by Andre Norton
“Hang on,” Loric said quietly. Greatly magnified, the words echoed from the rocky cliffs overhead, as if they were a signal.
And something answered.
A shrieking roar came bellowing down from the heights. The horses shied, startled, and everyone looked up.
There, sharply outlined against the sky, crouched a misshappen thing. It looked to be part giant cat, part bear, and part something Eirran didn't want to think about. It stretched one taloned paw down toward the column of riders. Tossing its head, it roared again. A shower of pebbles, shaken loose by the dreadful cry, came rattling down on their heads.
Then the creature leaped at the men at the head of the column.
Fourteen
I
Only the Torgians’ instinctive reaction saved both Falconers from being killed immediately. The horses’ sole impulse was to get away from the thing hurtling down on them. The beast landed heavily in the spot where the Torgians and the Falconers had been just a moment earlier.
For a moment, Eirran saw the thing clearly. Its little red eyes glittered like malevolent crimson gems. The lips were drawn back from teeth too long and sharp to be contained in its ursine muzzle. It crouched on misshapen, catlike haunches but its taloned forelegs were almost like the arms of a man. But there was nothing human in the length, the angulation, or the number of joints. Saliva dripped from its fangs. It recovered more quickly from its missed attack than its intended prey and drew back a ropy forelimb, ready to slash at whatever was within reach. Its appearance called back an old memory, one Eirran had tried for more than seven years to forget… .
“Eirran, get back!” Hirl shouted. He plucked Star off the saddle and set her down. The child was running before she fairly touched the forest floor. “Look after the children!”
Loric let Cricket and Flame slide down also and spurred his horse forward. His sword was already out. Eirran dismounted hastily, leaving Mouse in the saddle, and hurried her mount toward the edge of the forest and what she hoped might be shelter, away from the battle. She called the children toward her. Bird was already down from Ranal's horse, but Lisper was giving Dunnis some trouble.
“No!” she shouted. “I want to thtay with you!”
As gently as he could, he pulled her grasping arms from around his neck. “Not this time! Do as you're told!”
"Lisper!”
The immense sound filled the clearing, booming back from the cliff face, making even the ravaging beast pause for a moment in mid-attack. It was Star's voice, but echoes of four other childish trebles augmented the command. Eirran looked at Star, startled, then at Mouse. Mouse held the Jewel, and Eirran could almost swear she caught a glimpse of a fading burst of light that had emanated from the stone. Reluctantly, Lisper loosed her grip on Dunnis and allowed him to set her on her feet. The beast snarled and slashed with a taloned paw at Rangin, who danced out of reach.
“You stay here, with me!” Eirran said, gathering the child into the group that huddled, frightened, behind her. She kept a tight grip on her horse's bridle. If worst came to worst, she would put all the children on the animal's back, lash its flank with the reins to make it run, and she would flee into the forest on foot, taking another direction to try and confuse the hideous thing.
The very air in the little defile trembled with the shattering noise—bestial snarls, hooves clattering on loose stones, men's shouts, Torgian stallions screaming their war challenge. Riders vied with each other, jostling to get a good vantage point from which to strike. Sharpclaw swooped and soared, harrying and distracting, dodging the beast's claws by a feather's breadth.
Eirran's lips drew back from her teeth in instinctive hatred of the form and nature of the thing which had attacked them.
Yareth slashed at the beast. Rangin reared, striking with his hooves. The beast flinched and. drew back. Weldyn's horse landed a heavy blow from the other side. The beast reeled, and Yareth scored it with his sword. Hirl's blade rose and fell, and the beast staggered. One of the horses screamed, this time in pain. Ranal pulled back, out of the conflict. Blood stained his Torgian's shoulder and the animal's eyes rolled in its head. The others renewed their attack.
With a roar that shook the trees, the beast fought free of its attackers and fled, trailing something that might have been blood save for its unnatural color. The sheer speed of the thing as it bounded along the stream made Eirran tremble all over again. And she had thought she or the Torgian, burdened with the Witch-children, might outrun it… .
Weldyn and Loric started to spur after in pursuit, but Yareth called them back. “Let it go! Let it go. You'll never be able to catch it anyway.”
A scattering of loose rocks pelting down told of the beast's efforts in scrambling up the cliff again, thereby putting itself well out of reach of pursuit. A dismal wail echoed through the defile. Then there was nothing but shocked silence.
“What made it give up?” Dunnis said. He breathed hard and his horse danced in nervousness, heavily lathered on shoulders and muzzle. He regarded his stained swordblade with distaste.
“It didn't think we'd fight back,” Yareth said.
“You sound like one who speaks from experience,” Weldyn said. He whistled, and Sharpclaw returned, to his perch on the Falconer's saddle. “I suppose you're going to tell us that was one of the things that lives in the mountains these days, like what you met near the Eyrie.”
“Yes,” Yareth said, “only this one was smaller and far less fierce. At the Eyrie there was only Rangin and Newbold and me to fight it.”
Weldyn looked at Yareth, a grudging respect in his gaze. “Yet you managed to live. Even with a woman to burden you and make your sword-arm weak. There may be more to you than I first thought, Falconer.”
Yareth shrugged. “Ranal, let's see how badly your animal is injured.”
Eirran was already busy with moss, stanching the three parallel slashes that scored the Torgian's shoulder. The wounds had bled freely enough, she thought, to have washed it clean. If the beast's claws had been poisoned, it must be nearly bled out by now. “The cuts aren't serious or deep,” she said. “Just through the skin. No muscle damage. But we shouldn't push the horse just now. We should make camp as soon as possible. Let me brew a poultice.”
“We must keep going.” Yareth frowned and once again Eirran sensed the feverish hurry and anticipation in him. “Let us get away from this spot with all speed, at least.”
Eirran stood up. Now that the danger was past, she began to tremble. “That—that vile beast… .”
“It's gone now.”
“Unspeakable—”
“Put it behind you. We must move on. Now.”
Eirran stared at him. Another time, he would have put his arms around her. But now, all she could see in him was this peculiar impatience to be gone, to go deeper and deeper into what the Alizonders called the Forbidden Mountains. She began to hiccup.
II
“What was that thing?” Mouse asked. “Papa said you had seen one once before.”
Saw it, Eirran thought, and cringed when its arm came snaking into the cave where we hid, trying to catch us and pull us out. No. Mustn't upset the children any more than they are already. Turn it aside, try to talk of something else. “I was hoping you and the other children might tell me what it was,” she replied half-jokingly.
“I don't think it was a creature of the Shadow, Mama. It wasn't natural, but I don't think it was really evil. I think it was just hungry.”
“Well, I saw that Jewel you wear flashing in a place where there was no sunlight.”
Hirl and Star rode near her, close enough for them to hear. “We all did that,” Star said. “We had to make Lisper hear us, and obey. She was in danger.”
“I see.” But Eirran didn't see, not really. She rode on without speaking, deep in her own thoughts. An hour later, she insisted on halting for the night, despite the protests of both Falconers. Ranal's horse had begun to limp badly.
“If we don't stop and let me pou
ltice the poor beast's wounds, he'll go crippled entirely. And—” she looked pointedly at Weldyn “—most of us are riding double as it is.”
Weldyn made an impatient noise and stamped off. Yareth stood staring at her out of his falcon's eyes. “We'll make it a cold camp. No fire, lest it bring unwelcome visitors. And whether Ranal's animal is fit or not, tomorrow we ride on.”
“Agreed.”
Her mood was as grim as his. All her moods, she had noticed lately, were more pronounced than usual—the good as well as the bad. Nerves. She wanted to be gone from this cursed place as much as Yareth did, but at least she was willing to stop long enough to tend an injured horse. She defied him to the point of building a small, sheltered fire, needing a way to heat the water enough to boil the poultice of leaves and moss. She was going to have to rely on the heat of the compress and the Torgian's natural stamina, given the scarcity of beneficial plants in this part of the mountains. He came stalking by as she worked, looking at her sharply. She pretended not to notice, but stirred the mess in the little pot, murmuring to herself as she sometimes did when putting together a herbal recipe, and making certain he knew what she was doing. He said nothing, but merely walked on.
She had no idea why he was on edge, or why it was only the Falconers who were so affected. Everyone wanted to be gone from Alizon, but the other men gave in to weariness after the battle. They seemed content to He still, munching on journeycake or trying to catch a few winks of sleep. Not the Falconers. Together and separately, they paced the camp, fingers drumming nervously on sword hilts. They had paused only long enough to clean the beast's malignant ichor from their weapons. Long after Eirran had done the best she could for Ranal's Torgian, fed the children a cold and cheerless supper, and settled down with them for the night, she could hear the restless treading of the Falconers’ boots as they continued to walk back and forth, back and forth. It Was as if their impatience to be gone had translated itself into this kind of nervous wakefulness; she felt nothing short of death could have made either of them sleep that night.
Before dawn had fully broken, they were moving through the camp, urging everyone to their feet. By this time, even the other men had begun to notice the Falconers’ strange behavior, and to complain about it.
“What's our hurry?” Ranal said. “I want to see to my horse. And surely we can pause long enough to have breakfast. We can afford a fire now that it's morning.”
“You can eat while you ride,” Weldyn said irritably. “It's just trail rations, after all.”
“We could cook something. And I still have to see to my horse.”
“We can't delay,” Yareth said. He had dark circles under his eyes; Eirran realized he hadn't rested at all during the night. “We must keep moving.”
She put her hand on his arm. “Yareth.”
He looked at her and through her, as if she didn't quite exist. “Don't try to stop us.” Then he strode on, urging the men to move faster.
Eirran woke the children, who were sleeping deeply like the essentially healthy young animals they were. “Get up, now,” she said. “The men want to go. We need to get through these mountains as quickly as we can.”
Star rubbed her eyes. “Then why are the Falconers leading us the longest way?”
“What do you mean?”
The little girl yawned. “The shortest way is due south. But we're going at an angle through the mountains. Why?”
“I don't know.” Eirran swallowed an uneasy sensation. “They are both more at home in mountains than they ever were on the plains. And you know how well they guided us there. They must know what they're doing.”
“My Papa knows everything,” Mouse said. But Eirran knew her daughter. A certain confidence was lacking in her words; Eirran knew that for the first time Mouse doubted her father's wisdom.
Unwilling to examine closely what she could not do anything about, Eirran went to where the horses were picketed, to see how Ranal's animal had fared through the night. To her satisfaction, the wounds the terrible beast had inflicted looked much better this morning. She didn't think it was her own efforts that had made the difference—unless, as she had hoped when stirring the poor mixture of leaves she had been able to find, the heat of the poultice had done its work and drawn out much of the soreness. The horse looked fit to travel, if it wasn't pushed too hard.
“Weldyn, can you take Bird with you today?” Eirran said.
Weldyn simply stared through her, even more so than Yareth had, and she dropped the subject. Bird didn't weigh much—not enough to make any difference, really.
In a very short time they were on the move again. This day the sky was overcast and gloomy, threatening rain. Ground fog made the footing treacherous, even near the stream bed. The horses picked their way carefully, refusing to go faster even under Yareth's and Weldyn's urging.
Good old Rangin, Eirran thought. He has more sense than Yareth has today. Wonder what's gotten into him? And now the falcon has begun acting strangely as well.
Sharpclaw couldn't be content to ride on the fork of Weldyn's saddle, and whenever he tried to fly he kept racing ahead, so far Weldyn would lose sight of him. Back he would come in response to Weldyn's whistled signal, only to shift uneasily, bating continually, until he took wing again.
“All this is getting on my nerves.” Dunnis guided his horse toward Eirran's. “What is eating those two? Three.”
“I wish I knew.” To her irritation, she started hiccupping again.
Around them, the shade of the trees appeared to grow a little lighter. No sun broke through the clouds, but the ground fog began to lift. Yareth's head came up a notch, and Weldyn looked as if he, too, were sniffing the air, as if they had caught a familiar and welcome scent. “This way!” Weldyn cried.
The Falconer reined sharply to the right, dug his spurs into his horse's flanks, and was off into the forest at a light gallop, with Yareth close on his heels.
“Wait!” Eirran cried, but too late. The rest of them could only follow, the best way they could. Already the Falconers had left them behind, and the ferny undergrowth closed in their wake with no sign of their passing. There was nothing to do but plunge ahead, hoping that they had not taken another abrupt turn and lost the others entirely.
“Stay with me!” Dunnis cried. He had one arm around Lisper, who rode with him, lest a low-hanging branch sweep her off his saddle. Lisper looked back at Mouse, wide-eyed.
“Mouth!”
“Yes, I know. We're going the right way. I can hear him.”
Eirran was too busy trying to keep branches from knocking the both of them out of the saddle to ask what Mouse meant. Gratefully, she fell in behind Dunnis, with Ranal, Hirl, and Loric following her. Ranal's mount was favoring its wounded shoulder. Single-file, they emerged suddenly into a large clearing. Eirran stifled an outcry at the bizarre sight they stumbled upon.
There was a circle of dark stones, like pillars. Half were topped with a life-sized carving of a bird. Half had a carving of a larger-than-life-sized egg surmounting the pillar. They alternated, bird, egg, bird, egg, except for the opening in the circle which was flanked by two larger pillars, carved in the shape of man-sized birds with outspread wings and open beaks. A road emerged from the forest floor, leading straight through this gate. The road, like the pillars, the gate, and the paving of the area inside the circle, was made of dark stone. Eirran had the dizzying feeling that the road had been under their horses’ feet all the time, hidden by the soil and detritus of the forest, and this road was what had been drawing the Falconers unerringly to this spot. For, in the center of the paved area of the circle, stood a gigantic stone bird—a falcon, subtly different from any falcon breed known in the present world, yet clearly recognizable in spite of its oddities. It stood as Eirran had seen Newbold standing a thousand times—poised as if for flight, wings close by its sides, ready to launch itself skyward in the blink of an eye. Its beak was open and Eirran almost put her hands to her ears lest she be deafened by the kind o
f scream that might issue from that great stone throat.
Without realizing it, she had dismounted and discovered that everyone else had also. They were now standing in a group. Everyone, even the children, stared awestruck and stunned at the sight of this temple—for such it must be—hidden away in the mountains of the Alizon Ridge. “The Great Falcon!” Hirl breathed from behind her. “It is so beautiful… .”
She heard the longing in his voice. And in spite of herself, she also yearned for the privilege of being admitted to the inner circle of the temple, there where all mysteries would be made known, where all questions would be answered.
Yes, she thought numbly. Hiccups forgotten, she stood gazing upward in terror and dismay. This is the Great Falcon that drew Yareth and Weldyn hither, beckoning to them even as we rode through the Alizon Gap. There was no magic left there to muffle its allure. And if even I feel its call, what must be happening to Yareth?
The scrape of a boot on stone made Eirran reluctantly tear her gaze away from the enormous bird-form.
Both Yareth and Weldyn stared up at the statue, their faces utterly rapt, unreachable. Weldyn had started walking along the stone road toward the gate. Sharpclaw, quiet at last, rode proudly on his fist. Yareth stood at the edge of the road where it emerged from the ground, as if waiting his turn.
Another scraping sound. This time it was the slow, inexorable grind of stone against stone that made her look back toward the statue. A set of stairs was emerging from the paving; it rose until it touched the carved feathers of the bird's breast. Above the stairs, individual feathers began moving outward and turning flat, forming an extension of the steps. And as she watched, the sharp beak opened wider and still wider until the hook at the bottom formed the last step of all. As Weldyn put his foot on the bottom step the eyes sprang to life, glittering a dull red shot through with black. And from the depths of the statue, an answering red glow began to flicker on the back of the cruel stone gullet.
