Chapter 24|Ramsgate
There it is. The Ramsgate.” Larris pointed toward a narrow gap between two mountains.
Shanis shielded her eyes against the brightness of the afternoon sun and squinted, trying to ignore her headache. It was altogether a disappointment. She was not sure what she had expected, but for so storied a locale, at least according to Oskar, it should have been… grander. The pass was merely a narrow cleft in the rock. She could see only a few paces in before the way vanished in shadow. She would be surprised if they could get the horses through.
Larris seemed to read her thoughts. “Horgris assured me it is passable. We might have to unload the horses, though. It will be difficult, but not nearly impossible.”
Hierm groaned. Shanis took a small measure of satisfaction in the fact that he seemed to be feeling as poorly as she.
“Why do they call it the Ramsgate?” she asked.
“Because it is so narrow that common wisdom said that only a single ram could pass through at a time.” Larris scratched his head and stared down at the narrow defile. “Of course, old stories tend to be exaggerated. At least I hope so.”
“I read a different version,” Oskar said, drawing his mount even with theirs. “I heard that the mountains here are so impassable that even the rams have to use this pass to get through.”
“Either way, let’s be at it,” Allyn said. “The day is wasting.” He put heels to his horse and set off down the slope at a steady pace.
Reaching the pass, they dismounted. Allyn handed his reins over to Oskar and went ahead of the group to scout. He returned soon thereafter, his expression unreadable, as usual.
“It’s a winding path, narrow in parts. We will definitely have to carry our bags.”
Shanis set to unloading her horse with a detached, sick feeling. Her stomach roiled and her head felt as if a horse has stepped on it. She fumbled with the buckle on one of her saddlebags, and cursed.
“Need any help?” Hierm asked. He did not quite meet her eye as he spoke, and he was obviously staying out of easy hitting or kicking range.
She gave him what she hoped was a withering stare, and returned to the task at hand. Finally loosing the bags, she hooked them together and slung them over her shoulder. Taking her horses’ reins in her left hand and gripping the pommel of her sword in her right, she started toward the cleft between the mountains.
“Shanis,” Larris said, “wait for the rest of us.” He smiled expectantly, as if last night’s offer of a kiss was going to be renewed now that she was sober.
She ignored him. She gave her horse a tug and tried to move faster. They could catch up with her later. The morning’s ride had been unbearable. She did not want to speak to any of them, Oskar included. In fairness, he hadn’t done anything wrong, but it was obvious that he was dying for someone to explain to him what was going on between the rest of the group, and she neither wanted to talk, nor hear about it.
The pathway curved to the left and the light dimmed as the cleft above her narrowed. Another turn back to the right and now the way was not much wider than what her horse could fit through. She came to a place where the path widened and ran straight ahead for some fifty or more paces ahead. A chill passed through her and she paused, drawing her cloak tight around her neck.
She stood in a rocky fissure, the walls of which ran far above her, broken up by occasional stone outcroppings. The mountain peaks blocked most of the sunlight, casting the pathway in a dusky shadow. Something caught her eye, and she stepped back to get a better view.
Above a ledge, about thirty paces up, she could just discern the outline of a cave. Despite the dim light, she could see that its shape was unusual. The opening was a smooth, even arch, so unlike the rough stone all around. More than that, the cave seemed to beckon to her. She felt herself drawn toward it.
She examined the rocky face beneath the cave, looking for handholds. She had never climbed like this before, Galsbur being in the midst of rolling farmland and dense forest. She immediately noticed several likely-looking outcroppings and some wide cracks where she might wedge a boot.
“Should I try it?” she asked no one in particular, staring back up at the shadowed entry. If her horse had an opinion, he kept it to himself.
Down the passageway, from the direction she had come, she heard the clatter of horseshoes on stone, and the soft murmur of distant voices. That fixed it. Anything that would buy her some time away from her so-called friends was a welcome diversion. She selected her first hand- and footholds, and began to scale the rock.
The climb was surprisingly easy and she reached the small ledge in front of the cave only a bit winded. She caught a whiff of smoke and noticed a flicker of light deep in the cavern. Drawing her sword, she stepped inside.
“Your blade is needed not.” The voice was thin, cracked with age, but resilient, like old leather. “Come in.”
Shanis lowered her sword, but did not sheathe it. She walked slowly. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom she could see that the walls and floor of the cave were perfectly smooth. As she moved deeper, she could make out a small figure sitting on the opposite side of a small fire.
The woman was unbelievably old. Her face was deeply lined, with bags under her sunken, yellowed eyes. Her matted, silver hair hung limply around her face. She was garbed in a coarse, dark robe. She beckoned to Shanis with a long, gnarled finger.
“Who are you?” Shanis asked, stepping into the firelight, and finally sliding her sword back into its scabbard.
“Questions you have, but my name be not one of them. Call me Hyda, if you must.” The woman’s words sounded mysterious, but she uttered them matter-of-factly. “Sit down.”
Shanis eased down onto the cold, stone floor, and sat cross-legged. She noticed that her headache was gone, though her mind was far from clear. The same feeling of being drawn up to the cave now seemed to work at her tongue. She did have questions, and for some irrational reason, she believed that this old woman could answer them. A small voice in the back of her mind urged caution, but it was suppressed by the greater desire to unburden herself to this crone.
“What is the Silver Serpent?” she blurted. Why could she not seem to hold her tongue?
“What you seek.” The old woman replied.
“Yes, I know,” she said, her frustration rising. “But what is it?”
“That which you must find.” The woman looked Shanis directly in the eye. There was no humor there, no suggestion that the woman was toying with her.
Shanis took a deep breath. Above all, there was one question to which she wanted to know the answer. A doubt that had lingered in her mind from the day of the tournament. A simple phrasing at the end of a note. She bit her lip. Did she truly want to know the answer?
“My father,” she paused, not certain how to ask the question. “Is he truly my father?”
The crone rose and moved slowly around the fire toward Shanis. She leaned down and extended a withered hand.
Shanis winced at the black earth under the woman’s yellow fingernails. Rough skin brushed her cheek as the old woman cupped her face. “Girl, you do ask all the wrong questions.”
Shanis drew back from the distasteful touch. “Why don’t you tell me what I need to know, then?” She wondered for a fleeting moment at the wisdom of offending her host, but the woman did not seem to care. She turned and shuffled back into the depths of the cave, vanishing into the darkness.
Shanis looked around, but could see little in the smoky darkness. Discomfort and an odd fear itched at the back of her neck, but curiosity and the inexplicable belief that she was supposed to be here kept her anchored fast.
The woman returned carrying an earthenware bowl filled nearly to the brim with liquid. Water, Shanis guessed. She carefully placed the bowl on the ground, then looked up at Shanis.
“Give me a hair.” She held her hand out, palm up, above the fire.
Shanis hesitated for a moment, then, as if in a dream, plucked a
long hair from her head. She handed it to Hyda, who held it over the low flame. Shanis saw a small spark. She twisted up her face as the odor of burning hair filled her nostrils.
Hyda held the burning hair in her upturned palm until it burned out. She reached across the fire, holding her hand in front of Shanis’ face.
“Spit.”
Shanis looked down at the small bits of ash in Hyda’s hand. She frowned, then shrugged, and spat into the creased palm.
Hyda rubbed the saliva in a circular pattern, smearing the bit of ash. She then scooped a handful of water, and held it up.
“Breathe your life into it,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Blow on it.”
A pleasant feeling of dizziness spun in Shanis’ mind as she leaned forward again, and blew gently. Her vision narrowed, and she seemed to shoot forward until her consciousness was but a mere speck floating above the rippling sea in Hyda’s palm. A faint mist rose up, enveloping her in its delicate arms. She felt herself borne up, enshrouded in gray vapor.
“Your path not be your own.” Hyda’s words rolled across the water, breaking over her in thunderous waves. “Many be the claims on your life, and either way you go, you be doing good for the one and ill for the other.” A long pause. “Your companions, they all be needed to complete your task, but one be not true.”
Shanis felt her brow crease, as if she were far removed from her body. She understood what the woman meant about her path not being her own. But, one of her companions would be untrue? Could she mean Hierm and that girl? It couldn’t be. She and Hierm were not promised to one another. They…The thought dissolved in the mist, and she lay back in the warmth of what felt like the most pleasant of dreams.
“What you seek, you may find, but only if you be not looking for it. Your way, it be perilous. You face…” The sudden absence of Hyda’s voice was a shock. When the words came again, they were a tremulous, frightened whisper.
“Prevail you must. Hold fast girl. With all you have and all that you are, hold fast.” The last two words were sobbed more than spoken.
The sound of Hyda’s voice fled, and with it the comfort of the warm mist. Shanis drifted alone in cold, blackness. She had only a moment to feel fright, before her awareness dimmed, and she faded into comforting slumber.