THE LETTERSEEKER

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

            Flarann and his men reached the topmost stair, where they drew back and hid in horror, for as they came the dreadworm began its third attack. Shaken by the sight of the terrible enemy, Flarann knew now why the wizard had commanded him to approach with caution. He had the presence of mind not to dash out upon the Stonemote where they would be in plain view. He and his men crouched awestruck, covering their eyes when the unlight issued forth and rolled against the golden radiance that surrounded the henge.

            When they dared look again Flarann breathed a sigh of relief. The stones appeared unharmed and Garufel safe within them. Then several of his archers, swallowing their fear, put arrow to bow and drew a bead upon the flying monster as it rose once again above the Stonemote.

            “Hold,” commanded Flarann. “Arrows will do no good from here. Stay hidden.”

            Flarann cast about furiously for a plan. He must not draw the beast's attention to the stairs or to the fjord where the Ashgar lay. Below him now, hidden by the fog, Thierknut's warriors would be gathering on the beach, ferried in groups by the sailors who had taken the dory back to the ship. But even Thierknut's small army would be helpless if caught upon the mossy plain. And a general rush from the stair would reveal them all. Yet they had to reach the Stoneshield, for he could see that it was the only safe place, and from there they could aid the wizard in whatever manner they were able.

            He sent one of his men, Hadall by name, down the stair to warn the prince, telling him to await a diversion before attempting to reach the Stoneshield. Then he prepared to lead the rest secretly around the perimeter of the area to a place where a low rocky rise on the far side of the megalith would afford some hiding. From there he might give an impression that the Stonemote was surrounded. Carefully Flarann and his ten remaining archers crawled out upon the moss, keeping on their stomachs. Their green and brown clothing rendered them hardly visible.

            But Rillqath did not attack again, for the woes of the body came to him now for the first time. He, whose secret name was Grief, knew at last that grief of everything that lives and breathes: hunger. He had not reckoned that his skill upon Erta must be fed by flesh and blood. He had acted prematurely. The laws of Erta bound him now and he had wasted that residue of energies from Arem in rash untrained ferocity. Panting heavily he came to rest upon a mound half-a-mile from the standing stones, and Flarann's men froze in place when they saw this, for it was the very rise toward which they had been making. Then Maegeth spoke to her dreadful mount.

            “You shall not enter or destroy until he is gone from there,” she warned, “and I cannot challenge him directly in combat though my power has returned, for the old law holds still.”

            “What then?” hissed Rillqath in silent brooding fury. “I have used my flame for now. I must have food.”

            Maegeth thought for a moment. Although angered by the unexpected presence of the wizard and their temporary defeat, she was crafty and not entirely displeased to see the dreadworm's need. This was a chance to balance the scales of power in her own favor.

            “I now not how the magician came here,” she said. “But there is one way to pull him from his perch. Numbers! He is powerful, but while you, stuff of Arem, may not enter the yellow light, humans may do so; and he may be dragged down as was the wizard Atharell in the battle of the Deathmote ages past, by warriors—if enough come at him at once. Can you yet fly? If so let us fly south to my fortress, to Dunclose, and from there bring a mass of men to overwhelm the trickster.”

            “If we must I will do it,” replied Rillqath. “But know thou that it hurts me sore to leave this plain defeated. Why did She not say this awaited me, this resistance, this exhaustion?”

            Maegeth smiled to herself. “She knows not all that takes place in Erta. That is why She needs such as myself here to aid Her. I am familiar with wars and the moving of men. Take me to my tower in the sea, and from there we will wage our comeback.”

            So the dreadworm stretched his wings and flew wearily, but with a last challenging roar that betokened a swift return. Northwest he went over the fog-choked srrnyo without seeing Flarann's men, for his mind was set upon food. Flarann, seeing the nemesis depart, rose when it was safe to do so and hastened to the Stoneshield. The Leen-Csah twitched their tails and moved about them nervously as they entered but they did not attack, abiding by Shallra's ruling that the strangers were allies.

            “Flarann!” cried the wizard as he sprang from the stone to the turf. “Is all well below?”

            “Aye mighty wizard,” said Flarann. “I have sent Hadall down to caution the prince, but now that the beast has fled it will be safe for him to bring his army up. What of yourself? Has that thing harmed you?” Flarann had a look of alarm in his eyes. The wizard looked not the same as Flarann had known him, but pale and drawn.

            “Weary but well,” the wizard reassured him. “It has been many an age since I trafficked with a worm of Arem.”

            “Yet you drove it off,” said Flarann, “and the Stoneshield, it seems, aids you.”

            “Aye, there is great power in the stones. I could not have done so much alone. But be not misled: That worm is young and has not yet fathomed its own strength. It will return when it has learned the ways of Erta. Then we will need great force here to oppose it. We have bought some time, that is all.”

            They were interrupted by a call: “Flarann! Flarann!” It was Hadall racing from the stairs across the Stonemote waving his arms. He stumbled out of breath past the inner trilothons to where they stood, one of the Leen-Csah circling him and sniffing at his heels warily. But he paid the lion little heed.

            “What news, Hadall?” inquired Flarann. “Comes the prince now?”

            “The prince is gone! The ship is gone! The men in the dory cannot find it!”

            “Treachery!” shouted Garufel. And now Flarann was truly amazed for the wizard's skin went white and for an instant he seemed a frail old man. “I suspected it—too late!”

            “What do you mean, what do you mean, Garufel?” said Flarann, utterly alarmed. “What has happened? Is the ship sunk? Is the princess—”

            “Nay, Flarann,” said Garufel, leaning upon his spear as if it were a crutch. “The dunpate would keep the princess safe—for his own reasons. He has been twisted about in his purposes by the Image Nameless, led astray. Down-fjord he's gone, I'll warrant, leaving us alone and taking the princess with him by force.”

            “AI!” shouted Flarann, trembling with rage as he remembered Gretta's premonitions that he had ignored. “After him!” he moved to go.

            “Hold, hold, Flarann,” Garufel seized the tall archer by the arm. “That will not do. I must remain here within the Stoneshield to await the worm's return. I may not leave. And Thierknut is upon the fjord in a swift vessel. You could not catch him. We must rely upon our only allies in this land—the Leen-Csah.”

* * *

            Thrrl escaped by a ruse. His crews began raising sail with frantic haste as he entered the fog, but once out of sight of Trren's ships he dropped sail and took an angling course against the wind under oars, southwest and seaward. The pursuit turned east, thinking Thrrl would run with the wind to take advantage of pirate speed. So they missed him, but not before they had two more of his ships which they caught and sank before Thrrl reached the fog.

            Five ships remaining, Thrrl got well to sea before he hoisted all canvas and took a northeast tack, his mind on the safety of the Salt Islands. But Thrrl's men dragged before him a captive, an old man who had been caught rustling like a crab over the starboard rail just as Thrrl's ships turned away from the fight. The intruder had been knocked out and bound. Now they woke him with a douse of seawater.

            “So here's the one-man boarding party,” said Thrrl as Ushtorth spit out brine and shook his head to clear it. “Whyn't you kill him, Gerd?” Thrrl turned a questioning glance toward his lieutenant.

            “He had no weapons, Cap'n,” said Gerd. “And he called out he had a word for you alone. Besides, there was this,” and Gerd spilled the contents of a rough linen sack out upon the deck.

            Thrrl whistled. Money, lots of coins of Esti and some of other strands as well, with a few jewels mixed in. He stooped and picked up a short string of pearls, looking at it with an approving eye.

            “Well, may be you've bought some life with this, old man,” Thrrl said. “I doubt you'd have brought it with you 'less you're in some trouble with Trren, eh? Speak up. What's your story? What word have you for me alone?”

            “Ushtorth's what they call me,” said the old man. “And I'm no friend of King Trren. That's my money, which I'll thank you to return to me or I'll give you no word at all.”

            Thrrl burst out laughing. “So, so, that's how it is? You'll bargain with me? Take care, dog o' the sea, or you'll bargain with the sharks.” And all Thrrl's men standing about chortled.

            “Nay, Thrrl Falseghost, I'd rather bargain with neither, but be your ally,” said Ushtorth. “Seadog they call me with good reason, for I put my nose in many places and do often smell out fat prey. You have less need of my wealth, I think, than of somesuch else? I'm exiled from Esti but before that I near brought it to you—and I've friends there yet who'll help with the job. Kill me not and rob me not, but hear me out and both of us will profit.”

            Thrrl's steely eyes narrowed. A dark chill of excitement stirred his brain. This was no ordinary talk.

            “Bring him to my cabin then,” he commanded. “I'll speak further with him there. And we'll not rob you, Ushtorth. But I'll have this geld in my treasury. It's my fee for private audience.”

            Ushtorth was taken under guard to Thrrl's cabin. After a while, having seen to deck matters, Thrrl came in. He threw his big frame into a rough wooden chair and dismissed the guards, leaving the old man standing. But Ushtorth sat upon the floor crosslegged and began to inform Thrrl regarding the scarface who had arrived lately in Esti, supposedly to speak of healing lore with Quastid, but who had paid a strange visit in the early hours to the house of Sarnad the metal-crafter. Thrrl came out of the black rage that had possessed him as a result of his defeat, and his lust for the gift She had promised him returned to the foreground of his thoughts. His craftiness returned. He saw now not defeat but opportunity.

            In the first raid, Thrrl had destroyed nearly half of Trren's standing fleet at anchor, having caught Esti by surprise. He had lost ships in the second encounter, true, and Taeglrr had been defeated. But Taeglrr's fight upon the docks had surely done some further harm to the city, and now Thrrl knew a great deal more about the defensive strategies of Trren. He would not be easily tricked again. And the blame for the present defeat could be laid to Taeglrr's rashness, going in ahead to claim glory for himself, dividing the ships.

            Weakened by two attacks, its defenses discovered, Esti lay open to war by land and sea. Thrrl knew also that King Sürst was not idle, but was mobilizing his forces. War brewed for Esti, and Thrrl was now more important to Sürst than before. But he could not beat all the way to Grenacia, or even as far as the Salt Islands, for Ushtorth had reminded him that he dared not let the bluecloak slip out of his hands.

            Carefully then the Destroyer made a new plan. One of his ships was sent with a report to Sürst. The other three went with it as far as the Salt Islands, to wait there for its return. And he, Thrrl, turned back. He knew a place in Shallath where his single ship might hide. From there he would put Ushtorth's wealth to good use: to pay informers known to the seadog in the city. She had been right. The bluecloak was a warrior able to defend himself, as Ushtorth's tale of Esnert and Gaunt's failure confirmed; but the stranger must have a weakness and Thrrl would find this out. And if he left the city, Thrrl would take him!

* * *

            “So, Lord Threescar,” said King Trren, ceasing suddenly his pacing, his wiry body full of energy despite the exertions of the day. “It is the Image Nameless that you claim has unleashed such discomfiture upon my realm. And you have some remedy for this?”

            “I am under the command of Vrrjhri to carry out an errand that may aid the struggle. I ask for your help.”

            Trren furrowed his brow. They were in his private chamber, where now stood before him Threescar of the Narrow Lands, the stranger who had become a hero in the city because of his valor, accompanied by Dohan Firmhand and his sons, and Ellasté.

            “What you say, Lord Threescar, rings true. War broods. Those were Grenacians, not pirates, who fought ahead of Thrrl today. Sürst has been swayed by something, so to explode the Broad Lands into fruitless battle after decades of peace. But these tales you have told of Goddesses and witches stretch my understanding. Ellasté, where is your father? I would like to hear him on this.”

            “I am here, son of Etarth.” It was Quastid himself, admitted into the room by the door-guard. With him were two others, Quastid's companion Edis and another whose face and form were hidden behind. The healer strode into the room with great dignity. He was garbed in a formal robe of grey with a blue sash. He turned and gestured. “This is Edis whom you know, and Liesa, the daughter of Dohan Firmhand.”

            Liesa stepped forward. She was dressed as she had been on the evening of the dinner, but with an indigo-bordered grey cloak about her shoulders. Beautiful she was and more than that: Her natural grace and youthful color were illumined tenfold by the presence of The Rose that nestled in its pouch by her breast. Trren, Son of Etarth Hrrlslayer the son of Gorrst, forgot for a moment all else. An involuntary sigh escaped his lips but he heard it not in his fascination. Never in his life had he seen such beauty and depth of soul in a woman so tender in years.

            Trren was reaching forty, never married. His affianced died ten years before on the day before they were to be wed—a tragic drowning accident that had left the king heart-scarred. He did not know it was the power of The Rose that now reached his heart and healed it. He knew only that he was overwhelmed with desire for Dohan's daughter.

            Liesa read it in his eyes. The king was handsome in the way of a lean man, clad in a close fitting tunic of dark blue girdled by a silver belt, and black leggings. But she loved him not. Her heart's aim was bound by fate to that of Stoneglow Threescar. In that moment she felt pity for the king, knowing he would suffer some hurt because of her. But she controlled her insight, curtsying and murmuring a quiet greeting.

            Quastid told tales of Drred-Srrnyo and the Stoneshield, which the king heard with only half an ear. Stoneglow wanted to go south, the king finally understood, south beyond the sea-churn— certain death! And he would take with him not only Ellasté, Dohan, and his sons, but also Liesa? Nay, this could not be! A pang grew in the king's breast as he heard them out.

            He respected Quastid but he fought the calm truth of what the healer told him. Aye, more than all else he fought the truth in Liesa. Standing quietly by the Threescar she was absolute testimony by her faith in the proposed errand. The king shook his head in confusion, face flushed, heart a-trip as it had not been even during the battle.

            “Lord Threescar,” he said at last, “I am grateful for your service to the city this morning. But it galls me to see such fair folk as your companions, and so brave a man as yourself, undertaking to follow in Artil's wake. No one has ever returned from the south.” And as he said fair he turned his gaze again upon Liesa. “Leave me now. There is much to be done within the city and I must also see to the strengthening of the borders. I will make my decision on this matter when my duties allow me time for further thought.”

            Two days passed before they heard again from the king. Under Edis's treatment Stoneglow's battle-cuts healed rapidly. He had not fought unscathed. His skill in the fight came from the hint of vision he had found, which showed him weaknesses and openings; but he had taken cruel nicks because of his ignorance of the art. Garufel had been right. He and the wizard had become separated and he found now that he could not survive to carry out the command of the Goddess without a sword and the knowledge required to use it.

            So he had Ellasté drill him in all kinds of defensive movement, against club, axe, knife and sword. Lieth and Trask joined these lessons each morning. They had been supplied with good swords by Stoneglow, who had credit in Esti now on account of his deal with Quastid for the compass drawings.

            Then a message came from Sarnad. The compass was ready as promised. Stoneglow and Quastid hurried to the Street of Smiths. The compass far exceeded Stoneglow's expectations. Sarnad had created not merely a smoothly working instrument but a work of art as well. The bronze he shaped with flair as well as sense. It was finely graved in curling patterns, for decoration. The young craftsman handed it out proudly to Stoneglow with a shy smile on his face. Stoneglow took it, and Quastid gasped in admiration as Stoneglow rotated the gimbals, while the card remained steady: A northseeker that could function upon a rolling deck.

            “Well done, Sarnad son of Saranat,” said Stoneglow, clapping Sarnad upon the shoulder with his free hand.

            “Ah, ah, remarkable,” exclaimed Quastid. “I understood the principle, of course, but to see it working—well, it is often said that the idea is not the same as the thing.”

            “Though the gap between them can be bridged by skill, healer, as you surely know. Come, let's take this to the boat. I'm going to mount it on the Pride.”

            Just then, however, a young girl of Quastid's house ran in saying that King Trren had arrived at Quastid's in an unexpected personal visit. They took leave of Sarnad and followed her back to the house. A troop of the king's guard stood in military order by the gate. Quastid and Stoneglow were told that the king had been taken to Quastid's study. But when they arrived in the study only Edis sat by the long desk.

            “Where's the king?” asked Quastid.

            “In the west garden with Liesa,” said Edis, nodding toward the garden door. “He asks us to await him here.”

            This news disturbed Stoneglow. He had not missed the king's sigh when he first glimpsed Liesa, nor the king's subsequent doubts for their voyage. Uneasily he sat down on one of Quastid's cushions to wait.