Chapter 14.4

If you haven't done so, or don't remember the story, now would be a good time to read The Heart of the Heart of the Eastern Green Forest. This tells the backstory of Taynair :

http://www.sff.net/people/dragonwriter/fiction/heart.html

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I opened my eyes on a different world.

Neither Charles nor Peter seemed to notice. They, along with the horse, trudged along a road that was now pure black and unmarred by leaf litter or mud – but none of us made progress. It was as if we were in current that moved us downstream as fast as we rowed up it. On either side of the path, the trees and bushes shone silver. Pale flowers, blossoms grown from gem stones, grew in clumps in the covering silver moss, and translucent mushrooms sprouted in perfect rings.

This was the true Heart of the Eastern Green Forest.

I looked for, and saw a man seated on a boulder, a man with milk-white skin and no smile. His silver hair, adorned with twigs and leaves from the surrounding trees, hung to his waist, and he wore a circlet of fire. His robe was woven of muted colors that shifted as I watched., and he balanced a long sword between his knees. A dozen ladies lounged at his feet, dressed in soft colors and hard gems, their eyes and hair glittering silver.

Taynair, Prince of the Eastern Green Forest. Beware his smile, for the pleasure of the Silver-eyed is mortal pain.

His frost-filled eyes fell on me. "Speak."

I raised my hands.

"None of that! In my realm, you will speak!"

I had spoken to the Master of Paths, though my mouth felt no less empty than it usually did. And so I spoke to the Mirthless Prince. "Please let us go. We mean you no harm."

The corner of his mouth twitched – the beginning of a smile. "Why are you here?"

I shivered. "We are just passing through. Please, let us go."

His eyes appraised me. "Do you wish to bargain? A promise for a promise?"

My breath caught. Never bargain with a Silver-eyed, and never accept a promise from Prince Taynair. "No. But I will freely give you anything you ask."

The Prince of the Forest smiled openly, and I felt as cold as if standing naked in a frosted wind. "Give me a song, Bard. Give me a story."

"I have no harp," I protested, before I thought to stop. "I can make no music."

He leaned forward, his silver eyebrows flicking up as Master Meiltung’s did when we argued with him. "Sing with your heart, as you always have, Gerard, Bard of Songless Castle."

I started. "How do you know me?"

His smile widened, like a river of ice on the move. "Long have I waited for you, to hear your music and magic. Sing for me and remember me – though your path now curves away, we will meet again."

What would I play? For the people of the world I played of the spirit-lands. For a spirit, then, I need play of the world. So I sang of Lord Reinard and his follies, of our adventure together and its bitter end, and the words of the Dragon. Then I sang of the wider world, of the rising sun on a new-mown meadow, of the yule-fire crackling on the hearth. I sang of the Bardhall in Slatten and the one that I knew would never be again at Songless. As I emptied my heart to the Mirthless Prince, it filled with more. The cries of a newborn, the joy of a bride, the cold thud dirt filling in a grave.

The prince’s cold smile dropped away and was replaced by a gentle curve of his lips. It was a foreign, frightful thing to see, an unnatural warmth amid the chill.

At his feet the maidens gathered jewel flowers and wove them into daisy chains. One wove a coronet, the pale gems flickering within a nest of silver stems and leaves.

Abruptly Prince Taynair dropped his smile and raised his hand. "That is enough. Go, now, before the Night Riders travel the path."

The maiden weaving the coronet stood. "A gift! From Spara to your lady, the mother of your children."

Taking the offering, I brushed her fingers with my own – ice was never so cold. I put the coronet away in my pouch.

Price Taynair spoke again. "Remember Gerard – walk the path before you and always sing from your heart.

Then he let his hands fall, and the Heart of the Heart of the Eastern Green Forest disappeared, and with it the black path of the Night Riders.

Chapter 14.3

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I woke in the Heart of the Eastern Green Forest. Snow fell lightly, creating a crystalline veil through which ice-clad trees stood guard. The sky above shone with an unbearable whiteness, though no sun could be seen, causing the ice to glitter like polished silver. No wind stirred the brush. Beside the path stretched a snow-covered river, as flat as a road. On the farther bank, a cliff that towered above us, there were icefalls colored like moonbows.

I looked down to where the horse’s hooves had churned mud and snow together, and saw that we walked on a black road.

Gods protect us. At least it is still day.

Peter slogged along, head down and arms hanging at his sides, breathing heavily. He had carried me for a long distance from the castle, and now he had walked while I slept. I touched his shoulder to catch his attention, then signed, "Ride for a time. I’ll walk."

He shook his head and signed back, "Please stay on the horse. I am in good health, and it would be easier on you if you did not try to walk."

Obviously he had never ridden a war-horse while bruised. "Perhaps we could stop a few minutes to rest."

He nodded, then caught Charles’ attention. Together they released my bindings, and helped me down. Charles unpacked a feedbag of grain for the horse, then pulled out cheese, bread, and a skin of wine. "Join me?"

Charles could ride with me, anytime. I nodded eagerly; Peter accepted what he was given. We ate, and then the other two helped me back into the saddle. Almost immediately, I fell asleep.

Chapter 14.2

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The snowfall hid us as we took a path that led south from Krast. Soon a wide, dark road crossed it, leading us into the forest. There knobby trees closed around us, like a withered fist. Clumps of snow filled the branches, wet and heavy. Shaggy vines hung down, ropes waiting to bind us, and the bushes below the trees filled with white. Yet the road stayed clear and black.

A wind blew, knocking a clod of snow onto the horse. He snorted and shook his head, but otherwise kept his training.

Charles pulled his cloak tighter around his frame. "I was knighted on a day like this. Bitterly cold and bleak. There was ice on the inside of the chapel walls – and when I put my hands between my lord’s to swear my fealty, they felt even colder."

I remembered the day. It was so cold that Wallen had insisted that I sleep inside, in his room, and attend the festivities afterward. I wondered what omen this was for the new knight, this stinging cold and shadowed skies, but his warm manner seemed not to notice anything amiss.

Charles continued. "That night, though, there was a feast to suit royalty! Two pigs roasted on the fire, and there was swan and fat goose. Four kinds of pudding, and the breads were shaped like rabbits and ducks. Roasted nuts, candied fruits. And for desert there were a sugar confection, a whole glorious battle with men, machines, and a castle wall."

The detail had been perfect, down to the fainting maiden and the sappers undermining the wall.

"And while we feasted, there was music. A rare thing, in truth."

No, I thought to Charles, trying to catch his eye. Don’t tell Peter where you’re from.

"For we had with a Bard – and almost Bard, that is. When my lord called for presents, this man came forward to play the harp. What he played, I don’t quite know, but the notes themselves were words that embedded in my heart. As he played I saw the duty and honor of being of knight. I was to be as serious about my service as a monk is about his vows, and if I soiled my honor I would have broken faith with God himself. That was the message I heard, and I swear by my life that I will honor it forever."

I hadn’t realized that my simple meditation melody had affected him so deeply. At the time he had looked as pleasantly blank as everyone else in the room, but perhaps I had allowed him to look within and see what he had sworn himself to.

My thoughts returned to pleasant memories of the feast, of the food I was not likely to see that day. From there I slipped into dreamless slumber.

Chapter 14.1.2

Peter responded to his offer by shoving me forward; Charles caught me before I sprawled in the snow. They worked together to put me in the stiff saddle of the warhorse. Peter tied me in with roped while Charles shorted the stirrups to feet my feet. When my sleeves fell back to reveal the raw flesh on my wrists, I heard the knight suck in his breath.

He had yet to see my face or ribs.

"Which way do you travel?" Charles asked.

Peter pointed toward Krast.

"The town is filled with soldiers." His tone was light, disinterested, as if gossiping. "They’re searching every house and building, and stopping every one, looking for people who left Rockridge last night. It might be easier for us if we went a different way."

We could go over the pass and into the Badlands, passing Rockridge on the way, or into the Eastern Green Forest. Perhaps, while the sun shone, the powers of the forest would be weak. If we could pass before sunset, we might be safe. There was a better chance among the enchanted boughs than with the soldiers, slim as it was.

I nodded. We would follow Peter’s path, after all. Hopefully it was the same one that the Master of Paths wished me to travel.

As we moved forward down the road, I thought of Elise. Was she safe? Would the soldiers recognize her, as well as Jason and Ison? Or would her sister’s gifts be enough to protect them? What did Charles know? I waited until he glanced back to check on me, and clumsily signed, "What of the lady and the harp?"

"It’s a good thing for you two that I happened to be free. I had just decided to go on a pilgrimage, and had planned to travel with companions, but they went on without me. The whole lot of them. It’s my own fault, of course. They sent the message for me to come, but I was too much into my cups and dice to pay any heed."

Charles? Drinking and gambling?

Then I realized what he was saying. My lord and my oldest friend had summoned Charles to go with them, but he ignored his lord and stayed for the one they were leaving behind. Not all Christians were evil. But Elise had gone with them, and taken my harp.

What had they said to make her leave me? That I was dead?

Probably. If not for Peter, I would have been.

Charles continued on, as if he was bothered by what he said. "I do not think I broke faith with my companions. I believe they broke faith with me, by leaving before they knew that all of our company was free. And I had made a promise that I found bound to keep. Do you think I did wrong?"

Peter lifted his hands, palms up. Those of his order do not judge.