"Ynyr has little time left to spend, and less strength." He started toward the dark cliff that bulked sharply against the star-filled sky. "I'm going after him."
"He said that we were to wait here for his return."
"He also said that he'd be back soon. It is past soon. Stay and explain to the others."
"Is that the thanks I get for the help I've given you this far? I'm coming with you."
Colwyn glanced back, grinning. "I'd hoped you might."
"What, did you think I'd let you go on alone?"
"It had occurred to me."
"Well," the bandit leader said sheepishly as he lengthened his stride, "it had occurred to me too. Now we can forget about it."
Colwyn nodded, increased his pace to match Torquil's.
At the base of one of the forest giants, Titch lay sound asleep in the fragrant grass. The puppy that snuggled tight against him lay on its back, all four legs in the air. Every so often its nose twitched, as though checking the air for unfamiliar smells even as it slept.
Across the dying campfire Rell leaned on his trident, his single eye half-closed. Sensing movement, he looked toward the mountain. Two men stood close together, whispering. Together they turned and started toward the distant slope.
Rell straightened, stretched, and yawned as he considered the peaceful camp. Wisps of smoke rose aimlessly from the coals left behind by the fire. Wheezes and grunts came from sprawled, somnolent figures. He was part of this troupe and yet he was not. He made his own decisions.
Holding the trident at the ready he tiptoed through the sleepers and followed silently in the wake of the two who had departed.
The path down the mountainside was fit only for sharp-eyed goats and the darkness made matters worse. Ynyr staggered downward, his tired old eyes intent on the trail and the rocks that hid in wait to trip him. He knew that he must not fall. If he went down he was certain he would not be able to rise again. His breath came in long, painful gasps, each lungful the result of an agonizing battle his chest waged with the air. He gave silent thanks his course was all downhill.
Night creatures scampered clear of his legs or emerged from their hiding places to watch curiously as he stumbled onward. He could feel his strength leaving him even as the grains of sand trickled through his clenched fingers. He needed no such visual metaphors to know that precious little time remained. As she'd promised, Lyssa had drawn on his own reserves to keep the spider from him until he was clear of the cave. Those reserves could not be replaced. He was too old for rejuvenations.
How much farther could it be? He'd had the forest in sight for some time now, but mountain air and distances were ever deceiving, the more so on this night because of the size of the trees that formed the giant woods. He could feel the energy ebbing from his body. Despite the nearness of death he was calm. He'd been looking forward to greeting that old fakir for a long time.
But not until he'd imparted to Colwyn the vital information obtained at so high a price.
His legs felt rubbery and twice he nearly stumbled. I'm not going to make it, he thought sadly. Everything's been for naught: Lyssa's sacrifice, my own, the long journey from Eirig, all the old plans and hopes. But I have to make it. Colwyn's got to know.
Suddenly there were strong arms, young arms, supporting his own, easing his pale, trembling body to the ground. He blinked away the sweat, saw Colwyn standing over him staring anxiously down into his face. The thief Torquil stood nearby.
A good man, that Torquil, he mused. Strange how life forces both good men and bad into narrow corridors from which only extraordinary circumstances give them any opportunity to escape. If not for chance and accident, he and Torquil might have exchanged places in the scheme of things.
But not Colwyn. Colwyn's place had been carefully chosen.
He thought he detected a third figure lurking in the background but he couldn't be sure. It was growing darker by the minute. Even the stars were fading. He reached up and clutched Colwyn's jersey.
"At sunrise… at sunrise the Fortress will materialize in the Iron Desert. It will stay there until the following sunrise. You must reach it by then."
Colwyn looked to Torquil. The bandit leader was shaking his head sadly. Colwyn had studied his geography well, while Torquil had much practical knowledge of it. Both knew they could not possibly cover such a distance in a single day and night.
Ynyr's hand tightened, pulling Colwyn close. "You must reach it there or you will never find it again."
Gently Colwyn loosened the old man's fingers and tried to make him relax. "We'll reach it. Have no fear of that. And you'll be with us, to guide and counsel me."
Ynyr slowly shook his head. Everything was happening too quickly now. "No. My race is run." He twisted to gesture feebly at the weapon that hung from Colwyn's belt. "Remember all I have told you about the glaive. It does not make you invincible, but it is the second most powerful weapon remaining to the people of Krull. Use its power wisely. Do not squander it. When it is gone it cannot be restored."
"I've learned of power and its uses from you, Ynyr. I won't forget."
"And I've learned a little more of life from you. A hermit's existence facilitates study but the intensity of one's focus creates a narrow vision." He lifted his head slightly to look past Colwyn to Torquil. "You chose men I would not have chosen, but they were the right men." Torquil shifted uneasily at the compliment.
Ynyr's eyes locked with Colwyn's. "There is much I should have told you, many things you deserve to know that I saw fit to withhold from you. Now you must learn them for yourself. The time of teaching is past."
Frustration filled Colwyn's face. "I don't understand."
"You will. You must. Your marriage…" He drew in a wheezing breath. "Your marriage to Lyssa was necessary;"
"Of course it was. The alliance between Eirig and Turold—"
Ynyr was shaking his head. "No, no! Truly you do not understand, for which you cannot be blamed. So much was kept from you. It was necessary that you mature and reach decisions uncontaminated by too much knowledge. The marriage… you must rescue Lyssa!"
"I know. Just rest now."
"No," Ynyr said violently, "you don't knowl You don't know that… that…" He hesitated, staring through Colwyn for a moment. Then his gaze dropped from Colwyn's face to his own right hand. There was a look of surprise on his face. He opened his fingers. When he spoke again, it was in the voice of a young man: "The sand is gone."
Colwyn looked. The night wind scattered the few remaining grains from the old man's palm. When he looked again into Ynyr's face, the wizened old eyes had closed for the last time.
He rose. There was no anger in him and less sorrow than he'd expected. Ynyr had chosen this moment, as surely as Colwyn had determined to marry Lyssa. He desperately wanted to know what the old man had been so frantic to impart before his passing. Now it seemed he would never know, unless…
"You must learn them for yourself," Ynyr had said.
Torquil put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I understood very little of what he said, and I knew him not overlong, but for a wise man he seemed like a decent chap."
"He was the wisest of the wise," Colwyn muttered. "I wish he had not chosen this course. I will miss him."
"If you believe in his wisdom, then you won't stand here regretting its loss. You'll make use of it, as he instructed you to." He glanced back toward the camp. "I wish he'd been wise enough to tell us how we're supposed to get from here to the Iron Desert in a day and night."
"We'll get there." Colwyn's assurance was so palpable that Torquil elected not to argue the point further.
Instead he turned and started downhill. "Then we'd better wake the others and get started. I haven't made a long run in a year. I don't know how many of the' others are in shape for such an attempt."
"First we bury him." Colwyn nodded toward the now peaceful form.
"We waste time, Colwyn."
"No time spent on Ynyr the Wise is wasted."
"Colwyn," Torquil said evenly, "Ynyr the Wise is dead."
"His spirit will travel with us. I want that spirit laid to rest in comfort. First we bury him."