The Barrow (50 page)

Leigh breathed quickly into Gilgwyr's ear, and once more Gilgwyr reacted in surprise and confusion until his ear popped and suddenly the world changed again. He shook his head and suddenly he could hear a distant roar overhead, a chorus of stars and angels in the wind coming from the Heavens, and the tinkle of bells and chimes in the air, and the whisper of voices floating in from the nearby woods. And when he heard Stjepan speak, he knew it was not in any language that he would normally understand.

“
You are barred here, my prince
,” said Stjepan. “
There is no one here for you.
”

“
The beautiful one, she is here for us
,” the standing
fae
said. “
Her skin is pale as bone and ivory, her hair glimmers like liquid fire, and she bears upon her a great enchantment and the mark and veil of secrets upon secrets. Why else would she be here except that she is for us?
”

“
She is here at my request, and is under my protection
,” said Stjepan.

“
And who are you, then, mortal?
” asked the
fae
, its voice dripping with derision.

“
I am the son of Argante, daughter of Branwyn, of the line of Morfane, and Urfante, and Arfane
,” said Stjepan, and as he spoke each name the
fae
flinched as though physically struck, and they drew back a step.

“
Hex names, names of power
,” cooed the
Fae
Prince, with a lascivious smile and a trick of the tongue. “
And I know you now, Black-Heart, Ash-Knight, Huntsman-Grim. Djara Luna holds sway tonight as the first New Moon of Spring, and the doors between the worlds are open. Come with us to the Court of the Brazen Wood for the Festival of the Spring Moon, and bring the beautiful one with you. You will not regret it.
”

“
Another time and I would be eager and honored
,” Stjepan said, inclining his head. “
But we are called to a great and pressing duty that will brook no distractions.
”

“
You decline an invitation from a Prince of the First World?
” snarled the
Fae
Prince. It seemed to Gilgwyr as though the creature drew itself up to its full height, and became like a giant, towering over them, but somehow he knew it was but some glamour or projection, for he could also plainly see the
Fae
Prince still standing before Stjepan unchanged.

“
On this day, yes, I must with deepest regrets, my prince
,” said Stjepan, slowly and clearly, and he bowed quite low at the waist, his left knee slightly bent, his left hand to his heart and his right hand coming up straight behind him, the sheathed falchion held firmly in his upraised grip. The pose was courteous and proper, but also invited an attack, placing his head and the back of his neck forward as if on a chopping block; and yet at the same time, the upraised weapon behind him made it clear that he was already prepared for a fight.

The
Fae
Prince contemplated Stjepan's pose for a moment, tempted; and then it stepped back, and its two companions did so as well, coming upright. “
Then I bind you to return to take up my invitation, a year from now on the night of the Festival of the Spring Moon, upon penalty of a great Hex should you refuse or fail
,” the
Fae
Prince said with great satisfaction.

“
Your binding is accepted, my prince
,” said Stjepan, drawing himself upright.

“
Go in the grace of the Queens of Heaven and of Earth, then, Black-Heart, until the year has passed and I come to claim you for the Brazen Court
,” the
Fae
Prince said, and then he and his companions slowly walked backwards in the same odd, graceful way in which they had entered the camp. Stjepan didn't move, but just stood there, watching through narrowed eyes as they backed away into the night.

Once the
fae
were well out of sight, Leigh let go of Gilgwyr's shoulder and scrambled out of the tent. Gilgwyr gasped out loud, sucking in a huge breath of air as he grabbed up his rapier and then he was out of the tent and coming to his feet. He reeled for a moment, his eyes still opened by the Second Sight, his ears still in tune to the sounds beneath the surface of the world. He joined Leigh and Stjepan in standing in front of the women's tent, their gazes off on the distant tree line of the Neris Wold silhouetted against the night sky.

“You see!” cackled Leigh. “I told you, but you didn't believe me! They saw her, and would have taken her, and who knows when they would have given her back! Tomorrow? The next New Moon? In a year and a day? And fucked inside out and then back again!” He turned to Stjepan. “Well done! The sword, is it enchanted against the
fae
, then, some hidden rune to mark it as a bane to their kith and kin?”

“No, it's good ordinary steel,” said Stjepan with a shrug. “Would've been useless against them.” They gaped at him for a moment.

“You bluffed a Prince of the Brazen Wood?” Leigh asked with a laugh. “A student after mine own heart!”

“The names of my line have some small use in this world, even if they mean nothing in the High King's Court. But it's only a temporary victory, Magister,” said Stjepan ruefully. “After all, assuming I am still alive next year, here I will stand, awaiting my summons.” He grinned. “Though there are worse fates I can think of.”

Stjepan stepped over to the doused campfire, stirring the embers with the toe of his boot, and glanced about the camp with a frown. “Looks like the Urwed brothers are asleep, enspelled by the
fae
,” he said. “Magister, can you rouse them from the enchantment, while we make sure that nothing ill has befallen the rest of our camp and all are present and accounted for?”

“I will see what I can do,” said Leigh, rubbing his hands together gleefully as he walked over to the sleeping knights.

“Oh, but best not to tell them that we were visited by the
fae
,” said Stjepan. “Let's not give Arduin yet another reason to second-guess the wisdom of this trip.”

“Two mildly embarrassed knights coming right up,” said Leigh, waving at them over his shoulder.

Gilgwyr shook his head, staring up at the stars in the night sky, at the little firefly lights that seemed to now be floating around Stjepan's head, at the flickering silver-white glow that played over the surface of all things. He listened to the distant roar of a celestial choir, intoxicated by the music of the Heavens playing out in the wind above him.

By the gods, it's almost as beautiful as in my dreams
, he thought with a smile.

The next day, Erim and Sir Theodore caught up with them about halfway down to Erid More, with a pack mule fully loaded with sacks of supplies bought in Stonham.

“There didn't seem to be any word of what happened in Therapoli yet,” she told Stjepan, walking her horse well behind the coach with Stjepan and Gilgwyr also afoot. The country road they were on was lined by high stone walls, and the eyes of a stone tower house watched them as their small column passed through. “People were talking about the mild spring weather, about the Rebel Earl up in the hills and whether the Erid King is going to go get him, about bandit knights visiting outlying farms to bring gifts, about the engagement of the Erid Princess Fiona to the King of Angowrie . . . oh, and a baby was born in town yesterday, which they thought propitious since it was the Festival of the Spring Moon. But jack shit about the murder of a High Priest of the Divine King in Therapoli and the flight of his murderer and a suspected witch out of the city.”

“The heralds would've likely been in Westmark two days ago, so the question just becomes whether King Eolred would have felt it important enough to send out riders immediately,” mused Stjepan.

“And I'm going to guess
no
,” said Gilgwyr. “Everyone probably thinks we have absconded into the Manon Mole, to hide amongst the bandit knights or perhaps even join up with the Rebel Earl. That's what almost every outlaw within spitting distance of the Manon Mole is doing, so they're not expecting us to be trying to cross the Danias . . .”

“Then we might be reasonably safe anywhere off the West King's Road and the primary path of the heralds,” Stjepan said. “They should be reaching Aprenna today, to apprise the Dain King's Court.”

“So we still cross the Eridbrae at Erid More, then?” asked Erim.

“Aye, then back roads to the north to cut across the West King's Road, and then across the North Road and the Plain of Flowers toward Hartford, I think,” said Stjepan. “Mount up. Let's see if we can get across the Eridbrae before nightfall,” he said, then glanced skyward at darkening clouds. “Or before the rain gets to us.”

The rain started before they reached Erid More, spring showers that seemed to come and go in waves and cycles, the clouds alternating dark and light, with the occasional distant spot of sun breaking through to light the green flanks of the valley. A few of them were fortunate enough to have tabards or cloaks coated with linseed oil, but the rest made do with blankets wrapped around them or over their heads to protect against the rain and the damp.

Erim shivered as she and Stjepan eyed the small town of Erid More. Stjepan wore his usual hat, the brim curled up on the sides, the rain drizzling off it onto his dark brown tabard. Erim had drawn the hood of her cloak up over her head, and she felt like she could barely see anything.

The keep and town of Erid More sat at the corner of two rivers, the Reinbrae, whose broad valley they had followed to reach the town, and the Eridbrae, the shorter of the two great rivers of the western Middle Kingdoms, the other being the much longer Volbrae still further west. The Eridbrae was also shorter than the Abenbrae in the east, being only about two hundred miles in length, but like the Abenbrae it started in the Daradjan Highlands and wended its way through the Djar Éduins and down into the Middle Kingdoms, crossing the Erid Wold and An-Athair until it wound its way down to the Bay of Tears and the
Mera Argenta
. There were two bridges in and out of Erid More; they would have to cross from the south bank of the Reinbrae across one bridge into the walled town, and then turn west to cross the bridge over the Eridbrae. Erim was reasonably impressed with the size and quality of the pair of fortified bridges, and perhaps the great stone keep that towered between them, but the town itself looked, at least from a distance, to be small and compact.

“Is that really the seat of the Earls of Erid More?” she asked. “I mean, the keep looks fairly strong, but I would have thought the town would be larger.”

“The strength of Erid More, like Orliac, is in its vineyards and its soil. So the land between here and Reinvale and then all the way down to Nop in Blackstone country is dotted with strong manors and villas and vineyards like the ones we've seen today. Fewer people in the town holds, more people in the villas,” Stjepan said.

Erim had definitely noticed the prevalence of strong stone walls even in the vineyards they had passed, and as she thought about it the manors she had seen had definitely been built strong and high, with a utilitarian nature unlike the more comfortable country houses of the Aurian east. They reminded her of the stone houses and keeps along the Watchtower Coast, and she said so.

“Aye,” said Stjepan. “I suppose it's like the old Maelite tower tradition, which is sparked by fear of the raider from the sea; though around here the enemy has always been the hill people of the Manon Mole. The country manors and villas in this area tend to be built as full keeps and strong watchtowers, and Reinvale has a castle that's actually bigger than the one we're looking at. The Athairi and Danian tradition was wood, back when the trees were plentiful—the wooden palisade, and wooden great hall. The Düréans left behind their great palace culture and their cities of concrete brick and stone. The Maelites and Daradjans always preferred the stone citadel. And the Aurians brought their long hall traditions as well. And now the Middle Kingdoms are pretty well blended at this point.”