Andre Norton - WW - The Turning 01 - Storms of Victory

Storms of Victory

by Andre Norton and P.N. Griffin

Storms of Victory ................................................................................................................ 1

by Andre Norton and P.N. Griffin ........................................................................................ 1

The Chronicler ..................................................................................................................... 4

Port of Dead Ships ............................................................................................................ 14

by ...................................................................................................................................... 14

Andre Norton .................................................................................................................... 14

Chapter 1 ...................................................................................................................... 15

Chapter 2 ...................................................................................................................... 23

Chapter 3 ...................................................................................................................... 31

Chapter 4 ...................................................................................................................... 39

Chapter 5 ...................................................................................................................... 47

Chapter 6 ...................................................................................................................... 55

Chapter 7 ...................................................................................................................... 62

Chapter 8 ...................................................................................................................... 69

Chapter 9 ...................................................................................................................... 76

Chapter 10 .................................................................................................................... 83

Chapter 11 .................................................................................................................... 92

Chapter 12 .................................................................................................................... 99

Chapter 13 .................................................................................................................. 106

Chapter 14 .................................................................................................................. 114

Chapter 15 .................................................................................................................. 121

Chapter 16 .................................................................................................................. 129

Chapter 17 .................................................................................................................. 137

Chapter 18 .................................................................................................................. 145

Seakeep .......................................................................................................................... 155

by .................................................................................................................................... 155

P. M. Griffin .................................................................................................................... 155

Chapter 1 .................................................................................................................... 155

Chapter 2 .................................................................................................................... 163

Chapter 3 .................................................................................................................... 177

Chapter 4 .................................................................................................................... 189

Chapter 5 .................................................................................................................... 192

Chapter 6 .................................................................................................................... 205

Chapter 7 .................................................................................................................... 209

Chapter 8 .................................................................................................................... 217

Chapter 9 .................................................................................................................... 223

Chapter 10 .................................................................................................................. 227

Chapter 11 .................................................................................................................. 232

Chapter 12 .................................................................................................................. 236

Chapter 13 .................................................................................................................. 241

Chapter 14 .................................................................................................................. 244

Chapter 15 .................................................................................................................. 248

Chapter 16 .................................................................................................................. 253

Chapter 17 .................................................................................................................. 259

Chapter 18 .................................................................................................................. 263

Chapter 19 .................................................................................................................. 272

Chapter 20 .................................................................................................................. 277

Chapter 21 .................................................................................................................. 283

Chapter 22 .................................................................................................................. 288

Chapter 23 .................................................................................................................. 295

Chapter 24 .................................................................................................................. 301

Chapter 25 .................................................................................................................. 307

Chapter 26 .................................................................................................................. 312

Chapter 27 .................................................................................................................. 316

The Chronicler

THERE was a time when the hilt of a sword or the butt of a dart gun rested more easily in my

grip than this pen. Now I record the deeds of others, and strange tales have I gathered. That I find myself

a chronicler of others' deeds is one of those tricks which fate can play upon a man.

In the backwater of quiet which is Lormt a man must make his own work. I have been fortunate

in that I am drawn more and more to the seeking of knowledge, even though it chances that I am but a

beginner and must do so vicariously through the recounting of the deeds of others. Though sometimes,

more and more, it comes to me that I have not yet done with an active role in that eternal war of the Light

against the Dark.

My name is Duratan and I am of the House of Harrid (which means nothing now). Though I take

commissions these days to search family rolls for many divided clans, I have never found any bloodkin to

my house. It is sometimes a lone thing not to call any kin.

I came into Estcarp as a babe, having been born just at that black time when Duke Yvian horned

all the Old Race and there was a mighty bloodletting. My nurse brought me hither before she died of a

fever and I was fostered.

From then my destiny followed the pattern known to all my exiled people. I was trained to arms

from the time

I could hold a weapon made to my measure—for there was no other life then when the Kolder

devils loosed all our enemies upon us.

In due time I became one of the Borderers, adding to my knowledge of weapons that of the

countryside and survival in the wilderness. Only in one respect did I differ from my fellows—I seemed

able to bond with animals. Once I even faced a snow cat, and we looked eye to eye, before the

impressive hunter of the heights went his way. In my mind it was as if I had dwelt for a short moment

within his furred skin, kin to him as I was to no other.

For a time thereafter I was wary and disturbed, fearing that I might even be were, one of those

who divide spirits—man and animal, able to be each in turn. Yet I showed no tendency to grow fur or

feather, fangs or talons. So at length I accepted this as a minor talent—to be cherished.

In border service I met also the younger Tregarths, and from that grew in me a desire to

something more than a triumph at arms and always more bloodletting. Of those two storied warriors it

was Kemoc, the younger, to whom I was most drawn. His father being Simon Tregarth, the outworlder,

his mother the Witch Jaelithe, who had not lost her power even when she wedded, bedded, and bore.

There was also another unheard-of thing—that their children, all three, were delivered at a single birthing.

There was Kemoc, and Kyllan, and their sister, Kaththea, who was taken for Witch training against her

will.

Her brothers rode to prevent that but were too late. Kemoc returned from that aborted mission

very quiet, but henceforth there was a deadliness in his eyes when he spoke of his sister. He asked

questions of those who rode with us, and any we met. However, I think he gained little of what he

wanted, for we who had fled Karsten had retained even less of the old lore than was known in Estcarp.

Then, in one of those swift forays which were our life, Kemoc suffered a wound too serious for

our healer to deal with and was taken from the heights we guarded.

Shortly thereafter there came a period of quiet, almost a truce, during which our captain wished

to send orders for supplies and I volunteered for that. With Kemoc gone I was restless and even more

alone.

I carried the captain's orders but it meant a gathering of material which would take some time and

I had nothing to do save find Kemoc. In me there has never been the gift of easy friend making and with

him only I had felt akin. I knew that since his sister's taking he had been searching for something, and in

that I also felt I might have a part. When I asked concerning him I was told that his wound (which had left

him partly maimed) had healed well enough for him to go to Lormt.

Lormt was then to us mainly legend. It was said to be a repository of knowledge—useless

knowledge the Witches avered—but it was older even than Es City, whose history covers such a toll of

years that it would take the larger part of a lifetime to count. The Witches avoided it, in fact seemed to

hold it in aversion. There were scholars said to have taken refuge within its walls, but if they learned aught

from their delving they did not share it abroad.

I followed Kemoc to Lormt. It is true that one may be laid under a geas, set to a task from which

there is no turning back. I had angered no one (that I knew of) with the power to set that upon me. But I

was firmly drawn to Lormt.

Thus I came to a vaster and more unusual group of buildings than I had ever seen. There were

four towers and those were connected by walls. Yet no sentries walked those walls and there was no

guard at the single gate. Rather that was ajar, and must have been so for some time, as there was a ridge

of soil holding it thus. Inside were buildings but not like those of a keep, and around, against the walls,

smaller erections most little more than huts—some of which were a-ruin.

A woman was drawing water at a well as I dismounted and, when I asked her where I might find

the lord, she blinked and then grinned at me, saying here were no lords, only old men who ruined their

eyes looking at books which sometimes fell to pieces while they did so. So I went searching for Kemoc.

Later I discovered that the affairs of housing were managed by Ouen (leader by default of the

scholars, he being a younger and more active man) and by Mistress Bethalie, whose opinion of the

domestic arts of most men was very low indeed. There was also Wessel, a jewel of a steward. It was

because of these three that Lormt flourished as well as it did.

Nor were there only males among the scholars. For I heard of a Lady Nareth, who kept much to

her own company, and one Pyra, a noted healer, whose country and clan were unknown but who

Kemoc revered for her knowledge and help with his own injury.

Five days I stayed with him, listening with growing excitement to his discoveries. Those about him

were for the most part so elderly that they might have been our grandsires. Each had a quest of his own

and no time for us.

The night before I left Kemoc faced me across one of the timeworn tables, having pushed aside a

pile of books bound in worm-eaten wood. He had a small pouch in his hand and from this he scattered

between us some beads of crystal which lay winking fire in the lamplight.

Without any thought my hand went out and I pushed one here, and one there until a pattern I did

not understand lay before my eyes. Kemoc nodded.

"So it is right, Duratan, knowledge lies here for you, also. And believe it or not, you have talent."

I looked at him openmouthed. "I am no maid—" I protested.

He smiled at me. "Just so, you are no maid, Duratan. So let me say this to you. There may be

secrets within secrets and the Witches are mortals for all their powers. There is infinitely more in this

world than they know. I have discovered much here and soon I shall be able to follow my own road.

Take these." He swept up the crystals, returning them to the pouch. "You shall find use for them."

When I left at dawn the next morning he was at the gate to see me forth.

"If peace ever comes to this land of ours, shield mate, ride you here again, for I think that there is

to be found a greater treasure than any wrecker lord of the eastern coast can dream of. Luck be with you

and fortune your shield."

But his wish did not hold. Within a month of my return to the mountains a rock moved under my

mount's feet when I was on scout, to plunge both me and the poor beast into a narrow valley. The

chance I would be found was slim and pain sent me drifting into a darkness I welcomed.

Yet I had not come to the Last Gate. I was discovered by a deaf-and-dumb beast of a man who

carried me forth, though his rough handling was a torment. I awoke in the house of a wisewoman he

served. With all her skill she fought to save my crushed leg. Heal it did, but I knew that I would never

stride easily again and the Borderers would ride without me.

With a knotted stump of cane in hand I made myself walk daily. I had fallen onto a stool after

such a push when she came to me, in her hand Kemoc's bag. She held that out and for some caprice I

fumbled within and drew out a few of the crystals, throwing them on the floor. By some chance they were

all of the same color—blue—and, as they fell, they shaped, as cleanly as if I had pushed them, into the

shape of a dart head pointing to the door. I felt as if someone had given me a sharp order. It was time to

be about business as yet unknown to me.

"You have," the woman said to me, "the talent. This is uncanny—ward yourself well, Borderer,

for you will find few to welcome you." She tossed the pouch to me as if she wished it quickly away from

her.

I decided it was time I searched for Kemoc in Lormt once more but first I helped that awkward

servant enwall his mistress's herb garden. When I finally rode forth there was in me even a small hope

that I might find knowledge to buy me freedom from my lurching steps.

Only Kemoc was gone when once more I entered that uncloseable gate. Ouen told me that

Kemoc had been greatly excited when he had ridden forth a tenth day earlier, nor had he mentioned

where he was going.

Because I did not know his goal and because I believed that my handicap would make me a

hindrance to him, I settled in the room which had been his, paying into the common fund of the scholars

the last of my small store of coins. For a short time a shameful weakness of spirit took me and I railed at

fate.

But I roused myself to fight such despair and now and then I tossed the crystals. Thus I began to

learn that I could influence the patterns which came, even move separate ones by staring at them.

That drove me to the reading halls, though I had no idea what I sought. I drew upon scraps I had

found in Kemoc's room on which he had scrawled some results of his own delving. But I felt I faced a

maze in which I could be easily caught, for I had no one purpose.

I strove to speak to one of the scholars who seemed more approachable than the others,

Morfew, who welcomed me as a pupil.

When it seemed that I must have action, for it was not easy to settle into a niche of books and

scrolls, I went into the fields of the farms which fed the establishment and worked, exercising my leg and

forcing myself to walk without a staff. Though I had not sought her out, Pyra came to me and offered

surcease from pain, greatly in agreement with what I strove to do for myself. She was a woman of great

inner strength and it was only by chance that I discovered what else she was. For one day, when a

stumble in a field brought back a measure of my pain, she found me sitting in the hall, crystals in hand.

I threw them in idleness and those of blazing yellow separated from the others and formed a

pattern to seem a pair of eyes. Such eyes I had seen in a bird's head and these appeared to live for a

moment and gaze at Pyra. I

heard a quickly drawn breath and at that moment, as if I had heard it shouted aloud I was sure. I

glanced from those eyes on the table to the eyes in the woman's head, and I said to myself, "Falconer!"

Though few, if any, men not of their own breed had ever seen one of their women.

She put out her hand and caught mine, turning it palm up, and she studied that calloused flesh as

one might study the roll on the table. There was a frown on her face; as she abruptly dropped her hold on

me she said only:

"Tied, Duratan—how and why I do not know." Swiftly then she left me.

But tied to the bird warriors I was though I did not guess it then or for years to come. Time

passed and I did not count the days.

However, my power grew. That which had stirred in me when I had fronted the snow cat

strengthened by use even as did my limb. I began to put more thought to such things, casting my crystals,

seeking out birds and small field creatures. Then I gained a liege one of my own.

There had been a storm and after its fury had passed I rode out to the edge of the wild lands.

These were hedged by forest which made a living wall around Lormt save for where the road (somewhat

overgrown) passed and where the river Es curled. There came to me a whimpering, and it was the space

of several breaths before I realized that I had caught that, not by ear, but by thought. I took it as a guide

and it led me to where, trapped much as I had been in the mountains, lay a thin, shaggy-coated hound. It

was a beast of fine breeding though it was all bones and its long hair showed neglect. Nor did it wear a

collar. As I knelt it drew lip to show teeth and I noted a mark across its muzzle as if a whip lash had left a

scar, I looked into eyes which were fearful and I loosed thought to calm and comfort. It sniffed my

fingers and then licked them.

Luckily it had shared my fate no further, for it was only a prisoner and wounded by the matter of

a scratch or two. I worked apart the branch of bramble which was its last binding and it arose to four

feet and shook itself, took one step and then two away from me. Then it looked over its shoulder and

came back, while from it to me flowed gratitude.

Thus I found Rawit and she was no common hound, but one that had been hardly used and had

come to know my sort only as an enemy who punished. Though from the moment she came to me there

was no barrier between us. Her thoughts flowed, even if sometimes they were hard to understand, but

there was exchange between us and I found this a wonder which seemingly was as great a one to her.

We had visitors—mainly a trader or two who brought that which could not be raised in our

well-tended fields, salt, scrap iron which Janton, the smith, used with great expertise. Also there were

Borderers passing and from them we learned of the war. I asked of Kemoc and only once did I have

news. That came from a horse dealer who had sold him a Torgian. But more than that I did not know.

There was a time when restlessness gnawed at me. I took to riding the woods' boundaries, Rawit

running by my side. Though we were well away from the mountains and no raiders came, still I felt a need

for such patrols.

Morfew told me once that the ancients who had built here had set over the whole site a guard of

Power and those sheltering within the walls need have no fear. Still I borrowed a spade and smoothed

out that ridge of earth which kept the great gate from being closed.

As my unease increased I fell into the habit of each morning throwing the crystals as I arose.

Oddly, Rawit always came from her bed at the foot of mine to watch. And each day I threw only those

which were the red of blood and the smoke grey of dying fires. Yet when I tried to share my foreboding

with Morfew, he shook his head and told me the ancients guarded well their own.

My wariness was given credit when a troop of Borderers came. These were no scouts nor being

sent to turn some raid. Rather they carried with them all that they owned packed on ponies. From both

men and animals-even more from the animals—I sensed some strange peril.

Their captain gathered those scholars who would heed him, and the farm people, to share the

warning which had sent them on the move. Pagar of Karsten had set on march the largest army that men

in this part of the world had ever seen. Already their van had penetrated well into the mountains across

so wide a front that there was no way Estcarp could hold against them.

"But it is no longer our war," the captain said. "For the Council has sent forth the Great Call and

we are for Es City. If you would have safety prepare to ride with us. But do not think we can linger long

for you."

Ouen glanced from one to another of his fellow scholars and then spoke up.

"Lormt is guarded well, Captain." He gestured to walls and towers. "I do not think we can do

better than to trust the guardianship which was set here when the last wall stone was fitted into place. We

have no life beyond these walls. Also there is among us a wisewoman, Mistress Bethalie. She is strong in

power though no Witch."

The captain grimaced and turned to Janton. "Your people then—" he began.

Janton looked around but one head shook and then another. He shrugged.

"Our thanks to you, Captain. But we've lived here father-son, son-father, for so long we would

be like wheat pulled up untimely from the fields—to wither into nothingness."

"The folly is yours then!" The captain was sharp. His gaze lighted on me and he frowned again.

For, that morning having thrown the fire and ash twice and felt a great weight of oppression, I had put on

my scale shirt, and fastened my arms belt over it.

"You—" I caught his thought and felt anger, then also knew that he had the right to resent a

fighting man to be at this time apart from any troop.

I answered that thought easily as I limped forward.

"Captain, how came that Great Call?"

"The seeresses," he answered, "and the falcons of the Falconers. The Council move but they

have not told us how or what. We have heard that Sulcar ships are in the bay and perhaps they wait for

those who must flee."

Then he added, "Do you ride with us?"

I shook my head. "Captain, I found refuge here when there was no other to bid me welcome. I

take my chance with Lormt."

They rode on towards the river and I heard them speak of rafts. I laid hand on the gate I had

freed and wondered how well it would serve us as a barrier if Karsten fury spilled into this pocket nigh

forgotten by the world.

The next day was awesome. I awakened before light and heard the whines in Rawit's throat, her

shadow fear heightening mine. There was that about us which fairly shouted of Power, Power aroused,

Power brooding, Power about to leap.

Even the most dreaming and wooly witted of the scholars felt it and so did those on the farms, for

they came, family by family, to gather within Lormt's walls.

Ouen and I welcomed all within. Even old Pruett, the herbmaster, did what he could to bring

forth those gifts of nature which would do the most good in times of trouble. While Mistress Bethalie and

Pyra stood together, a strange look lay upon them both, as if they strove to see what lay before us.

So did it come, first like a vast drawing, and I saw men and women sway as they stood, just as I

felt within me the same pull. The ponies screamed as I have never heard their like do before and Rawit

howled, to be answered by all the farm dogs. Then—

I lived through it as we all did. But never have I found words to describe what came. It was as if

the very earth strove to rid itself of us and all we had planted on her back. No sun broke through the

fallen darkness. Those clouds were blacker than any night, except that through them cut great jagged

blades of lightning.

Someone caught my arm and by a lightning flash I saw it was Morfew.

"They do it again—they move the mountains!" He clung to me so closely that I caught his words.

Much has been told of the Witches and their power, but in those hours what they did was greater

than any feat of their planning before. Literally did they move the southern mountains, and Pagar and his

invaders were gone, even as much else went also. Forests fell and were swallowed up, birds and animals

died, rivers were shaken from their beds to find other courses. It was the ending of the world through

which we lived.

There came a bolt of lightning which cracked the sky above our heads and struck full upon one

of the towers. From the foot of that followed so great an explosion of light as was blinding. We huddled

on the ground and strove to see, fearing our sight had been rift from us. Yet when dim shadows appeared

again it was to reveal a continued glow of blue light which centered now on two towers. Then those

stones, which had been so firmly set, began to fall and we who could gain our feet pulled others away

from the crumbling towers and walls.

It seemed that that time of destruction went on forever. But there came a moment as if some

great beast which had used its claws to ravage our world was at length tired of the destruction it had

wrought, and the day cleared to a grey through which we looked once more on Lormt.

Perhaps, though the two towers were partly rubble and the wall which linked them only an

unsteady mound, fortune had favored us. For no one had been killed and injuries were slight. Even the

animals we had brought into the courtyard were safe.

There was something else—just as we had felt drawn by what we could not understand, so now

were we all worn of strength. Those who dazedly found themselves alive moved only slowly. It was close

to nightfall before we made our first discovery.

In their fall the towers, the walls, opened hidden places and rooms, crannies which had been

sealed perhaps even at the first building were now visible. Our scholars went a little wild at what was

displayed there. Forgetful of bruises, cuts, even hurts, which might have kept such old ones abed, they

strove to climb tottering piles of rubble, to bring forth coffers, chests, sealed jars which stood as high as

one's waist.

The rest of the ten days which followed was a strange time. From one of the remaining towers

we could see that the Es had vanished from the course we knew. Trees in the forest leaned haphazardly

one against the other. However, the houses which had been in the open were not greatly harmed.

That tower which had taken the first blow of all was split to its roots and I strove to keep the

scholars away from it, for stones still rattled down into the depths. There was a dim glow there which

flickered and grew less by the hour. Morfew joined me, wriggling out on his belly even as I to look down

into the hollow.

"So the legend was right," he commented. "Smell that?"

There was dust in the air and a much stronger mustiness such as forever clung to the libraries. Still

there was also another odor, sharp and acrid, which made us cough.

"Quan iron," Morfew said. "It is one of the old secrets. Yet I found one account last season

which said that great balls of it were set at the foot of each tower and that is what was to keep Lormt

from harm."

In a way it had, for we had been saved. However, we were careful of the unsteady piles of

stone. After they had inspected their own homes many of the farm men came back and aided us, for the

scholars had little strength and had to be discouraged from much they would do. In spite of my

weakened leg I discovered that I could carry and push such as I would have thought I could not manage,

as if some superior energy had come to me. So we were busied over many days, freeing the wealth of

the hidden rooms and piling so much in the general hall that one could only follow narrow paths between.

On the third day I was heading for labor when Rawit whined and then her unhuman thought

touched mine.

"Hurt—help—" She pointed her nose toward the ragged top of the second tower. There

something moved. It flapped wildly back and forth and I saw it was a bird, caught by one foot so it could

not right itself. Also one wing drooped while the other beat frantically.

To climb to that was dangerous, still I made the ascent testing each hand and foothold. The bird

ceased its struggles and hung limp. Yet it was not dead, for I could just touch the edge of its thought and

that was one of terror and helplessness. Thus I brought down at last a falcon, and no ordinary bird. This

was a female of that same species whose males were the other selves of the Falconers, those dour

fighters who had held the mountains for so long. Managing to loose the foot was easy once I had reached

Andre Norton - WW - The Turning 01 - Storms of Victory

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: