Angus Wells - The Kingdoms 02 (23 page)

           
Kingdoms represent the benign order
of the Lady, and so are hated by the Lord of Chaos. To this end, Ashar raises
minions—the Messenger is the one we face now—to work his foulness. He cannot
himself enter the Kingdoms, for the Lady set barriers against so direct an
intervention, and so he imbues his creatures with ungodly power to do his fell
work. The Lady redresses that imbalance by providing situations in which a counterforce
comes into being. That force for good is now Kedryn Caitin—the Chosen One of
the Text.”

           
“Blind?” asked Kedryn. “How may I
oppose anyone blind?” “I come to that,” Lavia said mildly. “There is a part of
the Text your mother brought to our attention. It is the part that concerns our
Sister Wynett; and concerned poor Grania, too. Listen . . .” She turned to the
blue-bound book and recited, “7n
one
shall be three
,
the pair one
,
seeing what is and what is not until the one
is one
.

           
“When you joined with Grania on the
walls of High Fort a part of her power entered you both. Further reading—I will
not try you with the ancient words—indicates that Sister Wynett has become for
a while your eyes, and only through her will you regain sight. Further, you will
not find it in Estrevan.”

           
“What?” Kedryn could not hold back
the shout, panic ringing in his voice. “Estrevan cannot help me? Where then?
How?”

           
“
That
taken shall be returned
,” Lavia read, “
the
thief the giver
. We believe this refers to the one who blinded you. We
believe that only he may restore your sight.”

           
“He is dead.” It was Bedyr who spoke
now, his voice hollow. “He was a berserker. He was slain and his body by now
will be in the Beltrevan. Burned by woodlander custom.”

           
Wynett felt Kedryn’s hand close on
hers, squeezing. She felt tears fill her eyes as she looked toward him and saw
stark anguish on his face.

           
“I am condemned to blindness,” he
groaned.

           
“No,” said Lavia, her voice firm.
“You may regain your sight—by entering the Beltrevan again to find the one who
took it.”

           
“A corpse?” Kedryn’s voice was
bitter. “A body gone to ashes?” “The sword that robbed you of vision was
ensorcelled,” Lavia answered, “the man who bore it sent by the Messenger,
doubtless imbued with some gramarye. Such as he do not find easy peace, and as
he failed in his appointed task he is unlikely to have found a welcome in
Ashar’s domain. We of Estrevan believe his spirit must now wander the
netherworld. You must follow him there and seek the restitution of your vision.”

           
She paused as the five seated around
the table stared at her aghast. Kedryn’s mouth hung open and Wynett felt the
tension in his grip as he demanded huskily, “How may I do that?”

           
“You may easily enter the
Beltrevan,” Lavia responded, her tone reassuring, “your status as conqueror of
Niloc Yarrum will win you support amongst the tribes. I have brought certain
talismans that will grant you a degree of protection from the . . . things . .
. you will face thereafter, and the shamans of the dead man’s tribe will know
the way you must take. In the netherworld you must seek out the berserker. ”

           
“And then?” asked Kedryn softly.

           
“Then,” said Lavia, “you must
persuade him to give back that which he took from you—your sight.”

           
Kedryn laughed, an empty sound. “You
set me no easy task, Sister,” he murmured.

           
“No,” Lavia agreed, “I do not. But
there is no other way; of this we are confident.”

           
“Then,” Kedryn announced grimly, “I
depart for the Beltrevan. May the Lady be with me.”

           
“And I,” Tepshen Lahl declared. “I ride
with you.”

           
“There is more,” Lavia said. “Wynett
must accompany you. She will be your eyes.”

           
“No!” Kedryn shook his head, his
expression fierce. “It is too dangerous.”

           
Lavia looked to Wynett, her eyes
unreadable. Beside her, Bedyr drew a hand across his face, hope and horror
mingled there. Yrla studied the young Sister as if she already knew what her
decision would be. Tepshen Lahl was inscrutable.

           
Wynett had no decision to make. The
fact came to her as she saw Kedryn’s eyes lose their blankness, the strength of
his emotion bringing another brief return of sight. She smiled at him, then
turned to Lavia.

           
“Of course I will go with him.”

           
It seemed to Kedryn that he was
condemned to wander, forever questing, a vagrant in his own land, denied
respite in the endless struggle between the opposed forces of Ashar and the
Lady, for now he was again preparing to depart his home with scant idea how
long this new journey might take, or even whether he would survive it.

           
Nonetheless, despite all his qualms,
he accepted Lavia’s word that only in the Beltrevan might he regain his sight,
and that thought he kept foremost in his mind, choosing to live by the day
rather than contemplate the greater issues raised by the Sister’s
interpretation of Alaria’s Text. That he was the Chosen One foretold by the
long-dead sybil he relegated to some hinder compartment of his consciousness,
just as he pushed back the thought that at some future date he must fight
Ashar’s minion. It was enough for now that she gave him hope of sight regained,
albeit hope achieved only through arduous travail. The notion was as exciting
as his imminent departure from Caitin Hold was depressing, and he knew that he
must leave before the wolf- weather closed in to seal the mountain passes, so
he clove to the promise of Lavia’s interpretation, refusing to allow himself
the sad luxury of self-pity.

           
There was a bright side: after
explaining Estrevan’s estimation of the prophecy and the part he must play,
Lavia had suggested that she might increase the bonding through which Wynett
was able to restore partial vision. He had instantly agreed, and the Sister had
requested a quiet room and sundry items of equipment and herbs that were
immediately supplied. She had spent the better part of a day in preparation and
then summoned Kedryn and Wynett to join her. He had entered a chamber redolent
of materia medica, the air within warm and aromatic, the mingled scents
unidentifiable. Lavia had given him something to drink, a bitter brew that left
a sour aftertaste, and then dripped some mildly astringent liquid into his
eyes. Next she had sat him down and taken his left hand while Wynett took his
right, and he had felt the heat of a brazier on his face, its coals giving off
a sharp, sweet odor that reminded him of the preparation Grania had burned on
the ramparts of High Fort. He had lost all sense of time, the emanation of the
brazier inducing a dreamy, trancelike state through which he heard only faintly
the voice of the older Sister as she intoned words that seemed to reverberate
with a power of their own in a language he did not comprehend. Then, slowly, as
if a mist cleared from before his eyes, burned away by the sun, he had realized
that he was looking at a metal pot set on a trivet borrowed from the hold’s
kitchens; that coals glowed red within; and that the pot was standing on a
small, round table of polished oak. He had turned his head to see Wynett
smiling at him, her golden hair tinged russet by the brazier’s glow, a beading
of sweat on her smooth forehead.

           
“I can see!” he had gasped, tearing
his gaze from Wynett to stare at Lavia, seeing for the first time that she was
a tall woman with a serene face framed by fair hair streaked with gray, her
dark eyes studying him with compassion and anticipation.

           
“Praise the Lady,” she had murmured,
returning his smile as she gently let go his hand. “If all has gone well, you
will now see whenever you touch Wynett. That is why she must go with you—I have
strengthened the bonding made by Grania so that it will come into force on a
touch, no longer reliant on emotion.”

           
He had nodded and experimented by
releasing Wynett’s hand. And, indeed, when he did that his sight instantly
faded, returning when the younger Sister reached out to touch him again.

           
“Praise the Lady,” he had murmured
in agreement, though later both he and Wynett found it a mixed blessing. It
meant that they were more than ever together, Kedryn’s joy at being able again
to see his home and show it to Wynett, to look upon the faces of his friends, tempered
by his desire to speak his heart to the lovely woman who now accompanied him
everywhere, her hand constantly in his. It became increasingly difficult to
hold his tongue when he gazed at her beauty, though he did his best,
remembering his promise, even as his eyes said the words he would not let past
his lips.

           
Wynett, in equal measure, found it
hard, for she saw the love he bore her on his face and felt her own feelings
thrown into turmoil by the adoration and the constant proximity. It was not
easy to conceal her own affection and she found after a while that the effort
drained her, only her resolve to remain true to her vows preventing her from
according Kedryn the confession she knew he desired. Despite the dangers, she
found herself looking forward to the journey into the Beltrevan: the road would
surely provide them with sufficient problems that this emotional impasse might
be at least temporarily set aside.

           
And the preparations proceeded with
alacrity. As yet they were touched only by the edge of winter, but soon its
full weight would descend upon Tamur and it was, according to Lavia, imperative
that they set out as swiftly as possible. In further conclave she expressed
Estrevan’s fear that the Messenger remained not just alive, but active still
and bent on furthering his master’s fell design. How, she could not say, for
all the efforts of the Sorority had not been able to discover his whereabouts,
though the consensus of opinion was that he likely sought to penetrate the
security of the Kingdoms to work his glamours from within, having failed to
succeed by force of arms. With that in mind, Bedyr reluctantly agreed to her
suggestion that he remain in Caitin Hold, entrusting Kedryn to the care of
Tepshen Lahl and a select band of ten warriors, two of them familiar with the
patois of the woodlanders; and Yrla, bravely concealing her sadness at once
more bidding her son farewell, gave them her blessing for a safe journey and a
swift return.

           
“It seems I am to have little part
in his life,” she murmured wistfully as she rummaged through closets in search
of winter clothing for Wynett. “He was a boy when he first departed for the
Beltrevan, and he has returned a man only to ride out again.” “He will come
back,” Wynett had replied. “His heart is here.” “I am selfish.” Yrla had smiled
as she said it, laying out a selection of thick, woollen underclothing sweet
with the scent of the herbal sachets tucked among the garments. “It is in a
mother’s nature to forget her children must grow and go their own ways. In
Kedryn’s case it seems to have happened so quickly.”

           
“His sight regained, he will come
home,” Wynett promised.

           
“Unless Ashar’s accursed creature
comes again between us,” Yrla responded, her voice grim. “It seems we are
caught in some cosmic game that takes little account of the desires of mere
pawns.”

           
“If my Sisters’ reading of the Text
is correct, we all have a duty in that game,” Wynett said slowly. “We must all
play our parts.”

           
“I know,” Yrla sighed, adding
fur-lined leggings to the mounting pile of clothes, “and my complaints are
purely a mother’s possessive love. I would not hold him back—and I know he
rides in good company. ”

           
She turned to Wynett then, setting
her hands to the young woman’s face. “Take care of him, my dear: you hold more
than the key to his vision.”

           
“I know,” Wynett said softly, “and I
shall. Were I not sworn to Estrevan ...”

           
“Yes.” Yrla stooped to kiss her
brow, then abruptly changed the subject. “Now, let us see if these things fit.”

           
Wynett was grateful for the
occupation, shedding her blue robe for the winter travel gear Yrla had
selected, its warmth and sturdiness attesting to the severity of the season she
must soon face on the trail. She giggled as she drew on the stuff, layer upon
layer it seemed, until she was sure she must resemble nothing so much as some
blond snow beast. There were the long woollen underbreeches and a vest of
similar material, thinner breeks and tunic of soft hide, then the leggings with
the fur turned inward, and fur-lined boots, a thick jerkin, again lined with
fur, its collar standing about her face and tickling her, gloves, and finally a
furred cloak with holes for her arms and a hood that laced about her face to
cover all but her eyes. Yrla added a bonnet and a strange contrivance of carved
wood and bone, hinged and thonged, with slits that Wynett did not at first
understand.

           
“It covers your eyes,” Yrla
explained, fixing the thing in place. “You tie the thongs behind your head.”

           
“I can barely see.” Wynett burst
into giggles as she studied herself in the mirror set in a frame beside the
wardrobe, seeing the befurred image that confronted her, bulky beneath its
coverings, with narrow slit eyes where the mask sat across her nose.

           
“The snow in the high peaks can
blind you,” Yrla warned. “These protect your sight.”

           
Wynett remembered the charcoal old
Dys had given her and nodded.

           
“Unguents, too,” advised Yrla, “lest
the wind and frost chafe your skin.”

           
“I have those,” Wynett said. “Are
winters here so fierce?”

           
“Worse across the Lozins,” came the answer.
“It will not be so bad crossing the Tamur plateau, but when you climb the
foothills to the high peaks you will need all of this.”

           
“Shall we not pass back through the
Lozin Gate?” Wynett inquired, seeing Yrla shake her head.

           
“No, that would take too long. It
seems the woodlander who struck Kedryn was a Drott, and their territory lies
north and west of the Gate. Bedyr and Tepshen agreed that the most direct route
is to the north, to the Fedyn Pass. It is high and narrow, but it will take you
more swiftly than any other trail into the Drott lands. A border fort guards
the way and the road there will not be too difficult yet. Though once you enter
the pass ...” She paused, her expression grave. “Then you will need all this
gear. And the Lady’s blessing.”

           
“We have that,” Wynett said stoutly.

           
“Aye,” Yrla nodded, “I believe you
do.”

           
Lavia, too, had advice to offer,
though it was not to do with the physical journey.

           
“Take this,” she said as they sat at
dinner on the night before their departure, extending a small parcel sealed
with the stamp of Estrevan to Wynett. “It is a talisman that will ward you in
the netherworld.”

           
Wynett broke the seal and took
Kedryn’s hand as she studied the contents that he might see what safeguard the
Sorority offered. There were two small medallions of blue stone, thin and
carved with tiny, ancient symbols, suspended from leather thongs, the back of
each jagged as if sundered from its obverse side.

           
“Custom has it these were once one,”
Lavia explained, “and worn by Kyrie herself. When she drove Ashar north and
sealed him behind the Lozin Wall the talisman was divided, but the pieces
retain power. Keep them safe and wear them when you go beyond—they will guard
you and enable you to see the snares that may confront you.”

           
Dutifully both Kedryn and Wynett
hung the stones about their necks.

           
“You must find the Drott lands,”
Lavia continued, “and claim your right as hef-Alador to their help. Demand of
their shamans that they bring you to the burial place and perform the ceremony
that will enable you to enter the netherworld.
You must both wear the talismans
—they will bring you to the one you
seek.”

           
“Both?” Kedryn demanded, his grip on
Wynett’s hand tightening as he stared at Lavia. “Must Wynett accompany me even
there?”

           
“The bonding applies in both this
world and that other,” the older Sister nodded. “Without Wynett, you will be
blind there as you are here. Though without the physical bonds of this world,
you will not need to maintain touch—the talismans will establish the linking that
grants you sight. And after you confront the one you seek you will require that
doubled strength to return. Do not think that Ashar will remain quiescent to
this invasion. He will not! Even when you have won back your sight he will
doubtless seek to entrap you in the shadows, and for the sake of the Kingdoms
you
must
return.”

           
She faced Wynett then, saying, “This
is a heavy task, Sister.”

           
“You need not agree,” Kedryn said
quickly. “I would net place you in jeopardy. I will place my trust in the Lady and
enter this limbo alone.”

           
Wynett looked into his eyes and took
both his hands in hers as she said, “I would not allow that, Kedryn. I have
begun this journey with you and we shall end it together. You cannot leave me
behind.”