Near dawn, a farmer came down the track with a Serice-style wheelbarrow piled high with ears of corn. A few minutes later, another farmer came up with an even larger cart; two young boys helped him push his load of potatoes along the rutted road. The two farmers greeted each other and spoke of the weather. They nodded at Sandun but otherwise paid no attention to him. As a rosy light covered the eastern horizon, an old woman made her way across a plowed field of dirt, carrying a basket; when she reached the shelter, Sandun saw her basket contained eggs.
The first farmer pushed his wheelbarrow up to the gate and called out, in a friendly voice, to top of the brick wall: “Come along and open the gate. People need to eat, and I’d like some tea before my eyes weep blood.”
“I hear you,” came a voice from above. “But I don’t see the sun. Do you?”
“It’s nearly eleven-month. Just because the sun’s not yet risen doesn’t mean folk aren’t up and looking to taste the last fresh corn of the year.”
The old woman joined the farmer and added her voice to the petition. “Got a nice fresh egg for you, sonny. Hens have been laying well these last few days.”
The farmer with the large cart of potatoes called out, “There’s no sign of bandits for miles and miles. None since the opmi rode through. Let us in!”
“Very well,” said the gate guard, and muffled noises told the farmers the gate was being unbarred.
Sandun heard the word “opmi” and tried to puzzle out what it could mean. He wondered if Lord Vaina had followed through with his idea of creating a large military force of opmi, or knights, as a special division of his Red Crane Army. Once the gate was open, Sandun kept his hat low and passed by the guards, saying only, “Going to Tokolas.” They let him through without further question.
Sandun followed the farmers to the open square in the center of town. One teahouse was already open, and Sandun joined the first farmer who was greeted as a regular and took a seat beside the fireplace. In a very short space of time, the farmer drank an entire pot of tea and called for another. Sandun sipped his own tea slowly, enjoying the taste and the sensation of the hot beverage trickling down his throat.
After the farmer left with a friendly farewell, Sandun asked the teahouse owner about passage to Tokolas.
“Usually a boat comes by once a day,” his host replied. “They sound the horn up on the watchtower when they catch sight of it. Of late, the boat’s been crowded with wounded soldiers heading downriver to the capital. Praise Eston, the fighting has been mostly on the south side of the Mur.”
Sandun was not surprised to learn that war had been renewed on Kunhalvar’s eastern front. Only a fool would have failed to attack the army around Oardulos, especially once the Dombovar commander learned that Kunhalvar’s best soldiers had been drawn off to join the Northern Expedition to Kemeklos. And the Iron King, whatever his faults, did not have fools for generals.
“Did we lose much land to Dombovar’s forces?” As soon as he said it, Sandun realized this question could lead to suspicion about his motives.
But the man serving the tea acted as though he heard talk of the war with Dombovar all the time. “Aye, the army was forced to retreat back to Rosepoint, some fifty tik from the old battle lines. The hills there are steep, and once General Modi returned, the retreat halted. Since the old warhorse, General Erdis, came to the front at the start of the month, we’ve been advancing, regaining lost ground. That’s what we hear on our side of the river at least.”
“And where is the dock of this town?” Sandun asked.
“Just follow the main road south. One tik downhill. Y’can’t miss it.” The teahouse owner continued, “Boat won’t be here for hours, though. Unless it’s a courier boat, and they don’t take common passengers.” He looked at Sandun intently. “Though they might take you.”
Sandun finished his tea and left a few extra coins in payment. Walking across the busy center of town, he heard snatches of conversations about the war, raiders, and bandits, as well as more mundane matters such as the price of fish and whether a new caravan of wheat would come in from the north soon. He passed a junk shop with a curious collection of broken pieces of armor refashioned into cups, plates, and pots. Following a wagon, he saw two cats gnawing on the remains of a fish. The cats were growling at each other as each struggled to seize the fish and make it their own. A good sign, thought Sandun. The river must be close. Passing through a different gate in the city walls, he saw the river Mur though a gap in the trees.
He was about half a mile from the river and at least a hundred feet above it. Like Tokolas, the town of Molimonik was built above the river, probably to avoid flooding. The road down to the river made a big curve, which he guessed made it easier for wagons and carts to travel up from the shore. As he followed the road, he saw that large wooden posts had been sunk into the earth on either side of the road. These were used to help pull heavy wagons up the hill by wrapping ropes around them; the posts showed signs of wear.
As he came closer to the Mur, he found a few houses built right beside the riverbank. Two of the houses were actually old boats, half sunk in the soft ground and given additions alongside, such as awnings and a workshop. The Mur itself was noticeably narrower here than it was at Tokolas. Looking across the river, Sandun saw ridges lined with trees above the flat farmlands close to the shore.
The river seemed peaceful at this hour; two small boats were on the water, the men casting nets and then hauling them out with regularity. Sandun also saw several men and children fishing from the dock. The smoke from the other side looked like it came from typical cooking fires. As he continued his observation, he did see signs of war: a broken arrow spinning in a shallow eddy, the half-rotted carcass of a horse lying on a sandbar several hundred feet downstream, and five new graves not far from the roadside. Sandun suspected the graves held the remains of dead soldiers who had washed ashore over the last month.
Shortly before noon, a medium-sized boat appeared around the bend, coming upriver, under sail and with oars beating. There were horses onboard and glints of sunlight reflecting off of…metal? Sandun felt something in his mind, a faintly familiar presence, as though he knew the people on board. That was ridiculous, he told himself. Surely everyone he knew was back in Tokolas.
But no, the certainty grew that his friends Sir Ako, Wiyat, and perhaps others were on that boat. Sandun rose to his feet and walked to the end of the pier, shading his eyes against the sun’s glare off the water. He drew Skathris and held it up in the air. He was filled with delight, but he resisted the temptation to do anything extraordinary; now was not the time. He just stood there with a great smile on his face.
On board the boat, they had seen him. When they came closer, he heard Sir Ako’s voice boom out, “Halloo! Halloo! Ahoy there!” Sandun didn’t reply; he just waved his sword back and forth as though he was trying to roust a flock of ducks on a marsh. Then he sheathed his sword and laughed.
As soon as the boat reached the dock, Sir Ako barreled down the gangplank ahead of everyone else and swept Sandun in a bear hug that lifted him off the ground for a second. “By the Spear! By Hurin’s beard! Sandun Eiger! You are alive! What are you doing here?”
The other Keltens all shook his hands and crowded around him, making it impossible for the horses to be let off the boat.
“Yes, it’s me. I can fairly ask you the same question! What are you doing here?”
Ako nearly shouted his reply, “We’ve come back here to hunt bandits! As well as the remnants of the Sogand army that we whipped at Kemeklos. But Sandun…by the blood of Sho’Ash, Basil said you weren’t dead, and we all hoped he was right. And here you are. I don’t know what to say.” At this, the big man choked up and drew several mighty breaths.
Sandun didn’t quite feel the same strong emotion; he knew his friends had survived the Northern Expedition, but meeting them here on this day was an unexpected joy. “Whe
re is Basil? Is he well? I don’t see him.” Sandun saw two new faces in the back, though actually he recognized one of the new people: Filpa, the courier. Both of the new warriors were dressed in metal armor and standing near Lathe.
“Basil is well but not with us.” Sir Ako’s face had a flicker of emotion, and Sandun could tell there was something concerning behind Basil’s absence. “Everyone is fine. The Lady Miri has been praying for your safe return every day. Lord Vaina has been ill, like many, after the strain of battle ended, but he is recovering. He will be very happy to see you, as will Valo Peli.”
“I was planning on taking the next boat back to Tokolas.” Sandun held out his hands as though explaining why he was late to a party. “And you are going off to hunt bandits. We should spend a few hours catching up on news before we go our separate ways, yes?”
“Harbor Master!” Sandun pointed at the man in charge of the docks. “When will the next boat to Tokolas sail? Where is this boat going?”
The harbor master, who appeared to be a naval officer based on his uniform, came up and bowed. “You are the Lord Sandun? The Fire Sword? Give us a time you wish to depart, and a boat will be ready for you. As advisor to the lord of Kunhalvar, you have priority.”
“Three hours after noon, then,” Sandun stated.
“A boat will be waiting, Advisor Sandun.”
“What?” Wiyat said loudly. “Only three hours?” Padan elbowed Wiyat in the side, his mailed arm striking Wiyat’s cuirass with a clang. Wiyat grunted.
“Sandun is right,” Sir Ako said with a degree of resignation. “He needs to return to Tokolas, and we have our own deeds to perform. We will drink and eat under these willow trees, and then we will see him again back at the embassy when our task is completed.”
As they walked the horses over to the stand of willows by the river, Sandun said, “I see Sume is still with you, and Filpa, and one other warrior?”
“Yes,” Sir Ako replied. “We are expanding the Knights of Serica. Since Lathe was made a knight, many other men in Tokolas have asked to join us. They know the requirement of following the true faith, and this has not been as much of an obstacle as I feared. Filpa is my squire, and the other man, Hikki by name, is Padan’s squire. I intend that every knight shall have a squire to train, similar to how it’s done back in Kelten. Sume, is…well, Sume. Not a squire, not a knight, but a damn fine horse archer.”
“Squires…that sounds like a good plan, though all your knights will have to learn how to speak Serice,” Sandun said. “I know Filpa has the spirit of a knight if not the training. Somewhat to my surprise, I’m still wearing the boots his father made for me.”
They all sat together under an old willow, its long whiplike branches trailing nearly to the ground. Sir Ako and Padan pulled leather flasks out of their packs and passed them around.
“These were for midjourney or rainy days, but now is the time to celebrate a happy occasion. We drink to the return of a lost knight!” Sir Ako gave the Kelten salute to Sandun, and the others followed suit.
For the next hour, the knights told of what had transpired to them in Kemeklos. After they talked about their effort to find Sandun and their later triumphant return to Tokolas, Sandun gave the briefest possible account of what happened to him. When he reached the point where Kagne had freed him, he paused for some moments. A frog croaked in the silence as the other knights waited to hear his words.
“I killed Nilin Ulim with Basil’s Piksie knife. Then, with his blood still hot on my face, I took up Skathris and walked out of Nilin’s tent. After that, a miracle occurred.” Sandun looked down at the ground and very softly continued, “An angel of Sho’Ash came down from heaven and took both Kagne and I far away from the Sogands. I know that sounds like what a lunatic would say, but it is the truth.” He raised his hand to forestall the questions that he knew were coming. “There is not much I can talk about regarding the time since that astounding day. But I must tell you this: I have been changed, and I am no longer the man I was. I do not ask you to believe me. I do not ask anything of you save only this: understand that the world has changed.”
Sandun raised his eyes and looked at them. Ako looked back at him steadily; his rather impressive mustache hardly twitched on his carefully neutral face. Padan rolled his eyes in disbelief. Damar gazed back at Sandun thoughtfully, as though Sandun had just proposed a new way to saddle a horse. Farrel, evidently still puzzling out Sandun’s words, chewed a piece of dried beef. Only Wiyat nodded in agreement, as Sandun’s account seemingly matched his own guess. None of the three Serice warriors with them had understood much of Sandun’s story, as he had spoken in Kelten.
“And what of Kagne?” Sir Ako asked, breaking the silence. “Is he here also?”
“I have not seen Kagne since that day of days,” Sandun replied carefully. “He and I now walk different paths. I think it likely that none of us will see him again. Though perhaps we will, someday. Even though I have spoken to an angel, I do not have the gift of prophecy.”
Further questions were halted as three long horn calls sounded out from the watchtower of Molimonik.
“Enemies have been spotted near the walls,” Filpa said excitedly. “It’s a chance to fight! Talk more later!”
They all stood and began putting on their armor. Ako said to Sandun, “Your armor is back at the embassy. We do have a spare horse, and you can borrow my bow. I want you to stay out of any melee along with the other archers: Farrel, Damar, and Sume.”
Sandun agreed, though he had not pulled a Kelten bow since the battle of Devek. He wondered: If an arrow came toward him, could he knock it out of the sky with lightning? He didn’t know; he hadn’t tried to hit fast-moving things.
The knights rode up to the river gate of Molimonik, where the guards relayed the news from the watchtower: cavalrymen wearing Dombovar’s colors had been spotted. Two farm boys had run into town, telling the same story. In numbers, anywhere from fifteen to more than one hundred Dombovar warriors had been sighted.
“We didn’t come here to fight Dombovar’s cavalry,” Padan grumbled.
“Nor did we come here to run away when attacked,” retorted Sir Ako.
Sandun understood their hesitation. They had been willing, eager even, to fight the Sogands of the Kitran Empire. But to fight Dombovar soldiers put them firmly on the side of Kunhalvar in the multisided civil war of Serica. They hadn’t made that choice yet, but Sandun had.
“We fought in the middle of the Red Crane Army at Devek,” Sandun said firmly to all the knights. “Before that battle, we protected the homes and lives of the people of Olitik from raiders. You tell me that you did the same four weeks ago. Will you sit idle now and let soldiers from Dombovar steal livestock from these farmers? Will you let them kill and ravage the people just because the raiders are carrying Dombovar’s flag? General Modi’s men fought with us at Devek, and they were all folk of this region. I know where I stand—with Lord Vaina and Kunhalvar.”
Filpa drew his sword and saluted Sandun, as did the other squire, Hikki. Lathe clashed his two swords together. Sume, as usual, remained silent and expressionless under her helm.
“Sir Sandun has the right of it,” Sir Ako said. “We came to defeat raiders and bring peace to this region. Does it matter so much if the raiders are from Dombovar or the Kitran Empire?”
Muttered nos came from the Kelten knights.
“Then we shall drive them away with their tails between their legs,” Sir Ako said with a tight smile.
The guards above them on the gate heard their deliberations, and when knights decided to fight, a narrow door opened. A farm boy appeared in the doorway, looking hesitant. The soldiers inside urged him on. Seeing Filpa as a friendly face, the boy approached the former courier and spoke to him: “I know where they were, a half hour ago. You…you can follow me, Opmi.”
Filpa smiled and offered the boy his hand. “Sit behind me and
guide us.” With a sudden smile, the farm boy mounted Filpa’s horse and pointed east, to a trail that soon took them into a forest of birch trees.
Nearly all the leaves had turned color: yellow, orange, and red. The ones on the ground were faded, brown, and soggy from recent rain. Often, on their right, the Mur appeared through the trees. Sandun felt absurdly happy. Part of him wanted to show off his new power; he was brimming with akela and felt confident he could bring down the sky three or four times. But a calmer, more reflective voice inside him urged caution. Use the bow for now, the voice said.
Sandun asked Damar about their previous bandit-hunting expedition.
“We went due north, rode for eight days, all told. Filpa guided us.”
“Did you find many outlaws?” Sandun inquired. Getting Damar to talk was never easy.
“Aye. Farmers knew. The bandits were not hiding and were unwary. No one is keeping order. That’s why the commander brought us here. We can do some good.” Damar glanced at Sume, who was riding close behind. She nodded in agreement.
“What about Basil?” Sandun felt something had been missing from Sir Ako’s simple comment of he’s not with us.
Damar didn’t reply for bit. Then he said: “Basil says he hunts animals, not men. Can’t say I blame him with Olef and the baby. Someone needs to stay at the embassy.”
Sandun mulled over Damar’s words for bit. Who was at the embassy? It had been crowded in the days before the expedition to Kemeklos.
At the head of the line there was a sudden halt. The farm boy had slipped off Filpa’s horse and was speaking to a smaller figure crouching on the ground. The knights drew together, and eventually Sandun gained a clear view of the proceedings. A second young boy, frightened and breathing hard, pointed north, away from the trail. Filpa grasped the import of the child’s words and spoke clearly to the assembled knights.
The Flame Iris Temple Page 5
