The Dreamtrails (91 page)

In the meantime, Gwynedd intended to travel in a slanting line across the island from Uttecove to Cloistertown, where he would seek out the Per and raise a small force to lead him to the Hedra encampment. If all went as planned, the camp ought to be at least partly emptied out by Dardelan’s provocations in Fryddcove. The greatest danger would be that the Hedra lured to the cliffs overlooking the cove might take Beforetime weapons with them, but Gwynedd thought these would not be used or even brought out unless the Hedra felt truly threatened, and it was unlikely that they would feel that way, faced with a single greatship.

I had asked how Gwynedd proposed to return to the ship, given that his plan involved setting up an army between him and the only way down to the beach in Fryddcove, and was told that once the Norselander and his men had destroyed the armory and seized the maps, they would await Jak and me outside Covetown with several high-ranking Hedra they would capture in the encampment. Once we joined them, I would coerce them, and then we all would dress in Hedra robes taken from the encampment and be marched by the coerced Hedra in full view of the Hedra ranks, down the path to the beach, ostensibly to relieve the Hedra posted at the bottom of the pass.

It was beautifully simple and daring. My only concern was that the Norselanders would be left to deal with an enraged nest of Hedra.

“Gwynedd is content to leave his people in the midst of a battle he has begun?” I had asked, somewhat indignantly, resisting the urge to add that it seemed to be a habit of his to
begin things and then leave others to finish them.

But Brydda had pointed out that, before leaving, Gwynedd would have destroyed the armory as well as defeating a good many of the Hedra left in the camp, and he would have informed the Norselanders of the Hedra’s defeat elsewhere. Besides, it was Gwynedd’s belief that people should fight for their own freedom.

I had asked what Rushton had said to all of this. As we had guessed, he had elected to remain on the ship once he learned that I would accompany Gwynedd. Dardelan meant for Rushton to stay aboard the
Umborine
, but if he insisted on going ashore, he would be fed a draft of sleep potion. The solution’s rough simplicity had made me laugh with relief.

Brydda reappeared with the promised coat and dragged me from my reflections to a renewed awareness of the storm-battered night. I had just taken the coat and began rising to pull it on, when the ship listed so far to one side that I fell back to my seat.

“Where is Rushton now?” I asked Brydda.

“Dardelan is keeping him occupied with the launching of the ship boats. He and Dardelan are planning various incendiary messages aimed at drawing out as many Hedra as possible from the camp. To begin with, Jakoby will signal a demand for surrender, claiming that Sador has been summoned by the rebels on Norseland. That will puzzle the priests sorely, since there is no rebel force upon Norseland, and even if there was some more rebellious element, how could they have contacted the Sadorians? The mystery should pique their curiosity. Then Jakoby will demand to speak with Ariel, pretending that he knows what it is about. The response will confirm whether or not Ariel has gone with Salamander, which we think is most likely.”

I said nothing, for I had no doubt of it, now that I had heard of Maryon’s futuretelling.

“How are we to get to the ship?” I asked as I had done the night before.

This time, Brydda had an answer. “The Per will send a signal up from Covetown, and upon seeing it, Dardelan will have the three large ship boats launched to collect us. In the meantime, Gwynedd plans to have the Norselanders mount an attack from the rear, to give us time to get aboard and weigh anchor.”

Before I could say that leaving the Norselanders at the beginning of a battle we had incited left a bitter taste in my mouth, the doors to the saloon burst wide open, letting in a gust of rain-filled wind, and Gilbert stood in the open doorway, his red hair and side plaits streaming. “Gwynedd said anyone going ashore must come now or be left behind,” he said hoarsely.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the first of the tiny ship boats to be lowered into the boiling sea. The wind and sea were slightly less ferocious, because we had reached the lee of the island, but even so, the fact that we were not immediately swamped or capsized was solely due to the skill of the Sadorian shipwoman maneuvering us toward the three rock pinnacles Gwynedd’s mother had called the Staffs of the Goddess, saying they stood close to the entrance to the hidden inlet.

“Do you see the opening yet?” Gilbert bellowed to Gwynedd, who sat in the prow, squinting against the rain and the darkness.

The big Norselander shook his head without taking his eyes from the cliffs, and I clung to my seat and prayed that
Gwynedd’s mother had not made a mistake. It was so dark, and rain was now falling so heavily that I could not even see the stone pinnacles I had glimpsed from the ship. I looked over my shoulder, trying to spot the other two ship boats, but the waves were so high that both were hidden at the bottom of troughs. Even the enormous
Umborine
was invisible, save for a few circles of golden light cast down by the lanterns fore and aft.

At last, I saw the three stone pinnacles just ahead, and I breathed a sigh of relief as the Sadorian shipwoman maneuvered the tiny vessel between them. Still I could see no sign of the inlet opening.

“If we go any closer and there is no opening, we will not be able to prevent the ship boat crashing into the cliff,” Gilbert shouted.

The older man said nothing for a long moment, and then he pointed. “There!”

I strained my eyes, but only when lightning flared again did I see what looked like a fold or ripple in the cliff. The cove was not visible, because it could not be seen from straight on. It was literally a crack running sideways into the cliff, and it had to be approached from the side, from very close to the stone wall. Now, just as Gwynedd had warned, the ship boat was swept into a current that ran swift and straight toward the crevasse. Seeing the narrowness of the opening, I swallowed a lump of fear, but there was only ferocious concentration on the face of the Sadorian shipwoman whom Jakoby had assigned to master the tiny vessel.

“To port, pull hard now!” she commanded suddenly, and those of us on that side of the ship boat shot out our oars, dropped them into the water, and pulled hard. The boat hovered for a long moment before the prow swung around to
point like the needle in a compass toward the opening.

“Watch out!” someone cried. I blinked to clear my eyes of rain. The entrance to the narrow channel seemed to be rushing toward us like a closing maw.

“Oars up
now
!” the shipwoman roared.

I pushed down hard on the oar, and suddenly—miraculously—the ship boat surged smoothly into the stone passage. The wind’s keening was instantly muted, and the rain seemed to have ceased, but I knew it was only that the wind had preventing it falling into the narrow crevice. I fixed the oar in its upright position as Gwynedd, Gilbert, and the other armsmen were doing and turned to look behind us. There was no sign of the other vessels yet, and I prayed that those aboard were safe. I knew none of Gwynedd’s men save Gilbert, but Jak had gone in the second ship boat and Brydda in the third.

The stone passage curved and then began to widen, and suddenly we entered an almost perfectly round cove with sheer rain-washed cliff walls. There was no sign of a sand or pebble beach, nor was there any sort of rock shelf where a landing could be made. I turned to look at Gwynedd, but he was calmly studying the cliffs. I followed his gaze and saw a wide opening at the base of the cliffs that would not be visible from above, but the sea flowed into it, and I could see no place to make a landing.

Gwynedd merely bade the Sadorian woman, whose name was Andorra, bring the ship boat into the cavern. As this was done, Gilbert lit a lantern, and its golden light revealed great white clusters of stalactites overhead, from which water dripped slowly but steadily into the heaving water filling the cavern. Gwynedd said nothing as the ship boat slipped deeper into the shadowy interior. Then, when the stalactites
were almost brushing our heads, I heard the sound of waves breaking, and there before us was a beach of pale transparent pebbles that gleamed like yellow eyes in the lantern light.

As I climbed out onto the stones, I looked back the way we had come and saw the light of another lantern shining on the wet stalactites and cavern wall, and then one of the other ship boats hove into view. In a moment, Jak, another group of armsmen, and a Sadorian shipman were climbing from the ship boat.

We waited a half hour for the third ship, when Gwynedd swore ferociously and shook his head, saying it would have come by now.

“They might manage to swim in here if they capsized,” Jak said.

The Norselander sighed. “They might, but we cannot wait, for the
Umborine
must even now be approaching Fryddcove. If the others survive, they will follow.” He bade his men collect the packs that had been lashed into the ship boats, and then he turned and strode resolutely to the end of the beach, where there was an opening in the walls. We followed him and then stopped, because the tiny round cavern he had entered was barely big enough for a single solid man, let alone all of us. But when I put my head in, I saw that its roof was so high that the light from Gilbert’s lantern could not find it; it was like a natural chimney.

“Where are the steps?” I asked Gwynedd.

“Look,” he said, and bent down to run his hands over the sheer walls of the small circular cave at about knee height.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

The Norselander stopped and pointed up. “Once, when the sea flowed here, this was a blowhole. Then a series of freakish tides deposited these pebbles that formed the beach
where we made our landing and gave this place a floor.”

“Are you saying this leads to the surface?” Jak demanded, looking up.

“That is exactly what I am saying,” Gwynedd said. “If it was daylight or even a clear night, you would see the sky far above. The rain is not falling on us, because the wind is driving it across the mouth of the blowhole.” Again he turned to the wall of the cavern and ran his hands over the stone. Suddenly he gave a grunt of triumph and began to pull pebbles and stone out of the wall so easily that I knew they must merely have been pressed into place. Gradually, he exposed a narrow recess. Then he felt around the wall and began to dig again. In a short time, he had exposed a number of steps cut into the rock.

“Let me do it,” Gilbert said, and he exposed yet another step and then another above it.

“They go right to the top,” Gwynedd said. “They are shallow, but put your back against the opposite wall and go up like that. Only these bottom few steps are filled in, and the few at the top. The rest cannot be seen looking up or down, so my mother said. She told me that the first time anyone used this way, there were no steps cut. It is called Voerligga’s Path. Voerligga is the wise dwarf who serves the goddess Fryyd and sometimes intercedes for certain humans.”

It took almost two hours for all of us to reach the top, and I came last save for the Sadorian man who had remained till the end in the hope that the other ship boat would arrive.

“Perhaps it missed the entrance and returned to the ship,” I panted, but he made no response as we ascended.

It was an exhausting climb, and my legs were trembling with the exertion long before I reached the surface of the island. I was very glad to hear Gilbert call out my name and
know that I was close to the top.

Gilbert and another armsman reached down to haul me out, and I gasped as the windy rain slapped at my face, only now realizing that the storm was still raging over the island. Jak pulled me down to my knees beside him, shouting to stay low because we were close to the edge of the cliffs surrounding Uttecove, and the wind was strong enough to send a person staggering to their death.

On my knees, I watched the others haul the Sadorian out and realized that nothing at all marked the steps save a small hole fringed in grass, which from even a short distance away would seem no more than a depression in the ground, dangerously close to the cliffs, and I no longer wondered why the Hedra had not discovered it.

“Time to go,” Gwynedd said.