Angus Wells - The Kingdoms 02 (27 page)

           
Wynett smiled at him, surprised that
she found such pleasure in
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his
approval. It felt, she realized as he turned and walked to the fire, as though
she belonged here, were genuinely an accepted member of the Tamurin rather than
a mere necessity, brought along for Kedryn’s sake. The feeling wanned her as
much as the stew.

           
Next morning the shelf was blanketed
with fresh snow and the sky did not brighten. A sullen sun glistened listlessly
from behind |f gray cloudbanks and the air smelled moister than before. An air
of expectancy rendered their departure urgent, the waniors saddling their
animals huniedly, looking to the sky as if they expected it to tumble onto
them. It did not, but while they negotiated the steep rise behind the shelf,
snow began to fall steadily and soon they rode through a curtain of white, the
lead riders hidden from those at the rear. Tepshen called a halt and passed a
rope to Kedryn, insisting that he permit himself to be led.

           
Their going was much slower through
the snowstorm and Wynett began to think they would not reach the Fedyn Fort by
nightfall. The terrain grew increasingly precipitous, the mountain flank no
longer a steady rise but a jumble of ravines and gullies that sometimes forced
them to dismount and lead the horses. She saw the way the peaks turned and
twisted on themselves, less a single line of hills than a great spreading cluster
of joined mountains filled with high valleys and dead ends, promising a lonely
fate to anyone not familiar with the trail to the pass. Rivers ran up here,
appearing in great tumbling falls from lips of water-washed stone all slick
with fantastic ice shapes, to disappear in the tortuous undulations of the
land. Bare rock like dragons’ teeth jutted from the snow, and as the fall
continued the animals plunged chest-deep through the drifts that built between.
Three times warriors needed to scramble up vertiginous gradients to throw ropes
down and manhandle the beasts to the crests, and Kedryn cursed his blindness
afresh as he, too, was forced to grasp the cords and allow himself to be drawn
up like baggage.

           
Then, around midaftemoon, the snow
eased off and the cloud above began to break apart, permitting a watery sun to
filter through. It was fading as they came in sight of the
Fedyn
Pass
and saw the fort.

           
They had climbed out of a shallow
valley and were standing on a ridge that ran at a slight angle to the mouth of
the pass. The downslope facing them curved to form a bowl, too steep, save for
the spot where they stood, to climb, the mouth of the pass directly across from
their position. It was a cleft in the rocky wall, the sides vertical and bare
of snow, the dark stone forbidding, reaching up until it became lost against
the rapidly darkening sky, the interior already shadowed. The fort stood on a
promontory jutting from the west side, squat and square, built out to the edges
of its vantage point so that it commanded both the pass and the bowl beyond. No
trees grew here and even to Wynett’s unmilitaristic eye it was obvious that no
force could cross the Lozins without first overwhelming the fort, and that
would be a task so costly as to render the attempt worthless. Bonfires burned
along the ramparts and the embrasures glowed with light, casting a welcoming
radiance against the gloomy rock.

           
“It is a lonely place,” Wynett
murmured.

           
“It is necessary,” Kedryn replied.
“Or was, so long as the tribes threatened war. ”

           
“Come.” Tepshen was already urging
his mount down the slope. “While some little light remains.”

           
They followed the kyo down, the
horses slithering on the treacherous surface, Tamurin moving in close to flank
Kedryn protectively, and began to cross the bottom land.

           
An angled glacis ran up to the
gates, turning back on itself so that any approaching force would be slowed,
and when they crested the ascent they were faced with a drawbridge. It was
down, but archers manned the walls above, their bowstrings part drawn, and
soldiers in heavy fur cloaks faced them across the planking.

           
“I bid you open the gates for Kedryn
Caitin, Prince of Tamur,” shouted Tepshen, and Kedryn threw back the hood of
his cloak that the watchers might see his face.

           
“I bid the Prince and his party
welcome,” came the answer, given by a burly figure, bearded and mailed. “Gann
Resyth of the Fedyn Fort is at your service.”

           
They moved forward then, clattering
over the drawbridge and onto the dressed stone before the gates. The guards
formed a gauntlet that closed behind them as they passed through the portals,
the thick timbers creaking shut as they came into the yard.

           
“Prince Kedryn.” Gann Resyth came
respectfully to Kedryn’s stirrup, white teeth flashing through the dense russet
of his beard. “I am honored to offer you the hospitality of my command.”

           
“I thank you, Lord Resyth.” Kedryn
dismounted and Wynett saw the commander stare at his eyes, unsure as he bowed
and took the hand his prince offered. “May I introduce my companions? The
Sister Wynett and Tepshen Lahl.”

           
Resyth bowed again, clearly confused
by the presence of a Sister among the retinue. “Please,” he said, “let us make
formal introductions in my quarters. Your men will find food and hot baths
waiting, and your horses will be stabled.”

           
Kedryn ducked his head and fumbled
for Wynett’s hand, further confusing the commander, who led the way across the
yard to a door that seemed part of the mountain wall.

           
They found themselves in a
low-roofed chamber that appeared both guard room and vestibule, for they doffed
their cloaks there and proceeded through torchlit corridors to more airy rooms,
with windows looking across the pass, albeit windows that were cut deep to
provide firing points for bowmen. Tapestries colored the walls and rugs the
floor, a cheerful fire burned in a hearth, and as they entered, three massive
dogs stirred, raising alert heads until Resyth murmured a reassurance and they
settled back to their dozing.

           
“You must forgive me, you were not
expected.” Resyth gestured to the chairs set about a table of polished oak and
shouted over his shoulder for wine to be mulled. “Is there trouble? I thought
the war ended,”

           
“It is,” Kedryn assured him as he
unlaced his jerkin and shucked out of the fur-lined garment, “peace has been
made with the tribes.”

           
“The mehdri brought word,” Resyth
nodded, “but I thought you traveled to Estrevan.”

           
“No.” Kedryn took Wynett’s hand that
he might see Resyth’s face as he explained, outlining Lavia’s instructions and
Wynett’s part in his quest, the commander’s ruddy features frowning as he
listened.

           
When Kedryn was done he said, “I
cannot advise you to attempt the pass, Prince. Snow has been falling up here
for weeks now and the way is treacherous. There is a danger of avalanches. I
urge you to wait until the upper slopes are settled.”

           
“How long?” Kedryn demanded.

           
“I cannot say for sure,” Resyth
shrugged. “A few weeks, mayhap longer, ”

           
“If Lavia’s interpretation is
correct, we cannot afford that long a delay.” Kedryn looked to Tepshen Lahl,
who nodded. “If the Messenger does indeed go abroad to work his magics, I must
find the burial place without further pause.”

           
“But the pass is not safe,” Resyth
protested.

           
“Have there been avalanches?” Kedryn
asked.

           
“Not yet,” said Resyth, “but even so
. . .”

           
“Then we shall attempt it,” Kedryn
declared, “and trust in the Lady to see us through safely. ”

           
The commander frowned afresh at this
and stroked his beard worriedly, as though seeking the words that would
convince them of his doubts. Finally he said, glancing apologetically at
Wynett, “It is not wise to place all your trust in the Lady where the
Fedyn
Pass
is concerned. 1 mean no blasphemy, but you
stand on the northern boundary of Tamur and beyond these walls lies Ashar’s
domain. Strange things happen in the
Fedyn
Pass
—the forest folk may be sworn to peace, but
the Lord of the Fires is not.”

           
Kedryn looked to Wynett, who asked,
“Does a Sister reside here, Lord Resyth?”

           
“Aye,” the commander confirmed,
“Sister Hospitaler Gwenyl. She will tell you the same.”

           
“I should like to speak with her,”
Wynett said.

           
Resyth nodded and rose, crossing to
the door to bellow into the corridor for Sister Gwenyl.

           
The resident Hospitaler proved to be
a woman of Wynett’s age, though the effects of sun and snow and wind made her
seem older, her homely face textured like leather, her hair bleached almost
white. She greeted them excitedly, listening to Kedryn’s explanation of their
quest with narrowed eyes and a doubtfully pursed mouth.

           
“What Lord Resyth has told you is
true,” she said. “This fresh snow is dangerous until it has firmed down, but
worse than that is Ashar’s presence. I feel it sometimes, like a wolf prowling
the night. The Lady erected this barrier to keep him from the Kingdoms, but
even her power does not extend into the Beltrevan.”

           
“We are warded by her power,” Wynett
countered, fingering the talisman hung about her throat, “and Kedryn is the
Chosen One.”

           
“All the more reason for Ashar’s
wrath,” said Gwenyl.

           
“Is his power not drained by the
Horde’s defeat?” asked Kedryn.

           
“Surely,” Gwenyl agreed, “but it is
not ended. You may well be safe from barbarian attack, but Ashar may still
bring elemental magic against you.”

           
“I do not believe I have any other
choice but to attempt the passage,” Kedryn announced.

           
“We entered the Beltrevan when
Ashar’s power was strong,” said Tepshen Lahl, “and he could not prevent us. I
say we go on. ”

           
“Wynett?” asked Kedryn.

           
“We must,” she said. “We must
restore your sight and return to face the Messenger. It is likely the fate of
the Kingdoms depends on this and I do not believe we have any choice now that
we have begun. And I go with you.”

           
“I will put it to the others,”
Kedryn decided, admiration for her fortitude in his gaze.

           
“They will not turn back,” said
Tepshen.

           
They did not. When Kedryn spoke to
them in the dining hall that night, they rose as one to declare their loyalty
and determination and none of Gann Resyth’s or Sister Gwenyl’s misgivings could
dissuade them.

           
They rested for a day and a second
night in the comfort of the

           
Fedyn Fort and then started into the
pass. It was a snowless day, the sky that showed above the narrow walls bright
as polished steel, with no hint of wind. Gann Resyth bade them a reluctant
farewell and Sister Gwenyl announced her intention of praying for their safe
passage. The men of the fort waved from the ramparts as they descended the
glacis and wound about the foot of the promontory, the snow underfoot packed
hard enough that they rode easily into the looming gap.

           
It was shadowy there, even with the
sun over their heads, and soon the pass curved, hiding the fort from sight. The
walls seemed to press in above them, the stone rimed with ice, gleaming silver
and blue, the way bare of snow so that the horses’ hooves clattered on rock, the
sound echoing melancholically from the vertical flanks. There was a foreboding
atmosphere, as if the Lozins themselves watched their going with bated breath,
or some immeasurable presence lurked, waiting. At sunset they were still within
the confines of the ravine and made a cold camp, for no trees grew, nor any
undergrowth that might provide fuel. Their talk was muted and they went early
to the comfort of their furs, unwilling to admit even to themselves the eerie
feeling of being observed.

           
Dawn came late in that lonely place
and they started off again in semidarkness, anxious to find the egress and ride
beneath open sky once more.