The Silver Sun by Nancy Springer

Author:Nancy Springer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Published: 1977-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Summer's green was just tipped with the pale gold of early autumn when they left the mountaintop valley of the elves. The sun shone brightly, and the air was fresh and crisp. But the trees were all to be bare, the sides dark and windy, the earth sodden and cold with autumn's rains before they again found welcome.

They traveled south and east, along the curve of the mountains which rose between Welas and the sea. Their progress was slow, for they followed no beaten track. They wound their way as best they could along ridges and into ravines, picking their path between great rocky crags and ancient ruins. Somewhere in these deserted reaches of Welas Hal hoped to find his grandfather. His bright eyes probed the landscape eagerly at every new vista, though for days on end they would not see a living thing.

They traveled openly, by daylight. The henchmen of the lowland lords seldom ventured into these parts, for many outlaws lurked among these peaks. Hal, confident that he and Alan would not be attacked, rode fearlessly. Alan followed sullenly, caring little for the danger. He had fallen into a black moodiness, seldom saying a word. Lysse was a constant torment at the back of his mind. He did not plan ever to see her again, for he was sure he could not deny her the immortality of an elf. His declaration of love had been a cry wrung from his tortured heart. He bitterly berated himself for his weakness, and he cursed this stark and soaring land from which Lysse's voice seemed continually to echo, “Remember me."

As the weeks wore on, the journey began to jangle Hal's nerves as well. They were frequently soaked by rain or chilled by bitter winds. Even the fires which warmed them at night seemed cold without the cheer of conversation. But finally, after two months of travel, a shout pierced the mountain wall. Suddenly, as if dropped from the dismal sky, a group of swarthy, fur-clad men blocked their path. Overhead, more rough-looking men lined the jagged cliffs. Resistance was impossible, but Hal had no such intention. He looked on them undaunted, waiting for the question he knew would come.

“Who are you to roam the mountain ways without fear?” asked the leader harshly. “What is your business here?"

“My business is with your liege, the Blessed King,” Hal boldly declared. “To him I will tell my name, and no other."

The man muttered and moved toward him threateningly, but an outlaw called down from the rocks above, “Hold! Do you not see the sign upon his back? ’Tis Veran's token, the Setting Sun!” A chorus of voices called affirmation.

“Is this true?” the leader asked him.

Bewildered, Hal brought the plinset case around so that the man could see. Rosemary's half-completed sunburst shone brightly even under the cloudy sky. The man stared at it for a long moment, then faced Hal with a searching gaze from which all hostility was gone.

“Are you indeed of Veran's

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