by Andre Norton
“Get Rez. Hurry.” I darted to the sheepfold, saddling my mount with flying hands. He smelled my excitement and was already dancing as I led him from the pen. I mounted and nudged Rez towards Lorcan. Together we five moved, being sure we remained hidden from Hogeth’s sight in the lee of the nearest cottage. No alarm was raised from the keep. They had no need of that. But as I glanced towards the dark bulk I could see figures running along the parapet walkway against the walls.
From their higher vantage point they would be able to see both that Isa was in the hands of the enemy and that we moved to a rescue. We rounded the cottage comer and poised, waiting. Isa shrieked suddenly in pain. Whatever Hogeth had done it had moved beyond slaps. Lorcan’s eyed blazed in fury. He lifted a hand and we tensed, ready. It fell and we moved to war.
XVIII
I spun Rez from their way. Lorcan was leading as our guard ran forward. Isa was screaming. Rez danced beside Lorcan but far enough away that he was not impeded. I strung my bow, nocked a shaft, and laid the knotted reins across my mount’s neck. As we came from the shadow of the cottage I drew and loosed. Then again, and again. Lorcan had fallen on Hogeth with a battle cry. Levas was fighting the largest of the enemy while Criten and Dogas were also engaged.
I saw with a savage pleasure that two of my shafts had gone home. One man had fallen, a large brute with a scarred face. Another had been struck in the left shoulder. He had snapped the shaft off and flung it from him. I thought it had not gone deep since he still fought ferociously. Yet, at least I had evened the numbers. I pulled Rez back from the battle. He fought me. Jack mules are fighters and Rez was no less so than most. The sounds of battle, the scent of blood, the fear and anger which flowed from his rider, all roused in him the desire to attack.
I held him back. Small use would it be if I should be taken hostage or injured. I nocked a shaft and waited. Criten was battling a fighter who was larger than our guard. The man wielded a good sword and as I watched, a clever blow loosed Criten’s grip. He stumbled. The enemy sword struck, not edgewards but flat against his helm with a blow I could all but feel myself. Criten fell and the warrior turned. I saw Criten begin to crawl back to his feet. Nearby, Dogas battled. Before he could act he was struck from behind. He, too, had struck that fraction before the blow fell. His own enemy half-fell.
I shot, the shaft flying true. It would have taken the enemy in the forehead but for his move as I loosed. Instead the shaft struck beside his face against the chain coif. It was a hard blow but the arrowhead did not penetrate the chain. Yet he staggered and as he reeled Dogas ran him through. He straightened triumphantly even as I screamed a warning. Too late.
His first enemy had recovered. Dogas groaned and slumped against the man he had slain. My gaze swept across our tiny battleground. Of our side Dogas was down, dead or badly injured. Criten, too, was down again. I had not seen how he fell, but he breathed yet I believed, and his opponent had turned away to battle Lorcan. Only Levas and my Lord still fought against two men. I gasped. Two men and neither of them Hogeth. And Isa, where was Isa?
I turned about in the saddle, my gaze darting this way and that. Beyond our battlefield the keep doors were opening. From them issued a host of fighters. Two were mounted on the horses we always kept in stables. The others brandished bows and swords. Helmed, in trews and part-armor, they ran towards us. Elesha must have raided every piece of armor she could find to make it appear we had men-at-arms in plenty. Most of those who ran would be women, but in trews and with their hair covered Hogeth might not pause to look closer.
The battle had taken place to the far side of the cottage. The horses of Hogeth and his men all appeared to be there still. I turned Rez and from behind me there came a sudden blow against my neck. I reeled in the saddle, feeling myself falling. I rolled as I landed, still dizzy from the impact Above me Rez reared, then leaped forward, Hogeth now in my mount’s saddle, clutching Isa to him.
The child was limp, her small white face upturned as she lay across Hogeth’s arm. From behind me I heard a wordless shout of rage. His men saw he would desert them and perhaps even for an outlaw that was the final betrayal. Hogeth would escape us, Isa hostage to his safe departure, and what else might he not demand for her return? I cried Rez’s name again and then again as I scrambled after.
“Meive!”
Distracted by their lord’s abandonment of them, his two men had fallen. Lorcan had seized one of their mounts from where they were tied. Now as he cantered by me, his feet firmly thrust into the leather stirrups, he slowed and leaned over, a crooked arm ready. I leaped, to be swung behind him. I had no time to think else I might not have done so. My weight would slow the beast, making it less likely that Lorcan could catch up with our enemy.
Then ahead I saw—and knew why I had been summoned. Perhaps Hogeth had feared we would indeed catch up with him. Or maybe he was used to his own mounts which must be coerced with whip and spur. For as he fled I had called Rez and the big animal had slowed. Hogeth had foolishly plied spurs, to the utter outrage of Rez, unused to such treatment and infuriated by the pain in his sides. Mules have a just name for obstinacy. Part of that is an expectancy that they be treated fairly and here Rez was being punished for obeying my call.
He had balked, great yellow teeth bared in rage. Hogeth had struck him savagely about the head with the ends of the reins, and Rez had gone in a flash from balk to bucking, shying sideways then spinning and dropping his shoulder as he did so. Hampered by Isa’s small limp body, Hogeth had lost his grip on the saddle and fallen to the ground. Rez promptly cantered away, eluding attempts to seize his reins once more. Worse, he was showing signs that if Hogeth continued the pursuit he was likely to find a mule’s teeth and hooves could be lethal. Lorcan was approaching like a thunderbolt as I clung behind him.
Hogeth must have seen that others would be up with us shortly. Already those from the keep reached the tethered horses and snatched at reins. Hogeth snarled despairingly and ran, Isa tossed over one shoulder. But it was where he ran which lighted my eyes. Into the long barn in which the bees wintered. They slept. With the departure of false Spring the deep chill had returned. They would be impossible to wake—unless … I dropped from Lorcan’s mount and ran, my hand closing on that which hung about my throat. I heard Lorcan’s frantic cry but heeded it not.
“Meive? Meive, wait!”
I ran for the bee-barn and as I ran I reached into my shirt and drew forth the gift I had been given. I spoke the word of invocation, feeling the beginning response. This was my time, my killing ground. It was for me to face our enemy. I reached the barn entrance, flinging myself through the door. A white-faced Hogeth turned, his blade at Isa’s throat.
“Bring me a mount or the brat dies!”
I slipped through the door and to Lorcan’s bewilderment I shut it in his face. This was his enemy, but at this hour, Hogeth was mine. I was Honeycoombe’s lady. The last of those who had held here. I felt fury welling up within me yet I made my face timid, my eyes fearful.
“Do not harm the child.”
“Then bring me a horse, nay, bring two. And set the others free. I ride on alone. Once I am clear I shall let the child down.”
I knew he would not. Once he was away he would injure her at the least, thinking thus to slow us as we followed. I lowered my eyes so he should not see my knowledge in them.
“Please, good my Lord. Do not harm the child.” Lorcan would hear our words. He must be wondering what I did, yet he trusted me. He had not attempted to storm the door. More, he must be holding back Levas, and Criten, too, if the guard had come up with him. I held out my hand towards Hogeth in supplication.
“I will beg them to give you the horses.”
“Do so then, and remind them of what I can do.”
I could feel within me what was moving, but with the chill so great I feared it might not be in time. I clenched my fist upon the tiny crystal, speaking under my breath the word over and over. From my hand came a sudden warmth. In my
clenched fingers the hexagon broke, the shards of crystal bit home, bringing blood. I was dimly conscious of Lorcan as he lost patience, opening the door slightly to slide within. He halted at the sight of Hogeth’s blade against that slim naked throat.
“Meive, what …”
And it was flashing sunlit Spring. From the shards, primed perhaps by my own blood, burst sunlight. Warmth, the scent of flowers, and the touch of soft breezes. The sunlight melted gold over the landscape outside. All the valley seemed to be alight, warmth reaching to fill it as milk is poured into a basin. I could feel the land as Spring swirled about us, all the scents, the joy of an awakening after the long Winter. Aye, the awakening. I reached out to merge with the hives. They read what I knew, what I saw, my need of them, and they arose, vengeance incarnate.
Hogeth had time for one terrible cry before they came like a wave to cover him. I think he might have slain the child but for my warriors, who chose their first target wisely. His blade fell from his hand, the wrist paralyzed, pierced and repierced by the venomed swords of my warriors. Isa scuttled to cower behind Lorcan as the bees wrought vengeance, repayment for a brother, a master-at-arms who had trusted, a kinsman hunted, and many others, I thought, though I might never know who they were.
It took perhaps as long as a man might spend in taking two deep breaths. Hogeth staggered silently after that first cry, the breath choked in his swollen throat. Then he fell, quivered a little, and lay still. Dimly I heard the thudding of hooves. Through the door ajar I could see what passed. One of the outlaws had dragged himself to a mount and was fleeing. From the hives the queens read it. Let one man escape and he could return with friends.
“Lorcan, the door, open it quickly!”
Still he trusted me. He paused for no questions but stepped aside dragging it open. My warriors flooded out, a long shining black shaft. They swooped upwards, then the shaft drove home. In the distance a thickset figure crumpled from a horse, which halted, looked at the fallen rider, then turned to pawing the snow aside to see if there was palatable grass beneath.
My warriors returned, I could feel them singing as they covered me. I touched, caressed, melted in honey, sweet as the Spring my crystal had wrought. It slowly seeped away, Winter’s chill returning. The bees murmured sleepily as they slipped back within their straw homes to sleep again and dream dreams of liquid gold. On the floor our enemy lay still. We were free of his greed and those he would have brought against us.
“Meive!” I was swept into Lorcan’s arms. Levas was beaming, his honest face alight with pleasure as he scooped up Isa. Criten stood by the doorway, blood on his face, one arm limp, but he lived. I drew a last breath of Spring before the brightness faded. Yet it would return. That was life’s promise. Always there is another Spring. In my hand the shards shivered, their substance fading into silver sand, then into mist and gone. The cuts on my hand were healed in that instant. I raised my mouth to Lorcan’s kisses. This was our Spring. But one cannot live in Spring forever.
It took a day and a half after that to cleanse our dale, bury the dead, and care for the living. Gathea reacted in her own way. Three nights in a row I found a dead mouse laid on my bed for me. I knew it for an honor but could hope that after three nights she would feel I had been paid honor enough. It must have been so, for after that she returned to sleeping at the foot of Levas’s bed and I received no more gifts.
I might have buried Hogeth in the dale, but Lorcan shook his head. “Nay, alive or dead I will not have his evil on our land. Strip him of all he wears, that can be returned so his lady knows he will not return alive to her. His body shall lie in the hills in an unmarked grave. A fratricide deserves no more.”
“You cannot be sure of that. Faslane himself would not swear.”
“I am sure,” was all Lorcan would say, and in my heart I believed him right so I protested no further.
Hogeth wore a lord’s ring upon his hand. A fine pendant upon his breast, his sword and mail were of the finest All was piled into his cloak. Lorcan lifted it, then signaled. Levas brought a rabbit recently slain. The blood was dripped and sopped across the tabard. I saw the sense in that. To let Hogeth’s kin know how the man had died might bring them upon us in turn. Let them believe he died fighting. Lorcan looked at me.
“Once Spring is here, Levas shall take two mounts and ride. This shall go to Paltendale.”
“And what does he say?” I asked tartly. “My lord killed your husband. Ask nothing of that or who or where we are lest my lord be angry? What if she will have answers?” Lorcan grinned at me. I caught my breath as I returned it. Too long had it been since I had seen that smile.
“True. I will tell him that he is to send it on Hogeth’s horse a few miles short of Paltendale. The animal, when loosed, will make for home. Once Levas lets the horse go free he shall change his appearance and ride home swiftly by a different route.” That seemed safer to me, so I nodded.
After that things felt as if they moved more quickly. Spring came, the real Spring which brought the beelove blooming, turned the heather gold on the hills—and left us all wet-footed, awash in snow-melt. Nothing is ever perfection.
Levas rode with Hogeth’s horse and gear as soon as the roads were opened. With him went my lord, flanked by the mules as pack beasts, Criten and another of our people as guards. They returned safely after many weeks. With them came the remainder of Lorcan’s silver. That was hidden within a new secret place in our keep. After that Levas and Vari rode for the nearest market. There were things I would have before any wedding.
With early Summer came Lord Salas. I was startled when I saw his train. He appeared to have brought everything from Tildale which could be broken apart and carried. This was no tentative journey. Salas had made his choice. Lorcan and I rode out to meet him, having kept a watch on the road.
“Well met, and where from here is the dale of which you spoke?”
Lorcan gave him the bow between equals. “Only a short distance further, my Lord. Follow me.” We rode with the old man, laughing, talking, while those of his retinue also seemed joyous. Yet if they had been hopeful while they traveled, the reality surpassed their dream. We halted them at the head of the dale where they might look downwards and see all they would own. I spoke.
“Once, before the bandits came, this was Merrowdale. Fair and fertile land. Their lord was kin to mine. Of both dales I alone still live. If I have any rights I renounce them now. All save one. That as the lord here was friend to Honeycoombe, let you now be friend.”
“I hear your words.” Lord Salas gave me the bow of equals. “Let it be so. Never shall this dale ride against your home. Rather, if enemies come, we ride against them beside you. Children shall be fostered between us, goods and gear exchanged. Friendship shall ever hold between dales, on this I give my hand.” He reached out to clasp my fingers in his own large sword-roughened paw. I clasped back as Lorcan joined his own hands to the grip. Then I reined Rez backwards.
“Into your new lands let you go alone. Claim them as you will.” I turned my mount. Lorcan followed me as we rode away, leaving Salas to ride on leading those he had brought so far.
And so Lord Salas and his people took what had been Merrowdale but which place they renamed Hopedale. Now and again, as we could, we had rounded up sheep and returned them there. Tildale’s old weaver was delighted by the quality of beasts and wool. In little time the sheep had a shepherd and care again. Looms began to clack busily. That was as well. I had set my wedding date, but before I wed I went again to the secret vale to talk with the voice. I had labored in secret many days before I did so. I had visited the shrine of my Lady of the Bees once towards the end of my toil. From her I had wisdom and aid.
Now Lorcan came with me to the secret vale deep within Honeycoombe. With him alone I had shared the secret the voice had told me. It was only right since it was his secret before it was mine.
“Lady, we have come to speak with you. If that is intrusion and unwelcome, let you say?”
“Nay, Lorcan, son of the House of Erondale. You are welcome.”
“And my lady?”
“I welcome also Meive, wing-friend, daughter of—” The name she spoke was the true name of my Lady of the Bees. More a stirring in the air than a name one of our kind could say. There was a pause, then the voice spoke again.
“Lorcan, son of Erondale. Long and long ago a man of your line took up sword in our name. My kinswoman was in need and he did not count the cost. The power my people can wield varies. Some have much, some little. In some it does not rise until they are of certain age. Thus it was with my kinswoman, who was a small child in our terms, so that she was unable to protect herself. Yet one came who stood as kin in our stead. We do not forget.
“I was ever solitary, yet once, long ago, I visited your lands and found them very fair. I sorrow with you that all is gone. Now I, too, go from this place, from the lands of your kind. A gate opens and it is my will to depart to be with my people again, even though my kin departed long ago as you would count the years.”
“We do not drive you out?” It was both statement and question I made. We had no wish to do so and if she feared it then I would reassure.
“Not so. The time has come, that is all. But I heard talk of a wedding. To your lady, Lorcan, I gave a gift which she used well. To you also I would give a gift in friendship. Nay,” as he drew in a breath, “no talk of debts between us. Nor of kin and blood. I give a wedding gift that the son of a house we knew shall prosper. And that this may be accomplished, let you send your people beyond your own lands on the morrow. Let them be gone by sun-high. Then shall I come out.”
Lorcan and I stared. “Aye. I, who have not been seen by any of your kind yet living, shall come forth. The gift shall be yours, then must I depart and this my home, shall fall to you.” She spoke further then. Instruction as to things we must bring her and do. We agreed. It never occurred to us to do otherwise.
