The Ruby Knight

"she doesn't really understand all those words, does she?" Sparhawk asked Sephrenia, looking meaningfully at Flute.

"Will you stop talking as if I weren't here?" the little girl snapped. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do know what the words mean, but Elene is such a puny language to swear in. Styric is more satisfying, but if you really want to curse, try Troll."

"You speak Troll?" He was surprised.

"Of course. Doesn't everyone? There's no point in going into Heid. It's a depressing place - all mud and rotting logs and mildewed thatching. Circle it to the west, and we'll find the valley we want to follow."

They by-passed Heid and moved up into steeper mountains. Flute watched intently and finally pointed one finger. "There," she said, "we turn left here."

They stopped at the entrance to the valley and peered with some dismay at the track to which she had directed them. It was a path more than a road, and it seemed to wander quite a bit.

"It doesn't look too promising," Sparhawk said dubiously, "and it doesn't look as if anybody's been on it for years."

"People don't use it," Flute told him. "It's a game-trail sort of."

"What kind of game?"

"Look there." She pointed.

It was a boulder with one flat side into which an image had been crudely chiselled. The image looked very old and weathered, and it was hideous.

"What's that?" Sparhawk asked.

"It's a warning," she replied calmly. That's a picture of a Troll."

"You're taking us into Troll country?" he asked in alarm.

"Sparhawk, Ghwerig's a Troll. Where else did you think he'd live?"

"Isn't there any other way to get to his cave?"

"No, there isn't. I can frighten off any Trolls we happen to run across, and the Ogres don't come out in the daytime, so they shouldn't be any problem."

"Ogres too?"

"Of course. They always live in the same country with Trolls. Everybody knows that."

"I didn't."

"Well now you do. We're wasting time, Sparhawk."

"We'll have to go in single file," the knight told Kurik and Sephrenia. "Stay as close behind me as you can. Let's not get spread out." He started up the trail at a trot, with the spear of Aldreas in his hand.

The valley to which Flute had led them was narrow and gloomy. The steep walls were covered with tall fir trees so dark as to look nearly black, and the sides of the valley were so high that the sun seldom shone into this murky place. A mountain river rushed down the centre of the narrow gap, roaring and foaming. This is worse than the road to Ghasek," Kurik shouted over the noise of the river.

"Tell him to be still," Flute told Sparhawk. "Trolls have very sharp ears."

Sparhawk turned in his saddle and laid a finger across his lips. Kurik nodded.

There seemed to be an inordinate number of dead white snags dotting the dark forest, rising steeply on either side. Sparhawk leaned forward and put his lips close to Flute's ear. "What's killing the trees?" he asked.

"Ogres come out at night and gnaw on the bark," she said. "Eventually the tree dies."

"I thought Ogres were meat-eaters."

"Ogres eat anything. Can't you go any faster?"

"Not through here I can't. This is a very bad trail. Does it get any better on up ahead?"

"After we go up out of this valley, we'll come to a flat place in the mountains."

"A plateau?"

"Whatever you want to call it. There are a few hills, but we can go around those. It's all covered with grass."

"We'll be able to make better time there. Does the plateau stretch all the way to Ghwerig's cave?"

"Not quite. After we cross that, we'll have to go up into the rocks."

"Who brought you all the way up here? You said you'd been here before."

"I came alone. Somebody who knew the way told me how to get to the cave."

"Why would you want to?"

"I had something to do there. Do we really have to talk so much? I'm trying to listen for Trolls."

"Sorry."

"Hush, Sparhawk." She put her finger to his lips.

It was a day later when they reached the plateau. As Flute had told them, it was a vast, rolling grassland with snow-covered peaks lining the horizon on all sides.

"How long is it going to take us to get across this?"

Sparhawk asked.

"I'm not sure," Flute replied. "The last time I was here I was on foot. The horses should be able to go much faster."

"You were up here alone and on foot? With Trolls and Ogres about?" he asked incredulously.

"I didn't see any of those. There was a young bear that followed me for a few days, though. I think he was only curious, but I got tired of having him behind me, so I made him go away."

Sparhawk decided not to ask her any more questions.

The answers were far too disturbing.

The high grassland seemed interminable. They rode for hours, but the skyline did not appear to change. The sun sank low above the snowy peaks, and they made their camp in a small clump of stunted pines.

"It's big country up here," Kurik said, looking around.

He pulled his cloak closer about him. "Cold too, once the sun goes down. Now I can see why most Thalesians wear fur."

They hobbled the horses to keep them from straying, and built up the fire.

"There's no real danger here in this meadow," Flute assured them. "Trolls and Ogres like to stay in the forest. The hunting's easier for them when they can hide behind trees."

The next morning dawned cloudy, and a chilly wind swept down from the mountain peaks, bending the tall grass in long waves. They rode hard that day, and by evening they had reached the foot of the peaks that towered white above them. "We can't make any fire tonight," Flute said. "Ghwerig may be watching."

"Are we that close?" Sparhawk asked.

"You see that ravine just ahead?"

"Yes."

"Ghwerig's cave is at the upper end of it."

"Why didn't we just go on up there, then?"

"That wouldn't have been a good idea. You can't sneak up on a Troll at night. We'll wait until the sun's well up tomorrow before we start out. Trolls usually doze in the daytime. They don't actually ever really sleep, but they're a little less alert when the sun's out."

"You seem to know a great deal about them."

"It's not too hard to find things out - if you know the right people to ask. Make Sephrenia some tea and some hot soup. Tomorrow's likely to be very difficult for her, and she'll need all her strength."

"It's a little hard to make hot soup without a fire."

"Oh, Sparhawk, I know that. I may be small, but I'm not stupid. Heap up a pile of rocks in front of the tent. I'll take care of the rest."

Grumbling to himself, he did as she directed.

"Get back from it," she said. "I don't want to burn you "Burn? How?"

She began to sing softly, and then she made a brief gesture with one small hand. Sparhawk immediately felt the heat radiating out from his pile of rock.

"That's a useful spell," he said admiringly.

"Start cooking, Sparhawk. I can't keep the rocks hot all night."

It was very strange, Sparhawk thought, as he set Sephrenia's tea-kettle up against one of the heated rocks.

Somehow in the past weeks he had almost begun to stop thinking of Flute as a child. Her tone and manner were adult, and she ordered him around like a lackey. Even more surprising was the fact that he automatically obeyed her. Sephrenia was right, he decided. This little girl was in all probability one of the most powerful magicians in all of Styricum. A disturbing question came to him. Just how old was Flute anyway? Could Styric magicians control or modify their ages? He knew that neither Sephrenia nor Flute would answer those questions, so he busied himself with cooking and tried not to think about it.

They awoke at dawn, but Flute insisted that they wait until mid-morning before they attempted to ascend the ravine. She also instructed them to leave the horses at the camp since the sound of their hooves on the rocks might alert the sharp-eared Troll lurking inside the cave.

The ravine was narrow with sheer sides, and it was filled with dense shadows. The four of them moved slowly up its rocky floor, placing their feet carefully to avoid dislodging any loose stones. They spoke but rarely and then only in whispers. Sparhawk carried the ancient spear. For some reason it seemed right.

The climb grew steeper, and they were forced to clamber over rounded boulders now in order to continue their ascent. As they neared the top, Flute motioned them to a halt and crept on ahead a few yards. Then she came back. "He's inside," she whispered, "and he's already started his enchantments.

"Is the cave-mouth blocked?" Sparhawk whispered back.

"In a manner of speaking. When we get up there, you won't be able to see it. He's created an illusion to make it look as if the mouth of the cave is just a part of the cliff face. The illusion is solid enough so that we won't be able to just walk through it. You'll need to use the spear to break through." She whispered for a moment to Sephrenia, and the small woman nodded. "All right, then," Flute said, taking a deep breath, "let's go."

They climbed up the last few yards and entered a bleak, unwholesome-looking basin choked with brambles and dead white snags. On one side of the basin there was a steep overhanging cliff that did not appear to have any openings in it.

"There it is," Flute whispered.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Kurik murmured. "It looks like solid rock."

"This is the place," she replied. "Ghwerig's hiding the entrance." She led the way along a scarcely defined path to the face of the cliff. "It's right here," she said softly, laying one small hand on the rock. "Now, this is what we're going to do. Sephrenia and I are going to cast a spell. When we release it, it's going to pour into you, Sparhawk. You'll feel very strange for a moment, and then you'll feel the power starting to build up inside you.

At the right moment, I'll tell you what to do." She began to sing very softly, and Sephrenia spoke in Styric almost under her breath. Then, in unison, they both gestured at Sparhawk.

His eyes went suddenly dim, and he almost fell. He felt very weak, and the spear he held in his left hand seemed almost too heavy to bear. Then, just as quickly, it seemed to have no weight at all. He felt his shoulders surging with the force of the spell.

"Now," Flute said to him, "point the spear at the face of the cliff."

He lifted his arm and did as she had told him.

"Walk forward until the spear touches the wall."

He took two steps and felt the spear-point touch the unyielding rock.

"Release the power - through the spear."

He concentrated, gathering the power within him. The ring on his left hand seemed to throb. Then he sent the power along the shaft of the spear into the broad blade.

The seemingly solid rock in front of him wavered, and then it was gone, revealing an irregularly shaped opening. "And there it is," Flute said in a triumphant whisper, "Ghwerig's cave. Now let's go and find him."

Chapter 25

The cave had the musty smell of long-damp earth and rock, and there was the sound of water endlessly dripping somewhere off in the darkness. "Where's he most likely to be?" Sparhawk whispered to Flute.

"We'll start in his treasure chamber," she replied. "He likes to look at his hoard. It's down there." She pointed at the opening of a passageway.

"It's completely dark back in there," he said dubiously.

"I'll take care of that," Sephrenia told him.

"But quietly," flute cautioned. "We don't know exactly where Ghwerig is, and he can hear and feel magic." She looked closely at Sephrenia. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"It's not as bad as it was," Sephrenia replied, shifting Sir Gared's sword to her right hand.

"Good. I'm not going to be able to do anything in here. Ghwerig would recognize my voice. You're going to have to do almost everything."

"I can manage," Sephrenia said, but her voice sounded weary. She held up the sword. "As long as I have to carry this anyway, I may as well use it." She muttered briefly and made a small motion with her left hand. The tip of the sword began to glow, a tiny incandescent spark. "It's not much of a light," she said critically, "but it's going to have to do. If I made it any brighter, Ghwerig would see it." She raised the sword and led the way into the mouth of the gallery. The glowing tip of the sword looked almost like a firefly in the oppressive darkness, but it cast just enough faint light to make it possible for them to find their way and avoid obstructions on the rough floor of the passageway they were following.

The passage curved steadily downward and to the right. After they had gone a few hundred paces, Sparhawk realized that it was not a natural gallery, but rather that it had been carved out of the rock, and it moved in a steady spiral down and down. "How did Ghwerig make this?" he whispered to Flute.

"He used Bhelliom. The old passage is much longer, and it's very steep. Ghwerig's so badly deformed that it used to take him days to climb up out of the cave."

They moved on, walking as quietly as they could. At one point the gallery passed through a large cavern where limestone icicles hung from the ceiling, dripping continually. Then the passage continued on into the rock. Occasionally, their faint light disturbed a colony of bats hanging from the ceiling, and the creatures chittered shrilly as they flapped frantically away in large, dark clouds.

"I hate bats," Kurik said with an oath.

"They won't hurt you," Flute whispered. "A bat will never run into you, not even in total darkness."

"Are their eyes that good?"

"No, but their ears are."

"Do you know everything?" Kurik's whisper sounded a little grumpy.

"Not yet," she said quietly, "but I'm working on that. Do you have anything to eat? I'm a little hungry for some reason."

"Some dried beef," Kurik replied, reaching inside the tunic that covered his black leather vest. "It's very salty, though."