Lost Lands of Witch World

by Andre Norton

  As if my very thought conjured up what I feared the most, I saw then a banner form in the sky behind him. It was as yellow as the sunlight across gold sand, and on it were the wand and sword crossed.

  “Raise not my banner,” he repeated thoughtfully. “For you think my day done, do you, Kaththea, sorceress and witch maid? I lay no geas on you, for between us there must never be ruler or ruled. But this I foresee, that you shall wish for this banner, call for it in your need.”

  I marshaled my thoughts to drown out his, lest he influence me. “I wish only that you keep your own place, Hilarion, and come not into ours. No ill will do I call upon you, for I think you are not one who has ever marched with the Shadow. Only let us go!”

  Now he shook his head slowly. “I have no army, naught but myself. And you owe me a boon, since you death-named me. The balance will be equaled when the time comes.”

  Then I remembered no more, and the rest of the night I did sleep. I awoke with a vague foreboding that this day, new come to use, would be full of trial and danger. For the first hour or two after our leaving the star camp, though, it would seem I was wrong.

  We rode steadily westward. The Renthan did not race as they had the day before, but they covered ground at an awesome pace, seeming not to feel the burden of their riders. Before long, however, we knew that if Sarn Riders and Gray Ones did not sniff behind us, that flickering thing did. And we also knew that it was more than matching our speed, though it labored to overtake us.

  I saw the two Green Riders who formed our rear guard look now and then behind. When I did likewise I believed there was the flickering to be sighted far off. It also cast some influence ahead, slowing our thought, clouding our minds, and affecting even our bodies so that each gesture became a thing of effort. And under that drain the Renthan, too, began to give way.

  The sunshine which had seemed so bright was now a pale thing; there might have been a thin cloud between it and us. Cold gathered about our shivering bodies as if the Ice Dragon breathed, months after he had been driven to his den.

  Our run became a trot, then a walk in which the Renthan fought with great effort to achieve some of their former speed. Finally their leader, whom Kemoc rode, gave a loud bellow and they came to a halt as his thought reached us.

  “We can do no more until this spell is lifted.”

  “Spell!” My mother’s reply came quickly. “This is beyond my skill. It is born of another kind of knowledge than I have dealt with.”

  Hearing this, the cold of my body was matched by the chill of inner fear. For she was one I believed stood ready to challenge and fight aught which walked this tormented land.

  “Water magic I do have,” Orsya said. “But it is no match for what hunts us now. Kemoc?”

  He shook his head. “I have named great names and have been answered. But I know not what name can deal with this—”

  And at that moment there came into my mind that I alone knew what—who—might face our pursuer. I had named him to death on that ridge, not understanding why. If I called him now it was to death—for the breath of that lay on us, and whoever faced it in battle must be mightier than any I had thought on. Even the Wise Women of Estcarp must work in concert for their great bespelling.

  I could call. He would answer—and death would be the end. So did my fear tell me. To summon one to his death—what manner of woman could do that, knowing before that she did so?

  Yet it was not my life I bargained for if I did this thing; it was the lives of those about me, together with what might well be the future of this land. So I slipped from the back of the Renthan and I ran out from them, facing that thing we could not see.

  As I went I called for help as one might who was lost: “Your banner—I summon—”

  Why I framed my plea thus I could not tell. But I was answered by a flash of gold across the sky, seeming to bring with it a measure of the sun’s warmth, which had so strangely gone from us. Under it Hilarion stood, not looking back to me, but facing the thing, with no bared sword but a wand in his hand.

  He raised the wand as a warrior salutes with his blade before he gives the first stroke in a measured bout. Formal and exact was that salute, and also was it a challenge to that which came behind us.

  But of the rest of that battle I saw nothing, for there was an increase of that flickering, vastly hurting to the eyes so I had to shield my sight or go blind. Only, though I could not look upon what chanced there, there was one thing I might do: what Hilarion had demanded of me as Zandur’s prisoner, now did I give freely, and not for his asking. I allowed to flow to him all that was in my Power, emptying myself as I had not wanted to do since I regained what I had lost.

  I think I fell to my knees, my hands pressed to my breast, but I was not really aware of anything but that draining and the need for giving. So did time pass without reckoning.

  Then there was an end! I was empty with an emptiness which was deeper than the wound Dinzil had left in me. And I thought feebly that this was death, what death must be. But I had no fear, only the wish to be at peace forever.

  But suddenly there was the warmth of hands on my shoulders and I was drawn up from where I crouched. Through that touch there flowed back into me life, though I did not want it now, knowing what I had done with my summons.

  “Not so!”

  Thus I was forced to open my eyes, not on the terrible blinding chaos I had thought, but to see who stood by me. And I knew that this was not one of Dinzil’s breed, those who do not give, only take. Rather it was true that between us there was neither ruler nor ruled, only sharing. There was no need for words, or even thoughts—save a single small wonder quickly gone as to how I could have been so blind as to open the door to needless fear.

  We walked together to those who had watched and waited. And the opener of gates so became a defender of life, while I had an ending to my part in the saga of Escore.

  WE WROUGHT well together, and with our combined Power we rode and fought, and rid the land of the Shadow, driving it back and back. And when it crept away into holes and hiding places we used the Power to seal those. When most of the cleansing was done my parents rode for Estcarp, for it was there their hearts were bound. Yet between us roads would now be opened and our thoughts would also move faster than any messengers could hope to ride.

  My brothers and their people came forth from the Valley to take up lands their swords had bought. But I looked out upon a many-walled citadel thrusting boldly into the sea. And out of the dust of years came a new awakening which was very rich and good.

  About the Author

  Andre Norton is one of the most distinguished science fiction and fantasy writers of all time. She was the recipient of a Life Achievement Award from the World Fantasy Convention and was honored as a Grand Master by the Science Fiction Writers of America. Her books have sold tens of millions of copies worldwide and have been translated into more than a dozen languages.

  Miss Norton was born in Ohio, where she lived for many years. She also lived in central Florida for some time before moving to Murfreesboro, Tennessee, where she presides over High Hallack. Discover more about Miss Norton, her work, and High Hallack at her Web site www.andre-norton.org.