Eshezy noticed that Gefforen was watching her as she thought out her justifications and rationalisations. She decided to do a quick survey – though initially there would be only one respondent. “Do you like your room?”
“Oh yes, it’s perfect! She Who Has Not Been Named is generous!” Gefforen exclaimed, and she ran in and flopped down with her little sister, getting broad smiles from her and Jeraldanine.
I think ‘She’ has a sense of humour, too. Eshezy stood in the doorway and watched the bubbly girls interacting; she decided to keep this startling thought to herself.
Chapter Nine
Preparations for a Journey
“I know that Seirchaal has established other villages, or towns… but they are a long way away from us, so we have some time before anyone from them could travel all the way to here.” Eshezy looked at each member of her informal Fortress council, pleased that she now understood the magical properties of her ‘property’ at least as well as the other inhabitants did and surprised at how much pleasure her so-far unannounced room modifications were giving her.
“Time for what, Eshezy?” Travakane spoke up first, his back towards the well – it was at his insistence that the meeting was reconvened much closer to the Fortress, as he was still concerned about the last soldier, Kartilagburg, and the damage he could do, despite the fact that they had recovered all but two of the javelins and Eshezy had stated emphatically that she knew he had left the area.
Eshezy looked down as she tried to collect her thoughts and discovered that her people were shod with a mixture of boots and sandals, all apparently made of leather… Where does it come from? She shook her head – she had braided her hair again, having noted that it seemed to be a distraction to about half the inhabitants of her Fortress. The male half! She was also determined to put aside the mysteries that distracted her as she was determined to address what she saw as the two, apparently mutually exclusive priorities which must somehow both be met, if the newly installed inhabitants of her Fortress and the world of Terraless itself were to survive. “Time for me to go to the aid of the sun creature. And I will need Harthangan, Athanashal, and Gefforen to come with me!”
Gefforen looked up, searching for and finding the sun-beast behind a thin fluffy cloud. “It’s up… there. How can we help it?” Interestingly and encouragingly to Eshezy, she did not seem to be at all scared about a trip out into the unknown, just unsure what difference her presence would make.
“And these others, from other towns.” Travakane barely glanced upwards, not convinced that there was anything anyone could do, or needed to do, to aid something that he had come to accept as remote, constant and probably aloof. “What if they come while you are gone – the many soldiers from these other places? We will be trapped inside the Fortress; we cannot live long without the grain from out here.”
“I… I agree with Travakane, we need to make some kind of defensive barrier around your Fortress first, including a large part of the grass fields.” Harthangan initially seemed reluctant to speak. “Us miners are the ones to do that task. And we’ll need a lot of help from the other Neechaallites, too, of course.” This last bit was added as he recollected that Basrillene was present.
“And you…” Eshezy looked at Basrillene, noting that he had not spoken. He looks uncomfortable, too, so perhaps he is not convinced about the mission, either. Does no one trust She Who Has Not Been Named… now there is a safe place to crawl inside? “You have organised the people inside my Fortress, what do you think about the challenge of feeding them, while I am gone?”
“Each day we crop about a hundred yards by thirty. That makes enough bread for everyone. The grasses do grow back –eventually – but it takes months.” He was increasingly uncomfortable, and Eshezy wondered why.
“He’s right.” Travakane was encouraged, emboldened by this. “We’d need a huge barrier. It would take weeks and weeks to build – maybe months. It sounds likely that Seirchaal will send his men from these other towns before that and if Kartilagburg goes to one of those towns and tells them about the javelins and arrows… they may come and …” He shook his head, afraid to voice his conclusions.
Eshezy looked at her ‘councillors’; their expressions were quite different, almost distant, instead of trusting, faithful… What has changed? How can I lose them so quickly? Except Gefforen, of course, she would do anything for me! Suddenly she saw it. “This possible attack force seems so real to you – why?”
“When you said about other towns.” Harthangan began. “I had never heard anything like it. Then I spoke to the ones that threw the javelins from the upper windows. They told me.”
“What?!” Eshezy was mixed up – part of her wanted to scream with exasperation, while the other part wanted to laugh at the disjointed way she seemed to get information. I think She is much clearer than my fellows!
“Karg threatened the throwers with the prospect of many soldiers from elsewhere.” Travakane explained. “No one believed his lies.” He looked at her, shock and dismay very evident. “But then you confirmed that he wasn’t lying, that he was telling the truth. Surely that means we must prepare for the worst.”
Eshezy shook her head. “Watch.” She selected an arrow from her quiver, pulled back and released. All watched as the arrow flew up in a huge arc and came down far away, near the beginning of the path to Neechaall. She pulled out another, repeated her pose and let fly. Oh, how I love that sound! She walked towards the ‘target’, turned and gestured for the others to accompany her, when they failed to do so.
There, sticking out of the trampled grass stubs, were the two arrows, about a yard apart. Eshezy stared at them, then looked at the council members. “Don’t speak.” She took Gefforen by the hand and led her off, back towards the Fortress. The others watched as the two talked, quietly and intently, then Eshezy came back and gestured for Harthangan to accompany her to a point a short way down the path to Neechaall. He looked nervous, but again, the others watched as some intense conversation ensued. She repeated this process individually with Travakane and Basrillene. Finally, she walked back to Gefforen and called for them to gather round.
“I asked each of you what conclusions you could draw from the two arrows and how I had used them. I’ll tell you what was said in response, but not who said it.” Eshezy smiled. “You’ll each know just one part – the part you said. When I’m finished, I’ll tell you one more thing. But perhaps you’ll be able to guess it, before I say it.”
“This is what I heard: ‘I tried to hit the same spot with both, but couldn’t’. ‘Arrows must only be used by Eshezy’. ‘All Neechaallites should learn how to use a bow and arrow’. ‘The arrows landed where I wanted them to – exactly; I put them that far apart because ‘She’ told me to’.” She looked at their faces, and saw the various expressions she had expected: Gefforen looked confused by the conflicting comments, Basrillene appeared sad, Harthangan was smiling, and Travakane was irritated. “Now, as for my–”
Screams and shouts from the Fortress interrupted her and she ran to the back door with the others close behind her. Several Neechaallites had already stumbled out and Eshezy had to push past some more to get in. Once inside, she bounced to her feet and looked around, arrow immediately at the ready. There was no one in the kitchen area or the grand hall, so she advanced to the bottom of the staircase and found noise coming from the left. Isn’t this where the prison room is? As she thought it, Carranavak ran around the corner from the third wing, sword in hand.
When he saw Eshezy, her bow and arrow at the ready, he stopped and almost immediately there were three miners behind him, brandishing swords and standing shoulder-to-shoulder. He stepped back and took a quick swipe at the centre man and the three fell back hastily as he tried to demonstrate that, even with a damaged arm, he was still more than capable of delivering a mortal blow, if they strayed too close.
“Carranavak! Stop, or I will finish the job I began two days ago.” Eshezy watched as he turned to face her and
found an arrow aimed squarely at his chest. She could see he was trying to figure out if he could knock the arrow aside with his sword; he was only three yards from the point of the projectile. “You’d be dead before you took one pace.”
“Eshezy, the other one killed Beinkanap!” One of the three miners behind Carranavak growled. “This one planned it, I’m sure.”
“Drop the sword, now, or I will do it.” Eshezy pulled back a little more on the bow, knowing that she would not be able to retrieve the arrow, if she loosed it from such point-blank range.
Carranavak lowered his sword tip and let the weapon drop. It stuck in the wooden flooring and swung gently from side to side.
“Put your hands together.” Eshezy watched as he did this, then tilted her head to the left, half-closing her eyes, using the new-found skill that she had been honing earlier with the spare rooms. There were gasps from behind her as they saw thick leather curving out of nowhere and enclosing both his wrists, extending back to and around his waist, making him shackled without any apparent action on her part. “Back.”
He turned, his eyes wide with amazement at this demonstration of raw power and the three miners fell in, one each side of him and one leading the way as he walked back, his shoulders slumped.
Eshezy looked behind her and found that her ‘council’ was there. And of course, Gefforen has brought my arrows! She said nothing, but followed the prisoner down the corridor, around the corner and then right, into the fourth wing. The prison cell was the first room in that wing and she found a crowd there, blocking the entrance. As soon as they noticed the return of the defeated and heavily restrained governor, the crowd split, allowing him entrance.
“You served Seirchaal well and you have been rewarded!” Carranavak sneered as he turned to give this message towards the feet of his fellow-soldier – just visible beyond the door – though no response would be forthcoming from the very obviously dead man. The miners pushed him against the wall and held him there, not impressed with his cold-blooded attitude.
Two of the younger townspeople were crouched around in a pool of blood a little further into the cell. It took Eshezy a moment to realise that the pile of bloody material they were tending was covering a body.
“Is this Beinkanap?” She crouched down with them, finding the deathly white face of the unfortunate miner before her, tilted back strangely. She reached out and touched his cheek, then slipped her hand gently around the back of his neck, finding there what she had expected, but resisted believing until this point. His expression was strangely peaceful in death and Eshezy remembered him as being one of the men she had chosen to become a sword-bearer.
“We tried well water.” The left-hand self-appointed helper nodded in response. “It didn’t work.”
“Thanks.” Eshezy looked at the young face, framed with a shaggy mane of reddish-brown, curly hair, realising that this was the first time she had really ever noticed him. Nice kid. And now he is to be forever remembered as the youth who thought the magic of this well water would be enough to fix a broken neck and multiple stab wounds to the heart.
“It’s ok.” Oh, I know, it isn’t. “You did your best.” I must make this right – but how? And finally: “What are you called?”
“Frengemin, Eshezy!” The voice cracked as he responded.
“We will remember him.” She nodded and looked at the other helper, realising as she did so that the face before her was vaguely familiar. Blonde, shoulder-length, grey eyes, somewhat sunken cheeks. What was his name? I remember when I first saw him I thought this one would have died if he’d had to work under the governor for a few more weeks. At least he wasn’t hurt. And now, I make a promise to myself that no one else will be!
“We’ll bury Beinkanap out beyond the third wing. There is a special place… I can show you… oh, thanks to you too, Vacterrin.” Eshezy spoke abstractedly, pleased that the name had come back to her as the location appeared in her mind, waiting for a moment to make sure she could stand up without wobbling. She looked around the room at the small group of her followers, standing there so silently. Such sadness and it was my fault; I kept the soldiers alive when Larkandert said they should be killed. She turned around and gazed at the other soldier’s body where he lay partly behind the door, a sword still embedded in his side. “And we’ll bury the dead soldier where the other three are, by the road.” She looked at Carranavak. “What was his name?”
“What does it matter?” The onetime governor stared back at her, his face like a mask. “He’s dead – that’s the end of it.”
What makes you so sure of that? She moved on from her confident, confidential contradiction, restricting her vocalised statement merely to what she knew he deserved to hear: “No one should die and be buried with no name.”
“Eshezy, I heard Carranavak call him Punamekin.” One of the three restraining miners left his two companions to carry on their monitoring of their old governor as he turned to talk to Eshezy. “We didn’t watch him closely enough; we thought he was too injured to be a danger.”
Eshezy kept her face immobile as emotions flooded through her, grateful for his attempt at deflecting her sense of guilt. “I will make sure that nothing like this happens again. Get the body of Beinkanap and we’ll leave ‘the governor’ in here for now with his fallen comrade for company.” She watched as her directions were followed. One miner struggled with the sword in Punamekin’s torso, pulling it free after a brief pause. As she followed them and stepped out of the door she gestured at the bolt and watched with a hollow sense of satisfaction as it slid into place. Looking through the small observation hole at the mess still inside the cell, she found the shackled Carranavak staring towards the secured exit. “I may let your shackles fall, later.”
As she walked back towards the central portion of her Fortress, she noticed the bloody footprints scattered across the once-pristine floor. How can they possibly still trust me, now I have failed them? Do I trust myself?
Eshezy stood in silent tribute as the burial crew covered the new grave. The site was a slight prominence in an area recently cleared by the wheat gatherers. There was something about the location, beyond the wings that enclosed the back door and the well site, close to a side of the Fortress which she had not previously visited – near to stair nine… But that’s not all… She tilted her head, noticing that the sun creature was definitely a shade darker than when she had first arrived in Terraless. And that was only four days ago! She closed her eyes and reached out, trying to determine what could be causing this, and wondering what else might be happening nearby. Her attempt was not entirely successful, but she did come to one conclusion and a corollary: I’m sure Kartilagburg is long gone – that at least has not changed. And we must be gone, too.
Gefforen stood beside her, watching her heroine’s expressions with concern and wondering what she could do to comfort her. She at least had no doubts about the value of her mentor.
“I know what they must be thinking.” Eshezy turned to her smaller friend. “And I don’t blame them. But I still know what must be done.”
“I don’t understand.” Gefforen confessed freely, apparently unconcerned that she was making this admission. “But I will come with you, of course. Without Eshezy, I would still not know about choices!”
Eshezy saw the truth in that statement and found some consolation in it. “And now, I must get the others in my ‘council’ and show them what they must do to keep safe until we return.” She looked at Gefforen, saw she looked a little lost, and grinned: “Of course, you must come too – I’ll show them the weapons in the armoury; that may give them some more confidence, don’t you think?”
Once inside that perpetually ‘twi-lighted’ room, Eshezy put her bow behind the door and looked around, taking more time to observe on this occasion as she witnessed the expressions on her councillors’ faces. There were exclamations and then some subdued conversation between Travakane and Harthangan, whilst Basrillene found himself closer to Gefforen and un
able or unwilling to make any comment to her. The council started with the nearest things, strange stacks of metal panels and disks with unfathomable uses and then moved on to the impressive collection of weaponry.
“Eshezy!” Travakane reached towards the breastplates arranged within the next alcove of the room and ran his fingers over the curved metal. “Would this stop your arrows?”
Eshezy thought for a moment, trying to recall the knowledge which she was sure she once had. She shrugged. “We’ll try them, but not when anyone is wearing one!”
She looked beyond the area with which she was familiar and found the gloom seemed to lift as she concentrated. She was not surprised to see a new addition to the ‘kit’ resolve before her eyes: a veritable ‘forest’ of bows, stacked in a distant corner area that she was certain before had been essentially empty. It almost seems bigger in here than before… First, though, she walked to the stack of swords. There were appreciative ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaaahs’ as she partially drew out one sword and they saw the exquisite quality of the workmanship.
“It’s a bit heavy for me.” Eshezy slid it back into its sheath and turned the hilt towards Travakane, who pulled the sword out and held it up like a torch.
“Magnificent!” He breathed, and he started to wave it around, causing the others to step back, out of range.
Terraless Page 14
