“My lord! Kerovan! Wait!” My call echoed hollowly, making my dizziness worse, rebounding from inside my head as well as from the rocky walls.
He—he was slowing! Turning in his saddle! I dragged harder at Vengi, dug my heels into Arren’s sides, cantering toward him. “Wait, Kerovan!”
Just as we reached him the rocky walls of the pass opened out, wider, wider—
The glamourie vanished! I had clear sight again! “Guret, look!” Gaping, I reined Arren in, sitting beside my lord, gazing at what fronted us.
A valley. Beautiful rolling grasslands, bounded on my left by a towering forest. The valley might have been five and one half leagues long, perhaps half that in width. It was surrounded by mountains, vast rocky peaks with forested slopes. On my right, lit by the lowering rays of the sun, towered two high, saddle-backed peaks. And on the closer of those, near the summit—
My mind struggled for words. A Keep? Castle? A dwelling, surely, but not one constructed by humankind. Built from the sacred blue stone, it towered, seeming almost an outgrowth of the mountain itself. Curving spires, dark arched windows, narrow ramps instead of staircases—it seemed very strange, yet in no wise threatening. It clung, seeming almost without support, to the mountainside, like some improbable (and in its way, lovely) dream.
Guret’s voice broke my amazed reverie. “What is it, m’lord?”
“Kar Garudwyn,” Kerovan answered matter-of-factly.
“How do you know that, my lord?” I asked.
He smiled gently at me, without reply. Looking at him, I scarcely recognized this man; his face, wiped clean of tear and striving, seemed almost that of a child. My lord had always, since I had known him, appeared far older than his true age. His upbringing, his fight against the fear and hatred his “deformities” oft inspired in his own people, had given him a maturity that made him seem by far my senior—when in truth naught but two years separated us.
Now, studying him, I was struck by the remembrance that Kerovan was but one and twenty years of age. Reaching out to him, I caught his hand, held it. “Kar Garudwyn? What is that, Kerovan?”
He smiled again, still with that open, unguarded look that made him appear so young. “Home.”
I gazed back up the valley at that cliff-hung stronghold, wondering what was inside. Without further speech, my lord urged Nekia forward, and the three of us rode down into that lush valley.
It was heavily populated with birds and animals—a pronghorn stood for long seconds to stare at us, wide-eyed, before trotting leisurely away. It had been long and long since humankind had ridden here.
When we reached the foot of the mountain, we sat our mounts, staring up past the trees at the steep and jutting cliff face leading to the Keep we could no longer see. There was no path, no indication of any way to reach that stronghold. I found myself wondering if those inhabiting it in ages past had been winged beings.
Suddenly conscious of my fatigue, I climbed off Arren, then removed her hackamore, letting her graze freely.
Should we unsaddle, Kerovan? Do you wish to stay here tonight?” It seemed to me that this spot, protected as it was, offered the best place we had seen for a camp.
He frowned slightly, puzzled. “Why should we stay here? Kar Garudwyn awaits us now.”
I studied the sheer cliff wall facing us. “Perhaps so, my lord, but I am no eagle, nor have I seen you sprout wings in these last moments. There is no way of our reaching it.”
He laughed, still with that open, untroubled expression. “This way. I will show you.”
After unsaddling the horses, leaving them to graze eagerly, we shouldered our packs. Kerovan led us east, first climbing through the fringe of trees, then treading a narrow path that wound along the naked cliff face. Guret and I, looking slightly askance at each other, followed.
The rock of the cliff continued forbidding: hard, grey granite, veined here and there with darker streaks. Nowhere did I see any means of winning up that face using less than climbing ropes and scaling irons—I began to wonder if the ensorcellment surrounding this valley had unhinged my lord’s mind. Fear, which had quieted in the sight of such peaceful beauty, awakened in me once more.
We rounded a sharp outthrust scarp, to see only more of the unending cliff. Yet Kerovan had stopped, was facing the blankness of that buttressing wall serenely. As we approached, he smiled, indicating the smooth rock in front of him. “Our passage,” he said.
It took all my control not to weep, tired as I was, the weight of my pack digging my shoulder, as I looked at the blank wall fronting me. My lord must be mad, for naught but a lizard could alight on that surface and cling there. I wet my lips, glancing sideways at Guret, saw the lad nod quick agreement, making a spinning sign with his fingers near his forehead. Kerovan turned, catching the younger man’s gesture, then turned back to me, his annoyance plain. “Why do you mock me? Don’t you see it?”
I remembered the times I had soothed fevered patients, and made my tone gentle. “See what, Kerovan?”
“The symbol!” Frustrated, he pointed at the blank wall. “You see it—you must see it!”
I shook my head. “We see naught but a stone cliff, my lord.”
Kerovan turned to Guret for confirmation, then once again studied the rockface, his puzzlement growing. “But it’s so plain.”
Reaching toward the stone, he touched fingertip to its rough greyness—and I started, smothering an exclamation. Beneath his touch, light flared, violet light, and I could see the symbol as he traced it! A winged globe—Guret cried out from behind me, making Kerovan turn abruptly.
“It—it’s gone!” Guret blinked at the stone, then looked to me appealingly, fear touching his eyes.
The symbol that had flared there so briefly, carved deep into the granite of the cliff, was indeed gone. Still—I blinked in turn, squinting, then put out my own fingers to the same spot. Warm—
Under my touch a faint blue-green glow glimmered, fading almost as quickly as it came, but for the few seconds of its life, I had been able to feel the deeply incised symbol.
“Do you mean that to you the stone is blank?” Kerovan asked, his confusion fading. “But it is so clear…”
“Even as the valley entrance was to you,” I pointed out. “But to Guret and me, it was shrouded in mist, filled with glamourie. Do you see a door here?”
For answer he traced again the symbol, which once more glowed faintly with a violet light. There was a groaning, a sound I heard not so much with my ears, but with that other sense I had come to associate with my use of Power, and then the rock wall swirled, darkened—
We faced a wide passage, stone-floored and walled, that curved upward out of sight.
Even with the gently angled loops of that ramp, I was hard-taxed to make the climb. Kerovan bounded ahead, as tireless as Nekia, while Guret and I lagged behind. My legs began to ache from the strain, and I was forced to pause, breathing deeply, at several points.
At one such stop Guret reached out, took my pack, then shouldered it along with his own. “I can carry it,” I protested.
“I know, Cera, but it is heavy, and you must not tire yourself to exhaustion.”
I looked into his dark eyes, seeing there a gentle understanding and compassion. “How did you know?” I asked. “Did Terlys—
The young man smiled. “I have four younger brothers and sisters, Lady. I have seen my mother’s eyes grow shadowed, in just the way yours are, when she was carrying. My lord does not know?”
“No,” I admitted, “and he must not, until we know what it is we face in this place. Promise me you will keep silent.”
He hesitated. “Except for the weariness, are you well?”
“Completely,” I made firm answer. “I am a midwife, remember. I will take no foolish risks. Have I your sworn oath?”