by B. V. Larson
Jak, who had been sitting on his favorite chair with his feet hanging over the arms, jumped up in alarm. He spilled the tea that he had been sipping. Modi surprised everyone by producing his battleaxe, which he had placed out of sight behind his chair. He leapt up and charged to the door as if an army was on the island. Brushing Brand and Corbin aside, he pushed shut the door and barred it, putting his broad back against it. Only then did he turn to the boys.
“What did you see?” he demanded, his bass voice ringing with command. He gripped his battleaxe in both hands, at the ready.
“The shadow man,” said Brand, pointing toward the orchard and the dock beyond. “Corbin saw the shadow man who has been following us for some time.”
Modi's eyes narrowed. He went to the shuttered window nearest him and released the latch, peeking outside. White light illuminated his weathered face and hard eyes. “Just one man?”
“Yes, but he is very mysterious,” replied Brand.
“Are you sure it is the same one?” Jak asked them.
Corbin shrugged. “I don't know. This time we heard the music of pipes.”
“Perhaps we should go out and thrash him,” suggested Jak, rolling up his sleeves and donning his cloak and boots.
Corbin shook his head. “He is not a normal man. It was like Brand said, I–I felt a cold dread come over me. Even to look at him was difficult. Perhaps he is one of the Faerie. One of the Dark Ones.”
Modi slammed the shutters and latched them. They all jumped at the noise. “I see nothing. Faerie, you say?” he said, snorting. “What do River Folk know of Dark Ones?”
Before any could answer him, Gudrin and Telyn came into the room. “I'm sorry, but I seem to have slept late,” said Gudrin. Brand was a bit amused to note that although she wore a nightshirt, she still had her package under her arm and her rucksack on her back. Gudrin looked at Modi and sighed. “I see your weapon is ready again, Modi of the warriors. What is all the commotion about?”
Brand quickly explained about the shadow man while Jak finished dressing and went upstairs to get his crossbow. While Brand was describing the shadow man, Gudrin became increasingly concerned.
“And the length of the weapon you saw the first time…”
“I couldn't be sure it was a weapon,” interrupted Brand.
“Yes, yes, but if it was, would you say it was the length of a dagger or a sword?”
Brand pondered for a moment. “In between, perhaps.”
Gudrin nodded, kneading her chin. She held her package to her chest, as if it gave her comfort of some kind. Brand watched her and noticed that her rucksack gave a tiny twitch again, as it had last night, a small movement. Brand blinked and frowned. He surmised that Gudrin must have some kind of odd tick in the muscles of her back. Perhaps it only showed up when she was thinking, the way old man Tad Silure's cheek would twitch when he spoke before the Riverton council.
“We must investigate this, Modi,” Gudrin said to her companion.
Modi shrugged his massive shoulders. “It is but one man.”
“They describe not a man, but one of the shirik,” said Gudrin.
At this, Modi came alive. He strode forward to Gudrin's side. They spoke briefly in their own tongue, which, to the ears of the River Folk, sounded both crude and subtle. It was a language of many hard sounds and careful inflections. Each word seemed clear and clipped; none ran into the next as words tended to do in their own tongue. Only Telyn seemed to enjoy the sound of it.
“There was one other thing,” said Corbin. “We heard the sweet music of pipes after the phantom had disappeared.”
Gudrin and Modi exchanged glances. “Man-sized? Bearing a long knife and playing sweet pipes? It can only be Voynod,” said Modi.
Gudrin nodded, but gestured Modi to silence. “It is best not to name them so casually when one is near,” she said.
Telyn had followed Jak and his crossbow to the door, both now fully dressed for the cold. In her hand she held a long thin dagger. Brand frowned at the look of it.
“Wait,” said Gudrin. She raised up a thick-fingered hand. “You must not confront the shirik now. It is weak so far from home, I'm sure, but not so weak as to fall to an honest crossbow bolt or dagger.”
“I didn't want to kill the man,” said Jak, a bit taken aback. “I just wanted to warn him off.”
Gudrin nodded. “It is not a man. It is a shirik — a shade, as you would call it in your tongue. A powerful servant of the Enemy. This one you saw, that Modi has already unwisely named, is the Enemy's bard.”
“The Enemy? Do you mean Herla?” asked Brand.
Gudrin raised her hands to her face and made shushing motions. “Shhh! Don't speak his name aloud with one of his servants near!”
All the River Folk stared at her with mouths open. Brand had heard stories of bogies such as the dreaded shades, free agents of Herla and his Wild Hunt, but the idea that there was one of them stalking about outside was just too much.
“Well, that's it,” Jak said, throwing up his hands. “That's just grand.”
“How do you know?” Brand asked Gudrin, ignoring his brother's outburst.
“I can feel it. Now that I know it is here, its presence is clear to me,” she turned then and leveled an accusatory finger at Telyn. “I believe it was some of your doing that it is here this morning. I warned you about the beacon, but still you saw fit to burn it. There are many things, even here in the Haven, that should not be disturbed by a call from one without the wisdom to deal with them.”
Telyn hung her head, but by the set of her jaw and the way she toyed with her dagger, Brand suspected she was not cowed. Gudrin looked at her and sighed. “Still,” she said, “it wouldn't be fair to blame you entirely, as the thing has been following these boys of Clan Rabing for some time now, even without your aid in marking them.”
“What shall we do?” asked Jak, his voice sounding weak and betraying that he was at a loss as to how to protect his home and his guests.
“We will have breakfast,” said Gudrin simply. The only one who smiled at this idea was Corbin.
Posting Modi as a lookout at the front window, they ate around the fire and made plans. While eating, they all felt the presence of something outside, something that wished them ill. Occasionally, they thought to hear the soft playing of sweet pipes, but they were never sure, as it might have been only the wind whistling around the eaves of the old house. The music, if music it was, brought them no joy. There was no laughter in the house, and somehow the food tasted less appetizing, despite Corbin's excellent cooking. They plied Gudrin with questions, most of which she answered vaguely. Some, she refused to answer entirely. Telyn was the most persistent questioner.
“But madam, you must tell us about Herr-ah, that is, about the Enemy. He is just one of the Faerie, is he not?”
“Yes, and no,” said Gudrin. She swallowed another two strips of bacon, seemingly whole, before continuing. “The Enemy is one we must not speak of just now. Not if that is one of his servants outside.”
She paused for a moment to glance to the closed shutters, her eyes seeming to focus on the snowy scene outside and whatever might lurk there. A tinkling sound came to them all then, a soft half-melody, felt as much as heard. Frowning, Gudrin turned back to the group. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. The others all leaned inward to hear her words.
“The Faerie aren't like humans, merlings or the Kindred. They come in myriad forms, the next one looking and acting completely differently from the last. They do not have families and kinfolk quite the way that we do. A Faerie elfkin is able to sire a dryad or one of the Wee Folk, or even a goblin. What results depends on magic and the nature of the parents. Many of the Faerie seem to be unique examples of their kind, freaks that are never born twice. Some of them were once human, and are now forever cursed to live with the Faerie, not alive, but Undying.”
“Among the unique ones, there are wide varieties of temperaments and tendencies. The Enemy and his servants are u
nique in this way, many of them once human. They are of a sort that embraces cruelty and the absence of light. It is part of your Pact with the Faerie that they keep away these Dark Ones.”
Jak made a gesture of annoyance. “You mentioned merlings in the same breath as River Folk and the Kindred. The Faerie are strange, but at least they keep their bargains. I'd rather not be likened to one of the baby-stealing, muck-crusted merlings.”
Gudrin shrugged. “True, they steal your young, but do you not eat their eggs when given the chance? In fact, you inhabit the same lands and waters as the merlings for the same reasons. They to, fear the Faerie and reside in the Haven to avoid their torments.”
“You make them sound intelligent,” said Jak with a snort. “I've never thought of merlings as much more than dim-witted savages.”
“A fair assessment,” admitted Gudrin. “But regardless, both your peoples reside here in an uneasy truce, both thankful to be out of the reach of the Faerie.”
“But I thought the Pact was only to appease the Faerie, to keep them from stealing from us and playing their awful pranks,” said Brand, chewing a brown-bread muffin. He sipped a mug of coffee to wash it down. “You make it seem as if much more is at stake.”
Gudrin rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, how short are the memories of humans. The Pact, which seems almost a new thing to my Kindred, appears to you River Folk as ancient history, the origins of which are only vaguely understood,” she said, shaking her head. She drained her coffee mug in a gulp and wagged it at Corbin, who promptly filled it again. “The Pact is really a bargain, my good young man, struck between the Faerie and the River Folk. You see, although their needs are slight, the Faerie aren't farmers. They have always found it easier to steal what food they need than grow it themselves.
“However, the rising of the Enemy in days gone by was the real reason for the Pact. Rather than stealing from and hunting one another, your two peoples decided to cooperate. Your part of the bargain was to give one part in seven of your crops each year to feed the Faerie of Cmyry. For their part the Faerie would perform no tricks, sour no milk, blight no crops and set no changelings in the cribs of your mothers. Also, they had the task of guarding your borders against malicious creatures of every type,” Gudrin finished. She scooped up another forkful of scrambled eggs, which quickly disappeared into her face.
Brand noticed that even at the breakfast table she wore her leather sack over her shoulder and kept her package laid across her knees. He was about to ask her about it, but Telyn bubbled up with another question.
“So the Faerie should have kept out this shade?” she asked. There was an odd light in her eyes that spoke of a hunger for knowledge, rather than food. Brand noticed that she had barely touched her plate.
“Aye, they should have,” said Gudrin. “It is a disturbing thing that the Enemy's bard has so much strength as to be able to get past them.” Her plate was empty and she sat back, loosening her belt and readjusting her rucksack for comfort. Brand thought he saw it jiggle oddly when she moved it, as if a heavy object had shifted inside.
“Are we strong enough here, on our home isle, to face this thing and ward it off?” demanded Jak.
Gudrin considered. She picked up the package on her knees, which Brand was now certain was a book, and closed her eyes. After a moment she nodded. “Yes, I feel that we have strength enough if he is alone. The Shade is weak when alone and in the daylight. Especially when working hard to keep the Faerie from noticing him.
“But that isn't the real question,” she said, placing both hands on the table and eyeing each of them in turn. Her blue gaze had that hard spark of light again that was painful to look upon. “The real question is why the Enemy has sent his bard to watch you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Gudrin's Burden
Gudrin aimed a thick finger at Telyn. “I would blame you and your beacon first, were it not for the fact that the shade was seen by Brand even before you lit the fool thing.”
Telyn frowned at her nearly full plate of cold breakfast.
“It matters not why,” said Jak, rising and taking up his crossbow. “You say we can ward it off. Let us do so and be done with it. I'll not have such a creature wandering about my island and creating mischief if I can prevent it.”
Gudrin shook her head. “No,” she said, in the tone of one commanding children. She took another gulp of coffee, then turned her baleful eyes full force onto Jak. Jak stood where he was, his legs and face twitching, but not moving.
Brand felt a heat come up his neck and into his face. He stood up, rising to his full height. He was considerably taller than any of them. “Gudrin of the Talespinners,” he said in a loud voice. Some quiet part of him wondered just what he was doing, but a greater part of him pushed past all doubts and worries. “This is the house of Clan Rabing, on Rabing Isle. My brother is the master of this house, and you have taken of his hearth and food. I demand that you reconsider your words.”
Everyone looked at him in surprise. Telyn smiled. Modi's hand moved to the haft of his axe. Gudrin was the last to react. She stood up too and faced Brand. She clutched her package to her barrel-like chest and her rucksack shifted on her back as though it held poached game. Her eyes cut into Brand's gaze and they locked there. Brand resolutely returned the stare, refusing to look down, although it seemed one of the greatest efforts of his life. Vaguely, he wondered if having suffered through the dreadful gaze of the shade he had seen twice now had somehow strengthened him for this encounter. Through sheer determination he held on, managing not to avert his eyes.
Finally, Gudrin nodded. She dropped her eyes first. She rubbed her face, eyes downcast for several long moments. When she lifted them again, the power in them was all but gone.
“You are right. I have behaved without consideration for my host,” she said then she sighed and took her chair again. The others relaxed as well. Jak came to life again and Modi let go of his axe. Gudrin suddenly looked older and smaller. “It is just that you do not know what it is that you wish to face. It is a horror beyond description.”
Brand was a bit amazed to find himself standing there, facing down Gudrin. He frowned and sat down slowly. It was not his normal role to play. He shook himself slightly, wondering what had overcome him. Then he knew: he had not been able to stand his brother looking so weak. Jak didn't deserve that.
“Tell us what you can then, and let us decide,” said Jak.
Gudrin looked around at them, then stood and donned her cloak and her wide-brimmed hat. “There is no way to explain such a thing, it must be seen.”
They all followed her out into the cold gray morning. Corbin led them into the orchard to the fourth row where he had spotted the shade. Jak had his crossbow loaded, Telyn carried her knife and Corbin and Brand carried the axes they had chopped wood with the day before. When they neared the spot, Modi stopped them with a gesture and stumped forward. He crouched to examine the snow.
“That's no use, Modi,” said Gudrin, stepping forward and waving the others to follow. “The shade will leave no tracks.”
For once, Modi didn't heed Gudrin. He raised his thick-fingered hand again, signaling her to stop. Scowling, Gudrin obeyed. She grumbled something about the warrior class of the Kindred. Modi moved around the trunk of the tree with care, until at last he halted with a grunt of recognition. He waved the others forward.
“As I said…” began Gudrin, then stopped. “By the dragon's breath!” she breathed. “There are prints!”
The River Folk crowded around and they could all see the tracks too. Just four horse tracks, all alone in the fresh snow, as if a horse had appeared by the apple tree and then vanished. There were no tracks leading to the tree, nor away from it. Nor was there any way that someone could have jumped a horse to that spot through the trees. The white frost on the branches was undisturbed.
Gudrin was rubbing her face. She scowled and clenched her package tightly to her chest. On her back, Brand saw her rucksack lurch not on
ce, but twice, as though something had fallen to one side and then the other, by itself. Gudrin jerked her head in annoyance. “Quiet!” she whispered over her shoulder. Then she caught sight of Brand watching her.
Brand frowned and stepped toward Gudrin. He wanted to know what was in that rucksack once and for all.
“This is very bad,” said Gudrin before he could speak. “The shade is strong enough to take bodily form, even if for just a moment or two.” She shook her head.
“Doesn't that just mean we could hurt it with our weapons?” asked Jak.
“No, I doubt it. I'm not sure even Modi of the warriors here could best one of them,” said Gudrin, her face was a mass of deep lines. She looked older when she worried. “It takes more than ordinary steel to injure a shade.”
“What should we do?” asked Telyn. Gudrin startled a bit, turning around to notice for the first time that she had come up behind her to stand close.
“You are a quiet one, aren't you?” she asked. She waved her hands for everyone's attention. “Jak, we must leave this place. We must flee. I don't know why the Enemy has his shades after you, but that doesn't matter. We must run to a safer place. And after that, we must find Myrrdin. He may know why you are hunted.”
Jak nodded in agreement. “I think we should head for Riverton. The Harvest Moon Feast and the Offering must be performed tonight. If I can't bring them Myrrdin, then you will have to do.”
Gudrin raised her hands in protest. “But I'm not fit to perform the ceremony! I haven't the craft!”
“Neither have we, nor have any of the other folk of the River Haven,” argued Jak.
Gudrin clutched her package and clenched her eyes tightly, as would someone in prayer. Brand saw her rucksack shift twice more. He and Corbin exchanged quizzical glances. He had seen it too.
Finally, Gudrin raised up her head, and all her years seemed to run through her in a shudder. Brand wondered just how old she truly was.
