Authors: Nancy Springer
“Better even that than this,” grated Roran hoarsely. “Guard!” His mind was numb and fixed in his despair.
“Father.” There was a tone in Robin's voice that cut through the haze of Roran's wretchedness, a note of loving command that could not be ignored. “Let them slay me if they must, but do not let them torture my heart, Father! Do not let them change you."
Roran lay panting in his filthy straw. He was exhausted, too exhausted to feel or think, but suddenly the situation presented itself to him with a clarity that reached beyond hope or fear to the depths of his soul.
“So you want to fight them, Robbie.” His voice was as calm as if he were discussing a day's plans, but full of proud affection.
“Ay. They can have my body and welcome, so long as I keep my soul, and you yours."
“You have saved it for me, my marvelous son. We will fight them together."
When the key turned in the lock and the door swung open, Roran looked up with fortitude, expecting the torturers. But it was Hal and Alan who entered his cell. Between them walked a pallid guard, and the Tower keys dangled in Hal's hand.
In the copse beyond the walls, Trigg struggled against sleep as the night wore on. He sat on the ground between the horses and nodded. But suddenly his head snapped up, and he jumped to his feet. The night rang with the horrible shrieks of men in mortal terror. The black windows of the Tower came ablaze with torchlight. Trigg blinked in disbelief. Panic-stricken guards were leaping from the windows to an ugly death on the hard ground below.
Others ran out through the courtyard or atop the walls. The shrieking continued, and the windows of the keep beyond the Tower began to glow bright. Then the postern gate in the Tower wall swung open, and in the torchlight Trigg could see people streaming to freedom. They did not run or scream. Some tottered on maimed legs, supported by others almost as weak. Some had unbandaged stumps of fingers or arms. Some had blind sockets for eyes, and were led by others almost as blind from long darkness. All of them moved off quietly, turning pale, smiling faces to the night sky.
In the midst of this strange procession came Hal, carrying someone wrapped in his cloak. At first sight of him, Trigg crawled onto Arundel's back, gathered Alfie's reins in one hand, and sent the horses toward him.
He felt as if he were being pushed through a solid wall made of nothing but fear. He lay flat on Arundel's back and tried not to let the darkness crush his lungs. He thought that his head would burst with soundlessness, but he could not scream. He believed that he was slipping, falling to his death. With the last of his strength, he forced his arm around the warmth of Arundel's neck. Then, just as he felt his senses leaving him, he seemed to burst through.
He sat up, bewildered, smiling. The whole world was filled with friendship and praise. Just ahead was Hal, calling him proudly by name. Trigg slipped lightly to the ground and looked at the still form in Hal's arms. It was a dark-haired youth, his face deathly white, with ugly knots and cuts all over his head.
“Water,” directed Hal rapidly. “And any food that we have, give to those who need it most. Then go help Alan at the stable."
Trigg hastily handed out bread and dried meat. The people took it quietly, with wondering thanks. When it was all gone, he ran to find Alan deeply enmeshed in a welter of saddles and bridles. The stable was empty of its staff, the doors ajar, horses streaming out into the countryside like the prisoners. Alan held a dozen or so steeds clustered around him by the power of the Elder Tongue, and even Trigg's unpracticed eye could see that they were some of the finest in Isle. They slung gear on them as quickly as possible and trotted them around to the postern gate.
Hal was still working over the injured boy while Roran and his retainers stood by. Hurriedly Trigg and Alan helped them onto their horses. Hal carried Robin on Arundel before him. Trigg had a steed to himself. This made him anxious, for he was no horseman, but he need not have worried. The spirited creatures stood like statues while Hal and Alan bid their farewells to the spirits. When the deep voices came out of the night air, Trigg was surprised; but he was no longer afraid.
They rode hard for the remainder of the night. Before many miles had passed, Lord Roran dropped his reins and slumped in the saddle. Alan slung him across the horse and secured him as best he could; then they pressed on. One by one the retainers also toppled from the weakness of their starvation. By dawn, only a few were still upright.
At first light, Hal found a spring of clear water with trees growing around, and there they stopped. Alan and Trigg got the men off their horses and rolled in blankets on the ground. Then Trigg went to see if he could help Hal, who had Robin beside the spring, changing the hasty dressings he had put on in the Tower. Trigg had not realized how badly the youth was injured. Neither, apparently, had Cory, for he fainted at the sight. Trigg caught him as he fell, and carried him off to a blanket on the other side of the spring.
“No wonder,” muttered Hal as Trigg assisted him. “He's been starved for a week and a half. And he's one of the lucky ones, in the Tower. Did you see the others, Trigg? The tortured and maimed.... By blood, I'd forgotten how horrible...” Hal gulped and stopped, dabbing fiercely at Robin's wounds.
“But did ye see their faces?” Trigg exclaimed. “Full of peace ‘n’ wonder, despite their hurts. D'ye know what ye've done, Hal? Ye've breached the Tower! All of Isle will be abuzz with it."
“The Tower will be as full as ever in a week,” Hal answered in a low voice, “and most of those poor, crippled wretches recaptured. I released them to confuse the kingsmen.... I might have been more merciful to leave them in their cells."
“No whit!” Trigg protested. “Ye're too tired to think aright, Hal. Their faces—they smiled ‘s if they'd looked for midnight and found dawn."
But Hal had scarcely heard. “Robin, here, had a spear in his legs,” he panted in a kind of desperate monotone. “We took it out as gently as we could, but he shrieked and swooned. They all shrieked, when the spirits came. The prisoners would have run like the guards, except they were chained in their cells. The whole night has been full of screaming, and none of it mine. Alan took a ring from a dead and tortured hand. Horrible —"
“Ye're babbling,” Trigg said, and took the cloth away from him like a mother taking a toy from a cranky child, stretched him on the ground and covered him. Within a few moments, Hal was deeply asleep. Alan returned from puttering with the horses, lurching from tree to tree in his weariness. Trigg looked at him and sighed.
“Go get yer rest,” he told Alan. “I'll watch."
“You're a godsend, Trigg,” Alan mumbled, and fell asleep as he met the ground.
Hal awoke in late afternoon, still exhausted, but calm. Alan sat up groggily beside him. Two cheerful campfires gave them welcome; over one bubbled a pot of gruel, and the other licked at spits of roasting birds. Trigg, looking tired but content, was dishing gruel for Robin, crooning to himself. Hungrily turning the spits was a stranger, a burly peasant with a homely, open face, who could almost have been Trigg's twin. Beside him, rendering the air poetic with its aroma, sat a bag of fresh, hot bread.
“'At's Drew,” Trigg explained as Hal and Alan blinked. “Lives nearby, ‘n’ came for water. We got along fine; he's a cousin t'me that I ha’ not seen these many years. Bread ‘n’ gruel from his wife, in trade for one of my grouse."
Anxiously, Hal went to kneel beside Robin. The boy opened his eyes, and the ghost of a smile played around his pale lips. “Hal,” he whispered. “I thought it was a dream."
“No dream,” he murmured, caressing Robin's forehead. “Are you in pain?"
“Nay. Trigg has comforted me marvelously well."
“He is a good nurse,” Hal agreed softly. “I know."
“ ‘N’ he knows a need when he sees it,” grumbled Trigg from behind their backs. He handed Hal a ladle full of whitish goo. “Go wash. Soap from Drew. No dinner till ye do."
Hal and Alan looked at each other, and their weary dismay suddenly gave way to shouts of laughter that woke the camp. From head to foot, they were covered with bat dung, dirt and dust, filth and cobwebs. Only Hal's fingers were clean from bandaging Robin. He whooped until tears wet his grimy cheeks. “A pretty pair of rescuers we are!” Alan choked.
“Like gods, you appeared to me,” remarked Roran, going to his son. “Anyway, we're no sweet-smelling lot ourselves, after sitting for a week in our own dirt."
“ ‘At's truth,” Trigg said bluntly. “But ye I'll let eat before ye wash."
They all ate and washed by turns, gradually becoming clean and full through the course of a lazy evening. When they finished at last, Trigg was asleep. The rest of them felt sociable for the first time in days, and clustered companionably around the campfires. Even Robin sat with them, resting against Cory. At his waist Cory wore the hunting knife Alan had given him, with its polished handle in the shape of a horse's head.
“You seem almost as done in as the rest of us, Hal,” Roran remarked.
“It was hard, going back to the Tower,” Hal acknowledged quietly. “I have been there before."
No one wanted to ask him when. “And Alan, what has come over you?” Cory inquired lightly. “You are so silent, and brooding —” Corin stopped abruptly. For a moment, Alan's glance pierced him with fear. But Alan's reply was calm.
“I have been watching the Wheel in motion, and I can't see the tilt of it. Look here.” He reached under his tunic and drew out the glimmering Elfstone upon its golden chain. He held the green jewel aloft in the firelight, together with the black and silver ring on his hand. Corin gasped as brilliant light bathed him.
Glowing like a vision in the heart of each stone was a radiant half-circle sunburst in the form of a mighty crown. Corin squinted into the dazzling depths and vaguely perceived twin faces under crowns of silver and gold. But the vision faded before he could recognize the faces. Alan lowered his hands.
“Did the ring ever do that before?” asked Hal softly, as amazed as Corin.
“Never to my knowledge.” Alan laughed harshly. “But then, I paid it little heed."
“Whence came the ring and the stone?” asked Roran, his face pale under his swarthy skin.
“The ring came from my father's hand, long dead in the King's charnel pit.” Alan scarcely seemed able to go on, and Hal spoke up in his stead.
“It's a marvel that we found it. They always loot the bodies before they discard them, even of the gold in their teeth.” He froze, and a peculiar pain washed across his face. “Corin,” he said suddenly, “try to take the ring off Alan's finger—but be careful."
Puzzled, Cory obeyed. But as soon as he touched the ring he jerked his hand back with a yelp of pain. “Are you all right?” asked Hal anxiously. “What happened?” cried Roran.
“It stings like nettles!” gasped Corin, laughing even as tears of pain sprang from his eyes. “I dare say I'll live. But I should think, Hal, that if you were expecting something like that to happen, you might have taken it on yourself!"
Hal took the ring gently from Alan's finger and set it upon his own. Lord Roran touched it, then winced and put his finger to his mouth. Hal returned the ring to Alan, who sat in silent bewilderment.
“I knew nothing of this,” he said at last. “How did you?"
“A buried memory. He wore it to his death, all through the torture, and none of the guards would touch it. But I touched it without harm...."
Roran looked startled, and drew breath to speak, but kept silence.
“I had forced it out of my mind along with the rest of those black days,” Hal concluded grimly.
No one had the heart to pursue the matter further. Corin tried to return the conversation to a former topic. “And the green stone? Whence did it come?"
But Alan sprang up and strode away from the fire. Cory looked after him in dismay, unable to follow; Robin had fallen asleep on his shoulder.
“Never mind,” Hal said gently from beyond the fire. “He will be back shortly."
“He's so changed,” Corin blurted.
“With reason,” Hal replied. “The green stone is a gift of love from a certain maiden whose people remember back to the Beginnings. It was with her that he learned to watch the turnings of the Wheel....” Hal looked into Corin's perplexed face and sighed. “It is difficult to understand."
“Impossible,” grumbled Alan from behind Cory's back. “Pay no mind, Cory.... Here, let's get Robin back to his bed."
They all went to bed, and slept late into the following morning, and rested by the spring all that day, regaining strength, since Drew had no word of kingsmen being near. Then they chatted by another evening's fire and slept another night, and in the morning started gently northward. Robin was strong enough to sit on a horse, though he had to let his feet dangle below the stirrups. And still there had been no news of any pursuit. It seemed that Iscovar was having trouble in Nemeton.
Hal did not know that he had paralyzed the whole court city with a night of terror that would be made legend, and written into the lore books of the sorcerer scribes. No kingsmen would be able to ride from Nemeton for days to come. And Iscovar himself was roaring with rage to hide his own cold fear. No one knew how he had shrieked in the spirit-laden chill of that night, sensing an omen of his own approaching death.