The Lightstone: The Silver Sword: Part Two

It was hard for me, used to the more circumscribed horizons of mountainous or wooded country, to see just how far we traveled each day. But Atara had a better eye for distances here. She put the tally at a good fifty miles. So it was that we crossed almost the whole length of southern Eanna in very little time. And in all that wide land, dotted with cottonwood trees whose silver-green leaves were nearly as beautiful as astors’, we saw almost no people.

‘I should think someone would live here,’ Liljana said on the fifth morning of our journey across the steppe. ‘This is a fair land – it can’t be the wolves that have scared them away. Nor even the lions.’

Later that day, toward noon, we came across some nomads who solved the mystery of Eanna’s emptiness for us. The head of the thirty members of this band, who lived in tents woven from the hair of the shaggy cattle they tended, boldly presented himself as Jacarun the Elder. He was a whitebeard whose bushy brows overhung his suspicious old eyes. But when he saw that we meant no harm and wanted only to cross his country, he was free with the milk and cheeses that his people got from their cattle – and with advice as well.

‘We are the Telamun,’ he explained to us as we broke from our journey to take a meal with his family. ‘And once we were a great people.’

He told us that only a few generations before, the Telamun in their two great tribes had ruled this land. So great was their prowess at arms that the Kings in Imatru had feared to send their armies here. But then, after a blood-feud brought about by a careless insult, murder and an escalating sequence of revenge killings, the two tribes had gone to war against each other rather than with their common enemies. In the space of only twenty years, they had nearly wiped each other out.

‘A few dozen families like ours, we’re all that’s left,’ Jacarun said as he held up his drover’s staff and swept it out across the plain. ‘Now we’ve given up war – unless you count beating off wolves with sticks as war.’

He went on to say that their days as a free people were almost over, for others were now eyeing his family’s ancient lands and even moving into them.

‘King Hanniban has been having trouble with his barons, it’s said, so hasn’t yet been able to muster the few companies that it would take to conquer us,’ he told us. ‘But some of the Ravirii have come up from the Red Desert – they butchered a family not fifty miles from here. And the Yarkonans, well, in the long run, they’re the real threat, of course. Count Ulanu of Aigul – they call him Ulanu the Handsome – has it in mind to conquer all of Yarkona in the Red Dragon’s name and set himself up as King. If he ever does, he’ll turn his gaze west and send his crucifiers here.’

He called for one of his daughters to bring us some roasted beef. And then, after fixing his weary old eyes on Kane and my other friends, he looked at me and asked, ‘And where are you bound, Sar Valashu?’

‘To Yarkona,’ I said.

‘Aha, I thought so! To the Library at Khaisham, yes?’

‘How did you know?’

‘Well, you’re not the first pilgrims to cross our lands on their way to the Library, though you may be the last.’ He sighed as he lifted his staff toward the sky. ‘There was a time, and not so long ago, when many pilgrims came this way. We always charged them tribute for their safe passage, not much, only a little silver and sometimes a few grains of gold. But those days are past; soon it is we who will have to pay tribute for living here. In any case, no one goes to Yarkona anymore – it’s an accursed land.’

He advised us that, if we insisted on completing our journey, we should avoid Aigul and Count Ulanu’s demesne at all costs.

We ate our roasted beef then, and washed it down with some fermented milk that Jacarun called laas. After visiting with his family and admiring the fatness of their cattle – and restraining Maram from doing likewise with their women – we thanked Jacarun for his hospitality and set out again.

Soon the steppe, which had gradually been drying out as we drew further away from the Crescent Mountains, grew quite sere. The greens of its grasses gave way to yellow and umber and more somber tones. Many new shrubs found root here in the rockier soil: mostly bitterbroom and yusage, as Kane named these tough-looking plants. They gave shelter to lizards, thrashers, rock sparrows and other animals that I had never seen before. As the sun fell down the long arc of the sky behind us in its journey into night, it grew slightly warmer instead of cooler. We put quite a few miles behind us, though not so many as on the four preceding afternoons. The horses, perhaps sensing that they would find less water and food to the east, began moving more slowly as if to conserve their strength. And as we approached the land that Jacarun had warned us against, we turned our gazes inward to look for strength of our own.

And then, just before dusk, with the sun casting its longest rays over a glowing, reddened land, we came to a little trickle of water that Kane called the Parth. From its sandy banks, we looked out on the distant rocky outcroppings of Yarkona. There, I prayed, we would at last find the end of our journey and our hearts’ deepest desire.

2

The moon that night was just past full and tinged a glowing red. It hung low in conjunction with a blazing twist of stars that some called the Snake Constellation and others the Dragon.

‘Blood Moon in the Dragon,’ Master Juwain said. He sat sipping his tea and looking up at the sky. ‘I haven’t seen suchlike in many years.’

He brought out his book then, and sat reading quietly by the firelight, perhaps looking for some passage that would comfort him and turn his attention away from the stars. And then Liljana, who had gone off to wash the dishes in a small stream that led back to the Parth, returned holding some stones in her hand. They were black and shiny like Kane’s gelstei but had more the look of melted glass. Liljana called them Angels’ Tears; she said that wherever they were found, the earth would weep with the sorrow of the heavens. Atara gazed at these three, droplike stones as she might her much clearer crystal. Although her eyes darkened and I felt a great heaviness descend upon her heart like a stormcloud, she, too, sat quietly sipping her tea and saying nothing.

We slept uneasily that night, and Kane didn’t sleep at all. He stood for hours keeping watch, looking for lions in the shadows of the moon-reddened rocks or enemies approaching across the darkling plain. Alphanderry, who couldn’t sleep either, brought out his mandolet and sang to keep him company. And unseen by him, Flick spun only desultorily to his music. He seemed to want to hide from the bloody moon above us.

And so the hours of night passed, and the heavens turned slowly about the rutilant earth. When morning came, we had a better look at this harsher country into which we had ventured. Yarkona, Master Juwain said, meant the ‘Green Land’, but there was little of this hue about it. Neither true steppe nor quite desert, the sparse grass here was burnt brown by a much hotter sun. The yusage had been joined by its even tougher cousins: ursage and spiny sage, whose spiked leaves discouraged the brush voles and deer from browsing upon them. We saw a few of these cautious animals in the early light, framed by some blackish cliffs to the east. These sharp prominences had a charred look about them, as if the sun had set fire to the very stone. But Kane said their color came from the basalt that formed them; the rocks, he told us, were the very bones of the earth, which the hot winds blowing up from the south had laid bare.

He also told us that we had made camp in Sagaram, a domain that some local lord had carved out of this once-great realm perhaps a century before. We looked to him for knowledge that might help us cross it. But as he admitted, he had come this way many years ago, in more peaceful times. Since then, he said, the boundaries of Yarkona’s little baronies and possessions had no doubt shifted like a desert’s sands, perhaps some of them having been blown away by war altogether.

‘Aigul lies some sixty miles from here to the north and east,’ he told us. ‘Unless it has grown since then, and its counts have annexed lands to the south.’

These lands we set out to cross on that dry, windy morning. Sagaram proved to be little more than a thin strip of shrubs and sere grasses running seventy or so miles along the Parth. By early afternoon, we had made our way clear into the next domain, although no river or stone marked the border, and we didn’t realize it at the time. It took some more miles of plodding across the hot, rising plain before we found anyone who could give us directions. This was a goatherd who lived in a little stone house by a well in sight of a rather striking rock formation to the east of us.

‘You’ve come to Karkut,’ he told us as he shared a little cheese and bread with us. He was a short man, neither young nor old, with a great flowing tunic pulled over his spare frame and tied at the waist with a bit of dirty rope. ‘To the north of us lie Hansh and Aigul; to the south is the Nashthalan. That’s mostly desert now, and you’ll want to stay well to the north of it if you’re to come to Khaisham safely.’

While his two young sons watered our horses, he advised us to make our way directly east along the hills above the Nashthalan; after crossing through Sarad, he said, we should turn north along the dip in the White Mountains and so come to Khaisham that way.

But even as we were sharing a cup of brandy with him and eating some dried figs, a knight wearing a green and white surcoat over his gleaming mail came riding down from the rock formation above us. He had the same browned skin and dark beard as the goatherd, but he rode with an air of confidence as if his lord commanded the lands hereabouts. He presented himself as Rinald, son of Omar the Quiet; he said that he was in the service of Lord Nicolaym, who had a castle hidden in the rocks above us.

‘We saw you ride up to the well,’ he told us, looking from me to my friends. ‘We were afraid that you would pass this way unheralded.’

He came down from his horse and broke bread with us. He was only too happy to share some of our brandy, too, which was nearly the last of the vintage we had carried from Tria.

‘Lord Nicolaym,’ he said to us, ‘would like to offer his hospitality, for the night or as many nights as you wish.’

I thought of the golden cup that likely awaited us in Khaisham. An image sprang into my mind of time running out of it like the sands from an hourglass. If we came to Khaisham too late, I thought, we might find the Library emptied of the Lightstone, perhaps carried away by another.

‘Sar Valashu?’

I looked up at the sun, still high in the cloudless sky. We had many hours left that day that we might travel, and I told Rinald this.

‘Of course, you’re free to ride on as you please,’ Rinald said to us. ‘Lord Nicolaym doesn’t order the comings and goings of pilgrims or charge them tolls as some do. But you should be careful of where you go. Not everyone welcomes pilgrims these days.’

With an apology to the goatherd, he went on to dispute his advice that we should journey east through Sarad.

‘Baron Jadur’s knights are jealous of their borders there,’ Rinald told us. ‘Although they hate Count Ulanu, they’ve no love of Khaisham and the Librarians, either. It’s said that for many years they’ve turned pilgrims away from their domain – those they haven’t plundered or imprisoned.’

At this news, the goatherd took a drink of brandy and shrugged his shoulders. His business, he said, was keeping his goats fat and healthy, not in keeping apprised of the injustices of distant lords.

As for injustice, Rinald informed us sadly that there was too much of that in his own domain. ‘Duke Rasham is a good enough man, but some of his lords have gone over to the Kallimun – we’re not quite sure which ones. But there have been murders of those who speak for joining arms with Khaisham. We caught an assassin trying to murder Lord Nicolaym just last month. You should be careful in Karkut, I’m sorry to say, Sar Valashu. These are evil times.’

‘It would seem that we must take care wherever we go in Yarkona,’ I told him.

‘That is true,’ he said. ‘But there are some domains you must avoid at all costs. Aigul, of course. And to the west of those crucifiers, Brahamdur, whose baron and lords are practically Count Ulanu’s slaves. And Sagaram – you were lucky to cross it unmolested, for they’ve been forced into an alliance with Aigul. To the north of us, between here and Aigul, Hansh has nearly lost its freedom as well. It’s said that soon Count Ulanu will press Hansh levies into his army.’

Maram, of course, didn’t like the news that he was hearing. He looked at me a long moment before asking Rinald, ‘How are we to reach Khaisham, then?’

‘The route through Madhvam would be the safest,’ Rinald said, naming the domain just east of us. ‘There’s strength there for opposing Count Ulanu; their knights would join Khaisham in arms but for their bad blood with Sarad. That feud occupies all their attention, I’m afraid. I haven’t heard, though, that they have any quarrel with pilgrims.’

But Madhvam, as Maram learned, adjoined Aigul to its north, and that was too close for him. ‘What if this Ulanu the Handsome attacks Madhvam while we’re crossing it?’

‘No, that’s impossible,’ Rinald said. ‘We’ve just had word that Count Ulanu has marched against Sikar. The fortifications of that city are the strongest in all Yarkona. He’ll be at least a month reducing them.’

Sikar, he said, lay a good sixty miles north of Madhvam up against the White Mountains, with the domain of Virad partially squeezed in between. He told us then what Duke Rasham and Lord Nicolaym supposed would be Count Ulanu’s strategy for the conquest of Yarkona.

‘Khaisham is the key to everything that Count Ulanu desires,’ Rinald told us. ‘Other than Aigul, it’s the strongest domain in Yarkona, and Virad, Sikar and Inyam all look to the Librarians to lead the opposition against the Count. If Khaisham falls, the whole of the north will fall as well. Count Ulanu already has the west under his thumb. Hansh, too. The middle domains – Madhvam and Sarad, even Karkut – can’t stand alone. And once Aigul has swallowed us all up, it will be nothing for the Count’s army to take the Nashthalan.’

His words encouraged us to finish our brandy in quick swallows. And then Maram said, ‘Ah, well, I should think that the Count’s invasion of Sikar would lead all the free domains to join against him.’

‘That is my lord’s hope, too,’ Rinald said. ‘But I’m afraid that many lords think otherwise. They say that if Count Ulanu’s conquest is inevitable, they should join with him rather than wind up nailed to crosses.’

‘Nothing’s inevitable,’ Kane growled out, ‘except such cowardly talk.’

‘That is so,’ Rinald said. ‘Even Sikar’s fall is uncertain. If only Khaisham’s knights would ride to its aid …’

‘Will they?’ I asked.

‘No one knows. The Librarians are brave enough, and none better at arms. But for a thousand years, they’ve used them only in defense of their books.’

‘Then what about Virad? What about Inyam?’ I asked, naming the domain north of Virad and between Sikar and Khaisham.

‘I think they’ll wait to see what Khaisham does,’ Rinald says. ‘If the Librarians stay behind their walls and Sikar falls, then likely they’ll sue for peace.’

‘You mean, surrender,’ Kane snarled.

‘Better that than crucifixion, many would say.’

Because Kane’s flashing eyes were difficult to behold just then, I turned toward Maram, who was looking for reasons to abandon his courage.

‘If the Red Dragon desires the conquest of Yarkona so badly,’ he said, ‘I don’t see why he doesn’t just send an army to reduce it. Sakai isn’t so far from here, is it? What could stop him?’

‘Niggardliness could,’ Atara said perceptively. ‘I think the Lord of Lies is very careful: he hoards his forces like a miser does gold.’

‘Just so,’ Rinald said. ‘For him such a conquest would be an expensive campaign.’

‘How so?’ Maram asked.

‘If I had a map, I would show you,’ Rinald said. ‘But there’s no good route from Sakai to Yarkona. If a Sakayan army tried the Red Desert, the heat would kill them like flies if the Ravirii didn’t first.’

‘What about the direct route through the mountains?’

‘That would be even more dangerous,’ Rinald said. ‘The White Mountains, at least the stretch of that range between Yarkona and Sakai, is the land of the Ymanir. They are much worse than the Ravirii.’

He went on to say that the Ymanir were also called the Frost Giants; they were savage men nearly eight feet tall and covered with white fur, who were known to kill all who entered their country and eat them.

‘Frost Giants, is it now?’ Maram exclaimed as he shuddered. ‘Oh, too much, too much.’

I felt my own insides churning as I looked at the war-torn landscape to the east and tried to make out the great White Mountains beyond. In the haze of the burning distances, I saw a golden room whose great iron door was slowly closing like that of a vault. We had to enter the room safely and get out again before we were trapped inside.

‘Val,’ Maram said to me, ‘I don’t have a very good feeling about this land. Perhaps we should turn back before it’s too late.’

I looked at him then, and the fire in my eyes told him that I wasn’t about to come within inches of fulfilling the quest simply to turn back. This same fire blazed inside Kane and Atara, and in Liljana, Alphanderry and Master Juwain. It smoldered, too, beneath the damp leaves of Maram’s fear, even if he didn’t know it.

‘All right, all right, don’t look at me like that,’ Maram said to me. ‘If we must go on, we must. But let’s go soon, okay?’

And with that, we finished our little meal and thanked the goatherd for his hospitality. Then Rinald helped us finally decide our route: we would cut through Karkut and Madhvam toward the northeast along the line of the Nashbrum River. And then turn southeast through Virad’s canyon lands, coming eventually to a little spur running down from the White Mountains that separated Virad and Inyam from Khaisham. There we would find a pass called the Kul Joram, and beyond that, Khaisham.

‘I wish you well,’ Rinald said to us as he mounted his horse. ‘I’ll remind Lord Nicolaym to keep a few rooms empty for your return.’

We watched him ride off toward the rocks above us and the castle that we couldn’t see. And then we turned to mount our horses as well.

All that hot afternoon we rode along the line that Rinald had advised. We found the Nashbrum, a smallish river that ran down from the mountains and seemed to narrow and lose substance to the burning earth as it flowed toward the Nashthalan. Cottonwood trees grew along its course, and we kept their shimmering leaves in sight as we paralleled it almost all the way to Madhvam. We were lucky to come across none of the traitorous lords or knights who had gone over to the Kallimun. We made camp along the Nashbrum’s sandy banks, keeping a careful watch.

But the night passed peacefully enough; only the howling of some wolves pointing their snouts toward the moon reminded us that we were not alone in this desolate country. When morning came, clear and blue and hinting of a sweltering heat later in the day, we set out early and rode quickly through what coolness we could find. It was good, I thought, that we kept close to the river; the sweating horses made free with its water and so did we. By the time the sun crested the sky, we decided to break for our midday meal beneath the shade of a great, gnarled cottonwood. No one was hungry enough to eat, but at least we had some cover from the blistering sun.

But soon enough, we had to set out again. Toward mid-afternoon, some big clouds formed up and let loose a quick burst of thunder and rain. It lasted only long enough to wet the ursage and dried grasses and the sharp rocks that tore at our horses’ hooves. It was a measure of our desire to reach Khaisham that we still made a good distance that day. By the time the sun had left its fierceness behind it in the waves of heat radiating off the glowing land, we found ourselves in the domain of Virad. To the north of us, and to the east, too, the knifelike peaks of the White Mountains caught the red fire of the setting sun.

‘Well, that was a day,’ Maram said. He wiped the sweat from his dripping brown curls and dismounted to look for some wood for the night’s fire. ‘I’m hot, I’m thirsty, I’m tired. And what’s worse,’ he said, pressing his nose to his armpit, ‘I stink. This heat is much worse than the rain in the Crescent Mountains.’

‘Hmmph,’ Atara said to him, ‘it’s only worse because you’re suffering from it now. Just wait until our return.’

‘If we do return,’ he muttered. He scratched at some beads of sweat in the thick beard along his neck as he looked about. ‘Val, are you sure this is Virad?’

I pointed along the river where it abruptly turned north about five miles across the rocky ground ahead of us. I said, ‘Rinald told us to look for that turning. There, we’re to set our course to the southeast and so come to the pass after another forty miles.’

Directly to the east of us, I saw, was a large swelling of black rock impossible to cross on horses. And so, at the river’s turning, we would ride up and around it.

‘Well, then, we must have ridden nearly forty miles today.’

‘Too far,’ Kane said, coming over to us and studying the terrain around us. ‘We pressed the horses too hard. Tomorrow we’ll have to satisfy ourselves with half that distance.’

‘I don’t like the look of this country,’ Maram said. ‘I don’t want to remain here any longer than we have to.’

‘If we cripple the horses, we’ll be here even longer,’ Kane told him. ‘Do you want to walk to Khaisham?’

That night, we fortified our camp with some of the logs and branches we found down by the river. The moon, when it rose over the black hills, was clearly waning though still nearly full. It set the wolves farther out on the plain to howling: a high-pitched, plaintive sound that had always unnerved Maram – and Liljana and Master Juwain, as well. To soothe them, Alphanderry plucked the strings of his mandolet and sang of ages past and brighter times to come when the Galadin and Elijin would walk the earth again. His clear voice rang out across the river, echoing from the ominous-looking rocks. It brought cheer to us all, though it also touched Kane with a deep dread I felt pulling at his insides like the teeth of something much worse than wolves.

‘Too loud,’ Kane muttered at Alphanderry. ‘This isn’t Alonia, eh? Nor even Surrapam.’

After that Alphanderry sang more quietly, and the golden tones pouring from his throat seemed to harmonize with the wolves’ howls, softening them and rendering them less haunting. But then, above his beautiful voice and those of the wolves, from the north of us where the river turned into some low hills, came a distant keening sound that was terrible to hear.

‘Shhh,’ Maram said, tapping Alphanderry’s knee, ‘what was that?’

Alphanderry now put down his mandolet and listened with the rest of us. Again came the far-off keening, and then an answering sound, much closer, from the hills to the east. It was like the shrieking of a cat and the scream of a wounded horse and the cries of the damned all bound up into a single, piercing howl.

‘That’s no wolf!’ Maram called out. ‘What is it?’

Again came the howl, closer, and this time it had something of a crow’s cawing and a bear’s growl about it: OWRRRUULLL!

Kane jumped to his feet and drew his sword. It seemed to point of its own toward the terrible sound.

‘Do you know what that is?’ Maram asked him, also drawing his sword.

OWRRULLLLL!

Now all of us, except Master Juwain, took up weapons and stood staring at the moonlit rocks across the river.