Loremaster - Palace Of Kings Part 42

Thane replied, returning the dagger to his belt.

Ogion stared steadily at Thane, his dark eyes s.h.i.+ning in the starlight, before bending his neck to preen his chest feathers.

One by one the grey swans returned to the bank and settled less than a neck's distance from the water's edge to sleep. 'Sit with us,' Ogion commanded, pointing with his beak to a clear s.p.a.ce in the centre of the swans. 'You have shown great bravery and have earned a place among us.'

Thane settled inside the cl.u.s.ter of swans and, sheltered by their warm feathers, fell easily into sleep. Stumble stood close by cropping at the short, bitter lakeside gra.s.ses. He could

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sense the changing weather and turned his quarters against the bitter wind that had begun to blow, before the grey hours brought the next daylight.

Thane woke to see a layer of h.o.a.r frost on the folds of his cloak and rose, s.h.i.+vering, to his feet.

Ogion stood at the water's edge, staring out across the lake towards the broken hills that showed in the distance. 'He has run before us in the darkness. The Nightmare has turned beyond the edge of the gra.s.slands into a place of deserts and broken rocks. Hurry or we will lose him.'

Thane quickly saddled Stumble and cantered him along the bank towards the far end of the lake. Ogion flew low over his head before he lifted away towards the broken line of hills.

By noontime the sky had darkened and ice-cold rain had begun to fall. Thane dismounted as Stumble floundered on the slippery ground and led him forwards, hunching his shoulders against the weather. 'We will keep on for that gap in the hills,' he shouted, against the dull roar of the rain as it worsened, misting the horizon and filling the gullies they were climbing with racing muddy streams.

The cloak kept out the worst of the rain, but the flooded gullies soon filled Thane's ruined boots with cold muddy water. The downpour matted his straw-coloured hair and trickled into his eyes in stinging drops. The cold numbed his fingers and burned into his knuckles as he scrambled forwards over the rough, rising ground towards the gap he knew must lie ahead. The higher they climbed the colder it became; driving sleet stung their faces and covered Thane's shoulders and Stumble's quarters with a grey layer of wet ice. Soaked through and s.h.i.+vering they eventually reached the gap in the hills and looked out in despair across a bleak tumble of rocks,; grey-white under ice and snow, that stretched away to a black horizon. -d

'Thanehand! Thanehand!' Ogion called in a musical voiced flying in a wide searching circle over the line of the hills

Thane heard the swans call and climbed as high as he could, waving and shouting at the low snow-filled clouds until Ogion saw him and swooped over his head.

'We are lost!' Thane shouted, rubbing the sleet out of his eyes.

'Follow the hills, Thanehand, and do not stray into the ice fields. Follow the hills until you reach Swanwater.'

Moving as fast as they could Thane and Stumble descended from the hills following the grey swans, but darkness overtook them, covering their path and they wandered down, unaware that they had strayed into the edge of an ice field.

'Stop!' Thane cried, pulling hard on the reins.

The ground beneath their feet had begun to s.h.i.+ft, faintly creaking and groaning. Stumble neighed and moved backwards onto higher ground. Thane followed him, jumping to safety just before the ice field opened, gus.h.i.+ng up in a fountain of black water. Climbing further away from the ice field Thane shouted into the darkness. 'We are lost, Ogion, and cannot find Swanwater.'

Stumble snorted and began to sc.r.a.pe at the light covering of ice and snow, trying to trample a place to weather out the night. Thane put a hand on the little horse's shoulder and bid him be still. 'Listen!' he whispered, straining his ears at the snow-silence. 'Listen.'

Far ahead a single cry, musical and piercing, cut through the darkness; moments later another cry echoed the first.

Then another and another. 'The swans are calling us,' Thane laughed, blowing on his fingers to warm them up. 'Come, Stumble, keep to the high ground and follow the music.'

Moving slowly forwards from ridge to ridge they heard the swans' voices grow louder and louder until Thane had to cover his ears to mute their calls. Suddenly the singing stopped and Ogion waddled out of the darkness to greet

them, filling the silence with his strong voice. 'Come, Thanehand, come into the flock gathering and rest, for here on Swanwater you are safe from the Nightbeasts.'

'What of Elionbel?' Thane asked, stumbling forwards on to the flat pebble-strewn beach, dense with the long-necked shapes of the swans. 'Where is the Nightmare?'

Ogion hissed, stretching his neck, 'He has gone, Thane, through the ice field beyond my sight. He travelled far while we slept and has taken a path that we cannot follow.'

'But we must follow them!' Thane cried, turning towards the ice field.

'No, you cannot! The ice field will swallow you, it is a treacherous place where you cannot travel. One step inside and you would vanish without a trace.'

'Then I have lost everything,' Thane whispered, sinking on; to his knees. Bowing his head he wept, oblivious to the biting cold, deaf to the soft sad music of the swans, blind, wrapped in a black mantle of despair.

Ousious came silently to his side, covered him with her soft downy feathers and heard every despair-filled word of his love for Elionbel; of their first meeting in the ring of hawthorn trees when he had rescued her, through his wintering at her father's house when their love had grown and flourished only to be cruelly trimmed by her father's anger.

'I am not bloodworthy of her,' he whispered over and over, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the edge of his ragged cloak in his hands.

Ousious left Thane as the first light of morning touched the smooth surface of Swanwater. She slipped quietly into the water and swam out through the fingers of still early mist far beyond the last sleeping swans. 'I will find her, Thane,' she whispered, stretching her neck and spreading her wings. 'I will tell her of your search.'

Her wings beat against the surface of the lake and she

gathered speed and rose into the air. 'I will find your Elionbel, for you are lovematched forever.'

194.

The Nightmare Vanishes

Krulshards spat at the ground and pulled the malice up around his shoulders. 'They still follow us!' he shouted, pointing with a bone black finger at the line of swans silhouetted by the dying sun. Elionbel stole a glance at the horizon and saw the swans. Secretly her heart beat faster.

Perhaps they were marking the Nightmare's path for Thane.

Krulshards laughed, roughly pulling on the life thread and breaking into her thoughts. 'They are grey swans - bearers of ill omens, carriers of the Buryman's list. They foretell your fate, Elionbel, Marchersp.a.w.n!'

Elionbel turned her head and looked steadily into the Nightmare's face, past the loops of hanging rotten flesh and the dead locks of wasted hair that swung as forgotten flags in the cold evening air. 'I do not fear you!' she hissed, staring into his eyes. 'My hate makes me strong and gives me power.

Each morning as the first ray of sunlight shows above World's Edge I eat the hate and drink from its cup, and one daylight I will be stronger than you and then I shall tear this life thread out of your black heart and strangle you with it!'

Krulshards laughed, pus.h.i.+ng Elionbel on to her knees.

'Strong!' he sneered. 'Powerful!' he mocked. Reaching out he put his hands around her wasted arms. 'You are barely flesh and bones, Marcherwoman, not even worthy as a decent meal!'

Laughing, he cast her aside and beckoned Kerzolde to come forwards. 'Send two Nightbeasts to hunt down the

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swans. I fear they are waymarking our path. Bring us swan meat, kill every one of them. The Marcher women have little appet.i.te for our tastier dishes; perhaps they will enjoy swans.'

Elionbel's stomach tightened and turned at the mention of food. She dreaded the foul maggot-strewn flesh they forced on her at the beginning of each daylight, but to eat swan mea was somehow worse. They were such beautiful creatures, strong and yet gentle, and she had always imagined she could hear something in their music, not words but voices, perhaps the voices of the dead seeking a place to rest. She turned angrily on the Nightmare but Martbel stopped her with a firm hand on her arm.

'Quiet, daughter,' she whispered, pulling Elionbel down 0 to the ground beside her. There were tears in Martbel's eyes and her shoulders shook with little uncontrollable movements

as she wept.

'What is it, Mother?' Elionbel asked in hushed tones

wrapping her arms around her mother's shoulders.

Between her sobs Martbel whispered into Elionbel's ear 'The Nightmare raped me on the top of the wall when h dragged me inside the malice.'