Gwynn came upright with a gasp, tangled in her blanket and trying desperately to focus in the pale morning light. Shae was kneeling beside her. “How can you be certain?” she whispered.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders in reassurance. “Do you think I’d just be sitting here if you were in danger? I woke you because you were having a nightmare.”
“I seldom have them, but…” her voice trailed off while she stared into the fire.
“You had a shock last night, and you are concerned about going to Heralith. Worry can inhabit your dreams and twist them around. I’m not surprised you had a nightmare, but there is nothing to fear.”
“No ghostly white hounds are chasing me through a forest?” Gwynn asked with a feeble smile.
“None that I have noticed,” Shae said, returning her smile, “and if there were, do you think I would let them hurt you?”
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“No, but you weren’t in my dream and they were. If I woke you, I’m sorry.”
“I was awake long before you had a nightmare.” Shae dismissed her concern. “The horses are already fed and groomed; all you need is something for breakfast.”
The sun reached the treetops and turned the rock face a rosy hue, but the floor of the rel ar remained swathed in mist while Gwynn made tea and Shae toasted the last of the bread from the market. She was packing her tea pot when it grew still. The horses’ heads came up, and their ears swiveled back and forth in alert. Shae was in the middle of his morning drill, so his sword swept easily into a ready position at the sudden cessation of birdsong. The air around them became charged, just as it did in the moments before a storm unleashed its fury. The rock face split open soundlessly, and Darion appeared within the fissure.
“Must you always greet me with steel Southron?” he asked in a wounded voice, looking at Shae’s weapon.
He grinned wolfishly, dipped his blade in a mock salute and sheathed it in a single fluid movement. “I greet all unannounced guests to my camp that way.”
“I have him for a reason.” Gwynn’s voice was tart.
Then her curiosity got the better of her. “Why did we feel your arrival this time? Last night, it seemed like you just appeared.”
“Ah, that.” Darion came over to the fire, sitting on his heels. “Last night, I came through the gate alone. As a Pathani, I can move through it silently, but today you, Shae, and your horses are coming with me. The gate had to be opened in such a way as to allow you to enter.”
The partners saddled their horses and doused the fire.
Gwynn looked at Darion expectantly. “Are we ready to depart?”
Darion beckoned them toward the opening in the 147
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rock. “You will have to lead your horses. The passages are not high enough for you to be mounted, especially on that beast,” he said, looking at Talon.
They led the horses past the remains of the fire while Darion stepped into the opening. Rogue followed Gwynn, but Talon hung back snorting at the entrance. Shae spoke to him in reassurance. Talon only followed him another step before planting all four feet. He tried again, but the destrier shook his head and shifted sideways while peering at the narrow opening, his ears twitching and a film of sweat rising on his neck.
Gwynn handed Rogue’s reins to Darion and went to Talon’s side. She rubbed his forehead and began to talk to him in a low voice. Shae didn’t understand her; Gwynn was speaking in the ancient formal language of her homeland.
Darion watched with interest while a smile of approval formed on his face. After a few moments, Talon sighed and lowered his head against Gwynn’s chest.
“He will follow you now,” she said. “He knows we will keep him safe.”
“Good for you,” Shae’s reply was heavy with irony,
“but I’m not entirely sure that any of us are safe.”
Nevertheless, when he walked behind Gwynn into the bluff, Talon followed him.
Once they were inside, Darion spoke. “It will become very dark for a short time. Stand with your mounts and do not move until I tell you.”
The rock behind them sealed itself, leaving them in utter blackness. Gwynn remained still as instructed; pressing against Rogue to prove to herself that he was beside her.
Even with her night vision it was difficult to see her hand in front of her. A moment later, the ground under her feet seemed to move, leaving her dizzy. She heard Shae’s half-148
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smothered curse, and she knew he felt what she had. Then the walls began to glow.
At first, Gwynn thought she was mistaken. The glow was so faint. Gradually it intensified, becoming a greenish-gold light. It wasn’t bright, but it was more than enough by which to see their way. They stood inside a tunnel that looked like rock, but the walls, floor, and roof were as smooth as glass. The light seemed to emanate from the rock itself. Darion stood a few paces in front of Gwynn, his eyes glowing with the unnatural illumination.
“We have passed the first gate. A number of them will follow and then we will ride to Heralith.”
How long they traveled or the number of portals they passed through; Gwynn would never be sure. They followed Darion in silence, the only sound being the horses’ hooves on the tunnel floor. Even that had a muffled sound and a curious lack of echoes came back to them.
Often, Darion stopped before a featureless wall, and within moments, it would open for him just like the cliff face had. There appeared to be no distinguishing mark on the wall that he used in selecting these moments of gate passage.
Sometimes, it would be at an apparent dead end, sometimes, in the middle of a tunnel. They followed the same pattern: a few moments of darkness, accompanied by physical disorientation, and then the walls would glow again, revealing another tunnel. Each time she felt the ground shift under her feet, Gwynn had to fight off increasingly intense waves of dizziness.
One gate passing final y induced nausea, and while the light grew, she asked Darion in a weak voice, “How many more? I’m not feeling too well.” A glance behind showed her that Shae was faring no better. His square jaw was set like a rock, but his face had a green tinge under his tan. The horses didn’t seem to be affected, something she greatly 149
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envied.
“One more gate.” Darion’s voice was encouraging.
“It’s difficult I know, but you have managed better than most mortals.”
“That’s something, at least,” Shae growled in disgust.
Darion turned, resuming their journey. This length of passage was shorter, and he paused again in front of a smooth rock wall. Once more, it opened, and they stepped into darkness. Gwynn wrapped her arms around Rogue’s neck and buried her face against him, seeking security in his solidity while the world swirled around her. She felt the gelding turn his head and nudge her, seeming to understand she needed his reassurance. The walls glowed again, this time revealing a circular chamber.
“Shield your eyes,” Darion warned when an opening appeared on the opposite side of the circle. “You will find the sunlight harsh after being within the darkness of the gates.”
A bright light engulfed the chamber, along with fresh biting air. They followed him out and stood blinking in the sunlight. After her eyes adjusted, Gwynn took in the sight.
Every color seemed strangely vivid; the way things sometimes did after a rain. The sky seemed bluer than any sky she had ever seen, and the sun seemed somehow…brighter? Or younger? The sun was approaching its zenith, although Gwynn would have sworn that they had spent the better part of a day following Darion through the gates.
She found herself on a slope at the foot of a mountain, looking down upon a vast plain. More mountains with scarlet leaves and golden trunks of fëanulia trees climbing halfway up their flanks surrounded them, leaving no visible way out of the valley. Orchards and fields dotted the vista on both sides while a few leagues to their right a 150
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/> waterfall spilled down the side of a mountain forming a broad river that wound across the plain. A glistening, white road lay beside it, leading toward a city visible in the distance.
It glowed like a precious jewel, sunlight glinting from its white buildings and golden roofs.
“Behold Heralith, home of the Pathani.”
“It is beautiful beyond words,” Gwynn gasped while Shae nodded his agreement in awestruck silence. Darion let them gaze about for a few moments before letting out a shrill whistle, startling them both.
A finely boned horse trotted out of the trees. The animal was pale gold with a silver mane and tail. When it neared, Gwynn realized the mare’s eyes were green gold, like the light in the tunnels they had just come through and that she was near Talon’s height. The mare halted beside Darion, touching him gently on the shoulder with her nose. Her eyes gleamed with an uncanny intelligence while she cast a glance that seemed coquettish at Shae’s stallion. Talon was too well trained to make a spectacle over a mare, but Gwynn was amused at the way he arched his neck and whinnied a bass greeting.
“I think they like each other,” she laughed.
“She finds him quite handsome,” Darion said. “Talon should be proud. Freesa is not easily impressed.” The mare had no bridle or saddle, but Darion grasped Freesa’s mane and sprang lightly on to her back.
“How long is the ride to Heralith?” Shae asked while he gave Gwynn a leg up.
“Not far,” Darion answered. “We will arrive by mid-afternoon. I sent word to Elisan, and he will dine with us this evening at my father’s home.”
“What did he say about me having Talaysen’s Harp?”
Gwynn asked hesitantly.
“He does not know.”
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“What?” Gwynn exclaimed. “You haven’t told him?”
“We are of great age. We see so much that nothing ever surprises us,” Darion observed. “I think it will do him good to discover such a little snip of a mortal overcame his greatest masterwork.”
“As long as he is not angry with me.” Gwynn was not quite sure what form a Pathani’s rage might take, but she was certain she did not want to find out.
“If he is, he will have to get past me first,” Shae promised her, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
“And me as well. We will keep you safe from the mighty Master Elisan. Have no fear,” Darion teased.
They rode down to the valley floor, halting at the bottom to water the horses at a swift flowing mountain stream. Shae and Gwynn elected to eat in the saddle, both digging trail rations out of their saddlebags while the horses drank. Darion did likewise, accepting some of the food Shae offered.
“I’m not sure what Pathani eat,” Shae said. “Your people might live on purple mushrooms and rose petals for all I know.”
“Only for festive occasions,” Darion said, the twinkle in his eyes mocking his solemn tone, “the rest of the time, our diet is like that of mortals.”
A short ride through a belt of woods brought them to the edge of the highway. The stones were gleaming white, just like the stonework of the bridge Shae and Gwynn had ridden over the previous day.
Could it really have been only yesterday? Gwynn asked herself. It seems like a lifetime ago. What an epic tale this is going to make. Of course, I don’t know how it will end, but the beginning seems very promising.
They met no one on the road, although Gwynn saw figures in the fields and some tending their herds in the 152
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distance. While the afternoon wore on and they drew nearer to Heralith, that changed. Shae and Gwynn drew a few stares, so neither felt guilty about studying the passersby.
Pathani hair color seemed to vary from silver to white like Darion’s. They were tall with fine golden features and eyes a shade of gold, violet, or green. All the horses were the same color as Freesa, something Gwynn found very strange.
Busily looking at her new surroundings, she failed to realize that everyone who passed them bowed in Darion’s direction.
She turned her attention to the city. It had no fortifications, which seemed unusual, although she doubted the Pathani were often invaded, so the protection offered by city walls was probably unnecessary here. Heralith was set upon a foothill and apparently built of the same white stone that paved the road. At the summit of the hill, seeming to crown the city, was a spectacular building with soaring slender towers and crenellated stonework shining in the afternoon sun. The roofs appeared to be gilded, almost eclipsing the light from the sun.
“Did you see that?” Gwynn whispered edging Rogue close to Talon when they passed into the city. “I know they would not bow to mere mortals.”
“I noticed that on the road coming in,” Shae responded in a low voice, “but I don’t know what they are saying. Pathani is not one of the four languages I speak.”
“Four?” Gwynn glanced at her friend. “I’m impressed. We still use Pathani as our ceremonial language in Inishmore. If I listen closely, I’m sure I will understand.”
She was quiet for a bit, using her sharp hearing to its best advantage. Shortly, she leaned close to Shae again, looking a little pale. “They are calling him Rhi.”
“What does that mean?”
“Prince.”
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Hasdran. Now I find I’m being drawn back into that morass of ridiculous unwritten rules and formalities. I should tan your hide Gwynn ferch Gryffyn.”
“It’s not my fault,” she protested. “He never told me!”
“You are going to have to mind your manners, lady bard.” He gestured to the building on the summit they were approaching. “I think we’re staying at the palace.”
“At least you have something to wear that is suited to it. I have never put a foot inside a palace before.”
“You do have some fine silk boot hose.”
Gwynn stuck her tongue out at him and then gasped when they rode into a gleaming courtyard. Delicate streams of water danced within an elaborate fountain. Across from them, a flight of white marble steps ascended to a pair of golden doors. Bearing ornate silver halberds, guards in red and white livery over shining armor stood at attention on either side. A carved archway to the right revealed a lush garden, and on the opposite side another led to stables rising like a temple. Three liveried grooms rushed from the stable yard to their horses’ heads when the double doors swept open. Darion dismounted and the partners followed suit after exchanging stunned glances. Shae reached for his saddlebags but Darion waved him off.
“Leave them; your things will be well-seen to. I am taking you to meet my father.” Shae looked at his bow before shrugging his shoulders; he was well enough armed. Gwynn left her lute hanging on the saddle, but the Harp remained slung across her back. They followed Darion to the steps where another Pathani met them.
He bowed deeply to Darion, but not before looking the mortals up and down. “Govan, Rhi Darion,” he said. “Ard Rhi Navarre hærinoël.”
“Excellent,” Darion answered in the common tongue known to Shae and Gwynn. “My father waits.” He returned 154
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to his own language and continued his conversation with the Pathani.
“His father is the High King of the Pathani.” It took a moment for Shae to realize Gwynn had spoken to him in Southron. Her accent was flawless, although her rich voice turned Shae’s clipped mother tongue lush and exotic.
“The High King? Just perfect…and when were you going to let me know you were fluent in Southron, rather than knowing just a smattering of words?”
“You never asked what languages I spoke,” Gwynn shot back with a grin. Further conversation was cut short when Darion beckoned for them to follow.
Gwynn did her best not to stare at the magnificent palace interior, but it was not easy. White marble floors gave way to other shades as they passed from room to room, and spira
ling pillars in complimentary colors stood on either side of the doorways they passed through. Sweeping arches of intricately carved stonework lifted soaring ceilings, and the walls were hung with tapestries gleaming with precious metal threads or magnificent paintings. The illumination was more exotic than the decor. Lamps with translucent shades of chalcedony, jasper, and lapis lighted the dim rooms. Gwynn passed a tentative hand over one.
“There’s no flame! They must be mage lights,” she gasped.
Shae had already determined that. Mage lights had been common additions to the royal gardens in Hasdran during official gatherings. For such a light to provide al the illumination inside the palace meant that the Pathani had either discovered a way to make them last longer than mortal versions or a small brigade of finger wigglers constantly ran through the palace keeping them lit.
The steward stepped forward and opened a door.
Gwynn ran a hand over her hair, hoping she did not look 155
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too windblown. Goddess bless, she had not had a chance to wash her face or wipe the dust from her boots. Not exactly the way she wanted to meet a king for the first time, especially the High King of the Pathani.
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