The Warding of Witch World

by Andre Norton

  “A blood gate!” Of them all, Keris cried first from those shadows she could not pierce.

  She sensed that he guessed more meaning in what she had reported than most of the others. However, he was of Escore, the heartland of the Old Race, where the deepest of memories lingered.

  “A blood gate?” That was a question from Krispin.

  But he was interrupted by Vorick. “That flash we viewed came from near the sea! Yet it did not open any gate.”

  “No,” Lord Romar said slowly. “For only half the price is paid. Lady Mouse, surely you have knowledge of evil dealings.”

  His words might have been keys, unlocking some of the old knowledge which had so filled her days with learning until the call had come from Es City.

  “A blood gate—” Mouse’s voice caught and she had to stop and clear her throat, “is wholly of the Dark and used only by the Dark. Of such was that which loosed the Kolder curse on us. But that was done from their side by some learning of their own which we did not share. This—this—draws from the deepest evil this world has ever known.

  “We believed that some loathesome Power was summoning the Dark Ones from Escore to serve them. That it was, but in another way than the riders and the Gray Ones could guess. Called through the gate, they were slain, with all the pain those others could contrive, opening the way to this world. But only has it been done by half. They can enter now, I believe. But the gate will not remain open to their passage unless some of the blood of that world be as cruelly spent on this side—that is why they brought those captives.” In spite of herself she began to shiver.

  Mouse had faced evil before. She had helped to destroy one of the ancient vile traps, and that by instinct alone, for she had had no true training then. But this was such a danger as only an army armored with the highest talent could withstand. Gull! Then she remembered, Gull already knew. Her own effort had been so great she had interlocked with the Witch Mistress who had seen even as Mouse had seen.

  How much time had they before that pitiful crowd of captives would be driven through to slaughter? And these strangers, as had the Kolders, had weapons perhaps beyond the comprehension of her world.

  Eleeri spoke first. “We watch. And you, Witch Daughter, when the strength is again yours, ask how goes the research in Lormt. Since the blood gates were known of old, then also there must be records of them—and perhaps even answers. Now . . .” once more she gently stroked Mouse’s cheek, “let Destree call upon her Lady’s aid to your healing. For it is plain you have suffered a wounding, if not one of flesh.”

  If Mouse could have protested she would have, but the Voice of Gunnora seemed to seep into her whole body. Her eyelids were so weighted she could not hold them open, and down into the greatest depth of renewing slumber that soft croon carried her now.

  They were but a handful. Keris glanced from one to another in that ruined hall. Against them the might of an army—one undoubtedly such as the Kolder. They could muster a collection of talents—but Mouse had the greatest Power to control, and to see her so reduced promised little good for the future.

  Flight was possible, but he knew that no one of them, human or beast, would take to that. If the gate was opened, then what they could do must be done here.

  “Kolder tricks,” Lord Romar was saying slowly. “They kept us at war for years. It was your grandfather”—he looked now to Keris—“and the Lady Jaelithe who put an end to that. Yet I do not believe that this gate opens on the Kolder world. What we face now is a different brand of Power.”

  Destree had settled Mouse comfortably in her bedroll, but before she moved away she saw Gruck’s bulk nearly fill the entrance to the interior of the ruin. Behind him moved swiftly the three Keplians and Jasta.

  When the two Borderers and the Falconers, who were nearest, hurried after him, the giant looked around and shook his head. Eleeri, pushing up beside the men, suddenly nodded.

  “He would set an alarm,” she said, and Theela whinnied as if impatient to be gone. Keris slipped past the others until his shoulder rubbed against Jasta’s.

  The giant’s big head swung around and those deepset eyes studied the young Escorian. Then he gave a brief nod and started down through the meadowland toward the city. Keris swung up on Jasta, as the pace the other set was difficult for an ordinary man to equal without breaking into a run.

  Keris had made three previous scouting ventures into the remnants of the ancient city. There had been, as he thought, no possible way of getting into those tightly sealed towers save by blasting. Now they moved among many of these as Gruck led the way, the Keplians trotting behind him down toward the visible patch of the sea.

  Mouse’s vision had certainly suggested that the evil forces she had witnessed in action must once have known this country. Else why would their towns, set in such perfect precision, be here?

  The Escorian expected that Gruck would bring them down to the seaport side itself, where they had not yet explored. However, having paused twice to sniff deeply, Theela close beside him as if the mare shared another range of thought, the giant turned down one of the silent streets, where even the small thud and jangle of their passing seemed to be instantly swallowed up. Their small cavalcade came to a halt on the edge of an open space, pavemented like the streets with the same imperishable material.

  Here also stood a pair of pillars. Sighting those, Keris was sure they had reached their goal. This open field, the pillars, were too like those Mouse had described—save that here the field was deserted.

  Keris noted that now their speed diminished, the giant cutting his strides, his head going from side to side as if on constant watch. Theela left, breaking into a trot, the two other Keplians following her. They circled about the pillars, though remaining at some distance from the sinister stones.

  *They will stand guard.* Jasta’s mind-speech touched Keris. *The big one can use our aid.* With Keris still mounted, he cantered on.

  The giant’s hands were now busy with his belt and he brought out of a pocket there that same silvery wire Keris had seen him use to snap the lizard pod many days earlier. He motioned to Keris, who quickly joined him.

  Pressing one end of the wire into Keris’s hand, he gestured for the Escorian to strike out for the farther of the two pillars. Though everything within him dreaded such an approach—what if he were to be sucked through?—Keris obeyed the other’s unspoken order.

  Meanwhile Gruck, with a flourish of arm to unwind the thread, was heading for the other pillar. Twice he paused for a long sniff but then went steadily forward. Now he reached his right hand, the silver thread clasped between thumb and forefinger, and deliberately pressed the slightly crooked end he held against the pillar.

  To Keris’s surprise the thread now appeared to be rooted. Clasping the loose coil, Gruck came toward him, pulling the cord taut behind as he came, at what might be shoulder height for a human. Reaching Keris, he took the other end and pressed it seemingly into instead of against the stone.

  So thin was that thread of metal that only glints of the afternoon sun made it visible. Gruck caught it and gave it a testing jerk. A twanging of sound answered.

  Still it seemed he was not finished with what he would do. Once more Theela and her companions trotted up to him, and this time Jasta translated at once.

  *Vines, grass are needed.*

  The Keplians and Jasta could tear the growth from the walls of the nearest heap of rubble. However, Keris’s knife cut cleanly, and he paid no attention to the sticky sap which covered most of him by the time they were through, and brought their harvest back to the giant.

  The giant had taken no part in their ruthless stripping of the ancient stones but rather was inching along on his knees from one pillar to the other. In his hand was a rod, which he held steady in a straight line. A red glow showed on the pavement as that passed over it, and it left a groove behind.

  Keris could not help a series of uneasy glances at the pillars. His woeful lack of talent would give him no w
arning if those Mouse had seen broke through. How long would it be before they could expect invasion?

  Gruck pulled the mass of fast-withering vegetation apart. Some he discarded with a toss to one side and other pieces he handled carefully. Having sorted what they had brought, he once more went to work. Into that groove in the pavement he fit certain sections of vine, and as each was so planted, he sprinkled small pinches of what looked like dust which he took from a stoppered vial drawn from his pouch. So he worked with the methodical care of a gardener who had all the rest of the day at his service to complete the task.

  He rose to his feet at last, hands on hips, looking from right to left and back again. The notch burned into the pavement was filled.

  Then he turned and tramped toward the same rubble where they had torn loose the vines. Down on his knees again he scooped at the soil, darker here and moist, gathering up vast handfuls of it. Seeing what was to be done, Keris, too, went digging. He watched Gruck’s transference of the mucky stuff to the now-buried vine sections and followed the giant’s lead. Then a jerk of Gruck’s head sent him back and away. The three Keplians drew together, Jasta a little apart.

  Gruck took up position at midpoint of that nearly invisible strand uniting the pillars. He threw back his head and Keris heard a roll as if distant thunder drummed among the peaks behind them. It continued almost as if the giant need take no breath to sustain that call.

  There was a darkening along the line of buried vine. Then small stems arose, whipping back and forth higher and higher until their blind search found the thread, and there they anchored. Anchored and grew thicker, and not only that but they developed—with a speed as if shot as arrows from a skilled bow—great thorns. Nor were those the only products of that fantastic growth. Buds appeared, thick and round, growing even larger.

  Gruck was silent. But he took two great strides and caught Keris by the shoulder, drawing the young man back and away just as gleams of color showed among those buds and they opened into huge blossoms, from the centers of which arose puffs of yellowish powder.

  Death! With the giant’s warning in his mind, Keris was once more on the move. How practical against off-world weapons the giant’s powers might be, none would know until the time came for testing them. They might not have discovered the complete lock for that gate, but he was sure that what had been done here would win them some much-needed time.

  They all felt the need for some communication with those who had sent them, but it was plain that Mouse, wan-faced, somehow even shrunken a little so that she looked even more the child, could not be put to the strain of a call upon those in Lormt.

  They ate and then snubbed out their small fire. Jasta and the Keplians had drifted out again into the open land—of them all now, perhaps these were the best as scouts and watchers. They could hope that the aliens beyond the gate might very well have no idea that man and animal might communicate.

  But this night only Mouse slept, if sleep she did. Perhaps she had been drawn into some trance state for renewing. The rest sat in a circle about the graying ashes of the fire.

  It was Lord Romar who broke the silence which had held them as the night drew closer in.

  “Gruck”—he nodded toward the giant, a hulk of denser darkness against the wall—“has given what he can of his talent to win time. Whether his barrier can hold against what those others can bring upon us, we do not know. But . . .” now he looked from one to the next of those about him as if he could see their faces plainly, “to ward for all time this gate . . . We are eleven. Perhaps eleven thousand would be a better accounting for such a task.

  “Let us now list what we do have. My race has talents, strengths which can be drawn upon, but I do not possess the Power to focus such except in limited battle. My Lady”—he glanced at Eleeri, who had settled beside him—“has power born in another world and of a different learning. That she won freedom for the Keplians was such a feat as no other attempted.

  “Denever has been entrusted with the weapon secret found at Lormt.”

  “That much, my lord. But I am not of the Old Race and I have no talent except that learned in the fighting courts.”

  “Thus do I say also,” Vutch growled. “I fought the dead of Gorm, and kept the Borders clear where I was sent. But all my Power lies in arms skills.”

  Krispin cleared his throat, a sound not unlike that made by Farwing. “Falconers are born to sword and shield, and to the fellowship with their birds. We do not deal in Power, though we have fought battles where it was used. But not by us.”

  Keris’s mouth seemed suddenly very dry. “As you know, I am halfling, born to the Lady Dahaun and her Lord Kyllan Tregarth. I am of Escore, which is looked upon as the source of Power both Light and Dark. But—I have no talent.” He said it clearly, trying to hold his voice firm.

  Suddenly he felt odd, as if he were under critical study—a strange insect, perhaps, in the custody of one of the scholars at Lormt who had a liking for such kinds of knowledge. He turned his head and found himself looking straight into the Alizondern girl’s eyes, which seemed to shine green even in the absence of very real light.

  “No one knows”—her sharply accented trade speech cut through the dark—“what one is until the last lesson is learned. I was Liara Hearthmistress, Whelp Cherisher, of Krevanel. Among us magic—what you call Power—is a thing of evil so great that you cannot conceive of how we feel near it. Yet, I discovered that my brother has accepted certain magic and will make use of it. Then I made a discovery that my species has other tricks and faults—did I not draw the Gray Ones? Now I strive to forget what has been pushed upon me from birth—and I am still finding that Liara is not what I always believed she was. Think not of yourself, pack comrade,” now she said to Keris, “as one mutilated. Rather seek new paths not shadowed by the events of the old. You say you are without talent—does he speak the truth?”

  Oddly enough now, her attention swung from him to Gruck.

  What he has will come when there is need. The giant’s mind-speech was quick. Also as a Guardsman I have talents, which may be strange in this other world of yours, but in which I have been long drilled. Since I can no longer serve the Alatar as I gave my oath, I now serve your purposes.

  Destree shifted a little away from Mouse’s bedroll. She had been holding the small hand of the sleeping girl and now she laid that gently back on the other’s breast. Her fingers then went to her amulet.

  “This is the Lady’s battle also. There is a thought which might be of service. Tell me”—she spoke directly now to Eleeri—“I know that the witches hold open the lines of communication with Lormt. But is there one there also who is of the Lady’s following?”

  Eleeri did not answer at once—rather, it was Liara who spoke a name. “The Lady Nolar. She is a healer and I have seen her light the Lady’s lamp.”

  “Picture her in your mind, Liara. Make her features plain, even see her about some daily task!” There was excitement in Destree’s voice now.

  They sat in silence. Keris found himself also striving to draw into memory she who was the life companion of Marshal Duratan. Anyone who had once seen her would never forget, for nature had cruelly marked her with a discolored cheek—a red shading which could never be banished.

  “Yes . . .” Destree’s voice was hardly more than a breath. “So—I see her. Now—by the Lady’s favor”—she seemed to be addressing them all—“I will do here what should only be tried in a favored shrine. You”—now she spoke to Lord Romar, and then nodded in the direction of Gruck, and lastly to Lady Eleeri—“must be my guards this night, for if the ties are broken, the worst may fall upon us.

  “I must lie entranced, and under the Power you can raise to cover me. However, it must be the Power of the earth, of that which the Lady knows—no magic from the learning of men.”

  Denever had lit one of their very small camp glows in a far corner of the room and Destree was already unrolling her bedroll. Then she brought forth her pack of supplies and
made careful choices, sniffing and discarding, adding a drop of one of her selections now and then to a bowl so small she could cup it in her hand.

  When she was finished and had put away the package of herbs, she drew upon their supply of water and washed her face and hands. Then she beckoned to the three whom she had selected as guardians and they moved in, Gruck one side of the bedroll, Eleeri at the head, and Romar at the foot.

  Holding high the bowl, Destree made her plea:

  “Lady, we are in need. I am one of Thy lesser creations, You who have made our world bear life—but I ask not for myself but for that very life You cherish, since the Dark looms high and its shadow lies upon us.”

  She drank the contents of the small bowl in a single draft, then stretched out even as Mouse so quietly lay, her hands folded on her breast over the amulet, and closed her eyes. In this very dim light she seemed to become one with the mat and stone on which she lay.

  • • •

  There was nothingness and then a blast of wind. But that was not sharp against her body; rather, it held summer’s warmth and the scent of flowers. She might be lying on a bed at rest—No! deep in her, something sparked. This was no time for rest. She had not asked for that, but for something so much greater that she feared her talent might not be such as to grant it to her. Find—she must seek and find!

  Now the soft wind vanished, and, as if in reproof of her inner demand, she seemed to be swept along so fast that she was rendered breathless. Find! To that she held firmly.

  That which served Destree now for eyes saw light, more brilliant than she had known since she had left the Shrine—for on a table stood two lamps, both turned as high as possible, and on shelves others.

  She knew at once where her petition had brought her: This was the workroom of an herbalist, a healer. And she who labored here sat by the lit table, a script so ancient it had been engraved on copper beneath one hand while with the fingers of the other she was tracing out the inscription word by word, whispering as she went.