Hammer the Exalter by Anthony Payne
Chapter 10
The western edge of the Manna Sea butted up against an ancient shoreline scarred and bruised from innumerable wars, the memories of which were lost to both victors and vanquished alike. Thin stalks of grass maintained the fight against a scaldingly hot environment, the air beating down on a parched and barren soil of cracked brown earth. The sea washed against the white walls of rock bordering the land, carving long fingers of erosion along the miles of escarpment, making the land look like a wicked mouth of decaying teeth grinning across the oceans. Rain, wind and wave had beaten the land to a pulp and it waited patiently the thousands of years it would take nature to erase the violent history of the place before it could be reborn.
A thumping footstep shattered the ground at the lands end, sending a shower of debris falling hundreds of feet into the ocean below and a darkness descended over the shore blotting out the midday sun. The creature sniffed the air around it and beat its vast wings, creating a foul wind killing the stoic greenery completely leaving nothing else of this world alive.
The monster lifted itself off the ground with some more urgings from its black wings and drove towards the shoreline it knew existed across the sea. Behind it came its army. Thousands of Tusse, black goblins, flying on the backs of massive Aeponysis followed in its wake, prepared by the evil presence for many years for the Raqnarok, the Gathering of the Gods, signaling the final battle it knew instinctively it could not lose.
Hours passed and finally the last of the Aeponysis with its goblin passenger cleared the coastline, the land breathing a sigh of relief once the wickedness had passed its borders. In front of it, the final Tusse saw a black wave spill across the sky as far as it could see as thousands of its kind sped to a battle they had been granted life to participate in.
Darion sat on the farthest edge of the western side of Mesania, enjoying an uninterrupted view of the Ice Mountain and the surrounding terrain. He thought the view to be the most spectacular he had ever seen. He watched the sun rise over the vast plains to the far east of the mesa and today he thought he would watch it set behind the distant mountains, the entire sight beautiful as the colours and hues of the sky altered slightly every few seconds. Somewhere near him he could hear the soft echoes of gentle pipe music wafting in the air. He thought of looking for the source to see if it was Le Tare but decided not to interrupt the music which caressed the evening sky. Le Carra came up behind him and placed a thin blanket around his shoulders and hugged him gently.
‘You seem preoccupied lately Darion. Is it the impending wedding or something else troubling you?’
He looked over his shoulder and felt the warmth of her smile and placed his hand on hers.
‘No, nothing like that. It is just that I wonder what has become of my friend Isaac. I have been so absorbed in you and this marvelous place that sometimes I forget he could be in trouble and needs me or he is wandering lost around the countryside. I should be looking out for him because he has always looked out for me.’ He kept searching the lands far below straining his eyes as if he expected to see Isaac strolling along one of the ribbon like roads miles below. The forest encircled the entire mesa and gave away no secrets and seemed impenetrable. Further still the land became a blur of colour as the plains stretched away to the west and the mountains loomed imperially. North he could see the shimmering of the volcanoes of the Muspellshiem and south he looked over a deep canyon and network of rivers running away to what he assumed must be a southern sea.
‘Then let us be away my love,’ said Le Carra. ‘I cannot have a future husband of mine thinking of this Isaac and not our wedding day. I need your complete attention. Let us find your friend and then we can get married. I have been anticipating our wedding night for some time now and I am getting quite impatient.’
Again she gave Darion a mischievous smile making his entire head throb with embarrassment.
‘Surely we can’t just leave after all that has happened. Most of the arrangements have been made and the city is trying to undergo a major change to consultative and free governance. Don’t you think they may need us?’
‘I think they most definitely do not need us. They have been planning this for many years and I am sure they can do without two little people for a few weeks. Lets try and find your friend, you cannot rest until you do, you know this.’
‘What about us?’ said Darion staring into the deep wells of Le Carra’s blue eyes.
‘Your loyalty to Isaac is just one of the reasons I intend to marry you Darion. You love him and would not leave him and as he is your brother then so too is he mine. We will not stop until we find him and then we will marry. Understand?’
‘It could take a long time,’ said Darion lamely.
‘We will be together for a long time Darion my sweetness. Whether it is here safely in Mesania or climbing the side of a lonely mountain or crossing angry seas makes no difference to me.’
He looked again at the soft face of Le Carra and saw a strength he had not noticed before. It held a regal determination and grace which silenced him momentarily. He knew she meant every word of what she just said and for her the marriage was a mere ceremony to satisfy others. Her commitment to a life together had already been made. He smiled and held her hand.
‘Where will we start. I have no idea.’
‘I think we should head south. It is safe to assume your friend is not within the confines of Mesania as recent events surely would have drawn him out.’ said the familiar voice of Le Bow from somewhere just behind them. He had been eavesdropping on the conversation at his sister’s request. She guessed rightly Darion felt restless to find his friend and she suggested perhaps now was a good time for her brother to begin the travelling he mused about for years and what better way than with them.
Darion turned with a start.
‘What do you mean ‘we’, haven’t you got some rebuilding to do?’ asked Darion happily. He emotions moved from maudlin because he had abandoned Isaac, to relief Le Carra understood and wished to help, and now elation Le Bow might accompany them.
‘I have become very attached to you Darion and I would permit you to be travel alone with a woman who is not your wife. It is very unseemly, so I will need to go as a type of guardian of Le Carra’s virtue if you do not mind and if you do I will come anyway. Besides you still owe me some stories of your homeland and you can tell me over firelight.’
‘You two are unbelievable,’ said Darion in undisguised happiness. ‘When can we start?’
‘Well not just yet,’ said Le Bow. ‘We have to wait until tomorrow as Le Tare and Le Fidler will not be ready to travel until they have made some arrangements at home.’
Darion looked quizzically at Le Bow.
‘Well, you see Le Tare said he thought he would come to keep an eye on me, who is keeping an eye on you and Le Fidler said he needed to keep and eye on Le Tare, who is keeping an eye on me, who is keeping an eye on you. He said we need to ensure the guards are always guarding the guards. It is the best way to keep everyone alive.’
Darion hugged Le Carra and Le Bow together.
‘Let’s find my friend. You will like him. He is very funny, although a bit of a ladies man Le Carra. I will have to beat him off you with a stick.’
‘And is he as handsome as you my love?’ asked Le Carra cheekily.
‘Put it like this, the women back home fight among themselves to have his attention,’
said Darion.
‘Then we must hurry,’ she said. ‘I would not want to rush into anything with you before I met this one.’
Darion’s instant jealousy was obvious and she laughed to see it in his eyes.
‘Are you so insecure my love?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Darion sulkingly. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply and he forgot about Isaac and everything else for a time.
The next morning the five friends met in Le Bow’s lodgings and rechecked their packs. Each car
Le Bow assured them from his studies he learned many small townships existed in the southern realm every twenty leagues or so until they reached the Silver Rapids and the famous Silver City and then the land became more sparse as they entered the trade routes leading to the Ran Sea and the Coomb Delta. They may need to fend for themselves when they reached these parts but this was still many days journey ahead of them. For the time being at least they headed for friendly lands with people familiar to the Mesanians.
‘We will be able to ask questions of your friend’s whereabouts all along the trade routes Darion, and if there is no rumour here then we can move further west and eventually along the coast and come back on the Ice Mountain from the west. It is a large circle and it includes most of the population of west Salnikov.’
Le Tare and Le Fidler were impressed.
‘And how exactly do you know all of this when you have never once left the mountain? More likely you will lead us into the Great Canyon and we will never be heard of again,’ said Le Tare.
‘Unlike you Le Tare, I learned to read as a young man and have spent many cerebral hours studying the cartographers maps while you no doubt were idling on your saggy behind drinking mead wine.’
Le Bow slapped Le Tare disrespectfully on the rump with his open hand and nimbly dodged the returning backhand of the hero of the rebellion.
‘I will have your behind if you lead us astray Le Bow,’ said Le Tare rubbing his backside.
The others laughed as they left the room and were surprised to find the hall ways and alleys crammed with people wishing them good fortune, with some giving advice on the dangers ahead.
‘The bears will run from fire,’ said one older man with a long white beard plaited to his waist. ‘That is of course assuming you have one lit when they come. If you don’t then you may need to do so quickly or else run very fast to high ground while they eat one of you. At least the majority may survive.’
‘And remember there are often Tusse hidden in the rocks, especially in the mountains. They will come at night and always attack the strongest first so as to weaken resistance quickly. Their swords are poisoned and wickedly sharp. You don’t want to meet one of those. No sir they are bad, very bad indeed.’
The old man’s voice trailed off as each of the companions looked worriedly at the others.
‘What are these Tusse?’ said Darion. ‘I don’t think I like the sound of them one bit.’
‘They have never attacked the mountain and they are more like wild animals than anything Darion,’ said Le Tare. ‘We have had no trouble from them for many years. At one time they filled the southern lands. They live a subsistence lifestyle and make no settlements, rather raiding those that do. They are particularly cruel and slaughter anything in their path even burning crops they cannot eat.
The people of the southern lands drove the Tusse into the Niflheim an eon ago and they are only seldom seen today. Ignore the old man. He rambles.’
Darion was not so sure and he vowed to himself to remain extremely vigilant, especially with the added responsibility of a fiancé to look after.
They moved through the crowded mall and Darion marvelled at the maturity and logic of the people of Mesania. He well expected some kind of internal civil war now the blacks were de-powered but unlike what he knew would happen in his own world, these people calmly remained in their former positions confident the rebel leaders would direct them which way to go. They all continued in their daily routines, even the yellow and whites who had the most to gain from the disbanding of the segregation. They kept performing their lower level tasks as if their had never been a revolution. While some gladly threw off their amulets in many did not bother and were not particularly desirous of leaving their homes in favour of improved accommodations in the Upper Ships. They felt content in knowing the corruption and bigotry of the higher orders was over and they could get on with their lives. As Le Tare explained they have a great appreciation of society and each person’s contribution. If they merely took a mob rule mentality then their social order would dissolve and they would be left with anarchy and all would loose. They therefore lived for collectiveness and that is why the seeress and the blacks so affronted them. Their every action assisted in destroying what the majority believed.
The mall throbbed with life as traders sold produce and people filled the shops and avenues. Even the traffic rules allowing the higher orders to pass the lower orders disappeared and still the people moved with respect for each other.
Darion re entered the canal he first emerged from and headed down past the entrance to the trophy room he remembered Le Bow saying had never been found. He opened his mouth to announce he had indeed found this hidden treasure when for some unexplained reasons he decided to keep the secret to himself. Something inside told him there may be some value in keeping a secret exit from the mainstream of the Mesanians. He still knew so little about these people and he may need a secret or two himself at some stage. When the time felt right he would take Le Carra there one night as a surprise and feign ignorance of the magnitude of his discovery if ever questioned.
They passed the site where he took the lamps from the wall and here they were again lit, he supposed the sergeant sent a delegation down to attend to it. They moved steadily and steeply downwards, walking for over an hour before the land began to flatten out. He could see a large set of doors set on huge hinges stretching ten times a man’s height and stopping just under the ceiling.
Darion thought it curious the doors were still heavily guarded by black guards and he questioned Le Tare about it.
‘Le Tare, what of these Black guards?’
The doors were flanked by guardhouses, each housing four of the black soldiers. Two moved to greet the troop while the others stood hands on the hilts of their swords battle ready.
‘We have heard you were coming,’ said the first guard as he extended an open hand to Le Tare who took over the mantle of leader of Mesania without discussion. ‘We congratulate you on your victory and wish you luck on your crusade. We have heard nothing of this stranger Isaac, but we will stay alert.’
‘Very good Keepers of the Gate your work is valued by us.’
Darion could see a type of ceremony in the speech of the two men and Le Bow leant close to his ear.
‘You are wondering about these blacks Darion. It is a place of particular honour to guard the gates. Their amulets are black however their hearts are white. They are the most patriotic of all the Mesanians. They protect us from any outside invaders. These doors cannot be breached if guarded by stout hearts and are a strong buffer between the citizens and the menaces from the outside world. The guards stand apart from any political factions and are absolutely loyal to the people. Better guards you will never find.’
The blacks stood aside, each moving to opposite sides of the portal and simultaneously pulling identical levers attached to the guardhouses. The huge timber doors swung silently open revealing an avenue of giant fir trees wending their way down the remaining few hundred feet to the base of the mountain. The path was well tended with bright cobblestones shining in the morning sun.
The gates pointed south but the road soon forked with paths leading west and east as well as the south where they intended to travel. From the gates Darion could see the path disappear into the green of the forest on the horizon a good half a days march from the gates. He could also see evidence of crops and fields scattered in chaotic fashion across the plain.
‘They farm and sell to the ‘Stoners’ as they call us. The people here would no sooner live in the mesa as we would choose to live down here with them. They provide us with a great deal of our agriculture. We have enormous stores of food
Darion had forgotten his farmer alter ego and hoped they would not meet any on the road who may be able to expose him as a fraud. He knew his friends would not care but it did not pay to be discovered as a liar. No sooner did the thought leave his mind when two men approached them and begun speaking to Le Tare.
‘The road is clear friends,’ said the older of the two whom Darion thought may be the father of the second. ‘You may cross our lands without toll as we know of your journey and wish to assist the Rok of whom the Jharnell speaks.’
All eyes turned to Darion who shifted his toes in his shoes.
‘You are from farming stock west of the Ice Mountain we hear. Tell us what the soil does so close to the evils encountered there.’
The others watched Darion who outwardly appeared calm but inwardly churned with unease. He did not know the first thing about crop types in this new world or much in his world either. Boldness had succeeded before and he would try again.
‘Taros friend is what we specialise in. A tasty root crop,’ he said confidently.
‘We do not know this word. What are they?’
‘Oh they are a wondrous vegetable, they can be skinned and boiled in water, they can be fried on a skillet or mashed with your milks. They can be shaped as you please and seasoned for taste and they can be grown in the barest of soil all year round.’ Darion guessed there would be very little mobility in this world and just because they had not heard of something he hoped did not mean they thought it impossible.
‘Wondrous indeed,’ said the younger man. ‘I would much like to see such a vegetable. I suppose they do not even need water such is their uniqueness.’ The younger man laughed contemptuously at Darion and the others became annoyed at the disrespect. The older man just looked knowingly into Darion’s eyes and moved closer so only Darion could hear, placing an arm loosely around his shoulders.
‘Come and I will briefly show you some of our fields,’ he said loud enough for the others to hear.
‘There is no such root that you speak of master Darion,’ he whispered. ‘But that makes no never mind. Your business is your own and it is enough for me you have the trust of these people who are good and honest. My advice however, if you are interested, is to make up a less elaborate lie next time. The further you travel from here the more hostile people will become as their trust of strangers abates in the wild lands. Tell the next who makes enquiries you merely grow Verbena. It is a simple herb and grows anywhere and will cure most afflictions and is good to eat and will not arose suspicion. May luck travel with you, I suspect you will need it. Come Lo Muma my son,’ he said much louder, ‘we have kept these people long enough. They have a long journey to Silver City, the best part of a week and night comes quickly as the south catches you.’ The two men turned and walked into their fields already discussing their crops and forgetting the troop.
‘Rude brutes,’ said Le Fidler, ‘I had a mind to squeeze the little one’s neck a little to learn him some manners.’
‘The problem is Fiddy,’ said Le Carra as she tightened her pack, ‘we are now in their lands and not ours so we are the uninvited guests. I think we will see much more of this as they journey continues.’
Le Fidler looked at her respectfully and moved up next to Darion. ‘You know myself and every other man in Mesania has been in love with her for many years don’t you,’ he said without malice.
‘Yes well add my name to the list,’ said Darion as Le Fidler jabbed him in the ribs with a knuckle chuckling.
They travelled for most of the day, stopping occasionally to have some food. Their pace slowed and they all enjoyed the feel of soil under their feet rather than the granite and sandstone they walked on for years. Le Bow in particular stopped to smell nearly every type of flower. Le Tare would often play his flutes which relaxed them all as they travelled. The soft music wafted gently around them making them all lightheaded and gay. Darion did not know the tunes, however they held a universal appeal as they naturally rose and fell to the rhythms of the land.
‘Feel the grass under your feet. It is exquisite. It is like a soft down,’ said Le Bow shuffling through a field of short blade grass with his shoes in one hand.
The rest of the group also took their shoes off and Darion marvelled at how such a simple experience could be so meaningful to these people who had been trapped for years in the servitude of the Lesser Ships. The way they stopped to investigate every portion of nature they encountered made him wonder if they would get very far at all.
They camped under the stars after a hot meal of re-heated meats and sausage and finished with a brew of Verbana leaves tasting to Darion like tea.
‘This Verbana seems to have many purposes,’ said Darion lazily.
‘Does this not grow where you come from?’ asked Le Tare. ‘I thought it grew everywhere? But you must feed me some of these taros one day they sound intriguing.’
Darion did not answer and just hoped they found Isaac before they reached the lands where he said he came from, otherwise he would be in significant state of embarrassment and have to answer many uncomfortable questions.
The next morning dawned bright and clear with just a hint of chill coming from the south and they could clearly see the line of forest ahead of them. Behind them, the mesa stood stark and beautiful covering most of the northern horizon.
They broke camp and within an hour reached the threshold of the forest with very clear tracks leading straight ahead and under the eaves.
‘We will soon see the Southern Sentinel,’ said Le Bow. ‘The tower watches the south and has been manned by our people for a hundreds of years. It supports a small community who live only to keep the southern routes free of vagabonds and Tusse. They treat this work very seriously and have likely spotted our entry into the forest edges already.’
From a distance the forest looked like a solid wall of similar type trees. As they entered however, they saw vast varieties of plants and trees growing in a thick canopy. Thick streaks of light penetrated the roof of the forest and lit a ground covered in wet and decaying forest litter. For Darion, he entered what he would call a rain forest. He thought the climate too mild for such vegetation to exist however the many vines and parasites, thick broad leafed trees and a floor filled with decomposing leaves and other litter made this rain forest a replica of the ones he knew back home. Plentiful wildlife gamboled through the trees and small gnats began busying themselves with a meal of his arm. The rest of the troop also suffered and the further they travelled the worse the gnats became until they could go no further.
Le Bow broke a branch of a low lying scrub and began squashing the leaves until the resin drenched his hands. He rubbed it onto his skin and immediately the gnats left him alone.
‘Here use this,’ he said as the others copied him and soon they could all move freely again.
‘Let me guess,’ said Darion. ‘This is Verbana also, correct?’
‘Indeed,’ replied Le Bow as he walked alone with Darion. ‘I heard what the farmer said to you back there and thought I would give it a try. It certainly is a cure all.’
‘Then you heard all he said?’ asked Darion nervously.
‘I did,’ said Le Bow. ‘I ask for no explanations brother Darion. Your loyalty is without question and I know you will tell me your secrets when you are ready.’
At that moment Darion felt like telling Le Bow and everyone else everything. Part of him refused to trust completely and he still felt unsure of what their reaction would be to a man from another world. He resolved to share with Le Carra first and then tell the troop the truth and nothing but the truth. After all, the worst that could happen would be the woman he loved could leave him and the rest may think him a lunatic or at the very least they might abandon him in these wilder lands and he would be at the mercy of the elements without any idea of where he was. He realised
The Sentinel rose out of the forest in front of them with the greater portion poking out of the canopy well above the trees above. Its smooth and even spike shape had ledges and windows across its top third. Darion noticed settlements all around it, some hidden in the trees off the road and others on the path like the main street of any normal town. However unlike other towns he knew, this one formed part of the forest rather than being apart from it. The road seemed to simply continue through and past the habitats. Few people frequented the road and their arrival did not seem to stir a great deal of reaction among the few residents they did see.
‘Evidently it is the ones who travel to Mesania they are interested in, not people going the other way,’ observed Le Bow as they looked for somewhere to spend the night.
The tree cover caused the air to be cooler here and they began searching for a vacant boarding house, if one existed, where they could spend the night as they guessed it would become quite cold sleeping out of doors.
They could smell the tavern and the stale ale rather than see it and after a few minutes they spotted a friendly yellow light coming out of a green two story building. A few men sat outside sipping on tankards of what Darion guessed must be ale or wine.
The keeper of the house brought them inside and showed them some rooms which Le Fidler dismissed immediately and insisted on the prime suites.
‘These are the best we have,’ said the taverner. ‘You are lucky to have these as we have a troop heading to Mesania to greet the new leaders up there. Sixty-five tannarts of silver they will cost you but maybe less if you can give me some news of Mesania. We have heard some brief news here of events in the mountain. We hear the Seeress was killed and a hero of the rebellion struck her down with the sword of Li Chi and her cuts bled black.’
‘Don’t believe everything you hear, fellow, her blood was as red as yours,’ said Le Fidler with a hint of threat in his voice. ‘It was her mind which was the danger and we made sure it went with her head when we severed it. Now how about we discuss those rooms eh.’
The taverner looked with wide eyed wonder at the troop. From what the stranger said, these people were directly involved in the coup and as such he certainly did not want trouble. ‘I can maybe give you the last two of the better rooms I have. It will unfortunately cost you double as I have others I will have to evict.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Le Fidler. ‘We will pay you forty tannarts and that is for the good rooms and not the hay barns. Here is the money and show me where the rooms are and I will do the evictions for you if you like.’
‘No, No,’ said the now terrified taverner. ‘I will attend to it directly.’
‘Please I insist,’ said Le Fidler. ‘That is of course if there are tenants to evict and you are not just saying this so as to raise the price of these modest accommodations. Now you wouldn’t do that to me would you.’ He gave the taverner an evil grin which sent the man into a wobble.
‘Please sir I am a simple hotelier just trying to make a living.’
‘Well make it with someone else, I give you a fair price and now show me the rooms this instant.’ The taverner shook noticeably, stammering and stuttering all the way to the top floor where he offered the group two very sizable comfortable quarters and apologies by the handful as he left.
Le Carra gave Le Fidler a disapproving look. ‘You didn’t have to be so mean to him Fiddy, he was only trying to …..’
‘Cheat us.’ Interupted Le Fidler. ‘Yes, that is what he intended Le Carra. You are a nice girl but I am afraid you have to stop this annoying habit of trying to find the good in everyone. He tried to cheat us and in return he got cheated. That is the right order of life.’
Le Fidler looked very satisfied with his efforts and he sank into a large lounge chair and began nibbling on a biscuit.
‘Well, we best organise the sleeping arrangements,’ said Le Carra. ‘Darion and I in one room and the rest of you in the other.’
‘Not very likely sister,’ replied Le Bow instantly. ‘There is a little thing called a marriage before we start any of those shenanigans. You and I will share a room and the rest will sleep together.’
Le Carra blew a kiss at Darion who blushed bright red. ‘Don’t worry my love soon we will be aloner.’
The others smiled at Darion’s embarrassment while Le Bow ushered Le Carra ahead past a snickering Le Tare. ‘Meet you down stairs for some hot food and we will discuss the morrow.’
They all bathed and later met in the lounge area of the tavern which quickly filled with people talking quietly amongst the clatter of plates and tankards.
The food tasted better than they expected and Le Fidler believed the owner tried to over compensate for the earlier incident, in the hope he may avoid future trouble. They asked all the patrons whether they had seen any strangers named Isaac. Most looked at them blankly and the rest only replied in curt phrases.
‘Silver City seems our best bet,’ said Le Bow. ‘It is the end of the trade routes from the south and is the largest city outside Mesania in the south west. If he has been down there someone in Silver City would know.’
With no better ideas the group agreed to leave at first light. The many revellers at the inn gave them varied advice on which way to travel. Some suggested they leave the forest and head to the main southern road and come to Silver City from the west and others said they should take the more direct route directly south and skirt the great canyon and past the Silver Rapids and across the Land Bridge. This appeared the more perilous of the two paths because many considered the lands around the canyon to be still quite wild. The latter route seemed the quicker and they chose that one, not wanting their journey to be any longer than it needed to be.
They woke just before dawn and broke their fast quietly and headed out to the south of the forest. The cold air made their breath a cloud of white steam and the leaves on the evergreens dripped with cool dew. They travelled easy and after an hour emerged from the forest on the south side of the official realm of Mesania.
Le Bow stood next to Darion, a huge smile on his face, ‘I have read and studied the lands around me for years and now I am finally going to see them. It was a happy day our paths crossed Darion.’ They were slightly elevated and could see grassy plains around them with the dark patch of horizon they guessed must be the canyon.
‘You can not even see to the bottom of the canyon such is its enormity,’ continued Le Bow. ‘It has never been explored fully, only the edges. I suppose no one thinks it a worthy pursuit. I for one would like to see what is at its centre. If we walk solidly we could reach it by nightfall.’
The travellers talked lightly amongst themselves for most of the day and the land drifted by them being neither threatening nor harsh. Darion looked absently at the vast acres of grass.
‘You could run a few hundred thousand head of Merino here no worries and they would still have plenty of room,’ he said absently.
‘What are these Merino you speak of?’ asked Le Tare.
Darion thought quickly. ‘They are animals we breed for meat and their furs. We keep them and fatten them for years and then slaughter them for the table and use their furs for clothing.’
The others looked at him in shock, even Le Carra not believing what she just said.
‘How barbaric,’ said Le Tare. ‘These poor creatures are bred and live for the sole purpose of dying, I think I do not like your society Darion.’
Darion found himself a trifle annoyed and needed to defend himself. ‘And how then do you provide the meats I have eaten in the last few weeks, do they jump onto your cook’s cleavers when they feel like it?’ he asked roughly.
‘The animals we catch run wild in the fields Darion. They live their lives free from shackles and we will capture them for their meat only when they stray among us. If none stray then we do not eat meat.
‘Well I think it is a semantic argument,’ said Darion. ‘We choose not to chase the prey and rather grow it like Verbana.’ As he said the words he felt the falseness in them. It did seem barbaric they would treat other creatures with such dismissiveness and did show his people to be selfish and brutal. ‘But I have to admit your policy is superior to ours and if I ever return home I will suggest to the village we try a similar strategy.’ He felt he saved some face even though the others still looked at him as if he had just farted at the dinner table.
He kept quite from then on and only spoke when spoken to, not out of churlishness rather out of protection. He could easily reveal his true self from careless words and he needed to train himself to be more careful.
The countryside brushed passed them quickly and the brown stain on the horizon became more stark and they would reach it by the next morning. They slept and sponge bathed themselves in a shallow creek of water at the request of Le Carra who told them she thought they smelled quite awful from the trip and even though she loved each and every one of them they were becoming quite repugnant. Darion washed first as she refused to kiss him until he did and he thought that too great a penalty for any man to suffer.
The next morning, the second since they left the confines of the forest, they reached the edge of the Great Canyon. Each of the group stood in awe of the site before them. As far as the eye could see south, the land seemed to have been scooped out by a giant shovel, leaving a vast hole. Darion could not see evidence of a river having carved this canyon so he could only guess it was a legacy from the original forming of the land millions of years ago. He had seen the Grand Canyon in his own world and this dwarfed it ten times over. He peered carefully over the cliff’s edge and the canyon disappeared into darkness miles below, even with the full sun lighting the whole area. He picked up a large rock and hurled it into the gap and they all waited to hear it land but after a few minutes no sound returned to testify the canyon even had a bottom.
Before anyone could make a comment on the wonder in front of them they all felt a powerful rumbling shaking their feet and the tiny pebbles on the ground began bouncing like raindrops all around them.
‘Quick, a land quake,’ cried Le Tare scrambling back from the edge. The others followed him and they found themselves running at full pace away from the brink of the canyon. Behind them Darion could see a large line of cliff crack and then disappear into the abyss. A second line appeared closer to their retreating feet and again the land groaned and another portion of land crumpled into the canyon a cloud of brown dust flying into the air, the wind carrying it towards their backs.
They had no time to think and reacted intuitively, trying to flee the scene as fast as they could. Darion subconsciously grabbed the hand of Le Carra dragging her along with him and a few feet behind followed Le Fidler.
He knew Le Fidler was far stronger and fitter than him and could pass him in a second and realised he took last position intentionally to ensure no-one fell behind.
As they all looked towards the forest, they saw about a hundred yards ahead of them, an enormous fissure appear stretching both north and south hundreds of feet. Instinctively they knew what would happen and they bunched together gripping onto each other for protection when suddenly the land underneath them disappeared and they fell at a terrific rate, the dust and dirt making it impossible to see anything clearly.
They steeled themselves for the inevitable crash and either pain or death and as they continued to fall through the dust, the noise of clashing rocks drowning their screams.
Darion gripped Le Carra’s arm in a vice like hold, and she in turn held Le Bow. The whole group linked with each other like a chain with none knowing all the others were nearby. They fell at the same pace as the rest of the debris and so avoided the expected collisions of rocks and stones and they felt weightless as they careered towards the bottom of the world.
Darion noticed his leg brush a large rock only inches below him. As he looked through the clearing dust, he could see the others vaguely in the dim light and he realised they were all cramped onto a rock shelf falling with them. Suddenly they felt a heavy bump and fell into each other and onto the rock. The fissure sloped at an angle and rather than fall they began skidding down the sides breaking their fall and lessening their speed. The rock shook and occasionally jumped but it was akin to skiing down a snowy slope.
Darion had seen cargo ships being loaded with grain and the grain would hit the top of the large pile and slide down the sides eventually spewing out of the bottom thereby widening the base and it seemed this is what happened to them. They slid down along with the dust and rocks and now began slowing down.
They fell or slid for another few minutes and then came to a slow halt the rock resting softly against the side of another cliff face, this time thousands of feet below the original surface as grit and dirt rained down on them.
The friends ensured they all had survived and without speaking began moving away from their rocky ship as more and more debris fell around them. The ground under their feet was a talc of pulverised rock and they struggled to find sure footings as they tried escape the tons of dirt and fragments falling around them. It became more and more difficult to breath or see among the carnage when they glimpsed an opening ahead of them. They slipped and slid to the breach in the rocks, ducking through the opening and finding themselves in a huge underground cave dripping with water and a steady stream running through its centre, a dim light coming from both the opening the escaped from and random streaks beaming down from fissures in the roof.
They took some minutes to cough the remaining rubbish from their lungs and rushed to the water’s edge to clear their throats, washing the dust from the faces and hair when Le Bow finally found the strength to speak.
‘I would think we should consider ourselves a trifle fortunate,’ he said redundantly.
‘Oh do you really think so?’ snarled Le Tare. ‘We are alive that is certain and we are also a thousand feet underground without any food or provisions. I have lost every inch of skin from my buttocks and we have no idea where we are. Aside from that, then yes I am almost joyous to be here.’
Darion choked out a smile. ‘Where there is a will there is a way as my people always say and we have a stream we can follow that may lead us outside. I know a little bit about caves, not necessarily a lot about subterranean caves, however I do know a river has a source and a finish so at least we have a path to follow.’
‘Do you think you will get sick of him always thinking he is right sister?’ asked Le Bow.
She smiled and her crystal teeth shone in the darkness. ‘Well I never tire of you thinking you are right all the time, do I dear?’
Le Bow caught his sister’s hand and pulled her to him and tickled her under her ribs when she let out a cry of pain. Le Bow instantly released his grip and forced her to the ground where he began searching her side for injury. He found bruising already beginning to blacken and his every poke and prod brought a gingerly reply from his sister. Darion also had a concerned look on his face as he helped Le Bow place a wet rag over her wounds to cool them. ‘Rest little sister while we try to think of something.’
Le Carra collapsed as waves of pain began drenching her, with every breath or movement shooting agony up her side and deep into her chest cavity. Le Fidler and Le Tare stood over her as if she was a treasure about to be ravaged by bandits their faces grim as Le Bow walked some way away with Darion.
‘She has a broken rib Darion, I do not think she will travel well.’
‘Yes I think you are right. We have to make sure she has not pierced a lung Le Bow. Is she breathing easily? If her lungs collapse then she is in trouble. You’re right though, we have to get her somewhere safe and she can’t walk, so we will have to carry her for as
‘Well of course we will carry her.’ Said Le Bow roughly. ‘The problem is we also have a river to cross and rocks to climb, it will be a difficult task.’
Darion looked around him and he could not see anyway they could make a litter or a sled. They needed to stabilise her until they could examine her properly and the land around them shook with secondary tremors and aftershocks. The sedimentary rock they rested on had no sign of vegetation or anywhere they could place Le Carra in safety. He walked a few feet down stream and saw what he thought looked like a naturally forming cove which might offer them at least some protection from the dust and fumes pumping out of the breach in the wall they exited from.
‘Bring her down here and for gods sake be gentle,’ ordered Darion as the others obeyed immediately. They were soldiers and whenever a superior gave an order they immediately reacted and here they all gave Darion the respect of a leader.
Le Tare and Le Fidler raised her with gentle callused hands and she barely felt their powerful arms as they carted her towards the inlet. The floor of coarse sand, looked to be the residue of an ancient ocean and was clean and sturdy.
They shed whatever clothes they could spare and sat bare chested around Le Carra whose breathing became more laboured each minute. They could barley hear her when she tried to speak.
Darion bent over with a worried expression and she grabbed his hand tightly. ‘Don’t look at me so Darion, I am not going to release you from your marriage pledge by dying. You still owe me a honeymoon.’ She smiled and then erupted into a coughing fit where she spat out a mouthful of blood. Her skin changed to a pallid grey and her breaths came in rapid tiny spurts. He felt her pulse and it was racing dangerously.
Darion felt panic rising in him. He needed to concentrate to have any chance of saving her life. ‘What do you people know about first aid and medicine?’ he asked.
‘We do not know this ‘first aid’ of which you speak but we do have some skills in understanding the physiology,’ said Le Tare, ‘more so from the injuries to limbs and not these internal ones.’
Darion took a deep breath, ‘We don’t have a lot of time and we need to work together. It isn’t going to be easy. We are going to have to try and straighten her rib. I’m not sure but I think if the rib punctured her lung deeply then she would probably be dead already so I am wagering it has only pricked the lining. I think only one of her lungs is working and the other has collapsed which means we have to try and re-inflate it and hope it does not fill with blood.’
The rest looked at him as if he spoke another language and he did not have time to give detailed explanations. He had to make them understand. If they was going to convince them to help they needed to know what he proposed and especially so with Le Bow.
‘Listen. Your lungs are like two big cushions that fill with air each time you breath. One of Le Carra’s has emptied of air and we need to refill it or she will suffocate. First we need to make sure her rib is not sticking into it. The problem is air is escaping from her lungs and is sitting in her chest cavity which is making it impossible for the lung to re-inflate properly and each breath is making it worse. We need to insert a tube into her chest and let the air escape and then the lung will re inflate. Men we need to do something now or she will die.’ The men seemed to be in a trance of denial and now snapped into action.
‘Darion, you love her like we do and it is obvious she is deathly ill. We will trust you know what you are doing. Direct us.’
‘Empty your pockets over there in a pile and lets see what we have. The men dropped knives, short swords, long swords, tinder boxes, rags, some coins more knives, water skins and some small coils of rope. Curiously Le Fidler appeared to have many items from the tavern a few nights before including some wallets. He also saved some items that were previously the property of Le Tare, particularly a hand carved short sword with a long wooden handle.
‘I’ve been looking for that you thief,’ he said.
‘Now is not the time,’ said Le Fidler. ‘I will gladly discuss it after we save Le Carra.’
Darion noticed how confidently Le Fidler spoke and he was it gave him strength. They handed him permission to do whatever he saw as necessary to save her. He didn’t tell the others but he felt only semi confident he knew what to do. Another fit of coughing from Le Carra spurned him into action.
‘Quickly, take the pot and find anything that will burn and boil some water.’ Le Fidler used the tinder box and some clothes, as well as the handles of all the knives including Le Tare’s small sword and quickly made a small fire, the water reached the boil rapidly.. Darion placed a knife in the water and another in the centre of the fire.
He would try and straighten the bone and cauterise the wound internally and hopefully stop any leaking in and out of the lung. He knew some medical procedures, although not much more than first aid courses, however he remembered clearly what happens when a lung collapses. He saw his father die from the same thing, and watched as the paramedics tried to save him. He died in front of him, the wreckage of their car all around them. The smell of tyres and fuel still haunted his sleep. He was determined this would not happen here. He would save Le Carra. The facts of her circumstances were quite simple. If he left Le Carra alone then she would most certainly die before their eyes and he could not allow it.
He found a skin of water and emptied it and then blew in it like a balloon and then resealed the lid creating a cushion of air.
The others looked on concerned and Le Bow’s hand shook as he took Darion’s. Darion placed a hand on his.
‘I don’t know if I can help Le Bow but I will do everything I can to save her. You know I would never hurt her?’
‘Of course I know this Darion. It is just I do not find it easy trusting someone else with her life when it has been my responsibility. Just be mindful of this, cure her immediate ills and she will recover quickly. She is made of very strong stuff Darion and her recuperative powers are second to none.’
Darion heard what Le Bow said and Le Carra definitely looked as fit a specimen of womanhood as he had ever seen, however this wound required a long recovery period as most life threatening conditions do, and no amount of positive thinking would make this an easy task.
He moved to Le Carra who drifted in and out of consciousness and she gave him a trusting smile before she again fell unconscious. Darion directed the men to hold her very still and firmly and they obeyed, each gently taking a limb, placing large hands over her hips and upper body.
He removed her shirt and followed the trace of her rib which he now saw bent inwards noticeably but did not look broken. There may only be some cartilage damage he thought. He could find no external bleeding from the injury however the blood she coughed up was enough to convince Darion she suffered some internal damage and very likely from the lung.
The others looked on, worry etched on their faces as Darion continued his examination. From what he could see, there didn’t appear to be any other injuries and he knew he had to move quickly while she remained unconscious. A loud explosion behind him caused a jet of rocks and dirt to shoot out of the breach in the cavern as more of the unstable canyon sides collapsed.
‘Be quick brother Darion,’ said Le Bow. ‘We must away from here.’
Darion reached along the fault line of Le Carra’s rib cage and thought he could see exactly where the rib bent. He knew from experience ribs could rarely be mended other than by time and pressure bandages and in Le Carra’s case, the ribs needed to be pulled and straightened and then and an incision made so he could try and let the air around the lung escape. At best it would be difficult and dangerous to interfere with the fragile lining of the lung itself.
He told the men to give him one of the knives from the pot and without hesitating he made a small incision allowing him to reach under with the point. To his amazement the rib seemed to pop out and back in its rightful place like a stretched elastic band when released
Darion searched all of the provisions and he could see nothing resembling a tube. He remembered the type of society he was in and the technology required for a plastic tube simply did not exist. It struck him like a lightning bolt. ‘Le Tare your pipes quickly give them to me.’
Without hesitation Le tare handed his pipes to Darion who began pulling them apart. He had really looked at them closely before now he saw their beautiful craftsmanship, expertly shaped of blown glass, each embossed with crystals telling the story of the artisan's life. The largest of the pipes looked no greater in diameter than a pencil and the smallest as thin as a needle. He broke the silver threads binding the pipes together much to the brief discomfort on Le Tare’s face, and quickly washed it in the boiling water. Darion inspected the pipe and felt certain any germs were dead and he could not spare any more time on hygiene.
The men surrounded Darion as he felt around the chest of Le Carra until his hands came to rest a few inches below her breasts. He worked his fingers down around her rib cage until they found the soft tissue on the lateral of her chest.
With a deep breath he slowly punctured Le Carra’s skin with the knife and slid the pipe into her side careful not to drill too deeply unless he inflicted more damage. Le Carra stirred briefly then quickly dropped into unconsciousness again. Darion carefully held the needle. He knew his chances of success were slim at best as he his diagnosis could only be described as a guess. Even if he judged correctly he possessed little hands on medical experience and he could right now be killing one of only two people in the world he knew he loved. He listened carefully to Le Carra’s chest and could still hear a gurgling of wind and blood churning like indigestion. He pushed again on the pipe and it disappeared further into her body, and stopped to listen again. He jiggled the end of the pipe as it met a rubbery resistance which he assumed to be the lung. He knew the air would pool on the outside of the lung in the chest cavity so he withdrew the pipe slightly and he could hear a definite gush of wind shoot up through the pipe and out of her chest.
He placed his ear again to Le Carra’s chest and the gurgling of fluid abated and indeed she seemed to be breathing more freely than before. The others too noticed a difference and they slapped Darion on the back in relief.
‘It is not over yet,’ he said. ‘We need to get her somewhere where we can rest and make sure her wounds heal properly.’
Darion barely ceased speaking when another geyser of dust exploded out of the hole and blew towards them.
Le Fidler had slipped away when Darion started the operation and now popped his head over some rocks a little way ahead from the group.
‘Come quickly I have made a small raft that should at the very least cart us downstream and away from here.’
They bandaged the incision and carried Le Carra gently around the next bend in the cave where they found a small and well constructed raft made out of the flotsam of timber and vines Le Fidler scrounged from the millions of tons of debris lying throughout the tunnel.
He looked very proud of himself as he motioned for them to board the vessel.
‘Take that smug look off your face Le Fidler,’ said Le Tare. ‘if this sinks I will carve my name in your ass.’
‘You can’t do that, remember, we burnt your knife.’ Le Tare took a halfhearted swipe at Le Fidler’s face which was easily avoided and the troop climbed onto the raft lying Le Carra across its breadth and covering her with their shirts. They pushed off and headed to the centre of the stream only moments before another rush of dust and dirt rushed from the hole, blasting the side out of the cave and spraying the stream with rocks.
They all used their hands and some pieces of log to gain speed and soon moved away from the immediate danger. Darion moved closer to Le Carra and held her hand softly and to his surprise she lifted her head and smiled at him.
‘Lie down you will do more damage,’ said Darion.
‘I will be fine my love, I feel better already.’
Darion could not believe his eyes when she sat upright and held her side lightly, taking a big breath and stretching her long elegant arms above her head as if in a morning stretch.
‘I’m hungry,’ she said. ‘When do you men think we will find a nice tavern to eat and sleep in.’
Le Tare, Le Bow and Le Fidler smiled at each other while Darion sat with his mouth open, not sure what to think. Only minutes before Le Carra was barely alive and now she sat in front of him smiling and evidently fully recovered. He lifted her shirt slightly so he could see her wound.
‘Now Darion, don’t you think we should wait until we find a more private place?’ she said.
Darion let go of her shirt muttering something about just checking the injury as the others laughed freely until he sheepishly sat back and stared at them all incredulously.
‘I am sorry, you can laugh at me all you want but where I am from they would call this a miracle, something that defys the natural laws of nature.’
Darion saw Le Carra’s wound which was now healed with little evidence she had ever been hurt at all. It looked to Darion like the months required to mend her passed in seconds. He needed to know more.
‘And from where we stand Darion, you have just witnessed one of the great secrets of the inner circle of the rebellion. I have not mentioned it before, as to be quite honest with you, the thought never occurred to me. What Le Carra has just done is what makes her the most precious of the gems of our realm.’
‘What have I seen?’ said Darion. ‘I am still not quite sure.’ Le Carra took his hand and stroked it softly.
‘Do not be afraid Darion, I do not know exactly what my power is myself. Long ago I learned there was something different about my metabolism. I would fall as a child and my cuts and bruises would disappear within minutes. I would never catch the colds and other ailments of my kin. My skin stayed clear while those adolescents around me had red and raised faces. On one occasion however I stumbled and fell rather heavily and the injuries were severe. Le Bow and others of my family laid me out to die as none knew the skills required to stem the bleeding. I was going to die like all others would when an old maid from the White order heard what happened and attended me. Through some skills that must have long since vanished she managed to clot the bleeding and then my special gifts finished the healing job in front of many of our kin.
Some claimed it the work of Sprites and others thanked the gods they idolise I had been granted a second chance. I can die Darion and I age as do others. Minor afflictions however pass me by and if the condition that is life threatening is removed then I can survive most things. You saved my life, be certain of that, for I was leaving this world before you lay your hand upon me.’
She leaned over a dizzy Darion and kissed his lips long and softly until he felt he lived in his own dream.
‘The secret stayed with us Darion for to have the world in general know of this gift risked outright war with the Black,’ said Le Bow.
Darion still had a blank look on his face when Le Bow continued. ‘I forget you come from rube stock. You do not know the significance of the story I fear. Darion the skills Le Carra possesses are not unique or unheard of. All who are direct descendants from the royal line have this gift.’
Darion’s eyes widened. ‘You are royalty,’ he stated. ‘But I thought there was no titular head of your people as all from that line perished on the trek across the island?’
‘We too thought that,’ said Le Tare. ‘But the evidence is unquestionable. We do not know how but your future wife here is the queen of our people.’
‘Then why not simply announce it so everyone can know?’
‘He is very tired,’ said Le Fidler. ‘I am sure if he gave the question a bit more thought he would understand why now is not the best of times.’
‘I would think this would be perfect, she could be the rightful heir and lead your people in the rebuilding of their c
‘Yes, I agree with you Le Fidler,” said Le Tare. ‘It has been very hectic time lately and I don't think our Darion here is completely awake.’
Darion felt angry again. These people sure knew how to frustrate him. ‘Well pardon my ignorance but enlighten me. Why can’t we tell.’
‘Allow me,’ said Le Fidler to the others with a broad stroke of his hand as they prepared to talk all at once. ‘The rebellion is not merely a group of disgruntled vassals. We have some of the greatest minds on the island available to us. Some experts in interpretation of the Jharnell, scholars and artisans from across Mesania and often we debated what to do if we won.’
Le Fidler leant back on of the packs he salvaged and wistfully looked up at the cavern roof drifting by in the twilight of the cavern random hints of light . ‘There was sufficient evidence and argument to suggest when the current order was extinguished then there would be a battle for control of the vacant power at some point. Right now the rebels are establishing their leadership through consultation and there is no guarantee the other orders, such as the purple and blue, may not vie for power. Le Bow has often repeated to us your thoughts on government and they are not dissimilar to some of our own. We need a consultative government of representatives from all the Ships. That makes good sense however some do not think this way. By announcing the existence of an heir to the ancient throne we are only inviting assassination and I think you agree we do not want Le Carra to be in that position. Let our people do their work with the interim government and slowly leak to the general populace their may be some of the ancient royalty still alive and the people will crave this to be so. It is then we present Le Carra and thereby make the transition easier.
There is also a little matter of proof and how do you think that is obtained Darion? The same skills you just marvelled at would be demanded and would require Le Carra to be intentionally injured and witnesses to see her body remake itself to prove her authenticity. I do not want to see her hurt?’
‘And yet I will willingly do so,’ said Le Carra. ‘When the time is right, I will succumb to the test to show my worthiness.’
Darion agreed with them entirely. He could not stand by and let anyone hurt Le Carra whether the realm depended upon it or not. ‘But what of Le Bow is he then a prince?’
Le Fidler burst out laughing. ‘I don’t think so, lets cut him open and see if he heals.’
Le Bow stared daggers at Le Fidler. ‘I am not royalty Darion. Le Carra is not a blood relative of mine but is more sister to me than any true sibling. We grew up together and when the time was deemed right we were told of her secret. She is still the most important person in the world to me and my father called her daughter and she is more so than any who is naturally born of a parent.’
Le Carra smiled softly at her brother and took his hand. The raft travelled silently with the flow of the stream for two days. The group nibbled on some of the surviving provisions and they all recovered their strength.
On the second day the walls of the cavern became smooth and dripped with water. Shiny moss covered the roof and issued an iridescent glow, overwhelming the glimpses of white light they navigated by coming from fractures in the cavern roof. The moss shone with a dull green giving the cavern a forest like appearance. The roof slowly closed in on them the further they sailed, the wide stream also becoming narrower and faster. Within minutes they could touch the roof just above their heads. Although the cavern became smaller, the volume of water did not change and it now sped through the thinner openings in the rocks with spray and white water appearing as they sped over submerged rocks.
Le Bow looked nervously at the rest. ‘I don’t like the feel of this one little bit. Those rocks will smash us to bits.’ The raft drifted at the mercy of the surges of the stream as it gained speed and rebounded off the walls. The shoreline disappeared and the rock walls butted against the line of the river giving them no place they could alight. They bounced across the top of the raft and held each other tightly so they would not fall in the growing white water.
Darion had once been white water rafting and remembered what he was told about the currents.
‘Quickly, we need to move faster than the water or we will lose control grab anything and start paddling.’ The troop including Le Carra took spare clothes, pieces of drift wood and their hands and did as Darion asked. At first their efforts made little difference so they paddled harder until they moved faster than the current. Darion placed himself at the rear of the raft and used the makeshift rudder Le Fidler had fashioned to steer the raft to the centre of the stream where he rationalised the water should be slightly deeper and have less rocks.
They made good progress however all of them were tiring and they needed to find somewhere to rest. The stream narrowed further and they could almost touch the walls as they flew across the top of the water. A bright white light ahead filled the entire cavern and within seconds they spewed out of the cavern and into daylight, flying through the air, the stream becoming a large waterfall dropping perilously into a deep blue pool of water.
The five bodies lifted free of the raft as they fell, their arms and legs flailing in the air until each landed hard in the water, lucky the raft did not hit any of them as it smashed into the surface.
White water and spray filled the air and the deafening sound of the water crashing around them made it impossible to either see or communicate. Eventually the current pushed them all to the eastern side of the new stream and one by one they dragged themselves to the bank, pulling themselves ashore. Breathlessly they sat up and checked they were unharmed and relaxed as the cool midday sun warmed their bodies. Le Fidler stirred first and he looked over his shoulder and began to laugh out loud. Long spires of silver stretched towards the sky a few thousand feet from where he sat as the buildings of the trade centre of Silver City shined across the stream.
‘Here we are just as I thought,’ he bragged before he felt the cold claw of Le Tare’s palm slap across the back of his head.
‘That’s for my knife,’ he said as he lifted himself off the ground and surveyed the city in front of him. From what they had heard of Silver City it gained its name from the way its buildings were constructed and now he could see why. They were almost exclusively made of glass reflecting the sparkles of the waterfalls and rapids appearing to drive straight through the city. Each side of each structure reflected light, making it quite difficult to see if one looked straight. Some of the light filtered through prisms making rainbows all over the city. The noises of falling water also filled the air. It was the busiest place any of them had ever seen and it had nothing to do with the people.
They did their best to clean the mud and filth off their clothes to look a little bit respectable before they entered the city. Darion noticed only Le Carra looked the same, as if the slight flaws in her clothing accentuated her natural beauty, not to mention the wet cloths clinging suggestively to her body. She noticed Darion looking and could not help herself as she sidled up close to him.
‘Oh Darion, I am afraid my hair is a mess,’ she said as she ran her fingers through it. ‘And my clothes may never be the same,’ she continued drawing her palms down over her curvaceous waist and looking at him under smoking eyes.
Darion tried to speak could only muster pitiful murmurs as she held onto his hands. He noticed she seemed to enjoy his discomfort.
‘Please sister,’ said Le Bow, ‘we need Darion’s skills in communication and if you keep teasing him like this he may never speak again.’
The men chuckled and winked to each other although they too noticed Le Carra’s charms.
The city loomed in front of them, its glass walls as high as the trees of the Mesanian forest. Through the walls they could see the streetscape. Two large gates standing open provided the only obvious entrance along a wall encompassing the entire city. Traders lined the streets and cattle roamed freely and as Darion noticed, un-tethered not unlike how
The kites would dive and dart at each other trying as Darion could understand it, to cut the tail of the others and send them crashing to the ground. When one succeeded and another fell the children would rush to recover the glass from the tail and hide them away in their pockets as trinkets and return to the rest to see if they could collect more. A kite landed near Darion and he walked over to the tail before any others and he gasped in surprise. He examined one of the rocks and felt sure the stones were diamonds. Their texture, hardness and weight meant they could be nothing else and he marvelled at the prosperity of such a region where diamonds could be treated so frivolously.
‘Do you know what these stones are?’ he asked Le Tare.
‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘They are very pretty but an extremely common stone found in this part of Salnikov. They are called Carbelinite and children like to make necklaces and bracelets out of them. Don’t you have these in your country?’
‘We have them Le Tare. At home they are enormously valuable and extremely difficult to find. You would be a rich man indeed if you had a few dozen of these in your possession.’
‘Well feel free,’ said Le Tare. ‘They are plentiful here and none would miss them.’
Darion bent down and fingered two diamonds as big as his thumb and turned them over in his hand. There was enough wealth in these two stones alone to ensure he never worked again and literally hundreds covered the ground around him. Suddenly he could hear the words of his mother in her usual position in front of their kitchen sink. ‘What is the point of getting something for nothing. You haven’t earned it so how could you possible enjoy it to its full value. Life is about working for rewards and valuing them all the more because of the effort.’ He dropped the stones and felt the absence of his mother acutely. He guessed he would never see her or anyone else he loved from his old life again. She would like Le Carra too, she would hold her in the biggest of hugs and rush her off to the kitchen and make a strong cup of tea which was her best way of communicating with someone and they would talk for hours. He could picture it vividly and it made him desperate with homesickness.
‘You do not want to be wealthy?’ asked Le Tare.
Darion looked at Le Carra and smiled, ’I already am,’ he said as Le Tare placed a massive arm around his shoulders as they tramped into the city.
The sun passed its zenith and the colours of the city changed slightly, giving off a more yellow hue. Darion suggested they go somewhere where they could sit as he still worried about Le Carra. Even though she apparently held the position of sole surviving princess of a long lost line, she still must be exhausted from her near death experience and he wanted to make sure she had enough rest before they set out again.
‘Any ideas on where we could sleep considering we look like vagabonds and there is a little matter of money or lack thereof to consider,’ said Darion at little harsher than he meant. He tried to rectify the situation immediately before ill will set in. ‘Sorry I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, I know I couldn’t have come this far without you.’
‘By all the gods he is a strange one this one. What does Le Carra see in him?’ said Le Fidler. ‘We are on an adventure away from our homes Darion, this is the best time any of us could have.’
‘Who is strange then?’ said Darion. ‘I could quite happily live to the end of my days without falling thousands of feet into a canyon, nearly die, perform emergency surgery, fall off a cliff and nearly drown and now likely be arrested as a tramp. You have pretty odd ideas of what is fun.’
‘Well just leave the accommodation details to me,’ said Le Fidler. ‘You better come, I am off to have some of that fun I mentioned. I suggest the rest of you find a shady spot and stay there until we get back, this shouldn’t take long.’
‘Don’t get arrested, don’t get drunk and don’t consort with any of the local women, I mean it Fiddy, I am too tired to be breaking you out of jail or dragging a jealous husband off your back. Just get us some money and that will do,’ lectured Le Tare.
‘Kill joy,’ said Le Fidler as he and Darion walked towards the city entrance. Darion examined the doors opening into the city. They stood three times the size of a man and were made of very thick and polished glass. He could not see any joins and the sheets did not seem to be supported by anything except two small hinges screwed into broad blocks of pink granite.
Darion rubbed his hands along the roadway. The streets were made of a white limestone and as he and Le Fidler passed the gates, they saw the roads spread out in all directions, in and out of the various buildings lining their way. People bustled among the stores and seemed to come from a variety of cultural backgrounds, some with dark skin and others quite pale and some wrapped in heavy furs, perhaps travellers from the deep south or Niflheim as he heard Le Bow call it. He saw scantily clad boys and girls dancing and singing in groups and stalls of food and drinks as well as scarfs, sheets and other haberdashery were being tossed over and haggled with by hundreds of men and women alike. Some of the women wore many layered dresses and face masks making them look androgynous while others wore next to nothing other than thin veils clinging suggestively to their bodies.
Darion and Le Fidler walked through the markets unnoticed and casually picked over various products and politely refused all offers of trade. Darion thought Le Fidler seemed to be enjoying himself, striking up conversations with many of the traders and haggling for bargains and then refusing at the last and moving on. Rather than become annoyed, the shopkeepers merely turned their attention to the next likely purchaser and the bartering continued.
They left the main road and found some busy side streets where children played. They struck a round ball made of animal hide with their feet and tried to lodge it in a large square box with a net hanging from it some hundred feet away. Darion thought it a hybrid of soccer and basketball with no hands allowed. They watched the game for a while and Darion begun to get impatient.
‘Are we going to malinger all day Le Fidler, or are we going to find some accommodation?’
‘Patience my friend. We are looking for a certain type of person, engaged in a particular past-time and then you will have spoils a plenty to present to your princess.’
Darion blushed at the teasing and followed Le Fidler down some other avenues where he could clearly hear the clinking of what sounded like tiles or stones.
‘We are here,’ said Le Fidler as he wandered over to a group of about twenty men who gathered around another group who sat in a circle. ‘Do you gamble Darion?’ he asked.
‘Not usually and not when I have no idea of the game. I take it you intend to play, or should I say rob, these gentlemen?’
‘Now that is a bit harsh. Fair and open competition is all I am after,’ replied Le Fidler watching the game closely. ‘Be quiet, speaking while the game is in progress is considered very bad form.’
Darion kept quiet and tried to follow the game. Four men sat facing each other and in the centre was a pile of small square tiles similar in shape to mahjong tiles. Instead of one hundred and forty four tiles, there were closer to fifty, each with plain backs and faces covered with designs with no two the same. A small bell pealed and each man took an equal number of tiles and began studying them, and arranging them in some sort of order. A few minutes later the bell rang again and the man nearest him stood and to Darion’s surprise began singing in a beautiful baritone voice. The others stopped clinking tiles and listened attentively. The man sung a story of a young woman who fell in love with a man her father forbade her from seeing because he came from a family with no respect in the town. She defied her father and saw the boy anyway and fell pregnant. The boy dishonoured the girl and left the town and
The singer finished and men wiped tears from their cheeks and all began applauding and talking hurriedly amongst themselves. The bell pealed again and the second man stood up and he too commenced a song mesmerising the audience with its emotion. Each player in the game sung a dirge and each song sounded beautiful and precious and touched all those around them.
Le Fidler seemed as absorbed as the others in the songs and Darion pulled at his shirt to get his attention.
‘I never thought you were the romantic type,’ he said to Le Fidler during a break. ‘What exactly is going on here?’
‘Don’t you see, the men collect the tiles and from the pictures they must try to construct a tale using each of the tiles. See, the first singer had tiles with iconography of father, daughter, storms etc. The crowd judge which is the best and the winner is rewarded with an equal amount of coin from each of the other players. I searched the crowd, not the players Darion. I am trying to work out which moral they found more appealing. They very much liked the first tale of the father’s love for his daughter being powerful enough to overcome any obstacle. I must admit I liked that one too, so when it is your turn you have to merely play on the family theme for the audience and we should have enough money by nightfall.’
‘What do you mean me?’ asked Darion in shock. ‘I can’t sing and I certainly cannot invent songs and melodies without notice. I have never seen this game before, how do you think I could win and what if we lose. We don’t have any funds to pay anyone.’
‘Don’t lose and it wont be an issue. And also remember you are on a time limit. That is what the bells are for.’
‘I am not doing it,’ said Darion flatly.
‘Too late I have already nominated you.’ Le Fidler barely finished his words when many pairs of hands pawed at Darion to sit down and choose his tiles. Darion could not concentrate. He basically decided as soon as the opportunity presented itself he would make a bolt for it and hope the men did not get too upset. There would be no way in the world he would sing and dance no matter what the prize.
He took his ten tiles from the pile while contemplating when he would run. He turned the tiles over in his hands and studied them. They were beautiful art works in themselves and he had seen his fair share of art. Although small, each tile face had intricate designs with clear images and enormous details. The first tile he turned held the face of a new born baby, its round pink skin giving him an idea. The next tile was of a father and the third a house surrounded by trees and lawns and his idea took further shape. The rest of the tiles had images of family and friends, a sailing ship, and he felt he might be prepared to sing so long as his memory didn’t fail him.
The bell rang and Darion stood while watching a grinning Le Fidler sitting in the background, whom he felt appeared a little too jovial considering their position.
Without thinking about his embarrassment Darion launched into what he thought sounded like a very average version of John Lennon’s, ‘Beautiful Boy’ and as the song progressed and no one laughed he became more confident and thought in the end he didn’t do too bad a job. When he finished no one made a sound and he thought he and Le Fidler would be laughed out of town, when one of the men opposite him, a shaggy haired man in his mid forties who chewed on what looked like an old root of some sort, probably Verbana he thought wryly, placed his hands on Darion’s and without consulting the others filled it with some bright gold coins and then left the circle. The other two men he played against also gave Darion some money and they too left the circle and all of a sudden the game seemed to be over and the area cleared of spectators some of whom patted Darion on the back as they departed.
Once alone Le Fidler smiled brightly and began counting the money Darion. ‘Extraordinary, really quite extraordinary. I don’t think I have ever seen a result in this game like that one.’
‘What happened?’ asked Darion.
‘They loved it Darion. They are showing you and your song the greatest respect they can. They did not even need to contend with you or even confer with each other. The song appealed to them with such quality they have conceded defeat and have now left to write the words down and study them with the rest of their family. That really was the most amazing thing. You have many talents Darion. You know of course Le Carra and the others are going to ask how we got some money so quick and you will have to repeat your song to them.’
‘No way,’ said Darion. ‘That audience will be brutal. I think any encore can come from you.’
‘We will see. I am guessing that Le Carra will insist.’
‘Great,’ said Darion. ‘Lets get back and find somewhere to rest. Do we have enough money?’
Le Fidler counted the amount twice and looked very satisfied. ‘Darion, we have enough for board and lodgings for weeks and we can resupply our packs as well. That really was something. They really liked that song, this is a huge amount of winnings. I knew you could do it.’
Darion felt embarrassed at the plagiarism. He knew however Le Carra would probably like it and so the lie seemed worth it. Between Lennon and Shakespeare he must appear quite the poet to these people. They met the others who were surprised at how quick they managed to gather such an impressive total and they sat under a huge tree on the outskirts of the city and counted the money.
‘Who did you rob?’ asked Le Tare fingering the coins.
‘I really must take offence Le Tare, why do you always think the worst of me immediately?’
‘Because it saves time.’ said Le Tare gruffly. ‘Now out with it.’
Le Fidler gave a brief report to the group and they all insisted Darion repeat the song immediately which he did very unwillingly. They all agreed the song was of a superior quality in both tune and lyrics and Le Carra’s eyes shone at Darion who smiled inwardly at the effect it had on her. His stock just went up a little further he thought.
They gathered their belongings and found some accommodations, Darion eager to start his questioning of the townsfolk on the whereabouts of Isaac. They wandered into the markets, street stalls filling every vacant spot in the city and to their disappointment, Le Carra ensured they quickly left the various bars and taverns after making their enquiries.
They found a small armoury selling hand carved knives and swords encrusted with jewels and engravings of the folk history of the region. They heavily armed themselves, being mindful of the stories they heard of the Tusse. They knew not far south, they would travel near the ancient Tusse habitats and they needed to be well prepared.
Darion marvelled at everything he saw. He was reasonably well travelled back home and even so he had never experienced anything like the Silver City. Opulence and splendor punctuated each corner of the city, from streets littered with diamond chips to gold filigrees on every window. Darion knew the people did not value diamonds and it appeared gold also held little excitement for them. He asked Le Tare who explained if everyone had gold then how could not be precious.
‘Then why aren’t they robbed and raided by every brigand
Le Tare shook his head in wonder at Darion. ‘You cannot be so ignorant Darion. I say this in all honesty and I care for you like a brother. You have however the most offensive attitude to life. Everyone covets wealth, it is a natural human trait. It is a different matter altogether to actually want to relieve these good people of it by theft. What would happen to the town. It would disappear.
They would have no splendor as it would be taken from them and then they would have no means to trade with the outside world and so they would starve and cease to exist. The people of the town simply would not stand for it and besides many years ago they created a system which protects them fully from any would be rogue thieves who do not understand the protocols of civilised life. I have never seen, only heard, of the power of the people of this part of the world. They have a reputation of being stoic defenders. Be alert, in the next few hours Darion and we will see some wonders.’
They moved slowly through the throng of people and Le Bow moved in and out of the traffic as if he were back in the Ships of Mesania, dodging and weaving so fast they all found it difficult to keep up. Eventually he stopped in front of a large ornate tent. ‘This looks interesting. Let’s enter,’ he said. They all felt drawn to the tent and it seemed completely natural for them to want to go inside. Throw rugs and cushions littered the floor and they sat assessing the wall hangings and the attractive servant girls offering them refreshments. Darion thought the tent looked like an Arabian marquee hitched around an oasis, with sheiks and dancers and fine foods and music everywhere. Although the owners did not dress in Arab garb they were still ostentatious enough to be seen as remarkable even in a city such as this.
An overlarge man approached them with bare chest and feet, his bulging biceps circled with gold bracelets accentuating the cut of the muscles. In a deep and not unfriendly voice, he directed them to a secondary antechamber.
‘You come to hear the future or more precisely your future. You have been expected, please wait for the Encalla.’
‘What does he mean by ‘expected?’ asked Darion to the group. ‘How could we have been expected? We didn’t even expect to be here?’
Within seconds another man entered, looking stooped and ancient. His long white hair hung in two long braids down to his waist, each tipped with baubles of gold. With his hands he invited them into a small room in the tent and sat them down at a round, short legged table covered in a dark tapestry, the wax and resin from batik filling the room.
The troop sat cross legged on the ground, the table now chest height and looked at each other warily while the old man turned to each of them with his eyes closed. He sang in a clear, soft, melodious style, filling the room with a pleasant air although the group could not understand the language. He looked in Le Bow’s direction and after a few minutes his eyes shot open and he ceased his song.
‘Le Bow, so brave and young. You have ideals and wish to travel and seek out all the secrets of Salnikov. I say do not restrict yourself to these finite wishes. The world is bigger than you think. Expand your mind and look across the seas as that will be your destiny.’
Le Bow shivered as the man spoke to him. Ignoring for the moment who the ‘Encalla’ knew hs name, he was uncannily right about how he felt about the world in which he was born. He did want to see the world and the rest of his companions knew this also and began shifting uncomfortably in their seats awaiting their turn. The images of Mara the Seeress came immediately into their minds and they did not trust or like mind readers.
‘Be at peace people of Mesania. My skills are never abused and I do not seek dominion over you. That is the province of the dark ones of my order of which I do not belong and the greatest is destroyed. I am merely giving you some insights into your life you may never have contemplated or indeed acknowledegd. You can use the information as you will. That is of no concern to me.’
The man moved his gaze to Le Fidler who definitely did not look forward to hearing the soothsayer’s guesses.
‘No need to read my thoughts Encalla the diviner. Everyone in Salnikov knows you and everyone also knows I live only to serve my friends. Move on to the next.’
The others looked sideways at Le Fidler and he shrugged his shoulders at them and surprisingly Encalla gave a brief smile. ‘Le Fidler, you are known to us as soon as you entered the city and I do know your thoughts. You are worried this meeting will cost you money and you are trying to plan how you can escape the fee. Do not concern yourself, there is not a fee. Let us talk of deeper things.’ He looked at Le Carra and back to Le Fidler. ‘You love the woman Le Carra. You also love the one she has chosen and it churns and bubbles away inside your heart. What should you do? You know. You reject your feelings and concentrate on other things. What will you do? You are frivolous as a result. You are dangerous because you do not value your life as you should and to you death is not to be feared. You are unhappy.’
Le Fidler felt stripped naked, his faced a blanket of red at the embarrassment of his feelings for Le Carra, he had housed silently for years, suddenly being on show for all to see. If he looked, he would have seen his friends were not mocking him and rather looked with understanding, especially Le Carra who reached across and held his hand and kissed it.
‘Oh Fiddy. I’m sorry,’ she said.
Darion felt awful. He was the outsider and felt certain, as with Mara, this diviner would be unable to read him but he felt for Le Fidler. He heard them all say at one time or another they loved Le Carra and until the Encalla spoke, he thought it only an mere expression of affection. Le Fidler, who always seemed so happy, in reality masked a dreadful pain he must feel every time he looked at her and especially when she kissed and played with him. If he hadn’t arrived then who knows maybe Le Carra and Le Fidler may have ended up together. This was getting ugly.
The Encalla turned his thoughts to Le Tare who sat solidly one hand in a big fist on the table and the other on the hilt of his sword.
‘Swords are useless here Le Tare,’ he said which made Le Tare loosen his grip and place his other hand on the table.
‘Don’t waste your time with me friend of the spirit world. I killed Mara in an instant and would do the same to you if you are not discreet.’ The look on his face was so threatening the Encalla flinched and Le Tare moved his hand back to his sword ‘And do not be too sure that swords are no good here. Your spells are weak.’
Encalla merely nodded his head and thought for a little longer.
‘Le Tare you want to be the leader. You should be the leader. The question is will you be the leader. In all things you have been the general and should not the general then smoothly take control when his victory is assured? One has arrived who has usurped your authority and you also are torn. You love Le Carra also, as a father loves his daughter and you love Mesania as a king loves his realm. You are losing both to the Rok beside you. What to do great man. Your sword could solve all with a swipe of his head. Do you want this? There are decisions for you to make. I would be sleeping lightly if I was your enemy.’
Le Tare’s anger overflowed and he thumped his fists on the table. ‘You speak falsely Encalla, perhaps the swipe of my sword would solve some problems especially if I start with your neck.’
‘You can do as you please Le Tare. You are only killing the messenger not the message.’
Le Tare sat brooding in a smouldering silence as Encalla turned to Le Carra.
‘The beautiful Le Carra who holds a secret. Yes I know this secret well princess. You carry an unexpected gift for your rebellion. Will you take the realm? Your husband must be your strength and maybe he too is flawed. Will he stay at your side. Will you wake one day and he is gone? Doubts are entering your mind even as I speak.’ The seer chuckled and the others absorption in their own miseries meant they neither noticed nor cared about the derision. Their inner secrets were now exposed to their close
Finally Encalla turned to Darion whose stomach sunk in anticipation. This guy was obviously good and now he would be exposed. What would he say? Here is a man from another planet who knows nothing about any of you and as soon as he finds his companion he will do his best to try and get home or something like that. The reality is he did not know what to do when and if he found Isaac. He felt certain what he would hear from this seer would be messy.
‘Rok Darion they call you. I read you as having more secrets than the rest combined. You are a mystery to me in many ways and now I know how you defeated Mara. Her strength
lay in knowing the minds of others and she could not read yours. I can however look past your mind and speak of your deeds. You are an artist, perhaps the greatest artist who has ever been. You will marvel the world with your work and you will be an unseen ally in the times to come.’ Darion exhaled a breath he did not know he held. The Encalla’s claims were preposterous. He knew he was the most incompetent artist in creation and the thought anything he could create would have any merit was ludicrous.
The Encalla spoke again this time to the group. ‘You are on a quest to find a man who is lost and the task is worthy. Be wary. You know not what forces are gathering in the world so I will tell you of the times ahead. Your mountain will be besieged, your people will be assailed. Many will die. You will find allies where you did not expect and great evil also. Darkness is ahead and the evil we once saw in this world has returned. You know of what I speak. It is in all your tales. The ones you only utter when the nights are dark and the children are asleep. Will the beast return or was it ever real? The answer to both these questions is yes,’ thundered the Encalla. ‘It is here.’ He sat silently for a minute before looking each in the eye.
‘Your path is back to the mountain and help defend your city.’
A shudder ran through the room and each of their hearts raced. They knew what the Encalla spoke of. The Saviour destroyed it a millennium ago or so some thought. Others were not so sure and believed both the Saviour and the Beast destroyed each other in a cataclysmic battle.
‘When the moons Arean and Argil return in the sky together and are full, then all the roads will collide and the world will change. I will say no more.’
The Encalla left the room and the group sat for some time trying to contemplate what just transpired.
Le Tare broke the silence and brought them back to reality. ‘Have we not broken the shackles of the madwoman Mara and here we are fearful of the words of yet another who claims prescience. Forget the words of Encalla, he is as flawed as Mara. I will not harbour thoughts of the Beast returning. His words ring in a false peal.’
They all rose and left, each uncertain despite Le Tare’s words. They re-entered the street and noticed immediately the day waned to evening and the night lamps already began to shine in the streets. They spent the night in the tavern, much to the delight of Le Bow and Le Fidler. Le Tare however did not feel in the mood for mirth as the words of Encalla haunted him. He waited until Darion sat alone and moved next to him as he studied his mead wine.
‘What do you think of what Encalla said?’ he asked. ‘You know, about my supposed jealousy.’
Darion could see the confusion on Le Tare’s face and felt he needed to validate this somehow.
‘Well for mine he was completely wrong. He said I am a great artist and if you give me a brush and some paints I can prove him wrong in an instant however I can see there may be some truth in what he says of you, even if you deny it.’
Le Tare looked up in shock. ‘You believe this crazy old man?’
‘Look at it logically. Here you are having devoted your life to freeing your people from oppression and I come along and take half the credit. If I was you, I would have my nose out of joint.’
Surprisingly Le Tare chuckled, ‘Nose out of joint. That is very amusing. Where do you find these aphorisms? I think you are wrong Darion. I do not think you would be invidious at all if you were in my position. I think you would be accepting and understanding and hold no malice or jealousy. I am quite ashamed of my feelings because Encalla spoke true. I am annoyed at not fulfilling my rightful place in our society. It is why I came with you. I needed to prove somehow I could be your better.’
‘I am sorry Le Tare, I did not mean for any of this to happen.’
‘You misread me Darion. I am dealing with my demons and the more I contemplate, the more I see you are a great man and I a lessor one and this cannot be altered. I do defer to you as a leader.’
‘For goodness sake man, I do not want to be leader. The people don’t want me telling them what to do. They want to look to you.’ He placed a caring hand on Le Tare’s shoulder and the big man shot him an embarrassed grin.
‘We are still friends then?’ asked Le Tare.
‘We always were,’ replied Darion.
They retired to their rooms and all slept early intending to break their fast quickly and to move on. The next morning they collected their belongings and headed to the northwestern border of the city pointing back to Mesania, just as the Encalla suggested.
‘Why do we go this way?’ asked Le Tare. They noticed their direction and made a conscious decision to head south, basically to spite Encalla and the more they moved the better they felt until his thoughts disappeared out of their minds all together.
Darion began recovering his enthusiasm and felt like giving Le Carra a big hug, ignoring his usual self consciousness. He glanced at Le Fidler and decided against it now he knew Le Fidler’s true feelings. He would keep his distance and managed to catch Le Carra’s eye and she seemed to read his thoughts. Although heading away from The Encalla, they saw no need to have his premonitions display themselves unnecessarily. It would only make Le Fidler more unhappy.
As they passed the various shops and traders, they asked about Isaac, describing him as quite a bit taller than Darion, yellow curly hair and spoke in an odd accent. They also mentioned he may seem a little disorientated and when cornered could be prone to violent outbursts. Not a flattering description thought Darion although quite an accurate one. No-one they spoke to knew Isaac.
They asked directions and by mid afternoon they reached another large glass wall or another section of the same they crossed the day before, stretching as far as the eye could see in both directions. They took the southern path and eventually came to a guard house with a large, oafish looking Silverarian, in front of it, who rudely challenged the companions.
‘Where does thoust go?’ He asked in an angry drawl suggesting he had little patience.
‘We leave the city,’ said Le Fidler in an equally challenging tone causing a second guard to exit the guard house, his hand on the hilt of his sword. ‘Is that a problem for the Silver City guardsmen?’
‘Not particularly,’ said the second man who appeared to be the leader of the two as the first man stepped back and allowed him to speak. ‘We only need to ensure you do not take any portion of the city that does not belong to you.’
Darion cringed inside, he knew Le Fidler was under considerable pressure and these two were just asking for it. He did not want any bloodshed.
‘I am surprised there would be anything left worth stealing after the guardsmen had finished,’ said Le Fidler whose hand also moved to his side. The guard reached for a whistle around his neck and gave it three short toots and another larger building next to the road emptied of some thirty soldiers who surrounded Darion and his friends.
Darion could see the situation worsening. He decided to try and mediate so they would all finish the day alive.
‘Come now, we don’t want to finish the day like this do we?’ he said as he moved to the head guardsman. ‘The reputation of the Silver City Guard precedes you, although where I come from you are referred to as the ‘Elite’ guard.’
The guardsman looked to his fellows and smiled. ‘Elite guards you say, yes that name is very pleas
‘And quite understandably so,’ said Darion. ‘There are thieves everywhere,’ he said looking at Le Fidler whom he held by the elbow the whole time. ‘However, as you can see we are no thieves or vagabonds, just travellers who have lost a friend. Maybe you could help us. The guardsmen of the city are reputed to know all regarding those who travel the dusty roads of Salnikov.’
‘Well good sir we do keep our eyes wide and our ears pricked as we say in the city. Tell me of whom you seek and we may be able to assist.’
‘He was a companion of mine from a great distance away. You would notice him as he is much larger than myself with a crop of curly yellow hair which seems out of place amongst the people of this vicinity.’
The guard consulted with his men and dismissed the ones who emerged from the adjacent shack.
‘I am Hanna of the royal guardsmen and I can say confidently we have seen no-one of that description and be assured none like him have entered the city in recent times.’
‘Then that is good enough for me,’ said Darion in a resigned voice. ‘We will continue our search. Come my friends let us empty our pockets and show the Elite Guard we have not obtained items illicitly.’
‘That will not be necessary,’ said the guardsman as Darion began clearing his trouser pockets. ‘You are obviously men of honour and your word is good enough for me.’
‘Then you have it sir. We take nothing from the city other than ourselves and fond memories. Come friends, we will take our leave of these fine soldiers as they must have more important pursuits than to deal with the likes of us.’ Darion began moving past the guardsmen who made a path for him. ‘And if we could be just a little more burdensome to the Elite Guard, if you see my friend, his name is Isaac and I would be greatly in debted to you if you could send him to Mesania with word his friend Darion is searching for him.’
The guard bowed as Darion passed. ‘Be assured the message will be given Darion and good fortune on the road and be careful of the southern routes. The Tusse are abroad again, and have already challenged some of our kin. They will not hesitate to waylay a small band such as yourselves.’ He noticed Le Carra for the first time, ‘and you carry with you the most princely prize I have ever seen.’ He bowed low to Le Carra who gave him a slight tilt of her head. Darion returned the guardsman’s bow and the five passed through the gates without further hindrance.
‘Very good my darling,’ said Le Carra when they cleared the gates. ‘That was very impressive, you kissed his ego until I thought he would offer to be your personal escort for the rest of the trip.’
‘Well it would have been more fun if you let me play with him a bit,’ said Le Fidler sulkily.
‘Maybe,’ replied Darion, ‘knowing you, the fun may have escalated to something we may not have been able to handle and we don’t need the aggravation.’
‘He is right,’ said Le Tare. ‘The Silver City has left a foul taste in my mouth and I want to get away from here as soon as possible.’
They tightened their new packs and headed southwest following the sun as it disappeared in the clear afternoon sky. A slight southerly breeze chilled the air just as the guardsman promised.
‘I think we should take the guards advice about not heading south,’ said Le Bow.’I know we seem to be making Encalla’s prophecy come true but I am none too keen to run into these Tusse everyone speaks of. I thought they were destroyed. Evidently they only hid in the south and now they seem to a abroad once again.’
‘Bring them on,’ said Le Fidler. ‘I could use a good fight.’
They enjoyed a leisurely walk through the country side around Silver City and the sound of running water filled the air from both the waterfalls they had tumbled down, and the many rivers and streams fed by the mountains to their west. Around them the land changed and became more hilly with small trees appearing and the great expanses of grassland gave way to woody glens.
They moved only a few miles from the city and decided to bivouac by the side of yet another shallow stream crossing their path, a sweet smell from surrounding bushes filling the air. They washed their faces in the stream, the cold water from its trip down from the mountains refreshing them and in a few months they sensed the stream would be covered in icy and snow as the Niflhiem crept north for the winter.
They unhooked their straps and lay out a dinner of cold meats and water from the stream when Le Tare jumped to his feet, quickly followed by Le Fidler both men standing rigid as they smelt the air.
‘Something is here,’ said Le Tare drawing his sword. ‘I do not know this smell. It is all around us.’ Instinctively the others also drew their swords including Darion who held his clumsily, his heart racing and the adrenaline gushing through his body.
Le Bow and Darion instinctively moved next to Le Carra and then they all stood rigid listening for any sounds. The bushes and woodlands around them stirring only slightly from a cool zephyr and not another sound could be heard except Le Tare’s nostrils flaring again and again as he searched the air with his nose. After a minute, which seemed an hour to Darion, Le Tare relaxed the grip on his sword and sat back down looking every now and again over his shoulder and then returning to his meal. The rest of the group lost their appetite and slowly prowled the perimeter of the little clearing trying to search between the rocks and trees blocking the horizon. Le Tare seemed to have forgotten the incident altogether until they all sat down next to him.
‘Be aware. We could be fighting at nightfall.’ He said this in such a calm manner, the others initially did not understand the importance of what he suggested. However his next comments left no room for interpretation.
‘All intelligent armies attack when they have the greatest advantage and in the evening when the light fails and the enemy is unfamiliar with the terrain, this is the best time to attack. We should eat and gain strength because it could be a long night.’ He kept chewing as the others looked worriedly at each other.
‘I don’t mind telling you I feel much the same as Le Fidler here.’ Continued Le Tare. ‘I think I would like to crack some heads. It would calm me down significantly I am sure.’ He ripped another slash of meat with his teeth.
‘And what exactly are we to expect at dusk Le Tare, I may need a little more preparation than yourself. I like to know what I am fighting before it comes,’ said Le Fidler.
‘Did you not listening Fiddy? The old men in the city spoke of them, as has the Encalla and now the keepers of the gates of Silver City. We are pursued by Tusse of this there is no doubt. There is a smell in the air I have not encountered before and I can only conclude that it is these creatures.’
‘I am glad you are so calm,’ said Le Fidler. ‘However I for one would like you to give us a bit of information on how I can fight these things. It may help.’
The others listened hard to Le Tare watching him wrestle with a long strip of meat clinging to the bone he chewed. Darion felt like ripping the meat from his mouth and hurling it away. Le Tare seemed completely at ease while the rest of them felt a rising fear.
‘I can only tell you what I have heard. The Tusse are simians, bipeds like us, and nomadic. They live only to kill and take everything they can from the bodies of the dead. They have no need of wealth, so your money is safe Le Fidler, and they will eat every part of you save the teeth and these they make into jewellery for their women.
They will attack in a pack and use their numbers to win the battle however when alone they will only observe. It is their scouting party who just saw us. I am guessing there were only a few of their kind and they have sent some back to fetch more of their kin. They wear only cloths around their waists to cover their vitals and they show their bare and hairy chests where they pump their muscles and beat on them with their fists making a thud that is their ch
‘Is that all?’ said Le Fidler nervously.
‘Oh yes I forgot to mention they absolutely hate us and even if they are not hungry will kill us for their sport.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t forget to tell us that. What in the gods names are we supposed to do?’
Le Bow who said nothing spoke up.
‘We kill them Fiddy. We draw our swords and we fight until we cannot fight anymore and the Tusse will bow to us.’
They all looked at Le Bow with surprise, Darion especially. He saw his friend differently. He now knew Le Carra and he were not true brother and sister but here Le Bow stood, strong and straight with his hand on the hilt of his sword and to Darion he looked as if he were a prince leading a thousand men into battle. He felt a thrill in his own stomach and drew his own sword along with the others.
Le Tare smiled grimly at each of them as he signalled them all to wait while he did some scouting of his own. After a few minutes he came back and to the relief of Darion at least, his sword remained safely in its scabbard.
‘I can see no sign of them. I guess they will wait until late tonight. We need to strategise.’ He jogged to a slight hill and surveyed what he could of the region as the light dimmed. ‘We are too far from the city to return quickly so we need to find some high ground with some shelter. If we are caught on the ground it will be much more difficult. Over there is a crop of trees crowning a tor. If we can get there we will have a good view of the surrounds and will be able to see the enemy as he comes.’ He could see the worried look on Le Carra’s face and he came to her side. ‘Fear not little Le Carra, we will protect. I cannot however mask the truth. There will be a fight before the morrow, it will be bloody and it is not certain we will prevail.’
She smiled weakly and took Darion’s hand as they moved briskly to the distant hill a good hours march ahead. As far as Darion knew, Le Tare’s battle plan appeared as sound as any he could conjure. Fighting appeared inevitable so it may as well be on their terms and not these Tusse. He felt the hair on the back of his head grow rigid and a chill sweep over him as he glanced quickly over his shoulder.
‘They are coming,’ he heard Le Bow cry without fear in his voice, seeming happy he could actually see the enemy. ‘Its seems they know nothing about waiting for complete darkness to attack Le Tare.’
At first Darion could not discern anything clearly, rather he saw a cloud of dust rise from the spot they sat at an hour before. Slowly as the dust came closer he could make out shapes. Whatever existed under the dust definitely followed them and in no orderly fashion. He likened it to the frenzied stampedes of zebras when the lion leapt into the mob. Bodies seemed to be everywhere weaving in and out of trees and sometimes swinging from them and when they hit the ground they travelled at a fantastic rate leaping from powerful hind legs and sprinting high from their front legs. At the pace they travelled, the Tusse would overtake them in about fifteen minutes.
From an unseen signal the group sprinted faster and Darion clutched Le Carra’s hand as she ran with him, her pace increasing and soon she began dragging him along rather than then other way around.
Even through the panic of fleeing for their lives, Le Fidler managed to see the humorous side.
‘Who is rescuing who here?’ he said jogging effortlessly beside him. ‘If you help her any more Darion the Tusse will be thanking you for providing a ready made dinner.’
Darion didn’t have the breath to reply, the lactic acid burning his legs and his lungs straining for air. Le Carra pulled him along and soon they stood at the foot of the hill Le Tare espied. ‘One last effort,’ he called as he sprinted up a small overgrown path to the crest.
Darion was so spent he did not think he could lift his sword let alone fight as he collapsed at the apex of the hill his breaths coming in large gulps as he tried to recover. He made a mental note to start a fitness program if he survived. The others drew their swords and took posts on each of the compass points, calling to each other the status of the nearest threats. With the precision of hardened soldiers the men fell into position. Years of living in a regimented life meant they could quickly assess danger decide to escape or find the best way to combat it. After a few minutes Darion rose to his knees. ‘What can I do?’ He asked through heavy breaths.
‘Try to stay alive and stab anything coming over the rise behind you,’ said Le Tare who, now battle returned, led the group confidently.
Darion turned around and saw they had given him the side with the least chance of assault. The eastern side he guarded dropped sharply a hundred feet onto shard like outcrops of rocks and he thought the chance of anything climbing that way was negligible. His friends had decided to move him out of the way. Without saying anything they left Le Carra in the middle of the circle for maximum protection and although he felt deathly tired he could not remember this actually being verbalised.
His sword felt heavy in his hand and he wished he had been given a smaller knife or perhaps a gun. He was not sure even if presented with the opportunity he would have the nerve to kill something no matter how threatening or repugnant it may be.
An eerie silence filled the whole hill. He tried to pierce the middle distance and he could see no sign of anything coming their way. He turned and moved slightly towards Le Bow’s northern position and he could see the concentration on his friend’s face. He opened his mouth to speak when he learned his first lesson about warfare.
He assumed the area he guarded would be difficult if not impossible to breach so he began moving towards the rest of the group. Unknown to him the Tusse gathered under the shadow of a large outcrops of rocks forming a shelf near the base of the cliff. The Tusse were good climbers and possessed some strategy and an ability to work together when they desired. They decided the cliff would be the area where they would be least expected and they were right. Darion drifted well away from the cliff face and like ants, the Tusse began crawling up the rock face, leaping over the edge in large numbers. Le Carra noticed the breach first and let out a warning scream.. Immediately the others swung around and bounded towards the threat, leaving their own patch deserted.
Darion saw what he had done. If he merely stayed alert and did as he was told, they would never have been caught unawares. Le Tare screamed orders and the others reacted instantly. They formed a smaller circle around Le Carra their weapons facing out which allowing them to protect each others backs and still leaving themselves enough room to swing. Le Fidler opted for a curved and wicked looking cutlass and in the other hand he held long knife gleaming with its keenness.
Darion joined their ranks and had a clear view of his first Tusse. It stood about five and a half feet tall, covered in a dark curly hair separating only enough to allow a head to show through. Its arms were free from hair and they bulged impressively with taught muscles stretching over thin skin. Their heads looked primeval, with broad jaws and wide foreheads with little hair on the crown. They waved swords dangerously and Darion noticed straight away no two swords were alike. They armed themselves with whatever they found from their killing raids rather than from a formal stores or forges. As Le Tare said, they killed and took what they needed, left the ravished skeleton of the homes and people behind them. As such they would never have a homogenous army, only one made out of the refuse of whoever or whatever they conquered. The swords were dark with rust and some looked old and decrepit. Darion did not like the idea of getting even scratched by one of them as he felt sure that they would be full of disease.
&
‘On my command we charge,’ said Le Tare. ‘You fight any of the creatures falling into your peripheral vision. Do not look outside this arc as it will upset the balance of our defence. We will charge them before their reinforcements arrive then retreat back into our circle. On my command. Go.’
Le Tare did not wait for consultation, leaders of men in battle never do. He decided a course of action while under enemy fire and executed it knowing perfectly well his men would do exactly as he said without hesitation. Darion charged ahead waving his sword clumsily around his head screaming as he ran. The Tusse in front of him stepped to one side and let him pass and then quickly dived pass him and into the middle of the cell of defenders. Darion learned his second lesson in warfare, do not over commit. He turned quickly and saw Le Tare cleave the head off one of the Tusse and swing back in time to take the head off one Darion missed. With a smoothness contrary to his huge frame, he efficiently brought his sword against another Tusse who thought he could catch Le Tare off guard. It died before it hit the ground, a sunburst of blood filling the air and nostrils around them.
Another larger Tusse rose over the edge of the hill along with a cortege of other Tusse. It did not charge the battle and only stood and observed. It looked to be the leader and it enjoyed the battle in front of it.
Le Fidler broke his cutlass on the head of one Tusse who got too close and then speared a second with the broken shard, leaving the sword sticking out of the Tusse’s gut. Pulling a small blade from his belt he resorted to close in knife work. He spun stabbing and slashing at the attackers the others now avoiding him to find weaker prey.
Le Tare’s sword resisted all of the Tusse attacks. They had rarely seen such strength in an enemy before. He simply walked straight ahead literally cleaving limbs and heads off anything entering his strike zone. Eventually the Tusse decided to leave him as well.
The numbers on the northern side grew dangerously as Le Bow fielded the bulk of the enemy who deserted Le Fidler and Le Tare. His fighting style differed slightly from the rest, not the rough, frenetic thrust and lunge of Le Fidler or the power of Le Tare. His style involved a more considered, structured attack, as it needed to be, when he is outnumbered twenty to one. He sliced at one of the Tusse to form a barricade delaying as many as possible from getting to him. The longer it took for a Tusse to jump over a dead comrade or walk around it gave Le Bow a second more to fight another. He did this with a the grace and ease of a dancer. Tusse dropped at his feet and he would skip to its side and drop another until he formed a wall of dead bodies around him acting like a bridge the others needed to climb.
Eventually even the Tusse’s small simian brain decided this target also was too formidable and so they turned to the last corner to test its strength. Darion saw the events unfold as if in slow motion. The tide of the battle slowly turned his way, as the sea of monsters moved towards him. He held his own against the enemy at present based only on his superior reach. Any ideas he housed about not killing any of these creatures disappeared once he got close to them. They had only murder on their brutal faces and it became obvious there would be no parlaying or clemency. They wished him dead and his own natural bestial feelings from a million years of latent genetics came to the fore and he had two choices, the most basic of human emotion. Fight or flight. He could not flee so he had to fight these creatures. His longer reach and strength held them at bay although after a few minutes of swinging and parrying he began to weaken while the battle hardened Tusse continued to attack. With his strength waning he knew he could only last for a few more minutes. They would break down his feeble defences and kill him. He accepted this as a matter of fact and felt disappointed he would not be able to show Le Carra to Isaac. Funny how the mind worked he thought to himself as he blocked another Tusse strike and managed to catch the beast on the side of its head with his sword dropping it to the ground. Another leapt over it and then another and soon Darion had three and then four of the creatures bearing down on him, a victory look in their eyes he knew was warranted.
Darion decided he would fight to the end so at least he would have some dignity. A smaller Tusse snuck under his guard and he only just deflected its strike when he saw a sword flying towards his head with no way of stopping it. He closed his eyes and waited for the impact when an clash of metal made him open them again and he saw Le Tare next to him slicing and decapitating everything around him. The Tusse retreated and Darion saw their leader, who to this point only observed the carnage, turn and disappear over the rise. The decimated remains of the Tusse followed and a minute later all that remained on the tor were the writhing bodies of the injured and low moans of pain. The view shocked them. Scores of bodies lay all around them. Deep crimson blood seeped and oozed out of deadly cuts and ran away into the soil making the ground around them damp and sticky. Already large blowflies gathered on the bodies, injecting their eggs into the wounds and carrion birds circled overhead. The hill changed from green expanse to a macabre theatre of death and misery.
Darion dropped to his knees and retched uncontrollably while the others began moving amongst the bodies, kicking the sides first to see if they were alive and if so they darted their swords through the hearts of the enemy thus humanely ending their pain. After a few minutes the moans ceased, as the last of the Tusse died leaving the hill silent and morgue like.
Darion wiped his mouth on his sleeve, took a long draught from his water flask and moved to the edge of the hill and stared after the retreating Tusse who already had reached the distant horizon. Although the entire battle lasted only a few minutes, he knew it would remain with him forever.
‘What a waste of life,’ he muttered under his breath as he kicked a stone down the tor in frustration.
‘Do not be too worried about the Tusse Darion,’ said Le Tare who moved beside him. ‘They would not have given you any quarter and murdered you where you stood without blinking. They only kill. That is what they do.’
Darion did not reply. He felt a deep sense of guilt washing through his psyche. Killing went against everything he believed in. He marched in the streets protesting against such violence back home and now he perpetrated the same violence he abhorred on others. Suddenly a realisation dawned on him he never fully appreciated before and he thought he understood better the plight of the soldier. They did what they needed to for survival. They destroyed an enemy intent on destroying them and that is the nature of the survival of the fittest, the oldest credo in the human experience.
He suddenly remembered Le Carra and with a rush he turned to ensure she was uninjured. He could not remember seeing her at all in the last few minutes except when they first formed their ring around her. In the confusion he forgot her. The clearing at the top of the hill was small and could be thoroughly searched in a few seconds and to his shock he could not see her anywhere. ‘Le Carra where are you?’ He shouts were so violent and desperate it immediately shook the others into realisation. They turned in a flurry and walked, jogged and then ran around the clearing, pushing bodies over and lifting the dead carcasses off one another searching for their princess.
‘She is nowhere,’ said Le Bow frantically. ‘I lost sight of her only for an instant . If she is hurt I could not live. Le Carra, Le Carra.’ Le Bow mindlessly ran around the hill, down one side and circling for a bit and then rushing over the top and down another side. All four men became crazed with panic. They ripped small trees and scrubs out of the ground, and threw the Tusse over the cliff one by one until the area was clear of everything except the four of them. No living thing was left and they flung themselves to the ground crying and dashing their fists against the ground.
‘The Tusse have taken her,’ screamed Le Fidler. ‘It is the only possible an
Le Fidler sprinted to the edge of the hill, Le Bow right next to him, tears running freely down his face, Darion went to join them when Le Tare’s huge hands grabbed them all by their collars and flung them roughly to the ground. They lay there stunned for a moment as Le Tare wiped the blood from his sword on a rag in his spare hand.
‘What are you doing? We must leave immediately,’ cried Le Bow.
‘Which way will you look?’ said Le Tare and before they answered he continued. ‘And how will you catch them? Where do they go and how fast do they travel? Do they sleep and set watches or run with endless energy? How many are there? What is their purpose? Why do they kidnap, they never have before? Why do they burden themselves with a parcel? Did it not seem strange to you one minute they are in full attack and with their numbers they would eventually defeat us and the next minute they have beaten a very hasty retreat? It made no sense to me at the time though now I see they came on us for the single purpose of stealing our most precious possession. They will not kill her, although I agree there are worse things than death and they do not keep human trophies. No. They were charged with this deed and believe themselves successful. If you run off without a plan then we will most assuredly never find our Le Carra. Think men if only for a second.’
Darion stood next to the prostrate Le Bow and he helped him to his feet and Le Fidler joined him wiping his own tears from his face.
‘Lead us Le Tare. We must find these creatures and woe to them when we do.’ Said Le Fidler firmly.
Le Tare took them to the edge of the hill and they craned their necks towards to western horizon, the late afternoon sun spreading its light through the clouds as the land became lost in a deepening dark.
‘See the dust the rabble leave. It is a path we can follow. There must be many hundreds of them to leave such a storm of dirt and dust seen from a distance such as this. Notice the path they take is not true south but west. I know not where they are headed. They move faster than us so we must move smarter. We already know the Niflheim is their home even though they have become more adventurous recently. They will surely return to where they are safest. We must get there before them. I think they start west to confuse us and intend to follow the river and somehow move south to the Niflheim. We will risk the Silver Rapids and use the Silver Streak thereby driving straight into the heart of the Niflheim. They must leave the banks of the river at some point and before they reach the wide lake of Crystal Waters south of us. If we find a vessel we may overtake them by water. The river will have many for sale.’
‘And if not we will borrow one,’ said Le Fidler without humour. ‘But how do you know the region?’
Le Tare smiled grimly. ‘It is Le Bow here who piqued my interest in geography many years ago with his oft times dreaming and fantasising about the wondrous world abroad. I began collecting maps of the regions known to us and found myself also with wandering feet. It is why I came, to see the world before the serious business of government made it impossible for me. We were never going to be lost in this land my friends. I would not have permitted it.’
‘Then why do they not head south immediately? It would seem the logical course if they wanted to reach their homelands quickly,’ said Le Bow.
‘I do not know. We must make our best guess however and for Le Carra’s sake it best be correct.’
The men tightened their packs to their shoulders, cleaning their swords with the filthy rags laying around the tor, most of which had fallen from the dead carcasses of the Tusse they killed. They moved their longer swords from their sides to their backs, locking them against their shoulders with leather strips. It would mean it would take time to draw them in an emergency but they had to travel quickly and could not afford to have five pounds of metal jiggling and bouncing at their sides. They looked west and the dying sun cast a shadow over the line of a river bubbling southwards spurning them into action. In single file they leapt off the hill, sprinting to the river’s shore.
They travelled silently, each with his own worries, their breath heavy forcing them to stop regularly to recover and set their bearings. They could see the river closer at each stop although it now disappeared behind a line of forest. With the fall of evening they could only guess the distance.
‘The moons will rise late at this time of the year,’ said Le Tare. ‘We must sleep in the early hours of the evening and begin again when the moons are giving off enough reflected light for us to see and this way we can probably travel around eighteen hours in any day and hopefully will be enough to reach the shoreline this night.’
After a quick feed from their diminishing provisions they dropped straight to sleep. Le Tare volunteering to stay awake as a sentry until his head dropped to his chest and he slept.
Darion woke as the sun began licking at his eyelids, its warmth still powerful even in the southern climates. His knees creaked as he rose and he rubbed his side where a large tree root had been wedged all night, leaving a deep hole and a cramped muscle he worked out with his knuckle. It took only a few moments for him to realise what happened.
‘Quickly everyone, wake up, it is morning, we slept through.’ He rushed around their campsite urgently trying to shoulder his sword and pack while running and kicking dirt in his friend’s faces as they also leapt to their feet annoyed and ashamed at their indolence.
Le Tare searched the horizon ahead and could not see far due to the line of trees blocking the view both north and south.
‘The river is there,’ he said as he pointed to some trees not more than fifty feet ahead of them. ‘Had we continued we would likely have fallen in and anything could have happened. It may have been fortuitous that we slept.’
‘And now they are miles in front of us,’ said Le Fidler with despair.
‘We do not know that Fiddy, they too must rest if they are of flesh and blood. The optimistic side of me says we are no better or worse off than before. We will not however get a second chance. We must find a boat.’
The Silver Streak, a voluminous river, bisected the western side of Salnikov for two thousand miles from north to south, with the Silver City as its main feature. Along its route many trade settlements formed and the river became the main source of commerce for any who ply crops and merchandise in this part of the world. No sooner did the troop reached the water’s edge than they found a flotilla of craft of all shapes and sizes moored along the banks or drifting seawards laden with cargo. The falls could be heard all around them and as they studied the river closer, they could see it had many tributaries allowing mariners to flow past the rapids in many different places. It was the oddest looking water course Darion had ever seen. He would hate to think what would happen if by accident you took the wrong turn as no doubt the vessels would be smashed beyond recognition along with any passengers, as the water pounded over the shallow submerged rocks. The din from the water forced them to speak quite loudly to be heard.
‘Which one should we take?’ yelled Le Bow as he wiped a thin line of water mist off his forehead.
Le Tare looked for something along the shoreline and he went from boat to boat as if he knew exactly what he sought. Le Bow called to Le Fidler.
‘What is he doing? He has never even been in a boat and here he is looking like he can tell the difference between any two. Lets just grab one, give the owner some money and get going.’
Le Tare walked to a older man who worked on some nets with a large needle and rope thread and he barely looked up as Le Tare spoke to him.
‘We look for passage for myself and my three companions. Are you available?’
The man merely grunted a reply that meant neither yes or no. ‘I repeat we need passage and we are willing to pay well for your services,’ persisted Le Tare.
Le Fidler smiled for the first time since they left the hill and nudged Darion in the side. ‘Watch this, Le Tare is getting an
‘I know you are busy good sir,’ said Le Tare in an over exaggerated tone, ‘my friends and I are also in a hurry. If you cannot help can you show me others that will.’ He said this last bit so all the ship wrights and mariners around now noticed the conversation.
The man finally looked up and with a scornful voice dismissed Le Tare. ‘I do not hire myself out to scum such as you. Be gone or I will take my boot to you.’ He lowered his head and continued sewing as Le Tare walked slowly towards him.
‘Oh this will be great,’ said Le Fidler eagerly.
Le Tare placed his face only inches from the sailors. ‘I think you might need a lesson in good manners.’
Before he could finish the sailor tried to push up at Le Tare’s chin with the large needle and if he moved slightly faster, would have caught Le Tare squarely and at the very least would have punctured his jaw and mouth. As if expecting the attack Le Tare dodged the strike, grabbing the man by his collar, lifting him high in the air and throwing him into his boat, crashing oars and nets into the water. The man rose again and this time Le Tare did not give him any opportunity. He slipped his huge hand around the man’s neck and again lifted him into the air, held him very briefly and hurled him into the shallows of the water onto a large and uncomfortable looking rock. The man’s air swooshed out of his lungs and he lay half conscious. Le Tare walked to his boat and drove his sword through its bottom and watched as water bubbled through its hull until it sank half in and half out of the water with the remainder of its contents drifting down the river.
‘Now,’ said Le Tare to the gathering crowd. ‘My friends and I need a vessel and we will pay well for the service. Who here will aid us or do I have to be insistent.’
Three men immediately rushed forward and began espousing the virtues of their respective boats and soon all the boatmen began squabbling over who would be the one to help. While they argued amongst themselves Le Tare came back to the group.
‘Let them do the haggling for us while we prepare our gear. Le Fidler, have some money ready to pay them, we want to be gone as soon as possible.’
‘And who is going to direct this thing?’ he said.
‘Why Darion of course, he is the one who has lived near the ocean. Isn’t that right?’
Darion took a large gulp of air although in this matter he did have some knowledge but only in small sabot class yachts and he did not know how much advantage that would be. A raging river is different than the subterranean stream from a few days ago or the creeks and lakes at home. They intended to head down stream, and he decided it couldn’t be too difficult so he enthusiastically proclaimed he knew all about boats, currents and winds and they should leave as soon as possible.
They paid a youngish looking man and his father what they thought would constitute a modest price for the vessel and explained clearly they would not be returning the boat back up stream and even so, the two men accepted the money eagerly which Darion thought a little strange. If this vessel was the only asset these men possessed, then they sold it a bit too eagerly for Darion’s liking. They may think they could recover their craft one night when the troop slept. He told Le Tare of his concerns and Le Tare also noticed their eagerness to sell.
‘We will be sailing without a break Darion so they cannot catch us and if they find their boat when we have exhausted our use of it then they are welcome to it.’
‘Well I think we should be wary anyway?’ said Darion. ‘We have just taken all they have and not for a lot of money it seemed a little too easy.’
They boarded the boat and took an oar each, the men clumsily tried pushing off from the shore but their weight lodged the vessel deep in the muddy banks. The sailors around them gathered and took great pleasure watching the novices.
Darion urged everyone out of the boat and pushed it off from the shore and one by one they embarked with Darion lastly giving a final shove and leaping into the stern. He took hold of the tiller.
‘We need to have two rowing and me steering and one of us in the bow searching for shallow waters where we may run aground,’ he said.
‘How do we guess this?’ asked Le Bow who looked dubiously over the edge.
‘The water is deep here because it travels slowly. As it gets shallower it tends to quicken. I have tied a stone to a piece of rope and if we think it is getting too shallow I will get you to throw the line into the water at intervals and measure the depth of the water and that way we should always find the deeper water.’
The did as Darion asked and believed they were perfectly safe under his guidance. Darion did not feel as confident and after only a few minutes, he exhausted his knowledge of boats and rivers. He kept his hand on the tiller and tried to find the deepest waters and along with the current pulling them south and the strong rowing arms of Le Fidler and Le Tare, they made considerable headway.
‘The great lake called Crystal Waters is fifty leagues ahead of us and it is here we will search for the south eastern coast and disembark. We will look for signs of an army travelling at speed and come upon them like thunder and take back our Le Carra. Easy.’
The others nodded their agreement. Even Darion who had no better plan, wanted to exact some revenge on the Tusse for taking Le Carra. He trusted the advice of Le Tare. It made no sense for the Tusse to kidnap Le Carra just to kill her, there must be a more sinister reason and one he swore he would find when he caught them.
The men continued to paddle and slowly they travelled the length of the Silver Streak, not stopping for sleep and rotating the turns on the oars. At Le Tare’s orders they stayed close to the eastern side of the river so they could watch the water’s edge and the surrounding flat lands for any sign of the enemy. The river bank gave no clear sign of any Tusse as they continued their sail south, although the trees around the river banks meant they could not see far.
They travelled solidly for the rest of the day and night and by next morning they estimated they had travelled over twenty leagues and while the progress was good the men were exhausted. After a few hours the water suddenly gained speed and Darion began losing control of the tiller. He forced the little boat to the side of the river and the men disembarked and surveyed the water ahead.
‘What do you think?’ asked Le Bow.
Darion could not really work out what could be happening. The river here actually widened and the water pace quickened. Not the bubbling of rapids, moreso glass like and very quick. He could only think someone at some stage built a weir across the river. He threw some rocks as far as he could and saw the water was extremely shallow across the width of the river and downstream for what looked like a few hundred yards. With their deep hulled boat the weir could not be sailed across. It was here the urgent sale of the boat was clear to him. Now he thought about it, by far the largest contingent of the vessels they saw further up the river were flat bottomed pontoons with very few deep hulled boats such as theirs. None of the deep vessels could travel across this part of the river.
‘Well they knew what they were doing when they sold us the boat,’ he said. ‘It is useless with such a deep keel. Let’s hope we have travelled far enough south to be ahead of the Tusse.’
They walked up the shallow banks and onto the plains to the east of the river and from here they could see many miles both north and south, however nothing other than a few crops of trees could be seen.
Le Tare walked alone down stream and soon returned.
‘A man could walk across this levy could he not?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘I am guessing the Tusse crossed at this very spot come look to the shore down here.’
They followed Le Tare’s lead and soon they came across hundreds of muddied footprints leading down from the eastern shore to the west across the weir.
They took a few steps into the river and while the water rushed over their feet, it could easily be crossed and they found they could walk knee deep
‘The markings look quite fresh,’ said Le Fidler. ‘The sun has not had time to dry any of the shore. I would guess they passed some three hours ago at least and so likely during the night.’
As they followed the trail of water the Tusse dragged from the river, they saw instead of moving south as they expected, the tracks actually meandered north again and disappeared into the distance. They crossed the weir again to gather their provisions from their boat and set off after the Tusse with a renewed vigour. Their walk turned into a jog and eventually they trotted at a steady pace, not enough to keep them out of breath and fast enough so they could maintain their speed for long periods before they needed to rest.
The sun set a third time since the battle on the tor and they continued their march now knowing Silver City would be the only logical place the Tusse could be headed. The men stopped behind a hedge of bushes protecting them from sight and they discussed their options.
‘They are too numerous to enter the city although I am certain it is there they are heading. They will either try to cross the Land bridge over the rapids or there may very well be another of these levies somewhere north. I think I have a feeling about this. I know whom they seek.’
‘The Encalla,’ said Le Bow. ‘He was the only one who knew of Le Carra. He alone knew who she was and what our plans were, it could only be he.’
‘Oh we will pay him a visit that’s for sure,’ said Le Tare, ‘and he better hope his Tusse guard him well.’
The troop travelled with a greater urgency and for two days they followed the clear imprints of the Tusse army. They passed, on the other side of the river, the moorings where they purchased the boat Le Fidler in particular eager to visit the sailors but they could not afford the time.
As they expected there was another weir a few miles ahead and again the Tusse crossed aiming for the gates of Silver City. Le Tare led the march and as they reached a line of bracken he threw himself to the ground, waving the others to join him as he pointed ahead, motioning with one finger for silence.
Darion tried to peek through the bushes when Le Tare quickly grabbed him by the hair, dragging him back out of site with one hand clasped over Darion’s mouth. He hit the ground annoyed.
‘What was that for?’ he whispered when Le Tare removed his hand.
Le Tare ignored him and spoke softly to the others who scattered silently into the grass and bush around them.
‘We have found the Tusse and we don’t want them to find us. They are more animal than us and have excellent vision and even more so, they have a heightened sense of smell just as some of our domestic animals have. Here smear this on your face and arms, I collected it back at the rivers edge.’
In a sack, Le Tare had collected some of the mud lining the river and proceeded to cover all his exposed skin as well as rubbing a large portion on the fabric of his clothes. Darion followed his lead and soon he resembled some type of ancient tribesman from Borneo, becoming animal-like himself so he could fight the animals who took Le Carra. He felt every nerve ending in his body and the hairs on his arms prickling and stabbing through the mud. As he became more like his prey he began to think in a more feral way.
They could now look through the gaps in the bushes and could clearly see the Tusse army a short way ahead. The enemy strayed casually in and out of clumps of trees, hundreds of them chittering to each other in high pitched squeals and and low groans, rarely staying in any sort of file or pattern and curiously not moving any closer to the city. Their meanderings always seemed to centre around a large cart sitting in the middle of a clearing. It looked like none of the Tusse wanted to leave the wagon’s vicinity and if one occasionally attempted to enter, a group of half a dozen Tusse whom Darion assumed to be leaders or at the very least assigned guards, beat them back viciously.
Le Tare also studied the cart and made subtle bird noises Darion could hear answered from across the glade. The Tusse had stopped at a spot a few miles from the gates of Silver City and well hidden from view among the trees and bushes.
Darion was eager to attack however Le Tare did not move, only staring at his enemy for hours on end. The sun began setting when abruptly the cart and a dozen of the larger Tusse moved towards the city. With a few hundred Tusse still chattering in and out of the trees, the men could not follow immediately. The whole time Le Tare did not say a word and remained focused on the Tusse while next to him Darion’s stress made him fidget and sweat.
‘When will we attack?’ He whispered to Le Tare who dismissed him with an upraised palm. The sun had almost set and with its last rays they saw the remainder of the Tusse begin to move, this time straight back towards them. They could only assume the path ahead was blocked or some other change in plan prevented them further passage. As some of the Tusse passed they could now clearly see a group of several more wagons coming from the direction of the city and for the moment their spirits lifted as they hoped Le Carra was among them.
Le Tare decided in his own mind to attack the Tusse and try to reach the carts before the Tusse had time to group for an attack and then head as fast as he could back to the city gates. If their luck held they might survive although he knew the Tusse could out run them. He would rely heavily on the element of surprise. He could not afford the luxury of prudence when every second could mean pain and torture for Le Carra.
As the first of the Tusse came within striking distance, Le Tare lashed out like a darting snake, dragging the unsuspecting beast into the bushes with his hand covering a mouth full of razor teeth. It wiggled and scratched until Le Tare stabbed it hard in the neck dropping it to the ground silently. He did this again and again always taking the straggler until he had quite a large pile of dead Tusse around him. Whether their thoughts were otherwise occupied Darion could not tell but the Tusse did not notice several of their numbers missing. Darion thought at this rate Le Tare could defeat the army on his own but it would take too long. They needed to do something more urgent when a commotion began across the far side of the Tusse contingent. Shouts and screams of pain filled the night air along with a blast of fire whipping one of the larger trees into a red ball, lighting the whole region, showing hundreds of Tusse scattering in different directions. Another blast rocked the south and again the Tusse changed direction and much to Darion’s dismay began heading directly for him. ‘Come,’ said Le Tare dragging Darion by the shoulder.
Darion nearly tripped over a brown flask Le Tare placed against the tree nearest them and he saw it had a type of wick made out of a brown poultice Le Tare lit with a tinder box. The yellow flame licked along the line and all of a sudden raced towards the flask. Darion did not know exactly what the flask contained however from recent experience he knew it would be wise not to be anywhere near it remembering the other two explosions. A largish Tusse bolted past him nearly knocking him off his feet as it looked with wild eyes over its shoulder at the fire behind it when the Le Tare’s cocktail exploded in its face killing it instantly and sending a plume of smoke, fire and timber shrapnel across the ground. Le Tare flung Darion to the dirt a split second before the blast and all of the carnage seemed to pass a few inches above his head. When he looked up he could not see any of the Tusse and the wagons stood alone in the middle of the ring of fire. The others arrived from nearby and they all headed for the wagons.
‘What was that made of?’ asked Darion as he also ran to the carts.
‘While you sang songs, Le Bow and myself made some weapons we thought would be useful,’ said Le Tare. ‘We have some knowledge of incendiary devices, but I will explain later, first Le Carra must be rescued and we must be quick.’ The men rushed to the cart and struggled to release the straps covering the nearest wagon. They cut the ropes and threw back one side and let out a startled yelp as the head of a young girl not more than three years old popped out, her hair a tangled mess and her clothes mer
The men looked at each other and decided wordlessly they needed to get these children away from here as soon as possible.
‘We need cover,’ said Le Fidler. ‘The Tusse will return for their meals as soon as they realise our ruse. We must make for the city.’
‘We will never get their in time,’ said Le Bow. ‘I hear them already.’
A Tusse burst amongst them and Le Fidler drove a knife into its belly before it took a step further and its scream seemed to put off any of the others from attacking.
‘We have a few more minutes,’ said Le Tare. ‘They wait for all of their numbers.’
They circled the wagons as best they could pointing the back to each other to give as much protection to the children as possible. ‘We may lose the fight men but I will take a terrible toll on these Tusse. Think of these children as you fight and may it give your arm a greater power,’ said an enraged Le Tare whose look alone could have smitten a dozen of the beasts in a flash.
Darion drew his sword and the horrors of thinking of what the Tusse would do to the infants and Le Carra steeled his soul. He would also fight to the death and damn everything. He looked into the dimness ahead and he could see yellow eyes appear at the edge of his vision. First one pair and then several and soon the whole periphery filled with a mass of eyes all bobbing and jumping in front of him. The light from the flame engulfed trees gave the whole scenery a macabre look from some distant horror tale.
He tightened his grip on his sword and without warning, the Tusse as one let out a blood curdling scream freezing their blood. Darion waited for the inevitable attack however nothing happened. The eyes around him dimmed and the chattering ceased completely.
A shadow appeared in front of him in the middle of the glade from which issued a rasping voice, creaking out of an invisible mouth. ‘We will give you some quarter today if you return our property immediately.’
From behind Darion he saw Le Tare also walk into the yellow glow of the fire and stand imperiously with one hand on his sword and the other on his hip.
‘You try to parley Tusse, that is not your way, has someone tried to teach you some courtesy lately.’
The Tusse flinched at the memory of the carnage Le Tare inflicted on them atop the tor.
‘This is the last warning. Deliver our prizes or suffer.’
‘And I tell you Tusse to heed Le Tare of Mesania. You will be the first one dead in this battle and while your animals may prevail over us you will never see it.’ He drew his sword and pointed it at the Tusse who stood a dozen feet away. The Tusse King knew Le Tare would strike and it would be a very close thing as to whether he could escape. He looked slyly around him and without warning threw a large knife at Le Tare’s throat and instantly disappeared Le Tare easily deflecting the blade with a lightning whip of his sword.
As if from a prearranged signal the bushes emptied and the Tusse army rushed towards the group like a flock of startled birds. The Tusse had little in the way of strategy relying confidently on their numbers to prevail and seemingly willing to sacrifice an inordinate number of their kind for victory. They were a rabble although one with a single purpose. The survival of the whole out weighed the needs of the individual. Darion feared this pride mentality would be enough for the Tusse to destroy them all.
Although heavily out numbered Darion still felt more confident than when he fought on the tor. He did not know whether his courage or his panic gave him strength but the sword felt firmer and more familiar. He managed to wave it dangerously enough that he nicked quite a few of the rampaging Tusse and even managed to drive them back a few feet. The others fared a great deal better. Le Tare was a blur of energy, driving and slashing his heavy broadsword through the air, effortlessly killing a score of Tusse within the first moments of the battle. Le Bow and Fidler, from years of training, fought well in small spaces against a more numerous foe, swinging and dancing amongst the enemy killing at will. They circled their enemy always changing their positions so as to face the largest numbers and where possible keep their backs to as few foe as possible to avoid fighting on two fronts. The cart afforded them some extra protection and the Tusse continued to die in huge numbers. For the second time in as many days the Mesanians drove the Tusse back, the beasts suffering enormous losses. After only a few minutes the clearing was empty of live Tusse and only the children in the carts and the four friends remained unscathed. Almost exhausted Darion placed his hands on his knees, sucking in large gasps of air as he tried to recover. The others too gulped air and reached for their water flasks as they prepared for the inevitable second assault.
Darion looked at his sword and it was covered in a deep crimson blood, not the type one sees from accidents in the kitchen from a wayward knife, but the deep red that only comes from deadly arterial wounds. The sword notched in several places when it struck the harder bones of the body, the femora and scapula and bits of white bone and flesh dangled from the edges. He felt sick as he saw the dozen or so writhing bodies at his feet. A few looked up at him with the vacant animal eyes, not asking for mercy nor even aware of their mortal wounds, just lying there waiting for who knows what. He looked at his friends who also stood among a pile of corpses, again finishing off the ones who were not yet dead and pushing their bodies to form a wall of dead Tusse others would need to be volley on the next assault.
Le Tare saw the horror in Darion’s eyes. ‘It is simple psychology Darion and it has to be simple with these creatures. It may stymie their enthusiasm if they see their brethren all dead around them.’
‘Or, it might infuriate them, we are not sure,’ said Le Fidler flippantly as he casually stabbed at another body he suspected played dead even though its head lay several feet from the rest of its body.
‘You seem to be enjoying yourself,’ said Darion with undisguised contempt.
‘Better me killing them than the other way around Darion. We are at war and we try to survive, remember that, for it is all that matters.’
Darion looked towards the bushes and his heart sank as he saw new movement in the trees ahead. This time the eyes did not jiggle frenetically as before rather they seemed much more ordered and steady and more numerous than before. Everywhere he looked the jaundiced eyes looked back, thousands of them and he resigned himself to defeat.
In a last show of dismissiveness Le Tare again walked to the centre of the clearing and sent a challenge to the Tusse.
‘Come if you dare despised Tusse. You will remember this night in your tales for eons to come from the few I will permit to survive. If you do not wish to die this night I can offer you a solution if you are willing to listen.’
The rustle in the bushes ceased until again the branches parted and the Tusse leader entered this time considerably further away than before. ‘Speak, Le Tare of Mesania and we may listen.’
Le Tare sheathed his sword and showed his open hands to the trees ahead and each of the yellow dots followed his every movement in unison.
‘If you are at all like us then you do not want to die tonight,’ started Le Tare with a large pause between sentences. The eyes did not move. ‘I have the solution. Let me alone fight your leader. If he wins, and why should he not when he is so mighty and I am nothing, then the rest of us will leave and the battle is over.’
The eyes began darting left and right and the Tusse leader looked nervously around him. Darion noticed Le Tare did not mention what would happen if he were victorious. Darion felt certain the Tusse believed they would win any protracted battle but still thought it. better and easier to replace one leader th
Le Bow moved slightly around to the front to see the confrontation, careful to also make sure no Tusse crept up on the carts from the rear. ‘Le Tare plays an interesting game of chance does he not?’ he said. ‘See how he bides for time. Every second we delay the battle is more time for reinforcements to come.’ Darion suddenly realised what happened. By setting fire to the trees they effectively sent out a flare to the Silver City and hopefully there would be troops sent out to investigate. The Tusse would be unlikely to attack a large contingent of men when they saw what four were capable of doing and hopefully they would retreat. What Darion and the others did not know was how committed the Tusse were to their cargo.
Le Bow sat cross legged and watched Le Tare. ‘The Tusse leader will forfeit his power if he refuses a challenge such as this which means death to him but he also knows Le Tare will kill him in an instant. He is in an untenable situation and he knows it. He has no option. He must fight.’
Le Tare caught the Tusse off guard however he did not reach his exalted position by mere chance. ‘I accept your challenge Le Tare of Mesania. First I must speak to my people.’ He turned to the bushes. ‘If I die and this Mesanian is victorious then I charge you my people to avenge my death as swiftly as possible. Kill these insects and take the carts home to the Niflheim and thereby you keep the honour of the Tusse.’
The Tusse all began gnashing their teeth in excitement, slapping their thighs with open hands, giving off a fleshy applause. If their leader won they had their trophies and if he lost they would still have their feed although they would have to work a little harder to get it. They would enjoy the contest first.
‘A masterful stroke from the Tusse don’t you think?’ said Le Fidler from the other side of the carts. ‘I bet old Le Tare didn’t think he would say that.’
‘Is this some sort of damn game to you lot?’ said Darion while searching the trees ahead. As far as he could rationalise events, he believed he would be dead in a few minutes no matter which way the fight went and they still could not find Le Carra.
‘Don’t worry so much,’ continued Le Fidler. ‘Le Tare knows what he is doing, we just have to hold out for a few hours and we will be alright, you will see.’
Darion shook his head. Again they stood on the brink of disaster and his friends acted like they were having a pleasant stroll in a park. ‘Since I’ve met you people I have faced death about twenty times and each time you don't seem to give a rats arse.’
Of all the sounds that could be inappropriate at this time Le Fidler and Le Bow made the most outrageous. They both began laughing in peals breaking above the gnashing of the teeth and the slapping of the thighs of the Tusse. ‘Rat’s arse,’ chuckled Le Bow, ‘Very amusing.’
The Tusse leader thought the laughing was aimed at him and what pride he possessed as a leader and warrior came to the fore. He leapt into the clearing challenging Le Tare who stood like a rock, his sword aimed dangerously at the throat of the Tusse leader. The Tusse crouched in an animal pose, and began skipping and rolling, first close to Le Tare and then rolling away. He would dive at Le Tare and quickly beat a retreat always probing with a long thin knife appearing in his spare hand. He gained speed with each thrust as he circled Le Tare, each attack probing closer to the Mesanian. Le Tare merely spun on his heel always facing the belligerent Tusse and never taking his eyes off the long sword and knife of the Tusse leader. The crowd left the bushes and Darion could see the incredible numbers they faced. At least five hundred Tusse formed a large circle around the two combatants howling and hooting their pleasure at each of the rolls and dives of their leader.
Throughout it all Le Tare appeared unfazed. He showed no outward sign of worry as he levelled his bright sword at the Tusse, now holding it in two hands the muscles in his arms bulging through his short leather shirt, his eyes dancing in unison with the Tusse ballet.
By accident, or through Le Tare’s purpose, Le Fidler saw that somehow they were slowly being squeezed out of the circle as the Tusse moved closer and closer to the action. Eventually all of the wagons, along with the three friends, were spat out of the circle and now they faced the backs of the Tusse.
‘What now?’ asked Darion. ‘We cannot leave Le Tare to the mob, they will rip him apart.’
Le Fidler and Le Bow seemed more concerned with the contents of the many baskets hanging from the wagons and checked the children.
‘Well here is how I see things going Darion,’ said Le Fidler who picked out a large red apple from one of the many wicker baskets dangling from the carts, and leant on one of the wheels. ‘Le Tare will play with the Tusse leader for some time before he kills him and he is doing this so we can make best use of the time he is giving us and plan an escape. Now Darion, with all due respect, you are a liability to us when the fighting begins. I have to watch my own battles as well as saving your life on at least ten occasions and Le Bow is the same. I think you should take hold of all the wagons and head as fast as you can to the city while we three worry about the Tusse. We better hurry I suppose.’
‘Are you insane,’ cried Darion. ‘There is no way three men can fight those numbers no matter how good you think you are. You won’t last a minute.’
‘Who said anything about fighting. When the moment presents itself we will lead the Tusse on a merry chase in the opposite direction to you. We will save the children and be local heroes and I am sure there are plenty of wenches who would love to drape themselves over us in gratitude. Do not worry, we can outrun a few Tusse any day of the week and twice on Tyr. Now you better get going as I think I can hear Le Tare’s signal.’
The only signal Darion heard was a scream of pain from the Tusse leader and a swelling of disapproval from the spectators. If Darion could imagine the ocean having a voice then the noise he heard would be it. The crowd of Tusse chanted in ebbs and flows each new sound more threatening than the one before it. It sounded like the crashing of sets of waves on a beach, a ritualistic sound, and Darion could only assume it signalled the passing rite of the Tusse leader. The backs in front of him swayed to and fro and the beasts teeth began grinding together menacingly.
He took hold of the reins of the nearest wagons and quickly aimed all of the beasts in the general direction of the city. He would not be able to lead them all, so he took a position behind the group and drove them like cattle and the animals reacting and moving quickly and quietly out of the clearing and towards the city which he guessed sat some five to ten miles away.
Le Tare walked to the Tusse leader who lay dead on the ground, a single gash having sliced most of its head and shoulder from the body. He casually turned the carcass over with his foot and searched the angry faces of the nearest Tusse. One emerged from the rest and began laying a challenge to Le Tare when a second came from behind and knocked it to the ground issuing a challenge of his own to Le Tare. A fight between the Tusse started and became more important to the them for the moment than the promised retribution.
Le Tare hoped this would happen. He could not be completely certain but he did not expect the Tusse to have any formal succession plan in the event their leader perished and so being basic creatures, he assumed the only way they would sort out their new leadership was to battle for it and this would be his chance to escape.
The two Tusse challengers tore into each other with teeth, claws, swords and anything else they could grab hold of. The rest of the army appeared to take sides and urge on their favourite with small eruptions of violence in the crowd between competing teams. For the moment Le Tare and the wagons were forgotten as the fight spilled down an embankment and into the trees. The Tusse followed, corralling the combatants, cheering every stroke landed.
Le Fidler, Le Bow and Le Tare met and quickly devised a distraction they hoped the Tusse would be compelled to follow once their leader was decided. Already the fire ligh
‘We must make enough of a stir to encourage the Tusse will follow us and not Darion.’ They scouted a few hundred yards ahead and came back to the trees and crouching and listening to the howls of ecstasy of the maddened creatures.
Le Bow hushed the others and the three held their breath as the brush around them began to shake and quiver. They could hear muffled sounds and the rumbling of wheels. They drew their swords when right amongst them appeared a cart and horse followed by several more and the panting red face of Darion bringing up their rear, a startled and blustered look on his face. When he saw his friends he hung his head.
‘Hello Darion,’ said Le Fidler casually. ‘What are you doing here? I thought that we made other arrangements.’ Le Fidler looked at the others and they shook their head incredulously. ‘My dear Darion, it seems you back tracked and now follow us instead of the road to the city. This causes some problems as we can expect the full force of the Tusse to be here shortly. Any ideas friends on how to survive the next few minutes?’ To Darion, Le Fidler did not seem worried enough. He remembered the Encalla saying Le Fidler had a death wish and he was certain it was about to come true.
Le Tare searched the area and after a short while he walked back to the rest. ‘I cannot see an immediate solution. We cannot run with the wagons and certainly cannot fight all the Tusse of the world. I cannot think of an answer.’
Darion regained his breath and had also been thinking. ‘We have camouflaged ourselves to stop our scent so we need to do this with the children. I think there are other ways to stall the Tusse. Take the children and hide them among these trees and send the carts off on their own. We can set the harnesses of the horses so they have one of our knives each digging into their sides. That way they will run and keep running trying to dislodge the pain. They also will head in different directions which should split the Tusse forces. If we did then come across any Tusse, they would be a more manageable number and maybe there would be few enough for us to battle. They would take some time to discover their mistake and hopefully we could reach the city. The only problem will be how to keep all of these children quiet while we move.’
Le Bow pulled back one of the tarpaulins veiling the children and gently lifted one out. She was a child of not more than three years old and her pretty face was aged and beaten, all the child light having vanished from her eyes.
‘They are very docile Darion,’ said Le Bow. ‘They barely have the strength to breath let alone cry and scream. We must not fail these children.’
‘Or Le Carra,’ trailed Le Fidler.
The others, also moved by the state of the children, lifted them one by one from the wagons and checked for wounds. Although extremely tired, the children did not have any serious injuries and they laid them out under the bushes and covered them as best they could with old and torn clothes and filthy blankets. Le Tare scoured the surrounding bushes and found some Verbana which he crushed and smeared over the children’s skin and some more on their own as well as some mud and dirt to cover their smell.
They kept two of the wagons for the children and ensured they hitched the others tightly and began moving the creatures to different points where they would be spurred. They removed themselves behind some bushes and covered the wagon as best they could with some brush around them and crouched quietly. Suddenly all around them they heard the trees rustle and the sounds of steel and the slapping of flesh.
‘They have come,’ said Le Tare. ‘It seems they must have found a leader. We must hurry.’
Each man took a dirk from his belt and lodged it, using leather straps, to the rump of the beasts. On Le Tare’s signal they twisted the knives which dug deep into the leather hide of the horses, who leapt into the air and took off at gallop screeching as they went. They crashed through the trees and bushes around them and scattered, some to the river and others west and east.
The howling increased from the Tusse who saw their prey escaping and in moments the men saw hundreds of smaller figures dashing out of the green around them and sprinting after the wagons. Alone again they crept out of the bushes and quickly searched the area.
‘It seems your plan has worked Darion,’ said Le Tare impressed.
‘You don’t sound like you were too confident,’ said Darion.
‘Well to be perfectly honest I thought it was certain to fail. It was however superior than my plan.’
‘Which was?’
‘I had no plan,’ said Le Tare flatly. ‘So anything would be superior to it. Come on. Let us take these children to safety before they perish and then we can turn our thoughts to our Le Carra. She is obviously not with the Tusse anymore so I guess the Encalla is where we will find her. Although not ideal, I also believe she would be safe for a time. He did not kidnap her to merely kill her. He has other plans which I cannot foresee.’
They packed what they could and began leading the horse and wagon along the thin path back to where they had first met the Tusse. The green around them and the smells of the evening contradicted them still being on the verge of death and Le Fidler became almost jovial.
‘I do not know why but I somehow feel quite invigorated,’ he said. ‘I am on the road again after battle, I have my friends and have just saved the life of many a child who can now grow and prosper. I feel like I could sing.’
Without further discussion Le Fidler began to sing a soft melody whispering through the air and drifting in and out of the trees. The men all looked at each other. They had never heard Le Fidler sing before and were surprised at his gentle and melodic voice. They all knew the tune and often sung it at home. Le Fidler seemed to pour some of himself into the music. Darion felt the rescue of the children mellowed Le Fidler. The maddening firelight in his eyes had vanished and he appeared at peace with himself.
The song trailed off after a few minutes and they all felt relaxed and refreshed although slightly melancholy.
Darion walked next to Le Fidler and spoke so none of the others could hear. ‘The Encalla was right about your feelings for Le Carra, wasn’t he?’ he asked.
Le Fidler looked at the moons as they came over the eastern horizon and smiled to Darion. ‘Yes friend, he was correct and I still love her but the love has changed. I saw these children and the looks on their tiny faces and the prospect of what might have been and I knew my goal in life extended farther than merely loving a woman. That is a selfish and destructive goal for if the love is not returned then you are destined to a life of misery and regrets. It is now I know the world needs men like me to be more than just troubadours or whimsical courtiers. They need men to administer justice and seek to help those who for whatever reason cannot help themselves. We can stop this if we try and this is what I will do with my life.’
‘You will leave us then?’ asked Darion worried he would lose his friend.
‘Not yet. First we will return these children to their loved ones, then we will find Le Carra and kill whoever took her and finally we will find your friend Isaac and return him to you. I think that is quite an inventory of tasks for one hero.’
Darion only knew Le Fidler for a short time. A mere matter of weeks and in that time he had grown so close to him he could not imagine spending time without him near. Him and the others. They were like a new family and the thought made him comfortable. The family he knew back home was completely dysfunctional. A father who committed suicide, a mother who suffered her own disabilities and siblings so caught up in their own petty problems they never stopped to see the world around them. Darion felt himself reach a watershed moment in his life. Since he arrived in this strange yet familiar world, he had thought of nothing other than returning home and now he knew this world is where he belonged. Like a revelation the truth dawned on him brightly. He knew he would never return home even if the opportunity presented itself and he would spend his remaining days on
His determination to find Le Carra filled his veins with adrenaline and he despaired at the delay. He turned to the others.
‘I am sensing an urgency. The hair on my neck is standing to attention. We have to hurry and get to the city as soon as possible. Le Carra needs us.’ He jogged away and the others followed. They considered boarding the wagons to travel faster however the horses simply could not carry their weight and that of the children as well as the heavy wagon, so they ran along side as the night passed by quietly around them.
‘How far is the city? I thought it was closer. I cannot run all night,’ said Le Bow. ‘And neither can the horses. We have to stop for a while or we will be carrying these children ourselves.’
Le Fidler jumped into the wagon and rearranged the children as best he could and gave them all some more water and tried to clean their tiny faces concern etched all over his face.
‘They need care quickly. How much further?’
Le Tare surveyed the region as the sky began to lighten in the east. ‘The city lights are still some distance. I think we can reach it within the hour if we push ourselves and the intrepid beasts. The animals look strong. The Tusse may abuse children although it seems they tend their beasts well. We must push on, it is only a few more miles.’
They rolled the wagons and themselves through some small ravine of rocks towards a thin forest. They could hear the river gushing to their left and their spirits rose considerably as the morning broke in a gust of chilled air from the south brushing their faces and refreshing them.
The sun broke the horizon just as the trees around them rose steeply then abruptly ceased, exiting them into a gentle gradient leading onto acres of short cropped grass lands speckled with small black bushes. The polka dot carpet of green and black led almost to the gates at the southern end of the city, appearing as thick line in the distance, its glass walls a halo crowning the lands around them.
They stopped to admire the view when Le Tare let out a gasp. They all followed his pointing finger. It looked as if the bushes dotting the grass ahead swayed in the morning breeze. They studied the area further and noticed a greater regularity in the movement and they now realised what saw. All around them, and tapering off into the distance, the black heads of Tusse, thousands and thousands of them headed to the city. The longer they looked the more Tusse appeared, and instead of the green being speckled with black dots it was the dots taking over the landscape.
‘I did not know this many Tusse existed in the entire world,’ said Le Tare. ‘It seems the Silver City will soon be under siege. Do you think we should try to warn them?’ As he ceased talking, horns and bells pealed in a scream across the plain, answered by others, all coming from the walls of the city in the distance. A surge of cavalry charged from the gates in long wide columns, the tips of hundreds of spears shooting the morning sun across the grasslands.
‘I think they know,’ said Le Fidler. ‘We cannot go this way, that is for certain.’
‘But it is where Le Carra surely is,’ said Le Bow. ‘And the children cannot make another trip.’
‘I suppose we could rest for a time and see how the battle pans out,’ said Darion. ‘It may be a swift victory for the Silverarians and we can still go this way.’
‘Perhaps,’ answered Le Tare. ‘The problem is even if they win there will still be a retreat of sorts and we could expect a few thousands of Tusse to come back this way. No, we cannot remain where we are and we are too few to come on them from behind. We need to go back a ways and try to reach the city from further west and the children will just have to be a little more stoic,’ he said this last while brushing the back of his hand lightly against the cheek of the nearest child to him. A little girl whom he guessed once wore a bright pink dress now a dirty rag only half covering her.
They began moving the wagon when a scream leapt from the voice of the little girl Le Tare just touched. The comfort she felt from Le Tare shattered by the face of the Tusse who leapt onto the side of the wagon. Le Fidler pulled his sword out in a flash and cleaved a line from the head to the waist of the Tusse, nearly slicing him in two when another and another jumped into the clearing, their notched and rusty swords cutting the air.
‘There are hundreds of them,’ shouted Darion. ‘Run!’
Le Bow slapped the rump of the horse and it hopped ahead and down to the grass lands, the wheels gliding on top of the green, leaving only shallow gutters. The men followed slicing at the Tusse as they ran trying to find a way to escape without running into the back of the army ahead.
‘We might be able to turn west after we are on the plains proper and this way we can miss the army ahead,’ said a gasping Le Bow.
‘And head straight into this other army we didn’t notice.’
They looked up despairingly and heading east they saw another sea of black, at least two thousand strong also aiming for the city. The Tusse they duped earlier met with others of their kind heading east and the men found themselves caught in a pincer grip of black monsters. A battalion of Tusse broke off from the main part of their armies and darted towards them in the now typical fits and starts peculiar to their attacks. They did not bother with scouts or van guards or seemingly any preparation. They merely saw their superior numbers and attacked with no plan or method making it difficult for Darion’s men to conjure a strategy to withstand it. To Darion they resembled locusts and it seemed today their numbers alone would be more than enough to scourge the land.
The safety of the city looked impossible to reach as they were caught between two huge contingents of the enemy. They stopped and looked at each other in a somewhat resigned fashion.
‘I do not want to seem to be a negative type but I think it is likely we are about to die,’ said Le Fidler.
‘I tend to agree,’ said Le Tare. ‘I will take some comfort from the fact I will kill a few hundred of these things before I die.’
‘I won’t,’ said Darion drawing his sword. He felt it must look like attacking an elephant with a pin. ‘But I am not as concerned as I normally am when I am at death’s door. I must be getting used to it.’
They grinned in resignation and circled around the wagons as the tide of black broke on them.
The armies of light will strive against the
evil from the West. Great hearts will be found.
Great Ones from foreign parts will rise above
the rest. It is these who will shape the future
of the world.
Jharnell 36/7-11