The Key of the Keplian

15

On the riverbanks the fight raged. Trust was by now established. Too many incidents had occurred for the humans to doubt their allies further. Time and again a Keplian mare dragged a rasti from a dismounted man’s throat, to be repaid with a spear thrust to the rasti hanging onto her sleek hide, its teeth relaxing only in death. The archers took toll from their position on the rise. Then, the last of the arrows fired, they joined the battle, spears stabbing viciously downward. They had been less than thirty against more than two hundred. But intelligent use of the ground had aided them strongly. As had another fact that their leaders had taken into account.

Many times their swift retreats into the running water had saved them from a massed assault. The rasti were not intelligent. They were hunger, filled with blood rage, without tactics. They fought to overwhelm by sheer ferocity and numbers. They were now hampered by the blind anger and arrogance of the tower, which was demanding they cease their fight.

The mind there had not realized that the rasti fronted its own enemies. Rather it believed that the Gray Ones feuded once more. It drove power against the rasti, slowing them as they attacked. Mad with blood and battle rage, they ignored the orders hurled at them. But the power slowed them even as it took all the tower’s attention from its own place.

Down a tunnel deep within massive ancient walls, three humans hurried. Torches flamed in their hands; they would save any power they had until it must be used. Within Eleeri’s mind hung a bloodless face, strained beyond humanity. Eyes implored her to hurry, and hasten she did, trotting as swiftly as she could along the slime-covered stones. In line behind her ran Mayrin and Jerrany, daggers drawn. Finally they halted at the sight of what lay ahead.

“Are we traveling in circles?” Jerrany was bewildered. From the outside the tower was large, but not so big as all this. They’d been following the tunnel for almost half an hour in an apparently straight line. Now before them was a huge cave. Above them the roof arched out of sight. The worn path led down into its depths while at the edge runes showed faintly on the inset flagstones.

“Romar showed me the path. He was certain it led to our goal,” Eleeri said quietly. “He thought it would be safe for us, since the tower is afraid of this place. Perhaps we have allies here?”

Something tugged at her throat and she slipped the pendant from its cord. Placing Pehnane on the ground, she stepped back, waving her friends to silence. Mist flickered out from the water-glistening walls to surround the pendant. It cleared and in front of them the great stallion struck the stones with a hoof.

*Follow.*

They fell into line again and trod warily down into the cavern. As they traveled, all noticed that the runes on which they trod brightened with each footfall. The light seemed to spill over into tiny glittering motes which whirled up, clinging to the higher walls. Eleeri was sure these were forming other runes in turn. She felt as though she were shrinking as she walked. As if the cavern grew in size until they were insects who crawled along an endless pathway to some strange future, which insects would not understand. But ahead paced their guide, and they followed trustingly.

Without warning the motes of light coalesced before them, outlining a gray stone pillar. Nervously Eleeri halted. Were they required to do something here? She looked to the stallion, who stood motionless before the pillar. He gave no sign, so she waited patiently, eyes fixed on the specks as they crawled over the surface. She blinked. From their movement a figure was appearing—or was it a trick? At her shoulder, Mayrin drew in breath.

Eleeri turned. “What is it?”

“Long ago when I was a child, we visited Duhaun and she told me a tale of a Great One who had lived far to the other side of this land. He wasn’t a bad man, just careless. He hated the warring and in the end he withdrew after some attempt of his went wrong and hurt those he’d loved.”

Eleeri’s mind leaped ahead. “Would he have known those of my far-kin, I wonder? Could they be passage for us?”

“I don’t know. But Duhaun showed me an old limning. It had his own runes along the lower edge.” She peered at the pillar. “I thought that they looked just like this.” She pointed.

“What was his name?”

Silent, Mayrin crouched to write it in the dust that drifted now in a thin film on the stones. Eleeri understood. She had long since learned the power of a spoken word in this land. She drew it into her, spoke it in her mind several times over until she was sure of it. Then she straightened and approached the pillar. The light had settled so that she could see there were runes indeed. The last of them was the name. This she traced gently with her finger, then she sucked in a breath.

She spoke it. Light came then in a rush like lightning. Power roared and it seemed as if some presence opened drowsy eyes to study them. She stood firm, allowing it to see, to know who they were and what they did in this place. It was gone, but in turn she saw Mayrin stagger, then Jerrany as it searched out truth. It withdrew as quickly as it had come.

At their feet runes brightened one by one, showing a path. There was a sense that while they were not unwelcome, their absence was to be preferred. But to Eleeri there was yet one thing to do.

She stepped forward, speaking conversationally as if to a friend. “You did not ask, but I am far-daughter to those you might have known.” Into her mind she brought the faces of those who had once held the canyon. She felt the sudden surge of power, of interest. Carefully she allowed her mind to picture all that had happened on the day the mists had permitted her entrance. She shared her grief that she had not known more of them, had kin for less time than her heart had asked.

Now the power was alive, seeking to know her whole story. It winnowed swiftly, seeing her arrival into this world, her meeting with Tharna and Hylan. Then it returned to watch and listen again as her kin acknowledged her as far-daughter and heir to their place. It sifted through her dreams of Romar and she could feel a dim anger that evil dwelled above its resting place.

As Romar had said, sharing is a two-way road. In turn she knew that there was little here of the person who had long since gone. Most of the power had drained away. The man this had once been had moved on seeking another home, but still some remnant had remained in the place he had loved. The man could not return, but his power had been very great. He could yet be a giver of gifts.

Her head shook slowly. “We ask nothing save passage and no ill-wishing.”

Amusement at her pride. Then a memory. Her far-mother had been kin to him. Let the daughter of his line take up her right. Light motes rose to fall gently across her, weaving themselves into a covering that wholly embraced her before fading. Into her mind came words. She listened, agreed. If this one was truly of her blood, then kin-right was laid upon her. She raised her dagger and watched as the light motes sank into it. Her head turned.

“Jerrany, Mayrin, unsheath your weapons.”

In turn they, too, saw the glittering points of light drift out to cover first them, then the upraised daggers.

Eleeri faced the pillar, now bowing but as befitted a warrior. “Sleep well, far-kin of my far-mother. What I can do, I will.” She lowered her dagger until it pointed at the stone. “Earth, Mother. You heard my promise.” The dagger lifted to point upward. “Sun, Father. You heard my words. Let me die within a season if I lie.” Her hand came up in a brief warrior salute before she turned, leading the way forward.

Behind her there was a gentle sliding sound as the pillar crumbled to dust. The runes still held light, but the three humans and Keplian must hurry, already it began to fade.

They trotted swiftly. Where the stones allowed it, they ran, dropping back to a trot when the path roughened again. Neither of her friends asked what that last speech had been about. It was none of their business, and power was an ill thing to offend. The stallion had made no sound and now he merely paced before them. Eleeri grinned to herself. They were a motley group, in truth, but maybe their very diversity would help to confuse their enemy.

Now of a sudden their road sloped upward. They passed through an arch and halted abruptly. All turned to look. At their very heels a rough rock wall faced their gaze.

“Well.” Jerrany ran fingertips across the harsh surface. “I gather we won’t be coming back this way. There’s even a different feeling in the air.”

Mayrin nodded. “This is no longer the place of our friend’s far-kin. This is the enemy’s home and our battleground. Let us go forward, for now there is no retreat even did we desire it.” Her face hardened. “And that I do not. Romar is ahead. He shall be freed or I shall die in the doing of it.” Her eyes met those of her husband.

He nodded grimly. “Your brother, my friend and sword-brother, neither of us turns back now. But what of you?” His gaze touched Eleeri.

She sought for words to make them understand. Then—“I am geas-ordered and bound by my own oath. Better I die in battle than betray either.”

Before they could ask further, she strode forward. Shod in soft calf-high moccasins, her feet were soundless on the smooth floor. Her friends followed, and none of them thought it strange that the stallion ahead made no sound as his hooves met the hard marble. He seemed rather to glide, nose seeking toward the walls. Then he signaled.

“A door?” Jerrany moved up to look. “Yes.” He thrust gently with no result. Studying it, he hooked fingers into a carved rose and pulled back. The door swung open, allowing them a glimpse of a roiling mist that began at once to creep toward them. With a shiver he allowed the door to swing closed again.

“Not that one, I think. Spread out. Look for others.”

They obeyed, something in the feel of the long corridor making them keep silence. Twice more they opened doors which showed them nothing they sought. One opened into a vast waste of scrub, sand, and hard-packed pebbles. The air was dry and heat smote them savagely. The other opened into snow, whirling in great flakes above a black and bitter sky.

Eleeri had been walking, running her fingertips along the wall. Under them a break caught her attention. She moved in, eye intent. A prancing Keplian was carved deep into the door’s surface. She beckoned Pehnane. He looked at it. Something in his eyes was sad as his nose touched the nose of the carven beast. The door swung open.

They gazed in. Mayrin would have cried out then and run forward but for Jerrany’s grip.

“Be still, beloved. Bait a trap with what the prey desires most. Better we look this over well before we walk into a spider’s den.”

He tugged her backward, a jerk of his chin sending Eleeri to the doorway to look within. She studied the figure that lolled in the chair. To her eyes it was Romar, but—she peered closer. This Romar looked a little too well fed, too well cared for. His clothes were of good quality, his hands soft. She nodded at that. Soft, yes, but not the softness of one who had done no work with them these last months. They were the softness of one for whom they had never been bruised on labor. The wrists were not the strong-tendoned sinewy strength of a horseman, but lay weak and limp in the figure’s lap. Softly she pointed this out to Mayrin as the woman strained against her mate’s grip.

“It is not Romar.”

“Then who?”

Jerrany guessed, “A fetch, a made thing to lure us in.”

His wife shook her head. “Perhaps not. I have heard of images made without features. Look you at the way it is dressed. That could be the clothing of either sex.”

Eleeri raised her gaze and began to concentrate as she ordered, “Turn your eyes away, quickly. Do not look until I say.”

She called Cynan to memory. He was gone, his spirit in the lands he sought. She could do it no harm, but his memory might now aid them. Slowly she drew from her mind the memories. Cynan as he sat cross-legged teaching her the languages of this new world. Cynan as he groomed one of the ponies, big hands gentle on the rough hide. Cynan as she had seen him last in life. His arm upraised in farewell, his body clad in her gifts. Into that last she allowed her grief to flow. Then she stepped to front the open door. Before her on the seat Cynan lifted his head to beckon her in.

She turned away. This thing was a mockery of her old friend. She longed to destroy it, but her duty as a warrior was to her friends. She would have explained, but they had guessed.

“It wears now the face of the one you called?”

“It does.”

“Then the question is, do we attempt to destroy it or pass by?” Jerrany queried softly.

“Pass by. I think it is only bait; it has no power of its own. If we are not called by it, it will wait for others to come,” Mayrin answered. “The true question is, does it have some way of telling its maker that a trap has failed? If so, it is best we hurry.” Wordlessly Pehnane moved on. They followed in haste and silence.

The corridor wound on without windows, but Jerrany was sure it rose a little with each circle. A feeling of apprehension began to possess him. About him as he walked, the walls glowed. At first the light was unnoticed; then it brightened. Eleeri gave a small cry as Pehnane faded. She ran forward to pick up the pendant.

“Why? Why would he leave us now?”

Jerrany turned, searching for a reason. “The walls,” he said quietly, “look at the walls.”

Fire crawled up the ancient stones. It smoked, leaving filthy black trails behind the dull crimson glow. He advanced a hand cautiously. “That’s power, not real fire; there’s no heat.” He glanced ahead, then back at the pendant in her hand. “Maybe he can’t pass this as he was. You can carry him past as a pendant, though.”

“Maybe.” Eleeri was worried. “But I don’t like the look of it.”

Mayrin stirred. “Nor I, but we have only two choices. Go back or go on. I will not leave here without Romar.”

Eleeri shrugged. “We go on, then, and the Light be with us.” She marched forward, followed by Jerrany, Mayrin in the rear, daggers at the ready. They padded slowly along as the fire grew about them. The blackness spread rapidly until the whole of the way through which they now walked was black laced with the fire trails that formed runes on which they did not wish to look. From the floor a mist began to rise. It, too, was black, shot with the lacing of dull crimson that was now all that gave light. Eleeri drew her dagger and dropped the pendant into the empty sheath. She was drawn. Now that she thought about it, she had had the feeling for several minutes. Ahead lay the caller, Romar or another.

She reached out with her mind as she had learned to do with the Keplians. The calling seemed to strengthen, but she could not be sure. She allowed his face to rise in her memory. Then, walking slowly, she brought up the image of her dagger. This she touched to the face. The power flowed in with a rush.

She caught a warning. There was danger ahead, but here in the tower time was not as it was outside. If they moved forward steadily, did not falter, there was yet a chance they would be in time. Romar’s strength was draining; that which dwelled here drew hard on him in its efforts to halt the battle far to the north. It would take much to turn its attention back now. Many of the tower’s defenses were automatic. If they could pass them, they might come to its core unnoticed.

The sending faded, but not before Eleeri had read the weary disgust at his being so used. She clenched her hands. Better dead than enslaved to the greater Dark. If all else failed, she would pray to Ka-dih she could give a clean death as her only gift.

She turned to speak to her friends. Behind her the mist curled and shifted. There was no sign of them. She cursed savagely.

She’d allowed herself to be distracted. Could she have taken a turning they had not? Or had something crawled out of the walls and dragged them in? In a place like this, you couldn’t be sure. She would have walked back, but something told her then it would be a mistake. Maybe that was the idea, get her tearing back along the way they’d come so she would forget why they were here. She set her teeth. She’d made a promise. She’d go on, alone if need be, and pray her friends found her again. She gripped her dagger and marched on, face toward the faint thread that called her.

The mist deepened, darkened, as out of it figures came. For a moment her steps faltered, then sturdy common sense came to her aid. These were dead or in another world. They could not be here. They were scarecrows raised to turn her back. She would not be so turned. Ahead of her Cynan bent a bitter smile upon her face.

“I loved you as a daughter. I trusted you and you left me to die alone.” The accusation stung. She had thought long and hard before she had left the Karsten hold. Had she gone to be free of him? Her head came up. No! Her reasons had held then as they held now. Cynan himself had agreed, sent her on her way with goodwill.

She faced the figure now. “I grieve that I left you. I grieve that you died alone. But I bear no burden for my choosing. It was yours also.”

“Because I saw I could not turn you aside.”

She shook her head. “Because you loved me. Love shuts no doors, holds not the loved one captive. I have not called you here. Go now with my love and good-wishing.” She walked resolutely forward as tears ran down her cheeks. The figure faded back into the mist and was gone. Another formed ahead. She flinched as the mean eyes fixed on her: her uncle. Mist formed a second figure to stand by him: her aunt. Cynan she had loved, therefore she had spoken gently to his image. These she had hated.

She walked forward, giving no way to them. They must let her pass or halt her as they could. She met them breast to breast as chill crept through her. Their hands gripped her wrists. Long-remembered insults hissed into unwilling ears. They despised her.

But she was no longer a child. This was a trick, an evil that sought to turn her from the proper path. She would not be driven back by these tatters of an outworn pain. She willed their fingers to loosen. Her dagger lifted to lie as a bar between them.

“I owe you nothing,” she said quietly. “As you gave nothing, so I owe nothing. I did not call you; I do not hold you here now. Be free of me as I am free of you.”

She knew then that it was true. They had feared her strength, hated her for the spirit that did not break. She had been the stronger all along. An unwilling pity rose as she met their gaze. They thinned and were gone as her emotion made itself known. Against fear or hatred they could stand; against pity they had no shield.

Then came the figure she had expected. Far Traveler with the eagle feathers in his braids. Before her he twisted into horror. Rotting flesh on brown bone. Breath stank from exposed teeth as his voice slid into her ears. Behind him came another: the pinched face of the social services woman. It was her voice that overrode.

“Now I’ve found you, you’ll have to come with me, girl. The law says you can’t live alone so young.”

Eleeri hit back with an angry retort. The power below had given warning. Emotions could be both a weapon and a danger. She reached for calmness.

“I’ve lived here for years now. I am not a child anymore. The law has no claim on me and you have no power here.” She felt the old fear as the figure seized her arm. “The law is against you,” she repeated. “You have no law to back you in this. You stand alone.”

The figure hunched its shoulders nervously. It looked at her in disbelief. Eleeri gathered herself and flung her words at it.

“You walk in the paths of legality. Would you act against it now?”

The figure shrank back. With a look of puzzled anger, it shook its head. She was a social worker; the law was her work.

“Then leave, or you shall face the law itself that you break.” It seemed to shiver, falling in until there was no more than another coil of mist.

Eleeri faced her last challenge as her hands went out to take those of her kinsman. Tears flooded down her face as she embraced him. She ignored the stench, the appearance; this was her protector, her teacher, her blood. She listened as he began to speak.

“Eleeri, Eleeri I named you, and strange are the paths you have chosen to walk. But there is no need for further struggle. Come with me and rest. Be my daughter’s daughter once more.”

“I follow a word given.”

“Given to one who had no right to bind you. Come with me.” The voice was full of tenderness.

“I gave the word. Shall I break my warrior oath? Is that of your teaching?”

With his arm laid about her shoulders, she looked up into the beloved face restored. Longing was in his tone then. “I miss you, child of my heart. Would you leave me to walk the spirit world forever without you? Leave these who are no true kin to you and come.”

Almost might the spell have worked, so greatly had she loved him. But for that final sentence. Gently she freed herself, drew away from those loving arms.

“Kin of mine they are, and it is for me to aid. I gave warrior oath to one who trusted me. My friends are here. Am I to leave them to fight alone? Nor will I leave one of my blood to die.”

“You stand alone. Your friends have fled.” His face moved in anger. “You were always a stubborn fool.” Now he showed fear for her. “Do not walk this road. Come with me and be safe.”

She eased her shoulders as if resuming a great load. She wept, but walked steadily forward. “I cannot. You yourself taught me that an oath may not be broken, that blood stands by blood, that even if friends betray you, yet shall you hold by the word given.”

“I may not come to you again if you do this.”

She dashed away the tears. “You have not done so now. You are the memory I have, but not the man I loved.” She stood facing him and from her mind she banished his figure, letting him go as he had once released her. Mist billowed and was gone. Before her the passage stretched out wide and long with marble walls that showed no signs of the power. Under her moccasins the floor was stone paving.

She heard steps behind her and she spun to see her friends approaching. Both were pale, but their eyes were determined. As they came up each reached out to take a hand. For long seconds they stood there savoring friendship. They had been tested and not failed.

“I saw those I loved and feared,” Jerrany said quietly. “I was offered choices.”

“As was I,” Eleeri confirmed. “But still we stand here.”

Mayrin sighed. “I was offered some wonderful things, but nothing that included Romar. And I had to lose too many I love to accept.”

Eleeri freed her hands, smiling at the two. “It seems we have all made choices. Let us move on to find out what comes to us from them.”

Side by side in the wide corridor, they marched forward. Eleeri knew what she had defeated, but as they walked, she wondered what her friends had faced. What had been the “wonderful choice” Mayrin had been offered? She stole a look at her, then at Jerrany on her other side. What had the Dark offered him to betray them all? That her friends were here showed they had turned away. But curiosity rode her as they walked. She grinned and thrust it away. It was none of her business and there was more to worry about than temptations refused.

Beside her, Mayrin also wondered. Into her mind seeped the memories of that time lost in the mist. One minute Jerrany had walked beside her, the next he was gone. She would have run shrieking his name but that she feared to call attention to herself. She had gripped her dagger and prayed to all those of the Light. Then the visions had begun.

Jerrany also remembered—and shivered in rage. They had threatened, but he had stood firm. But oh, gods, it had been a near thing. One more moment and he might have given up. He tightened his hold on Mayrin’s hand.