Nancy Springer - Isle 02 - The Silver Sun

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book one

THEFOREST

Chapter One

TheForest was the abode of warlocks, folk said, and gob-

lins, and other creatures even worse. Still, Alan bent his

staggering steps toward theForest , as a desperate man

will. Robbers had stripped him of everything—horse,

weapons, even his clothing. The peasants could not spare

him more than a beggar's crust. But within theForest wil-

derness, Alan hoped, he might be able to find something

to eat and a covering for his naked body.

He had not reckoned on his own dizzying weakness.

The world swam before his eyes, and trees encircled him

with a green blur. He sensed movement and angry shout-

ing, but he did not care. Then the sting of a sword-flat

across his back jolted him into full awareness.

Alan found himself facing a big, angry captain at the

head of a mounted patrol. The next blow of the captain's

sword knocked him to the ground. He lay sprawling, with

no strength to flee or defend himself. Closing his eyes,

Alan braced himself against the punishing blade.

But as suddenly as the blows had begun, they ceased.

Alan looked up. What he saw was to remain clear in his

memory for as long as he lived.

The burly captain had turned pale with fear. His chin

quivered above a glinting blade pressed against his fleshy

TheForest 3

throat. But more fearsome than the sword's point, Alan

thought, was the one who held the sword. He was a youth

with the face of a warrior, straight of brow and strong of

Jaw—but there was more than a warrior's power about

him. His eyes were steel gray, and there was some quality

in his hard gaze that caused the captain to tremble and

flinch, that caused Alan himself to struggle to his feet in

hazy alarm. Yet he could not name the fear that he felt-

The gray-eyed youth spoke a few words that Alan

could not understand, while his glance flashed with an

eerie intensity of will that shocked Alan anew. Though

the stranger had not moved, holding his sword to the cap-

tain's throat, the horses plunged away from him. The cap-

tain's men could not control them. Squealing and shying,

they bolted into the Forest with their hapless riders on

their backs. The stranger knocked the captain's sword

from his limp fingers, slashed his reins and sent his horse

careering after the others.

Alan stood watching, swaying with hunger and pain,

vaguely thinking that he should leave as well. He did not

have the strength to move a step. But the gray-eyed youth

seemed to sense his hesitation. Quietly he dismounted

from his big, gray horse and walked to face Alan. "My

name is Hal," he said, "and I will befriend you, if I may.

Will you come with me?"

Alan was absurdly glad that a choice was offered to

him, though he could not have turned away without fall-

ing. He nodded and reached out toward the other, shak-

ing with the effort. He could scarcely see. He feit a gentle

hand take hold of him, and he gulped burning liquid from

a flask. Hal wrapped him in a cloak and helped him into

the saddle of his gray steed, then mounted behind. They

sped away into the Forest

"It will not take those ruffians long to come after us,"

Hal muttered, and Alan decided he liked the sound of

that low voice.

The ride was a haze of pain for Alan. The horse was

strong and swift, and theForest whirled by. Alan barely

noticed when they came to a rocky stretch of waste, but

he did notice when they entered theForest again, for his

rescuer guided the horse slowly and carefully over the

ground. Then they stopped in a dense stand of cover. Be-

fore long Alan heard approaching hoofbeats. The captain

and his demoralized troop swept past. The big man had

4 THE SILVER SUN

found his sword, and his face was as red as his red roan

horse.

Hal chuckled, and Alan grinned in spite of his pain.

They moved on, more slowly now. Alan lost track of time

until at last they stopped and he felt himself lowered to

the ground.

He needed another pull from the flask before he was

able to sit up and look around. He was by a small spring

which flowed into an open forest meadow. The horse was

grazing, and Hal knelt, rummaging in the saddlebags. He

drew forth strips of bandage, a dark little jug and a rather

old hunk of bread. To Alan the bread was a vision of

bliss, and he grasped at it with the impatience of a child.

"Eat slowly," Hal cautioned. His gray eyes were darker

now, but softer, as gentle as they had been hard before.

Alan bit into the precious bread. He scarcely noticed as

the blood-stiffened cloak was peeled away from his

wounded back. Hal carefully washed the sword stripes,

applied ointment from the jug, than laid on pads of cloth.

He bandaged these on with strips of cloth around Alan's

body and shoulders. Alan was surprised that he could not

eat much of the bread, but it did not matter. A blanket

was wrapped around him, and he slept.

It seemed only a few minutes later that he was awak-

ened by a gentle shaking. But it was after nightfall. A

small campfire was crackling nearby, and over it sat a

kettle from which issued a delicious aroma of meat.

"Can you sit up?" asked Hal. "Here, lean against this

tree." The blanket served as a pad for Alan's sore shoul-

ders. The fire warmed his bare legs. Hal filled a battered

metal dish with stew, and handed it to him, along with a

spoon and a cup of water.

Alan spoke with difficulty. "Hal, have you eaten?"

The other shook his head. "After you. There is only

the one bowl and spoon."

Alan ate eagerly. The venison, roots and berries

seemed to him food fit for a king's board. But he could

not eat more than a few mouthfuls.

"I have not yet thanked you for saving my life," he

said as he rested against the tree.

Hal lowered his gray eyes, flushing, genuinely ill at

ease. "Never mind that," he mumbled. There was no

hint about him now of the power that had cowed the cap-

tain and his armed troops. Alan had never believed in

TheForest 5

warlocks; it was his hunger-fogged brain, he thought,

that had imagined strange words and a stranger glance

half a day before. Still, the horses had run away in spite

of curbs and cuffs. . . . What sort of oddity was his new

companion, that he could sow such fear with a glance?

"How did you come to be in such a pass?" Hal broke

the silence. "Were you robbed?"

"Ay." Alan was still too weak for much speech.

Hal phrased his next question with diplomacy. In those

days, when men could be outlawed for stealing a loaf of

bread, it was not wise to pry. "Were you going anywhere

in particular when you were robbed?"

Alan shook his head. Like Hal, he was a homeless

wanderer. It was odd that two such youthful outcasts

should meet.

"Will you travel with me, then, when you are better?"

Hal poked at the fire, and Alan could not see his lowered

eyes. "My horse is as good as a man in many ways,"

Hal added, "but rather quiet. Sometimes it is lonely. . . ."

"Certainly I will travel with you," replied Alan

promptly. For Alan was brave, and inclined to deal gen-

erously with life. He saw a shy smile touch Hal's face,

and then he went to sleep on his bed of moss without a

doubt or a fear. He never afterward questioned his an-

swer.

Alan felt much stronger when he awoke the next morn-

ing. He put on the patched tunic Hal gave him, and ate

some leftover stew. He put a pinch on the ground, first,

for the god.

Hal glanced at him curiously. "Whom do you serve,

Alan?"

"No one!" Alan smiled sheepishly. "I am not bound

by any god of grove or cave or temple. But a lifelong habit

is hard to break. . . . My fathers worshiped the Star Son."

"Ah." Hal's face was unreadable. "He is not too de-

manding, this Star Son?"

"Nay," Alan answered grimly. "Not like the Sacred

Son of the Easterners, who inflicts suffering worse than

his own." He spoke harshly, for he was remembering

someone he had once known. He could not tell that, be-

hind the cloudy sheen of his gray eyes, Hal remembered

as well.

After breakfast they scrubbed the pot in the stream,

then wandered through the forest glade. It was late spring;

6 THE SILVER SUN

the trees were covered with bright leaf, and the grass spar-

kled like the water. Hal and Alan lay down and basked

in the sun. The warmth baked much of the stiffness from

Alan's wounds, and he stirred contentedly.

Hal spoke lazily. "I dare say we shall be having com-

pany soon."

"Company?" Alan was almost asleep.

The outlaws that control this part of theForest ."

"Outlaws?" Alan was startled awake.

"From what I hear they are decent folk, though rough

in ways. ..." A bird whistled from within theForest .

"There they are now. Let me speak for us."

Alan nodded, his mouth dry. Then he froze in con-

sternation as Hal whistled an answering birdlike call.

For a moment the Forest stood in shocked silence. Then

came a sharp spoken command, and from the brush

stepped eight men, from as many directions, each with

drawn bow. Their leader, a tall man whose deerskin cap

could not entirely hide his flaming red hair, strode for-

ward.

"Get up," he ordered sharply.

Hal arose, keeping his hands in plain sight. "We are

unarmed," he said.

"And ye," the outlaw snapped menacingly at Alan.

"My companion is injuredl" Hal protested. Alan strug-

gled to his feet, wincing as a wound tore open. Bright

blood stained his tunic. Hal turned to help him, and he

hotly reprimanded the outlaw.

"Ket the Red, I expected better from youl Did I not

give you the signal of friendship?"

Ket's jaw dropped, his face a mixture of astonishment

and chagrin. "He speaks truth. Lower yer weapons," he

called to his men. And then to Hal, "How did ye know

my name?"

Alan*s bleeding had already slowed, and Hal spoke

more calmly. "I lived a year with the band of Craig the

Grim, in the southernForest . We heard much good of

you." He pressed a fold of cloth over Alan's wound. "I

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摘要：

bookoneTHEFOREST ChapterOne TheForestwastheabodeofwarlocks,folksaid,andgob-lins,andothercreaturesevenworse.Still,AlanbenthisstaggeringstepstowardtheForest,asadesperatemanwill.Robbershadstrippedhimofeverything—horse,weapons,evenhisclothing.Thepeasantscouldnotsparehimmorethanabeggar'scrust.Butwithinth...

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Nancy Springer - Isle 02 - The Silver Sun

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