The Darkangel
Chapter 7. Darkangel's Dreams

Aeriel awoke in the dark of first nightfall to a sound she had never heard before. It was not the moaning of the wraiths, nor the shrieking of the gargoyles - though they, too, soon added their voices to the uproar. It was rather a kind of shouting, a series of painful cries and then silence again. Or rather, a silencing of the crying voice: the wraiths continued to wail and moan and the gargoyles to chatter and scream as they had not done for many day-months.
Aeriel rose from the mat of rushes where she slept and slipped out into the hall, then down the many steps into the caverns under the castle. As she descended, the cries began again, nearer. Below her, she saw the duarough coming up the bank with a rushlight in one hand.
"What is it?" she cried as she left the last step and her foot touched sandy shore.
Talb came closer to her along the bank. "It is the vampyre, daughter," he said.
"What is wrong with him?" insisted Aeriel. "Is he in pain?"
"Great anguish," the duarough replied, "but not pain. Your tales and stories have given him dreams."
"Dreams?" exclaimed Aeriel. "But he does not sleep...."
"True, true," said the duarough, "he sleeps but yearly, on his wedding night: but that is oblivion, devoid of dreams - a dead and dreamless sleep. No, daughter, these are waking dreams."
Aeriel felt cold and rubbed her arms. "He cries out," she said, "as though afraid. But what is there to fear in dreams?"
The duarough sighed and took the rushlight in his other hand. "Nothing for you and me,"
he said, "for us who live. But he is mostly dead, and he wishes his mind to be dead to all things but what he himself chooses to think."
Aeriel drew back a bit. "How long will they last?" she asked the other softly.
The duarough shrugged. "They will last as long as they last," he replied, "ceasing for a while and then returning - until they have run their course."
The cries redoubled and Aeriel shuddered. "Is nothing to be done? He suffers so."
"Only sleep can cure these dreams," her companion said. "But he has forsaken sleep."
"If this is my doing," said Aeriel, "I must go to him."
"That you must not," said the duarough, almost sharply.
"Perhaps there is something..."
"There is nothing you may do, daughter."
"I might comfort him."
"He would kill you first," the duarough said. "He is searching the castle for you now; did you know it?"
Aeriel drew back again with a sudden alarm. Not since she had first come to the castle had she feared the darkangel - feared to displease him, perhaps, but not for her life.
Gradually she had come almost to disregard his casual threats, for his manner now seemed not at all fearsome to her. Indeed, most times he either treated her with a mocking amusement, or else ignored her altogether.
When first he had brought her to his keep, she had expected death. She had not desired it, but she had been prepared. Now she was not. The wraiths and gargoyles depended on her.
The duarough looked to her for company. And the possibility of somehow undoing the vampyre now also lay before her. Her life seemed suddenly less inconsequential, and she found that she did not at all desire to die.
"Come along," the duarough said; "he will be down here shortly. I shall have to hide you."
Aeriel stood unmoving, felt all will and initiative drain from her. The cries were moving closer. "If he calls to me," she said as she realized the truth of it, "I shall go to him."
"Nonsense," said the duarough. "You are only a very little under his power."
Aeriel shook her head. "I shall not want to obey but I shall have to. I cannot resist, his power has grown on me so."
"Then I will stop your ears with wax," said the duarough, coming forward and grasping her hand. "Now come along."
Aeriel went, hardly realizing at first that she did so. "Where are you taking me?" she said in a moment.
"To the treasure room," he answered, pulling her after him. "I had hoped to get you deeper into the caves, but we've no time now. Don't fear; we shall be safe enough in the treasure room, only we must hurry."
They splashed across the stream and clambered onto the opposite bank. Aeriel could hear the cries of the vampyre drawing closer, was beginning to be able to distinguish some words. They were disconnected, made no sense, but their effect was hypnotic. She wanted to stop, to listen, to stand forever trying to catch their meaning. The duar-ough pulled her over to the ivory door and practically had to drag her through.
The door closed behind them and the sound of the words diminished. As they moved out from behind the partition and into the room itself, the noise lessened further. There burned the little fire of driftwood in the middle of the room as before. The duarough led her over to it. She realized dimly that the shouting had now ceased altogether. She sank down beside the fire, feeling suddenly very spent.
"I shall go and fetch the wax now," said the duarough. "I shall be gone for a little while.
He will begin calling you again very shortly, no doubt. Do not answer. Do not even listen; hold your ears if you must - and stay in this room."
The duarough turned away from her then and left by the other hidden door. Aeriel lay down and laid her head on her arm. She listened to the soft, irregular snapping of the driftwood as it burned. Then she heard the darkangel again; he was much closer. She knew he must be in the caves. He was calling to her. She shut her ears.
Lying on her side, with her ear so close to the ground, she could hear his footsteps crunching back and forth in the sand. She knew he was pacing along the far riverbank, searching for her. He called again, but the rock and her hands on her ears muffled and changed the sound - she could not tell what he said.
She heard a little splash, as though perhaps one of his feet had slipped partway into the water. She heard him cry out in the same moment and scramble back as if the touch of living water burned. There were no footsteps for a while, and then they tramped off down the bank - irregular now, uneven: he was limping.
Aeriel uncovered her ears and sat up. She glanced about her: the empty room stood still and unchanging - all was quiet. She waited, and presently the duarough returned with a lump of beeswax in one hand and a great musty book in the other. He seated himself by the fire and laid the book to one side. Aeriel glanced at it curiously, but did not ask him what it was. He held the beeswax close to the fire to warm it. Aeriel watched him bend and work it with his hands. The greyish wax was hard, translucent, smelled sourish-sweet. It softened slowly.
The vampyre's shout rang out so close and clear this time that Aeriel jumped. She could tell by the sound of it that he was on the near side of the bank.
"He's returned," she said, shaken. She had not expected him back so soon.
The duarough nodded. "He is afraid to go very far into the caves."
Aeriel looked at him, startled. "Afraid? But he is so strong and sure. I did not think he could be afraid of anything."
The duarough shook his head and worked the wax. "Oh, he is a great coward. He is afraid of the dark and of his own dreams. He only comes down here now and again to search for..."
"Afraid of the dark?" said Aeriel. "But..."
The duarough laughed. "Yes, yes. I know. He is a creature of darkness, but the witch has not yet taught him to love the dark. Ah, but when she takes his dreams from him, he'll no longer fear it. It will be the light, then, that he'll shun."
"The witch?" said Aeriel. "You mean the water witch, his mother?"
The duarough snorted, but said nothing more for a minute. Aeriel looked at him curiously. "She is not his mother," he said at last.
"What do you mean?" said Aeriel.
"The lorelei are barren," the duarough said, "as are their 'sons,' the icari. They have forsaken life - no life can spring from them. What children they call theirs they must steal at an early age___"
The vampyre began to call again. He was some way up the bank by this time, possibly even into the next chamber. Sitting up as she was, with her ears uncovered, Aeriel could hear him perfectly.
"Where are you?" he cried, and the dull echoes repeated the cry. "Answer me!"
His voice sounded ugly to her - angry and on edge. Aeriel shuddered and tried not to listen. She watched the duarough, the fire, glanced around the great, bare room -
anything to keep from hearing him. His voice became suddenly smooth, almost sweet.
"Come out," he called, "and I promise not to be angry. You haven't really displeased me, but I must talk to you. Won't you come out?"
His words rang true, sincere. Hearing them, Aeriel could almost believe.
"You know I'm very fond of you," the vam-pyre said; his voice sounded so pleasant now.
"You've nothing to fear from me. Come out."
Aeriel had risen to her feet without realizing it. She had always obeyed him. The compulsion was strong to do so now.
"I won't hurt you," the icarus said.
"He's lying," said the duarough. "He'll kill you."
"Listen to me," the darkangel called; "you shouldn't stay down here in these twisting caves; you'll lose your way. Come out now, or I shall be angry."
The duarough held her eyes with his and would not let them go. Aeriel backed away from him toward the door.
"All I want," cried the icarus, "is for you to promise not to tell me any more of those tales. Then we can be friends again. Agreed? Why won't you answer me?"
The duarough stood up. Aeriel moved for the door. "Daughter," he said, "don't go to him."
"I can't help it," cried Aeriel softly. "I know he is lying, but I cannot disobey him."
"Try. You are only a very little under his power, child - you can still free yourself if only you want to."
Aeriel moaned in despair. "But I do not want to," she faltered. "I want to go to him. I want to spend all my life in his service. I want to die for him."
"Once you wanted to kill him," the duarough said.
Aeriel closed her eyes and whispered, "Yes." That also was true.
"And would you leave the wraiths to their fate of death?" the duarough said.
Aeriel shook her head. "No. No."
"Then you must not let him take you."
"Listen," cried the vampyre, frustration beginning to override the honey in his tone. "You needn't fear about the bats and the lizards. I won't catch them anymore if you don't want...." His voice broke suddenly with rage and he shouted, "Where are you, you worthless little drudge? Come out now so I can kill you. How dare you resist me? Obey!"
Aeriel was shaking. She could not move.
"Why?" the darkangel roared. His voice rose and trembled. "Why have you done this to me? Telling me tales, sending me dreams-^lies! They are all of them lies. Tell me no more of them...."
He broke off suddenly. The timbre of his voice changed, grew frantic. He was not speaking to her anymore.
"No, go away. Go away," he said in a frightened whisper. "I don't want to think about you anymore. I left you behind a long time past. Why have you come back? Go away!"
Silence. For a moment Aeriel could hear nothing but the fire snapping and her own uneven breathing.
"What is it?" she breathed.
"His dreams," said the duarough softly.
"Don't come near me!" shrieked the vampyre. "Don't look at me. Don't touch me. I am the master here. You must obey me. Obey me...."
His voice trailed off into a wail. Aeriel was shaking so hard she could scarcely speak.
"I," she said. "I have done this to him."
The duarough shook his head. "He has done this to himself. What you have done, and will do, may be..."
"I want to go to him," said Aeriel.
"Do not," said the duarough sharply. "Even now he is treacherous and dangerous."
"He weeps," said Aeriel.
The duarough shook his head.
"I can hear him," she insisted.
"He has no blood," the duarough said, "nor tears. He is baiting you."
"You are wrong," answered Aeriel. "I think he truly suffers."
"That may be," the duarough told her. "But he will recover."
Aeriel listened to the vampyre's dry sobbing. He moaned.
"Leave me. Let me be. Why do you haunt me so? I want no more dreams, no dreams.
Please..."
Aeriel put her hands to her ears and sank down. "I cannot stand this anymore. Stop my ears."
The duarough came forward, the beeswax in hand. The wax was hot and soft in her ear.
He pressed it into place, then turned her head to reach the other. He pulled off a piece of wax from the lump, but before he could put it in, the icarus called again, from farther away than before. She heard him limping upstream along the bank. His voice shook a little, but that was all. He was trying to sound pleasant.
"Where are you?" he cried. "Come out. There's no need to be afraid___"
Aeriel let the duarough press the warm wax into her ears, and then all was quiet.
HOW LONG SHE MIGHT HAVE DOZED, Aeriel could not tell. When she awoke, the duarough was taking the wax from her ears. The great book lay open on the sand across from her; itspages were covered with many rows of runes, and the illuminated picture of a great snowy heron. The small white fire flickered as before - it never seemed to burn down, and she had never seen the duarough add kindling to it. When his careful, stubby fingers had gotten most of the warm wax from her ears, she could hear it snapping quietly now and again.
"Is it safe?" she said, sitting up and taking the last bits of beeswax from her ears herself.
Her mind was clear now, no longer under the dark-angel's spell. She felt stronger, and more sure.
"Safe enough for the moment, I should think," the duarough replied. "He has gone off upstream into the higher caves. I have closed a few passages and opened others to confuse him. I think he will be lost up there for a while yet. Are you hungry? Here, eat this."
He produced from one of his many hidden pockets a large white mushroom - one of the many that grew in the caves. Aeriel took it gladly. It was fluffy as angelfood, but at the same time very filling. The duarough went back over to the fire and knelt beside his book. Aeriel gazed at the illuminated picture of the heron while she ate, and wondered what it signified.
"I have done some reading while you slept," the duarough said, "and have made something for you. Come and I will show you."
He rose and walked past her then to the door behind the partition. Aeriel followed hesitantly, half-expecting the vampyre to stand concealed just beyond the corner, ready to snatch them the moment they emerged. But no vampyre lurked. As they came through the door and walked down to the water, Aeriel saw moored to a stake driven in the sand a tiny skiff, shallow as a marsh boat, made of something pearly and translucent like horn or shell, with a heron's bust - head dipped, wings outspread - carved as figurehead upon its prow. The craft had a single tiny sail, so light that even the slight cave wind swelled it so the craft bucked and danced in the water like an eager horse.
"She is so beautiful," said Aeriel, drawing toward the little vessel like a moth to light. She knelt and laid her hand upon its slender prow. The skiff bobbed and rubbed her hand exacdy like a pony. "What is her name?"
"I have christened her Wind," said the duarough, " IVind-on-the-lVater, in hope that she will bear you as swiftly as her name."
"Bear me?" said Aeriel. "I am not going___"
"But you must, child; don't you see? The icarus will kill you if you stay."
Aeriel shook her head and stroked the little ship sadly. "I cannot leave here. I am in his power, yes, but I have sworn to rescue the wraiths."
"He will not let you," said the duarough. "Believe me; your only hope to save them lies in going now and doing as I say."
Aeriel looked at him a long moment. Half her heart went out to the little vessel, yearned to go skipping away across the water, but the other half still longed after the darkangel, and wished never to leave him.
"You are not just sending me to safety, then."
The duarough shook his head. "No safety lies in this departure, Aeriel."
"You have a task for me to perform."
This time he nodded. "You must sail downriver through all the caves and under the plains till you come to the gorge where the river emerges. This will put you miles from the castle, and far from the eyes of the gargoyles - oh yes, daughter: well fed no less, they'd bite the hand that's fed them - raise the alarum if you left in their sight. When you come to the gorge, you must leave the boat and traverse the plains and the sanded desert."
He paused for a moment, took breath in order to collect himself. His words were hurried.
Aeriel listened.
"It will be a long trek," he told her. "I know not how long it will take you - many day-months and many to return. You must walk toward Oceanus, walk over the dunes until the Planet hangs directly above you in the heavens and you stand at the center of the world. There you must seek after the starhorse - he of the strong hoof, undying. Bring back what you may of him, for it is by the hoof of the starhorse that the icarus will fall.
Come now, say me the riddle again, that I may know that you have it fast in your mind."
Aeriel recited the rime to him then, and indeed it was as clear in her memory as if she had known it since childhood:
"On Avaric's white plain,
where the icarus now wings
To steeps of Terrain
from tour-of-the-kings,
And damoiels twice-seven
his brides have all become:
Afar cry from heaven
and a long road from home -
Then strong-hoof of the starhorse
must hallow him unguessed
If adamant's edge is to plunder his breast.
Then, only, may the Warhorse
and Warrior arise To rally the warhosts, and thunder
the skies."
The little man folded his arms and nodded as he listened.
"Well enough, then. Good, child. Do not forget it." He unfolded his arms. "Now, as I told you, I do not know how long this journey will take you. I shall try to delay the vampyre, and I shall send you a helpmate if I can." He started. "Oh, I almost forgot."
He reached into one of his many hidden pockets and pulled out a little sack of black velvet, drawn together at the top with a drawstring. He handed it to her.
"I have put ample provisions in there for your journey," he said.
Aeriel gazed at the bag in bewilderment. It lay light and limp in her hand. "But it's empty," she said.
The duarough smiled. "Not so. Pull it open and look inside."
Aeriel did so. The interior was black and filled with nothing.
"Now close your eyes and reach inside," the duarough instructed.
Aeriel obeyed. She felt something smooth and round, the size of a fist. She pulled it out.
It was a pale golden fruit.
"Reach in again," the duarough told her.
This time Aeriel pulled out an oyster, still damp and cold in its shell. Bidden again by the duarough, she reached in once more and pulled out a handful of almonds. Again - a steamed crayfish wrapped in rushes. Again - a bunch of white grapes. She looked at the duarough. He smiled modestly, blushing a trace.
"Oh yes, my dear, I am a bit of a magician. One can't help but learn a thing or two in - "
A shout interrupted him, and then a crash far upstream, several chambers away. It sounded as though some heavy door had just been thrown aside. Aeriel gasped. The duarough paled.
"By the Pendarlon," he murmured, "he's found the way out already. I am not half the magician I thought I was. Quick, girl, into the boat."
Aeriel had no time to think, or even to say a word. The duarough was hurrying her into the little craft, which, for all its lightness, hardly dipped when she stepped in and settled herself on the cross-plank behind the mast. She replaced the golden melon and other foodstuffs in the black velvet sack and slipped it onto her sash.
Meanwhile the duarough freed the mooring from the stake and the skiff leapt away from shore like a steed given its head. He scarcely had time to toss in the cord before she was out of reach. Aeriel turned and would have called some farewell, save that the duarough put his finger to his lips and gestured back upstream toward where the vampyre must be, though they heard no more noise.
Aeriel had just raised her hand to wave, when Wind-on-the-Water sped through the archway into the next chamber and the little man behind on shore was lost to her sight.
Aeriel sat motionless, gazing astern. She felt suddenly abandoned and alone. After a moment, she sighed and dropped her hand, then turned and looked ahead to see where the river led.