"Five hundred turnings later, Veran sailed back to Isle with the crown of Bevan his ancestor, and found the lowlands of Welas growing golden with the flower that folk now call by his name. But not long after, Herne and his henchmen struck Isle like a blight. Wherever they came the fair flower sickened and died, for that was the end of that age of peace. But some were gathered by wise folk, and kept and dried; and even after all the years its virtue is what gives you life today, Corin." With an ef- fort, Hal brought his gaze back to the boy. 'Those mighty ones of old made shift to leave the veriest spring and surge

74.

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of their lives in their legacy, and because they cheated death of it, their shades still wander the dark fir woods near the Blessed Bay, unable entirely to rest. Your life was bought ages past, Cory."

For a moment the room rang with awed silence.

"Never have I heard that tale," Roran exclaimed, "even from the bards of Romany. Are there no gods left in Isle, then?" His voice was yearning.

"Those gods were only mortals who were rich in the power of the Beginnings," Hal said quietly. "It may be that there are true immortals somewhere. . . . But what are gods, my lord? The fragments we worship?"

Roran did not have to answer, for a serving maid en- tered with a steaming dish on a tray. His lordship helped her place it by the bed, and Corin looked with surprise at the richly clothed, handsome man who spread a napkin like a servant. Alan made the introduction. "Cory, this is Roran, Lord of Firth, in whose home you lie. My lord, may I present Corin, son of Col the Smith." Corin at- tempted a recumbent bow, and Lord Roran shook his hand.

"You are a brave lad," he said, "and I hope you will soon be better. Now try a cup of soup and some bread. It is very light, baked especially for you by Hulde in the kitchen, and if you don't eat it she'll cut off your bead and use it in the meat pie."

After Corin had eaten, they left him under Bleys's care, for he was still very weak. Hal and Alan bathed in hot water, a rare luxury, and breakfasted, and went out to the stables, where they found Alfie on his feet again and devouring incredible amounts of hay and oats. The groom shook his head in disbelief. "Never have I seen

such an appetite," he said. "I fear he will make himself sick."

"No fear," Alan said, grinning. "He has a stomach of iron. I only hope that Lord Roran can afford his keep."

For the day they left Alfie and Arundel in the stable to rest, and they themselves spent their time lazily, nap- ping almost as much as Corin did. On the following days they took the horses into the exercise yard, and them- selves joined the young men of his lordship's garrison in the practice yard. There they played at mock swordfight- ing, quarterstaff bouts and many other sports. Though The Forest 73

they were younger than most, they found that they could more than hold their own.

The days passed smoothly and quickly. Corin ate well, and rapidly regained his strength. Hal and Alan spent most of their spare time with him. When they were not there, often Robin was, and the boys talked readily of favorite pastimes. Sometimes Alan tried to teach Cory chess and Hal talked with Robin. He was interested in the dark, lively boy, so much like his father-fierce and hawklike, passionate, yet kind and just. Though they did not realize it, Hal and Robin were somewhat alike. Both were sometimes moody and temperamental. Alan, with his more even disposition, preferred Cory, who was a courteous boy, intelligent but not quick. Two boys more unlike than Cory and Robin would be hard to find: one the lightest of blonds, sturdy, thoughtful and methodical;

the other dark, slender, talkative, emotional and sponta- neous. Yet they took to each other, for they were both of good heart.

By the end of the week Corin was up and walking around a bit, and in a few more days he was almost back to normal, spending most of his time with Robin. Hal and Alan began to look anxious, wanting to be on their way toward Welas, but not knowing how to leave.

One day in the middle of the second week, Hal was riding Arundel in the exercise yard. He did not use sad- dle or bridle. Horse and master thought and moved as one, and as they cantered and circled, spun and leaped against imaginary enemies, both enjoyed themselves.

Lord Roran came and leaned on the fence. His was a heart too great for envy, so he looked on in pure wonder as Hal trotted over to him and dismounted. "If that stal- lion were trimmed and groomed," he said, "he would out- shine any horse in my stable."

Hal thanked him for the compliment. "I keep him rough not only against the weather, but so that folk may desire him the less." Then, simply because it hung heavy on his mind, he said what he did not know how to say.

"We must be leaving soon." He spoke miserably.

"Where will you go, Hal?"

Hal shrugged evasively. "Where the road leads me."

Lord Roran frowned. "I do not mean to pry, Hal, but from what you told Corin, I understand you do not have a home."

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"There is no door open to me."

"And Alan; does he ride with you because he, too, is homeless, or for friendship?"

"Both."

Reran knew instinctively that his offer would not be accepted, but he made it nevertheless. "Then why do you not stay here? I would be proud to shelter two such val- iant youths as you."

"I could be happy here," Hal said quietly, "but I can- not stay. I-we-have a. . . ." He searched for a less formal word, but could not find one to suit "We have a quest."

"But what of Corin?" asked his lordship, growing ex- cited. "He is too young to go wandering around Isle. Al- ready his young heart has had as much peril and sorrow as it can well bear at this time. He needs rest, and warmth, companions of his own age and the guidance of older folk. Let him stay here," said Lord Roran eagerly, taking Hal by the arm. "We are all fond of him, espe- cially Robin. And I believe they are good for each other, and leam from each other. The lad will be treated as my second son... .'*

Hal regarded the fiery man with great relief and won- dering affection. "You have read my mind," he replied.

"It has been a great worry to me, the care of the boy. The choice, of course, must be his, but I will be surprised if he does not choose to stay."

They talked it over with Alan, and he, too, was re- lieved and pleased, though he knew he would miss the boy. That evening, when they were all gathered together, Lord Roran put the case to Corin, inviting and indeed beseeching him to become a member of his household.

Corin turned to his first friend.

"Alan?" he questioned him. "Must you go, indeed?" "Ay, we must go," Alan answered. "I shall miss you, Cory, but it will gladden me to know you are well cared for by good and loving folk, not out in cold and danger."

"Pray abide with us, Cory," Robin begged softly.

"It would hurt my heart to leave you, Robin," Cory said, "yet I long to be with Alan as well. But if I must choose between you, I will stay, for that is what you all wish."

"I would like you to stay," Alan agreed firmly.

So it was settled. And since there was no sense in tor-

The Forest

11.

turing Corin with preparations, they left early the next morning. Roran and his lady presented each of them with new clothing, new fur-lined leather boots, and hand- some chain-link supporters for their swords. They wore warm new cloaks, and they found their horses packed with extra blankets and a plentiful supply of food, almost more than they could carry.

Hal and Alan mounted quickly. Though it was still autumn, it was bitterly cold in these northern reaches of Isle. Their farewells were short. "The love of the gods go with you," said Corin.

"Farewell, you rascals," said Lord Roran. "Remember, this is one door that is always open to you, no matter why or when."

"Be careful'" called Robin.

As they rode away, they looked back. Their friends stood in a row, waving, and as they turned to go they saw Lord Roran take Cory's hand.

They headed south and west, back across the rocky ridge of the Cove, toward the Marches. For two weeks they angled across a sere, almost uninhabited expanse.

This was Arrok's domain, and his mounted men roamed it constantly. Hal and Alan rode watchfuliy, ate their food cold and slept by turns, shivering through the chill nights, for to light a fire would have been to invite un- welcome guests. Arrok was a warlord by blood, from the metal-worshiping tribes of the Northern Barrens, and he was still more raider than overlord. His own people were his enemies, for he had betrayed them by extortion and conquest. So he turned his warriors both against them and against the gentler folk of Isle.

Twice Hal and Alan sighted his patrollers in the dis- tance and were able to speed away from them, out of sight beyond the horizon of the flat land. But presently the land turned rolling, with thickets and groves of stunted trees. Alan glanced at Hal with a tired smile, for soon they would be out of the Marches and into the heartland of Isle. But, beyond a rise, five of Arrok's men rode quite close to them before they saw them,

The warriors came at them, whooping, out of a brush- screened dimple of the stony land. Hal and Alan did not turn or come to bay, but shot away southward, almost upsetting the startled riders. The patrollers thundered