Amberyn entered my son’s room, and set me on the bed beside him. The elf stared into Phillippe’s vacant eyes. “You are correct—he lives though his soul has taken flight. However, I am not going to carry both of you. He will have to walk.”
“Impossible!” I objected. “There is no mind within him to direct his body.”
Amberyn shrugged as if it were a minor inconvenience. “Then magic will have to suffice.”
He spoke phrases that wrapped around us, words older than human civilization, words that curled and leapt like flames. He gestured toward my son as he finished the incantation.
My heart skipped a beat as Phillippe rose. He stared at nothing, but moving as if his soul were back.
The illusion pierced me with disquiet, but I said nothing. I had asked for this.
Amberyn dressed my son warmly against the cold. The elf wrapped a blanket around me, gathered me up, and called sharply to my son, “Follow me!”
We moved toward the front door and I impressed upon my mind all the subtle touches that made this house our home. It might be a long time until my son and I returned. I thought of saying farewell to my father, but I was not sure he would let us go without argument, and such drama might undo Amberyn’s patience, and end the tentative agreement I had with him.
I decided to send word to my father when I could, and save my strength for what I had to do next.
Outside the front door, Amberyn stopped to laugh. His unicorn mount had drawn many a curious villager. Troubled parents trampled the snow, busy keeping gleeful children away from the fabulous stallion. A priest in a heavy cloak prayed fervently and flicked holy water about with excited fingers. The unicorn bore it all with patient indifference, pawing at the slush, vainly seeking grass. His white coat glowed despite the half-hearted winter light. His breath was mist.
Seeing me in the act of being “spirited away by evil”, Father Francis mauled his prayer beads as he marched over, determined to save me. He thrust a bony finger in the elf’s face. “Heathen creature—put that good woman down! Inflict your Godless lusts upon your own kind!”
Amberyn smiled. “I must thank you for a most excellent suggestion, but my wife would kill me in a trice were I so bold as to cast myself so freely about.” He frowned slightly, displaying mild annoyance. “Now stand aside. We have pressing business elsewhere.”
“It is no matter of concern,” I assured Father Francis. The priest looked unconvinced.
My son skirted the crowd without gathering a single glance. I wondered if Amberyn were employing a mystic glamour of some kind. I spoke to give my son time to get clear. Besides, I did not want words to escalate into violence. “I assure you, I am in no danger. The elf lord has pledged his support in my war upon Death. You would do me a great kindness to tell my father you saw me recovered and well. And tell him, I shall return when I can bring his grandson whole once more.”
“Nay, good daughter,” Father Thomas protested. “Go not with this pagan creature of darkness. It cannot be trusted. And meddle not in affairs far above your station. It is our duty to accept the hand of God, even when He lovingly crushes us.”
“My God crushes no one,” I replied heatedly. How dare he say such an absurd thing?
Amberyn feigned an exaggerated expression of perplexity. “Why, I am beginning to think I am not welcome here. If you continue with this mewling tirade, I shall certainly be insulted.”
“I will take that chance, heathen animal.” The priest snorted.
The unicorn tossed his head, copying the sound with greater effect. The elf shouted a long word in Elven.
The unicorn dug hooves in and plunged closer, making the priest sprawl aside. The beast never slowed as I felt myself wrenched skyward, a leaf on a gust of wind. Then the elf was in the saddle, still cradling me against him. The villagers parted hastily, and once away from them, we caught up to my son. He was mindlessly plodding along with no idea of where he was going. The unicorn slowed to match pace with Phillippe.
“Why not hide your animal with glamour to begin with,” I asked Amberyn. “It would have spared us the priest’s displeasure.”
“Ha! I can see you know little of unicorns. Such beasts are the very essence of magic. They cannot be enspelled, even by me.”
“But then, could he not carry you through Death’s wards?”
“No, Lass. Death is too strong with the souls of the dead to fuel his power. Once you get me past the barrier, even then, my only hope lies in the element of surprise and in blinding speed.”
Blinding speed… No wonder the elf moved so often in furious haste. He ever trained for the task he had set himself.
We traveled onward most of the day, until suddenly, my son turned sharply to leave the roadway. He plodded along a path leading into the barren woodland. We followed, and soon reached a small lea that was as unnatural as my mother’s rose garden. Here, it was spring. Bluebells clustered on a grass-covered mound of earth. Phillippe took up a post beside the mound, and waited for further bidding from the elf. Gnarled oaks ringed the clearing like monstrous, deformed sentries. The air vibrated with expectation.
“Have we reached one of the gates to Avalon?” I asked.
“Yes,” Amberyn answered. “I have only to sing it open.” He lowered me from the unicorn to the ground. I leaned against the animal, as Amberyn dismounted. He stroked the mount’s snowy mane and spoke soft words of praise to him. I gained the impression that these two had kept company through many a campaign.
“If you intend to ride with me to battle,” the elf came around the unicorn’s head, “we will need to find you a creature as swift as my own. And you will need armor, weapons. We can outfit you in the nearest village once we cross over.”
I would have been more comfortable in a side-saddle or in the clothes of a man. I wished I had my grandmother’s leather attire. Why had I not grabbed it when I had the chance? And my sword, it still lay by the fountain. I shook my head, disgusted with myself. Had my mind not yet recovered? Would it ever?
My companion untied his saddlebag, and drew forth a small harp of rosewood with silver strings. He passed me on the way to the mound. I saw the instrument closely. It took my breath away; lovely, delicate, and strangely at home in the elf prince’s hands. The intricate carvings and decoration caught the sunlight and wove it into song, building up a haze of gold above the mound. Strums augmented arpeggios. Then a simple melody trickled in, complex in its simplicity.
I wondered if he were truly as good as I thought, or if he used glamour to enhanced my appreciation. The sound beckoned my son to the top of the mound. The unicorn under me moved as well, as though sensing the way to home suddenly open. My son turned, took a step, and disappeared into the shimmering air. I gaped foolishly though I had expected this very thing.
Amberyn had a gently mocking smile on his face as he sang the lyrics of an Elven song. I passed him on the unicorn. My hands gripped the saddle painfully, as I braced for a passage such as I had never experienced. I closed my eyes, as mystic vibrations teased my nerves. The transition brought a sensual pleasure, as if unseen hands were lightly stroking my body everywhere at once. I cut off a small moan of enjoyment, feeling a blush creep over my face.
Any hope I cherished that Amberyn had not heard me sounding so wickedly wanton evaporated as he appeared beside me, laughing.
Do not be concerned,” he urged. “The effect is normal for humans. You are not suffering some spell of seduction. No incubus is near.” He put away his harp and came around to face me. He made a courtly gesture with both hands. “Welcome to Avalon. This is the Forest of Dreams. They say the trees drink the dreams of travelers who pass through here and often give their own dreams in return.”
I looked about, trying to imagine what the dream of a tree would look like. I quickly gave up the effort.
We had lost precious hours in a moment by coming to Avalon. Day on this world was well advanced. Gloom swathed the densest parts of the woods, held at bay where pale, jade-tin
ted sunlight shafted through the canopy. The wind was rich with floral and pine scents. Birds twittered. Somewhere, an owl called. Fireflies hovered and flickered. Taller than any forest I had ever heard of, the woods held me enthralled with breathless wonder. The trees possessed a waiting quality that made me feel as if I should introduce myself to the giants and engage them in polite conversation. Here, it seemed quite possible that the trees could do anything—given enough time to take an interest.
“That story about dreams, is it true?” I asked.
“Doubt nothing and everything while you are among us. It is safer that way,” Amberyn said. “Do not be lulled by how much here is common to your own world. There is much on Avalon humans have never seen—wonders to make you laugh and weep, dangers to delight and horrify.
Wonderful, I had traded an asylum of madness for one of mystery and perils. Still, what else could I have done?
My roving gaze embraced my son, as he stood a few feet away, framed by a single standing stone carved with runes. Phillippe’s face remained slack, the eyes untenanted, crippling the joy I had momentarily found here. I recalled myself to the business at hand, and turned to Amberyn. “Which way to this village you mentioned?”
“A full day’s ride,” he answered. “We will travel with the sun and then seek a hiding hole for the night. By midday tomorrow we should arrive.”
“We’d make better time traveling at night. Holes are for moles and foxes.”
He looked at me with solemn eyes before he answered. “If it were only a matter of avoiding mischievous ghost lights and thorn welding pixies, I would push through. But there have been recent reports of Dar’kyn in the area.”
A chill of apprehension slithered down my spine. “Dar’kyn? I don’t know that word.”
“Dark Elves; they who have broken faith with the spirit of the forest. Instead of serving nature, they bend her to their will. They have grown so corrupt that the old magic will not answer them. They can even handle weapons of cold iron.”
“And what is the danger if they find us? You and the unicorn are quite formidable.”
“Their iron would break my spells. And though they cannot draw upon the magic of the Green, they have found a living darkness to serve that empowers them strangely. I and the unicorn would certainly be hard pressed, even without safeguarding you. We could even die.”
The unicorn snorted with contempt at the idea.
Amberyn went on, “And if they took you in the heat of battle, you would be enslaved and used for their pleasures--not an enjoyable fate. Only your son would be safe.”
I could not follow his logic. “Why would they spare my son, but no one else? And how can you die if Death cannot come to this world?”
“They would see your son as mad, and Dar’kyn value the insane, seeing them as those specially touched by the Darkness they worship. As for death in Avalon, I use the word loosely. My body would certainly die, but my soul would merge with the forest, gathered in by the eternal Green.”
“What would happen to a human soul released here?” My curiosity knew no bound, confronted with so much that was utterly new. “Might I become a daisy?”
He shrugged. “I do not know, but we are safe until sunset when the Dar’kyn emerge to hunt. Let us hope we find shelter in time, otherwise, we will have to risk a cold camp and whatever the night brings.”
My stomach grumbled loudly to remind me I had neglected it for days, swallowing only broth my father had made for Phillippe and me.
Amberyn laughed. “I have bread and cheese in the other saddlebag if you need to break your fast.” I did not trust myself to turn upon the saddle, stay balanced, and untie the bag, so I simply looked at him.
He sighed his way into a smile. “Regain your health quickly,
White Rose. I have no fondness for playing servant.”
I smiled sweetly as he broke out the rations. “But you do it so well.”
He ignored me, and put food in Phillippe’s hand. I was about to tell him “that will do little good” when, to my amazement, my son ate with studious attention to the task. I approved. He had been growing dangerously thin.
I ate with enthusiasm, barely pausing when Amberyn vaulted up behind me in the large saddle. We could not have been much closer. I drew comfort from that nearness, and said nothing when he slipped an arm around me to hold me in place.
There were no reins to gather. The unicorn seemed to know what was expected of him, and complied promptly. We kept to a walk that matched Phillippe’s pace. The slowness aggravated me, but it could not be helped. I would have given nearly anything for an extra mount at that moment and a rope to lash my son in the saddle.
My father’s oft-repeated words came to me: What cannot be changed must be endured. Knowing that truth, I set my heart to gracious acceptance.
“Does this animal of yours have a name?” I inquired.
“I call him Ty’hrall. God alone knows what he calls himself,” Amberyn said.
I swallowed a chunk of bread. “What does Ty’hrall mean?”
“It is Elvin for ‘He-Who-Hogs-All-The-Grass.”
The unicorn stopped and swung his long neck to give Amberyn a one-eyed stare and whicker of protest.
I stifled a laugh so as not to offend the noble beast. “What does the name really mean?”
“Thunder-That-Breaks-Wind,” the elf said.
“All that from one word?” I let my face display suspicion as I tore loose another chunk of bread.
“Thunder,” Amberyn said. “It just means Thunder.”
“That name fits him well enough.” I popped another morsel into my mouth and proceeded to choke upon it as a strange voice echoed inside my head.
Of course it does. The sound of my hooves drives terror into the hearts of the wicked everywhere I run!
He talks? Though dazed with astonishment, I managed to clear my throat of obstruction and croak for water. Amberyn handed it to me. I drank mightily, feeling my strength and energy building dramatically. Old pains, and the helpless anguish I had felt for so long, drained away.
I looked for my son, but did not see him. “Where is Phillippe?” I asked.
“Hmmm. That is odd,” Amberyn said. “My connection to him seems to have been sheered clean away, but he cannot be far. You stay here.” The elf dropped lightly to the ground and ran ahead. The unicorn stayed to guard me. I listened intently and heard the trickle and splash of water. Oh, please tell me he has not fallen face first into a stream.
“Please, go on!” I begged Ty’hrall.
The animal broke into a trot, and darted between two widely spaced trees. He turned to follow a downward slope of ground. We found Amberyn at the edge of a stream that could not be more than five feet across and ankle deep. The elf had his sword out, yelling belligerently at the water’s rippled surface. “Give him back! I will not ask you a second time.”
I slid to the ground and ran forward. My heart quailed with fear as I saw my son submerged, flattened in some strange trick of perspective and reduced by a distance that was not possible in so shallow a stream. A girl with blue hair and skin, and large silver eyes held Phillippe tenderly, like an oversized doll. She wore a dress of water weeds and had a water lily in her hair.
As with the unicorn, I heard her thoughts. He is mine. I found him. He is pretty and I am keeping him.
8. THE LOST TOMB
I threw myself past Amberyn, toward the water.
He caught and forced me down at his feet, glowering. “Are you trying to get yourself killed, lass? Elementals are nearly as dangerous as elves!”
My voice burst forth as a shriek. “You have to get him out of there!”
“Easy, lass,” Amberyn said. “I know what to do.”
He knelt, keeping a hand on me so I could not go after my son. He set his sword aside, placed his hand against the earth of the bank, and muttered a low-voiced invocation. I nearly demanded the import of what he did, but thought better of distracting him at so vital a moment.
My gaze returned to the stream where Phillippe’s flattened image wavered just beneath the surface, in the clutches of some strange girl. The sight of my son suffering no distress from submersion allowed me hold onto self-control. He stared vacuously as always, and appeared to have no difficulty breathing. What had Amberyn called her, an elemental? That seemed to imply she was a water nymph of some kind. Perhaps the water itself was obedient to her will.
Of course, that could change quickly, depending on the elemental’s mood!
Amberyn’s efforts bore sudden fruit as the stream bed turned murky and a cluster of roots burst up into the water, and wound around the water-dweller and my son. Both were thrust out of the water, acquiring all their proper dimensions.
How dare you! Let me go! At once! The elemental’s thoughts were sharp with displeasure, resounding in my head as she struggled to rip free of the growth that tangled her limbs and torso. She tore at her restraints, and lost hold of my son.
Unable to force her way free, she grew still. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and the stream spat a geyser to blast her loose. That strategy failed as well. The water reformed as liquid snakes around her.
Amberyn continued to chant words that leaped like fire from his tongue, imploring further help from the surrounding trees. Distracted, his hold on me fell away.
My body responded before I fully realized it was up to me to defend us both—I rolled my back across his, landed on Amberyn’s other side, and snatched up his sword. I was unsure of what use the blade would be against animated water. Still, the sword was elf-forged silver with runes etched along its length.
I slashed just behind two serpent heads, detaching them from undulating bodies. The fanged heads fell as shapeless water, soaking my skirts and feet. Though shocked by the cold drenching, I kept the blade in motion as new heads sprouted where the old had been.
The elemental watched as roots passed Phillippe to nearby tree branches that wove a protective cage around him. She bawled in outrage, but calmed almost at once, staring at nothing. Her body turned liquid, and splashed back into the stream.
The Farthest Gate (The White Rose Book 1) Page 11
