Night came. The sky went from red to blue, from blue to deepest purple, and then to black. From the lake came the strangest noise, a mournful whooping cry, from one voice, then two, and then many more joined the chorus. Everyone’s blood was chilled. And then the attack came. From my position I could make out little, just shapes trying to scale the stockade and being repulsed. The flaming torches outside the great house made vision even worse if anything. It was chaos – the cries of men and the howling of the night devils – I had my bow in my hand but could see nothing to aim at. Eventually, the men at the stockade drove them back but it was only a brief respite.
In total, they attacked seven times that night. After the second or third attack I joined the men at the stockade. They are terrifying foes, fast and strong, slimy, with green lizard-like eyes that shine in the dark. I wounded a couple and I think I hit some with my arrows. They did break through in the end, but the women aided us pelting them with stones. Just as we were weakening, dawn broke. In total, six men were lost, with many more injured. Their bite has a poison to it that slows the healing of wounds; the Elder tried healing them with mud poultices but with limited effect. We don’t know how many of them we killed; they took the bodies of their dead with them. I have heard they cannibalise their own. I spoke to the Elder and the other wise men. It was decided that they would reinforce their stockade and send all of the older warriors that could be spared to other villages to ask for help. It was agreed that I should return here for that same purpose, so, about one hour after the break of dawn, I departed and reached here after just over two days’ hard rowing and taking barely any rest. And I now humbly present the entreaty from the Jagged Hill tribe for aid, whether through warriors or just supplies. We do not know if the Malaac will attack again or if they will move elsewhere, but if they continue to attack this tribe every night they will not withstand them for long.’
With that Vengefarak bowed to his audience and returned to his sitting position among them. The Elder spoke again.
‘When I first heard this news I and the Circle of the Wise...’ he indicated a group of four or five men sat in the front of the assembly ‘...concluded immediately that we need to do something. As to what, I am unsure; if these creatures do move on, then we need to look to our own defence. No one is safe from them. There is also another matter that concerns me. I have been waiting for some days for an emissary from the Twin Snake tribe. As you all know, last year there was trouble between us concerning hunting territory; there were two or three skirmishes in which, though no one was killed, several were injured on both sides, Vunatax here can confirm that.’ He looked at a young man who, on closer inspection, had several fingers missing on his left hand. ‘We were going to settle the dispute and discuss recompense for the injuries done on both sides. When I last visited them they said they would arrive on the day of the next new moon, and yet it passed some seven days ago and there has been no news of them. I am troubled by this, for when an Elder gives his word to another tribe it is never broken unless some cataclysm has occurred. Vengefarak’s report has obviously heightened my concern.’
‘The priority has to be our women and children,’ said one of the audience, a tall man with red hair who stood out from the rest of the tribe who were almost universally dark. ‘Of course, the women can fight, but it is the job of the menfolk to see that they don’t have to.’
‘True enough, Raduketeveryan. Would everyone be agreed that we follow our normal course of action for when the camp is threatened? That is, withdraw everyone to the central island, surround it with a stockade and sharpened stakes, arm everyone with at least a sling and stones, keep our food and livestock penned in the centre, along with our most vulnerable, and cede the rest of the village, stripped of everything of use, to the enemy.’
There was a murmur of approval and a voice at the back shouted, ‘We only need do this at night, for that is when they come.’
‘Agreed,’ said the Elder. ‘Everyone in the village is to assemble on the island before dusk, bringing their weapons and valuables. Tomorrow, after the funeral feast, we will construct the stockade. The Malaac dislike fire so we will keep several burning when night falls. Now, what of the other issues?’
One of the Circle of the Wise, a man almost as old as Dumnekavax but even thinner and wirier stood up and addressed the audience.
‘It is the opinion of the Circle, of which I, Mutreverak, am the spokesman, that a force of men is sent to the Jagged Hill tribe to proffer aid, whether through fighting, evacuating the wounded, or repairing their defences. The number of men we send need not be large, but enough to be effective. We were surmising anything between ten and twenty men.’
‘Twenty is too many; we need a large force to stay here,’ said several people at once.
Order broke down at this point with people arguing about numbers or whether any men should be sent at all. This time the Elder let everyone have their say until they tired themselves out. The noise started dying down when a flash of lighting was seen southward over the marsh, followed very soon afterwards by a slow rumble of thunder. It was apparent that the storm was growing ever louder and closer. After everyone had finished the Elder spoke again.
‘I believe that a force should be sent, even if it does nothing more than discover further information about the threat we might face. If you feel we should send a force, then say so now.’ At least two-thirds of the men present got to their feet shouting ‘Aye!’ over and over again. Clearly the majority were in favour. Cygan stood but did not shout; he was as worried about the storm as anything else.
‘That is good – a force will be sent then,’ announced the Elder. ‘I propose three longboats carrying some eight men; this gives enough room to carry supplies and evacuate some of the wounded, if we fit five or even six to a boat. I also propose that we send one longboat with four men to the Twin Snake to discover the reason for their silence. Once they have completed their task, they will then travel on to the Jagged Hill and meet with the other boats there. Twelve men, a reasonable force and one we can afford. Does anyone disagree with this proposal?’
There was a lot of head shaking and murmuring – the Elder saw this as affirmation of his proposal. ‘Then that is what we will do. The two parties will depart after the funeral tomorrow; they need not attend the feast. Does anyone wish to put themselves forward for these tasks.’
People stepped forward and hands went up again; Cygan was one of the few not to do anything.
‘That is a good response.’ The Elder gave a grim smile. ‘I propose Vengefarak return to the Jagged Hill with Raduketeveryan as his second. The choosing of the six followers I will leave to them. And, as for the Twin Snake, I feel that I alone should decide on those to go, as it is as much a diplomatic visit as an investigative one. Firstly, I will send Fasneterax, for he has specifically requested that he prove himself for the tribe again and I could not refuse him in the circumstances. Secondly, I will send Tegavenek, the youngest of the Circle and still a doughty warrior. Representing the youth of the tribe, I will send Cerrenatukavenex, one of our most promising young warriors. And, lastly, to assist Tegavenek when he mediates with the Twin Snake, I will send a wise head on relatively youthful shoulders – Cyganexatavan shall go.’
Cygan stood still as a stone as simultaneously the thunderstorm finally hit. A brilliant white flash of lightning was followed almost immediately by a ferocious crack of thunder. He could hear people around him calling it an omen. And then the rain started to fall. The wind whipped it in all directions so there was no shelter in the great house. A torch guttered and went out. Someone whispered in fear: ‘Ukka is angry! She has sent the Malaac and has persuaded Cygannan to send thunder. Ukka is angry!’ the man cried. It was taken up by others until at last the Elder was forced to do something to placate the dozen or so wailing men.
‘Silence!’ he said, his voice commanding. ‘Tomorrow, after the moon rises and we are safe on the island, I shall drink the nectar of the Gods and walk the div
ine path. I will discover what the Gods need in order to be appeased. Now return to your homes and we will meet shortly after the light breaks to send the child to join with Ukka.’
Cygan didn’t hear him; he was already on the jetty stripping the cover off his boat. The rain stung his eyes; steering the boat would be very difficult in the driving wind but he didn’t care.
All that concerned him was how to tell Vaneshanda.
She was lying in the hammock with the children in their cots. The screen at the rear of the house had been pulled down and secured. (He had to loosen then retighten its fastening to get in.) The fire hissed angrily as streaks of water came through the chimney and spattered upon it. Despite the rain and howling wind and the sound of the screen being whipped in all directions, the house was perfectly warm. Cygan wiped his sore eyes and brushed some water out of his hair. He removed his sodden clothes and hung them close to the fire. With great dexterity he climbed softly into the hammock next to his wife’s warm body. He hoped she was asleep, despite the storm, but as he lay back she stirred softly and moved under his left arm.
‘So what happened?’
‘I will tell you in the morning, but I am afraid you won’t like it.’
He felt rather than saw her eyes open. ‘He is sending you away again, isn’t he?’
Cygan sighed his affirmation. ‘Uxevallak will look after you. He will go around the fish traps and gather the food, for you, for Shettevellanda or anyone else that needs help. He may not be able to fight and travel like many of us, but he is always there in a crisis. As for the Elder, his mind was made up before I even reached the great house.’
‘You know he sees you as a future Elder, or at least as one of the Circle. This is why he always sends you out. Whether it is to the north to trade with the Taneren, or elsewhere to talk to other tribes, it is always you, always you.’
‘I am the only one that speaks the language of the Taneren, that is why I go north. But you are right. I shall speak with him in the morning and try to persuade him to keep me here.’
‘Cyganexatavan, you will do no such thing. He has bestowed upon you an honour. You cannot refuse without losing face.’
‘I would if you asked it,’ he replied softly. Overhead crashed more thunder, louder than ever. Their little daughter began to cry. ‘Go see to her, make sure she is all right. What has happened to Shettevellanda has made me even more determined that not even the most vengeful God will ever stop my children from having their naming ceremonies.’
Vaneshanda picked the little girl up and climbed back into the hammock with her. Cygan held them both, trying to keep them warm as the storm raged outside.
11
They managed to secure a room at the inn, which was, as Morgan surmised, largely empty. The landlord regaled them with tales of times before the war when on market day there would be ten to a room and how in the largest room downstairs people would pay a penny to spend the night sleeping by leaning against a rope that he had tied there some three to four feet from the ground. They ordered some food to be brought up to their room in an hour or so, and Sir Varen went to check the stabling for the horses and the storage of the wagon. The gear that the wagon held the rest of them took to the room themselves.
It had a small, low bed which Willem and Cedric would share; the rest of them arranged their bedrolls around it. It had one window, which overlooked the square. Once settled, Samson, Leon, Haelward and Rozgon decided to go and reconnoitre. Beside the main square, the rest of the town consisted of under a dozen streets, most of which hugged the main north and south roads out of the town, so Morgan did not expect them to take too long. After twenty minutes or so Sir Varen returned.
‘This place is practically deserted,’ he said ‘If you take out the soldiers and the people who supply them, there is hardly anyone here. And I am pretty sure we are being watched. The stable wing overlooks the river and just across it was a man pretending to take a stroll up and down the bank, but he barely stopped looking at what I and the stable lad were doing. I gave the boy a ducat to let us know if something suspicious happens.’
Morgan went to the window and after gazing out of it for a short while he said, ‘You’re right; there is a man walking around the cockpit who keeps looking up this way. Surly-looking fellow, with a pointed beard and wearing gloves, possibly doeskin. It is not surprising – Ulgar will want to know where we are. We need to stay alert, though.’
‘All this cloak-and-dagger stuff is beyond me,’ said Cedric. ‘What on earth does anybody hope to achieve with all this?’
‘Maybe nothing,’ said Morgan. ‘Or maybe they are just watching in case I shout at the tavern keeper, or haggle too aggressively over the price of cabbage. Any excuse to clap me in the stocks.’
‘Then make sure you do not give him that excuse,’ said Cedric.
Samson handed over the money. The four of them had located a couple of traders off the square and behind the mansion house; it not being market day the town was very quiet, with little to buy, so it was with some relief that they had discovered somebody selling vegetables and other basic foodstuffs. They bought some bread and enough vegetables to make a potage and decided to go back to the tavern. As they were about to turn left to go back into the square, Leon said, ‘You have all noticed him, yes?’
‘Yes,’ said Rozgon. ‘Let’s carry on down the south road here for a while.’
Walking not more than twenty paces behind them was a man dressed in Ulgar’s green and white. Although he appeared to be following them, he appeared to make little or no attempt at secrecy.
‘Artorus’s teeth!’ said Samson. ‘Leon’s seven-year-old could make a better job of spying on us. What’s this fellow’s game?’
‘Perhaps he feels he has too many teeth of his own,’ said Rozgon. ‘Maybe we should loosen a few of them for him.’
They continued down the rutted path that hugged the eaves of the tiny thatched cottages till they came to a turning leading to a small cobbled square with a well at its centre. They walked into the square. The man following blithely behind them did the same – at least, until he got to the square. At that point he stopped as Rozgon’s arm around his throat held him fast with a grip of iron. Leon put a dagger to the man’s face.
‘I take it you fancy having an extra mouth?’ Leon pushed the dagger on to the man’s cheek, drawing a drop of blood. The man tried to talk but Rozgon’s throat hold meant that only a choking sound got out. Haelward spoke.
‘Loosen it a little, Growler; he’s going nowhere till he talks to us anyway.’ After Rozgon, to an extent, complied, the man spoke.
‘You’ve got it all wrong. I am not following you – I just wanted to talk,’ he gasped.
‘Well, now is your chance,’ said Haelward. ‘Be quick about it; none of us is a patient man.’
‘I just wanted to warn you – a gang of the Baron’s hired thugs and killers are after you. They will try and attack you tonight; if they can’t, it will be tomorrow after you leave here.’
‘I see. So one of Baron Ulgar’s lackeys is coming to tell us that Baron Ulgar is trying to kill us. We are not all touched by Uba here, boy.’ Rozgon tightened his throat lock again.’
‘No, not Ulgar – Fenchard! It is Fenchard you need to watch here.’ The man’s voice was a strangled gasp.
Rozgon let the man go. After putting his hand to his throat and breathing deeply for a minute, he looked in turn at each of the stony faces of his audience, then continued: ‘I am one of Baron Ulgar’s armourers. After they returned from seeing you all earlier I went to an anteroom where we have some equipment stored when he stormed in with another man. I shrank against the wall so they couldn’t see me. Fenchard was ranting about being insulted by a common thug – no one, he yelled, gets away with saying things like that to him. I am sure you are not surprised to hear that he is as popular among Baron Ulgar’s staff as a dose of the pox. Anyway, he finished by saying, ‘‘You know what I pay you for – tonight or tomorrow, see that it get
s done. Let’s give Felmere a kick where it hurts by killing his men.’
Rozgon shoved the man in the back. ‘How can we trust this fellow? He could be setting us up; everyone knows Vinoyen and Fenchard are close. It could be a ruse to lure us into trouble.’
‘No, no, that’s not the case,’ said the man. ‘Baron Ulgar has no love for the man of Glaivedon but he will always respect the Grand Duke’s wishes. He is very loyal in that regard. Fenchard, though, is different entirely; he is only loyal to his own interests. He also has come into an awful lot of money; no one knows where it comes from but it is enough for a sizeable army and for him to hire all kinds of brigands to do his dirty work... And, well, I was at Fort Axmian; I saw who led the counter-charge and broke the Arshumans. You were one of them, too.’ He nodded at Rozgon. ‘You saved my family that day. I owe you and have always vowed that I would repay you somehow.’
‘Well, if what you say is true, then you have done just that,’ the big man replied. ‘But, if I find out you are lying...’
‘I am not! May Xhenafa take my wife and children if I am not speaking the truth.’
‘Off you go, my friend, before your boss notices your absence,’ said Haelward.
‘Thank you, sir – just watch out tonight.’
And he was gone.
‘If we stay in the room,’ said Samson, ‘there is not a lot they can do.’ They had returned to the inn with the news and were discussing their next move.
‘You are right of course,’ said Morgan, ‘but that would probably just mean they will pursue us out in the open when we leave tomorrow. We could find a decent defensive position but it could take time and we need to be at the pass three days from now.’
‘Then the only other option is to confront them here.’ Samson seemed nervous at the prospect.
The Forgotten War Page 16
