Horn Crown (Witch World: High Hallack Series) Read online

  Thus I had shed my boots before the climb, putting on rather the softer and almost shapeless foot coverings which hunters used, through which my feet could feel the surface of the rock as I went, making as little noise as possible. The air was fresh and clean, and I believed that it did carry in it the faint scent of growing things, sometimes even a trace of what might have come from wind-stirred branches of blooming trees or bushes.

  That there were such here I discovered shortly, for there was a dip in the westernmost part of the ridge, and, advancing with caution to the rim of that, I looked down into a cup of land which held our own trace of the Old Ones. Trees hardly taller than my own head, but old, judging by the gnarled trunks and crooked branches, were set evenly spaced about a square of pavement.

  Those trees were in full blossom, their flowers being of a creamy pink-white, large and nearly flat, the tip of each wide petal rimmed with a darker pink. Many of those petals, already wind loosened, had shifted down to lie upon the stretch of stone pavement. Though the petals lay there no grass clump had taken root, nor was there any trace of moss on the stones’ surfaces. Inlaid in the center of the square was a symbol in the form of a moon-shaped curve—this fashioned of a bluish stone, quite unlike that about it, which appeared to have a metallic sheen under the sun's touch. Each corner of the square was also marked by a column which rose to near my own height. These were topped by bold carvings: a circle, and then half circle, quarter circle, and a dark disc of another sort, dead black, though the others were of the glistening blue.

  Since this place had been first sighted a few of us had discussed it often. Iynne, who had made a secret visit with her brother, had declared that it was moon magic of a sort and that the carvings denoted the moon itself in its four phases. She had been most excited and had spoken several times of how she wished to see it under a full moon to test if some ancient power had centered there. That she would dare such a venture of her own I doubted. Nor did I believe that any man would aid her in it. Garn's hand would be heavy and quick to punish any such rank folly.

  In fact, his orders were that no one of us must even venture foot into that pocket of land. We were to view it at least twice on each sentry go, but leave it inviolate. Which was prudent.

  But prudence was not always a virtue of the young, and I longed to go down to see if those symbols and carvings were inlaid metal which had survived the erosion of time and weather. Also there was nothing of a threat here. Instead, even as I stood above and watched petals gently fall upon the stone, I felt a kind of peace and a strange longing, I could not have said for what, save that it was in me. Thus I shook myself, as if another put hands on me to awaken me sharply to my duty, and moved on, though it seemed that there also moved with me the scent of the blossoms, even a faint tugging, as if the unknown would hold me back.

  I was not, I had always believed, one who was given to fancies and dreams. Such could not have lasted in Garn's house without alteration of his own ways of thought. To my lord all which dealt with feeling was suspect. Now, since I had come through the Gate, I knew restlessness. I was plucked by a desire to stride out across this land without any ties, as if I were a Sword Brother, free to learn both its good and evil. I slept badly, had to fight that unease and longing, to set my hand to the work before us with strong self-discipline. It was no labor for me to patrol; rather, I looked forward to my duty day with a light heart and a surge of pleasure which I was careful not to mention.

  The rounds of the dale walls took all of the day, from the morning sun to the long twilight of summer, and one could not linger on the way. Now I set forth at my best walking speed, keeping to the track I already knew.

  To the south the ridge was very wide, its coating of rocks bare of any growth, dark gray and somber. This wilderness of wind-worn stone could be crossed to come into Tugness's hold, but none of us went that way. To the west the ridges bordered the stream to form a second narrow throat where cliffs rose even higher, leaving a sheer drop into the water both on south and north bank. So broken were the stone walls there that one went with caution. There was no crossing of the river from above so there were two of us who patrolled—one to the north and one to the south—usually making rendezvous at the stream cliffs and waving to one another across the chasm.

  Hewlin had alternate duty this day and such was his authority I had no desire to be late in reaching the point of meeting, though afterwards we would eat our rations at our pleasure, and consider the prospect of a hunt before we returned, to descend to the valley floor.

  Hewlin was a little before me, leaning back against a postlike rock. He raised a hand and I answered his salute. Also I noted that he had better luck than I, for by his feet lay one of the rock beasts, cleaned and ready to be turned over to the cook. I waved to him in a gesture of congratulation, to which he made no answer, dour as ever. Then he picked up his kill and went off. I lingered where I was to eat my ration and drink the warmish water from my canteen.

  There was another flight of the black birds, winging down the passage carved by the stream, so low I could see them easily from my perch. Their eyes were a brilliant red, and there was raw lapping of red flesh about their strong black bills so that they had a diseased look which added to their unpleasant appearance. Two of them broke from the flock as they approached, to circle directly above my head, their coarse, harsh cries breaking that peace I had felt ever since I had looked on the Moon Shrine.

  One swooped straight for me without warning. As I flung up my arm in haste, its claws actually tore at the leather sleeve of my jerkin. I drew my sword and scrambled to my feet as the two continued to circle in a manner I had before never seen birds use against a man.

  The glint of their red eyes was bright, their open bills continued to loose cries. Again one swooped. I swung at the bundle of feather. It eluded me easily. The other now was already on its way down to attack. For the first time I was uneasy. My defense could only be clumsy, I had no real way of avoiding those claws and beaks if they continued so. Unless I found cover. I glanced quickly around to sight a leaning stone, which should give me protection if I set my back to it, even though that would force me into a hunched position.

  Those two winged furies tied me into that scrap of cover. Though the rest of the flock were gone, it would seem that these were determined to carry to the finish whatever quarrel they fancied they had with my kind.

  The shelving rock protected my head and shoulders. If they would come at me now they must fly low and in, where I could meet any such attack with a calculated swing of steel. So I waited. However, it was almost as if the flyers had the power of reasoning and were too wary to give me any advantage. Instead they continued to keep me besieged.

  My anger grew. That two birds could so use a man, almost playing with him (or so it appeared to me at that moment) fueled that anger. My greatest uneasiness for some time was that their constant cries might bring a return of the entire flock. While it seemed out of all reason that birds would attack—would be able In overpower an armed man—I began to believe that these could well do so. Certainly they could if I were In the open giving them room to fly as they pleased.

  I tried to think of my next move. My crossbow was slung on my shoulder but its bolts were never meant for the hunting of birds and I did not believe that I could make good use of such a weapon here. How then was I to break out of hiding, for they showed no sign of withdrawing? They might have arranged to hold me at bay awaiting reinforcements to move in, even as those hounds which the greater lords bred for the chase did with some quarry too large or dangerous for them to pull down by their own efforts.

  They still swooped and circled about my rock refuge and then—so suddenly that they left me near off balance—they both shot up into the sky uttering squawks which sounded different from their hunting cries, more as if they themselves were under attack, though I could not see what would send them so away.

  I waited a long moment. However, the birds were definitely gone, winging off st
ill squawking, to follow the vanished flock. In spite of that, I kept steel in hand as I emerged from my refuge, for I could not put aside the idea that they had been driven off by no effort of mine but by something else that walked here.

  In a moment I saw her.

  Gathea, the Wise Woman's handmaid, stood on a taller rock so that I must look up at her. Her hands were held high as her fingers wove patterns in the air. I saw, too, that her lips moved, but I could hear none of the words.

  So I saw her and behind her—

  I cried a quick warning, readied my crossbow to take aim. Then my finger froze to the trigger as if I had been suddenly encased in the stone about me. I saw her right hand point to me and realized, with a rush of sheer fear, that some power I could not understand, something this girl could use even as I used bolt and sword, held me prisoner.

  Still—behind her— She must be warned!

  I shouted then and perhaps my fear, mingled with growing anger (because she had mastered me so) made the shout echo back from the cliffs.

  Behind the rock on which Gathea stood showed the furred, fanged head of a great cat. It arose on hindquarters, planting wide, well-clawed paws on either side of the girl's feet. Its head lifting so that it could stare yellow-eyed around her legs directly at me. It snarled and those huge curved fangs in its upper jaw looked as long and sharp as a table dagger, and much more deadly.

  Gathea turned her head to look down at the beast. This time I saw no movement of her eyes, only that its head moved so that their gazes met and held for a long moment. Then it dropped back on the ground and padded around, to stand between us, still eyeing me, but with those gaping jaws closed. I could not doubt that in some way (perhaps the same way that she had controlled the birds) she also had dominion over this formidable beast.

  Her hand gestured. I was free. But I was also wise enough to lower my weapon, offering no threat. Still the strangeness of this meeting held me where I was, almost as if I still were bespelled. The cat was a thing of wild beauty. I was willing to acknowledge that. Its coat was a silvery gray-white with a faint mottling of darker silver along the back and haunches. I had never seen its like before.

  “He—he is tame—” I found words which were neither quite statement nor question. This animal had not traveled with her certainly, thus it was a beast of the dales. How had this girl discovered it in so short a time, bent its will to hers?

  “Not tame.” She shook her head firmly. “For that would mean that his will is broken to that of man. Such is an abomination with his kin-kind. He recognized that I mean him no harm—that I am a seeker. Perhaps long ago his kind knew other seekers and were friend-kin to them. This is a land rich in much—” Her hands went out in a small gesture as if she would gather to her something proffered which was her life desire. I saw excitement and longing in her eyes then, yes, and a kind of joy which was wild and free. “If we do not take it harshly then we shall be repaid many times over. Only—” Now her eyes turned as fierce as the cat's—"it seems it is not the way of men to do anything but pit their strength and impose their will wherever they go.”

  “You—what did you do with the birds?” I did not want to argue with her. Also, I was still angry—a little because she had seen no harm in bending me to her will, though she denied that she would use an animal so, more at the fact that she had brought an end to an attack I had seen no way of countering in so easy a fashion.

  “I—no, that is not for the telling, Elron of Garn's House. Let it be that those who live at peace with all living things and do not strive to make them slaves and servants have in turn certain authority they may call upon at then: need.”

  “The birds are hardly servants!” I retorted.

  “None of ours, no. They are servants, I think, of ancient evil. Perhaps they were once sentries. There is a covey of such also in Tugness's dale—though Zabina is seeking to discover why they watch and where they go—”

  I was caught by what might have earlier seemed to me to be sheer fancy. Could birds be trained to spy, to report? If so, to whom did they carry news? Should Garm be warned? I thought I could see already his look of scorn if I advanced such a theory to him.

  “Your Wise Woman,” I said, “if she discovers—will she share such knowledge?”

  “If it would be necessary for the good of all, yes.” Gathea nodded. “We have seen them watch and fly, but before this they have never tried to attack. What did you do to awaken their rage?”

  I was irritated that she would immediately assume that I was the provoker of that very one-sided engagement.

  “Nothing but stand here—watch them fly west. They sit most days in the wood to spy upon the loggers, before they scream and fly.”

  “So they have done also in Tugness's date. It may be that now they would try their strength. I would warn those you know to take care. They could well worry sheep, even cattle, to their deaths. Take an eye from a man. . .. Look to the mark you bear now.”

  She pointed to the sleeved arm I had raised to protect myself at the first attack. The leather was scored and torn.

  Before I could answer, she leaped lightly down from the rock on which she had taken her stand. The cat, who had been blinking sleepily, arose. His head was near to her shoulder and she dropped one hand on the thicker fur which nearly formed a ruff at his forequarters.

  “Do you go alone? There may be worse than evil birds—” I knew even as I spoke that my words sounded not at all firm as I had intended but rather as a weak warning which she would be likely to meet with the same scorn as Garn might show at my bird story.

  “I am in search of that which is strong for what we need,” she answered obliquely. “Zabina has used the Sight, but here there are veilings so one cannot work too much with the Talent for fear of awaking that which is better left to slumber. This land is, in many ways, a trap. We may not have had much choice in our coming, but now we must walk as one does between two armies, both of which are our enemies.”

  In spite of myself, she impressed me. We did not remember what had driven us through the Gate (it must have been fear—some disaster which had given us no other choice). Now in spite of the Sword Brothers’ reassurance, I accepted that this land might also have, as she called them, traps, elements that even those scouts and warriors had not yet chanced to discover.

  Still we were here and there was no going back. What came to us we must face, with steel if need be, or perhaps by believing in such messages as this Wise Woman's maid had just given me.

  She was moving on, and, since her path ran the way of my patrol, I hurried after her. The cat, coming to its feet, padded soft-footedly ahead, pausing now and then to sniff at one of the rocks, though I could see no reason for such interest.

  “Have you any of the Old Ones’ places in your dale?”

  She had her head up, turned away from me, to gaze straight ahead, and sometimes she paused, looking to her right, her nostrils expanding as if, like the cat, what she sought she could first scent.

  “No—nor is it our dale,” she returned with a sharpness which I would not allow to quell my curiosity, or my need to learn more from her—and of her. “We are no clan-kin of Lord Tugness—nor others.” She frowned. “There was a need, thus we went with his people. Whether we remain,” she shrugged, “that will be for the future deciding. Ah—”

  She flashed ahead, darting around tumbled rocks, streaking across open spaces with the fleetness of the gray deer which our coming had driven out of the dale. Before her bounded the silver cat, overleaping some of the obstructions she had to round. Because I must discover for myself what had sent her off so eagerly, I pounded after, dropping well back, unable to match her pace, weighed down as I was by my weapons and gear.

  Then I realized in what direction she moved. She was heading straight for that small hidden valley of the Moon Shrine. Remembering Garn's orders, I pushed my pace. None were to enter there, he had warned. We were not to explore whatever was made by those who had long gone. But that I could k
eep Gathea away was a vain hope.

  I called out twice. It was as if both she and the cat were deaf; neither turned head nor slowed their pace. By the time I reached the edge of that hidden place, the girl was standing between the two trees which fronted the square. Her hands were pressed tight to her breast, her eyes flexed upon the pavement, as if it enshrined some great wonder visible to her alone.

  Behind her crouched the cat, this time its eyes were not half closed, but alert, also watching.

  Gathea took a step forward.

  “No!” I raised my voice, tried to leap over the rim, to forestall her before she ventured onto the pavement.

  I tried to leap, only to sprawl backward in a tumble of limbs and body, the crossbow flying away, myself kicking to regain my balance as might a beetle which has been turned on its back.

  I scrambled to my knees, flung out an arm ahead. I might have driven my fist against a wall of the same rock as lay all about. There was a barrier there—one I could neither see nor force. Now I used the fingertips of both hands, feeling up and up until I stood once more. Both my hands ran across something—something which held me out yet appeared to have let Gathea past.

  When I looked down I saw her standing just on the edge of the square. To her right was lifted on the pillar that dark disc, to her left one of brilliant blue. Her eyes were still fixed in that stare and I watched her lips again move in soundless speech.

  Slowly she went down to her knees, her hands sweeping out, her head bowed forward, as if she paid the most formal of homage to some great lord. Petals still drifted through the air; several fell to lie upon her head.

  Her hands moved once more as she gently swept some of those which lay upon the pavement, gathering them into the hollow of her right palm. Once more her head lifted so I could see her face. Her eyes were closed and she had a listening look as if she heard some message of import which she must remember and deliver to another.