The Forgotten War (86 page)

Read The Forgotten War Online

Authors: Howard Sargent

Tags: #ebook

As one, the rest of the party ran, Haelward leaving behind his shield and now useless sword and pulling out a long stabbing knife instead. Wulfthram had his sword drawn and Derkss, like
Haelward, was reduced to carrying his hunting knife. Ulian was in the lead and it was he who first burst out of the tunnel into the next chamber. Ceriana was right behind him.

Straight away she sensed they were at journey’s end. They were in a large circular chamber in which visibility was not a problem, for the walls were lined by many flaming torches. It had a
high ceiling, very high – were they really that far underground? The ceiling was tiled in white and bore a strange geometric pattern but there were so many cracks and gaps in the tiles that
its meaning was beyond ascertaining. The floor was not tiled, but even if it were they would not have been able to tell for it was covered in bones. At least a hundred people must have died in this
place – without wind or scavengers to disturb them they were lying pretty much where they had fallen, inside their rusted armour with their weapons lying close by. One could not take a step
without crushing something underfoot.

They huddled together, not wishing to disturb their grisly surroundings. In front of them was a raised circular plinth with a lip at its edge. Contained within this plinth were dozens, maybe
hundreds, of beautifully carved objects of gold, silver and bone, all of them, it seemed, depicting some type of animal and nearly all studded with gems – rubies, sapphires, emeralds and
diamonds. There was more wealth in front of them than was held in the Grand Duke’s treasury, but none of those present were thinking of that at present. For in the midst of the plinth was a
throne. It was carved in onyx or a similar hard black stone and on it sat a figure. It was clad in full armour, bright silver in colour, and its pauldrons, gauntlets and high conical helmet
glittered with tiny diamonds. Without the armour the figure would have been near invisible for its skin and flesh were almost transparent, a ghostly pale shade of tremulous silvery white through
which phantasmal blood vessels and bones could be seen. The skull was clearly discernible, a thin pale cranium like a waning moon part obscured by cloud. The only clear feature was its eyes, large
and flaming red, and they now seemed to be gazing at the intruders as a master chef might have looked at a cockroach in his kitchen.

But he was not alone. Surrounding the plinth were a ring of similar phantoms. They bore no armour and their full skeletons were clearly visible, clothed under transparent flesh. Unlike the
seated figure, their eyes were an icy pale blue and burned with a hostile intensity. Ulian stepped in front of the others.

‘Only I here can speak some of their language. Perhaps I should converse with them.’

‘Perhaps not!’ came a voice from the shadows behind them. ‘Perhaps you should just give us what we want. We may even allow you to leave this place alive.’

Three figures strode forth and stood before them, paying no regard to the bones they crushed as they walked. Ceriana took an involuntary step backwards, hiding behind her husband. For the black
priests had made their move and were here to reclaim what they believed was rightfully theirs.

48

Dawn rose, crisp, clear and cold. The forest mist, such a pervasive feature of the Aelthenwood, licked around the fetlocks and haunches of the horses as they stood impatiently
in the grassy clearing. They were standing on a high plateau that overlooked a virtually unbroken vista of trees to their north; many of these trees were clad in their solemn late-autumn colours of
russets, buttery yellows and browns; only the stands of evergreens, such as the pine forests that hugged the foothills of the mountains, defied the overall tone.

Morgan, perched as indelicately as ever on his patient piebald mount, watched a skein of geese pass high overhead, flying away to the south and west where the weather was warmer and feeding
easier. He was musing on how much easier things would be if he had a pair of wings himself when Itheya rode up alongside him. She was back in her dark leathers and was equipped again with her bow
and long knife. She followed his eyes to the distant geese, which were growing smaller by the second.

‘If I had more time, I would have taken you to the northern cliffs overlooking the sea. This time of year they are packed with seabirds ready to journey south. For the young, it is the
first time they fly. If they do not make it to the sea, the foxes will get them. Then on the water there are many schools of whales coming close to the shore picking up the last remnants of the
available food. We do not see them during winter. As a child, I used to spend many hours watching both whales and birds; to see the fledglings struggle so hard is quite an inspiration, even if they
do not all make it. It is Zhun’s way – the death of some means survival for the foxes – and just as many birds return here the following year.’

‘Will you ever get the chance to see it again? You strike me as someone who needs time for quiet reflection. It sounds quite a sight, but will you ever get the opportunity to be alone with
your thoughts, given that you may be leading your tribe fairly soon?’

She smiled sadly. ‘Probably not – my duties consume my time more and more. Maybe when I am old and toothless I may get the chance to return there – but not before.’

‘Responsibility is a burden on us all. It is like a growth on your face; you can ignore it for a while but it never goes away, and sooner or later you have to deal with it, take a hot
knife to your face and grit your teeth against the pain.’

‘Speaking of such things, Master Cedric does not look too well. Yesterday was quite a hard ride even for me; we want to be across the mountains in two days and I am not sure he can do it
unassisted. Come with me.’

She rode slowly up towards Cedric, who was hunched stiffly over his small horse. He had not spoken to anyone for a while and his tremor was as pronounced as Morgan had seen it.

‘Master Cedric,’ – Itheya slipped gracefully off her horse – ‘will you do me the honour of riding with me for a while; it will rest your horse for when she is most
needed and I can answer any questions you may have about the next stage of our journey.’

‘You are very kind, my Lady, but I do not know how I will get on to your horse.’

‘Morgan and I will help you. Come.’

Morgan dismounted and the two of them managed to ease Cedric off his horse. Itheya then helped give him a leg up and Morgan practically lifted the exhausted man on to her steed.

‘Terath,’ she called, ‘can you do something here?’

‘No, no, I am fine,’ Cedric interposed. ‘I’m just feeling the early-morning cold.’ He seemed eager to draw attention away from himself.

‘Terath can help with that,’ she said dismissively. ‘When we ride, hold on to me; you may even sleep if you are tired.’

‘I feel a terrible fraud here. You have far more important things to attend to than my welfare.’

‘The welfare of everyone under my command is important to me, and right now you are the one requiring attention. Let Terath attend to you, then you will be not be such a pressing
concern.’


Strnavi, Itheya, z’ometahan zhai ne an tafallazho
.’

One of the elves at the other side of the camp was calling her. He had raised his spear to attract her attention.

‘He has seen the Ometahan,’ she said. ‘I had better go see.’

She dismounted and left them just as Terath arrived, he immediately started to lay his hands on Cedric’s arms and hands before chanting slowly. Morgan watched for a minute and noticed some
colour return to the old scholar’s cheeks.

‘I am sorry, Cedric, I should have noticed; I have been so wrapped up in this journey and I keep thinking you are indestructible. Shout out next time you feel ill.’

‘You forget, Morgan, that these people can sense infirmity, and what’s more they can do something about it. I can feel Terath’s power helping me already. I will be fine.
Besides, I am rather keen to see this pass of theirs. Can you imagine – there is a path through the mountains we know nothing about?’

‘They go to great lengths to conceal it from us, I believe, and it is so narrow, it is not easily spotted anyway. I still feel bad leaving Haelward and the others.’

‘What? Safely ensconced in a tavern for the winter, rather than on the front lines? I am sure they will curse you when they rejoin the army in spring.’

‘They will probably think we are dead and the mission a failure; it is a pity we could not get a message to them somehow.’

‘But you will, my boy. When you get to Felmere or some other town over the mountains you can send a messenger their way. They are soldiers; they will understand.’

‘Sometimes, Cedric,’ said Morgan with a smile, ‘
you
sound like the military veteran and
I
like the crusty scholar... Oh and by the way, this is for you.’ He
put something into Cedric’s hand.

Cedric opened his palm. ‘Six pennies. You see, I only pretended to lose at dice because I knew the money would be coming straight back to me. Now I have some days to think how exactly I
can spend it. Console yourself with the fact that I will have my hands on the Lady Itheya for the next few hours.’

‘Don’t squeeze too hard or she will feed you to the bears.’

Terath laughed. ‘You can see why our Lady is so loved by her tribe; she can be as brittle and threatening as a winter frost and as warm as blue fire at one and the same time. Once she has
seen into your soul, though, and has read your heart, there is no one as loyal as she. She, of course, will expect the same loyalty in return and has no tolerance for those who transgress or
deviate from her own standards. It is a lesson worth learning. How do you feel now, Cedric?’

‘Like a new man!’ Cedric did seem to have a bloom in his cheeks, which had been an ashen grey not ten minutes before. ‘Thank you, Terath.’

‘If you feel poorly later on, then I will send Dirthen or Astania to do the same for you. It will be good practice for them, too.’

Terath left them and Morgan clambered back on to his mount. ‘This never gets any easier,’ he moaned to Cedric. ‘I will always be a foot soldier.’

‘Unlike the people of this forest,’ said Cedric. ‘It looks like the other contingent has arrived.’

Morgan looked over the clearing. Up on to the plateau other horsemen were arriving. As with the contingent of Morioka warriors, he noticed that over a quarter of their number were women. Their
leader was speaking with Itheya now; it was as she had told him yesterday – intermarriage occurred between the tribes but so few children were born different racial characteristics between
them could be striking. The Morioka were dark-haired with blue or violet eyes; the Ometahan seemed to have flaming-red hair with eyes green as emeralds. Itheya and the man she was speaking to, who
happened to be one of the tallest elves Morgan had seen, came over to see them. Itheya climbed on to her horse, being careful not to hit Cedric who leaned backwards to give her room.

‘This is Culleneron,’ she said, a little breathlessly. ‘We will share leadership of this expedition; he speaks a little of your language but a full conversation may be
difficult for him. I will translate where necessary.’

‘Satala, Culleneron,’ said Cedric. ‘
Ve ne Cedric, al e olem Morgan. Ema olem trnacantele tafalinkare teo
.’

The red-haired elf bowed slightly. ‘
Azha ve ate
.’

Itheya turned her head slightly and spoke to Cedric.

‘Hold me here.’ She placed his hand at her waist. ‘If you tire, inform me.’

Once he had done this she kicked the horse and rode to the centre of the clearing. ‘
Tafalavons Aelvena
!’ she called in a clear high voice. Culleneron joined her and shortly
after the two elves found themselves surrounded by a circle of horsemen all within hearing of the two commanders. Morgan stayed just outside the circle as Itheya addressed them.


Hrtena azha trneka. Atekele zhucetheku ze’a zhutesse se’atan craba. Tafashen hanza spetu eonameon brataspako vo’voe tafasiol. Votodane altafa havysk’ara
basekykal azhatafa hawritu ar’vekleno nesprta za hemenest. Voto ne an caltazha heten tafinezho. Cotho voto nean spesa tafadane xexenesh nesptru Araelva. Cantele azha vaveress wyathan! Tafalla
siol Aelvenna
!’

(‘Brothers and sisters. You have been chosen as the elite of your tribes. Together, for the first time in generations, we go to war. We do this to reclaim our heritage and to reaffirm our
identity among the humans. We are proud and bow to no one. What we are about to do will resonate among our people. Elves, to war!’)

The company raised their weapons and shouted. Culleneron then said something similar and with the same response. Morgan noticed flasks being passed around the circle; one of the elves noticed
him and handed him a flask. Morgan took a drink and handed it back before he sputtered and embarrassed himself.
Zhath
.

And then the elves formed into a loose column and headed northwards into the trees. Itheya hung back and waited for Morgan.

‘Culleneron commands today. He will lead us into the pass and I will lead us out. Humans do not know what they have called upon. There are fewer than five hundred of us but we are the
finest horse in the world. We are an alliance, Morgan; you do not command us. We will fight where we deem it the most appropriate. You can request our presence in battle but we make the final
decision.’

The excitement among the elves was infectious and it had definitely caught Itheya. Her violet eyes shone radiantly and there was a bloom on her pale skin. Morgan suddenly noticed a tattoo on her
neck that he was sure he hadn’t seen before. He pointed this out.

‘Yes, it is new. Only elves at war with peoples other than ourselves can wear it. It is Vewhenesha, the hunting wolf. The elves are hunting, Morgan; it is time for the humans to
fear!’

And with that the elves at the head of the column started to call, an eerily pitched noise not unlike that of a vast pack of baying wolves. It was taken up by the remainder of the elves, nearly
five hundred howling voices calling for blood, and for the first time in days Morgan was reminded of the alien and savage nature of the people he had been living among. Even the trees seemed to
tremble as the host plunged forth; birds scattered from the trees; deer and even bears dispersed at their approach – nothing stood before them. And still the elves called until the
encroaching mountains called back to them. Morgan half expected the very stone to part at their approach.

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