THE LETTERSEEKER

CHAPTER SIX

            Flarann sent four of his men back to posts on the ridge. The remaining two served as rear guard while the archer led the way north, angling down the steep slope toward the valley's entrance. Despite his contempt for Maegeth's army, Flarann was not a headstrong leader.

            The footing was rough, but Stoneglow had no trouble negotiating the course Flarann chose. His dangerous climb with Garufel in the moonlight while under the influence of the tea had given him the skill of racing with great speed among tumbled boulders, leaping precisely from stone to stone without thought. He kept up with all save Garufel, and he judged that he was better than Flarann in the art.

            This pleased him, for he found that he admired the tall, good-looking archer, who radiated confidence and ability. Flarann's green cloak billowed in the mountain updraft as he leaped from stump to rock, and his hair, the color of dark sand, rippled with ochre accents. But Flarann's brows raised as Threescar, shorter in stature than any man of the Narrow Woods, matched his stride and threatened to outstrip him.

            They quickly reached the trees of the west slope. On the floor of pine needles walking was easier; still, it was late afternoon before they reached a point near the entrance to the valley where the western ridge blocked the sun. The woods were drenched in shadow.

            They came to a flat shelf among the trees. Men were busy among campfires and skin tents. At the center of a clearing was a huge tent, almost a small house, made of heavy green cloth that looked black in the shadow. The tent was supported by poles from within and by ropes strung to the trees. Wood-smoke curled upward from a hole in its top.

            There was a sound of bustle and conversation, shouts, guarded laughter. A troop of fifty or sixty men came out of the woods to their right, walking briskly. Their leader called out and raised a hand in greeting.

            “Flarann! What have you found on the ridge? A Stone-Giant? And a small lord with scars?”

            It was Erek. Shalley and Dock were with him, and in a moment they crossed the clearing and greeted them, all embracing Garufel and Stoneglow.

            “We have been on patrol to the north,” said Erek. “No sign of Maegeth's men other than those she has with her in the caves. You have just arrived? Then we must see Mindilfir now. You still suspect a trap?”

            “Aye,” said the wizard. “All Grimdale smells of trap. Come, let us go to the Hunterchief. I must know if he has followed my advice.”

            “He has, wizard, and he is anxious to see you—and curious about you, Stoneglow Threescar! I have told him of your bear- handling.”

            “So you will make a legend of my luck,” said Stoneglow, smiling. “Very well, Erek. But be sure you do not tell him how I handled your meal.”

            Erek laughed aloud. “Be sure I will not!” Then he sent Shalley and Dock to oversee the encampment of his patrol. Flarann's two companions also left, disappearing silently into the woods.

            A guard armed with spear and sword stood at the entrance to the chief's tent. As they approached he drew the tentflap back, announcing: “Erek and Flarann, with the Golden Wizard and his companion!”

            Before them was the central fire, logs burning well in a pit ringed with stones. Beyond the fire stood several men, who turned toward them as they entered. There were five, tall, old, and bearded. Seated in front of them upon a folding stool of leather and polished wood was Mindilfir Hunterchief.

            He was a sturdy man, shorter and broader than his fellows: past middle-age but full of strength, with a grizzled red beard and brown hair only slightly streaked with grey. A black fur cloak bristled about his shoulders and the hilt of a longsword showed at his waist where the cloak was open. His cap was of leather and metal, about his brow a circlet of gold. Directly behind him stood a tall, slim young man in his early twenties, with the same redbrown hair but no cap or beard. As they drew near, Mindilfir leapt from his seat with a roar of greeting, embracing Garufel.

            “Welcome, friend!” he declared in a powerful voice. “And welcome to your companion—This, I take it, is the Bearmaster?”

            “Greetings, friend and Hunterchief,” said Garufel. “Here you see Stoneglow the Letterseeker, named Threescar by your men, who has come from beyond the M- gate under the blessing of The O'Kuern. You see the scars: the servant of Maegeth would have sent his soul to Arem, but he escaped.”

            “This is well for all of us, I think,” said Mindilfir. “Welcome to our camp, Stoneglow Threescar.”

            “Lord Mindilfir—”

            “Nay, not lord, friend Stoneglow,” Mindilfir corrected. “I am chief only of the hunters, and foe of your foe—accursed Maegeth.”

            Erek broke out in laughter. “Even so did Stoneglow Threescar repudiate lordship when we offered it to him,” he said. “He is unused to the ways of the Narrow Lands, and to the ways of kings, lords, and chieftains.”

            “Shalley called me `lord' then and I am not one,” said Stoneglow. “But it is true that I am ignorant of such things. Forgive me, Hunterchief! It is my pleasure to meet you—and my hope to serve you in the recovery of Gretta.”

            “My daughter? She will be returned—or the Dark Maiden will suffer!” He sat down again, turning to the young man who stood by the seat. “This is Jad, my son and Gretta's brother.”

            Jad nodded greeting. He had the same look as his father, but his was confidence tempered by youth. Mindilfir leaned toward his son, whispering, and Jad turned, walking away to a dark corner of the tent where there were several wooden chests. Two of the elders followed him.

            “Now, wizard,” said Mindilfir, “we shall receive reports. Then you and I must have long counsel.”

            “Have messengers been sent as I suggested? King Mog—”

            “King Mog has been sought out,” said Flarann to Garufel. “As he is closest, we hope for troops from him soon—in four days, perhaps. We had some of his birds in our cot, so we released them all with the same request: that he honor our alliance.”

            “Birds?” Stoneglow interjected.

            “Doves, trained to find their owner,” said Erek. “They are the black doves of the Falling Mountains, for which we have the training secret. We even have some that are skilled at catching this wizard!”

            “Aye, I know some of your birds,” said Garufel. “One especially, Blackfeather. If you ever wish to find me, you may tell any animal in the woods. But the black doves are the swiftest; and Blackfeather outspeeds them all.”

            “The doves are swift, but I chafe at any delay,” said Mindilfir. “My anger is great. It is only good counsel that keeps me from storming the caves at once. Yet I follow your advice, Loremaster. To buy time we have made pretence to Maegeth that we are searching for the Bodla in the Narrow Woods. We have led her to believe that if we find it we will make the exchange: Gretta for the Bodla.”

            “That is well,” said Garufel. “A surprise attack might succeed, but there is no way for an army to surprise those in the caves. Maegeth has chosen her stronghold well. Yet there is a way that I might enter the caves secretly—from the far side of Barallas.”

            “What! An entrance not known to Maegeth?”

            “This passage is an exit, not an entrance,” said Garufel. “Even from within, it can be found only by long searching—or by accident. I do not think she knows of it. My intention is to go there at once, over Barallas. I believe I may breach the opening from outside and gain entrance for myself by means of my arts.”

            “Then you have a plan?”

            “To rescue Gretta, while you distract the Dark Maiden here. You will present Stoneglow Threescar to her—at a safe distance. Tell her that Stoneglow comes from The O'Kuern with power over life and death; that he is displeased with the greeting he got from Maegeth's bear, and that he keeps his scars to remind her that she has no real power over him. Then tell her that she must return Gretta and leave the Narrow Woods, or Stoneglow, emissary of The O'Kuern, will oversee her destruction.”

            Stoneglow could not suppress a gasp of amazement. “But that's a bluff, Garufel!”

            “Do not mistake your importance here, Stoneglow Threescar,” said the wizard firmly. “You are from another of the Lands; you can only have come here by an action of the gods or by the will of O'Krrn 'sa Elihhn, O'Kuern-Beside-the-Gods. You may not know of such things, but Maegeth does.”

            “I know that I am not a lord. I wouldn't be convincing in the role.”

            “You have the scars. She saw you fall and now she will see that you have returned. And I have a cloak that I will re-cut to suit your frame. You will look a lord in that! I do not expect Maegeth to agree to the terms. We need only raise doubt in her mind. She will defeat herself by delay.”

            Stoneglow fumed inwardly. His hand closed about the case that held the alder stick, hidden from view beneath his cloak. Garufel had not revealed to Mindilfir that it had been found, and Stoneglow decided not to speak of it either. It seemed the one thing that gave him independence from this web of wizard's purposes. And it was well he thought so, for he was about to be drawn even more deeply into that web.

            “As for lordship, we will remedy that now,” said Mindilfir. While they had been speaking, Jad had returned with the elders. He held a short, narrow sword in a scabbard of worked leather. This he handed to Mindilfir, who rested it upon his knees.

            “You have offered your service,” the hunterchief continued, “and I accept it. Chief I am of the hunters only, but some call me king and I rule as a king in the Narrow Woods.” He took up the scabbard in his left hand and drew out the sword with his right. The polished blade flashed as Mindilfir extended the weapon point down toward Stoneglow. Then he pronounced in a formal manner: “I name you, Stoneglow Threescar, Lord of the Gladheel Downs. Take this sword, for you have none, and the small especially must protect themselves in this perilous time.” Reversing the point, Mindilfir offered the handle to Stoneglow.

            Stoneglow could do nothing else: He reached out and took the sword. The metal was cold and unfamiliar. But Garufel was smiling broadly.

            “This sword was mine in training,” said young Jad. “The blade is keen, flexible, and strong. It will serve you well.”

            Stoneglow looked the youth in the eyes. Jad's face was honest, showing unabashed admiration. Did he so deserve the confidence and gifts of these people? He was torn between rejection of their fantastic plans and the desire to embrace them wholly as friends and brothers. An uncertain emotion came over him as he put the sword on his belt. For an instant he shivered.

            Garufel and Erek moved toward him.

            “We are weary, and have not eaten a full meal for many hours,” said Garufel, placing a hand upon Stoneglow's shoulder.

            “It's true,” said Stoneglow, only then realizing his exhaustion. “I am tired and hungry. But, Mindilfir-King, I thank you for your gift. You, too, Jad—though I am no swordsman, as I have already explained to Garufel. I am committed to the safe return of your sister, and I will help as I can.”

            He stopped as those around broke into applause, slapping their swordhilts with the palms of their hands.

            “Well-said, Lord Stoneglow.” Mindilfir looked pleased. “But indeed I see I have been thoughtless. Flarann, take Stoneglow Threescar and Loremaster Sunface to food. Give them a tent and supplies. Enough has been said for now. We postpone further counsel until all have eaten and rested who must.”

            They took leave, following Flarann, while Erek remained behind to speak with the hunterchief. Flarann led them along a winding course through the trees to his own tent, which he offered for their use. A fire burned there already; his men had kindled it. Inside the tent was hunter-fare wrapped in leaves. The smell of freshly cooked meat and tubers filled the small space. The wizard took some out and handed a goodly portion to Stoneglow.

            “Eat now and get some rest. I return to Mindilfir. There is much to do before the morn.” The wizard turned and followed Flarann away.

            Stoneglow was glad to be alone. He sat by the fire to eat. Night fell. Stars winked among the dark treefronds. The fire was warm, but a breeze came up that whipped the flames about and blew smoke into his eyes. The wind came down from the mountain. He could hear a faint howling from the caves.

            He ate in deep thought. There had to be another way to secure Gretta's release. Why should Garufel be cast into solitary danger while he stayed safe behind, used only for bait? The idea did not appeal to him.

            When he finished eating he retired to the tent, wrapped himself in his fur and lay down, falling asleep almost at once. His sleep was fitful. Snatches of the past whirled up into his dreams; then he was standing in a familiar place— the edge of the little circular dell. In the dream twilight a pool of water gleamed silvery gray. At the far side of the water stood Gretta, wearing brown as before, her hair sparkling in the evendew. He called out and stepped forward, but as soon as his feet touched the slope the ground swayed and a roar filled his ears. Gretta, seized by a dozen white arms, was pulled away. The roar grew to a wild wail, drowning out his cry of alarm.

            He opened his eyes. Cold moonlight flooded the tent. The air shook to a haunting din that rose and fell like the discourse of angry wolves. It was the howl from the caves. The tentflap snapped sharply in the rising wind.

            Stoneglow got up and left the tent, pacing back and forth by the still ash that had been the fire, rubbing his hands together in frustration. The moon rode low in the western sky. Among the dark shapes of the trees, he could see no fires marking the location of other tents. The camp slept. Garufel had not yet returned.

            His hands were cold. He thrust them into his pockets, then stopped pacing in surprise as he felt something there: the packets Garufel had given him. He drew one out and opened it. A spoonful of finely powdered leaf nestled within, dark dust in the moonlight. Of course, the tea! He was searching for his path, and the tea could show it to him. But had enough time passed for him to take a second dose?

            With a swift resolute movement he tilted the powder to his tongue. The flavor exploded. He groped for his water flask, found it, and frantically rinsed the herbs down his throat. The fire in his gullet did not subside, so he left the tent and headed for a small stream Garufel and he had passed on their way there. None arose to challenge him.

            At the creek he drank again and splashed bittercold water upon his face. And when he looked up from the stream he could see it—faintly at first, reddish swirls at the edges of the rocks and dull green light wavering among the tree trunks. Then his path began to shine before him. It led upstream, northward, in the direction of the caves.

* * *

            The trees came to an end without warning. Stoneglow ran out upon a flat rocky space. The path of light, growing more definite every moment, had led him close to the cliffs.

            It is taking me to Gretta, he thought; but what of Maegeth? He stopped by the side of a huge dark boulder. Swirls of red coursed down the surface of the stone and flooded the world behind as though to force him onward. The only open channel now was the luminous track that beckoned him ahead, to the encampment of an army.

            As useful in battle as in promoting peaceful visions, Garufel had said of the tea. And there was Jad's short sword, hidden beneath the cloak. What of the alder itself? He unhooked the thong from its leather case and took the stick out. There was some life within the wood. A very faint green light swirled along its length. Brighter at the tips, the light faded and returned in an irregular pattern, as if uncertain—or unready. And then he could read the edges of the pattern: the stick was waiting.

            So he was not entirely unarmed. He had sight, the sword, and the alder itself, within which lay some purpose that was akin, he was certain, to his own. He returned it to its case and began moving forward again. The path led him to a rise, then down into a narrow defile. He had passed only half-through when a figure appeared in the opening ahead.

            “Who's there?” The voice was an ugly nasal hiss.

            Stoneglow whirled about. Behind him now two similar figures moved to block his retreat. There was an ominous clink of weapons.

            “Speak, or die!”

            Now Stoneglow's vision waxed within him. Like the rocks the figure of the speaker was limned with red, and in the play of swirls Stoneglow made out the man's own pattern of desires.

            Give the tea a few more minutes, and I'll be able to dodge any move he makes.

            Quickly Stoneglow improvised a mixture of Garufel's plan and his own: “I am a lord of Mindilfir and an emissary of The O'Kuern,” he said. “I have news of what she seeks for Maegeth. But Princess Gretta must be freed before I say more.”

            The man snickered, and those behind him laughed outright. In a moment he was surrounded by a ring of spears. Then a very tall figure came up out of the dark from behind the one who had spoken.

            “What fish have you caught in your trap, Snypp?” said the newcomer, his voice resonant and cold. “It seems a small sort— hardly worth a dinner!”

            “One who claims to be a lord and emissary, Namon,” replied Snypp. “But he seems a boy rather than a man. He would bring information to the queen, but we must give him the huntress in exchange.”

            The spearmen laughed again, and one of them jabbed perilously close with his weapon. Stoneglow did not move.

            The right side of Stoneglow's face was in the moonlight. Looking at Stoneglow's features, Namon grew secretly exultant. This was another of those aliens, like the one killed by Urku in the woods.

            “He is only a dwarfish outlander,” said Namon to Snypp. “We have heard rumors of such beings in the Narrow Woods, who may bring luck to those who find them.”

            “You are mistaken, Namon,” Stoneglow retorted. “I have heard it said that there is no luck in the Narrow Lands.”

            Namon grimaced. “That is the saying, and indeed it sounds fresh upon your lips! Perhaps you will bring us luck despite the saying—for we do not all believe in sayings.”

            “Not all luck is good,” said Stoneglow, glancing impatiently toward the moon, then back to the cliffs again.

            The movement put his left cheek briefly in the moonlight; alarmed, Namon saw the three long streaks that marred the skin. He had thought to question the alien himself, but these scars—the Dark Maiden must see them. He commanded Snypp to run ahead, taking word of the stranger and his demands to the Queen. Then Stoneglow was prodded forward. A tremor of anticipation crept along his spine.

            They came to a steep trail cut into the rock, leading to a broad shelf where a cave-mouth opened. Snypp had spread the word, and men were placing torches by the entrance. Other warriors, singly and in groups, hurried within. They made room for Namon and the spearmen, who escorted Stoneglow down a long tunnel. The sound of the wind faded as they went deeper, but it could still be heard when they emerged into a wide hall.

            The walls were of damp white stone, reddened by the light of many torches. At the rear were tall fissures, cracks filled with shadows. In the center was a wide raised platform with a group of cloaked men upon it. A hundred warriors had gathered in the chamber and more were coming in, but a path was made and Stoneglow strode quickly toward the platform.

            The movements of those about him were growing sluggish to his eyes, and the web of their desires was far from closed. He could flee now, he thought, and none of these men would be able to stop him. But they thought him helpless, ringed as he was by spearmen. They halted about twenty feet from the platform, and at a word from Namon, an archer put an arrow to his bow and held it ready to draw and shoot upon command.

            Then Stoneglow saw Gretta. Guards were bringing her from a side chamber, a rough grey blanket wrapped around her, her hair in disarray as though she had just been wakened. But she did not notice the Letterseeker. As she mounted the platform, her gaze, filled with hatred, was fixed upon Namon.

            The men on the platform stepped aside to reveal Maegeth seated upon a chair of stone. Her narrow sword, unsheathed, lay across her slim knees. She wore black boots and leggings with a belt of silver, but her torso was naked; and crimson in the bloody glare were the nipples of her childlike breasts! She was the Dark Maiden, Queen Immortal and untouched, whose nakedness before her troops was a badge of power and domination. But her body taunted Stoneglow, who had never before seen such brazen splendor and was shaken by its power.

            But his blush brought a sharp reminder: pain, eye-to-jowl. The barbaric spell was broken. He tore his gaze away from Maegeth and saw Gretta staring at him now wide-eyed. Had she seen that moment? He raised his left hand to his cheek.

            A wild roar drowned the echoes of the wind. By the left wall they rose up out of the shadows, three giant beasts, chafing in the chains that held one leg of each. The bears of Maegeth. And it was Urku that had roared! The Dark Maiden leaned forward, her eyes fixed upon Stoneglow's cheek. What portent here?

            Urku, Urku, have you failed me?

            “This creature pretends to be a lord of Mindilfir, and other things, O Queen,” said Namon. “He asks for the daughter of the Hunterchief in exchange for what he knows about the ransom.”

            “Whence came these scars?” demanded Maegeth.

            Her aims were beyond the reach of Stoneglow's vision: He could not read the fires that flickered around her throne. But her men reacted, for the tremor of her voice was unlike any they had heard before. Stoneglow saw the murmur ripple through the guard. For the briefest instant their faces turned toward the Queen.

            She doubts!

            His path caught him up in violent gusts, turned inward upon itself, and converged upon the alder case beneath his cloak. He seized the thong and, at the same instant, began to move.

             “Slay him!” Maegeth screamed.

            Six spears at once sprang from the hands of their owners, thirsting for Stoneglow's blood. But that moment of distraction had torn a gaping hole in the pattern of desires. Stoneglow bent and twisted, then sprang forward. Not a point touched his skin.

            The guard ahead began to draw his sword at the same time Namon's archer loosed his arrow. Stoneglow swayed and ducked without looking back, and the bolt whistled past his ear, striking the guard in the chest. The man fell with a howl. Now Stoneglow had the case open. He seized the alder in his left hand and brought it into view.

            It had become the core of a globe of green fire, within which faint images of other Bodlas crossed the first to form a star. Stoneglow's path opened like a flower of yellow gledes whose petals lashed the dais. Straight for Maegeth and her nakedness he ran, the Bodla held before him in his left hand, a shout rising to his lips.

            Maegeth brought up her sword. She hissed a wordless curse. Never in an age of ages had the Bodla reached out for power from Berainn!

            “O'Kuern!” Stoneglow cried, and then strange sounds leaped from his throat unbidden.

            Magoth! 'sa Magoth! Paellet pa Vargyat!

            There was a tremendous crack! A sheet of green flame sprang from the Bodla-tips, sending a shock down Stoneglow's arm as if he had struck a blow. All the torches snuffed out at once, and the red went with them, until the room was green as seawater. Maegeth dropped into her chair, clutching her throat. Her sword clattered upon the stone floor.

            Others fell stricken. The stone of the chamber shook. Stoneglow heard boulders crash behind, and animal roars: Two of the bears snapped their chains and went mad, slashing at all those around them. Men struck back frantically with swords and spears. And as Maegeth slipped into paralysis or death, Stoneglow saw his exit, a golden path wide as an avenue. Gretta stood within it.

            Her guards had fallen, and as they fell the huntress leaped to action. She threw off her blanket, wrenched a spear from one of the stunned guards, and hurled the weapon at Namon. She had no concern for the alien who had come to bargain with Maegeth. He was no man of her father's! He appeared to her to be a liar and a dwarf.

            Her throw was accurate. It would have killed Namon, but another man, fleeing the raging bears and the green fire, ran into the captain and took the spear in his back. Even so the force of the cast ran the point through the man's body, carving a long gash across Namon's chest as the man fell heavily against him.

            Gretta took up another spear, but Namon was lost to her sight now and a chill struck her as she looked up at the roof of the chamber. Near the entrance it had begun to give way. Boulders fell and cracks appeared. Men were buried there in an avalanche of rubble. In a few moments the entrance was sealed.

            Gretta's thoughts turned to escape. And there was the alien, suddenly beside her, not truly a dwarf but of her own height, with a fire of otherworld in his eyes she could not read.

            Stoneglow had the advantage, for he knew how she would move. She made to ward him off with her spear, but he entered her movement, using it. He seized her arm with his free right hand, spun her around, and drew her with him. Then she accepted and ran, sensing that he knew a way out of the chamber. Together they followed the path he alone could see—a tube of golden light surrounding the pulsation of the Bodla-fire: A vortex that sucked them forward into one of the deep fissures at the rear of the chamber.