Nancy Springer - Isle 02 - The Silver Sun.pdf

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book one
THEFOREST
Chapter One
TheForest was the abode of warlocks, folk said, and gob-
lins, and other creatures even worse. Still, Alan bent his
staggering steps toward theForest , as a desperate man
will. Robbers had stripped him of everything—horse,
weapons, even his clothing. The peasants could not spare
him more than a beggar's crust. But within theForest wil-
derness, Alan hoped, he might be able to find something
to eat and a covering for his naked body.
He had not reckoned on his own dizzying weakness.
The world swam before his eyes, and trees encircled him
with a green blur. He sensed movement and angry shout-
ing, but he did not care. Then the sting of a sword-flat
across his back jolted him into full awareness.
Alan found himself facing a big, angry captain at the
head of a mounted patrol. The next blow of the captain's
sword knocked him to the ground. He lay sprawling, with
no strength to flee or defend himself. Closing his eyes,
Alan braced himself against the punishing blade.
Page 1
 
But as suddenly as the blows had begun, they ceased.
Alan looked up. What he saw was to remain clear in his
memory for as long as he lived.
The burly captain had turned pale with fear. His chin
quivered above a glinting blade pressed against his fleshy
TheForest 3
throat. But more fearsome than the sword's point, Alan
thought, was the one who held the sword. He was a youth
with the face of a warrior, straight of brow and strong of
Jaw—but there was more than a warrior's power about
him. His eyes were steel gray, and there was some quality
in his hard gaze that caused the captain to tremble and
flinch, that caused Alan himself to struggle to his feet in
hazy alarm. Yet he could not name the fear that he felt-
The gray-eyed youth spoke a few words that Alan
could not understand, while his glance flashed with an
eerie intensity of will that shocked Alan anew. Though
the stranger had not moved, holding his sword to the cap-
tain's throat, the horses plunged away from him. The cap-
tain's men could not control them. Squealing and shying,
they bolted into the Forest with their hapless riders on
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their backs. The stranger knocked the captain's sword
from his limp fingers, slashed his reins and sent his horse
careering after the others.
Alan stood watching, swaying with hunger and pain,
vaguely thinking that he should leave as well. He did not
have the strength to move a step. But the gray-eyed youth
seemed to sense his hesitation. Quietly he dismounted
from his big, gray horse and walked to face Alan. "My
name is Hal," he said, "and I will befriend you, if I may.
Will you come with me?"
Alan was absurdly glad that a choice was offered to
him, though he could not have turned away without fall-
ing. He nodded and reached out toward the other, shak-
ing with the effort. He could scarcely see. He feit a gentle
hand take hold of him, and he gulped burning liquid from
a flask. Hal wrapped him in a cloak and helped him into
the saddle of his gray steed, then mounted behind. They
sped away into the Forest
"It will not take those ruffians long to come after us,"
Hal muttered, and Alan decided he liked the sound of
that low voice.
Page 3
 
The ride was a haze of pain for Alan. The horse was
strong and swift, and theForest whirled by. Alan barely
noticed when they came to a rocky stretch of waste, but
he did notice when they entered theForest again, for his
rescuer guided the horse slowly and carefully over the
ground. Then they stopped in a dense stand of cover. Be-
fore long Alan heard approaching hoofbeats. The captain
and his demoralized troop swept past. The big man had
4 THE SILVER SUN
found his sword, and his face was as red as his red roan
horse.
Hal chuckled, and Alan grinned in spite of his pain.
They moved on, more slowly now. Alan lost track of time
until at last they stopped and he felt himself lowered to
the ground.
He needed another pull from the flask before he was
able to sit up and look around. He was by a small spring
which flowed into an open forest meadow. The horse was
grazing, and Hal knelt, rummaging in the saddlebags. He
drew forth strips of bandage, a dark little jug and a rather
old hunk of bread. To Alan the bread was a vision of
bliss, and he grasped at it with the impatience of a child.
Page 4
 
"Eat slowly," Hal cautioned. His gray eyes were darker
now, but softer, as gentle as they had been hard before.
Alan bit into the precious bread. He scarcely noticed as
the blood-stiffened cloak was peeled away from his
wounded back. Hal carefully washed the sword stripes,
applied ointment from the jug, than laid on pads of cloth.
He bandaged these on with strips of cloth around Alan's
body and shoulders. Alan was surprised that he could not
eat much of the bread, but it did not matter. A blanket
was wrapped around him, and he slept.
It seemed only a few minutes later that he was awak-
ened by a gentle shaking. But it was after nightfall. A
small campfire was crackling nearby, and over it sat a
kettle from which issued a delicious aroma of meat.
"Can you sit up?" asked Hal. "Here, lean against this
tree." The blanket served as a pad for Alan's sore shoul-
ders. The fire warmed his bare legs. Hal filled a battered
metal dish with stew, and handed it to him, along with a
spoon and a cup of water.
Alan spoke with difficulty. "Hal, have you eaten?"
Page 5
 

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