by Karen Myers
He took a running lunge at the invisible barrier and charged through on pure momentum. As soon as he crossed, he gave a loud cry and fell.
George swore and charged after him, ignoring the protests behind him. He felt a tingle all over as he crossed the line, but no other ill effect.
He bent down and picked the man up in his arms, staggering back across the barrier with him and lowering him to the ground well away from it.
Emrys shivered and shook, incoherent. Idris pried his lips open and poured in a mouthful of something from his flask. George could smell the fumes of brandy. They untied the rope around his waist and got him onto his feet where he swayed.
Idris pointed at two of his men. “Get him on his horse and ride beside him to keep him there. Tie him on if you have to. We’re going to take him home.”
They made the best time they could back to the exit of the Archer’s Way, and George brought that detachment through to Gwyn so they could take Emrys to Ceridwen for treatment. He returned to wait with Idris for Thomas to bring back the scouts.
As they slipped into the meadow in pairs, Idris looked to Thomas for news. “Not much found,” he said.
Idris said, “We’re leaving. We’ll discuss it on the other side.”
George brought them all back to Daear Llosg, and resealed the way behind them.
Seething Magma felt a group of people emerging from a way within her range. Normally she ignored this sort of thing but this time she reconsidered. She hadn’t thought about seeking help from the surface folk, but now one of them held her child. Maybe the remedy lay with them.
She made a way to the surface and cast about for a better feel. There was one in the group that tasted different, like her new neighbor, the horned man. She watched him from afar every year as he marked the season with his own ways. Odd behavior, but he cleaned up after himself and they had no conflicts.
This one should know about the ways and understand her child’s captor. Maybe he can help. As she started to make progress in that direction, she felt him vanish to her senses twice, briefly, and reappear. Then he was gone.
She continued on to the spot anyway, where she found the anchored end of a way made by Granite Cloud and tasted it. Maybe he’ll come back. I can wait. She thought about his flavor, turning him over in her mind.
*Mother, when are you coming?*
Seething Magma settled down in the snow and made herself comfortable, like a cat at a mousehole. *Patience, child.*
Ceridwen hastened into Gwyn’s council chamber to join the meeting just starting, followed closely by Eluned.
“How’s Emrys?” George said.
“We’ve got him settled. He’s chilled to the core, but he’s talking and coherent. He’s very grateful you went after him, George.”
“When we lost that hound over the ridge line, Aeronwy, she made her own way back across but she was cold and shivering. We settled her in some straw with a couple of warm packmates and fed her hot broth. It took a week, but she eventually recovered.”
“That’s more or less what we’ve done for him, minus the straw,” Eluned said with a quirk of the lips. “If there’s no one there to help, though, I wouldn’t be surprised if the shock were fatal.”
Idris caught George’s eye and touched his brow to thank him. George nodded back and waved his hand dismissively.
“We’re all glad the guard will survive.” Gwyn said. “The obvious question is, why didn’t it bother you, kinsman?”
George said, slowly, “I’ve been chewing on that all the way back. All I can offer is a theory… You know, the outsider hounds, the ones brought back as whelps from Cernunnos, they weren’t damaged when they crossed the ridge line, the way Aeronwy was. And as far as I can tell, wild animals aren’t either. So, tell me if I’m wrong… All people who cross the ridge are hurt, yes?”
“All of them,” Ceridwen said, “as far as we know.”
“Fae, lutins, korrigans?”
She nodded.
“What about ordinary humans?”
Silence. Very few ordinary humans lived here. Mostly they were of mixed stock, but occasionally one stumbled into a way or a spouse was brought back. George hadn’t met one yet.
“I don’t know,” Ceridwen said. “I’ve never heard of that, one way or the other.”
“Here’s my theory. I think the barrier acts on those who are in some sense, excuse me, unnatural, that is bearers of magic or otherwise, um, enhanced. I think that natural animals, like wild animals, and maybe ordinary humans, are immune.
“What would make the outsider hounds different, and maybe me, too, is that we come fresh and direct from a source, like Cernunnos. Only as the blood dilutes does the barrier get a hold on it, as it did on Aeronwy.”
He turned to Gwyn. “Cernunnos has expertise with the ways, sir, but it’s different from yours, and the ways he makes are also a bit different—no passages, remember, as we discussed? Maybe I’m really like him that way, and not like you. Maybe that’s where my way-handling comes from. Maybe my beast-sense is his, too. Maybe it’s really all his, not so much yours. That could explain why I’m stronger in these aspects than any third-generation descendant of the fae should be.”
And maybe that means I don’t have the long life, he thought. But maybe I do, though—I can work a glamour, if not very well, so at least some of Gwyn’s blood has survived in me. But it isn’t going to save my grandmother, is it. Well no sense worrying about it. I’ll know eventually.
Gwyn mused for a moment. “I’ll think about what you’ve suggested. In any case, I don’t see that it matters much right now. We’ve proved as well as we can that the Archer’s Way leads to Edgewood. It’s time to get the expedition ready for tomorrow morning.”
Idris told Cadugan, “Warn them that they’ll be going overland and to put as much as possible onto horseback. We can supply pack horses.”
Gwyn asked, “Did you find any roads, Thomas?”
“Only the one, and it narrow and snow-covered. No habitations. Even if we find a village it won’t be able to house so large a party. We must be prepared for one or two nights camping, at least, as we move north.”
Angharad sat in one of the soft armchairs in front of the fire in the bedroom while George roamed around, rummaging through wardrobes and drawers, looking for anything critical he’d forgotten to pack. George looked over at her and admired her calm. He was too on edge to sleep right now, and not the least of it was the knowledge that he’d be away for several days, a week or more, helping Rhys with some unknown situation, instead of here with his new wife.
She patted the chair next to her. “Come sit down for a moment and relax. I have something for you, to take with you while you’re gone.”
He came and sat as bid, grateful for the distraction, and always happy to just look at her. Tonight, with the firelight soft on her face, her long auburn hair loosed from her braid, she filled his eyes.
“When you come back, you can hang it on the tree,” she said.
She reached over and took his hand, turning it up to hold something. Then she placed a small pendant on a cord in it.
He held it up to his eye. She’d given him a wooden arrow, about two inches long, sturdier than a real one would be and heavier than seemed right, for wood. It was delicately carved and tinted green overall. A thin green braided silk cord was attached at the midpoint on a swivel so that it could hang levelly and turn.
“It’s lovely,” he said.
She pushed his hand at him. “Hang it round your neck.”
Obediently he passed the cord around his neck and let it fall on his chest, over his shirt. “No, against your skin,” she said.
He decided to take advantage of that instruction, here in front of the warm fire, to remove his shirt altogether rather than just tuck the pendant under it. He had plans for later in the evening. When the arrow touched his skin, it vanished, with the cord. “What?” he said, surprised.
“Now take it off again and hold it suspended.
”
Focused now on the gift, he removed the pendant, and it reappeared. He held it by the cord, the arrow pointing at Angharad.
“Watch the arrow.” She stood and walked around the room. The arrow swiveled on its cord to follow her movements.
She came back and stood by his chair. “It’s a simple finder spell, enhanced with a bit of silver for permanence, combined with a see-me-not. While you wear it, none can see or feel it, only you. When you hold it like that, it’ll point to me, wherever I am. Should work for a good long distance.”
He smiled at her and put it on again. “As if I needed any help finding you,” he muttered, as he rose to enfold her in his arms, shivering at the touch of her hands moving on his bare back, heated by the flames.
CHAPTER 8
George and Thomas Kethin sat their horses at the head of the expedition, just before the sealed end of the Archer’s Way, while Idris and his men went over the long train behind them to make sure everyone was ready. The way wasn’t much wider than a wagon, so the whole group would have to come through more or less in single file.
Gwyn stood with them, though he wasn’t coming. George asked him, “How will you close the door behind us? I won’t be back for at least a few days.”
With a wave of his hand, Gwyn dismissed the concern. “We’ll mount a guard, but I doubt Madog will be coming from this direction, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else can use it, besides you.”
George thought to himself, I suppose he knows what he’s doing. George would be heading the line as way-guide, with Thomas and some of his rangers who would immediately disperse as scouts around the exit point until Idris’s men could join them. He’d also bring two of Idris’s people at the head of the line with him, to direct and organize the traffic at the other end.
“How long will the guide effect work? Will I be able to pull the whole expedition through the way, the long line of it?”
Gwyn said, “I’ve never heard of that being a problem, but then I haven’t often seen a group this large attempt a single passage. The last one was the night we brought Annwn to the new world.” He paused in reminiscence for a moment, then said, briskly. “If you find your party is incomplete on the other side, you’ll just have to come back to start the next segment along. Should be fine.”
From his vantage higher up on the slope, George looked over the long serpentine line. Ceridwen, Eluned, and Cadugan made a tight knot nearby on horseback, occupied in their own tasks of counting the groups.
The wagon of lutins was near the front of the line, but George saw that Benitoe had persuaded Maëlys to ride with him on ponyback, with the other riders. Despite the addition of food and camping gear, the lutins’ wagon was still one of the lighter-weight vehicles and would be used to test the difficulty of the terrain in Edgewood. Anything too difficult to get that wagon through would automatically rule out the rest of them.
Overall, the number of wagons had been greatly reduced, despite the extra shelter for the expected one or two nights out. As much as possible had been added to pack horses, leaving only the heaviest and most unwieldy equipment on wheels, along with the very young children and a few others. Still, getting these six wagons through to the manor would be tough in several inches of snow. Idris had made quite an effort yesterday insisting they were as lightweight and small as could be, for ease in man-handling.
Ifor rode up to Gwyn. The steward looked as if he hadn’t slept all night and, for as busy as George had seen him yesterday, he supposed that was entirely possible. “We’re ready, my lord.”
Gwyn caught Idris’s eye, halfway down the line, and Idris nodded.
Gwyn turned his horse to the crowd and raised his hand. The voices quieted as he got their attention, until only the squeak of horse hooves in the dry snow and the rattle of chains remained to disturb the silence.
“Our thanks to all of you who are undertaking this journey. You have our blessing and good wishes, and may fortune attend you.”
There was a general, but subdued, cheer in response, and Gwyn gestured to George to lead off.
George turned Mosby to face the way and unsealed it again. No bear this time—that story had spread and everyone near the front watched to see if there would be any new surprises. He set off at a walk with Thomas and his men, wondering if they could reach Edgewood Manor in a single day. Highly doubtful, he thought it.
As the creak of the riders and wagons followed him, he smiled and muttered under his breath, “Git along, little dogies.”
As soon as he cleared the exit, George pulled aside and waited, watching them all emerge. He assumed that staying close to the way would help the way-guide effect, however it worked. Idris’s men lined the travelers up in an orderly manner as they came through, and then Idris himself took over as he emerged, with Cadugan helping.
Thomas came back and stood next to George, having dispatched a screen of scouts ahead of them. “We’ll need you at the front when this part’s done,” he said to George, “You’re the one who knows the exact direction.”
“Yes, but straight north in any case, unless we find a road that can help,” George said.
Benitoe had taken his place beside George automatically, as if they had a pack of hounds to manage, and Maëlys sat quietly beside him, warmly wrapped.
They watched the korrigans, well past the halfway point of the long line, coming through as a single group, excited and talking together.
Suddenly, like a clap of thunder, George was deafened by a voice, a sort of pleased *THERE YOU ARE!* It exploded in his head, with the scent of hot lava and cinders and a flash of red-orange light. He flinched away from it and never felt himself topple from his horse bonelessly into the snow.
Benitoe saw George’s head jerk back, as if he’d taken a blow, but couldn’t reach him quickly enough to help break the fall. He dismounted and gave his reins to Maëlys.
Thomas joined him on the ground and they bent over George, checking for injuries. Broch pulled out of the group of korrigans to join them.
The disturbance caught Idris’s eye, and he rode over. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Benitoe said, straightening up. “It looked as if something hit him, but I couldn’t see anything.”
As Thomas finished looking for broken bones, George opened his eyes and sat up. He leaned forward, and held his head in both hands between his knees, covering his ears. “Ow, ow, ow,” he said, unhappily.
“What was it? Are we under attack?” Idris asked.
“I don’t know,” George said. “I don’t think so.” He stood up carefully and brushed off the snow. He leaned against Mosby and delicately shook his head, using his stirrup for support.
The voice returned, cautiously.
*Sorry.*
This time it was much quieter. George lifted his head and looked west. “Who are you?”
Behind him he heard Benitoe quietly asking Thomas, “Who’s he talking to?” He ignored them.
*Friend. Coming.*
George said over his shoulder, “I think we’re about to get a visit from something very strange.” In an aside to Thomas, he said, “Help me get back on my horse.” He accepted a boost and resettled himself on Mosby.
“It’s talking to me, sort of, more like concepts and pictures instead of words. I think it was just too loud the first time and didn’t mean to hurt me,” he said. He reached over and gripped Idris’s arm. “I don’t think it means us any harm, don’t let the guards get carried away.”
“Alert,” Idris called to his men. “No shooting.”
Behind them, the rest of the expedition was still coming through the way, just reaching the end. The korrigans had pulled out of line, not to leave Broch behind.
The sound of branches cracking was audible from the woods on the western edge of the river meadow, and everyone turned to face it, silence spreading in the group as they realized something unusual was happening.
George walked his horse forward to meet it partway, Benitoe at his s
ide. Idris and Thomas came with him, and Broch, curious.
Out of the trees flowed some sort of creature, the size of a pickup truck, to George’s eyes, and not a small one. There was no obvious head or tail, no eyes. It was shaped like a long, heavy slab, colored rock-gray, but it was flexible and the form seemed to be malleable. He couldn’t see how it moved, exactly. Some indeterminate number of short and stubby pseudopods appeared to be propelling it along. If rock could be alive and mobile, then this is what it might be like.
Moving slowly, it flowed forward to meet George who waited for it on Mosby. The horse was surprisingly calm about it. George got no sense of “predator” from him. Probably doesn’t smell like an animal at all, he thought.
Benitoe asked, “What is that?”
Broch walked his pony past him and stopped just short of George. “One of the Old Ones,” he breathed. “I never thought to see one, in my life.” He looked at Benitoe, “An elemental, a rock-wight.” He dismounted, swept off his hat, and bowed deeply to it. Behind him, several of the korrigans had come up and joined him, hats off and bowing, on foot and holding their reins.
George heard them but was concentrating on trying to understand the creature.
*Picture of creature and George meeting. Approval.*
“Yes, greetings to you, too,” he said. “Happy to make your acquaintance.”
*Picture of George. Question?*
“My name? I’m George Talbot Traherne.”
*Picture of horned man. Question?*
“That’s Cernunnos, in one form. He and I are… related.”
*Satisfaction. Picture of creature, pool of bubbling lava.*
George was puzzled. In context, perhaps that was its name. “Is that your name? Boiling Rock? Hot Lava? Seething Magma?”
At the last of these, the response was *Approval.*
“Glad to meet you, Seething Magma. Mind if I call you Mag? It’s a little easier to say.”
*Amusement.*
