Meanwhile, far to the west, out of sight and out of hearing, a chorus of triumphant howls rose into the air.

The wolves had found another bridge across the chasm.

XIX.

Of Roland's Tale and the Wolf Scout

ROLAND WAS RELUCTANT to pause for the night, for he was anxious to continue his quest and he was concerned about the wolves that were pursuing David, but Scylla was tiring and David was so exhausted that he could barely hold on to Roland's waist. Eventually, they came to the ruins of what looked like a church, and there Roland agreed to rest for a few hours. He would not allow a fire, even though it was cold, but he gave David a blanket in which to wrap himself, and he allowed him to sip from a silver flask. The liquid inside burned David's throat before filling him with warmth. He lay down and stared at the sky. The spire of the church loomed over him, its windows empty as the eyes of the dead.

"The new religion," said Roland dismissively. "The king tried to make others follow it when he still had the will to do so, and the power to enforce that will. Now that he broods in his castle, his chapels lie empty."

"What do you believe in?" asked David.

"I believe in those whom I love and trust. All else is foolishness. This G.o.d is as empty as his church. His followers choose to attribute all of their good fortune to him, but when he ignores their pleas or leaves them to suffer, they say only that he is beyond their understanding and abandon themselves to his will. What kind of G.o.d is that?"

Roland spoke with such anger and bitterness that David wondered if he had once followed the "new religion," only to turn his back upon it when something bad happened to him. David had felt that way himself at times as he sat in church in the weeks and months after his mother's death, listening to the priest talking of G.o.d and how much He loved his people. He had found it hard to equate the priest's G.o.d with the one who had left his mother to die slowly and painfully.

"And who do you love?" he asked Roland.

But Roland pretended not to hear him.

"Tell me about your home," he said. "Talk to me of your people. Talk to me of anything but false G.o.ds."

And so David told Roland of his mother and his father, of the sunken garden, of Jonathan Tulvey and his old books, of hearing his mother's voice and following it into this strange land, and, finally, of Rose and the arrival of Georgie. As he spoke, he could not hide his resentment of Rose and her baby. It made him feel ashamed, and more like a child than he wished to appear in front of Roland.

"That is hard indeed," said Roland. "So much has been taken from you, but so much has been given too, perhaps."

He did not say any more, for fear that the boy might think he was preaching to him. Instead, Roland lay back against Scylla's saddle and told David a tale.

Roland's First Tale Once upon a time, there was an old king who promised his only son in marriage to a princess in a land far away. He bade his son farewell and entrusted to him a golden cup that had been in his family for many generations. This, he told his son, would be part of his dowry to the princess, and a symbol of the bond between her family and their own. A servant was told to travel with the prince and to care for his every need, and so the two men set out together for the princess's lands.

After they had traveled for many days, the servant, who was jealous of the prince, stole the goblet from him while he was sleeping and dressed himself in the prince's finest clothing. When the prince awoke, the servant made him vow, on pain of his own death and the deaths of all those whom he loved, that he would inform no man of what had transpired and told him that in future the prince would serve him in all things. And so the prince became the servant, and the servant the prince, and in that way they came to the castle of the princess.

When they arrived, the false prince was treated with great ceremony and the true prince was given a job herding pigs, for the false prince told the princess that he was a bad and unruly servant and could not be trusted. So her father sent the true prince out to herd swine and sleep in the mud and straw, while the impostor ate the finest food and rested his head on the softest of pillows.

But the king, who was a wise old man, heard others speak well of the swineherd, of how gracious were his manners and how kind he was to the animals under his charge and to the servants whom he met, and he went to him one day and asked him to tell him something of himself. But the true prince, bound by his vow, told the king that he was unable to obey his command. The king grew angry, for he was not used to being disobeyed, but the true prince fell to his knees and said: "I am bound by a death vow not to tell any man the truth about myself. I beg you to forgive me, for I mean Your Majesty no disrespect, but a man's word is his bond, and without it he is no better than an animal."

So the king thought for a time, and then he said to the true prince: "I can see that the secret you keep inside is troubling to you, and perhaps you would feel happier once you have spoken it aloud. Why don't you tell it to the cold hearth in the servants' quarters, and then you may rest easier because of it."

The true prince did as the king asked, but the king hid in the darkness behind the hearth, and he heard the true prince's tale. That night, he held a great banquet, for the princess was due to marry the impostor the next day, and he invited the true prince to sit on one side of his throne as a masked guest, and on the other side he placed the false prince. And he said to the false prince: "I have a test of your wisdom, if you will agree to take it." The false prince readily agreed, and the king told him the tale of an impostor who took on the ident.i.ty of another man, and as a result claimed all the wealth and privileges that were due to another. But the false prince was so arrogant, and so certain of his position, that he did not recognize the tale as being about himself.

"What would you do with such a man?" asked the king.

"I would strip him naked and place him inside a barrel studded with nails," said the false prince. "Then I would tie the barrel behind four horses, and I would drag it through the streets until the man inside was ripped to death."

"That that shall be your punishment," said the king, "for such is your crime."

And the true prince was restored to his position, and he married the princess and lived happily ever after, while the false prince was torn to pieces in a barrel of nails, and n.o.body wept for him, and n.o.body spoke his name after he was gone.

When the story was done, Roland looked at David.

"What did you think of my tale?" he asked.

David's brow was furrowed. "I think I read a story like it once before," he said. "But my story was about a princess, not a prince. The ending was the same, though."

"And did you like the ending?"

"I did when I was little. I thought that was what the false prince deserved. I liked it when the bad were punished to death."

"And now?"

"It seems cruel."

"But he would have done the same to another, had it been in his power to do so."

"I suppose so, but that doesn't make the punishment right."

"So you would have shown mercy?"

"If I was the true prince, then, yes, I think so."

"But would you have forgiven him?"

David thought about the question.

"No, he did wrong, so he deserved some punishment. I would have made him herd the pigs and live the way the true prince had been forced to live, and if he ever hurt one of the animals, or hurt another person, then the same thing would be done to him."

Roland nodded approvingly. "That is a fit punishment, and merciful. Sleep now," he said. "We have wolves snapping at our heels, and you must rest while you can."

David did as he was told. With his head upon his pack, he closed his eyes and instantly fell fast asleep.

He did not dream, and awoke only once before the false dawn that marked the coming of day. He opened his eyes and thought that he heard Roland speaking softly to someone. When he glanced over at the soldier, he saw that he was staring at a small silver locket. Inside was a picture of a man, younger than Roland and very handsome. It was to this image that Roland was whispering, and although David could not understand everything that was said, the word "love" was spoken clearly more than once.

Embarra.s.sed, David drew his blanket closer to his head to block out the words until sleep returned.

Roland was already up and moving about when David woke again. David shared some of his food with the soldier, although there was only a little left. He washed himself in a brook and almost began to perform one of his counting routines, but he stopped himself, remembering the Woodsman's advice, and instead cleaned his sword and sharpened its blade against a rock. He checked that his belt was still strong and that the loop holding the scabbard in place was undamaged, then asked Roland to teach him how to saddle Scylla and to tighten her reins and bridle. Roland did so, and also taught him how to check the horse's legs and hooves for any signs of injury or discomfort.

David wanted to ask the soldier about the picture in the locket, but he did not want Roland to think that he had been spying on him in the night. Instead, he asked the other question that had been troubling him since the two had met, and by doing so was given an answer to the mystery of the man in the locket as well.

"Roland," David asked, as the soldier placed the saddle on Scylla's back once again. "What task have you set yourself?"

Roland drew the straps tight around the horse's belly.

"I had a friend," he said, without looking at David. "His name was Raphael. He wanted to prove himself to those who doubted his courage and spoke ill of him behind his back. He heard a tale of a woman bound to sleep by an enchantress in a chamber filled with treasures, and he vowed to release her from her curse. He set out from my land to find her, but he never returned. He was closer to me than a brother. I vowed that I would discover what had befallen him, and avenge his death if such had been his fate. The castle in which she lies is said to move with the cycles of the moon. It now rests at a place not more than two days' ride from here. After we have discovered the truth within its walls, I will take you to see the king."

David climbed onto Scylla's back, and then Roland led the horse by the reins back to the road, testing the ground in front for hidden hollows that might injure his mount. David was growing used to the horse and the rhythm of her movements, although he still ached from the long ride of the day before. He held on to the horn of the saddle, and they left the ruins of the church as the first faint light of morning scratched at the sky.

But they did not leave un.o.bserved. In a patch of brambles beyond the ruins, a pair of dark eyes watched them. The wolf's fur was very dark, and its face had more of man than beast about it. It was the fruit of the union between a loup and a she-wolf, but it favored its mother in looks and instincts. It was also the largest and most ferocious of its kind, a mutant of sorts, big as a pony with jaws capable of encircling a man's chest. The scout had been sent on by the pack to look for signs of the boy. It had picked up his scent upon the road, following it to a little house deep in the woods. There it had almost met its end, for the dwarfs had set traps around their home: deep pits with sharpened poles at their base, disguised with sticks and sods of gra.s.s. Only the wolf's reflexes had prevented it from falling to its death, and it had been more careful in its approaches thereafter. It had found the boy's scent mingled with that of the dwarfs and had then traced it back to the road again, losing it for a time until it reached a little stream, where the boy's spoor was replaced by the strong odor of a horse. This told the wolf that the boy was no longer on foot, and probably not alone. It marked the place with its urine, as it had marked each step of its hunt, so that the pack might follow it more easily when it came.

The scout knew what Roland and David could not: the pack had ceased its advance shortly after crossing the chasm, for more wolves were arriving to join it in its march upon the king's castle. The scout had been entrusted by Leroi with the task of finding the boy. If possible, it was to bring him back to the pack for Leroi to deal with. If this could not be achieved, then it was to kill him and return with only a token-the boy's head-to prove that the deed had been done. The scout had already decided the head would be sufficient. It would feed on the rest of the boy, for it was a long time since it had eaten fresh man-flesh.

The wolf hybrid had again detected traces of the boy by the battlefield, along with a stench of something unknown that stung its delicate nose and made its eyes water. The starving scout had fed upon the bones of one of the soldiers, sucking the marrow from deep within, and its belly was now fuller than it had been in many months. Its energy renewed, it had followed the horse's scent once more, and had arrived at the ruins just in time to see the boy and the rider depart.

With its ma.s.sive back legs, the scout was capable of long, high leaps, and its bulk had driven many a rider from the saddle of a horse, forcing him to the ground and allowing the scout to tear his throat out with its long, sharp teeth. Taking the boy would be easy. If the scout judged its leap right, it could have the boy in its jaws and be ripping him apart before the horseman even realized what was happening. Then the scout would flee, and if the horseman chose to follow, well, it would draw him straight into the jaws of the waiting pack.

The rider was leading his mount at a slow pace, carefully negotiating low branches and thick patches of briar. The wolf shadowed them, waiting for its chance. Ahead of the horseman was a fallen tree, and the wolf guessed that the horse would pause there for a moment as it tried to work out the best way to overcome the obstacle. The wolf would seize the boy when the horse stopped. Quietly, it padded on, overtaking the horse so that it would have time to find the best position from which to strike. It reached the tree and found, in the bushes to its right, a slab of elevated stone perfect for its purpose. Saliva dripped from its jaws, for it was already tasting the boy's blood in its mouth. The horse came into view, and the scout tensed, ready to strike.

A sound came from behind the wolf: the faintest hint of metal against stone. It turned to face the threat, but not quickly enough. It saw the flash of a blade, and then there was a burning deep in its throat, so deep that it could not even make a sound of pain or surprise. It began to smother in its own blood, its legs giving out beneath it as it fell upon the rock, its eyes bright with panic as it began to die. Then that brightness began to fade, and the scout's body spasmed and twitched, until finally it lay still.

In the darkness of its pupil, the Crooked Man's face was reflected. With the blade of his sword, he cut off the scout's nose and placed it in a little leather pouch on his belt. It was another trophy for his collection, and its absence would give Leroi and the pack pause when they found the remains of their brother. They would know who they were dealing with, oh yes, for no other mutilated his prey in this way. The boy was his, and his alone. No wolf would feed upon his bones.

So the Crooked Man watched as David and Roland pa.s.sed by, Scylla pausing for a second before the fallen tree, just as the scout had guessed that she would, and then jumping it with a single leap before taking the rider and the boy toward the road beyond. Then the Crooked Man descended into the briars and thorns, and was gone.

XX.

Of the Village, andRoland's Second Tale

DAVID AND ROLAND encountered no one on the road that morning. It still surprised David that so few should walk upon it. After all, the road was well-kept, and it seemed to him that others must use it to get from here to there.

"Why is it so quiet?" he asked. "Why are there no people?"

"Men and women fear to travel, for this world has grown pa.s.sing strange," said Roland. "You saw what was left of those men yesterday, and I have told you of the sleeping woman and the enchantress who binds her. There have always been dangers in these lands, and life has never been easy, but now there are new threats and no one can tell where they have come from. Even the king is uncertain, if the stories from his court are true. They say his time is almost done."

Roland raised his right hand and pointed to the northeast. "There is a settlement beyond those hills, and there we will spend our last night before we reach the castle. Perhaps we will learn more from those who live there of the woman and of what fate befell my companion."

After another hour had pa.s.sed, they came upon a party of men emerging from the woods. The men carried dead rabbits and voles tied to sticks. They were armed with sharpened staffs and short, crude swords. When they saw the horse approaching, they raised their weapons in warning.

"Who are you?" called one. "Come no closer until you have identified yourselves."

Roland reined Scylla in while they were still out of reach of the men's staffs.

"I am Roland. This is my squire, David. We are heading for the village, in the hope that we may find food and rest there."

The man who had spoken lowered his sword. "Rest you may find," he said, "but little food."

He raised one of the sticks of dead animals. "The fields and forests are almost bare of life. This is all we have for two days of hunting, and we lost a man for it."

"Lost him how?" asked Roland.

"He was bringing up the rear. We heard him cry out, but when we went back his body was gone."

"You saw no trace of what took him?" asked Roland.

"None. The earth was disturbed where he had stood, as though some creature had burst through from below, but above there was only blood and some filthy stuff that did not come from any animal we know. He was not the first to die in such a way, for we have lost others, but we have yet to see the thing responsible. Now we venture out only in numbers, and we wait, for most believe that it will soon attack us in our beds."

Roland looked back down the road, in the direction from which he and David had come.

"We saw the remains of soldiers, about half a day's ride from here," said Roland. "From their insignia, it appears that they were the king's men. They had no luck against this Beast, and they were well-trained and well-armed. Unless your fortifications are high and strong, you might be advised to leave your homes until the threat has pa.s.sed."

The man shook his head. "We have farms, livestock. We live where our fathers lived, and their fathers too. We will not abandon all that we have worked so hard to build."

Roland said nothing more, but David could almost hear what he was thinking: Then you will die. Then you will die.

David and Roland rode alongside the men, talking with them and sharing what was left of the alcohol in Roland's flask. The men were grateful for the kindness, and in return they confirmed the changes in the land and the presence of new creatures in the forests and fields, all of them hostile and hungry. They spoke too of the wolves, who had become ever more daring of late. The hunters had trapped and killed one during their time in the woods: a Loup, an interloper from far away. Its fur was a perfect white, and it wore breeches made from the skin of a seal. Before it died it told them that it had traveled from the distant north, and others were coming who would avenge its death at their hands. It was as the Woodsman had told David: the wolves wanted the kingdom for themselves, and they were a.s.sembling an army with which to take it over.

As they rounded a bend in the road, the settlement was revealed to them. It was surrounded by clear s.p.a.ce upon which cattle and sheep grazed. A wall of tree trunks had been built around it, the tops sharpened to white points, and elevated platforms behind allowed men to watch all the approaches. Thin streams of smoke were rising from the houses within, and the spire of another church was visible above the top of the wall. Roland did not look pleased to see it.

"Here, perhaps, they still practice the new religion," he said to David softly. "For the sake of peace, I will not trouble them with my views."

A cry went up from within the walls as they drew closer to the village, and the gates were opened to admit them. Children gathered to greet their fathers, and women arrived to kiss sons and husbands. They stared curiously at Roland and David, but before anyone had a chance to question them, a woman began wailing and crying, unable to find the one whom she sought among the hunters. She was young and very pretty, and in between her sobs she called a name over and over again: "Ethan! Ethan!"

The leader of the hunters, whose name was Fletcher, approached David and Roland. His wife hovered nearby, grateful that her husband had returned safely.

"Ethan was the man that we lost along the way," he said. "They were to have been married. Now, she does not even have a grave at which to mourn him."

The other women gathered around the weeping girl, trying to console her. They brought her to one of the little houses nearby, and the door closed behind them.

"Come," said Fletcher. "I have a stable behind my house. You may sleep there, if you wish, and I will feed you from my table for tonight. After that, I will have little enough to feed my own family, and you must ride on."

Roland and David thanked him and followed him through the narrow streets until they came to a wooden cottage, its walls painted white. Fletcher showed them to the stable and pointed out where they could find water, and fresh straw and a few stale oats for Scylla. Roland removed Scylla's saddle and made sure that she was comfortable before he and David washed themselves in a trough. Their clothes smelled, and although Roland had other garments that he could wear, David had none. When she heard this, Fletcher's wife brought David some of her son's old clothes, for he was now seventeen and had a wife and son of his own. Feeling much better than he had in a long time, David went with Roland to Fletcher's house, where the table was laid and Fletcher and his family were waiting for them. Fletcher's son looked a lot like his father, for he also had long red hair, although his beard was not as thick and lacked the gray that marked the older man's. His wife was small and dark, and said little, all of her attention fixed on the baby in her arms. Fletcher had two more children, both girls. They were younger than David, although not by much, and they cast sly glances at him and giggled softly.

Once Roland and David were seated, Fletcher shut his eyes, bent his head, and gave thanks for the food-David noticed that Roland neither closed his eyes nor prayed-before inviting all at the table to eat.

The conversation drifted from village matters to the hunting trip and the disappearance of Ethan, before finally reaching Roland and David, and the purpose of their journey.

"You are not the first to have pa.s.sed through here on the way to the Fortress of Thorns," said Fletcher, once Roland had told him of his quest for it.

"Why do you call it that?" asked Roland.

"Because that is what it is: it is surrounded entirely by th.o.r.n.y creepers. Even to approach its walls is to risk being torn apart. You will need more than a breastplate to breach them."

"You have seen it, then?"

"A shadow pa.s.sed across the village perhaps half a month ago. When we looked up to see what it was, we saw the castle moving through the air without sound or support. Some of us followed it and saw where it had landed, but we did not dare approach. Such things are best left alone."

"You said others have tried to find it," said Roland. "What happened to them?"

"They did not return," replied Fletcher.

Roland reached beneath his shirt and took out the locket. He opened it and showed the image of the young man to Fletcher. "Was he one of those who did not come back?"