by Karen Myers
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
He turned to the people who had been gathering behind him. “Folks, let me introduce Seething Magma.” There was a general low response, and a high-pitched child’s voice asking what it was.
“Yes, I’d like to know that, too. Can someone explain to me what’s going on? Can anyone else hear it?” Heads shook in denial.
Ceridwen rode to his side. She said, astonishment plain in her voice. “This is something out of legend. I thought they were all gone. We met them long ago in the old world, especially in the far east, where some called them dragons. They live in the rock, somehow, inside the mountains.”
Eluned added, “They get to be very large, much larger than this, and they are very old, even by our standards, perhaps immortal.”
Tiernoc said, “We live all our lives never expecting to meet one, even though many of us delve in the mountains. No one can name the last before us to encounter one. Why, we’ll all be famous…”
“Anything we can do for it, we will, all of us,” Broch said. There were murmurs of agreement from the other korrigans. “Find out what it requires of us.”
George could hear religious awe in their voices.
He turned back as Seething Magma resumed the conversation.
*Urgency. Picture of Blue Ridge, opening like a cutaway drawing. Picture of Mag deep within.*
“You live inside the Blue Ridge,” George translated out loud, for the benefit of the bystanders.
*Picture of Mag, budding like a cactus. Bud breaks off, moves.*
“You have a child! Oh, you’re a ‘she’—sorry, ma’am.”
*Amusement. Picture of child, dark gray, solid rock, clouds in the sky.*
Oh, no, George thought, another name. “Her name is, what, Gray Cloud?”
*Picture of lava rising inside a volcano, solidifying to rock.*
“Oh. Basalt Cloud? Granite Cloud?”
*Approval.*
“Alright, folks. Mag here has a child, a daughter I guess, named Granite Cloud.”
*Picture of child, moving away, gone. Child caught by something, struggling. Child reaching toward Mag, Mag reaching back.*
“Cloudie went away, did she? And something caught her. And you can’t get her back.”
*YES, YES, YES.*
George winced and held his head. “Ow, too loud, Mag.”
*Sorry.*
“That’s alright. What do you want from us?”
*Picture of child.*
“You want us to help get your daughter back.”
*Yes.*
The great rock-like creature moved back and forth almost as if dancing at her success in conveying her need.
“Hold on a moment,” George said.
Idris said, quietly, “We can’t keep everyone here like this. We have to get to Edgewood.”
Broch protested, “This is more important than anything else we had planned. We can always find work and homes. An Old One asks for help. We must provide it.”
George could see trouble brewing, and feared the journey they still had ahead of them today. He held up a hand to interrupt them and turned back to the creature.
“Mag, we’re cold and we have young ones with us. We must get to shelter tonight, and then to Edgewood Manor. That’s a long distance for us.”
He pictured it to her as a map with their location and the ways marked, out of habit, since he was always conscious of them. To his astonishment, she echoed it back with a much higher level of detail, and Edgewood Manor’s location was emphasized.
*There? Your intention?*
“Yes, that’s where we’re headed. Can you come with us? It might take a day or two.”
*Picture of Mag moving abruptly through space, coming out at Edgewood Manor. Picture of people following.*
George blinked. “You can make a way? You want to take us there?”
*Yes. Simple. Waiting.*
He paused to readjust his plans. “Folks, I think I’ve found us a ride. She’s just offered to make a way to Edgewood Manor and bring us along.”
Eluned said, “That’s what the legends say. It’s supposed to be how they get through the rock they live in. Might even be how they eat it, for all we know.”
Idris said quietly, “Do you trust her, huntsman?”
“Yes,” George said, slowly. “I do. She might make a mistake, like not notice how fragile we are, but she doesn’t mean us any harm. I think we should do it.”
He told her, “Thanks for the offer, Mag. Hold on while we organize things, please.”
“This is our last chance to send a message through to Gwyn easily. I can carry it, but what on earth would I tell him?” George said.
Ceridwen replied, “I’ll write a quick note to try and explain, though it’s probably a waste of paper—he’ll never believe me…” She scribbled on a sheet in her pocket notebook and tore it off for George.
He looked at Idris who nodded and said. “Yes, be off with you and I’ll get things ready.”
George bowed to Seething Magma from the saddle. “I’ll be right back, don’t go away.”
*Yes.*
George popped back through the Archer’s Way and surprised the guard standing there. The Greenway Court people had all started home after the last wagon went through.
“I have a note here for Gwyn. I can’t wait. Tell him we found an unexpected and impatient ally.”
He turned and rode to the other side.
The expedition reformed on Idris as Thomas gathered the last of the scouts back in. George, at the head of the line again, walked Mosby up to Mag. “We’re ready. Remember, it’ll take us a while to go through, all of us.”
She turned and faced the woods. George had taken to identifying her leading edge as her front, though he’d already noticed that she seemed to move in either direction without preference. She made a small undulating motion and a wide way opened in the clear space of the meadow before them. George could dimly see buildings on the other side, through the passage.
The korrigans had seized the position immediately behind George, as if providing an honor guard for the creature.
*There. Picture of Mag and George entering together.*
“Thank you. I’m coming.” They walked through the entrance, and the korrigans followed.
She kept pace with his horse as they went. *Picture of horned man and deer, talking. Picture of George and deer. Question?*
“Cernunnos talks to beasts, yes. I can, too, some.”
*Picture of Mag and George, talking. Question?*
“Is that why we can talk? I don’t know. I suppose so. But you’re intelligent, not a beast.”
*Picture of mouse, deer, man, Mag, horned man.*
“All a matter of degree, you mean. True.”
They approached the transition point and emerged onto the main terrace at Edgewood Manor. George pushed to stand in front of Mag as people scattered out of their way. “It’s alright, we’ve come from Gwyn,” he shouted, hoping to forestall any accidents.
Rhys’s guards, running to the defense, slowed as they recognized both Idris and Gwyn’s huntsman. Idris rode up to the first guard. “I’ve got a large party coming through. Where can I put them?”
The guard sent two of his troop to lead the riders down the terrace steps into the grounds where they spread out as they emerged.
Edgewood Manor was a long, low, two-story stone building on a low prominence, surrounded by many terraces and farm fields beyond. The small market village was just out of sight to the south, though George caught a glimpse of buildings through the trees now that the autumn leaves had dropped.
The wagon drivers remained on the terrace level as they emerged, there being no simple way to get the wagons down from there without a ramp over the steps.
About a dozen of the korrigans kept together to stay with Seething Magma. Idris took one look and visibly gave up on the notion of parting them, even as the terrace was filling up. George held his position at the front with Mag an
d a few of the others.
The main doors of the manor opened and Rhys strode out to greet them, followed closely by Edern and Rhodri. George thought Rhys looked tired and a bit worn, feeling the responsibility and uncertainty of rule, perhaps. He dismounted to greet them properly.
“Good to see you, cousin, and all your…” Rhys said. He broke off at the sight of the rock-wight.
Rhodri walked over to embrace George about the shoulders, but practically tripped over his feet getting there, not being able to take his eyes off of Mag as he went by.
George said, “My lord Rhys, Rhodri, my lord Edern, allow me to present a guest. This is Seething Magma. She has urgent business she wants our help with, as soon as we can take care of these travelers.” He smiled privately to see that even Edern was taken aback at the surprise.
Before they could respond, Cadugan walked forward and bowed to Edern. “My lord, I’ve come as you requested. I have much to do to settle these people, and would like to get started.”
“I am pleased to see you again, Cadugan,” Edern said. “Thank you for accepting this task. This is Rhys Vachan ap Rhys, my grandson and Gwyn’s foster-son, on whose council I serve.”
They bowed to each other. “I look forward to receiving the benefit of your wisdom, steward,” Rhys said.
“And I to serving you to the best of my abilities,” Cadugan replied.
Edern beckoned over a woman with the keys of the head housekeeper. “Let me introduce you to someone who can help you get everything coordinated.” She walked off with him, responding laconically to his many probing questions as he headed to the edge of the terrace to begin organizing the travelers.
This left the korrigans unaddressed. George turned to Broch and Tiernoc. “I understand your reverence for Mag but we must get you settled before we can do anything else. Will you content yourselves for now with sending one of you to our council to hear more about what she has to say?”
Broch said, “I’ll stay.” Tiernoc looked as if he wanted to contest this, but Broch repeated, “I’ll stay,” and quelled him with a raised eyebrow.
Cadugan could be heard behind them, calling for planks so that the six trapped wagons could be rolled down the steps.
As the crowd on the terrace thinned out, George thought of his own responsibilities. He’d seen Benitoe take charge of Maëlys without being told, but couldn’t spot Cydifor until he looked around and realized he was lingering discretely within earshot. He wasn’t hidden, exactly. He reminded George of a child who was hoping to be overlooked when the conversation among the adults got interesting. Come to think of it, he’d kept himself close when Mag first greeted them, too.
“Rhodri,” he called. “I’ve brought you something. Besides Mag, I mean.”
His friend shook himself out of his fascinated study of Mag to give him some of his attention. “Hmm?”
“You’ll like this,” George teased.
Rhodri turned around altogether, and George waved Cydifor forward.
“I’d like to introduce Cydifor. He’s come a long way to meet another musician.”
“A musician!” Rhodri said, delighted. “How did you manage that?”
“He’s come to serve Rhys and needs a patron.” Cydifor bowed deeply from horseback.
“Assuming he can rub two notes together and not make them squeak, I’ll be happy to see what I can do.”
“For now, my lord,” Cydifor said, “I just want to find out what this creature out of legend has to say. Think of the material.”
“Arrange your belongings with Cadugan and come stay near me. You might have to leave if the council needs to be private but stick around as long as you can. Tell Cadugan to house you in the manor, at my say so.”
An impromptu council was left on the terrace, as George, Idris, Ceridwen, and Eluned walked over to join their hosts, leading their horses. Idris said, quietly, “What’s the situation?”
Edern replied, “The Edgewood Way’s been closed since Saturday, marshal. We were suspicious of what might follow and set a guard around the entrance. How did you get here?”
“That’s a long story,” Idris said. “We started at the Archer’s Way, but then the huntsman seems to have acquired a… friend, and she brought us the rest of the distance.”
Rhodri frankly stared at her. “She made that way, didn’t she? I felt it. I’ve read legends about this. Can I talk to her?”
“Yes, soon,” George said, “but Rhys, we need to ask about Gwyn’s courier, the one he sent Saturday. He never came back. Did he arrive safely?”
“No, we never saw him.”
“We think Madog’s back,” George said.
Rhys decided he needed more information and, as George had seen his foster-father Gwyn do dozens of times by now, he stepped forward solemnly and said, “We’ll meet on this immediately, as soon as your horses are stabled.”
George stopped him, “I think Mag will have important things to say about this, and she’s part of the news. Is there a room that can accommodate us all?”
“We’ll use the room we call the conservatory, though there’s nothing growing here now. It has double doors at the front which should be big enough. I’ll have the fires lit there and food provided for us. Give your horses to the guards and they’ll see to their comfort.”
“Mag,” George said, “will you join us at our council in a few minutes? Is there any refreshment we can bring you?”
*No. Approval.*
“Rhodri, would you like to show her how to get there? I think she can understand you if you speak to her, though I don’t know if you can hear her replies.”
“I’ll figure something out,” he said eagerly. “Won’t you please come follow me, my lady?” This last in his most official diplomatic tones.
*Amusement.*
She glided off the terrace alongside her infatuated admirer.
Gwyn sat in his council room alone, reading Ceridwen’s hasty note again and mulling it over. They found a what? An Old One, a rock elemental? Or, rather, it found them. No, he corrected himself, she found them. How odd to think of them as female.
This one needs something and offers alliance. A very rational behavior. We must seem to them as the humans seem to us, short-lived creatures, easy to ignore. What can she want that we can possibly provide?
His grandfather had met one, in the far east, but he himself never had. So we have them here, he thought, in the new world.
Elementals in the Blue Ridge, and a barrier on the ridge line. He didn’t believe in coincidences, and wondered.
Ceridwen says the rock-wight will make a way for them. I suppose if that had failed, they’d still be there and able to send an updated message, so I must assume it succeeded. No one knows where the ways that are discovered come from. Have we just found an answer?
CHAPTER 9
George and the others followed Rhodri as he led Mag to the room Rhys called the conservatory. This occupied the corner of one long wing and was generally used for games and recreation in the summer time, a place where people could gather informally.
It was little occupied in the winter because of the chill of its many windows and George hadn’t had an occasion to use it before on his two previous visits. The external double doors faced the front of the manor but the terraces were not joined directly, only connected by a walkway. Watching from behind as Mag negotiated the snowy path, George could make no sense of her undercarriage, whatever it was that propelled her along. The blur left on the ground after her passage was no help either.
She paused while Rhodri opened the doors.
*Watch.*
She raised up about a quarter of her length, like a walrus, and let them look at her underside. Dozens of protuberances covered the surface. The longer ones were stubby and flat, reminding George of elephant feet, but much smaller. Others looked like they might be used for eating. Makes sense, he thought. Presumably she ingests dirt or rock. As they watched, fascinated, some of them withdrew into the body and re-emerged el
sewhere, changing form. It was both disturbing and mesmerizing.
She resettled flat on the ground, and George was strongly put in mind of a dignified old lady resettling her floor-length skirt and petticoats.
“Thank you for showing us,” he said. “I didn’t want to be rude and ask, but we all wondered.”
*Satisfaction.*
It hadn’t escaped his attention that he hadn’t spoken his curiosity aloud, that she must have seen his thoughts.
*Concern?*
No, it’s alright, he thought to her. It’s just that none of us are very comfortable exposing our raw opinions and inclinations.
She repeated the picture of mouse, deer, man, Mag, horned man.
Yes, we all think the same sorts of thoughts, in our own way, and have the same concerns. Nothing I can do about it anyway.
*Picture of George and the horned man. Then picture of the horned man inside George.*
I can’t hide from him, either, he agreed.
*Amusement. Picture of child playing at hiding from parent.*
“Yes, but we’re not children.” George forgot himself and spoke the last aloud, with some asperity. Ceridwen looked at him.
*Sorry. Truth. Picture of child hiding dissolved.*
“We’re having a conversation about privacy,” he said to Ceridwen. “I can’t keep her out, but she’s not prying, either.” He shrugged.
Seething Magma checked her width against the double doors, open wide and pulled her sides in, raising her height in the middle to fit the opening.
“Good, just right,” Rhodri said, as she flowed through onto the stone floor.
*Amusement. Picture of Mag stretched thin and very, very long flowing through a mousehole like an endless snake.*
George stumbled, laughing at the unexpected joke. “Rhodri, I don’t think that was ever going to be a problem.” He waved off trying to explain himself, some things were just too hard to translate.
He looked around with interest as he followed Mag into the large room. In keeping with its original intent as a conservatory, the floor was stone flagged and windows ran all around it, down to waist height. Some later builder had added wooden paneling to the interior walls and built in seating with cupboards beneath all around. The contents were in something of a jumble—clearly it functioned as a lumber room during the winter months.
