“But Mama, you should save this for one of the girls –“
“Your grandmother told me it was meant for you. She always knew.” She looked at me tenderly, drew me close. “I don’t know what it means and neither did she. But do exactly as I’ve told you, because she said it was important and would save your life, and I believe her.”
She would not even let me look at it, but pressed it in my hand. “Keep it in the box until morning, where it will be hidden. But don’t take the box with you into the forest. It can’t return to Arthen. Take the necklace out of the box and throw the box away. Say nothing about this to anyone, not even Jarred or your uncle.” She hurried me out of her room then. I found my bed and hid the box and the necklace under the mattress where Jarred would not roll over it in his sleep.
3
In the morning a storm blew over the whole world. Gloom of it seeped through the bit of window in our attic bedroom. As soon as my eyes opened I jumped from the covers and stood at the window, where the dark clouds were rolling across heaven.
Already I could hear voices in the kitchen, counterpoint to the wind that raced through the visible hills. In the dim yard stood saddled horses, reins trailing the dirt. A pack was tied to the back of the black horse I would be riding. The horse waited patiently, once turning his gray eyes toward the window from which I watched him.
“You’ll be leaving pretty soon, I bet,” Jarred said, coming up beside me at the window. “Do you think you can really ride that horse when he gets going?”
“Yes, I think so.” I quietly dressed, sliding the small box into the sleeve-pocket of my coat. From outside came the sound of distant thunder.
“I hope I get a horse like that someday,” said Jarred.
“I wish you were coming too.”
“Not to live in Arthen, not for anybody’s money.”
“Is it a bad place?”
“There’s every kind of goblin and monster in it from what I’ve heard. And probably witches and bloodsuckers on top of it.”
“I think people make up those stories,” I said, and Jarred laughed as we heard more thunder rolling over the hills, followed by Mama’s voice calling us to breakfast.
The storm worried her more than Uncle Sivisal, who claimed the ride would be easier under the cover of rain. We ate our breakfast quickly. Papa mentioned waiting to see if the sky cleared, but Mama said harshly that the sky would not be clearing and we should get ourselves into the Woodland if we knew what was good for us. She said this in such a sharp tone no one dared to contradict her.
I could feel the necklace in its box, an awkward lump against my arm.
“You’ll want to ride the straightest, shortest way,” Mama said to Sivisal, “and make no attempt to hide. If you aren’t in Arthen by nightfall God help you.”
“My sister has more on her mind than she’s saying,” Sivisal said, and I could tell she was making him nervous.
“I often do,” she answered. “Don’t take me lightly Sivisal, I know what I’m talking about. Get into Arthen, quickly, storm or no storm.”
Behind, framed in the barn door, my father was watching his wife, a touch of fear on his face, the first time I had ever seen any such emotion in him.
The time had come. Outside the cold rain began to fall and my family pressed round to say good-bye. Uncle Sivisal threw on his cloak and I slipped the hood of my boy’s sleeved coat over my head. Father pressed a gold piece into my hand. Lise, Mikif and Vaguath started crying as we moved toward the horses. Jarred had tears in his eyes too, and we embraced a long time. Mother hugged me desperately, wanting to say something, I thought.
She found a reason to fuss with the collar of my undershirt, and whispered in my ear, “Never be sorry, Jessex, no matter what happens.”
A rush of wind overtook us both. She helped me onto the stallion’s bare back. I clutched the coat around me as the wind came down on us more and more. Uncle Sivisal looked at me with a calm smile. “All right Jessex, now we ride,” he said, and, gesturing farewell to everyone in the yard, we left my home. I never saw it again.
4
The storm that followed shook the countryside, dark clouds rolling and wind blowing trees nearly level with the ground, lightning flashing and thunder resounding, rain pouring from the clouds in such floods one wondered if the fields would wash away. Sivisal and I rode straight through the tumult toward the hills.
We rode through the east fields where the furrows of new-planted corn were battered to pieces by the rain and wind, along a creek that bordered our land and farther, past the hills where Jarred had found me herding sheep the day before. Soon we had left my father’s farm behind and rode upland into forest, good for hunting according to Sim; Uncle Sivisal headed us there to avoid any stray Blue Cloaks who might be in the area. Under the trees we took our first rest.
The storm was awesome, clouds covering the Fenax as far as the eye could see. I remembered what my mother had said and touched the necklace-box once or twice. Uncle Sivisal looked at the sky, worried. “Weather like this isn’t natural. An hour before dawn the sky was clear as clear can be.”
“Mama said it would be a bad storm,” I answered.
“Well, she was right. We had better take her advice and get to Arthen quick as we can. Is this the fastest way you know?”
“This is forest that belongs to the Queen. It isn’t very thick. Beyond is the Girdle where the patrols ride.”
“How far?”
“Minutes from here. But it’s very wide.”
“The patrols will be out today too, I’ll bet gold on it. This storm stinks of magic. Come on, we’re going to hurry. That horse of yours knows how to get where we’re headed, if you can stay on his back.”
“I can stay.” I had to shout to make myself heard above the wind.
He pulled something from inside his cloak and slipped it on his finger. I recognized the ring that he had worn when he led the black horse from the barn. He leaned toward my horse and spoke words to him. The horse listened with a wholly serious air and when Uncle Sivisal released his bridle, he began to canter forward. I turned back to see if Sivisal was following. He was. So I asked, “What did you tell him?”
“To get you to Arthen no matter what. Stick fast to his back, little man. I believe we’re in for a hard ride.”
He spurred his own horse to a gallop and we headed west along the hills, not directly toward the Girdle despite the talk of urgency. I wondered why till I understood Sivisal didn’t want to give the Blue Cloaks a good guess which farm or village we had come from. The black horse ran with long, powerful strides, hardly even blinking in the rain. My uncle’s sorrel was no mean horse but was clearly no match for this mount of mine; and that made Uncle Sivisal the more nervous since I was the less-practiced horseman. The country was rough and more than once I thought I had lost my seat. We covered much ground in a short time but still Uncle Sivisal seemed reluctant to turn south, where the Girdle lay, where the Blue Queen’s patrols would be riding their crisscross paths.
Finally we turned, passing a marker Uncle Sivisal read me, “You who are subject to my law, know that this is my land and I dare anyone to cross it, or to enter Arthen Forest, on pain of death.” The marker listed no author. There was no need.
At the edge of the forest we paused, hidden by scrub faris and some vine with pale flowers; in the rain and wind one could hardly get a good look at anything. The Girdle was a broad swath of land cleared many years ago by armies of laborers. In the distance loomed Arthen itself, dark and sedate like a mantle over the hills. The country between us and the Woodland was empty of Blue Cloaks. Uncle Sivisal looked at me and said, “Ride as fast as you can.”
From the moment we broke free onto the plain the storm redoubled round us, the wind so fierce it nearly took my breath, whipping through the horse’s mane and swirling through Uncle Sivisal’s cloak. Lightning scored the earth from every direction as if it knew where to seek us, and the thunder afterward would have sent many a horse into terror. But these were steady animals. Sooner than I would have thought possible we were deep into the grassland, despite the storm, and for a while it appeared that we would cross without incident.
Blue Cloak patrols appeared suddenly from both directions and the sky lightened as if to make us all the plainer. Then I knew my mother had told the truth and this storm was more magic than not. Uncle Sivisal glanced at me, grim. Over the wind and storm he said, “They intend to catch us, Jessex. Stay close to me if you’re able, but if it comes to choosing, you have a horse they’re not likely to match. Get yourself into the Woodland where they won’t follow you.”
If we’d ridden fast before it was nothing compared to now. My poor thin frame had never taken such a beating before, but I relaxed into the grasp of the horse’s rhythm and he carried me, I was never afraid of falling. The black horse reached forward with every nerve and muscle.
By my side my uncle urged his horse quietly, checking on both sides of us to locate the patrols and finally slinging the bow into position, an arrow slotted into it. He rode the horse as if he were joined to it. With the two patrols closing at an angle I could not tell if we were ahead or behind and with the wind in our faces it was hard to see the edge of the Woodland. The storm increased again as if it had only let up long enough to give the Blue Cloaks a good look at us, and the feeling of malevolence grew. I felt a strange aching on my arm and heard laughter and thought I must be going mad, but Uncle Sivisal heard it too, I saw him glance at the sky from where the sound had come. A voice called out strange words. I felt a huge weight on my shoulders dragging me down and for the first time I thought I might truly fall.
I cannot tell you where my next thought came from or why it came. But I pictured the necklace as I had seen it the night before, the raven impaled on the claw. Mother had said to get rid of the box. I touched it through my rain-soaked sleeve. Gripping the reins one-handed, I slipped the box free of my sleeve and opened it. The necklace fell into my hand and I flung the box into the grass.
The laughter died away, and for a moment even the storm abated to the point that I could see trees ahead of me — tall, dark trunks and shaggy down-hanging limbs. Blue Cloaks were closing from our left; we had only escaped one patrol, it seemed; and my uncle wheeled his horse away from the patrol that was now closer to us. My horse made this maneuver more gracefully, for which I owed him thanks, or else he might have flung me onto the wet ground. The riders behind us were closing, though, and if they had a good bowman they might bring us down. But we were closer to the forest than they were and I thought we were free, when, out of nowhere, a white figure appeared, a mounted wraith whose shape was hard to see. The white blur moved at impossible speed and cold fear filled me. Uncle Sivisal saw it and paled.
I will never forget the calm of his eyes. He said a word I did not know and raised the ruby ring again. My horse answered, adding speed to speed. Me and my horse left them all behind: my uncle, the Blue Cloaks, the running shadow and even the storm. Within moments we were crashing through underbrush, and soon cool trees closed round us.
The soldiers were still chasing my uncle, and I could see one of them had caught him in the arm with an arrow but the wound had not felled him. His sorrel rode for both their lives and knew it, but they were close to Arthen and had a chance if they could outrun the white shadow which had resolved itself to human shape, on horseback. When the white figure saw me safe inside the Woodland and my uncle closing onto safety, he or she stood up tall in the saddle and gestured, saying words that were hideous to the ear. An arm flashed from the pale cloak. Lightning crashed near my uncle and I thought the sorrel stumbled, but the brave horse recovered and kept running. The figure on horseback raised the arm for yet another try.
I gripped the necklace and sang Kimri. When the storm seemed to abate a little I touched the necklace more firmly, and sang Kimri in a loud voice, “We are in the darkness, give us a light. We who have hope have need, light in the darkness.” The white figure diminished. The storm lessened; no bolt of lightning fell. My uncle entered Arthen with the arrow in his arm.
He joined me and we stopped to look back into the outer world where the Blue Cloaks and the white-cloaked figure were milling round on horseback. They could no longer see us. The wraith adjusted the white hood and I could see she was a woman then, red-haired, wearing a kind of silver headpiece.
Uncle Sivisal grinned and looked at me. “No questions yet. We don’t want them to get a good look at you. Right now we have to get deeper in the Woodland where her birds can’t track us.”