Shard

by Wayne Mee

Ergrain rose, went and opened a smallish cedar chest at the foot of the bed and returned. Across her outstretched arms lay the black shortsword. Thorn snatched it quickly and held it protectively to his breast, his lips curled back in a half snarl.

  "All is well, Thorn," Timin said soothingly. "Ergrain but kept it for you while you slept."

  Thorn's expression slowly changed to one of wonder. "'She touched it? And it didn't --- harm her?"

  "Shard knows those that once cared for it," Ergrain said, her voice both as fresh as a gentle breeze and as old as the wind itself. "Though I've not seen it for many a year, still it remembers."

  Thorn's wide eyes narrowed. "How is it that you know so much about my business? I don't know you!"

  The old woman's smile lit up the room. "But I know you. I watched you grow from a wee cub into a formidable hunter. The past year has changed you a great deal so that at first I wasn't sure. The marks of your ordeal are written deeply in your face, Thorn, and also on your soul, but your spirit remains the same. You ARE The Wanderer, just as I knew you would be so very long ago."

  Thorn raised himself up on the cot. "Who ARE you?!"

  "I am Ergrain, Narya's teacher --- and mother."

  Timin, unable to contain himself any longer, dropped to his knees beside the bed and took his cousin's hand.

  "I've been so worried about you, Thorn! We all have! You've been asleep for nearly two days! And what with Mithdar being near death I --- !"

  The shock of Timin's words caused Thorn's head to snap erect. Thin, wiry hands bit into Timin's pudgier ones. "Mithdar?! Near death?! How can that be?!"

  As quickly as possible Timin recounted the coming of Skatha and the flyer, and of the Nar-Graith's evil hook cutting into the oldmage's left breast and shoulder.

  "He lies now in the other room, a great fever racking his body," Timin ended. "Ergrain says he will recover, but it will take time. He'll have to stay here till he's healed."

  Thorn sagged back into the bed, his pale blue eyes staring up at the tangled roots above his head.

  "Will it never end?", he muttered. "Will any of us ever find peace again? I thought that once we got back home --- " His voice faded into a long sigh.

  Gently taking his hand in hers, the Erg-Leath spoke the refrain of a poem that Mithdar had first recited to him long ago in the depths of The Tarn.

  "Beneath the stars, beneath the moon,

  Beneath the heat of the sun.

  No rest, no peace, no hearth nor home,

  Till the Swordbearer's task be done."

  "Yours has been a long road, Thorn," she continued softly. "Both you and your friends have suffered much. Mithdar knew it would be so --- yet still he did not give up hope; and he HAS not even now. He will mend, just as you have. He will go on, scarred and battered, yet still resolved to resist The Shadow. You must do the same."

  For some time Thorn remained silent. His friends and companions waited, Timin kneeling by his side. At last he spoke. "I too will go on. For there is really nothing else to do." He looked up at the tall man from Loamin standing at the foot of the bed. A wry smile spread across his worn features.

  "Little did I know, 'manling', what fate awaited us all when I chose to help rescue you from that Slather ship."

  Erin's own wide smile flashed. "Perhaps, laddie, it'd been better if you had o' let 'em catch me --- though I'm right glad you did'na!" Though his voice was merry, one could see the lines of concern and worry etched in his windblown face. He moved closer and did a thing he had seldom done before --- went down on one knee.

  "Take heart, old friend. We've many a voyage ahead o' us yet! Why, after we be settin' things right here, it's off to green Loamin we'll both be! Aye, n' stout Timin as well! Perhaps we can even talk Mithdar into comin' with us, for he's as grumpy as an old bear but healin' fast!"

  Thorn smiled weakly, while Timin sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Zoean, standing misty eyed behind the still kneeling Erin, suddenly realized what it was that drew her to this tall, insolent barbarian. Her hand moved gently to his shoulder, and with her hand also went her heart.

  Ergrain leaned forward and brushed Thorn's unruly hair out of his eyes, kissed him gently on the forehead, then shooed the lot of them from the crowded room.

  "Out, the whole passel of you! Thorn still needs more sleep! Come morning he'll be once again the Swordbearer, but for now he's just a tired Wee'n in need of rest!"

  As they filed from the small room, Timin whispered in his cousin's ear. "Doffer and Twigg are here! They've seen both Granther Higgs and Fernleaf! The Slather's keep all the females together under guard and most the lads digging for Twain. Twigg says Fern's taken charge of the females, keeping them busy so as not to brood overmuch. You'd be right proud of her, Twigg says!"

  Thorn beamed; "I AM proud of her! But what of Granther?"

  Timin rushed on. "Oh, he's fine. As feisty as ever. Still living in your old house. Apparently the Slathers don't bother with anyone too old to work the mines. Twigg also says there's a fair number of lads from The Root still free, and that they hide in the woods and give the Slathers 'what for' whenever they can!"

  "Warders, still free?!", Thorn asked.

  "Some are Warders, and some are just good old lads like Twigg and Doffer. Norgi's with them too! Twigg says he's one of the leaders!" Timin shook his head, a tear running down his already wet cheek. "Can you beat that? Little No-Smile Norgi leading a bunch of Wold Warders!"

  Thorn raised himself and looked his cousin in the eye. "That IS good news, Timin! I always knew Norgi had it in him; but the best is that the Wold has not yet given up! I've been so afraid that we'd come too late; but now, now we WILL drive the Slathers out!"

  Ergrain called Timin from the doorway, a frown on her ancient face, yet there was a warmth in her eyes that belied her angry look.

  As the door closed behind Timin, Thorn smiled into the darkness, and the shadows, feared for so long, somehow seemed less menacing.

  ***

  Chapter 48: 'THE CAT WOODS'

  "Hold it still, curse you!" Lucfelian's cold gaze moved from Skatha to the lamb held ready for the slaughter. A knife flashed in the firelight. The terrified animal gave a startled cry, stiffened, then went limp. Skatha hastened to catch the hot blood.

  "Ah! Now we shall see just what the old meddler is up to! Skatha, put the bowl on the table and stand back. The spell only works for as long as the blood remains warm!"

  The Nar-Graith's pale eyes glowed a dull red, even though his back was to the fire. "Will you truly be able to find Mythdarian, My Lord?" He held his hook up and caressed the curved point. "When last I saw him he was lying in a pool of his own blood. Would that I had ripped out his a cursed heart!"

  Lucfelian made a complicated pass over the steaming bowl and growled out sounds that grated on the ears. "There!", he said at last. "See for yourself!"

  Skatha edged closer. In the crimson liquid shapes were moving; over a half dozen people in a forest and at least three of them were Wee'ns. But of the hated wizard there was no sign. A cruel smile lit up his pale, handsome features.

  "He's not there, Master! The old fool must have died back there in the swamp!"

  "Perhaps; then again, perhaps not. I think if Mythdarian had truly 'passed on' I would have felt something." Suddenly the Shadow Lord stiffened. "What's this?! Look you, Skatha! There! At the small one third from the front! Do you see the reddish glow at his side? See you how it pulses?!"

  Skatha peered closer. "I --- I can make out something, My Lord, but as to just what it is --- "

  "Fool!", Lucfelian hissed. "It's Shard! Shard! On its way back to me!" A deep cackle escaped from his twisted grin. "After all this time, Skatha. After all this time."

  A fury of movement followed, during which the scene in the cooling blood shifted to a grassy plain, over which ran a pack of large, black dogs that were somehow more than dogs. Skatha slid closer, drawn by an uncontrollable urge to see, even though the sight of the running Hecket made even
his cold blood turn to ice.

  Lucfelian caught his look and the cackle increased. "You don't much care for my 'pets'? Ah well, you shant have to meet them in person. Even I can only conjure up Hecket for a few hours --- but it should be more than enough time. They will reach the old fool and his followers just before nightfall --- when their power is the most potent. With the coming of the morrow's sun they shall be gone, along with Mythdarian and those meddling runts. Then Shard will once again be mine!"

  Lucfelian made several gestures over the bowl and once again the small figures were seen. This time the one that carried Shard was walking beside a hated Nim female.

  "But first I'll try a little something of my own --- just to let them know who truly wields the power!"

  ***

  "And you say that Norgi and the other warders will meet us at the log bridge?"

  Twigg nodded at Timin as they sat on a fallen log sharing a piece of cheese. "Captain Norgi 'n his Freedom Fighters 'll be there by mid-afternoon," the thin little Kirkwean muttered round a mouthful of Woldish. "Told me so himself he did, just yesterday. I ran all the ways back to the Lady Ergrain's to give you the word. Missed my supper I did too!"

  Timin sliced himself a thick wedge of cheese and, smiling, handed the rest to his old friend. "'Captain' Norgi is it now, eh? Erg strike me, but things HAVE changed!"

  Erin relieved Twigg of the cheese, sliced off a goodly portion and tossed the rest to Nobert, Zoean's ever-present shadow. "Here you go old fella, somethin' to be sinkin' your gums into!"

  The aging Dryfallen was about to reply in kind when Kel materialized at his elbow. Nob instantly whirled into a fighter's stance, but the silent Chin ignored him and went straight to Erin. After listening for a moment, the tall mercenary swore.

  "What is it?", Thorn asked, getting wearily to his feet. Close by the bard ceased his gentle playing. Both Zoean and Onooga rose with Thorn.

  Erin addressed them all. "Kel says that your 'freedom fighters' are already at the meeting place, n' that they killed a half score o' Slathers on the way!"

  "Be that not what they're supposed to do, Long Shanks?", Nobert grunted, still riled at having been caught off guard by the Chin's silent return. "Seems to me that be the reason WE came here as well!"

  Erin barked out something akin to a laugh. "That it is, you bloody-handed bastard. But even an old fart like you can see that our best advantage be one o' surprise!"

  Zoean moved over and placed a soothing hand on the tall man's shoulders. Her liquid brogue was more than a fair imitation of Erin's own. "Perhaps then, 'Raven darlin', we should be after gettin' ourselves among then, 'n not waistin' the day chewin' cheese?"

  Erin fixed her a scowl, then tilted back his head and laughed. "Well now, spoken like a true Loamin lass!" He gave her backside a playful pat and received a dark scowl in return.

  Within moments they had all faded into the greenery that was known as the Cat Woods.

  ***

  "Be you sure they're here, laddie?"

  Kel's left eyebrow rose indignantly and Erin sighed.

  "Well then, at least the little quiffers know how to hide themselves." With that he stepped boldly out onto the log bridge.

  A moment later an arrow thudded into the railing a little more than a handspan from his heart.

  Nagling sprang into his hand while his round shield rose as though on its own. "Kel, ready your bow! Nob, Roary! Get Thorn 'n the lassies back into the woods!"

  It was then that Twigg swaggered past the crouching manling and struck a theatrical pose in the center of the bridge. "Norgi! Selwin! Dashul! It's me, Twigg! I've brought them just as I said, and Himself is with them!"

  Silence.

  Then the leaves parted and Kirkwean, all armed to the teeth, flowed into the tiny glade. At their head was a Wee'n shorter and thinner than most, a battered helm covering his tangled locks and most of his face.

  "Norgi?", Timin said, pushing past the others.

  The forest of drawn weapons held firm as the slight form stepped forward. Looking them over with the knowing eye of a born horsetrader, the slender Kirkwean's gaze came to rest on Thorn. Then, doffing his battered helm, No-name Norgi suddenly went down on one knee and shouted: "Praise be to Erg! The Wanderer has truly returned!"

  As the rest of the warders follow suit, Thorn rushed to Norgi and raised him up.

  "Erg shatter me, Norgi old friend, there's no need for all this bowing and scraping! I'm still the same Thorn that once hid your clothes at the swimming hole!"

  Smiles and laughter came from those of the Wee'n war-band who had known Thorn and Timin, and they eagerly crowded round to greet their returning friends; yet for many, Bramblethorn Higgs remained what legend had turned him into, a figure of distant, almost unbearable hope --- The Wanderer Returned.

  Such feelings were not lost on either Thorn or his companions.

  ***

  "Then it's settled," Thorn said to the gathered crowd of Kirkwean. "You'll gather the distant clans and meet me back here in a weeks time?"

  "Aye, Thorn!", Norgi beamed through his sparse beard. "Once the clans hear your truly back, they'll flock to your side like flies on shite!"

  Ignoring No-Smile Norgi's attempt at humor, Thorn's look was distant, his wide eyes creased into a worried frown. "I only hope that I'll not be leading them all to their death."

  Norgi slapped the sheathed Kirktooth at his side. When he spoke there was none of the old hesitancy in his voice. "With Erg's help and you to lead us, we'll soon set these Slathers to the right of things!" He leaned closer and lowered his voice, though the determination was still there. "And even if we fail, why, there's some things worth dying for. Fernleaf's dad, old Bailey, showed me that the first day the Slathers came. With his last breath he gave me his blade. 'Use it well, Norgi-lad', he said. And I' intend too!"

  The two old friends sat in silence for some time.

  ***

  "I liked your friend Norgi," Zoean said as they wound their way round to the east side of the Root. "He reminded me a great deal of you."

  Thorn grunted. He had been thinking of Mithdar, still at Ergrain's lis recovering from his wounds. How he wished the wise old wizard was with them now.

  Zoean continued. "They all did. So earthy and natural, yet so determined. You Wee'ns truly are the stuff out of legends."

  Thorn was glad when Twigg bid them stop, for the lump in his throat had grown to the size of a boulder.

  "We've passed Turtle Lake a ways back and up there is the Owl Bridge." Twigg pointed ahead to a stone bridge over a rushing stream. "The Slathers hardly ever patrol this section of the Wold; too hilly for their horses. If we hike over Dragon Spine Ridge we should be able to 'slip in the back door' so to speak and have a look-see."

  "'Beardin' the lion in his own den'", quoted Roary, a broad grin on his handsome features.

  Onooga smiled coolly and shook her head. "Men!", she said to no-one in particular. "You all see life through the eyes of little boys! Just one big never-ending tale in which the 'fearless heroes overcome all the odds'!" Her dark eyes took on an even sterner look. "Well, we women know better! Life is pain and suffering and, if you're lucky, a little pleasure in between!"

  The bard reached out and took her gently in his arms. "There now, lass. Life can indeed be a painful trial at times, but it can also be as sweet as a field o' heather on a dew-kissed morn! It all depends on you're point o' view."

  He kissed he gently on the nose. "N' from where I'm standin' t'is a sweet life indeed, n' well worth the sorrow!"

  She gazed up at him, and this time her smile had the warmth of summer in it.

  Just then Timin let out a sound of sorrow of his own. "Thorn! Your cloak-pin! It's glowing!"

  But Thorn was already deep within the grip of Lucfelian's spell. It struck him like a bolt out of the blue. A hungry pain washed through him. A red mist obscured his vision so that he saw only shifting shapes, heard only the savage snarls of grinning demons --- that and the wanton wail
of Shard.

  The sword leapt into his hand seemingly on its own, its dull black blade pulsing with malignant life. 'Suinath das roth!' a tortured throat screamed. 'Kill them all!' Thorn had no idea that the words had come from his own mouth.

  "Thorn! It's all ri --- " Timin's cry was cut off as Erin pushed him aside just as Shard swished by not a fingers width from the plump Kirkwean's throat.

  "Get back!", Erin bellowed. "It's taken him again!"

  As though to prove his point, a wide-eyed Thorn lunged at the tall manling. Nagling caught the killing edge on its hilt and sparks filled the little dale. Zoean gasped and both Nob and Onooga drew their own blades, but Erin bid them stand clear.

  "Stay well away!", he growled, blocking another of Thorn's thrusts. "I can wear him down n' see to it that he does no harm to us or himself!"

  Thorn's features stretched into a hideous grin as he launched himself at the tall mercenary!

  "Mind his backhand, Long Shanks!", Nobert called as he moved round behind Thorn. The wild-eyed Kirkwean responded by whirling and nearly relieving the older warrior of his head.

  As Nob scrambled backwards, Thorn pressed his attack. Shard sliced through the Dryfallen's bronze-bossed shield as though it was parchment and would have laid red death on Zoean's servant had not Erin caught Thorn's free hand and swung him around.

  In doing so Erin left himself momentarily open. Shard struck. The black blade grated along the lower part of the Raven Armour and laid open the lower leg.

  Blood welled forth and both the Wanderer and the Watcher seemed entranced by the crimson flow. Then Kel moved swiftly in and pinched a nerve in Thorn's neck. The Wee'n went limp and would have fallen had not the Chin caught him. Shard tumbled to the leaf-strewn ground, its pulsing inner fire suddenly quenched. Timin knelt by his lifelong friend while Zoean rushed to Erin's side.

  "Tis naught but a scratch, lass. See to the Wee'n." But Zoean saw the depth of the cut and eased Erin over to a fallen log. By the time she had dressed the wound, Thorn was coming round.