“Talisman . .. ,” she repeated uncertainly; then, following his gaze, she drew her gryphon-hiked sword with its two bits of quan-iron embedded for eyes. “Here.”
“There are ways and ways to open Gates,” the young Adept said, “but since this one is made of crystal, I believe that it may be activated by sound. Crystals give off musical notes when struck.” So saying, he tapped the center of the mirrored surface with the gryphon’s head. A clear, ringing tone filled the air-a note holding some of the same eerieness as the faintly heard sound that had awakened the songsmith last night.
“Mmmmmmm . . . ,” Alon sang, trying, without notable success, to match that tone. Not only was his voice too deep, his sense of pitch and key were far off the mark. He frowned, then turned to his companion. “My lady, can you sing that note?”
“It is high,” she said, consideringly, “and I am an alto. But perhaps . . . Strike it again, please.”
He did so, and Lydryth raised her voice. She fell far short. of her goal. “I have not sung in days,” she said, “but perhaps if I warm up . . .”
“Try,” he urged.
The songsmith attempted several scales, and then, in a few minutes, when her throat improved, sang several songs to exercise her range. Alon grinned as she finished with “The One-Spell Wizard.” “Let us hope that I have more than one spell to my name,” he said dryly.
“Strike the crystal again,” the bard ordered, and when he did so, her voice soared up, matching the note perfectly.
As Lydryth’s voice hung in the air, the crystal glowed violet, bathing Alon’s face and hands in its light. Something flashed outward from its surface, and he exclaimed with surprise to find himself holding a perfectly formed crystal, clear on one end, amethyst on the other. And yet, Lydryth realized with amazement, as she let the sound die away, the surface of the mirror remained unmarred!
“What is it?” she asked, as he examined the mirror’s gift, holding it up to the sunlight so that it made prisms across his features.
“Our key for unlocking this Gate,” he said. “I only hope it
T works. Monso!” he called, and the Keplian, snorting warily, came over to him.
Alon reached out and caught the creature’s long, thick forelock, then quickly began twisting and twining the horsehair around the crystal to anchor it against the stallion’s forehead. “What are you doing?” Lydryth asked curiously.
“I won’t leave Monso behind,” he said. “We will need him, if we are to catch up with Yachne, who is traveling afoot.”
Finally he was done, and the mirror’s gift rested within a little bag twined from horsehair that hung between Monso’s eyes. Alon then swung up into the saddle, offering a hand to the songsmith. He still held her quarterstaff in his right hand.
“When I sound the note,” he instructed, “you must sing it, holding it as long as possible-no matter what you may see or feel, do not, I entreat you, stop, or all our lives may be forfeit!”
“I understand,” she said steadily.
Urging Monso forward with his legs, Alon reached out toward the mirror. But the Keplian shied back from the strange surface, snorting. “Easy, easy lad,” he soothed the beast. “I know that this is passing strange, but you must stand steady while I strike!”
Twice more did Alon urge the stallion forward, only to have him shy away at the last moment. “Monso!” Alon commanded, a commanding ring to his voice. “Get hup!”
The half-bred took a final reluctant step forward, to stand so close to the crystal surface that his breath misted across it like a cloud. Alon struck the surface with the gryphon’s head, and Lydryth matched the tone and held it-
-held it-
-then saw before her the mirror’s surface change, glow, as it became misty . . . translucent. “Go!” yelled Alon, bending down and slapping the stallion’s neck hard.
With a startled grunt the Keplian surged forward, his sudden leap nearly unseating Lydryth. Almost her voice faltered, but she forced herself not to waver.
Before her the Keplian’s forehooves disappeared into the amethyst smoke, then his muzzle, neck, shoulders…. Lydryth closed her eyes as the mist struck her face, bringing with it a vast dizziness and disorientation.
But she held the note steady, despite it all, and a moment later felt beneath her the shock of Monso’s hooves striking solid rock.
They were in the witch’s cavern.
With a sobbing breath, the songsmith finally relinquished the crystal’s note, and gazed around her in despair. “Where are we? I thought we would go where Yachne went!”
Alon turned Monso, careful of the surrounding stone walls, to gaze at the mirror within the cavern. “To do that, we must go through that mirror,” he said, sounding so exhausted that Lydryth wondered how he managed to sit upright upon the Keplian.
“Then let us go!” she urged.
He shook his head grimly. “At the moment, I do not believe that would be the wisest course,” he said quietly.
“Whyever not?” she demanded, wanting to shake him in her impatience to warn her foster-father of his danger. “We must save Kerovan! We can’t afford to waste time!”
“Do not forget that she is walking, while we will be riding,” he reminded her. “And after such a major feat of sorcery as opening not one, but two Gates, I feel sure that Yachne must needs rest for today.” Alon sighed wearily. “But, my lady, those are not my two most pressing reasons for wanting to wait.”
“Then what are they?”
“This is the first,” Alon said, and, dropping Monso’s reins, made a pass through the air with the quarterstaffand muttered beneath his breath. He was using, Lydryth thought, the same words as Yachne had voiced.
Obediently the mirror came to life, glowing with a sickly blackish-purple radiance that made Lydryth turn her head away with a cry of dismay. “This mirror represents the Darkside of the moon-crystal we leaped through. For us to use it to get to Arvon may be exceedingly dangerous.”
“To our spirits,” the songsmith agreed, through stiff lips. Seeing that eerie phosphorescent glow, she could well believe that he spoke truth. “Even so.”
“But Alon, we will have to risk it! Arvon is hundreds of leagues away, across the sea! We could never track Yachne in time, otherwise!”
“You may have the right of it,” he agreed. “But do not forget that there is a second reason not to go immediately. . . .”
“Which is?” she asked, conscious suddenly of a great tiredness in her own body. It seemed all she could do to hold on to Alon’s belt.
“I will show you.” He reined Monso around and walked the Keplian out of the mouth of the cave, down a rocky trail, until they rounded a bend and stood upon a mountainside.
The sun was rising against the eastern horizon, with no mountains to block its rays. Alon indicated the surrounding countryside. “We are in Escore, my lady. If I am not mistaken, where we sit is not more than a half-day’s ride from the Valley of the Green Silences.”
“Dahaun’s Valley!” Lydryth said, remembering their discussion with Nolar and Duratan. “The place of healing!”
“Yes. I have known about that Valley since I was a youth, of course, but I could not reveal my knowledge of such without giving myself away to you,” he said ruefully. “So I made shift to ‘discover’ that scroll in Nolar’s study.”
“When all the time you knew!” she said, giving him a mock glare. “But is it true? Can the Lady Dahaun heal my father?”
“I cannot be sure. On one edge of the Valley lies a place of healing. There are pools of a red mud there that can overcome any injury or sickness. Death, if a victim can but reach that spot, has no power there. Whether Dahaun’s red mud will work on an injury of the mind . . .” He shrugged. “I know not.”
“But Kerovan … Yachne…” She made a helpless gesture. “She will destroy him if we do not stop her!”
“Are you prepared to give up your quest, sacrifice your father’s chance to be healed in order to save this Lord Kerovan?”
Lydryth stared bleakly out over the rolling green hills of
Escore, feeling as though her heart had been ruthlessly seized by unseen hands and was being pulled apart within her breast. Blessed Gunnora, what shall I do? I cannot choose between one and the other! I cannot! Amber Lady, help me! Nine
“/ cannot choose between them,” Lydryth said numbly. She gave him a despairing glance. “No one could make such a choice!”
“No one should have to,” Alon agreed. “And I believe that there exists a way to save both of them. If we can reach the Valley of the Green Silences today, we can collect some of Dahaun’s healing mud to carry with us, then go back through the gate tomorrow. With Monso’s speed, we should be able to catch Yachne before she can harm your Kerovan.”