Three Hands For Scorpio Part 20

"Devil-true devil!" he spat. "Such witch-work is why-"

"Condemn us later," I interrupted. "Warding we must have at once."

"Warding?" he repeated.

Zolan caught the soldier by the arm. "Up with you, man. This must be done-and now!"

Lolart allowed himself to be drawn along to where my sisters waited; then Zolan brought him into a circle with us. The glow from Tam's jewel gave us what light we needed. It was Tam who spoke now and directly to the armsman.

"What we do is for protection. Those who wrought that bloodletting at the keep depend upon more than sword, spear, and snaplock."

As though grudging this truth, Lolart jerked his head toward Zolan. "So he has told me."

"Give me your name," Tam ordered, "for true names must be used now."

"I be Lolart Boartusked of Ichon's kin. Would you call for a guard upon what cannot be seen?"

"Just so, Lolart. Let us now form a circle."

Zolan suddenly produced from the inside of his tattered s.h.i.+rt a clenched hand. As he slowly spread his fingers he looked at Tam.

"There are Talents and Talents," he said. "They may not be of the same calling, but if they are of the Light, they are linked together, even as the Evil now come into this land can call upon the Darkness inherent here to join forces. Therefore, let our speech be voiced together."

On his palm lay a strange object that appeared to be a slender tube of bone. It did not glow, as did Tam's treasure, but it possessed a curious ability to draw the onlooker's attention as if at any moment it might alter shape.

Tam's hand with the gem swung in the direction of what he displayed. I flinched, for within me stirred such an energy as could have brought me to my knees. Then it was gone. No threat could be felt in its inroad, only promise.

"Let it be done," said Tam swiftly. "Take hands-"

Though she and Zolan were only partly united, we were indeed linked. The armsman was seated between Bina and Zolan; I was joined to Bina, and Tam also held to me. Tam began to speak the ritual, and Bina and I followed; Zolan and Lolart came a little behind as both echoed us.

"I, Tamara of the Scorpys, ask the Boon of Shaft Ward, with these others. We go to battle Dark and Night, Evil and Might. Let the s.h.i.+eld promised to those who believe in Light close about us at this saying."

I followed with my name and the exact words of that ritual. Then Bina spoke. More slowly, as if striving to match the exact words, followed Lolart, and at last Zolan. In only a short while we were finished, and what might follow we truly did not know.

An arrow of blazing light shot up from Tam's hand to meet with another from Zolan's. One shaft was green, the other golden. They met, wreathed together, and formed a hoop that spread until it was larger than our circle.

Once complete, it descended, pa.s.sing from air to ground before it vanished. Within that s.p.a.ce, I had a vision of a wall of swords between us and the outer night, and I breathed thanks to the Giver of Talents.

Our circle broke apart, and hunger was again upon us, the pain worse for the scent of the cooking meat. With no speech, we ate a small portion each of leaper. However, this time it was made more palatable by the addition of one of the herbs Bina had brought. Lolart also knocked the wax stopper from one of the smaller pots, and we used our fingers to gouge out dollops of berry jam, sourish but satisfying.

When we had done, Zolan spoke to the armsman.

"You have a story, friend. What enemy did you have, and what brought their fury on your hold?"

Lolart gazed into the dying fire as he spoke.

"Lord Ichon was my milk brother-my mam nursed us both, as we were born on the same day and the Lady Penthea was ailing. He was always wise beyond his years, and in time he was made First Kin, by Marshur choice, to young Gerrit, the king who vanished. The king was journeying to the Guardian Shrine for the final blessing of his mother, but Ichon remained behind as he had been hurt when a boar charged his horse during a hunt."

Lolart raised his hand and absently stroked his bearded chin, as if his words had awakened some memory.

"Thus," he continued, "Ichon was not with Gerrit when the king was attacked and taken. An outcry was raised, though, and Ichon was accused of knowing where the king might be. He took the Sword Oath against three champions, but Truth was his s.h.i.+eld and he defeated them all.

"However, he would live no more with those of the court, for he thought that some did in truth know where the king was. Thus he came here to this outpost and served Gurlyon well, for he wiped out five invasions of the mountain people during his years as lord of Frosmoor."

The guardsman's honest face darkened as his tale continued. "Some time ago, we heard of this Devil Lover from the mountains-and all we could learn was ill. Lord Ichon was summoned to a meeting at Kingsburke when it became plain that the Dark One had Arvor's ear and favor. It would seem, Ichon said when he returned to hold his own council, that the king strove to make the false priest a tool against the lords from whom he wanted free. Ichon would have none of this fight, for it might turn kin against kin. Thus he ordered that we of the clan should hold apart.

"Five, six days ago"-Lolart look down at his hands, as if needing to tell the days on his fingers-"there came that-" He fell now into the coa.r.s.e speech typical of a soldier. Zolan touched his arm warningly, and his head snapped up.

"Your pardon, Wisewoman! That-messenger of the demon came." Now his hand went to his throat, and he pulled from hiding within his buff coat a medal swinging on a thong. "This luck-piece was given me by one of your sort-Wisewoman Osira, who lives by the G.o.ddess Pillars near Red-mont. She told me to wear it ever, and it would keep me safe."

Tam held out her jewel. Its gold glow became, for a breath or two, a soft blue, and we made gestures of reverence at this new emblem of the Great One.

"Well-" Once more the guardsman looked down at the medal he had left hanging in view. "She had the right of it." His voice carried a note of bitterness. "Because of this talisman, I did not change." Again he paused.

"Change?" Zolan encouraged him to continue.

"The folk at Frosmoor-they began to change as soon as the messenger was taken to Ichon. All were bowing-even the guard!-and speaking him fair. Ichon ordered drink for him. That devil-sp.a.w.n then said as how he was sent by Arvor himself. Starkadder and Riffler had at last shown themselves to be traitors, and Starkadder had sent out a call to the Southerners to come. He had a sealed message that swore this for truth.

"But Ichon-he was not yet bewitched by the messenger. He called for council, and the kin house-heads, they urged sending the king a force. I spoke last of all. I was fair angered by their coat turning, so I demanded that we at least talk more of it. Then-"

Lolart's voice shook; his hand again nervously stroked the left side of his chin. "Then he-my milk brother-he went mad. He ordered me taken to the dark hold, to be left there until I came to my senses. So it was done. It was you who brought me forth to see blood and death-and the end of our clan. I am Breaksword now. If I had not spoken out, I might have been able to make a stand. Only a third or less of those who should have held Frosmoor were among the dead-the rest are gone!"

Zolan moved, and the hand that had cradled his talisman reached out once more to clasp Lolart's arm. The armsman had been shaking, but under that grasp his shoulders stilled as the man from the Dismals spoke.

"Your choice was the one any man of honor would have made. Do not blame yourself. It is plain that your lord and those at Frosmoor were indeed ensorcelled, yet that spell must have been broken in some manner, or they would not have fought at the last."

As he finished, Tam added an a.s.surance from us. "Do not call yourself Breaksword, Lolart Boartusked, for have you not taken oath in blood to bring your lord's murderers to justice? It may hap that we can give you the means of keeping that vow. Those who come to meet us have a wish as great as yours to rid this land of Evil, though we are none of us native here. Ride with us."

When the old campaigner raised his head, I could see the moisture on his beard and other tears still gathered in his eyes.

"You speak well, my lady," he said. "I am a man of weapons, though I lack them now. Yet I will not turn from the road once my feet are set upon it."

Thus our force of four became an army of five.

It was late when at last we did our best to get some sleep. However, in spite of the horror that lay behind us, I did not dream darkly. A night-vision came, yes, but the feeling it brought me was one of mission and promise. I stood in a hall not that of Frosmoor. A swirl of many colors wreathed me, and I sensed human movement around me, as well, yet I could not see any who caused it. Still I was certain that I walked among a strange and unknown company.

Then the looping of tinted light parted, and a woman came through. She was no beauty by the standards of the world I knew, yet her appearance had a quality that drew attention and held it firmly.

In her hands, clasped before her breast, she held a rod, and up and down that wand rippled the same rainbow of hues that formed the mist. For a scant breath I took in her bearing and burden, and then I knew whom I fronted: no woman who yet lived, but a consciousness now tied by will to a jug in a distant cave.

"The renegade of our people gathers strength," Pharsali's Send reached me. "He will seek a change of body soon. Be you and yours prepared that he does not take what he would have."

The mist concealed the Jar Woman from me, and darkness and peace descended once more. I felt chilled from more than the night wind's creeping under my cloak, so I roused somewhat. Near me someone stirred restlessly, then settled as I did also.

Sabina

Cilla lay still sleeping when we roused shortly after dawn. The sense of safety that had settled upon us from the Ward Mother suggested remained about us. I shook my sister gently until she opened her eyes and stared at me as if expecting someone else in my place. She followed me to the brook to wash face and hands as Tam joined us.

"I dreamed," Cilla said suddenly.

"How could you escape it?" I returned. Cilla had had many dreams, and her night-seeings, which were always vivid, sometimes heralded in part future action.

Without answering my comment directly, she began to tell her dream. Tam stopped trying to bring order to her short hair and listened.

" 'Change to another body'?" she repeated slowly. "Could such a deed be done without permission of the rightful occupant of that body?"

We all s.h.i.+vered at that thought. If Tharn had somehow developed more Power, would he be able to perform such a spirit-rape? And whose was to be the body? These Gurlys raised no Wards. Ichon and his people had been led to their own deaths-of that we were certain, having heard Lolart's story. The old soldier was a man of greater perception than he appeared.

"Perhaps King Arvor." Tam voiced the worst possibility, and her hands closed convulsively on her hair-bag. "We must ride-now!"

We did not have much to break our fast, only some of the musty meal made into a paste with brook water. Once more I doled out the Power herb mixture, though we could not long continue to use it, since too much would befuddle our thinking.

We had but four mounts to five riders. However, Lolart refused the offer of ride-and-tie that Tam suggested. This was a system conserving energy for man and mount. One person rode ahead and tied the steed, while the other followed on foot and mounted in his stead until it was tie-time again. Zolan, at whose ability with horses we had continued to marvel, made the offer a second time, only to be refused. Instead, Lolart took over the lead of the pack-ponies and departed with a stride that did not put him and the train too far behind.

The day wore on. We had filled our water skins before setting out, as well as eating our meager meal. But our repeated uses of the Power herb mixture gave me times of giddy-headedness, and I locked my fingers in the edge of the blanket serving me as a saddle to secure balance. Luckily we kept to a pace hardly more than a walk.

If there were any other keeps hereabouts, we did not sight them. Climber no longer scouted before us, nor did he hunt this day. He had returned earlier from some venture limping on three paws. Zolan had drawn a long barbed burr from between two of the beast's toes, and I had applied such salve as I could to draw out any poison. Thereafter he shared transportation with his bond-mate, resting across the lap of the rider. When this proved impractical, Zolan rode back for one of the ponies and returned to us, installing the hunter on a pad instead of the bags that had hung on the pack-animal.

We each took turn scouting ahead. On my third stint at that duty, I saw the scavenger birds. They were cawing raucously and circling overhead. I could guess all too readily what had brought them, and I searched the ground ahead as well as I could by sight of bodily eyes alone. Their would-be prey was quickly located, for it was still moving: someone, either man or woman, was dragging along the ground a short distance ahead with visible effort. I would have ridden forward to aid but, though I had little liking for fighting, my father had trained us in tactics as well as weapons-play, and I knew that what I now saw might well be the bait in a trap.

Yet I discovered that I could not simply ride back, for should that one who yet fought for life lie still, the rapacious flock would be on their intended meal instantly. Even as I made my choice, a corbie, well-known as an enemy to any weak and wounded thing, launched itself downward. I saw an arm weakly upraised, then the limb crumpling as that defensive gesture failed.

The bird dodged the blow easily, then wheeled and returned, settling. Very faintly I heard a cry of fear and pain. I urged my horse forward.

As I drew level with the bird and its victim, I loosed my cloak and pulled it free. Two more eaters-of-death had landed. The mare threw up her head and neighed a challenge, but the scavengers did not rise. I whirled the cloak as a fowl-catcher would wield his net, and the birds circling low sheered away.

Then I was off my mount, beside the body that lay facedown. A raven sitting on the head, face turned from me, showed an open beak, threatening. Again I swept out the cloak, and the black scavenger rose sullenly to avoid the flapping cloth. I saw no sign of the other two birds I who had also descended.

I dropped the cloak over the crawler, to give some cover if the carrion-feeders thought to attack again, wis.h.i.+ng vainly for a proven snaplock. If I had been sure that no one lurked in hiding, I would have shouted; instead I Sent and was instantly answered. Until the others arrived, I would play sentry here.

Twenty-two.

Sabina

Now a change began in that ever-growing flock of birds overhead. Only a few ravens wheeled above; more of the dark cloud were larger raptors-direhawks, those killers of the weak among the sheep flocks. Among them wheeled a sprinkling of other scavengers I had never seen before, with red-wattled heads bare of feather. They flew ever closer and bolder, and the thought came to me that they might have been set to this attack by some reason greater than any normal hunger.

Suddenly I felt a sharp stab of pain where my neck joined my shoulder. Without thinking, I used my hand to discover the source, and I cried out at the hurt as instantly my fingers, too, were torn. I pulled it back into my line of sight, burdened by an unfamiliar weight, and felt the thrust again. It was not a large raptor that attacked but a small bird, its claws set deeply into my wrist, that was striking furiously with a wickedly pointed beak between my fingers, tearing the flesh there.

Again I screamed. The meat-eater showed no fear; rather it raised a dripping bill, its eyes promising worse horror as I struck at it with my free hand. Fingers closed on feathers at the back of its head. I had to tear it loose, and I felt flesh rip away with it as I pulled.

Wings swished above; claws caught in my cap, by chance alone skimming past hair. The bird I had captured made no effort to escape but continued to attack, though my grip held. I twisted frantically, using both hands now, and finally felt the thing's neck snap. As I hurled the small corpse from me, I stumbled over the body beneath the cloak and fell across it. A second scavenger that had been ripping the wool of that garment raised its head to squawk.

My fall brought a m.u.f.fled groan from the one who lay under me, and I hurriedly rolled aside. The shrouded form moved, the cloak bunching as I fought to regain my feet. Three more of the feathered devil-creatures were spiraling down on me now.

Without a weapon I could not hope to defend myself. My only chance- and it was a very slim one-lay in the hope that my companions were not too far behind. For now, I swiftly lay down beside the stranger, pulling the cloak to cover both of us.

The motion rolled the body onto its side against mine so I could see that I fronted a man. And bloodstained, cut, and torn as his face was, I knew him instantly.

"Rogher!"

It was my father's squire.

Tamara

Bina's Send had speeded up our pace. We pa.s.sed quickly over one of the rolling hills. Now we could hear cries sounding like one rusty blade drawn across another and spied an undulating blanket of birds that were tearing a moving heap on the ground.

Zolan matched my speed on seeing that horror, and he caught at my rein when I would have dashed down the slope.

"No!"

I aimed a blow at him. Bina was under that cloak-her pain and fear beat at me, and at this moment I shared all she was suffering.

However, Zolan held to the grip that had stopped me. At the same time, he answered the clamor of the birds. With his free hand, he held his bone-tube to his lips, blowing through it as if it were a whistle.

He gave a second blast, even more shrill than the first. The screams of the birds suddenly ceased. Two and three, then four and five, they took to the air again. At length the heaving bundle on the ground was free, for all its tormentors had returned aloft.

Now, however, having formed a smoky smudge on the sky, they headed towards us. My mare screamed in fear and tried to rear as I struggled to keep my seat. For a third time Zolan used his whistle. Amazingly, that night-blot of wings did not fly straight at us but rather past, still keeping in a flock, heading westward.

As soon as I was sure that this flight pattern was not some ploy to attack us from another direction, I was on my way. Zolan no longer tried to restrain me but followed fast. I did not call aloud to Bina, I Sent.