A Breath Through Silver
by Daniel Stride
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Table of Contents parts: 1, 2, 3, 4 |
part 3
I ran blindly, keeping always to thickets and dense undergrowth, and finally plunging into the murky, moonlit eaves of Lillivert Forest. For all I knew, other Black Huldo walked tonight: Kustata had told me these hills were no longer safe after sunset, and I believed him. But once They discovered Kustata lacked the Arrow of Time, They would come for me. My heart hammered in my chest; unseen twigs and branches raked my face; sweat beaded on my forehead despite the chill. Still I ran, heedless of anything but the Black Huldo on my tail.
At last, I heard running water in the distance. The Froko. I was deep into hill country, I knew, but if I followed the stream, I’d eventually find myself just south of Lillivert. I stopped and peered at the sky through the leafy canopy. The first pale light of dawn glimmered against the clouds. The twittering chorus of birds began to echo... I was almost safe. The Black Huldo must soon retreat underground for another day.
No sooner had I started moving again than I heard musical voices, so beautiful and perilous, ringing through the trees. Tired as I was, could I outrun Them until sunrise? Or would further flight draw Them to me, like flies to honey? The voices grew closer. I dived into the undergrowth, silently begging my ancestors’ protection. As I crouched, hidden, I heard my own heart beating.
I never heard Their passage through the forest; no crack of twigs, no rustle of bushes. Only voices, as sweet as They were deadly.
“I sense fear,” said one. “He is close.”
“But the Arrow is not,” said another. “He has led us away from it.”
“A slippery one.”
“We shall catch him another night. The Sun rises, and the Gate is near. Let us tell Dnosti of our victory. The mortals have lost their last protectors.”
The voices receded into the distance, but I waited a long time before leaving my hiding place. By then, the gloom had gone. Morning had broken on Lillivert Forest.
* * *
I stumbled into the light. Before me, the Froko murmured softly. It’s more vigorous in the Spring, after the snows melt, but for now it ran tame and timid. Stripping off gloves, coat, and shirt, I washed myself in its bracing waters. Afterwards, I lay back and watched the stream, my body appreciating the long-forgotten pleasures of rest and sunlight. I knew I ought to get away, but I faced a crossroads of choices, with no good answers. Easier to relax, and enjoy a warm autumn morning. I nibbled on my salted horse-meat, and finished off the fire-wine with a silent toast to Kustata, before settling down on the grass. A brief nap in the Sun, then I’d...
I awoke with a start. The air had grown cool, and a wind was rising in the west. Tree shadows stretched long and dark across the stream. I looked for the Sun. My heart sank: I’d never get to Lillivert before nightfall. Cursing, but at least fit and rested, I donned my gear, and strode briskly along the riverbank. The Black Huldo had mentioned a Gate, likely a short-cut to the silver mine. I bit my lip. I no longer had the pipe, but I had a sword and my own native wit. Young Anders had shown the Black Huldo could be reasoned with, treacherous though They were.
I followed a turn in the Froko, and stopped. Twenty feet away, a Huldo — a normal one — perched on a boulder beside the stream. Dangling its brown feet in the water, it kicked up small eddies while whistling to itself. The creature’s boots and woollen stockings lay strewn on the riverbank grass; the pointed toe of one boot poked from beneath a small blackberry bush.
I grinned.
The Huldo cried out, and dived for its belongings with inhuman speed. Not fast enough: I got to the boot under the blackberry first, and wasn’t letting go.
“Not you!” snapped the Huldo. It bounced on one foot, vainly grasping for its other boot. “You are the piper!”
Aha. “Do you want it back?” I asked, smirking. “Tell me what I need to know.”
The Huldo gritted its teeth. “What would you know?”
“All about the Arrow of Time.”
It stopped bouncing. “A long tale.”
“Then tell me what it is, what it looks like, and why the Black Huldo want it.”
“As you request. The Arrow of Time is an artefact from ancient days, encasing the law that one event follows another. While it remains intact, events in the past will cause events in the future.”
I narrowed my eyes. “If it were broken?”
The Huldo grinned. “Events in the future will cause events in the past.”
“But that would destroy everything!”
“For humans. Huldo have a more flexible perspective.”
I nodded. “So what does it look like? Any old arrow?”
The Huldo barked with laughter. “You humans... you have no true poetry in your blood. The Arrow of Time is not a literal arrow. We merely call it that because it keeps time pointed in one direction.”
“So it could be anything.”
“It has been many things. Disguises are talked of. But all agree it is small and silver...”
A shiver ran through me. “Disguised like a pipe? A small, silver pipe?”
The creature’s pupil-less eyes sparkled. “You have the Arrow!”
Shaking my head, I told of my recent adventure. With every word, the Huldo’s face fell.
“I know of where you speak.”
I cocked my head. “It’s daytime. If you know this dell, hurry there, and seize the Arrow yourself!”
“I cannot, no more than any of my kind.” The Huldo glanced at the forest. “Many years ago, before humans came to these lands, there lived a mighty sorcerer named Dnosti. What race he was, no-one today can say, only that he represented the greatest threat we have ever known. My people fought a great battle against him in these very hills. Dnosti was physically destroyed, his remains buried beneath this dell you describe. All was well... at first. Then, as the years became centuries, it became difficult for Huldo to visit the place. Some power stopped us. Now? I can no more approach it than you can approach the Moon.”
“But the Black Huldo were there.”
“Servants of Dnosti. Do you not see?” The Huldo looked grim. “He has returned. He empowers his followers to go there. He wishes the destruction of the Arrow—”
“To change the past. To reverse his defeat.”
“Just so. Destroying you and all your kind in his wake.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How has Dnosti returned if he is still buried beneath the dell?”
“His spirit resides in some temporary body. A Black Huldo, most like, for the host must be willing.”
My ears pricked up. “If Dnosti is in a Black Huldo’s body, he’ll be vulnerable as They are vulnerable?”
“Entrenched as he is, it makes little difference.”
I grinned. “But it does. I have a plan.”
* * *
I ran a hand over the smooth cliff-face. “This is the Gate?” I asked doubtfully. The Sun was sinking behind the far hills. Mists were rising, and already shrouded Lillivert Forest.
“It is.” The Huldo admired its restored boot. “You shall see.”
I had no choice. Hiking to the old silver mine would take half the night. “Remember to warn my people of what is coming.”
“I shall.” It smiled. “My blessings upon you, poor mad mortal.”
A low rumble emanated from within the stone.
“Here it comes,” said the Huldo. “Farewell.”
It vanished. I drew a deep breath, and wondered what Lillivert would think. Manfred son of Olomo, alone, against Dnosti the Sorcerer and his Black Huldo: a tale worthy of remembrance, no?
The rumble grew louder. Suddenly, the broad outline of a door appeared in the cliff-face. Strange runic engravings ran along its edges. Then a horn rang out — it sounded like no hunt I’d ever heard — and as if on command, the door swung inwards to reveal a pitch-black tunnel. A band of Black Huldo stepped into the evening gloom, each cloaked and chained like Their brethren at the dell. They stopped and studied me.
“Do you wish for death, mortal?” asked one. It edged towards me, sniffing my air. “We can make it fast or slow.”
I betrayed no outwards panic. If Young Anders could treat with Them, so could I.
“I must see Dnosti,” I said. Do not let Them smell fear. “I am Manfred, here for my father, Olomo the Shaman, and wish to discuss terms.”
Even in the dim light, the eyes of the Black Huldo sparkled. “Do you have the Arrow of Time?”
“The Arrow of Time is part of those terms,” I said tartly. “Now take me to your master.”
The Black Huldo stroked its beard. “He is not our master. We aid him freely, as he aids us. But come. He has been expecting a visitor.” It glared at my weapon. “Touch your sword, and we shall slay you where you stand.”
I followed the creature into the tunnel.
In the total darkness, I could see nothing. Worse, I could hear nothing, save for the thud of my footsteps on stone. I knew They lurked all around, peering at me with pupil-less eyes, for hidden fingers pawed again and again at my shoulders and hair. Yet whenever I stretched out a hand to brush Them off, I felt only empty air. The Black Huldo moved without sound, without even whispers. Every part of my mind screamed of danger. It was all I could do to clamp down upon my fear, lest they smell it upon me.
Then, as one, a line of blue-burning torches sprang into flame. I looked about. I was alone in a low-ceilinged corridor. The floor was paved with smooth, square stones, each inscribed with a single rune.
“Do not dally,” said an inhuman voice. I turned. My guide stood watching me. “Follow closely.”
I eyed the blue torches as I passed. The entire passage felt chill as a winter frost. I hunched my shoulders, burying my neck in the furs of my coat, but no matter how I tried, I could not slow the chatter of my teeth.
Cold and terror. Such are the Black Huldo.
We came to the tunnels of the old mine. Dark and empty though they were, I relished the warmth, for no blue light tainted them. The Black Huldo produced a thin wand, and waved a hand over it, chanting. The wand emitted a pale, white light that illuminated rock and beam, but, thank the ancestors, did not leech heat. Keeping low, at times crawling on all-fours, I pursued this will-o’-the-wisp through the darkness. Thus it led me to Dnosti’s hall.
Bathed in a green glow, the Sorcerer’s lair was a hollowed-out cavern of some hundred feet, shorn of stalactites and stalagmites. In the centre stood a single Black Huldo in flowing velvet robes, hands clasped behind its back. The creature watched me as I entered, its eyes red as blood.
“You are Manfred?” Its voice tinkled, like a silver bell.
“I am.” I saw I was alone; my guide had disappeared into the darkness.
“Excellent.” The velvet-robed one strolled forwards. “I am Dnosti. Since you are here, you have something I want.”
Dnosti, kidnapper of my father. A being who had cheated death itself, and who would destroy all in pursuit of his designs. My hand twitched towards my knife.
“You have something I want,” I said calmly. “Show him to me.”
“As you wish.” Dnosti clapped his hands, and a wicker cage materialised ten feet away. There was a wide peephole set into the side, revealing the upper half of my father’s face. I nearly leapt with joy: he was still alive.
“Manfred,” he cried. Lank grey hair fell over one eye. “Don’t give Them the Arrow!”
Before I could reply, Dnosti clapped again, and the cage disappeared.
The Sorcerer smiled. “Now where is the Arrow of Time?”
My heart beat faster. This was the key to my plan.
“I don’t have it with me.” I said, seeing Dnosti’s face sour. “But I’ll lead you to it. In fact, I’ll not leave that place until you’ve got the Arrow in your hand. In return, I ask for my father, alive and unharmed, and the assurance you’ll accept the Arrow from none but me.”
Dnosti’s red eyes glittered. “Clever lad. I see you have spent time in the company of Huldo. Fascinating creatures. Yes, I accept those terms. But first we must make a Pact of Binding.”
“A Pact...?”
“To ensure you keep your word. In the form of a Black Huldo, I cannot breach promises, any more than I can quench the Sun, but mortals are more fickle.” He smiled. “It would be ill to lie to me, Manfred.”
Dnosti clapped once more, and a white, swirling mist engulfed us. I waved a hand in front of my face — I could not see it. But I could see him.
“Repeat your promise.”
As I spoke the words, the mist glowed, before vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared.
I frowned, looking about me. Everything was as it should be. “So if I break my word, I die?”
“That would imply choice,” said the Sorcerer. My skin crawled. “Until I hold the Arrow of Time, you can do nothing but follow the path of your promise.”
* * *
Copyright © 2020 by Daniel Stride
