The Castle Of Hape. Caves Of Fire And Ice. The Joining Of The Stone

“Only you, Ramad of Zandour, only you can answer that.” The old man scratched his chin briefly. “And if you do not defeat it, what of Carriol, of Ere?” Pender turned without waiting for an answer and led Ram up along a nearly invisible ledge and into a crevice behind outcroppings of stone.

They entered into absolute darkness, continued to climb, and rose at last into an underground cave lighted from above by an opening where the sun stood flaring down.

Beneath their feet was an immense slab of stone hollowed underneath by the river, the river flowed beneath them into a triangular pool reflecting perfectly the high noon sun.

The cave walls were carved into wavelike shapes by long past action of the river, and the river’s flow now cast the sun’s flicking light back upon these, so the whole cave seemed to be moving underwater. A memory came sharp to Ram, of another cave filled with light, and he was nine years old; he and Skeelie stripped naked were swimming in just such a light-struck pool, in a cave in the old city of Owdneet. Pender turned to look at him.

“The Luff’Eresi await you, Ramad. They would hear you plead your mission.” Then he turned, led Ram in silence toward the back of the cave and through a high opening into a second, larger cave more brightly sun-washed still, and Ram saw far mountains beyond the portal and went forward to the brink of the drop, stared out upon a valley immense and green, so far below that it took his breath.

Below him, perhaps half a mile, the valley floor rolled in green fields and gentle hills and small copses of feathery trees. A river wound through, and across the valley in the cliffs that formed the opposite wall were caves, a city of caves one above the other in clusters, with balconies and windows, and some with steps leading one to another; though no steps led down to the valley so far below.

And then he saw the light shifting and changing in the valley as if something were there. Yes, winged figures barely visible in slanting light among the valleys and hills, shifting and indistinct as light on running water, iridescent shapes moving in and out of his vision, ephemeral as dreams, ever moving, ever flashing against the solid background of hills and cliffs. The Luff’Eresi were there, their images as elusive and compelling as music.

And suddenly near to him, filling the air before him, came the horses of Eresu, not light-washed like the gods, but solid, familiar animals crowding out of the sky to land around Ram and Pender, warm, familiar animals dropping their feathered wings across their backs as they entered the cave, pushing around Ram and Pender with great good humor, nickering, nudging them with velvet muzzles. A gray stallion knelt in the accustomed invitation to mount and took Ram on his back, stood at the brink of the cave, his wings flaring around Ram, catching wind; and they were airborne suddenly, sweeping down toward the valley so the rush of air took Ram’s breath. He turned to see Pender close behind; they swept low over the valley, and Ram could see the light-washed Luff’Eresi now, see a few clusters of white-robed men and women, too, and understood from Pender that, all through time, some few Seers had come into Eresu for sanctuary from the harsher world of Ere.

Horses of Eresu were grazing on the hills. Some leaped skyward now and again in bucking play. Ram watched a dozen colts run across a hill to launch themselves clumsily into the wind, flapping and fighting for height. Some dropped down in defeat, but two lifted onto the wind at last, kicking and bucking.

The silver stallion descended, and below, the Luff’Eresi were gathered and waiting. Ram looked with surprise, for there were females among the Luff’Eresi, women’s shapely forms rising from the softer curves of mare’s bodies. He felt the ripple of amusement stir among the Luff’Eresi at his amazement, felt Pender’s silent laughter. Had he thought the Luff’Eresi were of one sex and did not reproduce themselves?

Yes, he realized, he had thought just that, had believed the Luff’Eresi immortal in spite of his childhood reasoning that they were not. In his most private self he must have believed the Luff’Eresi immortal—or have wanted to believe this—for reproduction and birth, and thus dying, had never been a part of how he pictured them.

Their voices rang like a shout in his mind. Yes, we are mortal, Ramad of wolves! Their laughter rocked him. Mortal just as you! Not gods! Never gods!

The gray stallion landed on the grassy turf in a rush of wind and bid Ram remain on his back. Ram saw that even mounted he had to look up to the Luff’Eresi. From the ground he would have been a tiny creature indeed, staring upward to face the two dozen winged gods. No, not gods! But it would take him a while to get used to that idea. And, if they were not gods, what made them shimmer and seem to shift in space so they could not be clearly seen?