by Angus Wells
“Thank you.”
He stared at her, and she saw his feelings writ clear. She knew that if she granted it, he’d follow her to her chamber, and … No! She threw the thought away.
She said, “Are you done, perhaps we should retire. We’ve much to teach Ellyn, and we’d best start early.”
“You’ll teach her magic?” he asked.
“I’ll teach her how to use what she already owns,” she said. “And, the gods willing, how to use it wisely.”
And saw him frown again. “But you told me that Nestor can sense your magic. Do you teach Ellyn, then surely Nestor shall sense it and know where we are. Then he’ll find us …”
He was quick, this Highlander. She smiled and said, “Not here, not in this valley in the Styge, for there’s something about this place that hides it and conceals it from notice. How else do you think I’ve survived so long without the Vachyn finding me? I can use magic here without Nestor sensing it. This valley is safe, Gailard. Now do we find our beds?”
She watched as his smile transformed from anticipation to acceptance. He rose and bowed, as to some great lady. “My thanks for your hospitality. I shall see you on the morrow, then.”
She nodded, watching him leave the dining hall—tempted to follow him. But she sat where she was and waited for the shadows to come from the angles of the hall and clear away the dinner things. She wondered if they laughed at her, or chided her for her reluctance.
“I cannot,” she told them. “I must not. Yet, at least.” Amusement echoed against the vaulted ceiling, whispers of laughter and sympathy. Shara rose and turned away, thinking that all the simplicity was gone from her life—and with it all her safety.
She climbed the stairs and made her way along the corridor toward her chamber. She hesitated a moment outside Gailard’s door, and heard the whisperings of her invisible servants—some urging her to enter, others prompting caution. She shook her head and went on. But it was hard.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ellyn’s tuition began the next day. I woke with unseasonal light on my face, birds singing outside my window, and the air warmer than it had any right to be at this time of year. Curious, I rose and went onto the balcony, from which I saw the canyon bathed in sunlight—even though the sun was not yet risen over the surrounding cliffs. It was as if the glow emanated from some source inside the hold that I could not see or recognize, but must accept as a characteristic of this odd place. I returned inside feeling simultaneously invigorated by what appeared to be a late-summer morning and troubled by this display of magic. There was so much here I did not understand, and whilst I trusted Shara’s intentions I could not help feeling somewhat uneasy. I was further disturbed to find a bath prepared land tea steaming on the table by my bed—both poured, I assumed, by the shadows that inhabited this strange place. But I was committed now, so I drank the tea and bathed, then dressed and went down to the hall, where I found Shara ensconced at the table, consuming such a breakfast as I’d not seen since quitting Chorym.
We had agreed the previous night, after Ellyn left us alone, that the child-woman’s, military training should precede Shara’s teachings.
“She needs to learn discipline” Shara had said. “She’s headstrong, and do I teach her to use her talent before she’s the discipline to use it wisely, she’ll likely use it only as a weapon. Like”—she smiled—“a Vachyn.”
So we had agreed that I should take Ellyn to practice swordplay for a while, and—hopefully—work off at least some of her frustrated energy.
Which she liked not at all, though I suspect she had anticipated our decision, for she came to breakfast wearing her traveling gear and a grim expression.
She seated herself and ate in silence as we explained. Then looked at Shara and asked, “When shall you begin our lessons?”
“When you are ready,” Shara replied. “But meanwhile …”
She turned to me and I said, “I’m ready now.”
Ellyn scowled and followed us to an armory, where I found her a tunic and leggings and light helmet that fit well enough for practice that she’d not get hurt did I pull my blows, and then a buckler and a light, blunt practice sword. I found myself a heavier blade, of wood sheathed in some metal I did not recognize, and Shara took us through more winding corridors to a cobbled yard filled with fleeting shadows and straw-stuffed dummies.
“I’ll leave you now,” she said.
“You’ll not join us in this practice?” Ellyn asked, her voice scornful.
“Perhaps later,” Shara returned her, “when you’ve learned a little.”
And she was gone.
I heard Ellyn mutter, “I’ll give you a sound drubbing,” and smiled.
“What are you grinning at, hire-sword?”
“Your pride,” I said. “I suspect you might find her a more difficult opponent than you think.”
“Save she uses magic, no,” Ellyn snapped, and raised her buckler. “Now do we begin our lesson?”
I shrugged and raised my own shield to the defense position. “Come at me.”
She did—with such a will as expressed her frustration. She swung her weapon in great angry arcs that set the blade to rattling off my buckler and she to panting with the effort of her blows. She was agile, and—I assumed—had taken some lessons in Chorym, but her anger denied what skill she had, prompting her to furious attacks that wasted her energy. I let her go on awhile, then riposted my own blade to send hers tumbling from her hand.
She cursed volubly at that, and went darting after the fallen sword. I poked her in the buttocks, laughing. Then felt the laughter freeze as she swung to face me, her eyes narrowed and furious, her cheeks red with embarrassment and ire.
“It’s easy for you! This is all you know, isn’t it—to swing a blade and kill folk? How dare you laugh at me!”
I stifled my smile, and bowed an apology as she rubbed at her buttocks. I waited until she had retrieved her blade and went again on guard. “Forgive me,” I said, “I shouldn’t have laughed at you, but …”
“What?” She faced me over her shield.
“You assume so much,” I said. “That Shara’s your enemy … That you can defeat a common hire-sword …”
“You’re not,” she said quickly.
Now it was my turn to ask, “What?”
“A common hire-sword,” she answered, and had the grace to smile and blush. Then grinned. “So teach me to be an uncommon hire-sword.”
“First,” I said, “you must hold your buckler higher. Use it to protect your body and your face. Use it to deflect my blade—push my sword aside, so that you’ve room to use your own. And keep your temper! Don’t waste your strength in wild swings that I can block. You’ve a cutting edge and a point—use them wisely. Look …”
I brought her to the nearest dummy, which carried a shield on one wooden arm and a blade on the other, its head connected by a chain to the gallowslike upright, so that it would swing with each delivered blow, and showed her the way of it.
She set to with a will, and I watched her for a span, wondering what Sham did the meanwhile in this strange castle. And all the while, from the corners of my eyes, I could see shadows watching us.
We continued at this until the sun stood overhead and sweat ran down Ellyn’s face. I thought she might quit, but she did not until I called for her to stop. She was panting now, her shirt dark with perspiration. I found a water bucket I’d not seen before (and that likely had not been there before) and dipped her out a cup. She drank eagerly and stared at me as we found a bench.
“Is battle like this?”
I chuckled—I could not help it—and gestured at the dummy she’d been hacking. “Usually your enemy responds faster.”
“Was it like this in Danant? At the Darach Pass?”
“No.” I shook my head, laughter suddenly forgotten. “There were arrows flying there, and javelins. Talan sent his chariots against us; and there was Vachyn magic in the sky and men’s minds.” I filled my
self a cup, remembering, thinking of how it had been—how it always was. “Battle is chaos. It’s loud, with the drums and the horns blowing, the noise of men shouting, horses—and men—screaming, the sound of the chariots’ wheels, and that whistling sound the arrows make as they fall, the rattle of steel on steel. It’s …” I fell silent, shrugging, not enjoying the memories she’d invoked. “It’s noisy, and it smells.”
“Smells?” She frowned at me.
“Of blood,” I said, “and dung. Of sweat and piss. Of death. Men smell when they die.”
Her frown grew deeper and she shuddered. “But I shall have to fight battles, no? If I’m to defeat Talan?”
“Likely.” I nodded. “But you’ll be the commander, and commanders don’t have to join in combat.”
“They leave that to such as you?”
“To common hire-swords,” I said, grinning. “Some, at least.”
“Did my father?”
I shook my head. “Andur fought with his men. He was brave, and always to the fore.”
“Then so,” she declared stoutly, “shall I be.”
“I don’t doubt that,” I said, which elicited a smile. “Now—shall we continue?”
She said, “I’m hungry.”
I must admit I was, but I deemed it best we go on until Shara summoned us, so I said, “Battles don’t stop because your belly grumbles,” and we took up our swords again and set back to flogging the dummy.
We kept it up as the sun moved across the sky and natural shadows began to fill the yard. I saw Ellyn wearying, her blows growing weaker, her shield arm drooping. I thought to call a halt, but before I could, Shara appeared, cool and smiling.
“Likely you’ll want to bathe. Then there’ll be a meal ready.”
“Not before time,” I heard Ellyn mutter.
“And after,” Sham said, looking at Ellyn, “we’ll speak of sorcery.”
Ellyn groaned.
It was a fine dinner, but when it was eaten Shara took Ellyn off and left me alone. I lingered awhile, wondering what shades might emerge to clear away our plates and cups, but none came and I rose and went to the stables to check our horses. They were content, with water and straw in abundance, and I returned inside to find my room. I paced awhile on the balcony, then settled to sleep.
That was the way of it for some weeks. I’d rise and take my breakfast with the two females, then Ellyn and I would go to the yard and practice. What Shara did, I had no idea, save that each evening she’d take Ellyn away and neither one would speak of what they discussed. I sometimes grew bored and wandered the keep, discovering its curious wonders. I found a library—a vast hall stacked from floor to high ceiling with ancient books—and read some of them, learning much of Chaldor’s history, of the Sea Kings and suchlike, but nothing at all of the Vachyn. It seemed there was not a single tome that mentioned them. I explored the armory, finding strange weapons whose use I could not comprehend, and armor such as I’d never seen. Sometimes I’d take my horse from the stable and ride her about the canyon; sometimes Ellyn and Shara would accompany me. Strange journeys those, for animals I’d always known as wild would trot calmly from our path and watch us go by—deer, which seemed to find us no threat, and foxes that sat with lolling tongues like friendly dogs. It was as if I had happened on that paradise the priests promise, when the world ends and the gods deliver all to peace—save that daily I trained Ellyn for war.
She was quick to learn. Andur had already taught her somewhat of swordwork, and she was soon adept. I set her exercises to strengthen her, requiring her to hold increasingly heavy stones above her head, or at arm’s length; to squat and spring upright; to run with me in endless circles about the yard. Sometimes I’d take food from the breakfast table, sometimes not, explaining that in war a soldier could not expect to eat regularly. I taught her to hold her buckler correctly, and how to fight without that protection. I tutored her in the use of the bow—at which she excelled—and how to use a knife in close-quarters fighting. And she gave herself to the lessons with an enthusiasm that was at first grim, but then increasingly willing as her prowess grew. After a while, we discarded the padded practice tunics (I took to wearing one when she became good enough to deliver me stout blows) and we trained in full armor, or in only shirts and breeches.
In time, I deemed her fit enough that we took to horseback, and set our mounts to charging at one another, trading blows or loosing blunt practice arrows. She no longer lost her temper when she took a tumble, but only cursed like any good soldier and rubbed her bruises and remounted, and returned to our mock combats.
And meanwhile, the year aged. The canyon grew cooler, though the grass remained green and there was no sign of frost, for all I knew it must be deepest winter in the lands we’d left behind. When I studied the surrounding hills, I saw snow on their flanks, and I knew that should I ride clear of this idyllic valley I’d find frozen streams and bleak midwinter. Here, though, I knew mild sunshine and cheerful birdsong. Indeed, it seemed there were more birds, as if they found a refuge here.
It was a curious respite, as if we had taken a step aside from the normal passage of time and now lived in some alternative world. There seemed to be an endless supply of food and wine and ale—and even brose—that came from sources I did not question. We ate meat, but we never hunted, nor did I find any stockyards, or chicken coops for the eggs we ate; nor ever saw the kitchens or who (or what?) prepared our food or made our beds or filled our baths. And when I ventured to question Shara on such mundane wonders, she only smiled and told me it was magic, and sometimes exchanged a glance with Ellyn, who seemed to know more of such matters than I, but would give me no more information than Shara.
I thought they became friends. Surely Ellyn expressed no more resentment of the sorceress, and as she grew stronger and more skilled, they spent more time together. But I was never privy to their lessons. Shara would come watch us practice and then take Ellyn away to some part of the hold I never saw, for I could never find it—though I sometimes tried to follow them. When I did, I’d find myself wandering a lit corridor that gave onto old and empty chambers all filled with dust and spiders, weeds sprouting from the flagstones, or turning in what I was sure was the direction they’d taken only to find myself back where I’d started, or outside my own room. After a while I gave up and left them to whatever arcane studies they pursued and devoted myself to the library. That, I could always find—as if the shadows would teach me, or at least grant me the opportunity to learn. But I never discovered who built the castle (though I learned much of castles’ construction and how they might be torn down), or what had become of the builders. I asked Shara, but she told me only that she had found the place through some magical instinct when she fled the Vachyn.
It was hard in many ways, so easy in others. I lived a life of such luxury as I was not accustomed to, and with a woman I desired but could not have. Shara held me at arm’s length, whilst Ellyn made it increasingly obvious that I should be welcomed to her bed. I lusted after the one and refused the other, and we came to an awkward compromise that someday we all knew must be resolved. And meanwhile, I felt time passing in a manner I could not comprehend. We seemed to live in an unnaturally long spring that was followed by a high summer that continued far longer than it should. There was no winter here, and I wondered how long we sojourned in this magical valley, beyond the passing years outside.
I questioned Ellyn as we practiced, but she prevaricated and gave me no clearer answers. I assumed she was sworn to some vow of secrecy, and surely she never spoke of her lessons or her knowledge, save with a secretive smile and a display of renewed vigor that took my mind from the topic as I concentrated on defeating her. By all the gods, she was good! She learned apace and I must work ever harder to hold her off. I believed that before long she might well stand her ground against most men, for what she lacked in weight and strength was balanced by speed and agility. Indeed, she learned so fast I wondered if she used magic, but she denied that accusati
on and swore she only learned from me.
In which Shara supported her, swearing that Ellyn’s burgeoning prowess was naught at all to do with her, but only Ellyn.
I had felt them growing closer, but that remark brought a blush of pride to Ellyn’s cheeks and I saw her turn to Shara with a genuine smile on her lips.
“And her talent?” I asked. “How does that progress?”
“As well and as swiftly,” Shara replied. “She’s an excellent study.”
They exchanged more looks then, and I felt somewhat of an outsider. They shared knowledge I knew nothing of, nor ever could be a part of, and I felt suddenly lonely. I wondered what transpired in the outside world. How did Chaldor fare under Talan’s heel? Were men—or worse—out seeking us? Was Kerid free, awaiting the call to battle? Did Eryk still hunt the Dur?
I asked Shara, but she only told me: “I do not know. I cannot know, for this place is …” She hesitated. Then: “It’s cut off—a refuge and a haven that seems, as best I can understand it, to exist outside of the world’s time. I think we might leave here and find only a few days have passed since we crossed the Barrens. Or years. You remember I told you that time was different in the Barrens? It’s even more different here. It’s …”
“Years?” Ellyn interrupted her.
“Or more,” Shara said. “Or less.”
“Then Talan might have established his rule.” Ellyn frowned deeply “Perhaps there’s no more resistance; perhaps Chaldor has forgotten me.”
“Perhaps,” Shara replied with an equanimity I found no less troubling than Ellyn’s, “but remember what we’ve discussed. Talan is only a tool in Nestor’s hands, and Nestor represents the interests of the Vachyn. They’re your real enemy.”
“I’d still have Talan’s head,” Ellyn declared.
I nodded my approval.
Ellyn’s face was dour, her voice grim. “And I’d avenge my parents.”
