‘But why would she do that? It makes no sense.’
‘Indeed. Put it down to the paranoia of a man just past his middle years. Perhaps she feels sorry for me and saw feigning ignorance as an opportunity to flatter me on my depth of
knowledge. I did enjoy myself, after all.’
Cheris looked at him archly. ‘
Just
past his middle years?’
Marcus glared at her.
Shortly afterwards Anaya returned bearing goblets from which steam was rising.
‘Magic is great for heating drinks. It should never be used in so trivial a manner but out here I think I can be forgiven.’ She handed a mug to each of them.
It was warm spiced wine and tasted delicious. Cheris drank hers in no time at all and Marcus was only just behind. ‘Thank you, Anaya; that was lovely,’ Cheris told her. ‘I will
sleep the dream sleep of Xhenafa tonight.’
‘Indeed, you will, my girl; indeed you will.’
She stared at the yellow glow of the lantern. It was strange but it appeared a bit fuzzy to her, clear then hazy, and then clear again. Surely, the alcohol couldn’t work that fast?
‘I am so unused to wine, I can feel it affecting me already. With your permission I will take my leave and go to bed.’ Cheris went to stand but found her muscles completely
unresponsive; her head was spinning in circles. ‘’Lissa’s blood, Anaya, what was in that drink?’
‘A concoction known only to healers and surgeons. I would stay in that chair if I were you; you will never make it to the bedroom.’
‘By the gods, woman, what have you done!’ Cheris heard Marcus say, his voice full of anger and confusion, but he sounded as if he were about a mile away. There was a noise. She
realised Marcus had fallen off his chair and then briefly saw Anaya’s face looking closely at her, lantern held high, but she was so blurred that Cheris could not gauge her expression. She
tried to speak to her but only the tiniest gasp came out. Then she was gone, as a void of inky darkness swallowed her whole.
There was a voice – female, clear and pure. It entered her head like the ringing of a cluster of tiny silver bells. She could not understand the words; it was a strange
language she had never heard before, or had she? No, there was something familiar about it; she was finding it so difficult to think. Her brain was still a fog but the voice was close, very
close.
Cheris’s eyelids slowly fluttered open. By the Gods, even that was an effort. She realised as her vision slowly began to clear that she was completely immobile, that she could neither move
nor speak.
She was still in her chair and there was a dark shape slumped in the one opposite her. Marcus. He was staring fixedly ahead and she realised that this strange paralysis was affecting him also.
It was difficult but she managed to twist her eyes towards the fireplace in the direction Marcus was staring.
And there, illuminated by the lantern now hanging from a ceiling beam, was Anaya. She was standing in front of another low table, one she must have dragged from the kitchen, and on it was a
large bowl filled with a liquid from which steam was rising. A book was opened before her and she appeared to be following its instructions intently. Eventually she caught the whites of Marcus eyes
and looked up at him.
‘Hello, Marcus,’ she said absently, then resumed whatever she was doing.
Cheris could see Marcus straining with effort. His mouth moved noiselessly, a line of dribble ran into his beard. Suddenly words came, choked and strangulated.
‘What ... are ... you ... doing?’
Anaya paused for a second. ‘I suppose I do owe you both an explanation. I am sorry for what I have done to you, but please understand I wish you no harm; I just knew you would try to stop
me and so had to act the way I did. You have both been given a very strong soporific. Poor Cheris’s dose is even higher than yours, Marcus; I do not know if you see it but she is so much more
powerful than you – than both of us. She will be the perfect bait.’
Marcus’s breathing was heavy and ragged as he spoke again.
‘Bait? ... why?’
‘I have to do this now. I had changed my mind but you are sending me away after all and I will have no other opportunities to do what I must.’ She left the table and came over to
him.
‘You see, Marcus, this war has to end. You cannot imagine what I have seen. Not just the mutilated and the dead but the transformation it wreaks on normal men; you see the fire die in
their eyes being replaced by cold anger and hate, and now you have brought a sweet girl like Cheris with you, to turn into another butcher. I will not permit this to continue. I will
not!’
She turned to Cheris next. ‘It was our little discussion, my dear, that set my course in stone – a lesser evil to further a greater good. What I am doing now may be seen as evil but,
if I succeed, this war will end, hundreds of deaths to prevent thousands. Is that not a good thing?’ She returned to her table and picked up the book; it was not the thickest of tomes, but
sizeable enough.
‘Some few winters ago I was lucky enough to be given permission by chief butcher Felmere to study at St Delph’s library in Tanaren. They have terrible security there and quite a few
forbidden books. It was easy to smuggle this one out of there ... easy!’
She walked back to Marcus and held the book up to the light so that he could see it clearly. Despite his paralysis, his eyes widened with horror.
‘Yes, Marcus. It is so. The Arshumans have but one army left – destroy that and the war is won. Felmere cannot do this; he might push them back, but then months will pass, they will
push him back and the whole sorry mummers’ play continues. What I am about to do will annihilate the Arshumans and make peace the only possible solution. You will look at me as a saviour when
this is done.
‘I came to this cottage last winter and went over and over the ritual in my head, but for it to work I needed a beacon, a magnet of magical power to draw my quarry to me, and now this year
you two came. It is as if the very Gods are on my side. Tonight it is then. I am well into the ritual already. I just need some blood from the two of you and I can start the final incantations. And
when they are done, Marcus, when they are done, there will be four of us in this room, us three and the demon. The demon I will summon to finish this war for good.’
Thunder clouds sat heavily over the southern mountains and thin strands of mist wound their sinuous path between the trees overhanging the dank, still waters of the silent
lake. It was a chill dawn, the sort in which Morgan always tried to grab an extra few minutes under the blanket before anyone noticed him. But not today; today he was stomping round his room
stretching his muscles over the radiating warmth of the glowstones. It had been a couple of days since the festival, days in which he had been largely confined to his room, Itheya being busy with
other duties. She did eventually get round to see him the evening before, just as his confinement was beginning to gnaw at him and the view from the window had long since lost its novelty.
She had walked in as though he should have been expecting her.
‘Are you bored to insanity yet?’ She was wearing a simple green tunic patterned with broken black stripes, rather like the markings on a cat.
‘You have cut your hair,’ he said. It was true – her ponytail, though held high on her head, barely fell down below her shoulders.
‘If I am to go into battle, long hair is just a hindrance. It grows back very quickly, far quicker than it does in humans. Tomorrow I leave for the
krasa
. I have been with Father
most of the last couple of days; he is unable to attend himself so I must represent him. We have decided it is silly for you to stay here all day, so Terath will watch you when I am gone. He is
performing some ceremony tomorrow regarding that tooth, so you and Cedric can attend with him. I will return in two or three days.’
‘Slow down – that is a lot of information in a short time. So I am going with Terath tomorrow.’
‘Yes. Early. He will take you to the cave in the morning. He is trying to locate a dragonstone; he has already said he does not expect success but he has to try.’
‘And you? What will be happening with you?’
She sat on the bed and sighed.
‘I wish you and Cedric could come, but no humans are allowed. I will be meeting with the heads of the other tribes to tell them of your proposal. I will try to persuade them but you have
no idea how difficult these gatherings can be, especially as I am not even the Mhezhen.’
‘You have said that none of you get on with each other. How many tribes will be there?’
‘All the western tribes will be there, tribes affiliated to our own – the Etutha, the Panugraic, the Cephellan, the Atagon, the Denussi and the Gapharan. Then there will be our chief
rivals, the Ometahan, and their allies – the Chuchethen, the Boia, the Atrebenes, the Syrta and the Leretel. We may see the deep forest tribes – the Rengereth, the Coul and the Brantha
– but we definitely will not see the tribes from the deep valleys carved into the mountains, tribes like the Obrosh and the Kesta, for they bother with no one but themselves. Even though I
mentioned that tribes are affiliated to us, they are under no obligation to agree with me in this instance.’
‘Do you end up having a vote on this?’
‘Yes, but it is not straightforward. The Morioka have ten votes as befits their status – all will be in favour of joining you – other tribes have different numbers of votes
– the Denussi have four, the Atagon five, for example. But not all those votes need go the same way, so the Atagon may have three votes for and two against, depending on the way their leaders
feel. And this does not take into account the deals the tribes will do on the side or the fact that, even if there is a clear yes or no vote, tribes are still free to act independently if they so
desire.’
‘So you mean, even if the
krasa
votes no, some tribes may still decide to join us?’
‘Yes, but if things go badly, they cannot call a
krasa
for aid, for none will be given.’
‘It sounds extremely complicated; no wonder I haven’t seen you for two days.’
‘It is. I am sorry I have been away. but there has been much for me to take in. Since Armentele my head has been pounding with the things I have to remember. This is the first
krasa
I have had to take myself. It is an onerous responsibility; I must not let Father down.’
‘You don’t get much time to yourself, do you?’
She did not answer; instead she put her head in her hands, drawing her knees up to her chin.
‘Itheya? Are you all right?’
‘I am fine,’ she said. She stood and came up close to him; her strange eyes had an anguished look to them. She whispered softly, ‘Father is very ill; the last two days have
been ... difficult. Just talking to me tired him out, and his pain never ends despite the healing magic. There are times...’ – she stopped and looked at the floor. ‘There are
times when I just want to get on my horse and ride until I am completely alone, just surrounded by trees and birds, no one to talk to or to remind me of my responsibilities. I confide in you
because I cannot confide in my own people. I am their leader; I cannot be uncertain or weak in front of them.’
He put his hands on both her arms, gently pinning them to her side. She was wiry and strong and did not resist him.
‘You must be prepared for the worst with your father.’ She nodded slightly. ‘There is no easy way to say it. I am sorry you feel alone, but if you need to talk to me, then I am
going nowhere; I will be here for you.’
‘Thank you.’ she said. ‘I still like your smell.’
‘Stop flirting,’ he said, smiling. ‘I am human remember.’
‘I remember,’ she said sadly, ‘I never forget. I must go now. I will see you in about three days.’
To his surprise, she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the cheek. ‘
Moton at ate sheren, Morgan
.’ Then, without another word, she turned and left the room.
That was yesterday evening and by the time Terath called on him she had already gone.
And then it was into the woods again. This time Terath, Cedric and Morgan took a boat to the lake’s farthest shore, on the east. Two young elves, one male and one female, accompanied them,
steering the boat and assisting Cedric when it was time to walk again. Terath introduced them.
‘This is Dirthen and Astania, my assistants; they have a little of your language, but are not confident with it. They help me prepare the glowstones and the lights and flame you see around
the village, but they have many other duties as well that you probably have not seen.’
The two younger elves, both dark with vivid blue eyes, led the rest of the group into an area of woodland that was darker and wilder than any Morgan had previously seen. The trees here were
truly ancient, twisting into many tortured shapes with great roots springing from the earth and winding around each other like mating serpents. Great trailing beards of lichen hung from the low
overhanging branches, which interlocked with those from other trees to such an extent that they formed a great roof-like canopy peppered with crows and jackdaws, denying light to the forest floor.
The five travellers were locked in a permanent twilight where flashes of moss and fern provided the only real colour.
After travelling with difficulty over the uneven surface for about half a mile they came across a narrow stream that cut across their path. It could be crossed easily with an elongated step, but
instead the elves turned towards the mountains and started following its course. They had not gone far when the land dropped sharply. Cedric stumbled and almost fell as the sharpness of the incline
caught him by surprise; his feet kicked up loose mud and shale as Dirthen and Morgan struggled to keep him upright. Once he was steady again, they continued downhill.
They were surrounded by high ferns that closed in around them, eventually reaching over their heads the farther they travelled. The air was still, close and stifling, and the smell of dank
vegetation was overpowering. The two men were concentrating fully on not stumbling, though Morgan had awareness enough to notice that the elves had far less difficulty in navigating the treacherous
path than he.