Baf 66 merlins ring, p.10
BAF 66 - Merlin's Ring, page 10
part #66 of Ballantine Adult Fantasy Series
Flann said, “My land of Erin is a green, fair land and there are not many girls in it with long golden hair and a beauty” such as yours. Surely there you would be as a princess and everyone would love and admire you and no one more than myself. Yet, if it is your wish, I will take you back to your home, for well I know that there is no such sickness as that longing.“
To this Thyra made no direct answer, but she said, “Do you still have the book from which you read me tales on our long trip?” (For this was one of the memories Corenice had left intact in her mind.)
When Flann had fetched the book she searched it for a picture she remembered and said, “Read here.”
And he read: “ ‘Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return ,from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge.’”
He looked up and said, “Oh, Thyra!” But she only said, “Read on.” And he read: “
“Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried.‘”
A sob came in his throat and he could not go on—so Thyra finished for him, as she had memory of the lovely words: “ ‘Not but death part thee and me.’ ”
He looked up and saw her as through a mist, but still he could not believe and he said, “Could you really love a man who has been a slave?”
She said, “Oh, Flann! There was never a time when I looked upon you that I ever saw a thrall!”
And after that, for a long time, the boat sailed on toward Erin, by itself.
6
The Land of the little
When Gwalchmai reached the bottom of the steps, he found that he was at the entrance to a long passage. The slabs of rock forming the sides and roof were of megalithic proportions. The light of his torch did not reach the chamber he knew must lie at the end of the passageway.
He went forward with caution. He had some dread of this underground adventure, mindful of Merlin’s warning that in such places Oduarpa, Lord of the Dark Face, held greater power than upon the surface. Remembering tomb mounds of Alata, in the valley of the Onion, and the traps set there for robbers, he felt his way step by cautious step.
He was alone. No one could follow to help him. Merlin’s books had told of the pyramids of Egypt and of tilting slabs that would drop the unwary to their death in pits of unguessable depths.
A passage such as this could lead to unknown horror, if Oduarpa was aware of his entry. Had a bat, or a mouse, gone ahead of him, Gwalchmai would have taken it for a psychopomp guiding his soul to the underworld, but nothing moved except shadows.
He was afraid, but he went on.
Suddenly he came into the chamber. The passage had been less than one hundred feet, but it had seemed much farther. He realized that he must be quite deep in the earth, for the mound above had not been of great size and it must be the domed roof of the chamber—a dome formed by overlapping the successive courses of the side walls, which here were formed of smaller slabs, untrimmed and un-ornamented.
The roof soared upward at least twenty feet above him and the room itself must have been thirty feet across. It looked? from inside, much like one of the beehive huts of the Culdees.
There was nothing in it but a stone burial kist. It was obvious that grave robbers had been busy, but long before Gwalchmai’s arrival. The stone cover of the kist had been tilted aside and the bones within scattered irreverently about the floor of the chamber. There were no articles of value to be seen—no rings, no bracelets, no amber such as the seafarers loved. There was not even a scrap of armor. Gwalchmai wondered if this was indeed the tomb of Getain, pirate and King.
He had an innate respect for the dead. He did not want to search the room and splinter the desecrated skeleton beneath his feet. Yet he must seek out the entrance to the Kingdom of the Fay, which obviously lay still deeper. He picked up the bones and arranged them in the kist, in such order as he could.
An amused voice interrupted his labor. “Well! The old fellow looks better now than he has for many a year!”
Gwalchmai had not heard anyone enter. He looked up, startled.
A slender youth, clad all in green from pointed toes to his peaked cap set off with a long scarlet feather, stood opposite him against the far wall. He leaned there negligently, his shapely legs, in their long hose, crossed casually and one hand upon his hip. He wore a jerkin, slashed and purfled, through which a fine cambric shirt showed its folds, having been teased through these slits, and across his broad chest a leather strap supported the cithern slung upon his back.
At his side hung a poniard, seemingly not of metal, but of some hard wood.
He straightened his limbs and made a leg at Gwalchmai, bowing low and sweeping the floor with his cap.
“You may call me Huon, Sir Gwalchmai. I am to guide you to my Queen, in Elveron. Are you ready to come with me now?”
“You know who lam?”
Huon had a musical laugh. “Surely all in Elfdom know by now of the famed Sir Gwalchmai, Hawk of Battle, and his mission. We have been advised of your coming long ago and an entertainment has been arranged for you. Will you follow me?”
“Where are you taking me?” Gwalchmai was suspicious of this delicate-looking, languid fellow, for he had been warned against tricks and mischief. Not all ogres and woodwooses appeared, at first sight, in their proper form. Kobolds, gnomes, and trolls lived underground, but he had thought to find the fay in an airier, lighter place.
“Oh, wherever you wish to go.” Huon waved a casual hand as though he had all the world at his fingertips. “Elveron. Aphallin. Lyonese. Kilstalpheen. Kir-Is. All districts of the same realm. Avalon, maybe—later. But Elveron first, surely. Is not that where you have been first ordered?”
Gwalchmai became angry at that. “Ordered? No one orders me!”
“I have heard differently. With all your magic, you have not so many days to waste as I have. No matter how long life is, it is too short to quarrel You should live those days peacefully.”
“Small chance of that—the way I have begun!”
“Ah, yes. You have been most active indeed. It is no lit-tie feat to fight monsters, make an enemy of a friend, wed a spirit, antagonize a god, disturb an enchanter at his pursuits—and now plan to aid an ever-sleeping King! You should feel proud. Come now, pay your fee to old Getain and he will let you enter Elveron.”
“My fee?”
“The torque you stole from the Sailor’s Guide. You knew it never really belonged to Thor, didn’t you? Of course, it was not Getain’s either. He stole it from Bran Mak Morn, who got it from Siegfried, who had it out of Fafnir’s bed, but nobody is going to give it back to the dragon now. He has probably forgotten all about it long ago anyway.
“I’d say it belongs to Getain as much as anybody, unless you count the three who came in here and got it, but they came to a bad end and couldn’t get any fun out of having it now. Getain wants it, so just slip it on his arm and we will be on our way.”
Gwalchmai, bemused, unwound the torque from his arm and wound it carefully around the upper right humerus of the detached skeleton in the kist, so as not to damage it further, but he need not have bothered.
At the instant the gold was tightly fastened, a great clicking and clattering began. The bones came rushing together, each into its proper place. Finger joints raced around like mice; teeth snapped back into their sockets; tiny scraps and splinters, which Gwalchmai had overlooked, drifted about the room like snow. They swept up and into the kist.
When all was assembled, the skeleton sat up and turned its hollow gaze upon the pair.
“Who is this?” it said, its jaws clacking. “Who would bring iron into Elveron without the Queen’s warrant?”
“He wants your sword.” Huon nudged Gwalchmai. “You must leave it here until you come back.”
“My father’s sword? The sword he carried in a hundred battles? The sword of the Sixth Legion? Never! I will go from here!”
“And leave King Arthur’s sword for someone to steal, after Elfdom no longer encircles it to hold it secure? Is that a knightly deed? Is Excalibur valued less now in Man’s World than your little piece of cold iron? Just lay it in the kist beside our juiceless friend and let him hold it in trust. Ill venture that any visitor who enters to tak& it will get a surprise, now that Getain has his toy back and is as whole as he is ever apt to be!”
Gwalchmai looked glum. It seemed as though there was nothing else to do. He reluctantly unbuckled the scabbard from his belt and placed it in the skeleton’s fleshless hand. It lay back and crossed its dry arms over the sword, which it had tucked within the ribcage.
“How contented the old fellow is! It takes so little to satisfy him nowadays and yet he was a person of strange wants and savage desires. You would scarcely believe what a plague he was to himself and others. See how he smiles!”
“He does? I cannot see any difference.” Gwalchmai turned, with a slight shiver, away from that hard-featured grin.
“Ah! That is because you have not known him as long as I have. Believe me, he is very happy. Let us leave him and be on our way.”
“How about my ax?”
“Oh, keep that,” Huon said, indifferently. “The Folk of Peace have never had any quarrel with the People of the Flint. See! The portal has opened! You are welcome now to Elveron.”
Against the wall where Gwalchmai had first seen Huon, a little speck of light, no larger than the pupil of a mouse’s eye, gleamed like a bright fallen star where the wall met the floor.
“Follow me, Sir Hawk, and you shall see marvels!”
They began to walk across the chamber. As they did so, it appeared to Gwalchmai that the room grew larger and the portal higher. It was certainly much farther to the ceiling than before. He had a feeling that the surface of the floor was rushing away from him in all directions. Deep, wide cracks opened before them that Gwalchmai had not noticed earlier.
They ran and leaped across these, but before they reached the wall itself, the last fissure had widened and deepened into a chasm.
Huon looked disturbed for the first time.
“Quickly! Quickly now! Get a good start and jump as hard as you can!”
They ran back a few steps and then fairly flew toward the dangerous rift in the rock. Huon skimmed over it easily, but Gwalchmai landed upon his chest at the farther edge, his legs dangling into the abyss.
Huon braced his feet and grabbed Gwalchmai’s arm, but found himself being pulled down by the other’s weight. Suddenly there was a rush of light feet and a crowd was about them, jostling, laughing, seizing them both, dragging them up across the stone lip and into a bursting splendor of radiance as they passed through the portal.
“Welcome to Elveron, Sir Knight!” a sweet voice said, and dainty Queen Crede, the ever-beautiful, came forward to meet him, proffering both hands for him to kiss, and behind him, smiling also, came Prince Auberon to bring him safely in to view the wonders of Elfdom.
Gwalchmai found himself in a long tunnel leading gently upward, but it was not the same as the one he had used to enter the barrow. This one gleamed with the cold glow of foxfire, casting no shadows. Walls, roof, and floor all shone with a running, spangled light that came as much from below as above and cast an added glory upon the richly costumed assemblage.
They pressed upon him—men in armor like ebony-lacquered leather, clapping him upon the shoulders, laughing, shaking his hands; ladies in gauzy gowns, seemingly too lovely and frail to be real, touching his embroidered jacket, exclaiming on his narrow escape, patting him affectionately with a total lack of reserve.
All the time that they were vivaciously chattering they were gently urging him on, up the tunnel, away from the dark, dangerous entrance. It was plain that they had a dread of it, though they seemed so gay and carefree, for they kept looking backward as though they expected their visitor and his guide might have been followed.
The light in the tunnel did not now seem quite so bright to Gwalchmai’s eyes. It was not that he had become accustomed to the shining walls. He noticed that the people kept glancing at them too, as though estimating the length of time the effulgence might endure.
There was an intangible air of relief when they finally came to a long line of tethered beasts. Gwalchmai had seen pictures of horses in Merlin’s books and in Bishop Malachi’s little library, but he had never before seen a living one. To him they seemed almost mythical animals.
Most of them were brown, but a few were jet black. All looked spirited and sleek. Their coats shone and were glossy with good health. Gwalchmai had not remembered that horses had more than four legs, but he noticed‘ that these had six. They stood, already saddled and bridled, each attended by a young page who relinquished the reins as the lords and ladies mounted, beginning with the Queen.
When all were ready they set off up the tunnel at a canter. Gwalchmai found the gait surprisingly easy and in a few moments was quite accustomed to it. Before long he was able to allow his steed to pick its way with no attention from him and was no longer worried about falling off.
By now the shining walls were perceptibly duller.
The floor of the tunnel was strewn with small stones, but traveling was easy and swift. The pages who ran beside the horses, holding to a stirrup, had no difficulty in keeping up and seemed tireless. After about three miles, the cavalcade came out into the open air and, without pausing, entered a thick forest.
Even in Alata, Gwalchmai had never seen trees such as these. He had not thought to see anything like them on Mona. Some shot straight up without a branch for a hundred feet and then splayed out into a broad palmate top. Others were shorter and more diffuse. Many bore huge blossoms from which perfume poured down upon the travelers when they brushed against the trunks in passing.
Sometimes a gentle rain of pollen sifted down upon the ground, which seemed covered more by moss than grass. The horses moved silently across the sward, without any jingling sounds, for no metal was to be seen anywhere upon their accoutrements.
The bits, stirrups, and ornaments were all of carved wood. The saddles seemed molded to the horses’ backs and contoured to the comfort of the rider without the use of tools —at least Gwalchmai could detect no such marks upon his.
Once in the forest, the gay chatting and repartee came to an end. The people seemed to be more alert as they rode along, not with an expectancy of something to fear, but more as though it was with a sense of wariness and a being ready for anything unusual. Gwalchmai felt that this troop was fully able to cope with whatever might occur, but when he saw several in the vanguard unslinging the long bows they wore slanting across their bodies, he loosened his ax in his belt
Others took out short, heavy javelins from the boot attached to the right side of their saddles and rode with them held loosely in their hands, points down, as though ready for a pig-sticking.
Only once they heard a crashing in the undergrowth from some heavy creature disturbed by the oncoming column. Those nearest bunched up and faced the danger, but whatever it was turned and hastened away.
Gwalchmai raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Probably a mantichore or a baby dragon.” Huon answered the unspoken query. After a moment, the line moved on.
As the black of lava had been the predominant color of the country in Iceland, wherever the ground was visible, here in Elveron a verdant green met the eye everywhere, in all its various hues. In among the giant trees, they followed the track—a dark river of life pouring along between the smooth green boles, over the mossy turf.
There was much life in the forest. A chorus of bellowing voices was constantly around them, A strident shrieking or whistling sound was the only one that caused the crowd any dismay. They had resumed their conversations, but these cries caused them to fall silent for an instant; the croaking or booming roars they ignored. They also paid little attention to the distant shapes Gwalchmai could not identify. When he saw them directly, however, they appeared to be some form of life with which he was familiar. And suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed another that he recognized from Merlin’s book of heraldry, a wyvern as it flapped heavily overhead. After it had passed over and high above, he caught a fleeting sidelong glimpse of it again and thought it was a raven. He looked behind him quickly, but it was gone.
He had never been with such a restless group of people. They were always falling back or riding forward to talk with some friend, whenever there was room to do so. When the narrow track did not permit this, they maintained their places fairly well, but if it broadened into wide natural clearings and park-like meadows, as it often did, then there was a great shifting around.
It reminded Gwalchmai of nothing so much as a shimmering swarm of midges or mayflies, which always keeps a rough group shape, inside of which each individual is always aimlessly in motion.
There were a few exceptions. Huon rode on Gwalchmai’s left side, and on his right an armored cavalier kept place. Huon introduced this rider to Gwalchmai as Sir Periton, his best friend, and whispered behind his hand that he was enamored of the widowed Queen, but she would have none of his attentions.
Gwalchmai learned considerable Elfland gossip on this ride. From Sir Periton, in his turn, when Huon was momentarily absent paying court to a bright-eyed damsel who rode back to tease him, Gwalchmai found that his first acquaintance had quite a reputation as a gallant. He flitted casually from one to another, but remained heart whole always, forming transitory liaisons for a short time until he was supplanted by another, more serious-minded, elf.
Withal, he was so well liked, Sir Periton said, that no father, brother, or husband ever took offense, but rather took it as a compliment that this gay frivolous fellow admired and amused their ladies as a group and would not be committed to any one of them.
Huon was constantly plaguing his friend for his faithfulness to the Queen and both remarked upon the obvious adoration which Prince Auberon had for one of the loveliest ladies of the court.
