Andre Norton - Witch World - Port of Dead Ships

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Books by Andre Norton
About the Authors
Witch World
-- Storms of Victory (1991)
The Chronicler
--18 Port of Dead Ships (1991)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
About the Authors
FOR OVER FIFTY years,Andre Norton , "one of the most distinguished living SF and fantasy writers"
(Booklist) , has been penning best-selling novels that have earned her a unique place in the hearts and
minds of readers. She has been honored with a Life Achievement Award by the World Fantasy
Convention, and her numerous science-fiction and fantasy novels have garnered her millions of devoted
readers across the globe. Works set in her fabled Witch World, as well as others, such asThe
Elvenbane (with Mercedes Lackey) andBlack Trillium (with Marion Zimmer Bradley and Julian May),
have made her "one of the most popular authors of our time"(Publishers Weekly) . She lives in Winter
Park, Florida.
Mercedes Lackeyhas enjoyed best-selling success with her many fantasy works, including her
much-acclaimed adventures set in the fabled world of Valdemar. While much of her work lies in epic
fantasy, she has enjoyed successful forays into dark fantasy, with her Diana Tregarde books, and
contemporary fantasy, which includes her recently publishedSacred Ground . She is one of the most
popular fantasy authors on the scene today. She lives with her husband, artist and author Larry Dixon, in
Tulsa, Oklahoma.
Witch World
-- Storms of Victory (1991)--
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 the trapped
bird, but caring for the damaged wing was a task beyond me and only Pyra's skill brought it back to
partial use again.
Galerider (I learned her name early) was never to soar freely again but she became as much of a
companion as Rawit. Though she mantled warningly at any other, she allowed me to handle her. She had
been torn from her nesting place by a sucking wind and had no idea how far or from what direction she
had been borne.
At length we settled into a new life. There were refugees who found their way to Lormt, but none stayed
past the time when they had regained their energy. Many of the scholars had disappeared into their
cubbies with the newfound knowledge, so intent that they had to be brought forth for meals or rest, so
enchanted by their finds that they might have been ensorcelled as we are told men can be.
There came news. In that mighty task of turning, many of the Witches—nearly all of the Council—had
been killed or so emptied of power that they were only husks in which a life flame burned feebly. One
such as brought to us by a young woman who begged our aid. But there was nothing yet uncovered
which could answer her need.
The Witches remaining no longer in command, we were told by the leader of a scout troop sent south to
assess damages, Koris of Gorm was now declared leader. It was the scout captain also who brought
news of Kemoc—saying that he with his brother had managed to free his sister and they had all
disappeared.
If they fled toward the mountains—had they been caught up in the torture of the land? I often wondered
that when I had time to think of anything except what was happening in Lormt. By chance I had become
a keeper of bits of information about the present not the past, and wayfarers who came down the old
road would ask concerning this kin, that holding, and the like. So I began to assemble records and my
knowledge of clans and houses became known so that some came from a distance to see me and ask of
their kin.
Then one came in a dream.
Parting a haze with a sweep of his arm as one might pass through a curtain Kemoc stood before me.
There was surprise on his face but that faded and a smile took its place.
"Duratan!" His voice—did it touch my thought only, or did it ring in my ears? I could have sworn to
neither. However, there was much he told me to add to my store of knowledge and be of greater aid to
those who sought me out.
For he and his brother and sister had dared the east and found what they sought—the land from which
our blood had first come. There was struggle there, for their own coming had unsteadied a balance of
power. They now fought great evil and those who serve the Dark. Thus they wanted aid from any willing
to give it—let such only travel east and they would find guidance.
When he had done he drew one hand down the haze against which he stood and said, "Look you here,
shield mate, and you will know my words are true and you are not dreaming." He was gone and there
was darkness, but that was the edge of waking and I opened my eyes.
Rawit was on her feet—her hind feet, her front paws against the wall—and she gave a sharp bark. But I
had already seen it—a streak of blue running down the stone as if a finger had drawn it there.
摘要：

BooksbyAndreNortonAbouttheAuthorsWitchWorld--StormsofVictory(1991)TheChronicler--18PortofDeadShips(1991)Chapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5Chapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10Chapter11Chapter12Chapter13Chapter14Chapter15Chapter16Chapter17Chapter18 AbouttheAuthorsFOROVERFIFTYyears,AndreNort...

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