Guardians of the Gate Read online

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  He tried to sit up but a small hand on his chest held lu'm back. “Lie quietly a moment,” the voice was soft with the singing accents of Dulean speech. “You’re safe now.”

  He studied the face. It was heart shaped, seemingly all eyes and mouth. An elfin face capped by curls the color of a Xirkian sunset and eyes like gems cut from a summer’s sky. It wasn’t a beautiful face; too much concern lay on it And there was a hint of dissatisfaction —or fear—around die mouth and eyes. It was a face which would touch beauty if its owner could look on life without fear.

  He sat up slowly.

  “No dizziness?” she asked.

  “Only from smelling kaffe when my stomach’s emptier than my head,” he told her.

  As she slid a bolster behind his back, he saw that the elfin face was attached to a finely shaped body. He found himself regretting the loose robe she wore.

  She brought kaffe in a heavy mug. “Can you hold it?”

  “I can try.” He took the mug carefully in both hands. The ship heeled slightly, spilling hot liquid on his chest. It was then he realized he was naked beneath the waist high covers.

  “My spellstaff? My carryall and clothes?”

  "Everything is safe,” she said soothingly. “Your clothes are drying by the stove.”

  He glanced toward the stove and nodded his relief. He sipped from the mug and glanced at her in surprise. “My compliments to the chef,” he said. “What beans made this?”

  “They come from Erul, of course. And thank you. I brewed it.” She smiled. “But give credit to Korv as well. I laced it with Zarza’s finest brandy.”

  He drank more, letting it run warmth through his belly and into his muscles. “What kind of ship is this which carries Korvan brandy and kaffe fit for a ruler?”

  “The ship of a ruler,” she said. “We were sent by Pandro, king of End, to seek out Teron of Korv.”

  15

  "Who is we? And why does Pandro seek me?” He finished the kaffe.

  She took the mug from him and refilled it. Her expression showed surprise at the suspicion that had flared in his voice. “We accept you as Teron of Korv. Why can you not accept us as from Erul—come to help you?”

  “Why do you accept me?” he countered.

  “You spoke with Rocan, with the Old One. Together you fought off the drig. With your help he again defeated Udrig.”

  “And lost his life,” Teron said dryly.

  “His physical body, yes,” she agreed. “But his being— of that we do not know. If Eliff has the strength, perhaps the Old One yet exists.”

  Teron frowned. “You speak of Udrig and Eliff as though they live as men live.”

  “They live, certainly. Perhaps not as men, but they live.” She sat in a chair and brought up her knees, hooking her heels on the chair edge so that she could wrap her arms around her knees. Leaning forward, she rested her chin on her kneecaps and studied him in open surprise. “You question Eliff and Udrig?”

  “I question anything I cannot explain in rational terms,” he said. Rested, away from the darkness, the cold, the threat of the hunters, he felt that he could think normally again. He added, “Before tonight I would have denied, but now I question.”

  She smiled. “Then you will soon believe. Meanwhile let your body regain its strength.” She stood. “I’ll bring you food.

  His voice stopped her short of the cabin doorway “You haven’t yet answered my questions. Who are your And why does Pandro seek me? And, for that matter, how do you know what passed between Rocan and me?” “Should I demand proof of you in return?” she said in sudden anger. “It was my voice that brought you to the safety of this ship. What more assurance do you need?” Without waiting for his answer, she left the cabin.

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  She returned shortly, carrying a tray of food. Silently she set it on his lap and stepped back.

  The odors rising from a bowl of thick soup lifted his appetite sharply. He picked up the spoon and then set it back in the bowl. The girl made a sound of annoyance. “If you fear being poisoned, then you’d hardly recognize this ‘rational thinking’ you seem so enamored of.” Her voice was tart “Why would we battle the hunters to save you if we sought to destroy you later?” He grinned, thinking that she was attractive when she was angry. “I yield to your logic,” he said and began to eat.

  His grin clearly irritated her. “Maybe you aren’t Teron of Korv after all,” she snapped.

  “Who else could I be—a drig in disguise?”

  “You could be a creation of Korox,” she said. She nodded. “It would be his way .. .”

  “Whoever this Korox might be,” he said, shaking his head at her, “you know who and what I am. Would the Old One have accepted me had I not been Teron of Korv? Would you have called out to me otherwise?” He had finished his soup and she removed the tray. He watched her move away, not answering him. He said, “If you can speak into my mind as you claim to have done, perhaps you can read it as well.”

  “You give me too much credit,” she said stiffly. “I cannot read minds.” She set down the tray and faced him. "And never before have I spoken to another as I spoke to you. But the Old One assured me I had such power. I tried and . . .”

  “And succeeded,” he said. He studied her curiously. “You tell me much, yet you refuse to answer my questions.”

  “Perhaps I hope to receive the same trust as I gave. Besides, I think you know the answers to your questions.”

  He was feeling far more benign as the food digested pleasantly inside him. “My apologies. A hungry man is often sharp tongued. Logically, I must admit that the

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  Old One told me to seek Pandro of Erul—and why.” “He also told you to seek the Seventh,” she countered. “That both would explain what you must do, and that the Seventh would help you find Bator, the scribe.” His curiosity was clear. “You say you cannot read minds. Yet you seem to have heard Rocan’s words to me.”

  “No. Before he ever summoned you to Pirin, the Old One came to Erul. He spoke to us of what must be done to save Erul, and so all Zarza, from the growing power of Udrig. That is why we came to Pirin.”

  “The Old One spoke to you,” he said. “You and Pandro?” Her expression was answer enough. “Then you are the Seventh. You are Eldra of Erull”

  “The fortieth Seventh in direct line from Vacor and the first Eldra.” A deep sadness filled her voice.

  He needed only one final proof, and then he could believe completely. He spoke to her in the ancient, singing tongue:

  “ 'And as Eldra had come from the Vale of Eld so decreed Vacor that female or male every Seventh in direct line such would have the powers.

  And so Eliff agreed.’ ”

  He watched her, waiting until she said, “Verse 48, Part 49 of the Song of Vacor and Eldra.”

  Teron continued, his voice full and rich with the music of the speech:

  “ "Thus it has always been.

  Thus it will be as Vacor decreed.

  Until the spirit of Vacor, the Eliff-given powers of Vacor Until these are no longer.

  Then will the Seventh be powerless.

  Then shall Erul be dead land.

  Then shall Zarza too be without life.’ *

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  “Verse 49, Part 49.”

  Teron’s smile touched her. “We should have done that sooner. I no longer doubt.”

  “Nor I,” she admitted. “Then you will come to Erul? You will join with me?”

  “Sidris! Join with you in what?”

  “Think back to the beginning of the Song, to the long opening verses.”

  He nodded. “They lack the same rhythm. I always suspected they were added later in an attempt to explain the meaning of the Song."

  She waved aside his objection and waited. He chanted:

  “ ‘And the power that was Udrig came from the void.

&
nbsp; And the force of Eliff rose to defend the living,

  And those who would live in the infinite future.

  And it was because of the beauty of Erul;

  Of the strength that beauty gave to men;

  It was because of these, the beauty and strength,

  That Udrig sought first Erul to destroy.’ ”

  He stopped chanting to say in his normal voice, " Then Eliff created the liffi to defend Erul against the drig that Udrig conceived and sent forth. But Eliff found that when men did not give of themselves, that when they depended on his powers alone, then they were lesser beings. And so he sought out men to give such of his powers as he dared so that they might give of themselves in the battle. From all on Zarza he chose two of Erul, the beautiful land—a man and a woman. And he made it so that when they were joined, their power was truly great.’ ”

  Eldra countered, “ ‘And Udrig sought to do the same. But each man he endowed with his powers died in agony as though poisoned. Finally he learned to harness

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  the frailty of one man’s nature, to direct it to destroy those Eliff had created and endowed—Vacor and Eldra.’ ”

  Teron said, “ “But when Vacor and Eldra Joined, they were able to turn aside the forces of Udrig and to destroy the man he manipulated. And so it has been from that time on. Each Seventh in direct line of descent from Vacor has the power to crush the one given powers by Udrig.’”

  He smiled at her. “A lovely explanation of good and evil in man, and the finest epic of all Zarza.”

  “You do not believe, you, a spellmaker?”

  “I believe in the symbols, yes,” Teron said. “But in the actuality—the literalness of it—this I must doubt.”

  “How can you?” she cried.

  “Metaphysical arguments aside,” he said, “look at the Song itself. Vacor and Eldra had seven children, and the last was the first Seventh. She, in turn, had three children and from her last came four more. And the fourth was the second Seventh. And so it has gone on until you, the fortieth Seventh.

  “Now if we assume that each Seventh has destroyed a little more of the forces of Udrig, by now he should have little left. And what there is surely you, a Seventh, could handle alone.”

  "Did not the Old One tell you?” Her voice was low.

  “Tell me what?”

  “Not all Sevenths held such power. Remember the Song. Only when Vacor and Eldra were joined did their power become great. It has always been thus. Unless a female Seventh joins with a male carrying the blood of Vacor or a male Seventh joins with a female descendant of Vacor, there can be no great powers. And each time a Seventh joins with one who is not, if only thinly, related back to Vacor, his or her powers are lessened. My grandmother was joined to one descended of Vacor; my mother was not.”

  “You’re trying to tell me that you have no powers?”

  “Only a few, and such small ones!”

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  “And,” he went on, “you’re also trying to tell me that I have in me some of the blood of Vacor of ancient Erair

  “You must,” she cried. “Otherwise our joining would mean nothing.”

  He said as gently as he could, “I am a spellmaker and from Korv. My father is the true spellman as was his father and his and on back into the mists of the past. My brother will be a spellman some day as he’s the elder. I, I’m no more than a scholar turned stage performer. I depend on a few tricks, my wits, and the spellstalf always given a second son.”

  She said stubbornly, “Where did those of Korv come from?”

  He shrugged. “Where did any men of any land come from? The legend has it that in the days when men were first placed on Zarza, those who brought them from the stars gave them control of some natural powers so that they might be protected until they grew strong enough to stand by themselves. The black box of my father, his spellbox, and my spellstalf, these are all that remain of those powers.”

  She shook her head. “Do your tales, your histories go back as far as the time of Vacor and Eldra?”

  “Not as history, only as legend. It was too long ago.”

  “Do your legends tell of the wanderer who sailed south on the Warm Sea from Erul to Korv, the brother of Vacor.”

  “They tell of a wanderer,” he admitted, “but not who he was or where he came from. Some versions of the legends even say that he brought with him the black box and the spellstalf and that he was the first spellman of Korv.”

  “That is not legend; it is history. The wanderer was the brother of Vacor of Erul.”

  He hid a smile. “All right, then I’m descended from the line of Vacor. But so is my brother. Why was he not called by your Old One?”

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  “Why wasn’t my elder sister? Because not all descendants of Vacor have the powers.”

  “I wish I had a few,” he said dryly. “I’m not even a good mentaler.”

  “Better perhaps than you think. Your mind took in my thoughts.” She straightened up and said triumphantly, “And if you don’t believe somewhere deep inside yourself, then why did you call on Eliff for aid!”

  “How could you know that! I said nothing about it.”

  “I listened,” she said. “I stood on the deck of this ship and opened my mind. I listened to the Old One speak with you, and I watched you as you escaped from the assassins and sought the sea.”

  “Don’t tell me those assassins were drig sent by Udrig!”

  “No, just men hired to kill.”

  “Hired by whom?”

  “I don’t know, but I suspect Korox and his puppet, Davok of Fenn.”

  Fenn was something he could understand, something concrete. The country which occupied the northernmost tip of the Isle of Dule, Fenn—it was said in the books— was a land where the white rain fell and did not melt at once. A poor land of poor, savage people, with Erul at their backs to remind them of those more fortunate and the dreaded Whitelands in front—a place where not even Fenn warriors often dared go.

  But Fenn was a land of men. Teron could accept it and believe in it. A world of Udrig and Eliff, of drig and liffi, of a living Seventh descended from the Vacor and Eldra of those misty ancient times, of a wandering brother of Vacor whose blood he carried—these were the things of myth. And Teron’s rational mind cried out against them.

  Yet he had seen the glow of the liffi. He had felt the cold, deadly, sucking force of the drig, and he had called on Eliff to gain the strength he needed to defend himself. He had heard the voice of this girl in his mind. And because of that voice, he lived.

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  He said, “Korox and Davok, who are they?"

  “Davok is warlord of Fenn, hungry for Erul and for power. Korox—I don’t know,” she confessed. “But two years back, Korox appeared in Erul, claiming to be a wizard and a spirit caller. But Pandro, our king, already had Roosk as court wizard. Korox went on his way, over the mountains to Fenn. And from that time Davok has grown more bold. Now he raids Erul and the Whitelands and takes food and people and wealth. Korox counsels him. The Old One told me that he feared Korox was chosen by Udrig to have his powers. I believe this, for it is only since the coming of Korox that Erul has felt the growing strength of Udrig.”

  She handed him more kaffe. “You must believe,” she said. “Until you do, we cannot join. And only then will we find the power to renew the full strength of Eliff, to defeat the force of Udrig.”

  Only part of what she said registered and, in his present mood of skepticism, that was mainly nonsense. “Can I turn my belief on and off like water from a spigot?”

  “No, but belief will come if you let it And then the

  joining.”

  “That is the second time you have used that phrase, the joining.”

  She said patiently, “Of you and me.”

  “I don’t understand.” He drank some of the kaffe, but it didn’t make her words any clearer.<
br />
  She stared at him. “You’re a man. Surely you know what to do when you take a mate.”

  Kaffe slopped onto his bare chest. “A mate!”

  “Of course. Why else would I seek out only you? You are my ordained mate. When we reach Erul, we are to be wed.” She smiled almost dreamily. “In the court of Pandro, by the dispensation of Pandro himself. And then like Vacor and the first Eldra we—”

  “That’s something your Old One overlooked telling me,” Teron said, and buried his face in his kaffe mug.

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  Ill

  TERON HAD ALWAYS HOPKD his wanderings might bring him to the Isle of Dule, the Enchanted Land. He hadn’t imagined himself arriving on the king’s own ship, complete with a mission to carry out whether he would or no and a bride into the bargain. It was one thing to study myths. It was quite another to participate in them.

  And yet when he saw the Isle of Dule rise onto the horizon, he thought he was paid for some part of his pains. A strand of silver sand; a spill of color that was the seaport of Eradne, gateway to Erul; beyond Eradne, great foothills sleeping beneath a green blanket of forest; and above all the Comb of Heaven, Dule’s coastal cordillera, whose snow-silvered pinnacles did indeed seem to comb the clouds as they drifted by.

  “It is the Enchanted Land,” Eldra said as she joined him at the rail. “And so it must stay.” There was a catch in her voice.

  "It is beautiful,” Teron agreed. “How long do We stay in Eradne?”

  “We don’t. Transport awaits us on the dock. There will be no ceremony surrounding our arrival. It isn’t secret precisely but neither is it advertised.”

  So his spellmaker s robe stayed in the carryall and, together with the shoulder harness carrying his spell- staff, firmly strapped to the back of the worn jerkin he wore over the same comfortable leggings and boots he always traveled in. Eldra’s robe was plain enough for one of the vowed Sisters of Sidris. To his chagrin their equipage was even more modest than their personal appearance. It consisted of a common cart and the smallest, saddest, most swaybacked sahr Teron had ever seen. “No one will take us for a royal party,” Teron remarked as they left Eradne behind.