Терри Брукс - Jarka Ruus
After a time, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. «You must leave now. It grows late. They will return. Go back to your room and sleep.» She kissed him again. «Come again tomorrow, if you can. I will be waiting.»
He rose and walked with her to the ladder, scanning the dock for signs of approaching Rovers. The docks were empty now. She lowered the ladder for him, and he climbed down. He stood looking up at her as she pulled it away again, then he turned and went down the waterfront.
Cinnaminson.
Nothing in his life, he knew, would ever be the same again.
TWENTY
Grianne Ohmsford woke to a morning so dismal and gray that it might have drifted out of the marshy depths of the Malg Swamp, an apparition come in search of the unfortunate Jarka Ruus. It felt alive and hungry. It had a shape and feel. The air it breathed smelled of fetid water and brushed at the skin with greasy, insistent fingers. The clouds that formed its hair were so low in the sky as to be indistinguishable from the misty beard that curled about its ragged face. Everything about it whispered of hidden danger and lost souls. In its presence, heartbeats quickened with the uneasy and certain knowledge that death, when it appeared, would be quick and unexpected.
The Ard Rhys was cramped from sleeping in the cradle of tree limbs, her body aching and stiff. She had slept, though she did not pretend to understand how, and she had kept her perch and not fallen as she had feared she would. Climbing down through brume that would have discouraged even the most intrepid seabird, she caught sight of the tracks that crisscrossed the earth directly below, and decided she had been lucky to have survived the night with no more than her sore muscles. Weka Dart had been right to warn her against trying to make her bed on the ground.
She glanced around, scanning the mist and gloom for some sign of the devious little Ulk Bog, thinking he might have come back during the night, even as mad at her as he had been when he left. After all, he had gone to a lot of trouble to persuade her to allow him to accompany her, and she found it hard to believe that he would toss it all away because of a perceived slight. He didn't seem the type who would allow insults to get in the way of ambitions. She still wasn't sure what he was after, only that he was after something. But there was no sign of him, so she accepted that he had gone his own way after all.
Just as well, she told herself.
Except that she didn't know the country, and that put her at a disadvantage. She knew in general how she should go, given that the Forbidding mirrored the Four Lands. She could estimate the location of the Hadeshorn from what she knew of its location in her own world. But the mist was confusing, and her sense of direction skewed by the different land formations. Worse, she would have to risk encountering the monsters that inhabited the Forbidding, without knowing who and what they were. At least Weka Dart had knowledge of the things she needed to avoid.
But there was no help for it. Nor help for her lack of food and water. She would have to forage for both as she traveled, hoping that she would recognize the former when she saw it. Water should be less of a problem, although just then she didn't want to assume anything.
She stretched her aching limbs and looked down at herself. Ragged and dirty, she was a mess. Her clothes were almost in shreds, her pale skin showing through the gaps in ways that didn't please her. She wrapped her tattered nightdress closer and told herself she would have to find something else to wear soon or she would be naked as well as starving and lost. She couldn't travel much farther without boots, either. Her feet were already scraped and bleeding, and she hadn't even gotten to the rocky climb to the Hadeshorn.
When I find out who did this to me …
She was about to set out when there was movement in the trees to one side and Weka Dart, bristle–haired and spindly–limbed, emerged carrying a cloth–wrapped package in both arms. He caught sight of her and stopped, his sharp teeth showing as he smiled broadly.
«Ah, Grianne of the trees. Sleep well, did you? You don't look so bad for having spent the night aboveground. See all the tracks?» He gestured. «Now you understand what I was telling you.»
She stared at him without answering, undecided if she was happy about having him back.
His cunning features scrunched with disappointment. «Don't look at me like that! You should be pleased to see me. How far would you get without me? You don't know anything about this part of the world, anyone can tell that. You need me to guide you.»
«I thought you were finished with me," she said.
He shrugged. «I changed my mind. I decided to forgive you. After all, you have a right to know about me, so you did what Strakens do and used your magic to find out. It isn't any different than what any creature of habit would do. Here, I brought you some clothes.»
He came forward and dumped the bundle at her feet. She bent down and picked through it, finding leather boots, a loose–fitting cotton shirt, pants, a belt and knife, and the great cloak in which he had wrapped them. All were in good condition and close enough in size to fit her comfortably. She had no idea where he had found them and didn't think she should ask. «Put them on," he urged.
«Turn your back," she replied.
It was silly, given that an Ulk Bog would not be interested about her that way, but she wanted to assert her authority now, before he got the wrong idea about who was in charge. If he was going to accompany her on the rest of her journey, as it appeared he was determined to do, she had better set him straight on the nature of their relationship immediately.
She removed the nightdress and put on the clothes, watching him fidget as he stared off into the trees. «I want to know why you insist on coming with me," she told him. «And don't tell me it's because you want to help a stranger find her way.»
He threw up his hands. «Can't anyone do a good turn for you without being questioned about it?»
«In your case, no. You don't seem the type to do good turns unless there is something in it for you. So let's be honest about it. What is it that you want from me? Maybe it isn't anything I'll mind giving up, if it means you can get me to where I want to go.» She finished buttoning the tunic. «You can turn around now.»
He did so, looking sour–faced and ill–used. «I thought Strakens could tell what normal people are thinking. Why don't you just use your magic to find out what I want?»
She didn't bother with an answer, waiting patiently on him. He pouted. «You already know the reason. You just weren't paying attention when I told you. Too self–absorbed, I suspect.»
«Tell me again.»
He pouted harder. «I got in some trouble with my tribe. I had to flee for my life. They might still be chasing me. Alone, I'm not much good against a lot of the things that are Jarka Ruus. I know how to find my way and mostly how to avoid them, though. So I thought we could help each other.» He folded his arms defiantly. «There, are you satisfied, Grianne of the curious mind and endless questions?»
He was being insolent, but she let it go. «I am. For now. But in the future, you will tell me the truth about your motives and your plans, little rodent, or I will feed you to the bigger things you seek to avoid. I don't like surprises. I want to know what you are thinking about things. No secret plans, or our bargain is off.»
«Then you agree that we should travel together?» he asked. He was positively gleeful. «You will watch out for me?» He caught himself. «Well, you agree that we will watch out for each other?»
«Let's just start walking," she said, and turned away.
* * *
They walked all that day, traveling east below the Dragon Line and across the grasslands and foothills of the Pashanon. The weather stayed gray and misty, the sun never more than a faint brightness high above them, the world they journeyed through composed of brume and shadows. The air was damp and chilly, a discomforting presence that made Grianne grateful for the clothes and boots that Weka Dart had brought her. The grasslands and hills were coated with moisture that never quite evaporated, yet the land remained barren and lifeless. The absence of small birds and little animals was unnerving, and even the insects tended to be of the buzzing, biting variety. Grasses grew thick and hardy, sawtooth and razorblade spears that were a washed–out green and mottled gray. Trees were stunted and gnarled below the Dragon Line, and many were little more than skeletons. The waters of the ponds and streams were stagnant and algae–laced. Everywhere they traveled and everywhere she looked, the world seemed to be sick and dying.
Yet the Jarka Ruus had existed for thousands of years. She tried to imagine a lifetime in such a world and failed. It frightened her to think of being trapped here for long. If she had not believed that she would find a way out, she would have been devastated.
But she never wavered in her certainty that she would find a way out. Those who had sent her here had made a mistake in letting her live. They might think themselves rid of her, but she would prove them wrong.
Her thoughts drifted frequently to the cause of her predicament. It was impossible for her to know exactly who had transported her, but she could make an educated guess or two. What baffled her was why they hadn't simply killed her and been done with it. It was what she would have done to them when she was the Ilse Witch. Leaving a dangerous enemy alive to come looking for you later, no matter how difficult the task, was always risky. So why had they let her live? It would have been no more difficult for them to kill her than to send her into the Forbidding. It made her think something else was happening, a reason for her enemies to keep her alive and imprisoned. It also made her ponder anew the source of the power it had taken to put her here. It was more than even the most powerful of the Druids possessed. It was beyond anything that existed in her world.
It was a power, she was beginning to think, that might have come from the Forbidding, itself.
Her ruminations kept her occupied for much of her journey. Weka Dart continued to skitter about, dodging sideways and occasionally climbing up and down trees and rock formations, but always moving. He did not talk much, for which she was grateful, absorbed apparently in keeping an eye out for the things they should avoid.
There were a great number of those, and they encountered many of them on their way. Ogres and giants stomped through the grasslands, mindless behemoths, dim–sighted and single–minded, with great shoulders hunched and massive arms dragging. Harpies flew overhead, winged shrews that screamed and spit venom at each other and anything below. A scattering of dragons came and went, smaller for the most part and different from the Drachas. Various forms of Faerie creatures were glimpsed, as well, particularly kobolds, which seemed to live in large numbers in that region.
Once, they saw a village of Gormies, far in the distance, a mud and grass huddle of shelters cut like caves into a hillside. Walls fronted the village and spikes jutted out of the earth in pointed warning. The Gormies themselves, ferret–eyed and wiry, crept about their enclosure like shades.
«What would frighten an entire village of those little terrors?» she asked Weka Dart.
He laughed and growled deep in his throat. «Wait and see.»
