Days Of Light And Shadow (54 page)

“Ah hah!” The captain’s grin broadened. He’d always known that Iros wasn’t visiting purely for social reasons. But he didn’t say anything more and Iros hurried on.

“You know that I have no actual cavalry. Not since the war.” The captain nodded and Iros was certain he’d guessed what he wanted from the very first words. Possibly even before then. Most of Greenlands militia was gone, dead from the fierce battle to defend the town. And his few surviving riders could not form even a single dragoon.

It was a serious problem when Greenlands stretched across a span of seventy leagues to the east and west and south all the way to the border. It was more so when that land consisted of scores and scores of isolated towns separated by days of hard riding and poor roads.

In desperation he’d gathered up all the able bodied men he could, stuck them in whatever armour he could find, and sent them out in border patrols of twenty to survey the towns and find out how terribly they’d suffered. But they weren’t soldiers, they weren’t trained, there weren’t enough of them, and if it came to a fight they’d need the Divines on their side. All nine of them. The only advantage that they had was that the war was over, and Greenlands had never had a serious problem with bandits. Farmers seldom had enough wealth to attract their attention. But he simply couldn’t send them in to an actual battle.

Rangers on the other hand were trained. They had the armour they needed. They could scout in hostile lands while remaining unseen. And if things got too much for them, they could ride like the wind.

“You’ve heard that people have been disappearing?” Even as he asked, Iros started laying the maps out on the table. It was time to speak as soldiers.

Chapter Eighty Four.

“Tea?” Juna stood in the doorway of the first floor meeting room, a serving girl with a tray of cups and a pot of tea beside him. In front of them Tenir sat at one of the tables, piles of papers before him, attempting to rebuild a business empire through the remains of Iros’ private wealth and endless deals.

“Thank you.” Tenir looked surprisingly old and tired, more so than an elf of his years should. In fact he looked ill. But still he managed to look up at them from the table and politely welcome them. Say what you would about his people, they were always well mannered. Which made it all the harder to understand what had happened. Even now, with word of the ancient demon being loosed on the world once more, Juna couldn’t compare those dark elven soldiers with evil in their hearts with the normally reserved, quiet, polite people he had always known.

“How goes it?” Juna wandered over to take a seat at the side of the table. It was the same seat he’d used the day before and the day before that, and sitting down in it, it seemed almost as though nothing had changed. Save perhaps that there were more papers in the piles scattered over the table. Certainly Tenir was at the same place he had been before, almost as though he hadn’t moved. Maybe he hadn’t. Juna was spared having to ask as the girl went about her duties of pouring them cups of hot camomile tea.

“The deeds for Catalbria finally arrived last night and I’ve sent word to my cousins there that they can move back in this morning. They’ll be glad to be out of Bluebell Grove. And with our shops and warehouses in Catalbria, Tendarin and Leafshade all once more in our hands we can begin trading again.” He didn’t sound overjoyed by the news though. Possibly because there were still so many more premises to purchase and so many more members of his family to find work for. Or possibly because while the remnants of House Vora were running them, they didn’t own them. Iros did. They were guests in their own homes, a difficult thing for a proud man to accept. Still it was a step up from homeless and destitute. And soon he hoped, the formal acceptance of House Seylen would be announced. That would remove a lot of Tenir’s burden and place it on Chria’s shoulders. At last count he’d heard that one hundred and seventy three names had been added to the list of would be members, and only thirty two members of House Vora still needed to be contacted. It was progress.

“Good. And I was informed this morning that the physicians have cleared Herodan to return to light duties, and that he has accepted a position as a master at the local Academy of Nanara.” Again it was a big step down from being an envoy to a major city, but it would bring in a little silver for the family coffers so that they could slowly rebuild their fortunes, and it was an honourable position in Juna’s opinion. A man could earn respect in such a role, and for elves who had lost their place in the world along with their house, that was surely important.

Herodan he knew felt the same. He had come to Juna and asked for the position the very next morning after he’d discussed the idea with his father. Only the physicians had stopped him from taking up his duties immediately as they worried about his health.

“He was and he rushed off this morning to begin his duties.” For the first time Juna thought he could see a trace of emotion in the elf’s face. Just a flicker of relief and maybe even happiness. Only a trace, but still more than there had been before.

Of course as the previous steward had been fond of telling him, there was never good news without bad, and Juna was a little worried about how Tenir would take it. Still it had to be asked.

“Tenir.” He cleared his throat a little nervously. “You know that as Iros’ own family has passed, much of the running of Greenlands has fallen directly to him?” Tenir nodded, too tired to even care enough to be suspicious.

“There are many duties that one man simply does not have the time to carry out. Committees and assemblies to sit on, councils to attend, charities to run, and so forth. Duties that would normally have been carried out by the lord’s family. And roles that now that Greenlands is slowly returning to order, once more need someone in attendance.”

“Should not Sophelia be dealing with these matters?”

“Your daughter is. She works hard on them. But Greenlands is a large province with a large number of works to be done, and Iros is unable to assist her as his own duties demand so much of his time.”

It was unfair to lay further responsibilities on the elf’s shoulders, but it was also the right thing to do. For all of them.

Juna prided himself on being able to read people’s natures, on understanding what demons rode them, and Tenir was much like him. Duty was his demon. Responsibility, obligation, and a sense of being bound by conscience. It was a heavy burden for a man to bear, and for some it could be crushing. But it also came with its own blessings. It could give purpose to a man. Help him to endure the hardships of his life. Concentrate his thoughts so that whatever lay outside of his duties could be put aside. Tenir needed that. He needed it now more than ever. Just as Julius had. Despite Iros’ beliefs his father had once been every bit as rebellious as he had been as a youth, and duty had been his saviour.

It would be a hard thing for many within the land to understand, but when you stripped away the trivial, things like houses and races and names, Tenir of House Vora and Julius of Drake were very nearly the same man.

And Iros was carved from the same granite. Just as he’d always known he was.  Though it had taken many years Iros had finally discovered the same need within himself. As a child he had been frightened by it. By what he had seen in his father as he served the people. He had been wild and rebellious but never out of a poor heart. It was fear that had ridden him. He had seen his father struggling with his duties, often exhausted by the endless demands placed on him. What child could ever want that? But the years away had straightened his back. Had taught him that there could be no running away. And that sense of duty had probably helped him to survive what would have killed other men. It had made him stronger than mere flesh and blood.

Juna knew then as he stared at Tenir, that he could not and would not be sparing in handing duties to the elf. That would be to fail the man.

“What do you need us to do?” It was all the invitation Juna needed.

“I thought that first since you are versed in trade, perhaps chairing the mercantile guild assembly would be something you would find interesting.” Interesting was a strong word of course. Much of what they were concerned about was taxes and tariffs, and keeping the streets clear of those who weren’t customers. But the same was true across the world, and Tenir would likely be familiar with all the issues.

And after him Tenir had two more daughters who needed work as well. Soon if he cast his fate stones truly, the entire family would be engaged in the running of Greenlands, and the people would be getting to know them.

Duties. Good for those who performed them. Good for those who received them. Good for Greenlands.

Chapter Eighty Five.

Dura was sore. After a week in the saddle riding hard she hurt. They all did. But that didn’t change things as they slowly approached what could be a large battle. The thirty of them against only the Mother knew how many abominations.

Already they had killed several score of the foul creatures. Weeks spent practicing every evening had improved their aim immensely, and now all of them could hit a head at fifty paces, even when it was bobbing about. The captain had thought it good training as they’d started making themselves a new house in Greenlands, and she had to admit he’d been right. Shooting actual abominations wasn’t quite the same as shooting straw targets that swayed about in the wind, but close enough.

Having the two elders with them from the Wildflower Grove helped as well, as each of them seemed to have the power to disrupt the creature’s terrible hunger for a bit. Or at least confuse them. Or something.

In sooth she wasn’t completely sure what the elders were doing as they waved their hands and muttered their prayers, but what she did know was that it seemed to do something to the creatures as they stopped whatever they were doing and shuffled around chaotically on the spot, waiting for an arrow to find their heads. But still that was only one or two of the creatures at a time. How much use would they be if they ran into a horde? And that she knew from her schooling was ultimately what they would be facing. If this was the Reaver, then the land would soon be awash with abominations. Did they even have enough arrows?

The land didn’t help either. She craved the comfort and protection of the forests and trees. She’d learned to adapt to the wide open green farmlands of their new home, and enjoyed the freedom of being able to gallop in any direction. But this was neither.

It was some sort of tussock grassland, but the grass was yellow and red like rust stained wheat, stood as tall as a man, and was impossibly thick as it blanketed the land for as far as the eye could see. The only things that broke up the gently rolling sea of red and yellow were a few lonely trees covered in ribbons of moss and creepers standing out like drowning swimmers. Worse was the fact that some of the tussock was still in bloom, and many of the heads were heavy with tufts of white fluff. When the wind blew, even a gentle breeze, the fluff flew everywhere. It got in your eyes, in your face, and in your mouth.

As if that wasn’t enough there was also no trail. No solid ground underfoot for the horses to gallop on. The ground was soft and the tussock thick. It would slow them down if they had to run. It slowed them even walking. Riding through it Dura felt as though she was already stepping into the teeth of a trap. And the trap was slowly closing.

It could have closed more quickly she supposed. The teeth could have been sharper. The abominations could have been completely hidden in the grasses if they had only been clever enough to duck a little. To creep about like the foxes and rabbits that abounded among the grasses. Luckily they weren’t, and thus far every time they’d attacked, it was easy to spot them as they screeched their hideous war cry, and pushed the grasses aside like the wakes in front of boats at sea. From horseback they could just make out the tops of their heads as they shuffled furiously for them. Thus far.

The animals weren’t so lucky. Being closer to the ground they couldn’t spot the abominations until they were right on them. But they could smell them, and whatever it was that they smelled of, the animals didn’t like it. So the horses were nervous, needing constant reassurance that things were alright, while the wolves constantly scented the air and growled quietly among themselves as they circled the party. They hated this place. She did too.

With good reason.

Abruptly the captain held up his hand once more, a gesture that everyone knew by heart, and they came to an immediate halt. They didn’t need to ask why, when they could suddenly make out the sound of unholy things screeching in the distance. The enemy was upon them again. After days in the tussock facing these things, it wasn’t even a surprise. Just another chance to fret. To hope that none of them could get through.

Dura drew her longbow with the rest, notched an arrow, and pointed it towards the distant sound as she waited for the creatures to show themselves.

It felt like an eternity passing as she waited. Far longer than the time it actually took the abominations to cover however many hundreds of paces they needed to reach them. But that was normal. Even after days of riding slowly through this horrid land and facing the enemy, she still wasn’t used to the battle. She wasn’t ready for it.   None of them were. In the great forests, against a normal enemy, brigands or dire wolves perhaps, she would have been ready. She would have known what to do almost without thinking. But against these things it was always new.

None of them were sleeping either. The most they could do was nap a little through the night while half of them kept watch. There was never any lack of volunteers to keep watch. But even if they did manage to sleep, the slightest sound woke them. So she was tired. That didn’t help.

Then the first of the abominations came into view and it didn’t matter how tired she was. The only thing that mattered was that the strange wake moving through the long tussock told her that the creature was heading for them. Soon there were many more wakes heading their way and she was anything but tired. Her mouth was dry and the bow was surprisingly light in her hands as she waited for the battle to begin again.

The nearest of the creatures approached to within fifty paces of them, and the elders cast their spell as they had so many times before. She knew the spell had taken effect when the creatures stopped shuffling towards them, and instead started bobbing around on the spot like drunken dancers. Without the elders she knew that things would have been much worse. Dura took aim.

Captain Maydan dropped his hand, the signal they were all waiting for, and she loosed her arrow. Thirty arrows flew at the abominations, and all of them hit. But she knew that not all of them would hit them squarely between the eyes, the only place that they knew for certain would kill them. They never did. Between their bobbing about and the tall tussock it was an almost impossible shot. And as always there was only one way to find out how many had survived.

Dura notched her next arrow with all the others, and waited nervously for the elders to release their spell. This was the part she hated. Waiting to find out how many of those they’d fired at would be dead and how many would charge them once more. And of course how close they’d come to them before the elders could stop them again. Whatever their spell was, and it was powerful, it still took time to cast. The battles were always the same. A game of nerves.

Captain Maydan gave the next signal, the elder’s dropped their spell, and nearly a dozen of the creatures suddenly broke from their positions in the long grass and started rushing them again. Ten, twenty, thirty paces they covered in their shuffling dash, all while the elders rushed to recast their spell, and they had to sit there and wait, arrows drawn. It was the only way. If the elders couldn’t stop them in time they would have only one chance to fell them. There could be no wasted arrows.

Dura could almost feel their teeth biting into her flesh as she waited. They were so close. Even the wolves were nervous, though they were being deliberately kept out of the fight. This was a battle best fought with bows. Not hand to hand. But just before they reached them, the elders succeeded again, and she knew a huge wash of relief flowing through her as the things stopped running for them.

This time when the captain gave the signal she didn’t have to aim so carefully. The nearest of them were barely more than ten paces from her, well within sight.

She put her arrow straight through the head of the one closest to her, and watched with pleasure as the arrow hit home and the thing crashed to the ground, dead. Others were doing the same, and all around them she could see abominations falling down, knocking aside huge circles of grass as they collapsed into it. That was good, even if a few of them kept writhing on the ground. A couple more arrows stopped that quickly enough. But at the same time she knew, more were coming. More were always coming. She could hear them screeching in the distance. And it sounded like even more than the one or two dozen or so they’d just killed. And that was more than they’d faced before.

It sounded like a lot more.

Dura tried hard to keep her focus, but it wasn’t easy. Her heart was racing, sweat was making her palms clammy, and everything she knew was telling her to run. To kick her mare in the flanks and just fly like the wind. The others surely knew the same fear. With a dozen or two of the creatures down and possibly another two score or more of them heading for them as fast as they could shuffle, the rangers were already outnumbered. And that was before she asked herself how many more of them there were further away. She could see the distant wakes they were making as they pushed their way through the long tussock, so many of them, almost like a wave rolling in. But still she held her bow straight before her, arrow notched and string taught, waiting for the first of them to come into range.

Then the wave stopped. The elders she knew had cast their magic once more, and the creatures had been held. Maybe a tiny bit further from them than was good, she could barely make out the tops of their hairless heads bobbing among the grasses, but still close enough.

The captain gave the signal and she loosed her arrow, aiming just a few inches below the tiny scrap of skin she could see, and she knew her aim was good. She heard her arrow slam home into something solid. She heard all of their arrows do the same. But was that enough? How many were down? How many would still be coming for them? A hit wasn’t enough. With these things it had to be a perfect shot to the head to bring them down. But still she couldn’t see a lot of movement.

Dura notched her next arrow and waited nervously for the captain to give the elders the command to release their spell. 

But before the captain could give the order, something happened. Something unexpected.

The air all around them began glowing. Glowing brighter and brighter with some sort of brilliant white light. A light that somehow made everything seem pale and washed out. A light that was so bright that it blinded her, and yet didn’t hurt the eyes or even make her want to close them.

Then as quickly as it had come it was gone, and she could see perfectly. There were no greens and reds blotting her vision. Nothing at all save the field of tall yellow tussock waving gently in the breeze, and of course the abominations lurking somewhere within it. That and a strange feeling of peace. As if their troubles had ended.

Dura looked around her at the others, and saw them doing the same. All of them confused, wondering what had happened. And then she looked at the elders riding in the tail, and saw them smiling as they spoke quietly with one another. They seemed relaxed at least, although she was sure they hadn’t cast whatever spell it was. It didn’t seem like anything she’d ever seen of the Mother’s magic. Besides, they didn’t seem to be casting any magic just then.

“Look!” Someone called out and she swiftly turned her attention back to the long grass and the enemy, only to realise that there were no more enemies. What there were were small funnels of light grey smoke rising from all around them, lots and lots of them, just like the smoke given off from a dying campfire. Though she had no evidence for it, Dura was somehow certain that each one of those fires was one of the abominations. That they’d been cremated where they stood.

But how could that be?”

“Could I suggest a halt here captain.”

The words came out of nowhere, causing them all to jump. Among the rangers almost no one spoke unless it was necessary. Not while they were out riding. Silence and hand signals were the norm. And besides, they didn’t know the voice. Dura looked around frantically, they all did, trying to spot the speaker. But the voice had come from somewhere in their midst, and there was no one there who shouldn’t be.

And then there was. There was no sound, no flash of light or movement, nothing at all, and then suddenly a stranger appeared between two riders. Both of them started, almost jumping out of their saddles in fright, but the stranger just rode calmly past them as if nothing had happened.

“The land ahead is filled with these soulless things.” The stranger was right of course but they’d already known that.

“And who are you?” At least the captain seemed calm as he sat there waiting for the man to reach him. He always seemed calm. But he surely couldn’t have known. And even if he had somehow realised that another was lurking among them, he couldn’t have guessed what he was. Even staring at him, Dura didn’t know what he was. A priest, a wizard, maybe even a warspell?