and was indeed a friend. “I am commissioned to bring the Call of Joining to the tribes.”
The wayfarer said, “And that you shall do, once you have subdued your passions, are endowed from on high, have had the dross properly burned off you, and have discovered that the place of safety is not where you think it is. Nevertheless, you must abide by the course you have already set. You will even have to bend the will of your own people to make this happen. It is no small task and you must be prepared for the unexpected.”
“Great Sir, you speak in riddles to my heart. Since you refuse to give me your name, how do I know this counsel you share with me is truth?
The wayfarer halted lightning like, turned his face toward Sur Sceaf to lock his gaze. White Fire took the opportunity to nibble on the sparse tufts of buffalo grass. The embossed Herewardi knots emblazoned on the wayfarer’s hood glistened in the bright sunlight. Then as Sur Sceaf stared at the face framed by the hood, he studied the white hair, bushy eyebrows, and snowy beard of a fierce countenance and as he had expected, the man was full of days yet filled with a robustness that would put the fittest young blood to shame.
All at once, the old one smiled and lifted his head slightly towards the sun. Now Sur Sceaf could see his deep piercing, twinkling eyes were as green as his own. Even his aged features reflected a strong likeness to the image Sur Sceaf was accustomed to seeing in the mirror. Though old, as are most spirit masters, he radiated vibrant youthfulness and vigor. Beneath the cloak, his body appeared mighty, strong, and armored with muscle, reminding Sur Sceaf of an ancient and healthy oak.
“Who are you?” Sur Sceaf felt compelled to ask one more time. “How is it you look so very similar to me? Are we related and from the same clan?”
“Perhaps we are. Perhaps we are not. See, I have shown myself and revealed my face, but sometimes riddles are a necessary prelude to growth and revelation and getting acquainted with one another in the proper time and order. Have the wisdom to not demand answers before their time.”
The ancient one reached forth a surprisingly youthful hand. Sur Sceaf stretched forth his own hand, and as they touched, he felt the distinctive grip of a white swan lord. He returned the countersign of one Herewardi lord to another, which led them into the royal embrace.
Sur Sceaf had numerous questions, but remained restrained and silent as he had been bidden.
As the ancient one posed questions, Sur Sceaf noticed the ravens attended their presence by constantly alighting and landing near them to walk a few paces before once again taking flight. Sometimes they circled and went ahead, but always they remained on call. Finally, Sur Sceaf asked, “Are you traveling far? If so, permit me to escort you to your destination. It’s too dangerous out here to travel alone. We’ve had reports that the Pitter rat bands are possibly roaming at large. Do you not have concern for this? I note that you are not even armed.”
“The Pitter Empire,” the ancient declared, “is like a large serpent-worm. It will and must eat. It comes this way, and it is hungry with the devouring hungers of Hell. With the Council of Three Tribes opting to remove the Sharaka and Quailor Tribes from these lands, it will greatly add to the hunger of that worm. The hell-worm will then feel it is safe to gorge itself on all the little piglets of the surrounding Rogue Nations. Once the worm is engorged, it will move much slower. That is when you should strike it, Chief of Chiefs.”
Sur Sceaf was stunned. “Good sir, how can you possess this knowledge? Who can have revealed that I am chief of chiefs to you? This was only decided last night at the crater. I am certain, had you been in attendance, I would have noticed a master.”
The wayfarer smiled.“How I came by this secret knowledge is not what is important. What is important is that you have a clear direction and know within yourself what course to take, and to follow the Ur Fyr despite whatever obstacles may come in your way.”
Sur Sceaf frowned thoughtfully, “I perceive this meeting is not by chance. Have you sought me out to offer me this counsel?”
“Indeed. Know you that there are trials a plenty to come, my son. When all seems lost, look to the Sea. It is your last hope to escape the darkness and the power of the hell-worm that comes. You have known the Deep to be fraught with danger and destruction. That is why few men venture there, but the gods shall temper the Great Deep for your sake. As the wind carries the bees upon wing to fan out far in search of food and a place to hive, so the sea will open your wings and lift you above your enemy. Beware, and conduct yourself wisely, for there shall be false brethren and traitors on this journey. Be well aware, such a hunger for you is kindled in the hell-worm that he will soon scent your trail out and set the Black Wolf upon you. Even now, his forked tongue runs into the Herewardi Lands.”
They continued walking through the sage and rabbit brush.
This time it was Sur Sceaf, who stopped dead. “Good sir, forgive me, but you do try me like a riddler! I implore you to at least give me your name and the elder brotherhood to which you adhere.”
The ancient one’s smile flashed white beneath his hood. “Since my identity seems to matter so intensely to you, I will offer you half my name. I am Yggd. Though to some I am called Nick,” he said, “I am of the Ancient, Free, and Elder Brotherhood. Unto many, I am known as the Lord of the Wild Hunt.”
“My father has not mentioned a high lord of such a name. Pray, tell me, what is your descent? What is your family?”
If he knew the man’s tribe he could pin point the man’s ancestral roots and bloodline. The elder one started walking on again and once again the ravens flew nearby. White Fire nudged him again to keep pace, but he found he struggled to keep up with the ancient one’s even more rapid strides.
“You are mistaken. I am well known by your father.” As if scrying Sur Sceaf’s thoughts, “No, I do not come from any Herewardi hereabouts. Has not your Ur Fyr already told you so as we were speaking?”
Sur Sceaf was drawn aback. He concluded he was well out matched by this man’s spiritual discernment and intellect. After all, it was taught that Lord Elrus had this ability to read minds and know the heart and will of all men. But in all his days of living memory, he had only heard of one man with this ability. That was Govannon the Elfsmith. This certainly was not the Elfsmith. So who was he?
White Fire nickered as the ravens landed on the ancient one’s shoulders. Sur Sceaf was ready to defend him from harassment, but saw Lord Yggd had made these ravens his very own, and took their lighting on his shoulders in stride. He had them well-trained and it was not perchance that the golden-eyed one had landed on White Fire’s head earlier. But for what purpose was this meeting? The longer he was in company with this Wayfarer, the more mysteries arose.
“I will just tell you straight. Your riddles are too many for me to untie, Ancient One.” Sur Sceaf side-stepped a large rock in the path, “Am I at least allowed to know what business, one as ancient and wise as you might be upon out here in this waste howling wilderness?”
Automatically, Sur Sceaf scanned the chaparral for signs of danger and looked all around for possible sites where the enemy could be lying in wait.
“Ah, my son, Sur Sceaf, always alert, always cautious. This will serve you well in the days ahead. As for me, I am going to and fro in the Ea-Urth, seeking to save the souls of the sons of Hrus, promulgating the good news of holiness, raising the standards of Heathenism, and encouraging the birth of a holy nation. I have no need to fear mortal man.”
Sur Sceaf considered the words, mortal m
an. Clearly, the ancient one has all the skills necessary to deal with men of the mould. He must be referring to malevolent spiritual entities, demons, and dark elves. Obviously, he could learn the great depths of wisdom and mysteries from Master Yggd. The black-eyed raven looked him straight on and gave him a sharp grok as though confirming.
A strange shiver traveled down his spine. Sur Sceaf now chose his words with the greatest of care, “Indeed Master Yggd. To save souls is a noble endeavor. One worthy of the greatest of praise.” Then considering the heat of the day and the length of the road to Fort Rock, he offered, “Surely, your feet are weary, Old One, for I know you have probably walked many miles. Come, would you care to travel a ways with me on horseback? White Fire can easily carry us both as is the custom of royal knights.”
As though in agreement, White Fire nickered.
“I thank you, again such a thoughtful son, just like your father in his youth, but I must decline your generous offer.” He paused, “I am in a hurry. Therefore we must needs part company. I must make greater haste than your powerful stallion can travel. He looked deeply into Sur Sceaf’s eyes as if searching for something. His brilliant eyes seemed to glow like emerald fires. Sur Sceaf felt the full impact of that powerful penetrating gaze all the way to his core. Placing a hand on Sur Sceaf’s head the spirit master pronounced, “The power of the Elwas be upon you and upon your posterity through all the galaxies of time and throughout the Eternities.”
Shaken, Sur Sceaf felt as though he had been endowed with added strength and purpose to carry out his mission.
“Good sir, kind Wizard, I humbly thank you for the blessing and promise to take your wise counsel to heart.”
The wayfarer smiled and nodded as if satisfied with his reply. “Before I take my leave of you, I will tell you this. If it is light you seek in this dark, cold, and dreary world, you must first gather tinder. Then you must work hard to generate a spark and from that spark you can make a mighty fire that can be seen from a great distance and give warmth and a refuge to those who are cold and who sit in the dark. From the sea you shall find your tinder and one day shine. Then shall you give light to those afar off and break the yoke of tyranny from the backs of the oppressed. Lord Prince Sur Sceaf, Chief of Chiefs, beloved of many, Surrey the Archer, Brave Seed of Hereward, go in the peace of the gods and elves, for I perceive you to be a bright son of light.”
The wayfaring spirit master lifted his curious staff causing the ravens to take flight and then headed west. As though scouting the trail ahead, he turned to follow, looked back and said, “Sur Sceaf, the demons of this world shall soon have power over you to smite and afflict you nigh unto death. Of this you can be assured. Trust in the Ur Fyr and let nothing sway or lead you from your set path. Trust your heart for it is a sure light unto your feet. Remember always, look to the west, for your sun must move from the east to the west and then from the west to the east again.” The ancient of days pointed. “There, in the Deep of Aurvandelia, lies your salvation, the salvation of your people, and all people that join themselves to you for the cause of freedom and the soul of Man.”
As he was still speaking, the large silver cloud had moved overhead again, he felt a sudden wind that whipped up the sand causing the sun’s rays to bend and flash down on them. Master Yggd reached forth his hand and touched his shoulder in a powerful, but gentle manner. The ravens returned and took flight into the sky as the cloud whirled overhead and chains of lightning flashed. “I bid you goodbye, Sur Sceaf, Bringer of Light, until we meet again.”
Sur Sceaf was left in the blinding dust and confusion of whirling sage and tumbleweeds. The sky drew unnaturally dark. Then as quickly as the whirlwind had come, it dissipated, leaving only the lonely expanse of the desert behind. He looked up quickly. Where there had been that strange cloud, there was now only blue sky and before him empty desert.
Chapter 14: The Pit and the Pitters
It was close to day’s end when Sur Sceaf came upon a familiar oasis of ponderosa pines that stretched for several miles alongside the desert trail, kept alive by the strange water retentive soils that were found only in this particular place in the desert. The Evening Star was farther in the west than his original plan had dictated, but the time spent with the wizard, Lord Yggd, had delayed him to his satisfaction. The wizard had intrigued him and stirred him to deep thought. Though only a half days ride to Fort Rock, he did not wish to awaken his sister, Queen Va-Eyra, in the middle of the night, so he decided to rest here rather than traveling in the dark.
After dismounting, he hurried to set up camp, which he struck in the lee of a large boulder where he spread out his bedroll and looked for a safe place to tie White Fire.
“White Fire, there are grizzly bears here bouts, but I’m going to gather extra wood and build a larger than usual campfire. It wouldn’t do for you to suffer an attack, my good friend, though you handled the last one very well. I’ll tie you here by the rock so the fire will be close to you, and I shall sleep just a little ways off.”
White Fire appeared to understand exactly what he was saying.
As Sur Sceaf got out his water flask, he poured White Fire a drink, and then procured the curry comb, and groomed White Fire as he sang a song about the sweetness of high desert ale. Moving to the tail he stopped singing and told the horse, “I do not trust that the curse Standing Bull placed on you is altogether extinguished, so I’m taking every precaution for your protection, old boy.”
As Sur Sceaf brushed out the stallion’s tail, two ravens alighted on the rock across from him. Were they Master Yggd’s ravens? They were too far away to see the color of their eyes. It seemed strange that they would all of a sudden show up here when he had not seen them since Yggd’s disappearance. If they were Yggd’s, he’s either returned or may hap they come to warn me. Pausing in his brushing, he studied the two large birds. He’d learned from boyhood not to ignore the messages the gods often sent by way of animals and trees, and even by strangers met on the road or in the wood. He did not intend to ignore this sign.
As soon as Sur Sceaf finished with White Fire, he retrieved a bag of oats and poured a generous amount into his nose bag to carry the horse over until morn. “Enjoy your dinner while I do a perimeter search. Those ravens tell me something is a threat.”
As soon as he approached the ravens they flew off. Instead of joining a congress of ravens assembling in the core of the stand of ponderosa, they flew to the south in the twitter light, a queer enough behavior for ravens which were usually bedded down in their roost by now. It was only a short walk to the tree line, though he had to tramp through briars, forbs, and part thick brush to look out at the desert beyond, with its scattered junipers and low lying sage. From somewhere close behind him, a rattlesnake sounded its ominous warning. So he opted to move out into the desert that encompassed the forest. Although darkness was closing in, there was still enough light to allow him to scan the area for any grizzly signs. Seeing no scat, no tracks, no scratch marks on the trees, he shifted his gaze to the desert, searching for Pitters, Rogue Whites, or robber bands that might be roving in search of easy targets. Wolves were a problem farther south, but were driven out of this region by the excellent sharp toothed hounds his sister employed at Fort Rock. Still, occasionally, small groups of pilgrims were known to be attacked by wandering packs.
With trained eye, he marked the familiar silhouettes of juniper and sage and an occasional cluster of rabbit brush, but saw nothing that even hinted of danger. In fact he bathed in the serenity of the tranquil twilight and heard the chortle of mountain quail moving through the brush to huddle somewhere safe in their covey. The serene surrounds moved him to offer up his evening prayer. God of our longfathers, whose protection we have enjoyed these many years, I pray watch over my wives and children, my house, and livestock, and place thy Valkyries around Taneshewa to protect her from harm and Standing Bull’s vindictive and malicious thugs.
By the time he had completed walking the perimeter, the stars sho
ne brilliantly above and the night air began to cool rapidly, lifting the sweet pungent smell of sage into the air. He gazed up at the Evening Star, wondering if Taneshewa were looking at it and thinking about him. He patted the mink talisman she had given him.
Realizing he was very thirsty, he hurriedly retraced his steps gathering wood for the fire as he went. When he reached Fort Rock the next day, his sister, the Desert Queen, would surely proffer him a drink of that high desert ale, the preferred brew of all Seven Kingdoms. He licked his lips in anticipation and once again picked up wood scattered over the ground for the fire.
Returning to camp, he stacked the wood he’d gathered before slaking his thirst with a long drink of water from his flask. He removed the nose bag from the horse, returned it to his pack and pulled out the sack of food, which Little Doe had prepared for him. He lit the fire with his flint, carefully inspected the ground for snakes, scorpions, and ants before laying out his bedroll, then performed his nightly ritual of removing his wave blade, Snake Fang, along with its scabbard and belt, placing them carefully on the bedroll so as to be close at hand. After sprinkling a ring of bee pollen around his bedroll, to keep the dark elves away, he removed his red surcoat, folded it carefully, pulled off his boots, and stripped out of his leather pants. He looked at his Herewardi amulet briefly then tucked it back inside his shirt.
The campfire was blazing nicely with the help of several large pine logs that had been lying conveniently close. “There, that should burn through the first sleep,” he told White Fire, “and then I can add some more logs before second sleep.”
Dressed in only his over-shirt and a loincloth that merely draped his front, he kept his scramasax fastened to his calf and thought on Taneshewa. He loved the way she moved, her quirky expressions, those tender eyes, and her fiery temperament. Once again he felt the pain Standing Bull afflicted her with and he vowed vengeance on the lout. He wrapped himself in his long hooded cape and sat cross-legged with his back to the sun-warmed boulder.
The Sire Sheaf Page 30
