Shannara - Wishsong of Shannara Part 19

Slanter bent close. "Must be mad even to consider this, but I guess it's no madder than anything else that's happened. You and me, Borderman. Black walker and Gnome servant. Pullthat cloak about you, hood about your head, no one'll know. You're big enough for it. Walk right through them, you and me-right up to the gates of that fortress. Hope to all that's good and right that the Dwarves open up long enough for us to slip in."

Shouts rose from off to their left. Helt glanced over quickly, then back again. "You could do all this without me, Slanter. You could get out on your own a lot easier than if I'm with you."

"Don't tempt me!" the Gnome snapped.

The gentle eyes were steady. "They're your people. You could still go back to them."

Slanter seemed to think it over for a moment. Then he shook his head roughly. "Forget it.

I'd have that black devil Weapons Master tracking me all through the Four Lands. I'm not risking that." The hard yellow face seemed to stiffen further. "And there's the boy..."

His eyes snapped up. "Well, do we try it or not, Borderman?"

Helt rose, pulling his cloak close about him. "We try it."

They strode clear of the brush, Slanter with his cloak thrown wide so that all could see it was a Gnome who led the way, Helt with his drawn close, a ma.s.sive, hooded giant towering above the other. They pa.s.sed boldly down through the spokes of the siege lines toward where the army ma.s.sed before the fortress walls, staying carefully within the darkness between those lines so that they could not be clearly seen. They walked for nearly fifty yards, and no one gave challenge.

Then a cross line blocked their way forward, and there was no longer any darkness left through which to pa.s.s. Slanter never hesitated. He stalked toward the watchfires, the cloaked figure following. The Gnome Hunters who were gathered there turned to gape, weapons lifting guardedly.

"Stand back!" Slanter called out sharply. "The Master comes!"

Eyes widened and fear reflected in the harsh yellow faces. Weapons lowered quickly, and all stood aside as the two figures pa.s.sed, slipping into a square of half-light between the lines.

Gnomes were all about them now, heads turning, eyes staring in surprise and curiosity. Still no one challenged, the tumult of the search on the slope drowning out everything else in the autumn night.

Another siege line lay ahead. Slanter lifted his arms dramatically to the Gnome Hunters who turned. "Give way to the Master, Gnomes!"

Again the lines parted to let them through. Sweat was pouring down Slanter's rough face as he glanced back at the shadowed figure behind him. Hundreds of eyes followed after them, and there was a faint stirring within the ranks of the Gnomes. A few were beginning to question what was happening.

The last of. the forward lines of the siege lay before them. Here the Gnome Hunters again brought up their short spears menacingly, and there were disgruntled mutterings. Beyond the watchfires the dark walls of the Dwarf citadel rose up against the night and on their battlements, torches burned in solitary patches of hazy light.

"Stand away!" Slanter bellowed, again throwing up his arms. "Dark magic runs loose this night and the walls of the enemy keep shall crumble before it! Stand away! Let the walker pa.s.s!"

As if to emphasize the warning, the cloaked figure following lifted one arm slowly and pointed toward the watch.

That was enough for the Gnomes on the siege lines. Breaking ranks, they parted hurriedly, most of them scurrying back toward the second line of defense, casting anxious glances over their shoulders as they went. A few lingered, frowns on their faces as the twofigures pa.s.sed, but still no one stepped forward to offer challenge.

The Gnome and the Borderman walked into the night, eyes riveted now on the dark walls ahead. Slanter raised his hands high above his head as they approached, praying inwardly that this simple gesture would be enough to stay the deadly missiles surely pointed in their direction.

They were two dozen yards from the walls when a voice rang out. "Come no further, Gnome!"

Slanter drew to an immediate halt, arms lowering. "Open the gates!" he cried furtively.

"We're friends!"

There was a low muttering on the walls, and a call down to someone below. But the gates remained closed. Slanter glanced about frantically. Behind where he and Helt stood watching, the Gnomes were stirring once more.

"Who are you?" the voice from atop the wall called out again.

"Open the gates, you fool!" Slanter's patience was gone.

Now Helt came forward to stand beside the Gnome. "Callahorn!" he called out in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

Behind them, a chorus of howls rose up from the Gnomes. The game was up. The two broke for the fortress walls in a mad dash, calling to the Dwarves within. They dashed up against the iron-bound gates, casting desperate glances back as they ran. An entire line of Gnome Hunters swept toward them, torches bobbing wildly, cries of rage breaking from their throats.

Spears and arrows launched through the dark.

"Oh, shades, open up in there, you...!" Slanter bawled.

Abruptly the gates swung open and hands reached out to yank them through. An instant later they were within the fortress, the gates slamming shut behind them as renewed howls of fury filled the night. They were thrown to the ground, and iron-tipped spears ringed them tightly.

Slanter shook his head in disgust and glanced over at Helt. "You explain it to them, Borderman," he muttered. "Even if I wanted to, I don't think I could."

Jair Ohmsford fell a long way into the Cillidellan. Downward he plunged, a tiny speck of darkness against the deep blue-gray of the night sky, the pit of his stomach dropping away, the rush of the wind filling his ears with its sound. Far below him the waters of the lake s.h.i.+mmered with bits of crimson light as the watchfires of the Gnomes reflected against their rippling surface, and all about him the vast sweep of the mountains and cliffs encircling Capaal rose up through the blur of his vision. Time seemed to come to a sudden standstill, and it felt as if he would never come to rest.

Then he struck with jarring force, breaking through the surface of the lake and plunging deep into the cold, dark waters. The breath left his lungs with stunning suddenness, and his whole body went numb with shock. Frantically, he clawed his way through the chill blackness that had closed about him, barely conscious of anything beyond his need to reach the surface once more so that he could breathe. The heat from his body dissipated in seconds, and he felt a crus.h.i.+ng force pressing in against him, so terrible that it threatened to break him in two. He struggled upward, desperate with need. Lights danced before his eyes and his arms and legs seemed suddenly turned to lead. Weakly, he thrashed against their pull, lost in a maze of dark turns.

A moment later, everything slipped away from him.

He dreamed, a long, endless dream of disconnected feelings and sensations and of timesand places both remembered and yet somehow new. Waves of sound and motion carried him through landscapes of nightmare and haunts of the familiar, through oft-traveled forest trails of the Vale, and through sweeps of black, cold water where life pa.s.sed in tangled disarray in faces and shapes not fixed one to the other, but disjointed and free. Brin was there, come and gone in brief glimpses, a distorted form that combined reality with falsehood and begged for understanding. Words came at him from things misshapen and lifeless, yet her voice seemed to speak the words, calling to him, calling...

Then Garet Jax was holding him, arms wrapped tightly about his body, his voice a whisper of life in a dark place. Jair floated, the waters buoying him, and his face turned skyward into the clouded night. Gasping, he sought to talk and could not manage. He was awake again, come back from where he had slipped away, yet not fully conscious of what had befallen him or what he was about. He drifted in and out of darkness, reaching back each time he began to slide too far so that he might be grasped anew by the sound and color and feeling that meant life.

Then there were hands grasping him as well, pulling him up from the waters and the blackness, easing him down onto solid ground once more. Rough voices muttered vaguely, the fragmented words slipping through his mind like stray leaves blown by the wind. His eyes flickered, and Garet Jax was bending over him, lean brown face damp and drawn with the chill, fair hair plastered back against his head.

"Valeman, can you hear me? It's all right. You're all right now."

Other faces pushed into view-blocky Dwarf faces, resolute and grave as they studied his.

He swallowed, choked and mumbled something incoherent.

"Don't try to talk," one said gruffly. "Just rest."

He nodded. Hands wrapped him in blankets, then lifted him up and began to carry him away.

"Sure has been a night for strays." Another voice chuckled.

Jair tried to look back to where the voice had come from, but he could not seem to focus his sense of direction. He let himself sink downward into the warmth of the blankets, eased by the gentle rocking of the hands that bore him. A moment later, he was asleep.

19.

It was midday of the next day when Jair awoke again. He might not have come awake even then were it not for the hands that shook him none too gently from his slumber and the rough voice that whispered in his ear, "Wake up, boy! You've slept long enough! Come on, wake up!"

Grudgingly, he stirred within the blankets that covered him, rolled onto his back and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Gray sunlight filtered through a narrow window next to his head, causing him to squint against its brightness.

"Come on, the day's almost gone! Been shut away the whole of it, thanks to you!"

Jail's eyes s.h.i.+fted to find the speaker, a stoutly familiar figure positioned at the side of his bed. "Slanter?" he whispered in disbelief.

"Now who else would it be?" the other snapped.

Jail blinked. "Slanter?"

Abruptly the events of the previous night recalled themselves to his mind in a flood of images: the flight from the Gnomes in the mountains about Capaal; the separation of the company; the long drop into the Cillidellan with Garet Jax; and their subsequent rescue from its waters by the Dwarves. You're all right now, the Weapons Master had whispered to him. He blinked again. But Slanter and the others...

"Slanter!" he exclaimed, now fully awake. Hastily, he pushed himself upright. "Slanter, you're alive!"

"Of course I'm alive! What does it look like?"

"But how did...?" Jair left the question hanging and grasped the Gnome's arm anxiously.

"What about the others? What's happened to them? Are they all right?"

"Slow down, will you?" The Gnome freed his arm irritably. "They're all fine and they're all here, so stop worrying. The Elf took a dart in the shoulder, but he'll live. Only one who's in danger at the moment is me. And that's because I'm shut up in this room with you, dying of boredom! Now will you climb out of that bed so we can get out of here?"

Jair didn't hear all of what the Gnome was saying. Everyone's all right, he was repeating to himself. Everyone made it. No one was lost, even though it had seemed certain that some of them must be. He breathed deeply in relief. Something the King of the Silver River had said recalled itself suddenly to his mind. A touch of magic for each who journey with you, the old man had told him. Strength for the body, given to others. Perhaps that strength, that touch of the magic, had seen each of them safely through last night.

"Get up, get up, get up!" Slanter was practically hopping up and down with impatience.

"What are you doing just sitting there?"

Jair swung his legs out of the bed and glanced about the room in which he found himself.

It was a small; stone block chamber, spa.r.s.ely furnished with bed, sitting table, and chairs, its walls bare save for a broad heraldic tapestry hung from the far supports of its sloped ceiling. A second window opened out at the other end of the wall against which Jair's bed rested, and a single wooden door stood closed, opposite where he sat. In one corner, a small fireplace cradled an iron gate and a stack of burning logs.

He glanced at Slanter. "Where are we?"

Slanter looked at him as if he were a complete idiot. "Now where do you think we are?

We're inside the Dwarf fortress!"

Where else? Jair thought ruefully. Slowly he stood up, still testing his strength as hestretched and peered curiously our of the window in back of him. Through its narrow, barred slot he could see the murky gray expanse of the Cillidellan stretching away into a day thick with mist and low-hanging clouds. Far distant, through this s.h.i.+fting haze, he could discern the flicker of watchfires burning along the sh.o.r.es of the lake.

Gnome watchfires.

Then he noticed how quiet it was. He was within the fortress of Capaal, the Dwarf citadel that stood watch over the locks and dams that regulated the flow of the Silver River westward, the citadel that one day earlier had been under a.s.sault by Gnome armies. Where were those armies now? Why wasn't Capaal under attack?

"Slanter, what's happened to the siege?" he asked quickly. "Why is it so still?"

"How should I know?" the other snapped. "No one tells me anything!"

"Well, what's happening out there? What have you seen?"

Slanter jerked upright. "Haven't heard a word I've said, have you? What's the problem-ears not working or something? I've been right here in this room with you ever since they dragged you out of the lake! Shut away like a common thief! Saved that confounded Borderman's skin out there and what do I get for my trouble? Shut in here with you!"

"Well, I..."

"A Gnome's a Gnome, they think! Don't trust any of us! So here I sit, mother hen to you while you slumber on like you don't have a care in the world. Waited all day for you to decide to wake up! You'd be sleeping still, I suppose, if I hadn't lost patience entirely!"

Jair drew back. "You could have woken me sooner..."

"How could I do that!" the other exploded. "How was I to know what was wrong with you? Could have been anything! Had to let you rest just to be sure! Couldn't be taking chances, could I? That black devil Weapons Master would have had me flayed!"

Jair grinned in spite of himself. "Calm down, will you?"

The Gnome clenched his teeth. "I'll calm down when you get yourself out of that bed and into your clothes! There's a guard on the other side of that door keeping me shut up in here! But with you awake, maybe we can talk him into letting the two of us out! Then you can be amused on your own time! Now, dress!"

Shrugging, Jair slipped off the night clothes that had been provided him and began pulling on his Vale clothes. He was surprised, though pleased, to find Slanter so vocal again, even if his discourse was, for the moment at least, limited to a tirade against the Valeman. Slanter seemed more his normal self again, more that voluble fellow he had been that first night after making Jair his prisoner in the highlands-that fellow Jair had come to like. He wasn't sure why the Gnome had chosen now to come out of his sh.e.l.l, but he was delighted to have the old Slanter back as company once more.

"Sorry you had to be locked in here with me," he ventured after a moment.

"You ought to be," the other grumbled. "They put me in here to look after you, you know.

Must think I make a good nursemaid of something."

Jair grinned. "I'd say they're right."

The expression that crossed the Gnome's face then caused Jair to turn away quickly, his face a carefully frozen mask. Chuckling inwardly, he was in the process of reaching for his boots when he abruptly remembered the vision crystal and the Silver Dust. He had not seen either while dressing. He had not felt them in his pockets. The grin he had allowed to slip back over his face faded. He ran his hands over his clothing. Nothing! Frantically, he pawed through hisbedding, his bedclothes, and everything in sight. The vision crystal and the Silver Dust were gone. Then he thought back to the night previous, to the long jump into the Cillidellan. Had he lost them in the lake?

"Looking for something?"

Jair stiffened. It was Slanter speaking, his voice laced with false concern. Jair turned.

"Slanter, what have you done...?"

"Me?" the other interrupted quickly, feigned innocence in the crafty face. "Your devoted nursemaid?"

Jair was furious. "Where are they, Slanter? Where did you put them?"

Now it was the Gnome's turn to grin. "Enjoyable as this is-and believe me, it is enjoyable-I have better things to do. So if it's the pouch and the crystal you're looking for, the Weapons Master has them. Took them off you last night when they brought you in here and stripped you. Wouldn't trust them to my care, of course."

He folded his arms across his chest contentedly. "Now let's put an end to this. Or do you need help dressing, too?"

Jair flushed, finished dressing, then wordlessly walked over to the wooden door and knocked. When the door opened, he informed the Dwarf standing guard that they would like to go out. The Dwarf frowned, told them to stay put, glanced suspiciously at Slanter, and pulled the door firmly shut again.

Growing curiosity over the absence of any sort of battle without and impatience with things in general notwithstanding, they had to wait fully an hour before the door to the room opened a second time, and the guard at last beckoned them to follow. Leaving the room hastily, they turned down a windowless corridor that ran past dozens of doors similar to the one they had just pa.s.sed through, climbed a series of stairs, and emerged on battlements overlooking the murky waters of the Cillidellan. Wind and a faint spray blew off the lake into their faces, the midday air chill and hard. Here, too, the day was still and expectant, cloaked in mist and banks of low-hanging clouds that stretched between the peaks that sheltered the locks and dams. Dwarf sentries patrolled the walls, eyes s.h.i.+fting watchfully through the haze. There was no sign of the Gnome armies, save for the distant flicker of the watchfires, reddish specks of light in the gray.

The Dwarf took them down off the battlements, turning into a broad courtyard that spanned the center of the high dam where it walled away the Cillidellan. North and south of where they walked, the towers and parapets of the Dwarf fortress rose up against the leaden sky, stretching away into mist. It was an eerie, ghostly look that the day lent to the citadel, shrouding it in halflight and haze so that it almost seemed as if it were something strayed from a dream that threatened to be gone in a moment's time upon waking. Few Dwarves were in evidence here, the vast courtyard all but deserted. Stairwells burrowed down into the stone at regular intervals-black tunnels that Jair presumed must run to the inner workings of the locks below.

They had almost crossed the empty courtyard when a shout brought them up short, and Edain Elessedil came running to greet them. Grinning broadly, his injured arm and shoulder heavily wrapped, he went to Jair at once and extended his hand in greeting.

"Safe and sound after all, Jair Ohmsford!" He put his good arm about the other as they turned once more to follow their taciturn guide. "Feeling better, I hope?"

"Much better." Jair smiled back. "How is your arm?"