Ashling

by Isobelle Carmody

  Again I felt a fierce longing for the clean coldness of the mountains.

  "Then seek them," Maruman's voice whispered into my mind.

  "Where are you?" I sent, trying to decide if his voice was real or imagined.

  "Maruman/yelloweyes flies the dreamtrails. Fly to the mountains if you need them."

  I sighed. "It is too far. You know I cannot send my mind over Blacklands."

  "You can if/when you farsend you seek the dreamtrails. Come."

  I let him take hold of me, but almost immediately I felt claws. Before I could summon the wit to struggle or fight, I had the uncanny sensation of hurtling through the air as if hurled from a catapult.

  "Fly/seek!" Maruman's mindcry faded behind me.

  "ElspethInnle. Come ride with me.... " Gahltha's mind-voice came to me.

  I opened my eyes and was amazed to find myself sitting in my turret chamber at Obernewtyn.

  Dazed, I crossed to the window and looked out. The black equine was standing in the moonlit garden below. I felt a surge of joy at the sight of him.

  "I'm coming," I sent, and turned from the window to drag on riding boots and a cloak.

  This can't be happening, I thought, hurrying down.

  "It has happened and anything that has happened can happen again. Life is filled with circlings," Gahltha sent as I mounted. He wheeled to trot down the drive. The air was cold and thin and I shivered.

  "Is this real?"

  "What is real? You are here and I am here, but we are also far from here. Who knows which existence is more real?"

  Which was no sort of answer, but as Gahltha rode gently out of Obernewtyn's gate and along the road with its whispering green sentinels looming blackly above, it did not seem to matter very much. When the trail ran out, he broke into a wild gallop, crossing the long grassy plain like a creature possessed. His tail and mane streamed out behind as we sped through the gap in the foothills and climbed the narrow way into the valley above, and the one above that.

  At last we reached the valley that lay at the feet of the highest mountains. Though it was not yet wintertime the ground was hard, and snow lay spattered on the valley floor like ash. The peaks were already white.

  We rested by a hot spring and as I sat on a rock, warming myself, Gahltha grazed on the sweet grass that grew about the edge of the simmering water. "I will eat the grass and you will nourish yourself on the mountains," he sent, as if it were no more than biting into an apple.

  Giving myself to the dream, I lay my mind wide open, seeking the detachment and clarity the mountains enabled. Their wild beauty always seemed to make a gentle mockery of brief human woes and lives. Had not these jutting bones of the world survived a thousand eons of human life? Could anything I or any human do really matter in the face of that?

  But for once, I could not comfort myself and answer no. I had stood in the Earthtemple and I had seen the panels made by Kasanda. In my mind's eye I saw again the smothered and abused earth, the befouled waters and blackened skies. I saw again, the desolation that lay on the other side of the mountains—the endless bleared deadness of the Blacklands—and I knew that even mountains could be killed.

  It seemed to me then that I felt the earth's life, the cold sweetness of its breathing winds, the deep beat of its stone heart, and I understood the Sadorians' devotion to the earth. Everything lives, Powyrs had told me, and I realized he was right.

  For the first time it seemed to me that I knew the true evil of human wars and their instinct to dominate and oppress and subdue, for hadn't the Beforetimers poisoned great tracts of the earth with the holocaust? And if the Destroyer reached the hellish slumbering weaponmachines first, would not the task be finished Tor always? If mountains could die, and vast plains, then why not a world? Humans would perish, and perhaps it was no more than they deserved, but so would equines and bears and the brildane. Not a single blade of grass, nor a cat with one eye would survive, if the earth died.

  The moon rose, a thin silver sliver now, and shone its eldritch light through a haze of cloud and onto the mountain peaks, silvering their snowy mantles, and transforming them into shimmering ghosts.

  I clenched my teeth together.

  My resolve, shattered and confused for so long, became, all at once, blessedly clear. When the Agyllians called, I would leave Obernewtyn as I had promised. I would obey the prophecy the birds claimed I had been born to fulfill, and all the strange strandings of fate that sent me here and there seeking signs and ways; I would follow the sinuous, difficult, puzzling manywindings of my quest, whether they led me into the deserts of Sador, or over the vast dark seas or into the very fires of hell—I would complete my quest so that what had been could not come again.

  I would walk the dark road to its end and never return, for nothing was too great a price to pay for the earth and all its life. Not love or my own little life.

  My quest was greater than fear or love, and it was greater than Obernewtyn and the fate of the Talented Misfits there, and nothing would ever make me question that again.

  I slept then, dreamlessly, and when I woke I was in the hard little Earthtemple bed. The terrible draining tide of sorrow that seemed to have defined my whole life had ebbed, along with the fears and murky apprehensions that had haunted me for as long as I could remember.

  I felt as clear and light and pure as a glass of sunlit rainwater as the guardian led me through the tunnels to the outside. It was daylight, and as I blinked into the fierce sunlight I felt as if it pierced me and filled me up.

  "Elspeth!" Kella cried.

  She and Dameon had come to meet me. I let them hold me, but felt a great distance had come between us. I had seen too much and flown too high.

  "I am glad you are well," Dameon said gravely.

  "The rebels have decided on their rebellion," Kella said, and a shadow passed over her features. "It is to be after wintertime."

  I did not want to hear about rebels or rebellions.

  "Is Maruman all right?"

  Dameon chuckled. "He has made himself at home again on Powyrs' ship. The old man dotes on him."

  "Dragon?"

  The healer sighed and shook her head. "There is no change in her condition. Maybe when we get back to Obernewtyn..."

  I wondered suddenly if I should go back. There was nothing there for me now. I could just as well wait to hear from Atthis in Sador. I shivered, remembering Atthis had said the H'rayka was searching for me, trying to learn what I was doing. I lifted my chin. I would not give into fear.

  When we reached the tents, Miryum and the others crowded around to ask questions.

  "Where is Rushton?" I asked, noticing abruptly that he was not with them.

  A queer silence fell and, in spite of my new detachment, it made me uncomfortable.

  "What is the matter?" I looked at Freya but she shook her head and would not meet my eyes.

  I turned to Dameon and touched his arm. "Is he ... he is not hurt?"

  Kella looked exasperated. "Oh, Elspeth. We lost and Rushton blames himself for our defeat. He has been odd ever since the Battlegames."

  "He walks alone and hardly eats," Miryum said. "He refuses to lead us."

  "He says that we ought to be led by one of our own kind," Fian added.

  I stared at them. "Our kind? He is a Misfit, just as we are."

  "A Misfit with latent Talent" Freya said, tears standing in her eyes. "He says it is not the same thing."

  "We tried to tell him we had all failed, not just him," Milky said despondently.

  A queer giddy feeling came over me.

  Rushton had said we would learn about ourselves by taking part in the Battlegames and competing with the rebels. Well, we had learned all right. We had learned what it truly cost to be warriors. We had learned that the price was too high.

  With a flash of brightness it came to me that this was why the empath's song had possessed such power. The empaths had sung it before, never knowing why the soldier sang. Now they understood. No wonder
it had reached even the hardened hearts of warriors, for there was truth in it.

  Bram had been right to judge us unfit warriors.

  I looked around at the others. At Miryum brooding over our loss of the games; at Fian and Kella grinding leaves for herb paste; at Angina and Miky sitting side by side, practicing a new song. Angina still bore the great bruised lump on his forehead from the Battlegames, but their faces were serene.

  I stared wildly about me and the icy wall that had risen around me came crashing down.

  Atthis had told me once that I should go to Obernewtyn and aid the Misfits in their struggle because it was worthy. I had gone and I had worked there, but I had always felt myself to be marking time, waiting for my true quest. Now I saw that the two quests were parts of the same quest.

  After seeing the carvings in the Earthtemple, I had wondered what point there was in destroying the weaponmachines when humans like Malik and the Herders would only find some other way to cause harm. But me community we had built at Obernewtyn was made up of Talented Misfits, and the Battlegames had taught us decisively that we were not made for war!

  So perhaps in a world without threat of extinction from the weapons of the past, Obernewtyn would grow a new breed of humanity mat would not take the same terrible path to destruction.

  "What is it?" Kella asked, and I realized I had begun to grin like a fool.

  I looked around and found they were all watching me. I took a deep breath. Rushton might not love me, but there was far more at stake here man my emotions. There was the future of Obernewtyn, and I understood for me first time that it was as important as my quest to find the weaponmachines, for one without the other was meaningless. I must make Rushton see that losing the Battlegames was me best thing that could have happened to us, because it had showed us our true natures.

  XLIV

  I found him sitting on a rock and staring out to sea.

  "You haven't failed us," I said softly. "We haven't failed."

  He was still for a moment. "Elspeth, I am glad you are well." His voice was dull and he did not turn. I had never heard him sound so defeated.

  "Listen to me.... "

  "I have called myself your leader," he said. "I thought to lead you all to battle because I imagined your powers would fit you better for war; mat all you needed was a leader to bind and direct you. But you are not meant for war. I did not see that because I am not one of you. I have no power. I failed you because I did not understand the truth of you."

  "If there is any fault, it belongs equally to all of us!" I protested.

  He shook his head lethargically, but still he would not turn to face me.

  "What will happen to you and the others when the Council sends its soldierguards to clear out Obernewtyn, Elspeth? Or when rebels like Malik come to wipe you from the earth? I wanted to protect you."

  "Us," I said firmly, gently. "Us."

  Rushton shook his head. "I am not one of you. I have wanted to be and I have dreamed of it... but I know now that it will never be."

  "Of course you are," I said sharply. "Aren't you descended from Hannah Seraphim? Besides, leadership has nothing to do with your being a Misfit. You began this. You freed us and gave us a place and time to grow."

  "But I was wrong.... "

  "So were we," I cried. "I was the one who wanted to show the rebels our power and our might. If anyone is a fool, it is me. Shall I leap off the ship on the way home in remorse? Or what about Maryon, since she sent you here?"

  "I am not one of you," Rushton said more strongly.

  "You have Misfit powers. We have used them."

  "With help," he said disparagingly.

  "You think there is something wrong with needing help?"

  "It is a weakness."

  "Now you sound like Malik," I said hotly. "And maybe that's the point. Maybe there is a little of Malik in all of us. In spite of what Bram said, I have the feeling we could be like him if we wanted to badly enough. A Malik after all would never need help. Our need for one another is what makes us better than him!"

  Now he did turn round. "You can say that, you who never needed anyone in your life?"

  "No one could say it with greater truth," I said sadly.

  "And what happens when you cannot have what you need?" he demanded angrily.

  Wondering how the conversation had taken this turn, I said, "Look, I'm trying to tell you that what we learned in the Battlegames was important. We needed to know what we couldn't do, so that we could begin to think of what we can do. Remember, Maryon said this journey over sea had something to do with finding the right road? Can't you see that we've done that?"

  He shook his head.

  "Remember when Dameon said the trouble with us was that we didn't know what we were? Well, I think we do now."

  "Will that knowledge show you how to deal with the soldierguards?" Rushton asked, apathy returning to his tone.

  I held onto my temper with difficulty. "It might. Misfits are hated and persecuted because people fear us. The Herder Faction and the Council enhance that fear, just as Angina enhances Miky's songs. Maybe the answer isn't to fight and force and make, but to show. To empathize. To let them understand us so that they will see there is nothing to fear from us. I think we should try to reshape ourselves and our purposes around empathy."

  "You are not an empath," Rushton said.

  "No, but I can try to understand and care for the unTalents. Any one of us can learn to do that."

  Rushton made a choking sound and turned away again. "You do not understand. How could you?"

  A spurt of anger made me reach out and pull him back to look at me. "What do you know of how I feel? Do you think I am a machine like the ones the Beforetimers made?"

  "I do not know," Rushton said with a sudden fierce bitterness. "I know nothing because you have never let me know. Because I was not like you."

  I gaped at him, my anger slipping away. "Not like you? What are you talking about. I have just been telling you ..."

  "Then why?" he asked softly, a world of pain in his voice. "Why will you never let me come near? Why do you reject me with every look and word if not because ... I cannot reach my Talent; because I am not..." His voice faded away.

  "But surely Freya..." I said faintly, unable to believe I had I understood what he was saying rightly.

  He nodded, misunderstanding. "She has tried to teach me to use my powers and we have had some success, though I don't know how you could know of it—but it is too little when you are ... what you are."

  I gazed at him, incredulous, my mind rearranging itself like the colors of a kaleidoscope. He thought I did not love him because he could not use his Talent He and Freya had been trying to reach his powers so that he would be worthy of me! In that moment I saw that if my quest to dismantle the weaponmachines and Obernewtyn's future were bound together, so were Obernewtyn and I bound up as one in Rushton's mind. In feeling he had failed one, he now felt he had failed the other.

  But he had failed at neither. And I?

  I understood that this was a moment that might never come again. I had learned the hardest way of all, that beauty and happiness, like life, were ephemeral and could no more be saved up for later than a sunbeam could be hoarded. If I would have any life with Rushton, I must take it now, for now was all there ever was.

  "What am I, Rushton?"

  His eyes flared with a naked longing that seemed to suck the breath out of me.

  He stood up suddenly, and I stepped back, almost frightened.

  "You are everything," he said roughly, hopelessly. "Freya said to give you time and I tried. But you have gone further and further from me. I have been a fool to imagine that you would ever care for me.... " He shook his head and the light faded from his eyes leaving them dull and sad. "I know now that I am no more fit to have you love me, than to lead Obernewtyn."

  "You are a fool all right," I said tartly, half laughing.

  He frowned at me, and my smile faded at the hurt in his fa
ce.

  "You are a fool for thinking you failed Obernewtyn, and you will go on leading us as we strive to find some other way to make our place in the world."

  He began to shake his head, but I reached out my hand and laid it against his cheek.

  He stood very still and I let my hand slide around until my fingers were against his lips.

  "I love you, and I have done ever since I saw you at Obernewtyn carrying that silly pig," I said simply, looking steadfastly into his eyes. "I just had to grow up enough not to be frightened of what I felt."

  Rushton's face did not change and, for a moment, doubt flickered in me, but then I banished it, for surely nothing required courage so much as love, and I was equal to it.

  Swallowing the fears of a lifetime, I reached out my mind, passing the barriers Rushton could not broach, and opened myself to him.

  Only then did he move, and faintly, so faintly I could barely catch it, I heard his whisper inside my mind.

  "Ravek, my Elspethlove."

  Epilogue

  Maruman gave me a jaded look. "And what answer will that be?"

  I leaned on the tower sill and looked out into the first flurry of wintertime snow, pulling my cloak about me.

  "I don't know, Maruman. But we have begun to find it, Rushton and I. The guildmerge and beasts. And whatever it is, it will be the right answer because it comes out of us and what we are."

  "You will never make the funaga-li accept you," Maruman sent.

  "Maybe that's the mistake we've made all along. Trying to make people accept us. I don't think making is going to be part of our answer."

  I thought of Brydda. Just before we left Sador, he had come to the ship with Jakoby.

  With them had been Miryum's Sadorian suitor leading little Faraf and the giant horse, Zidon, which Malik had ridden. He had gone to the Coercer guilden and held out the lead ropes to her. She had stared up at him suspiciously.