The Lion of Farside tlof-1

by John Dalmas

  Then it struck her that in the cold and rain, the night before, and later in her torpor, she'd forgotten all about casting a net of confusion. She'd remembered at the stable where she'd stolen Maude, but afterward had gone into a stupor from rain, cold, and finally fatigue.

  She didn't panic though, or slip into despair. She simply got painfully from the boulder, and painfully approached Maude, who paused in her grazing to look at her. After putting the bit back in the mare's mouth, Varia pulled herself, painfully again, into the saddle, and turned westward out of the gap, working her way up the next slope.

  But not before casting a net of confusion over the site.

  And now, from eating and napping, she'd recovered energy enough to begin healing her painful muscles.

  ***

  They traveled slowly but more or less steadily the rest of the day, Varia dozing in the saddle from time to time. Steadily, but not without short breaks, when they came to glades with good grass. There she rested Maude and let her graze. The mare seemed not to have stiffened at all. Varia grazed too, on occasional patches of wild strawberries. Speed was important, but survival also depended on endurance.

  Meanwhile she took her boots off, tying them to the saddle, riding barefoot to help her blisters heal. And at intervals casting a net of confusion.

  The country was more broken now, and she changed direction from time to time, sometimes taking the most favorable way and sometimes not. The idea was to throw off pursuit, for even if she succeeded in confusing Tomm, he could look at the terrain and judge which way seemed best for travel. She had to outguess him, make him wrong.

  Once, in the mud at the edge of a creek, she saw tracks that were clearly of jaguar or catamount. But Maude seemed unworried, though the tracks had to have been made since the rain stopped.

  Eventually evening came, and again they stopped at a headwaters in a small marshy meadow. Varia left Maude to graze, depending on a bonding spell to keep her from straying, and sheltered beneath another large thick hemlock, plucking away stones and sticks enough to make a place to lie down. To sleep, and hopefully dream of Curtis.

  Curtis. She cast an earnest thought: I'm coming to you, darling! I am! It won't be long! And wondered if thoughts ever traveled between the worlds.

  A second day, and a third, they traveled mostly westward. Only when the terrain required a change in direction did she turn north, from time to time casting her spell. Once she heard wolves, but at a distance, trailing other prey. And once as they traveled a game trail, the mare shied at fresh bear dung, but they passed it by and saw no further sign.

  Finally they turned north on a trail too distinct, too unbroken and purposeful not to have been made by humans. It would be faster, and it couldn't hurt to follow it for a while. After a bit evening came, and a tiny patch of meadow at a seep. Again she left Maude free to graze, stowing the saddle and saddle bags beneath a nearby blowdown. The last of the bread and cheese she put in her shift, and climbed the ridge a little way, to shelter under an overhanging ledge she'd noticed. Climbed barefoot, walking carefully among the rocks and sticks.

  Before long she slept, eventually to dream that something came shambling upright on two legs, then stopped and peered about while the dream-Varia lay paralyzed with fear. Suddenly Maude screamed, and Varia awoke with a start, rolling to hands and knees, heart pounding in her throat. The scream repeated, and she realized it was no dream. And there was more: a muffled half growl, half roar, that froze her where she crouched. She had no doubt it came from the throat of something whose jaws were clamped on Maude's neck.

  She realized she'd drawn her knife, though it would be useless against a bear. The mare didn't scream again, but there were occasional growling grunts, and sounds as of joints being broken. She stayed where she was, crouched beneath her ledge. Dawn, she discovered, had preceded the predator, faint gray light bleeding through the treetops. As it grew, the sounds of feeding stopped. Birds awoke as if in celebration, first a robin, then a wren, then a clamor from many throats. The sun's rays would soon light the higher treetops.

  Something was coming up the ridge. Varia's short hair crawled with fear, then terror. A shaggy, hulking, upright form, some eight feet tall and five or six hundred pounds, strode into sight at half a trot, one great hand shielding its eyes. Its belly was grossly distended, not with pregnancy but gorging. Its other hand held a horse's hind leg over one shoulder, like a man might carry a club.

  Varia almost missed seeing the small one, perhaps smaller than herself. Unlike its mother, it ran on all fours like an ape, carrying something in its teeth. Varia couldn't see what; brush was in the way. Probably something its mother had torn off for it.

  Then they were gone.

  She'd always heard that trolls hated daylight. The belief among the Sisters was that their eyes were too sensitive. Folklore had it that they stayed in their dens till twilight, not even coming out on cloudy days. That daylight turned them to stone, though no reasonable person believed that. At any rate trolls were night stalkers; that much was certain.

  Still she stayed where she was till the sun was well up. When she went down to the seep, it was shocking how much of the mare had been eaten. You're going to walk to Ferny Cove after all, she told herself. Poor Maude.

  Three ravens had already landed on the carcass, one a different species than the others. Large though the two were, the third was much larger, its high and feathered crown scarlet against black. Pausing in its breakfast, it looked at Varia. "Yours?" it asked. Its voice could have passed for human.

  She nodded.

  "Sorry. I trust you don't mind excessively. One must eat, you know." And with that, the bird returned to feeding.

  Varia didn't answer. She went to where she'd left the saddle. Not only the mare had been attacked. The saddle too had been mauled, gouged by sharp teeth in smaller but still powerful jaws. Her boots had been pulled loose, and one of them torn apart. The other was missing; it might have been what the troll cub carried in its jaws. She would not only walk to Ferny Cove; like it or not, she'd walk barefoot. Certainly she couldn't stay where she was; the trolls' den had to be somewhere near.

  A thought occurred to her, and she looked back at the three ravens. "Excuse me," she called softly, and the red-crowned bird looked up. "I'm afraid I'm being followed. By a man."

  "Really!"

  "He should be a day or two behind. If you meet, he may ask if you've seen me."

  "And you want me to say I haven't."

  Varia nodded. "Please."

  "My name is Everheart. A name given me by a tomttu; we have our own names, unpronounceable to you. And yours?"

  "Varia."

  "Let me see if I can guess what's happened," the bird said. "You're a Sister, a young girl who's run away from the Cloister. Right? I've heard of such. And your Dynast will have set a tracker after you."

  Varia stared.

  "You're speechless; obviously I'm right."

  "Not entirely. I'm-somewhat more in the Dynast's attention than a young girl would be. I'm forty-three, not some sixteen-year-old to be brought back for correction and counseling. I escaped a-a punishment house, and this time they might kill me."

  It seemed to Varia that if the bird had had eyebrows, they'd have arched at that. His aura suggested that he didn't quite believe her. She didn't herself. They'd degrade her, perhaps break her will, even her mind, but they wouldn't deliberately kill her.

  "Hmh!" the bird said. "I wish you well in your escape, and I certainly won't betray you." It chuckled. "I've been told that among humans, a gentleman never tells a lady's secrets." Pausing, he cocked his head. "I do have that right, don't I? Who might your tracker be, do you suppose?"

  "A man named Tomm."

  "Tomm. Tomm is known to us. In fact I know him on sight. We all do I suppose; what one of us knows, the others know, or can if we care to look. It's how, over the centuries, we've learned your language. By sharing, word by word, phrase by phrase."

  Varia stared.
r />   "But I must tell you," he went on, "that my silence won't help you much. Tomm has a talent that apparently you're not aware of. No doubt his most important talent. You see, he can question any creature, large or small, about you. Mostly birds, because we see more, and our perceptions are very largely visual, as humans' seem to be. He may not gain much detail from his questions, for the minds of most species handle only simple concepts. But the question, 'have you seen this one?' accompanied by a mental image…" Everheart physically shrugged. "The eagles and greater hawks are no more susceptible to his demands than I, for their own reasons, of course, while the vultures and goshawks and falcons?-I doubt they'd hear his thought. They are totally focused on their own affairs.

  "Crows, now-crows he may or may not ask. They lie, inveterately. But if he can recognize when they lie and when they do not… Some of your Sisterhood can do that, I'm told. And crows can be bribed, if he has something they might covet. Some shiny gew-gaw. Or a piece of fat; they are fond of fat. Beyond crows, there are many susceptible species too unimaginative to lie: sparrows, bluebirds, thrushes, waxwings… And jays, the tattlers of the forest! Very definitely jays!"

  The great bird paused to threaten a rival. The lesser raven drew back too slowly, and there was a moment's squawking before it rose on flapping wings, to circle in rumpled dignity. Then Everheart looked at Varia again. "He won't tell either. His species is proud, like my own, and the eagles and greater hawks. And stubborn, as you've just seen.

  "Meanwhile I recommend that you keep to the deeper woods, where you'll be hard to see from the air. Avoid meadows and open ridges. And jays so far as possible, for they tell everything. Now if you'll excuse me."

  He began to peck and tear again at the troll-mangled flesh of poor Maude's ribs. Varia watched for just a moment, then turned and hiked off into the forest, stepping carefully with her bare feet.

  Hiking barefoot went better than she'd expected; in avoiding areas where the forest roof was open, she also avoided the stonier places. Now she held northward more than westward. Occasionally, unavoidably, she roused a jay, but they seemed so territorial, she decided the odds were small that Tomm would run into one of these particular jays. Crows, on the other hand, flew widely, but hopefully wouldn't see her in heavy woods.

  That day she ate the last of her bread and cheese, and later stepped hard on a sharp stone, earning a bruise on her right heel. She slept hungry that night beneath another hemlock. And in a dream, Curtis Macurdy found her, and held her in his arms.

  In the morning she spelled a grouse to her hand, and after begging its pardon, wrung its neck. She considered eating it raw, but couldn't bring herself to. Instead she broke dead branches, lit them with a pass of her hand, and half roasted the bird. She ate most of it on the spot-there was little more to it than breast-and stashed the greasy remains in her shift. She also took time to heal her bruised foot sufficiently for swift walking. Then she hiked again.

  Toward midday she became aware of magic about her, a spell of invisibility, and saw through it to the source. In the fire-hollowed base of a great-boled golden birch stood a tiny, furry man, a tomttu. She'd seen one in a cage once, when she was a girl traveling with an embassy. This one was larger, perhaps thirty inches tall. Their eyes met, and after a long moment it was the tomttu who broke the silence.

  "Good mornin' to you. I didn't realize it was a Sister comin' up the trail, or I wouldn't have cast my spell. I'd but to crawl up my hollow here, and you'd never have seen me." He shook his head. "Betrayed by my own magic! Embarrassin'!" Doffing a non-existent cap, he bowed. "I'm called Elsir."

  "Do you live here?"

  "Here? My no! 'tis but a place to shelter on the way. I travel, you see, short though my legs are. Like more than a few of us, I've a wanderlust." He paused, cocking his head as Everheart had. "And what are you doin' out here alone, girl? With the hair on your head no more than a copper-red cap. A runaway, I don't doubt. Your people will be worried."

  She looked at him and saw a chance for help. "I'm not a girl," she said. "I'm a married woman, stolen from my husband and returning to him. Do you ever cast spells to mislead?"

  He laughed. "Perhaps a small one now and then. To lead the troll away when he's near, or the great cats."

  "And what of men? I've heard they sometimes capture you for sport, or steal a girl from you."

  He scowled. "You're ill-advised to speak of such things to me, if it's favors you want."

  "I didn't say it to offend. And as for being stolen and misused by men, I know more than you about that. Can you cast a spell to throw someone off my trail? Something beyond a net of confusion?"

  He stared at her for an endless minute, gnawing his lip. Finally he spoke. "You're a Sister, are you not? Who is it you'd have me mislead?"

  "A tracker named Tomm."

  "I know of him by reputation. It wouldn't work."

  "Could you cast a spell that would hide me from birds?"

  Again he stared a long moment before he spoke. "Ah! The birds. Yes, I could that." Varia stood unbreathing, while Elsir squatted, thinking, frowning. "But I won't," he said at last. "I dare not meddle in affairs of the Sisters." Then, reading the depth of disappointment in her face, and the underlying desperation, he added: "We're a careful folk, bein' small as we are. And if Tomm sensed my spell, he'd know by its nature that it was one of us cast it. Your Dynast would hear of it then, and she's a vengeful woman."

  Varia bowed her head. "Thank you for considering it. Is there any advice you can give me?"

  The small man shook his head. "Only to hurry. Travel as fast as you can. The pass north of here is called Laurel Notch; take it and you'll be in the drainage of the Tuliptree River, the East Fork, which is only a brook at first. It will lead you north into the Kingdom of Indrossa. They might hide you there, or send you on and interfere with the tracker. It's possible."

  Varia began to walk on then, and he called after her. "I'm sorry, girl. But if I cannot give you a spell, I give you my best wish that you escape them. And the wishes of a tomttu are not without force."

  She paused to look back at him. "Thank you," she said softly, then trotted northward on the same trail she'd been following.

  Watching her trot out of sight, the tomttu shook his head. Ah, if only my wishes did have force, he thought. But if it's Tomm followin' you, it's little chance you have.

  She camped that night by a spring, and healed her new stone bruises. Her feet were toughening. At daybreak she awoke, and soon after sunup called a dove down, and ate it. Raw doves had become her staple food. Near midday she reached the head of the pass, a rugged cleft in the highest ridge she'd come to. There, though the stones were harsh, she climbed to a ledge to see what she could see. The ridges northward were progressively lower. Beyond them, at the edge of vision, the land looked level, and not dark enough to be forest.

  As she looked, she heard cawing, saw crows flying southward, and scrambled to hide as best she could beneath a dogberry bush, enduring its sharp spines for the concealment it gave her. When the crows had passed out of hearing, she climbed down into the notch again and trotted on.

  Hungering, she spelled another dove to her, and shortly heard water rattling over rocks. Not long after that she came to a brook, and followed it near enough to keep the sound in her ears.

  Her way led almost continuously downhill, and often she trotted. It seemed to her that two more days would bring her to populated country again.

  That night she dreamed of Curtis. She'd found him, but he refused to believe it was her. "My Varia is young," he said, "and has beautiful long red hair. Yours is short and gray."

  She raised her hands to her face and felt wrinkles, then remembered. Tomm had caught her, and she'd spent five barren brutal years in the Tiger barracks before Sarkia cast her out, broken and aged. She awoke with a cry, and saw dawnlight. And on an old blowdown near her feet, a man, lean and hard.

  "Good morning, Sister Varia," he said quietly. "You've been traveling hard. I thought yo
u should finish your sleep."

  She raised to an elbow, staring at him, willing that this was still the dream. After a minute he got to his feet. "You're probably hungry for something more than the doves whose bones and skins you've left along the way." Stepping over to her, he reached down for her hand. She shrank from him.

  "Come Sister. I'm not a Tiger. I won't harm you."

  Her answer was hardly more than a whisper. "What greater harm than to take me back? You'll return me to my death."

  "No, not to your death. Sarkia has better plans for you. She told me so when she sent me. You please her, even in rebellion; she likes your strength."

  "You don't know what they did to me."

  "The Tigers, you mean. I know. And Idri's been sent away, months since, to other tasks elsewhere. Sarkia intends to train you in the duties Idri did for her, as her personal aide."

  Idri's duties! At the sight of Tomm, Varia had given up, but to do the work that Idri had done? Her will took new strength. "What has the Sisterhood ever given you?" she asked.

  His expression didn't change. "Life," he said. "And the hunt."

  The hunt? Yes, that would be it. "Have you ever thought of leaving? There's work anywhere for a man with your abilities. What chains does the Sisterhood have on you?"

  He didn't answer at once. Then, "Without the Sisterhood, the ylver will someday conquer the Rude Lands, to command whatever tribute they want. To see the girls and women raped, and punish those who displease them."

  It seemed to Varia that he recited, rather than speaking spontaneously. "And what did the Dynast have done to me? I was raped more than any Sister at Ferny Cove, my punishment for displeasing Idri and Sarkia.

  "As for the ylver-the Sisterhood can't stop them. It has no great army to hold them off, nor will the tribes and kingdoms gather to Sarkia in support. Consider how helpless they were at Ferny Cove, when an ylvin army came!"

  Just for a moment he showed emotion. Fervor. "That is ever in my mind. I was there; the cruelties went beyond evil. But helpless? Sarkia's magic troubled them greatly. We found our way through them by dint of her spells-hers and those she'd trained. Dense fogs arose in broad daylight, spreading over the country, and only the chosen could see through them. While ylvin warriors-even ylvin!-fell asleep on horseback, or at their posts. Else I'd be dead, as your children are."