The River Folk crowded around and they could all see the tracks too. Just four horse tracks, all alone in the fresh snow, as if a horse had appeared by the apple tree and then vanished. There were no tracks leading to the tree, nor away from it. Nor was there any way that someone could have jumped a horse to that spot through the trees. The white frost on the branches was undisturbed.
Gudrin was rubbing her face. She scowled and clenched her package tightly to her chest. On her back, Brand saw her rucksack lurch not once, but twice, as though something had fallen to one side and then the other, by itself. Gudrin jerked her head in annoyance. “Quiet!” she whispered over her shoulder. Then she caught sight of Brand watching her.
Brand frowned and stepped toward Gudrin. He wanted to know what was in that rucksack once and for all.
“This is very bad,” said Gudrin before he could speak. “The shade is strong enough to take bodily form, even if for just a moment or two.” She shook her head.
“Doesn't that just mean we could hurt it with our weapons?” asked Jak.
“No, I doubt it. I'm not sure even Modi of the warriors here could best one of them,” said Gudrin, her face was a mass of deep lines. She looked older when she worried. “It takes more than ordinary steel to injure a shade.”
“What should we do?” asked Telyn. Gudrin startled a bit, turning around to notice for the first time that she had come up behind her to stand close.
“You are a quiet one, aren't you?” she asked. She waved her hands for everyone's attention. “Jak, we must leave this place. We must flee. I don't know why the Enemy has his shades after you, but that doesn't matter. We must run to a safer place. And after that, we must find Myrrdin. He may know why you are hunted.”
Jak nodded in agreement. “I think we should head for Riverton. The Harvest Moon Feast and the Offering must be performed tonight. If I can't bring them Myrrdin, then you will have to do.”
Gudrin raised her hands in protest. “But I'm not fit to perform the ceremony! I haven't the craft!”
“Neither have we, nor have any of the other folk of the River Haven,” argued Jak.
Gudrin clutched her package and clenched her eyes tightly, as would someone in prayer. Brand saw her rucksack shift twice more. He and Corbin exchanged quizzical glances. He had seen it too.
Finally, Gudrin raised up her head, and all her years seemed to run through her in a shudder. Brand wondered just how old she truly was.
“I will do it,” she said simply.
They gathered their things quickly and went to the dock in a tight, nervous group. All of them felt that they were being watched. When they reached the shore, they discovered that a third boat was there, a small rowboat.
“That's Arlon Thunderfoot's, the hunter from Hamlet,” exclaimed Brand. “What's he doing here?”
“Careful, boy,” said Gudrin, holding back his arm. They all watched as Modi moved forward to peer into the boat. He signaled for them to approach.
Inside the boat they found only one oar. There was frozen blood on it.
“Where's Arlon?” asked Brand, already guessing the grim truth.
“He's merling food, by the look of it,” grunted Modi. He turned to Gudrin. “We must sink what we don't take.”
Gudrin nodded. She turned back to the empty rowboat and the stunned River Folk that had gathered around it. “I grieve with you all.” She raised up her package above her head in both hands.
“The River gives, and the River takes. In the end, the River knows us all.” she quoted. Then she gestured to Modi, who quickly struck a hole in the bottom of the boat and pushed it out into the flood. The warrior moved to the leather boat that the two of them had come in and scuttled it as well.
“We will all take the skiff,” said Gudrin. “Come.”
Numbly, the four River Folk climbed aboard and cast off. Brand couldn't remember having ever heard of an actual murder before. Certainly, there were accidents along the river now and then, but never an intentional killing. Even though he had not known Arlon all that well, it was difficult to accept that he was dead.
For several minutes they traveled in silence, letting the current sweep them away from Rabing Isle. Brand looked back at it, but somehow, with the recent events and the new mantle of white snow, it didn't look friendly to him. It hardly looked like home at all.
For sometime Gudrin sat on the centerboards, hardly moving.
“Gudrin of the Talespinners?” said Telyn in a soft voice.
Gudrin stirred and looked up at her.
“What is it that you carry on your back?” she asked in a hushed voice.
For a few moments, the river made the only sounds that any of them could hear. The water gurgled as it rushed over rocks near the shore. A bird called in the Deepwood and was answered by another back on Rabing Isle. Brand thought the call was a strange one, perhaps a type of bird that he had never heard before.
Gudrin finally spoke. “It is my burden,” she told Telyn, as if this answered everything.
Chapter Fourteen
The River Folk were subdued on the voyage back to Riverton. The sky was gray and the water was the color of shadowed steel; even the skiff seemed less full of life and only drifted south with luffing sails and bobbing prow. Telyn now had eyes and ears only for Gudrin, urging her to tell them a tale of ancient times. Brand smiled, missing her attentions, but knowing that when her curiosity was piqued she could not be distracted. Gudrin at first seemed reluctant, but finally let herself be persuaded after Telyn had pleaded with her for several minutes.
Gudrin opened her package and removed a large book. The book was bound in ancient, scaly leather and had clasps of bright brass or perhaps even gold. She clicked open the clasps and opened the book with slow reverence. Brand could see only that the pages were filled with the odd blocky script of the Kindred. Gudrin flipped through a page or two, muttering to herself. At length she looked up at them, nodding absently.
“So, you wish to know of the Dark Bard, my curious young lady? Not an unreasonable request. However, any tale of the Dark Ones must necessarily begin with the tale of…” glancing about and leaning forward, she all but whispered the name, “Herla.”
Brand noticed Telyn's eyes, which were serious and eager. Gudrin sat back against the boat's rail and made herself comfortable. The River Folk moved about the skiff, settling themselves without thought or urging from Jak in places that would both balance the skiff and allow them to hear the tale over the sounds of wind and water. Modi alone rode in the bow, where he listened without appearing to.
As the tale began, Brand felt a chill wind come down the river against the current. It made the sails luff and flag. He and Corbin moved to lower them and drift with the current.
“Herla was one of the first human kings of Cmry, which is the ancient name for this land,” said Gudrin.
“So he was once human?” asked Jak in surprise. Gudrin halted and glared at the interruption.
“Human indeed and a great man as well. The Teret tells of his fall. Once, many years ago, King Herla met another king who was a pigmy, no bigger than a child. This small creature, so the story goes, was mounted on a large goat. He was gaily attired in a cloak and pants made of the dappled hide of fawns. He wore no shirt however, and his chest was bare and milk-white.”
“Oberon,” whispered Telyn. Gudrin paused and glanced at her. Telyn blinked. “Sorry.”
“Indeed, Oberon it was, but then he was a young lord. He was more wild and playful in that millennium than he is in this. He introduced himself to Herla as follows: 'I am lord of many kings and princes, an unnumbered and innumerable people, and have been sent, a willing envoy, by them to you… Let us agree, therefore, that I shall attend this wedding, and that you shall attend mine a year later.'
“Sure enough, the elfkin king appeared at Herla's wedding with a huge train of followers, bringing wonderful food and drink for the feast. And a year later, just as he had promised, Herla went to attend the elfkin king's wedding, which was held in a magnificent palace in the depths of a mountain. The only entrance to the palace was
