Golden Trillium

by Andre Norton

Those beside her made room as Lamaril swung up to the ledge. He must have been right behind her. She wondered fleetingly if it had been his hand which had reset her footing.

  Their perch narrowed where the worst of the fall had occurred and they edged along it with their back to the wall, taking the same care the climb had demanded. The larger Sindona needed to venture very close to the edge to travel at all. And over all was that stench of plague.

  Yet the ledge must be their road for it ran on past the crystalline barrier above the dammed streambed. Lamaril and Fahiel of the guard scraped by the others, steadied by those they passed as they went. Before them scuttled the Hassitti. There seemed to be a new eagerness among the small ones from Yatlan, as if they were engaged in a race.

  The barrier was wide and the ledge narrowed even more, until those leading them dropped to the top of the barrier wall itself. They could see ahead; the streambed still lay there and there were water marks high on the walls as if the dam had once created a small lake. Here and there were patches on the dry stone which Kadiya first thought were flowers, so bright did the color appear against the rocks. Then she saw that they were small beds of yellow and red crystals such as studded the wall.

  They reached the end of the barrier. Now they needed to descend again into the streambed as that narrow upper way could not offer footing. The packs which had been drawn up were relowered. Then the Sindona held fast the ropes while the Oddlings, the Hassitti, and Kadiya descended.

  One by one the Vanished Ones followed, until only Lamaril and Fahiel remained above. Both of them went to their knees and turned their rods point down against the surface of that wall. It was as if they used the rods like the drills Kadiya had seen employed by boat builders. The slender lengths settled into the stone.

  Looping the rope about them, Lamaril and Fahiel swung over the edge and slipped down almost as one. When their boots thudded into the gravel of the ancient streambed, they pulled at the rope and Kadiya heard at very high range a whistling.

  She could see the rods twisting, loosing from the stone. Then they flipped upward into the air and dropped so that their owners made quick grabs to catch them.

  Lamaril rubbed his fingers along the length of his strange weapon-tool. Kadiya could only see that gesture—not his features below the helm mask—but she felt an uneasiness which she was sure emanated from him and Fahiel, as if in some way they had diminished the Power they could summon. If so, they accepted the fact quickly for the Guardian Leader turned almost at once to the rest of them.

  “We go so—” he pointed ahead. “But ’ware touching the crystals. They are guards of a sort, and we know not how long their Power has lasted, how strong they still may be.”

  Thus warned they threaded their way single file, watching the ground and angling around one brilliant patch after another. The plague scent was still in the air, yet it was not as strong as it had been when Kadiya had faced the loathsome traces in the swamp. She kept a careful lookout, not only for the dangerous crystals, but also for any kind of vegetation which could support contagion. So far she had seen nothing but sterile stone.

  The streambed was sloping upward and, in spite of the high walls on either side, ahead they could sight the dark bulk of the mountain country, while the wind which whistled down that hollow was snow and ice chill.

  The daylight, already cut somewhat by the walls, was dimming. Close to evening they had discovered no place where the land was free enough from the crystals for any camp. Yet rest and eat they must—at least, thought Kadiya, must the Oddlings, the Hassitti, and she. Perhaps the Sindona did not need such refreshment.

  As it grew darker, the crystals began to glow. The light they emitted was enough to mark them so they could be avoided. However, as far as Kadiya could see ahead, there was no end to them.

  As far as she could see … Suddenly the girl realized that there was a misting, a clouding before them on this path, not unlike the mists which clung in the swamp country. Yet here was no water to give them birth.

  A curious thickness seemed to roil within the outer parts of that mist. Also the smell of the plague was stronger. Kadiya slowed and mind sent a warning which she hoped would reach all their company. Yet the Sindona did not slacken pace.

  “Lamaril!” She strove to match the longer strides of the leader. “There is rot ahead—”

  “There is no other path, King’s Daughter,” he returned.

  She wanted to halt, to hold back the Oddlings, the scurrying Hassitti. The plague might appear to be a lesser ill to the Sindona, but she had seen it.

  Slowly Kadiya worked her sword free. Her exertions in the cliff climb appeared to have forced it more tightly into the sheath. There was a small glow of light—the eyelids were half open. From them beamed a subdued radiance. They were alive, those strange orbs, and they had indeed burned plague sores on the ground into nothingness—but could they withstand a long demand on their Power?

  The mist was now a dark curtain, looking so thick as to be tangible, and the path they wove toward it was growing shorter. Kadiya kept testing the air. So far the putrid smell had not grown any stronger.

  Lamaril’s rod swept forward. A spear of light no larger than the girl’s forefinger shot out against that curtain. He was actually slicing at it, moving the rod up and down as he might a cutting knife.

  The dark shrouding did not dissipate. Instead it curled outward in long ribbons, reaching toward them. Another illusion? Kadiya did not think so. But neither did she believe it to be some ancient guard that the Vanished Ones had left, even though Lamaril was so briskly dealing with it now.

  One of those strips of dark reached toward the left. A Hassitti—Quave—crouched closer to the stony ground and wriggled backward. Lalan raised her rod as one might use a whip to bring the unruly to terms and struck at a wandering wisp.

  As if part of a sentient creature it recoiled, but a stone it had touched showed a point of glistening slime—a bubble of rottenness from which puffed forth that telltale odor.

  Three other of the Sindona moved up beside their leader. Their rod tips were now pinpoints of bursting light—a light which leaped at those writhing tatters of curtain.

  Fire ran along it as it twisted and spun, as might a living thing being destroyed in a furnace. Then it was gone and they could see ahead. Yet there were stinking spots on the ground, spattering the way before them. Kadiya swung out the sword, aiming the eyes toward the first drip of slime.

  But her will brought no answer from the triple orbs. It was one of the Sindona who burnt the patch to nothingness.

  Shaken, Kadiya stood holding the weapon she had so long trusted. The eyes were open and she could look at them, into them: the greenish one which was like that of an Oddling, the brown flecked with gold which might have been lifted from her own skull, and the bright and larger one whose like she could see in any Sindona head.

  Watching—they were only watching—or waiting. For what? Preserving their strength for some trial to come? Her jumbled thoughts could supply answers but who knew whether they were true?

  However, she kept the blade unsheathed in her hand as she moved forward behind the Sindona leaders, accompanied by the Oddlings and the Hassitti who had now fallen back. The mists were gone; she could see ahead.

  There was the ancient streambed continuing on and on, but to her left there was something else. A narrow stair cut into the cliff wall, leading up. And there were markings on the steps: dim patches dried and chip-like, but yielding still the putrid stench of the plague.

  Lamaril’s rod was at the ready. Light washed over each step as he started to climb, cleansing the way as he went. They were steep, those stairs, and plainly intended for the feet of the taller Vanished Ones. The Hassitti were using both hands and feet to aid their ascent, and Kadiya could only take a step at a time, sideways with her back to the wall, so that she might aid Salin. The wisewoman seemed even more frail and shrunken, yet she made no complaint, only drew from a belt pouch what looked like a hal
f handful of dried leaves which she packed into her mouth and chewed upon determinedly as if she expected some aid from that endeavor.

  Dusk had caught them, but the dark did not seem to deter the Sindona. Perhaps through some talent night seeing was theirs, but Kadiya, keeping resolutely from looking down over the unprotected outer side of those stairs, found this now nearly as great a trial as the ascent of the rubble had been.

  There must be an end to this. Had they passed from the foothills into the true mountains? She shivered from the bite of the wind, though luckily it was not strong—not strong enough to pluck them from this stair, at least.

  They came out at last on a flat stretch of stone so smooth it might have been pavement. The fore of that gave on a space well open to the winds of fast coming night; the rear was another rise. This of rough stone unworked, creviced here and there.

  Lamaril and the others who had flanked him in the battle with the mist curtain went directly to the stone wall. Once there they held out their open palms, rods pointed to the surface. Again the rods began to move of themselves. Lamaril’s left his hand to strike horizontally at a point a little above his helmed head. Those of his companions flashed a few to each side.

  Kadiya saw those weapon-tools move again, Lamaril’s first right and then left, drawing a thread-thin line of light across the rock. The other operated in a similar way to draw two vertical lines. What they outlined was an oblong which might mark a door.

  However, those lines of light winked out almost as soon as they had first appeared. Lamaril quickly touched the rod but did not try to release it from its hold on the stone. Once more the lines showed and then were gone.

  Now he set his hands to the rock within the frame the rods had drawn. Kadiya watched his whole body tense. Two of his companions moved in behind him, one reaching for the Commander’s right shoulder, the other for the left.

  Power! Kadiya caught the backwave of what they were expending. It was plain that the Sindona were attempting to force some opening.

  The backlash of energy was increasing steadily. In Kadiya’s hands the sword twisted in protest. She saw the eyes there close as if in pain.

  Another surge of the Power. Still Lamaril and the rest faced an unyielding wall. The lines had flickered out this time not to return.

  “Sealed.” Lamaril stepped back, having plucked his rod from its point against the rock. “Sealed as it was left—but it does not answer for us.”

  Resheathing the rod at his belt he once more faced the wall. Now he set the fingertips of both hands against the rock surface, sending them back and forth in sweeps, keeping within the section the lines had outlined.

  “There is darkness here—woven darkness!” The mind speech had not come from Lamaril, rather it was Salin who stepped forward now. The wisewoman’s face showed both disgust and an underlying fear.

  “Darkness,” she repeated as Lamaril turned his head to look down at her.

  “The work of Varm’s chosen!” Lalan stared. “Then he has won here before us!”

  “I think not,” said Lamaril slowly. “If that were so this way surely would have been opened since he wishes what is within to come forth. Caskar set the final locking—and he was not of Darkness. Nor was Binah, who watched that setting that she might keep full guard. Kadiya,” now his mind touch reached the girl, “you have told us of this Orogastus who meddled in the forbidden. What manner of man was he?”

  She tried to think of all Haramis had told them. But she also knew that there was much concerning the sorcerer which had been private to her sister and never shared, even though Haramis at the end had stood against Orogastus and brought him down with the Power of their combined talisman.

  “He knew much, but he was strange and from another land. We never knew whence Voltrik brought him as an advisor. Only we were certain that Voltrik moved to his bidding thereafter, whether the King knew it or not.

  “Haramis said that—though he knew much—he was thirsty for more and that he believed that he would find hidden secrets in the mire ruins. He was certainly one of the Dark and he sought always to master Power.”

  “From another land …” Lamaril was thoughtful. “And Power draws Power. This might have drawn him.”

  “His own place was here in the mountains,” Kadiya added eagerly.

  “A seeker who meddled, and perhaps set a lock so that his meddling would be safe until he could come again,” Lalan hazarded.

  “Perhaps—yet one escaped to reach Varm. And it could be his sealing which bars us now. So.” Lamaril looked back to the wall. “We can do the same. When he reaches here he may be so delayed.” He turned his full attention to the Uisgu wisewoman.

  “What know you of sealing Power?”

  She settled herself cross-legged on the rock of the wide ledge, moving with difficulty. But at her gesture Smail brought up their pack and worked loose the ties for her.

  “What I have, Noble One, is small. I farsee, I foresee … a little. I have arts of healing to some degree. What I have of protection is for the hunter, the far traveler, or one troubled with ill dreams—”

  “Dreams! That touches the Hassitti,” interrupted Quave, padding to the side of the Uisgu. “Dreams I can deal with. But of what use are they here?”

  Salin had been raiding the pack and now laid out three small packets and a metal plate no larger than Kadiya’s hand.

  “Perhaps they are no use as yet, small one.” Lamaril rather than the wisewoman answered Quave. “But all aspects of the Power have use.”

  Kadiya tightened hold on the sword. All aspects of Power—

  Salin crumbled a small fraction of dried leaf onto the plate and added pinches of powder from each of the other packets.

  Though it was dark now, the plate before her gave forth a glow and the rods were like candles as their bearers moved in around Salin, leaving open only the side toward the mountain.

  “This is the greatest ward I know, Noble One.” The wisewoman brought forth a small splinter and touched it to the plate. A spark sprang into the mixture, and there rose from it a curl of smoke phosphorescent enough to be seen. Salin waved her hand and that vertical thread of smoke became horizontal, probing out to the wall.

  Lamaril had gone down on one knee, head turning from Salin to the wall and back. Even in this poor light Kadiya could see his nostrils expand. She had also caught the scent—acrid, teasing, such as might come from some steaming highly spiced dish.

  “Zarcon—yes.” His helmed head nodded. “Your song, wisewoman?”

  Still holding her hand to direct the smoke Salin put her head back as if she now sought to address something unseen in the air above them.

  From her lips there came a strange quavering, not a song such as Kadiya knew. Salin’s eyes closed. Smail had moved to kneel behind her. He brought his palm up and slapped it down on the rock, bringing forth a regular rhythm. Kadiya could hear the sound fit itself into the guttural quavers of the wisewoman.

  Now Lamaril was on his feet again. In two strides he was at the face of the cliff. His rod out, he reached down toward the thread of smoke. The end of that encircled the rod and, when he raised it, he drew the wisp along.

  With a sweep of arm he sent the captive smoke toward the hidden doorway. His rod flared brightly as he passed that weapon back and forth. On the rock face lines showed again—this time thin and gray—smoke lines being woven into a tight web.

  23

  It was Jagun who discovered a way from the ledge into concealment. The web, having encased the doorway, had disappeared, but Kadiya was certain that it was still in existence. Now they worked their way along the ledge toward a break in the cliff wall that could not be seen from their original position.

  Here a crevice formed a chimney-like stair to a higher point of the mountain. The Oddlings, Hassitti, and Kadiya found it easy enough, but the Sindona had to scrape their way in and up. The girl heard the rasp of their mail against stone.

  Luckily the climb was not long and it led them
into the narrow throat of a greater break, one which widened out into a pocket of valley. It had been occupied in the past, for they stumbled into a mass of dried branches, grass, and unidentifiable material which made up a vast nest. They had come upon one of the lammergeier lairs.

  However, Jagun and two of the Uisgu, having made a careful search, assured them that it had been several breeding seasons since this had last had inhabitants. As the giant birds always returned to the same nests each season, this must have been abandoned for one reason or another.

  They set about clearing one mass of rubbish—which when stirred gave off faint foul smells—from a space large enough for them all to crowd into though these were very close quarters.

  That they were awaiting the coming of the Dark One Kadiya knew. If he, on his escape, had indeed set up the barrier to protect his helpless companions, then he might be delayed on his return by the net Lamaril and Salin had spun.

  It was not until the girl subsided in the small space she could claim, and was gnawing on a hard hunk of trail ration, that she surrendered to the fatigue which was the result of their day’s exertions. The persistent ache of strained muscles wore at her. Kadiya had believed that she was hardened to the trail after her exertions of the past days, but now she knew the full cost of such a one as that just ended.

  This night the Sindona drew no protection circle, nor did they light any fire, though the materials of the old nest were dry enough to make a good one. Plainly there was to be no use of magic or light to warn off their quarry.

  Kadiya wondered if the man she had seen arise jubilantly from the iron throne would be easy to face. She had no knowledge of the extent of Power either the Sindona or he could produce at will, but she had become sure from Lamaril’s attitude that the Vanished Ones considered this ancient enemy of their own blood a formidable opponent.

  Luckily the walls of the crevice shielded them from the worst of the night wind but she felt the shivers of Salin crowded against her, the shudders of Tostlet on her other side. They shared with her such reaction to the chill, which the mire-born had never known before. Their reed cloaks, meant to shed the wet mists of the swamp, allowed these gusts of air nearly free entrance.