Raven Flight (36 page)

“Nae time for chatter,” Whisper said. “We must go
now
.”

But Daw, ignoring this, said, “He went to Corriedale. He returned to Shadowfell. More, I do not know.”

Did I imagine the sudden glint of tears in Tali’s eyes, bright in the soft lantern light? “Thank you,” she said, her voice a murmur.

“
Now
,” said Whisper, and this time everyone obeyed. The Westies retreated. Tali and I stood still, waiting for whatever might come, another whirlwind, a magical charm to make us fly, a vehicle of some kind, though what could cover the miles from here to the north in a single night, I could not imagine.

“Grasp hands,” Whisper said. “Keep hold and dinna let go. This will be long; hold still and quiet until I give you the word. Got that?”

We nodded; I was not sure if the period of silence had already started.

“Now, then,” said Whisper, and everything went dark. Pitch-dark. Utterly dark, as it had been the other time, when the stanie mon had hidden me within a wall of stone. And it was silent; the small creaks and rustles of the forest creatures, the movement of trees in the breeze, the soft tread of our feet, all were gone. There was nothing; only Tali’s hand in mine, and the thunderous beating of my heart.

Tali’s fingers tightened on mine momentarily, then relaxed as she imposed her customary self-control. After the first jolt of panic, I drew on the Hag’s training to keep my
body still, breathing in a pattern. If there was anything I had learned in the isles, it was to maintain my balance when I could not see; I had spent long periods standing in that cave with my eyes shut, simply breathing. But this was harder. In the cave, even when the Hag was not guiding me with her voice, there had always been the sound of the sea.

I felt no sense of movement. As far as I knew, we remained standing on the hilltop above Summerfort, under the trees, and the forest creatures were carrying on their nightly business around us as always. Only, we had been rendered blind and deaf.

Time passed—a great deal of time, or so it seemed. I maintained my steady breathing; I tried to keep my thoughts from wandering to treacherous areas, such as whether what Flint had done for us would put him in still more peril. Or whether, when the shocks of today had subsided, Tali would be furious with me for coming to Summerfort instead of escaping up the valley and leaving her to fend for herself as the rebel code required. I tried to banish the vile sights and sounds of the Gathering from my mind, but they would not go away.

Gods, it was dark! I tried to shift my weight onto one leg, then the other, without actually moving. My knees were starting to feel odd, shaky, even though all I had done was stand still. My throat was dry; I wanted to cough. And I needed to relieve myself. Whisper had said we would be there by morning. We didn’t seem to be going anywhere. But perhaps, in some strange way, we were already traveling. Perhaps this
was
the journey north. Perhaps, to get
there, we must maintain this pose all night. What would happen if one of us moved? If one of us, in a moment of inattention, asked the other how she was feeling? Would that leave us where we’d started, on the hillside above Summerfort with enemies all around? We might never reach the Lord of the North. I fought back a yawn.
Weapons sharp. Backs straight. Hearts high
.

By the time our long vigil came to an end, I was almost beyond noticing. Half-asleep on my feet, I heard a scraping sound, as of a stick drawn across a rough stone surface, and I felt Tali’s grip tighten on my hand.

“Close your eyes,” said Whisper from right beside me. “Count to five. Now open them.”

When I did so, there was light: not the first rays of the dawning sun, nor yet the welcoming glow of the Good Folk’s lanterns, but a cool blue light like ice under a full moon. It was so bitterly cold that my breath caught in my chest.

After the time of utter darkness, even this low light was an assault on my eyes, and for a little I struggled to see clearly. One thing was certain: we were no longer in the forest. As my vision accustomed itself to the change, I saw before me a landscape of stone and shadow, remote and still, lovely in its chill perfection. We stood on a hillside, facing north. And now, to the east, the sun rose over snowcapped mountains, touching their higher slopes with rose and gold. To the north were more great peaks. What was it Tali had said once, that people hadn’t seen real mountains until they came north of the river Race? Above us arched a pale and cloudless sky, and as we rubbed our eyes and
stretched our aching bodies, an eagle flew over, its powerful wings bearing it westward.

“Aye, well,” said Whisper, who was on my left and apparently none the worse for wear after the long night’s vigil. “You might be wanting tae splash your faces and stretch your legs before we move on. Down that way there’s a wee stream. You might be needing tae crack the ice first. I’ll wait for you here.”

There was indeed a stream, and a hollow where a few straggly bushes grew, providing some cover while we performed our ablutions. Tali broke the ice with the heel of her boot. The bracing chill of the water was welcome, rendering us sharply awake. Together, we went through a sequence of exercises familiar from our time on the skerry, limbering up our cramped bodies.

“
Move on
,” Tali murmured. “How far, I wonder? I have to say, you’ve looked better in your time, Neryn.”

“You look surprisingly good, all things considered.” In fact, she looked pale and tired, and she was not moving with her usual confidence. She was surely in pain; it wasn’t long since she’d been beaten by the king’s men. “But you need that salve.”

“What I crave right now is sleep. But after last time, I’m not fool enough to hope for anything. We were probably lucky to get a wash and time enough to relieve ourselves.”

We did not need to walk far. Whisper led us to a hall whose entry was in a fold of the mountain. It reminded me of the passages and chambers, the stairs and doorways
of Shadowfell, and I wondered whether once, long ago, a powerful entity such as the Hag or the Lord had made a home there.

Inside, the Lord’s hall was far grander and more spacious than Shadowfell. Even indoors it was bitterly cold. The arching walls were the stone of the mountain, but here and there paler patches glinted and glowed in the light of suspended lanterns, suggesting ice. Great skins softened the rock floor, skins of creatures whose kind I could only guess at. Wolves three times bigger than any known to man; jet-black cattle with hair as soft as a cat’s.

Whisper led us deeper in. Chambers opened to one side or the other, and there were many folk about, not men and women but Good Folk, though they were generally taller than the Westies, some of them of a height with humankind. Most were clad in gray, and some bore weapons. None of them were talking.

We came to a halt outside a doorway covered by a curtain of sturdy weave, patterned in various shades of gray. Whisper did not announce our presence, but suddenly the curtain was drawn aside and there was a wee woman in a gown and apron, her startling red hair as curly and wild as Sage’s, her eyes bright as glass beads, and a welcoming smile on her face. A wave of warmth came from the chamber behind her.

“Ye’ll be wantin’ a bath and a bittie breakfast,” she said. “Come on, then, dinna stand aboot lettin’ in the chill.” This small personage addressed Whisper. “Ye can leave the lassies tae me,” she said. “They’ll no’ be fit for anything until they’ve had a cleanup and a guid sleep.”

Whisper went off without a sound. Perhaps he too was tired.

“Bath first,” the wee woman said. “Ye’ll be the Caller, nae doot. And ye the keeper.”

“I’m Neryn.” I was not quite tired enough to forget the importance of courtesy. “And this is Tali. A bath … Thank you, this is more than we hoped for.” There were indeed two bathtubs in the chamber, ready and waiting for us. They must have known we were coming before we reached this hall. And there was a hearth with a fire; it was blissful to feel the warmth of it.

“Aye, weel, ye’ll be cold. ’Tis no’ the easiest way tae mak’ a journey, Whisper’s way. Quick, aye. But chilly. And hard on the knees. Strip off your things. Here, let me help ye.”

At the sight of Tali’s bruises, she sucked in her breath. “Ach! I’ll be findin’ a salve for those. Ye puir lassie. Into the tub wi’ ye, go on now. Ye can ca’ me Flow.” After a pause, she spoke again, and her voice was shaking. “Is it true, what the messengers hae been tellin’ us? Can ye really wake the Lord?”

In the face of her naked hope, I found myself incapable of telling her how unlikely that seemed. “I can’t be certain of anything, Flow. I will do my best, I promise.”

When we were washed, fed, and clad in new clothing that fit us perfectly, Flow led us to a little round sleeping chamber with a pair of shelf beds that appeared to have been hewn out of the rock. Each was furnished with pillows and soft bedding, atop which was spread a fur cloak, luxuriously warm.

I had never seen Tali so exhausted. Flow had salved her
bruises, using a mudlike mixture, and covered one or two with dressings of moss and linen held on by neat bandages. Perhaps that had reminded Tali of the beating and of what had come before and after. I would not ask her about it. If she wanted to tell me, she would do so in her own time. Not now; both of us were dropping with weariness.

I sat on the edge of my bed, watching Tali as she checked every corner of the chamber, then came back to lean my staff against the wall close by her own sleeping place. Her staff had been lost when she was taken prisoner.

“What are you doing? Lie down and rest.”

“It feels wrong to have nobody on watch. But the fact is, I’m too tired to do anything about it.”

“We’re safe here. I’m sure these people have their own guards.”

There was a silence, during which she folded her arms and looked down at the floor. Then she added, “I’ve failed you once, maybe twice. I wouldn’t want to do it again.”

“Failed me? How?” What was she talking about?

“In the isles, I let them take me from the skerry and leave you alone out there. By Deepwater, I had to leave you on your own again. I should have known you’d come after me. I should have known you wouldn’t put your own safety first. And now look where we are.”

I blinked at her. “Safe, warm, bathed and fed, and exactly where we intended to be.”

“But—”

“Lie down, shut your eyes, and stop thinking so hard. If you weren’t so tired, you’d know you’re talking nonsense.”

“But, Neryn—”

“If we don’t sleep now, we won’t be at our best to face whatever comes next. Do as you’re told—lie down, and not another word out of you.”

She managed a smile, then winced in pain as she lowered herself onto the bed.

“I know you’re worried about Regan,” I told her. “But they said he went back to Shadowfell, and he has good advisers.”

“Mm.” She pulled the covers over herself and lay down.

“Sleep well, Tali,” I said. But there was no reply.

We woke and found ourselves feeling better; Flow brought us a meal, which we ate hungrily. It could have been morning or evening when Whisper came to fetch us.

“I’ll show you where the Lord lies,” he said, and led us through a maze of passageways to a grand chamber, its roof so high above us that it seemed lost in shadows. Silent attendants stood in ranks to either side of the hall, which was illuminated by a double row of flaming torches. At the other end of the room, on a pallet set high on a dais, a man lay sleeping. One guard stood at the head of his bed, another at the foot. They were tall, broad beings, manlike, but each would have dwarfed even Big Don. Their cap-like helms and breast-pieces were of a glittering substance I could not identify, and they held spears of pale bone. Brothers, I guessed, for their faces were nearly identical, strong-boned and impassive. Their eyes were as gray as their garments. I was reminded of Flint.

As Whisper led us forward, the vast cavern seemed full of an expectant hush. These people thought, perhaps, that I could work a miracle. Or their long-held hope had made them clutch at straws. Hadn’t someone said the Lord of the North had been sleeping for hundreds of years?

We came before the dais. The guards did not move.

“You can go up,” Whisper said.

I climbed the steps to the pallet; Tali stayed at the bottom, my staff in her hand. I looked down at the Lord of the North.

He was tall and appeared to be in his prime. His clothing too was gray, and over it was a coverlet of pure white fur. His face was snow-pale, his hair was dark, and his wide-open eyes were the color of a chill dawn sky. I waited until I had seen his chest rise and fall seven times before I accepted that he was not dead.

I cleared my throat, but found no words. This was not sleep, surely, but something deeper, a kind of living death that lay far beyond the limits of my understanding.

“Can you help him, lassie?”

I started in shock. The deep voice belonged to one of the formidable guards. He’d turned to look at me, and I saw the same hope on his face as I had seen on Flow’s. These folk loved their lord. Above all things, they wanted him back. “I don’t know,” I said. “Whisper, how long has he been like this?”

“Long years,” Whisper said. “Long, long years. We’ve done our best tae tend tae him. We’ve kept things going in his ha’. We’ve waited. But we canna bring him back. Before he lay down here, he ordered us not tae wake him.”

“Doesn’t that mean—?”

“He didna give
you
any orders.”

There was no arguing with that. “You say he lay down. He put himself into this trance? Why?”

“You’d best talk tae Flow. She’ll give you the story. We’ll leave him in peace now. We dinna expect you tae bring him back in an instant. Stane moves awfu’ slow.”

As we made our way out between the rows of silent attendants, Tali asked him, “May we move about here? Talk freely to folk?”

“Aye, wander as you please. Anyplace we dinna want you prying, there’ll be a guard on the door.”

“I’ve seen some unusual weaponry here,” Tali said. “Is there perhaps an armory? A master-at-arms, a person who is in charge of such things?”