“We must go! There are many Dark Ones below, more coming!”
Kosgro sighed again. “He is right. At the indraw they hunger the most. The worm will not be enough.”
I picked up the root, hoping that it might have in some way modified its signal. But it still pointed down.
“Where do we go? If we follow this, we must return.”
“And that we can’t!” Kosgro flexed his arms. “We shall have to move along this level as long as we can and hope for some small favor from fortune.”
Once more he carried Bartare. But now our pace was a crawl with frequent stops for rest. Then the root made a sudden shift in my hand. I stopped to display the backward shift to my companions.
“We have passed the place.”
Kosgro laid down the girl. Together we went to our knees and crept to the left very slowly and cautiously, hoping to come to the lip of the heights on which we stood and so gauge what lay below. Then, just as the stench of the fell-worm had been a warning, so now a wave of that invigorating fragrance of notus was a promise of hope. Kosgro exclaimed, his slit mouth stretched in a grotesque parody of a human smile.
“It does not sicken me this time!”
“What does not?”
“The notus scent! I can stand it.” He pounded one big hairy fist on the stone. “Don’t you understand? The food has helped. I am now less a part of this world. The notus does not warn me off!”
I could understand his exultation, for I had felt it when my skin had softened as I picked up that earlier branch. Together we lay, shoulders touching, trying to see below the rim of rock. But so heavy was the indraw, there was little we were sure of. The trees we sought could be very far or near, but still well hidden.
As my root toes had drawn some form of energy from the soil, so did now the scent bring me another. The hunger that had been a cramping pain in my middle was gone. I felt at peace and, not only at peace, but also as if there was nothing I could not accomplish – that I could command fate and make it subject to my will.
“It does not seem too difficult a descent,” I said. What we could see of the rock was broken and pitted to offer hand and footholds.
“Where we can see,” Kosgro agreed, but he added, “It is what we cannot see we must fear. If we had a rope, any form of climbing aid, we might – ”
Was he going to give up! Astounded, I levered myself to a sitting position. “But we must go down!”
“I agree. But tell me how.”
A moment of sober thinking told me he was right. Three of us might well make it. But with Bartare there was no chance – not for all of us. Already I was facing the only solution. I alone had the ability to handle notus without discomfort. That a branch was a powerful aid here had been proven. And we must have that aid to survive. Therefore, I must make the descent, get a fresh branch, and return with it.
I said so and prepared for some protest from Kosgro. He was silent for a long moment, then said, “I suppose that is the only way.”
“You sound doubtful.”
“I cannot help but be so. We do not know what lies below, even if the rock is climbable beyond the short distance we can view. To go down into the unknown is perilous, and you are the least well prepared to face such dangers.”
“From what we can smell, there must be more than one notus tree in bloom. And how many of the dangers of this world can approach such? Or am I wrong in believing it a cure for many of the local ills?”
“No. And you are right that you alone may be able to handle it. I can only say keep your wits and senses alert and take all possible care.”
After what we had been through, I needed no such warning. Once more I checked the coverings on my feet to be sure the bindings were tight. And before I slid over the rim, I did something else. I untied the food bag, thus giving him the greatest trust I had. He did not move to touch it; rather he looked at me searchingly and said, his words very sharp and clear, “If you expect ill fortune, then do not go. There is something in the very air here that can pick up and enlarge on any lack of confidence, forcing upon one the very fate he would avoid.”
I forced a laugh, hoping I did not show his words had shaken me. “So you think I believe myself ready for disaster? But you are wrong. It is just that I do not wish this bumping against me. Now I lay upon you a dire warning in return – it may be that our lives rest upon that bundle.”
He nodded. “Do you think I do not already know that? Be sure it will be well guarded.”
I did not look up again as I swung over, but kept my full attention for the rock wall with its many useful breaks. In spite of the tight binding, my feet were more supple and able to search for holds and cracks than they would have been in boots. But I inched along, testing each hold before I used it as an anchor.
My world narrowed to that strip of wall, water-slimed by the concentration of the mist. The secret was, I quickly decided, to live in the present moment only. Thus I clung and hunted for holds, clung and hunted, and each time I changed position won a little farther. The fragrance of the notus grew stronger, heartening me, when I dared to think about it – to the belief that the tree or trees could not be too far away.
At last my feet touched a surface, and I held on, still facing the wall, not yet daring to turn, while I slid first one and then the other back and forth, to make sure I had firm footing. I kept one handhold and very slowly edged to face outward.
There was solid stone under my feet, running out level into the mist. And a green rim of turf was there, too. I hesitated before moving out, for I was not sure I could return to this same spot. But the notus could not be too far away, and hesitation solved nothing.
I began counting my paces aloud, hoping thus to have some clue for a back trail. So I reached the turf, which was soft and springy underfoot. And I stooped and tore a portion loose, though the tough growth resisted, so that I was able to leave a mark. I continued ahead, leaving gashes behind me every five paces.
Thus I reached the first of the notus trees. There was more than one – in fact, a small grove of them. And I stood breathing deeply, rejoicing in the feeling of headiness and well-being.
The blossoms hung in thick clusters, but they were not the clear white of those of the first branch. Some were gold-tipped at the edge. And others detached, to drift ground-ward, where there was already a rich shifting of them on the turf.
I walked carefully under the nearest tree, looking up, de-termined to select the freshest of the branches, for it would seem that the flowers were now past their bloom peak and in the last stages of their life.
Having made my choice, I raised my hands to wrest that branch free. But when my fingers touched it, it was snapped out of reach, as if the tree realized what I would do and was resisting. That startled me into jumping back, for I had an odd idea it might lash back at me in return.
Was this another case similar to the tuft of grass? Must I give some sort of weird payment in return? I examined the cuts on my hand. They still smarted, but they no longer bled. I drew a deep breath and went to the trunk of the tree, putting my torn and grimed hand flat against that shining silver surface.
Why I should do this, I do not know, but it somehow seemed right. And I spoke to the notus as it it were a fellow being who might conceivably be stirred to aid were it to understand our deep need. I asked of the tree whatever it would give me, saying that I would not try to take if it refused, for I remembered now how the first branch had been borne to me by the wind, that I had not reft it from its setting.