Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘This is ridiculous!’ Morvain protested. ‘I refuse to countenance such an imprudent undertaking. How do we know those Sendorans will tie the rope properly? They have no liking for mindweavers.’

  ‘If you want to go back across that plateau without any water, be my guest.’

  ‘Whose fault is it we don’t have water?’

  Justyn picked out Morvain’s bag and tugged on the straps.

  ‘This one has the thickest leather. Triple stitched.’

  ‘That’s quality Southland leatherwork. I paid fifty tocrins for it!’ Morvain tried to snatch it back, but Justyn pulled it out of his reach.

  ‘Money well spent,’ he said.

  Zastra took Gwylla aside. Such a crossing would challenge the nerve of all of them, but it would be absolutely petrifying for someone like Gwylla. The poor girl was already trembling. Zastra pitied her, but they needed to get across the gorge.

  ‘I understand what you are going through,’ she said gently. ‘Dark passages have the same effect on me. Trust me, you can overcome this.’

  The young woman looked at her in surprise.

  ‘Y-you, Lady Zastra, who are always so fearless? You have felt like this?’

  Fearless? How little Gwylla knew.

  ‘I have. That’s how I know you can beat it. I will go first, to prove it is safe. You will follow, while there are still plenty here to help. I have faith in you, Gwylla. You can do this.’

  Hylaz and Lorzan reached the cave and Zastra fired the grapnel across. Lorzan grabbed it and disappeared, reappearing after a few moments to give a brusque wave. Ithgol tugged on the line. It held. Zastra threaded their end of the line through the straps on Morvain’s bag, and Ithgol tied it around a column of rock. They had their bridge. It looked insubstantial but Lorzan had assured her the rope would hold even someone as heavy as Ithgol. Zastra secured one end of her twine to a metal loop on the flap of the bag and gave the other to Ithgol, so he could retrieve it once she was safely across. Then she looped the straps around each wrist and gripped the leather as hard as she could. She was ready. Time to see if Lorzan was right about the strength of the rope. And if he’d secured his end properly. Stop thinking like that, she urged herself. If we don’t trust each other, we’ve already lost.

  She launched herself, trying not to look down at the stomach-churning drop beneath. The leather hissed against the rope as she slid across the gorge, gathering speed so rapidly she worried she might not be able to stop. As she neared the cave her weight caused the rope bridge to sag and she slowed. Hylaz had his arm out to catch her, but she came to a halt just beyond his reach. She tried to jiggle the bag down the rope, but she was stuck, hanging helplessly over the gorge. A scream floated across the gap. Her eyes met Lorzan’s.

  ‘Any ideas?’ she grunted, her shoulders and arms burning with the effort of holding on.

  ‘Try and get up to the rope,’ he suggested. She began to sway, arcing her body to generate momentum. Flexing her stomach muscles, she levered her right leg upwards, hooking onto the rope with her ankle. Once that was done, hooking her other leg was easy and she was able to slide herself along the rope and into the cave.

  ‘We’re going to need a better plan for Gwylla and the others,’ she said, still breathing heavily as the twine tautened and Morvain’s pack disappeared back up the line. ‘We must find a way to pull them in.’

  Lorzan suggested the grapnel, but Zastra shook her head.

  ‘Too dangerous. We can’t risk an injury.’

  In the end, they tied stones to either end of Hylaz’s second rope to form a bolas. Zastra had seen hunters in the Borders use them to entangle the legs of large vizzals and she believed the same principle could be used here. She waved across to the others to indicate they were ready, but nothing happened.

  ‘The lass has lost her nerve,’ Lorzan remarked.

  ‘She’ll do it,’ Zastra said, but even she began to have her doubts as more time passed. At last, a figure appeared at the lip of the gorge. It was not Gwylla, however, but Waylin. The line hissed and sang as he descended. He, too, stopped short, but Zastra swung the makeshift bolas around his legs and pulled him into the cave.

  ‘Glad you figured that out,’ said Waylin, with a grin. ‘Not all of us are as athletic as you, Lady Zastra.’

  ‘How’s Gwylla?’ Zastra asked.

  ‘She’ll be all right. Just needed a bit more time to get herself together.’

  Sure enough, Gwylla was next to descend the rope bridge. She screamed all the way down, her eyes tight shut. Once she was safe within the cave, she grabbed hold of Hylaz as if she would never let go.

  ‘Well done!’ said Zastra, clapping her on her back.

  ‘By the stars, I thought I couldn’t do it, but I knew I had to – I knew I had to go next, if I waited any longer I wouldn’t have had the nerve – I can’t believe I actually did it!’ The words tumbled out breathlessly, but her face was bright with triumph. Polina came next, white-faced and trembling, and then the others. Zenarbia whooped with excitement and Urbek, too, grinned with pleasure. Ithgol came last and they unhooked the line to retrieve Morvain’s bag. The mindweaver reached for it, then pulled his hand away sharply.

  ‘Ow! It’s as hot as a stove. Oh, just look at these scuff marks! And the straps are practically worn through.’

  ‘I’ll buy you a new one just as soon as I see a Southland leatherworker,’ Zastra remarked, although the chances of that were slim, even assuming she could scrape together fifty tocrins. ‘Let’s get going. We need to find water.’

  ‘Here.’ Lorzan flung a nearly full waterskin at her. ‘There was a stream at the bottom of the canyon.’

  Zastra offered him a silent toast of acknowledgement and not just for the water.

  The cave led to a narrow passage that descended into the striated rock. Zastra felt a familiar dread tugging at her chest as the rock hemmed her in, but she pushed it away. If Gwylla could find the courage to slide across a gorge then Zastra refused to give in to her own fears. She even took the lead. It helped that light filtered down from cracks above, although these natural skylights became less frequent as the passage began to descend more steeply. Soon they were forced to light candles to guide their way. The air cooled and the passage opened out into a large cave. A flat expanse of still water glinted in the candlelight. It was an underground lake. Zenarbia rushed past Zastra and plunged in, screaming in delight.

  ‘It’s so cold!’ she cried, cupping water in her hands and gulping it down. The others quickly followed suit. The last of Lorzan’s water had long gone and everyone drank their fill. Polina took a rag from her pack, dipped it into the lake and began to wash her neck and her arms.

  ‘Which way now?’ Justyn asked, once they had refilled their waterskins. Lorzan had been scouting the edge of the cave.

  ‘There are five ways out of here that I’ve counted, he said. ‘No idea which is the right one. This place is riddled with caves and passageways. It wouldn’t take much to get lost.’

  Zastra pressed her lips together. The idea of wandering in the dark forever, unable to find their way out, was not a pleasant one.

  ‘Let’s take a closer look,’ she said. ‘If the ko-venteela had any sense, they would have left marks to show them the way home.’

  Urbek snorted. ‘I would not be betting. Ko-venteela are being stupid savages.’

  But Urbek underestimated his fellow Aliterrans. A closer examination of one of the passages revealed a symbol carved into the stone; a triangle above three wavy lines.

  ‘It is being ko-venteela sign,’ Urbek said grudgingly. ‘They are often wearing it on their skin. Unless it is being a trap and leading us to the belly of the Mother.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t believe all that nonsense?’ said Morvain with a pitying smile. Urbek muttered something unintelligible.

  ‘I don’t see that we have another choice,’ Zastra said. ‘Anyone disagree?’

  Nobody did, and Zastra led the way down the marked tunnel. Each t
ime they came to a fork or a cave with more than one way out, they looked for the sign. The passages seemed to go on forever and they began to lose track of time in the darkness. Their food supply began to run low. Worse, as far as Zastra was concerned, was their dwindling supply of candles. Although they used only a single candle at a time, they were down to the last few fingers of the one she had brought. Once that burned down, they would be plunged into darkness. How would they see the symbols without light? In the dark, they might miss a turning without even realising. Her heart began to race and she quickened her step, hoping to outrun her fear.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zalboraz, who was considered the best of the Sendoran healers, came to check on Kylen’s progress. He replaced the bandage on her wound, made her drink more of his foul potion and recommended several days of bed rest. Kylen disagreed. She had wasted enough time already.

  She started with her own people. Zax had informed her that many Sendorans didn’t even know what she looked like. She had been absent so often, or else busy with Zastra and the council. She recalled making fun of Zastra as she had let herself be dragged off to inspect every new building or agreed to join the Far Island fleet on one of their fishing trips. Only now did Kylen understand what Zastra had been doing. Everyone on Uden’s Teeth knew who she was, and most could boast they had exchanged words with Leodra’s daughter. Unlike Kylen, she had been visible and approachable. Kylen began spending more time in the Sendoran bunkhouses. Instead of hunting alone, she selected companions, hoping to better understand their characters and capabilities. In the evenings, she ate with them and listened to what they said. There were repeated complaints about lack of houses, or inconsequential arguments between neighbours, but other things she heard were more concerning. To her surprise, she discovered considerable resentment amongst her people towards their own soldiers, who refused to help with the building works or contribute to the new fortifications.

  ‘Always playing at sword fighting or wrestling,’ one woman said bitterly, ‘while we’ve families without a roof over their heads.’

  When it came to Beregan and the other leaders, Kylen took a different approach. She knew well enough what they thought; it was time to remind them of their obligations. She called them together.

  ‘Sendor was built on courage, integrity and loyalty. I had the courage to do something different, to trust my life to someone who is not Sendoran. I did so because it is the only way to win this war.’

  She looked around the room. Her words had got their attention, if not their agreement.

  ‘Then there’s integrity. The word of a Sendoran is binding. What we promise, we do. I have pledged my word that we will fight with the others and any true Sendoran should honour that promise. But today I make another pledge. I vow that you shall have vengeance for what Thorlberd has done to our families and our country.’

  There were nods and even a few of murmurs of agreement.

  ‘Last, but most important, I am the daughter of Mendoraz and your rightful lord. By this right I claim your oath of loyalty.’

  She waited as Zadorax stepped forward, knelt before her and pressed his palm to his chest

  ‘I, Zadorax, son of Mendoraz, pledge myself to Kylen, Lord of Sendor. May she bring us victory in battle and honour in peacetime.’ His voice rang out, clear and certain. Next came Beregan, who also knelt and repeated the oath. Kylen kept her expression neutral. She had forewarned Beregan and Zax to ensure there was no awkward pause after she demanded the oath, but would the others follow? Silence hung like a sword over her head before Kulleen, a tall woman who had served in her father’s honour guard, stepped forward and took the oath. The others followed. Relief flooded through Kylen’s body. It would take more than words to prove their loyalty, but it was a beginning.

  Getting the rest of the alliance to accept her leadership would be the most difficult task of all. She began by asking Pitwyn to explain everything he had been doing under Zastra’s instructions. They spent all day reviewing lists and plans, until Kylen’s head was spinning. How had Zastra kept on top of all this and still found time to plan raids into Thorlberd’s territory? The geography of Port Krysfera made it difficult to defend. The opening to the bay was wide and unprotected and there was another potential landing point beyond the southern headland, with a cut-through that led straight to the heart of the settlement. An assault from that direction would leave them outflanked.

  ‘We need to do more,’ Kylen said. Pitwyn pressed his lips together. It was unusual for him to remain so quiet.

  ‘What?’ she asked impatiently.

  ‘Lord Justyn and Lady Zastra worked on this plan together,’ he said defensively. ‘And you dare – a Sendoran – that is to say – of course, I know Lady Zastra left you in charge, but surely you do not dare to criticise?’

  ‘I have no problem with the plan so far as it goes. A battery on the northern headland and a fortress at the landing site to the south are exactly what is required. But we must have another battery on the southern headland.’

  ‘Lord Justyn did suggest the very same,’ Pitwyn admitted. ‘But the ground is too wet – our heavy catapults would sink into the sand. If there was to be an attack – let us hope that there is not, for without Lady Zastra to save us – I do not wish to – she suggested that one of the ships, perhaps the Wind of Golmeira itself, could provide the second battery.’

  ‘We cannot spare any of our warships for such a task. We have only four, one of which is a converted trader and they are needed to defend the bay. I wish we had three times as many. It is the worst defensive position I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘What do you recommend?’ asked Pitwyn stiffly. ‘Lady Zastra insisted I give you every assistance while she was away, and I will honour her command – even though all I hear is criticism and griping. It’s not my place to determine who is deserving – I am her humble servant, and so, I suppose, I must now be yours.’

  Kylen was touched to learn that, despite the bitterness of their parting, Zastra had left such instructions.

  ‘I am not blaming you or Zastra for the landscape,’ Kylen said, striving for patience. ‘I will think on the problem. In the meantime, I’m worried about that other landing site. You are telling me we haven’t yet completed the foundations of the new fortress?’

  ‘Alas, no. Despite my constant reminders – the quarry master is quite an obstinate fellow. Of course, there is huge demand for stone – arguments amongst many parties – houses, bunkhouses and there’s also the new jetty on Mendoraz.’

  ‘Can’t we increase the supply?’

  ‘As to the quarry, now that we have more pickaxes – metal has been so difficult – you recall the shipment of iron the Obala stole from Southland? Right under the noses of – No? You were away, I recall – another secret mission, not even I was informed. However, now the iron mine is open, and of course the forges – here, let me show you the list. Four working forges and a new batch of pickaxes just cast – fuel is the only – oh, that reminds me, I must see to the new charcoal beds. What was I saying? Oh yes, now we have enough tools, the only way to increase the supply of stone is with more people, but alas we are already stretched thinner than a gossamer shawl – I remember Lady Grinsilla had one, as pretty as a – ahem, what with the new works on Mendoraz – Lady Zastra chose the name you know – whether it is deserved or not is for others to—’

  ‘Get those pickaxes to the quarry,’ Kylen interjected bluntly. ‘I will see to the rest.’

  She sent word to Beregan to bring a hundred soldiers to the quarry and headed toward the southern landing site. She walked between the rows of cabins that ran along the shoreline. They were all square and of similar size, yet each had been distinguished with personal touches. Clothes flapped on rope lines slung between bamboo poles and plants flowered in clay pots, adding splashes of colour. In the shade cast by one cabin, a tame moccasin bird, one of the many new species they had discovered on the island, strutted about in a bamboo cage. Many of the Far Islan
ders’ cabins had smokers attached that gave off the lingering scent of drying fish as she walked past. A group of barefooted children swerved between the homes, playing a game of chase. Among them, she recognised Migala, the girl she had brought from Bractaris Castle. She was plumper now and laughing with the others. Kylen tried not to picture what Thorlberd’s army would do to these fragile homes. She found the cut-through and followed it to the site of the fortress. Vingrod, a Golmeiran scientist, whose previous achievements included discovering how to make scale-tip arrowheads, was managing the project and she showed Kylen the plans. A buttressed wall across the channel, with a square tower jutting forward at the centre – a simple but effective design. As yet, nothing was visible above ground.

  ‘The footing here is not good. We had to dig a long way down to reach anything solid,’ Vingrod explained.

  ‘Let’s use that to our advantage. A trench between us and the sea would slow down invaders. In such soft ground, they would become easy targets. Two would be even better.’

  ‘We cannot spare the workers. And if we don’t get more stone, we’ll struggle to complete the fortress by Lady Zastra’s deadline.’

  ‘I will get you more stone,’ Kylen promised, ‘more people too, but in return I want everything finished by the next Moonscross.’

  She left Vingrod scratching her head and jogged across a swathe of cleared forest towards the quarry. Between jagged tree stumps, a herd of goats was grazing on grasses and palms that flourished now that trees no longer blocked out the light. Thanks to Pitwyn, Kylen knew they had three herds of goats, bred from hardy Sendoran and Borders stock, providing milk from which they made cheese as well as wool for clothes. Beyond the decimated forest, the quarry formed a gaping wound in the side of the smaller mountain. Beregan was waiting with her hundred soldiers. Moments later, Radogan arrived at the head of a line of porters, all carrying bundles of pickaxes and other tools. Pitwyn was certainly efficient.