78.
The Pa.s.sing of Archerorm
Thane moved quickly down the steep slope into the marshes.
Behind him he could hear the pursuing Nightbeasts chanting his name, "Killhand, Gallopersp.a.w.n!" He knew they were almost blind in the daylight but all hope of slipping past them vanished for they had spread out in a grim arc of hate. They were beating every tree and bush with their cruel-bladed spears and long curved scythes.
"Nigh/beasts!" he whispered, catching his breath and plunging into the undergrowth beside the road for a moment"
s rest. "I will have to run faster than the east wind to reach Woodsedge before these Nightbeasts catch me."
Rising shakily to his feet he took off his heavy metal helm and threw it aside. He missed the protection of the metal shirt outside the hut of thorns as he dodged amongst the Nightbeasts"
spear blades but now he was truly glad he had spread it across Esteron"s back; the cut-down half-cloak was easier to wear and did not snag his every stride. Bending low, he ran forward, drawing in deep breaths with every loping stride.
Gradually as the day wore on he drew ahead of the Nightbeasts
and the sounds of pursuit fell away to a distant murmur. Now he was in the centre of the marsh and all around him the air grew heavy with the smell of stagnant water as it hissed and bubbled in black pools beside the road.
Giant dragonflies hovered, beating the still air with their wings; marsh spiders scuttled away from beneath his hurrying feet. There was no rest as he forced his feet on.
79.
Ahead of him he saw the ring of ash from his earlier battle with the Nightbeasts on his way to Underfall. He laughed and paused for breath, crouching to suck in great lungfuls of air. "If the Battle Owls or the Border Runners were with me I would turn and fight," he muttered, rising to his feet. Holding his breath he listened to the marsh silence, straining his ears for sounds of pursuit. Far away he could hear that they were still following him, closing the gap with each moment he rested.
He leapt forward in the stagnant silence. "I must run until my bones crack and my muscles knot with cramp," he hissed in the silence. "I must run to Elionbel."
With each footfall the ground grew firmer beneath his feet.
He was climbing out of Notley Marsh towards the great Greenway crossroads that led to Stumble Hill. "I must not stop again," he said to himself, "until I reach the Wayhouse Tower. There I will take breath and fight these Nightbeasts with a strike of Archers at my side."
Bending low he pushed on, kicking against the steepness of the valley, following the winding road up until it breasted the valley"s rim. Here he paused to look back and he saw the Nightbeasts spread out across the fire-burned road. They were fewer now, running in close order and gaining on him with every stride.
"The darkness!" he gasped, in a tired voice, looking at the lengthening shadows on the valley floor. "It must give the Nightbeasts new strength. Oh Esteron, if only I had your gift of speed to outrun these beasts, or Mulcade"s power to rise up into the soft evening air and escape!"
"Killhand! Killhand!" rose the distant chant from the black bubbling marshes below. Thane could just hear the dry rattle of their armour; they were on the first steps of the steep ascent. Turning, he fled, running as fast as his tired legs would take him. "Run or die," he repeated in rhythm with his pounding heart, "Run or die," until he could run no further.
He stopped, bent double, shaking and choking for breath.
Slowly he straightened, blinking against the stinging sweat
80.
i
~mu.
that was trickling into his eyes and looked at the silhouette of the Wayhouse Tower, etched in dark colours against the evening sky.
"Stumble Hill," he gasped, looking back across his shoulder towards the marshes. The road was straight and empty; he had outrun the Nightbeasts and safety waited a hundred paces before him. Clenching his fist he hurried forwards, eager to take a strike of Archer"s best bowmen back towards Notley Marsh and destroy the Nightbeasts.
Looking up at the Wayhouse he hesitated, a frown creased his dirty, sweat-stained forehead. Something was wrong. He took deep breaths to steady his racing heart and listened to the early night sounds. He strained his ears for the slightest clue. The hairs at the base of his neck began to p.r.i.c.kle. Far away on the edge of the wind he could hear the sounds of pursuit, but here on Stumble Hill the evening held its breath, there were no night sounds. He searched the dark bulk of the Wayhouse but nothing moved, the tower stood wrapped in silence. Fearfully he drew his dagger and began cautiously to climb the hill, looking into each shadow and testing each dark shape with the point of his blade until he stood upon the Causeway, between the broken doors.
"Krulshards!" he hissed, moving noiselessly into the centre of the courtyard, balancing lightly on his toes as he swept his gaze from left to right.
"Archer?" he whispered, seeing the shape of the figure in the gloomy darkness beneath the centre archway that led into the Wayhouse.
"Who dares enter?" a weak voice cried out. A blinding light suddenly burned upon the figure"s arm, casting a giant shadow across the cobbles from the cruel spear shaft that pinned it on to the oaken shooting b.u.t.t.
"Archer," Thane called softly, crossing the courtyard and kneeling beside the old man. "Who has done this to you?" he wept, gently taking the bleeding stumps into his hands.
"Thane, Thane is that you?" Archer cried, searching in the
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direction of Thane"s voice. "The Nightmare said that Kyot is dead, lost for ever in the City of Might. He said that the Bow of Orm lay broken beneath him." Archer coughed, choking over the words, crying b.l.o.o.d.y tears. "Oh, Thane, I know it was the truth for I saw with my own eyes the mark of the arrow strike in the Nightmare"s shoulder. I know that Kyot used the bow well before he died."
Thane lifted Archer"s ruined arm and kissed the tattoo mark then, taking the scarred and b.l.o.o.d.y head into his arms, he whispered gently, "Kyot is alive and well; he sits at the Battle Council before the doors of Underfall. Together we won a great victory before the Gates of Night. In the new daylight he will
lead your strikes of Archers back home. Have courage, my Lord, he will be with you soon."
"There is no time to waste," Archer whispered urgently.
"Listen to me, child, while there is still breath in my body. Kyot must be well armed to face the Nightmare, Krulshards. He must follow him and stand in my place."
Thane leaned closer to catch every word, putting his ear to Archer"s blood-encrusted lips.
"Before you were born, long before the great battle to win World"s End had even begun, Nevian, the Master of Magic, took me into the heart of Mantern"s Forest into a secret grove of black yew trees and showed me the tree, the perfect yew tree, and ordered me to cut only enough wood for two great bongs." archer paused, drawing in shallow breaths. "If ever the Bow of Orm is broken seek out that other bow. Remember it has my mark upon it."
"Who has the other bow?" Thane asked. "Where is it hidden?"
Archer coughed, new blood gurgled in his throat. "The arrows," he mumbled, deaf to the question, "must be hotforged and drawn sharp at Clatterford by the Arrowmaster who knows of the light!"
"What is his name?" Thane urged gently, feeling Archer begin to slump against him.
"Fairday of Clatterford," Archer cried, straining against the spear blade. "Tell him that you need new arrows shaped in gla.s.s. Tell him that Krulshards, the Nightmare of Darkness, has come forth into Elundium. Tell him, child, that I have sent you."
Archer slumped forwards and then feebly tried to lift his head, "Free me, Thane," he whispered, turning his b.l.o.o.d.y head towards where Thane knelt. "Free me, Thane, from the binding cord of my fate. Cut me loose." Thane gripped the spear shaft with both hands and, using all his strength, wrenched it free.
Archer slumped forward against the b.l.o.o.d.y bow string. Thane cut the string with one sweep of his dagger and carefully laid the old man on the cobbles. Suddenly, roaring screams broke the night silence just beyond the broken entrance. Thane"s pursuers had reached the Wayhouse. Turning, he crouched ready.
"I will avenge you, Archer!" he cried, reaching for the fallen bow at Archer"s side, but he hesitated. He was a swordsman trained with the skills of Gildersleeves. Quickly he threw the bow aside and drew the dagger that Duclos had given him.
"Killhand, the Gallopersp.a.w.n!" rose the Nightbeast chant.
Five shapes, perhaps ten, their numbers were difficult to count as they swayed forwards in an ever-changing pattern, swallowing the courtyard beneath their foul shadows.
Archer lifted his head, a frown cracking the dried blood on his forehead. As he listened, a large tear, blood streaked, escaped down his cheek. "Thane!" he whispered, "I can hear the Nightbeast chant, but I cannot see them. I am powerless in this darkness, alone and helpless!"
"No, no," whispered Thane, cradling Archer"s head, "I will keep you safe until Kyot comes. You need fear nothing that moves in the night." Archer wept, lifting his mutilated arm with the tattoo mark towards the Nightbeasts. "There is no time left for me, Thane. Fate"s hand is upon my shoulder. Tell Kyot of Clatterford."