The Willow Branch

by Lela Markham

  “I did not like Gil, not to speak ill of the dead. He was wild as a green pony and not nearly so pleasant. Oh, he’d show you a face anyone might call friend, but you found yourself checking for the knife in his left hand.” The elves had been more polite in their estimation, but that was similar to what Padraig had heard in the holt. “Ryanna was indifferent to him, but he seemed pretty persuasive. I know the elves don’t force their daughters to marry, but it seemed like Gil was lobbying his cause heavily.”

  “I know Ryanna married him in haste and repented in leisure. I always wondered what she was like before Gil.”

  “Strong-willed, but she loved to laugh. Now?”

  “Strong-willed, but she enjoys laughing,” Padraig said with a smile. There had been those who had credited him with bringing back her laughter.

  “Will you be traveling back for her?”

  “Mayhap,” Padraig said. “The Commander I serve has orders for me and I must do the will of Him who sent me. Under elven law, Ryanna is not free to marry yet. Mayhap we will come together again. We shall see.”

  “You’re the whole kingdom away from the eastern mountains, lad, and traveling in the wrong direction. I would brave the Avercelt in spring flood for a woman like that.”

  “Aye, so would I, if not for Whom I serve. Ryanna understands. She serves the same.”

  “Aye. When we get to Mandorlyn, you must attend me at my house there, so that we may speak in private.”

  “We shall,” Padraig assured him. “I’d best get my camp set up. Thanks to you for talking.”

  Duglas smiled and nodded and they parted ways.

  Tamys found it difficult to sleep in the dark of the cavern. While it was light, he’d been impressed by the high vault and scope of the cavern, but when the torches were doused, he had become aware of the weight of the mountain as if it were the true rock resting upon his chest. While the others around him slipped into quiet breaths, he could feel his heart pounding. In time, he swore he heard voices within the rocks. These kept him awake, on the edge of hearing words, fearing the message contained therein. Just as he was ready to start screaming, he drifted off. Tamys knew he was floating on the edge of sleep for he had been here before many a battle. Yet, even as he knew this, he also knew that a dream was starting – the most vivid dream a vivid dreamer had ever had.

  All his life, Tamys had dreamt in color and in great detail. Remembering his dreams, he’d shared them with his brothers who had told him this was unusual. In time, he’d learned not to share them any longer, for it only made them nervous, though he’d never really understood why. They were just dreams. Very vivid dreams and sometimes they seemed almost to come true, but dreams all the same. Like the dream he’d had of this cavern. He’d dreamt about it two winters ago and awakened trying to remember if the bard had sung of trolls the night before. Why else would he dream of caverns and hands reaching to grab him in the dark? Thinking that in his semi-sleep, Tamys tried to sit up, to avoid the hands, but he couldn’t move. The voices whispered louder now and Tamys wanted to wake Padraig, to tell him what he heard, but he couldn’t get his voice to speak.

  Mist swirled round him and resolved itself into a castle with a spiral staircase ascending up into clouds. Tamys knew that his dream body could move, even as his physical body was palsied with sleep. He walked around the base of the staircase, trying to see round him. The castle seemed to be in shambles, with blocks of stone scattered across the mosaic floor. Wind lifted his hair and he could see grass growing at the edge of the surrounding mist. He looked up the staircase, which seemed intact. Curious yet wary, he eyed it, unable to see much beyond twice his height. He heard a raven call and evaluated the stair once more. One step, two steps .... He cautiously climbed higher.

  Tamys paused, unable to see forward, unable to see back. He had only the step in front of him and the one he was standing on. His heart thudded with fear. The voices grew louder still, speaking from the mist that surrounded him. Then a scream rent the air and a body fell from the sky to the earth lost somewhere in the mist. A raven feather as long as his arm drifted down to the step above and then the staircase collapsed under him.

  Tamys woke with a scream, flailing out, grasping for anything that would hold him in a tumbling world. Voices exploded all round him and a candle lantern flared to life. Padraig’s worried face was the first he saw.

  “Are you all right, lad?” Padraig asked.

  Tamys panted, staring around him, surprised to see all the men staring at him. Duglas came padding over in his bare feet, holding a candle of his own.

  “Happens every time we camp here,” he announced. “As I said, men think they hear the rocks talking and, next thing you know, they’re having dreams and seeing visions. You will be aright, lad, in a minute.”

  Tamys had faced many battles and knew how to calm himself, so that it only took a few moments. Yet, the dream lingered even as he forced it back into his deep mind.

  “I guess being under the mountain affected me,” he admitted to Padraig.

  “Aye, it does take some men that way,” Braeden assured him. “Lads, we need our rest if we’re to start out fresh on the morrow. Back to your blankets.”

  Padraig stared at Tamys, who didn’t know what to say.

  “You’re a strong dreamer, aren’t you, lad?”

  “Aye,” Tamys agreed. “Why?”

  “It’s just an observation. Can you sleep?”

  “I doubt it,” Tamys admitted.

  “I’ve a sleeping draught if you need it.”

  “I don’t think I want to sleep here any longer,” Tamys admitted after a moment’s thought. “I’d wager there’s somewhat about these walls that does talk.”

  Padraig scanned the cavern, the elaborately carved walls, the grand hearth.

  “I think it was a great hall,” he decided. “Somewhat like the great hall of any dun. I don’t know why it would affect some as it has you. I never knew anyone who experienced the same in the Eastern Mountains. You’ll likely doze off after the torches have been doused.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Tamys replied grimly.

  “I’m for leaving a torch or two up,” Aethyn said nervously. “It creeps a man’s flesh to hear someone screaming in the dark.”

  “The sand glass says we have a bit more until dawn,” Braedyn announced. “We could leave a torch up.”

  Tamys put his back against his saddle and sat with his blanket round his shoulders. He didn’t close his eyes all night, but still he thought he heard voices in the rocks. Mayhap because he was awake, he was also aware of the sound of water running somewhere in the walls. He supposed the cistern had to be fed from somewhere. Still, he thought somewhat else stalked behind these walls, somewhat with a mind and a plan to do humans harm.

  Kin Cycle 24578 / FY 1028

  The Dragon’s Back

  Marnmara pounded the mound of dough, trying to direct her frustration toward it rather than her daughter. It had been four five-cycles since she’d been able to affect repentance in Ryanna with the sharp edge of her tongue. She should have learned by now that her strength would not overpower the lass’s will.

  “I’ll be voting for you to remain here,” Marnmara replied quietly. Oh, how difficult it is to remain quiet!

  “Madi’, please, this is important.”

  “It’s always important,” Marnmara said. “Important and necessary and urgent.”

  Ryanna sighed. She sat on a stool next to the kneading table. Marnmara loved how her daughter resembled her father in a much prettier way. Her features were entirely human, so unlike Marnmara, who had catslit purple eyes and honey blond hair, the peaks of her furled ears peeking out. Aware that humans found her kind eerily beautiful when they weren’t afraid of them, Marnmara had never considered herself particularly attractive. She supposed that’s why she’d been drawn a Denygalman with his odd round eyes and ears. No, her Sion was not a pretty man. He made beautiful, if frustratingly hasty, children, though.

/>   “Madi’, dragons are coming to me.”

  “And Padraig was sent forth by prophesy mentioning dragons. It does seem connected. You’re still married to Gil and I will be voting for you to remain here until your contract is up.”

  Ryanna snapped the wood paddle she held in two. Marnmara ignored her destruction and continued kneading.

  “Why do you feel that way, Madi’? You’ve said marrying Gil was a mistake. You supported my decision to leave him three five-cycles ago. Why are you resisting me now?”

  “Because you chose not to leave him then and he’s not legally dead. The Lord requires patience and consideration in these things. And, you very much should not go from one husband to another.”

  “Gil and I have not been together as husband and wife for 12 cycles, Madi’.”

  “You’ve practiced patience enough to be good at it, then,” Marnmara observed calmly. Ryanna tossed the two halves of the paddle in a waste bucket and stalked out of the bakery. Sion would say that exchange had gone about how he’d expected.

  Ryanna seethed as she crossed the holt toward her chambers in the Hall of the Wise. Her irritation with the entire situation was such she did not pay attention to where she was going and brushed shoulders with Shanara. The weaver dropped the blankets she was carrying.

  “My apologies!” Ryanna said, immediately bending to help pick up the mess she’d made. Shanara’s super-aura briefly became visible to Ryanna’s Knowing. It read brief and mild irritation followed by amusement. Ryanna stopped in her ministrations to stare at the weaver as the super-aura dissolved like gossamer in the rain.

  “Yes, you saw it,” Shanara assured, as she handed some blankets to Ryanna. “We can bang these off at the storehouse. Come along.”

  Ryanna had little choice, since she now bore half of Sharana’s burden. She followed after the weaver with long-legged strides. With the warmer weather, she’d donned a sleeveless dress that ended just below her knees and leather sandals. The flowing skirt did not impede her in the least while Shanara’s tunic and leggings were probably warmer than necessary for the season.

  “I’m sensing great agitation from you, Morynsionryanna. What’s caught in your liver?”

  Ryanna knew of few even among the Wise who could have sensed anything from her with her shields clamped closed, but somehow it didn’t surprise her that Shanara was an exception.

  “My mother plans to oppose my request to travel with the Avalirad caravan.”

  “Does she not realize that Padraig did not return to Cenconyn?”

  “She does realize, but she believes that I won’t keep my word to return to the holt after I’ve met with the lord of Cenconyn.”

  “Hmm,” Shanara grunted. The storehouse doors stood open to take advantage of the warm weather. The squire glanced up from a ledger, but Shanara merely waved and led Ryanna deeper into the complex of shelves and bins. History taught that the elves had once lived lives separate from their fellow Kin, but since moving into the mountains, they held a great deal in common so as to maximize their efforts. Shanara would tell the squire how many blankets she delivered and receive credit for food and other items. Every adult had to work for the necessity of life and work harder for the luxuries. As Shanara wove blankets and rugs, Ryanna hunted and drove stock.

  “You and I are not close, but I sense that you will keep your word,” Shanana announced as she accepted the stack of blankets from Ryanna. “You are not the same foolish girl who married a dangerous young man without thinking of the consequences.”

  “Thank you,” Ryanna said. “Were that Madi knew me so well.”

  “Perhaps you should speak with her as you do with me instead of always seeking an argument.”

  “Why do you assume that it is me seeking the argument?”

  “Is it not? Marnmara is known as a strong-willed woman, but she has consistent conflict only with you.”

  Ryanna sighed. Shanara had her weighed and measured sure enough.

  “What do you suggest I do concerning the caravan, then?” she asked.

  “Let the Lord decide that one. You can only do what you can and then, as always, it’s up to the One to make the decision. Your mother has reason to worry, based on your past folly, but those of us who watch you with clear eyes know that you’ve moved beyond it.” Shanara wrote her tally on the board hanging on the end of the shelves then they turned toward the entrance. It was chilly in this cavern, a reminder that summer was still new.

  “Thank you,” Ryanna said as they neared the light-filled exit.

  “My estimation of your character won’t win the day, of course. I only judge the tenor of the holt and I believe you are the only one truly standing in your way to going on this journey.”

  Ryanna blinked and then laughed.

  “I’m always the one standing in my own way,” she admitted.

  “I have also been known for my strong will and sharp tongue. Eventually I had to leave my holt and come here to be respected as the adult I had become.”

  It was impossible to tell Shanara’s age, but Ryanna thought that the struggle to be deemed mature was somewhat every half-elf dealt with, though truly Shanara was something altogether different.

  Outside the warm summer day was subsiding into mist as scudding clouds moved into the high mountain valleys. The two women paused to survey the darkening sky.

  “There’s a storm coming,” Shanara said in a low voice. Ryanna meant to scoff, for it was obvious, but then an icy hand ran down her back so that she shuddered strongly. Shanara glanced at her, her silver eyes seeming to glow with untapped energy. “We may have time, but it grows shorter than we can know.”

  Without so much as a farewell, the two women strode off in separate directions, each with apprehension in their heart.

  Founding Year 1028

  Road to Mandorlyn

  On the morrow, they set out briskly and won free of the mountain mid-afternoon. Although he had traveled under-mountain before, Padraig felt grateful for the sun on his back and he noted Joy’s step seemed lighter. The band camped in a caravanserie just outside the tunnel’s end, in another area where the highway’s walls gave way to mountain meadow. Duglas seemed wont to rest that evening and truly, the men seemed tired. Most had probably not slept well after Tamys had awakened them. Padraig commented to Duglas on this.

  “We always camp here,” Duglas said. “The next caravanserie is a full day’s journey, so even though tis an early camp, tis a wise one.”

  “What’s the rest of the journey like?”

  “This is the high point. We’ll be wending downward starting the morrow. The highway itself falls off and there’s more of a true road. There‘s villages to stop at and a pleasant caravanserie or two.”

  Padraig wondered what sort of land Mandorlyn was.

  “The flora and fauna are most different from the rest of the kingdom,” Duglas told him. “Odd trees. Odd animals.”

  “Hmm,” Padraig mused. “Well and good then. Sounds like a curious place. I look forward to the adventure.”

  “A man of learning such as yourself will no doubt find much to interest him,” Duglys assured.

  Padraig found Tamys dicing with a group of young freeswords. The lad proved uncommonly good at guessing the roll, yet also careful not to guess too often right. That he was deliberating guessing wrong spoke loudly to Padraig, who had done much the same himself.

  “Curse you, but you’ve got Lugh’s own luck!” Aethyn complained. “Let’s play again to see if I can get my losings back.”

  “Aethyn, it’s late and I don’t think you’re going to get more luck in the next few moments,” Tamys replied. “We’ve days on this journey. I promise you another chance.”

  Aethyn and the other lads wandered off. Tamys pocketed their coin.

  “You might want to guess a bit more roughly,” Padraig suggested. “They don’t suspect you of cheating yet, but luck like yours is a bit to wonder.”

  “I’m not cheating,” Tamys assured him. �
�They were Aethyn’s dice, so how could I?”

  “I’m not saying you’re cheating. I’m saying they will suspect it in time if you don’t guess more roughly.”

  Tamys stared as if Padraig had kicked him, then turned away to stride off toward the squatting pit. What was Tamys not telling him? Padraig wished he knew more about the lad so he weren’t conjecturing in the dark, but Tamys still didn’t open up fully about his life before the Green Giant and Padraig knew better than to tread where a man had set wards. Still, Padraig wagered there was an interesting tale back of those skills with the dice.

  Light

  Lord Deryk does not seem to know why he killed King Perryn. He tells a tale of eating at the banquet and arising to go to the privy only to find himself entering Perryn‘s chambers, drawing his dagger and killing them both. He remembers not slitting the throat of the guard. So, he claims.

  That cursed priest of Bel, Blethry suggests he‘s been ensorcelled and certainly there‘s enough afoot that’s curious-making that I’d suspect black magery, but one must remember he was with Maryn when he died as well and all the witnesses are scattered to the wind, dispatched with Prince Donyl (crown-prince Donyl) to Cenconyn. There will be a malover before the priests of Lugh by the moon‘s turning. It mayhap be that the dispatches will reach Donyl in Chenyn‘s court by then. The gods help him. The lad’s doomed if he sits the throne.

  Dumyr, Chief Councilor to Court Trevellyn, Summer FY 932.

  Founding Year 931

  Galconyn Mountains

  The morning dew dripped from the trees in the silent forest. Donyl, Pedyr, and the remaining six of the original 15-strong warband followed the young mountain boy along a barely discernable track. Kylly Mines had its own seers, who had alerted the villagers to the daemon stalking their guests. Marstyn had insisted that his son Faryl escort them as far east as he had knowledge. He was reported to be the best woodsman in Kylly Mines. Donyl feared the village doomed, but Marstyn said they’d pray and the One would protect them. Faryl seemed unconcerned with the fate of his home and family. These Believers were truly a remarkable people. Mayhap foolhardy, but remarkably faithful.