The Thirteenth Scroll Read online

  Lysandra paddled till her arms ached and her shoulders burned, and kept on paddling.

  They had caught up with Talog and Selia on one of the few stops that nature necessitated. Cloud-Dancer rejoined Lysandra, refusing to leave her side again. Then Talog led the boats to the other side of the river and closer in to shore, where the current was less strong and the paddling easier.

  The two boats now stayed close together. All through the rest of the day they drove themselves, all of them working harder than Lysandra ever thought possible. She did not have the time or the energy to spend on trying to see their pursuers. Now that the first elation had worn off, the ability of Far-Seeing was too new for Lysandra to know what its effects or demands upon her might be.

  They kept going into the night. Their only sleep came in little naps, one at a time while the others continued paddling. Their bodies were working too hard to feel the cold, as the night wore on hour after long hour.

  Dawn came in a brilliant glory that was noticed by eyes and minds too tired to care, and by Lysandra not at all. She had stopped using her Sight, stopped thinking or doing anything that might distract her from the rhythmic motion of her arms.

  Then, finally, two hours into the daylight, Lysandra heard the first faint sounds of hope. She snapped her head up, drew a deep breath and held it, heart pounding as she strained to hear more clearly.

  There it was again: the unmistakable sound of hundreds of birds, carried outward on the morning breeze.

  “Do you hear it?” The sudden burst of hope and excitement gave volume to her voice as she spoke for the first time in hours.

  Renan and Selia did not, not yet—but Talog did. The young Cryf’s joy rang in his voice as he agreed with her. He was almost home. Lysandra envied him the feeling; her cottage was still over half the kingdom and many dangers away.

  The nearness of his home gave Talog new energy, and he paddled all the harder, making Lysandra and Renan struggle to keep up. But within minutes, the sound became loud enough for them all to hear—and what had been a desperate chore now became an act of anticipation.

  Safety was ahead: safety within the secret Realm, where they could all rest, at least briefly, from the danger of this pursuit. Whatever was coming, they would not face it alone.

  Each moment, every dip and pull of the paddle, brought them closer. Finally, they were floating again between the hollowed columns of antediluvian creation, into the beauty and wonder of the long first cavern that stood between the Up-world and the Realm of the Cryf.

  But they would not travel the heart of the Realm afloat. Talog paddled his boat to the bank and motioned for Renan and Lysandra to do the same.

  “Our travels shall be faster now by the pathways of my people,” he said. “The ways of the Cryf go straight unto the heart of the Realm, where Eiddig awaits. Those who follow know not our paths.”

  Lysandra was overjoyed by the thought of dry land again. Selia said nothing. Lysandra could feel her fighting to control the fear that had filled her every moment since she left the convent. Every hour since then had taken her farther away, every action had been precipitated by dangers suddenly heaped upon her as she was forced back into the world she had eagerly thought to renounce.

  While Talog and Renan unloaded the boats, Lysandra went over to Selia’s side, wishing she had some words of comfort to offer. But she would not give her empty promises or say that all danger had passed and only a bright future lay ahead. Instead, she put her arm around the young woman’s shoulders, offering in a gesture the warmth that might give Selia some of the encouragement her words could not.

  Unexpectedly, at her touch, their minds and thoughts merged. The impact of it stunned Lysandra, but only for an instant. Selia, too, was taken aback—and yet they both immediately knew that their minds would always be open to each other. It could be no other way if Wisdom and Prophecy were to combine into that one Light that was Truth.

  As the surprise faded, Lysandra felt again the emotional turmoil that raged within the younger woman. Selia was holding herself in the delicate balance between desire and duty. It was a mixture of feelings Lysandra understood well—and she knew how precarious the balance could be.

  Do you truly trust them so much? the younger woman asked her finally—of Talog and Renan, of this place they were now entering… and of what waited ahead.

  Yes, Lysandra told her. That much and more. I do not know why each of us was called out of our chosen existence, to do what none of us ever wanted or expected to do. But I do know that without faith that there is a purpose, without the trust and hope that are part of faith, there exists only Darkness. It might not be felt today or tomorrow, but the Darkness is there. I have been to that Darkness, Selia. It is not the Darkness of the mind or the body. It is the emptiness of the soul and blindness of the spirit.

  Before Lysandra could say more, Renan called to her. He and Talog had carried the boats far enough into the passage not to be easily seen.

  Lysandra briefly tightened her arm around Selia’s shoulder. “Trust,” she said softly before turning away, “and your fears will have no power. Remember that even the smallest beam of Light banishes the Darkness.”

  She was glad to find Renan had remembered her walking stick. After so many miles together, it was comforting to have it again in her hand and her other hand on Cloud-Dancer’s head. Although her Sight was now something she could call upon at will, she used Cloud-Dancer’s vision as they started down the long passageway ahead. Their bond was stronger than ever, and Lysandra was using this touch of mind upon mind to let the wolf know her continued gratitude for his companionship.

  They had all had too little sleep and had worked far too many hours. Lysandra’s arms felt like lead and her legs were as wobbling as a new fawn’s. Only Talog seemed unaffected, too filled with the joy of being back in his beloved Realm. Lysandra did not begrudge him his excitement; she would feel the same way if her cottage waited at the end of this road.

  They kept going, somehow. Step by step. Talog, who bounded ahead, had been back to check on their progress three times. But they had not seen him now in almost an hour. Lysandra did not know how much farther she could walk, even to save Selia—even for the unrealized hope and future of the kingdom.

  Then she realized that the sound she had been hearing without it registering in her too-tired mind was the sound of running feet—Cryf feet. It was a unique sound, unlike the tap and clatter of the heavy, shod feet of her human companions. There were many of them coming; she tried to count but that, too, took too much effort.

  The sound was nearer; then it was all around her. “Talog?” she said aloud.

  “I am here, Healer,” he replied. “All shall now be well. Eiddig-Sant hath called the Cryf to readiness. Thou mayst rest now.”

  Strong arms lifted Lysandra and laid her in a long sling filled with the soft nesting material that had been her bed once before. The sling was suspended on poles and carried by the runners. Lysandra relaxed back into this portable bliss and finally let her efforts cease into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Giraldus would send only two men with the horses, one of whom was young Rhys. The other eight he insisted on keeping with them. Aurya did not waste time arguing. She did not care about the numbers as long as they hurried.

  Finally, two rafts were done and they were on the river, working in shifts at the long poles that gave them momentum against the current. It was far slower going than Aurya liked, but it was the only way to follow the fragile trail of magic that was their guide.

  She kept expecting that trail to lead to the other bank of the river and continue on land, but as long as it continued along the water, so would they. All through the rest of the day, through the night, and into the next day—she would not let them stop for fear the thread of magic would lose its cohesion.

  It was nearing noon the following day when Aurya first heard the birds. The sound carried over the water like no birdsong she had ever heard before
. As they continued their passage upstream, the sound got louder and louder. There had to be hundreds of many varieties, all singing their calls together.

  Birdsong became cacophony as, at last, the river rounded a bend and she saw the huge cavern, like a great maw opening in the side of the mountain.

  “You can’t mean us to go in there,” Giraldus demanded. “I’ve heard many a tale of people going into these caverns and caves—and never coming out again. It’s too dangerous, Aurya.”

  “Yes,” she said. “We’re going in there. They went in there—and it’s not as dangerous to us as losing the child. Are you to be turned away by the fear of old tales told to frighten children? If that’s true, perhaps you shouldn’t be King. But I have the heart it takes to be Queen. Put me to shore, and I’ll follow them on my own.”

  Giraldus growled in frustration. He knew that her threat was very real and that short of binding her from shoulder to foot and keeping her that way, nothing he could do would stop her now. All he could do was leave her or go with her… he gestured for the men to keep going.

  Aurya was not prepared for the sight that awaited just within the cavern’s dome. When she saw the hollow pillars of stone, heard the crescendoing cries of the fledglings and parent birds echoing off the high ceilings, she knew that this, not Yembo, was the place of Tambryn’s scroll. She had been on the wrong path from the beginning.

  She said nothing of this to Giraldus. It did not matter—she was on the right path now.

  But not if they did not hurry. Up ahead the thread of magic light was dimming. Soon, Aurya feared, she would lose sight of it completely.

  “Over there.” She pointed to where the thread led to the riverside. The raft followed its direction. Even so, the light of the thread was growing dimmer with each breath she took.

  “Hurry!” she cried.

  When they reached the bank, she did not wait to be handed to dry land, but scrambled ashore on her own. Not waiting for the others, she started running down the passage ahead. It was long, and for now, straight. Piles of luminous stones held off the darkness, but she took no time to wonder at them. With each step, her guide was growing fainter.

  She found the stored boats of The Others and had to climb over them. Fools, she thought, if they believe that will stop me. But, once past the boats, the thread she had been following stopped. Aurya closed her eyes for a moment, spending some of her remaining strength to try and feel the presence of the mage… trying to feel anyone or anything ahead in this underground. But there was nothing. It was as if the passageway led straight into a realm of complete emptiness.

  Then she noticed it. The fire that was her power, that burned as much a part of her as her own breath, was gone, extinguished. It was as if her heartbeat had stopped. After almost a lifetime with its presence, she now felt empty, defenseless—and utterly lost.

  Only courage and pride kept her in control. She heard the sound of the men’s feet running toward her. As soon as Giraldus was again at her side, she pointed down the passage ahead of them.

  “That way,” she said in a voice resounding with the confidence she did not feel, and she led the way forward.

  Lysandra felt as if she could have slept the clock round, awakened to eat, and then gone back to sleep some more. But circumstances were not wishes, and just over four hours after she collapsed, she heard Renan calling her name.

  “Lysandra,” he said again, “wake up. There isn’t much time. They’re coming.”

  His words dispelled the last of her sleep. She sat up as quickly as her protesting muscles would allow.

  “Where are they?” Her voice was thick and hoarse with too little rest.

  “Close,” he replied, “but Eiddig has everyone ready. Here.” He placed a small bowl in her hands. “It’s a balm the Cryf healers sent. It works wonders. And there’s some food and drink waiting.”

  She nodded, bringing the balm to her nose. She could smell peppermint, which would be cool and soothing to her tired muscles, but the strong scent kept her from telling what else it contained. No matter, she thought absently as she began to slather it on, first her sore arms and then her tired legs. I can find out later.

  The peppermint immediately began its work, making her body feel more refreshed than it was. The sudden coolness and slight tingling also helped clear her mind. Tired though she was, she could think again.

  She heard Renan doing something a few feet away. “Here,” he said. “I’ve brought you a plate. But you’ll have to hurry—Eiddig is waiting.”

  Lysandra ate as quickly as she could, aware of strength returning to her body with each mouthful. Finally finished, she held out one hand and felt Cloud-Dancer take his usual place. Then she held out the other hand to Renan.

  “Lead the way,” she said. “I’m ready.”

  He gave her hand a little squeeze and together they left the sleeping cave, heading for the huge, central meeting cavern where Eiddig waited.

  The distance did not feel as long this time as it had during their previous stay. When they stepped from the passage into the huge open area Eiddig came hurrying toward them with amazing speed in one so old.

  The Cryf Guide placed his palm, fingers pointing upward, against Lysandra’s forehead in the greeting he had used several times before.

  “The Divine truly hath guided thy footsteps, Healer,” he said. “Renan-Sant and our son of the Twelfth Clan, Talog, have told us of thy plight. Fear not, for the Cryf are prepared and are strong in battle. By the Will and Bidding of the Divine, we shall protect thee, who art Prophecy’s Hand, and She-Who-Is-Wisdom.”

  Lysandra was suddenly frightened for the Cryf. In their own way, they were more unworldly then even Selia. Did they know whom they were offering to fight—not just Giraldus and his soldiers, but the Lady Aurya and her magic?

  “I… we… thank you, Eiddig-Sant, and all of the Cryf, for your many kindnesses,” she searched for the right words. “The Up-worlders who are coming are dangerous, Eiddig-Sant. There is one who has great power.”

  He held up his hand. “Talog hath told us all, Healer. Thou must cease thy fear and trust in the Divine. All shall be well.”

  Just then a runner dashed into the cavern. He ran up to Eiddig and spoke a few quick words in their own language. Eiddig nodded, then he turned and gestured to the other Cryf in the cavern. Within seconds, Lysandra’s Sight showed there was no one but the Cryf Guide, the two humans, and a wolf left to be seen.

  Eiddig then addressed Renan. “Take the Healer to the place prepared, as I did show unto thee,” he said. “Thou shalt watch and know what must be done.”

  “The Divine be with thee,” Renan answered. “Come away, Lysandra.”

  “We can’t just leave him,” she protested. “He can’t face Giraldus alone, and especially he can’t just wait there for Lady Aurya. What if her magic does work here? You’re the only hope then. You can’t just go hide.”

  “Lysandra,” he said sternly, “it’s already settled… and I won’t be hiding, not exactly. Please, come. You need to be with Selia right now. She needs you.”

  Just then, she heard the running footsteps—booted footsteps—heading their way.

  “Damn,” Renan muttered, pulling her along.

  Calling to Cloud-Dancer, Lysandra ran to keep up with Renan. But she sent her Sight backward into the cavern. The last thing she saw before rounding a bend was Eiddig, sitting on a great stone in the center of the cavern floor, his gnarled hands loosely gripping his great staff and a gentle smile on his face, waiting alone to meet the foe.

  The men ran with swords drawn; Aurya came with her head held high. She carried no sword, but a long dagger hung from her belt where she could easily draw it. Thus far, she had used it only for such chores as slicing meat, knowing that her magic was her greatest protection.

  Now her magic was gone and the dagger’s weight had become a comfort. With each step down the long, dim, twisting passage, she told herself that her magic would return any second. To believe o
therwise was for her to invite the defeat of madness.

  They hurried on, following the directions she gave as if she still saw the thread before her. She did not know why she chose the branch she took each time the passage separated, but their only choice was to continue onward. She knew that she was lost and could not have found her way back to the river. They were either going to find the child and its protectors—or they were going to find their deaths, lost in darkness beneath the mountains.

  But from up ahead, the light grew stronger and the passage opened into another great cavern, as big as the one at the entrance to the underground. Aurya crouched at the opening. Giraldus was next to her again and together they studied what lay ahead, looking for signs of danger.

  All they saw was a strange old… man?… sitting alone on a rock, holding a tall, elaborate staff in his gnarled hands.

  Giraldus did not wait for Aurya’s directions. He strode forward, leading his men and letting Aurya follow as she would.

  The wizened creature before them looked up as they approached. As they drew close, Aurya doubted it was a man after all. Then it smiled oddly at them and spoke.

  “Ah, ye have arrived and finally,” it said. “Your coming hath been expected.”

  “Expected for what, old one?” Giraldus asked haughtily. He raised his sword. “Did you expect this, too? Give us the child you’re hiding, or you’ll feel the bite of it.”

  The old one kept smiling. “Ye are given a choice,” he said, “and in that choosing doth your destiny lie. Lay down your weapons and depart from here in peace, and ye shall all be shown the path back unto the Up-world—“

  Giraldus laughed, stopping the old one’s words. He brought his sword up to the creature’s throat.

  “Do as I say, old one—or your life ends now.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when, suddenly, all around the cavern floor and up on the many rough-hewn shelves that encircled it, others of these strange creatures stood. In their hands they carried weapons of sharpened pikes, of picks and axes, of broad-bladed knives and long-handled large-headed hammers. They began to surge forward, emitting a weird high-pitched wail that made Aurya want to cover her ears.