The Elfstones of Shannara

Chapter Fourteen

When they awoke the following morning, Artaq was missing. At first they thought that he might have wandered off during the night, but a quick check of the woods in which they were camped and the open grasslands beyond filed to turn up any sign of the big black. It was at this point that an unpleasant suspicion began to form in the back of Wil’s mind. Hurriedly, he examined the area in which Artaq had been left to graze, moving from there along the perimeter of their campsite, dropping to his knees from time to time as he went to smell the earth or touch it with his fingers. Amberle watched him curiously. After a few minutes of this, the Valeman seemed to find something. Eyes still fixed on the ground before him, he began walking southward through the small stand of timber and into the grasslands — one hundred feet, two. He began to angle toward the river. Wordlessly, the Elven girl trailed after. Moments later, they both stood at the edge of the Mermidon, staring out across a series of shallows several hundred yards downstream from their camp.

«Rovers.» Wil spat the word out like a bitter pill. «They crossed here during the night and stole him.»

Amberle looked surprised. «Are you sure?»

«I’m sure.» Wil nodded. «I found their tracks. Besides, no one else could have managed it. Artaq would have called out if it were anyone but an expert horse handler, and the Rovers are the best. Look, they’re already gone.»

He pointed across the river to the spot on the empty grasslands the caravan had occupied the previous night. They stared at it silently for a moment.

«What do we do now?» Amberle asked finally.

Wil was so mad he could barely speak. «First we go back and pack our things. Then we cross the river and have a look at their campsite.»

They returned to their own camp, hastily put together the few items they had carried with them, and returned to the river. They crossed at the shallows without difficulty. Minutes later they stood at the now–deserted Rover camp. Once more Wil began studying the ground, moving more quickly this time as he paced the area from end to end. Finally he walked back to where Amberle stood waiting.

«My Uncle Flick taught me to read signs when I hunted the woods about my home in Shady Vale,” he informed her conversationally, his mood considerably improved. «We used to fish and trap the Duln Forests for weeks at a time when I was little. Always thought I might again have need of what I learned someday.»

She nodded impatiently «What did you find?»

«They’ve gone west, probably just before daybreak.»

«Is that all. Isn’t there some indication of whether or not Artaq is with them?»

«Oh, he’s with them, all right. Back at the shallows, there are signs of a horse going into the river from the other side and coming out again over here. One horse, several men. No mistake, they’ve got him. But we’re going to get him back again.»

She looked at him doubtfully. «You mean you’re going after them?»

«Of course I’m going after, them!» He was getting angry all over again. «We’re both going after them.»

«Just you and me, Valeman?» She shook her head. «On foot?»

«We can catch up to them by nightfall. Those wagons are slow.»

«That assumes that we can find them, doesn’t it?»

«There’s no trick to that. At one time, I could track a deer through wilderness timber where there hadn’t been rain for weeks. I think I can manage to track an entire caravan of wagons across open grasslands.»

«I don’t like the sound of this at all,” she announced quietly «Even if we do find them and they do have Artaq, what are we supposed to do about it?»

«We’ll worry about that when we catch up to them,” he replied evenly.

The Elven girl did not back away. «I think that we should worry about it right now. That’s an entire camp of armed men you’re talking about chasing after. I don’t like what’s happened any better than you do, but that’s hardly sufficient excuse for failing to exercise sound judgment.»

With an effort, Wil held his temper. «I am not about to lose that horse. In the first place, if it weren’t for Artaq, the Demons would have had us back at Havenstead. He deserves a better fate than spending the rest of his years in the service of those thieves. In the second place, he is the only horse we had and the only horse we are likely to get. Without him, we will be forced to walk the rest of the way to Arborlon. That will take more than a week, and most of that week will be spent crossing these open grasslands. That increases rather substantially the chances of our being discovered by those things still searching for us. And I don’t like the sound of that. We need Artaq.»

«You seem to, have made up your mind on this,” she said expressionlessly.

He nodded. «I have. Besides, the Rovers are traveling toward the Westland anyway; at least we’ll be headed in the right direction.»

For a moment she didn’t say anything; she merely looked at him. Then finally she nodded.

«All right, we’ll go after them. I want Artaq back too. But let’s think this through a bit further before we catch up to them. We had better have some sort of plan worked out by then, Valeman.»

He grinned disarmingly. «We will.»

They walked all day through the open grasslands, following the trail of the Rover caravan. It was hot and dry, and the sun beat down on them from out of a cloudless blue sky. They found little shade along the way to relieve them from the heat. What water they carried was soon gone, and they did not run across even a small stream to replenish their supply. By late afternoon, all they could taste in their mouths was the dust of the plains and their thirst. Leg muscles ached and their feet blistered. They spoke to each other only infrequently, conserving their strength, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, watching the sun sink slowly into the horizon ahead of them until all that remained of the day was a dull orange glow above the sweep of the land.

A short time later, it began to darken, the day to disappear into dusk, the dusk into night. Still they walked on, no longer able to find the marks of the wagon wheels in the plains grass, relying now on their sense of direction to keep them moving in a straight line westward. Moon and stars brightened in the night sky, casting down upon the open grasslands their faint light to guide the Valeman and the Elven girl as they moved steadily forward. Dirt and sweat cooled and dried on their bodies, and they felt their clothing stiffen uncomfortably. Neither suggested stopping to the other. Stopping meant admitting they would not catch up to the caravan that night, that they would be forced to go on like this for another day. They kept walking, silent, determined, the girl as much so as the man now, a fact that surprised him and caused him to feel genuine admiration for her spirit.

Then they saw light in the distance ahead, a fire burning through the dark like a beacon, and they realized that they had found the Rovers. Wordlessly, they trudged to within shouting distance of the firelight, watching the peaked roofs of the wagon homes gradually take shape in the night until finally the entire caravan stood revealed, wound into a loose circle as it had been on the banks of the Mermidon.

Wil took hold of Amberle’s arm and gently pulled her down into a crouch.

«We’re going in,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving the Rover camp.

She looked at him in disbelief. «That’s your plan?»

«I know something of these people. Just go along with whatever I say and we’ll be fine.»

Without waiting for her response, he stood up and began walking toward the caravan. The Elven girl stared after him for a moment, then rose to her feet and followed after. As they drew closer to the circled wagons, the faces of the men, women, and children passing within the firelight grew visible. Laughter and bits of conversation became audible and distinct. The Rovers had just finished their evening meal and were visiting casually with one another. From somewhere within the camp came the soft thrum of a stringed instrument.

Twenty yards from the perimeter of the circle, Wil called out. It surprised Amberle so that she jumped. Within the camp, everyone instantly stopped what was being done, and all heads turned in their direction. There was a sudden scrambling of feet as a handful of men appeared at the gap between the wagons nearest the approaching pair. Wordlessly, the men peered out into the night, the firelight behind them now, leaving them shadowed and faceless. Wil did not slow. He kept walking directly toward them, Amberle a step or two behind. The entire caravan had gone suddenly still.

«Good evening,” Wil said cheerfully as he reached the gathering of Rovers who blocked their passage into the camp.

The men said nothing. In the glimmer of the firelight, the Valeman caught a glimpse of metal blades.

«We saw your fire and we thought you might give us something to drink,” he continued, still smiling. «We’ve been walking since daybreak without water and we’re about worn out.»

Someone pushed his way through the knot of silent men, a tall man in a cloak of forest green and a broad–brimmed hat the man they had seen at the river.

«Ah, our young travelers from last evening,” he announced quietly and not in greeting.

«Hello again,” Wil responded pleasantly. «I’m afraid we’ve had some very bad luck. We lost our horse during the night he must have wandered off while we were sleeping. We’ve been walking all day without water and we could use something cool to drink.»

«Indeed.» The big man smiled without warmth. He was tall, well over six feet, lean and rawboned, his dark face shaded with a black beard and mustache that gave his smile an almost menacing appearance. Eyes that looked blacker than the night about them peered out from beneath a lined and weathered brow that sloped into a nose hooked slightly at the bridge. The hand that came up to beckon to the men behind him was ringed on each finger.

«Have water brought,” he ordered, his eyes still on the Valeman. His expression did not change. «Who are you, young friend, and what is your destination?»

«My name is Wil Ohmsford,” the Valeman replied. «This is my sister, Amberle. We’re on our way to Arborlon.»

The tall man repeated the name thoughtfully. «Well, you’re Elves, of course — in part, at least. Any fool can see that. But now, you say that you lost your horse. Would you not have been wiser to stay along the Mermidon in your travels, rather than coming straight west as you did?»

Wil smiled some more. «Oh, yes, we thought about that; but you see, it’s important that we reach Arborlon as soon as possible, and walking would take much too long. Of course, we saw you camped across the river from us last night and we saw, too, that you seemed to have a number of very fine horses. We thought that if we could manage to catch up with you by nightfall, we might trade something of value for one of your horses.»

«Something of value?» The big man shrugged. «Possibly. We would have to see what it is that you propose to trade, of course.»

Wil nodded. «Of course.»

An old woman appeared, carrying a pitcher of water and a single wooden cup. She handed these to Wil, who accepted them wordlessly. With the Rovers looking on, he poured some of the water into the cup. He did not offer it to Amberle, who looked at him in surprise as he ignored her completely and drank the water down. Then he poured a second cup and drank it as well. When he was finished, he handed her the empty cup and pitcher without comment.

«You know something of the Way,” the tall man remarked, interest showing in his dark eyes. «You know also that we’re Rovers, then.»

«I have treated Rovers before,” Wil said. «I’m a Healer.»

A quick murmur went through the assemblage, which had grown considerably since the conversation had begun and now consisted of almost the entire camp, some thirty men, women, and children, all dressed colorfully in bright silks with woven ribbons and scarves.

«A Healer? This is unexpected.» The tall man stepped forward, removed his hat with a flourish, and bowed low. Straightening once more, he extended his hand in greeting. «My name is Cephelo. I am Leader of this Family.»

Wil accepted the hand and shook it firmly. Cephelo smiled.

«Well, you mustn’t stand out here while the night grows cold about you. Come with me. Your sister is welcome, too. You both look as if you could do with a bath and something to eat.»

He led the way through the crowd of Rovers into the circle of the wagons. An immense fire burned at the center of the camp, a tripod and iron kettle suspended above it. The glow of the fire reflected off the gaily painted wagons, mixing the rainbow of colors with shadows of the night. Wooden benches sat beneath the wagons, intricately carved and polished, their broad seats cushioned by feather pillows. Brass–handled windows stood open to the light, laced with curtains and strings of beads. On a long table to one side, lay an assortment of wicked–looking pikes, swords, and knives, all carefully arranged. Two small boys were diligently oiling the metal blades.

They reached the cooking fire and Cephelo turned abruptly.

«Well now, which shall it be first a meal or a bath?»

Wil did not even glance at Amberle. «A bath, I think my sister, as well, if you can spare the water.»

«We can spare it.» Cephelo nodded, then turned. «Eretria!»

There was a whisper of silk, and Wil found himself face to face with the most stunning girl he had ever seen. She was small and delicate, in the manner of Amberle, but without the childlike innocence that marked the Elven girl. Thick, black hair tumbled in ringlets to her shoulders, framing eyes that were dark and secretive. Her face was beautiful, her features perfectly formed and immediately unforgettable. She was wearing high leather boots, dressed in pants and tunic of scarlet silk that failed to hide anything of the woman beneath. Bands of silver flashed on her wrists and neck.

Wil looked at her in astonishment and could not look away.

«My daughter.» Cephelo sounded bored. He motioned toward Amberle. «Take the Elven girl and let her bathe herself.»

Eretria smiled wickedly. «It would be much more interesting to bathe him,” she offered, nodding toward Wil.

«Just do as you’re told,” her father ordered sharply.

Eretria kept her eyes on the Valeman. «Come along, girl,” she invited. She turned and was gone. Amberle followed after, looking none too happy.

Cephelo led Wil to the far side of the encampment where a series of blankets hung across a small area between two of the wagons. Within stood a tub of water. Stepping behind the blankets, Wil stripped off his clothing and laid it neatly on the ground beside him. He was well aware that the Rover was watching everything he removed, looking to see if he possessed anything of value, and he was careful to see to it that the pouch containing the Elfstones did not fall loose from its pocket within his tunic. He began to pour water over himself with a ladle, washing away the dirt and sweat of the day’s travel.

«It is not often that we encounter a Healer who will treat Rovers,” Cephelo said after a moment. «We usually must care for our own.»

«I was trained by the Stors,” Wil answered him. «Their help is given free.»

«The Stors?» Cephelo was surprised all over again. «But the Stors are all Gnomes.»

The Valeman nodded. «I was an exception.»

«You appear an exception in many, ways,” the tall man declared. He seated himself on a nearby bench and watched the Valeman towel dry and begin rinsing his clothes. «We have work for you that will enable you to pay for your food and rest, Healer. There are some among us who have need of your skills.»

«I will be happy to do what I can,” Wil replied.

«Good.» The other man nodded in satisfaction. «I’ll find you some dry clothing to use.»

He rose and walked away. Instantly Wil slipped the Elfstones from his tunic pocket into his boot, then quickly resumed washing out his clothing. Cephelo was back almost at once; carrying Rover silks for Wil to wear. The Valeman accepted the clothes and dressed himself. Despite the uncomfortable knot at the toe of his right boot, he pulled it on firmly, then the left boot. Cephelo summoned the old woman who had brought the water earlier to take Wil’s damp clothing. The Valeman handed the clothes over without comment, knowing they would be thoroughly searched and nothing found for the effort.

Then they returned to the fire at the center of the encampment, where Amberle joined them, washed clean and dressed in clothing similar to Wils. Each was given a plate of steaming food and a cup of wine. They sat next to the fire and ate silently while the Rovers settled about them, watching curiously. Cephelo took up a position across from them, sitting cross–legged on a wide, goldtasseled cushion, his dark face expressionless. There was no sign of Eretria.

When the meal was finished, the Rover Leader assembled the members of his Family who needed Wil’s attention. Without comment, the Valeman examined them one by one, treating a series of infections, internal disorders, skin irritations, and minor fevers. Although she was not asked to do so, Amberle worked next to him, providing bandages and hot water, aiding in the application of simple herb medicines and salves. It took the better part of an hour for Wil to complete his work. When he was finished, Cephelo stepped up to him.

«You have done your work well, Healer.» He smiled a bit too pleasantly. «Now we must see what we can do for you in return. Walk with me a bit this way.» He put one long arm about the Valeman’s shoulders and steered him away from the fire, leaving Amberle by herself to clean up after their work. They walked toward the far side of the Rover camp.

«You say that you lost your horse last night near where we camped on the Mermidon.» Cephelo’s voice was thoughtful. «What did this animal look like?»

Wil’s face remained expressionless. He knew the game that was being played.

«A stallion, all black.»

«Well, now.» Cephelo appeared even more thoughtful. «We found a horse such as you have described, a very fine animal, just this morning, quite early. It wandered into our camp from out of the grasslands as we were getting our teams hitched for the day’s travel. Perhaps this was your horse, Healer.»

«Perhaps,” Wil agreed.

«Of course, we didn’t know whose animal he was.» Cephelo smiled. «So we brought him along with our own. Why don’t we take a look at him?»

They passed through the ring of wagons into the plains beyond. Fifty feet from the camp, the Rover horses were tethered in a line. Two dark forms materialized from out of the night, Rovers armed with pikes and bows. A word from Cephelo sent them back into hiding. The tall man led Wil down the tether line to its furthest end. There stood Artaq.

Wil nodded. «That’s the horse.»

«Does he bear your mark, Healer?» the other man asked, almost as if the question embarrassed him. Wil shook his head. «Ah, that is most unfortunate, for now we can’t be certain that he really is your horse, can we? After all, there are a fair number of black stallions in the Four Lands, and how are we to tell them apart if their owners do not mark them? This presents quite a problem, Healer. I wish to give this horse to you, but there is a great risk to me in doing so. I mean, suppose I give him to you, as I wish to do, but then another man comes to me and tells me that he has lost a black stallion as well, and we then discover that I have mistakenly given his horse to you. Why then, I would be responsible for that man’s loss.»

«Yes, that’s true, I guess.» Wil nodded with just the right touch of doubt, carefully avoiding any argument with the big man’s ridiculous supposition. It was, after all, just a part of the game.

«I believe you, of course.» Cephelo’s bearded face turned solemn. «Certainly a Healer is to be trusted, if anyone is to be trusted in this world.» He grinned at his own humor. «However, there is still some risk to me if I choose to hand this animal over to you — I must accept that fact, being a practical mart in an often hard business. And then there is the matter of feed and care given to this animal. We groomed him and tended him as we do our own; we fed with meal we carry for our own. You will understand if I tell you that I feel we are owed something for all this.»

«Indeed.» Wil nodded.

«Well, then.» Cephelo rubbed his hands in satisfaction. «We are in agreement. All that requires settling is the price. You spoke earlier of trading something of value for a horse. Perhaps now we can make a fair exchange — whatever you carry with you in satisfaction of your debt to us. And in the bargain, I would say nothing of finding this horse to any other who might claim the loss of a black stallion.»

He winked knowingly. Wil walked up to Artaq and stroked his sleek forehead, letting the horse nuzzle up against his chest.

«I’m afraid I don’t have anything of value, after all,” he said finally. «I brought nothing with me in my journey that could possibly repay you for what you’ve done»

Cephelo’s jaw dropped. «Nothing?»

«Nothing at all.»

«But you said you brought something of value…»

«Oh, yes.» Wil nodded quickly. «I meant that I could offer you my services as a Healer — I thought that might have some value.»

«But you’ve given those services in payment of food and shelter and clothes for yourself and your sister.»

«Yes, true.» The Valeman looked less than happy with the thought. He took a deep breath. «Perhaps I could suggest something?» A look of renewed interest appeared in the other’s face. «Well, it seems that we are both traveling to the Westland. If you would allow us to accompany you, we might find some opportunity to repay you yet possibly you might have need of my skill another time.»

«That seems unlikely» Cephelo pondered the thought. He shook his head. «You’ve nothing of value to give for the horse — nothing at all?»

«No, nothing.»

«That seems a poor way to travel,” the Rover muttered, rubbing his bearded chin. The Valeman said nothing, waiting. «Well, I suppose it will do no harm to have you travel with us as far as the forestland. That’s only a few days travel, though, and if you’ve done nothing for us by then, we may have to keep the horse for our trouble. You understand that.»

Wil nodded wordlessly.

«One thing more.» Cephelo stepped close, his face no longer pleasant. «I trust that you would not be so foolish as to try to steal that horse from us, Healer. You know us well enough to realize what would happen to you if you were to try such a thing.»

The Valeman took a deep breath and nodded once more. He knew.

«Good.» The big man stepped back. «See to it that it doesn’t slip your mind.» He was clearly unhappy at the way in which matters had worked out, but he shrugged his indifference. «Enough of business. Come to my home and drink with me.»

He led the way back through the caravan circle, clapping his hands sharply as he entered, calling to those within to gather and to join with wine and music in celebrating the good fortune of the day and in welcoming the young Healer who had shown them such kindness. Wil was seated next to the Leader on a cushioned bench set before the big man’s, wagon home as the men and women and children of the Rover camp crowded about eagerly. Wine was drawn from a great vat and cups were passed about to everyone. Cephelo came to his feet and offered a flowery toast to the good health of his Family. Cups were raised high in answer and quickly drained. Wil drank his with the rest. He looked about hurriedly for Amberle and found her seated near the perimeter of the circle of faces surrounding him. She did not look at all pleased. He wished he could take time to explain all that had happened, but that would have to wait until they had a moment alone. For now, she would simply have to bear with him.

Cups were refilled now, another toast was proposed, and they all drank again. Cephelo called loudly for the music. Stringed instruments and cymbals were brought forth, and their owners began to play. The music was at once wild, haunting, and free as it rose into the night. The laughter of the Rovers rose with it, careless and gay. More wine was poured and quickly consumed, followed by shouts of encouragement for the musicians. Wil felt himself growing light–headed. The wine was strong, too strong for one not used to drinking it as the Rovers did. He must be careful, he thought to himself, raising his cup once more as a new toast was proposed, yet sipping this time rather than draining the amber liquid. In the toe of his right boot, he felt the, reassuring bulk of the Elfstones pressed against his foot.

The musicians played faster, and now the Rovers were on their feet and dancing, half a dozen or eight, forming a circle with arms interlocked as they wheeled about the fire. More rose quickly to join the procession, and those still seated began to clap wildly Wil joined them, setting his cup on the bench beside him. When he reached down for it a moment later, it was full again. Caught up in the spirit of the music, he drank it down without thinking. The dancers broke apart, pairing off now, spinning and leaping before the flames. Someone was singing, a wistful cry that blended eerily with the music and the dance.

Then suddenly Eretria was there before him, dark and beautiful, her slender form clad all in scarlet silk. Her smile was dazzling as she reached down for his hands and brought him to his feet. She pulled him into the midst of the dancers, broke from him for an instant, and twirled away in a flash of ribbons and trailing black hair. Then she was before him once more, slim arms holding him as they danced. The fragrance of her hair and body mingled with the warmth of the wine coursing through his blood. He felt her press close against him, feather light and soft, speaking words that he could not seem to hear clearly. The movement of the dance dizzied him; everything about him began to blend in a maze of colors that whirled against the backdrop of the night. The music and the clapping roared louder, and the shouts and whistles of the Rovers. He felt himself begin to leave the ground, still holding Eretria close.

And then she was gone as well, and he began to fall.