Raven Flight (37 page)

“Oh, aye. There might be both. I’ll have a wee word.”

Later in the day—or possibly night, for in this underground hall there was no way of telling if it was light or dark outside—we had settled in a small chamber where there was a hearth with a fire. Flow had suggested we would be more comfortable there, and had offered a choice of mending or cutting up root vegetables for our supper to keep us occupied. She had promised to tell me the tale later.

I was working my way through the mending; Tali had already accounted for the parsnips and carrots, wielding Flow’s bone knife with precision. When someone marched in without knocking, she was on her feet in an instant. The implement, rock-steady in her hands, was aimed straight at the being’s heart.

“Friend,” the visitor said, holding up open hands to show he meant no harm. Tali lowered the knife but stood her ground. I set down my sewing.

Five of them came in, and the chamber was suddenly full. They were uniformly clad in short hooded cloaks over plain gray clothing and sturdy boots. Most striking were the leather protective garments they had on, arm braces and breast-pieces not unlike those worn by the warriors of Shadowfell. Three resembled shortish human folk, one was more wolf than man, and the fifth seemed to change its shape each time I looked. Two bore staves; all had sheathed weapons at their belts. Fighters.

“Next time, knock,” Tali said, putting the knife down on the table.

“Then we wouldna hae seen how quick ye were.”

“You want a demonstration of my fighting skills, just ask.” Tali folded her arms. Her stance, feet apart, chin up, was all challenge.

“Er … this might not be the place for that,” I put in.

The spokesman for our visitors folded his own arms. He had to tilt his head back to look Tali in the eye, but there was something in both his stance and his expression that suggested he’d be happy to give her a good fight if she wanted one. “As tae skills, we’ve heard ye might have a thing or two tae teach us.”

“You know nothing about me!” she snapped. “How could you?”

“A bird,” I suggested. “Yes?”

“Your tale came before ye. A wee skirmish wi’ the king’s
men, aye? One agin four or five, that’s what we heard. Not to speak o’ the way ye train those fighters o’ yours, back hame.”

Tali scowled. “That doesn’t explain your storming in here and almost getting this knife through your chest.”

“Stormin’? Lads, were we doin’ any stormin’?”

The other four shook their heads.

“Ye want tae see stormin’, just say the word,” the spokesman said.

It was time to intervene. “My name is Neryn,” I said, “and this is Tali. You have a fighting force here? I thought the Good Folk shunned conflict. I thought you would sooner go to ground than become involved in such things.”

The five of them took this as an invitation, strolling over to seat themselves on the benches beside us. One reached out to help himself to a piece of carrot; Tali’s glare stopped him before he set a finger on it.

“Ye got it wrong, lassie,” said one of the others, a red-bearded fellow almost as broad as he was tall. “The disputes o’ human folk, aye, we steer clear o’ those, unless one o’ your kind comes along—a Caller, that is. Even then we dinna much care tae get caught up in them. Oor ain fights, they’re a different matter.”

“Your own fights?” asked Tali. “Against whom?”

“A’ sorts. Brollachans; trows; wolf-men. There’s some grumly old creatures in the north.”

“Then there’s clan disputes,” put in one of the others. “Over land, over law, over trifles. The winters here are lang; folk need somethin’ tae keep theirselves occupied.”

Tali and I exchanged a glance.

“How many fighters do you have here?” Tali asked.

“Ach, that’s no’ information tae be given oot lightly. Ye dinna hae oor names yet, and already ye want oor strategic secrets. We’re no’ fools.”

“Understood.” Tali was smiling now. “If the situation were reversed, I surely wouldn’t give you that information. As for names, you have ours; if you choose to introduce yourselves, I have a suggestion you might perhaps want to consider.”

They looked at one another.

“It’s to do with the long winters, and not getting restless, and honing your combat skills.”

“Oh, aye?” The red-bearded one sounded unimpressed, but there was no concealing the glint of interest in his eye.

“Piece of carrot, anyone?” Tali asked.

Grins broke out on every weathered face. “Scar,” said the spokesman.

“Stack.”

“Grim.”

“Steep.”

“Fleabane.”

“His mither was a herb-wife,” said Scar in explanation.

“A suggestion, ye say.” Stack stroked his beard thoughtfully. “What suggestion might that be?”

“Seems we have the same problem: an army that needs to keep busy over the winter months, so it’s ready for action once the thaw comes. And by busy, I don’t mean folk getting into foolish disputes among themselves. I have ideas
that I may be prepared to share once I know you better. If you want my help, I’m offering it.”

“At what price?” The wolflike being, Grim, was staring at Tali through narrowed eyes. He looked as if he might leap to the attack if she said a wrong word.

“I’d like to see your armory and talk to you about your weapons,” she said with perfect calm. “In time, I’ll tell you more about our future plans, though you may know something of that already. It seems messengers have been carrying the word about our cause to the Good Folk all over Alban.” She hesitated, glancing at me. “Our leader would be interested to know you have a fighting force here.” I saw her deciding not to ask them if they were immune to the fell effects of iron. “You’ve done a remarkable job to keep that going all this time without your Lord.”

“Aye, ’tis a lang while,” said Steep. “The best we can dae, while we’re waitin’, is keep fightin’. Keep oor heads up.”

“Weapons sharp, backs straight, hearts high,” I murmured.

They stared at me with new respect. “Aye,” said Scar after a moment. “Aye, ye got it exactly.”

“Like you, I don’t much care for being idle,” Tali said. “Neryn has a job to do here. While she’s working on it, I think I can help you; I think you can help me. But, of course, it’s your decision. The only thing is, there’s a limit to how much of the day I can occupy in chopping vegetables.”

The fighters roared with laughter. Then, without another word spoken, they were all on their feet. “Come on,
then,” said Scar. “Lang way doon tae the armory. Best be movin’.”

Trust had come with surprising speed. Tali glanced at me, brows raised.

“Go on,” I said. “I’ll be fine. Flow’s not far away, and the place is full of guards.”

“Guards?” Steep spoke with derision. “Ye mean them in the ha’? Just for show, they are, save for the Twa. The real fighters, we’re a’ doon below. We’re the strong backbone o’ this place; wi’oot the likes o’ us, wha’d keep the Southies in check?”

They left the chamber with Tali in their midst. I picked up my mending, but my mind was on the Lord of the North with his open, empty eyes and his noble features clean of expression. I felt the weight of expectation from this household of loyal folk, all of them hoping I would be the one to do what their lord had forbidden them: wake him from his deathlike sleep. A sleep he had imposed upon himself. What could drive a Guardian to do such a thing?

“ ’Twas long ago,” Flow said. The two of us sat with the mending basket between us. Tali had not returned; I decided to take that as a good sign. “A sad tale, simple enough. In the old days there was a Lady here, his wife. They had a wee daughter, just the one. Our folk, ye understand, live lang, but dinna often bear children, so this lassie was rare and precious. Everybody loved Gem; she danced around this gloomy old ha’ like a bright butterfly. She was full o’ questions, wanted to know the makin’ and workin’
o’ everythin’. Hardly stopped movin’ frae dawn tae dusk. When she grew up a bit, her father began tae teach her the magic o’ stone, the spells and charms, the deep knowin’. Folk would come on the twa o’ them, the tall man and the half-grown lassie, heads together over some old scroll or conjurin’ up creatures out o’ the bare rock.” She folded up the garment she had been mending and reached into the basket for another.

“What happened?” I asked, knowing it could be nothing good.

“Many enchantments she learned from her father; she was skilled in that work. But she was always wantin’ more. The Lord, ye understand, would hae kept her safe at home, nae wanderin’ beyond the ha’ unless she took him along wi’ her. He didna ken that a’ lassies want tae run free when they start tae grow older; a’ lassies want tae be let off the leash and mak’ their ain errors.

“Gem took tae slippin’ oot. She was clever, she had spellcraft, she learned tae get by her father’s guards unseen. The Lord had given her the kennin’ o’ deep magic. Mebbe he forgot tae teach her common sense. One day in summer, Gem went missin’. Naebody saw her leave, but she wasna tae be found anywhere in the ha’. Ye ken how steep the paths are in these parts, sheer up and doon on either side. The Lord used a spell tae find his daughter, but it was too late; she’d lost her footin’, or somethin’ had startled her, and she’d fallen tae the rocks far below. Broken. Dead. The cruel part o’ the tale is, the lassie was skilled in magic. She could hae changed her form and flown oot
o’ trouble. But she was still young, and she wasna quick enough.” She fell silent for a little, her sewing forgotten in her hands. “They’d been arguin’ that same mornin’, before Gem left. He wasna happy wi’ her work on some charm or other, and she lost her temper and shouted at her papa.
Why canna ye leave me be? Why canna I be free like the creatures on the mountain?
’Twas only a small quarrel; she loved her father weel. But that lay heavy on him once she was gone.”

“What about Gem’s mother?”

“She faded.” Flow resumed darning the stocking she was holding. “Grief shrank her down tae a shadow. In the end she went awa’. Couldna bear tae be in the place where her only child had perished. And he was left on his ainsome. One day he lay doon and didna get up again. Told us, before he crept awa’ inside himself, that we werena tae wake him. We’ve watched ower him ever since, hopin’ things would change, but they havena. Until the twa o’ ye came along.” She cast me a sideways glance. “We never had a Caller before. We’re thinkin’ mebbe ye can do what we’re forbidden tae try.” Hope shone in her eyes.

“It must have been very hard for everyone here,” I said eventually. “Losing Gem, and then the Lady, and him as well.”

“Gem was oor wee one, the only bairn ever born in this ha’, and we a’ grieved for her. The Lady, aye, ’twas indeed sad. As for him, we tried tae coax him oot o’ his sorrow, but he was deaf tae us.”

“But you’ve kept the household going, kept it all ready for him.” Hundreds of years; such hope.

Flow sighed. “It’s been hard, sometimes, tae gae on believin’ that someday he’ll wake. The lads, the Twa, they’ve been staunch; they havena slept more than a snatch since he lay doon there.”

“The Twa—you mean his two guards?”

“Aye, lassie. ’Tis special hard for them, since they were always by his side before. We’re thinkin’ ye might be the last chance. If a Caller canna reach him, wha can?”

I hesitated. “I think … I must speak honestly, Flow. I don’t believe I should call a Guardian as I might a less powerful being; it feels wrong. I need time to think about it, work out another way.… But Whisper said stone moves slowly. We had some hopes of returning to Shadowfell before the winter.”

“We’ve waited lang. We can wait a bit more. Could be you’ll know when it’s time.”

In the isles Tali had been counting the days until we might move on with our journey. Here she was busy from dawn till dusk with the northern warriors, somewhere down below. She fell into bed each night content but exhausted and slept soundly until morning.

My days were spent with the Lord of the North, in the great silent cavern where he lay with his eyes on nothing. The ranks of attendants who had been present when I first entered this chamber were gone now, but the Twa kept me company. They stood alert, spears in hand, while I sat by the Lord’s pallet and tried to find answers.

This was surely a charmed sleep, a spell turned inward
that could only be undone by magic. As a Caller, I had no magic of my own; I was neither fey nor a mage. My time with the Hag had made it clear to me that my power lay in opening myself to natural magic, becoming a conduit through which it could flow. But I would not call a Guardian. To attempt that seemed not only presumptuous and foolish but, under the current circumstances, perilous. If the Lord had put himself into an enchanted sleep, then ordered his household not to wake him, he wasn’t going to be well pleased by a human woman breaking the spell, then asking him to teach her. It seemed to me I must find a way into his slumbering thoughts and seek there the answer to bringing him back. How I might go about this, I had yet to work out.

Meanwhile, I imagined him as a friend who had been grievously hurt, someone I could not cure, and I did what I might have done if he were human. Sang songs. Told stories, including my own with its losses and its learning. Talked to him of other things: the turning of the seasons, the harvest, the weather, my hopes for Alban’s future. At my request, Flow prepared for me the meals the Lord had most enjoyed and brought them on a tray so I could eat by his side. I always asked him if he wanted a share. I encouraged the Twa to talk to me about the past, not the sad past of Gem and her mother, but the time before, when this household was full of laughter and life. The Lord lay quiet as our talk flowed over him; under our smiles and tears he remained impassive. The days went by.

Tali was making better progress. She was helping train
the Lord’s fighting forces, or rather, training Scar and his fellow leaders to do the kind of work she did at Shadowfell. At the same time, she was making these folk into comrades, talking through our strategy, explaining why it was so important that we all work together. She was listening to their contributions, some of which, she told me, were immensely valuable.

I was glad she was so busy. It stopped her from worrying about Regan and the others, from trying to guess where they’d gone after midsummer and what risks they might be taking. Tali either absent or fast asleep was a great deal easier than Tali bored, restless, and anxious.