Have 2 Sky Magic (Haven Series 2) (10 page)

Telyn scowled. “I believe we fought the rhinogs rather well for rabbits.”

Modi glowered at her for a moment, then nodded grudgingly. “Your courage was true, I admit. But you don’t yet comprehend what you face.”

“And what would that be?” asked Corbin.

“Numberless great black ships come across the sea each day from the land of Eire. They bear goblins and their broods of rhinogs from the dark castles on that nearby island. Led by their goblin sires, rhinogs spawned in Eire war with the Kindred. We’ve fought them in the Black Mountains and even upon the very heights of Snowdon itself,” said Gudrin, meeting no one’s eyes. “The surface is for the most part under their control now. Only the great caverns are still ruled by the Kindred. Most of our strength lies below ground, but still the situation is not good.”

“But your strongholds beneath the mountains are legendary,” interrupted Telyn. “Surely, they will not fall.”

“The mountain fortresses are vast and self-sustaining. They are all but impregnable, it’s true,” said Gudrin. “But they are divided and unable to support one another. If all of Herla’s forces gather to destroy one of the fortresses, the others can do nothing to stop them. One by one, the great halls will fall.”

“Nothing is fated!” interrupted Modi. “The Kindred may all perish in one hall, but they shall inflict such great losses that the enemy army shall be broken!”

Myrrdin nodded, but looked grim. “We have no way of knowing how things will progress, but we do know that the enemy are great in number and their ranks swell daily. If they can gather enough strength, the Kindred will be rooted out and slain, one fortress at a time.”

The River Folk looked from one to another, stunned. All of them had the same thought: if the enemy was so great as to overcome the Kindred, what chance did the peaceful River Haven Folk have? With the Pact broken, they were at the mercy of the Faerie and the rhinogs.

“And so now you can imagine my reasons for delay,” said Myrrdin. “I managed to slip by the enemy host and into Snowdon, only to find the Kindred garrison even weaker than I had feared. Although your craft at making tools for war are great, Gudrin, I fear your people aren’t prolific enough to replace the soldiers you lose in battle. Ten rhinogs may fall to each of the Kindred, but this may not be enough.

“In any case, when I left to come to the River Haven, over a month ago, I was greatly slowed by the presence of the enemy army. I dared not come down the Berrywine, because it was being watched by archers. I was forced to turn east, into the Deepwood, and then I crossed the river and went south through the Dead Kingdoms to reach this marsh.

“Still, I might have made the meeting had not that damnable storm come so early and turned Old Hob’s Marsh to frozen slush.”

“I don’t know what you could have done,” said Gudrin. “Oberon was not there, and clearly you weren’t expected either. The ceremony was a farce, a chance for the Faerie to stuff themselves one last time at the expense of the River Folk.”

“Perhaps you are right,” said Myrrdin, heaving a sigh. “Perhaps I could have done nothing.”

“I was asked to stand in your stead,” said Gudrin. “Although this wasn’t my real purpose in coming here.”

“I understand,” said Myrrdin. “Thank you.”

“So what, exactly, are you here for, Gudrin?” asked Brand.

Gudrin and Modi moved uneasily at that, and exchanged glances. Gudrin finally answered. “I suppose there are no more secrets to hold back now. We came for two purposes. We wish to add the Kindred to the Pact, making it a three-way alliance for mutual protection. I am greatly saddened to see that there is no more Pact for us to join.”

“All is not lost, Gudrin,” said Myrrdin. “A new Pact may yet be forged.”

All eyes swung to him. “A new Pact? Can’t we just reinstate the old one?” asked Corbin in concern. He voiced the thoughts of all the River Folk, who had always assumed that somehow the Pact would be remade and things would go on as before. Anything else was too painful to bear thinking about.

Myrrdin shook his head. “Everything is different now. The old Pact is broken, a new one, if it is to be forged, will be entirely distinct from the first. The Faerie are fickle and capricious. Rarely do they perform predictably.”

“What I fail to understand is Oberon’s lack of interest in maintaining the Pact,” said Gudrin. “He must fear Herla nearly as much as the rest of us. No one is hated by the all the Wild Hunt more than Oberon, who stole their very lives from them.”

“That is a puzzle,” said Myrrdin. “And I believe now, after hearing Brand’s tale, that I have an answer.”

Myrrdin paused here, knowing that he had their full attention. He took the time to weigh his walking stick and rub its ashen tip before speaking. Brand noted in surprise that his stick, which had clearly been burnt in the inn’s fire earlier, was only coated by a thin layer of ash. After a bit of rubbing, it was all brightly polished wood once again.

“I believe that Oberon has lost Lavatis,” said Myrrdin in a low whisper.

“The Blue Jewel?” gasped Telyn.

“Of course,” said Gudrin. “That would explain his ending of the Pact. He has not the strength to maintain it.”

“But then who has it? The Jewel, I mean?” demanded Brand, half-expecting Myrrdin to produce it from the depths of his shaggy beard.

Myrrdin turned to him. “Good question!  That is indeed the question, and the riddle that must be answered to forge a new Pact.”

“Could Herla have it?” asked Brand.

“Let us pray not,” said Gudrin, “for if he does, all is already lost.”

“Only if his grip on it is firm,” added Myrrdin. “He must attune himself to the Jewel in order to wield it.”

“Let me understand this,” said Corbin, the slow logic of his mind clearly engaged. “Oberon has lost his greatest source of power, Lavatis. Thus, he can no longer hold Herla at bay, who seems to wield a great power of his own. But if we can recover it, we can bargain its return for a new and more favorable Pact with the Faerie.”

“Well summarized as usual, Corbin,” said Telyn, not without kindness. “My mind is already leaping to new concepts, however. We must find the Blue Jewel first, and win it, in any way we can. The thought of stealing such a prize makes me glad for every apple I ever palmed from a farmer’s cart at market.”

Brand shifted in his chair and looked embarrassed for her, but no one else seemed to notice. Something occurred to him. “But you said, Gudrin, that you came to the River Haven for two reasons.”

“Aye. We also came on the behalf of King Thrane of the Kindred to find a new bearer for the Jewel Ambros. Besides parlaying our way into the Pact, we are to return with a new Champion who could wield the axe and slay the armies that besiege the Earthlight.”

“But why not select a Champion among the Kindred?” asked Corbin.

“Humans have ever made the best Champions, and the best of humanity is known to be here in the River Haven,” said Gudrin. Modi’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling as she spoke. “I had hoped that with Myrrdin’s counsel, one could be found.”

“It seems to me that my counsel is hardly needed,” said Myrrdin.

“What do you mean?” asked Gudrin.

“Why Gudrin, your judgment is legendary!  Can you not see? Your Champion is in this very room!”

At this, they all became deathly silent. Modi took a half step forward, and his eyes were alight. His hands made grasping motions in the air. “What do you mean?” he demanded.

“The River Folk!” cried Myrrdin, as though they all had to be blind. “What better selection could one ask for? Two of the Clan Rabing, one of the Clan Fob. You know your histories as well as I!  Knights once rode to battle beneath the banners of their ancestors!  Already they have met the enemy and done well. You have only the final decision to make.”

“Bah!  What utter nonsense!” roared Modi. He made a sweeping gesture of disgust and turned to stump away to the door. He crossed his arms and leaned his weight against the door, which brought a groan of protest from the old wood.

“Modi is of the opinion that since the axe bearing the Jewel Ambros has long been held by the Kindred, it should be wielded by one of the Kindred,” explained Gudrin. “This is a compelling argument, but history shows its dangers.”

Myrrdin nodded sagely. “Your King is wise. The freshness of spirit needed to contain the fury of the weapon is hard to find among the elder races. I imagine that even for you, great among the wise of your folk, Ambros is a heavy burden.”

Gudrin looked pained. “Yes. Ever the Jewel weighs upon me. It wants nothing more than to slay, and senses danger and evil where none exist. Only by sheer force of will have I stayed my hands from murder until now.”

Brand thought of the night in the woods when Gudrin had turned upon him, with clear murderous intent in her eyes. He shuddered to think that it had been the Jewel that had looked out through Gudrin’s eyes and desired his death.

“Do you then agree with my assessment?” asked Myrrdin, indicating the three River Folk with a wave of his hand.

Gudrin rubbed her cheek for a time, holding her Teret clamped to her body. She eyed each of them in turn. Brand felt the intensity of her gaze, and it was painful. “Yes.”

Modi made an exasperated sound, but said nothing.

“Which is it, then?” asked Myrrdin quietly.

All eyes were now on the three River Folk, who sat dumbfounded. Corbin opened his mouth, but no words issued forth.

Telyn was the first to find her voice. “I don’t wish to wield the axe. If it were a knife or a bow,” she said quietly, “Perhaps it would be different.”

“Women have been Champions in the past, Telyn,” said Myrrdin gently.

She shook her head. Then all eyes turned to Corbin and Brand. Brand felt his heart race in his chest. His throat was suddenly dry and taunt. It was difficult to swallow.

Finally, Modi could contain himself no longer. “These are but weak children!” he burst out. “Surely Gudrin, you can’t be serious!  Neither of them has yet seen twenty summers!  By the white peaks of Snowdon, kinswoman, I beg you to reconsider!”

Gudrin now stood angrily. She faced Modi and held her Teret aloft. She slapped it soundly. “I sit as judge among the Kindred!  You have sworn to escort me on this mission, ordered by our king!  Perform your duties as sworn, or it is you I shall next pass judgment upon!”

The two stared at one another, and the battle of wills was such that Brand began to feel oddly unwell. It twisted at his gut and made his stomach, still full of good food and beer, roil inside him. Finally, Modi dipped his head and stepped back.

“My duty is clear,” he rumbled.

Gudrin took a step forward, once again face to face with the warrior. “It is my decision to give the choice to you, as the wiser judge of warriors. Which one of these two boys shall be our Champion?”

Modi blinked in surprise. His hand went to his chin, and he turned to view the River Folk anew. His eye traveled from one to the other of them. “Corbin has more the natural build for the axe, but Brand is more skilled,” he said, echoing his words from days ago. “What is more important, Corbin is more thoughtful, while Brand exhibits more qualities of leadership. It is clear that between them, I would make Brand the Champion and Corbin his Second.”

Gudrin nodded. “I agree,” she said. “If Brand accepts, of course.”

Brand opened his mouth, then closed it. “I suppose…” he trailed off. He paused, wondering what new course river-boy his life was about to take. He felt his brother Jak there, telling him he was no Champion, only a, a farmer steeped in muck up to his waist and with rainwater for blood. Then he glanced at Telyn, who brightened visibly. She was flushed with excitement, clearly overjoyed that he might be given this honor. It came to him that she would be infatuated with a man who wielded such an unknown power.

“I accept,” he heard himself say.

“All is settled then!” said Myrrdin, springing again to his feet. He stood among them with his hands on his hips, beaming. He made a sudden movement, and Brand felt a pressure against his chest. He looked down and saw that Myrrdin’s walking stick was pressing against him there. He noted that the tip now showed no signs at all of having been burnt in the fireplace of the common room. He swallowed, wondering if Myrrdin were indeed a wizard.

“You,” said Myrrdin, poking the stick against him. Brand pushed it away. Myrrdin smiled. “You are to be the bearer of Ambros the Golden. I think it is best to tell you that the axe isn’t always willing to accept a new bearer. If it finds you lacking, it will rid itself of you, probably in an act of terrific mayhem.”

Brand felt his face whiten. He distantly recalled the normal days of his life. Only a week ago he had worried about the heat of the sun upon the berrywine casks. The quiet sounds of the river had been all that came to him in his sleep. Now he was to be tested by one of the Jewels of Power.

“The axe will want to test you,” said Gudrin. “I think it is best that we counsel you for a time, allowing you to decide to accept the axe and allowing it to decide to accept you—”

“Yes,” agreed Myrrdin, interrupting. “There must be a period of attunement before you take up the axe.”

Gudrin looked annoyed with the interruption. “Yes, attunement. In time you shall bear the axe as I do. After a time, you will learn its tricks and build a resistance to its power. Only then should you pit your will against Ambros and attempt to wield it.”