Horn Crown (Witch World: High Hallack Series)

  Gathea’s eyes dropped from me to that cup which came to rest against her own boot, the horned head uppermost, to the leaf bright in the sun. They widened into a stare of sheer astonishment, then centered upon that head as if it were alive.

  She retreated farther, still staring at the cup as I reclaimed the leaf. I saw the tip of her tongue appear between her lips to moisten the lower one. There was no anger in her face now. What I read there was surely the beginning of fear. In a voice hardly above a whisper she asked:

  “Where did you find these?”

  “They were gifts,” I answered deliberately. “The cup given me by a great lady who read for me something of the future.”

  Gathea did not raise her gaze from the cup. Beneath the sun-browning of her face a pallor spread.

  “She had a name—this giver of cups?” That whispered question was even thinner. Her unease was plain by the way she turned swiftly to seize upon what was left of her wand, holding that as a man might hold a sword when fronted by an enemy.

  “Her name was Gunnora,” I replied. Some trait in me was satisfied by seeing her so shaken. As if, in her present state, I could reach her—whereas before she had been far removed from me in spirit, even though she was only a hand’s distance away in body.

  Once more her tongue crossed her lips. Now she glanced from the cup to me. There was a beginning of calculation in that look, or so I read it. She might earlier have dismissed me with little concern. Now I had taken on a new value.

  “What is her sign?” That was no whisper. She rapped the question out as if she had a right to demand a quick answer.

  “A sheath of grain bound by a fruited vine.” I never would forget anything which was of that lady who had sat beside me in another time, and perhaps even another and stranger world.

  Gathea nodded. “That is so, but—” she shook her head like one who is at a loss. Then she raised her eyes full to mine. There was that in them which searched, yet was still rooted in unbelief. “Why—why did she give this to you? And where did you find her? There was no” shrine—” The hand holding the wand arose to her breast as if she hugged, like a shield, that reduced symbol of her own dealing with the unknown.

  “I found her in no shrine,” I repeated, picking up cup and leaf, putting one within the other again. “There was a keep, old and deserted. Through some power I feasted there with those who once held this land. My amber lady was one of them, but she alone knew me for what I was, and gave me this.”

  “But she did not tell you—” Gathea’s eyes narrowed. Her awe and wariness were fast fading. If I had been of importance to her moments earlier, I was now losing that standing. “No, it would seem she did not. Still you have the cup, even if you do not know how to use it—and that has meaning in itself.”

  I was irked by her swift return to her usual assurance, to that domination she had held, or sought to hold, over me since we had come into this western land.

  “She gave me one other thing,” I said. “Which I am to use in the proper time—”

  Gathea’s gaze traveled on to the wallet into which I was fitting the cup once again. It was my turn to shake my head.

  “No, it is not the leaf—though that I had also of a lady who had power of her own. You have your secrets, these I hold as mine.” Nor did I ever then intend to tell her of that kiss and what my amber lady had said concerning it. I was no wooer of this witch maid. Whatever dream might have sprung, or would spring, from out of my memory I would not share that! Instead I moved on to make my own demands:

  “What have you learned concerning Iynne or your moon magic dealing? With whom did you speak just now?”

  Gathea gave a slight movement of the shoulders which was not quite a shrug.

  “What I seek—” she began, but I interrupted her with new confidence:

  “What we seek. I will find my lord’s daughter if it can be done in this land of many surprises and mixed magic. Have you any word from your invisible friend as to where our path must run?”

  I was sure that she wanted to deny me, to turn and walk away. Yet I was as certain that she could no longer treat me so. I might not know what power issued from the goblet which I carried, but the fact that it was mine at all plainly made her reluctantly consider me as a trail companion she could not ruthlessly leave behind.

  “Past the mountains beyond—”

  I looked deliberately at the heights before us, my head moving so I could view those lying to the south on to the ones rising in the north.

  “A wide land for searching,” I commented. “Surely you are able to narrow our wandering better than that!”

  For a long moment I believed she was going to refuse. Her frown was back, and she held the wand almost as if she would like to lay it across my face. Such a rush of anger reached me that it was as if the blow had truly been dealt. A moment later wonder started in me that I had been able to sense so clearly her emotions. Though acts of anger such as Garn’s blow (which had made me as nothing among my own kind), were open, still I had never before felt within me anything like this understanding of another.

  I unslung the second wallet—her own—which I had curried for so long, held it out to her.

  “Yours. You will find all untouched within. The strap has been mended.”

  My action appeared to distract her anger for a moment. Gathea took the wallet, holding it almost as if she had never seen it before. A deep score was cut across its surface where one of the talons of the winged creature had slashed.

  “That was done by a flying thing.” I made my voice casual.

  “Flying thing—the Varks! You have fought with a vark!”

  “After a fashion. Though I wonder if they can be truly killed, at least they take a deal of killing if they are.” I recalled that severed hand which had crept toward me like some monster possessing separate life of its own. “It would seem you have learned more of this land since we parted. Enough at least that you can give name to that—and what else?”

  Once more her face was unreadable. “Enough.”

  Enough? Well, I would push her no more now. Instead I continued briskly:

  “Where do we head across these mountains? Still due west?”

  Gathea gave a low whistle and Gruu slipped into place between us as if she would go only so under his escort. She looked sullen, and, had I had my will I would have turned on my heel and left her then and there. Only she was my guide to Iynne. And, for my own inner honor, I must do what I could for one who carried the blood of my own House—since in part it was my carelessness which had led my lord’s daughter into danger in the beginning.

  We climbed in silence, Gruu in the lead, as if the great cat knew exactly what path to take, though I could detect no sign that there had ever been a way here which had been followed by more than perhaps his own kind. The mist had cleared entirely. I could look back upon the land below, stretching out even to the edge where the deserted keep stood. I wondered if Gathea had passed through there; if so what had been her experiences, though I was in no mind to ask her. She had raised a firm barrier between us, and, for now, I was content to have that so.

  Steep as the slope was it did not tax us as that first height on which I had found the lair of the Vark. Now and again I did glance up into the sky to see if we might be observed by such an enemy. However the day was bright and clear and nothing moved above.

  We did not try to scale the sharp set peak, rather Gruu brought us in a way around it, through a crevice so narrow at times that we had to turn sideways to win beyond. Then once more—at nooning I judged by the sun’s height—we came out upon another ledge able to look down and out upon a new land.

  What lay behind us was a mixture of desert and wilderness, a harsh and desolate country. What lay ahead was richly green. There was no mistaking the distant glimpses of what could only be towers, the slim white markings of roads. Gathea stood surveying this before glancing at me over her shoulder.

  “This is guarded land—”

&n
bsp; I grasped her meaning. She was declaring that she alone might have the power to continue. Well, that I would test when the time came, though the rich look of that territory ahead suggested that if Iynne had, in some way, found a refuge here she might well be in better case than I had feared.

  Now my companion swung farther around. “Do you not understand?” Her tone held a hiss like the sound Gruu might make in warning to any who thought to take a liberty with him. “You are not prepared, there are barriers here you cannot hope to cross!”

  “But ones which will fall easily before you? Perhaps manned by the invisible?”

  She tapped the wand she had clung to during all our climb against the flattened palm of her other hand. Her gesture was one of impatience and irritation. Then, seeming to come to some decision, she added:

  “You cannot begin to understand. It would take years—long seasons of time for you to unlock the doors between you and the proper knowledge. I have been schooled from childhood. Also I was born of stock which had held certain powers from generation to generation. I am a woman and these powers are entrusted alone to those who can stand under the moon and sing down the Great Lady! You are—you have nothing!”

  I thought of Gunnora, of my amber lady, and of the cup which plumped the wallet hanging from my shoulder and my jeweled leaf. Thus I did not accept the belief that only a woman might be akin to what ruled here.

  “You think of steel—of a sword—” Gathea continued so swiftly one word near broke on the next. “This place has weapons you cannot begin even to dream of. I tell you there is no place for you! Nor can I aid you. All my strength I shall need for myself—to carry through what I must do. Your kin-lady took from me what was mine, what I have birthright to! I shall get it back!”

  Her eyes were as fierce as those of an untamed hawk. I saw that she gripped that wand so tightly her knuckles stood out in pallid knobs.

  “There is a time for swords, also for other weapons. I have not said that I do not believe in your powers—or in the strangeness of this land. I have had my own contact with that.” My hand went then not to sword hilt but to the bulge in my wallet.

  She laughed. There was scorn in the sound. “Yes, the cup of the Horn-Crowned One, but you do not even know the true meaning of that. By ancient tradition he who wears the Horn Crown holds power only for a season or so, then his blood, his flesh, go to enrich the fields, to be a fair offering to the lady—”

  “To Gunnora?” I asked and did not believe her.

  Gathea stared. “You—you—” It was as if so many words boiled in her throat that they choked her into silence. Then she turned, began to descend with such reckless speed that I hurried to catch up as well as I could, lest she slip to end on rocks below. While Gruu flashed past me, crowding in ahead of her at last, to stand rock still keeping her where she was until I joined them.

  “Shall we go,” I asked her, “together?”

  I knew that she longed to deny me, to continue that headlong dash as she had done when she had lost me before the crossing of the other range, save that the cat would not move and she had no room to push past his bulk.

  “On your own head be it!” she snapped. Once more there lay silence between us until I broke it, since I had decided that this warring of words was of no service to either of us.

  “It may be true that you shall find welcome here. Was it with one of the guardians of this way that you held speech with air only before you? Only I am pledged to find Iynne, since that is a kin debt. That I shall endeavor to do with every bit of strength I can summon. Perhaps a sword is no answer, I do not know. But I am only a warrior—”

  Why had I said that? For nothing else had I ever chosen to be. Yet now I felt another need beginning to move in me. What had been said to me concerning a seed planted—which would grow? I was no Bard, that I knew. So, what did move in me to reach forward eagerly, longing to test the secrets of this green land ahead? More than just the search for Iynne spurred me, I realized. I had a desire, a thirst for learning what lay here—what I might of such people as I had seen during my vision in the lost keep.

  “You are a man!” She made of that statement an accusation.

  It was true that Wise Women had no dealings with marriage. They were known to hold to virginity lest some of their power be lost in coupling. Perhaps deep in them they harbored a contempt for all males, such as I read into her voice now.

  I laughed. “That I am!” Again I remembered the rousing warmth of my amber lady’s kiss. But if this lean-flanked, sun-browned girl thought that I lusted after her, having seen Gunnora, she was very wrong. “In your learning you would deny everything to me because of that? You speak of the Horn-Crowned One and his sacrifice—how is it that I have heard nothing of that in all my years? If it was once the way of life, it certainly has not been for seasons uncounted now. Among the kin—”

  “The kin!” she flashed. “We are not among them. Yes, much has been forgot. I did not begin to dream how much, until I passed the Gate. Then I was like one being let out of a tight prison into an open world. I have begun to learn, but I am only on the first part of the path—a path you cannot think of walking. Go back, kinless one—you cannot hope to stand—”

  “We shall see what I can or cannot stand,” I returned, as sharply. She had flung that last insult at me knowingly, meaning to wound, reminding me once again of the need for restoring my own pride. More than ever I knew that I must continue or be damned in my own eyes.

  I wanted to know what invisible presence she had met with on the mountain land. However, if she would not tell me I could not force it out of her. As I faced her squarely I saw the fierceness fade a little from her eyes, then she looked down at her wand, twirling what was left of that about in her hands.

  “Why will you not let matters be—?” she asked in a low voice. “You push, you pry, your very presence here may lead to defeat. I could turn this on you—” The end of the wand flipped a fraction in my direction. “Only if I use my gift so, then the force would strike back at me. I cannot send you away, I only ask that you go. I have spoken ill of your Lady Iynne, but accept this: when I find her I shall do all in my power to free her from a tangle, which she invited in her foolishness, and return her to her own life. I can do this, being who and what I am. You cannot—”

  “Because I am who and what I am?” I asked. “I may surprise you still. Shall we go?”

  She shrugged and started the descent again, this time at a more sober pace to suit the roughness of the way. For on this side the peak was far more precipitous than had been the other. Here were places where it was necessary that we aid one another in finding hand-holds, or steadying over drops.

  There was no more speech between us, but our hands met readily enough when it was needful. Finally we reached better and easier ways which brought us into that green land. Here there were a number of those same trees that had been in that wood which had seemed to harbor the spirit woman I had met. There was no brush growing beneath them, only patches of moss. In pockets of sun, flowers bloomed—mostly white, faintly touched on petal tip with either rose or a green-yellow, so perfect one might have thought them fashioned from gems.

  Perfume hung in those sunlit glades which Gathea did not cross directly. Rather she passed about the edges, being careful not to touch or disturb any of the flowers. While I was content to copy her example.

  However, I noticed that she made such detours hurriedly and never looked at the flowers directly. Once when I fell a little behind she turned and beckoned me on. Pointing to the flowers, she said:

  “They are dangerous—to us. There is a sleep lying ready in their scent to drug the traveler, give him strange dreams.”

  How she knew this I did not understand, for their like I had never seen. But a Wise Woman has much knowledge of growing things and perhaps Gathea could sense from her training what carried danger within, even though she had not seen them before.

  Gruu had vanished, speeding well ahead of us after we had foun
d our way down the last slope. We had not stopped for nooning meal and I knew that what lay left in my wallet was not enough to carry us far. I was hungry and I began to cast glances about us as we went for either game, or some growing thing which would fulfill our needs. Save that there were neither to be seen in that wood.

  At length we came from among the tall trees and their attendant glades of flowers, into a forest more natural to me, for these trees seemed closely akin to those I had known on the other side of the Gate. We had not ventured far within that section before we chanced upon a game trail on which were the fresh hoof prints of deer.

  Still Gathea made no move to halt, but I was heartened to think that when we did camp we might have fresh meat to roast over a fire. As she continued a pace as swift as the obstructions of the wood would allow, I became restive, and, at last, broke that silence which seemed to be of her choice.

  “I have food of a sort,” I said abruptly. “It would be best to eat.”

  I believed that she had been so busied with her own thoughts that my words came as a startling surprise. Now she did pause and her hand went to the latching on the wallet I had brought her. She looked around. Nearby lay a mossy trunk of a tree that she chose as a seat. I dropped beside her and brought out my bag of grain now three-fourths empty, and a small portion of smoked meat.

  She had unlatched her own supply bag and had a handful of dried fruit, two very stale, dried journey cakes. How had she fared during those days we had been apart? Had Gruu hunted for her or had the trail she followed been better served with fruit?

  “None of that,” she shook her head at the meat I offered. “I do not eat much flesh within this land. And if you are wise you will not either. In fact, it would be better by far for you to bury that,” she looked upon the meat with aversion. “Things—hunters—can be drawn by the very scent, old and dry as it is.”

  I considered what she had said. It was true she must know far more of this country—perhaps through some report from her invisible friend—than I did. Thus it would be wise to be governed—up to a point—by her advice.