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glancing repeatedly back over his shoulder. The single eye vanished,
outdistanced | by his mad flight. Or perhaps it had reasons for not pursuing.
He burst into the clearing bordering the stream and looked frantically about.
No sign of the two men who'd witnessed his inglorious arrival. In panic he
splashed through the water, crossing the stream where it narrowed again
beneath the pool. Ah, there, just ahead! Movement
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among the bushes and the comforting sound of horses' hooves.
As he grew near he thought to slow to a stately walk and compose himself.
"Why, if it isn't Ergo the Magnificent. And the Breathless. Something give you
a start?"
Colwyn looked past the smaller man, back into the forest. He saw nothing.
"Nonsense," Ergo replied haughtily. "Ergo the Magnifi-cent is not
frightenable."
"Nor does he talk very well when he's out of breath. You are sweating, my
friend."
"My evening exercise. I never miss it."
"I see," Colwyn turned his attention back to the trail ahead. "Then what
brings you so soon into our company again?"
"I just remembered that I have some urgent business in this I direction."
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"I daresay, from the way you're breathing." He reached a i hand toward the
other man. Ergo hesitated, then took the offer and swung himself up onto the
horse behind Colwyn. "What business might that be?"
"Staying alive," Ergo confessed, glancing nervously behind them. Whatever
creature it belonged to, the eye stayed mercifully hidden.
Colwyn chuckled. "Then it seems we are in the same business, my friend. And
men who work the same business ought to stick together."
"Most assuredly," agreed Ergo quickly.
Lyssa had never thought of a nightmare as having walls and a floor, a ceiling
and strangely hued hidden lights. A nightmare was thin and wispy, faint and
impalpable. It ought not to ring hollowly beneath one's shoes or to twist and
turn like the thoughts of an evil courtier.
Was she inside the Black Fortress or inside her own mind? She clung
precariously to her sanity as she rushed down weaving, convoluted corridors
that seemed spun of gold and ceramic instead of honest wood or stone. She
could not imagine how such a place could have been built.
Perhaps it had not been built in the sense men thought of as "built." Perhaps
it had been grown, for certain of the tunnels and cavernous hallways she raced
through resembled far more the inside of some stolid, immobile creature than
the corridors of any building ever described to her in her lessons.
Occasionally a wall would ooze shut behind her, forcing her onward, or a tall
white Slayer would appear to block her path. Then she would turn desperately
down any unblocked passageway, her dress whirling around her legs, seeking
even temporary freedom.
Freedom: it was little more than an intellectual exercise, since it was clear
that even if she stumbled across the right tools she'd be unable to dig
herself to freedom. But it was a useful abstract to concentrate on as she ran,
and it helped to keep her from going mad.
She thought also of Colwyn and the burning fresh love that had drawn them so
close so quickly, saw him buried under a wave of Slayers as he'd tried to hack
his way through to her in the castle courtyard. What must he be thinking of
her now? Would he be more at peace believing her still alive, with a chance
for rescue, or better off thinking her dead?
No matter. She had no way of conveying a message to him. Her palm burned as
she thought of him and she remembered the gentle, comforting heat of the flame
she'd taken from the font during the ceremony. It gave her strength, that
memory. Strength to keep hoping, strength to run on.
Once, a gown resplendent with jewels and metallic thread appeared like a
vision before her. Above it floated a crown of precious metal and strange
mien. It held her transfixed with its beauty for a long moment, until she saw
the threat that lay beyond. To some it might appear raiment fit for a queen
but Lyssa was far more perceptive than that. It was beautiful, yes, but so
were many burial shrouds.
She turned from it and rushed on.
There were too many dead trees around for Colwyn's liking. They'd reached a
defile in the rocks, a place of desolation and broken stone. At least the
morning fog had dissipated. Walls without substance, his father had once
called such fogs. The mark of difficult country.
The sun hung somewhere overhead, masked by the sheer walls that rose around
them. Birds and other less wholesome things called out hesitantly, as though
uncertain of safety. Lonely sounds fit for a lonely place. He would be glad
when they had passed beyond.
Something nudged him in the small of the back and he felt his passenger
shifting position. Ergo sat behind the saddle and by now it must be wearying
to him.
"How are you doing back there, my magnificent little friend?"
"Not magnificently, I fear. I have spent all morning debating the benefits of
riding thus versus walking. My feet opt for their present status but another
part of me disagrees most strenuously."
"I'm sorry. When we reach a town we'll have to see about acquiring a mount for
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you."
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"With what? I left my last place of residence in such a rush that I was
compelled to leave the bulk of my fortune behind."
"It's your help I need, not your money. I am willing to help those who help
me."
Ergo perked up, the soreness that attended his fundament temporarily
forgotten. "You have money, then?"
"Enough to provide you with a horse, anyway." That told Ergo little, which was
precisely what Colwyn wanted him to know.
Ergo peered around his companion's side, raised his voice. "You are not a
great chooser of roads, old man."
' 'Our road has been chosen for us," Ynyr replied importantly.
"I was referring to that which passes beneath our horses' hooves, not that
which conveys our spirits."
"As you prefer," said Ynyr. "To place your question on a less exhalted plain,
this particular road avoids the most dangerous bogs and marshlands while
saving us half a day of travel. No highways lead to our current destination. I
should think that, given your present seat, you would be particularly
appreciative of any time saved."
Ergo's muttered reply was somewhat less than grateful.
The canyon narrowed further and Colwyn's unease intensified as it did so.
"Ynyr, shouldn't we be out of these rocks by now? It seems we've been riding
through them for ages."
"I'm sorry, my boy, but this is the only way to avoid the marshlands. Rest
easy. We'll emerge into more open country soon enough."
They rode on. With a sensitive portion of his anatomy continuing to shout its
protests, Ergo finally descended to give his feet some exercise, walking
alongside Colwyn's horse. Through sleepy eyes quickly opened he thought he saw
a half-solid shape behind the rocks. A man could see anything he wanted to in
such a place. Here the boulders became a sculpted horse, there a ship far out
at sea, there a man's "
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