Worldbinder Part 24

Where she would have been trained for war and given command of troops, Daylan thought. And having seen our defenses, she might well have led some devastating raids against us.

That is what King Urstone had argued, and though Daylan's stand was morally sound, there was much to be said for Urstone's more pragmatic approach: keep the princess as a prisoner, safe and unharmed-but more importantly, keep here where she could do no harm.

There came the sound of singing down the road, some b.u.mpkin torturing an old folk tune.

Daylan threw the sacks back over Kan-hazur, looked to Siyaddah. "Will you come with me? We do not have to go far." He didn't want her to return to the castle, not now. He was afraid that she would have an attack of conscience, tell the guards what she knew. It would be better if she stayed close.

"You're going to make the exchange now?" Fear and excitement mingled in her voice. If the exchange took place as planned, it would be talked about for years. And Siyaddah would be the one that ears would lean toward as the story was told.

Daylan did not tell her precisely when or where, lest she warn others. But he nodded just a bit.

"Will there be wyrmlings?"

Daylan nodded again. She glanced down at his side, saw his long knife strapped to his boot. He was acquitted for battle, if need be, and Daylan's skill with weapons was legendary. And he had weapons at his disposal that she could not see, could not even begin to understand.

"All right," she said. "I will come."

29.

AN EXCHANGE OF HOSTAGES.

The enlightened man is incapable of plumbing the depths of a darkened mind, yet he places himself in danger if he does not try.

-High King Urstone In a more perfect world, Fallion thought, my father and mother are still alive.

He sat in the sun beneath the alder trees and dared to dream of this as he peered up. The sun beating down through layered sheets of leaves created a complex tapestry of shadow and light, all in shades of green. The day was only now beginning to really warm, and the air smelled sweet and fresh after a night locked in the stone box.

Fallion drew heat from around him and warmed himself and his friends, so that they quickly dispelled the bone-numbing chill.

They'd been so close to death, and now he felt that it was a miracle to be alive.

"Can you believe it, Jaz?" Fallion asked. "We've met the shadow of our grandfather, and we are going to see father again."

Beyond all hope, Fallion thought, beyond my wildest dreams.

Talon frowned. "We might might see him," she warned. "The wyrmlings have been holding him captive." But Fallion could not think in those terms right now. Mights and maybes weren't enough. see him," she warned. "The wyrmlings have been holding him captive." But Fallion could not think in those terms right now. Mights and maybes weren't enough.

No, I will see my father, he promised himself. I have come so far, been through so much, it is only fair that I should see him.

He held the hope in his heart, pure and clean and undefiled.

The soldiers were busy around the old fortress, taking the heads off of the enemy, preparing the dead. Some were taking lunch before heading back toward the garrison at Cantular.

But the king was preparing for a longer journey, hand-selecting the troops who would come.

Fallion peered up into the trees, noticed that the edges of the alder leaves were turning gold. Though it felt like high summer, as it had been at home, he realized that perhaps winter was coming on here, in this new world. Or maybe they were high enough into the mountains so that winter came early.

But no, at the edge of hearing, in a tree high above him, he could hear the peeping of birds in a nest. He watched a fluttering shadow until it disappeared in the crook of the tree, and the peeping became loud and insistent for a moment, and then fell silent. The birds were nesting.

No, it was early summer, Fallion decided. But the leaves were going already. There was a blight upon the land.

Fallion peered at Jaz, who merely sat with a bemused expression. He was off to dreaming, imagining what it would be like to see his father.

One of the big folk approached, a young man whose narrow face made him look almost childlike. He wore a blood-soaked rag around his head, and his brown hair was a riot, with a cow-lick in the back.

He muttered something, handed out their packs full of clothes, somehow managing to hand each of them the wrong pack. By the weight alone, Fallion knew that his forcibles were all gone, probably fallen into the hands of the enemy.

Fallion searched his pack, found that it was stuffed with some of Jaz's clothes and Talon's tunic. A bracelet fell out, one made of pale green stones and a single pearl upon a string. Fallion had never seen it before.

"That's mine," Rhianna said, s.n.a.t.c.hing it before he could get a good look at it.

"Where did it come from?" Fallion asked.

"A suitor," she said.

"Who?" Fallion asked, amused to discover that he was jealous. Many young men had smiled at her back home, especially at the fairs and dances. But he hadn't realized that she had a suitor bringing her gifts, gifts that she kept hidden and treasured.

"No one," she said. Rhianna only hid the bracelet away in her pack.

"You should wear it," Talon told Rhianna. "It would look lovely with your hair."

"Do you think?" Rhianna asked, giggling like a younger girl. It sounded strange, Fallion thought, that she should sound so carefree after the events of the night. But somehow the woods were healing that way, like a balm to the heart. Or perhaps it was the news that his father lived again.

Or perhaps...he looked to the Wizard Sisel. Fallion had heard that Earth Wardens could affect people that way-calming their fears, making them feel whole and in touch with nature.

The Wizard Sisel was watching them with worry lining his brow.

Of course, Fallion realized. The wizard is having an effect upon us, healing our mood, filling us with renewed vigor.

Fallion felt grateful for this small favor.

They all exchanged packs, began dumping things out, each taking his or her clothing, folding it neatly. Fallion was relieved to find that he still had the silver locket with his mother's picture painted inside upon a piece of ivory, a picture from when she was young and lovely, with the endowments of glamour given to her at birth. In the picture she was forever young, forever beautiful. It was the only thing that he had of hers, and he had always treasured it.

But as he looked at it now, he wondered, Is there really some shadow world where she still lives? Is there perhaps some place even where she is young and beautiful?

If I could combine that world with ours, could I bring her back to life?

The thought made him tremble with excitement.

"Uh, Fallion," Rhianna said. She nodded toward the young man who had brought their packs. He was, with an air of tremendous dignity, holding out Fallion's long sword, presenting it to him, the blade un-sheathed. But the blade was covered with a thick patina of rust, and the ebon handle was cracked.

"No," Fallion said, suddenly afraid to take it. "It was touched by him-by the Knight Eternal. I can feel the curse upon it."

"Take it," the Wizard Sisel said, strolling close, "The curse is upon the steel. I doubt that it will make you you rust. Besides, you may have need of it all too soon." rust. Besides, you may have need of it all too soon."

Fallion could see that he would hurt the young man's feelings if he did not take it. Obviously, the blade had been won in battle, and had been borne here at great price.

"Thank you," Fallion said, taking his sword.

"Alun," the wizard Sisel said. "His name is Alun."

"Thank you, Alun."

The boy smiled shyly.

Sisel bent near Fallion. "We found some forcibles in one of the packs," he said. "I had the king send them to Luciare already."

"You found them in only one bag?" Talon said.

"There were more?" Sisel asked.

"We each were carrying some," Fallion explained. "There were three hundred in all."

"I fear that most of them have fallen into the hands of the enemy," Sisel said. "Let us hope that they don't know how to use them."

Fallion sat for a moment, feeling disconcerted.

One by one, other warriors stepped forward and presented each of Fallion's companions with their weapons-Talon with her sword, Rhianna with her staff, Jaz with his bow. Each of the weapons looked to have been cursed, all except for Rhianna's staff, which Fallion had found three years past.

It had once been his father's, the staff of an Earth King, and so was adorned in kingly fas.h.i.+on. It looked to be a branch hewn from some kind of oak, honey gold in color, and richly lacquered. It had a handle wrapped in leather, and beneath the leather were potent herbs that refreshed and invigorated any room where the staff was housed. Powerful gems encircled the staff both above and below that grip-jade to lend strength to the staff, opals to give light by night (should the bearer be a wizard with the power to release their inner fire), pearls to lighten the heart, cloudy quartz to hide the bearer from unwanted eyes. There were hundreds of runes etched into the staff, too, running up and down the length of it, runes of protection from various sorceries. Fallion suspected that even if the staff had been cursed, the Knights Eternal could not have succeeded. He knew for a fact that its wood could not be harmed by fire, and as a flameweaver, he could not handle the thing without feeling a strong sense of discomfort. Thus, he had given it to Rhianna, not because she had great talent with such a weapon, but because he suspected that there was great healing power in the staff, and given the torments that she had been put through in her short life, she needed healing more than anyone that he knew.

Not long after their belongings had been restored to them, a strapping warrior picked up the handles to the handcart and urged Fallion and the others to get on.

They sat back, using their packs as pillows, as the warrior began racing through the woods, pulling the cart faster than a horse would have. Fallion marveled at the warrior's size and strength, for he was every bit as tall as one of the wyrmlings, and his shoulders looked to be four feet across.

They rode then, with human warriors running behind the wagon and along its sides like an honor guard.

We're heading back to Cantular, Fallion realized, and then south to the human lands.

Fallion longed to see what the human lands would look like, with their enormous stone buildings, until Jaz laughed and broke out in a riding song. Jaz had a strong, clear voice, and often lately was asked to sing at the fairs among the minstrels. In a fairer world, Fallion imagined, that is what Jaz would have done to earn a coin.

Rhianna began to sing with him, and elbowed Fallion in the ribs until he and Talon joined in, and they sang: Ever the road does wind along,'Tis fare to travel well,Riding in a fine carriage,While singing a song,Whether in sun or shadowed vale.Upon a road so far from home,'Tis fare to travel well.Riding in a fine carriage,With a girl that I love,Whether in sun or shadowed vale.

The young man Alun was running beside them, doing his best to keep up with the larger warriors. Fallion saw him eying Talon, straining as he ran.

Fallion saw her catch his eye, glance away. "You have an admirer," Fallion teased. He did not need to say that the gawky young man looked to be the runt of the litter.

Alun said something to Talon in the guttural tongue of this land.

"He says we sing well," Talon said. "He thinks we sing like wenglas wenglas birds." birds."

"Ah, is that some kind of vulture?" Fallion asked in a self-deprecating tone.

"No," Talon said. "They are birds of legend. They were women whose voices were so beautiful that they gave them flight, so that they rose up on pale white wings and flew through the heavens. From them all of the birds learned to sing."

"Oh," Fallion said. "So he's saying that I sing like a girl?"

"No," Talon chided. "He was just offering a compliment. He would like to hear more songs of our world."

But Fallion couldn't help but think that he must sound like a girl to these big folk. The men of the warrior clan were taller than the bears of the Dunnwood, and their voices were deeper than the bellow of a bull. Fallion could not help feel that he must look small and effeminate to them.

But Jaz burst out with a rowdy tavern song, all about "the glories of ale, whether drunken from an innkeeper's mug, or guzzled from your father's jug, or gulped from a fishmonger's pail."

So they sang as they rode, racing throughout the long afternoon. Fallion managed to fall into a deep sleep, and every hour or two he would wake up and look out over the land. The trees were taller than he remembered, and the land looked strange with its occasional pillar of wind-sculpted rock.

We are far from home, Fallion realized. Farther than I ever thought I would be.

He had not imagined how it would be. Nothing in his life could ever be the same as it had been. He could not unbind the worlds, re-make the old. He doubted that such a power even existed. He only hoped that the world that he made would be better than the one he had left behind.

The soldiers took turns pulling the cart and kept running through the heat of the day. Even Fallion's grandfather, a giant of a man, took his own turn at the handcart.

Every so often, Alun was given a chance to sit on the cart and gain a much-needed rest.

So it was that in the middle of the afternoon, they stopped in a huge meadow where they could see for half a mile around. The sun-bleached gra.s.s shone like ice in the blazing light of day.

Fallion's friends had all gone fast to sleep. But Fallion stretched his legs by walking for a bit.

He felt refreshed for the first time in days, as if he had finally gotten his energy back, and he wondered if it was because of some spell that Sisel had cast upon him.

The Wizard Sisel came and stood beside him silently for a moment, a huge and comforting presence, and together they just stared out over the silver fields, admiring a valley down below and the broad river twisting through it.

"It's beautiful here," Fallion said after a few moments of silence. "I did not know that it would be so beautiful."

"Yes," the wizard said. "This field is strong in life. The gra.s.s is good, the trees hardy. Let us hope that it stays that way."

"Can you keep them alive?" Fallion asked.

Sisel frowned. "Not for long, I fear. Can't you hear it-the voices of the stones, the cries in the brooks, the lament of the leaves? 'We are fading,' they say.

"All of the trees that you see now, these pleasant gra.s.ses, came from your world, not ours. They are like a dream to us, a welcome dream from our past, a dream that will soon fade to despair.

"The very stones beneath our feet ache. The earth is in pain."

The Wizard Binnesman had spoken those words to Fallion's father, and now they seemed an echo of the past. "What can you do?" Fallion asked.

"There are pockets of resistance, places where the earth's blood pools just beneath the surface. In these places, life is still abundant. The wyrmlings have little sway there. A week ago, I had little hope at all. But now...there is a wizard at the heart of the world."

"Averan."

Sisel frowned, bent his head like fox that was listening for the rustling sounds of mice in the gra.s.s.

Averan should be alive, Fallion thought. With the worlds combined, it would have changed the great Seal of the Earth there. She had healed the earth once, mended the seal. She could do it again. Fallion imagined Averan, the wizardess with her staff of black poisonwood, frantically at work.