“We do not know how much of Arvon she may have to cross before she reaches Kar Garudwyn,” Lydryth said.
“She may not have to travel there,” Alon warned. “I think it more likely that she will seek out a place of the Shadow and work a summoning spell to draw him to her, as she did with Dinzil.”
“Arvon has many such places,” Lydryth whispered. “It is a gamble, Alon. If we are wrong, Kerovan’s life may well be forfeit, and Yachne may well have such Power as to be nigh invincible.”
“It is a gamble, yes,” he agreed. “But I cannot leave Escore without warning my people. They are in terrible danger, too, never forget.”
“Will the valley dwellers be able to carry the message to those the witch plans to harm?”
“Yes. Dahaun has birds that she trains to bear messages to Es City and all the different places in Escore, in case of any troubling in the land. Also, Kyllan is mind-linked with his brother, Kemoc, and his sister, Kaththea, and so may be able to warn them that way.”
Lydryth straightened, feeling the muscles in her back and neck ache with the movement. “Let us go, then. We have no time to lose.”
Alon nudged Monso with his heels and the Keplian began picking his way down the mountain slope. It was fortunate that the Gate on this side of the mountain range had deposited them far lower in the craggy heights than the one they had leaped through in Estcarp. Before they had gone a mile, they struck on a winding game trail that led downward to rolling hills. As they traveled, the songsmith kept a sharp lookout for any trace of Dinzil, but the suddenly aged sorcerer was nowhere to be seen.
Their last descent was a particularly precipitous scramble down a steep and muddy path, and, when they had negotiated it safely, Alon drew rein to allow Monso to breathe. Lydryth gazed around her, seeing no sign of anything living save a herd of pronghoms grazing on the spring turf of the next hillside. “What do you think happened to Dinzil?” she asked.
Alon hooked a leg up over the pommel of the saddle and turned sideways so he could regard her. “I do not believe that one such as Dinzil could face living as an ordinary man. If he truly was bereft of all his power, then I would wager that he lies now at the bottom of some cliff, free from his weak and aged body.”
The songsmith nodded. “You are probably-”
She broke off with a startled cry, ducking as something black suddenly dived at them from the sky above. The creature gave a piercing scream as it glided by, turning toward them again, and Lydryth recognized the white V on its breast. “Steel Talon!” she cried. “He found us!”
Alon held out his arm, bracing himself, and, with another screech, the bird landed on that improvised perch. The Adept winced as the creature’s talons dug into the leather of his sleeve. The falcon regarded each of the humans, first with one golden eye, then, cocking its head, with the other. Steel Talon cried out again, his wickedly hooked bill seeming suddenly far too close to Lydryth’s eyes.
“We forgot him,” she said, guiltily. “He is angry with us.”
“I did not forget him,” Alon said, as much to the falcon as to her. “I knew he would find us. He has been with me long enough so that he can sense my mind, even though I am not a Falconer. Those warriors can truly communicate mind- tomind with their birds, but it does not require close contact for the bird simply to sense my whereabouts.”
Lydryth spoke to the falcon as though the bird could understand her. “Winged warrior,” she said, “I am sorry that we did not offer you the chance to travel through the Gate with us. But it was not a comfortable journey, I assure you. Doubtless flying over those mountains was much more to your liking.”
“If he wishes to accompany us tomorrow, he will have to go through the Gate with us,” Alon said. “He could not possibly follow us across two continents and an ocean-to the other side of the world.”
“How can we manage to carry him?” she asked, dubiously eyeing the falcon’s rending beak and sharp talons.
“With difficulty, I am sure,” Alon said. “I will strive to communicate the problem to him tonight, with Dahaun to help me. She can mind-speak nearly any creature’.”
As he finished speaking, the falcon stretched out his wings, and, with a quick motion of his arm, Alon helped him launch himself skyward. Monso’s breathing had slowed and calmed, so they set off again. Steel Talon wheeled in the sky above them, flying so high at times that he seemed naught but a pinprick of black against the blueness.
The slopes before them now were grassy and gently rolling, so Alon put the Keplian into a steady canter. They were headed due north, Lydryth realized, judging their direction from the position of the sun. She relaxed into the stallion’s gait, balancing easily on those powerful haunches, feeling the rhythmic push and glide beneath her. Before long the steady motion had lulled her into a near-doze.
Finally, they struck on a dirt road, well-traveled by the looks of it. “Not far to go now,” Alon said, and she straightened. “I am going to let him run a little,” he warned. “So hold on!” He loosened the rein and Monso immediately surged into a full gallop-and then the Keplian, with a snort, fought to get a free head; his strides came faster and faster yet!
“Easy … easy, Monso …,” Alon said, but the horse only increased speed again.
“Can you hold him?” she cried, alarmed, only to have her words whipped away by the wind of their passage.
Lydryth clung to her companion’s belt, resting her head against Alon’s back and half-closing her eyes as the landscape flashed by them so fast it made her dizzy. This was the first time she had ridden Monso at a run in daylight, and the half-bred’s speed both excited and frightened her. She could feel Alon’s back muscles bunch against her cheek as he struggled to regain full control. He spoke softly to the beast, all the while striving with every bit of horsemanship he possessed to keep the Keplian from breaking loose and running totally free.
Finally, the creature’s pace slackened slightly, and Alon again had full mastery. He turned his head slightly. “Are you still with me, lady songsmith?”
“Yes,” Lydryth managed to gasp. “But when he goes like that… I cannot help but be frightened.”
“You think I am not?” he retorted. “There is a wildness in his nature at such times that harkens back to the demon- creature that foaled him….” He was panting himself with the effort to control the Keplian. “He sensed our urgency, also.”
The Keplian’s mad run had brought them a far distance, for the mountains now were only craggy silhouettes behind them. Before them lay a land where green fields sprouted their crops and tidy farmsteads lay scattered. Lydryth had thought Escore a very empty land in comparison to Arvon, and the sight of those farms reassured her. She remembered Alon’s saying that the two lands had once been one. That much have been long and long ago, indeed, she thought. Her mind reeled at the idea of so many, many years.
The road led them toward two craggy ridges that did not quite meet, forming a narrow pass in their midst. Alon slowed Monso still more, until they were traveling at a slow, collected canter.
As the travelers reached the shadowing heights of the pass, Lydryth saw symbols etched deep into the ocher rockface of each flanking cliff. Several of those incised markings were close enough to runes from the Old Tongue that she recognized them. One of them she whispered softly as they passed it, feeling relief and sense of peace steal over her, for it was a powerful ward against the Dark.
“Euythayan . . . ,” she breathed.
“Yes,” Alon said, barely turning his head to make reply. “Until the day that Dinzil betrayed the Valley by stealing away Kaththea, none of the People of the Green Silences thought that any harm could befall them here. It was a blow to them to discover that their protections could be broken.”
“Dinzil must have been a powerful Adept indeed,” Lydryth said, troubled exceedingly by this revelation.
“He was,” Alon said, and then, evidently guessing her thoughts, he added, “And now Yachne, if she has his Power, might also be able to overcome the Valley’s wards.”
As they went on, the crags dropped away, and so did the road. Then they rounded a gentle downward curve, and Lydryth found herself looking out across a vast valley.
It was so green! Lush with grass and flowers, shaded by great trees, it seemed a dream of beauty that called out to her weary spirit, as though she had come to a second home. The sight of the Valley of the Green Silences seemed to relieve and ease the songsmith’s weary, anxious spirit, even as a healer’s balm may ease a wound. Lydryth found herself running snatches of notes and words through her mind, in hopes that she could someday capture some of the loveliness of this place in a song.