Greyfax Grimwald (8 page)

“This pleases you, Creddin, this pile of trinkets?” A thin, cold voice echoed through the chamber, dimming the light.

Creddin turned. A heavily cloaked dark form stood against the door, a shadow upon the deeper blackness behind.

“You seem to have forgotten our appointed hour,”

Creddin’s eyes fell from the unseen gaze, and he trembled before this awful presence.

“No, Master, I did not forget. Unlooked-for company held me past the hour. I thought it was you when they came.”

“I’ve seen your guests, and can think of no useful purpose they might serve. Still, even I don’t know all, so I shall have to report their presence here. Whence came they, and where bound?”

“From the River. I know no more. They seem to have close tongues. I couldn’t get them to speak their errand.”

“I have ways,” came the voice, like an icy wind and Creddin’s face paled, and his old limbs trembled. “But then you well remember, don’t you, miserable shaft rat.” Harsh laughter rang through the chamber. “If your bedraggled guests are no more sport than you, it wouldn’t be worth our time questioning them. The Queen may be bored, and wish them for games.” Piercing, mirthless laughter stabbed cruelly into Creddin’s heart “Now, about the other two strangers. What have you learned?”

“I was not able to gather, Master, except that they were lords of some nature. They only watered their horses, and came not to my house. There was no chance to slip them the potion you have given me.” Creddin withdrew a step, trembling.

“Imbecile. Miserable wretch. They were from the cursed Circle.”

A long, curled whip lashed out from beneath the dark cloak, whining and cracking across Creddin’s bent form. He cried out, cringing. The lash devoured him again.

“No, Master, no. It was not Creddin’s fault I thought they were magicians and the potion would have done naught save deliver their anger upon me.”

“Now mine is upon you, wretched filth of a dwarf. I shall punish you no more at the moment, but my wrath is upon you if these worms upstairs are of no worth to Her Darkness. Now off with you. No more of your trinkets tonight. Begone.”

The ebony finger of the whip cut deeply into Creddin’s legs as he fled the chamber. In his pain and haste he left the entrance open, and heard, as he hurried from that coil of searing heat, dark laughter echoing across the mounds of glittering, precious gold and casks of jewels. He turned, filled with desire to return, to fill his eyes once again with the treasure’s beauty, to run the heavy golden shapes through his fingers. But the great stone rumbled and darkness fell upon the chamber, darker than no light, deeper than stillness, and the laughter rang cold upon the still gray-black walls. Shadows from his flickering lantern played about him in the shapes of winged beasts, filling him with renewed terrors. He scuttled down the long tunnels, over the stark white bones of the lost plunderer, up the long flight of stone stairs, and into the upper hall, lighted with a pale orange glow from the eastern windows. Sunrise once more, and he had much to do.

He quickly closed and locked the tall ironbound doors to the tunnels below, crossed the huge chamber, dusty and unused, and safely back in his own bedroom, he locked the outer door. Creeping to the only piece of furniture in the room other than his bed, he took from it a flask, black and foul-smelling. As his bony hands clutched it to him, his eyes filled with a wild despair. His sight dimmed for a moment, and his mind retraced the long, bitter loneliness of his years. He heard laughter from the outer room, where Dwarf and Otter were searching for him, calling his name as he had not heard it since before he’d discovered the treasure chamber, before his heart had turned in him and he’d desired its consuming beauty. He had paid dearly for it, kin and friend alike, and the dark shadow that dwelt upon his soul lifted at hearing Dwarf calling gaily and good-humoredly from the galley.

“Creddin, Creddin, where are you, old fellow? You’ve got two unquenchable appetites to deal with here. Come along now like a good chap.”

Otter’s long lilt of laughter followed, and his words were lost in the confines of the kitchen.

Another voice filled Creddin with trembling and fear again.

“Give it to them, stench of Dwarfdom, give it to them.”

A struggle took him, and at last, hand trembling and eyes closed, Creddin replaced the flask in its hiding place. He would find out what he could by his own skill, but that was as far as he would go, no matter what. More than that, he would try to warn Dwarf of his danger without exposing himself. He knew he would be watched, but not so closely in the sunlight. He must at least try, or the pleasure of the hall below would be useless. His conscience, which he had buried long ago, demanded this token of remembrance, and until he satisfied this small kindness, it would be dark indeed, and not even the sight of the vast treasure would ease him. They had promised him wealth and long life when they first came, and the sight of all Tubal’s hoard had consoled him for his treachery. Again when Bani was taken, gold filled his heart with a hard, remorseless light, and all the others seemed only leaves at the end of a long summer. One by one they passed, in wars and famines, until he alone was left, untroubled and content to find friendship deep in the old mines, where golden eyes lulled him to a waking sleep and silver hands touched his brow at night, turning away all thoughts but of their beauty. At times, when Doraki, the dark lieutenant of the Queen, came, his existence was miserable and he was taunted with the memory of his friends and his treachery, and filled with a grief almost more than he could bear. But then they increased the treasure store with some bauble or other, taken from other men or elves, or dwarfs, or other kinds, and left him once more helpless. But their promise of long life was failing, and day by day he watched his limbs wither, and he knew then that long life meant only the mind, for his body was aging. Soon all that would be left would be his unsleeping mind, tortured in that poisoned darkness, unable to move, or die, and he would be kept forever like that. He must save at least something against that time, dwarf or animals, so that the darkness would not be quite complete.

“Coming, coming,” he answered their calls, and leaving, shut the door resolutely on the dark, frightening voice.

U
nder a bright field of stars, Greyfax and Froghorn made their supper beside the green lawn that ran down into the mists that covered Calix Stay, Their horses, enchanted bearers from the great roll ing lands of far Windameir, had carried them Ac two long miles since their parting with the three comrades. Against the dark mirror of night, a dim luminous glow covered the vale, and dew began to decorate the turf and low scarletberry bushes that covered the sides of the hills. As midnight ap proached, the stars seemed farther away, and began to dim. Over the distant mountains, a thin wisp of t trine moon began to rise, shimmering in thick mists of whitish silver guaze, looking like a half-draws scimitar hung suspended over the lands.

“I don’t like the looks of her tonight,” said Froghorn, looking away toward the mountains. “Her beauty wanes most as our need greatens.”

Greyfax studied the moon in silence. A nightcaw spoke in hushed flutterings somewhere off in the thickets. Another answered, far away, barely a swish ing wind over the dark silence, Greyfax looked quickly from the mountains into the near darkness, and held up his hand for silence as Froghorn began to speak again. The pale glow that had illuminated the ground around the two stilled and disappeared, and all fell into a tense silence, a quietness choked with some presence that Greyfax now detected. It was still far off, but searching, and he did not like the sound of the birds’ cry. There was something about it that struck him as harsh, more menacing than a lover calling to his dark mate somewhere in the deep folds of thickets. It came again, and the answer was closer now, and a distant, faint murmur of padded footsteps could be heard by his keen ears. An’yim, Greyfax’s steed, started, raising his head, snorting and pawing the grass with his powerful forehoofs. Soon Pe’lon neighed softly and drew closer to his master, Froghorn. The stars had gone, and the only light came from the splinter of moon, a deadly gray glow that seemed to darken even more all the shadows as they waited breathlessly, listening, in the clearing. Hastily Greyfax drew Froghorn .near him, and spoke so sofdy into his ear Froghorn was not sure he had heard turn.

“We must fly now, quickly. Our ways part here for a time. We must not be snared like rabbits. Away. I shall find you next where I can. Fly, old fellow, and use all speed.”

Even as he spoke, Greyfax was astride An’yim, and lightly the two, horse and rider, moved away into the darkness without so much as a blade of grass disturbed to mark their fleet passing. Pe’lon trembled eagerly to be gone, and had barely given Froghorn time to mount before he, too, had climbed the wind and bore away his master with an ease of speed that brushed the treetops silently into a faint tremor of leaves. The only evidence that they had been discov ered was a last, long, angry cry of. the night bird’s voice, its wail of defeat echoing emptily above the vale, and something else joined, not bird nor beast, a scream that turned Froghorn’s heart cold, and Pe’lon, at hearing it, lowered his great head.

“Snared like rabbits in a trap, indeed,” Froghom thought, then remembered a time, beyond all years or measurement, when Greyfax and he had been exactly that, snared rabbits in an evil web of the spider-cold heart of the grim Queen. They had grown strong again over the ages of time, but even now could not withstand her forces alone. With a word he turned Pe’lon toward the south, where lay the house of Lorini, sister of the Dark Queen, whose halls were al ways golden. Lorini, holder of the Sacred Fire, wisest of all save Melodias, now second master of the Circle, would perhaps have news that would aid him in these dark times. And Greyfax, too, might at the very moment be making his way to her halls. There was much he had not asked, and much he desired to know, and the closeness of the elder of Grimwald irked him into touching Pelon’s neck, urging yet more speed.

There was a shadow of light, so swift and bright in passing over the lowering shoulders of the moun tains, the hollows of their deep hearts trembled in its wake. Far ahead, the moon seemed to shrink from the swiftness of Pe’lon, now only a motion of stillness across the hidden faces of the stars in the silent heavens.

“S
o there you are at last. We thought you’d dis appeared, without so much as breakfast.” Dwarf poked his head out of the galley door upon hearing Creddin’s call. “Come along, your guests have helped themselves. There’s enough here to satisfy our host, too.”

“Can you hand me down that larder, Dwarf, there on the buttery? I simply must have something to go with this loaf.”

Dwarf stretched far up on the sideboard to remove the tin, but to his surprise, Creddin almost bowled him over with a darting hand that snaked past him and clutched the canister.

“No, no, you mustn’t use this, friends. It’s spoiled, I’m afraid. I’ve been meaning to throw it out this past fortnight, but it’s always slipping my mind. And being here all alone, you know, I guess my old head begins to let things slide.” Creddin looked up between half-lidded eyes to see what effect this ex planation had. Dwarf stood wide-eyed, staring, and Otter, paw still poised in midair to reach for the can, hesitated, then chittered cheerfully, “Oh, never mind, Dwarf, thank you. I’ve taken a fancy for some jam. There’s a jar there where I can reach it myself.”

Otter stretched up to his full three feet, and shuffled the jar from the counter.

That’s excellent good, Master Otter, raspberry from last year’s stock. I pride myself on my jams. Sweet tooth, it seems, is ever my failing.”

Otter spread the jam on the thick slices of bread, and contented himself filling his cheeks with it, tast ing the full round berries, tart and still juicy. A trickle of scarlet crept past his mouth onto his whiskers, and he quickly licked it back.

“Excellent, most delightful, sir.”

Dwarf now covered his own bread with the jam. Creddin eyed them for a moment longer, then ex cused himself to throw away the spoiled larder tin.