The Shadow at the Gate (65 page)

“I’ve never been out of Hearne in my life,” said Jute. “Except for now. Running away and trying not to get my throat cut. What fun.”

Here.
The hawk’s voice sounded thinly in his mind.
The inlet is here.

Jute could see the hawk hovering in the sky. It was a while before anyone else in the boat could see the bird as well, but Ronan steered at Jute’s direction. The cliffs looked foreboding, high and carved away at their bases by the waves so that the sunlight could not relieve their shadows unless at sunset. The waves pounded against the face of the cliff with a roar. Spray surged into the air.

“High tide,” said Ronan.

And it was, for the reef guarding the opening of the inlet was submerged and only revealed itself in the white water foaming above it. The inlet was not visible until they sailed so close to the cliff that Jute was nervously considering swimming through the breakers to the cliff beyond. But then the cliff opened up and they were through, plunging forward on the face of a wave. The wind died and they floated in a tiny, placid bay.

“Get the oars out,” said Ronan.

Jute paddled awkwardly on one side of the boat, until he discovered the rhythm to it. On the other side, the three boys fought over the second oar until Ronan barked at them. The boat drifted across the bay toward the dock. Past the dock, a path zigzagged up the cliff until it reached the town. Happily, though, the cliffs inside the bay were not as high as those fronting the sea. The town clustered at the top of the cliffs with houses perching on rocks like birdnests. Boats bobbed at anchor near the dock.

“Not a word of the wind, d’you hear?” The three boys nodded their heads at Ronan and looked both obedient and guilty, as if they had already disobeyed him. “Jute, you be careful with what you say. No telling who’s around here.”

“Just so,” said the hawk.

“There. The others have made it through as well,” said Ablendan. He sighed. “At least that’s something salvaged from the day.”

Jute glanced back to see the last of the other boats sliding in through the gap in the cliff. He thought he heard the faint sound of cheering, but the bay was loud with the echoing boom of the waves and he could not be sure. His back ached horribly, but he paddled on. It would not do to slack off in view of the three boys. Or Ronan, for that matter. Sweat trickled into his eyes.

The hawk settled onto the railing next to him.

“Nothing like hard work to grow a man’s soul,” said the hawk.

“All right,” said Ronan. “Stop paddling.”

The boat bumped against the side of the dock. Ronan leapt onto the dock and tied them off. He then strode off to the end of the dock, where the three other boats were coasting in. Ablendan and Jute followed him. The boys from the school gathered around them.

“Not a word, d’you hear?” said Ronan. “If I catch any of you spouting off about wind lords or the Dark, I’ll be talking with you myself. That goes for ghosts as well.” Ronan tapped the hilt of his sword at this. The boys nodded and looked suitably impressed. The two ghosts looked less impressed.

“Upon my word,” said Ablendan. “A mouse!”

And there, perched on a boy’s shoulder and peeking out from behind his collar, was a gray mouse.

“Where’d you get that mouse, boy?”

“Er, found it skittering along the stairs back at school,” said the boy. He looked guilty as boys do when questioned, even when they have nothing to be worried of.

“Give it here.”

“But it's mine,” said the boy.

“Give it here,” said Ablendan. “Gently! For your sake, I sincerely hope you’ve treated this mouse well and haven’t been dangling it about by its tail. For, you see, this isn’t a mouse.”

With those words, the mouse vanished and there on the dock stood Severan. He looked furious.

“Severan,” said Ablendan, smiling for the first time all day. “I was hoping it was you.”

“Nitwit! Blockhead!”

Severan aimed a blow at the boy’s head, but the lad proved quicker than the old man. He ducked and vanished into the group of schoolboys. They all stared goggle-eyed at Severan.

“Do these lackwits learn nothing that we teach them? I spent half the trip doing sign language, humming Thulish folk songs, and dancing around like a fool! But did that get any attention? No. Did that prompt any of these idiots to wonder whether, perhaps, the mouse wasn’t a mouse? No!”

“At any rate,” said Ablendan cheerfully, “all’s well that ends well.”

“If I ever get my hands on that son of a louse.” Severan spat into the water. “Blast him to darkness!”

“Facen, eh?” said Ablendan.

“Of all things, a mouse. Before I had time to collect my thoughts, I had a cat after me. I can still smell the stench of the brute’s breath.”

“Probably old Perl. He’s always been fond of garlic.”

“At least you’re safe,” said Jute, smiling. “I’m very glad to see you again.”

“Sir, if we can’t return to school,” said one of the boys, “how shall we get home, and what shall we tell our families?”

“Mumble something about the flu,” said Severan. “I wouldn’t have you lie to your parents, but there’s a great thing at stake here. No, don't look like that. We'll figure something out. First, though, I think we all need a good, hot meal, but it had better not include cheese.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

THE SORROW OF THE EARTH

A wind blew across the plain from the east. A strange half-light filled the sky. Dark clouds hurried across the face of the sun.

The wind bears an evil scent, Mistress
, said the big wolf.
The same scent we tracked into the mountains.

Aye.

Swallowfoot had been galloping for hours. His pace did not slacken. Levoreth felt the horse’s heart pounding beneath her. The wolves streamed out around them like a ragged drapery of shadow rushing in their wake.

The sceadu. They were riding in pursuit of the sceadu. A voice inside her mind whispered uneasily. What if the boy had not unleashed the wind in the regent’s castle? What would have happened then? Would she have been able to stand alone before the sceadu? She might very well have died. Doubt crept into her mind. She had not killed it in the regent’s castle, even with the boy’s help. What would happen here?

Somewhere far off on her left, a wolf howled.

The trail is struck,
said the big wolf.
It leads south across the plain. A company of men and a terrible evil. They smell of death.

Levoreth brought Swallowfoot to a halt with a touch of her mind. The horse shuddered beneath her, blowing and stamping on the grass. The wolves milled around them. Far away on the horizon, she thought she saw a smudge of smoke staining the sky. She could feel the sorrow in the earth. It sighed in the ground and the grass bent over in sadness.

“I’m sorry,” Levoreth whispered. “I’m too late for you.”

Mistress?

We will follow
, said Levoreth grimly.
We will follow and many of your pack will die this day, for we hunt a sceadu.

The wolf bowed his head.

So be it.

The plain rushed away on either side of them. Before them were the scent and track of their quarry. Grass lay trampled by the passage of many horse hooves. The stench of the Dark lay heavy on the track.

They travel not overly fast. I think their horses are weary.

Aye, Drythen Wulf
, said Levoreth.
It will not be long now.

The wolf pack ran all through the morning and into midday. Even though the sun was surely overhead, the day was as gloomy as if it was already twilight. But the wolves and Swallowfoot were not disheartened, for Levoreth called aloud to them as they ran, naming them one by one so that they knew she held each of them close within her mind. They topped a rise and there, far below on the plain, was a dark and moving mass of horses and men. Levoreth could feel the drum of galloping hooves echoing and pounding within the earth. Even from such a distance she saw a white face turn back toward her from the middle of that company, and she saw the girl’s brown hair blowing in the wind. But by the girl’s side rode a dark figure.

“Giverny!”

The scream tore from Levoreth’s throat. It was unbidden and unchecked. The earth quaked at her cry. Below them, the company of horses was thrown into confusion. Riders were tossed from their saddle. The wolves around her stumbled and fell. Only Swallowfoot stood sure-footed beneath on the tremoring ground.

Mistress! Keep us in your care!

The great wolf lay flat on the ground. His son Ehtan sprawled beyond him. The wolves stared at her, their eyes flashing wide in panic.

I would split the earth!
she raged.
I would split the earth to save this youngling’s life! Get up! Get up and kill!

The pack rose and rushed howling down the rise and across the blowing grasses. The men struggled to regain their mounts. The dark figure in their midst called out in a dreadful voice. Thunder crashed overhead in answer to him. Lightning fell in the east, drawing closer. The horsemen wheeled around, cursing and whipping at their mounts. The wolves fell on them like a terrible wave, and at the crest of the wave rode Levoreth. The horsemen reeled back before them. They were pulled down by the jaws of the wolves. Swallowfoot lashed out with his hooves. Over the clash of weapons and the screaming of the horses, Levoreth’s voice keened in fury. A helmeted face dissolved into blood and ruin before her. An arrow hissed by her ear and she kicked free from Swallowfoot’s back to land beside the old wolf.

Mistress!
he snarled, his jaws streaked with blood, and then he lunged forward to rip a horse down by its neck.

Levoreth stamped on the earth and it shook and split around her. The wolves leapt over the chasms, but horses and riders tumbled down into the depths. A man swung an axe at her, but she snapped her fingers and the weapon collapsed into a handful of withered flowers. The man cursed and she saw the Dark glaring from his eyes, and then that was gone in a blur of wolf fangs and Swallowfoot’s hooves. She ran forward. The wolves surged on either side. But the day’s gloom deepened, and out of the darkness emerged the figure of a man. He was cloaked in a deeper darkness that seethed and flowed about his body like living shadow. From one hand curved a sword. The other held a knife, and on its handle a stone shone in blood-red color.

Bicce wulf!

His voice rang inside Levoreth’s mind like stone on stone. She staggered under the blow.

Well met, once again, Mistress of Mistresses.

His teeth flashed in the gloom. They were sharper than his sword. Around him, the horsemen rose up. Spears flew in the darkness. Somewhere on her right, a wolf howled as it died.

I killed you!

Nay, Mistress. Blurred, like shadow fouled with the light. Unraveled like a rotten weave. But the wind is not with you this time.

Her fingers stabbed at the air. The earth shuddered. She called out, her voice hoarse. The grass thickened into brambles as gray and as hard as stone. They thrust their way up into the air. Iron thorns clutched and stabbed at the horsemen. But the sword flashed and fell amidst the brambles. The blade whistled through the air at her. A wolf flung itself into the blow and fell. She saw scarlet coursing over black fur. The knife in his other hand slid toward her.

Swallowfoot. The horse blotted out her sight, rearing up before her. Tall, magnificent, mane flying, and neighing in fury. But then he was gone. The dark figure stepped over the horse’s body. And then the sword fell again. Sunlight glanced through a rent in the clouds. The blade fell along the angle of the light. And the light slowed. The blade fell slower than a feather. Light gathered on its edge and flowed down, hanging forever from its point in one gleaming drop.

It will fall.
The thought floated through Levoreth’s mind, slower than the light.
All things fall. Someday.

The sunlight was gone.

And the blade kept falling.

 
   
It lanced straight toward her chest. But her flesh was as hard as oak, her body wavered into branches and deep roots. The sceadu could not wrench his blade free. The sword was imprisoned within the heartwood of herself. The sceadu could not let go, and branches grew out around him. The sword shattered in a clear, bell-like tone. Levoreth felt the earth waiting beneath her, heavy and expectant. The knife in his other blurred toward her. The stone in its hilt burned red with malevolence. Her heart faltered, for her memory was caught by the stone, striving to remember. Despite this, the branches caught and held his wrist. He could not break free, though he twisted and thrashed. Shadows fluttered like rags before her. She heard a wailing cry that faded into nothingness. A mist wavered away across the ground. The horsemen fled with it, but one of the riders checked in flight and the mist rose to settle behind him on the saddle. And then they were all away with a thunder of galloping hooves and the snarls of the wolves in pursuit.