Krull. Part 17

"No, t.i.tch," Colwyn told him. "You're too young. Ergo may have lived a short life, but you've lived none at all. It would be wrong to throw away what you don't have."

"I haven't been in the way. If the seer was still alive," he hesitated, fighting back tears, "he'd say that I should go so that I could learn. Besides, Ergo told me that you were my family now." He looked around at them. "All of you."

"It's true that the boy has nowhere else to go," Ergo pointed out.

Colwyn considered, reluctantly gave in. "You're right again. All right, t.i.tch, you can come, but stay clear of trouble and mind what you're told."

"I will, sir," the boy said solemnly.

They hurried to break camp. Merith moved to embrace Kegan.

"I know that I can't make you come back to me only," she murmured, "but if you survive, I ask you to consider it. I'd make you as happy as any one woman could."

"Be d.a.m.ned if I don't think you're right about that," he admitted. "No promises, but I'll think on it."

She smiled and kissed him. "That's all I ask."

The journey was not long and the canyon itself a rainbow of breathtaking shapes and colors, but there was no time for sight-seeing.

Colwyn crawled to the edge of the cliff, stopping only when he could see clearly over the edge. They had no time to waste and there must be no mistakes.

Everything had to work perfectly on the first attempt, Rell warned him, or they would have to think of another way to cover the distance between the plains and the Iron Desert. The herd would not give them a second chance.

The cyclops bellied up alongside him. Below lay a narrow canyon, its water-worn tributaries twisting and curving in the moonlight, a valley of sedimentary serpents.

"You must know," Rell whispered, "that they can leap any barrier. But they still think and react like any horses. The surprise and shock caused by our trap should make them react without thinking. That is our only ally. If we delay in taking them and give them time to consider their situation, they'll gallop straight out of this canyon despite anything we can do to block them."

"Everyone knows what he has to do," Colwyn replied.

"We'll work as fast as we can, but you're still the key to our success, Rell."

The cyclops nodded. "Don't worry about me."

"I don't plan to. Besides, that boy is probably doing enough worrying for all of us."

Rell looked wistful. "A good lad, little t.i.tch, for a two-eye. I do not frighten him the way I do most human children."

"He hasn't had a usual childhood. When this is concluded I have to see that some is given to him." He would have said more but the cyclops forestalled him, raising a huge hand.

"Listen!"

A faint rumble from the far end of the canyon; a distant pounding coming closer, growing steadily louder. Hoofbeats they were, and yet somehow different, as though the wind itself fled before them. Court storytellers had often regaled the young Colwyn with fanciful, highly embroidered tales of the many wondrous creatures that roamed Krull's open plains, but being a sheltered youth he'd never had the chance to seek any out. Many times he'd sought a.s.surance from his father that the storytellers were telling him the truth and not simply entertaining him with images drawn solely from their imaginations. His father had a.s.sured him they were not.69 "The fire-mares are real, my son. As real as Turold, as real as you or I or this castle. What a cavalry we would have if they could be broken to the saddle! All our enemies would fall before us. But alas, no man has been able to master them."

Colwyn remembered as he studied the canyon and listened to the thunder rising from within.

"What must be done?" he asked Rell.

"The leader is the key. Once she is taken and saddled, the others will follow. Our trouble rises from the fact that this is no normal herd.

"There is little to distinguish between leader and followers. They are crafty and wise and have been known to play tricks on would-be captors, such as placing their true leader not at the herd's head but in the middle."

"Then how will you know her?"

"I will know. I told you once that there are times when one eye can see more clearly than two. This is such a time. Leave that to me and make certain the others are ready. The more noise they can make, the more confusion we can cause, the easier it will be for me to isolate the leader."

Then there was no more time for talk, for the objects of their search suddenly appeared in the canyon. Colwyn was struck speechless by their beauty.

Independence glistened in their eyes while rippling flanks and pounding legs bespoke immense strength and endurance. In size they were larger than the largest horses he'd ever seen. Truly there was much power here, for those who could make use of it.

He stared intently into the milling herd as two men rode in behind them, shouting and hooting and cracking their whips, but he could not determine which among them was the leader. It was as confusing as Rell had promised.

Was it the black one with the white markings out there in front? But according to the cyclops, position within the herd meant nothing. There-that immense older mare trotting lightly in the second rank, the one with the golden tail! Or the mottled gray nuzzling her?

Then Rell's fingers were clutching his shoulder and he rose, cupping his hands to his mouth. "Down and at them!"

As the robbers plunged down among them, ready with ropes and saddles, the herd twisted about in disarray, searching for an exit. Oswyn threw his saddle over one mare's back so quickly that she couldn't avoid him, but both rider arid saddle held their position only long enough for the mare to send both flying to the ground.

It was the same everywhere else. One man would get a noose around a powerful neck or a bridle over a bucking head for a few seconds before they were dislodged, or another would find himself riding a broad back one second and hard ground the next.

Confused and uncertain, the herd wheeled in uneven circles around the middle of the canyon. The men continued their spirited shouting, waving their arms and trying to back their quarry still farther up the steep slopes. But the delaying action could not work forever. Before long, the leader would determine that there was more noise than threat in all the activity. Then she would take to her heels and lead the escape in spite of anything mere men could do.

Even as the herd slowed and milled about, waiting for their leader to give them direction, Colwyn was whirling the rope and its heavy noose overhead. Patiently he kept it in motion as he sought to isolate the mare Rell had selected. If he'd guessed wrongly and she wasn't the herd leader, then all the carefully coordinated effort would be waste. He didn't dwell on the possibility.

He flung the loop. It soared cleanly between two bucking fire-mares to settle around a piebald neck. The mare whinnied loudly, loud enough so that her cry rose above the echoes of falling rocks and shouting men. She kicked and turned even as Rell grabbed hold of the rope, pulling both men flat and dragging them across the rough ground. Colwyn had the rope looped several times around his right arm. The mare might pull the arm out of its socket, but he was determined she would not separate it from the rope.

Gravel and sand pitted his skin and stung his eyes as she pulled them across the canyon floor, but he clung grimly to the rope, trying to get to his feet and dig in. Torquil tried to help but was too far behind to reach them.

All around the bandit leader, his men were being thrown aside, and they were good riders, too. The cyclops was wrong. Mere men couldn't ride these cursed creatures! In his mind's eye he recalled the difficulties they'd already overcome to get this far. Now it seemed they were to be defeated for taking the word of a one-eye.70 But even as he began to despair, Rell struggled to his feet. His weight and strength slowed the leader. Then Colwyn was on his feet next to him, fighting his way along the line toward the great beast. She snorted and reared angrily before him and he had to dodge hooves and teeth.

Rell slid sideways until he stood behind a rock firmly anch.o.r.ed to the earth. With his feet thus braced and muscles straining, he managed to keep the fire-mare under control.

"Hurry!" he urged Colwyn. "I will not break, but I can't vouch for the rope, and if she thinks to snap at it she may bite it through."

Colwyn kept the Cyclops's warning in mind as he approached the bucking mare with saddle and bridle in hand. His eyes stayed on those flying hooves and he was mindful not to approach too quickly. The herd milled nervously around them, perhaps aware now of the way out of the trap, but unwilling to try it without direction from their leader.

"Easy, my beauty, stand easy," Colwyn murmured consolingly as he drew near.

"Temper your impatience. A day's ride and then you'll be free again."

By the time he came alongside, she'd relaxed a little, winded by her fight with thepe. Rell kept it taut as Colwyn slipped onto the fire-mare's back. Then he was safely in place.

Making sure of his seat, he nodded to Rell. The cyclops let loose of the rope and backed clear as the mare immediately galloped off. The herd began to flank her, whinnying their concern.

For an instant Colwyn feared she'd bolt for the exit, but a touch of his heels and a tug leftward on the reins changed her mind. By the time he directed her back toward his friends, he felt he had her fairly well under control. Still, he did not relax. It would be presumptuous to think he knew her. A flick of ma.s.sive back muscles could still send him flying.

The longer he rode her, however, the less likely that seemed. She had turned into a model of equine decorum.

"Gentle as a baby," he said to Torquil, who watched him approach warily, ready to retreat if the mare charged. He eyed those pacing hooves uneasily.

"Some baby." He turned, shouted commands. "Saddle the others! Quickly!"

Some of the chosen fire-mares still resisted, but most did no more than canter nervously around their docile leader. They were not broken, but the fight had gone out of them. As long as their leader stood placidly in their midst, there seemed no more reason for alarm, not even when strange things like saddles and surcingles were placed on their backs.

As the last mounts were being chosen, Rell walked up to Colwyn. "I must remain here."

This was not expected. "Why? We'll need you when we a.s.sault the Fortress.

You're worth any half dozen in a fight, Rell. Why withdraw your support now that-"

He broke off, remembering what Ynyr had told him about the one-eyes and their bad bargain of ancient times.

"Forgive me, Rell. I've been so involved with my own problems that I tend to forget other men have their own. Is it time, then?"

Rell nodded somberly. "Before night falls again, my night will come for me."

Colwyn leaned down to grip the Cyclops's shoulder. "You've done enough. More than enough. More than could be asked of any man. Stay here. In peace." He straightened in the saddle and looked around the canyon. "This is a quiet place.

A good place. None should disturb you here, not even Slayers."

"Each to his fate," Rell murmured, adding a gentle smile.

"Each to his fate. Yours to stay, mine to go on. If not for Lyssa I'd be tempted to give up. But while she suffers, I suffer."

"Not to waste any more time, then," Rell advised him. He nodded toward the open end of the canyon. "Your way is clear, as is mine."

Colwyn nodded, urged his mount toward the opening. The others followed, still settling themselves on their strange but willing mounts, talking steadily to them to show they meant no harm. Torquil rode alongside Colwyn. As they pa.s.sed Rell, he glanced curiously from the unmounted cyclops to Colwyn, who said nothing but explained all with a single, eloquent shake of his head.

Rell turned and walked over to where t.i.tch stood watching Kegan secure his own mount. He came up behind the boy and lifted him easily up behind the man. t.i.tch turned to say something, then caught the look in the Cyclops's eye. Life with the seer had made the boy perceptive as well as quiet. In mat single glance he saw what71 awaited his great friend, and how near at hand it lay. For a boy he was very strong.

There were not many tears.

That single eye produced only one. Gently Rell backed off.

Kegan watched curiously, said nothing until Rell had moved away. "He's not coming with us?"

"It is his time to die," t.i.tch said softly.

Kegan was a practical man, not a diplomat. "We'll miss his help. If he's going to die anyway, why doesn't he come with us?"

"No. He must stay here and accept his fate. If he opposes it in any way, he will bring great pain on himself."

Kegan shrugged, urged his fire-mare forward. "A strange way to live. A stranger way to die. Be thankful, boy, we were given two eyes instead of one."

Ergo rode last in line and was quick to note the exchange. He turned in his saddle. "Rell"

"I must stay here, my magnificent friend. You and t.i.tch have already realized your wishes. Soon I will realize mine."

Ergo reined his mount in. "We had no time to be friends. I mistrusted you when I first met you."

"And I was equally unsure of you," Rell replied.

"No time. Never enough time, it seems. I wish..." He shrugged helplessly.

"Good-bye, friend."

"Farewell, Ergo. There was time enough for friends.h.i.+p. Go now without looking back. There'll be nothing to see."

But Ergo could not help looking back. Rell stood staring after the departing troupe, solid as the rock walls that enclosed him, until they swallowed him up, Colwyn kept the pace easy until they were clear of the canyons. Ahead lay the southern plain and beyond, where the gra.s.s rusted, the Iron Desert. And Lyssa.

Thoughts of her freshened his resolve. They had a long way to go.

Kicking his mount's flanks as hard as he could, he chucked the reins and let put a shout. The mare started, reared, then let herself go. The breeze in Colwyn's face became a gale, then a hurricane. Soon he was no longer riding, he was holding on for his life.

Behind him he heard yells and cries as his companions urged their steeds to keep pace. Hazarding a glance backward, he saw the frightened faces of his men hugging tight to ma.s.sive necks, saw whitened fingers clutched convulsively around taut reins. Below the men were pounding, wondrous bodies, and between them and the earth were only blurs riding streaks of fire.

Carefully he sat up in the saddle and squinted into the wind. At this pace they might indeed reach the Iron Desert in time.

It had been a slow week and the boatman was hungry for a little business. He scratched at himself as he emerged from his hut, tugging at his jacket and grumbling at the lateness of the hour. Now, what fools would come atraveling this time of morning, when the moon insisted it was still night, no matter what the clock might say?

Well, they'd pay and pay plenty for disturbing him at such an unholy hour.

Automatically he looked to his right. His ferry bobbed lazily at anchor, ready for the next crossing.

"Oh, you'll pay dearly for this boatride, gentlemen, whoever you are. And if you're n.o.bles you'll pay in gold or get yourselves wet!"

Odd. Beneath the rumble of approaching hooves he thought he detected a faint hissing sound, like a kettle boiling over on a stove. Distant lightning, perhaps. At least it sounded like a large party. The night should prove profitable. If he felt like it and they were desperate enough to cross, he might make them pay for the whole week.

Suddenly he was fully awake and his eyes bugged as he saw the fire coming toward him. He looked wildly from right to left and finally threw himself onto the riverbank, hardly daring to look up.

But there was no explosion of water from riders plunging into the river. He gaped upward as the horses, trailing flame from their hooves, cleared the river in a single awesome bound to land safe and dry on the far sh.o.r.e. In another instant they were gone.

"Was that a dream?" he mumbled aloud. Nay, it was as real as the mud caking his face and clothes. He picked at it as he sat up and stared across the river.

Before long his earlier mood had returned. Not only had he lost his expected72 customers, now he would have to pay some old woman in the village to clean his working clothes.

"And I'd have settled for a little silver," he groused as he staggered back into his hut.

Hearts pounded uneasily as the fire-mares drove their tireless way across the plains, particularly when they leaped a certain deep gorge no normal horse could have negotiated in three jumps. Confident and powerful they might be, but a man could only handle so much magic in one night. At least no one was in any danger of falling asleep in his saddle. Terror is a wonderful stimulant.

They'd reached the desert by the time the sun showed itself above the horizon. Red sand and gravel exploded beneath fiery hooves as the mares, seemingly as fresh as they'd been back in the canyon where they'd been saddled, thundered onward at Colwyn's urging. Strange green and brown plants appeared, causing those men with any strength to spare to wonder at their eerie shapes and absence of leaves.

Soon Colwyn was forced to slow. They were approaching a mountain. The mountain had regular sides and peculiar over-hangs, and projections. In the rising suns it shone a dull black.

Torquil reined in beside him and Colwyn pointed with his right hand. "There it is. I'd not thought to see such a thing. When this day is done, maybe we'll never have to see it again."

The Black Fortress towered before them, rising windowless and cold from the desert floor. Beneath, the ground had been permanently altered. Now it would do the same to the lives of the men who sat staring at it.

"Yes, there it is," Torquil muttered as he gazed at the alien monolith, "and none but us madmen would want to get this close to it."