Willow by Wayland Drew Page B

know!” The voice echoed among the runestones and dolmens in the ancient burial place beside the path. Mist moved through the long grass like fingers through hair. At first they saw nothing. Then the closest runestone moved, changed shape. As they watched in astonishment, arms grew out of its sides and rubbed themselves together. A cowled head appeared on top. Strands of mist formed a long white beard. The stone became the High Aldwin. “Very cold here! Very bleak!” A hand vanished into the folds of his cloak and reappeared holding a small flask. “Mead, anyone? No? Well then . . .” He took a swig, tapped the stopper back in, and smacked his lips. “That’s better. Now draw close, draw close. Here’s what you should do.”
    The six adventurers gathered in front of him.
    “You are going into the outer world, and that’s no place for a Nelwyn, no place at all. Stay as short a time as possible. When you get to the Daikini crossroads, give the baby to the first Daikini that you see, then hurry home.”
    “That’s all?” Willow asked.
    “That’s all.”
    “But,” Meegosh said, “a lot of Daikinis are mad.”
    “And a lot of them are bad,” Willow said.
    “And a lot of them are mad and bad,” Vohnkar said, touching the shaft of his curved sword.
    “They’re also big!” Burglekutt added. “Very, very big!”
    “So,” Willow asked, “how do we know when we find a good one?”
    The High Aldwin closed his eyes and shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Just give the child to the first one and get home as fast as you can.”
    “But . . .” Willow began, hearing the soft laughter of the child in the basket on his back, “but what if . . .”
    The High Aldwin’s blue eyes fixed him. “What’s the matter, Willow? Don’t you trust me? Need a sign? Very well then.” He stooped and picked up a fist-sized stone. “Follow the bird. Go where the bird goes. Tuatha! Lokwathrak! Tuatha!”
    He hurled the stone upward, and it soared far above the mists. When the first rays of the rising sun touched it, it unfolded into a dazzling white dove which continued to rise, spiraling, until at last it headed south.
    Burglekutt had been backing up, shading his eyes. “Good! It’s going back to the village. Home.”
    “What?”
    “That way!”
    The High Aldwin seemed momentarily flustered. He took another quick nip from the flask. “Wrong charm! Too early in the morning. Too cold. Ignore the bird, follow the river. Trust me. All will be well. But I warn you: Don’t go beyond the crossroads!”
    As Willow turned to go the High Aldwin plucked at his sleeve and beckoned him in among the rune-stones and dolmens, letting the others go ahead. “What’s the matter with you?” the old man whispered when they were alone. “What is the matter with you, Ufgood?”
    “Sir? I don’t . . .”
    “Yesterday, when I asked you which finger contained the power to enter the bloodstream of the universe, what was your first response?”
    Willow laughed. “Sir, it was so silly . . .”
    The High Aldwin cuffed him lightly on the ear. “Just tell me what it was!”
    “Well, it was to choose my own finger.”
    “Exactly! Exactly, you idiot!” He swatted Willow several times, his blows as light as birds’ wings. “Oh Willow, Willow, if only you could have faith in your self, in what you feel ! More than anyone else, you have the power to be a great sorcerer, but you must trust that power! Listen to your own heart.” He fumbled in the folds of his robe and drew out three round objects. “Here. I’d go with you if I could, but I’m bound to this valley. Take these. You’ll need them.”
    “Acorns?”
    “Magical! Anything you hurl them at will turn to stone. But remember, there’re only three.”
    “I’d like to throw one at Burglekutt!”
    “No, no. If you use sorcery for evil, you will become Evil. You have much to learn, Willow. Learn well. Farewell!” The High Aldwin lifted his arms and vanished. Where he had