The Northern Country was a land of frigid wastes and frozen forests in winter, and of vineyards, dusty roads and sweet-smelling fruit trees in the summer. It was a land of cold shores and stormy beaches year-round; a land whose days were wet and windy, and whose nights were haunted by nameless things. Ill fate was promised to all who wandered in the wilderness after the sun had sunk along the Western shores, into the ever-beating waves of the green sea, the Mer Capratel. The Northern Country had long been divided among several clans and city-states, and though the cities wanted little to do with the roaming shepherd clans, they had entered into a close confederation with one another: the port-city of Llynceth and the cliffside fortress of Hammon.
The city-state of Hammon towered over the seaside cliffs it had dominated since time immemorial. The city was vast, her keep a magnificent castle of shining towers and jeweled windows, and her houses and shops sturdy. Her walls were tall and thick, and only within them did Hammon’s people feel safe from the evils that lurked in the wilderness after the sun set.
The people were of strong will and stout of heart, but were also greatly ambitious. They had long felt more love for wealth and power than for their cousins, the Wygar clans that inhabited the nearly all of the rest of the Northern Country. Long ago had Hammon and Llynceth sworn fealty to great Southern kingdom of Lalaia, and had built statues and homages to her Sovereign dynasty, forsaking the ways and the friendship of their Wygar kin. The study of Wygar alchemy had become extinct among them, and the old schools were torn down to make way for shrines of the Oracle of Lalaia, Capratel the Immortal. The soldier-priests of the Oracle had become emissaries of Lalaia to Hammon, and maintained the friendship between Hammon’s Cheiftains and their Sovereign. Many took houses and wives in Hammon, though these were dismissed from their order, and new priests were sent every year.
At the setting of the sun, Hammon’s gates were shut and would open to none. Lights were lit all along the wall, for so the Oracle Capratel had long taught his people, to protect the city from the darkness without. It seemed that darkness grew hungrier each year. Lamps and fireplaces were all set ablaze wherever they could be found in the city. Were a traveller to be so unfortunate as to see the city from afar in the night, it would shine brightly like a beacon of safety. Few lived to see such sights, however, as the creatures that had begun their evening hauntings claimed the lives of more travelers with each passing night. The woods of the Northern Country were cursed, and many saw the advent of the Oracle Capratel and the protection of Lalaia as the only haven from that curse. The farmlands and orchards that stretched beyond the city walls were themselves surrounded with thick wooden fences, and their keepers stayed every night in windowless stone houses with sturdy oaken doors.
It was quite strange, then, that one evening as the sun was setting, a girl named Aelwys slipped through a secret passage out of the city, and made for the forest. She found it safely, certain she had not been detected, and began to creep along overgrown trails. She was seventeen years of age, a girl whose appearance was not extraordinary for a Wygar-kin: thick brown hair woven into braids, of pale skin but dark features. She was slight and lithe of build, which greatly aided her flight through the dense forest. She was afraid and confused, still not wholly certain why it was her life was in more danger within the walls of Hammon than without. Her mother had only told her daughter to flee at once, and to hide in the rocky beaches until she could meet her there.
After a half-hour’s flight, she found the beach her mother had spoken of, the first beach the Old Woodland Road led to. The beach was hemmed with black cliffs, and the sand was grey and quite coarse, more akin to gravel than to the fine sands Aelwys had imagined. She found a place on a large flat rock at the base of the stony cliff, and perched herself on it. It was tall and would afford her a better view to spot trouble, and more importantly, to spy her mother when she arrived. Hours passed, and the sun disappeared into the sea along the cliffs.
The dark water lapped upon the rocks in steady rhythm while the wind carried to Aelwys’ nose the scent of the ocean. She sat, afraid and anxious, awaiting the storm, in the place her mother had promised to find her. A distant thunderclap further weighted the heavy air, and Aelwys wrapped her arms around her knees for warmth. In the alcove of the rock where she sat, she silently prayed for comfort. She felt some relief, if nothing else, in knowing that the creatures that haunted the Northern wilderness dislike the sea very much, and at least she was safe from them.
The speed of the winds strengthened. In a moment, the moonlight faded as clouds rolled in to hide it. The girl sat, impatience and worry fighting for dominance among her feelings, and she could almost smell her own tenseness in the salty odor of the sea. One tiny drop of cold water surprised her as it struck her face, and then another, and slowly a small rain began to pelt her. It was little more than a drizzle, but everything about the weather seemed to promise that it would grow worse.
The brewing storm began to spill over. Though cold and shivering slightly, Aelwys did not stir from where she sat. Mother had promised to meet here there. The lapping of the waves became a crashing as more turbulent winds carried them with greater force. Lashing and recoiling went the sea, swinging herself violently toward the rock upon which the girl sat. Her perch was craggy and tall above the water where the foam of the waves could not reach her, but their steady crashing wracked at Aelwys' calm. In alarm, she looked back to the shore, but the beach was dark and bare.
Yet as she peered towards the land, she thought she could make out a shadow, moving like a person walking, towards her. She dared not move and stared with dread. There were several inky forms she thought she could see in the dim, but one seemed to be in the lead. This figure reached the beach, and began to hurry toward her. Her heart pounded with sudden intensity, and time seemed to freeze until a streak of lightning forked overhead. Suddenly all was illuminated and deafened in thunder. Aelwys could see clearly see Mother steeped in the light of the flash, her long black braids trailing behind her in the wind. All was again dark, but the form that approached now brought with her warmth and relief to Aelwys' still-pounding heart. Within a minute, Mother had arrived, and she embraced Aelwys, melting her fears and filling her with warmth. Mother took her hand and led her to a small cave in the rock side, and they crawled inside where the storm would not disturb them.
Within the cave they sat in a damp darkness, though drier and less frigid than without. The wind whistled across the mouth of the cave with building force, occasionally gusting inside and ruffling their winter clothes. Though it was too murky to see clearly, she saw her mother’s silhouette reach into her bag and withdraw something. She made a strange motion with her hands, and suddenly the cave was flooded with warm light, coming from a bright flame on the edge of a long, very thin wooden rod she held in her fingers. She lay it to the side of a piece of driftwood on the cave floor, which lit surprisingly well, and the flame did not die. She brought the flaming end of the rod to her lips and blew it out, then tossed it, smoking, aside. She then took a good look at her daughter, who was staring with eyes wide at the spectacle of the fire lit from nothing. She chose to say nothing about this, as the night's events had been so overwhelming already to her. It was Mother who first broke the silence:
“We can’t stay here long,” said she. A great thunderclap rumbled, and the rain began to raise a considerable din for its fierceness, but neither could disturb Aelwys now.
Mother removed from her bag a small loaf of dark, seedy bread, which she broke in two, and offered half to Aelwys, who accepted hungrily. She nearly had taken a bite of it before she remembered her manners, and looked to her mother, waiting for her to take the first bite. Mother’s mouth curved into a little smile, but she said nothing. She urged her daughter to eat first.
“Where will we go?” asked Aelwys before taking a bite.
“Somewhere safer than Hammon,” she said, “We have put our backs to our town, I fear. Our destination is an island not far from here, where we can find a ship bound west. There, we will find an embassy of Ceadlund.”
“And when we get to Ceadlund?”
“Well,” said Mother, “when we get to Ceadlund, we will be safe from all of this.”
They ate in silence for a few more moments, when Aelwys asked in a small voice,
“Mother, is it true what the chieftains are saying about you?” Mother hesitated for a moment, and then caught her daughter's eye, and asked,
“Do you think it’s true?”
“I hope it isn’t,” Aelwys said earnestly, “they really aren’t telling the truth, are they? They can’t be! But then,” she paused, not wanting to speak, but wanting much less to hold back her worry, “where did you learn to do the things you can do? The fire! You lit it without stones or kindling!”
“Aelwys,” Mother said calmly, “I am not a witch.” She reached again into her bag and removed a number of rods like the one she had ignited so mysteriously. “There is no magic in this. It's simply a cunning work of alchemy our Wygar friends taught me.”
“But the chieftains said that the Wygars are a clan of witches,” Aelwys said, frowning, “and that no good can come from them.”
“The chieftains have said quite a lot of nonsense these days,” Mother mused, replacing the rods in the bag, “and they don't seem to be able to recognize friends of old from the demons that they now fear so much. The Wygars have given much to you and me, including the bread you are eating.” At this, Aelwys looked queerly at the bread in her hand as if she suspected it might be poisoned. Mother laughed, and Aelwys began to feel that she was being silly. Perhaps Mother was right.
“Aelwys, do you remember when we you were younger, we spent the Dyreceald festival with your Uncle among the Wygars?” Aelwys nodded. “Did you see any evil among them?”
“I don't remember,” she confessed.
“Because you did not see any. You would remember if you had seen evil.”
“I suppose,” Aelwys said. She did not want to show how worried this had made her, so she tried not to show how much Mother's words had eased her mind.
“They are our friends,” Mother said, “they helped us escape the Sovereign's officers, they gave us this food and a few trinkets to make easier our journey. Don't you forget, Aelwys, your kinsmen rank amongst the Wygars.”
“I suppose,” Aelwys said again, feeling weary and spent, now her mind was somewhat more at rest. Mother bade her sleep and gave her her thick woolen shawl for a pillow.
“Won't you sleep, too?” asked Aelwys.
“No,” said Mother, “I will keep watch.”
The next morning was bitterly cold and icy outside the cave, the air so frigid and gusty it felt like a solid substance oppressing those unfortunate enough to be caught in it. Aelwys, however, awoke quite warm and dry inside the cavern, and saw to her astonishment the fire still burning; the kindling Mother had placed there in the night seemed to be entirely unconsumed.Her nostrils filled with the smell of the fish stew in the kettle Mother was holding over the fire. Now that she felt rested, warm, and safe, an overwhelming hunger seemed to gnaw at her, as Mother had correctly guessed it would.
“We must empty this kettle,” said Mother, “Because I do not think we will be able to risk another fire until we arrive on the island.”
“How will we get there?” Aelwys asked, eagerly reaching for one of the vessels in Mother's bag to fill with stew, “And how far away is it?”
“The island itself is a few miles by sea,” she said, “And it should not be difficult to sail there from Llynceth. But we must be careful not to be recognized in Llynceth, for it is still within the chieftains' land. We will be safe only after we cast off. However, Winter is coming fast, and we shall have to find quarters on the island or else find the money for passage on a winter vessel. Now, eat; we must make ready for the journey. We cannot travel any more by night, so we must prepare to travel by day.”
After the kettle had been cleaned and the fire put out, they set about disguising themselves. They had already come dressed in the rough woolen coats about the inner linen robes of the Wygars, and so Mother and Aelwys began to braid one another's hair into thick locks and darken their eyes after the manner of their cousin clan. They covered their heads in thick woolen shawls with beaded fringes, and donned hoods and cloaks of crimson-dyed skins to repel the rain, and after a minute or two basking in the warmth of the cave, they set out into the blasting wind and rain, which though only drizzling only was made a hail by the gusts of wind.
Eking out their way through the warring wind, they followed an old dirt path through the seaside crags, weaving through and over the smoothed black stones that crowned the shoreline, broken incrementally by a wide beach. They were not the only travelers, they soon discovered, for they saw several signs of encampments amongst other caves and rocks. Here and there a thick tent of skins squatted in the more sheltered nooks in the rocks, which yet formed smooth, black cliffs that towered overhead. They received short respites from the brunt of the weather when a pillar or a wall of rock blocked the eastern side, from whence came the sea-breeze, though such moments were so short-lived that Aelwys could little enjoy them.
After a few hours' walking, very much to their relief, the rain abated entirely, though the cold, dry wind yet buffeting and shoving the two of them as they slung each stride ahead of the last. Aelwys’ heavy mantle served to warm her chest and her back well enough, but her limbs soon grew weary with cold. The wind readily pierced the skirts of her garments, and it soon seemed that her legs could not carry her quickly enough toward the promise of warmth and rest. Distant yet seemed such a promise, she bemoaned to herself, though her mouth stayed shut fast. She knew she could not burden Mother's ears with her complaints, however exhausted she may be. In the face of the numbing wind and frigid earth, however, she couldn't help but look anxiously to Mother.
Mother's face was set and determined. Unflinchingly she pressed forward, standing erect with a sort of defiant majesty. She seemed to convey a feeling of strength and endurance to Aelwys with her unflinching posture and tirelessness. Facing the buffeting wind and deafened by its gustling, Aelwys squinted her eyes and clenched her jaw resolutely. She would not be bested by the elements that beset them.
* * *
They first became alarmed when the din of approaching hoofbeats began to be audible above the wind and the distant crashing of waves. They turned to see, and their hearts sank as they beheld the three men riding on the backs of caparisoned horses, galloping towards them with great haste. In a few moments, they overtook and surrounded them. The men wore masks and cassocks, white and unblazoned, as were the caparisons that hung like cloaks about their horses, easily identifying them as soldier-priests of royal employ. Their pale lances pointed skyward, flying the red herald of the chieftains' coat-of-arms. Aelwys' heart was pounding: someone must have told the chieftains of their flight. They had been caught. One handed his lance to the man at his right, and dismounted with an unruffled grace, as if he could not feel the blasting winds that dashed his cassock about his thin form. He politely removed his mask to address the two women, and the face he revealed seemed one of refined manners. Aelwys was no longer surprised to see a face clean-shaven as his was, as this had become the fashion of the chieftains in recent years. It served all the better to reveal that his face was pressed into a smooth, serene expression from which his eyes regarded them almost hungrily. As with his two companions, his thin blond hair worn in Empirical fashion identified him as an Easterner.
“Wyn claetyrch!” he said loudly to be heard over the wind. Aelwys was offended for a moment that he should greet them in the Wygars' tongue, and had half a mind to answer him in Vulgar before she remembered that they had dressed as Wygars.
“Wyndaecht,” Mother quickly answered, “How can two humble maids be of service?”
“We are but humble priests of the Oracle,” he said in a voice that drowned the howling wind, “and we ask only that you point us in the right path! We seek a band of pilgrims from the southern countries, who we fear have lost their way. We last saw them on this road headed toward Llynceth. Perhaps you have seen our friends?”
“A traveler here and there,” Mother said, “but none foreign to this land, and never more than one or two at a time. I fear that today we cannot be of help.”
“No matter,” said the priest with a smile, “We will continue our search along this road until they are found. Although” he bowed his head slightly, “We have been riding hard since early this morning, and both we and our horses ride with parched throats. Have your Wygar kin a camp near here?”
“They have,” Mother replied with a smile, “in the mountain valley perhaps six miles southward you will find a sizable encampment, and certainly they will have water to spare.”
The priests eyes met Mother's, and for a tense moment it seemed a shadow passed across his face. But as quickly as it had come it was gone, and his smiler grew wider and his face grew tauter in mock embarrassment, saying,
“Forgive us, dear woman, but surely you know we are strangers in this country, sent to minister to the people of Hammon – and your own tribesmen, of course! – from the Oracle's homeland, far from here. How may we find this valley?”
“Of course,” Mother said, “Forgive my rudeness. Along the road, heading back toward Hammon, there is a small path leading southward – you couldn't have passed it more than ten minutes ago. Follow this path and it will lead you to the mountain pass.”
The priest bowed, his white robe billowing wildly in the wind, and replaced his mask, mounting his horse again.
“Many thanks,” he bellowed over the din of the gust, and the small party of soldier-priests returned the way they came.
Mother began to walk again, noticeably faster. Aelwys followed her, but soon found it difficult to keep pace with Mother's suddenly quite long strides. Within a few moments, the three men were out of sight. Mother took Aelwys by the hand and began to stray from the path, leading her towards the sea, off the sandy road and across black, craggy rocks until they reached the beach. Ahead, the road began to rise up a rocky cliff side to which the beach ran parallel, the smooth sands punctured greatly by extensions of the smoothed stone formations. Along this new path they began to run, Mother not saying a word nor allowing Aelwys to rest. They ran heedless of the waves that began to lap at their feet and soak their boots, heedless of the rocks that tore at their robes and of the rain that began again to fall. The sudden urgency frightened Aelwys, and she wondered desperately what had happened when they had met the priest that had affected Mother so. Aelwys' lungs burned and her cloak began to seep water into her clothes and down her back, miserably throwing one sodden foot in front of the other to follow Mother.
Suddenly, Mother seemed to disappear into the rock of the cliff, and on instinct Aelwys managed to follow her. Again they were within a cave, still wet with rain and sweat, and they collapsed to their knees, heaving for breath. Their belongings were discarded close to the mouth of the cave, and there were surely never two women so miserable in all of the chieftains' land, but at least they were safe from the weather that howled without. In a few minutes they had caught their breath, more or less, and they began to take stock of their surroundings. The cavern was sizable, and they could not see the back of it, while the entrance was a squat, natural portal of stone. The cave ceiling was too shallow for them to stand up, but the expanse was sufficiently comfortable and sandy, and, most of all, dry.
Mother removed her cloak and hood, and removed Aelwys', and placed them beside her bag. She then picked up her bag and removed from it a small wooden vessel, which she unstopped. A bitter smell assaulted Aelwy's nostrils, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Mother laughed and poured a small amount on the lining of their cloaks, and then pressed the lining against the top of the cave mouth, effectively blocking the portal with their cloaks and plunging them into darkness. The noise of the wind was also greatly reduced, and after a moment, there came a hiss and another unnatural fire was lit and the end of another rod. Soon there was a fire going, and they greatly enjoyed its warmth as they began to dry off.
“Aelwys,” said Mother, “We can no longer travel by day.” Aelwys did not like this news at all. The stormy skies and berating winds were hard enough to bear with the sun high; how were they to walk that path in the darkness and heightened cold?
“Why?” She asked, “What did the priest say to threaten us?”
“Every word he said,” replied Mother. “He is not looking for pilgrims; he is looking for us! Us and the others who fled Hammon last night. Even the Sovereign's men know the road to Llyceth well. They have used it frequently since they sanctified their Shrine at that place. They know that there is a river only a few miles ahead of where we stood, if they wanted so badly to drink and water their horses.” Aelwys sat for a moment as she comprehended what Mother was telling her.
“There is no Wygar camp near here, then?” she asked. Mother shook her head.
“Last night, before I came to find you at the beach, one of the Wygars was caught helping the last of us out of the city. The only Wygar camp near here was the one in the hills outside the city. We are fortunate: none but the Wygars themselves know where the other clans make camp, and I learned from them that we can expect to find no camps this far east, which the soldier-priests certainly don't know. We may have fooled them for a few hours, but surely they will be back, and they will not be so polite when they find us, I think.”
* * *
The rest of the afternoon was spent in relative silence. Mother said little as she busied herself about finding rocks and things to disguise the entrance to the cave, that their precious smokeless fire not be seen from the outside. Aelwys meant to ask Mother about the fire, and how it gave warmth and light, but no smoke. She refrained, however, for she had never learned a thing about alchemy – the Chieftains frowned upon the study despite their beloved Sovereign's practice of it – and she was quite sure she would not understand any explanation of it at any rate. She wondered what Mother was planning, certain that her silence meant she was lost in her thoughts, as she often was. She herself dreaded to think of what they were to do now. From time to time, she peeked through the curtain that Mother had made of their cloaks, and saw how quickly the stormy sky grew blue and laden with dusk. As the rocky beach without the cave darkened, Aelwys felt increasingly anxious. She had been taught from a young age not to wander about at night, and certainly to never leave the walls of Hammon after the gates were shut fast.
Back in Hammon, she recalled, the streets were always lit with lanterns, which were hung from a post above nearly every doorway or overhanging. The people of Hammon feared the dark so greatly that sailors would watch for the city to get their bearings at night, as it sat poised and ever illuminated upon the cliff-top, towering over the sea and visible for miles around. So different was that from their present circumstance, she thought, huddled in a cave in the cliff-side and hiding their strange fire from the eyes of those that might be searching for them. Mother looked to Aelwys and said,
“Surely, the soldier-priests will either have set up camp for the night. They will not dare to search for us in the darkness.”
“Mother,” said Aelwys, her heart beating heavily, “it isn't for naught that even the Sovereign's men fear to travel by night.”
“It isn't,” Mother said calmly, “but we haven't any other choice. Would you rather we be captured and sent back to Hammon to be hanged like those who were caught escaping before?” Aelwys's blood ran cold. The full gravity of their situation began to sink in.
“To the Chieftains,” Mother continued, “we are now guilty of treachery and witchcraft. Now, we haven't much time before the fullness of nightfall. Gather your things. And don't worry quite so much,” she smiled. “We'll arrive safely in Llynceth in three days' time, I promise you.”
* * *
The storm had largely receded by the time they set out. They removed their cloaks from the cave-mouth and donned them against the subdued chill of the evening. By the light of the pale moon they made their way along the sandy ridges of the beach side, backtracking the way they had come in their flight, to find again the road to Llynceth. In the half hour or so it took them to begin again their journey from whence they had fled, the steady crashing of waves and the much calmer ocean breeze greatly set Aelwys at ease. The moonlight was bright enough to cast sharp shadows everywhere, dappling the rock and sand in black and silver; at first Aelwys stared into each inky shade as though it might hide any number of horrors that would be unleashed at any moment, but with time she began to feel more at ease. She was much rested from their afternoon of hiding, and their new pace, though brisk, was much more manageable without the frigid wind and rain pelting them incessantly.On they walked in silence. Continually the crashing of the waves kept a sluggish rhythm for them to march, as their path stretched ever further before them. Aelwys' eyes grew more accustomed to the dark, and with the moon shining so brilliantly between the inky clouds, it felt to her almost like walking on a morning just after snowfall at the first sign of sunlight: everything was eerily silent, yet serene and shimmering. However more calm she felt than at first, she did not quite know how she liked this strange version of the world.
After they had walked for some time, they came to the stream Mother had mentioned earlier. The path led to a small stone bridge, beneath which the dark water flowed out towards the nearby sea. It was when Aelwys beheld this bridge that the feelings of unease came flooding back to her.
The moment she spotted it, she felt a small shock of horror; before she could identify it, it had disappeared. She thought she had seen a shadowy form at the base of the bridge ahead of them, but it was nowhere to be found. She shook her head and wondered if perhaps her eyes were not so well adjusted to the dark after all, if the moonlight was playing tricks on her eyes.
Again!
She saw the shadow in the exact corner of her left eye, the height of a man; she whipped her head around to see nothing but the rocky hillside. She felt her heart begin to throb, and she looked toward Mother, who was staring straight ahead and walking as though nothing had happened. Perhaps Mother had not seen anything.
They were at the bridge. Fear gripped Aelwys’ mind as she set her foot upon the stone, wondering if there might be something beneath the bridge, waiting for them to tread above it before it emerged again from the shadows. Yet she and Mother walked it unperturbed.
They continued to walk the path on the other side. The cliff side to their right grew quickly steeper, and the hill to their left grew quickly rockier.
There it was again! She jerked her head to look, and only thought she saw two shadows merge into one, beneath a rock. She reached out to hold Mother's hand, and was surprised when Mother squeezed hers back. She looked again to Mother, who, this time leaned toward her, and whispered,
“Up ahead.”
Aelwys now looked forward, and her heart nearly failed her when she saw a form that did not fade away. Some forty paces ahead was a cloaked figure, unmistakeably human, and walking at a slow, methodical pace. She and Mother picked up their own pace, and they began to walk very quickly toward the person. As they drew nearer, the cloaked one sensed their approach, and turned to face them, a sword suddenly in its hand, glinting in the faint light.
Mother drew up her hands in a token of peace, and stood quite still. Aelwys followed suit, her mind frozen in fear. They spent a tense moment regarding one another, the two maidens with their hands stretched high and the hooded being whose sword did not waver an inch.
“Wyn claetyrch!” Mother called out in loud voice, shattering the silence and giving Aelwys a start. The cloaked on regarded them for a moment yet, and then they heard a man's baritone reply,
“Wyndaecht!” The stranger did not lower his sword. “What be the business of Wygar-kin, alone in this country and at this unholy hour?” Mother let out a laugh, and replied,
“I should ask the same of you!” Still the sword did not lower.
“Draw nearer to me,” said the man, “That I might see you clearly.”
Mother took Aelwys' hand again, and they began to walk towards the man and his sword. As they approached, they saw that the cloak about his shoulders was very much like their own, and that from his hood hung matted and braided hair.
His empty hand reached into his cloak, and out it darted, tossing forth a powder that suddenly ignited with a loud crack, bathing them in white light as the blazing cinders floated to the earth and extinguished. In the light, they saw the man's face framed with thick blond locks, blackened eyes above a braided beard that hung a little ways from his chin. He was unmistakeably a Wygar. After they were again plunged into renewed darkness, he finally lowered his sword, and said,
“Well met!”
“I cannot say how relieved I am to meet with a friend on this road!” Mother said, and the Wygar man stepped forward to take her in a strong embrace, and did the same to Aelwys. He smelled of woodsmoke and of the sweet spices from which the Wygars made their hot ciders, reminding her of that happy Dyreceald she spent with her uncle years ago.
“Help!” came a pathetic voice suddenly, seemingly from behind a clump of pine trees near the path on the hillside. “Please, help me!” The voice was weak, neither male nor female, and the sound of it caused the hair on the back of Aelwys' neck to stand on end. The three of them looked to the clump of trees. The pines were still save for a breeze that stirred them, and no sound but the crashing of the waves was audible.
“Help me!”
Again, in the very corner of Aelwys' left eye, she thought she saw someone standing on the bridge they had just crossed. She whipped her head around to see, and again found it empty.
“Please help –”
“Who is there?” cried the man, cutting the voice off as it spoke. It fell silent. Nothing moved but the wind through the needles of the pines. And then it returned, louder and shriller,
“Help me please help me please help!”
Movement inside another nearby clump of trees caught Aelwys' eye, but again she looked and saw nothing. The light was too dim to be certain she had seen anything.
“Please please help me!”
“Pay it no heed,” said the man, “Let us leave this place, and quickly.”
They began to continue their way down the path. The voice grew louder and more desperate.
“Please help me help me please help!”
Aelwys looked back to the pines from which the voice came, and still nothing moved within them.
“What's happening?” she dared to ask.
“The things in the night, the things that the Sovereign's men have taught us to fear so much,” said Mother, “They want to get us off the road.” Another sound cut through the air, a horrible sort of song whose tune was familiar to Aelwys. She remembered hearing it sung when she was younger, in the schools at nightfall when the city began to light their lamps and lock the gates.
The moon hath long risen; thou goest anon?
The curtain of night hath been unpinned and drawn;
The things in the darkness have naught to feast on!
The voice was sickly sounding, and eerily inhuman. Aelwys dared a glance backward to see shadows dart out of sight and back behind trees and rocks along the pathway behind them.
The shades that see many, no eyes have laid on!
So late be the hour, and where hast thou gone?
“I'm taking you to a safe house,” said the man as they walked ever more swiftly, “We have built several in the past few weeks to make easier the journey to Ceadlund. These things cannot reach us there.”
“Cannot reach us, those things!” Came another nasty voice from beneath the drop of the cliff to their right, “Cannot reach us in the safe house!”
“We will have to leave the path to get there,” the man warned, “But we mustn't stray too far; we are being hunted.”
“Can those things harm us?” Aelwys asked, her voice quivering.
“They can,” the man said simply. There were no more questions. Aelwys wished she could close her eyes and run until she were safe, but she knew that she could not. She would have to endure this.
“We aren't far,” the Wygar said, “but they are closing in on us. We can no longer risk walking without a light. We must signal those at the safe house.”
His left hand darted again into his pouch and produced a small candle lantern. He also produced one of the small rods Aelwys had seen Mother use, and with it he lit the candle, which burned with surprising warmth and brightness. The moonlight was now fragile and became darkness compared to the bright lantern that now blazed as it hung from the chain in the Wygar's hand. As they walked, he swung the lantern back and forth, the lantern slowly gaining speed and breadth in its swinging, until it made a full turn, when the man caught it by the top and held it still. Aelwys was amazed that the candle did not go out.
Aelwys still kept a wary eye for moving shadows, but they were too hard to distinguish from the writhing shadows the lantern cast on their surroundings. Her heart pounded at every flicker of the flame that caused the shadows to leap, and every now and again she thought she could catch snatches of words from further behind them.
“Help... please... safe house... cannot reach us...”
In the distance ahead, out of the dimness that now engulfed them, there appeared a light. It, too, began to swing back and forth, and made the same full circle.
“Friends are waiting for us,” said the man, “Let us not keep them waiting for long.”
“Not keep them waiting...”
They walked with all the haste they could muster without breaking into a run, Aelwys' heart throbbing so loudly in her ears that she could hardly make out the snatches of voices behind and around them, the light before them growing brighter and larger as they drew near.
Something cold brushed Aelwys' hand, winning a shriek from her. She spun around to find the empty landscape watching her, nothing discernible in the murkiness. She could have sworn it felt like a hand trying to grab her own. She turned back around and quickly caught up with Mother and the Wygar, walking as closely to Mother as she could get. After what must have been only a few minutes but what felt like hours, the light from the further lantern and the Wygar's merged into one circle. The lantern hung unattended from a groove in a rough wooden shaft thrust into the ground, before what appeared to be the remains of a ship.
“Take the lantern,” said the Wygar man to Mother, “and the shaft with it.” Mother did so, and they approached the mossy hull, near a spot where there was a large hole in the barnacle-encrusted boards. The man rapped on the wood in an odd pattern, and after a moment, a strange sort of door opened from within the hole, and a Wygar woman appeared, beckoning them to follow her back inside. In they went, Aelwys first and the Wygar man last, until they all found themselves inside a very large, warm room, a sanctuary established in the belly of the old ship.
The room was quite spacious and very oddly-shaped, with six or seven distant corners, but comfortably furnished and well-lit. A fire blazed beneath a small cauldron, in a crude-looking fireplace that haphazardly occupied one of the smaller sections of the wall. There were beds stacked atop one another up to the roof, three or four high, such that the room could sleep more than a hundred people, and two couches flanked an old table in the center of the room. In several of the beds lay people, most of them Wygars, marked by their kinky blond hair and the thick woolen cloaks they wrapped themselves in. Two small children slept on a blanket in front of the fire, a bit of forgotten bread clutched in the nearest child's hand. The scent of spices and apples emanated from the cauldron, tantalizing Aelwys’ nose.
This was the safehouse. She let out a sigh as relief washed over her, followed by a wave of exhaustion that lured her to the nearest couch. She collapsed in an unceremonious heap, without any regard whatsoever to manners or etiquette, and fell fast asleep.
She did not know how long she had slept, but when she awoke, the room was considerably darker than before. The fire in the fireplace had been extinguished, and there were only candles alight within, the waxy smoke escaping through gaps between the planks that made up the ceiling. Pale light shone through these gaps, suggesting daylight without. She saw that the door through which they had come was open, and that it was made of sturdy planks and fitted with several thick deadbolts, quite different from the frail, decayed-looking construction of the ceiling and the some of the walls. Where the walls and ceiling appeared weak, stronger beams and planks had been nailed into place, giving the walls the appearance of a patched-up old cloak. It looked to have been built with haste, but careful to offer protection to those within. Few of those who had been asleep the night before were inside, except for the Wygar man who had taken them to this place, and Mother, who slept on the couch opposite Aelwys. The man was sharpening his sword with a smooth stone, when he noted that she had awoken. His broad features wrinkled into a smile, the warmth of which was somewhat driven away by his darkened face paint about his eyes.
“Good morning,” he said genially.
“Good morning, sir,” she replied, now somewhat abashed by her lack of composure the night before, “Though I beg your pardon. We didn't even ask your name last night.”
“Edyl Causyth, at your service,” he said with a slight bow of his head, “and I can hardly blame you for not asking. The hidebehinds aren’t the worst things that roams in the night, but they are the most common, and they spook even the soldier-priests and magistrates with their companies of armed men.”
“Hidebehinds?” asked Aelwys, “Is that what was hunting us?”
“It's what we call them,” said Edyl, “No one has ever seen one. Not straight on, as you see me, at any rate. Nasty things, that try to lure travelers off the road and into the shadows, where they attack in packs.”
“So the Sovereign's men weren't telling lies,” she remarked, “Demons really do haunt the night.” Edyl gave a small laugh, and shook his head.
“They tell enough truth to suit their purposes,” he said, “But they bring as much trouble with them as protection. Yes, the further away you stray from the beaches and the ocean, the more dangerous the wilderness can be. The most we encounter here are simple hidebehinds – if a fellow isn't careful, he could join those foul things for supper – although the true danger lies beyond the mountains to the south and to the east.”
“Why do you call them hidebehinds?” she couldn't help but ask him.
“Did you notice how whenever you think you see one in the corner of your eye, there's never anything there when you turn your head?” The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she recalled this.
“Yes,” she said with a shudder.
“Dreadfully afraid of being seen for some reason,” Edyl said, “And it'd be my guess that one by one, they're weak and cowardly. They are hungry, though, and so they hunt in packs, and use cunning to separate parties and draw them away. I don't know how much of our speech they understand, and I don't care to find out. Just don't pay any heed to any voice you hear coaxing you to help or accept help or anything of the sort. You remember this, now, Aelwys, and don't ever leave the path or your company.” Aelwys looked at him queerly.
“How do you know my name?” She asked. He hadn't asked her, and so she hadn't told him.
“Your Mother told me,” he said simply, “And that her name is Aesydora. She's a strong woman; she'll get you both to Llynceth, and no doubts. Once again, never leave your company or the path while you're still on land. Those things won't so much as touch you unless you do something foolish like that.” It felt like the pit of Aelwys' stomach sink like a pit of quick-sand.
“But one of them did touch me,” she said, holding up her hand, “Just there, along the edge of my hand.” Edyl was silent, staring at her hand as though it were some nasty thing from underneath a stone. After a moment, he said,
“They must be getting hungrier.” He sat silent for another moment, then continued, “I couldn't say how much longer we can keep this safehouse open. My wife and I watch it and patrol the outlying paths for lost travelers like yourselves. Many of the Wygar clans are on the move. We have called a Dire Counsel in Ceadlund, across the northern sea. Never before have we congregated together on another shore, but between the Sovereign and the hauntings that grow worse each month, it must be so. To prepare for this, we have set up several safehouses of this sort along the trail, each a day's journey away from the last, until Llynceth and her neighbouring villages. The last of us are supposed to set sail in three weeks' time.”
“But aren't you afraid that the Sovereign's men will notice so many Wygars?”
“Thus far, they seem glad to be rid of us. Trouble arises when they feel we are bringing away those who are not of our clan, people like yourself and your mother. You see, there is a rumor that there is a new Oracle near Ceadlund.”
“A new Oracle?” said Aelwys, incredulously, “Impossible! The Oracle has dwelt in the great Imperial city for millenia! He was the one who taught us to beware of the demons in the night, and how to ward them away from our houses, was he not?”
“Indeed,” Edyl replied calmly, “That is true. I don't know much about it at all, I admit, but word in the taverns and in the seaports is abuzz with talk of this other Oracle. Some curious folk notice our flight to Ceadlund and hear about this pretender to the Holy Throne, and feel something big is about to happen. Some folk fear the Sovereign, and begin to lose faith in the Oracle that works so closely with his Highness.”
“Why, that's blasphemy!” cried Aelwys, cheeks burning. She had never heard such talk back in Hammon, and she was ashamed to hear it here.
“That's exactly why the soldier-priests aren't keen to let anyone who isn't Wygar by birth to leave for Ceadlund,” said Edyl.
“Surely they can't think that Mother and I—”
“They do, Aelwys,” came Mother's voice from the bed. She was now sitting up, looking regal as ever, and listening intently to their conversation, “They do.”
“But why?” She asked, flustered.
“There is much you need to know,” said Mother, “But now is not the time. All will be explained when we arrive in Ceadlund. Until then, know that our lives were in danger in Hammon. We didn't flee to defy the Oracle, you understand?”
“I do,” she replied.
“Good,” said Mother, “Now you should have some of last night's cider and something to eat.”
After Aelwys had a cup of the now-tepid cider, though no less delicious, and a few pieces of bread before her, she ventured to ask what had become of the others who had been inside the night before.
“Some have gone on to Llynceth,” said Edyl, “And others are foraging for berries and herbs. I should advise you to do the same,” he added, “For the forest at the foot of the mountains is rich in fruits these days, as no one dares venture there any more. It's much safer during the day. Other food will be hard to come by on the road, except for the last safehouse before Llynceth.”
“How many hours of sunlight have we got left?” asked Mother.
“Perhaps six,” guessed Edyl.
“Then I'll go and gather berries,” Mother said, as she hopped out of her bed and picked up her bag.
“I'll go, too,” said Aelwys, but Mother shook her head.
“No,” she said, “You stay here. The soldier-priests are looking for two false Wygar women traveling together. I'll be back within an hour or so.” Mother pulled the cloak over her shoulders and drew the hood over her head, and set out.
The afternoon passed without incident, and at Edyl's encouragement, Aelwys joined Collin, one of the younger Wygar boys, and they set about to patrol the immediate area. She stepped out to view their surroundings in the light of day, and was surprised at how pleasant it all seemed. The horrors of the night prior seemed little more than nightmares in the wake of the sunlight which poured down on them between the sparse clouds that thinly veiled the sky. The barnacled wreck lay half-decayed along the foot of a small cliff, draped in patches of moss which hung like tattered banners. Clusters of tall pines hid it from view of the main road, though there was an old trail that veered off the road and wound its way to the wreck, and Aelwys could only assume that this was the trail they had taken the night before. Beyond the path the rocky earth fell away, and beyond the edge of the chasm, the crashing waves heralded the sea that lay below. Behind, the road negotiated between the pine forest that crowned the inland hills and the ever-sheerer cliff that held the ocean at bay, up to the stone bridge where the first hidebehind appeared. Ahead, the road forked around either side of a jagged stone hill, which thrust heavenward like a great thumb; to the left it veered through a denser cluster of pines, and to the right it wove along the cliff. Several other hills were visible behind the first, and it was seemed that the two roads might not meet again for some distance.
Young Collin explained excitedly to Aelwys that the left road was old and neglected, and the hamlet that lay that way was full of peculiar people who did not trade much or even speak to many outsiders. The Wygars had some doings with them from time to time, but their lot preferred to remain locked inside their great stone walls amongst the hills, especially in recent times.
“How did the ship ground herself all the way up here?” Aelwys asked Collin, who seemed to take great pride in his familiarity with the lore of the haunted cliffs.
“Dear lass,” said he, “Have you not heard the stories of the war between the two Sovereigns?” The manner in which he spoke was almost comical, as though he were a charming lord and she were a fluttering admirer.
“I cannot say I have,” she confessed, suppressing a smile, “Was it long ago?”
“Very,” the boy answered gleefully, “So very long ago! A great long time ago, there came an armada from across the sea, led by a man who dared call himself King of this land!”
“The audacity!” she laughed. His eyes were wide and his face grew grim.
“Aye, that's what it was! Audacity. So the battle began! We Wygars were better-liked back then, and we also fought! The Sovereign used our learnings of alchemy to fight the Usurper and his ilk! In that day, when we Wygars were respected by other folk, we held libraries and even a university where the arts of alchemy were taught and cherished. Some great work of alchemy was used to scatter the Usurper's armada! Some vessels sank to the bottom of the ocean, others disappeared altogether, and this vessel – she was tossed like a doll to her sandy grave upon this very land.”
Collin fell silent and watched her anxiously with a broad grin on his face, as if awaiting applause. Aelwys sat agape, both amazed by the story and by the uncannily impressive language that issued from the boy's mouth.
“How do you know all of this?” she asked.
“My father taught me!” he said excitedly. “We learn the stories of our fathers exactly as our fathers tell them! I learned almost every word of that one. I couldn't remember some of the words, but I tried to make up some new ones. Did you like it?”
“Very much,” said Aelwys honestly, “Your people have incredible stories!”
“Most other folk don't think so,” he replied, “But I'm quite happy that you do! Wait.”
They paused. They could hear a new sound above the steady rhythm of the sea pounding herself against the stony cliff, though the sound was very unclear. Still the sun shown through the clouds, and the afternoon appeared peaceful, yet as the sound grew clearer, a great chill seized Aelwys' spine. Heavy hoofbeats. Both she and Collin stared down the road toward Hammon, and saw in the distance a great plume of dust announcing the approach of many riders.
“To the safehouse!” cried Collin, his bravado gone. They ran as fast as their legs could carry them toward the old wreck. When they arrived, they found Edyl ushering in those returning from foraging.
“Edyl,” cried Aelwys, “Riders are coming!”
“They are,” aknowledged the man, “And you’d best get inside with the others. Your mother’s waiting for you.”
She and Collin rushed inside, gathering with some twenty others within, some crouched sitting on the beds to make room for the rest. Aelwys nearly fell into Mother’s arms. Collin found his way to his parents, a middle-aged man and woman near the door. Collin’s father bore a great sword, nearly as tall as himself, leaning on it for support. Many other men in the room bore arms as well. Aelwys held her breath as the thunder of the approaching horsemen drew nearer. She knew that a battle between these and a legion of soldier-priests was hopeless.
Louder and louder came the tumult of falling hoofs, until it came to a climax, and then fell silent. The party had paused. The air was thick with sweat and fear.
Then Edyl’s voice was heard.
“Men bearing the banners of Mandgawr in the Sovereign’s land! What is the meaning of this?”
“A Wygar alone in the haunted wood,” came the reply, a fair voice in a strange accent, “Is this not as strange? Would you not better fit in a frozen homestead by a rotting Keep, tending your sheep?”
“The woods best suit me and my ilk,” said Edyl, “Since the Sovereign has deemed my Keep worthy as a barracks for his men and a stable for his beasts.”
Aelwys broke from Mother’s arms and peered through the sliver of open door. Edyl stood with his sword sheathed, facing twenty mounted men dressed in plates and mail and crimson robes. The nearest to him dismounted, the captain of the party. His head was covered with a golden helm, and a glorious scabbarded blade hung at his side.
“Which of the three keeps was yours?” he asked.
“I am Edyl, the Laerd-Duthmir of stronghold Lenthae. I go to flee with my people across the sea.”
“Your people, Laerd?” the captain looked about, “I see naught but a rotted hull and an evil forest.”
“The Sovereign’s men patrol these roads,” Edyl answered him, “and we must travel by night. My people hide within the ancient vessel.”
Silence clung to the air itself while the captain looked exactly to where Aelwys stood watching.
“Come,” Edyl called, “Wygar and kin, meet our friends.” Cautiously, Aelwys opened the door and approached Edyl, avoiding the man’s eyes. A few others followed her, Mother amongst them, though most watched warily from within. A strange look crossed the captain’s face as he observed Aelwys and those with her.
“The Sovereign’s men patrol these roads no more,” he said at last. “The King of Mandgawr has begun to wage war against the Sovereign. The first battle was finished not two hours ago; we smote down a party of soldier-priests wandering this way.”
“There are others,” said Edyl, “and they will know something is amiss when those you slew do not return.”
“That is our hope. We do not seek to defeat the Lalaian Sovereign’s armies; we seek only to draw the their eyes to this country.”
“I fear I am at a disadvantage,” Edyl said, “You know me and where my people hide, yet I do not even know the name of the man I speak to.”
“Felkor Caldholst,” said the man, “Nephew of King Caldholst, the Duke of Mandgawr.”
A murmur shivered through the company gathered; Aelwys could not but stare all the more at the man and wonder to what end had he come as the head of this company of raiders.
“Come, then, Master Felkor,” said Edyl, after a moment of silence “You must have learned what dwells within these woods by now. Join us this eve. The old wreck is spacious, and the deck above may serve as a stable for your horses. We could speak more at ease with thick walls between the things in the night.”
“We’ve set up camp a few miles back,” replied the Duke, “But we would be glad to break camp and pass the evening with your people.”
“Then we shall make ready the stables and your beds,” Edyl tipped his head in a bow.
“And we shall return in a few hours’ time that we might fill them,” the Duke likewise inclined his head and mounted his horse again. In a flurry of hoofbeats and dust, the company departed and returned the way they had come.
As the sun sank into the sea, the winds grew colder and stronger. To the left of the setting sun, black clouds began to boil and billow, stretching swiftly toward the safehouse. The sounds of horse hooves’ beating announced the coming of Duke Felkor and his men. Before darkness engulfed their cliffside haven, the horses were comfortably stabled, and their masters sat together with the Wygar within the safehouse feasting on the meat of a deer one of the men had killed while foraging during the day.
“A rare bounty indeed,” remarked Ceadmon, one of the younger Wygar men. “Few beasts there are that dare roam this country any more.”
“This is a cursed land,” said one of the Duke’s band. “Stricken with a curse, mark my words. While we camped last night, we heard strange voices in the woods, though we dared not answer them nor seek their sources.”
“It is good to share meat with friendly folk, and to be safe within the confines of these walls,” said the Duke himself, his gaze toward the fire. “Pleasures we have not known since we rode from Gelmstror and crossed into the Northern lands.” Edyl, who sat with him, asked,
“Is Gelmstror yet safe?”
“It is safe,” answered Felkor, “for it is far from the forests or the mountains of Lalaia, where the trouble seems to have its source. The first night we made camp near one of the forests, two men had disappeared by morning. We found them dead not far into the woods. Since then, we have dared not rest without a fire by every man’s tent, and one man standing guard over another for half the night. For this reason, I fear our movements have been easily tracked by Lalaian patrols, though every patrol we met was slain.”
Aelwys sat listening as she slowly began to drift to sleep, laying on her couch near Mother. She felt uneasy about this business of killing soldier-priests. She recalled fondly the kind priest who would bless her home when she had been but a young girl, no matter how many times he had already done so. He would patiently listen as she explained, nearly every week, precisely why she felt that her home, one of the nearest to the battlements of Hammon’s walls, was in more danger than their neighbours’ of being breached by the unnamed creatures in the night. She wondered if these men had slain him in the course of their travels. Edyl likewise seemed uncomfortable with this, and asked,
“You feel no allegiance, then, to the Oracle? You slay his priests readily enough.”
“They are hardly travelling holy men,” Felkor said, shaking his head, “You know that as well as I. Nevertheless, we spilled no one’s blood until today, when we gave battle to a company of soldier-priests. The others we found already dead. Some were freshly slain; some were little more than bones upon the rocks. It seems curious indeed that the Lalaian Courts should send so many to patrol these roads,” he added, “as if they fear an enemy to attack at any moment if their roads and borders are not vigilantly watched.”
“It is us they search for,” said Edyl, “the Wygar clans and those who would follow us across the sea. Our keeps have become dens of pigs and of soldiers, and rumour has reached the Sovereigns ear that we seek to counsel with the distant the Clan Dweathcart, whose keep lay west of Ceadlund, in the lands Northward. He fears we will conspire against Lalaia with Ceadlund, and has had us turned out of our villages and camps, spreading lies about my people to all who will listen. We are cast out of every door for being witches, spies, and traitors. Soon we shall be as feared and as welcome as the creatures from which we are hiding tonight. Now he seeks to cut off our escape, casting into prison any who are caught travelling to Llynceth or dwelling nearby the port city.”
“They search for your people, you say?” Felkor asked, now looking intently at Edyl, “And they fear treachery from the Wygar?”
“Or so I reason,” Edyl answered, “for I can think of no other reason for them to strive so hard to prevent us from sailing north to Deawthcart.” Suddenly the horses above them began to stomp and whinnie in terror. Dust sank through the air as it fell from between the ceiling-planks, and the Felkor’s men looked nervously.
“I hope the horses are safe,” muttered Ceadmon.
“They are shut inside a structure on deck,” Felkor said, “and we left it secure. So long as the wood holds, they should be safe from harm, though perhaps not from fright.”
“The wood will hold,” came the voice of Colin’s father, who lay drowsing by his wife in one of the beds closest to the door. Colin lay in a bed of his parents’ cloaks at the foot of their bed, already fast asleep. “For it is not fit to be called it wood. Looks like wood, yes, but it’s as unyielding as stone. Whatever work of alchemy that cast this hull from the sea to the cliffside must have changed the wood, else this safehouse would be little more than a few rotted planks jutting out of the earth.”
“Then we would be no better off than in the camp,” Ceadmon said, “starting at every flicker of every shadow in the firelight. We are indebted to the Wygar for your hospitality and foresight.”
Edyl nodded, saying, “We have had places of refuge made ready before the hauntings of this land had grown so dire.”
“I do not see,” said Felkor, frowning at the fire again, “why the Lalaian Sovereign would send so many of his forces into this land, and send them patrolling the roads and the wilderness, if he knew what lurks therein.”
“He knows,” Edyl said. “Of course he knows. His clerics teach the people to fear the darkness and what it hides. In the city of Hammon, from whence fled this girl and her mother,” he gestured to Aelwys and Mother on the couch nearby, “Every house is lit within and without, and fires burn at every tower along the walls, as the soldier-priests have instructed.”
“Then why send his men to their deaths?” Felkor asked, “Has he such great suspicion of the Wygar that he will willingly risk the lives of many of his own? Does he think you such a threat as that?”
“You ask me questions I cannot answer,” Edyl said, weariness beginning to take him. “Perhaps I will not have the answers until after the four clans meet in Dweathcart. Now, my friend, let us rest that we may be prepared for whatever the morning has in store for us.”
“Sleep,” nodded Felkor Duke, “Rest, and prepare for the deeds of the morrow.” Edyl lay down on a bed like the boy Colin’s, made of coats and cloaks, but Felkor did not move. Sleep began to take Aelwys, and her eyes fell shut while the Duke yet stared into the slowly ebbing flames.
“Luira inata sacral Capratel! Luira mandata Aluera!”
Aelwys jolted awake, terrified. She understood the words instantly, for the Chieftains had labored greatly to teach the children of Hammon the tongue of Lalaia. Hearken to the holy name of Capratel. Answer the command of the Oracle. The soldier priests had found them.
The hull was dark and smoky, suddenly alive with movement. The children gathered as far from the door as possible, some weeping softly but most striving as hard as possible to be silent. Aelwys saw Colin among them, wide-eyed and afraid.
“Luira, luira!”
The Wygar drew swords and spears from their piles of cloaks and travelling bags, drawing their thick coats over their cassocks. The Mondgawr soldiers stood ready, swords in hand. Edyl consulted briefly and quietly with Felkor, and after a moment, the two men clasped one another’s arms. Edyl reached into a pocket in his cassock and withdrew his hand, blackened with ashes. He closed his eyes and blackened them with the soot. The Wygar who held weapons did likewise, and all stood grimly silent, their darkened eyes giving them a fearsome appearance. Aelwys knew what that meant. They meant to spill blood.
“Luira, luira! Answer the call of thy Oracle if thou reverest him!”
Edyl threw open the door and stepped out alone.
“I will answer,” he said. Aelwys looked out to see a small host of soldier-priests, masked in white and astride white horses. Their spears thrust toward Edyl, whose sword hung sheathed at his side.
“Alas, what is this?” came the voice of the nearest soldier-priest, “A Wygar band hiding along the road to Llynceth?” He brought his horse very near Edyl, and slapped his cheek with a gauntleted hand. “And you dare answer our call armed and painted for battle! Do you not care for you life, witch?”
“I care for my people,” Edyl answered. “My life is of little consequence. I answered your call; what is it you wish of us?”
“First we shall require your weapons,” said the cleric, “and then the whereabouts of the band of the Mandgawr who I cannot doubt you saw passing near here.”
“You will not seek long for either,” said Edyl, and with that he seized the cleric’s spear and, as they struggled for it, threw him from his saddle to the ground. The room erupted in confusion as the Wygars and the Mondgawr fought their way out of it and into the fray of what had become a battle. Aelwys broke free from Mother’s arms and ran to the doorway.
The soldier-priests drew back, though their long spears could not stop so many at once. The Mondgawr soldiers began to flank the horsemen, drawing away several of their spears, allowing the Wygars a window of opportunity to break through the thinner defenses. Quickly Aelwys understood why the Wygar held Edyl in such high regard; the Laerd was not a merely figurative protector of his people. He moved with great speed, weaving between the priests’ spears like a lizard scittering between rocks. Once he had cleared the first line of defence, he swung his sword mightily once, twice, and leapt toward his next foe before the two men he slew had fallen from their saddles. Aelwys was grateful that Mother held her tight, so that she would not have to decide whether or not to join in the fray or merely to watch while others died.
The Lalaian priests’ defences were broken, and the Mandgawrs attacked from both sides, leaving the Lalaians with little choice but to retreat. One by one they were pulled from their saddles or slain upon their mounts. A few broke away from the rest and fled eastward toward Hammon, leaving their brethren in the hands of their foes. Some dismounted and drew swords; white robes blossomed in red. Some of the horses fled, while others lashed out with their hooves. Here and there a Wygar or a crimson-clad Mondgawr fell; the cries of men and women and the sounds of wood and steel filled the air. Within a few moments, most of the soldier-priests lay dead or wounded, while four stood surrounded, one yet on his horse. The fighting had stopped.
In the tense respite, Felkor cried,
“With what price will you buy your lives? You are beaten, and none will come to aid you.”
“Our brethren escaped,” said one, removing his mask. He is face was fair, though his countenance was gaunt and hungry. “They will return with a legion ere the sun sets.”
“We will not be here by nightfall, for we march to Llynceth, as soon as the dead are buried. Again, I ask you, with what price will you buy your lives, or do you wish to be buried with your brethren?”
“One does not slay servants of the Oracle and escape punishment, neither here nor hereafter!”
“Then I shall set the terms for you: lead us to the punishment you believe we will face in Llynceth. Run to the Shrine in that place and warn them of our coming.”
The man considered this for a moment, and then said,
“I will go with you, if you permit me and my brethren to enter Llynceth two days ahead of you.”
“I do permit it. Are your brethren in agreement with you?”
The three consulted for only a brief moment.
“They are,” he replied.
“Then,” Felkor said, “surrender your arms at once and join us in burying the dead.”
“We will perform the rites upon the bodies,” said another of the soldier-priests, “as we will do upon your bodies when you fall at Llynceth, if there is verily peace to be found for such as you.”
“Perform your rites upon your dead, and we will perform ours upon our own,” Edyl countered, “and we will let what powers that be choose the more worthy.”
The mounted priest nodded his head, and said,
“Then let it so be.”
The next few hours of the morning were spent digging shallow graves in the rocky earth. Four of the Wygar men had been fatally pierced of the Lalaian lances, and they were mourned bitterly. After they were lowered into the earth, candles were lit by their heads and at their feet, and their swords laid across their chests. The Mondgawr soldiers worked in silence, stone-faced and wordlessly. The Lalaian dead numbered fourteen, and only three men were left with the work of preparing a place to bury them. After the Mondgawrs and the Wygar had finished, they helped prepare a mass grave for the soldier-priests, and watched as their living brethren prayed over the bodies. Soon all was finished, and the company moved grimly onward to Llynceth.
Aelwys was not certain what to make of it all. She dared not speak to Mother what was in her heart; she dared not speak at all. It seemed that any sound but the howling of the wind would be irreverent, and might disturb those who laid so peacefully in the earth after falling so brutally to it. She had never seen a man killed until that morning, and she was still trying to make sense of it all. She felt as though she mightn’t ever make sense of it. She hoped she would not have to.
The soldier-priests led the company, looking more like an escort than prisoners. Edyl rode behind the Lalaians, leading the Wygar folk, all on foot save the children and a few women, who rode the Lalaians’ horses. Their Wygar clothes and woolen cloaks were very dark against the white caparisons that draped the horses, making them appear even more out of place atop the powerful beasts. The Mondgawrs brought up the rear, their ranks barely thinned from the morning’s battle. White, brown and red rode the company, perhaps the least likely combination of travelers the road had carried together.
The day carried on with little incident and largely in silence, until after they had stopped briefly to eat and rest. Little can coax conversation better than food, even after a morning like that one. After a short time, their tongues were loosened somewhat. The first to speak were the Mondgawrs. After a few moments of convesation, they began to bemoan the journey time lost in burying the dead, when Colin’s father answered,
“Now more than ever we must respect the dead. We do not know whether the dead we leave behind will join the haunts in these parts, but we do know what the haunts will do to their bodies.” And so ended that avenue of talk.
The food would not last but a day longer, and Edyl confidently said that they would reach the next safehouse by nightftall, and that was within sight of Llynceth. At that, the company rose up from their respite and began to walk onward.
“You think it wise to speak of your hiding places within our earshot?” asked the gaunt, hollow-looking soldier-priest to Edyl.
“You deceive yourselves if you think you can drive us out of our safehouse,” said Edyl, “for I know that the garrison of Llynceth is not so strong as that.”
“We shall see,” said the priest.
Aelwys prayed Edyl was right. She saw Colin and his mother atop a horse. His father led the horse along side the other horses, which walked in the center of the Wygar line, the fathers and husbands forming a protective circle around their families. Aelwys caught the boy’s eye, and she gave him a small smile, which he returned, much calmer after a small meal with his parents. She made to go talk to him, but Mother held her arm close. She looked to Mother, and said,
“I think he was shaken by the fighting this morning. I should like to speak with him.” Mother did not say anything, but held all the tighter to her arm.
“Mother,” she said, “what is wrong?”
“There is something coming,” Mother replied. Then came the sound of a distant cry of a strange, wolf-like timbre.
“Halt!” cried the Duke, though he hardly needed to say a word. The horses whinnied and stamped their hooves nervously, and the entire company had already paused. Aelwys looked in fear toward the woods at her left, not daring to imagine what was lurking within it this time.
Another shrill cry rang through the air, much closer than the last. The sound was harsh and frantic, and seemed to penetrate into the hearts of all who heard it.
“I know that sound,” said the gaunt soldier-priest. From the forest there came the sound of something crashing through the brambles and the trees, something quite large. “That is a cowor’s howl!”
“A cowor?” cried Edyl.
The trees nearest to them crashed to the earth just ahead of the company, not twenty paces from where Aelwys stood. Two great black shapes leaped out from the forest, the shrill shriek filling the air. They were moving too fast to clearly see, disappearing over the slope of the cliff, and bringing with them one of the soldier-priests, who was flung into the air and cast into the sea. The horses whinnied and reared in terror, some bolting. Colin and his mother fell from their frantic horse, and Aelwys attempted to go to them, but her mother held her in an iron grip, no matter how she struggled.
“You must stay with me!” Mother hissed into her ear. Her voice was harsh and almost unfamiliar, sending Aelwys’ skin crawling.
Suddenly the two beasts re-emerged from the cliffside, snorting and howling, at the front of the company, only to recoil as Edyl bounded forward, casting what looked like sand from his hands, which burst into flame as they struck the earth. The flames grew and grew as Edyl cast in more of the material, until there was a curtain of fire five feet in height, separating the company from the beasts that had charged them. They held still enough, though they shifted madly and snapped their jaws at the flames. They were like great wolves, enormous in size and with thick coats black as pitch. Their eyes shone like pale silver, and their thick tales swung heftily behind them. They moved with frightening fluidity and speed, their movements nearly impossible to track.
“I cannot hold them back much longer,” Edyl cried. Several of the Wygar drew out bows that they had strung before setting out, and fired arrows at the beasts. The arrows struck their marks, though it seemed to do little but send them into a renewed frenzy. The two living soldier-priests called for their spears to be returned, which they were, and they hurled them through the wall of fire into the breast of the nearest creature. It shrieked and stumbled, falling from the cliffside to its death on the rocks below.
The first beast’s death seemed to drive the other mad. It leapt at the company, heedless of the flames which singed its fur. It tore through the ranks, bounding straight toward Aelwys. She and Mother dived out of its way, but Aelwys dived too late -- its mighty paw struck her from behind with immense force, and she was flung through the air into the woods. She landed in a thick brush filled with nettles and stickers, stinging her much as her body rolled to the earth, darkness filling her vision as her ears filled with cries of “Stop the cowor!” and “Skewer it with your spears!” before she became unconscious of any thing.
First she was aware of a throbbing in her head, a steady pulse which she realized was pain coursing rhythmically, first in her ears and then throughout her head. Then the other sensations of pain came to her: pain in her limbs, pain along her front where she had been struck with thorns and spines, the now-constant pain in her feet from the journey thus far. Her first thoughts were of Mother -- she had been acting strange lately! She had hardly spoken a word since the night they had encountered the hidebehinds, and she had attempted to hold Aelwys from speaking to the others herself. She had even physically held her bound, and her strange voice when she spoke then!
The cowors! She could now remember what had happened.
“Where am I?” She said aloud, “How long have I been here? And where are the others?” She bolted upright and found herself at the bank of a small brook, bubbling its way through a thick wood where the sun was felt only wanly. What light seeped in was pale and yellowish, and from it Aelwys guessed that it was quite overcast, and likely stormy.
“Or if it isn’t stormy,” she said to herself, “it will be. Most probably it will begin to rain just before the sun sets, while I am trying to find a dry place to sleep.”
With dread she realized that she could not be caught in the woods when the sun set. She stood quickly, and nearly fell back to the earth for the spell of dizziness that swept over her. She maintained her footing, though, and was astounded to find that, if nothing else, none of her bones were broken. Where were the others? She recognized none of her surroundings. She did not know how she had come to this place.
“Is anyone there?” she cried. She felt as though the woods had swallowed up her voice, that the sound had not carried beyond the nearest trees. So it was much to her surprise when a voice answered.
“Who calls?” It was not the sexless voice of the hidebehinds that had haunted her several two nights past, but a man’s voice, high and strong. It was some ways off, but near enough that she understood the words clearly.
“Aelwys of Hammon,” she yelled back, her heart pounding, “a friend!”
“Stay where you are!” came the voice, “I shall come to you!”
“I am by a creek,” she called, “I can’t remember how I came here.”
“I see the creek,” the voice replied, much closer now. Aelwys was more than a little surprised to see the gaunt soldier-priest emerge from the dense forest and approach her. When he drew near, he seemed taken aback.
“You say you are from Hammon,” he said, “and so you must be Wygar-kin, loyal to the Sovereign of Lalaia. Why then do you dress as a Wygar?” Aelwys did not rightly know how to answer him, for she remembered Mother’s warning that the soldier-priests sought all who had escaped from Hammon. When she did not answer, the man said,
“I am Raeue, of the house Isador. I bear you no ill will, for I saw that you did not take part in the slaughter of my men.”
“I did not,” she said carefully. “Ileilio, my friend, made to flee into the forest in the confusion in the wake of the cowor’s charge,” he continued, “though he was caught by the Wygar witch who cast fire from his hands. I alone escaped.”
“Did you see what became of the others?” asked Aelwys.
“I hid in the wood to spy for a time,” Raeue replied, “and the men of Mondgawr slew the beast, though it took all their might to bring the beast down.”
“Did you see my mother?” she could not help herself but to ask, a note of desperation in her voice. He shook his head.
“If your mother is the woman who held you during out battle this morning, then I did not see her. I know, however, that she was not among the dead, and the cowor slew but few.” This was only some comfort to her, as she herself was not dead but was hardly in the best of circumstances. She wondered again how she had come to that place, for she had fallen near the road.
“Come,” said Raeue, “we haven’t much time before the sun sets.” He reached for her hand and she accepted, uncomfortable with the man but left with no other choice.
