The Warding of Witch World

by Andre Norton

  “Simond!” Trusla screamed with all the power her lungs could summon.

  He tried to rise and sprawled forward on his face. She would have thrown herself into that flood now if the hold on her had not remained so very strong.

  No, he was not stirring now. They must reach him! Cover him with the garments he had discarded, somehow get him warm—bring life back to him!

  Trusla tried to turn and fight that hold, but she was as entrapped as if the ice had risen to wall her in. She screamed at Inquit.

  “He must have help!”

  “There is no way to cross the river in such a flood.” Captain Stymir, his left arm now lashed across his breast, came up to them. “Unless . . .” He looked to the shaman. “Many times Power has done what force of arm and heart cannot. The witch seems to sleep; we cannot rouse her. Thus what she might be able to control we cannot call upon. And you, Shaman?”

  “Animals I may command in the name of Arska, winds I can summon and sometimes lighten storms, and there are other things. But here I stand as you, Captain.”

  Trusla’s breath was coming in dry sobs. “Simond, Simond”—she made of his name a plea, like some ritual which could not escape answer.

  He moved. Somehow he had levered himself up on his hands, though his head still hung as if any effort was too great for him.

  “Simond, Simond.” Perhaps it was her calling which reached him, kept him from lying waiting for death.

  “Hunter!”

  That one word was so imperative that it broke all their attention centered on the struggling man.

  It was Audha who had come to them. Yet—it was not the Audha Trusla had known, beaten by adversity, robbed of her birthright. Now the Sulcar girl put out a hand to lay fingertips on Odanki’s bulky arm. He jerked and his mouth opened, but what he might have wished to say was swallowed up in the question she asked:

  “You are one who knows the ice. If there be an air bridge, would you risk a crossing? You alone, for I do not know . . .” She hesitated. “I have yet much to learn.”

  “A bridge?” he repeated almost stupidly, as if he could not believe that she had asked that. “To bridge that . . .” he pointed to the ever-flowing flood.

  Trusla saw Inquit’s eyes narrow and then the shaman herself spoke.

  “You have followed the flippered ones out on the floating bergs. You stand as my man and shield. If there be a bridge, dare you cross it?”

  He shook his head as if he could not believe what she was saying. “I am the Lord Simond’s bondsman for my very life! Did he not bring me out of the very jaws of the worms? Show me your bridge!”

  Audha moved a little apart from them, even as Frost did when she would deal with Power. She flung wide her arms and in the wide space between her hands danced color, ribbons of color such as had run across the walls of the ice palace.

  The fingers of her left hand slacked apart and those ribbons of color shot out over the river even as Trusla had seen a fisherman of the marshes throw a baited line. The tip of the rainbow touched a floating cake of extra width and drew it toward them. It nudged a second and then a third. In spite of the battering of the water—perhaps that now flowed beneath what Audha wrought and did not try full strength against it—there was a bridge.

  “Go with speed,” she ordered. “I do not know how long . . .”

  Odanki had already thrown aside his long outer tunic and his bow and quiver. But he still had spear in hand and was using that in a way odd to Trusla, to give himself a running start to jump for the nearest bobbing cake of ice. Trusla wanted to close her eyes; she was sure that what the hunter attempted now was beyond the ability of any man.

  Yet, though the strangely hooked-together cakes bobbed, they did not spill him into that current. With his spear hooked well into the ice of the opposite bank, he pulled himself up and over. Though he was limping more, he was still moving at nearly running speed.

  He reached that dark blot which was Simond and with a struggle somehow got the limp body over his shoulders, almost as he might carry a kill to camp. Beside her Trusla heard Inquit making sharp rasping cries even as might some great bird working itself up to its highest point of energy.

  Audha’s expression was not unlike the one Frost wore when she called upon her Power. Also—somehow her Sulcar features appeared to alter a little—she was not quite Audha anymore. But the ribbons of light continued to flow from her.

  Inquit took two steps coming up behind her. The shaman’s glove and mitten had been loosed and her hand was free in the cold. But those fingers went forth and closed on Audha’s neck where the hood had slipped from her head. Inquit’s eyes were closed and her expression was one of deep concentration.

  Odanki’s pace, for all his efforts, was slowing. He had Simond and was approaching the edge of the river once more with uneven strides. Reaching the bank, he paused and shifted his burden a little and then leaped. Under the combined weight of both men, the ice dipped and water washed, but Odanki was already taking off for the next portion of that bridge.

  What moved her Trusla could not have told, for pure fear had kept her held in place, but now she felt Kankil’s hand close on her and when the small creature drew her, she was able to take the steps to Inquit’s side. Kankil reached up with her other stubby fingers to catch at the shaman’s dangling hand.

  A drawing such as she had never known gripped Trusla. Still she chanted, as her own private ritual, Simond’s name. But she realized that even as the shaman was feeding Power to Audha, so she was now a part of that chain. Her will arose fiercely, trying to feed all she could into that linkage.

  The hunter was past the middle of the river. Only it seemed to Trusla that those colored bands which built his path were not holding steady; rather, they faded and then pulsed anew at intervals as if they were near the end of their Power to hold.

  Joul and the captain had been working frenziedly at a section of rope, the captain’s one-handed efforts sometimes more of a hindrance than a help. Joul took over their labor, fashioned a loop, and then cast with a seaman’s eye.

  Odanki was caught and held by Joul’s coil and the captain held the shore end. The ribbons flickered—but the Sulcars were ready and gave a great forward pull. Odanki slammed against the bank. Audha’s hand fell to her side. The lights were gone, but the shaman had moved with speed and Trusla was with her.

  Scrambling, pulling, seizing on whatever part of the two came to hand, they worked together and brought both the hunter and his burden ashore.

  Trusla caught at Simond, his head falling back against her shoulder. Was she still chanting his name? Perhaps—for his eyes opened and he was looking up at her, a slow smile curving his lips as if the flesh were too frozen to answer his will.

  “Not—this—time, Heart . . .” Those eyes fluttered, shut again.

  The party had no means of building a fire—and they needed the heat to live. Inquit went to Audha. The girl stood nearly as blank of face as when she had moved to Urseta’s will, but when the shaman laid a hand upon her shoulder, she shuddered and came alive again.

  “Who are you?” the shaman asked.

  Audha laughed. “I am Audha, wavereader. But that one, when she would take me for her servant, entered into me. And when she left . . . she took what she claimed as hers, but she could not take all. For something of it had rooted. Just”—she laughed again—“as some of the hated Sulcar had rooted in her. Perhaps that will mean a new beginning for her also.”

  The shaman nodded. “That is possible—as none can deny. She had control over warmth, that one. What can you do with that?”

  Audha’s smile was gone. “Wisewoman, I am not Urseta, only one to whom some small shreds of Power have come. It may be that I have lost all that I had, for now I know I am empty and it is useless for me to try.”

  “Rightly so.” They were startled by Frost. There was the weary look upon her which she always wore when she had been entranced. But her jewel was ablaze.

  “I have spoken t
o Korinth and the Watcher there was already warned from Lormt that aid was needed. Now . . .” Her hands cupped the jewel and she knelt beside Simond, passing the blaze of its light down from the crown of his head to his feet. He sighed as he turned his head a fraction closer to Trusla’s breasts.

  “Be not afraid, child,” Frost said. “He will lie unknowing and unharmed now until they come for us. Now let us see to this champion of yours, Inquit. He was well chosen and deserves high honor.”

  Odanki also lay on the ice, but his eyes were wide open, first in apprehension and then softening with awe as Frost’s gleaming symbol of Power passed over him. As with Simond, he seemed to fall asleep, and Inquit, unfastening her feather robe, drew it over him.

  “Lady, you spoke of help,” Stymir said. “In this land such must come soon.”

  “As it will. Be sure, Captain, every drum calls for wind launching.”

  She stood for a moment looking back at the ruins of the gate. That strange fog which had blanked out what lay on the other side was no longer to be seen—only rough foothills which arose in the distance to mountain height.

  “I hope,” she said, “that she will be served as well in her own world and time as we shall be in ours. For there was nothing of true evil in her, only strangeness, and despair and the burden of terrible loneliness. Let us wish her all good fortune, as perhaps such thoughts will carry past all barriers, seen and unseen.”

  And looking around that half circle of faces, Trusla knew that Frost’s appeal was truly answered. Might Urset Vat Yan find at least a portion of what she had lost. For them . . . it was done, all the struggle and peril. They had only to wait, for none of them could doubt that what the witch had promised was the truth; their own needed help was on the way.

  EPILOGUE

  Es City, Estcarp

  T he seasons had turned and once more it was spring, even though few signs of a renewing world showed within the age-old capital of Estcarp.

  But the outer harbor was crowded with ships, and the streets were decked in festival array as they had never been in memory.

  Not only was every inn packed to the point that sleeping room at night was allotted to guests on the floors of already crowded rooms, but every household had opened doors to distant kin, or strangers recommended by such.

  There was constant traffic on the streets, even to the meanest of alleys. So much so that the guard had been ordered out early to patrol ways for provision wagons to bring in needed stores.

  Crowds gathered day and night to watch the passing of notables they had heard of sometimes all their lives but had never thought to actually look upon.

  The center of this busy and confused web was again the great hall of the citadel itself, though sometimes there was an overflow into the courtyard when newcomers must be received with full ceremony.

  Flags of noble houses signified the presence of every family of note—even some from troubled Karsten, where there was still a bitter struggle in process for the ducal throne. And strangest of all were two banners those of Estcarp had in their lives faced only in battle—bearing variations of the hounds of Alizon.

  All those gathered knew that once more their world had changed—not this time by the awesome Power which pulled down mountains and moved rivers, but because it was the beginning of a new age.

  Just as it had taken those shaken by disaster in the mountains to welcome life again in strange places, so was it now that all faced change to which many came warily, but from which there was no escape.

  In the great hall once more there was the gathering of those of Power: those who ruled, those in whose grasp now the future of their world rested. They might peer warily at one another, but they listened and understood—even if some did only dimly.

  One representative of each of the ruling houses occupied a chair on the dais, for there was limited room, and the chairs themselves were crowded so tightly together that no one occupant could move without disturbing a fellow.

  Here showed a gray robe of the witches—she who was presently Knowledge Holder. They recognized her in their company as Diamond, since all witches’ true names were forgotten when they came to the Place of Wisdom. Her chair needed no banner above it—there was no mistaking a witch. Her serene face showed no sign of aging and it was true she was one of the younger sisters lately come to her office.

  There was Simon Tregarth, outlander, founder with his witch wife Jaelithe of a house which had served Estcarp and Escore mightily over the years. Then came Jaelithe herself, and beyond her Hilarion, the last of the great adepts, and Dahaun of the Green Valley, high in the holding of Power. Next to her, those from overseas: Alon and Eydryth of the Gryphon line; Firdun, who was now protector of the Waste; and from the Dales, Lord Imry, whose constant struggle to bring peace to the holdings there was at last near completion.

  Beside him was Kerovan, Lord of the Eyrie, preserving distance between the Dales lord and he who represented the enemy the Dales had brought to bitter defeat: Lord Kasarian out of Alizon. Strangest of all were the two who were plainly close comrades but of different species altogether. One was the Lady Eleeri, another outlander who had come to right, through her own efforts, an ancient wrong. Close across her shoulder was the head of a Keplian mare, her blue eyes shrewdly aware of all about them.

  Last of all two women, their furred and much-beaded dress strange in this company. The one wore, like a ruler’s mantle, a cloak of feathers, and the other, her gold hair in Sulcar braids, sat with her eyes downcast as if she felt she had no place there.

  It was given to Koris as commander in this place to speak first, and as he did so the murmur of voices in the throng below quieted.

  “What honor can we give those who have faced the Dark and come forth victors? The deeds of such are meat for bards, and their names will last into the far future when all the rest here shall be forgot. But once more shall they be told in this company, gathered from all our known world, so that their honor can be made manifest in all countries, in every hall, by the hearth of every holding.”

  He paused. There was a hum of voices as those massed to listen agreed.

  “We rode in Estcarp and Escore to good purpose—though it will be long before the last roots of the Dark can be dragged from growth in our earth.

  “To the south, crossing lands unknown before, we hail these.” He spoke slowly, pausing for a fraction after each name:

  “The Lady Eleeri, her Lord Romar, the Keplian kind who are our true comrades. With them as watch, guard, and guide, the Lady Mouse of the sisterhood, two Falconers and armsmen of courage, as well as the Lady Liara out of Alizon and chosen armsmen.”

  At that name Kasarian stirred and sought the face of one near the fore of the listeners.

  “Also they were joined by another outlander, a mighty warrior for the Light—Gruck—and she who is the chosen Voice of Gunnora, and her friend the cat, Chief. There went also one of the house which had ever been a strong support for us—Keris Tregarth. All have heard the tale of how he went into the Dark to serve and that the Light called him forth as a true son.

  “The Voice and Gruck do not stand here today. It is by their choice that they remain in the south, where more of our people of knowledge will join them later.

  “In Arvon there were also those who came at the call of need. The House of the Gryphon held fast, and those they sent forth are of the same strength of mind and body. Firdun, of their own blood, and the were Kethan and his foster sister, the healer Aylinn. With them the Kioga, Guret and their warriors—one of whom went to the last reward of Heroes—may Obred be ever honored so. Also one saved from the Dark—as well as the Lady Uta, who joined to be their guide. And lastly Ibycus, he who was protector of the land from the ancient days, and the Lady Elysha.

  “They fought the Dark in many ways and in the end lost both Ibycus and the Lady Elysha, whose work for the Light was deemed finished. Now Firdun will ride the Waste and the trails and perhaps in time there will be others to join him.


  “But those who went north also gained. The Lady Frost and the Shaman Inquit united in strength—though their Powers differed greatly. And the Lord Simond and his Lady Trusla were not far behind them. Nor was Captain Stymir and his mate Joul. The Latt champion Odanki, whose great strength was their safety many times, served better than any other might have. And last of all there is the Lady Audha, who brought back to us, through sore troubling of spirit, new knowledge.” He glanced at the Sulcar girl, who still looked down and did not meet the eyes of any there.

  “Now since these, no matter what their heritage, won for us the safety of our world, have again been named in full honor, we do not forget those of Lormt: the adept Hilarion, the Lady Mereth, the sage scholars who sought the final knowledge. To say thanks for such services is a too small thing. We can only give them our heart gratitude.

  “So we have once more changed our world. And now we call upon those who have asked that they be allowed to speak about certain things at this meeting that there be no thought of any secret and misunderstanding in the future. Lady Diamond . . .”

  There was a stir as the witch arose. Her hand covered her jewel as if that touch provided her with some strength as she spoke.

  “In the past there has been bitterness and denial—we have believed that the Power was only truly ours. But such useless pride was first swept away at the Turning. And now we have also had much to learn, we who thought ourselves above schooling. Our domain is still this land—or any other which needs what we have to offer. But we do not rule in Es any longer. Those who have talent and wish to come to us we shall welcome gladly. However, it will be by their choice, not ours. The Place of Wisdom is now our citadel and therein shall our order abide.”

  Koris bowed his head. “Lady, none will deny your gifts and those of your daughters. That we labor toward a common end is truly a way of life we shall welcome.”

  She had seated herself when Koris swung to Kasarian.

  “Lord, we have been blood enemies for all our lives and the lives of our fathers before us. Still, since you found your door to Lormt, surely there is hope that we, also, can have peace along our Borders.”