Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [65]
"Do you really think she's a thousand years old, Morhion?" Mari whispered as they lay down by the fire. "I know it's impossible, but I almost believe she has lived in Talis since its destruction, awaiting the fulfillment of the prophecy. She does seem to know a great deal about what happened here a thousand years ago. What do you think?"
Morhion met her gaze. "I think, Mari, that you have answered your own question." With that he shut his eyes and swiftly passed into sleep. "Morhion."
The whisper jolted him awake. His eyes fluttered open. It was Isela. She held a finger to her lips, then gestured for him to follow. He slipped silently from his blanket and padded after her in the sooty predawn light. She led him through twisting corridors until they came to another room. He guessed it might once have been a library, though the wooden shelves had rotted to splinters, and the books had long ago become mulch for the fragrant wild mint that carpeted the floor.
Isela moved to a rusted iron chest and threw back the lid. She drew out two objects and handed them to Morhion. One was a book, its crackling yellow pages still protected by a cover of oiled leather. The second was a silver ring set with a violet gem.
Morhion raised an eyebrow. "What are these things, Isela?"
She placed her gnarled hands on her hips. "That is for you to discover, wizard. But I will tell you this-you will have need of them on your quest."
His eyes narrowed. "How is it you know what we seek to do?"
She waved this away as if it were an unimportant detail. "How I know matters not. But heed me, wizard. You seek to destroy a great shadow. Yet shadows can exist only when there is light to cast them. To destroy the shadow, you must destroy the light as well. Do not forget that."
"I won't," he promised solemnly, though he was not sure what she meant.
She nodded and, without a word, turned to leave. By the time they made it back to the sleeping chamber, the others were waking. They ate a breakfast of hardtack and leftover soup-ignoring more of Cormik's grumbling-and discussed their plans. They had to cross the River Reaching and return to the Dusk Road to search for Caledan's trail. Isela claimed to know a way across the river, though she remained deliberately mysterious.
"You shall see," was all she said.
They gathered on the damp green bank of the river in the misty light of dawn. "You have got to be joking," Cormik said in blatant disbelief.
"How, by all the gold of Ghaethluntar, are we going get a horse across the river in that?" Jewel gave Cormik's paunch an appraising look. "I'm not certain it's the horses that will be the problem." Cormik treated her to a withering glare. "You actually enjoy being unpleasant, don't you?"
"Just to you, love," she said, parting her ruby lips in a winning smile.
Morhion studied the contraption Isela had rigged for crossing the frothing torrent of the river. He had the distinct impression that the entire thing had not been built, but had rather been grown. A thick vine hung across the river, attached to a stout oak tree on each bank. Suspended from the braided vine was a large basket woven from green saplings. Attached to the basket was another, thinner cord that could be used to pull the craft along the main vine.
"Can it truly hold one of the horses, Isela?" Mari asked.
The witch nodded. "Once each fall I kill a stag for winter food. Often I hunt on the far side of the river, and bring the stag across in the basket. It will hold a horse."
Despite Cormik's skepticism, Isela was right. Mari and Jewel crossed first, easily pulling the basket along the vine to the far bank. The others pulled the basket back and began sending the horses across the river to the two women. It wasn't easy getting the horses into the curious conveyance, but with a cloth sack covering their eyes, the animals