Wandering Lark (43 page)

Talena clapped when he stopped one of the songs. “I like that one,” she said. “Play something from your own land now, please?”

Alaric looked at her. The request seemed genuine. “All right,” he said and started to sing an old ballad

     
“Was early in the morning light

     
I saw her by the lea

     
A maiden shrouded all in white

     
A child upon her knee...

     
She sat there in the morning light

     
And cooed to the small lad

     
And when I drew my dressier nigh

     
I saw that the child was dead...”

He stopped. Talena was looking out past the circle of fire and stones, and the gleam in her eyes was not encouraging. Alaric stopped playing and turned around to see what had her attention.

Something moved just outside the stones. The shape was too vague to tell just what, but inside him, he felt a cold thrum.

“Horns,” Alaric muttered.

What is that?

Vagner bristled, his mane and tail stiffening as his head lifted and his ears twitched. He pawed the ground, and Alaric felt as though he was challenging whatever was out there. Kessa stumbled a bit in her hobbles as she backed away

Talena reached for her sword. But just as she was drawing steel, a wretched roar filled the air. The dark shape rose, and Alaric swore it looked like the shadow of a dragon against the sky.
Na’Sgailean,
Alaric thought, and within him, he could feel Ronan’s spirit retreating even deeper. The sound was nearly deafening. Alaric almost dropped his harp as he clapped hands to his ears. Around the outside of the circle, he swore he heard the clash of steel and the screams of men in battle.

Then as suddenly as it came, the sounds died, and the dark shape disappeared. He and Talena traded looks.

“We both watch,” she said.

Alaric nodded. It was going to be a long night if things like that were going to bother them.

Alaric had not intended to fall asleep.
It just sort of happened. All he did was close his eyes...

...And then he started to dream.

He was standing just outside this same circle of stones, except that there were no stones. There were people, men and women...or so they seemed. As his gaze roved in secret, he realized they were very different.

For one thing, they were all very tall. And for another...well, the one who stood to the south was a male whose body seemed entirely composed of flames. North was a woman, and she was as translucent as air, though he could see an outline of her well-formed sylph-like figure. To the east stood a woman whose ample figure was composed of earthy skin tones, and whose hair and eyes were moss green. She made him think of a forest floor.

There were two others as well. A man whose perfect features were carved out of stone and a woman whose skin alternated between patches of sky-blue and wisps of clouds.

To his immediate side stood a woman taller than the rest who was as white as snow. She looked very familiar as he gazed upon her eldritch beauty, and around her neck, he saw a torc with the head and tail of a dragon...

A dragon?
he thought.

As if she heard his thought, she turned and glanced down at him, and smiled. Then her features hardened, and she turned back towards the center of the mound.

There in the middle stood a young girl with watery blue eyes and pale blond hair. But there was something about her that was not quite human as well, and Alaric tasted the bitterness of cloves manifesting from her. Then he saw that her hands were actually like webbed claws and that the prehensile tail wound about one of her legs was actually her own...

Demon!
he thought

She glanced at him now and narrowed her eyes in an accusing manner.

The white woman spoke now, and her voice chimed through the air. Alaric felt a multitude of languages flow through his head. Some he understood, and some he did not, but all said the same thing, he was sure.

“You have betrayed the Lord of Water,” the white woman said. “You have betrayed my son. Henceforth, you are banished from all lands. You power will be drained from you, and you will return to the realm of your ancestors. There, you will face the justice of your own kin...”

“No!” the demon girl cried. “I will not be punished for his death!”

She suddenly unwound her tail and sprang at Alaric. He felt himself shifting into a position of defense that felt natural to him. His back arched almost like that of a cat, and he extended his hands and saw claws.

The sight terrified him. He screamed inside, and that distraction cost him dearly. Before he could defend himself, the she-demon was on him. Alaric screamed as her claws raked his chest and laid open a line of wounds.

Her weight bore him to the ground and she struck his face over and over shouting, “Wake up, Lark, wake up!”

Alaric threw up his arms and opened his eyes. Talena was leaning over him, one hand drawn back as though about to strike.

“I’m awake!” he gasped.

She withdrew, stepping back. “That must have been some dream,” she said. “You were screaming like someone was butchering you...”

“They were,” he said and sat up, touching his chest. It burned faintly as though his skin were remembering the pain too well. He rubbed it and looked out at the dark beyond his circle of light.

Just what in the name of Cernunnos was that dream about?

Talena had not meant to fall asleep.
Whatever that thing was, she feared it would return, and secretly, she was cursing Lark for insisting they go across this wretched moor. On the other hand, she was cursing Desura as well.
I would not be here if you had not told the Patriarch that this heretic was not a heretic,
she thought.

But she was seriously tired. The long day of trekking back and forth just to avoid the bogs had taken much effort. Having Lark fall asleep as he did and start screaming should have given her enough adrenalin to stay awake for the next five nights. Funny thing about adrenalin...it wore off, and one was always more exhausted than before. So try as she did, she could not stop when she closed her eyes...

And dreamed.

She saw herself standing on this spot, but instead of a circle of stones, there were a circle of figures, men and women both. They stared at the place where Talena stood and pointed fingers at her.

“Betrayer,” one of them whispered. “You stole my son’s life...”

The speaker was a woman, tall and white skinned. Her long hair flowed about her as though alive, and her eyes were like crystals, clear and sharp. The others...she could not say who or what they were, for though some had human shape, they also seemed to be elemental in nature.

“You killed my son and threw the balance off center. Now the darkness will rise and the Shadow Lords will reign, all because of you...”

“No, not me!” Talena protested, but no words came out of her mouth.

“The Balance is off center now. The Darkening will soon come. My sister will escape and spread her shadow across the land.”

“It wasn’t me!” Talena cried.

But the crystal-eyed woman did not seem to hear. She threw her arms up into the air. Talena felt winds suddenly tearing at her. Sharp stone cut into her flesh. Dirt flew into her face and flayed her skin, while fire rose and encircled her with a wall...

“Talena...”

She flailed at the elements to no avail. They were shredding her body and she started to scream.

“Talena!”

The sharp call barely broke through the muddle of pain and terror. But the hand that slapped her across the cheek did. She rocked back and hit the ground and opened her eyes.

Lark was standing over her, looking worried.

“Sorry. This time,
you
were screaming...”

She looked down at her skin. Her hands showed no sign of the lacerations left by the attack of the elements. Her clothes were still whole. Cautiously, she sat up.

“Are you all right?” Lark asked, kneeling beside her.

She nodded, still pulling at her clothes, unable to believe that she had not been wounded. “I...I think so.”

“You were dreaming,” he said. “Of what?”

She looked up at him. “She said it was my fault...”

“She?” Lark repeated.

“The White One. It was the White One...she said I killed her son, but I didn’t. How could I have been the one who slew him...I never even met the White One before...”

Lark sat back on his heels, looking disturbed by her proclamation. Then he got up and walked back over to his side of the fire and sat down.

Talena looked at her hands.

What was that all about?

Fenelon was humming again.
The sound echoed off the narrow walls of the deep chasm trail they followed. It was not an unpleasant sound in Gareth’s mind. Just terribly annoying.

“Must you do that?” Gareth asked, stopping to look back at his son.

“Do what?” Fenelon asked as he picked his way over loose rocks that were broken into such small pieces, they were slippery underfoot.

Gareth sighed. “It would be best if we were to be quiet as we walk through here.”

“You’re the one doing all the shouting,” Fenelon said.

“I am not shouting!” Gareth said in a loud voice that boomed off the stone walls. “At least, I was not shouting...before...”

Fenelon had stopped, one eyebrow arched in amusement. Hobbler halted in his tracks just ahead of them as Gareth took another deep breath and turned towards the Dvergar.

“You tell him, Hobbler,” Gareth said. “Tell him why he must be quiet in here.”

Hobbler cleared his throat and returned to stand between father and son.

“Shale,” he said and pointed to the rock walls of the chasm. “It’s very loose and very fragile...and quite frankly, any loud echoing sound could easily bring part of the mountain down on us...”

“Remember that,” Gareth whispered softly and walked on a few paces to quell the urge to throttle Fenelon.

“So why didn’t you say so in the first place, Father?” Fenelon asked.

Gareth stopped just at the next bend. He was about to turn back and issue a response when he heard a faint sound...the trickle of loose stones dancing down from above. He raised a hand to indicate that silence was in order and leaned a bit, looking up.

Part of the stone wall above him moved, and then grew still. But mage eyes could see definition to a shake that was doing so well at blending into its background. Humanoid, yet clearly not human at all.

Horns,
he had so hoped they could get through this part of the chasm unnoticed...

“What’s wrong?” Fenelon asked and looked up...and frowned.

“Rock trow,” Gareth said softly.

“Rock trow,” Hobbler repeated. “But it’s awfully close to the middle of the day for them to be out and about in the light.”

Gareth sighed. Rock trow did avoid the light of day as a rule as it slowed them down. But down in the depths of this chasm, shadows were aplenty. The overcast sky of autumn was blocking the sun at its zenith. This was not good at all, because where there was one rock trow, there tended to be others.

“I see it,” Fenelon said. “What shall we do?”

“Move on quietly,” Gareth said. “We should not be too far from our destination...”

“You wish,” Hobbler said, but he hurried on all the same. “This is all we need,” he muttered. “Rock trow. I shudder just to think of what they will do to us if they take a notion...”