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  23

  YLON STUMBLED, CAUGHT himself, but the sword tip, awakened with the new light, touched the rock and now there was a change. The stone burst, shimmered, was gone and Twilla knew the one who stood in its place for she had seen her likeness.

  “Catha!” Chard's cry was triumphant. He tossed the staff in Utin's direction and the warrior caught it. Chard was already clasping the woman, his head a little forward so that his face was buried in the crown of her hair.

  It would be Twilla's labors for sure, even as it had been with those sealed in the fungi—save that this first prisoner released bore none of the signs of extreme aging the small warriors had shown. Each of the waiting pillars must be touched in turn. Whether the power of the mirror would last she had no assurance, she could only hope.

  Explaining to Ylon what they must do she went on toward the next of the pillars, his hand on her shoulder for guidance Ylon matched step to hers. Again and again and again.

  Tears gathered in her eyes tormented by those brilliant bursts of light as each imprisonment was brought to an end. The mirror appeared to grow heavier, or else her strength grew the less—but there seemed to be no end to the waiting pillars.

  Those freed from bondage flowed past the two, women and children together, moving with cries of relief and joy toward those who waited at the end of this forsaken valley. Then—the last pillar shimmered into nothingness. Twilla nearly dropped the mirror as a great weight of fatigue enchained her arms. She staggered and heard the clang of metal against rock as Ylon dropped the sword and held her upright.

  “They are all free,” she said.

  “And how is it with you, Healer? It seems that you ply your trade in more than one way.”

  Healer—it was a time since she had been called that. Healer—yes, what they two had done together here was healing.

  She managed to slip the mirror cord once more about her neck. And became aware of a wind sweeping down upon them, a wind and that ruddy light which was a part of this buried world. She looked up. That fog which had sealed this foul valley was breaking up, crinkling in upon itself—it might have been composed of dried leaves now touched with fire.

  Twilla drew a deep breath and then another. She felt that a burden had been lifted from her shoulders where Ylon's arm lay, holding her steady against his own body.

  “I—I can manage now,” she told him.

  However, he made no move to loose that hold except to grope for the sword he had dropped. Rather he turned with her as they headed back across the now bare land toward that clamorous crowd where those released encircled Chard and the forest kin stood a little aside. By the time they reached the others Chard was awaiting them. The slender woman beside him, like him, showed a difference to the smaller women clustering around. She reached out hands to Twilla:

  “Welcome, sister, life bearer, healer of old ills!” she said in a clear voice.

  The other women, shorter, more thick bodied, sturdy of leg, fanned out behind her. There were the children also, though fewer than Twilla had thought to find, and they clung to their mothers, staring round-eyed at the strangers from the upper world.

  “Has our promise been fulfilled?” Oxyle advanced a little from his people. Some of the women showed the shadow of fear on their broad faces and drew aside, sheltering their children behind them.

  Chard had taken back his staff, now he struck it butt down against the rock three times, so that the low murmurs of the under people ceased.

  “It has been fulfilled. But the doing was not yours, upper lord.”

  “Not so,” Twilla spoke quickly. That Oxyle had failed to break the spell was none of his fault. “It is through the will of this Lord, and the knowledge of his people, that we came here. If forest spell cannot break forest spell—is that to be held against him? He brought hither me and Lord Ylon and if our power worked better against an evil locking, that is good fortune for all of us.”

  “This healer speaks what is true,” Catha said. “These would not be here,” she motioned to Oxyle and his people, “if they wished us ill. I know not of what kin you are, Healer,” she spoke directly to Twilla now. “However, if you say that what you have done here rests upon the work of others, then I believe that. Greetings to you of above, this moment you have undone what was of the dark—in one way or another.”

  They tracked back across the lands through which the boar had guided them. Of that great beast there was no sign, but these he had led had no difficulty in finding the return path. Some of the warriors walked hand in hand with a woman. Two hoisted children to their shoulders, those broad faces under their helmets abeam.

  The forest people kept aloof in their own small group, and Twilla and Ylon formed a third. Here they were neither forest nor underground, they might even remind those around them there was a new enemy. Though Twilla had seen no ill will in glances turned upon them from time to time.

  At last they came to the great hall and there streamed forth more of the small men. There was joyous calling, women and children were caught in tight, rib-squeezing embraces and their babble raised to a small roar.

  Keeping well aloof the forest people seated themselves in the tall grass and watched the restored families stream back into the hall. To all seeming they were forgotten. Shaking from weariness Twilla dropped to the ground and Ylon threw himself down beside her.

  “Twilla,” his voice was low, however, in spite of the clamor of the small people she could hear it easily, “what is now to be done?”

  She sighed, she was so tired. Somehow at this moment she could not even begin to think ahead. “Who knows?” she asked.

  She thought perhaps that the forest people might be ready to return to their upper land but they made no attempt to move, sitting quietly in a circle now, a murmur of speech running around. No words reached Twilla, and at that moment she did not greatly care.

  At length weariness got the best of her and she slid down to lie full length in the beaten grass, her face turned up to the even light overhead, and she slept.

  Ylon woke her at last. A crowd of under people had come forth from the hall carrying baskets cunningly fashioned of gold and silver with master smith's touch, as well as flagons and tankards. Once more they were fed bounteously.

  While they were still satisfying their hunger Chard approached, Catha beside him. He went directly to the circle of forest people. Oxyle arose and inclined his head as he towered over the under lord.

  “It has been done as we asked,” Chard for a moment appeared uncertain, hunting for the right word, the right tone. “A grievous wrong has been righted. You have said that we now have a common enemy. There are those who seek and pry along the great river. We have seen their kind before but not in such numbers. For them we have an answer—as we shall show you.”

  He raised his staff and waved it twice in the air. There appeared at once at the door of the hall a group of the warriors. However, there was one among them who towered well above them in height. He shuffled in an odd, constrained gait and as they came closer it could be seen that he was entangled in a net of silver which bound his arms to his side, encased his limbs so that there was very little play allowing him to move.

  He glared over the heads of his guard—his attention first for the forest people, and then, as he turned his head a little, his eyes widened at the sight of Ylon and Twilla.

  His surprise changed to a look of disgust and Twilla saw those hands imprisoned among the mesh close into fists.

  “It is a prisoner,” Twilla explained to Ylon, “one of the over mountain men—a soldier, I believe.” She went on to explain about the silver netting on his feet.

  She did not know whether the guards would allow it but she steered Ylon toward the captive. The first disgust on that man's face gave way to a wariness. While the guard grunted and drew in tighter about their captive.

  “What troop?” Ylon's voice rang out with the timber of an officer in full command.

  The man scowled. At first Twilla t
hought he would refuse to answer but then he said harshly:

  “I am second scout to Torlan's squad.”

  “So. By whose orders came you up river?”

  “What's it to you, turncoat, un-man? I am not under your orders.”

  Twilla saw a faint flush rise under Ylon's sun-browned skin. The contempt of the other was plain. Still her companion made no other sign that he resented the other's taunts.

  “Does Torlan try the river?”

  The man spat. “I have nothing to say, turncoat.”

  Oxyle appeared suddenly beside Ylon. “The name of this one's officer has some meaning?” he asked.

  “Yes. Torlan listens to Dandus’ mouthings. He was bred in Sawash where the Dandus faith is strongest.”

  Oxyle favored Hahan with a bleak look. Then Chard came closer. Twilla believed that the captive—for all his harsh confrontation of Ylon was uneasy—as well he might be. Somehow that thought gave her satisfaction.

  As the three stood silent, facing him, Twilla saw his shoulders twitch. He must be trying to loose himself from the bonds. But they held.

  “You see,” Chard spoke to Oxyle, “it is our forging which holds this one. Unless we loose it for him there is no escape.”

  “And how many of such can be forged?” the forest lord asked.

  “Not enough to hold an army!” Those words were snapped by the captive. “Lord Harmond calls for such you cannot stand against—walking forts as never were in this land.”

  Ylon stirred. “He summons the field crawlers. But to get such over mountain will be a great task—”

  Hahan sneered. “Not so great, un-man! Already they have passed the upper levels. They will indeed crawl and head straight for the forest!”

  “They are sheathed in iron,” Ylon said slowly, his head turning a fraction in the direction of Oxyle.

  “This one is also sheathed in iron—after a fashion.” Chard indicated the mailed shirt, the bowl helm Hahan still wore. He must have been in the act of drawing his sword when entangled, for the bared blade's hilt still was gripped by the hand now fast bound to his side. “Iron answers to the net—will even draw it for a short space.” Chard spoke briskly, a craftsman testifying to the worth of his wares.

  “If you are wise—un-man—” Hahan said, “you will tell these—these small fools they have no hope—”

  “To every weapon there is a defense,” Ylon returned. “Can you now walk free?”

  Hahan writhed, making a great effort to break the fragile-seeming net. It held as he lost his balance in that battle and landed face down, only to be dragged upright again.

  Ylon wore his listening face and Twilla knew that he strove to measure action by hearing. But she gave the message quickly:

  “The web holds him fast.”

  “Well enough then—as least to take those who come spying.”

  Chard nodded vigorously. “Yes, this holds firm. Take the skulker away,” he ordered.

  “Lord—!” Hahan was once more struggling against his bonds, looking to Ylon. “Will you let these earth-delving scum take a man? You are of the true blood—”

  “No,” Ylon replied with quiet emphasis. “You have already named me—un-man.”

  “What will these do to me?” Hahan had lost all his blustering courage.

  “I do not know. You have come unbidden to spy on them—therefore your fate is for them to decide.”

  Chard brought the butt of his staff against the ground. “Take him—see that he remains safe.”

  Hahan was dragged away. Twilla dared to break the silence then:

  “What will you do with him?”

  Chard smiled. “We keep him—perhaps as bait.”

  “Guard him well,” Ylon said. “He serves a leader who is touched with the Dandus evil. I do not know how strong that power has grown. Perhaps that one could even be a key to unlock your fortress were the dark mage learning be strong enough.”

  “I think not,” Chard seemed satisfied. “But we are warned and be sure we shall be ready for any such invasion. We have safeguards—they have been activated. You have met with Aviral,” he held a hand in salute to the boar's head on his staff. “Aviral is far more than the beast he appears.

  “Now,” he addressed Oxyle again, “we come to planning. Nets we can weave and under those anything weapon of iron is locked to its handler—until we wish otherwise. But what are these crawlers, outlander?” He looked to Ylon.

  “They are moving fortresses of a sort, encased in iron for battle, moved by men within who are well-protected. Under such a cover these within can bring their walking fort to the walls of any keep.”

  “Here is no wall, only trees—” Oxyle observed.

  “For that they have an answer also. If a keep is so attacked the men under the cover strike at the wall, bore into it with special weapons meant for the duty. With the forest trees they could well use the same bores—with enough purpose to kill the tree. While the crawlers are heavy enough to beat themselves a road, their mere weight bringing down all smaller growth. Though this much is true, I have never heard of them being used against such trees as grow above us here. The growth over mountain is never so massive.”

  “But—” Oxyle spoke to Chard again, “you can make nets—nets for the taking of men. Can you fashion them also to encase these crawlers? Since we cannot tell if their assault will bring down the great trees perhaps we shall have time to plan some trick of power if they are stopped beyond the fringe.”

  “How large are these crawlers?”

  Ylon turned to Twilla. “Guide me,” he said without any show of shame.

  He scuffed with one boot at the thick grass underfoot, plainly setting a mark. Utin moved quickly and drove his sword into the soil there, leaving it standing as a guide. With his hand on Twilla's shoulder Ylon marched forward, counting paces aloud. When he halted he turned though he could not see the path he had come. Another warrior marked that spot and one ran quickly with a line of thin rope drawing it taut between the two weapons.

  “This is the best I can tell you,” Ylon said. “As for width—it is the width of a goods wagon.”

  The dwarf who had produced the line and knotted it carefully at the far end rolled it into a loop about his shoulders.

  “Well enough,” Chard agreed.

  “So we shall use nets,” Oxyle said slowly. “But there is still the matter of this smirching of the true power. Under Lord, will you return with us to the storehouse of Khargel? There is that we must learn. I do not know how far the rot has spread with my own kin—how much Lotis has stolen and uses wrongly. Our powers differ—it may be that yours can act as a check on what has happened.”

  “Power I have but there is one greater than me,” Chard beckoned and from among the gathering of the under worlders came Catha. “Will you go with these, Heartsworn? They search for the traces of the dark which Khargel loosed, or else something like to it.”

  Slowly the small woman moved along the line of the forest people. She paused the longest before Karla and Musseline where they stood together and at them she smiled:

  “Sister ones,” she touched her hands to her forehead. Swiftly both of the forest women echoed that gesture. “Of old we wrought together. It was none of your belief who sent us to the stones. May we stand together now.”

  She did not speak to any of the men, even Oxyle, though she looked up into their eyes, one after another, each for a long moment. Then she came to where Twilla and Ylon stood a little apart.

  To Twilla she now spoke: “They call you Moon Daughter, do they not?”

  Twilla wondered how this one had heard that name which Karla had first given her.

  “Your power is also strange—but it shines moon bright and without a stain. We can work well together.”

  Then Catha fronted Ylon. “You have power also, Lord, and it is greater than you think. In time it will give you a great blessing. However, in the end your path lies apart.”

  Now she returned to Chard. He had ramme
d the butt of the staff into the earth so it stood upright and moved a little away from it, his hands outstretched. She laid hers within his grasp and he bent his head to kiss each in turn.

  “Go you then, Heartholder. What can be done you shall do. And may Aviral stand at your side.”

  Thus with Catha now added to their number they left the place of the great hall and came back to the passage Twilla had taken twice before. The carcass of the worm was now near reduced to scraps of cartilage, and she wondered what kind of scavengers had eaten their fill here. They reached that door Utin had opened, and this time Catha was in the fore and gestured to that pendant boar's head so that the wall cracked and their entrance to the upper levels was open.

  Now the forest men moved to the fore and though they made some haste they traveled by spurts—one after another of them scouting ahead.

  The silver mists were still absent. Twilla took that to be a signal that Lotis's power had not diminished. She took comfort in the fact that Ylon, swinging along beside her, bore iron once more and held it in open sight. Around her neck Catha also wore a talisman—boar's head, and it, too, Twilla thought was of, the same threatening metal.

  At last they came to that doorway which Ylon had sealed at their going. Oxyle stopped them with an upflung hand. And Twilla could smell that betraying fragrance. Lotis must have been here. But if she had come she had not won past the iron barrier, nor had she restored any new one of her own—perhaps the iron prevented also.

  Ylon knelt and jerked loose the dagger so that they could enter. Catha stopped before the tree of light. There was wonder in her eyes.

  “Forest Heart,” she said. “Once we, too, came to look upon you—before Khargel arose. Now I salute that which is the greatest of all!”

  She knelt and bowed her head as did those with her. Even Twilla and Ylon did likewise.