Horn Crown
A Witch World novel by Andre Norton
Version 1.0

1•

The rain fell with sullen persistence to make one's
travel cloak a sodden burden weighing upon the shoul-
ders, even as fear can weigh heavily on heart and mind.
Those among us who were simple and unlettered, who
had never stirred far from the fields they tilled or the herd
pastures known to their long-kin before them, muttered
together of Glom the Weeper and looked upon the gray
sky as if they expected moment after moment to see her
two welling, tear-filled eyes above us, her sorrow hanging
as heavily as a curse.

Even those who were lettered and learned could be dis-
turbed by the thought of curses and condemnation after
this exile came to us.

Were our Bard-Sages right to use their knowledge so
that when we passed through the Gate, household by
household, lord-kin by lord-kin, we not only left behind
us our homeland, but also a part of all memory? Now we
might question for a while why we had come to ride this
rain-washed, dreary land. However that questioning dimin-
ished as we rode north. That the reason for our flight was
dire we carried ever in our minds. Not only did Sword
Brothers ready for instant alarm ride before us to scout
this strange land, but a full company of them were the
last at the Gate as a rearguard. With them were Laudat
and Ouse, whose singing had opened that world portal
and who now closed it with the clack-clack of their
spirit-drums so that there could be no retreat, and per-
haps, mercifully, no pursuit.

Those who rode in the van as our guides had met us
this side of the Gate. They had been near a full moon-

tally of days here, spying out what must be faced. Their
report was strange. They told of tall hills and dales, once
held by men -- or else some life-form which was near
enough like our own to pass for men -- for our scouts had
found the land now deserted, save for relics of that earlier
race.

Not that the land was entirely safe. There were places
here and there where other forces had been awakened
and lingered, which we must take good care to avoid.
However, there was much clear land waiting for the plow,
hillsides rich in tall growing grass to feed our sheep, our
cattle, the horses which carried our packs and pulled
heavily loaded wains.

Each lord-kin moved in company, possessions well
stacked, and the old and the very young riding either on
wagons or on the most docile of our mounts, while swords-
men and liegemen of each clan kept on alert to wall
them in.

We moved at a slow pace. Sheep and cattle cannot be
overdriven. Also, I think, the strangeness of this land
weighed upon us, perhaps because, as we went, we sighted
certain pillars or structures here and there and, too, the
sun did not make a welcome warmth or light for us.

My Lord was Garn and our household was not equal to
most in either wealth of gear or strength of liegemen. Our
small flock of sheep were easily numbered and we had
only a single bull and five cows to watch. Relics of the old
life we had brought with us filled only three wagons, and
some of the younger women rode, many with a child be-
fore and another behind, holding to their girdles.

I was lord-kin, though not heir, being a late-born son
of Garn's father's brother. Still I carried kin-shield and
there were four crossbow men who rode at my com-
mand -- a very small company to be sure. I was young
enough to be seriously concerned with my responsibilities,
and now, as I rode with my men strung out behind me at
intervals, I kept to the right flank of the clan, searching
among the hills for sight of anything that might move.

We had debated -- or rather the Lords had, when they
had come through the Gate -- the advisability of this route.
Only the Sword Brothers had affirmed that it led straight
through a deserted land and there were none of the other
people's traces near it.

It was, however, a true road -- running straight, the
blocks of its making showing now and again through the
overgrowth of grass and plants. Our wagons jolted along
it with better going than we might have found had we
taken to open country.

The rain was not all that veiled this new-old land from
us. There were patches of mist which hung about the
crowns of some of the hills on either side. In places, that
mist was not the expected gray-white but had a bluish
gleam, or was darker, which gave one a feeling of uneas-
iness.

One of the Sword Brothers spurred past me, heading
from the rear guard toward the fore. I watched his pas-
sage with outright envy. They were men apart, owing no
kin once they had taken Sword Oath, having no clan ties.
Their skill with sword, bow, and short-spear was so well
known that they carried much authority without ever hav-
ing to touch steel. However, they made no demands upon
the kin, supplying themselves from their own flocks and
herds which the foot-brothers tended.

To be accepted into their number was the dream of
most of the youth of the clans. For most that dream was
never realized, for they remained always the same in
numbers, adding no one except on the death of a brother.

After the passing of the rider my own overlord, Garn,
came at a lesser pace, his two sworn men at his back,
checking upon those of us who rode as a side guard. He
was a man near as dour as this land and the weeping sky
over us, not given much to talking, but with a quick eye
for any failure in service, or possible cause of trouble.
Silence was the best praise a man could hope for from
Garn. I felt my hands tighten on the reins as his hawk
face turned toward where my small company trotted. I

had expected him either to voice some disparaging com-
ment on my deploying of that part of his forces, or to
check upon the rear guard who were ordered by his son
Everad. Instead his horse matched pace with mine, his es-
cort dropping back a little, until he rode stirrup to stirrup
with me.

I did not expect any comments from him about the
land about us, the discouraging weather, or the past. I
merely waited, recalling hurriedly all I might have done
lately that was not to his liking. His head turned slowly as
his gaze swept from one ridge bordering the road to the
other -- though I did not think he was trying to see the
rear riders of the Household clan of Rarast which
preceded us.

"There is good forage." I was astonished at his words,
though I knew that Lord Garn was one to judge well the
worth of land and the uses it might be put to. I knew all
those around me, I knew their likes and dislikes, their
faults and virtues, and how we were allied one to the
other. I knew my own part in the kin-clan, the training in
weaponry which I had had, I knew -- everything but why
we had come into this other world and what danger we
had eluded by coming.

"There shall be a council at the night camp," Garn was
continuing. "Then shall be decided where we settle. The
Sword Brothers have scouted well. This land is wide. For-
tune may favor even those of us who have not grown so
great in the past."

I still sought the reason for this frankness of speech
from him. It was as unlikely as if my plodding horse had
spoken. What Garn said began to sink into my mind past
the surprise that he spoke so at all. A large land -- open
for settlement. There was near a hundred clans, most of
them far beyond us in numbers of kin, stock, all which
might put a lord into the first consideration. Only no lord
would want to spread his meiny so thinly that it could not
be easily defended. Thus there was a very good chance

that even so small a clan as ours might come into land
riches.

Garn was continuing: "Those of the kin-blood will be
present and there will be a drawing of lots. This has been
agreed upon -- that there will be only one choice. Either
for shore lands or for the inner ways. Siwen, Uric,
Farkon, Dawuan have already spoken for the shore. The
rest of us will have the choice. I think," he hesitated, "I
would speak with you, Hewlin, and Everad, also with
Stig, when we halt for nooning."

My agreement was perhaps unheard, for abruptly he
wheeled his mount and rode to where Everad held his
place in our march. He left me still surprised. Garn made
his own decisions; there would be no need for any consult-
ing, even of his heir. It was doubly startling that he would
ask any advice of Stig, who was the headman of the field
workers, the non-kin.

What was in his mind? Why had he mentioned the
shore lands? We had had no such settlement in the past.
To turn aside from long custom was not in our way of
life. Still -- we had come into a new world, which was per-
haps reason enough to break with that custom and lead us
into new ways.

I tried to remember how far we might be from the
shore, which the Sword Brothers had explored only in
very small part. There had been talk of harsh cliffs and
reefs leading cruelly into the sea. We were not a sea-going
people, though those of the four clans Garn had men-
tioned were fisherfolk -- or had been.

The morning drizzle was lifting. Before nooning a
watery, pallid sun shone. Under it the land shook off
some of the brooding shadow which had made it so alien
to our eyes. We camped where we were on the road, not
pulling the wains away, the households strung out along
its length like loosened beads on a too-long string.

Those small braziers of coals which had been so care-
fully tended in the foremost wain were brought out and
charcoal sparingly fed into them -- enough to warm pots

of the herb drink which strengthened the traveler, washed
down bites of journey cake. I hurried over my share that I
might not keep Garn waiting.

He sat a little apart on a stool which had also been
taken from the gear and waved us to less lofty seating on
a strip of thick woven matting which had been unrolled at
his feet. I noted that beside Everad and Stig, was Hewlin,
who was the eldest of his guard, his face near as grim as
his lord's.

"There is the choice," Garn began as soon as we were
seated. "I have had word with Quaine who rode the shore
way the farthest." He took from his belt pouch a strip of
skin which had been rolled into a thin tube, spread this
out so that, leaning forward, our heads close together, we
could see running on it a number of dark lines.

There was one heavy black line which curved in and
out, and feeding into that from one side, three thinner
ways, also uneven. Two indentations of the larger line
were already marked with a thick black cross, and to
these Garn pointed first.

"This is the shore as Quaine has seen it. Here and
there are bays which are open and this land will be taken
by two of those who have already said they want only the
sea." His fingertip now moved on, still along the pictured
coastland, until it tapped against a much smaller indenta-
tion.

"Here is a river, not as great a stream as the others,
but of good water and it leads inland to a wide dale. A
river is an easy road for traveling, for the carrying of
wool to market -- "

Wool! I thought of our sorry herd of sheep. What did
we have to market? All that was ever shorn from their
backs was woven and worn by our own people and there
was never more than enough for perhaps a new kirtle, a
new under jerkin, at three or four years' time.

It was Everad who dared ask the question that was in
all our minds: "This is what you would choose, my lord,
if the lot comes to you and it is not already taken?"

"Yes," Garn said shortly. "There are other things -- "
He stopped short and none of us had the courage to ask
what those other things might be.

I stared at the lines on the bit of skin and tried to
imagine what they were meant to represent -- land and
sea, river and wide dales to welcome our plows, our small
herds and flocks. Only they remained stubbornly but lines
on skin and I could not see beyond them.

Garn invited no advice or comments from us. I had not
expected that he would. He had called us together only
that we might know his will and be prepared for the deci-
sion he was about to make if all went favorably for him at
the lot drawing.

That river he had indicated lay well to the north, be-
yond the bays which he had said would be the first
choices of the sea lords. I wondered how long a journey
northward it would be, also how many days of foot travel
it would take us. The time was spring, we should be get-
ting into the ground the precious bags of seeds which
weighed down half of our last wain -- if we expected any
sort of a crop at all this year.

There was no telling how chill the winter seasons might
be here, or how swiftly they would come, how short or
long the growing tune could last. Too lengthy a journey
might bring us under the dark shadow of winter want, a
specter to haunt any clan. Still, the choice was Garn's and
no lord ever led his people into outright disaster if he
could help it.

The night's council was held at the midsection of our
strung out line of march, near where Lord Farkon's long
parade of wains and folk wagons were in place. They had
ready a fire and around that the lords sat, their blood
kin behind them while Laudat and Ouse, both pulling
their gray cloaks close about them as if they felt the damp
chill even more than any others, and Wavent, Captain of
the Sword Brothers for this Ten Year, were in the center
of that circle.

Both the Bards looked thin, tired, their faces nearer to

gray in color. The opening and the closing of the Gate
might have worn them close to death, but they held them-
selves to the task before them. However, it was Wavent
who spoke.

He described again the land ahead, saying that it was
uneven, lacking any strength of plains. Rather, it was
ridged by hills and between those were dales, some wide
and well covered with vegetation, some narrow and stony.
He also spoke of the rivers that were on Garn's crude
map and of the two well shaped and open bays.

He had scarcely finished when Lord Farkon broke in:
"You have said little, I note, Sword Captain, of these
strange places left by an Elder People -- or of such people
themselves. Do any linger -- and if so will they not take
sword to defend their own lands as any lord will do?"

There was a murmur which ran from lord to lord. I
saw Ouse's shoulders straighten, almost as if he were
about to rise and speak in answer. Still he did not, but left
that to Wavent.

"Yes, this was once a land well held," the Captain ad-
mitted readily. "But those who held it have gone. We
have found things of theirs -- but in most there is no harm.
In fact, there are places of peace and safety which are
welcoming. But there are others, and I do not deceive
you, my lords, which are pools of evil. These you shall
know by the very stench of them. Also, it is well that you
have no dealing with any building or ruin which you may
find. We of the Sword have quartered and requartered
this land and have seen nothing but beasts, have found no
trace of any land holder. It is empty now; we do not
know why."

Lord Rolfin shook his head, the firelight flashing from
the three bits of red gem set in his helm just above his
eyes.

"You do not know why those others withdrew," he re-
peated. "Thus we may be facing an unknown, unseen en-
emy here."

Again there was a stir and murmur among the lords.

This time Ouse did stand, shrugging the hood of his cloak
back so that his gray-haired head was fully bared and all
could see his thin, lined face.

"The land," he said quietly, "is empty. Since we have
come into it we have sensed nothing which we may term
enemy. This night before you came to council, my lords,
Laudet and I sang the warn words and lit the torches of
the Flame. It burned fair, there was no stir at our invoca-
tion. There are traces of old power -- of a kind we do not
know -- but the Flame can burn nowhere when there is
war rising and evil moving in."

I heard a grunt from Lord Rolfin. He was ever apt, as
all men knew, to go seeking menaces in each new place,
though he could have no answer to Ouse's reassurance. It
was true that the Undying and One Flame could not sur-
vive if evil ringed us round, and I am sure that I heard
several sighs of relief at that reply.

Now Wavent pushed forward with his right foot a basin
of bronze which Laudet had set out for him. The Captain
stooped and picked this up, holding it with both hands.

"Here, Lords of Hallack," his voice becoming more
formal, as if speaking ritual words, "are your choices by
lot. In the Light of the One Flame are all kin-chiefs
equal. Thus it was in the past, so shall it be here. Let
each of you now draw by chance, for at midmorning to-
morrow we shall reach the first of the open dales and one
of you may there withdraw from our journey to take up a
new home."

Holding the bowl just above the eye level of the circle
of lords, he then passed from right to left, pausing before
each man who reached up, scrabbling fingers among the
strips of hide he could not see and bringing out the lot
which fortune dealt him, though all knew that afterward
there could be changes made if both parties agreed.

Ouse let Wavent come well along before he followed
with a smaller bowl, this one being of silver somewhat
tarnished, which he offered to a handful of lords who had

refused the first choosing. This we knew represented the
chances of the seacoast. As he had told us he would,
Garn refrained from drawing from Wavent's bowl, a hap-
pening which appeared to make his near neighbors glance
at him in surprise. When Ouse reached him his hand went
up forthwith and there was something of eagerness in his
action though no emotion showed on his impassive face.

None looked yet upon their luck but waited until all
had drawn. There were some slips left in Wavent's bowl
but Ouse, though he had few takers, turned his upside
down before he was well around the circle and went back
to his own place.

It was only when Wavent also returned to stand by the
fire that each lord unrolled the scrap of hide his groping
fingers had brought him and looked down at the runes
marked there -- for the Sword Brothers, together with the
Bards, had made these for guidance even before we had
come through the Gate, and each carried clear directions
for travelers and settlers.

We were eager to know Garn's luck, though he did not
turn to show his drawing to his kin as many of the lords
were doing. The hum of talk arose and already there were
those who bargained for exchange, some wanting more
pasturage, others more land for crops. We waited with
what patience we could summon until at last Garn did
speak: "The Flame has favored us. We have the river
land."

It was a piece of fortune such as men seldom come
across. That he should have drawn the very land he had
marked down for his own seemed almost too well done,
as if fortune (which is always undependable) had been
this time reinforced by a more powerful ally.

I saw one of the Sword Brothers coming through the
shadows beyond the inner circle to which the fire gave
light. It was Quaine, he who had first told our lord of this
possible holding. Now he joined Garn and asked: "What
luck, my lord?"

Garn had arisen, the piece of hide stretched taut be-
tween his two hands. He favored Quaine with one of
those piercing, near accusing glances by which he was
able to reduce any man to instant acknowledgment of his
orders. Yet Quaine was not of his meiny or kin, but stood
easily as if he spoke but of pleasant weather.

Quaine was Wavent's age, and he had been Captain in
the last Ten Time. He was, I thought, near Garn's own
years, though there was no gray in his hair and his body
was slim as any youth's. He walked with the grace of a
fighting man who was well trained in the most skillful of
swordplay.

"I have it," Garn returned shortly in answer to the
question. "It is yet a long journey." He made no question
of that, still he continued to look at Quaine as if he
waited for some other and more important word from the
Sword Brother.

Quaine made no comment and Garn glanced now from
him into the flames beyond. He was a man whose
thoughts one could never read, though at that moment I
wondered if he were not as well pleased with the result of
the drawing as he might have us believe. I held to a small
shred of doubt that this fortune came to him by luck
alone, although neither Wavent nor Ouse would have lent
himself to any arrangement of favor for even the greatest
lord among us, and Garn was one of the least of that
company when it came to wealth or ranks of kin.

"It is best," Quaine continued, "that those for the shore
take trail together. There is another road leading east and
then north, but it is much older and it may prove difficult
passage. If you ride together then there is aid at hand
should any accident occur."

Garn nodded sharply, thrusting his drawing into his
belt pouch. Then he only spoke four names, making a
question of them: "Siwen, Uric, Farkon, and Dawuan?"

"Also Milos and Tugness," Quaine added.

Now Garn did stare at him, while I let hand go to

sword hilt without my realizing what I did until my fingers
crooked hard about the metal. We might have had old
memories erased as we passed the Gate, but there were
some which lingered. Among the Lords, Tugness was no
friend to any of Garn's household. It was an old feud
which had meant bloodletting once, but now it was only
that we did not friend-visit with them at any season nor
come to a hosting in which they had a part.

Again Garn made his question curt: "Where?"

Quaine shrugged. "I have not asked. Yours lies farthest
north -- the last dale we rode across in our quartering.
Doubtless he will settle south of that."

"Well enough."

"We turn from the road near sunset," Quaine contin-
ued. "I will lead the Brothers for the sea party."

Garn nodded, giving no farewell, as he turned on his
heel and, with the rest of us, tramped back to our own
camp which was some little distance from the council
place, saying nothing to us.

Though I was well tired by the journeying of the
day -- the everlasting matching of our pace to the slow
turn of wain wheels -- yet as I drew my cloak about me
and used my saddle pad as a pillow, I did not at once fall
asleep. One could hear the small sounds of the camp. A
child was crying in a weak, fretting way where the women
sheltered -- probably Stig's grandson who ailed. I could
hear, too, the movements of our stock as they grazed the
tough, thick grass already well above the earth's edge for
spring, and now and then the snort of a sleeper or a
snore. Garn had gone into the small tent which was his
alone. From where I lay I could see the spark of a strike
light and then the thin gleam of a lantern candle. Perhaps
he was again studying the lot fortune had given him.

I had thought fortune too favoring and been wary, then
I had heard of Tugness's luck and believed that this was
the ill part which I had sought to find. If our future hold-
ing marched with his we must learn to live in a state bet-

ter than an uneasy truce. This was an unknown land from
whence the former inhabitants had withdrawn -- the why
we did not know. Though the Bards and the Scouts had
stressed that there were no enemies, still there was a lone-
liness, a land of withdrawal, which I, for one, felt the far-
ther I rode. We might well need to depend on neighbors
even if such lived a day's journey away. This would be
the time when all men of Hallack must stand together, old
quarrels and enmities forgotten.

This was not Hallack -- that lay behind, lost forever.
Those of our company had come to call it High Hallack,
since it was a country of many hills. This it would be
named in bardic memory from the hour we crossed into
it.

Still sleep did not come, though the lantern candle
winked out. I turned my head to look up into the night,
seeking stars I knew. Then there was a coldness which
crept across me, roughened my skin, and brought a prick-
ling beneath my hair. For none of those groupings of stars
was what I had known all my life. Where was the Arrow,
the Bull, the Hunter's Horn? There was no tracing of any
such to be seen.

The rain had stopped hours ago, and the clouds
cleared. This sky was a background for many clusters and
sweeps of sparkling light -- but they were all new! Where
had our journey through that Gate taken us? To the sight,
this land about us was just such earth, grass, bush and
tree as we had always known. Only the stars were differ-
ent. We were in a land which would support us, but we
were very far from where we had been bom.

I lay shivering at the sight of the unknown stars which,
more than just passing through the Gates (much as we
had been warned that those would influence us), brought
home to me that we were indeed exiles and that we had
now only our own strengths to carry us on, our own
weaknesses to fight. Which lay the more threatening be-
fore us? I thought of the sea, of Garn's choice, and part

of me felt excitement and a wish to explore the new. An-
other part of me searched for a shield against that same
new and the dangers it might hold -- until I dropped at
last from the chaos of my thoughts and fears into sleep.

2.

Behind us lay the wide valleys, which now held the
people of Farkon, of Siwen, of Uric, Dawuan, and to our
right still pounded the sea as our company grew smaller
and smaller. We could take heart only that the land did
remain empty, though there were in plenty the remains of
those who had gone before us, even at times stretches of
ancient road which we followed with greater ease. Quaine
and three of the Sword Brothers scouted ahead, pointed
out those places of the unknown; some they would coun-
sel avoiding, mistrusting the emanations.

There were towers, stretches of pavement surrounded
by pillars, piles of rough stones, even monoliths, about
which we cautiously edged. I was ever curious as to the
manner of folk which had labored to set such stones one
upon the other, wondering at the purposes which had led
them to such labors.

The largest and most fertile of those sea-fronting low-
lands were now behind us. We had been twenty days on
our northward crawl. Twice it had been necessary to
strike inland for near a day's journeying to find a ford
across rivers, which, to our thankfulness, were lazy
enough of current -- at least at that season -- to allow us
safe crossings.

On the twenty-fourth day Lord Milos's people left us,
turning westward up the throat of a narrower valley, one
of the scouts riding as guide. This held no river and we
were forced out upon the sea's sandy shore in order to
round two ranges of steep hills which guarded it. We
called farewells, made promises of future meetings come
festival time. Still I think that in all of us, whether we

went forward or remained in a stretch of new clan land, a
loneliness grew, the uneasy feeling that one more tie with
the old was broken and that we might well rue this later
on.

It was true that we had drawn closer together during
that long march because of the very fact that we were
alone in a strange land. There remained, on the surface,
none of any ancient enmity with Tugness and his people.
All of us labored together to lighten wains as they crossed
on the fords, to carry sheep across our saddles there,
whether they wore the ear brand of our House or not.
Though at night we each made our own camps, still there
was visiting back and forth.

Which is how I came first to see that slim withe of a
girl who rode a shaggy, sure-footed pony which bore her
and two fat hide bags without complaint, though her
mount showed rolling eyes and yellowish teeth when any-
one else approached it. For all her seeming fragility of
body, she was as strong as any lad as she went about her
tasks with a brisk independence which had none of the
weary acceptance of a field woman, and certainly no hint
of manner of one used to the high table in a lord's hall.

It was on the third day of our northern trek that I
marked her as one different from the other women who
rode and were there to lend a hand, to the extent of their
strength. She traveled beside a smaller cart -- hardly larger
than the tilt carrier which a fieldman would use to take
his over-yield to market. To this were hitched two more
of the same rough-coated beasts as she rode, their gray
coats the same dull shade as the cart itself. Though our
people have long taken pride in painting their wains and
carts, no such decoration had been given this, so among
our company it was more visible for that very reason.

It had a canopy, well lashed to side staves, of finely
tanned and stretched hide, and it was driven also by a
woman, whose kirtle and cloak were of the same pre-
vailing gray, and who I knew at first glance to be a Wise
Woman.

The pair of travelers appeared to be by themselves, at-
tached to no lord's company. I noted that Ouse came
once to ride beside the cart for a space and exchange
speech with the driver, while the girl dropped behind to
give him room. That the bard chose so to single out this
woman meant that she was of note among those who had
the Inner Knowledge, even though she went so poorly and
quietly.

I had thought that they would turn aside with one of
the great lords where a larger company would give the
Wise Woman full occupation tending ills and averting
dangers of the spirit. However, at each lessening of our
company, the two and their cart remained.

One asks no question concerning a Wise Woman. They
do not call upon the Flame, yet men do not question or
raise voice against them for that. Their skills are inner
born and they are free to come and go, as they serve all
without question. Many a fighting man, many a woman in
child labor, has reason to bless their shadows and give
thanks for what they have to offer.

However, if one wishes any matter enough one can
learn. Thus I discovered that the girl was named Gathea
and that she was a foundling whom the Wise Woman had
taken for fostering and made her handmaid and pupil.
Thus she was set apart and went her own way, not to be
judged by the manner and customs of either the fieldpeo-
ple or those of the hall.

One could not call her comely. She was too narrow of
body, her skin too brown, her features too sharp. But
there was something about her, perhaps the freedom with
which she walked and rode, her independence, which lin-
gered in a man's mind. Or at least it lingered in mine and
I found myself once or twice wondering how she might
look with the long robe and tabard of a feast day over
that slim body, in place of a shirt jerkin and breeches
which were akin to my own, with that long braid of hair
wound so tightly about her head shaken loose and inter-
woven with a silver chain of sweet tinkling bells such as

Garn's daughter Iynne wore upon occasion. I could not
imagine Iynne splashing through a river with a kicking
sheep across her mount, one hand fast in its wool, the
other beating the pony on its rump to urge it on.

When the Wise Woman did not turn inward at Milos's
choice I was startled. For I had not thought that she was
with Tugness's people. She and her handmaid did not
camp near them at night, but rather kept their own fire a
little apart. This was according to custom, for the Wise
Women never lived completely in any community of a
holding; they sought their own place, where they might
grow their herbs and follow their ways, some of which
were secret and not to be overlooked by those unlearned
in their craft.

We found the beach difficult pulling for the wains and
now we crawled even more slowly. That night we camped
on the shore itself, with our backs to the cliff. To most of
us the sea was strange and we eyed it uncertainly. Only
the children went hunting shells along the edge of the
waves and stood, their heads far back, watching the
screaming, swooping birds who hunted their prey within
the waters.

Once camp was set, curiosity brought me down to
where wave pursued wave, to lap and die upon the sand.
The air from over the water had a richness which made a
man want to fill his lungs and breathe deep. I gazed out
over the darkening waters and wondered a little at the
courage of those who build shells of wood to venture out
on that immensity, following an art of their own, which
was shield and sword against any wrath of the waves.

I caught a glint of water between rocks and went on to
discover that pools were cupped by the tall stones, fed by
the washing sea. Those pools had inhabitants -- strange
forms I had never seen, but which surprised and inter-
ested me, and I squatted on my heels to watch them for a
space as they darted here and there or half hid under
stones. For they were hunters all and each followed their
own way of seeking food.

A splashing roused me from my study of these wily
hunters and their tricks and I turned to see Gathea, her
boots shed, her breeches loose from their ankle thongs
and rolled up above her knees, making her way from a
small reef of rock, pulling, with the full strength of her
hands, a length of red, vinelike stuff from which hung
great leaves dripping water. The sea vine seemed to be se-
curely anchored, for, though she strained, it yielded only
a little to her pull.

Before I thought, I pulled off my own boots and, with-
out stopping to roll up my breeches, I waded into the
wash of the water and set my hands on the slimy cord a
little behind hers, lending my strength to the battle. She
looked over her shoulder, a shadow of a frown at first be-
tween her sun-bleached brows. Then she gave a nod,
acknowledging my offer of help, and we jerked mightily to-
gether.

In spite of the force we used that stubborn length
would not give. Thus, after two such pulls, I loosed my
hold and drew my sword. She nodded again but held out
her hand demandingly, so I found that, in spite of myself,
I allowed her to take the weapon from me, splash farther
out, and while I held the vine taut, she brought the steel
down cutting the cord through in two swings. She re-
turned to grasp the end of the vine with one hand, with
the other, she preferred my sword, hilt toward me.

"My thanks, Elron of Garn's House." Her voice was
low, a little hoarse, as if she seldom used it. That she
knew my name I found surprising, for none of our party
had had speech with her mistress during the journey. Nor
was I noteworthy among my Lord's meiny. Not that Garn
could boast of such a battle force as a full war band.

"What will you do with this?" I waded back to the
beach and, though she neither asked for nor refused my
aid, I still held to the vine and helped drag it after us.

"The leaves dried and pounded," she said as a man
would discuss the setting of a plow into new ground, "can
enrich the soil for planting. Also it has other properties

which Zabina knows. This is a good find, taken at the
best of its growing season."

I surveyed the slimy length we pulled free of the water,
sand now matting down its long tendril leaves, and
thought that indeed strange things must be better than
they appeared.

Then she was gone, without another word, towing the
weed along behind her while I rubbed sand from my legs
before drawing on my boots once again. The evening
shadows were well advanced and I went back to our own
camp to eat and wonder what the next day would bring
and how much longer we would travel on before we
found the land of Garn's choice.

As I held a bowl of crumbled journey bread, softened
with several dollops of stew meat made from dried meat,
and spooned up its contents, I stopped, with the spoon
halfway to my mouth, staring as two newcomers came
into the full light of our central fire. Quaine, who had
been sitting cross-legged beside Garn, waved them on,
though Garn himself did not raise a hand and only re-
garded them with a cold, level stare across the rim of his
drinking horn.

Though I had seen Lord Tugness a number of times
during these last days of journeying, this was the first time
he had been so close that I might have put out a hand
and flicked finger upon the end of his sword scabbard.

He was a short man, heavy shouldered, since his favor-
ite weapon was the battle axe, and much practice with
that had given him the muscular strength which, in an-
other man, would have been in sword arm or thinned
away by the need for agility. On horseback he was im-
pressive; on foot he walked with a short stride which
made him appear top-heavy.

Like the rest of us, he wore a mail shut over travel
jerkin, but tonight he carried his created helm, the wind
blowing through his thick, ragged growth of red-brown
hair. Unlike most of our race he also had a noticeable
growth of facial hair, a matter in which he appeared,

against custom, to take pride, and this he had trained into
a fringe of beard about his wide mouth. Above that his
nose was not much more than a blob of flesh so that his
breath came constantly in snorts -- the broken and flat-
tened cartilage the result of a fight in his youth.

Beside Garn he slouched and looked far more like a
rough blank-shield hired for some slightly unsavory task
of secret rapine than a lord of lineage as long and as well
songed by the bards as any House which had come
through the Gate.

Taller than his father and much sparer of frame was
his son-heir, who came into the full light a step behind.
He was a spear-shaft of a youth who shambled as he
walked, his arms hanging. Of course, those who knew him
or had heard of him were well aware he was not the star-
ing simpleton he looked. His skill with the crossbow was a
matter of comment. But he was a silent shadow of his fa-
ther, having little to do with those his own age. If one
addressed him he was likely to stare round-eyed and an-
swer slowly in as few words as possible.

Lord Tugness came straight to the point, just as he
would ride with axe ready against any opponent. How-
ever, it was to Quaine that he spoke, ignoring Garn, even
hunching a shoulder a little as if to shut out the sight of
his old-time enemy.

"When do we get free of this devil's stew?" he de-
manded, kicking into the loose sand, sending bits of grit
flying to make sure that the Sword Brother understood his
meaning. "My fore team is already neck-galled from pull-
ing and we have no spare beasts. You have promised us
land, Sworder, where is it?"

Quaine showed no sign of affront. He had arisen and
stood facing Tugness, his fingers locked in the fore of his
belt as he met the clan lord's stare.

"If the Flame favors us, Lord Tugness, we shall be
within arrow flight of your land before sundown tomor-
row."

Tugness gave one of his heavy snorts. I saw his fingers

curl as if they held an axe. His eyes, under the brash of
his heavy brows, demanded recognition from the Sword
Brother.

"We would be on good land." Again he stamped with
his boot into the sand. "This stuff gets even between a
man's teeth when he eats, down his throat when he
drinks. We have had our fill of it! Be matters as you say,
Sworder!" His last words might almost be a threat, as he
swung his heavy body about, sending sand spurting on
those nearby. Behind, Thorg, his son-heir, trod with a
lightfootedness which might almost be that of a scout in
enemy land. Also as he went Thorg suddenly lifted his
head a little and I found him looking straight at me.

I was young and Garn recked me of little account, as I
have well known since childhood. Still I am able to see
promises which men's eyes may hold, even though the
rest of their faces give no sign of feeling. I stopped in
mid-bite when I caught that look from Thorg. My first
reaction was surprise. Then I hoped with all my might a
moment later, I had not shown it. For why should the
son-heir of Tugness, whom I had never had any reason to
cross in any way, show me black and deadly hate? I told
myself that I was not -- that I could not have been -- his
enemy except that I was of my House and he of his, but I
could not put aside the belief that there was more to his.
feeling concerning me than any formal feud. His look,
then, troubled me.

There was a moon that night, fair and cold, and silver-
clear. Its beam helped to hide those stars which were not
as they should have been. There are old tales that the
moon plays a part in the lives of men, setting upon them
its touch in mind and heart, even as the sun can show its
mark on skin by browning with its fire-heat. But moon
power is not for men, it is a thing of the women and those
among them especially who have the wise knowledge.

I had drawn a little apart from the row of men who
were asleep, waiting to take their turn at night sentry
duty. I rested some distance from the wains. Thus it was

that I saw in the moonlight the Wise Woman stride, tall
and with a hurried step, along the sands. Behind her but a
step or two came Gathea, a bundle in her arms held close
to her breast, as if she carried a child or some treasure
which must be closely guarded, even from the moon's
rays.

North they went along the sands and I knew that no
sentry would dare to speak with them, or even perhaps let
them know that he saw them passing. For it was very plain
that the Wise Woman was now about some business of
her own craft. Yet there was one who moved in the
shadows, came to a line of rocks which were the last bit of
cover before the open beach.

I edged over on my side, pushed away the cloak which
covered me. It was important to me, though I did not
question why, that I know who it was who had followed
those two up the beach and now watched their going from
his own hiding place.

Though I might not be as skilled as a Sword Brother, I
had hunted game, yes, and taken much training in the
methods of fighting known best to us -- a sudden surprise
and quick attack meaning more than any sustained battle.
Now, on hands and knees, taking advantage of another
upthrust tooth of rock, I found a vantage point from
which I could spy upon that watcher.

For what seemed like a very long time we remained
so -- be in his hiding, I in mine. Then he came away from
his post -- for the women were gone and there was nothing
to be seen under the moon now but the ever restless in-
ward sweep of the waves. I could not see his face, but by
his walk I knew him. Why had Thorg followed the Wise
Woman and her handmaid? He had broken custom and
would have brought on him swift punishment had he been
sighted. Not perhaps from the men, but the women of his
own house and clan might have set upon him, as was
their right. For in the things of women's knowledge no
man might meddle and their vengeance to protect that
right was keen and swift

He was gone back toward Tugness's camp and I did
not follow him. I was left to wonder why he had dared
flout custom. He could not have an eye for Gathea -- the
very thought of that was enough to unsteady one. Still -- 

I shook my head against my own wild thoughts and
dozed until I was called to the last sentry go, when dawn
was not far away and I was able to see the sun rise. It
was an odd rising, for to seaward rested a vast bank of
clouds close to the water, yet in the early morning those
clouds looked solid, like an island, as far as one could see,
lying offshore. There were peaks and lowlands, and all in
heavy shadow so that I would have sworn one could take
boat and go out to set foot on a land freshly born in the
night offshore. Never had I seen such a cloudbank and it
held me amazed. Then when I heard a faint clink behind
me I had sword out before I swung around, and felt fool-
ish to see Quaine standing there, his hands once more
hooked in his belt, staring as I had out to sea.

I resheathed my sword as he spoke.

"One would think that land -- "

"I do not know the sea," I said. "Perhaps that is com-
mon in the dawning hereabouts."

He shook his head. "No -- it is like having the far sight.
Look!"

There was urgency in his voice and I followed with my
eyes the hand he flung out. I had noticed that there were
mountains upon that cloud land, stark against the redden-
ing sky. Now against the side of one of those was defined
more sharply than any of the other smooth contours of
the cloud place, what was surely very like a keep, a
square-walled fortress from which arose two towers, one a
fraction shorter than the other. So complete and solid did
that appear that I would have sworn the place existed.
The coming of the light, though it faded the dark of the
rest of the cloudbank, did not change the darkness of that
blot.

It had been solid, easy to see, then it was gone! Not
wafted away by the slow change and drift of clouds, but

winking out, as if it were a torch of lamp which had been
blown into nothingness. Still so clear was its outline in my
mind that I could have taken a stick and drawn its outline
on the smooth sands.

I looked to Quaine, for I was sure that this was no
freak of night but something strange, perhaps a part of
those wonders of this land concerning which we had been
warned. Also I had so strong a feeling that somewhere
the keep I had seen did exist that I was moved by a wish
to search it out. I spoke part of my thought aloud:

"The keep -- it -- it was real -- "

Quaine looked at me sharply, a look I expected mainly
from Garn when I was at fault in a matter. "What did
you see?" he asked and his voice was soft, like a whisper,
which barely sounded above the constant wash of the
waves.

"A keep, double-towered. But how could such stand
upon clouds -- ?"

"Clouds can form many things if one watches them,"
he returned. I felt ashamed as might a child who sees all
that lies in a songsmith's tale taking shape about him,
making monsters from rocks, and magic by his own inner
thinking.

Yet Quaine continued to stand and watch the cloud is-
land until it was fully revealed for what it was. There had
been no dark spot where that keep had been for a long
time, and I could hear our camp stirring into wakefulness.
Then the Sword Brother turned away from the sea and
gazed again at me as if he sought in some way to search
out my thoughts.

"This is a strange land." Again he spoke very low as if
he were sharing a secret. "There is much in it which we
cannot understand. The wise man will leave such alone.
But -- " He hesitated and then continued. "To some of us
curiosity is good. We have that in us which must learn
more and more. Only here there are no trail guides and
the fool may well vanish into his folly. Walk you with

care, young Elron. I think that perhaps you are one with
the Burden -- "

"The Burden?" I repeated without understanding.

"The wise, or those who think them so, call it that.
There are others who might name it a 'gift.' It is how you
use it or abuse it which counts -- and how you learn what
you must learn. I will say this to you -- do not go reck-
lessly in this land. It is doubly perilous to those who have
more than first sight."

He strode off abruptly even as he uttered that last word
of warning -- a warning against what I could not tell. Nor
did I understand why he spoke of a "burden" and a
"gift." I was only a very small part of my lord's following,
just as his House was a very poor and weak one. What I
had mainly were the clothes on my back, the sword and
mail shirt and helm which had been my father's before
me, and a thin pack of possessions in one of the wains: a
ballad book of old runes which I could puzzle out, though
the runes were different from those we used today; a tunic
of good wool for feast days; some body linen and a belt
knife, jeweled and fancifully hilted, which had been my
mother's. Certainly no burden -- 

As we moved out that morning I kept remembering
that keep I had seen among the cloud mountains. Had
Quaine seen it also? When he had asked me to tell him of
my discovery he had not acknowledged it, although he
had drawn my attention to it at first. The Sword Brothers
had their own form of knowledge. They had explored this
land before we had braved the Gate. It could be that
something of what they had learned they kept to them-
selves, or shared only with the senior members of the
council.

Still I carried with me as I rode slowly on, matching
the pace of the wains, two mysteries to mull over: first
why Thorg had followed the Wise Woman and her maid
as if he were a spy trailing some enemy; second, what I
had seen in the clouds. For a part of me stubbornly de-
clared, past all calm reasoning, that I had seen something

which was different and to be noted only because we trav-
eled a land steeped in all that was alien to what we had
always known.

Quaine was right. We did come, at last, to another in-
dentation among the cliffs and so out into a dale which,
though its sea entrance was narrow and it had no means
of acting as a port, widened out well into a broad sweep
of lowlands, now brilliant green with the grass of spring,
such a fair country as even Lord Tugness could not fault.
There his people turned aside, one of Quaine's two men
riding with them.

We made brief farewells since there was no friendship
between us, only the fact that we were fellow travelers
from the same source. I heard our fieldsmen comment
upon the rich look of the soil, and express their hopes
that we would be served as well when we came to our
own place. But what mattered somehow more to me was
that the Wise Woman also turned her cart into the way
marked by Tugness's heavier wagons. I was sorry to see
that she had chosen to remain here rather than go with
us.

Our own train, now reduced, rolled slowly on. Once
more we camped upon the beach and this time the moon
was veiled in clouds. This time I did not, when I took my
watch in the early hours, see any cloud island offshore.
Instead a wind drove at us, spattering salt spray at times,
though we camped well about the waterline. The next
morning the rain was once more upon us. The wagons
found heavy work of it. Often we had to dismount and set
our shoulders to the push, or fasten our mounts with ex-
tra lead ropes to add to their strength.

We were worn with the fatigue of that fight against the
land itself when we rounded once more a cliff wall and
found a bay, much smaller than those farther south and
menaced by reefs which showed brokenly in ledges out to
sea, so that it would give little welcome to any seafares.
But into it flowed a river and I did not need Garn's hail to
know that we had reached our abiding place.

The cart animals made a last pull, we lifted sheep,
drove cattle up along the riverbank which ran for a short
length between cliffs in which sea birds roosted, the rocks
stained white with the droppings of many years.

Those winged ones wheeled angrily above us, voicing
sharp cries which echoed even more loudly from the stone
walls about. Then we were at last through that passage
and came out into a land which seemed as fair at first
sight as that which Lord Tugness had claimed. The sheep
and cattle fell at once to cropping the new grass and we
pulled up the wains by the riverside, for the moment con-
tent to rest and rejoice that we were at last in what would
be our own land -- clan land for us and our blood forever
more.

3.

I had fought my way up a steep rise where the rock
bones of the land had pushed through soil which grew
thinner until it only lay in pockets, sometimes enough to
give rootage to coarse grass or wind-twisted bushes. Not
until I reached the top of that cliff and felt the keener
wind of the heights about me did I turn to gaze down into
Garnsdale.

In the woods, which looked from here like a lumpy
carpeting of greenery (for spring passed swiftly and leaves
doubled in size overnight), I could see those openings
where trees had already fallen to busy axes, to be
denuded of branches and drawn down to that place which
Garn had selected for a temporary keep.

Four of the wain horses were engaged in that transport.
The other six were already at plows used for the heavy
work of breaking thick sod to open ground for planting.
There was constant labor to which each man and woman
lent their strength, whether of lord-kin or field clan. I was
free this day because it was my turn at patrol along the
heights. For, as open as the land seemed, and as empty,
still Garn did not take for granted that it lacked possible
dangers. In addition those patrolling the heights were also
named hunters and anything they could add to the pot
was welcome.

Quaine and his two men had stayed with us for ten
days and then had gone, heading back westward in a gen-
eral sweep into the unknown. Even as I played sentry on
the dale ridges, so were they to patrol the whole of the
western borders, they and their brothers, sentinels and
guards for all the new settled dales. One of their duties

was to seek out and map for us any remains of those van-
ished beings we had begun to call the Old Ones, they who
had left this land before our coming.

One reminder of them was placed above this very val-
ley. Though it was unimpressive -- according to Quaine -- 
compared to those seen elsewhere, still it was a place each
patrol warrior watched and made himself familiar with -- 
as I was about to do.

I went in mail, helmed, carried my crossbow as well as
my sword, almost as if I were indeed prepared to meet at-
tack, though certainly we could well have come into a
deserted world for all we had seen. Now I jumped a crev-
ice in the rocks and turned westward to begin the prowl-
ing along what we all accepted as the southern border of
our new holding. So few were our party that Garn could
only detach two fighting men at a time for this duty and
we were expected to provide him with a full report upon
our return.

There was animal life to be found here. The wild crea-
tures were not too different, save perhaps in color or size,
from those I had hunted all my life. A species of deer,
very fleet of foot, had used the dale for pasturage until
our coming; now fled and seldom seen. However, there
was also a creature which lived in the upper rocks, nearly
as large as a new-thrown foal, but heavy of body. It had
wicked claws and fangs and a temper to match so that
one was wary in the hunt, but it was excellent eating.

Always there were birds, some brilliant of wing, bright
flashes against the sky. Another species were black and
somehow unpleasant to look at. Those roosted in flocks
upon the trees, screeching in rage at our axemen. When
they took to the sky, they winged westward as if they sped
to report the devastation we wrought in what had been
their stronghold. I saw them rise now and wheel once
over the forest -- then speed away just above the height of
the ridge.

I kept close watch on what might come among these
rocks. Roff had reported from his tour of duty yesterday

that he had discovered odd tracks, deep printed in one of
the pockets of earth, as if that which had made them had
come to the very edge of the ridge and perhaps spied
upon us. Save that the tracks were those of a large
padded paw, as wide as his own hand. It might well be
that he had found a trace of some native animal which
was more dangerous -- a hunter who would come hunting
us.

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, some-
times 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 pe-
tals, 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. In-
stead, 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
ft 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 be-
fore 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 nar-
row 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 cau-
tion. 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 con-
gratulation, 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 contin-
ued 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 land.

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, al-
most 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 re-
turn of the entire flock. While it seemed out of all reason
that birds would attack -- would be able to 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 with-
drawing? 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 bal-
ance -- 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 defi-
nitely gone, winging off still squawking, to follow the van-
ished 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 hindquar-
ters, 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 mo-
ment. 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 trav-
eled 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 land 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 liv-
ing things and do not strive to make them slaves and ser-
vants have in turn certain authority they may call upon at
their need."

"The birds are hardly servants!" I retorted.

"None of ours, no. They are servants, I think, of an-
cient 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 re-
port? If so, to whom did they carry news? Should Garn
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 dale. 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' reas-
surance, 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 re-
main," 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 ob-
structions 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 keep 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 sweep-
ing 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.

Again she bowed, but this time she held against her
heart the palmful of petals. Then she arose, and, at the
same tune that she turned away, like one who had com-
pleted a task, the surface against which my hands had
been pressed vanished.

I pushed again farther on -- to encounter nothing. Still I
did not leap down into the dell as I had planned to do.

Here, that would have seemed more than discourtesy -- an
outrage of a sort. I shook my head, trying to free it of
such fancies. Only I knew that these were no fancies, that
what I thought was real. I dared not intrude upon the
Moon Shrine, though there was no threat of evil, merely
the realization that it was not for such as me. Tramping
in, I would break some beautiful thing which was precious
beyond my imagining.

Now I lingered for Gathea to rejoin me and it was not
until she was some distance away that I understood she
was headed south. Apparently she had no intention of
sharing a path any farther. The cat followed her for a
space, while I stood and watched her, uncertain of what
to do or say.

Then that silver body again flashed up into the air in a
graceful leap as the cat left her, heading westward and
south, apparently seeking its own way along the rim of
the other dale. I remained alone as Gathea walked stead-
ily forward, and not once did she look back or speak any
farewell.

When I finally realized that she was on her way back to
her mistress I started my patrol once more. How much of
what had happened would I report? Never before had I
thought to conceal from Garn any part of what I had
seen. Only this time I had a feeling that what I had just
witnessed had not only been no business of mine, but also
it was not for Garn's prying. For he might possibly order
perhaps even the destruction of the Moon Shrine (yes,
that crossed my mind). He detested, I well knew by now,
all elements of the unknown that could not be met by
physical force, and he would be angry that Gathea had
manifestly found something here of power. I had, too.
That invisible wall which had held for awhile was certainly
no dream.

The birds, yes, of those I would tell him. For it might
be as Gathea had warned, those could turn against us and
our animals. So we would have to be forewarned and
forearmed against that danger.

Thus I was carefully building up my report as I made
my way back down to the dale. At the same time I also
longed to know what had been present in the moon shrine
Gathea had paid homage to -- and what other things
might be found in this land -- of good or ill -- if one was
free to go seeking such.

4.

Though I was first to meet the hostility of the birds, I
was not the last. As we cut deeper into the wood, brought
out more trimmed trees to be used for the building of a
long hall to shelter our small clan for at least a season,
the birds gathered more thickly about the scene of our la-
bors. Then the children who had the herding of our few
sheep raised shouts of alarm, and went in, flailing with
staffs, to keep deadly beaks from six newborn lambs upon
whose lives depended much future promise.

Finally Garn had to withdraw men from necessary la-
bor to use hunters' bows and keep watch with the herd.
The birds appeared to have uncanny skill in avoiding
even the best of our marksmen. Thus tempers grew
ragged, Garn's cold displeasure ever present, as what had
seemed a petty thing grew into a constant threat

It was not until we had thinned the trees which were
the strongest and the most likely to serve as good building
material that we found at last what was perhaps the rea-
son for that baffling attack. For when one morning a
giant fell beneath our axes it took with it a mass of
creeper already well in leaf, flattened thick brush, to show
us that the Moon Shrine was not after all the only relic of
the Old Ones in our chosen dale.

Again pillars stood, having avoided the flattening of
whatever had screened them, as if they had power to hold
away the tree. There were seven of these, near the height
of Garn himself, placed closely together so that perhaps
only a hand might be slipped between the column of one
and the next.

Unlike the rocks of the ridges which formed our
boundaries these were of a dull yellow stone, oddly un-
pleasing to the eye. Also their surfaces had a smooth
look in spite of what must have been long exposure to
plants, wind and rain, reminding one of a foul mud frozen
into shape. Each of them bore, halfway down one side, an
incised panel on which was carved a single symbol, all
differing one from the other.

When our clearing exposed these to the sun there was
an instant boiling up of the birds whose cries and circling
of the workers were so threatening that Garn gave an or-
der to fall back, leaving our laboriously axed tree lying
where it had fallen for the time being.

Luckily, as we thought then, the birds kept up their
clamor, their low flights, only for a short time. Then they
flocked together, winging their way west, paying no more
attention to what had been wrought. Nor did they return.
Thus after three days of freedom from their noisy
company Garn ordered the tree to be brought out by the
aid of our horses. He did not need to warn any against
going near those pillars, nor did we cut any more in that
direction. We all by now disliked the sight of such relics.

The heavy work of plowing the first fields was com-
plete, our carefully hoarded seed sown. Still we, fieldmen
and kin alike, were not easy in our minds until the first
sprouts showed, proving that what we had brought with
us had indeed taken root in this alien soil. Now, sparing
disasters only too well known to those who till the fields,
we would not lack for a crop this season, small though
that might be.

Some of the women, under the eye of Fastafsa, the
Lady Iynne's old nurse, now keeper of the house for
Garn, sought out other growing things. There were berries
beginning to ripen, and certain herbs which the women
recognized as stuff fit for the pot. Those stars over our
heads might be strange, but this country seemed in some
ways like the land from which we had come.

We had the walls of the hall raised -- not of stone,
rather logs dressed to the best of our ability. This first
shelter was one long building, which was partitioned to
serve the families of the clan: a wide central space where
we might eat together as did all kin and clan, at high and
low tables. There were wide fireplaces at either end of the
building and a third at the side of the hall, these cun-
ningly constructed by Stig's orders from specially select-
ed stones taken from the stream bottom where water had
washed them smooth. When the roof of poles, cut and
well fastened to three long central beams, supported
within by firm pillars, was complete, we had a small feast-
ing to celebrate the completion of our first shelter. Stigg's
youngest son was chosen to climb and fasten to the roof
peak that bunch of lucky herbs the women had prepared.

For the flock and the herd, their numbers being small,
we set up pole shelters. As yet we did not know how
severe the ice months might be in this new land. Mean-
while, the building being over, those of us who had
hunters' skills went out daily to bring in what we could of
meat to be smoked over fires carefully tended for that
purpose. There were fish to be taken, too, and enough
were netted to fill several barrels.

In that tune of steady labor we saw no others except
those of our own clan. I had half expected the Sword
Brothers to return. Yet none came, nor did any of
Tugness's people make the journey across ridges to see
how we might fare. Still, each time I patrolled in the
heights -- as Garn still continued to have us do -- I would
pause by the Moon Shrine and search for some sign that
Gathea had been there.

The blossoms of spring were long since gone, and the
trees about that pavement grew leaves strange to me.
These were of a darker green than usual and very, very
glossy; also they were vined with a color which showed as
blue in the full sunlight as the symbols left by the long-
vanished builders.

Twice I surprised Iynne there, gazing into the shrine as
if she sought something. Each time she appeared startled
by my coming. At the first such meeting she begged me
not to speak of her seeking this place. It was wrong but I
obeyed her wishes, not because Garn's daughter was any I
might look upon as heart-lady, for we were too close kin
and had been more as brother-sister for most of our lives.

Still, her secret visits to this place bothered me. Firstly
Iynne was not such as went adventuring. By nature she
had always been a shy and timid girl, one who found
quiet pleasure in women's tasks within the keep. She was
very clever with her needle, and near as good as old
Fastafsa herself at brewing and baking, the ordering of a
household.

I knew that Garn had sworn her hand to the second
son of Lord Farkon. An excellent match, one which
would bring Garn and all the kin a strong backing.
Though as yet the time for Flame and Cup had not been
set. We of the kin did not wed by choice, rather to further
the good of our House and it was much a matter of for-
tune how matters went after we had come to the marriage
bed.

The field people were freer, though still there was
sometimes hurt and suffering because one sire or another
would arrange a union to make sure that there was some
small advantage for both households. Once or twice I had
seen Iynne at the handfasting of some field girl, watching
intently the smiling face of the bride. Did she ever think
of the long journey down coast which would come in due
time after which she might not ever see again this dale
which her father governed?

We did not talk of such things; it was against custom,
but I believed that Iynne's sweet face and quiet, compe-
tent ways must earn her a favored place in any keep to
which she would go. I had seen Lord Farkon's son -- a tall
young man, comely enough, having both his father's favor
and his brother's liking, an unusual combination among

our people -- so I believed she should be one of the fortu-
nate ones in the end.

Why she now broke with all the rules of our people to
steal away secretly to this place she did not tell me,
though I asked. All she would reply was that she had to.
Then she was confused and near weeping so I did not
push her further, though I warned her against danger and
tried to make her promise that she would not venture so
again.

Each time she did so, swearing so vehemently that I
believed her. Still I would find her there crouched at the
edge of the pavement as though she were at the door of a
chamber she would enter but had not yet the courage to
attempt. The second time I told her that I could no longer
believe her promise, that I would speak to Fastafsa to
make sure that she was warded within the dale and could
not slip away without the knowledge of the women. That
day she cried, slowly and pitifully, as one who is bereft of
a treasure for which there is no substitute. She did obey
me, but so drearly that I felt a brutal overlord, though
what I had done was to protect her.

The bite of fall was in the air soon after we completed
the keep. Together kin and clan labored as one to hurry
the harvest. Our seed had done well in this virgin soil.
Stigg beamed at an ingathering which was more than he
had hoped, as he said again and again -- already making
plans for the breaking of new fields in the next planting
season.

Hewlin, during a hunting expedition at the far western
end of the dale, came upon, at about the same time, a
third sign that this land had once had other lords and
people. For he followed the thread of our stream between
those high cliffs, to discover a second and wider stretch of
open land. There he had found trees heavy with fruit -- 
what the birds and a type of wild boar had not already
harvested. There was no mistaking that these had been
planted, for they stood in order, with here and there a gap

where one had died, leaving only a worm-eaten stump.

We went in a party to harvest what was left of that
crop: Fastafsa and her women, Everad, I, and three of the
household armsmen. Iynne did not choose to join us, say-
ing that she did not feel well. Fastafsa left her bedded in
one of the kin rooms of the keep.

We made a two-day journey of it since the passage up
the cliff-walled stream was not too easy. In spring, if the
waters arose as they must do, this way would be totally
closed, I believed, noticing the high marking of past
floods on the walls.

Once there we worked steadily. The armsmen ever on
guard, the rest carrying and emptying baskets while Everad
and I made short explorations into this second dale,
seeing land which held excellent promise for our own fu-
ture, advantages which would come if we could persuade
Garn to expand our holding in this direction.

Save for that orchard of the past we found no other
sign of the Old Ones, which was reassuring. Neither were
there any birds here to raise grim warning. By the morning
of the third day we were up early, ready to return down-
stream, each taking a hand with the loaded hampers, so
that there were always two men free with sword and
crossbow. It would seem that in us there was always a deep
uneasiness, no matter how fair or pleasant or open this
country -- as if we dwelt on the border of some enemy
land. I found myself wondering why this was so. Except
for the venture of the birds -- and those were long gone -- 
we had come across nothing threatening here. Yet we
went as if we ever expected a surprise attack.

We returned to trouble, as if that which we had uncon-
sciously feared had at last gathered force enough to strike
full and hard. Hewlin came spurring his mount straight
for us, well armored and in full war gear. At the sight, we
men drew together, the women huddled behind us, sud-
denly silent where moments before there had been light
laughter and singing.

The marshal of Garn's force drew rein, his sharp eyes
flickering over us as if he sought one who was not there.

"The Lady Iynne," he pulled up before Everad, "she
has not been with you?"

"No -- but she was ill -- she said -- Fastafsa!" Everad
turned his head to the house mistress who now pushed
forward, her eyes wide, her face pale beneath the usual
ruddy color.

"My lady -- what do you say of her?" She elbowed past
Everad, spoke to Hewlin with force and fierceness. "She
was in the keep -- I gave her a sleep draught before I
went. With Trudas to sit near and see to her. What have
you done with her?"

"She is gone. She told the maid that she felt better,
asked her to get her a wallet of food and said that they
would both take after you. When the girl returned -- our
lady was gone!"

At that moment my own guilt stung me. I could think
of one place where Iynne might have gone. But if she had
vanished just after we had left, then she must have been
lost for a night and a day! I had only one duty and that
was now to tell what I knew and take the consequences.

When I faced Garn I knew that my life rested in his
hands -- yet that was as nothing when I thought of Wynne
exposed to such as the cat which Gathea might choose as
a trail mate but which my cousin could certainly not hold
in mastery. Thus I spoke clearly of what I had seen -- of
the Moon Shrine and Wynne's seeking it out secretly.

I saw Garn's fist rise, encased in a metal enforced
glove. And I stood unresisting the blow which sent me
sprawling, the taste of my own blood in my mouth. His
hand flashed to his sword. He had that half drawn as I lay
before him, making no defense. It was his right to slit my
throat if he desired that in payment. For I was foresworn
to my lord, and had broken blood-bond -- as everyone
who circled about us knew. Duty holds to one's lord and
is our strongest law. To break that makes one kinless and
clanless.

He turned on his heel then, as if I were not worth the
killing, bellowing orders to those who were still his house-
hold. They left me as if in that moment I had lost exis-
tence, as, in a manner of long custom, I had.

I levered myself up, my head still spinning from that
blow. Yet worse than any blow which Garn could give
with his hand, was that which had come from my own
treachery to my lord. There was no life here for me any-
more; I could expect none to acknowledge me.

When I pulled to my feet I watched them start for that
slope climbing to the Moon Shrine. Somehow I was also
certain that they would not find Wynne there. Though I
was foresworn and now clan-kin-dead there was one small
thing left for me.

Nothing would return me to life in Garn's eyes, or in
those of the clan. Still I lived, though I would rather that
my lord had taken the lesser revenge and killed me, as his
face showed that he had first thought to do. No, I could
not turn back time and do as I should have done, but
there was perhaps one way I could aid Iynne.

I had, in my blurting out concerning the Moon Shrine
and her secret visits there, said nothing of Gathea, being
too full of my own careless and disastrous action. If I
could now reach the Wise Woman and her maid (they
knew far more of the shrine than any of us, of that I was
sure) there was a thin chance I might discover a trail to
my cousin.

Nameless, kinless, I had no right to anything, even the
sword I still wore. Garn had not taken that from me and I
would keep it; perhaps I might still use it for a purpose
which would -- not redeem my betrayal -- but at least aid
Iynne.

Thus on foot I turned my back on the cliff and the
people who followed Garn. Rather I moved seaward,
planning to enter Tugness's dale by the other way and
find the Wise Woman. My helm with its House badge I
left lying where it had fallen from my head at Garn's

blow, and with it my crossbow. Bare of head, empty of
hands, staggering because my head rang, my eyes seeing
sometimes two images of what lay before instead of one, I
started downriver.

I spent the night on the shore. To a sea pool I crawled
and bathed my aching face in water which stung like fire.
One eye was swollen shut and the pain in my head was a
pounding which made it hard for me to hold any
thoughts -- save one, that I must find the Wise Woman -- 
or her maid -- who knew most of the Moon Shrine and
what power lay there.

I might well be a hunted man, once Garn found no
trace of his daughter. Somehow I was sure that would be
true -- that there would be no trail left to follow among
the rocks of the ridge. Yes, Garn's hate and vengeance
might flame high. Any one of my own clan who brought
me down would have his favor. If I were to stay alive
long enough to do Iynne any service I must take care.
Save that my head let thoughts slip in and out crazily, and
I kept rousing to find that I had fallen in the sand, or was
creeping in a mindless way along where waves dashed up-
ward to wet my face, bringing me to consciousness again.

Night and day, I caught at what strength I had to battle
my way on. At times I thought I heard shouts behind me.
Once I wheeled about, waiting to see the sword raised
again to cut me down. But there were only the sea birds
crying in the sky.

Somehow I found my way to that place where
Tugness's warns had turned from our road. There I leaned
against a rock and fought for a clear head. To go openly
into the dale was to court disaster at once. Though he was
no friend to Garn -- or rather because he was no friend to
Garn -- he would take pleasure in offering me up to any
who had followed me. It would be a sweet morsel to roll
upon the tongue for Tugness, that one of Lord Garn's
own close kin had played him false. An outlaw was fair
game for any man, but I would be more valuable as a

prisoner to be returned to shame those whose name I had
once borne.

Thus I must use what craft remained in my aching
head, such skill as I had, to avoid any of Tugness's people
and search out by stealth the Wise Woman. I could not
even be sure whether she would give me aid, all I had was
the knowledge that those of her calling did not always
hold by kin and clan custom, and that she might, in her
role of healer, take pity enough on me to point me in the
direction whereby I might serve the lady of Garn's House
as I had not done in truth.

I do not know how I won into the dale. Some instinct
stronger than my conscious self must have aided me. I
was aware of fields, of a distant log-walled building or
rather a cluster of three such -- unless my eyes were again
playing me false. I think that part of the day I lay within
a cup of rocks unknowing, though I had a confused
dream afterward of a black bird which swooped to peck
sharply at my face so that the pain of his assault stung
deep. But that may only have been a dream. It was deep
dark of night when I awoke with a raging thirst, my skin
as hot to the touch as if I were clothed in burning brands.

I kept close to the edge of the cliff, where the ridge rise
was steeper even than it was in Garn's land. A single
thought held me to my path, that it was along here some-
where Gathea had found her way up, and perhaps so I
might elude anyone on watch around the holding build-
ings and fields, and also come across some trace of a way
to the Wise Woman's place. For, remembering how she
had held apart during our journeying, I was firm in the
belief that she would not have become one of Tugness's
household.

After a while in the dark when I fell and rose again
more tunes than I could count, that fever which possessed
me was victor; I took a last stumble which brought me
down with such force that it not only drove the breath out
of me but also sent me into a dark which was not sleep
but something deeper and less easy for body and mind.

Thus it was in the end that those whom I sought found
me, for I awoke by unhappy degrees, seeming to fight that
awakening, to look up into a low roofing of poles woven
and tied together with dried vines so that the whole
looked like a field which had been harvested and only the
dead stalks left. From this dangled bunches of drying
stems and leaves, fastened together to form a kind of up-
side down garden, autumn killed.

My head still ached dully; however that fire which had
burnt into me was gone, though when I tried to raise my
hand it obeyed me only slowly and I felt such a weakness
as sent a small thrill of fear through me. Now I strove to
turn my head. The ache became a piercing throb but I
was able to see, yet only one-eyed. What I saw was that
the bed place I occupied was against the wall of a hut
which was far removed from the stout building of Garn's
keep. Nor were there more than stools to sit upon and the
hearth, on which a small fire smouldered, was of stones
dabbed with baked clay. More stones had been used to
form standards for boards laid across to make shelves.
There were crowded with more bundles of dried things, as
well as a number of small clay jars and pots and boxes of
wood.

The air was filled with many scents, some spicy and
good, some strange and distasteful. On the fire a large
metal pot sat three-legged, bubbling and giving out still
another odor, which made my stomach suddenly feel as
empty and aching as my head.

There was movement just beyond the range of my
vision until I managed to turn my head a fraction again,
to see, in the half gloom of the room (for the only light
filtered through two very narrow slits in the walls and
from a doorway), the Wise Woman. She glanced in my
direction and then came directly to me, her hand touching
my forehead where once more pain flashed and I must
have flinched, though I tried to hold back all sign of what
torment that lightest of contacts had caused me.

"The fever is broke." Her voice was low but it somehow
held a note close to that of Garn's harshest voice. "That is
good. Now -- " She went to the fire, ladling out of the pot
a dipper of dark liquid which she poured into a rudely
fashioned clay cup, adding thereto some water from a
bucket, then two or three pinches of dried stuff she took
from her array of pots and boxes.

I saw that, though during our journey she had worn the
decent robes of any clan woman, now her kirtle had been
shed for a smocklike garment which came no farther than
her knees. Below that she had breeches and the same soft
hunters' footgear I had worn on patrol.

She was back beside me, her arm beneath my head,
lifting me up with an ease I had not thought a woman
could manage, holding the still hot contents of the panni-
kin to my sore lips.

"Drink!" She ordered and I obeyed, as any child would
obey the head of the house.

The stuff was bitter and hot, not what I might have
chosen. Still I gulped it down, refusing to show any of
my distaste for what I was sure was a healing brew.
When I had the last of it and she would have risen, I
managed to bring up my hand and tightened my fingers in
the edge of her sleeve, keeping her by me while I spoke
the truth, knowing that I must do this now that I was my-
self again in clearness of thought, for not to speak would
be a second and perhaps worse betrayal.

"I am not-kin -- " My own voice surprised me, for the
words which formed so easily in my mind came out with
halts between as if my tongue and lips were weighted.

She lowered me to the pallet, then reached up and
loosened my hold.

"You are ill," she returned as if that fact could excuse
a sin no matter how dark. "You will rest -- "

When I tried to speak again, to make her understand,
she set her fingers firmly across my lips so that once again

I flinched from the pain in my swollen and distorted flesh.
Then she arose and paid no more attention to me, moving
around her house place as she counted those bundles and
boxes on her shelves, now and again pulling one out and
placing it back in another place as if there were a need
that all be in a certain order.

Perhaps it was her brew which made me sleepy for I
discovered that I could not keep my eyes open. Once
more I fell into a state mercifully free of dreams.

When I awoke the second time it was Gathea who
stood by the fire. The pot still seethed there and she was
stirring its contents with a long-handled spoon so that she
could remain at a little distance. Which was well, I noted,
for now and then that liquid sputtered, and a spatter of its
contents flew out and down into the low fire which blazed
in answer. I must have made some sound of which I was
not aware, or else she was set to watch me, for my eyes
had not opened for more than a few breaths before she
looked to me, withdrew the spoon which she laid on one
of the shelves and came over, having brought another cup
with her.

This time I levered myself up on one elbow, not
wanting her help, and found that what she had to offer
was clear water. I drained the full contents of the cup and
never had anything tasted so good as that cold draft.
When I was done I brought myself to make plain what
her mistress had not seemed to understand:

"They have made me non-kin -- " I kept my chin up,
my eyes on hers. The shame was mine, but also how I
bore it was mine and I could do that well or ill. "Lord
Tugness shall find profit in sending me back to Garn. He
may hold your Wise Woman at fault if she does not re-
veal where I am -- "

The girl interrupted me and she was frowning. "Zabina
is no kin-blood to Lord Tugness. What he will or will not
do is no matter of hers. You are hurt, you need her

help -- that is according to her craft and let no one ques-
tion her concerning that!"

I felt that she still did not understand. Among our
people one who is not-kin is cursed and those who give
shelter to such can also raise trouble for themselves.
Henceforth no man or woman would speak me fair. I was
the undead walking, and who would company with one
who was nameless, clanless?

"It is because of the Lady Iynne -- " That which had
brought me here -- not to beg their tending -- filled my
mind. "She went to your Moon Shrine. I found her there
several times but I did not tell Lord Garn. Now she is
gone, perhaps drawn into some evil spell of this land."

"We know -- " she nodded.

"You know?" I struggled to sit up and managed that
somehow, though my head felt as heavy as if helm of
double iron now weighed it down. "You have seen her?"
The thought that perhaps Iynne had encountered this girl
and maybe even sheltered with her -- though why she
would do so -- 

"You talked when the fever was in you." Thus she
dashed my first small hope. "Also Lord Garn came of
himself to the dale in hunt. They rode westward afterward
for there was no word of her here."

"West -- " I echoed. Into that unknown country which
even the Sword Brothers treated as a place to beware
of -- what would have taken Iynne there?

"She may have been called -- " Gathea said as if she
lifted that question from out of my thoughts. "She went to
the shrine at moon's full and she was one who had no
shield or protection."

"Called -- by whom and to where?" I demanded.

"Perhaps it was not your right to know that. Zabina
will decide. Now," she had gone to another shelf and
brought me a wafer of bread fresh baked, with it a bowl of
fruit stewed into a soft mass which only caused me slight

pain when I ate, "fill your stomach and grow strong.
There is perhaps a road for you -- and others."

Leaving the meal in my shaking hands, she left the hut
and I had no one left to question save myself. And I had
no answers.

5.

I fought against weakness, striving to make myself
strong enough to leave this place. For I still knew that,
Wise Woman or not, Zabina courted trouble by sheltering
me. Lord Tugness, I was certain, was not one to be ruled
by custom when it was to his advantage to move other-
wise. Though all I knew of him came by rumor only, still
in the core of such always lies a hard grain of truth.

My head still ached with dull persistence but I could
see now through the eye earlier puffed shut, and my fin-
gers, touching my skull gingerly, found that tightly
clothed by a bandage. I had, in spite of waves of diz-
ziness, managed to draw on my breeches, slide my feet
into the softer trail boots and was picking up my linen un-
dershirt (which had been fresh washed and carefully
folded over my other clothing) when the Wise Woman re-
turned.

She straightway crossed the small room to stand before
me, frowning.

"What would you do?"

I pulled the shirt down over my head, tensed against
the wince which came in answer to even such slight a
touch on the bandage about my head. "Lady," I could not
dare to bow, but I gave her courtesy of address, "I would
be out of your house with what speed I can. I am kin-
less -- " I got no further when she made an abrupt gesture
to silence me before she asked a question of her own:

"Do you know what ill tie lies between Tugness and
Garn?"

"Not between them." She surprised the answer out of
me. "It is an old feud between the Houses."

"Yes. Old indeed. . . . Why do foolish men cling to
such matters?" Her tone was one of impatience. She made
another abrupt motion with one hand as if she so swept
away what she had deemed foolishness. "It was started
long before Garn's father came from the womb -- being
marriage by capture."

I sat very still, making no more move to press the shirt
under the belt of my breeches. Though my head still
buzzed, I was not so lacking in wit that I could not guess
what she meant.

"Tugness's son?"

That Iynne's disappearance might be a simple -- or sim-
pler -- matter of human contriving had not crossed my
mind until that moment. Now it was far easier for me to
accept that my cousin had vanished because of some
stealthy act on the part of our old enemies than that she
had been rift away through forces loosed in a forgotten
shrine. But, this being so, how much more was I the
guilty one! To achieve such an act Thorg must have spied
long -- lain in wait for the coming of Iynne -- watched her
movements until he could make sure of her. While I, who
had been sent to patrol the heights, had not even suspect-
ed that we were under his eyes. I had been foolish, stupid-
ly too interested in the strangeness of this land to take
thought of old trouble.

The idea she planted in my mind grew fast. Out of it
was born strength so that I was on my feet now. I might
not have been able to face with success a battle with the
unknown (though that would not have kept me from try-
ing), but I could bring down Thorg. Give me only steel in
hand to do so!

Now I said with authority that I might not have used
moments earlier:

"Your handmaiden spoke of the force of the Moon
Shrine; now you push my mind toward Thorg and old
struggles. Which is the right?"

Her frown grew darker and I saw that she had caught
her lower lip a little between her teeth as if to hold back
some impatient or betraying words. Then she said:

"Thorg has volunteered many tunes through these days
to go hunting. He has passed by on his way to the
heights, but it would seem that his skill fails at times, for
two days out of three he returns with empty hands. Also,
he is not trothed to any maid. There were none who
would accept Tugness's offer on his behalf. I have had to
give him warning when I found him looking too often af-
ter Gathea. He is one who is hot now for a woman. It is a
quarrelsome family and few can say good of their house
for three generations or more. Also, there was Kam-
puhr -- "

"Kampuhr?" I could readily accept all that she said save
that last allusion which held no meaning at all for me.

She shrugged. "It is of no matter, save that it lies in the
past. But it was enough to make men wonder where Lord
Tugness truly stood on a certain concern that was of im-
portance in its day -- which is now past!"

Her eyes caught and held mine as if by her very will
she would now impress upon me that this was to be for-
gotten, that she had made a slip she regretted -- or had
she? Somehow I believed that Zabina was not given to
such errors, that perhaps she had uttered that name as a
test for me -- though I could not understand why.

"And Thorg?" I was willing to let the matter of her
reasons be. It was far more important to think of the
present than to delve into the past at this moment. "He
now shelters in the Keep House?"

She shook her head. "He went forth with yesterday's
first sun; he has not returned. Before that he was gone for
a full day also."

So he had had a good chance to do even as the Wise
Woman suggested, either meet with Iynne and in some
way win her favor, or else make sure that he knew her

ways, lie in wait, and carry her into some hiding place of
which there were far too many in this untracked land.
Yes, that was all far easier to believe than that Garn's
daughter had been spirited away by the unseen.

Thorg was a man and, in spite of any hunter's cunning
he might possess, I believed that I could match him.
Though I knew nothing of his skills and had seen him
only a few tunes during our trek north, still he was human
only and therefore human wits could bring him down.

What he had done was once the custom among our
people and many were the feuds which grew out of it. So
many, that, years past, before my own birth, there had
been a solemn covenant made that the youths and
maidens of the Keep-kin be early betrothed. Then any
man seeking to break such a bond was at once kinless.

Had Thorg believed that because we were in a new
land and there were few maids (also Farkon's son being
far away) he might do this thing without penalty? I knew
very little of him but that could well be so. It would take
days of riding for any of Lord Farkon's host to come, and
Garn had only a handful of men, none of them knowing
much of the broken lands to the west. Lord Tugness
might make a show of joining with them just in order to
set up subtle delays, insuring thus his son achieved his
purpose. For, once Thorg lay with Iynne, then she was
his by bed-right, though her kin would be considered
sworn to Lord Farkon and he might levy on them any
bride price he desired.

I could see two dales -- perhaps three -- locked in a
bloody battle, and because of me. Had I not made it pos-
sible for Iynne to seek out that shrine, had I not gone
blind myself while our enemy slunk and spied -- then this
would never have come to pass. Right indeed had been
Garn's judgment of me.

There was nothing for me now but to seek out Thorg's
trail as best I could. He would not yet be aware I was
kinless. Thus if I challenged he must answer. I could -- I

must -- kill, washing out with his blood this insult to
our -- no, Garn's House.

"Lord Tugness knew?" I had settled my shirt in place.
Now I picked up the quilted under-jerkin which cush-
ioned my shoulders against the weight of mail.

She shrugged, saying: "You are kinless -- "

"Thorg does not know that," I answered, schooling
myself to accept my disgrace. "If I can reach him first -- "

The Wise Woman smiled but there was nothing
pleasant in that strength of lips. I owed her much -- the
tending of my wounds, my return perhaps to health, weak
though I felt. Still I did not believe she tended me because
of a liking for a stranger. No, it was because of her craft,
to which she was pledged, as all men knew. The sooner,
perhaps, I was out from under her roof the better she
would like it.

"Your head needs fresh dressing -- " She turned away
to her many shelves, taking up a pot of salve here, some
powdered stuff which lay within a box there. These she
set on the lowest and widest shelf, and set to working the
powder into a generous ladling of the salve, mixing them
with her fingers before spreading the result across a strip
of cloth in a thick smear.

"You were lucky," she commented as she came back,
holding the bandage from which arose a scent of herbs,
fresh and clean. "Your skull was cracked -- Garn must
have a heady fist indeed. But there is no damage within or
you would not be sitting here."

"That knock was not my lord's doing -- it came when I
fell. This was of his hand." I touched my swollen cheek
with a cautious fingertip. I remembered my helm left back
in the meadowland of Garn's dale. It was my only gain
that he had not stripped my sword from me then, as he
had every right to do. Perhaps his anger had made him
forget the final degradation due me.

She said nothing, unwinding the old bandage from my

aching head to put on the fresh. Then without warning
she caught my chin with a firm hand and held me, search-
ing into my eyes.

"Do you see double?" she demanded.

"Not now."

"Well enough then. But I warn you -- go upon the trail
before you are fit and you will end a dead man, accom-
plishing nothing."

"Lady, it is because I accomplished nothing when I
should have, that I am here. If I can follow Thorg, then I
am returning to Lord Garn a small portion of what my
folly cheated him of these past days."

"Folly!" she made an impatient sound. "Carry your
burden of unneedful guilt then. Each man walks the road
which is appointed to him -- that may take many twists
and turns. He thinks that he rules his Me, he does not
know that some threads were already tightly woven before
he came to work upon the loom."

I got again to my feet. "Lady, you have my full thanks
for all you have done for me. There is a call-debt now be-
tween us -- if a kinless one can be allowed to acknowledge
such. But I have an older one to Lord Garn. I may no
longer be of his house, but I can still move in this mat-
ter."

"Go your own way, as all men do. I warn you to take
care -- but again you will be moved only by your own
desires." She turned her back on me as I reached for my
mail shut.

As I made a fumbling job of putting that on (for I
vowed I would not ask for her help and it would seem
that she had done with me now even as Garn had done
with me earlier) I saw that she had taken up from that
lower shelf a bowl -- not of wood or of clay -- but of silver,
burnished and bright. She held that in both hands, look-
ing down into the cup of it for a long moment before she
raised her head to glance once more at me. It was as if

she strove to make some decision which was of impor-
tance. Whatever that might be she came to it quickly, set-
ting the bowl back in its place.

Instead she now picked up a wallet such as a traveler
might carry slung over one shoulder. Into this she began
to fit things. There was the remainder of the salve which
she had put on my bandage, then she made quick choices
among some of her other small boxes, slipping each
within, as I tightened my sword belt about me, loosening
the blade, pulling it out a little that it might move the
quicker.

In addition to the boxes she had stored within the wal-
let she now packed also journey cakes, though she added
no dried sticks of meat, and I remembered that those of
her calling did generally not eat flesh. There was a twist
of hide also which held dried fruits. Last of all she picked
up a water bottle which I recognized as the one I had car-
ried on my last trip down the stream gorge.

"Fill this at the spring. It is good water -- moon-
blessed." Both the wallet and the bottle she dropped on
the pallet by my side. I felt oddly alone. It was as if here,
too, the curse Lord Garn had set on me held. For all her
care of me, it would seem that she wanted me gone. Nor
could I blame her.

Still, though I was on my feet now, and had beaten
back that weakness which strove to put me down again, I
could not go without more acknowledgment of the debt
between us. There was only one way that those of my
calling could take the full balance of payment upon
them. Now I slid my sword all the way from its sheath
and, grasping the blade, held it out to her hilt first.
Though I fully expected her to spurn what I offered, since
I was of the undead who had no right even to speak to
such as she.

Zabina looked at the blade and then once more at me
with that searching, measuring gaze. But, even as I had

thought, she did not touch the hilt, refusing me even so
little a heartening of spirit

"We do not deal with steel and sword edge," she said.
"Nor do I take homage. But what lies behind your offer,
Elron -- yes, that I shall accept. Perhaps in time there
may come the day when I shall claim your services."

I sent the blade back into my scabbard, feeling an even
greater burden for an instant or two. Then that faded and
I straightened my back, pushed aside whatever filled my
mind. The Wise Woman was no lord, no clan leader, but
she had meant what she said, and to her at least I was
not totally outlawed and of the undead. I picked up the
wallet and gave her thanks, though my deeper thanks
were for what she had just done.

"There are things for wounds within," she pointed to
the pouch. "Their uses are marked on the lids of the
boxes. Do not leave off the salve and the cover for your
head wound until the full ache is gone. And go with
blessing -- " Zabina shaped a sign which was not of that
sacred Flame which the Bards guarded. However it was
plain that to her this symbol was a potent one. Again I
bowed my head in thanks.

I would have liked to have had speech with Gathea
also -- thank her for her part in taking care of me. Only
she was not there and I knew that I had now been dis-
missed. There was no reason for me to linger.

It was past midday by the look of the sun when I came
out of the Wise Woman's rough-walled hut. I could see to
the east the fields and the wood-walled keep of Tugness.
The Wise Woman's dwelling had been built back against
the rise of the ridge and I thought that not far above must
lie the Moon Shrine which Iynne had so foolishly visited.

Certainly there was the best place to begin a tracing of
any trail. Garn's men must already have combed all the
top of the ridge. Did they suspect also the hint the Wise
Woman had given me -- that no supernatural thing or pre-
vious dweller had taken my cousin, but rather she had
been made captive by our ancient enemy?

If so there must now be sentries above ready to loose a
bolt at any coming from this dale. They would like noth-
ing better than to make me part of their bag.

I filled my water bottle at a stream which leaped vigor-
ously down from the height to form a brook near the hut.
Then, with the weight of that on my hip, I made my way
along the foot of the ridge rise. There was a trail of sorts,
made perhaps by Gathea in her comings and goings. That
the shrine was of importance to her I well knew. I stood
at the beginning of that and looked back, out over what I
could see of the dale.

There was a flock of sheep at graze to the west. Men
worked in the fields. I saw no riders and the aspect of the
land was one of peace. Could I accept that as meaning
Lord Tugness had no suspicion of the activities of his
son? Or was this quiet all a sham, meant to deceive any
who might be spying? It could be either answer and I
knew so little of Lord Tugness. I must go on as one
against whom would be turned every bolt and sword point
were he to be seen.

Though it would perhaps have been better to begin my
search when twilight veiled me from any in the dale, still
there was also the need for light to view any traces Thorg
had left. For it was now firm in my mind that indeed
Lord Garn's old enemies had moved, since that explana-
tion of Iynne's disappearance was far more logical.

Accordingly I took that upward path, sure that there
was no better place to begin my search than the shrine it-
self. Had Iynne's preoccupation with that been wholly be-
cause of its strangeness? Or had she in fact been meeting
Thorg secretly?

I found that suggestion presented me with a far differ-
ent picture of my cousin than the one I had always had.
Meek, compliant, wholly absorbed in the matters of the
household -- a colorless, timid girl who abided by the cus-
toms of our people -- was she really just that? Or had such
"virtues" been only a cloak which she had thrown off

readily when she found a new freedom in the Dales?
Looking back now there was little of Iynne that I discov-
ered I knew. That astonished me as much as if a tree sud-
denly opened a bark mouth and spoke. She had been part
of the background of my life since we were both small
children, but after that, by kin customs, her life had been
lived in another pattern altogether. What I recalled
seemed to make her a colorless stranger.

What had it meant to her that she was promised to an
unknown man without any reference to her own choice?
That was custom, but until this day I had not thought
much of that. For Iynne, such a decision might be another
matter -- a thing to fear. Had she taken some dislike to
her betrothed which Thorg could play upon to get her to
flout all the rules of our people? Iynne was coming alive
in my mind, shaking off the shell my past way of thought
had cast so tightly about her.

I won up to the top of the ridge, though I found I must
take that climb slowly. Not only did I study all which lay
about me as I looked for any sign that this path had been
recently in use, but also my lingering weakness forced me
to rest several times during that climb.

The only traces of any before me which I saw was a
single track which could only have been left by that
great cat which had accompanied Gathea, a paw-mark
deep printed in a pocket of earth. I slipped from one bit
of cover to the next, using my periods of rest to listen,
though I could hear nothing, only now and then a bird
call. If there were any waiting in hiding above they were
keeping the silence of an ambush.

To approach the Moon Shrine from this side was easier
for my purpose for there were a number of large rocks to
afford cover. Whether they had been purposefully set for
shelter I did not know -- but their stone had not been
worked.

Finally I reached the last one, from which I could

plainly see the trees sheltering the sign, now so full leafed
that they near hid pillars and pavement. Branches had
been ruthlessly broken from one of the nearest of those
trees as if to force a way. Yet only a few had been torn
aside so Wantonly. I believed that whoever had wanted to
come at the shrine itself had lost that desire before they
had summoned courage enough to achieve it fully.

For long moments I listened and waited, even raising
my head high to sniff the breeze which blew from the
direction of Lord Garn's holdings -- north to south. There
was no taint which I could detect in that. If any lay in
hiding here they were very well concealed.

Then I tensed, for from between the tree which had
lost its lower branches and that next to it, moved a light
figure. The great cat pushed into the open to stand sentry.
Its head swung about deliberately, then paused as it
looked in my direction. Whether it could indeed see me
by virtue of that keener sight which is given to those
wearing fur, or whether it scented me, I could not tell.
Only I was very sure it knew that I was there.

However, that it was here was also reassurance for me
that there had been no guard placed on this spot by Garn;
I was certain that the beast would never have stood so
boldly in the open if it had had to face more than one
man. Now I arose to my full height, moving away from
the rock behind which I had taken cover. If the cat was
here -- could I then expect that Gathea would also ap-
pear? Or if the animal was alone, would it allow me to
approach and search for the traces of Thorg and his cap-
tive, or his enticed companion?

I was right in my first guess. Zabina's handmaiden
slipped, with the same silent ease of the cat, from out of
the trees' shadow. As she had on the trail, Gathea wore
the leather and heavy jacket of a far traveler, and her hair
must have been bound tightly about her head, for she had
drawn over it a tightly knit cap of the same brown-gray as

her clothing. Now she stood away from the trees, also
facing in my direction. Nor did she seem surprised to see
me, rather it was as if she had been awaiting my arrival,
impatient that I had taken so long in coming.

As I did, she carried a wallet bulging full, even a larger
one than mine, and a water bottle. Only she bore no
weapons, at her belt was just the sheathed knife one
would use for eating or small tasks of a camp.

She watched me approach soberly, giving no greeting,
as if between us there was no need for that. The cat
wrinkled an upper lip, but if he meant a warning it was a
soundless one.

"So you came -- "

I found her words a little puzzling. Had she thought
that I would not? I might never redeem myself in the eyes
of my kin, but for my own belief in myself there was only
the one thing I could do, and that take any trail which
would lead me to Iynne.

"If there is a trail, it should begin here," I made short
answer. "This is where I found her -- where he must have
met her -- or somewhere nearby. There would have been
no other way for them to -- "

"He -- they -- ?" she repeated, interrupting me sharply.
There was puzzlement on her face.

"Thorg," it was my turn to be impatient. "He would
play old games -- gain a wife and put dishonor on a House
enemy."

"What has Thorg to do with this?" she wavered with-
out turning her head, indicating the tree-hidden shrine.

"He must have seen Iynne here, led her into folly, or
else took her bodily. She was easily frightened." I was not
altogether sure of that, but for the honor of Garn's House
I hoped it was the truth -- that my cousin had been taken
against her will.

Gathea moved forward a step or two. As the Wise
Woman had regarded me earlier that day with that

searching stare to read my thoughts, so did her assistant
now also study me.

"Why do you think this of Thorg?" she asked.

"Your own mistress said it so -- "

"Did she? Are you sure?" her voice came even sharper,
quick and emphatic enough to make me recall what words
I had had with Zabina. Had she actually said Thorg had
done this thing? I put remembered word to word. No, she
had not said it -- she had only asked a question or two,
made a statement of things past, and the rest had been
my own interpretation.

Gathea must have read that conclusion in my ex-
pression as quickly as I reached it. She nodded.

"Zabina did not say that," the girl stated flatly. "You
have put words into her mouth."

"What she said led me to think so!"

"She is not responsible for the thoughts of one who
wishes to find an easy enemy."

"Which I was not looking for -- until she spoke so!" I
countered hotly. "When I said that I would trail him she
did not deny that I had reason for my belief."

"Why should she? What difference would it make to
her to have you embroiled with another of your kind? If
trouble came it would spread only from your crooked
thinking, not draw in that which is not yours, could never
be -- "

I took a long stride forward, angry at the growing be-
lief that these two women were playing with me. They
had tended my body well. But that was of their way of life
and came not, as I knew well, from any liking or interest
in me as I was myself. When I was near healed they
wanted none of me. Zabina had but subtly sent me pack-
ing on a trail which lead nowhere and this girl was openly
hostile. Yet, why had she not agreed readily with her
mistress's suggestion and not disowned it so readily? She
could well have cozened me on into the western wilder-
ness on a false trail until I was long lost

"Where is Lady Iynne?" I thought this was no longer a
time to be mistaken about what might or might not be.
There was only one form of action left for me -- that was
to repair my folly in leaving my cousin prey to whatever
had taken her, whether it was some man of the dales or
else something worse and more feared which lurked here,
an exile from an earlier and to be feared tune.

"I do not know."

I believed her. Only -- she might not know where Iynne
was, but that she had some knowledge of what might
have happened to my cousin, I was still convinced.

At that moment I was prepared to shake the truth out
of her, so strong was my rising anger, the belief that I had
been played with, pushed out of their way. However the
cat snarled, bared fangs, so I remained where I was.

"She was called." Gathea spoke slowly. "For I watched
her, and she did not come here in idle curiosity as you be-
lieved. No, within her a woman's deepest instincts were ,
rising to the full. She was -- is -- of an age when the Great
Lady summons womankind to ripeness. Even such as
your Iynne who has all her life dwelt by man's laws and
customs, will answer to women's magic, if that be strong
and full enough. So she was drawn to a place in which
moon-touch lay potent still. However, because she was
not armored with the strength we know, she lay too open
to the full flow of that."

"I do not know what you mean. She went to the shrine.
Well, then what happened? She could not have vanished
into the air, sunk into stone, been carried away save by a
man -- Thorg."

To my surprise Gathea laughed. "Shut your mind doors
and bar them as you and your kind always have. So Iynne
is gone and you would hunt her. Well, enough -- if you
have the courage. There are mysteries in this land; seek
them out and perhaps you will find a thread which will
lead you properly -- perhaps you will not -- you can only
try."

She shifted the wallet strap higher on her shoulder and
turned away, the cat still between us, padding along
beside her. She headed west with the confidence of one
who knew exactly what she would do.

6.

I watched her go, certain that I would get no more out
of her than she had already said. Still I knew she believed
it was not Thorg who had gone wife-raiding. Convinced in
part, I turned to the shrine. I came only to that thin open-
ing between the trees which guarded it when I was
shocked by the knowledge that I could not enter.

Once more I was met by a wall with force enough to
shake my whole body. This place did again have invisible
barriers, a defense which I had no power to breach.
Though I tried, yes, I put forth all my strength to fight
that which stood between me and that square of pave-
ment.

It was not in my past training to understand such a
thing. The clans swore by the Flame, paid homage to the
Everburning at the proper festival. We listened to the
words of the Bards who had the record-keeping of our
past, and who sang of men who won battles or went down
to defeat. Yet never had any one of our blood, as far as I
knew, met the unseen force against which perhaps even
the riders of an entire clan could exhaust themselves or be
easily defeated.

At that moment I was not awed, only angry -- with my
own lacks, with my ignorance, yes, and with Zabina and
her Maiden. For I was well assured that they knew far
more than they told -- if they had told me anything except
to mislead and mystify.

So I could not force my way in to view closer a place
of empty stone? Well enough. Iynne was not here. She
had not returned to Garn's holding, therefore it remained
that she was somewhere. I swung around to stare in the

direction Gathea and her beast had taken. It could be that
Iynne had, in some way, made common cause with this
arrogant pacer-of-unknown-trails, for what purpose I
could not say. I only remembered the well-filled wallet the
girl had, and I thought of a supply of food being carried
to someone in biding. I could see no reason for such ac-
tion on my cousin's part, but it was not given me to un-
derstand the mind of a maid, and it might well be that she
had been dazzled by Zabina's teaching.

Wise Women -- I searched my own memory for what I
knew of them. They were healers, and had also (ac-
cording to rumor) the use of certain powers. Those they
were pledged to use only for good, so that no man ever
raised hand against them and they went where they would
as they chose. Even picked her own successor, to be
trained and fostered. Once such a maid was chosen, she
was straightway clanless and kinless, no matter what
name or House she had been born with and into. But I
have never heard of any woman taking two such follow-
ers. What would Zabina want with Iynne when she
already had Gathea? Also such assistants and hand-maid-
ens were chosen when they were still small children,
not when they were grown and ripe for the marriage bed.

However I was certain that Gathea, at least, knew
more than she had told me, and that if I were to find
Garn's daughter, it would only be through her. I turned to
follow the trail she had taken, keeping close watch for the
cat, since I had an idea that she might use the beast as a
rearguard to make sure that I would not uncover any of
her secrets.

There was no distinct trail. Still, from time to time, I
found a fresh paw mark of the cat, set almost deliberately
as if to lure me on. That trail did not run far along the
ridge, rather almost abruptly it descended into a narrow
cleft, much narrower than a valley or a dale, in the rock
providing a hidden way. Then I came upon a mark which
was left so flauntingly clear I began to question my own
decision. Surely she whom I followed would not have left

such an open guide. I reached out and pulled from a
thorn-studded limb of a small bush a bit of veil -- thin
stuff such as I had seen Iynne often use to shield her face
from the full rays of the sun.

First the paw marks and then this! They must believe
me an utter fool! Only the fact that I had no other trail
and I could not quite believe that the Wise Woman would
ally herself and her maid with Tugness's son kept me
going.

I made another discovery, that this narrow way had
niches of steps set into it as if it were a stair. Old and
worn, the tread very narrow, these were surely steps chis-
eled out of rock for a purpose. They were too regular to
be any freak of nature's building.

Earth had shifted over them in some places and on
those, in clear marking, were first the prints of trail boots,
then, overlaying those, the paws of the cat. Thus it was
no wonder that Gathea had vanished so quickly from
sight, she had dropped into this way down from the ridge.

She must have moved with speed for I did not catch
sight of her ahead. Now I increased my own pace, becom-
ing more and more sure that if I could only catch up with
her I might learn enough to find Iynne speedily.

The crude staircase did not descend very far, ending in
a narrow way where there were two deep symbols cut in
the walls, one on either side of the final step. One was a
pair of upward pointing horns and the other a fantastical
curving of lines which could be some runic word or sign
in a language which was or must be long since dead.

I had put out my hand by chance as I reached the last
step so my fingers brushed across the horns. My cry of as-
tonishment echoed hollowly down the way ahead as I
jerked back. For there had been such heat there it was as
if I had tried to pluck a glowing coal from the heart of a
fire's blaze.

In fact I examined my fingertips, half expecting to see
blisters rising, so intense had been that pain. I sidled on,

trying to keep as far from what looked no more than bar-
ren, gray rock, as I could.

Now I did sight Gathea, for no growth cloaked this
way. She was well down along it, though into shadows.
Shortly after one left the end of the stairway the sides of
this runway sloped inward, meeting in places for a space
and then opening again in a crack which gave a small
measure of light.

"Gathea!" I dared to call, even though I guessed that
my summons would do no good. As it did not, for she
neither looked over her shoulder nor slackened her swift
pace. Nor did the cat behind her pay me any attention.

Thus I was left to follow as the stinging in my hand
died away, and my determination to have a straight an-
swer from her grew.

The way of the cut was lengthy, yet the girl ahead
never shortened step. Nor was I able, even though I
lengthened pace, to catch up to her. Which became an-
other puzzle, adding more fuel to my anger. Always there
was the distance between us -- though she did not run and
my strides were close to a trot.

There was more light ahead. I thought perhaps we
were coming to the end of this hidden way. Would it bring
us out at the far end of Tugness's land, or into Garn's
dale? Either way I would have a second difficulty added
to the first. Not only must I keep Gathea in sight, but I
must also watch for any search parties as might be out.

Gathea and her cat were gone -- into that opening. Now
I did run in truth, fearing that they might vanish so com-
pletely that I could not find them if they entered open
land ahead. We did face that, I discovered moments later.

I did not recognize what I saw before me as any part of
Garn's dale. Here was no spread of grass, no easy, sloping
away. Instead the land was sterile of any growth, rock-
paved, with spurs of tall stone standing. These latter were
set, grim, unworked, solid stone, in a circle with, beyond
the outermost fringe, a second inner circle of slightly
shorter stones, and within that a third. They had not the

finish of the pillars I had seen at the Moon Shrine, but
certainly, like the carven staircase behind, this arrange-
ment was a work of intelligent purpose, though what pur-
pose I could not guess. It could never have been intended
for any defensive fort, for there was a man-wide space left
open between one stone and the next.

I plunged forward. At the same moment there leaped
from among the rocks to my right a gray-white body,
bowling me over so that in a moment I lay flat, the heavy
forepaws of the cat planted on my breast, pinning me to
the ground, while its long fangs were very near my throat.
I fought against the weight, striving to get my hand to my
sword hilt, even to reach my belt knife, but the beast held
me helpless. Yet it did not follow up that leaping attack
with any swoop of those jaws to tear out my throat.

Out of the air sounded a call, a word perhaps, but none
I could understand. The cat wrinkled lips in a silent,
warning snarl. Then it raised the bulk of its weight from
me, though it did not back away, instead crouched as if
well ready to pull me down a second time should the need
arise.

I could get my hand on sword hilt now and I was al-
ready drawing blade when Gathea stepped from among
the same screen of rocks where the beast had lain hidden
to survey me disdainfully.

"Am I Thorg, warrior, that you hunt me?" Her voice
was scornful.

"Do you think that I am hiding your Lady Iynne -- to
her dishonor?"

"Yes," I returned flatly, and then added: "perhaps not
for her dishonor, but for some reason of your own."

She must have felt safe in the presence of her furred
liegeman for she laughed. And, as she stood there, hand on
hips, watching me, my anger passed from hot to cold, as
it has always done, making me now very sure of myself
and of what I must do.

"Put up your steel," she ordered, a taunting amusement
now at the corners of her mouth -- wide and thin-lipped.

"Be glad that you were stopped from the folly of plunging
into that!" With a jerk of her chin she indicated the first
circle of the standing stones.

"What harm lies there?" I remembered how the symbol
on the wall had burnt my fingers, and uncertainty broke
through my anger. How could one guess what dangers lay
hereabout?

"You would find out soon enough -- "

I thought she was trying to evade me. With a wary eye
on the cat which watched me unblinkingly, I got to my feet
to front her, feeling better in command of myself when I
could do that.

"That," she said brusquely, "is a trap. Come here and
see for yourself."

She reached out and caught my jerkin sleeve, drawing
me with her to the north side where there was clear sight
into the center of this stone wheel. In there a man
sprawled out face down. He lay unmoving, but when I
would have gone to him Gathea tightened her hold, and
the cat slipped in between me and the rocks of the first
wall, snarling.

"He is dead," she said without emotion. "One Tamil of
Lord Tugness's meiny. He followed me -- as Thorg has
also done -- because he was hungry for a woman and he
deemed me fit prey. Once within those circles he came
not out again. I think some madness struck him, for he
ran about and about until he fell and then he died."

How much of that tale could I believe? No man raised
hand against one with the Wise learning. But then Zabina
had also hinted that Gathea had been sought by the
Lord's own heir. She must have seen my doubt for she
added:

"You know not Lord Tugness and his ways. Among
those who ride for his House are oath-breakers and worse.
They -- " She shook her head. "I do not think, nor does
Zabina, that the Bards were wise when they allowed the
Gate to hide so much of our past. It would seem to me
that something of our own evil crept through to flower

here. If so, Jamil learned that there are forces even he
could not front."

Again I did not doubt that she spoke the truth as she
saw it. The thing which had been that dead man's intent
was a monstrous act which no sane man could have
conceived. As for the Gate -- I, too, had wondered if a
new life without certain memories had been altogether
wise. I questioned that the more now after hearing her
story.

"What killed him?"

"Power," she answered somberly. "This was a place of
such power as we cannot understand. Gruu here can tread
those ways." Her hand dropped to fondle the ears of the
cat. "I have seen other living things cross it without
concern. But for my life's sake, and for the sake of that
inner part of me which is more important than the life of
my body, I would not venture in there. Do you not feel it
at all?"

Since she watched me, and I needed to recover from
the fiasco of my capture by Gruu, I moved closer to the
stones, stretching out my hand. Perhaps there was no in-
visible wall there, but I was ready to discover one. There
was not, but my flesh began to tingle as I neared the outer
circle. Not only that, but there arose within me a feeling
of sudden danger, that I must leap forward into that circle
which was the only safe shelter from an ominous shadow
I could not put name to.

So forceful became that drawing that once more I was
jerked to a stop by Gathea's grasp, by the cat pushing
against my knees making me stumble backward. I felt my
anger stiffen into a chill of sheer fear. For that pull upon
me, until the two who were with me urged me back, was
such a compulsion that I wanted to fight them, free my-
self, fly into the safety of the circle -- 

"Not safety -- never there!" Could she read my mind or
had some experiment of her own made her understand
what moved me?

I was well back now, away from the influence of the
stones, free -- and very much shaken.

"Iynne!" I could think only what might have happened
had she come this way. There lay only one body in the
center of that monstrous trap but now that I stared more
closely, I saw that Jamil did not rest alone. There were
bones there, gray-white in the day's light, which was be-
ginning to fade. I do not know how many might have
been before him, but there was enough evidence that what
abided there still held its captives.

"She was never here." Gathea loosened her hold on
me. "As I told you, she was drawn by another magic -- "

I pointed to her wallet. "You have her hidden, you take
her food. Does she hide from Thorg, or have you witched
her with your ways so she would become like you?"

"Like me? You ask that, warrior, as if you find me less
than a keep lady with her imprisoned mind, her soft body,
her willingness to be driven to the marriage market as an
ewe is driven to be sold to the highest bidder!" She
flashed back. "No, perhaps in your soft little lady there
lies a spark of the talent so overladen by years of being
a keep daughter that she never realized what slumbered
within until she found a place of power and that hidden
part of her stirred to life, awakened from a lifetime of
sleep. I do not hide Iynne and steal away to give her food
and comfort. She has gone -- but I cannot tell you where,
though I shall try to find her. For what she discovered
was wasted on her." Now there was some of the same
scorn she had shown me coloring her tone. "I -- I would
have known how to weave, and bind and tie. I was not
there when the life of the shrine returned. She was taken
when I was meant to be the one!" Now there was anger,
as cold as my own, in her voice. "She took my birthright
and what she will make of it, being who and what she is,
that I cannot guess. I go now not to rescue your little
lady, warrior, but that I may repair the damage her curi-
osity has caused!"

"Where?"

"Where?" she repeated, her chin lifted. "There -- "
Now she swung out one arm, pointed west. "I follow no
trail such as you would understand. My guide lies here."
She touched her forehead between the eyes. "And here."
And this time that pointing finger dropped to her breast.
"It may be that I have not the power I hoped for, still I
can try -- one can always try."

"You believe this," I answered slowly, "that Iynne
blundered into ensorcellment and was taken, that you
may be able to find her. After seeing that," I motioned to
the stone trap, "how can I say that anything may or may
not be true in this country? But if there is a chance to find
my lady and you can act as guide, then do I go also."

She frowned at me. "This is woman's power," she said
slowly. "I doubt that you can follow where I may lead."

I shook my head. "I know not one power from an-
other. I do know that it is laid on me as a debt of honor
that I go where there may be a chance to aid Iynne. I
think that your Wise Woman knew this of me," I contin-
ued. "She may have thought to mislead me with her hints
of Thorg, but she gave me this," I motioned to the wallet
I, too, bore, "and she did not warn me away from what I
intended."

Gathea smiled with a certain stretch of lips. I disliked
that more each time I saw it.

"There is one thing Zabina understands, that many
times it is useless to argue when a mind is, closed. Doubt-
less she read that yours was -- tightly."

"As is yours, perhaps?"

Her frown grew sterner. "You guess too much." She
turned. "If you win push into such peril as you cannot be-
gin to dream, kinless one, then come. Night is not far
away and in this land it is best to find shelter."

She started on, without another glance at me, skirting
carefully about the edge of the circles, across a country
which was rough going. For here had been many slides of
stone, some running nearly to touch the standing pillars.
Those we scrambled over (for I was close on her heels)

with care, lest some tumble of them carry us out into the
influence of the trap.

The cat went ahead, much to my relief, for I did not
trust him, no matter how he served my companion. We
had passed that ominous set of circles, were in the rock-
covered country beyond, before we found him waiting for
us under an overhanging ledge at the edge of wilderness
country where a few splotches of green showed, but which
was mostly rocks and upstarting ridges in a chaotic mix-
ture of broken stone.

There was no wood for a fire. Nor would I have
wanted to light one in this wilderness, drawing to us -- 
what? Garn's men, or things far more dangerous even
than that lord in his rage? The sun seemed to linger, as if
favoring us enough to allow me at least to mark every ap-
proach to the shelter Gruu had discovered. The big cat
had vanished into that wilderness of rock, intent, I was
sure, on hunting. Gathea and I ate sparingly of the food
we carried and drank only scant mouthfuls of water. I
had seen no trace of any stream in the land ahead, unless
one of those splotches of growth a goodly distance away
marked some spring or rain-catch basin.

We did not talk, though there were questions enough I
would have liked to have asked. However she turned a
shut face upon me, making it plain that her thoughts were
elsewhere, so that for stubbornness of will I would not
break the silence which lay between us.

Instead I continued to study the land lying ahead, at-
tempting to mark the easiest path among those sharp
upcrops and ridges. It was as desolate, and, in its way, as
threatening a land as I had ever seen. That it had ever
held hie surprised me. Unless that circle trap had been
built as a barrier against some coast invader, only the
first, perhaps, of deadly surprises.

"This is not Garn's land," I said at last, mainly to hear
my own voice, for her continued silence built the barrier
higher and higher between us. If we were to go on to-
gether we must work out a way of communication so that

we might front the dangers I was sure lay before us to-
gether as companions-of-the-trail at least and not as ene-
mies standing well apart.

"It is not Tugness's either," Gathea surprised me with
her answer. "This land lies under another rule. No, do not
ask me whose -- for that I cannot tell. Only here we are
intruders and must go warily."

Was she in those words obliquely agreeing to a partner-
ship? At least there was no impatience in her voice and
she no longer wore a frown. The sun banners were fading
fast from the sky. Shadows reached out from the rocks
before us as if they were hands to grasp and hold any-
thing venturing near.

"This is a cursed land, and we're the fools for taking
lordship of it!" I burst put.

"Cursed, blessed, and all manner of such in between.
Still we were meant to come, or that Gate would not have
opened to us. Therefore there is a purpose and a reason
and it is for us to discover what those may be."

"The Gate," I said slowly. "I know that the Bards sang
it open, that also it wiped from our minds the reason why
we came. Why was that done unless -- My thoughts
turned direly in a new direction. "Unless that was so that
we might bend all our wits and strength to front new
enemies here to deal with in the future not the past. Yet I
wonder why we came -- "

She had put away more than half her journey cake,
made fast the loop latch of her wallet.

"Ask that of the Bards -- but expect no answers. This
land may be more blessed than cursed -- "

She halted, for a sound arose into the evening air. I
caught my breath. They say that the Bards, if they so
wish, can sing the soul out of a man, leaving him but an
empty husk. I had thought those but the idle words of
men who try to add more to any story. Now the sound
which arose and fell across the stone world before us was
such singing as I had never heard in my life -- not even
when the Arch Bard Ouse sang at midsummer feasting.

Nor was this any man's voice, but rather the soaring
voices of more than one woman, reaching notes as high as
any bird could carol. And it came from behind us!

I was on my feet and out from under the ledge, looking
back along our pathway, only dimly aware, so bemused
was I by that singing, that Gathea stood beside me so
closely now that her shoulder rubbed against my own.

It was a hymn of praise -- no, it was a song for lovers,
beckoning. It was a trilling of victory, welcoming to safe
homes those who had fought well and dared much. It
was -- 

I could see them now. Women, yes, though their faces
were mostly hidden by long hair, which stirred about
them as if blown by a wind I could not feel here. Was it
only long flowing hair which covered their slender
bodies -- or wore they robes as thin and frail as those
locks which blew through the air? Silver was that hair, sil-
ver their bodies. They were far from me and yet as each
one paced, singing, facing me, I thought that I caught
sight of bright eyes, fire-bright, for they were the color of
ruddy flames, which held steady sight in spite of the veil-
ing of their hair.

Hand in hand they went, yet with a space between each
of them as they circled -- and there was another circle be-
hind them and beyond that. Three circles! I uttered a
small sound of my own.

Where the stone pillar of the trap had stood, that was
where these singers now trod their way. Did I still see the
pillars, or had twilight shrouded them? The silver bodies,
the spuming hair, had a light of their own, thin and
wan -- 

Still they wove their way singing. Peace and happiness,
love, longing fulfilled, life everlasting, but life of a new
kind -- a wondrous kind. One needed only to go to them
and all this would be given. Sweeter, lower, more enticing
became that song. I moved yet I had not willingly or con-
sciously taken those steps. But I must go -- 

Again I was thrown with painful roughness into rock,
this time rolling over with the force of the blow which
had sent me down. Then a second body joined me and we
struggled together in a tangle of arms and legs until a
large and heavy furred weight landed crosswise, pinning
us both to the earth.

I smelled the strong breath of the cat, heard the rumble
of a growl, so low it was more a vibration through his
body than an actual sound. The singing held high and
true, but our struggles to throw off Gruu were useless.

Then I heard Gathea's voice through that heart-
wrenching singing. Her face was so close to mine that her
breath was warm on my cheek as she spoke.

"Fingers -- in -- ears -- lure -- "

I felt her squirming, and guessed that she was doing
just that, thrusting her fingers into her ears to block out
that sound. Half dazedly, for my head was beginning once
more to ache woefully after this second assault, I, too,
loosened my arms, though I did not struggle to free my-
self, so sealing out that singing with my ringers.

Gruu however did not stir, nor did Gathea attempt to
free herself from where she lay half over me, the beast
pressing us both down. I could smell the scent of herbs,
sharp and clean, which must come from the hair which
had shaken a little loose in her fall and now lay with the
braid end close to my nose.

Guessing that this was a second part of the stone trap,
and that it was an even more dangerous lure than the
first, I strove to shut out sound, to concentrate on other
things, such as how soon we might get away from this
ever-present peril, and how many of such plague spots we
might be apt to meet in this unknown land.

Very faintly I could still hear the singing, and it
dragged at me, making me want to squirm free, to seek
out those singers. Then, slowly, it died away. Perhaps we
lost ourselves in a daze, for I cannot remember well what
happened until there was the chill white of moonlight
across us.

Gruu heaved himself up at last. I felt bruised and sore
from being flattened so against the stone and was slow
in drawing to my knees, so Gathea arose before me. She
faced into the full rays of the moon and I saw her hands
move in what could only be the gestures of some ritual.

It was a very bright moon, making the stone around us
either silver or dead black, as shadows dictated. I dropped
my hands from my ears. The night was so quiet I could
only hear a whisper of sound from the girl as she recited
words not meant for me to understand. I drew a little
away from her and stood to look back at the circles of
stone. They looked very far away, just as the singers had
seemed so much closer. And they were only that once
more -- stones set on end for a purpose which I did not
like to consider. The singers of the evening were gone,
only the moon hung over us as Gruu pressed close to
Gathea with a rumble of purr louder than her whisper
voice.

7.

"More of your traps?" I demanded, shaken in spite of
my efforts to appear well in control.

"Not my traps." However her tone was light. I believed
I saw a shadow of excitement on her moonlit face.
"Sirens -- yes -- and meant to lure." Now she flung her
arms wide. "What wonder lingers here? Who wrought
such spells and sorcery? What they must have learned -- 
beyond the simple knowledge we have always thought so
great!" She asked those questions not of me but of the
night. It was as if she had come eagerly to an abundant
feast table and could not begin to choose what was to be
the first sweet or appetizing taste on her tongue.

Perhaps because she was already touched with learning
beyond the control of rules and customs, this was indeed
for her the opening of a door. Only for me it was other-
wise. Save that I could not deny that my wariness of
mind, my uneasiness of spirit, also held within seeds of
curiosity.

We heard no more in the night and she had set Gruu
on watch, assuring me that the great cat was far more
likely to detect any danger than the most acute of human
sentries. I had to agree that it was his quickness which
had saved me once, and perhaps a second time, along
with her, from the traps. Thus I did sleep, and if I
dreamed no memory of that dream reached past my first
awakening, to find the sun already throwing beams across
the sky.

Gathea was seated crosslegged a little beyond, her back
to the sun as well as to the dales where our own kind
strove to shelter. Her head was up as she studied the bro-

ken land ahead, and I read into the tense angle of her
shoulders the same alertness as would grip a hunter be-
fore he started on a warm trail.

Under the sun the land looked even more barren than
it had when the moon had laid the silver of light, the dark
of shadow across it. There were small gullies riven in the
bare rock, as well as stretches which were as smooth as
pavement. However, I was very glad to see, no standing
stones which were more than those nature herself must
have set on end and then smoothed through long seasons
of sand blown by the wind.

This forsaken land was so empty that I doubted
Gathea's quest, unless I had been right and she knew well
enough just where Iynne hid because she had aided her to
that hole herself. However, I knew enough to keep still on
that suspicion and lend myself to the devices of the Wise
Woman's girl, even if she meant only to confuse me,
though some stubbornness within me argued that Gathea
was more intent on traveling on into the unknown for her
own reasons that she was in Iynne's plight or my own
part in that

I wondered, too, if the Sword Brothers had ridden this
way during their exploration. If so they had certainly
made it safely past that trap of the standing stones.

"Which way do we go?" I asked in a carefully neutral
voice as I sat up.

Gruu had vanished again. Much as I mistrusted the
beast, for I was not used to companying with an animal
out of the wilds that manifestly had some form of com-
munication with my companion, at the same tune he
could offer defenses which I believed we might need.

"Westward," she replied. Nor did she turn her head,
but spoke almost absently, as if her mind already ranged
well ahead of her body.

Once more we broke our fast in silence, and then arose
to cross that broken land. At midmorning, as far as I
could guess by the sun, we came upon one of those cups
of green among the stones which did indeed house a

spring -- a boon, for two others we had earlier investigated
had no water. Here water rippled forth, ran for a short
distance, and then was lost in a stone hole into which
water poured.

There were two trees of reasonable size here and a
number of bushes, from which started birds and some
furred things which streaked across the ground so swiftly
that one could not catch good sight of them. The bushes
had been their reason for showing, for the branches were
heavily laden with fruit -- larger than any berry which I
knew. These were rich, dark red in color and some had
burst open from the full strength of their own sweet flesh,
or had fallen to the ground where they had been pecked
and gnawed.

Gathea broke one of the globes free, lifted a piece of its
skin with a fingernail, sniffed long at the inner flesh and
then set the tip of her tongue to the break. A moment
later she drew it all into her mouth and was chewing lust-
ily. While I, depending on her knowledge of growing
things, followed her example. After our long journey
across the broken lands and the sun-heated stone nothing
tasted so good. These provided both food and drink and
we helped ourselves until we could eat no more. Then we
gathered handfuls to be carried with us, cradled in leaves
which Gathea pulled from a plant that grew at the border
of that very short stream and fastened together with small
thorny twigs. I took both her water bottle and my own,
emptied what little remained in each, rinsed and filled
them until there was only room to pound in their stop-
pers.

We had passed no more relics of the unknown people
during the morning. The farther we had withdrawn from
the circles, the emptier this land appeared, the more my
spirits recovered. When I had finished replenishing our
water supply I hitched my way up to the top of an out-
crop which helped to shelter the pocket of the spring and,
shading my eyes to the sun's glare, strove to pick out
ahead the easier of the ways which might be offered us.

During the morning the distant line on the horizon had
not only risen but grown still more sharply outlined
against the cloudless sky. I thought that it marked
heights -- perhaps even mountains. But my inner uneas-
iness grew. I did not care how long a head start Iynne
had had, surely she could not have come this way without
any supplies or aid. Had I been deceived when I had been
in a manner hired away from my first belief that she was
taken by Thorg? No one who was not well hardened to
the trail could have beaten us this far. While Iynne had
been much shielded all her life -- even during our trek
north when she had spent all her hours of travel within
that wain which had been made the most comfortable for
her alone. Garn was not in the least soft of speech or
manner, but he valued his daughter, if for no other reason
than for the alliance her eventual marriage would bring to
his small house -- he would risk nothing concerning her.

Having decided that she could not have come this way
alone, I determined to have plain speech once again with
Gathea, and slid down the rock, pushing through the
brush to where she was washing her hands in the running
water.

She did not look up at me but she spoke, startling me:

"You turn again to thoughts of Thorg. You believe that
I do not know -- or care -- what happened to your Keep
lady. Not so!" Now she did raise her head to stare at me,
a fierce light in her eyes such as I have seen a hawk wear
when it surveyed its own hunting territory and thought of
the swift flight, the final pounce, which was to come. "I
know this: There was power in the shrine which would be
an open door -- at the right time. Why do you think I
sought it? I -- I was meant to take that path! Your lady
gathered up a harvest which was to be mine! She is a fool
and will not know or understand what she had chanced
into. But she shall not have the good of it -- no, she shall
not!"

"I know she could not have come this far alone," I

pushed aside her heat of voice. "She was not one who
could trail so. Thus -- I must have missed some sign or -- "

"Or you think I have misled you? Why? She has what
is mine. I will have it! If you can take her back -- then I
shall rejoice. I tell you she meddled ignorantly and we
have yet to find the end of a trail which may never touch
on the ground of this land at all!"

Gathea arose and shook the water from her hands,
then ran her damp palms across her face.

"There were no signs of any mounts -- " I held stub-
bornly to my own thought.

"There may be here such mounts as you cannot begin
to dream of," she snapped. "Or other ways of travel. I do
not think that the door she found open gave on this land
before us -- but that its source does lie ahead."

Because I had no answer for myself, I again had to
take her word as we went on. There was no sign of Gruu.
If the cat still accompanied us, he either scouted before or
ranged at some distance beyond our sighting. However we
were not far along from the cup of the spring before we
came to a way which was some relief against the straight
beams of the sun whose glare on the rocks struck back at
us with a heavy heat like that of an autumn fire.

There was another cut in the broken lands, this a nar-
row valley. No water ran here, but as we dropped into it
we found that in places the stone walls arose to arch
across the way and there was cooler air, which now and
then puffed full into our faces, as if a wind deliberately
chose to make our way easier. Also the floor of this cleft
was free of any falls of stone from the rim and ran almost
as straight as a road westward. I searched carefully for
any sign that this had been made by intent but there were
no marks on the stone to suggest that man or some other
intelligence had wrought this.

Gathea strode forward as if she knew exactly where she
was going, and there was a need for haste. I went perhaps
more slowly, keeping not only an eye on the edges of the
cliff well above our heads, but an ear to listen for any

sound which was not made by the pad of our own trail
boots.

Perhaps because of that extra awareness I sighted what
I might not have noticed had I trod in the dales or along
the trail we had come from the Gate. It was neither sound
nor sight, but rather uncurled within me, as might a
thread of thought which I had not consciously summoned.
It is difficult to describe inner awareness that has no visi-
ble existence.

Had I walked under the sun I would have thought that
I was dazzled by the heat, my mind affected enough to
see those mirages which travelers are supposed to view in
desert lands -- often to their destruction if they are be-
guiled to leave the trail. Only there was not enough heat
here. In fact, the farther we advanced, the more the cliffs
above drew together to shade us and the oftener those
wandering puffs of air came to cool our bodies.

Still -- can a man form pictures in his mind alone?
Scenes which were not bom of memory or from some tale
he had heard many times over so that the descriptions
which are a part of it take on reality? I did not know -- 
save this, which began to linger in small quick snatches of
inner sight, was from no dream of mine, and certainly not
out of memory.

Twice I closed my eyes for the space of three or four
strides. When I did so I knew that I did not walk on
naked rock in a desolate land. No, I marched with purpose
along a way well known to me and there was an urgency
upon me that some task hard set must be carried through,
lest evil come. Nor did walls of rock rise on either hand. I
saw, from the corners of my eyes (or seemed to) bril-
liantly colored buildings among which people moved -- 
though I had only a flutter of shadow to mark them.
When I opened eyes again I was in the cleft -- and -- 
still -- that other half-sight was also with me.

Whether Gathea experienced that same strange overlay
of one with another I did not know. Nor did I want to
ask. There was sound in my closed-eye place also. Not

the sweetness of evil such as the singers in the night had
used to draw, rather this was a land of whispering -- if one
could hear distant cries or orders or urging to action as
whispers instead of shouting.

I think I was caught in that maze of one world upon
another passage for a long tune. For suddenly, when I
roused, there was no longer the other scene about me; the
sun was well to the west and our cleft opened out into a
wide valley as green and open as the dales behind, ap-
pearing to be a land in which enchantment had no place.

Animals grazed some distance away. One, on the out-
skirts of that herd, raised a head on which branched
horns glinted with a sheen as if they were coated with
burnished silver. It was larger than the deer we had seen
in the sea-girt dales, and its coat was paler, a silver-gray,
marked with lines of a dark shade about the forelegs.

It gave a bellowing call and then was gone with a great
leap, the rest of the herd dashing after it. But not swiftly
enough, for out of the tall grass flashed a furred hunter
that could only be Gruu. He brought down a younger
buck, one with far less of the horned majesty of the herd's
leader, killing it by a single well-placed blow.

Thus, as we came up to the cat, he was licking eagerly
at the blood, raising his head to stare at us and growl.

There was a goodly amount of meat and I found myself
eager to set knife to it, to build a fire and toast strips
which would be better eating by far than the dry journey
cakes. However I knew better than to dispute with Gruu
over the prey he had himself pulled down.

So I hesitated but Gathea went forward quickly, the cat
allowing her to come near. She stooped and put her hand
on the head of the dead creature, touching it lightly be-
tween those silver horns, as she spoke aloud:

"Honor to the Great One of the herd. Our thanks to
That Which Speak for the four-footed that we may eat -- 
we take not save that which is freely given."

Gruu raised his head also and sounded forth a roar as
if he added to her words. She turned and beckoned and

we did share Gruu's kill -- taking only that portion which
we would eat that night and leaving the rest for the cat.
Nor did I attempt to hide the fire I built, collecting wood
from some trees nearby -- for there was a feeling here that
the night would not hold danger.

Gathea opened the second pocket of her wallet and
brought forth a small bag fastened with a drawstring. Into
the palm of one hand she cautiously sifted some of the
contents with such care that she might be measuring sigils
meaning great good or ill. Then, with a sudden toss, she
threw what she held into the midst of the fire I had fed
into a steady blaze. There was a puff of smoke -- bright
and searing blue -- and with it a strong odor which was of
some herb, though I was not schooled enough in such
matters to be able to name it.

Having dropped the retied bag upon her knee, the girl
leaned forward and, with small waves of her hand, sent
that odorous smoke wafting first in one direction and then
another, until it had blown, obedient to her coaxing,
north, sough, east, and finally west. She had, as we
searched for dead wood under the trees, stopped often to
look upon bushes and trees still alive, and had finally cut
from one shrub a length near as long as my sword. As I
had gathered my spoil to put my spark snap to it she
stripped the leaves from her trophy. Now she picked that
bare wand up, to pass it back and forth through what
smoke still lingered.

Having so held her switch into the vapor as long as it
might be noticed at all, she got to her feet and began to
move around the fire, marking out in the soil, for I had
chosen a bare place near some rocks (perhaps the last
remnant of the hard land through which we had come)
on which to establish our camp. Gathea drew a circle and
beyond and enclosing that, she made the sharp angles
which formed a star. Into each point she shook a drop or
two of blood from the butchered deer, adding a pinch
more from her supplies, in the form of some withered bits
of leaves. Having so wrought she returned and sat down

across the fire, planting her wand upright like the pole of
a lord's banner -- save that no strip of emblazoned cloth
fluttered from its tip.

I would ask no questions since it had been increasingly
irksome that, each time I had done so after this journey
of ours had begun, she had been condescending and
spoke as if in her way she was far more learned than I
could ever hope to be. Thus I accepted in silence that she<
had once more used some ritual of her craft to put safe-
guards about us, though it puzzled me, for, since we had
come into this open and goodly green land, I had felt no
alarms, rather that we trod in safety. This was to prove
once more that I indeed walked blind among open pit-
falls.

Night drew in as I watched the sun disappear behind
that line of heights which was now even more manifest to
the west -- their upper crowns forming sharpened points
against the sky.

Since Gathea remained silent, I did the same, though I
was startled into an exclamation as Gruu sprang upon us
suddenly, seeming from out of nowhere, taking shelter
also by the fire.

I had earlier cut and smoothed a number of spit sticks
and on these I skewered sections of the meat, setting them
so to roast at the fire's edge, the juices trickling down to
bring small bursts from the flames. The smell of the roast
was mouth-watering and I waited impatiently for the flesh
to be seared enough for us to taste, tending my spits care-
fully to brown well on all sides. This was an old hunter's
ploy taking me back to the days before the Gate -- though
my memory was misty.

At length I handed my companion one of the sticks
with its sizzling burden and took another, swinging it a
little in the air to cool it enough to mouth, though Gathea
sat holding hers as if she had no great interest in it, after
all.

I thought at first that she watched those singularly
jagged looking mountains, and then I realized that her

gaze was limited to a point nearer at hand. As far as I
could see nothing moved out in that open valley since the
deer had fled at Gruu's attack. Not even a bird crossed
the night sky.

Still I would ask no questions, but ate stolidly, chewing
the meat with that relish which comes best when one has
not tasted such for too long a time. Gruu lay at ease on
the other side of the fire, his eyes near closed, though he
still licked now and then at one paw. If anything moved
beyond he had no interest in it.

The dark came very quickly after the sun had vanished,
that last striping of the sky overspread by dark clouds. I
thought a storm might be on the way and wondered if we
would not better search for cover -- even so limited shelter
as that stand of trees from which we had brought our
wood. I was about to say that when I saw Gathea's whole
body go tense. At the same tune Gruu's head came up,
his eyes went wide as he, too, stared outward -- and west-
ward -- into the twilight.

There was no singing, no weaving of silver shadows
this night. What came upon us did not entice, it hunted
on soft feet -- if it had feet at all -- moving in over the
open plain. Gruu's hair stiffened along his spine. He no
longer lay at ease, but drew his limbs under him as if he
prepared for a crouch to spring. His lips wrinkled but his
snarl did not sound aloud.

I do not know what my companions saw, but in my
eyes it was as if sections of the shadows split one from the
other, fluttering, some even rising from the ground as if
they leapt upward and landed on the earth again, unable
to take to the air as they desired to do. They were only
darker blots against the twilight, which came so quickly.
However, it was plain that they came, in their queer
leaping way, closer to our fire, and never had I felt so
naked and defenseless.

In truth I had drawn my sword -- though what use that
might be against these formless, half-floating things, which
appeared to well up from the grass-covered earth itself,

might be I could not sensibly say. However, my action
brought for the first time quiet words from my compan-
ion.

"Well done. Cold iron is sometimes a defense, even
though one cannot use directly its point, or sharpened
blade. I do not know what these are -- save they are not of
the Light -- " And the way she said "Light" made me re-
alize that what she spoke of was not a matter of seeing
but of feeling -- true as weighed against false.

Gathea reached out and laced fingers around the wand
she had set in the earth, though she did not pull it free of
the soil, rather waited, even as I did, holding my sword
hilt. The dark looked very thick to me. I could no longer
distinguish movement by eye. Only, in a queer way, new
to me and frightening (had I allowed it to be so), I
sensed that outside our star-gut circle there was that
which paced menacingly, strove to press forward, and
was denied.

What did reach us first was a kind of hunger backed by
confidence, as if what slunk beyond was as competent as
Gruu in bringing down whatever it had cornered. Then
impatience followed, as it met a resistance it could not
master -- surprise, growing anger that anything dared to
stand against it. I knew it was there, I could have turned
my head at any moment to face it, as it -- or them -- made
the round of our protected campsite. Still I had no idea
what form these besiegers took, nor how dangerous they
might be.

Once more I was startled, as, into the outer edge of the
firelight there flashed for an instant a hand -- or was it a
claw? -- withered, yellowish flesh stretched tightly across
bone. It could have been either, as I sighted it only for an
instant before it jerked back. The sight of it aroused all
my instinctive fear for, unlike the silvery singers of the
night before, this clearly advertised its evil by its very
look.

Gathea pulled the wand from the earth with one easy
movement. She dropped the far tip to point to the star

angle directly before her where she had sprinkled the
blood and placed the broken bits of dead leaf of herbage.
At the same time she spoke, not to me, but command-
ingly, in words I could not understand.

There was movement from the spot to which she had
pointed. It seemed to me that the ground itself began to
spin, shooting upward part of its substance. As she began
to sing, louder and faster, so did the whirling become a
twirl of movement, a pillar of flying dust particles growing
solid.

Then there crouched in the point of the star a figure
which in a crude way was human. At least it had two
legs, two arms, a trunk of body, a round ball of head
perched thereupon, though it was such a thing as a child
might fashion out of mud in play, crudely done. When it
stood erect, Gathea brought down her wand in a sharp
slap against the earth and uttered a single loud cry.

That thing which had come out of the ground ambled
forward, stumping on feet which were clumsy and ill
shaped. However, it was able to keep erect and move with
more speed than I would have believed that such an ill-
wrought body could show.

"Quick!" Gathea looked now to me for the first time.
"Your knife -- cold steel -- to secure the doorway -- " Her
wand twitched across the ground to indicate where that
must go.

I unsheathed my knife. Still keeping my other hand fast
on sword hilt, I tossed the shorter blade as if I played
some scoring game. It thudded true and stood quivering,
hilt uppermost, set well into the earth at the very spot
which that shambling figure had just left to go into the
dark.

Gathea now seemed to listen -- and I did likewise, find-
ing myself even keeping my own breathing as noiseless
and shallow as I could so that I might hear better. No
night bird called; there was nothing to trouble the silence
beyond our circle. But I sensed that that which had earlier
tried our defenses was gone -- if only for a space.

The girl did not relax. Taking my cue from her, I did
not either. The cat at last gave a sigh and blinked. But if
Gruu was satisfied my companion was not.

"Not yet -- " It was as if she admonished herself, re-
fused the comfort of believing that her sorcery was suc-
cessful.

"What you made -- " I felt that I could go no longer
without asking at least some of the questions nagging at
me -- "did it lead away what waited out there?"

She nodded. "For a while it may play the quarry for
those -- but it may not last long. Listen!"

Perhaps this was what she had been wailing for. There
rang through the night, echoing as if we were in some
great cavern and not under a cloud-filled sky, a cry, a
wailing, so filled with malice and the promise of evil anger
to come, as to bring me to my feet, sword point out,
ready to fight, though I could not see what enemy had
sounded that call of fury.

"Do not, for your life," the girl said, "go beyond the
circle. It will return -- and fooled once, it will be twice as
ireful."

"What is it?" I demanded.

"Not a thing which can be brought down by that," she
nodded to my sword, "though steel is rightfully its bane.
But only as a defense not a weapon for use. I do not
think that it can be sent on a second fruitless hunt. As to
what it truly is -- I cannot put any name to it. I did not
even know it might come. My precautions were taken be-
cause this is a strange land and we had spilled blood.
Blood is life -- it draws the Dark Ones where they are to
be found."

"You used it to seal us in."

"As I said, blood is life, from it can be conjured coun-
terfeits, though those would not move or have being in
the day. They, too, draw from the dark. Now -- "

Her wand came up once more, pointing even as did my
sword. Those things which prowled were back, weaving
back and forth where we could not see -- only feel them.

Twice claw-hands swung in at the edge of the star point
where my dagger stood, only to jerk back again. But they
could not pass and I felt raised against me the growing
heat of an anger as hot in my mind as the fire was upon
my body. That emotion pressed, sought, battled to reach
us with a dark and ugly hunger flowing as a high warning
of what we might expect should it win inward.

Gruu arose, threw up his head, and gave such a roar as
made my head ring. I thought at first it was an echo of his
cry I heard, until it was repeated from afar. Then I could
not mistake the ring of it as it sounded a second time. I
had heard such before but never as full toned and holding
the notes so strongly. So did any lord's marshal sound his
warn horn at the edge of a neighbor's land!

Out in that blackest of the night there was another
now -- and he sent forth his challenge.

8.

For the third time that horn rang. I believed I could
hear, under the edge of its echoing, another sound which
was between a bay and a squawl -- certainly made by .ani-
mal. Gruu answered fiercely. He patted first one clawed
paw against the earth and then the other, as if he were
leashed and wished for release -- to be freed to attack in
the dark. Gathea took a step forward to rest her hand on
the beast's head. He looked up at her, showing his tongue
between his openly displayed teeth in a dire grin.

Though the horn did not sound again, I saw a flash of
light through the night, and heard a crackle as if someone
had harnessed the power of lightning itself, had fashioned
it into a weapon. The dark was so thick that flash came
and went before I could catch any sight of what lay
about. The flash hit again, and again, as the clamor of
what might be a hunting pack drew closer.

I could not see, but I could sense. Whatever had be-
sieged us was now at the back of the circle, cowering with
us between it and what coursed through the night, using a
weapon of flame, urging forward some hunting "hounds."
So it continued to cower until Gathea took a hand. She
faced about. Her wand arose once again as with its tip she
wrote upon the air.

Symbols appeared, curved up and down -- green those
were -- and yet blue -- as water mingles such shades along
the shore of the sea. Out spun the signs, not fading, rather
flying as might small birds released to be free. They
gathered outside our defense lines to hang in the air.

There was no audible snarl of rage but a sense of burn-

ing anger strove to strike us. Then that was gone, as sud-
denly as if a door had opened and closed. That which had
striven to reach us was now shut away from our world.

We heard a rushing in the night which sounded as if a
company had divided, one part going to the north, one
the south of our defense. Then that, too, was swallowed
by silence. I felt an emptiness, through which one could
hear the clear, clean rustle of wind across the stand of
grass but nothing else. Gruu settled down -- this time
dropping his head to rest upon one curve of leg. Gathea,
her wand still in hand, curled beside him, leaving to me
the other side of the fire. The girl pillowed her head on
the cat's shoulder, her eyes closed as if she -- and we -- 
had nothing more to fear. Still I sat, reliving all that had
happened this night. It seemed to me that when I had
staggered out of Garn's dale -- no, even before that, when
I had first looked upon the Moon Shrine -- my life had be-
gun to change; I was no longer the same Elron who had
ridden through the Gate, liegeman to a clan lord, knowing
nothing much beyond the duties of my place and the se-
curity of my standing with my fellows.

I should have been stricken more deeply by Lord
Garn's blow, which had not only marked my body but
had cut me off from all the clan. Now that act appeared
of little consequence. I had come not only into a country
that those of my blood had no knowledge of, but there
was a part of me which said: See, I am kinless, yet I am
not a nothing; I have walked with danger and faced
squarely that beyond reckoning.

Yet no skill of mine had saved us. That, too, I must
face. Gathea's talent had come again and again to stand
between both of us and disaster. Such an admission was
not a pleasant thing -- or an easy one -- for me to face
honestly.

Perhaps my discomfort arose because I was used only
to the women of the keeps -- the clan maidens whose skills
were in the ways of common living which I knew instinc-

tively that Gathea scorned. She was unlike any maid I
had ever known, as I had realized since our first meeting
by the sea. One could not say to her: This is not your
battle, let me stand forth to defend you as is the rightful
custom. I knew a land of shame because I knew I did not
want to grant all due her or admit that in our journey so
far she had borne the brunt of action.

Gathea's desire to reach the west, the hint that she had
given me that Iynne had somehow intervened between her
and what was rightfully hers, power connected with the
Moon Shrine, that I now accepted. Much in this land one
must accept blindly, even though it was beyond all man's
experience, perhaps even a Bard's tale.

I wondered what hunter had moved in the dark out
there to bring us aid. Had he answered Gathea's sum-
mons? Or was he already afield seeking that evil which
had crawled about our camp? Man, I felt, he was not.
Why did I even think "he," save that my training said
that the chase as well as battle were for my sex alone? He
or it -- 

Such things I thought -- or tried to arrange in some pat-
tern -- as I fed the fire, though I had to let it die a little
for lack of fuel. I kept watch because those thoughts so
troubled me, and I played ever with the hilt of my sword,
for the solid feel of that gave me a sense of linkage to that
other me who had been so sure and certain, before this
land of many mysteries had engulfed our people. How
much time passed I do not know. The sky remained heav-
ily clouded, though no ram fell nor storm arose. There
was not even one of those strange stars to be sighted. We
had our small fire and the circle. Beyond that lay a thick
darkness without a break -- curtaining us securely in.

I heard a soft sound and glanced at the girl and the cat
Gruu's eyes were open, regarding me in his searching,
weighing manner. Then he blinked, turned to look once
more into the dark. Thus it came to me that the beast

was signaling in his own manner that he would now take
sentry duty, leaving me to rest.

So I stretched out, though I kept my sword bared, the
hilt under my hand, using twists of grass which we had
brought for kindling for a pillow. The bandages I had
worn over my wound seemed tight and the skin beneath
them itched. Sleep came in spite of that minor discomfort.

I awoke as if I had been called. Yet I did not know
who did the summoning, for Gathea still lay with her
head pillowed against Gruu, and the beast's eyes were
open, watching. Our fire had burned away, but its light
was no longer needed. The lighter gray of predawn let me
see, as I sat up, what lay immediately about

There was movement out there in the grass, grazing an-
imals. The deer made lighter patches against the growth
on which they fed. Farther yet from them larger beasts
also fed, none approaching us. I got to my feet, sheathing
my sword. Curiosity now stirred in me. I wanted to see
what tracks whatever had besieged us might have left, so
I might guess at its nature. Also -- I wanted to know if the
hunter in turn had left any readable sign of his passing.

I went to that star point where my belt knife still stood
and pulled it free, wiping the blade on a wisp of grass be-
fore returning it to the sheath at my side. Then I stepped
out boldly beyond the protection Gathea had woven, to
look around.

There was a dark mass some strides distant, toward
which I first turned -- lumps of earth, moist enough so
they clung together after a fashion, but not enough to give
the heap any true shape. I stirred the mass cautiously
with the toe of my boot and the lumps shifted, breaking
apart. This must be what was left of that earthen image
which Gathea had called up to fool the attacking evil.
Nothing but earth; I could not understand how it had
been given not only shape, but semblance of life. What
had she said? That Blood was life. There was our familiar
ceremony of the first fall hunt when a certain portion of

the kill was hung in the open to drip and dry and re-
mained untouched save by the birds -- an ancient rite of
offering we of the here and now no longer understood.

I squatted near that mound of earth, searching the
ground about for tracks. There were several indentations
that I measured with a forefinger as I tried to imagine
what manner of thing had left them. I thought I had seen
either a claw or a withered hand attempt to reach us over
the barrier last night. The clearest of those prints was
more like that of a claw, if such a foot or fore appendage
possessed five distinct toes.

Also I believed that it had gone on two feet. The crea-
ture must have been of considerable size, for not only was
that print larger than the hand I stretched just above it,
but it was deep pressed into the earth. I followed the trail
and found here and there enough other prints to assure
me that the thing or things (for I could not tell whether
this sign was left by one or more) had indeed encircled
our camp.

Now I cast farther out, seeking any track left by those
others -- the hunter and his pack. Of those there were no
traces, even though many stretches of bare earth lay in the
direction from which that horn had sounded.

So puzzled was I by that lack of trail, that I continued
farther and farther away from our campsite, searching the
ground. Thus I came upon an unsavory thing. Insects,
even this early in the day, had found and were buzzing
about what looked to be a bloody lump of flesh. I stooped
close enough to see that what lay there was part of a
clawed appendage such as I had seen in the firelight.
There were only two of the long claws still attached, as if
the thing had been badly mangled, and both ended in
talons as sharply pointed as my knife. The remains of the
covering skin were a yellow-white and shriveled. I disliked
the sight of it so much that I tore loose a clump of grass,
planting its roots and earth on top of the trophy. It would

seem that our hunter had had some luck in his sport after
all.

"Elron!"

Gathea waved to me and I went gladly enough -- 
pleased that I need no longer force myself to go hunting
other traces. Nor did I mention my find when I reached
our campsite to discover she had already started upon a
meal, including some of the cold meat from the night be-
fore, and had set out my wallet for me to do likewise. As
usual she had little to say. I wanted to choose among
many questions -- for to reveal my own ignorance irked
me more and more. If she had knowledge which was of
value to us, I reasoned, then she should share it without
my constant probing.

Thus I waited, chewing irritation along with my food.
The supplies Zabina had given me were fast being ex-
hausted. I trusted that the herds on this wide valley land
would continue to provide us food, though it might be
well if we halted long enough after some kills to smoke
meat for future use. There must be water nearby and that
was even more important than meat. Perhaps Gathea was
also preoccupied by such practical matters.

She lifted her head to stare out along the deep grass
until a furred head arose into sight -- Gruu, licking his
lips, a long green feather caught upon his ruff as if he had
varied his dining this morning. The girl and cat met eye to
eye in an exchange I could not share. Gruu began to trot
away in a general line more to the north as Gathea caught
up her wallet, taking also the wand from the night before.

"There is water -- that way -- " She broke silence for the
first time as I fell in, a little behind her, she trailing the
cat. Here the grass grew near waist high, hiding most of
Gruu, so we marked his passing mainly by the wild wav-
ing of that cover. There were birds in the air. I watched
those warily. Could that claw-foot-hand have come from
a winged thing? I was sure that our besiegers had indeed
covered the ground by limited attempts at flight when

they had closed in on us last night. Also there were those
other unwholesome black creatures which had caused
trouble in Garn's dale and which might well lair or nest
near here.

But those I saw in the sky here were true birds, drab of
color. They appeared intent on circling above the grazing
beasts. Perhaps they fed on insects which the trampling of
the herds disturbed from the grass. The way Gruu took
suddenly became a real trail, deep slotted and marked
with hoofprints -- undoubtedly a much used way to water.
This footing was rough but we were no longer whipped by
the grass, some blades of which had edges sharp enough to
cut the skin. It was not long until we came to the top of a
steep walled declivity in which ran a stream of river size,
the mid-current of which, judged by ripples, flowed quite
swiftly. This flow probably originated in those heights
which hedged the western sky, and it swirled with a lacing
of foam around rocks.

We descended cautiously to make good use of the
abundance of water. I left Gathea with Gruu by a clump
of brushes, going downstream to a stand of rocks jutting
out into the water. There I stripped eagerly, splashing the
water over my body. The bandage about my head grew
wet and I dragged it off, touching my cheek and forehead
gingerly, though I was sure that much of the swelling had
gone and my wound was well on the way to healing. I
washed and wrung out the bandage, being prudent
enough to roll it carefully, certain that in this land it
might prove to have future value.

Gathea greeted me upon my return with a slight frown
and a demand to let her see the cut upon my head. Hav-
ing surveyed that searchingly, she admitted it was now
closed and healing so I might go without a cover over it.
She had made a change in her own appearance, for her
hair, still wet in spite of what must have been valiant ef-
forts to wring and toss it dry, hung in a long, lank tail

down her back, and she had bound it back with a bit of
leather thong.

We would have liked to have used the stream bank as
our path but the waters were swollen enough to wash the
banks high, sending us climbing back to the grasslands
above. However we did then parallel our march along the
cut in which it ran.

Gruu, having led us to water, drunk his own fill, disap-
peared. I was certain that my companion had some means
of communicating with the cat even at a distance and
could summon him at need.

Those clouds which had masked the moon and stars
from us last night had not been much dispelled by the sun
which had arisen, only to be visited with a lowering mist
which hid an at a distance in a haze. The herds kept well
out on the grasslands. Perhaps they had their regular time
of day for seeking water, for none approached as we
tramped through what looked like a wilderness country.
But I had learned ever to be on guard here.

I noticed that Gathea still carried her wand, holding it
in her left hand as if it were as important to her as my
sword was to me, even though it was only a straight
branch cut from a thicket. At length the continued silence
between us grew as oppressive as the day under those
clouds, and I broke my resolution to leave any communi-
cation to her to ask:

"That which bayed at us in the camp -- that which
hunted -- you have heard of their like before?"

She shook her head, a single sharp jerk. "I do not
know what either was -- only that the nature of one was of
the Dark. Thus it could be met by those devices which
are a protection against evil. Of the hunter -- " she paused
so long that I thought she would not continue before she
said: "Perhaps it was also of the Dark, but it was no
friend to that which stove to reach us. Its nature -- that I
could not read. We deal with both Light and Dark, but
there may be those in this country that are neither, or that

can be both at will. I know -- so little!" There was unhap-
piness in her voice. I wondered if she meant her words for
me at all or if they were only a cry against her own lack.

"Oh, I have a measure of the talent," she added, "oth-
erwise I would not have been trained from first childhood
by Zabina. Like knows like even if one looks upon a babe
in the cradle. Also I know that I have in me more than
Zabina can bring to flower or fruit. I learned of her in the
same way that you, you know yourself to be a swords-
man, were once put to fence with wooden blade among
the younger boys. She has called me impatient, a fool,
and foreseen dire disaster for me because I push and push
to know more. But the moment I came through the
Gate -- then it was as if I had set foot on a homeward
path which I did not know before could exist -- there lay
ready to my hand such wonders as those of Zabina's craft
have only touched upon in dreams! This," Gathea flung
forth her arms wide, on her face a fierce pride and hun-
ger, "this is a place which I have dreamed of though I
knew it not. I went to that moon shrine for the first time
as if I had walked its path all my days. What was there
welcomed me as daughter and handmaiden. Therefore,"
and the fierceness of her voice matched her look, "can
you not see what your dainty keep maid has robbed me
of? She, who has none of the talent in her -- or else it is
far buried under training of custom and of House -- 
reaped where I was meant to harvest! Much good shall it
do her!"

"You have spoken in riddles all along," I returned with
matching sharpness. "What has happened to the Lady
Iynne?"

She glanced at me over her shoulder, for she always
kept a stride or so in advance, as if impatient. Around her
sun-browned face there were loose tendrils of hair which
had dried and now blew free, giving her a less severe and
remote look.

"A gate of sorts opened." Her reply was tense. "Oh,
not into another world, like that Gate which brought us
here. Rather it is a way of finding another and more pow-
erful shrine elsewhere -- in the west -- for the places of
power left here are largely emptied, or whatever once filled
them is much enfeebled and drained. To the Moon Shrine
I brought knowledge which was a key, but the lock was
old, it had not been turned for perhaps hundreds of sea-
sons. I worked the ritual -- I called down the Moon -- I -- "
She raised her free hand and laid it between her breasts.
"I did this! Then I was delayed on the night when there
should be an answer and your reckless lady walked in
where she should have feared to set so much as the toe of
her slipper. Thus she gained, and I lost -- "

I thought of Lady Iynne caught in some trap -- for it
must seem so to her -- ensorcelled in a distant place.
Though how she might have been so transported I still
did not understand. Fear must have caught her -- it might
be enough to strike her wits from her. Realizing this I
turned on the girl with me.

"You knew that she was visiting the shrine, still you
did not warn her!" I accused.

"Warn her? But I did! Only there are calls against
which no warning will hold unless the hearer is so trained,
so staunch in spirit, that he or she is armed and armored,
Iynne is a woman, a maid, so she, as all of the clan folk,
was and is Moon's daughter. Moon magic rises in all
women, though most deny it. Or, feeling it, do not under-
stand that one must work with it and not against it. She
has been so sheltered, so bound about by all the shall nots
and do nots of a keep that she answered that call in spite
of herself every tune she stole away to look upon that
shrine. You might have kept her in bonds, by door locks,
but the quest already worked in her and her first visit
there locked her in its power."

I glanced about at that wide plain of the valley, at the
hills beyond which were hidden now by mists, so that now

and then a dark bit of them loomed against the sky, only
to be hidden once again.

"You believe you can find her." I did not make a ques-
tion of that, for I was sure that she thought she could.

"Yes. For it is my magic that she dabbled in and -- look
you!"

She paused then, turning to face the north. On her
out-held palm lay balanced the wand, and she stared at it
with a tense concentration there was no mistaking. I
looked from her fixed eyes to the wand and then I saw -- 

That tree branch, lying on her flattened palm where in
no way she could control it by some trick of hand, began
to move. It had pointed north and south, now it swung
slowly but unmistakingly so that the narrow tip of the
wood length indicated the misty heights westward.

"You see!" she demanded. "That which I summoned
and worked so hard to gam has grown within me. It pulls
me on, so that I may be truly whole as I was meant to be!
Where I go -- there will she be."

I had seen her do so much, I did not doubt she be-
lieved entirely in what she said. Perhaps this was no dif-
ferent from the other strange things in this land -- that I
should follow a maid who was certain she sought high
magic, and that it had the strength, not only to call her,
but to take another to it.

We found no traces of any other powers within that
valley, only the herds of animals which kept their dis-
tance. It took us two days to cross that expanse and each
night we cleared a patch of earth for Gathea to make a
safe camp with circle and star. There were no visitors out
of the dark. On the second night the moon was clear, the
clouds were gone. Gathea had stood then in the full light
of silver glow and sang -- though I could neither under-
stand the words nor remember them after. Between us an
unseen wall grew thicker. This was no place for me, a

man and a warrior; I was her companion on the trail by
sufferance only.

At midmorning of the third day we entered the foothills
of the heights. Now Gathea picked her way slowly with
halts to allow her wand to point the way. There was no
mistaking its swing, enticing us on into a broken country
where the tall grass disappeared and outcrops of stone,
gray, sometimes veined with dull red or a faint yellow,
were more common. Though we had left the river behind
us as its source lay farther north, we discovered mountain
springs -- or rather Gruu nosed them out, just as he
hunted and we ate of his kills. I began to feel that we had
traveled for seasons across land which was barren of any
but animal life.

Now we discovered a valley leading back into the hills
where there was more vegetation, stands of dark trees,
which I thought curiously stunted and misshapen and
which I did not like the look of. That night when we
camped Gathea was so alive with excitement that she
could not sit still. Tune and time again she was on her
feet, staring up that valley way, muttering to herself, slip-
ping the wand back and forth through her fingers, as if to
remind herself of what must be accomplished soon. Gruu,
too, was uneasy, pacing around the fire, his eyes turned in
the same direction as the girl's, as if he searched for a
possible source of trouble.

"Feel it!" Gathea threw back her head. She had not
bound her hair in the tight braids again since we had left
the river; now I witnessed a strange thing. Those loose-
tendrils about her face lifted of themselves, not blown by
any breeze (here the air was heavy and weighed upon
me). Perhaps it was otherwise for Gathea, as, in turn, the
ends of her longer strands of hair stirred also, as if her
whole body soaked up some force which then manifested
itself so.

She held out the wand, and, I will swear the Blood

Oath of the Flame, I saw upon its tip a star of light dance
for an instant.

"Here -- I am here!" She shouted as if standing before a
deep gate where she had every reason to call for entrance
and could not be denied.

Then -- 

Gathea began to run. So startled was I that, for a mo-
ment or so, I did not move. Then I caught up our two
wallets, for she had dropped hers, and started after her.
Gruu had bounded ahead, a silver streak, weaving a path
among the trees where she had already vanished. Into the
night I pounded after, though it appeared that, though I
tried to keep directly on Gathea's track, I had not chosen
well. Trees' low branches made me duck and swerve
(they had not obstructed the progress of those other
two). I ran into one trunk which I had not seen even a
moment earlier, nearly stunning myself, and bringing a
fresh ache to the old head wound.

Branches caught at me, tripped me up, struck me hard
blows, until, afraid to lose Gathea in this place and never
to find her again, I had out my sword, slashed and cut to
clear the way as best I could.

The crash of my own passing covered any other
sounds. In truth, I was afraid to stop and listen for fear I
would be left so far behind I might never catch up with
her.

There were things roosting or living in those trees
which added raucous squeakings and hootings to the dis-
turbance I made. Twice something flew directly into my
face, once scoring my bruised cheek with either bill or
talons. I tried to protect my face with my arm as I
chopped a path. Sweat flowed down my face, plastered
my too-well-worn undershirt to my body. It was stifling
under those trees and I gasped for breath, yet I fought on.

A fight it was. I began to believe that these trees
possessed an awareness of who and what I was and were
determined to prevent my invasion. I fancied I heard fault

cries, as from a distant battle. I was near overcome by the
heat and my own exertions. Still I kept on because some-
thing in me took command and sent me forward, until at
length I stumbled up a last hard slope, nearly losing my
balance, breaking past the last thorn-studded limb of a
tree into the open.

9.

I had reached the crest of a ridge bare of any growth,
thus could look some distance ahead. There was no sign
of either Gathea or Gruu -- only bare rock. Not too far
away a cliffside led upward again. I listened, wondering if
cat and girl still struggled as I had to fight a way free of
the trees and if I had outpaced them. There came no
sound to tell me that was so. They might have been
snatched up bodily or perhaps vanished through one of
those "Gates" I had come to distrust.

Slowly I advanced across the open. The moon was on
the wane; it offered just light enough to see the ground,
where I tried to pick up some track left by either girl or
cat. On this ledge of stone there was little hope of that.

So I approached the cliff's foot to see what had not
been visible from afar. Deep cut into the surface of the
stone was a series of regular holes large enough for hands
and feet. However, I could not believe that Gathea had
taken this path with such speed as to be out of sight com-
pletely before I had reached the end of the wood. Surely,
I would have seen her still climbing!

Like a hunter who has lost the trail, I cast about. If she
were yet in the wood, then to go on would serve no pur-
pose. Finally I had to accept that she was indeed beyond
my finding -- unless I tried that rude stairway.

Slinging the straps of both wallets over my shoulders,
making sure that my sword and belt knife were well an-
chored in their sheaths, I began to climb. It was not easy,
for I discovered that the spaces between those holds had
been designed for someone taller than myself, so that I

had to stretch to reach each hold. How Gathea might
have managed this ascent confused me.

Doggedly I kept on and up, testing each fresh hollow
before I shifted my weight. My fingers scooped deep into
dust filling those pockets, so I become convinced that the
girl had not come this way. However, I determined to get
to the top and from there gam a wider view of the coun-
tryside.

Breathing hard, I pulled myself over the lip of that
cliff, to stare ahead at what faced me. This was not the
top of the rise -- rather a platform ledge which had been
leveled by the work of some intelligence.

What dominated that space towered so above me, that
I had to hold my head well back to view it in entirety.
Great skill had gone into its making. At the same time the
very finish of that skill suggested that whoever, or what-
ever, had conceived such a portraiture had been of an
alien turn of mind, perverse, ill-tuned to consort with my
own kind.

The represented form, which had been cut from the
cliffs face so deeply that it was enclosed in an arched
niche, stood erect on hind feet. However, it had only its
stance in common with human beings, for it was clearly
avian in form, and just as clearly female -- blatantly so. It
went unclothed, unless a wide and ornate collar could be
considered covering of a sort.

The slender legs were stretched far apart, and its hands
were outstretched from the ends of upper limbs, reaching
forward, while the face beneath an upstanding crest of tall
feathers was barely like my own. There were two eyes,
but these were overlarge and set slanting in the skull; also
they had been inlaid with red stones, perhaps gems, which
glowed in the dim light as if they carried at their core a
spark of burning fire.

Those reaching hands were claw-fingered, taloned.
Looking upon them I thought of that lump of torn flesh I
had buried back on the plain, though these were not mere
skin and bone as that had been.

The expression the unknown carver had given the face
agreed with the menace suggested by those claws, for
most of it was a great beak, slightly open as if to tear,
while the whole of the upper part of the body stood
framed by wings which drooped, only a quarter open, be-
hind each thin shoulder.

Between those arching legs a dark hole had been left as
a doorway into the cliff. As I crouched where I was, star-
ing, from that black archway wafted an odor which was
rank and foul. Some beast of unclean habits might well
lair there. My gaze kept, in spite of me, returning to those
red eyes. I had a growing uneasy feeling that something
watched me.

I did not accept that Gathea had gone into that hole.
This was no Moon Shrine with a feeling of peace and well
being. No, this was as threatening as the Silver Singers,
or those crawlers in the dark who had menaced us in our
first camp on the plain.

Slowly I arose, and, with a real effort, broke the bond
of gaze those eyes had laid upon me. I would not take
that door the thing guarded. There must be another way
ahead.

It was then I discovered I was averse to turning my
back on that carved figure. The sense of a waiting intelli-
gence had been so well caught by the sculptor I could be-
lieve that, stone or not, it only remained here at its own
choice. Thus I moved along that wide ledge crab fashion,
so I could both search for another path and yet keep a
wary eye on the leering bird-female.

Here were no more carved handholds to aid my escape.
At the northern end of the smoothed ledge there was,
however, a break in the cliff which might afford me a way
to climb beyond.

I had no more than reached that promising crevice and
was giving a last wary look to the figure when there was a
stirring within the dark hollow between its legs. I swung
swiftly about, my back to the wall and my sword out.
There was a rustling, and then a loud hoot.

Into the wan light crawled a thing misshapen and
hunched. It crouched for a moment before pulling upward
to stand on clawed feet. Unlike the figure which guarded
its lair it was a male and much shorter -- near bone thin,
still it possessed the same talons, the same beak.

The head turned on crooked shoulders (it appeared to
be deformed when compared with the statue -- and closer
to the alien even than that). Only its eyes were as red and
glowing -- and utterly evil!

Those wings sprouting from its shoulders did not open
to the full as it came about to face me squarely. The crea-
ture seemed to use its pinions as a balance as it leaped at
me, making for me, talons outstretched and ready. At the
same moment it let loose a deep scream.

Now fanning the wings, it attacked. I was ready with
my blade. Whether the thing had ever been fronted by a
determined fighter before I could not tell, but it left itself
open to my counterblows as if it had expected no opposi-
tion at all.

The cutting edge of my sword struck true, between the
rise of one wing and the thing's throat as its talons
shredded the straps of the wallets, grated and scraped
along my mail.

That head flopped onto the other shoulder as great
gouts of dark stuff sprouted high, some drops hitting my
hand, to sting my skin like fire. The creature stumbled
back, striking fruitlessly into the air with both armored
forepaws, wings now fully extended and beating hard so
that their activity lifted it from the ledge and it was actu-
ally airborne. I thought that blow must bring death when
it fell just as I aimed it, but it appeared far from ending
our duel.

The head now dropped onto its chest, attached still to
the body only by a strip of flesh and cartilage. Blood
spouted fountain high about it as the creature came again
at me. I might have to hew it to pieces to stop its attack.

Once more I struck, this tune bringing the blade down
across one of those raking forepaws. The edge again cut

through, so that the claw fell to the stone before me. Only
 -- from the corner of my eye I saw, as I prepared to face
the monster's third rush -- that severed hand now took on
life of its own, crawling toward me as if the fingertips were
legs of some noisome insect.

A great gout of blood from the severed wrist (which
the thing still held out before it as if it yet possessed the
missing talons to rake me down) spattered on my sword
hand. Again flames not only licked my flesh but seared
deeply. I kept hold of sword hilt by sheer will, through
the path which continued to eat at me.

Perhaps this creature which would not die sensed or al-
ready knew my torment for it whirled its maimed arm in
the air (keeping its body beyond my reach) spattering the
dark blood outward. Flying drops stung my cheek; more
brought flaming agony to my throat where there was no
helm guard to protect me. I feared for my eyes when a
third gout struck high on my cheekbone.

Still, in spite of my seared fingers, I attacked once
more, coming in low so that the next shower of blood fell
on my mail-covered back and shoulders. Protected thus, I
struck upward into the belly of the thing, then leaped
back, its blood running down me, living fire where it
touched flesh.

There seemed no way of killing it. That ripping blow
which had opened its body from ribs to crotch only added
to the blood flow, as if I had broken through a filled
water skin. I could not believe that the thick liquid which
flowed so steadily, which spouted afar, would so long con-
tinue to drain from that thin body, as if, beneath its outer
hide, this creature was hollow, filled only with blood. For
its attacks it visibly depended more and more on wings
for support. I must dare the spouting poison from its
hurts to slash at those. Then I nearly lost my balance,
skidding forward into the slippery pool of blood. Furi-
ously I struck down at what had so near tripped me,
caught on the point of my sword the living hand, to flick it
away, even as the creature moved in, arms still out-

stretched, though surely, with its head dangling so upon
its breast it could no longer see me.

In a way that attack by the crawling hand had saved
me by sending me off to the side. For the thing fluttered
to my right, near enough for me to risk a blow at the
other wing. Again steel sheared straighter than I dared
hope.

My attacker fell away, still flapping the maimed wing,
the other one fanning air with great sweeps. That one-
sided effort dashed it into the side of the cliff, and it went
down, sprawling forward. I leaped to strike the second
wing, then stabbed downward between its shoulders.

A moment later, breathless, I reeled back against the
cliff myself, watching in dull horror as that mutilated
thing strove to rise, to come at me. While the full tide of
its poisonous blood spread out and out and I cringed
away from the deadly pool.

I thought the thing was helpless now. However, had it
been the only one of its kind in the statue-guarded hole?
There was no movement within, but if this creature was
nocturnal its fellows might be already afield. The sooner I
was away the better, though to try to climb the cliff with
more winged monsters arriving to pluck at me was risky. I
could only hope to be allowed to reach the top without
another fight.

Letting my fouled sword hang from my wrist by its
cord, not daring to allow the blood near my flesh, I wiped
my blistered hand hastily against my breeches. The
splashes which had struck my cheek burned agonizingly.

Catching up the wallets by their sheared straps, I
knotted them to my belt, turning with all haste to the
crack in the cliff's surface. Fortune had decided to favor
me, for, not far above, the crack widened out far enough
so that I might edge my body into it, leaving very little
chance for any other winged attacker to grasp or tear. The
creature I had wounded was not dead. Still it flopped
about, as if it would come at me.

The sight and the sound of that floundering body gave
me fresh strength for escape, made me forget the pain in
my hand as I hunted for holds to draw me up. My need
to escape, to find some better defense than this tissue in
the cliff face offered, lent me both the strength and speed
to win to the very crest of the heights.

Here was a second gift of fortune. For on the plateau
was a stand of trees. Toward those I went at a stumbling
run, sure that the winged things, if more of them came,
could not reach me beneath that roof of branch and leaf.

Even as I had forced my way through that wood below,
so now I thrust forward into this one, eager to win under-
cover. At last I hunkered down between two trunks,
grabbed handfuls of leaves to cleanse my sword as best I
could, before opening my wallet to hunt out those salves
which Zabina had packed for me. Breathlessly I rubbed
sticky stuff first across the back of my hand and then
along cheek and jaw.

Gradually the pain eased, and I only hoped to be free
from the creature's poison. Of that I could not be sure, for
I began to shiver with a cold which was certainty not of
the night. Also I retched and retched again, so shaken with
nausea that my head whirled. Nor could I hold myself up-
right without clinging to a tree.

Maybe that poison also reached my mind, for I kept
slipping to a daze during which all I saw was the cleft,
scuttling up it that severed hand, still trailing blood, sent
ahead like a hound to hunt for its master. Then I would
become alert and aware, knowing dimly where I was. Yet
I looked about me for that crawling thing, listening for a
scrabbling sound announcing its coming.

I must have drifted in and out of such horrors for a
lengthy time, for when I roused from a last dream in
which the hand confronted me and I was too weak to
draw my sword against it, day had arrived to lay patches
of sun here and there on the ground, for these trees were
not so tightly banded together as to shut out that welcome

light. Thirst made an ache in my throat, and I drank from
my water bottle, which I held with shaking hands.

The stench of those now dry stains which covered
much of my mail front and back again brought sour bile
rising in my throat. When I tried to get to my feet I dis-
covered I must cling to the tree. My hand bore a brown
brand across the back, which cracked when I moved my
fingers, making me grimace with pain. I had no idea of
where I would go, save that I must find water to cleanse
my clothing and mail and see again to my hurts.

Where in this wilderness I could find any spring or
stream I did not know, but maybe fortune would not turn
her face from me now.

Insects buzzed out of nowhere to plague me, drawn, I
supposed, by the odor which clung to my clothing. I stag-
gered from one tree to the next, lingering at each to hold
for a moment or two, fighting for strength to carry me on,
until, at length, I wavered into the brightness of the full
sun at the edge of that copse to stand blinking, gathering
more energy to forge ahead. I was somehow sure that the
creature I had tried to slay, or its like, was of the night,
and that the day would favor me while I could put dis-
tance between me and its ledge lair.

There were more heights to the west, but I had headed
north to keep under the cover of the trees. Now I hesi-
tated, still steadying myself against the last trees while I
sought to map out a new path which would not tax fur-
ther my remaining dregs of energy. Grass grew here in
ragged patches between bones of rocks that pierced the
earth. The slope was upward and did not look too hard to
climb. Thus I took that way, for I was sure that I could
not gather strength enough again to fight a cliff.

I was some distance from the trees before I noticed
that I walked on what could only be pavement, smoothed
blocks of stone set with such skill that even the earth
could not be seen in the cracks between them. This trace
was not wide enough to be a road such as would accom-
modate one of the wains of the clans, but it would have

provided easy riding for mounted men. For me now it was
another stroke of luck. I still went slowly, having to pause
now and again, resting out those dizzy spells which struck
without warning, causing stabs of fear.

This paved path -- I did not name it "road" -- ran north
for a space. Then, like the land to my left, the western
heights, arose higher and higher, into a gap between two
pinnacles which towered, sky touching high, on either
hand.

The shade in that cut soothed my aching head, though
there seemed no relief for my burning throat. In spite of
the heat of the sun I had been shaken all during that jour-
ney by waves of chill, sometimes so strong that I had to
halt and steady myself against some convenient rock until
they passed.

This gap way was wider, though only the centermost
portion was paved, a clearing open on either hand so that
none of the loose rocks neared any portion of the block
strip. Had it been tended as a precaution against" ambush
by those who might travel here? Thinking that, I became
alert to what lay about. There might well be more of the
winged things spying on me from some crevice aloft. Thus
I pushed my strength to carry me as far as possible for as
long as daylight held.

I no longer thought of Gathea or Gruu. Having my
own danger to face, I needed to concentrate on the here
and now.

Again my lost road sloped upward, but so easy was the
incline that I could keep to a hurried pace. Also a clean,
cool wind blew here, pulling away the stink of the dried
splotches I was forced to carry with me. I came at last
into what was undoubtedly a pass, and so could look
down at what lay behind the first bastion of the western
heights.

The descent looked far more rugged than the ascent
had been. But there was one boon: those who had made
this way had marked the summit of their road with a
basin of stone into which spouted a steady stream of

water. I stumbled rather than strode to it, going to my
knees and stretching out of my hands to let the sharp,
snow-cold liquid wash across my seared skin.

Nor could I withstand further temptation. Though I
laid my sword ready to hand I freed myself from my mail
shirt and under jerkin, rubbing both down with handfuls
of wet sand from the bottom of the basin, dipping up
more water to lave my face, to wash away all the signs of
battle. The raw places on my face and throat stung and
burned. I anointed them again with the salve -- trusting
that I was doing right. The brownish scab on my hand
sloughed away, leaving a red band like a broad scar
where the skin still pulled as I flexed my fingers.

Having rid myself of the poison stains I had been
forced to carry, I was able at last to stomach some food.
Once more I rinsed and refilled my water bottle, sitting
cross-legged by the basin and studying, as I drank deeply,
the world before me.

Below lay an odd patchwork of land. Parts I believed
to be desert for they showed harshly yellow and white un-
der the sun, with no relief of green to rest the eye or
promise better traveling. The road marked out as a ribbon
of lighter rock turned south, hugging the side of the
heights as it descended, following what might have been a
ledge hacked back in the cliff side. The sheer labor of
such an undertaking impressed me. I knew what difficulty
it was even to prepare a packed-earth way for travel from
one dale to another -- a plan discussed among the lords on
our way north but dismissed because it would require
more manpower than even the largest of our clans could
hope to muster. Yet here the side of a small mountain
had been routed out and those blocks laid with a nicety
beyond the skill of any but a master builder. How long
had it taken, and what lord or ruler had had need of such
a thing that he could assemble enough men to carry
through the task?

The road ended once more in a patch of trees of which
I could only see the tops as a billowing of greenery. Not

having a distance glass, I could not tell if the way broke
free from those on the other side. I debated as I rested
whether I should go on or stay where I was for the night.
Was I still so close to that dangerous cavern that I might
expect more of the winged people to search me out?
Could I even make it all the way down that long road to
the trees? And what of trees in this unknown country -- 
could they not also shield new dangers?

At length the thought of a possible attack by the winged
ones in greater force spurred me on. My rest by the spring
and food and drink had strenghtened me. If there was
moon tonight, even a waning one such as shone the night
before, it would be my aid. I looked to the horizon in all
directions to see if there was any hint of clouds and saw
none. Surely I ought to be able to camp at the edge of
that wood below.

With a much firmer step and a sense that I had made
the wisest decision, I set off down that long incline. As I
went I thought of the Sword Brothers, wondering if any
of them had chanced this way, and what they had made
of the creature I had fought, or of the Silver Singers -- the
hunter in the dark -- What wonders had they chanced
upon that they had not spoken of, or only learned of after
they had led us to the lands along the sea? Once, I had
envied their chance to explore, to search out the strange
in new lands. Now, alone, I found the exploration far dif-
ferent from my wistful dreams.

The road carried me at a good pace, never dipping too
steeply, running as if designed for traffic that needed
steadiness of foot. Thus it led for quite a distance south
again, taking me well past the cliff I had won my way up
earlier. The rock was the same as I had seen elsewhere -- 
gray broken by red and yellow veins. However, the pave-
ment was of different stone altogether and must have been
brought from elsewhere, for it was of a gray white and
thus stood out sharply against the darker shade of the
cliff.

I had descended perhaps a third of the way between

the pass and lower country when I noticed that those
blocks over which I trod were no longer smooth. Instead,
set upon or in each one in such a way that the foot of the
traveler must fit square upon it was a symbol. Some of
these were black, a thick, inky black which reminded me
unpleasantly of the color of the flying creature's blood in
the moonlight; others were a faded red, again not unlike
my blood had it been shed and soaked into the stone.

The symbols themselves were very intricate and I
found it difficult to view them in detail. Once one's glance
was caught by some portion of the pattern, the eye was
held and one's gaze carried forward, in and out, around
about. I jerked my attention swiftly from them, avoiding
their complexity. At the same time I had the odd feeling
that the reason why they had been so set was to establish
the strength of those who used this way, and that they might
tread underfoot some sign of power which they found
wrong and evil. But that may only have been a fancy and
I tried not to allow my imagination to roam too far.

It was enough that the color was distasteful and I did
not want to be reminded of what it represented, so I soon
kept my eyes resolutely away from those patterned stones.
Not all the stones were so marked. Often there were long
sections of clear blocks and it was on those that I paused
now and then to rest, to look down at the treetops, which
appeared to remain obstinately well away from me.

That clean wind which had been refreshing in the pass
was lost here. Once or twice a breeze did reach me -- 
blown over, I believed, that section of land which was
desert, since it was hot and dry. When I did head west
once again, I made up my mind, I would avoid that por-
tion of the country.

Head west? With Gathea gone and no guide, where was
I heading? For the first time (I had so concentrated on
escaping from the place of the winged things) I realized I
had not thought of what would come next. If Gathea had
really the secret of the Lady Iynne's fate, she had given

me no clue. To flounder around in this wild country seek-
ing a trail which might not even exist was sheer folly.

Still, what else was left for me? Westward was the only
hint I had, and westward I could go. For me, nameless
and clanless now, what other fate remained? I chewed on
that bitterness as I walked another space of the symbol-
set blocks and then -- because the twilight was closing
in -- I broke into a trot which, at last, brought me to the
end of the descent where the road spun on into the wood.
I hesitated, trying to make up my mind as to whether I
should continue on into that shadowed place with night so
near.

10.

I prepared my campsite with care, breaking off
branches, which I leaned against stout limbs I had driven
into the ground, fashioning so a roof to hide me from
sight of flying things. Whether the winged creatures could
track by scent like other hunters I could not tell -- but I
would light no fire in this country to attract any prowler
of the dark hours.

Remembering what Gathea had said concerning the
power of cold iron against the unknown, I drew my belt
knife and set it upright in the earth before my shelter,
while my bared sword lay ready. The girl's wallet I put to
one side; my own I explored for food, which I must ration
carefully.

My headache had returned and the pain of my burns,
though the salve had assuaged that somewhat, was still
enough to keep me wakeful. I watched and listened.

The wood near my camp was not silent. There were
small noises, a thin cheeping now and then, the rustle of
leaves and brush as if the life sheltered there had come
awake by night and was now going about affairs of its
own. Once, there came a hooting from the sky and my
hand tightened quickly about my sword hilt. However, if
one of the winged people passed he or she had no interest
in me.

Always my thoughts were busy now with what had
happened since the night before when Gathea ran into the
wilderness. I was convinced that in some way I had
missed whatever path she had followed, forcing myself to
accept the fact that it would only be by fortunate chance
that I might ever pick up her trail again.

In spite of my struggle to keep awake I dozed, awoke

with a start, only to fall into a new snatch of sleep. Still I
listened and held guard, eyes and ears alert.

What I would do in the morning I did not know. To re-
turn up that road to the pass was not to be tried. I had
been highly fortunate in my first encounter with the
winged people. I could not hope for more luck in a sec-
ond. My best chance was perhaps to journey along the
foot of the heights seeking traces of Gathea -- or perhaps
of any Sword Brothers who had earlier ridden westward.
My spirits hit a desolate low as for the first time since
Lord Garn had exiled me from the clan and House I real-
ized what it meant to be utterly alone. There was no
worse fate, I decided in those night-dark moments, for
any man. My hope of reaching the Lady Iynne was, I
made myself accept, a dream which bore little chance of
realization since Gathea had vanished.

Still, I remained stubborn enough to vow that my
search would not be over until I was dead -- for I had
nothing else left to me.

The night was long, my broken rest was short. How-
ever, nothing approached my lean-to, as if I were invisible
to anything which prowled or hunted in the dark. With
the coming of dawn I ate again, only a few rationed
mouthfuls, mended the carrying straps of both wallets,
and, slinging those upon my back, set out once more, my
guide still the blocks of the road.

Those led me into the wood, where the branches of
trees met overhead to form a ceiling, keeping out much of
the sunlight. Once more the blocks were clear from en-
croachment of growth. In fact, so bright were they that
they appeared to give off a dun radiance of their own.
Nor were there any here which were marked with those
disturbing symbols.

The road, however, did not run straight; rather swing
right or left from time to tune to allow full growth space
to taller and thicker trees. Their bark was smooth, of a
red-brown, while their crowns were lifted high, with few
branches below.

I came a good way along before I noted that those
trees also differed in other ways from their fellows. For,
when I skirted about them, their leaves (which were a
brighter green and seemed as fresh as the first tentative
sprouting of spring) began to rustle -- though no breeze
blew. At the third such reaction to my passing I halted to
look up. No, I had not been wrong. Those leaves immedi-
ately above my head were more and more in motion -- al-
most as if they formed mouths by rubbing together,
calling or else commenting on my presence.

Had the poison which had struck me yesterday disor-
dered my wits? I tried to think that was so -- far more be-
lievable than that trees talked, were sentient beings.

I felt no fear, only a dull wonder. Nor did I move on,
though had one of those mighty limbs come crashing
down it would have meant my death. Still more violently
the leaves rustled. I began to truly believe the sound was
indeed speech -- though alien to my own.

The rustling now, I decided, sounded impatient, as if
my attention had been sought and I had not made the
proper response. So deep was I caught in that fancy that I
spoke aloud:

"What do you want of me?"

The leaves above twirled on their stems, rustling as if a
gale had closed about this tree, sending it into a frenzy.
Even those weighty branches swayed as a desperate man
might toss up his arms to attract the notice of some
heedless sluggard.

There was a shimmer in the leaves as they tossed, giv-
ing me a queer sense that they were not leaves any more
but flames of greenish hue such as might spring from a
thousand candles all set alight. Green they were, but they
also now sparked blue, and yellow -- and a deeper vio-
let -- until I stood beneath a web woven in an unknown
pattern which hung above me as might a fine tapestry in
some rich Keep.

That light flowed downward, or did it drop from leaf
after leaf as they might fall with the coming of whiter? I

found that I could not look away as they -- or the pattern
of light which they emitted -- swirled about me.

I was no longer in the wood. Where I stood then I could
not have said, save it was a place in which my kind had
not walked and was unknown. The bright swirl of color
wove tighter about me. I felt no fear, rather awe that I
could see this, which I understood was never meant for
eyes like mine. Then that web parted, drew to either side
like a curtain, and another faced me.

One hidden part of me knew a flash of uneasiness such
as comes whenever a man faces the utterly strange. Yet
the rest of me was waiting, wanting to know what was ex-
pected of me. There had been a summons of a sort, of
that I was aware.

She was tall and slender, this woman whom the leaf
colors had now revealed to me, clothed in a shimmering
green which I could see was formed of many small leaves
which never lay still but flowed about her, showing now
her slender limbs, now a single small breast, now her
shoulders, or thickened again until she was hidden from
throat to ankle.

Her hair hung free but it did not lie still upon her
shoulders, long as it was. No, it played outward in a neb-
ulous cloud about her head, swaying and twining, loosen-
ing and tightening, even as the leaves of her clothing
moved. It was also green, but of a pale shade touched
with threads of red-brown here and there. Red-brown also
was her skin where and when it showed in contrast to her
garment, smooth -- 

Against that, her great eyes, which overshadowed the
rest of her features, were a brilliant green like those gems
cherished by our wealthiest lords. As brilliant, and of a
harder luster, were the nails on the hands which she raised
mow to tame the weaving of her hair.

She had such beauty, strange though it was, as I had
never believed could exist, as I had never dreamed of -- 
even in those dreams of the body which came to any

youth when he passes into manhood. Yet I could not have
reached for her with any desire fiery in me, for there was
no bridge between us that I might cross. I could only look
upon her as a wondrous thing like a flower of perfect
blossom.

Those huge eyes reached into me and I had no defense
against such sorcery, nor did I want any. I felt the touch
of her mind, far more intimate than any touch of hand or
body.

"Who are you who travels the old way of Alafian?"

Not speech, but thought. Nor did I shape any answer
with lips in return. Rather it was as if her asking set my
memory alert and I found myself recalling vividly, with
detail which I thought forgotten, all that had chanced
with me since I had come into Garn's dale.

By no will of my own did I remember. Somethings I
wished I had truly forgotten -- but of that there was no
chance. I remembered and she learned.

"So -- "

My mind seemed sucked dry, though I did not even
resent that she used me so. In a dull, dim way it seemed
only right that I thus vindicated to her why I intruded in
a land which was hers, where there had long been peace,
where my very coming had broken a slumberous, happy
rest.

"This is not your place, half-man. But your seeking will
drive you still. And -- "

Her thought withdrew for a moment, leaving me
strangely empty, feeling even more that burden of lone-
liness which lay on me.

"What you would do -- that will drive you. Your need
is not of our choice, nor can such as me mar or mend.
Seek and perhaps you will find more than you now ex-
pect. All things are possible when a seed is well planted.
Go in peace, though that is not what you will find, for it
does not lie within you."

Again her thought withdrew. I wanted to cry out for
her not to leave me. But already the shifting curtain of

light closed between us to move in a dizzying pattern,
breaking into sparks which flew apart with a burst of light
which left me blinded for what seemed a long moment

Once more I stood beneath the tree, my feet planted on
the ancient road. No leaves rustled above me. The tree
was quite as if the life which had filled it had withdrawn.
Lying at my feet was a single leaf, perfect in its shape, a
bright green, as gemlike as the lady's eyes. About its edge
ran a line of red-brown like the trunk of the tree, or like
her body which had shown so fair.

Some vision borne out of bodily weakness? No, that I
did not believe. I stooped to pick up that one perfect leaf.
It was not a tree leaf, or at least not like any I had seen
or fingered before. There was weight and thickness to it, a
leaf which had been carved out of some precious stone
my people did not know, a leaf which would not wither,
powder at last into dust, as do those which fall in an ordi-
nary woods.

I loosed the pouch fastening of my wallet and carefully
set that leaf within. For what purpose it had been given to
me (for I believed firmly that it was a gift) I might not
yet know, but it was a treasure which I would ever carry
with me.

For a while I could not go on. I stared into that tree,
until my longing at last died in the realization that what I
had seen would not come again. Horror I had met on the
ledge of the winged creatures; here I had met beauty, a
vision which tugged at me powerfully and might never
now be satisfied. In this land one swung between fear and
awe, with no safe middle path.

Still, I went on down that road which wound in and out
among those trees, but now no leaf voices called to me. I
wanted to be away from them, for even to sight one made
me aware of a loss which was an ache, not of the body,
but of some inner part of me.

I did not stop to eat, though I hungered, only kept dog-
gedly on, until, at last, I emerged from the wood into
open land again. There I left the road, for that still held

northward and it was westward I believed I must go. Not
too far away another line of heights reached skyward,
while the land before me was overgrown with brush and
scattered trees. Beyond the fringe of growth something
caught my full attention.

A Keep -- here?

Stone walls, a tower -- the building was so much like
those which even the Gate's power had not erased from
my past that I could believe I had returned to the land of
my birth, save that no lord's banner flapped in the wind
above that tower, no signs of life were to be seen about its
walls.

I wondered once more what had led the Bards to open
the Gate for us into this world. Had indeed people of my
own kind once before come this way? What had we fled?
Why need the knowledge of that be erased from our
memories when so much else was allowed to remain? This
I looked upon now might well be the hold of any of the
greater lords; it was more impressive certainly than
Garn's. If it had not been built by those of my own blood
then it had been the abiding place of some so like us that
we might find allies here, kin in part.

The very familiarity of that fortress-hall drew me. I set
a faster pace to push through the brush. There had once
been fields here. Stone walls, some of them tumbled into
mere scattered rubble, cut through grass and shrubs so
that in my headlong path I had to climb, seeing what
could have been stunted patches of gram already sun-
warmed to a yellow for harvesting.

I caught a handful of the bearded heads and rubbed
them in my palm, then chewed them as I had done with
the harvest of fields I had known since childhood. They
had a familiar taste. How close were the worlds which the
Gate had bound together. At least this untended harvest
would testify that seed grains which our landsmen had
brought with them would grow here, promising better for
the future -- if the alien life did not battle against us, for
invaders and strangers have no homestead rights.

As I chewed on that mouthful of grain I walked on
toward the building ahead. The closer I got the more it
appeared to be one of our own homesteads. I believed as
I studied it that those who had built here had also had
need for defense, since there were stout walls, windows
which were narrow and well above the ground.

Only, the massive gate was not only open, but had bro-
ken free of one hinge, half of it hanging askew, allowing
free entrance, making it plain that this was a deserted
place. The stone from which it had been built was not na-
tive to the heights behind me, for it was of a plain rose-
red displaying none of the somber veining of those rocks.
Also it glinted here and there in the last rays of the sun
(fast being shut off by the stand of highland beyond) as if
bits of burnished silver were entrapped to give it alien
beauty, belying the plainness of the structure into which it
had been wrought.

Over the gate where that door hung open was a panel
which flashed with even greater brilliance. Just so might
the insignia of a House be set in the grander Keeps of the
clans, save that this was wrought into the form, sharp
against its background, of a cat, a silver and white cat like
Gruu himself. The creature did not snarl defiance against
any assault as one might expect by its placement -- rather
it sat upright, its tail curled about so that the tip lay snug
over the forepaws.

Green eyes (as brilliant as those of my lady of the
leaves) had been set skillfully in the head so one could
not escape the half belief they had life, that this beast
surely saw all who passed under its niche. Why, I could
not tell, I brought up my right hand in a warrior's salute
to that motionless sentry who had kept faith for so long.

I pushed under the cat's perch to a large inner court-
yard. Directly facing me stood the bulk of the structure,
topped by the tower, which would certainly house, not
only the great hall for the assemblance of all who shel-
tered here once, but also the private apartments of the
lord, the armory, and the special storerooms, while

around the inner side of the wall were clustered smaller
buildings -- stables, storehouses, and some which must
have been for dwellings of landsmen and servitors, bar-
racks for my lord's meiny, and the like.

There was no sign (save that drooping door) that time
had rested any heavy hand here. From the outward show,
one of our clans might well have marched within to make
a home in greater comfort than they would certainly know
for a score of years in the sea-girt dales. Always suppos-
ing that they did not bring down upon them such enemies
as the winged ones -- or those Silver Singers of the night.

I went boldly. Perhaps because this was so like a dwell-
ing of my own people, I did not have the uneasiness
which had ridden me ever since I had followed Gathea's
guidance into this sorcery-shadowed land. The door to the
tower structure was wide open and there was a banking
of blown earth and winter-withered leaves against it to
testify that it had been more than one season since any
had sought to close it.

Over the arch was a broad band of smooth stone, a
half circle, on which there stood out, with the same
boldness of the gateway cat, a series of runes. Warning?
Welcome? Clan name? I might guess but I would never
know.

Again I passed on into the great hall. What remained
of furnishing there was also stone. There was the dais
with high-backed seats of honor -- four of them -- each of
a sleek green stone, their backs carven with an intricate
design, the details of which I could not distinguish from a
distance. There was a table of the same stone, and then,
running partway down the hall to make that upper table a
bar across its top, a second board -- this of rock matching
the walls.

The place lay mainly in shadow, since the windows
were high set and small. Still, near the tables I could see a
massive hearth, smoke blackening up its chimney throat,
nearly of a size to take a section of one of those giant
forest trees. This was topped with an over-mantel sup-

ported on either side by sitting cats which out-topped
me in height. That was again carved with runes which
glinted brightly in spite of the lack of full light.

Curiosity, together with that odd feeling of familiarity,
kept me exploring. I found chambers above, reached by a
stairway set in the wall behind the chairs of honor. Those
were bare, though two had fireplaces with carven mantels
and rune signs. Perhaps once hangings had veiled the
walls, but there were none left. Nothing lay on the floors
but dust in which my trail boots left the first marking per-
haps for years.

I found the kitchen, again furnished with stone tables
set out for the convenience of long-vanished cooks -- the
wing holding this running out to join the wall on the other
side of the towered inner keep. Here there was a cleverly
set pipe spouting water into a long trough, something no
building of my own people had ever had. I tasted the
stream, found the water cold and sweet, and drank
deeply. Then I returned to the hall, determined that here
I would camp this night.

With the coming of dark another wonder was revealed.
I had earlier noted that the runes above the fireplace had
seemed over bright in the general gloom of the long hall.
Now, as that grew darker, they in turn grew brighter.
When I examined them as closely as I could (for the
panel was set far above my head) I could see there were
small scenes carved in and among those, coming to life
with the runes.

I made out pictures of hunts. Still, there were no
hunters who might be termed men. Rather cats crept,
leaped, brought down the prey. And such prey! I had no
difficulty in identifying the winged thing I had fought on
the ledge. And that was the least strange of the enemies
pictured there. To look upon them was warning enough
against venturing on into this country. Unless passing
years had brought some end to them.

There was a serpent (or at least one first thought "ser-
pent" until I saw the thing better) with a horned and

tusked head reared high enough to prove the head was
not mounted on a reptile's supple length, having instead a
human torso, sliding into scales once again where a man's
lower limbs might join his body. Its outstretched hands
held two blades with which it menaced the cat seeking to
attack it, as if it were a swordsman well versed in battle
craft.

Again another cat fighter reared its own head in vic-
tory, its mouth open to give vent to what I thought might
be just such a roar as I had heard Gruu utter. Under his
mighty forepaw, pinned flat, a smaller creature which
looked to be a mass of bristly hair leaving one rootlike
arm which still strove to bring knotted talons of fingers to
bear on its captor -- or slayer.

That these representations were accounts of real past
battles I believed. I considered the recklessness with
which I had set out into a land which still abounded per-
haps in such monstrosities. Also I remembered both
Gathea and my lady Iynne at that moment, though there
was nothing that I might do to help either, until I could
come upon some clue as to their path.

There was no wood here that I might light a fire in the
vast cave of the hearth, but I sat upon its stone to allow
myself that small portion of food I had put aside for the
next meal, thinking that tomorrow I would doubtless find
good hunting. For surely any animals that grazed would
be drawn to the fields to cull that gram. At least I might
drink my fill of water and that I did.

Having eaten, I once more went up the length of the
hall which was now filled with shadows, so that I drew
aside now and then from some darker clot, as I would for
people gathering to talk and await the coming of the lord,
his signal for the evening meal. In spite of the dusk it was
to me a goodly place, one which I would have been full
proud to make my own -- were I a lord with a clan to
house and an old proud name to hold in honor. But I was
kinless, nameless -- and my life was as like to be as empty

of all such in the future as this hall was now, a shadow
clan was all I might ever hope to head.

Yet when I had come to the high table I stepped boldly
onto the dais and passed along the row of chairs seeking
those four set in the middle. The openwork on the backs
of those bristled with no horror scenes of cats and prey,
but rather was formed by mingling of fruit-bearing stems
and tall grain stocks, each bordered by flowers. Those
made me think again of my leaf-clad lady and wonder of
what manner of folk she was. Or had it been the spirit of
the tree itself which had so confronted, weighed, and
judged me?

Bold again I pushed to the fourth of those chairs and
seated myself, discovering that indeed they had been fash-
ioned for someone like me physically. Hard though that
stone was to the touch, yet it did not seem uncomfortable
to sit upon. When I placed both elbows on the table and
supported my chin on my hands to look down the length
of the hall, I saw that here, too, there had been symbols
set into the surface of the table itself, gleaming enough so
that I could make out their curves of design. I dropped
my right hand, on which still showed the brand the blood
of the winged thing had left upon me, as, with fingertip, I
began to trace the line of the symbol which was before me,
my flesh running smoothly and swiftly along the curves
and sharp angles to another curve again. Idly so, and why
I could not have told, I traced that three times -- 

Three times -- 

The lines grew brighter. Perhaps my action had cleared
them of clogging dust. I could see other sets, each of
which lay before one of the High seats, but none of those
was as clear as this.

Somewhere -- from out of the very air itself -- came
sound. It was like the deep note of a horn. Yet there was
also in it the beat of a drum. Or was it a call of many
voices joined together into a single lingering note? I only
knew that I had not heard its like before. In spite of my-
self I shrank back from the table, braced both hands now

on the carved arms of the chair, staring oat into the hall
(for that had grown very dark), hunting the source of
that sound.

Three times it was repeated. The last time I imagined
that an echo, or a reply, had followed from farther away.
The dark (I could not even see the gleam of those pic-
tures above the fireplace now though their radiance had
fought the general gloom from the first) closed in deeper,
thicker.

I had a giddy feeling that the whole building into which
I had dared intrude was in a state of change, that, though
I was now blinded, strange things were happening all
about me. My grip on the arms of the chair was so tight
that the edges of carving cut cruelly into my hands. The
dark was thick -- complete. I was falling, or flying, or
being drawn, into another place -- perhaps another time
from which change there was no escape.

11.

If that blackness was some witchery, then what I
awoke into was not a dream, though I wanted to believe it
was. I was still in the chair of honor at that table but I
looked down a hall which was alive with company -- 
enough to fill it, vast as it was. Still, when I tried to focus
clearly on any of that throng they appeared to veil them-
selves against my direct gaze. Thus I could only make out
but a hazy outline of a form, perhaps the muted color of
a robe or jerkin. Never did I see a face clearly. Also I was
left with a strong impression that, while many of those
forms were like my own, aliens moved easily and compan-
ionably among them -- some beautiful, some grotesque.

It was plain they feasted and that this was an assembly
for a reason of importance. This I sensed rather than
heard. There was sound in the hall but so muted, so far
removed from my own hearing, it was more of the mur-
mur of sea waves breaking on distant shore.

I leaned forward, striving to center upon just one face,
hold that in my sight until I could be sure of the features,
but there was always that veiling. Then I turned my head
to the right, to see who occupied the chair at my hand's
side. There was indeed one there, a woman whose robe
was the amber of ripened grain. But her face, the rest of
her, was only a blur. When I looked to my left I was sure
that my other neighbor was a man, but more than that I
could not have told you.

Still holding tightly to the arms of my chair, I waited
for them to mark my coming, perhaps for the sorcery ei-
ther to break into nothingness, or else change, to reveal
them fully. Yet neither happened, save that those hazy

forms moved, sat, ate, raised goblets to drink, spoke in
murmurs, and remained within a world of their own which
I could not enter, only watch.

One thing only gleamed in sharp brightness -- the runes
on the tabletop directly before me. They were fully in my
world and my eyes kept returning to them as I became
more and more confused by the vision into which I had
been plunged. By a great effort I loosed my hold upon the
arms of the chair, stretched forth both hands to touch
those symbols. If they had ensorcelled me into this state of
being, then perhaps they would free me from it again.

I had to summon up my will power to straighten my
forefinger, hold it once more above that lettering. Just so
had I traced the runes, mark by mark. Three tunes. What
would happen if I wrought so again? I set my teeth and
began. Under my touch that inscription was cold as if I
had plunged my finger into the water of a mountain
spring. So -- and so -- and so -- 

Once, twice, three times, I made the gesture, keeping
my attention fully on what I did. Then my ears opened -- 
I heard voices -- no longer as a distant hum but loud and
clear. Though what language they spoke -- it was none of
mine.

I dared to look up. The hall, all those within had been
also given reality, emerged from shadows to full sub-
stance. There were men and women, feast-day clad with a
richness which I had never seen in any lord's hall among
my own kind. They did not wear emblazoned tabards
such as my people kept for occasions of state, rather
robes and jerkins of soft, clinging stuff colored as brightly
as meadow flowers. There were gemmed girdles, broad
jeweled collars, the flash of rings on moving hands.

Their hair was dark, and that of the ladies dressed high
and decked with jewel-headed pins, or coronets so be-
gemmed it was as if they had drawn the stars out of the
skies to bedeck themselves. Circle crownlets the men wore
also, but those each bore a single large gem over the fore-

head and were of gold or silver, or a red metal I had not

seen before.

Among them were others, even as I had thought. I saw
near the high table a woman who was surely of the same
race as she who I had met among the trees. There was a
man -- or so I thought him -- who wore no jerkin. But
there were two begemmed belts crossing on his breast,
and covering each shoulder with a wider span. His skin
was furred, his features were covered by a soft down,
while from his forehead there curled up and back horns
of a red shade which matched the glint of his eyes. I was
sure that I saw the arch of furled wings standing above
the head of another farther down that board. But as I
tried to catch a closer look at what I feared might be one
of the monsters, I was startled by a touch. A hand rested
upon mine.

"Has the spring wine bemused you, my lord? You stare
as one who has not feasted here before."

Her voice was soft, yet it carried easily through the
louder sound of all other voices. I turned my head slowly,
to see clearly her who sat at my right, who had spoken
words in my own tongue.

She was dark of both hair and skin. Even against my
sun-browned flesh hers showed darker still, and I was
sure that her coloring owed nothing to the touch of heat
or wind. Tall she must have been, for I had to look up a
fraction to meet her eyes. Those were brown also, the
ruddy brown of that amber which is so highly prized by
my kin. But her brows were black and straight above her
eyes. She possessed the authority of one well used to com-
mand. The amber which I had noticed through the haze
was a mantle which she had flung back now that she had
put out her hand to mine. Under it was a robe of the yel-
low shade of ripe-to-cut gram, fitted to a body which was
generous of breast, but narrow of waist. Between her full
breasts rested a pendant which was also of amber, though
the chain which supported it was of black and amber
beads alternating. The pendant was formed like a shock

of harvested grain, bound together by a vine from which
had burst fruit in lusty ripeness.

Her hair had been brought up in a coronet of braids,
and, instead of the gem flashing crowns or pins the others
wore, there was only over her forehead another amber
piece, larger but of the same design as her pendant, sup-
ported by a circlet of ruddy gold.

I was so bemused in looking at her. Yes, and in feeling
in myself a response such as was certainly not fitting for
this time and place -- that I had not answered. She was -- I
could not find words as my thoughts flitted in a crazy
fashion to a vision of a field prepared for sowing (also
other and less innocent things as my body responded to a
growing excitement).

She smiled and her smile was an invitation that drew
me so that only my will held me in my seat. Nor did she
take her hand away from where it lay on mine. It was a
teeth-setting determination to keep from seizing upon her
fingers, drawing her to me.

Her eyes changed and there was surprise in them. Then
more than surprise, recognition. In that moment I was
sure she saw me as what I truly was -- not one of their
company at all, a stranger caught in some sorcery and so
brought among them.

Now I could not have moved even had I allowed myself
the wild drive for action which tormented me. Those am-
ber eyes held me. She lifted her other hand to clasp the
pendant at her breast. I waited to see her anger grow, to
have her claim me impostor, enemy -- thief of some heri-
tage which could never be mine.

Instead she only studied me. There was now specula-
tion in her eyes. Her fingers, touching me, moved, closed
about my wrist in a grip which I do not believe that I
could have thrown off without full exertion of strength. I
would not have believed that any woman could hold me
so.

She spoke, her words again reaching me clearly under

the cover of the babble about us, with a snap of order
which I could not have disobeyed.

"Drink!"

There was a goblet at my left hand. Since she did not
release the hold on my right I perforce raised that to obey
her. The goblet, oddly enough in that place of such
wealth, was carved from a solid piece of dark wood. In
high relief upon the side was the head of a man, or one
close to a man -- though the eyes were slanted and there
was a wry kind of amusement cleverly suggested by both
those eyes and quirk of the lips above a pointed chin. The
head of curling locks was crowned by a circlet in the form
of deer horns, while the cup was filled near to the brim
with liquid which, as I raised the goblet, began to seethe
and bubble. Still I could not escape doing as she bade,
and I drank.

The liquid was not hot as I had feared from seeing the
action within -- rather cool. Still, as it went down my
throat it spread warmth -- warmth and something more. It
fired my blood, strengthened my desire.

I had kept my eyes on my companion above the rim of
that cup as I drank, and I saw her smile slowly and lan-
guorously. Then she laughed a little, her right hand contin-
uing to stroke the pendant between those breasts which
flaunted more and more their ripeness, their firmness -- 

"Well met, well be!" She spoke again. "There is some
power already in you, man from years ahead, or you
would not come among us." She leaned closer. From her
body, or garments, though I was sure that scent arose
from her firm flesh itself, came a fragrance which made
my head spin dizzily. For a moment I found I could not
put down my cup, nor loose my other wrist; I was held
fast prisoner while she played with me.

"It is a pity," she continued, "that our times do not
truly lay one upon the other so that you could realize that
present desire of yours. But carry this with you, straying
one, and give it to the proper one at the right time and the
right place."

She kissed me Ml on the mouth. The fire of that touch
ran into me, even as the wine had filled my body with an-
other kind of warmth, I knew at that moment that no
other woman could be to me what this one might have
been -- 

"Not so," she whispered as she drew a little away from
me. "Not so. In your own time there will be one -- I, Gun-
nora, do promise this. She shall come and you will know
her not -- until the proper hour. You have drunk from the
Hunter's own cup. Thus shall you seek, until you find."

Her hand on my wrist moved my fingers now. I was re-
tracing those runes, whether or no, but backwards. Three
times I did so. Once more she was but a haze, still I could
not shake off her hold. Three times more. Then again the
dark and my passage was ended. Had that been through
time itself, or space?

I still sat at the table. But the hall was cold and still,
and the dark of night was heavy. I held something in my
left hand and I could see by the defused light of those
shining runes that I held a goblet. The rune light awoke a
gleam of silver on its side. Out of that other place I had
brought back the Hunter's cup. My body also knew well
the need which had been awakened in me, and for which
there was no answer in the here and now.

"Gunnora?"

I said her name aloud. The sound of it carried emptily
down the hall. There was not even an echo in return.
Then I pushed the cup aside impatiently, laid my head
forward on my folded arms, my cheek pressed against the
runes, knowing, without being so assured, that these
would not work for me again.

Three days I stayed in the keep, sleeping before its
hearth, sitting now and then in the high seat of honor try-
ing to recall every small moment of that time when I had
been allowed to look into the past. I had never had a
woman, though I had heard in many tales of Garn's
meiny much concerning such experience. It was our
birthright that this need did not come in early youth. For

that reason perhaps our families were small and it was
easier for clan lords to make marriages to their own ad-
vantages and that of their heirs.

Now I was ridden by new dreams, and, knowing that I
must go unfulfilled, I fought to turn my mind to other
matters. Hunt I did, and managed to snare creatures com-
ing to feed upon the grain. That, too, I harvested in a
rude fashion, ground awkwardly between stones, and sifted
into gritty meal to store in the box Zabina had used for
journey bread. The meat I took I smoked as best I could,
preparing supplies for when I moved on. For I knew I
must leave this place, even though part of me wanted to
linger -- to try again to master the runes.

I desired nothing so much in my whole life as to join
the feasting again, this time for good. Save that I under-
stood that even with the aid of sorcery I could not so
bridge time. During those days I thought very little of my
quest for Iynne, my hunt for Gathea. Both seemed far
away, as if a curtain had fallen over that part of my past,
severing me from life before, from the person I had once
been.

On the fourth morning, however, I roused, knowing, as
well as if my amber lady had ordered it, that it was time
for me to go. I could moon no longer over what might
have been. Though I held very little by her promise that I
would be eased of my hunger by any now living. She was
too vivid, too much within my thoughts.

Reluctantly I left the keep soon after dawn. West must
be my way still. However, after I was well beyond that
deserted keep, I suddenly changed. I might have been
caught in a feverish sleep and was now healed of my dis-
temper. Again that old urgency came to life -- the need for
finding some clue as to where Garn's daughter had gone,
and where Gathea had also vanished.

Once more land was wild and held no trace of any
former dwelling, not even a road before me. I took as a
guide a sighting on one peak of the continuing heights,
one which resembled a sword blade pointing upward into

the sky. Toward that I made my way with such caution as
I could summon, for now that I was away from the
deserted keep I was unsure of every standing stone, every
cluster of brush which might conceal an ambush. Yet
there were only birds high against the sky, and the ground
under my feet bore no sign of track. This might be a
world free of any life save that which grew rooted or
winged.

On the second day I came to the first slope of the peak
toward which I had marched. There was food of a sort to
ration that I had roughly smoked or brought with me
from the forgotten fields. I had come through a patch of
bushes heavy with berries which I had found both food
and drink. Gathea's wallet I had not opened, still I bore it
with me as if I were to meet her within each hour that
passed. My own grew much leaner.

Haze gathered about the peak, not far from sundown.
The mist descended like a slowly lowered curtain, wiping
the heights from sight as it fell. With that in view I de-
cided to camp for the night and not attempt to win be-
yond until I had the aid of the morning's sun.

Thus I searched for shelter until I chanced upon a
pocket among rocks where I could crowd in, my back
well protected as I faced outward. Nights in this eerie
land were periods of endurance which I faced unhappily.
Though I had heard nothing during the past ones since I
left the keep to suggest that any hunters prowled. Still I
slept in snatches and it seemed that my body ached for a
chance to rest the full night through with no care for any
sentry duty.

Though there was dead wood tangled among the
bushes and the trees which grew here and there, I set no
fire to be a beacon. Rather I half sat, half lay, my back
against the rock, staring out into the gathering shadows.
As ever when I let down my guard there crept vividly into
my mind the picture of that keep hall as I had seen it as a
dream of that long ago feasting time. Why had they gone,
those who had gathered there? What blight had fallen to

leave their fine hall an empty rain? I had seen no signs of
war there. Had it been a plague, a threat from afar which
was so potent as to send them into flight?

I started, gasped.

Had I heard that with my ears? No, that cry had been
an invasion of my mind. I hunched forward on my knees,
striving to draw from the fast coming night a clue as to
who had so summoned help and where they, he, or it
might be.

Again that plea shuddered through me. From be-
hind -- from the mist-veiled mountain! But who? I pulled
around and up to my feet, staring up that wall of rock.
There was a wink of light now visible in the night, though
it was but a formless splotch through that mist. Fire? It
did not have the color of true flames. A trap with that as
bait? I could remember only too well those silver women
and their wooing song among the rock circles.

For the third time came that frantic, wordless sum-
mons. Caution told me to remain where I was. But I
could not shut out that plaint by covering my ears. It
found its way to my very bones. Nor could I stand against
it -- for it seemed to me that strange though it came, it was
a cry for help from one of my own kind --  Gathea,
Iynne -- ? It could be either or both, a power that had
come to them out of this sorcerous country.

I left my frail suggestion of safety and began to climb.
The wind came down slope, striking against me. On it
was an odor -- not a stench of evil nor yet the musky
sweetness which I had associated with Gunnora, with the
Moon Shrine, and its pallid flowering trees. This I could
not put name to.

Though I knew that I was a fool to venture thus into
the night, still I could do no less, but I could go with cau-
tion, and a wary eye and ear. So I did not hurry blindly,
but set my feet as carefully as I could, waiting tensely be-
tween each step for another of those pleas to reach me.

The splotch of light held but there was nothing else
now. Nothing unless one could give some name to that

sensation of awaiting some significant action, some de-
mand which grew stronger and stronger with every step I
won up slope.

Luckily there were bushes here which I could grasp
when the slope became steeper, using them to haul myself
farther and higher. I reached the outer edges of the mist
and that clung as a clammy cloak about my body, settling
in drops of moisture on my face. Yet it had not put out
that light in the center of its curtain.

I stopped short every few steps I won, to cast about. I
was blind, but I was forcing my ears to serve me. There
was a chill to this fog as if it were indeed sleet of late au-
tumn instead of a normal mist. It seemed also to deaden
sound for I heard nothing.

The light neither dwindled nor grew, but remained as a
beacon -- a beacon to summon -- what? Me? I might well
be only caught in the web meant for another. Yet I could
not bring myself to turn aside, even now when that call no
longer reached me.

Then -- 

Out of the very ground at my feet there arose a form
near as light as that ghostly fog. It reared tall and I could
not mistake that soft rumble of growl. A mountain cat -- 
Gruu?

I paused again, hand reaching for sword hilt. This lurk-
er was surely as large as Gruu, and, if it were a noctur-
nal hunter like many of its breed, then even steel and my
best efforts might be very little to halt any attack.

Once more it growled, then it turned and was gone into
the mist which swallowed it instantly. Gruu! Surely that
had been Gruu or I would not have gone unchallenged.
Which meant that Gathea was up there!

I made the rest of that climb in a scrambling run,
wanting to call out her name, but fearing that if she were
in trouble I would alert whatever held her captive or be-
sieged. Again the white-silver cat awaited me as I plunged
on into a circle of light.

That radiance arose and spread out from an object

resting on bare rock -- a ledge level enough to have been
cut from the mountainside by purpose. I could not see
what made its core. At that moment I was more intent
upon the form which lay limply beside it, over which the
cat crouched, using his rough tongue gently across a
cheek.

Gathea it was. Something had dealt harshly with her.
The stout trail clothing which she had worn was in tatters,
so that her arms, showing the red marks of deep
scratches, were bare near to the shoulder, and even her
breeches were shredded into strips which were held to-
gether by knotting one rough length onto another.

Her hair was a wild tangle around her head, matted
and twined with bits of stick and dead leaf. While her
face was only skin laid thin across the bones, and her
hands, braised and scratched, were as skeletal as those
claws of the winged thing I had fought.

I knelt beside her, my fingers seeking out the pulse of
life, for so limply did she sprawl that I thought perhaps
what I had caught had been her death cry, and that she
was gone before I had reached her. Gruu drew back a
little and let me to her, but his green eyes were steady on
me, as if he would challenge my tending.

She was alive, yes, but I believed that her heart flut-
tered weakly and that she perhaps had come near to
death. I needed my supplies. There was water, and that I
dripped first upon her face and then, steadying her head
against my body, I forced the edge of the small pannikin I
carried between her lips and trickled what I could into
her mouth. Looking about that eerie pillar of light I could
see no sign of supplies, but remembering Zabina's instruc-
tions I crumbled some dried leaves into the pannikin and
swirled water about with them. The aroma which came
from the mixture was fresh, pungent, with a clearing rush
of sharp scent. Again I steadied her against my body and
was able to get a mouthful of the herb liquid then another
into her. Her eyes opened and she looked up at me.

There was no recognition in her gaze; she was one who

saw into other worlds, beyond me, through me --  Still I
got her to drink all of the restorative, then I crumbled a
handful of coarsely ground grain into more water -- mak-
ing a lumpy gruel which, using a small horn spoon, I got
into her and which she did chew and swallow. Yet never
did she seem to see me, or even appear to realize that
someone tended her.

For the first time I raided the wallet which had been
hers. In one box I discovered more salve which, working
as gently as I could, having lain her down by the light, I
anointed the worst of the blood-encrusted scratches so
deeply lacing her arms and legs.

Gruu watched me intently as ever. Before I was quite
done, he arose and faced outward into the night, his head
up, as if he either listened or scented some peril. Rest-
lessly he began to pace back and forth, keeping, I noted,
between the two of us and the mist curtain which hedged
in the small clear pocket about the flame.

Then he voiced one of those roars with which he had
challenged the creatures of the night. Before I could
move, he leaped out to vanish into the fog. I could hear
the sounds of a mighty struggle, grunts, shrill cries, which
certainly had never broken from Gruu's furred throat, last
of all a gurgling.

I stood over Gathea, my sword out and ready. Yet
nothing came through the mist until Gruu himself paced
back. There was a dark spattering down his chest, and
more blood dripping from his large fangs. He sat now,
unconcerned, by the light and started to clean his coat of
those traces of battle, licking and then hissing with dis-
gust. I at last took that folded bandage I had carried with
me and wet it with my water.

Approaching the cat I ventured to wash the worst of the
thick clotting from his ruff where a long trickle had matted
deeply into his fur. He suffered me to do this, and I did
not wonder at his disgust at his own attempt to clean him-
self, for what I sponged off did not seem like true blood,

was instead a thicker, noisome stuff with so foul a smell
that I nearly had to hold my nose as I ministered to him.

Gathea did not regain full consciousness -- at least she
still did not appear to note that I was with her. However,
I was able to get more of the grain gruel into her, spoon-
ful by spoonful, and I made certain that her many
scratches, though deep and red and angry-looking, were
not real wounds. How she had won this far without sup-
plies and what was the nature of the light which glowed
by us remained mysteries. I began to believe that she had
collapsed from sheer lack of food and exhaustion. Yet
that strange summons which had brought me to her had
been of such a nature that must have been more than just
weakness of body to make her cry for aid.

With Gruu as sentry I felt more at ease than I had
since I had left the keep. The cat lay now by the fire, lick-
ing his paws, seemingly wrapped in his own concerns. Yet
I was sure he could be trusted.

I made the girl as comfortable as I could, her own wal-
let for a pillow, spreading over her the travel cloak I had
kept as a roll across my shoulder. Shaking the water
bottle beside my ear I guessed I had used its contents
freely and I must find a mountain spring by morning -- 
perhaps Gruu could help.

Stretching out an arm's distance away from Gathea I
allowed fatigue to claim me. The light still burned as high
as ever, but it did not dazzle the eyes. There was a
softness in its gleam which did not shine too strongly.

I was in the light, the very core of it. There I awaited
an unfamiliar intelligence. First it challenged me; there
came an abrupt demand -- unvoiced. From whence had I
come and what would I do? At that there flashed into my
mind in answer (though that was not of my calling) the
symbol my amber lady had worn, the sheath entwined with
fruitful vine.

My unseen challenger was startled, so much that mind
picture alone might have struck a telling blow. Yet there
was nothing in me which wanted battle between us. I felt

no enmity toward that which had so peremptorily de-
manded my right to be where I was. This ability to build
in such detail a mind picture was new to me, yet it
seemed right. No longer was my vision only the pendant,
that altered, to become a true sheaf of harvest, the fruit
wound around the stock possessing real life, so that I
could have reached forth a hand to pluck each globe from
the burdened vine. Though I could not see her, I believed
that behind me at that moment stood my lady of the
keep. Though I longed mightily to look and see if that
were so, still I could not turn my head.

That which the fire in the mist represented gave way.
An impatient arrogance which had filled it when it would
not only weigh me, but would judge me to my fate, faded.
Instead there was a questioning -- tinged with astonish-
ment -- not because of me but for the coming of her who
was so standing to sponsor my actions.

I felt forces sweep around me, through me. Questions
were raised and answered, and I understood nothing. Save
that, in some manner, I had been made free of a road,
though the power behind the fire was still resentful and
grudging. Then I was given, at last, the boon of deep
sleep which my aching body craved.

12.

I looked up into an unclouded sky, pulled out of a
sleep so deep that my body felt stiff as if I had lain so for
a toll of seasons upon seasons. That which had drawn me
into wakefulness continued.

Speech clear and strong, then a period of silence, as if
the speaker waited for an answer. Followed by speech
once again. The strange words singsonged with that
rhythm our clan bards used upon formal occasions when
either House history or some fragment of the Laws were
recited. However, I could not understand one of those
fluting sounds which must be words.

I turned my head. Gathea no longer lay as I had left
her, but sat cross-legged in sunlight. It was she who
spoke, addressing those unknown words to the air, though
even Gruu had vanished leaving only emptiness.

A fever may plunge anyone into a condition of seeing,
speaking or acting so. That was my first thought, that she
was held in a strong delusion. Nor did she turn her head
when I sat up abruptly. Was she fevered indeed or
trapped in some new witchery?

Before her, as she sat so, was that which must have
provided the guide fire of last night. As I looked upon it I
wanted to scramble up, away, drag her with me -- if I
could. For there, wedged between rocks holding it up-
right, was what could only be a portion of the wand she
had fashioned under my own eyes from a tree limb.

A third of it was gone. Even as I looked another small
section broke away -- became a fluff of ash carried off by
a puff of breeze. There was no other fuel -- nothing save
that fire-eaten rod.

Still Gathea sat and spoke, waited for an answer I
could not hear, then spoke again. At times during those
waiting intervals, she nodded as if what she alone heard
made excellent sense. Once or twice she frowned, seem-
ingly in concentration, as she strove better to understand
an admonition or advice. So real were these actions that
I could well begin to believe the fault lay within me, that
I was deaf. Just as that speaker remained invisible to my
eyes.

Though I wanted to reach out to her, my hand was
stayed by a strong impression that this indeed was no illu-
sion. Or if so, it was mine not hers. At last she gave a
sigh and the angle of her head changed. She might now
be gazing up to someone who had been seated on a lev-
el with her, but had now arisen. One of her hands lifted in
a small gesture of farewell. Still her eyes followed the in-
visible one who left us.

Only then was I able to move. When I caught her
lightly by the arm, she started in real surprise. However
the eyes she turned to me were knowing -- they saw me,
knew me.

"Gathea -- " I spoke her name.

Her frown became a battle flag of rising anger as she
jerked back.

"You have no right spying -- " she flared.

That impatient gesture she had made to free herself
from my hold sent my wallet swinging. The clasp, never
strong since my battle with the winged creature, burst
open, and there fell out, to roll across the ground, that
cup of Horn-Crowned man which I had brought out of
the deserted keep; from its ulterior in turn the gem-leaf of
the tree woman since I had put these two marvels in
keeping together.

Gathea's eyes dropped from me to that cup which
came to rest against her own boot, the horned head up-
permost, to the leaf bright in the sun. They widened into
a stare of sheer astonishment, then centered upon that
head as if it were alive.

She retreated farther, still staring at the cup as I re-
claimed the leaf. I saw the tip of her tongue appear be-
tween her lips to moisten the lower one. There was no
anger in her face now. What I read there was surely the
beginning of fear. In a voice hardly above a whisper she
asked:

"Where did you find these?"

"They were gifts," I answered deliberately. "The cup
given me by a great lady who read for me something of
the future."

Gathea did not raise her gaze from the cup. Beneath
the sun-browning of her face a pallor spread.

"She had a name -- this giver of cups?" That whispered
question was even thinner. Her unease was plain by the
way she turned swiftly to seize upon what was left of her
wand, holding that as a man might hold a sword when
fronted by an enemy.

"Her name was Gunnora," I replied. Some trait in me
was satisfied by seeing her so shaken. As if, in her present
state, I could reach her -- whereas before she had been far
removed from me in spirit, even though she was only a
hand's distance away in body.

Once more her tongue crossed her lips. Now she
glanced from the cup to me. There was a beginning of
calculation in that look, or so I read it. She might earlier
have dismissed me with little concern. Now I had taken
on a new value.

"What is her sign?" That was no whisper. She rapped
the question out as if she had a right to demand a quick
answer.

"A sheath of grain bound by a fruited vine." I never
would forget anything which was of that lady who had sat
beside me in another time, and perhaps even another and
stranger world.

Gathea nodded. "That is so, but -- " she shook her
head like one who is at a loss. Then she raised her eyes
full to mine. There was that in them which searched, yet
was still rooted in unbelief. "Why -- why did she give this

to you? And where did you find her? There was no
shrine -- " The hand holding the wand arose to her breast
as if she hugged, like a shield, that reduced symbol of her
own dealing with the unknown.

"I found her in no shrine," I repeated, picking up cup
and leaf, putting one within the other again. "There was a
keep, old and deserted. Through some power I feasted
there with those who once held this land. My amber lady
was one of them, but she alone knew me for what I was,
and gave me this."

"But she did not tell you -- " Gathea's eyes narrowed.
Her awe and wariness were fast fading. If I had been of
importance to her moments earlier, I was now losing that
standing. "No, it would seem she did not. Still you have
the cup, even if you do not know how to use it -- and that
has meaning in itself."

I was irked by her swift return to her usual assurance,
to that domination she had held, or sought to hold, over
me since we had come into this western land.

"She gave me one other thing," I said. "Which I am to
use in the proper time -- "

Gathea's gaze traveled on to the wallet into which I
was fitting the cup once again. It was my turn to shake
my head.

"No, it is not the leaf -- though that I had also of a lady
who had power of her own. You have your secrets, these
I hold as mine." Nor did I ever then intend to tell her of
that kiss and what my amber lady had said concerning it.
I was no wooer of this witch maid. Whatever dream might
have sprung, or would spring, from out of my memory I
would not share that! Instead I moved on to make my own
demands:

"What have you learned concerning Iynne or your
moon magic dealing? With whom did you speak just
now?"

Gathea gave a slight movement of the shoulders which
was not quite a shrug.

"What I seek -- " she began, but I interrupted her with
new confidence:

"What we seek. I will find my lord's daughter if it can
be done in this land of many surprises and mixed magic.
Have you any word from your invisible Mend as to where
our path must run?"

I was sure that she wanted to deny me, to turn and
walk away. Yet I was as certain that she could no longer
treat me so. I might not know what power issued from
the goblet which I carried, but the fact that it was mine at
all plainly made her reluctantly consider me as a trail
companion she could not ruthlessly leave behind.

"Past the mountains beyond -- "

I looked deliberately at the heights before us, my head
moving so I could view those lying to the south on to the
ones rising in the north.

"A wide land for searching," I commented. "Surely you
are able to narrow our wandering better than that!"

For a long moment I believed she was going to refuse.
Her frown was back, and she held the wand almost as if
she would like to lay it across my face. Such a rush of an-
ger reached me that it was as if the blow had truly been
dealt. A moment later wonder started in me that I had
been able to sense so clearly her emotions. Though acts of
anger such as Garn's blow (which had made me as noth-
ing among my own kind), were open, still I had never be-
fore felt within me anything like this understanding of
another.

I unslung the second wallet -- her own -- which I had
carried for so long, held it out to her.

"Yours. You will find all untouched within. The strap
has been mended."

My action appeared to distract her anger for a moment.
Gathea took the wallet, holding it almost as if she had
never seen it before. A deep score was cut across its sur-
face where one of the talons of the winged creature had
slashed.

"That was done by a flying thing." I made my voice
casual.

"Flying thing -- the Varks! You have fought with a
vark!"

"After a fashion. Though I wonder if they can be truly
killed, at least they take a deal of killing if they are." I re-
called that severed hand which had crept toward me like
some monster possessing separate life of its own. "It
would seem you have learned more of this land since we
parted. Enough at least that you can give name to that -- 
and what else?"

Once more her face was unreadable. "Enough."

Enough? Well, I would push her no more now. Instead
I continued briskly:

"Where do we head across these mountains? Still due
west?"

Gathea gave a low whistle and Gruu slipped into place
between us as if she would go only so under his escort.
She looked sullen, and, had I had my will I would have
turned on my heel and left her then and there. Only she
was my guide to Iynne. And, for my own inner honor, I
must do what I could for one who carried the blood of
my own House -- since in part it was my carelessness
which had led my lord's daughter into danger in the be-
ginning.

We climbed in silence, Gruu in the lead, as if the great
cat knew exactly what path to take, though I could detect
no sign that there had ever been a way here which had
been followed by more than perhaps his own kind. The
mist had cleared entirely. I could look back upon the land
below, stretching out even to the edge where the deserted
keep stood. I wondered if Gathea had passed through
there; if so what had been her experiences, though I was
in no mind to ask her. She had raised a firm barrier be-
tween us, and, for now, I was content to have that so.

Steep as the slope was it did not tax us as that first
height on which I had found the lair of the Vark. Now
and again I did glance up into the sky to see if we might

be observed by such an enemy. However the day was
bright and clear and nothing moved above.

We did not try to scale the sharp set peak, rather Gruu
brought us in a way around it, through a crevice so nar-
row at times that we had to turn sideways to win beyond.
Then once more -- at nooning I judged by the sun's
height -- we came out upon another ledge able to look
down and out upon a new land.

What lay behind us was a mixture of desert and wilder-
ness, a harsh and desolate country. What lay ahead was
richly green. There was no mistaking the distant glimpses
of what could only be towers, the slim white markings of
roads. Gathea stood surveying this before glancing at me
over her shoulder.

"This is guarded land -- "

I grasped her meaning. She was declaring that she
alone might have the power to continue. Well, that I
would test when the tune came, though the rich look of
mat territory ahead suggested that if Iynne had, in some
way, found a refuge here she might well be in better case
than I had feared.

Now my companion swung farther around. "Do you
not understand?" Her tone held a hiss like the sound
Gruu might make in warning to any who thought to take
a liberty with him. "You are not prepared, there are bar-
riers here you cannot hope to cross!"

"But ones which will fall easily before you? Perhaps
manned by the invisible?"

She tapped the wand she had clung to during all our
climb against the flattened palm of her other hand. Her
gesture was one of impatience and irritation. Then, seem-
ing to come to some decision, she added:

"You cannot begin to understand. It would take
years -- long seasons of time for you to unlock the doors
between you and the proper knowledge. I have been
schooled from childhood. Also I was born of stock which
had held certain powers from generation to generation. I
am a woman and these powers are entrusted alone to

those who can stand under the moon and sing down the
Great Lady! You are -- you have nothing!"

I thought of Gunnora, of my amber lady, and of the
cup which plumped the wallet hanging from my shoulder
and my jeweled leaf. Thus I did not accept the belief that
only a woman might be akin to what ruled here.

"You think of steel -- of a sword -- " Gathea continued
so swiftly one word near broke on the next. "This place
has weapons you cannot begin even to dream of. I tell
you there is no place for you! Nor can I aid you. All my
strength I shall need for myself -- to carry through what I
must do. Your kin-lady took from me what was mine,
what I have birthright to! I shall get it back!"

Her eyes were as fierce as those of an untamed hawk. I
saw that she gripped that wand so tightly her knuckles
stood out in pallid knobs.

"There is a time for swords, also for other weapons. I
have not said that I do not believe in your powers -- or in
the strangeness of this land. I have had my own contact
with that." My hand went then not to sword hilt but to the
bulge in my wallet.

She laughed. There was scorn in the sound. "Yes, the
cup of the Horn-Crowned One, but you do not even know
the true meaning of that. By ancient tradition he who
wears the Horn Crown holds power only for a season or
so, then his blood, bis flesh, go to enrich the fields, to be a
fair offering to the lady -- "

"To Gunnora?" I asked and did not believe her.

Gathea stared. "You -- you -- " It was as if so many
words boiled in her throat that they choked her into
silence. Then she turned, began to descend with such
reckless speed that I hurried to catch up as well as I
could, lest she slip to end on rocks below. While Gruu
flashed past me, crowding in ahead of her at last, to stand
rock still keeping her where she was until I joined them.

"Shall we go," I asked her, "together?"

I knew that she longed to deny me, to continue that
headlong dash as she had done when she had lost me be-

fore the crossing of the other range, save that the cat
would not move and she had no room to push past his
bulk.

"On your own head be it!" she snapped. Once more
there lay silence between us until I broke it, since I had
decided that this waning of words was of no service to ei-
ther of us.

"It may be true that you shall find welcome here. Was
it with one of the guardians of this way that you held
speech with air only before you? Only I am pledged to
find Iynne, since that is a kin debt. That I shall endeavor
to do with every bit of strength I can summon. Perhaps a
sword is no answer, I do not know. But I am only a war-
rior -- "

Why had I said that? For nothing else had I ever
chosen to be. Yet now I felt another need beginning to
move in me. What had been said to me concerning a seed
planted -- which would grow? I was no Bard, that I knew.
So, what did move in me to reach forward eagerly, long-
ing to test the secrets of this green land ahead? More than
just the search for Iynne spurred me, I realized. I had a
desire, a thirst for learning what lay here -- what I might
of such people as I had seen during my vision in the lost
keep.

"You are a man!" She made of that statement an ac-
cusation.

It was true that Wise Women had no dealings with
marriage. They were known to hold to virginity lest some
of their power be lost in coupling. Perhaps deep in them
they harbored a contempt for all males, such as I read
into her voice now.

I laughed. "That I am!" Again I remembered the
rousing warmth of my amber lady's kiss. But if this lean-
flanked, sun-browned girl thought that I lusted after her,
having seen Gunnora, she was very wrong. "In your
learning you would deny everything to me because of
that? You speak of the Horn-Crowned One and his sacri-
fice -- how is it that I have heard nothing of that in all my

years? If it was once the way of life, it certainly has not
been for seasons uncounted now. Among the kin -- "

"The kin!" she flashed. "We are not among them. Yes,
much has been forgot. I did not begin to dream how
much, until I passed the Gate. Then I was like one
being let out of a tight prison into an open world. I have
begun to learn, but I am only on the first part of the
path -- a path you cannot think of walking. Go back,
kinless one -- you cannot hope to stand -- "

"We shall see what I can or cannot stand," I returned,
as sharply. She had flung that last insult at me knowingly,
meaning to wound, reminding me once again of the need
for restoring my own pride. More than ever I knew that I
must continue or be damned in my own eyes.

I wanted to know what invisible presence she had met
with on the mountain land. However, if she would not tell
me I could not force it out of her. As I faced her squarely
I saw the fierceness fade a little from her eyes, then she
looked down at her wand, twirling what was left of that
about in her hands.

"Why will you not let matters be -- ?" she asked in a
low voice. "You push, you pry, your very presence here
may lead to defeat. I could turn this on you -- " The end
of the wand flipped a fraction in my direction. "Only if I
use my gift so, then the force would strike back at me. I
cannot send you away, I only ask that you go. I have spo-
ken ill of your Lady Iynne, but accept this: when I find
her I shall do all in my power to free her from a tangle,
which she invited in her foolishness, and return her to her
own life. I can do this, being who and what I am. You
cannot -- "

"Because I am who and what I am?" I asked. "I may
surprise you still. Shall we go?"

She shrugged and started the descent again, this time at
a more sober pace to suit the roughness of the way. For
on this side the peak was far more precipitous than had
been the other. Here were places where it was necessary

that we aid one another in finding hand-holds, or steady-
ing over drops.

There was no more speech between us, but our hands
met readily enough when it was needful. Finally we
reached better and easier ways which brought us into that
green land. Here there were a number of those same trees
that had been in that wood which had seemed to harbor
the spirit woman I had met. There was no brush growing
beneath them, only patches of moss. In pockets of sun,
flowers bloomed -- mostly white, faintly touched on petal
tip with either rose or a green-yellow, so perfect one
might have thought them fashioned from gems.

Perfume hung in those sunlit glades which Gathea did
not cross directly. Rather she passed about the edges,
being careful not to touch or disturb any of the flowers.
While I was content to copy her example.

However, I noticed that she made such detours hur-
riedly and never looked at the flowers directly. Once
when I fell a little behind she turned and beckoned me
on. Pointing to the flowers, she said:

"They are dangerous -- to us. There is a sleep lying
ready in their scent to drug the traveler, give him strange
dreams."

How she knew this I did not understand, for their like I
had never seen. But a Wise Woman has much knowledge
of growing things and perhaps Gathea could sense from
her training what carried danger within, even though she
had not seen them before.

Gruu had vanished, speeding well ahead of us after we
had found our way down the last slope. We had not
stopped for nooning meal and I knew that what lay left in
my wallet was not enough to carry us far. I was hungry
and I began to cast glances about us as we went for either
game, or some growing thing which would fulfill our
needs. Save that there were neither to be seen in that
wood.

At length we came from among the tall trees and their
attendant glades of flowers, into a forest more natural to

me, for these trees seemed closely akin to those I had
known on the other side of the Gate. We had not ven-
tured far within that section before we chanced upon a
game trail on which were the fresh hoof prints of deer.

Still Gathea made no move to halt, but I was heartened
to think that when we did camp we might have fresh meat
to roast over a fire. As she continued a pace as swift as
the obstructions of the wood would allow, I became
restive, and, at last, broke that silence which seemed to be
of her choice.

"I have food of a sort," I said abruptly. "It would be
best to eat."

I believed that she had been so busied with her own
thoughts that my words came as a startling surprise. Now
she did pause and her hand went to the latching on
the wallet I had brought her. She looked around. Nearby
lay a mossy trunk of a tree that she chose as a seat. I
dropped beside her and brought out my bag of grain now
three-fourths empty, and a small portion of smoked meat.

She had unlatched her own supply bag and had a hand-
ful of dried fruit, two very stale, dried journey cakes. How
had she fared during those days we had been apart? Had
Gruu hunted for her or had the trail she followed been
better served with fruit?

"None of that," she shook her head at the meat I of-
fered. "I do not eat much flesh within this land. And if
you are wise you will not either. In fact, it would be bet-
ter by far for you to bury that," she looked upon the meat
with aversion. "Things -- hunters -- can be drawn by the
very scent, old and dry as it is."

I considered what she had said. It was true she must
know far more of this country -- perhaps through some re-
port from her invisible friend -- than I did. Thus it would
be wise to be governed -- up to a point -- by her advice.

With a sigh, I grubbed a hole in the soft earth beside
that log, dumped in my meat, and covered it over. I made
do with part of a cake and some pieces of the fruit she
had offered me, setting aside my coarse ground meal for

the future. It was peaceful here and, now that we had
settled and there was no longer the sound of our passing
to act as a warning, I began to hear the small noises of
the life which must inhabit this place.

Down one of those trees flashed a creature with a
plumed tail to act as a balance. It had a long narrow
head, and very keen eyes which kept upon us as it came.
The thing squeaked in a high note and appeared to have
no great fear of us.

Gathea made a small twittering noise. The animal re-
treated up the trunk for a short space, then halted, peer-
ing down at her with an intent stare. From the wealth of
teeth it showed, I believed that it certainly had no fear of
hunting and it must do well for itself as its body was
plump, its fur shiny and soft.

Again it squeaked. I could not put aside a belief that it
had answered, in its own way, my companion. Again it
flitted down the tree trunk, leaped a last portion, to land
on nearby, then ran fearlessly to the girl who held out a
piece of dried fruit. The forepaw with which it reached
was more like a hand than a paw, and it used that appen-
dage with as much dexterity as a man might use his five
fingers.

It chewed at the morsel, swallowed. Then it squatted,
its tail flaring back and forth, snapping from side to side,
and loosed a volume of squeaking. Plainly it was talking
after its own fashion, and I rapidly changed my estimate
of its intelligence.

Gathea twittered and then shook her head regretfully.
Whatever news or message the creature had brought was
plainly not to her understanding. At least she did not know
everything about this land. Its squeaking ended in a
squeal which held a note of alarm. Then it was gone, a
red streak back up into the branches of its chosen tree.

The wood became still -- too still. Gathea swept the re-
maining food back into her wallet, latched that. Then she
leaned forward a little, plainly listening. I could catch
nothing but the silence, but that in itself was a warning. I

could have liked just then to see the silver head of Gruu
rise above the bushes, being very willing to trust the cat's
sense concerning enemies. That some inimical force was
now moving within the wood I had no doubt at all.

I got to my feet as quietly as I could, then tensed.
There came a loud call -- and that I had heard before. It
was the croaking of those evil-looking birds which had
plagued us in Garn's dale. They could not penetrate the
cover of the trees which roofed us over; still, I was very
certain that they knew we were here. Also they did not
come in to attack, but rather waited like hounds a hunter
has loosed on a trail. We had been discovered, we were
about to be the prey of some force, and an evil one if those
birds obeyed his, her, its commands!

13.

Gathea stood beside me, her head held high. I saw her
nostrils expand as if, like Gruu, she depended upon sense
of smell. If she picked up such a warning it was denied
me. Rather I listened to the calling of those birds and
then I gazed along the aisles between the trees. Of the
great cat there was no sign, though I wished that he had
remained with us.

Because I needed some hint for our possible defense I
rounded on my companion, determined to get a straight
answer from her.

"What do those call? Them I know and have seen be-
fore and they are surely evil."

She met my demanding gaze and I could see she was
shaken.

"The Whigs of Ord." Her voice reached me nearly
overridden by the clamor from the skies.

"And this Ord?" I pressed her.

Gathea shook her head. "He is, I think, one of the
great Old Ones -- I -- " Her eyes dropped to the wand
which she still held, and then once more she looked at
me. "There is that I can do -- for my own safety -- but
whether it will also hold for you. . . . Bring forth that
cup!"

So sharp was her order that I obeyed without stopping
to think. The face of the Horned man looked up at me.
Some trick of the light shifted in here by the leaves gave
it a change of countenance, made it appear for a moment
or two as if those silver eyes had come to life, regarded
me measuringly.

"We should have wine -- " She looked about her as if a
cask might suddenly appear from the air itself in answer
to her need. Then she scrabbled within her wallet,
brought out several small pieces of fruit which I recog-
nized for long dried grapes, hard and black.

"These -- into the cup!" She held out her hand and I
scooped up those dried balls (there were seven of them I
noted) to drop into the hollow of the goblet. "Now
water -- no, it must come from your flask!"

Upon the dark balls I sloshed what might have
measured three mouthfuls of water, wanting to save our
supply since I did not know when I could replenish the
bottle.

Some new sense arose abruptly within me. I was grasp-
ing the cup with both hands, near level with my chin. So
holding it I also turned it, that the liquid it held washed
back and forth across the long dried fruit. A poor substi-
tute for wine, perhaps -- only, maybe a firm desire in such
straits would equal the lack.

"Look at him!" Gathea's voice was taut "Think of
him! Think of wine, a toast to the Hunter. His pledge cup
has passed to you. Perhaps that means that you have fa-
vor. But this is a sort which no magic raised by a woman
can summon. Think of wine -- the taste of it -- pledge your
service to him. Do it -- and speedily!"

I did look at that face under the stag horn crown.
There was that in it which was not human, yet here was
enough of mankind to make me hope that perhaps what-
ever magic she believed might be woven by this would
come to our aid. Though I had never tried to make my
mind command my sight, I had learned enough to believe
this might be done -- whether or no I was taught in the
mysteries of Power.

The silver face stared back at me, that alienness, which
had at first appeared so marked, was growing less. There
was power here. This represented a high lord, one who
dealt justice to his people with one hand, and defended

them against all ill with the other. To ride among the
household of such a one would be enough for any man.

I raised the goblet yet higher, closed my eyes, and set
in my mind that what washed within was not water and
bits of dried fruit. No, rather I prepared to taste such a
drink as had filled it on that night when I had sat at the
feast board at Gunnora's left hand. Setting the rim to my
lips I drank.

And -- I shall always swear by all I hold in my heart as
right and strong -- what I sipped was indeed wine, spiced,
mellow, such a vintage as had not stood in the casks of
any keep I knew. I pledged with those mouthfuls my serv-
ice -- I who was kinless, and had no honor among my own
any more.

We of the clans swear our strongest oaths by blood and
Steel, and by the Flame. Though the latter is a faroff thing
which only the Bards and a handful of believers ever
mention. I swore rather by a wine which I drank, by that
within me which drew me to this lost lord whose face I
looked upon as I turned the goblet upside down as is our
custom for honor pledge. There dripped from it (yes, this
too I swore to) not water, not knotted ball of sun-dried
grape, rather wine light as the sun, yellow and clear.
Those drops fell into forest mould and were gone. I threw
back my head and shouted aloud words which I did not
know but which had come easily into my mind:

"Ha, Kurnous, Ha, Hie Wentur!"

My cry swelled, echoed among the trees, repeated over
and over again. About us leaves shook as a wind rushed
upon us, wrapping us around. We stood without hurt as
branches snapped free and hurtled by us, pieces of the
leaf mould underfoot were scuffed up and sent hurtling
off.

An inflow of new strength swelled within me. I felt in
that moment that I was greater than any man, filled with
something I could not name but which made me more alive
than I had ever felt before in my life. I could have drawn

steel and stood against the open attack of a whole clan,
laughing as I fought to victory. Or I might front such a
cat as Gruu with none but my own two hands, and it
would be the cat that would first give ground!

Above the rushing of the wind we could hear the
hoarse cries of the birds. They were screaming, calling to
whatever had sent them for aid. No help came to them. I
saw the air toss branches of the trees which had sheltered
us, and between those whipping limbs, that beat wildly
here and there, began to fall bundles of ragged feathers,
limp bodies of battered birds. Some still struggled feebly
as they struck the ground. Their red eyes were glazed, but
one or two still gazed toward us and their furious hatred
was plain.

The wind swirled, appeared to gather itself together as
if it had just formed a wide-flung net and was now being
once more compacted into a bundle. Then it was gone.
Only a scatter of torn leaves and the dead birds remained.

My exultation had swept with that wind. I drew a deep,
ragged breath, looked once more at the Horned Hunter.
The face on the goblet held no hint of any life now. In
fact a dulling crept across the silver so that it looked both
old and worn, as if a virtue had departed out of it. I held
it gingerly. What I had wrought by its aid had left me
shaken. Now I wanted to stow it away -- to think out
what I had done and why I had been able to do it.

However, as I placed it back in the wallet, I glanced at
Gathea. She was farther apart from me, her back set
against a tree, her eyes wide. Between us she held up the
wand, as if to ward off blows she half expected I might
aim at her.

"He came -- " Her words were low, shaken. "He truly
came -- to your calling. But you are a man, a man of the
clans, of the House of Garn, how could you do this
thing?"

"I do not know -- nor even what I did. But you expect-
ed it -- you told me -- "

She shook her head. "I only had some hope -- because
you possessed the cup. Now you have done what even a
Bard would not dare to try -- you summoned Him Who
Hunts and have been answered! This is -- I must think on
this! Now, let us go before that which sent the Black
Ones can seek us again!"

She began to run along one of the more open aisles of
the wood, leaping over fallen branches here and there. I
followed, catching up just as we came out into the open.

I expected that some of that vile flock might have sur-
vived the killing wind to spy on us. There was nothing to
be seen there except one winged thing (too far to say
whether it was bird or something far worse) flying at
speed away from the wood. So, relieved of any need for
immediate action, I turned to Gathea, caught her arm and
held her by main strength. The tune had come for an-
swers to my questions.

"Who is He Who Hunts? The Black Ones? Ord? You
win tell me now what you know!"

She twisted in my hold, and she was strong, stronger
than I thought a woman might be. Still I held her and
when she half raised the wand I promptly struck out at
her wrist as I was only too wary of what she might do. I
had never so roughly handled a woman before, nor did I
like this trial of strengths between us. However I was
through moving blindly when I believed that she had
knowledge which might save us both from new and un-
known perils.

Gathea glared at me, though she stopped her struggle. I
saw her lips move, though they shaped no speech I could
understand. So I swept her closer to me, clapped one
hand over her mouth for I believed she might be sum-
moning up some new aid -- against me.

"You will talk!" I said into her ear as I held her
prisoner against my body. "I have gone your way too
long -- you have drawn me into sorcery -- and I will have
answers!" She was like a bar of sword steel in my hold,

though she no longer fought for freedom. What further
steps I might take to make her answer I could not imag-
ine.

"You are no fool," I continued. "To go farther into this
land without knowing how we may arm ourselves -- that is
folly past believing. I do not want your secrets -- but I am
a warrior as you know. I will not go blind if you can tell
what will aid me. Do you understand?"

I thought that her stubbornness was going to continue.
If so I did not know what I could do, for I could not hold
her prisoner forever. When she would not speak, another
idea came to me, even as had that invocation which had
entered my mind. I spoke again and did so in a voice
which demanded an answer:

"By Gunnora I ask it!" For I felt that to invoke what-
ever power had answered the cup ritual would not make
her yield. She spoke so much of women's knowledge and
of things which were not of a man's world at all -- proud
in the fact that this set her apart. Gunnora had been all
woman and I was sure a person of no little power -- in her
own time and place.

I was certain that I had done rightly when Gathea
made a last plunge for freedom without warning. How-
ever I was ready for such a ploy and gave her no chance.
Only I repeated:

"By the power of Gunnora, I ask this!"

She as suddenly went limp in my hold, her head bob-
bing against the hand which gagged her. I released her
then and stepped away, but I kept a wary eye on the
wand. She was grasping it tightly, the burned part down,
and she did not face me even now, only her voice, cold
and hard, came:

"You meddle still. Once you shall go too far, and then
you shall learn what comes to those who invoke what
they do not understand. You are the fool!"

"I would rather be a live fool, than a dead one. And I
think you know enough to let both of us walk this land

with some weapons besides steel to hand. You know
where we go -- "

"Where I go!" Gathea corrected me. Even now she
kept her face turned away as if she had been shamed by
my handling and was thus lessened even in her own eyes.
But I kept rein on any sympathy -- I had treated with her
fairly from the first, she could not say the same and be
honest.

"Where we both go," I corrected her calmly. "Also,
you have a guide -- one unseen -- I saw you speak with
such a one. Is she -- or it -- here?"

"These are Mysteries, not to be spoken of by those
who stand outside," she retorted.

"I have been involved in them. I have spoken to Gun-
nora. I have called upon the Hunter -- and did he not an-
swer me?"

She still would not look at me, rather her eyes went
from side to side as a cornered animal might search for
some hole of escape. "I have given oaths. You do not
know what you ask -- "

Again I was visited by inspiration. "Call upon that
which cannot be seen -- ask then of it whether I should be
left blind among the sighted. I demand this in Gunnora's
name!"

The wand quivered. "She -- why do you speak of her!
She is no voice for a man's hearing!"

"She is for this man. I sat at a feasting board at her left
hand and she spoke to me with far better grace than you
have ever known. The cup was her gift -- "

"I cannot tell -- "

"Then summon what can," I pressed her. "Your invisi-
ble one."

Now she did look at me and there was a flame which
could be either rage or hatred in her eyes.

"On you then be the consequences!" She drove the
wand butt down with a vicious push into the ground at
her feet, stepped back a pace or two to settle herself

beside the charred branch cross-legged, her gaze now
concentrated on the half-burned wood.

My own hand fell to the wallet in which I had put the
goblet and I pictured in my mind my amber lady as she
had been, full of life, as ripe and bountiful as the symbol
she wore.

There was a gathering chill, though the sun had been
warm on my helmless head only moments earlier. I felt as
if the breath of the Ice Dragon was spreading outward
from the half-consumed rod which meant so much to my
companion. Every passing moment I expected to see that
light fan out to hide it. Only that did not happen. Just
that cold grew greater, as if to banish me. I stood my
ground and thought of Gunnora, and the cup I carried.
Also I fumbled in my wallet and brought out that gem-
leaf. Perhaps, as once it had been a growing thing, it
would prove now a talisman.

Gathea spoke, in that other tongue which held a sing-
song cadence. She could be reciting some bardic invoca-
tion. The chill increased. I might have been encased in ice
from head to foot, only under that hand which lay upon
the wallet and within the hand which closed upon the leaf
there was warmth which spread outward, fighting that
chill which perhaps could be deadly. Whether Gathea de-
liberately summoned harm I had no way of telling. Per-
haps what answered her had its defenses against the
interference of an outsider.

I heard no voice out of the air. However Gathea
stopped her chant, to speak directly to the source of that
cold. Again I summoned to my own mind my most vivid
memory of Gunnora. That began to fade in spite of my
efforts. Another face took on substance in place of her
amber and golden beauty. This was of a younger woman,
one I had never looked upon. Her hair was held straight
back by a band with the new moon in silver mounted over
a brow which was austere, remote, where Gunnora had
been well aware -- and forgiving -- of human frailties. The

eyes beneath this other's wide brow were gray as winter
ice, holding no more warmth than that. Night black as
any winter sky was her hair, and the robe which was
girdled about the straight figure of a very young girl was
white as the light of the burning wand.

There was no humanity in her. She had been frozen
away from every warmth known to my kind. Still there
was in the lift of her proud head, about her face a trace
haunting of memory. I did not question that this vision in
my inner eyes was that of the entity Gathea had sum-
moned, and that there was nothing in her which would
move her followers to seek out aught but sterile
knowledge which would serve to wall them yet further
from their own kind.

There was no escape for me from her inspection. I
sensed a kind of impatient contempt -- not for me as a
person -- but because to her no male was of consequence.

"Gunnora!" Had I thought that, or had I cried the
name aloud?

The saying of it broke the calm. She did not frown, she
did not draw back, yet I sensed that, in some way beyond
my comprehension, she was disturbed, shaken. There
might well be a feud upon another plane of existence
which touched this land, in which power strove with
power. I had chanced upon one such power, Gathea had
found another, and they were far from allied.

That I had thought before the change began. The white
garment took a tinge of color, the girl's body beneath it
ripened into curves, the crescent moon of her diadem
grew into a circle, the same sign at its full zenith. That
halting resemblance I had half seen -- this was also Gun-
nora! But in another guise. Maid, woman -- both the
same, but possessing different gifts.

The cold which had tried to freeze me warmed. I could
smell scents of full summer, that of ripened fruit, the
dusty aroma of grain falling to the harvest. Two natures!
That which abode in Gathea had summoned one, that
which lay dormant in me had drawn the other.

Only for an instant did I see my amber lady. Then she
winked out of my mind's vision. However as she left I felt
that I was indeed accepted by her and that there were
more gates open to me, giving on stranger lands even than
the one I now walked. I need only reach for what I
wished with the full strength of my mind, and my desire
would come to me bit by bit in answer to the force which
I exerted.

"Gunnora!" I called as she vanished, my whole being
longing once more to hear the richness of her voice. My
lips burned again, as they had when I had received her
kiss.

"Dians!" My own cry was echoed by another name.
Gathea reached up into the air, as if she would catch and
hold the intangible. For I knew that we were now alone.
The Power she had called up had answered me as well as
her.

Her voice had a desolate ring as if she had called upon
near kin who were leaving her forever. Then her hands
fell down upon her knees, her head drooped forward.

I did not move to her, for I knew at that moment she
would resent bitterly any touch of mine. But I spoke:

"She was Gunnora, maid -- wife -- "

"She was Dians who knows no man! She was -- "
Gathea lifted her head. The tears in her eyes astounded
me as much as if one of the tree trunks about us wept.
"She is -- the Moon Lady. Then -- then -- " Again that
hawk fierceness shone in her eyes as she raised her head
to look at me. "Gunnora is for woman also, but only for
women who put off their maidenhood to follow the path
of submission to some man."

"Submission?" I countered. These was nothing in my
Amber Lady to suggest submission. "I think not so -- 
unless the woman so desires. She is of the harvest, the
coming together of those who would produce new life.
She is warmth -- your Dians all cold -- "

Gathea shook her head slowly. "It is true that Gunnora

answered your thought-call. I do not know why or how
she lends favor to a man. Her Mysteries are not for you.
But it seems, past all belief, that she has indeed chosen
you for some reason. Only -- it is to Dians's shrine that we
go and that is another matter."

I noted that her "I" had become "we." However, I was
wise enough to make no comment. She arose slowly, as if
that invocation had worn her hard. Now she plucked the
wand from the ground to lay it across her palm which she
held out well before her.

Though I could detect no movement of the flesh on
which it rested, the wand did turn, pointing to her left,
out into that green land. Gathea nodded.

"We have our guide, let us go."

That this land was inhabited I was sure and I had no
mind to meet with any in possession until I learned more
of what we might expect. The coming of the birds was
warning enough to tread with caution and keep well away
from what we did not understand until we could judge it
good or evil.

These who had withdrawn from the dales were, I sus-
pected more and more, of many different species. I
remembered the glimpses I had had in that feasting hall
of those who were far from human in their seeming.
Though all had been in harmony there, much tune must
have passed. Having been raised among a people who
were often torn by clan feuds, I could understand that
some such disputes might well have rent apart the
dwellers here.

"You spoke of the birds as Ord's." Now that I had
broken through Gathea's barrier against explanation I de-
termined to make the most of it. "Who then is Ord?"

"I do not know -- save he is a Dark Master -- and those
are loathsome things which are hunting prey their master
wishes."

"That winged thing which I strove with in the moun-
tains?" Swiftly I told her more of that battle and of the

strange statue which had guarded the entrance to the
foul hole from which it had crawled.

"Evil, yes -- but twisted from another way long ago.
There was some great warring here once. Those who
chose the Dark were changed. Then there are the ones
who made no choice, who withdrew. They changed in an-
other way -- drawing farther apart from either good or ill
into a state where they acknowledge the power of neither
and cannot be summoned to a quarrel."

"You have learned a lot," I commented.

"Do you not understand even yet?" she asked. "I was
born knowing that I had in me powers, talents, which I
could not use because I lacked the key which would un-
lock them. I came here and there were keys! Zabina
wanted me to walk slowly, to creep as a babe who has not
yet found the way to rise upon its feet. I am young, but
my years do not stretch so far ahead that I can wait, and
wait, and accept humbly scraps of knowledge when I
know there is a full feast provided for those who dare
seek it! The Moon Shrine -- that gave me the key.
Through it I would have been able to fly where now I
stumble foot over foot, although the magic which lay
there came only now and then. Before I could draw upon
it your keep girl blundered in. I hope she will or has
learned what it means to steal another's hopes!"

She spoke with a twist of lip which made me think that
she would rather have framed a curse to hurl at Iynne.

"I know Gunnora -- she is another phase of your Moon
Lady -- though she goes in guise of sun warmth. Who is
the Hunter who came to my calling?"

"What his name tells you. In a woman lies the right to
hold the seed, to nourish it, to watch it grow, to harvest
when it is ripe. In a man lies hasty action, the seeking for
prey, the hand on sword, the readiness to cut down
growth. The Horn-Crowned One hunts -- and slays -- "

"So he is evil?"

I could read in her face a desire, or so I thought, to
agree. But, at length, she answered reluctantly:

"All things must balance in any world. There is light
and dark -- moon and sun -- life and death. For the most
part one is neither better nor greater than the other. The
mother sows, the man reaps, she gives life, he grants
death when the proper hour turns on the everlasting
wheel. To her all the harvest rooted in earth, to him do-
minion over that which runs four-footed, flies two-winged,
unless the balance is disturbed and there arise those
strong enough to challenge the proper order of things and
bring about pure evil. For that is the true nature of
evil -- it is power which is "used to pull apart the smooth
weaving of life and the world."

"So the Hunter is the opposite of your Dians, of Gun-
nora, yet he has his place."

I thought of the fact that she assigned death as the task
of the Horn-Crowned Man and that I did not like. Even
though it was part of the scheme of life. For my blood
mostly look upon Death with dread -- unless life has
beaten them so cruelly that they do indeed welcome him
as a friend. That I had summoned Death incarnate to our
help made me now uneasy and I longed to throw from me
that unlucky cup -- perhaps the leaf also -- and have noth-
ing more to do with them. But Gunnora had given me the
cup, and if she stood for the abundance of life why would
she present me with the visible image of death? Unless
(the woman of the forest had also life coursing in her,
strange though that might be -- I could not believe her leaf
a promise of ending) unless there had been a dire
message in both gifts.

Only never would I admit to Gathea my doubts of the
Amber Lady and what she stood for. Since I was bred a
fighting man I should not shrink from the idea that I had
indeed called upon Death as an aid. In that moment I de-
cided to live for one day only. What came I would face
without flinching. If Gunnora had meant that cup as a

warning -- no, that I would not believe. She had spoken of
a future for me, and I would hold fast to her prophecy.

Gathea could not read my thoughts. Now she frowned.
Not as if she held me to fault, but rather as she faced a
puzzling task.

"The Horn-Crowned One is not the opposite of Dians."
Her words came slowly, her frown grew more forbidding.
She plainly spoke against her will. "He is honored with
the Maiden, and the Mother -- he is in turn, brother, and
mate -- even son to the Old One -- "

"And this Old One?"

"The Wise One, she who finishes life as the Maid be-
gins it, the Dark Moon we cannot see. Yes, the Horn-
Crowned One is their equal. Save that he does not answer
to the Shrine -- he has his own place. And -- "

What more she might have said she never added for
there came a silver flash through the air. With one leap
Gruu was again with us. Behind the cat coursed some-
thing else. To me it looked like a streak of black light-
ning -- if one can conceive of lightning as being that,
instead of the brightness which we know. It cracked in the
air as might the lash of a whip -- 

The lash of a whip! That was what it was! Out of the
countryside rode at a gallop three robed figures and one
of them was reeling back, as he came, a black lash, both
hands busy with that while his mount, unguided, came for-
ward, its huge fanged jaws agape, its scaled legs in such
motion as I thought no living creature might achieve. For
these were no steeds of the common world which the
three riders bestrode, rather they raced upright on pon-
derous hind legs, their shorter and thinner forelegs dan-
gling as they came, while their riders balanced on saddles
strapped upon those mighty shoulders.

I saw that black lash coiled, ready to come flying out at
us. Gruu had turned at bay once he reached Gathea's
side, his fangs showing white and sharp as he roared. I
drew steel and thrust myself before the girl, knowing that

there was no time for us to flee back into the forest.
Death-bringer indeed. I had summoned the Hunter and
now I was faced with his price for playing a game I could
not understand.

14.

Our attackers made no attempt to close with us, rather
they set their monstrous steeds to circle, penning us in. I
pivoted to watch, while Gruu crowded back against us
both, his head up, snarling, his tail lashing in rage. The
lizard things these dark strangers rode hissed, shot out
forked tongues as if to impale us. Why the trio did not
ride us down straightway I did not understand.

There was no time now for any invocation such as I
had used back in the wood. Nor could I even be certain
at this moment that the threat faced had not been drawn
upon us because I had called on a power I had no ability
to order.

At length the three of them came to a halt again. Their
faces I could not see for they wore hoods after the man-
ner of my own people in winter, and those were drawn so
far forward as to conceal their features, though I caught
glimpses of pallid skin on sharply pointed chins. One
stopped his slavering mount on the right, matching his fel-
low to the left. While he who had first used the lightning
flash was directly before us.

They have said that the best defense is sometimes at-
tack. I knew in that moment without being told that such
an act would avail me nothing. Why they did not simply
cut us down with those lines of flame I did not under-
stand.

In spite of my attempt to shield her, Gathea had moved
out, her shoulder near touching mine, even though she
held no sword, just the shortened wand. We waited, the
only sound now being the rumble of Gruu's growl, the
hissing now and then of one of the mounts.

I remembered what my companion had earlier said -- 
that iron in itself was a menace to some forms of Dark
life. Could it be my sword that they feared, not because of
any skill of mine in using it, but because it was wrought
of that metal? If so -- then perhaps attack might still be
possible -- 

From the very air over us there came a voice, deep as
thunder in its way, so startling that it shook my attention
away from our captors, making me look up to hunt its
source.

Save that there was nothing there.

No! That was not so! There was a troubling of the air,
like unto a ripple which a pebble might cause in a pond.
If sounds could have visible substance. . . . And those
did! There were trails now of something like the thinnest
smoke. These did not vanish, rather curled and circled
over our heads as the riders had encircled us. While we
moved to the ordering of that near invisible ring in the
air.

I struggled hard to counteract the compulsion which
sent me walking forward, even to use the sword I had in
hand. My body was no longer under my control, I was a
prisoner within my own flesh and bone. Both Gruu and
Gathea must have been the same, for they, too, moved in
a stiff, jerky fashion, as if they were being pulled along by
invisible ropes.

He who directly faced us turned bis scaled mount,
heading outward into the open land, with us drawn be-
hind him, paced on either hand by the other riders.
Though there was sun above us and the land still looked
fair and green beyond, still it was as if we walked prisoner
within a shell which was subtly foul.

We crossed a road, but he who led did not turn, kept
rather in a straight line over open fields, while always that
faint circle over our heads continued to hold.

"What do you know of these?" How deep Gathea's
knowledge of this land might run I had no idea, but any

hint which she could give me might be of service -- had to
be of service! I might be helpless now against some
witchery, but there could also come a moment, a
chance -- 

"They are of the Dark," she answered me shortly.
"Their master is a strong one. It is his voice which holds
us in spell. Save that they are the enemy, I can tell you no
more."

She had pressed both hands against her breast, the wand
resting between her palms and her body as if she would
somehow shelter that thing of power. I did not sheathe
my sword as I was urged onward. It was better that I go
prepared.

Thus we were taken captive, and thus we passed over
green and pleasant lands to come into another strip of
country. The growth was as luxuriant here, perhaps even
more free and full. Still it seemed unpleasant, darksome.
There were flowers which looked like avid scarlet mouths
ready to fasten greedily upon anyone who passed too
close, others stood pale, possessing ugly-looking stamens
of green-yellow which caught and held struggling insects,
and from which spread a charnel reek. The trees were
twisted, with lumps upon their trunks which were like
masks of dread, or rather the heads of men and women
who had died in agony and despair. While their leaves
were few, the green of them was overlaid with ashy gray
as if disease had so marked them.

The ground was also gray-dark and with each step we
took there arose a stench of mouldy decay. Fungi grew in
patches, looking like the sloughing flesh of things long
dead but not decently buried.

Things lived here. We could hear rustling in that mass
of growth. Now and then eyes peered at us and we caught
short, very fleeting glimpses of stunted misshapen crea-
tures which could be animals twisted by some strange
magic from their proper forms -- animals -- or worse!

On this blighted ground stood a wood of trees, so inter-
woven and matted that I did not see how any living thing

could force a way through. Still from the midst of those
dark trees arose a tower.

The stone of its fashioning was a dull black, making a
smear against the clear sky to outrage nature. It was
toward that tower that our captor rode, we being forced
along in his wake.

I saw no opening of path but, as the rider approached,
that wood, so much of a barrier, thinned, drew back. It,
too, could have been of smoke or an illusion. Yet I some-
how knew that it would prove very real to any who had
no dominion over the power which had set it there.

Thus the rider moved within its boundaries without any
halt and so did the three of us march after him, com-
pelled still by what had taken command of our limbs, if
not our minds. I glanced from side to side as we went on
into that dark and more noisome place. There were great
thorns as long as my belt knife on branches. In other
places gray flowers with red veining across their petals,
like the veins which brought life through a true body,
dripped from their hearts sluggish yellow drops I was sure
were poisonous. Strange it was, but also there was about it
a daunting aura of evil and of vile life. I made myself face
my own fear and ride above it. Sight and smell and
sound -- these had been used, yes -- and witchery worked
in them. Only inside I still was myself and that I must
hold to in this place. I might be helpless of body, but my
mind -- 

Why it was necessary to remember that at this moment,
I did not understand. Save that thought was the only way
remaining that I could fight, holding out against my cap-
tors in so little.

We came into that opening in the wood where the
tower itself stood. There was no outer wall, no other
building of any true keep -- only that upward pointing
black pillar. In the side facing us opened a doorway
which gaped darkly, no barrier seeming set in it to deny
any entrance.

Our mounted guide came to a halt before that door-
way, raised the staff from which his lightning lash had
shot in a salute. He did not speak. Now even the hissing
of his mount and of those other two ceased. It was very
quiet in that tower-centered clearing -- hot, oppressively
so, and the air so filled with a variety of stenches that no
lungful one drew seemed to satisfy the body's craving for
air.

No voice spoke at this time, but the rider, as if he had re-
ceived an order we could not hear, drew his mount to one
side. He did not dismount though I saw his cowled head
turn as that which controlled us now pushed us on,
straight into the waiting, open door.

The dark appeared to reach out for us. I had been in
unlit rooms, in the dark of storm-clouded nights. Yet
nothing could equal this complete and utter absence of
light. Even as we were marched through the arch we were
encompassed by it and lost in a thick black.

Lost -- I strove to command my hand by even this
much -- that I could reach out and touch either Gathea's
flesh or the fur of the cat. Only no command I used to
signal that action reached my muscles. I might well have
had both arms tightly bound to my sides. The dark itself
was smothering so that I heard my own gasps for breath,
knew within me a stir of panic.

We no longer -- or at least I -- no longer moved. Noth-
ing of the day's light penetrated here. Nor could I even
guess where we now were, for I had a strange sensation
that in passing within that doorway I had entered no hall
but a vast space of another existence, that there were no
walls about me -- only long, unseeable distances.

How long did I stand so? I will never know, for in this
other place there was no measurement of time. That had
been suspended. There was only the here and now, the
crushing dark which was forcing, with a slow, sadistic
pleasure, the spark of my life into nothingness which
would leave me forever caught like an insect in the sticky
gum of a fruit tree, trapped and encircled.

My species fear the dark. That is born in us. Still is it
also born in most of us that we must fight fear lest we
vanish into nothingness. No man of the clans might have
faced such an ordeal as this before, still I found, a little to
my astonishment, much to my heartening, that I could
hold the fear at a distance -- for this moment, and the
next -- counting time by the breaths I drew as shallow
gasps. If I could do it for this instant, then I could do it
again, and once more, and -- 

The dark -- there was a change in the air ahead -- the
stenches of the humid hotbed behind us no longer tor-
mented our nostrils. Instead there was a puff of scent,
heavy, musky -- not entrancing -- rather with a sweet hint
of the beginning of decay.

That was accompanied by a faint, very faint lighting of
the complete dark. A spot of the same smoky gray as had
formed to take us prisoner grew slowly there, hanging in
the air equal with our heads. Pale it was, in this utter
gloom glowing wanly.

It enlarged from a disc into an oval, spreading down-
ward and its gray became a sickly white -- tinged with yel-
low -- as the flowers we had seen without. Now it
resembled the surface of a mirror, though it reflected no
part of the three of us. Complete in its growth it remained
forming a second doorway, though the force which had
compelled us here did not now move us toward it. No,
rather that which had its being on the other side ap-
proached.

Just as the doorway had grown so did this come
slowly -- first a shadow on the oval, then deepening in
substance into a blurred figure which was like us in form.
Only about it there was a hint of ill-shaping -- of distor-
tion. The rest of it came with a rush. In the blink of an
eye it was there sharp and clear.

I saw a woman, her skin pale, her hair long and dark,
loose and flowing nearly to her knees. Her body was as
ripe as Gunnora's and she stood flaunting it in a way

which a part of me understood and responded to, just as I
had responded earlier to Gunnora's womanhood.

Only -- 

Was my mind playing tricks? When I thought of Gun-
nora in connection with this female there was a blurring
for an instant of that perfect body, the eyes which had
been green-yellow, like Gruu's, had held a red spark. I
had sensed a small flash of rage.

Still I took a step forward in spite of myself. I was
aroused now, as I had been by Gunnora. I was not aware
that I could move freely until I found myself sliding my
sword back into the sheath; I wanted my hands, my arms
free, I wanted -- 

My swinging hand scraped across my bulging wallet.
Again the figure awaiting me -- promising me -- blurred.
The cup -- 

She might well have read my confusion. Now she held
both arms to me, and lustful hunger almost overwhelmed
me until I was on the verge of taking those steps between
us, reaching out my hands to stroke that satin smooth
skin, to caress, to possess. . . . She was all a man could
want in a woman and it was me she wooed! She was -- 

Something moved before me. Gruu flashed into the air
in one great leap. I cried out, hurled myself after the cat
The figure in that oval of light blurred again. Somehow,
as I swung my weapon -- I must save her from the beast if
I could -- I brushed against the wallet. Brushed, no, my
hand clung to the leather above the bulge of the cup, fas-
tened there, in spite of my violent efforts to free it. At the
same moment I did not see the dark lady savaged by the
beast as I had thought. Rather Gruu rolled with another
cat, one which matched him. I heard him cry out and saw
him bowl over the newcomer. There was no woman, only
the two cats.

Then Gruu and the other were gone, the woman stood
there again, her enchantment reaching once more for me.
Only there was a wrongness in her image. It strove to fit
itself into the pattern it had made earlier, yet it continu-

ally flowed beyond the bounds here and there. So at
length I knew -- this was an illusion. What awaited me
there was no woman but something which used witchery
to bring its prey peacefully into its hold.

I pressed my hand harder against the wallet. If there
was any power radiating out of that I needed it now! The
Horn-Crowned One! Gunnora! I grasped at fragments of
memory, sought to weave those into a shield.

There was a woman -- there was swirling substance -- 
there was a woman -- back and forth the struggle of the
Dark One who ruled this nest of evil went. Perhaps
she -- or it -- was not aware at first of what small defense I
had. The lure was still strong, my body pulled me for-
ward, the lustful heat in me arose high and higher. I
fought both myself and that illusion, tearing myself apart
with a fear that I would never be able to find words for.

Once I was on my knees, crawling like the animal
which more than half of me had become, toward that
light and her who had managed to wholly materialize
there for a longer period. Only there was no woman
there -- that I held to, as a dying man holds to the last
spark of life. For I truly believe that had I been con-
quered by my body then, I would have been dead after a
fashion which is too evil to think upon!

The Horn-Crowned! Kurnous -- Kurnous -- ! I had no
wine to summon him; I had nothing but a part of me and
memory. To summon Gunnora in my thoughts -- no!
Hastily I walled that away. Gunnora, herself, had a small
part of this kind of magic. To think of her would open the
door again. The Hunter -- the Killer -- the slayer -- 

That figure in the light changed. No woman postured
and beckoned there now. Instead there was a man, tall,
well favored, and wearing on his head a crown of inter-
laced antlers. He had the calm, proud face of a great and
well beloved lord, and he held out his hand to welcome
me. Me, the kinless, the clanless. Never alone again. I
need only take that hand and I would not be just liege-
man, but sword brother, close kin! This was not Garn,

but one infinitely above bin, a lord one would follow ea-
gerly on great quests, joining to rid the land of the shadow
which lay upon it, to serve in glory! This was he I had
called upon in ignorance, now come to me in all his -- 

Still, with my eyes fastened on him, I fumbled with the
lashings of my wallet, to take that cup forth -- prove that I
was one pledged to him! This was how he had saved me
again from the prowlers in the dark. This was -- 

I had the wallet open. My fingers reached in and
touched the cup, my forefinger slipping into the bowl.

The man wavered. No! Not to go! I could prove -- I
could -- 

Once more he wavered. Then I saw her -- that girl -- 
she was pushing ahead of me. Her hands were up, out,
she was reaching....

There was no man, no Horn-Crowned warrior. There
was a woman, not she who had nearly drawn me into her
net, no, this was a girl, slender, lithe, her body partly cov-
ered by a moon-silver tunic which fastened on one shoul-
der and came to mid thigh. On her head she wore the
crescent of the new moon. She was gone. The man began
once more to form.

I had pulled loose the cup, held it beneath my chin,
awkwardly. What ancient wisdom had come out of the
past to make me aware that this was what I must do?
There was nothing in that cup, still there came to my nos-
trils from its ulterior a sharp, clean scent -- the leaves of
certain trees, under the morning sun, the sharpness of
herbs crushed beneath foot.

It was as if a veil had been swept away and I really
saw!

Cloud bubbled and frothed within the oval, veiling and
then revealing the form of Gruu, who lay on his side un-
moving. There were streaks of red in that murk, darker
shadows, as if small things wavered back and forth
through it. Still Gathea moved toward it, her hands
outheld. She had already passed me. However, that hold
upon us which had kept us from any movement was bro-

ken now. Still cradling the cup close to me with one hand,
I threw myself forward and flung out my other hand
across her path when she came close to that coiling mat-
ter.

Her face was rapt, her eyes all for the frothing within
the oval. At first she simply pushed against my hold as if
she did not expect or know what it might be. I knew that
thus, one-armed, I could not hold her back. I dropped my
arm, laced fingers of my left hand instead in her belt,
jerked backward myself, so brought her with me, even as
a tendril of the mist reached for her.

She tripped and fell and I went with her, my body roll-
ing over her as she began a frenzied struggle for freedom.
I do not think she even knew me for who I was, but
rather only as a barrier between her and what she must
have. With fist, tooth and nail, she fought me, and I could
but use my strength to pin her to the ground, attempt to
dodge those raking nails. For I knew that the cup was my
salvation and only while I held it to me, and breathed in
that strange scent which still arose from it, would my head
remain clear and that weaver of illusions could not take me
to its self.

Somehow I held, and then hoping that it would serve
her as it had me, and because I felt a little safer with my
back to that oval of light, I forced the cup itself closer to
her face where her head turned from side to side and she
snapped her teeth as if seeking to tear my arm, as Gruu
himself might do in a frenzy.

We were still caught in that struggle when -- 

My grip on Gathea became desperate, my held on the
cup even more. We no longer lay on the pavement of that
place of darkness. There was cold so sharp that I believe
no living thing could have stood it for more than the in-
stant. Then we were in light again, a red light which
leaped and flamed. As the cold had struck at us, so now
did heat lick out to sear our bodies.

Gathea lay still, her eyes closed. But I could feel the
quick rise and fall of her breast under gasping breaths. I

raised myself to my knees and looked around. The heat
was so intense it seemed that every breath I drew must
black and char my lungs. There was rock under us -- that,
too, blistering hot, so I hastened to pull Gathea up from
it, hold her against me lest she burn. I smelled singeing of
hair and as I turned my head I saw Gruu, still stretched
motionless nearby.

We were surrounded by a wall of flame which burned
red and yellow. Now and then, as if blown by a breeze we
could not ourselves feel, it sent long tongues reaching for
us. The fire was bright, its wall held no breaks, so I could
not see what lay beyond it. All I could think now was that
our defiance had angered the tower presence so that it
had abruptly banished us through some mastery of power
into this prison which was like to complete the matter by
reducing us swiftly to fire-blackened bones.

"Dains!" Gathea opened her eyes. They still did not fo-
cus upon me, but searched beyond. I was sure she sought
whatever vision the tower presence had formed for her
beguiling. She frowned as apparently true sight returned.
Then she looked at me with an anger that would send me
hurtling into that blazing wall if she could aim it rightly.
"Dains -- she was there! She called me -- at last!"

She raised both hands and fended me off so sharply
that I was indeed pushed too near the fire, had to jump
away and to my feet. The cup I kept held of with a fierce
grip.

"It was an an illusion," I retorted. She had claimed to
know so much of sorcery, why had she not seen that for
herself when Gruu had been drawn, when twice I had
faced what was intended to bind me also to the dark?

"What did you see?" I continued, fronting her and
speaking with the heat which was not of any flame wall,
but arose out of my own spirit. "Gruu went to another
cat I saw first a woman -- " I was not going to go into de-
tail there -- "and then the Horn-Crowned One. You -- did
you see your goddess -- your Moon Daughter?"

I think that Gathea had no mind to listen to me at first,
that she was still so bemused over the illusion that she had
only anger for me and used it to drown out my voice. She
raised her hand, balled into a fist, as if she would beat
me, and then as she took a step, she snagged her boot on
Gruu's limp body and fell forward, sprawling over the cat

"Gruu!" Her cry was loud. As she lifted herself, she
gathered the cat's head into her hands, stared into his
half-closed eyes. I wondered if he had died, his life
sucked out by whatever lure that thing had set for him,
"Gruu!" She was smoothing the fur about his throat.
Then her. eyes wide, and with all the bemusement gone
from them, she looked up at me.

"He is -- no!" She added, her fingers dug deep into the
fur at his throat. "He is not dead! You -- " Still cradling
the cat's head against her breast she gazed at me again.

"You saw Gruu -- what happened to him?"

That she had not seen the cat leap into that enticement
should not have surprised me. I had already reckoned
that the presence had set for each of us the most suitable
temptation. Gruu had gone to another cat, doubtless a fe-
male of his own species. I had fronted that which had
beckoned to me first for the body, as if my senses were
like Gruu's -- and then touched on a more subtle line.

"He was drawn to that thing by sight of another cat, a
female!"

"Dains -- Dains was there!" The girl shook her head as
if still she could not rid herself of that dream. "I had
found the shrine -- I was -- " Then she stopped, though
her hands still caressed the head of the cat. "You did not
see her. You saw others -- " Gathea looked at the flames
now which sent waves of heat against my back, not at me.

"One who deals in false illusions." She shivered as if
her own fear chilled her enough to banish those flames.
"And one of the Dark! But why -- ? And Gruu -- " She
looked down at the quiet head pressed against her.

"How did we get here?" she asked after a long mo-
ment, her voice steady now as if she had accepted what

had happened as fact and then put it behind her, ready to
face what might come.

I told her -- of the cup and how the scent from it
had banished all illusions for me, that I had prevented her
going into the light and then we had been transported to
this place. She listened. I believed she not only under-
stood what I said, but was able to build upon it a little
from her own strange knowledge.

"Three of us," she said slowly. "It had to control three
of us at the same time. That spell which its liegemen
brought to us -- yes, that could be held. For it was set to
control our bodies together, and the wills of the three
riders would help feed it. But when we fronted it alone,
that control no longer worked. Poor Gruu, wise as he is
he would have no understanding of a spell of illusion,
therefore he was first trapped. And you -- you were
guarded in a way it did not suspect"

"You did not see what it fashioned for me?" I asked as
casually as I could. Why had she stood so silent and aloof
while all that had been pictured for me? Or had her vision
of Dains been produced at the same time as mine?

"I saw a shrine -- a Moon Shrine -- with the light full on
the altar. I waited, for I knew that she would come -- that
that was the place I have searched for. No, I did not see
what was made for you. Only, that spinner of vision could
not hold two illusions steady, one for each of us. When
you defeated its aims with your cup, then it wrought
Dains -- as I waited for her. It could not hold for the three
of us at one time. Your cup power shook it, and you were
freed, enough to free me -- 

"But," she gave a sweeping glance which took in the
flame wall, "where did it banish us when we would not
yield?"

"Into some strong evil of its own," I returned. "I do
not know where anymore than I know how. If there is
any way to win out of here we had better seek it before
we are dried and cooked and so barred from all hunting
entirely."

Gathea laid her cheek against the cat's head. "I no
longer have the wand," she said. "My learning is nothing
here. Nor can we hope to reach the Light if we are deep
in the realm of the Great Dark, for there is no passage
between the worlds of the two. They meet at boundaries
and there they struggle one with the other. Only I think
that here we are well past that debatable land and no
moon magic will come to my calling."

I could not believe that she was resigned to whatever
fate awaited her. I had learned, I was sure, that she would
not give up, no matter how high the odds against us. That
we had defeated in part something which seemed to have
power far beyond my imagining at least heartened me.

Gathea was busy now, loosening the latching of her
wallet. She brought out a packet of dried leaves. Sorting
out seven of them she put them into her mouth and began
chewing quickly and thoroughly.

"What -- ?" I began a question.

She shook her head and pointed to her mouth, signal-
ling that she could not speak. Then her hand went once
more to Gruu's head and I realized that what she strove
to do was for the sake of the cat.

15.

Gathea took a pat of paste from her mouth, and
pressing the cat's eyelids down gently, she spread the mix-
ture across the closed eyes. When she had finished she
touched fingertips of both hands to Gruu's skull between
the ears. The girl appeared to take no note of the flame
wall about us. The breath of that was, I believed, growing
stronger. I strove to win some measure of sight through
the play of the red tongues, but they seemed to stretch
solidly.

Flame has been man's tool for years uncounted, but it
is also his bane. Now I felt that that space about us might
at any moment narrow to consume us all. While Gathea
sat supporting the head of the cat, her eyes also closed,
using some inner power of her own to summon back
whatever life essence our enemy of the tower had forced
from its victim.

Gruu moved a paw, unsheathed claws. A mewing such
as might issue from a bewildered kitten came from his
mouth, which hung open to display his formidable fangs.
Gathea caressed the fur behind his ears, rubbed along the
line of his jaw.

"It is well. He is waking."

"To what?" I retorted. "If he escaped this," I waved
toward the flame, "through illusion, why summon him
back?"

My mouth was dry; I longed for a long pull at the
water bottle hooked to my belt, except that I had no mind
to waste the small store of liquid it contained. Sweat plas-
tered my hair to my skull, ran in trickles within my cloth-

ing, making both linen and quilted jerkin cling tightly to
my skin.

"Illusion," Gathea repeated. She still soothed the cat.
"It would seem that the weapon of this Power lies therein.
And -- "

She looked beyond me to the play of the flame wall.
There was no need to put into words what thought had
come into her mind.

"Perhaps that is an illusion," I conceded. "Yet it is
tight woven and I think we cannot break it -- "

"As above, so below -- " she said then, and the mean-
ing of her words I did not understand.

"Illusion," she continued, "means the drawing of
thought from an enemy's, or victim's mind, building upon
it. Then one summons from another plane the substance of
that which is most feared -- or desired -- and the subject
transposes it into life himself."

"You mean, we feed this flame?"

"As long as we believe we see it, then our belief feeds
it." She nodded.

"And if you are not right, if we have indeed been
dropped into a real place of fire?"

"Even reality can answer to Power. What can be sum-
moned can also be dismissed. Have you not already
proven that?"

I saw the trickle of sweat down her own cheek. Then
Gruu's head raised from her knee; the smears of dried
herb paste cracked and fell away as his eyes opened; his
gaze centered on her face. He made a sound between purr
and growl.

Yes, I could accept the changes I had witnessed for
myself as well-woven illusion -- but this was something
else again. For I was sure if I put out a hand those flames
would sear my flesh to the bone.

My companion closed her eyes again and the great cat
seemed content to stay where he was, as if he drowsed. In
the red light I saw movement of her lips, though now no
words were spoken aloud.

This playing with minds! No wonder my clansmen had
fought shy of the ways of the Wise Women, much as they
had depended upon the fruits of such delving into the un-
known. I wanted no more at that moment than an op-
ponent I could see, one with a sword in his fist, ready to
do battle in a way which was open and of my own world.

I was not even sure that where we were now pent was in
the world I knew at all. Certainly we had been snatched
here in a way that suggested travel through a space not
meant for those of my species. Even if we conquered the
flames by whatever sorcery Gathea could summon -- what
then? If we were not in our own place -- or time?

She opened her eyes to stare straight at me. "You
hinder!" she accused. "You withhold unbelief! Oh!" She
made a fist with one hand and pounded it against the hot
rock of the floor on which she had hunkered as if that
were spring cooled. "If I but had one who was fitted to
this task! You -- you fight me with your belief in the
wrong things!"

Her emotion passed into the cat. He lifted his heavy
head well up for the first time to snarl at me.

I was stung by her words. She owed me a little. I had
kept her from answering to the false Dians, had I not?
Once more I felt for the cup and raised it, hoping that I
could again sniff that cool rich air which had served and
saved me. There was nothing there now. Gathea looked at
what I held and her eyes narrowed. There came a fault
change in her expression; she might have been looking at
some object she could put to better usage.

"If you only knew more -- "

"Tell me, then!" To my sight those flames which
sprouted from the fire wall were moving closer.

Gathea raised her hand to push back the hair plastered
against her forehead.

"What you ask is impossible. You cannot compress
years of learning into a few words here and now!"

Then she gave a jerk as a flame tongue nearly licked
her hand and I saw the shadow of fear arise in her eyes.

"We may not even have time for a few words," I
pointed out grimly.

"Those who have the Power," she answered hastily,
"are said to be able to transfer objects from one plane of
existence to the next. They look into the thing and see its
innermost self. For each thing, born or made, was once
only a thought, therefore it remains partly a thought. That
thought being the substance we on the plane can see, does
exist elsewhere in another form. A mistress of the Mys-
teries can seek out such a thought, reduce the object once
more to its beginnings. This is what we are taught -- "

"You have seen it done?"

Slowly Gathea shook her head. "It would take one who
knew much to see the innermost heart of a thing and so
use it."

"But you have said that if I knew more," I persisted,
"you could help us. What should I know?"

She shook her head again slowly. "We do not know the
innermost being of the force that sought to entrap us.
And -- "

"This -- " I pointed to the flames again flaring inward at
us. I was sure that the circling walls were coming
closer -- "is fire. Fire is born of fuel -- wood -- some liquids
which burn fast if a striker spark ignites them. What is
then the innermost part of fire -- that which it feeds
upon?"

In this fire I could see no sign of either wood or a
trough for the oil we used for long-lamps.

"That which it feeds upon -- " Gathea repeated
thoughtfully after me. Then an expression of excitement
began to grow on her thin face. "Yes, it could be that the
food for the fire exists elsewhere."

A statement which did not seem helpful to me, but
which appeared to awaken new life and purpose in her.

"Come." She reached upward, holding out her hand to
me. "The cup -- have you a measure of water to pour into
that?"

"A very little."

"It must do. I cannot do this thing, for the cup is
yours. Only you can evoke the power it exerts. Pour
water into it -- hold it steady. Then link hand with me.
Perhaps Gruu also can give us of his strength, since his
own bespelling is broken. Do this -- it may be our only
chance! For my power cannot rise alone."

I allowed a trickle of water to moisten the bottom of
the cup, hardly enough to be seen. Holding it in a grip
tight enough to cramp my fingers, I sat on my heels, my
left hand firm clasped in hers.

"Now, close your eyes. There is a fire, it is burning -- 
from wood -- just as it would on a keep hearth. There is
water, a spring of water and it is rising, rising. See this!
You must see it!"

There was urgency, force in her words. Yet when I
closed my eyes, my mind rebelled, I could not build such
a picture. When I tried it was a pale thing which winked
out of mind as the lack in me allowed it to vanish.

Somewhere a voice was to be heard -- but far off, sound-
ing in such need that I strained to hear better. No, it was
the fire picture not the voice -- not anything but a fire
burning in the pocket of a forest clearing. A fire, laid on
wood as might be in any hunter's camp -- a fire!

Something built within me, a strength of will which I
had never known I possessed. It was as if the force of the
water and the fire had themselves transformed their sub-
stance, and all the energy which both held now filled me.
My weak and fluttering picture of the fire firmed, I could
hold it longer. There were the rocks of a basin into which
the water of a spring flowed. Fire and water -- ancient en-
emies!

That fire, that basin of water, became the world. Noth-
ing lay beyond them, no action mattered save that I hold
them in mind's eye as steady and clear as I could. Fire -- 
and water!

Into me continued to flow that strength which made

clear my sight, which now allowed me not only to visual-
ize the fire, the stream from the basin, but enabled me to
use that stream, to draw the water higher and higher in
the basin. No, it was a full well of water, very deep. The
water which filled it to the brim overflowed -- toward the
fire!

The fire flared, was gone. I held firmly to my thought-
picture. It was there! And once more it was. The water
had fallen away as I had concentrated on the fire. No, up
water, up -- over -- down -- I saw the rise of it like a wide
sea wave, issuing forth from the mouth of the well,
splashing, flowing heavier. Again, when my picture wav-
ered, there was a renewal of the other strength so that I
could catch and hold.

Down poured the water, it lapped at the wood, then
engulfed it. The flames sputtered, fled to far ends of the
brands which were its food; the water advanced upon
those also. There was a last flicker of my picture as if the
fire I watched knew its force was failing. Only I held, and
the water flowed on in full flood. There were no flames
left. I released the flood. It was gone. But had it, for a
moment, mirrored a head crowned with horns? I could
not be sure. I opened my eyes. The head was there, shin-
ing on the side of my cup. For the rest it was dark, we
were no longer surrounded by the blistering heat of that
wall.

I blinked and blinked again. The only source of light
came from the dim glow of the head on the goblet, and
that was slowly fading. If there had not been the firm
stone under me I would have thought we had been
whirled out of life itself. As the interior of the tower had
been so was this blackness thick enough to swallow one,
pressing against the body with a stifling hold. I heard a
sigh from the dark and knew it came from Gathea.

"It -- it worked!" I found my tongue. "The fire is gone.
But we are not yet back -- or is this still the tower?"

Somehow I did not believe that. There was an other-
ness which was like the Dark, pressing in. Now that we
had lost the fire which had held my mind, I realized that
one step could not mean a journey. Out of the thick black
came Gathea's voice to awaken my unease yet further.

"We are still trapped," she said. "This is not of our
time or place.... And -- "

What she might have added I will never know for at
that moment the darkness changed. There was no oval of
light piercing it -- rather we were being sucked, pulled
through it at such a speed as to nearly tear my breath
from me, so I gasped and fought to fill my lungs. My hold
on Gathea's hand was vise tight. At that instant I feared
more than anything that we be separated, each whirled to
a different fate.

My body seemed weightless, as fragile as a leaf caught
up by the wind's blast. I even closed my eyes, for the
pressure of the dark through which we were drawn
seemed painful against them, as if it would strike me per-
manently blind. We were drawn and that which drew us
gathered strength, lapping us as lightly about as if we
were encased in a net of ropes which drew tighter and
tighter across and around our bodies.

Then -- that feeling of rushing through the air vanished.
We hung, still prisoners in the dark, for I ventured to
open my eyes to see nothing. There was a purpose; I
could sense it. Within me something marveled at how
quickly I was able to sense the unknown. I had no
teaching, as Gathea had pointed out. Then what had
awakened me to this knowledge of things-which-were-not
and the patterns wrought by Power?

We hung, as I say, helpless, waiting the need -- or the
pleasure -- of a pressure so beyond my comprehension
that I could not begin to guess at its nature. All that
linked me to the real was my hand interlocked with
Gathea's. I wanted to ask questions, my words were

smothered before they reached my lips by the heavy
pressure of the black upon my chest and throat.

I think that I was not far then from retreating out of
myself, seeking even death as a shelter, if one's will can
carry so far as that. The faint light which had outlined the
face on the cup had vanished, perhaps blown from us
during that wild journey. I could still feel it, know that,
like Gathea's hand, it was locked to me for good or ill.

There was another wrenching, we were on the move
again. Once more I experienced that icy cold, that sensa-
tion of blasting through some unbelievable barrier. Now
there was light -- dim -- gray -- yet still enough to cut
through the curtain, make me blink. It was below, as if we
were aloft in the sky, but ft grew larger, brighter, and we
were falling toward it being wafted downward, upheld by
will -- whose will and why?

There was a shock, wrenching my body with such force
that I was torn loose from Gathea. That power which im-
prisoned me carried me away at another angle. Now I
might have looked through the eyes of a bird or some
winged thing which held itself aloft by swiftly beating
wings.

Below stood a circle of stone, silver bright, for there
were moon's rays across it. In the center was a block of
shining white, so vividly aglow in this light that I would
have hidden my eyes from its glare had I had the ability
to raise my hands. Again no part of my body would obey
my will. On the stone lay someone, a woman. Her hair
was outspread behind her head, flowing back over the
edge of the stone. She wore no clothing and at first I
thought that she might be dead, for I could determine no
sign of life in that quiet shape.

Now I saw that there were four pillars set at the four
corners of the pavement, each bearing a moon sign -- even
as there had been in the shrine among the dale hills. Un-
der each of these wavered a thin form which seemed un-

stable, wraithlike, weaving in and out of human outline.
They thickened, became more stable the closer I was
borne to their stations.

As bare of body as the woman they were plainly mas-
culine. Each held a staff within his hands, and they did
not stand steadily, but changed from one foot to another
constantly, as if they marched or danced, still keeping
their places. There was a shadow of excitement building
here, it reached out to me, sought to enter my mind, my
body.

Out of the shadows beyond that place of gleaming sil-
ver came a fifth shadow, dark, a body like a black blot
which soiled the silver, tarnished the fresh cleanness of
the moonlight. In my hands the cup came alive, it was
warm, growing hotter. It might have been filling with an-
ger, with outrage.

I was to be a tool, a weapon in the hands of the Dark
to forge a needed spell, to turn Light awry. And I could
not fight against the pressure.

That black shadow wavered and weaved in a dance
which led from one of the pillar men to the next, halting
for a moment before each one to throw skeletal arms high
in some invocation, while each this shadow so visited be-
came more and more real as if fresh and powerful life
were drawn into it. Still all this tune the woman lay on the
altar bespelled or in deep slumber, knowing, I believed,
nothing of what chanced.

Downward the compulsion which had pulled me here
forced me now. I was close enough to see their faces -- all
save that of the moving shadow who made the circling
about, raising the power. That I could feel, streaming
about me like a swift current.

If the dancing men saw me they gave no sign of it. I
had reached the ground now, my feet were on the pave-
ment, those moon silver blocks by the altar. I looked
down and saw -- Iynne!

Gone was the girl who had ridden in Garn's train. She
was changed in a manner which I did not understand. Her
lips, dark against the pallor of her face, showing not red,
but black in the light, curved in a slight smile. I could be-
lieve that she was dreaming, finding in sleep some great
happiness never experienced by the timid maid I had al-
ways known and who shrank from others, perhaps so
cowed by her father's strong possessiveness that she dared
not lift her eyes unless he might order it so.

Iynne! A -- sacrifice. I needed no one to tell me that.
Whatever was being wrought here was no act of the
Light, rather of evil -- of a Dark as black as that place
from which I had been drawn.

I stood, the cup between my hands, feeling its growing
heat. Its metal heart might have been filled with leaping
flames, so did it burn my flesh. This was its defense
against what would happen here. That silver face on the
side blazed, from its eyes shot brilliant spears of light -- 
white as the moon above us -- yet in their way different.

That dancing shadow, still formless in its many swad-
dlings of night black, save for the skeletal arms, turned
from the last man and came jigging and prancing toward
me. The head was hooded; I could catch no sign of a face
within that shadow. Still I knew that this one was aware
of my coming, that it was in league with the presence
which had sent me here.

Once more those arms were flung up and out, the wide
sleeves fell away from arms which were skin over bone -- 
ancient skin, ancient bone -- to uncover them near to the
shoulder. The crooked fingers which might be of extreme
age, long of nail, knobbed and twisted, swooped down,
reaching at the cup across the sleeping girl. I held to that
fiercely, knowing that in my hold alone was this talisman
safe.

I set my will, not against that which brought me here,
for I believed that opposed to that I would have no

chance at all. Rather I strove to center what strength I
had upon continued possession of the Horned Man's
goblet. To that I bent every effort.

Fingers drove nails into my flesh and I jerked free. Per-
haps I had taken by surprise whatever power had sent me
here as a captive, perhaps the goblet I held, and deter-
mined to go on holding, roused in me strengths I did not
know that I had.

The thing which would grasp the goblet made a second
attack. Now its efforts loosed the full cowl over its head.
The material fell away. Another woman -- a travesty of
her sex. She was very old and her aging had not been by
good and well sought ways. Thus her deeply wrinkled
face was a mask of ancient hatreds, imprinted by vices be-
yond reckoning. Across a nearly bald skull straggled a
few wisps of greasy white hair, and, as she opened her
mouth to spit and curse at me, I saw but one or two yel-
low teeth, more like Gruu's fangs than those grown in any
human mouth.

She was malevolent and she was powerful. What she
desired to do moved her to greater strength than I would
have thought possible, judging by her bony body. Having
failed in her first grab at the cup, she rounded the altar on
which Iynne slept, coming straight for me, her eyes pits of
rage, born of both cunning and madness, her crooked
hands out to rip my face to tatters.

To move against the power which had sent me was like
struggling through thick sand. I could not avoid her leap
at me, nor would I loose my hold on the cup. I strove to
lessen her attack, take the force of it against my shoulder,
my raised arms.

There was spittle at the corners of her mouth as she
shouted forth strange words. To my amazement I could
see those words. They were both red and smoky in the
air, swirling up and about my head, pressing down as if
they would scorch me like true fire.

It was then that I flung up my head and once more
cried aloud.

"Ha! Kurnous -- By the Name of the Horns!"

She might have run full against a wall, for she stag-
gered back one step and then two, striving to keep her
footing. Her mouth worked, spit dribbled down her chin.
Now her hands moved, sketching out signs. Those, too,
carried the red-black of the Dark weaving in the air.

The cup within my hands was almost too hot to hold;
still I brought it level with my own mouth as if I were
about to drink down what it held -- though it was empty.
From those eyes on the side the beams of brilliance were
like the heads of spears set to bring down the charge of
enemies.

They struck at that black-robed crone, met resistance,
sprayed sideways, lapped across the altar stone and the
sleeping girl. I might have loosed a fountain of light, for
this radiance did not fade. Instead, the beams mingled
with the moonlight, grew sharper, brighter.

The crone, with an agility which I would have thought
beyond her years, hurled herself backwards once again,
withdrawing from the outer wash of that light. She
screamed, and the sound of her voice within my head
made me cringe in turn, for it was pain such as I did not
think I could bear.

Yet I stood my ground. The pressure which had
brought me here was gone. I could if I wished have
thrown aside the cup with its torment of fire, run from
that confrontation. But in my heart I knew that I would
not do. What strange battle was mine I could only guess.
But I held as the light washed on and farther out.

The crone stumbled back and back. She stood now on
the very edge of the pavement. There she halted as if de-
termined to make a last stand. I well knew that she was
summoning up the full force of her power. Though I had
been long the prisoner of something beyond my compre-
hension, I was still warrior trained. I caught that small

motion of her head, saw that, for a moment, her eyes did
not hold on me, but had flashed to the girl.

It was my turn to attack. I so discovered that I had not
lost all the ways and skills of a swordsman. An instant
and I was between the crone and the girl. Also I shot a
glance at the nearest of the men -- would those four now
move in upon me at the service of this sorceress? They
were bare of body and had no weapons I could see, save
those staffs they held. However, who might tell what
other arms they might have which were not of my know-
ing at all?

The two I could see had not moved. Still they stood by
the pillars, dancing from foot to foot, their eyes not for
me, nor for the crone, but facing inward, though I could
not be sure whether they watched Iynne or not -- 

A bolt of light flashed at me. I again swung up the
goblet. Not only from the eyes of the Horned Lord did
the answering radiance stream now, it welled from within
the cup itself, fountaining into the air, sparking outwards,
forming a veil between me and the crone. While on the
pavement the flood of light also swirled outwards. It
reached the bare feet of the nearest man. For the first
time he awakened to what was happening. He twisted, his
gaze breaking as he looked down at the stream now about
his ankles.

Handsome he had been beyond the common; now his
features writhed and moved in a sickening manner. His
fine body might have been caught in a furnace of heat,
shriveling, becoming stunted. He cried out like a wordless
beast in agony as his staff turned into a silver flame ig-
nited by the flood. He hurled it from him.

No man stood tall there now. Rather there crouched at
the foot of the pillar a hairy, crooked thing with a great
toad-wide mouth, a mixture of beast and reptile. He
strove to hop or throw himself away from the flood of
light that held him full captive.

I looked to the other man. He also had been wrought

upon. What struggled in the morass overflowing from the
cup I held was part bird, such a bird lived in no land I
knew, tall as the man had been, rapacious of beak -- bear-
ing resemblance in part to those black fowl which we had
seen in Garn's dale, save that this was a giant of their
species.

The crone -- she retreated another step, off the moon-
drenched pavement. The creeping flow of light halted at
the edge of the stone, did not reach her. She was in a half
crouch as if trying to overleap that rippling spread of
light, still coming at me. For, though I might have baffled
her for the moment, I knew that she was far from de-
feated. Nor was she done with whatever game she had at-
tempted to play here.

Her mouth worked as it had when she had thrown at
me those fiery curses. Only this time there were no words
to be seen. Instead she brought her two hands together,
and the sound which followed that gesture of flesh meet-
ing flesh was as loud as a clap of thunder.

She was gone!

I backed against the altar. The two things at the bases
of the pillars could not move in spite of their struggles. I
swung around to view the other two. The radiance was
creeping in their direction also. But it was not to reach
and entrap them. Though they showed no sign that they
could see the danger seeping toward their feet, they both
suddenly snuffed out as had the crone.

Leaning back against the altar stone, I tried to view
what lay outside that silver square. That I had been borne
out of the other place where the Presence in the tower
had sent us, I was sure. This was my own world -- though
what portion of it I could not begin to guess. This was
certainly not that shrine in the hill above Garn's dale.
While Gathea and Gruu -- where were they? Had they
been left behind in that nothing place? If so -- how might
they be brought forth?

There was a sigh from behind me. I swung around.

Iynne's eyes were open, she was waking up, that shadow
smile still on her lips, her eyes languorous, as if she had
come from such a dream as no true maiden might hold in
her mind.

16.

"Iynne!"

That we must get from this place filled with a play of
unknown forces was the first thought in my mind. The
cup I clutched had cooled, no longer giving forth its own
glare of light. Even the face on it was fading back into
the dulled markings which concealed the power it
wielded, in spite of my inept handling.

The girl pulled herself up on the altar stone, her mo-
tions still the slow ones of a person aroused from so deep
a sleep -- so far a venture into dreaming -- that she did not
wholly focus on what lay about her.

Her hands stroked down over her body to lie below her
waist, clasped there as if they pressed against her some
treasure past all believing. She began to croon softly, her
eyes never lifting to mine, a soft murmur which spun me
across years and distance. Just so had I heard long ago in
my first childhood remembrances Iynne's nurse soothe her
charge -- a sleep-song for a babe.

"Done -- " Still she did not appear to see me, her gaze
was either turned inward or flew out beyond this place, to
fasten on a promised future richer than the moonlight,
which was all that clothed her slender body. "It is done!
The god has come to me and I shall bear his will. A child
who shall be greater than any lord -- greater -- greater -- "
Her voice trilled away once more into that croon of a
cradle song.

Were her wits utterly cleaved from her? I placed the
cup carefully on the ground, shuffled from my shoulder
the roll of travel cloak which had been buckled about the
wallet cord. Shaking this loose I dropped it around her

shoulders as she sat still on the altar stone, smiling so
gently, her hands protecting the new life which she be-
lieved must lie within her body.

"A son -- a son who will ride forth in time to summon
Great Forces, who will draw power into his two hands
and make of it what weapon is needful for the hour.
Greatly have I been honored -- "

"Iynne!"

I made her name as sharp a call as I could, wanting to
shake her into awareness of where she was and that I was
with her. Now her head jerked, turned in my direction. I
saw her eyes widen and knew that the illusion which sleep
had left her was breaking.

"Elron!" Recognition at last. Her hands went to the
cloak, wrapping it about her swiftly. "But -- " She stared
around her, as if looking to see who had accompanied me
here. Then she must have seen those monsters who still
writhed, if now feebly, in the hold of the cup's overpour. I
saw her shock. She screamed, her voice shrill and high in
the night.

"Elron! What are those?" Contentment was wiped
away by a look of fear and loathing mingled. "There is -- "
I saw her nostrils expand, her head lift a little -- "evil
here! I must not be touched by that. I bear a god -- a son
of power within me!"

She scrambled down from the altar to draw back, away
from the creatures who snuffled and uttered cries, not of
an entreaty, rather of bafflement and weak rage. I eyed
the dark beyond the borders of the Moon Shrine. Though
the crone had vanished from sight, I could not altogether
believe that she had been so easily bested. Anything
might lurk out there.

"Elron!" Iynne held the cloak close about her with one
hand, now seized upon my arm with her other. "Get me
away!"

"Presently. When I am sure there is nothing out there
waiting for us." I could not shake off the grip of her fin-
gers. Holding the cup before me as I would a sword -- for

in this place perhaps it was a greater weapon than any
blade, I edged still farther away from the altar, striving
not only to keep in sight the two struggling beast things,
but also to make sure that those who had stood by the
other two pillars did not return to deny us passage.

There was an odd feeling of lightness, of emptiness,
here now. Was it that I had won freedom -- if only for a
space -- from the sorcery that had sent me to make a part
in these labors? I could only hope that this was true.

Though Iynne kept still her hold on me, she moved
without urging to match her pace to mine. We reached
the edge of the shining pavement without any interfer-
ence. I took one backward step, drew her safely with me,
and then half faced around to stare into the darker ways
of the night.

It took a moment or two to blink the glare of the Moon
Shrine from my eyes, to see what lay in the softer light
where those silver rays did not focus so brilliantly. Unlike
the smaller shrine I had seen in the dale hills, this was not
surrounded by trees or growing things but pavement,
though not of the silver-white. Raying outward like the
spokes of a wheel were low buildings also of stone.

I half expected to find life there, gathered to watch the
ceremony my own coming had so abruptly ended. Noth-
ing stirred. This was a dead place -- a long-deserted
place -- in which only the shrine had life or purpose left.

For the first tune Iynne dragged back, twisted away. It
was my turn to take her in hold.

"Raidhan!" she called. "Raidhan? Where is she? Why
is she gone?"

"Keep quiet!" I did not like the way her call was
echoed hollowly back from those silent buildings about
us. That we were really free of any company I could not
quite believe, and my wariness was warning enough.

"Let me go! Raidhan!" Again she called, and, short of
stuffing one end of the cloak in her mouth, I did not see
how I could silence her. The cup I must still keep in my
hand; I was beginning to trust it all the more than any or-

dinary weapon. Also I feared if I freed Iynne now she
would run from me. I had no desire to hunt her among
those dark and empty buildings this night.

"She is gone," I made what answer I could. If that was
the name of the hag I had driven out of the shrine with
the Horn cup's aid, then that was the truth. "Listen." I
shook her a little, to gain her full attention. "You saw
those monsters by the pillars, did you not? Well, their like
may prowl here. We cannot draw them to us."

Her answer came fretfully: "I do not understand you.
What are you doing here? Raidhan said that the god
would take me, that his power was meant to be born
again from my body. The Moon Shrine drew me here for
no other purpose. That is true! The god came -- he took
me -- "

I had to choose and quickly. "You dreamed. They
must have drugged you and you dreamed! There was no
god -- the Moon Shrine is not his -- " I could only hope
that what I said was the truth. What had happened before
I had been thrust into the midst of that ceremony I had
no way of telling, but I believed that it had not been car-
ried to its intended ending. Had those monsters in the
temporary shape of men been summoned by the Dark to
father on this girl some greater and more evil thing? That
appeared to me to be the reason for the rites.

"Let me go!" She was twisting like a serpent in my
hold. "You cannot know the truth! Raidhan told me -- "

Luckily she was less strong than Gathea. Even with
one hand I could hold her.

"If Raidhan was that black-cloaked bag of bones back
there," I retorted, "then she is gone. I would like to hope
to some distance! It is best that we do also -- "

She fought me hard; I was forced to thrust the cup
beneath my belt and use both my hands. Then I managed
to turn her, spitting and crying out against me as she was,
and march her down the nearest open way, hoping with
all my heart that her continued cries would not bring
upon us some attack.

The road we followed was paved, while the buildings
set along it were low, one story only, and small, with
gaping, dark doorways, but no windows. Also the way
under us slanted upward, past the length of thirteen build-
ings before we came to open ground.

Iynne had fallen silent at last; she was crying, sobs
which shook her whole body. I could not think but that
she was frailer than I had known her. Her body in my
hold seemed to be slighter, and I thought that her drag-
ging steps now were not from her desire to remain but
rather because she was weak and tired. Then she
stumbled and fell against me, so that her head came
against my shoulder as it drooped, and I felt her go limp.

This might be a ruse. But I needed a chance to get
away from this place of in omen. So I swept her up in my
arms, and went on, climbing up the road at the best pace
I could hold to. We reached the rim of the valley and
there I was forced to rest, letting Iynne from my arms but
keeping her supported against me as I looked back down
into that strange place.

The gleam of the Moon Shrine was still bright But I
could no longer make out the two caught against the pil-
lars. Nor were there any other lights, or stirring, in all of
that town. The buildings squatted dark and heavy and the
roads running between them were open and free. Nothing
moved.

Iynne's heavy sobs had become sighs; she hung in my
grasp as if all will and strength had gone out of her. I
moved slowly, bringing her with me, to see now what lay
beyond.

The road we had followed ran out and on, a dim white
line, into the distance. There was moonlight enough, now
that my eyes had adjusted from the greater glare in the
shrine, to see that the country round about was well cov-
ered with vegetation. Trees formed copses, even a small
grove or two. There was brush which cast pools of
shadow I eyed with growing dislike. Too quickly my imag-
ination could conjure images it was better not to see at all

Though the road might be watched by evil forces, yet at
this time it was safer, I believed, than striking off into the
open land.

"Can you walk?" I demanded of my charge. To go on
carrying her, unable to use my hands for any sudden de-
fense, was folly. Nor had I the least desire to remain
where we now were, so close to the shrine.

"You had no right!" She struck out at me and the
cloak half slipped from her body. She gave a gasp and
caught at it clumsily, huddling it around her. "Raidhan will
come -- she will not permit you to take me."

"Can you walk?" I dismissed her warning, for that
concern was already on my own mind.

"Yes," her assent was sullen. But if she thought that I
would release her so that she might elude me to flee back
to the shrine, she was mistaken. I kept one hand heavy
and tight upon her shoulder, pushing her a little before
me down that road.

For a time we went in silence. Since Iynne now gave
me no trouble, I paid more attention to the fields stretching
on either side, alert as I could be to any movement there.
So far there was none, save that brought about by the
wind which brushed the trees and swept across the ground
growth in a steady whisper.

"Why did you come?" The question from my unwilling
companion surprised me a little. I had come to think of
her as a burden which must be borne, and not a living
person.

Why had I? I had never aimed for this place. I had
swung off into the unknown because I still owed Lord
Garn a debt, repayment for my own folly. That I had
found Iynne had been none of my own doing. Nor did I
understand why the forces which I perhaps could never
truly understand had summoned me here.

"I am kinless, clanless," I answered. "Rightfully my
lord has judged me. Had I not kept silent when you
sought the hill shrine you would not be here."

For a long moment she was silent. Then, when she
spoke again, her voice was very low.

"Thus you have come to clean your honor -- as a liege-
man would say."

Her speech was not that of the Iynne I knew. It was
sharp, quick, with a sly sneer in it.

"I am no longer liegeman, and, as you know, for the
kinless there is no honor. I failed at my guard -- there is
no erasing that"

"You think to take me back -- back to those who do
not look beyond the labor of their own hands, who have
no power and do not know what witlings they truly are!"

Her voice was becoming louder, more shrill. "I am not
a bond maid to be pushed here and there as if I had nei-
ther wit nor desire of my own. I am -- " She fell silent and
I was caught enough by her sharp protest to ask:

"You are what then, Lady Iynne?"

She surprised me with a laugh, again there was slyness,
a sneering note in her voice: "Wait and see, kinless,
clanless one. You have meddled with matters you cannot
touch no matter how far and how high you would reach. I
bear within me now -- yes, I a virgin -- carry a child! A
child of power, and such power as will make him ruler of
this world. I was chosen -- I am fulfilled! You cannot win
me out of this land -- try and see! I am a part of its
greater force now -- "

I thought of that crone and her evil mouthings, of the
two things the cup flood had revealed at the shrine pillars.
That these were allied, if not in a common bond, then in
general spirit, to the Presence of the Black Tower I did
not doubt. That Iynne would rejoice in such evil pos-
sessing her was a thought I could not hold. She must be
truly englamoured; she had not openly chosen the Dark.

Now I slowed pace and taking from my belt the cup,
never far from my hand, I held it out before her, turning
it so she could look upon the Horned Man's face. In the
moonlight that was bright enough, as if the cold metal of

its fashioning somehow sensed what I would do and
would aid me in the doing.

"Do you know this, Iynne?"

"Yes, it is Kurnous -- the Hunter. But what have you to
do with him, Elron?" I caught sheer surprise breaking
through the former harshness of her speech. "He is the
warden, the protector of the Moon Lady. It was she who
summoned me, whose bidding made me thus -- "

No, that memory, foul as any stench upon the night ah",
which I had only partly understood, had certainly not
been of Gathea's Dians, nor of Gunnora, nor of the
Horned Lord. Someone had perverted a rite to ensnare
my companion. How deeply she was caught within that
net I must discover, perhaps for the safety of us both.

"Dians summoned you?"

"Dians?" She repeated that name as if she had not
heard it before. "Who is Dians? It was Raidhan -- she
who is the Elder, the ruler of the moon's shadow. She is
the Wise One, the one who would bring the Great Lord to
life, calling me to form a body which he can use."

"And Gunnora," I tested yet further, "has she also spo-
ken?"

"Dians, Gunnora!" The petulant tone was back in her
voice. "Names which mean nothing -- where did you learn
them, kinless one? But more important, why do you carry
the Horned Hunter's cup?"

"It was a gift to me. Listen, Iynne, you have been used
by Dark Ones. Dians -- Gunnora -- they are the rightful
ladies of the moon. It is their power which this Raidhan
of yours has usurped. Could you not tell when you looked
upon those monsters back there that you were dealing
with the Dark?"

"Your wits are awry!" Once more her tone was shrill.
"You are of the Dark -- not I! I tell you, I was sum-
moned -- I was chosen. I have slept this night in the arms
of the Great One. I am his beloved -- his chosen vessel -- "

Almost she won free of me then, for she swept about

and clawed at my face so suddenly I was not prepared. I
was left holding only folds of the cloak. Then I lunged
forward, pinning her arms, holding her so closely to me
that I could see the expression of fear and loathing which
distorted her face.

"I will not argue with you." I knew that at this moment
she could not be touched by any reason which I might
offer. Gathea -- Gruu -- at that moment I would have given
the sword at my side to have them with me. That they
could still be caught in that place of complete dark gnawed
at me now that my struggle at the shrine was over. "What
remains is that we are alone in a land which is full of
ensorcellments and we must stand together or we shall
be pulled down."

Her hands, which had been attempting to fight me off,
fell to her sides. She looked from right to left and the
moon was bright enough to show me that the shadow of a
hunted creature had fallen upon her.

"I was safe -- I am safe -- Raidhan shall find me!" Only
that did not ring as confident as she might have wished it
to.

Still she seemed to be through fighting me, and I had
no desire to stand in suspect openness on a road which
ran directly into a place which, Moon Shrine or not, was
befouled by evil. Thus once more, hand on her shoulder,
I urged her on and she went without a struggle.

I needed some sanctuary. Everything behind me,
dreamlike though some of that seemed to be now, had
drained my strength. If I could find a temporary campsite,
could I be sure that I might keep Iynne with me if I slept?
Perhaps I must go to the limit of binding her hands and
feet, thus making sure of her. Nor did I see any wrong in
that considering what I had witnessed at the shrine in that
forgotten town.

The road took a curve ahead and, out of the land, cast-
ing some very dark shadows, stood a series of hillocks
which, to my mind, bore an unpleasant resemblance to
grave barrows such as the clansmen will raise to a lord

whose rule has proven safety in the midst of great disas-
ter. If these were such memorials, the lords of renown here
had been many indeed.

The wind, which had caused that constant whispering
in the grass and among the leaves of the trees, changed its
pathway. Now it came once more from my right hand
which I star-judged to be the west. It brought with it a
scent which was like that I had once found refreshing in
the cup -- keen, clear, and clean. Instinctively I faced in
that direction, seeking what might promise some link (for
so bemused by all that had happened was I that I would
accept even scent as a guide now) with the Horned Lord.

A dim track broke away from the road, winding out
among the barrows -- westward. With no more promise
than that scent on the wind should we take that way? It
was dappled with shadows as I brought us both to a halt
and looked down its length, for the barrows threw their
half dark across it

Again Iynne showed resistance.

"Where do you go?" she demanded. To me it seemed
that she was two persons -- sometimes the girl of Garn's
House, biddable, meek, but more often the other who was
no friend to me and who lusted for strangeness and
freedom of another land.

I was right, the scent I sought was heavier down the
vale between the looming mounds. Daring to loose my
two-handed hold on Iynne, I brought out the cup and on
impulse turned the face of the Horned Man to face in the
direction of the path.

I had my answer, and, so accustomed had I now be-
come to things outside my knowledge appearing to help
or hinder, I was not too surprised when there was again
an awakening of light in the eyes of the face. A twin set
of faint beams picked out the direction which lay on into
the heart of what might be a vast memorial to long-van-
ished lords -- perhaps even armies who had battled here
and buried the slain within the land for which they had
struggled.

I heard a swift intake of breath from Iynne, but she
made no more objection when I brought her with me
from the smooth pavement of the road unto the beaten
earth of the side way which was far more like the trails I
was used to.

A shadow swept above us. I pulled her up short and
against me, looking to the sky. There was a winged thing
there, large -- that vork which I had fought and which
would not die came into my mind. It passed above us,
seeming not to pay attention to anything below it. I could
not make out its shape clearly; still there was an ominous
suggestion that it was no true bird. Though it had been
flying straight, it swerved suddenly directly above a bar-
row ahead, made a quick flapping turn northward. It
might have run into some obstruction invisible to us. But
the fact that the thing had been so deflected gave me
heart, even though I could not be sure that was what had
happened. When it had winged some distance away in a
burst of added speed, I brought Iynne along as fast as she
would follow, though she complained that there were
stones which hurt her feet, and that we had no need to
hurry.

In and out among the barrows wove that way which
had plainly been made since the earth mounds were
raised. Now as we passed I could see that great stones
crowned some of these. From those there streamed sky-
ward a thin bluish haze, though not enough light to aid us
on our way.

I knew that we must find a refuge soon. My thirst was
great, and also my hunger. I did not know whether Iynne
was in a like state, but I felt her falter, and it was past my
powers to carry her.

At length we came to a barrow which topped the oth-
ers, stonecrowned, with the bluish radiance rising from
the four corners of that stone as if candles stood there, as
was done among the kin, set at the four corners of the
burial bed for our lords. Looking up I could find no other
place where safety might be.

From that crown we could well view the land about,
and there was a kind of rightness in it. He who lay there
might be long dead -- but he still had his protections, and
those who were of a like heart with him could well call
upon such in their time also.

Iynne objected to my suggestion that we seek a camp
place on the barrow, saying that it was well known that
the restless spirits of the dead resented encroachment on
their final resting places. Yet when the cup swung in my
hand as she strove to pull free, and those twin beams of
radiance not only turned toward the mound but grew
stronger, she cowered and pulled the cloak tighter around
her body, as if it were armor set against some stroke she
feared. She said no more but, at my urging, began to
climb the slope.

We found the top of the mound had been squared
away, with the stone set in the middle of sodded earth
like a low altar. As I came those candles of light bent like
flames in the wind, pointing toward the cup.

Iynne cried out, failing to her knees and hiding her face
in her hands, her tangled hair about her like a second
cloak. But I stood tall to listen. For there came sound out
of the night. I heard the ring of sword upon sword, the
clash of blade meeting shield, shoutings, very distant and
faint, some of triumph, some of despair. Then, above it all,
rang the notes of a horn -- a Hunter's horn, not such as a
keep lord carried as a battle signal. Excitement fired in me;
my weariness of body, my hunger, my thirst, were for-
gotten. With one hand I held high the cup and with the
other I drew my sword, not knowing why I did. I was not
prepared to face an enemy. No -- the enemies here were
long gone, and only the triumph remained, clear and
steady as the lights which lit the barrow tops. Rather my
blade came up in a salute such as I would give an over-
lord to whom I was a liegeman, the hilt touching my lips
as I held it so.

To what -- or whom -- I pledged myself then I did not
know. Only that this was right and fitting. Around me the

blue light swirled and spun, and the cup blazed sharply
bright, though no liquid flowed from it.

Then it was gone. Swept away perhaps by a wind
which was not chill, which carried with it the scent of the
Horned Lord's wine. I felt a loss, a pulling at me -- a
desire as strong as pain to pass on, to find those who had
shouted, him who blew the Horn. Though my time was
not yet, so I was left behind.

Slowly I let my sword slide once more into its scabbard.
The blue of the candle flames had thinned, only the faint-
est trace of them remained. Iynne raised her head and
stared at me. Her eyes were wide, there was both awe and
fear on her face.

"What are you?" she asked.

I answered her with the truth. "I am Elron, the kinless,
though -- " My voice trailed away. The bitterness of being
an exile -- it had somehow been leached out of me by all I
had met since my feet had been set on the path to the
west. I looked back at that Elron and he seemed very
young and very empty of mind. Though I knew but little
more than he now, still I was aware of my ignorance and
that was a step forward.

Iynne pushed her hair from her face as I hunkered
down beside her and brought forward my water bottle,
the little food which still remained in my wallet. She ate
hungrily, making no comment that the food was stale, the
water tasted more of the jar than fresh from any spring.
We ate together there in the night, the moon and the
grave candles giving us wan light. Each of us had our own
thoughts, mine turning once again to Gathea and Gruu.

So when I had done I took the cup once more into my
hands, brought it breast high and stared down into its hol-
low as if that were a window -- or a mirror. I fastened my
thoughts on the girl who had been with me in the Black
Tower. This time I strove with all my powers of concen-
tration to bring her to life in a mind picture, as I had the
water and the fire of our ordeal in that other world.

It was so hard to hold the picture of her face. She was

here and then it faded and was gone. I had finished the
quest I had set myself in the beginning. Iynne was with
me. Gathea had chosen her own way of her free will. I
had no ties upon her nor had she any upon me. Not so!
cried another part of me. There will be no rest for you
until you are sure that she is again in this world -- that she
is free to reach for her desire. No rest -- yes, that was
true.

17.

"Elron!"

At first that cry arose out of my own memories -- I
never had heard that note in Iynne's voice. My compan-
ion was on her knees, staring out over that land of bar-
rows lighted with their thin and scarcely discernible grave
candles.

The moon was well down the sky, its clear light muted,
Iynne pointed to the west. In a moment I caught sight of
them, too. Shapes were flitting among the barrows, only
to be sighted as they sped from one patch of shadow to
the next. I grew tense for it seemed to me that perhaps as
many as a lord's meiny might be purposefully encircling
us.

They remained remarkably difficult to see, even allow-
ing for their love of the shadows. Thus I could not get
any clear idea whether they were some hunting pack of
large animals -- men -- or another unpleasant and danger-
ous life form loosened in this wilderness, perhaps by that
Presence which had already played a part in my life.

"I see," I returned in a whisper. Though as far as I
might determine the closest of those moving forms was
still well away from the barrow where we sheltered, yet I
had no desire to make any sound which ears perhaps
keener than my own might hear.

The girl moved closer to me, her shoulder brushed
against my thigh as she knelt beside the great stone. In
this subdued light she looked older, drawn and pale. Girl-
hood and that human aspect which was her birthright
might have been rift from her during these past hours.
Now she stared at me.

"You see -- " there was a malicious glitter in her eyes.

"They come for me! I -- " Her hands came together on
her belly, protecting, covering, what she declared she car-
ried. "I hold the future lord -- and they know it! Run,
kinless one, save yourself while still you can! Not even my
words can stand between you and their vengeance!"

Plainly, she believed this to be the moment of triumph
for the forces with which she had so mistakenly allied
herself. I had no intention of running. Nor was I as cer-
tain as she that what slunk through the night were the
Dark minions in their might.

The cup moved in my hands. I would have sworn that
my fingerhold on it had been tight, that it could not have
shifted so by chance. It bent backwards; its hollow no
longer displayed. Rather I looked down to see the face
again uppermost. While the eyes in it -- they saw! They
caught and held me though I felt it was dangerous to turn
my attention from the drawing in of those who came
among the barrows.

I had believed that I had changed in a manner, was no
longer the raw untutored youth who had failed his lord
and been sent into exile. Now -- now indeed I was becom-
ing -- 

No! I strove to cry that denial aloud, to break the com-
pelling gaze of eyes which must be -- must be -- only
metal. Cunningly wrought so that they looked alive, yes,
but still metal -- not real, not reaching into my mind, fash-
ioning a place -- a place to hold what?

Strength was pouring into me. Not strength alone, but
something more -- an intelligence which strove to fit its
identity into mine. Save that I was not the vessel it ex-
pected, it needed. There remained a barrier. To that small
wall of safety my own person, whatever remained of El-
ron, clung, a last defender, determined to die rather than
yield his post to a stranger unknown.

Whatever will sought so to encompass me and found
that it could not enter in as it would, made the best of
what I was forced to abandon. I was well aware that I
now housed a power which I could not understand but

which was determined that I serve its purpose. Or was it
another that was prepared to serve mine? I distrusted that
last thought. Such might be only an insidious second at-
tack launched by this invader. I was no sorcerer, no Bard,
who could open his mind, surrender his will to the un-
seen.

Iynne was on her feet in a quick sideways movement
which took her farther from me. Before I could move,
she flung aloft her arms and, facing where those hiding
shadows appeared the thickest, she cried aloud:

"Holla, moon-born, light-bearer, I am here!"

I thrust that bewildering, dangerous cup again into my
belt, reached for her. This time I did not try to spare her,
rather threw one arm about her just below her throat and
dragged her back against me, while once more she be-
came one with Gruu's clan, clawing, spitting her hate,
striving to reach me with her fingernails. Thus we fought
a wild battle until my greater strength triumphed. The
cloak had slipped from her during that struggle, catching
at our feet, so I tumbled backwards over the slab of blue
litten stone, still holding to her flesh, now slippery with
the sweat raised by our battling. I did not let go, nor was
she able to break my hard held embrace enough to turn
full upon me. This was like holding a maddened thing, for
my prisoner was no longer the lynne I had thought I
knew.

A wind bore down upon us even as clouds closed over-
head so that the only light was the ghostly beams of the
"candles." Twice I realized she strove to call again, and
only a quick shift of hold to her throat choked off that
summons.

I must have rendered her near unconscious, for finally
she went limp. Then I released my hold a fraction to see
if she was playing tricks. She did not move so I scrambled
up, drawing her with me. Her heated body gave off a
strange, heady fragrance as if her skin had been an-
ointed with oil. She was panting, drawing deep, heavy
breaths, as if she could not get enough air into her lungs.

Above that heavy breathing I heard something else.
Far away the sound of a horn I had heard once before
when I had been pent with Gathea and death sniffed
about us -- the first time I had sought the aid of the cup.
High and clear that rang out.

The clouds above began to loose a burden of chill rain.
I jerked Iynne to her feet, stooped and caught up with
one hand the cloak to thrust it upon her.

"Cover yourself!" I commanded harshly. That soft and
fragrant flesh in my hold, it brought back that temptation
which the thing in the tower had striven to use as a
weapon against me. Were I to loose a man's hunger here
and now -- that would indeed open a doorway for my op-
position.

The horn sounded closer. I tried to measure the posi-
tion of the shadow force below us. All one could sight
were the blue lights of the barrows -- and not all of those
were lit either. That which had flowed into me when I
looked upon the cup, which had, for the moment, left off
its struggle to become me, supplied a bit of knowledge.
Those gathered below would not dare to climb the Har-
Rests. For good or ill I had made a choice when the cup
came into my hands. The force I had so allied myself
with -- mainly unwittingly -- had protections as well as
dangers. We stood on ground which had its own defenses
and those were not of this world.

Iynne was sobbing again, more in anger, I believed,
than for any other reason. She snatched the cloak, drag-
ging it around her, turned from me, crouching down by
the stone again, peering into the dark, her body tense with
expectation. For the third time the horn sounded -- still
afar. The wind-driven rain pelted us furiously.

Garn's daughter lapsed into sullen silence. I could not
see into the dark valleys between the barrows but I had
sensed that the menace there had withdrawn in part. It
could be that she also knew. In spite of the clouds and
the rain the sky was growing lighter, morning was coming.
The candles became fainter, were gone. Now I could see

that there were deep graven markings on the stone by our
camp -- runes beyond my reading, far different from those
of our clan records. On the upper end of the stone toward
the east -- where it might even be above the heart of him
who was buried here, there was the outline of a cup. In
shape it was like my gift from Gunnora, save that there
was no head upon it. However, above the picture of the
cup there was also set in the stone the antler
"horns" -- these plainly formed the crown of some ancient
lord.

"Dartif Double Sword -- "

I raised my hand, palm bare and out, as I would to one
whom I followed into battle, even though we knew little
of each other.

"You name a name." Iynne, huddled deep into her
cloak, looked at me, still sly and sullen.

"I name a name, I greet a great lord," I replied, know-
ing that that greeting, that naming, came from that other
within me. "This was Farthfell." I looked out over the
crowding of the barrows. "When the Dark Ones following
Archon came down from the north and the war horn
called in all of the Light, there was here a battle of the
last days. They slew -- they died -- their world was fin-
ished. From that warring came no victory -- only memories
of a better time -- "

Those words arose out of me, yet I did not understand
them until I spoke. Now I bowed under a deep sadness
such as I had not felt before -- a faraway sadness like that
which can be summoned by a skilful Bard when he plays
upon the thoughts of men and sings of great deeds and
great defeats which lie hidden in the past, building so the
belief that men of other times were stronger and better
than any who now walk, giving us heroes by which to
measure ourselves -- goals toward which to strive.

For men must have such heroes, even though they look
about them and see only lesser men, mean and petty
things. Yet if they can be led to believe that once there
was greatness then many of them will seek it again. That

is why we can listen to the Bards and some of us weep in-
side, and others feel dour anger that life is not what it
once was. Still there is left the core of aroused memory to
strengthen our sword arms, make us ready to fight when
danger arises even in our own day. It is the gift of the
Bard to tie the past to us, to give us hope. I was no Bard,
I listened to no hand harp here. Still I looked down upon
the semblance of that Horn Crown, knowing that I was
far less than he who lay below, yet I was not altogether
overshadowed by him for I was another man and I must
have within me the seeds of some small gift of service
which was mine alone.

The gloom of the morning lay heavy, but we could see
out over Farthfell and nothing moved among the barrows.
What had crept upon us under the cover of the dark was
gone. I reached a hand down to Iynne to help her to her
feet.

Where we would go I was not sure. The horn had cried
from the west and something pointed me in that direction,
though it was eastward I should have turned to return
Iynne to the dales.

"Where do you go?" she demanded, refusing to move
until I set hand on her arm and drew her with me, half
expecting that I might once more have to straggle with
her and not liking that idea.

"West -- "

She looked beyond me, seeming to consider the land
around Farthfell, which was open enough, though there
were groves of trees here and there. "Have you thrown
the luck stones for the trail?" she asked.

"I have not yet heard my name called in the battle
morn." I returned one folk belief for the other. "Thus I
do not think that this day, at least, I shall die. And while
a man lives, then anything is possible."

"You do yourself no good by holding me. I have those
waiting for me and for the child now within me. Let me
go. I am no longer Garn's daughter -- I am she who will
mother greater than any man now living."

I shrugged. That she nursed some delusion the hag had
set upon her I could well believe. That indeed she was no
longer any maid -- might also be the truth. I only knew
that, for good or ill, our fate lines were woven together
for a space. And that I would surrender her back to the
forces I had fought in the Moon Shrine I would not do.

When we descended from Dartif's resting place I found
deep tracks all about the winding path which had brought
us there. Some were of cloven hoofs, some of great paws,
more were misshapen -- humanlike but with the imprint of
long claws extending beyond, or even booted, yet all so
deeply pressed it would seem that these had been left be-
hind as a warning -- or a threat, insolent in its very open-
ness.

We followed on the path until we came to a stream and
there we stopped and filled the water bottle, ate a little
more from my fast-shrinking supplies. I would have to
turn to hunting this day if we were to have any relief from
gnawing hunger.

Farthfell was a widely open stretch between two
ranges of heights. I thought that those to the east might
be the ones I had crossed before the adventure of the
Black Tower. Viewing the western rises, I did not relish
the thought of another such passage ahead with no more
purpose or guide than an inner feeling that this was the
road we must take.

The rain lightened into a damp drizzle which plastered
clothing to the body but did not beat on our uncovered
heads. Though shelter was offered by any of the copses of
trees I had sighted from the barrow, still I wanted to re-
main in the open. I had met too much peril within just
such stands.

When I shouldered the water bottle and got to my feet
Iynne appeared in no haste to push on. Her hair lay in
wet strings across her head and shoulders and she looked
like a fetch out of an old tale. I wished I had better to of-
fer her in the way of clothing, but one could not conjure a
robe, or a shorter riding dress, out of grass and brush.

"Folly!" Her hands, tight curled into fists, beat to-
gether. "Let me go! You achieve nothing, only raise their
hate against you -- "

"I do not hold you now," I answered in weariness, for
this struggle had become such that I would have gladly
turned and walked away from her, save that I could not.

"You hold me -- with that in you now, you hold me!"
Her voice soared. "May the Death of Kryphon of the
Dart be upon you -- and it!"

As one who is tired to the point of limbs heavy and
body worn, she arose slowly, faced westward, and began
to walk, her white face set in the grimace of one being
herded against her will.

We had not gone more than a short distance from the
stream which we had splashed through before her stooped
shoulders straightened, her head came up, turned a little
to the north. There flowed back into her, so strongly that
I witnessed its coming, new energy. Dropping the cloak as
if the covering of her body meant nothing, Iynne broke
into a run, her slender legs flashing at a sprint like a
horse's gallop.

I paused only to catch up the cloak and then pounded
after her. It seemed that whatever purpose moved her gave
her energy past my own, with the weight of mail and
heavy sword belt upon me. Still I kept her in sight and,
now and then, even gained on her a little. She kept to the
open, luckily, for I feared that she might dodge in among
one of the stands of trees to hide until I had passed her.
Rather she appeared now to have forgotten me altogether
and I could only believe that she was again in a net of
whatever had entrapped her from the first.

The ground was rising again. Iynne took the slope eas-
ily, even leaping now and then across a pocket of earth to
the top of a rock and then ahead. Over the crown of that
hill she went as I ploughed doggedly after. When the
other side of the ridge came into sight I nearly stopped
short as I witnessed what awaited us a little below.

There was that dark-robed crone who had been work-

ing her spells in the Moon Shrine. She was partnered, not
by any human kind. Rather one of the flying monsters
such as I had fought by its lair stood on her left -- this
being a female and much taller than the crone, its wings
fanning the air lazily, but its clawed feet firm planted on
the ground. To her right was another figure -- and at the
sight of that I slowed pace.

It was both man and beast in an evil mixture of the
worst of both. The body from the waist down was cov-
ered by a bristly pelt, the feet were hoofed like those of a
bull. Huge and bulllike also was its masculine organ, so
fully visible that it would seem it flaunted its sex, or was
prepared to use it as a weapon of sorts.

Above the waist that bristle hair thinned, though it still
grew thicker on chest and along the shoulders and upper
arms. The arms themselves were overlong, its huge hands
dangling low. But it was the head and face which had
startled me into slowing pace.

There was a resemblance, a horrible and fearful resem-
blance to the face on my cup. That representation was
noble; this was vile. A single being might have been split
in two, all good in its nature to one side, the evil pulled to
the other. This man-beast was the reverse of the Horn
Lord -- and he was not crowned. No entwined antlers rode
on his thick tangle of curly hair.

His head was thrown back, and now he mouthed a roar
which was part a beast's cry, part laughter of cruel tri-
umph. While the crone by his side flung high her arms,
her fingers moving like a weaver's shuttle. The winged
woman thing smiled, her lips parting to show fang teeth.

Iynne, seeming to see no threat in those before her, was
still running eagerly toward them, though she slowed
when she nearly tripped over a stone set in the grass. I
was too far away to reach her. Taking a chance I flung
the cape after her, aiming as well as I could with that roll
of the dank cloth.

It uncoiled in the air, and I saw that I had done better

than I had hoped I might, for it whipped over her head,
then dropped about her. She took only one more stride;
then, blinded and startled, she fell sprawling, still well
away from the waiting three. I spurted to her side as she
still fought with the cloak.

The laughter of the beast-man died away. What rent
the air -- each word she uttered was like tearing open the
very sky over us -- was the chanting of the crone. She
called on Powers, that much I knew.

The beast-man stood, grinning now, his wide fists
resting on his hairy hips, about him all the confidence of a
bully, a victor in many battles. His confidence was very
sure and his eyes held a glint of red fire as if there were
no natural orbs within those hollows, rather some other
means of seeing the world and bending what he saw to his
own purposes.

Back and forth the winged woman teetered, rising now
so that only her toes were fast upon the ground, her wings
beating with longer and stronger strokes. I felt she was
about to launch herself straight at me and I drew steel.

Seeing the blade bare in my hand moved the beast-
man to more open laughter. I had thrown my left arm
about Iynne, held her as tightly as I could. If she went to
them, if that hag laid hand upon her, I knew that she
would be utterly lost, that this time no power I could
summon would bring her free again. All that was still
good, clean, and human in her would die and what was
left was far better dead. Death itself might be the greatest
gift I could give her now -- when I sensed that they could
take her at then: pleasure. Better far to draw the edge of
my blade across her throat -- 

"Do it, young fool!"

I saw the beast-man's flare of flame within his eye pits.
"Give her to us in blood -- we shall take her more gladly
so."

So their power could reach beyond clean and sudden
death. That was a new and chilling thought. I kept glanc-

ing at him, though I willed myself not to. He was so like
in part to the Horn-Crowned One, yet so dark and lost. It
is human nature to be a mixture of good and bad -- per-
haps what was better in me had been drawn one way by
that image in the cup. Now the lowest inclined to this
being.

"True -- you think straight and true, fool. You are
mine, do I desire it so." He gestured.

Fire burned in my loins. I was caught up in just such a
wave of lust as I had been when the Presence of the
Black Tower had faced me. To toss aside the cloak -- to
take this girl, I held to -- ! I clamped my hand so hard
about the hilt of my sword that the guard brought sharp
pain. It was that small pain which aroused me. I was able
to tear my gaze loose from the hold of his stare.

There was a pulling about me, what the crone wove,
that net of her sorceries, was closing about us both. I
would go to death -- if I was lucky. Iynne to much worse.

Then that strength which had come to me among the
barrows moved. I could accept or deny it. There would be
only this one time of choice at last. If I accepted what it
was I must do so fully. But I was a man. As a human I
went my own way. To allow myself to become a tool of
any power -- good or evil -- was I not then surrendering all
that made me what I was?

Time -- I wanted time! But there was no time left. I
flung up my head, looked up into the dull cloudiness of
the sky which closed us in as if we stood in a dungeon of
a keep. Even all the land about us had taken a grim over-
coating of gray which denied even the fresh green of the
growth, all that I knew as life.

I moistened my lips with my tongue. For a moment
more -- just one moment -- I held on to the Elron I
knew -- the Elron I had always been. Then I called: "Hi,
Holla, Kurnous!"

It was like being caught up and twisted in a mighty
band, my blood sent to run in another fashion, my bones

altered in a tortuous grip. I was filled with an overpower-
ing sweep which shook me from side to side, as if buffeted
by the greatest wind of any storm. Still I did not fall.
There was a sharp, agonizing pain in my head. I could
only think of a place with many doors long closed, all
being battered inwards -- or outwards -- at once. So that
which had been hidden behind them was freed and came
flashing out.

What was I? I could not have said. I saw and heard
things for which no man of my race had words, could
have given name to. The tearing, the rending grew less.
How long had it lasted? It had seemed to my tortured
smaller self to have gone on for days out of time.

Then I was standing and Iynne crouched beside me,
looking up at me with dazed eyes, a thread of spittle run-
ning from her slack, open mouth, while those other three
still fronted me. Only, the winged one had lost her smile,
the beast-man no longer laughed. Rather, he too, showed
snags of teeth, and there was such fibre blazing not only
from his eyes, but the whole of him, as to set the grass
about him blazing, save that it did not.

While she who Iynne called Raidhan stood with her
hands upraised, yet her fingers had stopped their weaving,
hung limply downward, as if all strength had been drawn
out of them. What the three saw in me I could not tell.
Only my heart warmed and leaped. I had thought that in
this surrender I would lose all. Rather all had been drawn
to me. I must make haste now, forget my wonderment at
the richness I had been shown which had been locked
within a child (for all men no matter what the tale of
their years were children if they knew not their strength).
There would be time now to savor all I had gamed -- 
later.

Once more I looked into the curtained sky and called:

"Holla, Kurnous!" Those talents which had been body
bound linked within me, so more than my voice rolled
across the land.

My answer came -- the fluting of the horn -- not in
search, but in a peal of triumph, as if a quarry was not
only sighted, but had been brought to bay. Though I was
no questing hound, rather the sword of the hunter.

Then -- 

He came out of nowhere. No, not out of nowhere, but
from the other place which marched beside this world,
and which in time might become mine also. He was as tall
as Garn, but his mail was a coat of shifting light which
glowed about his body in green, and brown, and blue. I
had been right -- though the head on the cup was but a
very dim imagining of what the Horn-Crowned Lord
was -- still his features were not too far from those of the
beast-man. There were the Light and Dark. And I
remembered in a flash then something Gathea had once
said:

As above, so below. Each Power must have its light
side and the dark -- they were balanced. Save when that
balance was disturbed and one grew the greater, then the
fates -- the need for all things being equal -- took a hand.
The righting of the balance might be bloody and dire, still
it must come within all existing worlds.

The three before us gave no ground. Instead they be-
gan to swell, to take on stature, more and greater sub-
stance -- striving to balance even now against the
Horn-Crowned Hunter.

There was another disturbance of air.

Longing caught at me even to look upon her. Rich gold
and amber light made her garment as she fronted the
crone, her head high as a lady of power giving judgment.
Yet -- there was that in Raidhan which was a withered,
far-off remnant of the same bountiful richness my amber
lady wore as the body she had chosen now to assume.

A third coming -- there was another winged one. But
the brightness of this hurt the eyes. I could not look at
her directly. The air raised by her wings blew against me,
bringing the clear scent of small spring flowers, among
last year's dead leaves.

"As above, so below," I said softly. There was move-
ment beside me. Iynne pulled upward, her hand groping
out as if she sought some support. I took her fingers into
mine. They were cold and she was shivering as one who
stood beset by high drifts of winter's snow.

18.

Thus they fronted each other -- Light and Dark.
Though Iynne and I were not part of this meeting, I un-
derstood, through that path to the past which had opened
within my mind, that this was no new struggle. In this
haunted land there had long been a swing of the balance,
favoring now the Light, again the Dark; and I knew that
the coming of my own people might well set it once more
atilt and so bring forth such warfare as man of the kin
could not conceive.

Gunnora -- her spell held for me; I would ever, I real-
ized, cleave to that which she ruled -- for she had brought
part of me alive. Part of me -- the rest -- that was liege to
Kurnous, the Horn-Crowned Lord. I was sworn to him by
my own desire, and did not regret that choice. In him
there appeared that quality which I had seen in the Bard
Ouse, opener of gates, and in the Sword Brothers. At that
moment I began to wonder if all our journey had honestly
been a matter of choice, or had we, in some manner, been
summoned into this world, that we might supply the op-
portunity to rebalance again the immortal scales.

How did the gifts and talents of these who confronted
each other appear? Did they indeed need others, outside
their own kin and kind, outside their knowledge, to bring
about the proper time and place, the action for rebalanc-
ing? This was largely a forsaken land; had the numbers
of the Old Ones become so few that now they would
struggle against each other for possession of those of our
own blood?

As I thought this there was speech between them. I put
my arm about Iynne, for she had half fallen against me as

if her legs could no longer support her; her strength might
have been sucked away to feed the greedy need for power
that abided here. Raidhan's bony arms dropped to her
sides, hidden in the black sleeves of her robe. The winged
woman's grimace became more pronounced. She spat and
the spittle landed close to the feet of the shining figure
who was her opposite -- whose brilliance was too much for
mortal eyes to pierce.

"It is again the hour -- "

Did that ring in my ears or, rather, did the words mar-
shal within my head? Kurnous spoke as he moved a pace
toward the beast-man. "You have challenged, Cuntif -- so
I answer. Your gate is not about to open again!"

His opponent snarled. "But you have opened gates in
plenty, wearer of horns. Now you bring others into the
game -- was that not forbidden of old?" He pointed
directly at me. "Because the blood has grown thin, the
heroes have all died, you summon these lesser ones and
strive to fashion new liegemen. That is against the
Oath -- "

"Against the oath? When you would have made use of
him -- or your companion would have. Who summoned
him with the cup -- to put that to a foul purpose? We shall
have no devil child born in Arvon!" It was Gunnora who
spoke before her tall companion. "And you, Raidhan -- 
your trap is sprung, your victim has been brought forth
out of that bondage of deceit you wove. She is still a
maid, in spite of your enchantments, and no vessel for
evil."

From the shining one came lilting notes, like the clear
song of a bird -- a wondrous trilling which made the heart
glad to hear. She, who was the gross parody of that
presence, hunched her shoulders, allowed the tips of her
wings to trail among the tall growing grass.

"Yes, the gates have opened," the Horn-Crowned Lord
said calmly. "When there comes a time for the shifting of
forces, then we must summon those who can be aroused.
From these so called there may be a new beginning. We

have been long alone in a deserted land. Not all can we
deal with -- but there is always fertile ground waiting for
the right seed. They shall be given their choice, and that
shall be freely made, as is the right of all living things."

"That girl has chosen!" Raidhan pointed a bone-thin
finger at Iynne.

I tightened my grip more on Garn's daughter. She was
not going to that infamous three.

"Not freely, not with true understanding," countered
Gunnora. "Do you think I do not know how you en-
trapped her? She has not within her that spark which
should have flared of itself for a real choice. Look you, is
that not so?" She turned a little toward the two of us and
held out her hand.

I felt such a hot desire that I thought I might sway as I
stood. But Iynne cried out as one stricken by a sharp
blow, slipped about in my hold, to press her face against
my shoulder. She might be turning from a sight she could
not bear to look upon.

"You would have used her -- not by her true choice!"
There was pity in Gunnora's eyes. "You would have
brought about the Great Secret coupling between your
evil forces and an empty one -- debased that which is of
the Light!"

Once more she looked to the crone. "Three we are,
nothing in the Lore binding can make it otherwise. But
also we are pledged, you, I, Dians, to keep the faith -- or
there will be a reckoning."

"Once before," Kurnous took up that attack of words,
"there was the strife of Light and Dark -- there followed
death, in spite of deeds for good. Harm and destruction
rent wide this land and we were near spent -- near ban-
ished because of it. Freedom of choice must remain."

"I have my place, my power, you cannot deny me!"
flared the beast-man.

"Have I denied that? Freedom of choice. Those you
can openly win -- they shall be your liegemen, for there

shall be that within them which can only answer to your
call. These two have chosen -- "

"She has not! You yourself have said it!" Raidhan
snarled at Gunnora.

"In her way she has. She is not of those who can be
touched because their minds closed to us. Ensorcellment
is forbidden; those who come wish it more than their
other lives. Call her now without those spells!" ordered
Gunnora.

The crone's expression was as thunderous as the
heaviest of storms. I saw her sleeves flutter as if her arms
moved, but she made no ritual gesture. Perhaps she was
forced to accept the truth of what my amber lady said.

"You see?" There was an odd note in Gunnora's
voice -- could it have been a tinge of pity? Did she feel a
little warmth for this twisted, wasted, ugly female crea-
ture? "What was done, must now be undone --  Now!"

There was a force about her, a deepening of the warm
gold light which I saw outline her figure. A point of this
swept out like a well-aimed dart. I saw the crone stumble
back a step. Her face was truly venomous. Her mouth
twisted as if she wished to spit poison in return.

Then her shoulders drooped. If she could have taken
on a heavier burden of years, she would have done so at
that moment. Her hands arose, jerkily. I could sense her
own will fighting a stronger force she could not withstand.
This was not Gunnora's doing -- the division lay within
herself, bringing her back into balance against all her
greed for more power of her own.

She spoke, four words -- those rumbled, thundered. I
felt as if both earth and sky answered with a shifting, as if
two worlds overlapped for the space of a breath. Then we
were once more in a single time and place.

I held -- nothing! Iynne was gone, leaving empty space
between my arm and my body. Then I cried out and
Gunnora looked to me quickly.

"Have no fear for her, she has been returned to her
own people. Nor will she remember. That she does not

carry within her a dread child which would have been a
bane for all of us -- that is because you stood firm. Be
glad!"

"You have not won!" The beast-man roared, his voice
promising blood and savage death. "This is not the
end -- "

Kurnous shook his crowned head. "Neither of us can
ever win. You will continue to try through the years to
gain your will, but there will, in turn, always be one to
stand against you -- the balance will remain."

"Not forever!" The beast-man swung bis arm across his
body in a furious gesture of repudiation.

He was gone!

The crone showed a straggle of yellow teeth in a sneer.
"Not forever," she repeated in turn. Her black sleeves
whipped about her body as if there were a wind blow-
ing, though I did not feel it, and it did not even ruffle
the grass where she stood. Enwrapped in the blackness
which covered her spare body, she dwindled until she was
like a sere leaf which that wind carried away with it into
nothingness.

Now the winged woman gave a harsh cry, unfurled her
pinions, and leaped high into the air. Then she too sped
away across the sky, the shining one flying after her.

The other two turned to face me fully. Enough re-
mained in me of the earlier, more youthful, unfinished El-
ron so that I asked:

"The Dark is then loosed to work its way here? What
then, will be the fate of the clansmen?"

"No land is all light without dark. For if there is no
dark how could the light be judged and desired?" Kur-
nous asked in turn. "As it has been said -- this is a near-
empty land. There will be born among those who came
with you some who are open to us -- light and dark.
Choices will be fully theirs. Others shall remain unknow-
ing, for they will be of another kind and not seekers -- "

I thought now of the presence in the Black Tower and it
seemed to me that good might well be termed evil if such

was allowed to have its way with its foul lures -- without
hindrance of those who might help.

"Not without hindrance -- "

I began to believe that there was no need of speech be-
tween us. This was the lord I had chosen indeed and by
that choice I would live from this hour on. Still there
might come times when I would be troubled, when it
would seem that good could do much and yet did not.

"Power -- it rests upon the balance of power," Kurnous
continued. "Do you not understand that whoever gathers
too much power, be it of the Light or the Dark, tips the
scales and only chaos will fill the land? We learned that
lesson long ago -- and found it hard learning. This land
was once great and strong until the balance was upset.
Rebuilding will take very long -- and many times that will
seem beyond the strength of those who attempt it. They
will try -- for in your people lie the seeds. You will grow
beyond your own belief that such can be achieved."

Some part of me knew the truth of his speech. Yet hu-
man impatience remained.

"My lady Iynne is truly safe?"

"She will awake in the same place from which she was
taken. Raidhan laid there a snare at the coming of your
people. But her purpose was defeated because when she
summoned the cup, you, who had set your mark already
upon it, came also. For this lifetime it is yours," Gunnora
said. There was a difference about her. That overwhelm-
ing impact which she had on me appeared to have ebbed.
I could look upon her and feel content, happy in a way I
had not known before, but that fiery longing no longer
moved me. I saw her smile.

"Not now -- that is a hunger you shall know, yes, but in
the proper tune and with the proper one who will share
it."

"Gathea -- and Gruu?"

There was no smile on Kurnous's face. Rather he
looked at me as if surveying a liegeman about to go into

battle, to make sure that his man was properly armed,
well prepared.

"The cup is yours, the rest must lie with you. Again
free choices -- for you both. Do you choose to face a trial
knowing that may be denied? Or do you accept what will
come -- good or ill."

I did not understand what he would tell me. But I had
an answer for what I wanted most myself.

"Gathea -- Gruu -- they may need me. I would go to
them."

"Very well, so you have chosen. Go then and do what
your heart tells you to do!"

It was no whirlwind which bore me away, nor any
wings set on my shoulders. Rather there came a moment
of dark when I believed I was back with the Presence -- in
that place where no light ever reached. Then came
light -- moonlight once more, as if the day were left be-
hind.

Before me was a Moon Shrine. Not that of the dales,
nor that sinister place in which Raidhan had tried to mus-
ter her helpers for foul witchery. This had a brightness of
pure light -- perhaps another part of the balance -- stand-
ing to equal that other shrine where Iynne had waited de-
foulment and death of spirit.

She whom I sought was before the altar stone, and her
body was silver white, for she had thrown aside all cloth-
ing, bathing in the radiance, drawing to her the power
alive in this place. In the air above the altar stone hung a
column of brilliance, veiling a figure I could hardly see.

Arms upheld, Gathea worshipped, her eyes closed,
yearning open and avid in her face. My fingers went to
buckles, to latchings. I put from me, first the trappings of
war and death, and then all else so that I, too, had only
the light, the light and the cup, and with it, as memory
stirred and impulse ordered, that leaf of the forest woman.

As I moved to the shrine the light gathered thick be-
fore me. I felt it resist me, that resistance also attacking

my mind -- offering a sharp protest, a denial of what I
carried, of what I would do. There arose out of the light,
where he had been lying across the space between the two
pillars before me, the silver body of Gruu. His lips
wrinkled back in a soundless snarl of warning.

Then his eyes, as brilliant as any gems in that strong
light, rested on the cup, before again meeting mine. Out
of what had awakened in me I spoke to him mind to
mind, reassuring that cat, who was more than cat, his
place in my life which would be ours for the future.

"This is my right -- and her choice."

So Gruu moved aside and I entered into the Moon
Shrine.

So much power! It beat against me, I could feel the
cool pressure of it against my skin. My flesh prickled as if
tormented by thorns. I felt an urge to hurl myself forth,
but I took one step and then the next. The cup I held at
the height of my heart, the leaf warm in my other hand.

Gathea turned suddenly, as if some warning or uneas-
iness had struck through the serene sorcery which filled
this place. I saw her eyes widen. She raised a hand to
ward me off.

But I knew what was to be done, I had made my
choice -- hers lay yet before her. I dropped the leaf into
the hollow of the cup. It lay solid for only a second or
two, then it melted, swirling down and then up, to near
fill the cup -- the bounty of nature herself summoned to
bless this hour.

As a liegeman might do in high ceremony before his
lady I went down on one knee. Was there a slight feeling
of pressure on my head? Light indeed -- yet I was ready
for the crown -- though that would not be of my sum-
moning.

Gathea pointed a finger at me.

"Go!" There was force, was it also colored by a faint
fear. That command heightened the pressure on me. If
she held firm I could well be swept from this place, and
neither of us would ever be whole. Always we would

know a lack to keep us hungered until we passed through
the last Gate of all.

"Dians!" When I had not obeyed, Gathea turned again
to the altar, to that pillar of light above it.

I could see, but not clearly (I do not think any man
would ever see that presence as she was). But there was
the shadow of a slender maiden there. The face she wore,
misty as it was, had a kinship to Gathea's -- closed, proud,
keeping to vows which held against the fullness of life.

"Dians!" the girl cried again.

The face grew colder, showing a ghost of enmity. I
remembered out of my newfound knowledge that Dians
could kill a man who tempted or forced one of her
maidens against that maiden's will.

I called upon nothing, no one. This struggle I must win
for myself.

"Dians!" Was there a questioning rather than a fore-
boding in Gathea's voice now?

There formed above the cup, spiraling upward from the
leafs bounty, a golden mist -- the color of Gunnora's har-
vest robe. Then that became amber and there was a
heady fragrance to fill the space between us.

"Dians -- " Gathea did not call; she murmured. Now
she half turned from that silver figure to look at me. I
spoke and my words came from a ritual older than a time
any of my race could reckon:

"The field awaits the seed, the Power of the Lady
opens the field to the seed. There conies the other to
whom is given the duty of awakening -- that the harvest
may follow -- that it may be for the nourishment of body,
mind and spirit."

Gathea came to me, one reluctant step and then an-
other. The struggle was plain to read in her face. I held
the cup, waiting. Choice, the choice was hers -- I would
not bring it to her, she must come to me -- willingly.

For a long moment she stood so close that I might have
stretched out my hand to touch her soft flesh. Only that
was not the way. Yes, the power passed from man to

maid -- from new-made woman back to man. Only when
the pattern was done so would the whole be greater than
the parts. Still, the choice was Gathea's.

"Dians -- " a fleeting whisper. Around us the silver light
pulsed, now hot, now cold, as if the struggle which was
within Gathea was measured thus.

She was looking deeply into my eyes. Nothing passed
between us. I do not know what she sought to see, or if
she could indeed find it. Slowly her hands arose from
where they hung by her sides, and -- Would she dash the
cup from me? Or was her choice otherwise?

Above mine her fingers curled around the bowl of the
goblet, curled and held. Then she lifted it out of my
grasp. As she took it, I stooped a little more and touched
her white feet, the old words ready on my tongue:

"Those who seek shall also find, and rich shall be the
treasure found. In the Maiden lies the Queen, and in the
Lady's name do I salute her, even as I salute thee."

I raised my hands and laid them to where her slender
thighs joined her body:

"In the Maiden awaits the fulfillment of the harvest. In
the Lady's name so I salute thee."

Rising to my feet, I touched her small, firm breasts.

"In the Maiden stands another who cometh forth when
the tune is ripe. In the Lady's name do I salute thee."

Gathea held the cup level now between my lips and
hers. In her eyes there was an awakening wonder -- a
change.

I drank from the cup she proffered, and then she drank
also. Between us the cup was empty and she tossed it
from her. It did not fall to the pavement, rather was car-
ried through the air to stand upon the altar. That pillar of
silver light there was deepening, changing, into rich gold.
I took Gathea into my arms and the kiss I gave her, even
as Gunnora had promised, was to seal my fate and open
the last barrier.

The golden light -- the warmth -- we forgot all else.
What remained was priestess and Lady, man and Horn-

Crowned Lord. From their union would come power
with which much could be wrought. As I took one who
no longer would follow the sterile path of Dians, I felt
that weight settle upon my head -- the crown. Liegeman I
had been, in this hour was I Lord.
Kinless -- clanless -- and crowned!