"Farewell," said Anwyl. "May we meet again in more peaceful times. The One be with you both."

Within a few moments they were trotting up the trail that led to the mountain's rim. When they reached the edge of the woodland, they looked back for a moment.

Lysse was nowhere to be seen. Whether Alan was relieved or disappointed, not even Hal could telL

They entered the leafy shade and moved rapidly and silently up the slope. But as they came to the upper reaches of the elves' domain, a slim form in green emerged from the shadow of an ash tree like a sprite ma- terializing from the living trunk. Lysse stood before them-

Hal flashed her a delighted grin. "1*11 wait for you at the top, Alan," he called as casually as he could, and sent Arundel onward at a gallop. Alan tried to shout after him, but his voice would not respond. He who had traveled over half a kingdom, slept with the spirits of the dead, braved the perils of the White Tower and fought un- shielded against mailed foes was now very close to panic at the sight of a slender, golden-haired maiden.

The realization made his face burn. He set his jaw, took a deep breath, and looked at her. He gazed into her smoky green eyes, and before he knew what he was do- ing, he had dismounted and taken her hand. Only then did he realize that she was trembling- All the speeches he had prepared vanished from his mind.

"Lysse!" he exclaimed. "Are you afraid?**

"Afraid?" She tested the word, savoring it in her mind, and a tiny smile started at the comers of her mouth, "So that is the name of what I feel! Ay, then, I dare say I am afraid."

"But how-why-oh, Lysse, frightened of me!"

"I have heard my father say that men fear that for which they do not know the name." Her smile broadened.

"I have now found that it is not only men who fear the unknown. When you did this thing yesterday-*'

"It is called a kiss, Lysse. Something a mortal man does with the woman he loves."

"A kiss." Her eyes widened in the pleasure of discov- ery. "So that is a kiss! It is not fearsome at all, now that it

158 THE SILVER SUN.

bears a name. When you made this kiss, Elwyndas, my head spun; my body grew hot, then cold, my heart pounded and my breath came fast and shallow, so that I did not understand what was happening. I thought per- haps I was dying, and I was afraid, as an elf ought not to be afraid. I walked all night on the mountainside, think- ing, and now I am sorry and ashamed, Elwyndas, for I see that I was concerned only for myself, and I caused you great pain." Alan was startled to see tears growing in her eyes, so that they became unfathomably deep, dark pools, like the lake at the heart of the mountain. He sensed the meaning of those tears, and he ached for her;

all his wrath was lost in his love and his desire to comfort her. He put his arms around her shoulders, stroking her hair and gently kissing her face. Suddenly her trembling stopped. She looked up to him with eyes that were still bright with tears, but bright with j'oy as well.

"Alan," she said, using his mortal name for the first time since he had entered the valley, "that which you told me yesterday...."

"Ay." He kissed her eyes. "I love you well, Lysse."

"That is the name of what I also feel." The tears at last overflowed her eyes and began to wet her cheek. "I love you, Alan of Laueroc."

Agonized, as if obeying something greater than him- self, Alan leaned to kiss her. But before their lips could meet, he paused and asked her a yearning question with his glance.

"I will never flee from you again," she answered him aloud.

On the rim of the mountain Hal waited patiently, the rising sun warm on the back of his neck. Finally, from around the bend of the trail came the sound of hoofbeats- Hal stiffened, then relaxed and sighed with relief. Alan carried Lysse in the saddle before him, cradled close to his chest.

But when they reached the top of the rampart, Alan wordlessly set her down. "Wait," she said, and from around her neck she lifted the pendant she always wore, Alan lowered his head, and she slipped it onto him, cen- tering the darkly glowing green stone on his chest. "The past and future of your people and mine glimmer in that stone," she said. "Wear it in hope of a better dawn."

Alan shook his head with a gesture of pain. "Oh, my

The West Land 159

love, my future is dark to me. My hopes are dreams, without substance.'*

"Dream them still," she answered, "and let your deeds shape the substance. Remember me in your dreams, Alan! Farewell!"

Alan bent in his saddle to kiss her for what he felt sure was to be the last time.

He and Hal lifted arms in final salute to the People of Peace assembled below. Then they rode over the rim, and a wall of rock hid from their sight the secret valley which they knew they might never see again. Alan blinked hard as he faced the rising sun, but he did not look back.

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 skies 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

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did not plan ever to see her again, for he was sure he could not deny her the immortality of an elf. His declara- tion 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 threaten- ingly, 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 SunI" 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 blood?"

"Good outlaw,'* answered Hal quietly, "I can tell you nothing until the King has given leave."

"Any spy could wear Veran's emblem," growled one rough man.

"By the Mothers, it is a risk we must take," replied the leader. "My Lord Galin is at the outer defenses; he cannot advise us. We must take them to the fortress."

He turned back to Hal and Alan. "We shall take you

162.

THE SILVER SUN.

to him whom you seek. But you must surrender your weapons, my lords."

Hal unbuckled his sword and handed it over. Alan fol- lowed more slowly with his. The man gazed at the finely wrought blades.