The Key of the Keplian Read online

  The mare reared back. *And if we do not wish to be other than what we are?*

  “Then you shall not be,” Eleeri said positively. “It is to my mind that you are offered a gift. It is for you to take it or refuse. I will not allow you to be forced into that which you do not wish. This I swear, sister-kin.”

  Tharna’s agitation subsided. *We travel with you, but if I fear this thing we seek will change us against our wishes or even yours, our roads part. Until then they lie together.* She resumed grazing. Eleeri refrained from pointing out that by that time it might be too late. If it was, it would be too late for her, too, since she would set herself against anything that menaced her friend’s wishes. She flung the thought from her with a twist of her shoulders. This seeking was of the light; she knew it. As soon as her friends had finished grazing, they would find the source of the compulsion. It could not be far away now.

  After a long weary day of search, she was forced to admit her defeat.

  “If this place is anywhere about, I certainly can’t see it.”

  *I have heard that such places may be hidden. Your pendant showed you the direction. Should you not wait, eat and rest, then call on its help? Maybe it can aid us again.* Tharna was practical. Eleeri sank to the grass and dug busily in her saddlebag. From it she drew cold meat and a bag of rather tired-looking berries. From that the mare understood her advice to be accepted. She grazed, keeping an eye on the girl. If there was anything she could do to help when the time came, she would do so willingly.

  Without intent, Eleeri fell asleep. The long day had been tiring, and with her stomach full, sleep came easily. She woke just as dawn flamed the sky. Her pendant slipped naturally into her hand and she gazed at it thoughtfully. Could it help her to find this mysterious place?

  The truth was, she wasn’t at all sure why she was searching. Only that it had grown to be a driving force. At first it had been a quiet calling. A longing for a place to be free in safety. Later, with her love for the mare and colt, the need for a refuge had become obvious. They must have a place where Hylan could grow in peace, where they could live without fear. But under that there was still the call. As if something inside of her yearned for a home she had never known. It was foolish. She remembered her home with Far Traveler perfectly well. But this was something else. Something silly, Eleeri thought. It wasn’t possible to be homesick for a place you’d never lived in. Was it?

  She gazed at the land around her, foothills merging into solid higher mountains. The land was rough but not the brutalized mountains of the turning. There the witches of Estcarp had wrung out the mountains like a dishcloth, using their power. Here the land was simply ordinary mountains bordering this land of Escore. Far away over the horizon lay the Valley of Green Silences. There the lady led the fight against those of the Dark. Eleeri would stay away from the valley. It was just possible they’d expect her to join them. To conform. They might even object to Tharna and Hylan.

  She shook her head. She and her friends would be better off finding a refuge of their own. She studied the pendant in her hands. Cynan, once he had seen she had the horse gift, had insisted on teaching her spells to go with the amber amulets and pebbles from the place of the Old Ones. She stared down thoughtfully. The pendant had helped her before. Would it aid now? From behind her came a soft whicker of amusement.

  *No answers without questions, sister-kin. Ask!*

  Eleeri bent her concentration on the pendant. Around it grew a soft glow, a blue-green that brightened by the minute. Without thinking, she reached out and gently drew the Keplians into mind-link. The pendant flared, giving forth a blaze of light so great that Eleeri’s eyes shut involuntarily. About her throat she felt a tugging—harder, harder—then it was gone and she opened her eyes to stare in wonder.

  Before them stood her pendant made flesh, a great black stallion. No true horse, Eleeri knew. This was the spirit of horses. Intelligence shone from the sapphire eyes, pride was in the crest of his upthrust neck. Power flamed in every sinew, power both of strength and the Light.

  With a leap he was away, and they scrambled to follow. Hoofbeats clattered up the trail and the girl bit back a cry of exasperation. They’d come this way the day before. There was nothing here. She scanned the earth under the hooves of her pony. It was hard-packed, probably an old deer trail. Rock walls rose on either side, as if this had been originally a stream bed. The occasional drifts of small stones within the curves suggested this was so. But the trail was dry now. Perhaps a change of direction, a landslip higher up now diverted any water.

  The stallion swung to one side. Here the curve was larger, more of an angle. He stood poised. Then, before them all, runes flamed blue on either side of a gap Eleeri had not noticed before. She gaped at them, recognizing some. Cynan had drawn them for her and taught her to use them along with her pebbles. They were ward signs. Below blazed runes of Light, runes of guard against the Dark. They were reinforced by some she had not been taught. But she could guess them to be of power.

  She turned in her saddle to look back along their trail. This was clever: The entrance was narrow. Any who entered on horseback would have to do so in single file. The trail to this point was also narrow, steeply uphill and winding. Above, it steepened still further. To reach this entrance from uphill or down, those who came would be moving with slow caution because of the trail. They must then thrust through an opening just wide enough for one mount. If a good-sized area lay beyond, they might well have found their refuge. Judging from the rune-guarded entrance, it would take a very powerful creature of the Dark to force its way inside.

  The stallion appeared beyond the wards. He turned to watch them.

  “This is it. I know it.” Eleeri was sure now, but Tharna watched the stallion nervously. “What is it, do you fear him?”

  The mare spoke softly. *Stallions often kill colts who are not their own get. I do fear him.*

  “He’s not Keplian,” Eleeri said quietly. “And more than a horse, too, I think. I don’t believe he’d harm Hylan, or us, either.”

  As if the great beast had heard her words, he paced toward them. A regal head lowered to nuzzle the soft nose of the foal. A half-rear, then again the reassuring touch to the foal, and he was away, back through the gap to await their decision. Before either adult could move, Hylan had followed, small neck arched in imitation. The runes flared up as he passed. Tharna eyed them with worry.

  *What if they will not admit me?*

  “Then we look somewhere else for refuge.”

  Eleeri could feel her friend’s fear, but before them Hylan waited. Tharna moved toward him, step by slow step. The runes blazed higher as she approached. Slowly they changed; a more silvery hue now shone in them. The girl could feel that it was becoming an effort for her friend to move, as if she waded through deep water. Without thinking, she touched with her mind, reassuring, comforting. With that linkage the effort was gone. Freed, the mare leaped to her son and caressed him with soft nuzzlings.

  Eleeri followed, seeing in her turn the runes’ light shine higher. The stallion ran on into a widening canyon and they gathered themselves in his wake. Before the far end of the canyon he paused and reared. His commanding whistle rang out, echoing from the cliffs. Again and again he warned without words: they were not to come this far until summoned. Then he was gone. Eleeri ran forward in distress. She had grown to love her pendant, gift of Cynan. Was she now to lose it?

  Half-hidden in the lush grass it lay, tiny sapphire eyes winking up at them in the sunlight. With a sigh the girl plucked it from its nest and threaded the cord through the loop again. She felt a little strange with it now, knowing what it could be. Yet surely, if it had not been intended for her to take it up once more, it would not have returned to this form.

  She strained her eyes to look down at the end of the canyon forbidden to them. A mist lay there, shot through with warm golden glimmerings. Power smoked from it. She would stay well away until asked; that was not something to meddle with uninvit
ed.

  She gazed about the remainder of the canyon. Surely this had been a hold once. In contrast to the outside, here the grass was lush and thick. Fruit trees and berry bushes lined the cliffsides.

  Berry bushes! That reminded her. Laughing, Eleeri reached for her saddlebag to extract the tiny saplings she had taken. Then and there she dug out a square of turf in line with those other bushes. Lovingly she placed the saplings to add to the line. Water? She stared about as Hylan lowered his head; she could hear him drinking. She trotted over to see what he had found, to be amazed by the water’s container. Hidden by the knee-high grass was a spring welling up. It flowed into a marvelously carved stone basin. Yet it was not this that amazed her. The water appeared to be flowing uphill from the spring. She measured with her fingers. It was true.

  Oh, well, as long as the water continued to flow, she should leave well enough alone. She reached for her pack and took from it some of the dried meat. She had no time to hunt; the place was of too great an interest to do aught but explore. She wandered along, staring as she walked. If in high summer there was still water and good growth, then this was indeed a suitable place for them to remain. But why had they been called here? Perhaps the answer lay in the golden mist. She’d wait; sooner or later she’d find out. There was no hurry, she reflected, the peace of this place seeping slowly into her bones. She rounded a natural buttress in the cliffs and found herself looking at human habitation. She fell back with a small cry.

  Then she grinned. The doors gaped wide, rotting from their hinges, and within she could see the drifts of leaves piled up on stone floors. How long had it taken for the doors to fall away? she wondered. Yet the spring still flowed. She studied the massive stones. They needed no power to seal them; they were sufficient to themselves. Only the wooden doors had failed, and they could be replaced, no doubt.

  She walked over to stand before the entrance. Would she be welcome here? She placed a gentle hand on the massive stone doorpost. Runes glowed into life, the now familiar blue. She could not read them, but a comforting warmth stole from them, like a welcoming hand that greeted a beloved visitor. She moved to the doorway and paused, speaking to anything that might hear and accept.

  “To the ruler of this place, gratitude for roof shelter, no harm from me or mine to thee and thine. I come in peace.”

  The runes’ light shone a little greater so that she took it as an answer. Steadily she walked through the doors, entering the great hall which spread before her. Down the center of that ran a huge ancient table. It was carved from wood, of a type she had never seen before. Dust lay thick over it, but when she brushed that away, the wood shone, polished, a red-gold whose grain seemed to glitter before her eyes. Chairs carved of the same wood were placed along it, but they ran along one side only, that which was farthest from the door.

  Two huge fireplaces were set to the rear of the wall, behind the table. Eleeri stared. It would take a man working full time just to chop enough wood. Or had that been provided by some use of power? Water ran into a basin attached to the wall near one of the hearths. She crossed to it. A horn cup on a silver link chain still remained. Then she stooped to look. The water ran into the basin, but there was no outlet. From where did it come, to where did it go? The soft plashing made her thirst greater. She lifted the cup, filled it, and drank. Then she lifted it in salute to the shadowy hall. Was it her imagination, or did something stir at that acknowledgment?

  Eleeri decided she wasn’t going to question things here. She was sure she was meant no harm. That being so, it would be unmannerly to question whatever occurred. She would stay polite as a guest should and wait to be invited into the forbidden land of mist. In the meantime she was hungry, and growing tired.

  She returned to her horse and hauled her gear inside the hall. She rubbed him down, then left him free to graze with a gentle slap on his shoulder. Quickly she kindled a fire in the center of one of the fireplaces and roasted a rabbit on a spit she found there. She peered higher to discover there was also a rod which swung out above the flame. She’d heard of that. Gaily she hung her coffeepot from the upturned end and watched as the water boiled. She drank, leaned back against the stone wall, and sighed in satisfaction.

  In the saddlebags she had looted from Gerae’s followers, she had found a packet of dried leaves. They produced a sort of herbal tea with a taste of sweetened lemon. It wasn’t coffee, but then she hadn’t been crazy about coffee anyhow. This lemon tea was more to her taste. She had been running low on it, but within the lines of bushes outside she had seen perhaps four or five that looked to be the source of the tea leaves. In the morning she’d check.

  Her mind moved on to Cynan. What was he doing? Was he still strong enough to manage with what she had left for him? She had liked him, and yet when the time came she had ridden, leaving him alone. She knew this had been his wish, but she regretted doing so.

  Still, he was a warrior; it was for him to choose his time and his dying. That was the white-eye way to deny a warrior the right to make his own choices. To drag one off to a hospital, there to die slowly, growing more bitter as the body withered. Far Traveler had also chosen. He had not wished to die shut away from the sky, from Earth Mother, from all her scents and the sounds of the mountains.

  She remembered his last moments. It was well, very well. He had died as he had lived, in the clean air, in freedom. She grasped the pendant in her left hand.

  “Look down on me, kinsman. Do not forget one who will ever love you. In this strange land let your wisdom guide me as it did in that other.” For a moment she felt a hand caress her hair the way the old man used to do to bring comfort to a small child. She felt his presence then, and reassurance that she, too, was loved and remembered, even from the sky trails he now followed. She sank down into her bedroll, a smile curving her lips. She slept, and if her dreams were more than she would recall on waking, that, too, was right.

  During the night it began to rain lightly. While she slept, the Keplians had entered the hall and now dozed comfortably under a sound roof.

  *This is a good land, kin-sister,* the mare announced as Eleeri opened her eyes. *There is more grass than we can eat, the water is sweet, and no Gray One could pass the gate runes.*

  “What about Keplians?” the girl teased, but the mare was serious.

  *I think few of the males could pass. Perhaps some of the mares, as I did. The foals: of them it seems to me that all would pass. They are innocent, having committed no evil.*

  Eleeri considered that. “You think that the runes measure innocence. That may be so, but what evil have you done?”

  *None, but we are of the shadow. The runes were not swift to let me pass until your mind touched mine. Then that which held me back was gone.* Her sending softened. *I have wondered, kin-sister, if our meeting was not meant. Together we have overcome that which would have mastered us had we not stood as one. I—I feel toward you as I have never felt, even to one of my own kind. Kin-sister you are in truth.* She turned inquiring eyes toward the girl.

  “I, too, feel this way.” For a moment they remained still, gray eyes meeting the flowing red fire that were the mare’s orbs. Then Eleeri chuckled softly. “All this talk makes me hungry. I plan to find a nice fat bird, to do something about that.” But as she passed the mare, her hand slid out in a loving caress. Tharna was content. Her kin-sister understood.

  Over the next few days they relaxed, sleeping when they tired, eating as hunger came. Eleeri found herself constrained to hunt outside the canyon but accepted this as common sense. In case of siege or illness, she would be grateful birds and other small game abounded within reach.

  But as the time passed, they all grew restless. Hylan no longer needed to nurse, but ate the grass which abounded at his hooves.

  They had been there several weeks when Eleeri and Tharna felt a drawing from the outer lands. They consulted silently. Then as one they acted, the girl calling her horse, tossing his gear up and swiftly bridling the willing beast.
r />   Hylan remained, but together Keplian and human left the canyon and hastened down the trail toward the lower lands. They had wandered, moving slowly as they came, but now they struck straight for their goal, the river. After a day’s swift travel, they were there. Eleeri climbed a ridge and stared out over the area.

  *What do you see?*

  “No reason to call us here.”

  *We go on?*

  The girl climbed down and swung into the saddle as reply. In silence they marched on along the riverbank, heading ever deeper into the Gray Ones’ lands once more. Both knew this to be dangerous, but the call continued. They would be wary, and with no smaller, weaker foal to slow them, it was unlikely the Gray Ones would be able to catch them, if the two had any sort of a headstart.

  Suddenly Tharna jerked up her head. At the same time, Eleeri halted the pony, seeking out the source of her unease.

  “What is it?”

  *Death—death comes to those of my kind.* She had no need to add that it was a death in pain and terror. That echoed in both of their minds. Eleeri nudged her mount into a slow trot as the sensation broke off abruptly. One was dead, but the sensations continued, although weakened.

  They rounded a long line of trees together just as the feeling faded again, then again. Now there was nothing but emotions: terror, loss, panic. There was a youngness to those, a formlessness that signaled no adults remained.

  Eleeri strung her bow in one flickering movement, laid an arrow on the string, and touched the pony with a gentle heel. He edged out from behind the bushes, Tharna at his side. Before them three foals stood shivering, as Gray Ones circled. To one side, Keplian mares lay quiet in death. The Gray Ones were playing, knowing they could kill at whim. The terror of the foals provided a vicious amusement until, in one flashing second, that changed.