Part 46 (1/2)

They were headed straight east through the foothills now, funneling up from the Vale of Orian. From the verdant lowlands patterned by crops and orchards, through forested gra.s.slands, they had emerged at last onto a rocky heath-a place of twisted trees and patchy wetlands. The ground beneath them sloped increasingly upward and now their horses' hooves met the first dusting of snow. The setting Sun gleamed rose-gold on the mountains before them, showing the pa.s.s as a dusky violet slash. Sunlight was withdrawing rapidly from the floor of the narrow valley, leaving the travelers in a bowl of unrelieved gray.

Gazing up at the distant crags of Baenn-an-ratha, Aine thought she had never seen a more desolate setting. She had once thought Hrofceaster to be desolate, but now, it pulled at her, like home. As she pictured the place, sitting high up on its craggy scarp, she saw tents scattered on the slopes below its walls. In their midst, a standard bore aloft an object that flashed fire into the violet bowl overhead and, near that standard, in a small, guarded tent . . .

”Aine, what is it?” asked Iseabal. ”What's wrong?”

Aine shook the vision away, realizing she'd stopped her horse in the middle of the rock-strewn track and had frozen there, mouth and eyes agape.

”Airleas,” she whispered. ”We must hurry, Isha. Airleas will be betrayed.”

Airleas stood on the parapet looking out over the forecourt of the fortress. Under a layer of moon-washed mist, the angles and planes of Airdnasheen glittered with a fine layer of frost. Odd, he felt no chill, nor did his breath cloud the frigid air.

Before he could contemplate that, his eyes were drawn to the courtyard below. Furtive movement roiled the mist-may have even been part of the mist. In moments, the movement took on form, coalescing to become colorless cloaked and hooded figures-a trio of satellites...o...b..ting a central point.

Airleas frowned. No, not satellites, shepherds, and the single charge was obviously captive. Cold panic flushed through him. He tensed to run, but found himself unable to move. He tried to cry out, but his throat failed him. His fingers gripped the parapet; they were numb to the freezing stone.

It could only be a Weave. But, dear G.o.d, so powerful?

The fleeing figures were almost to the gates when he remembered his own aidan and marshaled it. Though his body seemed incapable of movement, surely his spirit could fly. He barely had the thought when he found himself soaring over the parapet, swooping into the dark recesses of the forecourt.

Before the scurrying figures, he lit, bird-like, and braced himself for their attack. The wraith-forms did not even pause in their advance. It was as if he were invisible to them.

”Stop!” he shouted, but no sound came from his lips. The dark shepherds pressed on, and now the one they herded raised her head as if she alone had heard him. It was Taminy's face he stared into, Taminy's eyes that gazed blankly into his own.

Panicked and befuddled, he could only gape while sheep and shepherds bore through him as if he were composed of mist.

Behind him the gates of Hrofceaster rattled and the invaders pa.s.sed out into the night. Sluggish now, Airleas struggled to turn, to follow the men who had taken Taminy. Why had no one been aware of them? Why had no one raised the alarm or stopped them? Were all as bewicked as he was?

He floundered over the questions; his mind obeyed no better than his body had done. Clarity would not come. The gray world around him became black and close. He gasped, afraid he must suffocate.

He shocked to complete awareness in his bed, up to his ears in blankets and fleeces. Quaking, he struggled to orient himself. Had he been dreaming? Was he now awake?

Then came fear. Had the dream been prophetic? Or had he been bewicked and seeing an aislinn vision from the midst of someone else's Weave?

Rattling. He could still hear the rattling of the fortress gates or . . .

He sat up. No, it was his chamber door that rattled now. He rose unsteadily, pulled on a woolen cloak and stumbled to his door, yet unable to shake the vision. In the hallway, Deardru-an-Caerluel stood, trembling, m.u.f.fled in an azure cloak.

”Lord!” she cried, seeing him. ”Lord, Feich has taken your Mistress away by stealth and by inyx. He's befuddled Catahn and Desary-even Osraed Wyth. They all sleep as if dead. You must come!”

Airleas shook his head. Befuddled? He had certainly been that himself. How was he now awake? ”Bewicked,” he murmured. ”But how have I-?”

”The amulet! I was awake when the Weave fell on the fortress. I could wake you only because we are linked by the amulet. Airleas-” She grasped his arm, bent to look into his eyes. ”Airleas, you're the only one who can save her!”

Airleas's heart seemed to stop, trembling, in his breast. Taminy. Feich had taken Taminy. He had not dreamed.

As he dressed, as he strapped on his sword, he flogged his mind, trying to clear it. Surely, there were questions he should ask. Things he must know before he went anywhere. What should he do when he got outside the gates of Hrofceaster? Would he have to kill Feich? Could he kill Feich? How could he do what Taminy could not? How was it she was disarmed and not Eyslk's mother?

Head spinning, he followed the Hillwild woman from the room and through the chill corridors of Hrofceaster. Perhaps it was the cold of the hemming stone, perhaps it was the dregs of his aislinn vision, but Airleas's mind at last grasped at one of the circling questions.

”What must I do? I must know what to do,” he murmured and realized his teeth were chattering. He began to pray, silently.

”You must kill Daimhin Feich,” Deardru said. ”You must rescue your Mistress.”

”I . . . I can't! I can't kill Feich, I-”

”Don't be ridiculous, child. You can walk on water.”

”No, I mean . . .” How could she know? Had she spied on his lesson by the Gwyr's pool? Why should she do that? He shook his head, wis.h.i.+ng the effects of the enemy Weave would wear off.

He grasped at a pa.s.sing thought. ”Taminy would despise me if I killed Daimhin Feich.”

Deardru glanced back at him. ”To save her life? Her honor? You are mistaken.”

Not even for that, he thought, and fell silent, trying to decide what he could do now that he had decided what he couldn't do.

Stopping, going back into the fortress, running to Taminy's room to see if she was there, none of these things occurred to him. His body followed Deardru as if on a tether, but his mind, pacing its narrow confines, came to a decision; he knew what he would do when he faced Daimhin Feich.

Outside the gates of Hrofceaster, Airleas took the initiative, moving ahead of Deardru down the rocky defile toward the trailhead from Airdnasheen. He had not quite drawn level with the village gate when he sensed the enemy presence and felt of the boundaries of their camp-physical boundaries and aislinn. The first he could circ.u.mvent, the second, he did not want to.

He announced himself to the watching, listening aidan and experienced a backwash of surprise. In the middle of the dark trail, he stopped and pulled his sword from its scabbard. Behind him, Deardru-an-Caerluel gasped, pulling up short.

”Run,” he told her. ”Hide.” He tossed the sword away from him onto the ground.

After a moment of hush, several figures arose before him as if out of the ground. One of them picked up his sword and moved to stand before him. In the dusky figure's hands the sword blade flashed with sudden light, glowing a bright and silvery blue. By its light, Airleas could see that the man he faced was Daimhin Feich.

”Is this surrender, Cyneric?” Feich asked him. ”I rather expected an attack.”

”I've come to offer myself to stand as prisoner in Taminy's place. Take me back to Creiddylad, but free my Lady.”

Feich smiled. ”Oh, I'll take you back to Creiddylad, rest a.s.sured. But I can't possibly free 'your Lady.' I don't have her.” He glanced up over Airleas's head. ”Thank you, Mistress, your help has been invaluable.”

Airleas turned his spinning head. It came as no surprise to see Deardru-an-Caerluel still standing on the trail behind him.

She did not return the Regent's smile. ”If you can force Taminy-Osmaer out of Hrofceaster,” she said, ”I will consider myself well paid.”

”I have the boy,” he told his cousin, and Ruadh felt an unaccountable surge of relief.

He settled himself before the brazier in Daimhin's gaudy tent. ”The Hillwild woman delivered him to you?”

”He practically delivered himself. I expected him to come wielding his sword. Instead, he surrendered it.”

”Because of your Weaving, you think.”

”Mine, Coinich Mor's, and the Hillwild's. She gave him an amulet that, according to her, amplified any inyx she directed at him. Homey magic, that, don't you think?”

”I couldn't say. But we have what we came for, now. We can return to Creiddylad.”