Andre Norton - WW - Estcarp Cycle 06 - Trey Of Swords

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Trey of Swords by Andre Norton
PART ONE : SWORD OF ICE
Chapter One
My mother was of the Old Race, those hunted out of Karsten when Duke Yivan
put
to the Outlaws' Horn all of a blood far more ancient than his, upstart
mercenary
that he was, dabbler in forbidden things, one who companied with the
unspeakable
Kolders.
Of a heritage older than Karsten's naming, all my mother brought into Estcarp
when she fled death was herself and a tail of three fighting men from her
father's lordship. Those she sent to join the Borderers who served under the
Outworlder Lord Simon Tregarth, to hold back the evil which had come upon our
world. She herself took refuge with a distant kinswoman, the Lady Chriswitha.
And later she wed, not with a man of her own people, but with a Sulcarman,
thus
divorcing herself abruptly from her kind.
But he was slain in one of the forays against the southern ports. And, since
she
felt no home-love among his people, she returned to her own kin, bearing in
her
body a child conceived during her short wed-time. Also within her the need
for
life dimmed, so that when I was born ahead of the proper day, she went out
from
this life as goes a candle blown by an impatient breath.
The Lady Chriswitha took me, even keeping me though she had married another
lord
fled from the south, Hervon. His family had vanished during the horning, but
he
was a man of war learning and wrought well along the Border, rising to his
own
command. And he had two daughters and a son, Imhar. This Imhar was my senior
in
age by two years; a strong, healthy boy who took readily to the uncertain
world
of alarms and war in which we were bred.
With me it was not so. From my birthing I was a weakling and needed much
care,
given to many small illnesses so that I was ever a concern and a source of
impatience to all but my lady, this impatience being made plain to me as soon
as
I was old enough to be aware of those about me. Though I strove to match
Imhar,
there was never any chance during our boyhood that I might. A sword fitted
into
his hand as if he were born carrying that blade, and he used it as if it were
an
extension of himself, with a skill precise and beautiful to watch.
He rode fearlessly, and was out on patrol before he could count barely the
years
of his youthful training. And Lord Hervon took pride rightfully in his heir,
a
youth who had all the attributes necessary to make his way in perilous times.
I trained with sword and with dart gun—the weight of the war ax was ever too
much for my arm. Among the dark Old Race, I was a stranger in more than my
lack
of physical strength, for I had the fair skin, the light hair of the
Sulcars—but
unfortunately, neither the height nor the fine strong body of that people.
Though I tried so hard to match Imhar, in my heart I longed for something
else.
Not the sea of my father's people, which might have been natural enough, but
rather learning—the forgotten learning which had once been a part of our past.
It is true that no male could possess the Power, or so the Wise Women, those
Witches who ruled in Estcarp, proclaimed. But there were old legends,
fragments
of which I heard from time to time and treasured in my memory, that this was
not
always so. That once men had also walked that road, and to some purpose.
I could read well enough, and I hunted out all I could that pertained to this
age-dimmed past. Though I never spoke of such to those about me—for they
would
have deemed me stricken in wits, perhaps even a danger to the household
should
the Witches learn of my heresy.
In the year I belted on my own sword and took to riding with the Border
Guard,
Karsten loosed against us the greatest threat of all. The Kolders were gone,
Lord Simon and his lady having ventured overseas and closed the World Gate
through which that horror had come. Yivan, lord in the south, had been a part
of
the Kolder menace and had died of it. Then, for some time, there had been
chaos
across all of Karsten, as lord fought against lord for the leadership.
At last Ragan of Cleen triumphed. And, to unite his people, proclaimed a
crusade
against the Witches. For it is always in such straits a shrewd move to find
an
enemy outside the borders against which all may march, taking their minds
away
from wounds and losses nearer home.
So there came a great hosting, but not of our swords, rather of the Power.
For
the Witches united for a single night and day, summoning such strength as
they
could call. And then they aimed this southward and the land itself obeyed
their
commands. Mountains moved, the very earth twisted and rent this way and that.
Accordingly they themselves paid a great price, for many of their number
perished, being used to channel that Power until it burned out their lives.
Lest chaos fall upon us as it had on Karsten when Yivan was slain, Koris of
Gorm
took command in the land and the rule passed then from the Council to him.
Lord Simon and the Lady Jealithe had been lost long since in a quest to the
northern seas, and there was no other war leader great enough to command the
respect and loyalty of Estcarp.
But there came a strange tale, passing from manor to holding, holding to
manor,
that the children of the House of Tregarth had fled the land under the great
anger of the Witches and that they were now outlawed, to be given no aid by
any,
lest those be condemned also into the state where all men's hands were
lawfully
raised to pull them down.
It was whispered that the known "Power" which Lord Simon had had and used was
in
his sons also. And that they had conspired, against all rightful custom, to
aid
their sister out of the House of the Witches where she trained. There was a
very
strange thing about them, unknown elsewhere in the world; the three had been
born at one birthing! Thus, they were very close.
I speak of these three because they caused the changing of my life, and the
lives of all who dwelt in Lord Hervon's household. And I, myself, was eager
to
hear all I could of the young lords who, as their father before them,
differed
from our kind.
Karsten being no longer to be feared, Lord Hervon had set about realizing his
own dream for the future. During his riding up and down the land in his
hosting,
he had found a place which seemed to him a fair setting for a manor. And none
would gainsay his claim as it lay well to the east, in a section of the
country
which had long been forsaken and half forgotten.
Thus, we set out for this place to build anew in a peace which still seemed
strange and which we still doubted, so men went armed and we kept sentries
about. There were fifty of us, mainly men—though the Lady Chriswitha had five
women in her household and she had also her daughters, her sisters, and their
husbands, as well as a child born two years after me to her younger sister,
who
died thereafter.
Now I must speak of Crytha—yet that is difficult. For from the time I looked
down into her cradle on the hearth-side, there was something which tied me to
her, in spite of all reason. No kin-tie lay between us, nor could any. For by
the ancient custom of our people, she must wed Imhar when the time was right,
thus unifying the lordship Hervon was determined to found.
She was truly of the Old Race, dark and slender. And to my eyes, there was
always something a little remote about her, as if she sometimes said, or
heard,
that which was not shared by those about her.
Because of my weakly boyhood, I was closer in companionship with Crytha than
Imhar, and she began to turn to me in little things, asking that I aid her in
nursing a wing-broken bird and the like. For it was apparent from her
earliest
years that she had a gift of healcraft.
That her talents went farther than that I learned when I was near the age to
ride with the Borderers (having gained strength to the point that I could
call
myself a fighter, if not an outstanding one). I had come upon her unawares by
the brook which ran near the farm-garth which, at that time, the Lady
Chriswitha
called home.
Crytha sat very still in the grass, which there grew nearly as high as the
top
of her head. Her eyes were closed as if she slept, but she moved her hands
gently back and forth. I watched her, puzzled, and then saw, with sick horror
rising in me, there coiled in the grass a snake perhaps as long as my sword
arm.
Its head was raised and swayed, following the command of Crytha's hand. I
would
have drawn steel and slain the thing, but I found I could not move.
At length she clapped her hands and opened her eyes. The snake dropped its
head
to the ground, disappearing into the grass as if it had been a hallucination.
"No fear, Yonan." She did not turn her head to look at me, yet she knew that
I
was there. And as she spoke, that compulsion on me vanished, as had the snake.
I
took two strides to her side, my anger rising to match the fear that had held
me.
"What do you do?" I demanded.
She looked up at me. "Come sit." She beckoned. "Should I explain myself to a
mountain whose eyes I cannot meet without a crick in my poor neck?"
I gingerly surveyed the grass, longing to rake through it with my sword that
I
might not drop upon her late companion—with dire results for both of us. And
then I settled down.
"It is a part of healcraft—I think." But her voice sounded a little puzzled.
"They do not fear me, the winged ones, the furred ones, and today I have
proved
that even the scaled ones can be reached. I think we close our minds too
often,
or fasten them on such as this"—she leaned forward a little to touch a single
finger tip to my sheathed sword—"so that we cannot hear much of what lies
about
us—the good of the wide world."
I drew a deep breath, the anger seeping from me. For some inner sense told me
that Crytha knew what she was doing, even as I knew the swing of steel.
"Yonan, remember the old tales you used to tell me?"
For it was with Crytha alone that I had shared my scraps of legend and
ancient
song.
"In that world, man had Powers—"
"There are Powers in Estcarp," I pointed out. And then a new fear rose in me.
The Witches were avid recruits to their number. So far they had not drawn
upon
the refugees from Karsten, unless some girl child showed unusual skills.
Crytha—Crytha must not vanish behind their gray walls, lay aside all that
life
made good in return for power.
"I am no Witch," she said softly. "And, Yonan, with you alone I share what I
know. Because you understand that freedom is more than Power. Of that one can
become too fond."
I caught her wrist in a firm grip and held it, also drawing her gaze squarely
to
meet my own eyes.
"Swear not to try that again—not with any scaled one!"
She smiled. "I do not swear any oaths, Yonan; that is not my way. This much I
shall promise you, that I will take no risks."
With that I had to be content, though I was seldom content in my mind when I
thought of what she might be tempted to do. And we did not speak of this
again.
For shortly after, I joined the Borderers and we saw each other very seldom
indeed.
But when we went to the east and set up the new Manor hall, it was different.
Crytha was of hand-fasting age. It would not be long until Imhar could claim
her. And the thought of that was a dark draft of sorrow for me. So I tried
not
to be in her company, for already I knew my own emotions, which must be
rigidly
schooled and locked away.
It was before we had the hall complete that the stranger came.
He walked in from the hills, one of our sentries at his back, and he gave to
Lord Hervon the proper guesting greeting. Yet there was about him a
strangeness
we all felt.
Young he was, and plainly of the Old Race. Yet his eyes were dark blue, not
gray. And he held himself proudly as one who had the right to greet named
warriors on an equal ground.
He said he was a man under a geas. But later he revealed that he was an
outlaw—one of the Tregarth sons—and that he came recruiting into the lowlands
from the long-lost land to the east—Escore—from which, he said, our race had
sprung in the very early beginnings.
Lord Hervon saw danger in him, and to this point of view he was urged by
Godgar,
his marshal. So it was judged he be delivered up to the Council's guard, lest
we
be deemed outlaws in turn.
But after he rode away with Godgar, there grew unrest and uneasiness among us.
I
dreamed and so did others, for they spoke aloud of those dreams. And we went
no
more to cut wood for the building, but paced restlessly about, looking toward
the mountains which rose eastward. In us there was a pulling, a need…
Then Godgar returned with his men and he told a story hardly to be believed,
yet
we knew in this haunted land many strange things came to pass. There had been
a
vast company of birds and beasts which had gathered, stopping their journey
to
the west. And, guarded by those furred and feathered ones, Kyllan Tregarth
had
started back to the mountains. But that company had let Godgar and his men
also
return to us unharmed.
It was then that the Lady Chriswitha arose and spoke to all our company.
"It is laid upon us to believe this message. Can anyone beneath this hall
roof
deny that in him or her now there does lie the desire to ride? I spoke apart
with Kyllan Tregarth—in him there was truth. I think we are summoned to his
journey and it is one we cannot gainsay."
As she so put it into words, my uneasiness was gone; rather there arose in me
an
eagerness to be on the way, as if before me lay some great and splendid
adventure. And glancing about I saw signs on the faces of the others that in
this we were agreed.
Thus, gathering what gear we should need for such a journey, not knowing into
what we rode, we went forth from the Manor we had thought to make our home,
heading into a wilderness in which might lurk worse danger than ever came out
of
Karsten or Kolder.
Chapter Two
Thus, we came into Escore, a land long ago wracked by the magic of those
adepts
who had believed themselves above the laws of man and nature. In an uneasy
peace, it had lain for generations keeping a trembling balance between the
forces of Light and those of the Dark. The adepts were gone—some had perished
in
wild quarrels with their fellows which had left the land blasted and
shadowed.
Others had wrought gates into other times and worlds and, possessed by
curiosity—or greed for power—had departed through those.
Behind, the vanished Great Ones had left a residue of all their trafficking
in
forbidden things. They had created, by mutation, life forms different from
humankind. Some of these were close enough to man to allow kinship of a sort.
Others were of the Dark and harried the country at their will.
Before the Old Race had claimed such power, there had been another people in
the
land; not human, but appearing so. These had a deeper tie with the earth
itself
than any man could have, for they did not strive to rend or alter it as is
the
custom of my kind; rather did they live with it, yielding to the rhythms of
the
seasons, the life which the soil nourished and sustained.
These were the People of Green Silences. When the doom wrought by the adepts
came upon the land, they withdrew to a waste yet farther east, taking with
them
or drawing to them certain of the creatures which the adepts had bred. And
there
they dwelt, holding well aloof from all others.
But there were remnants of the Old Race who were not seekers after forbidden
knowledge. And those had journeyed westward, preyed upon by things of the
Shadow, until they reached Estcarp and Karsten. There, even as the Witches
had
done to defeat Ragan, those among them possessing the Power had wrought a
mighty
earthshaking, walling out their ancient homeland. So strong was the geas they
then laid upon men that we could not even think of the east—it dropped from
our
memories. Until the lords of the House of Tregarth and their sister, being of
half blood and so immune to this veiling, dared return.
Our journey was not an easy one. The land itself put many barriers in our
way.
And also, though we were met by those Kyllan had aroused to wish us well, we
were dogged by creatures of the Dark, so that we won to the Green Valley as
pursued as we had been in the flight from Karsten a generation earlier.
But the Valley was a haven of safety—having at its entrance special deep-set
runes and signs carved. And none that were not free of any dealing with the
Shadow could pass those and live.
The houses of the Green People were strange and yet very pleasing to the eye,
for they were not wrought by man from wood and stone, but rather grown, tree
and
bushes twined together to form walls as deep as those of any Border keep. And
their roofing was of the brilliant green feathers shed in season by those
birds
which obeyed the Lady Dahaun.
She was of our most ancient legend—the forest woman who could call upon a
plant
to flower or fruit, and it would straightaway do as she desired. Yet, as all
her
people, she was alien. For she was never the same in men's eyes, changing
ever
from one moment to the next. So that she might at one breath have the ruddy,
sun-tipped hair of a Sulcarwoman, and the next the black locks and ivory skin
of
the Old Race.
Her co-ruler here was Ethutur, and all which remained steady about him also
were
the small ivory horns which arose from the curls of hair above his forehead.
Yet
his shifts of feature and color were not as startling as those of Dahuan.
Under Lord Hervon's orders, we pitched tents in the Valley for our own abode.
For, though it might be chill and coming into winter without the rock walls
of
this stronghold, within lay the mellowness of late summer.
It would seem that here legends came to life, for we saw flying, pacing,
sporting, strange creatures which had long been thought by us to be out of
imagination—wrought by ancient songsmiths. There were the Flannan—very small,
yet formed enough like men to seem some far-off kinsman. They were winged and
sometimes danced in the air for seeming sheer delight that they lived. And
there
were also the Renthan—large as horses, but far different, for they had tails
like brushes of fluff clapped tight to their haunches; on their foreheads,
single horns curved in gleaming red arcs.
These had borne us from the mountains, but they were not in any way ruled by
their riders, being proudly intelligent and allies, not servants, for the
Valley.
There were also the Lizard people—and of those I learned much. For I made my
first friend among their number. That came about because of my own private
heartache.
Crytha had come into paradise, or so she thought. She blossomed from a thin,
quiet half-child, half-maid into a person strange to me. And she ever
followed
Dahaun, eager to learn what the lady would teach.
Imhar was constantly at the councils of the warriors, not always on the
fringe
as was fitting for one of his youth. He lapped up all the knowledge of war as
a
house mog-cat will lap at fresh milk.
For we had come into a Valley which was peace, but which was only a small
cupping of that. Around us Escore boiled and seethed. Ethutur himself rode
out
as war herald with the Lord Kemoc Tregarth to visit the Krogan, who were
water
dwellers. And other heralds went forth to arouse what help would come at the
rising of the banner.
There was a shaping of arms at the forge, a testing of mail, and all that
stir
which had been so long our portion in Estcarp. Save that now we were pitted
not
against men but against an unholy life totally alien to ours.
Fight I would when the time came, but in me there was a feeling of
loneliness.
For in all company, I had not one I could call rightly shield brother or cup
mate. And Crytha was seldom in sight.
It was the day of the storm which began the true tale of Yonan, as if up to
that
time I had been a thing only half finished, rough-hewn, and only partly
useful.
I had gone with a detachment of Lord Hervon's swordsmen, with one of the
Green
People as a guide, climbing up into the rocky walls which were our defense,
that
we might look out beyond and see what lay there, also select for the future
those places from which we could best meet any attack. It had been a bright
day
when we began that climb, but now there were gathering clouds, and Yagath,
who
was our leader, eyed those with concern, saying we must return before the
worst
of the wind broke upon us.
The clouds (or were they of the Shadow and no true work of nature?) rolled in
so
fast that we hurried indeed. But it chanced I was the last in line, and, as
the
wind came down upon us with a roar to drown any other sound, my foot slipped.
Before I could regain my balance, I slid forward, my nails breaking, my
finger
tips scraped raw by rock I fought to hold.
Now the dark and the wind dropped a curtain to cut me away from everything
but
the rock pocket into which the force of my descent had jammed my body. My
mail
had not served to save me from painful bruising; perhaps it had but added to
that. And water poured down upon me, as if someone on the surface of the
cliff
above emptied one pail after another into my cramped resting place.
I pushed with all my strength and so got farther back into this temporary
prison, where a rock poised above took some of the wind and rain off me.
Later,
I thought, I could climb, but dared not try it yet in that rush which was
becoming a stream cascading down the wall to my right.
There were fierce slashes of lightning across the small portion of the sky
which
I could see, reminding me of the most effective weapons of the Green
People—their force whips. Then came a fearful and deafening crash close by, a
queer smell which made me think that lightning had indeed struck, and not too
far away.
The rush of water carried with it small stones, and it did not drain fast
from
the crevice I occupied, though that had an open end facing outward from the
Valley. So the flood lapped about my knees, and then touched my thighs. I
squirmed, trying to reach a higher portion in which to crouch, but there was
none.
While the drumming of the rain, the heavy boom of thunder never ended.
I was aware now, as I turned and strove to find a better shelter, that my
right
ankle gave out sharp thrusts of pain, enough once or twice to make me giddy.
So
I subsided at last, imprisoned until the storm might pass.
It was during one of those vivid flashes of lightning that I first saw an
answering glint of light from the wall to my right. For a moment or two, that
meant nothing, save there must be something there which reflected the
flashes.
Then I wriggled a little, to free my shoulder better, so I might feel along
the
wall.
My abraded finger tips flinched from the rough stone, then they slid onto
something smooth; not only smooth, but in a way oddly cool and pleasant. In
the
dark, I explored my find. It seemed to be a rod of some sort, extending
outward
perhaps the length of my thumb and only a little larger than that digit in
size.
I tried to pull at it, and it seemed that it was a little loose but did not
yield to the small amount of strength I could exert in my cramped position.
Yet there was something about my unseen find which kept my fingers seeking it
out, touching it. That it was part of the natural rock, I doubted. It was too
smooth, more like a piece of metal or crystal which had been purposefully
worked. Yet the way it protruded from the native rock, with no break in that
to
hold it (as I was able to discover by touch), argued it could not be man-made.
The fury of the storm continued. From my constrained perch I looked out at
the
world beyond the valley, but the darkness kept me from seeing anything. Save
here and there some glow close to ground, marking, I was sure from all I had
heard, a place where a remnant of the Power force still burned. For these we
had
seen in our journey from the mountains, such being called to our attention.
If
the glow was blue that signified a point of safety where a man might shelter.
But a sickly dull white, or a green, or worst of all a red shot with
black—those
signaled traps for our kind.
The storm cleared after what seemed to me a very long time. Now the water
drained from the crevice. And the lightning no longer was laid whipwise over
the
hills. I edged forward from under the rock ledge which had been my shelter
and
tried to straighten up. My wet limbs, my wracked ankle, made such movement
painful. I could feel rough outcrops to climb, but could I put enough weight
on
my ankle to try that?
Then I froze. There was a sound, not of rain nor thunder—more like a
skittering
across the rock above me. Could one of the Dark creatures have found its way
up
during the cover of the flood, was it now waiting to attack me?
There came a light, a glow. By it I saw the pointed, tooth-rimmed snout of
one
of the Lizard folk. And then his forefeet, so much like slender, fingered
hands,
came into view. The light descended slowly toward me so I saw that it issued
from a stone held in a mesh of delicate wire fastened on a slender cord.
The Lizard folk, like the other nonhumans, communicated by thought. But I had
none of the mind touch which Crytha had so nurtured. I reached my hand and
caught the caged stone. By that I could see my ankle. The boot was very tight
and the leg above it swollen. I had given it a bad twist and it was plain I
dare
not put any weight on that.
With gestures, I tried to make my dilemma plain to my rescuer. He stared at
me
with jewel-bright eyes, then in a breath he was gone. For help, I hoped.
Though
I now began to dread that, too. My ineptness had long been a matter of rough
badinage among Hervon's men. Here, on my first wall patrol, I had managed to
make the worst possible showing.
With the Lizard gone, curiosity led me to duck back under the ledge and
survey
what I had found in the wall. When I advanced my dull light, there awoke a
brilliant fire which was dazzling.
The thing was a rod right enough, fashioned of some kind of crystal which
drew
light. And it glowed with a bluish sheen. Yes, it projected directly out of
the
rock itself, but there was no mistaking that it was the product of some
intelligence. Even though to find it so encased in solid rock was surprising.
I closed my other hand around it and tugged with all my might. The rod gave
only
a fraction. It was plain that to free it entirely, one must break the rock in
which it hung. But that I would do! I must do! As the geas which had been
laid
on us all to bring us into Escore, I knew now that some force outside my own
imagining was driving me to do this. That my find was important—that I would
have sworn oath to.
Now I turned quickly—there was a further noise overhead and the Lizard man
came
clambering down the wall with ease. To him, this stone was an open stairway.
He
carried a rope coiled about one shoulder, and when he reached the bottom he
made
signs that I was to tie one end about me.
Thus, I found in the storm both my destiny in this long-shadowed land, and a
friend—for Tsali was indeed a friend such as one could trust his life and
more
than his life upon.
Chapter Three
So I was pent in the Valley for a time. But the Lady Dahaun had shared her
knowledge with Crytha, who brought to me a basin of bubbling red mud. This
she
used to make a casing for my ankle once my boot was cut away. And as its heat
enclosed my flesh, the pain faded and I slept.
My dreams had never been real, nor of the kind one might name true sendings
of
the Power—such as favored ones of our Race have from time to time had as
warnings. But this time I strode through a land which was as real as if I
were
waking. And in my hand I carried a sword—one fitted into my palm as firmly as
if
it were an extension of my own body, so that in my dream I could not imagine
my
life without that to hand.
Yet there was on me a great sorrow and fear, not for myself but for others.
And
as I went, I wept silently for a loss I could not remember and yet which was
very great, weighing upon me heavier than any scout's pack. I saw that the
mail
I wore was broken in places and rusted by stains. While my left hand was
pressed
against my side, the fingers bloodied. Pain gnawed under that pressure, a pain
I
fought against. For there was that my body must aid me to do before I yielded
to
death.
Immutably death drove me; I knew that for the truth. All behind me was lost
to
the Shadow, save what I carried. In my dreaming mind, I knew that this sword
must not fall to those who now sniffed my trail.
But I wavered, the burden of pain nigh bearing me to the ground. While that
which lay before me shimmered in my sight. Time raced for me, with it my
life,
oozing in sluggish drops from my side. Yet my will did not yield to either
time
or my failing body.
The ground under my stumbling feet rose steadily, so that for all my
determination, my pace slowed. Still I kept onward. Now there arose a mist
before me. My lips shaped words I could not understand. Yet I knew that once
I
had known such and they had been to me weapons near as potent as the sword.
Perhaps it was the Power of the words which carried me past the limit of
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分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：100 页 大小：244.34KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-24

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