Sean Russell - The Shadow Roads

The children of the sorcerer Wyrr did not die, but dwelt foran age in the river as nagar; ghostly spirits. The Knights of the Vow wereformed to stop the children of Wyrr from ever finding their way back to theland of the living, but members of the brotherhood were seduced by promises ofpower and long life, and they hid away smeagh-arcane objects that could allowthe children of Wyrr to return one day. By this means Wyrrs two sons and hisdaughter made bargains with mortals and appeared again among the living.

Wyrrs children, powerful sorcerers, had fought among themselvesfor a thousand years, and when they reappeared in the land between themountains their hatred was undiminished, and they took up their feud again. Thusit was that Lady Elise Wills and a traveler named Alaan became the enemies of aknight known as Hafydd, who had contrived to start a war among the principalfamilies of the land between the mountains so that he might come to power inthe ensuing turmoil.

Unable to destroy Hafydd, Alaan lured him into the hiddenlands-into the Stillwater-a vast swamp that Alaan believed only he couldescape. But Alaans plans went awry when he was wounded by one of Hafyddsguards, and his wound festered in the foul waters of the swamp. Alaan wouldhave been caught and killed, but he was rescued by a stranger accompanied by anarmy of crows. This man, Rabal Crowheart, showed him a ruin where Alaan found achamber containing a great enchantment-the spell that separated the landbetween the mountains from the hidden lands, and the land of the living fromthe kingdom of the dead. Alaan recognized then that the enchantment had begunto decay.

Learning that Alaan was wounded and pursued by Hafydd, EliseWills found the wanderer who could draw maps into the hidden lands and forcedhim to make her a map leading to the Still-water. She, the Valemen, and Alaansfriend Pwyll, set off, hoping to save Alaan. They didnt know that map maker,Kai, had also sent a legendary warrior into the swamp-a near giant named OrlemSlighthand.

While he lay in delirium from his corrupted wound, Alaan wasapproached by an ancient man-at-arms offering him a gem he claimed had beenleft for a child ofWyrr, by Wyrrs brother, Aillyn. Fearing it was a smeaghthat would bring Aillyn back into the world, Alaan refused it, but Hafydd wasnot so wary and took the gem, thinking it was a stone of legend that had oncebelonged to the great sorcerer Tusival.

A running battle was fought through the wetlands, both betweenElise and Hafydd, and between strange creatures whom Crowheart claimed were theservants of Death. In the end the companies met at the mouth of a tunnel thatled out of the Stillwater. Here they fought a desperate battle, in which themagic Elise summoned almost destroyed them all-but the survivors found themselvesagain in the land between the mountains, many swept into the River Wyrr, whichseemed to have destinations for them-though they were destinations none wouldhave chosen.

The disk of light stretched and wavered, flowing left thenright.

The moon, he thought. That is the moon-Butwho am I?

Dust mote stars spun slowly in the black. Light began togrow, and he slipped down into the cool, dark depths. He could feel the othershere, their numbers beyond counting. Slowly they made their way toward thebreathing sea, some so weak they were barely there, others Others were asstrong and clear as the risen sun.

But what are their names? Have none of them names?

Once he had been a traveler. Of that he was almost certain.A traveler whose journeys had become legend.

Once he had gone into a great swamp and battled Death himself.

The bright light faded, and he rose again, floating uptoward the waning moon, the faint stars. Something swam by, pale and flowing.

A fish, he thought. But it was not. It was a man,blue-pale, like the belly of a fish, eyes like moon shells. For a moment itpaused and gazed at him, sadly.

Who are you? he tried to say, but no words wouldform.

And then he was alone. He felt himself rising again, thewavering moon growing-so close. His face broke the surface, moonlight clingingto him, running out of his hair, his eyes. He took a breath. And then another.

But who am I? he whispered.

Sainth?

He looked around, but saw nothing.

Sainth? The voice came from a shadow on the water, blackas a starless sky.

Sainth ? he said. Is that who I am?

It is who you were, the voice said.

And who are you?

I am the past. Perhaps not even that, but only a shadow ofthe past.

I think you are a dream. This is all a dream.

You are on the River Wyrr, where things are not as theyshould be.

A shard of memory knifed into his thoughts. Death Deathpursued me!

His servants, perhaps. Death does not venture beyond the gatesof his dark kingdom yet.

But why were his servants abroad in forms that could beseen?

This brought a moment of silence, and he felt a breeze touchhis face and sigh through the trees along the shore.

They have not yet appeared so in the land between the mountains,but only in the hidden lands, as they are called: the kingdom of Aillyn,of old. Tusivals great spell fails, and the wall that surrounds Deathskingdom is falling. His servants clamber through the breach. They are preparingthe way for their master to follow as was foreseen long ago.

But how can this be? Death cannot leave his kingdom.

Aillyn Aillyn meddled with his fathers spell. He usedit to sunder his lands from his brothers. Fear and jealousy and madness haveled to this.

The man who had been Sainth felt himself sinking again, sinkingbeneath the weight of these words. He laid his head back in the waters,blinking at the stars. Each breath he drew sounded loud in his ears. The waterswere neither warm nor cool. A soft current spun him slowly.

Sainth, he whispered, listening for resonance.

Yes, he had memories of one called Sainth. But there wereother memories, as well.

Deaths servants had stalked him through a drownedforest. Deaths servants!

For a moment, he closed his eyes, blotting out the slowlyspinning stars. A man, almost hidden in a cloud of screeching crows, surfacedfrom memory.

Crowheart!

Sainth? came the oddly hissing voice again.

I am not he.

Then who are you?

A light flickered behind closed eyes. Alaan-I amAlaan!

Perhaps, the voice said, almost sadly. Perhapsyou are-in part. But you were Sainth once, and you have Sainths dutiesto perform. Do not for get.You cannot shirk them.

The man who believed he was Alaan opened his eyes. What?What are you saying? What duties?

But in answer he heard only the soft murmuring of the river.

He floated on, the currents of memories filling him,spinning him this way, then that. How dreamlike some of them seemed, shroudedin mist, or washed out in the brightest light. Some were lost in darkness.Rabal Crowheart he remembered, and Orlem Slighthand. But surely these memorieswere confused, for Slighthand had served the sorcerer named Sainth, whereas Crowheartwas a memory of this life-of Alaans.

But the currents all seemed to flow together, like tworivers joining to form a new waterway. New, but made up of the tributaries.

Perhaps I should have a new name, the man thought-neitherAlaan nor Sainth. But no, Alaan would do. Alaan would do for this life, howeverlong it proved to be.

Waving arms and legs, he turned himself so that his headlifted clear of the water, and he searched the darkness. The Wynnd was broadhere, but he could make out a line of trees, poplars, swaying gently in a softbreeze, moonlight shimmering off their leaves.