Authors: William Gehler
The armies disengaged, and the Maggan soldiers and their columns hurried unimpeded into their forest. Clarian refused to meet with the Flamekeeper to report the situation and sent Rokkman in his stead. The Karran army was ordered to begin the trek back to the Citadel. The Flamekeeper demanded Clarian’s attendance in a meeting. Once he got there, Clarian was surly and failed to bow or look the old priest in the eye.
The Flamekeeper, in disgust, was abrupt with him and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Rokkman, caught between his duty to the Flamekeeper and his admiration for Clarian, could do nothing to return harmony to their relationship.
Clarian, refusing to trust the Maggan, set up scouting posts along the road from the forest. At the Citadel, Clarian resigned his office, much to the dismay of the Flamekeeper, and upon Clarian’s recommendation, Martan was appointed as commander over the Karran forces. Thousands of Karran soldiers streamed back across the land, returning to their homes and farms. The war was over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
T
he sun was hot on Clarian’s shoulders as he urged Ruttu to complete the last leg of the journey home. She knew she was going home, and her pace was brisk. The long, silver-green grass on either side of the road swayed and rustled in the strong breeze. Birds, startled by his presence, burst out of the foliage with a flutter of wings. The Great Grasslands stretched in every direction, all the way to the horizon, with hardly a tree in sight except where a stream cut through the land. There, willows lined the banks and followed the graceful curves of the waterways.
He listened now over the clopping of his horse’s hooves and thought he could hear something on the wind. There it was. Baying. The dogs had picked up his scent or the vibrations of his horse’s hooves. He dipped down into a swale and up a higher rise, and there he could see his home, whitewashed and sparkling in the sun. The bell began clanging—the bell that travelers would ring to call the ferryman. But it was either his mother, Ranna, or his aunt, Helan, ringing the bell this time.
He could see his mother and aunt standing on high ground waving. Beside them stood two soldiers in blue tunics—the soldiers who had been assigned to guard the ferry. The dogs were racing down the road toward him at great speed, baying with joy. He nudged his horse into a canter, his cloak flapping behind him, and waved his arm merrily in greeting. Home at last.
When the Maggan found the massacre at the camp, there was great anguish among the soldiers who had lost so many friends. Even Ferman, for once, kept silent, and his eyes had the haunted look of someone who had lost everything. They spent the night burying the dead and rested the next day during the sunlight hours, although it was dark beneath the tall trees of the forest. At nightfall, they rose from their rest and broke camp, moving en masse down the road toward their home. Ferman sent riders on ahead to determine the damage and to see whether any Karran were still in the forest.
On the fourth day, a rider returned with a full report on the conditions at Minteegan. He painted a grim picture, and word soon spread among the troops to expect the worst. They marched with heavy hearts. Neevan was worried about her mother but hoped she had made it out of the burning underground city unharmed.
Some of the troops wanted to force-march to the cavern, but Ferman said no. He did not want to split up his army, and there was a great number of wounded who had to be transported slowly by wagon.
On the sixth night, the army broke out of the trees and came onto the fields that surrounded the cave. Riders appeared, and the soldiers’ anticipation was evident in their quickened step. The sky cleared, and the stars were bright. A giant bonfire had been lit near the entrance to the Minteegan, welcoming the army home.
As the army approached, however, they were met with a sad sight. The fields had been scorched by fire. Near the entrance that led down into their underground home, a refugee city had been set up. Tents, shelters of wood, branches, and blankets were clustered in every direction across the once fallow fields. The soldiers let out a deep groan as they comprehended the extent of the devastation.
A contingent of leaders from the city met Ferman and his officers. There was much to do. Families had to be notified of the deaths of both soldiers and city folk. Reconstruction was under way, but the army was needed to help. New lumber was required to rebuild homes. The fields needed to be replowed and seeded. There was a shortage of horses, and the scattered cattle had to be found. The temple had been burned to the ground along with their Flamekeeper and needed to be rebuilt. It was going to require monumental effort, and there was no time for the soldiers to rest after the war with the Karran. Assignments were given, and everyone turned to the tasks necessary to recover from the war’s devastation.
Neevan found her mother living in a brush shelter with a neighbor. Her mother was unharmed but shaken from the experience and in a state of depression. Neevan had little time to spend with her, however, as she was tasked with replenishing the horse herd and plowing the fields, as some of the horses driven off by the Karran had escaped and returned home. Others had been in far-off pastures and had not been captured. She was given authority to trade for horses with outlying lands, although this was difficult because other peoples were afraid of the Maggan, but it could be done through intermediaries. The only restriction was that she could not trade with the hated Karran.
Several weeks after the Maggan returned to their cavern, Neevan rode out with a dozen soldiers and several pack horses to the northeast. She had gold in the saddlebags to trade for the needed horses. Ferman had instructed her to travel to the north and find their cousin people, the Drumaggan, meaning northern Maggan, and acquire the desperately needed horses.
It was a pleasant night—not too hot—and they made good time following the road that meandered through the forest, occasionally crossing some large meadows and fast-running streams. As several days went by, they found themselves in hilly, rough country and emerged onto a high, elevated valley, well-watered with knee-high grass good for grazing. They camped that day in tents under a clump of trees where two streams conjoined. To be comfortable, they needed the trees to block the sunlight from coming through the tent walls.
As they were breaking camp that evening, to their surprise, they were hailed by a band of travelers riding toward them from the far end of the valley. Leading them was a farmer Neevan knew. The group consisted of ten heavily armed soldiers led by a young officer.
“After I escaped from the attack by the Karran, I rode to the land of the Drumaggan to report what had happened to us and ask for assistance. These soldiers are Drumaggan, our cousins,” he said.
The night sky was full of stars, and the breeze at this elevation was cold. They sat around a fire, wrapped in their cloaks. A young Drumaggan officer, a slight, dark-haired youth who identified himself as Janran, spoke. “When we heard what the Karran did to you, my Flamekeeper, Sassanan, sent us to determine what could be done to help.”
“How did you find the Drumaggan?” Neevan asked the farmer.
“My father had visited them when he was young. He was a trader. He spoke highly of them, and when it seemed that all was lost to the Karran, with everything burning, with all our people held at the point of a lance, I jumped on a horse and followed the road to the northeast. When the road ran out, I followed a trail, and I eventually found them. They live in a forest that lies at the foot of a mountain range a week’s ride from here. Their city is in a cavern beneath a mountain. If you follow our tracks, they will lead you there. You will find the horses you need.”
“And what are your plans now?” she asked the Drumaggan officer.
“We will go on to your city and meet with your leader, Ferman, to discuss what shall be done, and then report back to Sassanan. I believe you can feel assured that this terrible act by the Karran cannot be allowed,” he said.
Others murmured their assent. Neevan was thoughtful for a moment and then said, “It was
we
who
attacked
them
.”
“Yes, but it was to take back the Flame. That is an honorable endeavor. We, too, hunger for the Flame. It is time the Flame is returned to our people. Besides, the Karran are not our kind.”
“But you have a Flamekeeper as well?” asked Neevan.
“Yes, of course.”
“But no Flame?”
“Like your people, we have no Flame, no Great Crystal. Only the Karran have the Sacred Flame.”
Life for Clarian returned to normal, though his thoughts were troubled, and his dreams were of conflict and suffering. He dreamed of Lillan, her chestnut hair flowing behind her as she galloped her horse, her smile, and her warmth. There seemed to be a hole in his chest that could not be closed. And then there were the strange catlike eyes of Neevan peering at him from the darkness. Could she really be an enemy?
He turned his attention to the ferry, which badly needed repair. The two soldiers who had managed the ferry in his absence had done a creditable job, but the river was hard on the craft. He began by replacing the rope cables that draped across the river and guided the ferry. He harnessed a team of horses and with help from Rostan, a boyhood friend who lived nearby, dragged the boat out of the water for repairs to the hull. To Clarian’s relief, Rostan agreed to stay on at the ferry at least for a time.
The summer slipped into fall, and the nights became cooler. It did not snow on the Grasslands, but the endless wind could turn cold, especially in winter and at night, and rain was frequent. Ranna and Helan didn’t ask Clarian about the war but instead tried to provide a peaceful home. As the days and weeks drifted back into a familiar routine, Clarian became more like the happy young man he had been before the war.
Travel had been disrupted during the war, and the ferry had been little used, but now Clarian transported a good number of traders across the river, so they could journey into Madasharan, the desert country to the west. There was a demand for horses in Karran, since so many had been lost in the war, and Madasharan traders often appeared with a string of horses on the other side of the river, where they rang the bell, signaling Clarian. His ferry could only hold six horses at a time, and there were days when he made countless trips back and forth to get a horse herd across. He enjoyed meeting travelers and talking to them, and they often stayed for a meal prepared by Helan and Ranna. Good stories about lands far away made for lively conversation.
Several months swept by quickly as peace returned to the land. Letters came from the Flamekeeper asking Clarian to return to the Citadel to discuss rebuilding the country and to give advice regarding the army, but Clarian sent brief replies saying that he was unable to come. Rokkman and other officers sent letters from time to time, keeping Clarian up to date on what was happening in the Citadel and the countryside. The Maggan remained in their forest, and all were at peace. The months gave way to spring.
Meanwhile, Ferman commandeered the army to rebuild the city. Crews set to work cutting timber and lumber. Work gangs and teams of horses and wagons removed the ruins and hauled the debris out of the cavern chambers. Builders began construction of new homes and buildings, and for the first time stone fortifications enclosing the area at the entrance of the cavern were going up.
Neevan returned from the land of the Drumaggan, driving a great herd of horses before her with help from Drumaggan soldiers and herders. She was welcomed with praise by Ferman and the city folks. Everyone treated the Drumaggan with great courtesy and friendship. Janran had already visited the cavern and met at length with Ferman and his officers and city officials during Neevan’s journey north to find horses.
Janran returned to his home with letters from Ferman for Sassanan, the Flamekeeper of the Drumaggan, with requests for more help. The distance between the two lands was considerable but nothing that couldn’t be overcome with planning. The Drumaggan and the Maggan united in their hatred of the Karran and bonded in their ultimate aim to recover the Flame. The Drumaggan people were an offshoot of the Maggan; the two groups had split off eons before, and the Drumaggan had traveled far to the northeast to establish a new land. They, too, had no Flame and yearned for it with a long-suppressed passion. The news of the disastrous war and the predations by the Karran reignited their dormant desire to capture the Flame. How they would share the Flame once they recovered it from the Karran was under discussion.
The rebuilding of the city went on throughout the winter. A new temple was built and dedicated, and the Maggan installed a new Flamekeeper, who proclaimed that the time had come for the Flame to be returned to its rightful owners, the Maggan people. The fields were plowed and seeded, and although food was in short supply, the trampled gardens had not been completely destroyed, and the people were able to get by. The cattle had been driven off, and many had been lost, but many were eventually recovered by searching them out in the forest. It would take some time to replenish the herds, and meat and milk were not plentiful.
Neevan and her mother took a new apartment down on the cavern floor. Her mother was frailer since the war, and Neevan didn’t want her mother to have to climb stairs. The new apartment was close to the entrance, so her mother could go for walks above ground on those nights when the weather was good, and it was close to the shops that were being rebuilt on either side of the road that ran down the middle of the cavern floor.
Ferman assigned Neevan responsibility for all the horse herds, which she thoroughly enjoyed. She and an assigned group of soldiers and herders managed the pastures and grazing lands and separated the horses into mounts and draft horses. Some of the horses from Drumaggan had never been broken to harness or saddle, so each had to be trained. Many long hours and nights were dedicated to rebuilding the herds, and Neevan found herself happily engaged in something she loved. She tried not to think about the horrors of war, pushing them out of her mind when she could by focusing on the tasks at hand.
Gradually, as the rebuilding efforts were completed, Ferman reassigned soldiers to their army units for refresher training. He added a number of new soldiers from the ranks of the young, but the army had lost so many that it would be some time before it regained its original numbers. Neevan was ordered to expand the number of mounted soldiers and to train them to be ready for battle at some distant time, especially as mounted archers, according to the Karran model. As Ferman shrewdly advised and Neevan agreed, the mounted Karran troops had made the difference in the war that had just ended, and the Maggan needed a similarly lethal force.
Neevan worried that Ferman was planning another war. While he had not stated his intentions, it seemed plain to her that he was preparing for something. When she mentioned this to her mother, her mother told her that Ferman was only building up the army to protect against the murdering Karran.