The Fellowship of the Talisman (32 page)

“They'll welcome you,” Duncan assured him. “They've been asking after you.” Which was not exactly true, but it was a small untruth and it could do no harm. “So come along.” Duncan put an arm around the hermit's shoulder and together they walked back to the fire.

“I'm not yet clear in mind,” warned Andrew, stubborn to the last. “There is much to puzzle out.”

“Take your time,” said Duncan. “You'll get it straightened out. You'll have the time to mull it over.”

Duncan escorted him across the cleared area around the fire at which he'd talked with Snoopy. Diane and Nan were sitting together and he took him over to them.

“Here's a hungry man,” he said to Nan. “Could there still remain a bowl of stew?”

“More than a bowl,” said the banshee. “More than even he can eat, hungry as he looks.” She said to Andrew, “Sit down close to the blaze. I will get it for you.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” said Andrew.

Duncan swung about and looked for Conrad, but was unable to locate him. Nor could he find Snoopy among the scattered Little People.

The moon had moved well up in the sky. It must be almost midnight, Duncan told himself. Within a short time all of them should be settling down to get some sleep, for they'd need to be up by dawn. What they'd do he had no idea, but as quickly as possible they had to have a course of action planned. Conrad, he thought, might have turned up some new piece of information, and it was important that he see him soon.

It was just possible that Conrad had wandered over to another fire. Purposefully he set out for the nearest one. He had gone only a couple of hundred feet or so when someone hissed at him from the darkness of a clump of bushes. Swiftly he swung around, his hand going to the sword hilt.

“Who's there?” he challenged. “Show yourself.”

A deeper shadow detached itself from the bushes. Moonlight shimmered on the crumpled horn.

“Scratch, what are you doing here?” Duncan asked.

“Waiting for you,” the demon said. “I have a thing to tell you. Quietly. Not too loud. Squat down so we can talk.”

Duncan squatted to face the dumpy little figure. The demon leaned forward painfully, head thrust forward by the hump upon his back.

“I have been listening,” he said. “You are in trouble.”

“It's nothing new,” Duncan told him. “We always are in trouble.”

“But this time facing powerful forces on all sides of you.”

“That is true.”

“No way to escape?”

“So the Little People tell us. We do not take their word entirely.”

“There is a way across the fen,” said Scratch.

What was going on? What was Scratch attempting to do here? Shut up in the castle for centuries, how would he know about the fen?

“You do not believe me,” said the demon.

“It's hard to. How could you know?”

“I told you once that someday I would tell you of my adventures. We never got around to it.”

“You did tell me that. I'd be delighted to hear the tale you have to tell. But not now. I'm looking for Conrad.”

“Not all of it now,” said Scratch. “Just a part of it. You must know that once I fled from Hell the word got around in human circles there was a demon loose—a fugitive demon from whom the protection of Old Scratch had been withdrawn, fair game for anyone who could lay hands upon him. I was hunted mercilessly.

“That's how I came to know about the fen. At this very place, the south end of the fen, I hid for several years; until I felt that I was safe, that everyone had forgotten me, that the trail had grown cold and the hunt been given up. So I came out of the fen and, wouldn't you know it, almost immediately was gobbled up.”

“But the fen is death,” said Duncan. “Or so we have been told.”

“If one knows the way …”

“And you know the way?”

“A water sprite showed me. A grumpy little sprite, but he took pity on me. One must be careful, but it can be done. There are certain landmarks …”

“It's been a long time since you've been in the fen. Landmarks can change.”

“Not these. There are certain islands.”

“Islands change. They can shift or sink.”

“The hills come down to the fen and stop. But a part of them, very ancient parts of them, still remain, much worn down and lower than the hills. These are the islands that I speak of. They stand solid through the ages. All rock, they cannot sink. Rock ledges run underwater between them, connecting them. The ledges are what you follow to get across the fen. They are covered by water and just by looking, you cannot see them. One must know.”

“Deep water?”

“Up to my neck in places. No deeper.”

“All the way across? To the western shore?”

“That is right, my lord. A hidden ridge of rock, a part of the ancient hills, but there are tricky places.”

“You'd recognize the tricky places?”

“I am sure I can. I have a good memory.”

“You would lead us, show us the way?”

“Honored sir,” said Scratch, “I owe you a debt I had never hoped I could repay. Showing you across the fen would be only partial payment. But if you would accept …”

“We do accept,” said Duncan. “If events so order themselves …”

“Events?”

“It may be the main Horde of Harriers will block our way. They are moving up the west bank of the fen. If they should continue moving north, as they were when last seen, then, with your help, we can cross the fen and be clear of them.”

“There is one thing else.”

“Yes?”

“At the western edge of the fen stands a massive island, much larger than the others. It is guarded by dragons.”

“Why dragons?”

“The island,” said Scratch, “is a wailing place. The Place of Wailing for the World.”

26

Diane, Meg, and Nan were sitting together by the fire, a little apart from the others, when Duncan returned, trailed by the limping, lurching Scratch. A short distance off, Andrew was stretched out on the ground, covered by a sheepskin, fast asleep and snoring. A long, slender fold of black velvet lay on Diane's lap.

Meg cackled at Duncan. “You should see what Diane has. You should see what Snoopy gave her.”

She gestured at the fold of velvet.

Duncan turned to look at Diane. Her eyes were sparkling in the firelight and she smiled at him. Carefully she unfolded the velvet to reveal what lay within it.

The naked blade shone with a hundred fiery highlights and a nest of inset jewels glinted in the hilt.

“I told him,” she said, “that it was too magnificent for me, but he insisted that I take it.”

“It is splendid,” Duncan said.

“The goblins have guarded it for years,” said Nan, “as a sacred treasure. Never, in their wildest dreams, did they ever think they'd find a human they would want to give it to.” She shrugged. “Of course it is far too massive for a goblin or any other of our kind to ever think of wielding.”

Duncan went down on his knees in front of Diane, reached out to touch the blade.

“May I?” he asked.

She nodded at him.

The steel beneath his fingers was cold and smooth. He ran his fingers along its length in something that was close to a caress.

“Duncan,” Diane said in a hushed voice, “Duncan, I'm afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Afraid I know what it is. Snoopy didn't tell me.”

“Then,” said Duncan, “I don't think you should ask.”

He picked up one end of the velvet and folded it back to cover the sword.

“Cover it,” he said. “It is a precious thing. It should not be exposed to the damp night air. Snug it safe and tight.”

He said to Meg, “There is something I should ask you. Some days ago you told us about the wailing for the world. You told us very little. Can you tell us more of it?”

“No more than I told you then, my lord. We spoke of it when we heard the keening from the fen.”

“You said there were several such wailing places, probably widely separated. You seemed to think one of the wailing places was located in the fen.”

“So it has been told.”

“Who is it that does the wailing?”

“Women, my lord. Who else would wail in this world of ours? It is the women who have cause for wailing.”

“Do you have a name for these wailing women?”

Meg wrinkled up her face, trying to remember. “I believe there is a name for them, my lord, but I don't think I've ever heard it.”

“And you,” Duncan said to Nan. “You banshees are wailers.”

“Wailers, yes,” said Nan, “but not for the entire world. We have trouble enough to wail for those who need it most.”

“Perhaps the entire world stands in need of wailing, of a crying out against its misery.”

“You may be right,” the banshee told him, “but we wail at home, on the land we know, for the widow left alone, for the hungry children, for the needy old, for those bereft by death. There is so much to wail over that we can take care of only those we know. We crouch outside the lonely cottage that is overrun by grief and need and we cry out against those who have occasioned the grief and need and we …”

“Yes, I understand,” said Duncan. “You know nothing of the wailing for the world?”

“Only what the witch has told you.”

A soft step sounded behind Duncan, someone moving lightly.

“What is this about the wailing?” Snoopy asked.

Duncan swiveled around to face the approaching goblin. “The demon says there is a wailing in the fen.”

“The demon's right,” the goblin said. “I have heard it often. But what has that to do with us?”

“Scratch tells me the fen can be crossed. He claims he knows the way.”

Snoopy puckered up his face. “I doubt that,” he said. “It has always been told the fen is impassable.”

“But you do not know for sure?”

“I do not know for sure. No one has ever been fool enough to try. No one ever puts a boat upon its waters, for there are lurking dangers there that rise up to seize one.”

“Then,” said Duncan, “look upon a fool. I am about to try.”

“You'll be swallowed up,” said Snoopy.

“We'll be swallowed up in any case. You say the Horde pens us in. That leaves the fen the only way to go.”

“With the main body of the Horde on the western shore?”

“You told me Ghost had reported they were moving north. If they continue to move north, if they move far enough to the north, the way will be clear.”

“The ones surrounding us are beginning to move in,” said Snoopy. “A closing of the net. There is some movement from the east. They've tripped some of our magic traps.”

“Then all the more reason,” said Duncan, “for trying the fen. And as quickly as we can.”

“If the forces surrounding us know that you are here, and most certainly they must for otherwise there would be no movement, then surely the main body on the fen's western bank also must know.”

“But the Horde on the western bank can have no idea we will try to cross the fen.”

Snoopy threw up his hands in disgust. “Go on,” he growled. “Do what you wish. You will in any case. You do not listen to me. You have never listened to me.”

“I'm sorry,” Duncan said. “You offer no alternatives. The fen does offer an alternative. I have decided I will go. The demon will go with me to point the way. Conrad, I am sure, will come along.”

“And so will I,” Diane said softly. She said to Snoopy, “You spoke of buckskins for me. When will they be ready? I can not essay the fen in such dress as this.”

“By first morning light,” said Snoopy. “Our people have been working all the night.”

“We can't leave by morning light,” said Duncan, “although I would like to. Before we leave a search for the griffin must be made.”

“There has been searching in the night,” said Snoopy. “He has not been found. At the first hint of dawn the area will be swept again. We have slight hope of finding him. He was tied too closely for too long to the wizards and the castle. He was old and worn out with long service and may not have wished to survive the castle. It is unlikely he would have survived with the final wizard gone. Milady, I think, shares our beliefs.”

“Yes, I do,” said Diane. “But without Hubert I still will go.”

“You could ride Daniel,” Duncan said.

“No. Daniel is your horse. He's too accomplished a war-horse to be hindered by a rider save that he and the rider fight as one. In all the encounters on this journey you have never ridden him. The two of you have fought side by side. That is as it should be.”

“I will go with you,” said Nan. “The fen holds no terrors for me, since I can fly above it, although haltingly and with no grace at all, flapping like a crow. Perhaps I can be of some help in spying out the land.”

“And since I started this adventure with you,” Snoopy said, “you cannot leave me out.”

“There is no need,” said Duncan. “You have little faith in what is proposed and certainly you should stay here to direct your people.”

“There is no need of my direction,” Snoopy told him. “In truth, I never have directed them. I simply sent out a call for their gathering. And they came, as if to a picnic, for the adventure they might find. But they are not ones who will face up to great danger. Rather, being wise people, all of them, they run from danger. To tell you the honest truth, they're beginning to scatter now. By the time you are gone, they will be as well.”

“Then, in good common sense, why don't you scatter with them? We thank you for the thought of going with us, but it is beyond …”

Snoopy broke in with a fine display of rage. “You would deprive me of a feat of which I can talk for years, with all the others of them sitting about to listen, intent on every word as it drops from off my lips? The life of the Little Folk, as you are wont to call us in your patronizing manner, is a boring life. We have but few occasions to perform feats of derring-do. Few of us ever have the chance of becoming even minor heroes. It was different in those days before you humans came and pushed us off our land. The land was then our own and we played out upon it our little dramas and our silly comedies, but now we can do none of this, for we have not the room, and halfway through are certain to run into some stupid, loutish human who reminds us of our present poor estate and thereby robs us of what little fun we're having.”