She felt unable to look away from him. Something burned in his eyes, something she just couldn’t fathom.
‘Believe me, sir,’ she said quietly, ‘it was definitely a compliment.’
He bowed slightly, walking past her and into Skellar’s room. She went to her own, aware of a strange tingling in her cheeks and hands.
As official inspections went, this one was pretty seamless. Ceriana and the Barons (Baron Skellar sporting a bandage round his head) were led by the captain first around the Pride of Hytha and then on to the Indomitable. She had never been on such large warships before and found herself rather enjoying the experience. They were led below decks to look at the captain’s and surgeon’s quarters, passing through the hammock-filled deck where the crew and marines slept. She was then led to the aft castle where one of the ship’s catapults was based and shown its workings, together with the hollow clay pots that were filled with incendiary substances before being fired at the enemy. Then she was shown one of the ship’s many ballistae, used to thin enemy numbers before boarding. It was explained to her that these ships could work with oar-powered galleys that could be equipped with rams. They could hole an enemy ship while the galleon kept the decks busy fending off missiles and putting out fires. If boarding was required, the galleon could work with the smaller, high-castled carracks to bring numbers to bear and overwhelm the enemy.
‘We must have the most formidable navy in the world,’ she told the captain. ‘More formidable than those of the land powers of Chira and Koze.’
‘Indeed, my Lady. It is one of the reasons for our security and independence. But as to the most powerful, well, I would say that the Sea Elves could outmatch us. Marvels their ships are, faster and more manoeuvrable. They sport vessels with two, even three, hulls and many tall sails. They do not hit as hard as we do, but they can move close, rake you with ballista fire and be away before you can even respond. Their larger ships have rams that can split a hull in two. It is as well they are our trading partners and not our enemies.’
The visit over, Ceriana returned to her carriage. On the way back to the manor house she fell deep into thought. Richney had given her the letter from her father. He had expressed his affection for her and how she was missed at Edgecliff. He mentioned Dominic fighting on the front lines in the east, and recalled his own days in the Silver Lances before the outbreak of the war. He mentioned her sisters: both were well; Giselle was pregnant again with her third child. Lastly, however, he mentioned this...
I have been informed by the Master of St Philig’s that you have contacted them regarding the mystery of the man washed up on the beach that day. I do not know why the matter interests you so, but the university are sending someone to Osperitsan to discuss the matter with you. It is not the scholar you requested (he is actually away on a matter of business for the Grand Duke), but he is still a learned gentleman with some knowledge of the subject in hand. His name is Professor Ulian and he should be with you fairly shortly.
She felt she should be pleased at this news but rather found herself viewing the professor’s arrival with trepidation, rather like the man not wanting to see the doctor in case he was told there was something wrong with him. It rather spoiled the rest of the day for her; she was full of false smiles and fake bonhomie at dinner, and took to her room as early as was expedient. She opened her jewellery box to look at the stone (she had not dared to leave it behind), but it was dead and lifeless. Or was it? Just for a second she saw it glow softly in her hand, a brief pulse of light and her mind caught a glimpse of the great head and glittering yellow eye of the beast of her dreams. Suddenly a thought occurred to her. She went and stood in front of the full-length mirror – her hair was loose and windblown, her nose sharp and slightly reddened by the wind and sun, her brown eyes large and curious. She regarded the stone again. Immediately it started to pulsate, though only slightly, highlighting the veins in her hand as she grasped the thing tightly. There it was again. She could see the creature; it had been slumbering but obviously something had awoken it. Was it the stone? Was it her? The creature raised its head and put out its long forked tongue; it was seeing something, trying to sense it, smell or hear it. She knew exactly what had brought it to wakefulness.
It was seeing her.
She held the stone close to the mirror – the creature’s eyes widened, curious. She then realised that as well as seeing it, experiencing its experiences, there was something else. She was beginning to sense its thoughts. At the same time it was obviously sensing hers.
With an effort of will she slammed the stone back into the box and locked it. She no longer had any concern about meeting this professor – let him come and tell her what madness was happening around her.
A couple of days later she was on horseback. Vorfgan and Richney had departed on their respective ships, so it was just her, Jon Skellar and a half-dozen armed men on the road out of the manor, heading north eastwards along the coast. It was a bright, dry day, the wind was in her face and an excited flush was turning her freckled cheeks pink. She would never be allowed to do this back in Edgecliff.
‘So, Baron Jon, what are we going to see today?’
‘There are a few fishing villages and small coves and beaches on the road out,’ he said. ‘On the way back it is, well, exactly the same, unless you want to visit the slate quarries, but there really isn’t a lot to see there. Thakholm is just about the harbour really; if it wasn’t for that, I would not be sitting on the Northern Council.’
‘It is a very pretty harbour, though. I watch it from my room. So many different types of ship, painted so boldly, too.’
The Baron was sporting a livid-purple bruise on his temple but after an initial enquiry as to his health she decided not to mention it. He had been quite subdued since losing his duel and she didn’t want to hurt his pride any further. Her horse was a beautifully docile grey mare, a couple of hands shorter than Skellar’s stallion but perfect for her. She even wondered about asking to purchase it from him but decided that she didn’t want to subject the beast to a sea voyage back to Osperitsan.
The road was uneven, a broad dry mud track that became cobbled only when they passed through one of the many villages that dotted the coast. Whenever they passed through a village a small crowd would gather, mainly ruddy-faced women trying to control an unruly gaggle of small urchins who would run hither and thither, their faces encrusted with dirt and dribble. They would wave at the crowd, who would wave back enthusiastically. She put the absence of men down to the fact they were probably at sea.
The road wound in and out from the coast, passing occasionally through knots of trees already stripped of leaves, their bark grey and wind-blasted and their twisted naked forms showing starkly against the bleached-white sky. She felt a little saddle-sore but would never let on, seeing as it was she who had asked for this trip in the first place. She was glad, therefore, when they stopped for a bite to eat in one of these stands of trees. She asked the Baron for an idea of the time.
‘It is early afternoon, my Lady. Please don’t feel pressured to do a complete circuit of the isle; we can turn back whenever you like.’
‘No, I am fine to continue for now. May we review the situation in an hour or so? I am enjoying myself; your island is very pretty and rather reminds me of home in a small way.’
‘I am glad to hear it. I must admit my head still aches a little, so I will be perfectly happy with whatever you decide.’
‘Then you stay and rest, Jon. I will ride on alone for a while and when I return we can go back.’
He looked alarmed. ‘Don’t you want a guard to go with you?’
‘I will not ride on far and will be back before you notice it. I will turn back if I come to a village, so have no fear that any of your people will rob me.’
‘Very well, my Lady, but return promptly.’
She nodded to him, gently spurred her horse and was away.
Ah, the freedom of being on one’s own, she thought, as she tro
tted back towards the coastline. Had it ever happened before? Of course, it had – it had been when she had found that accursed stone. But she dismissed that from her mind. The coastline here started to dip a little towards the sea; indeed, if she got off her horse she could walk down to the seashore with little difficulty. She passed one tiny beach, strewn with sharp rocks, and another; the salt tang of the sea was filling her nostrils. The road then turned inland through a small copse before curving back towards the sea where it seemed to dip a little further still; it would surely be at sea level soon.
‘I will just ride past that bend to see where it leads, then I must return,’ she said to herself.
The grass was tall and thick either side of her, the stems sharply pointed and glossy. Down the path she went, around the bend in the road, then she pulled up short.
Ahead the path continued to dip, leading towards a broader, more secluded beach with much fewer sharp rocks, and there in the bay barely forty feet from the shore was a small ship. It was a single-masted vessel carrying no sail at the moment, but apart from that she had never seen a design like it. It had a broad high prow with a giant figurehead carved to resemble that of a great lizard. No, not a lizard, a dragon! At the vessel’s stern above the rudder the creature’s tail had been carved, so that head and tail put together almost equalled the full length of the ship’s midsection. There were small wings, too, carved into the side of the hull above the rowlocks. What sort of ship was this? She had heard that elves sometimes incorporated dragon carvings on to their vessels, but judging from what the ship captain had told her the other day this was no elf ship. Then she saw the figures. There was a small landing craft pulled on to the beach and, standing close to it, were three men. She was too far away to make out what they were doing but that didn’t matter to her. What she could see was that they were men and that they were wearing cloaks which flapped around them in the stiff breeze. Black cloaks. And, yes, the men were all shaven-headed. There was a lump in her throat as she pondered her next move. She didn’t notice the figure in the grass walking purposefully towards her until he was on the path not ten feet away. There he stopped, letting her focus on him. His eyes were dark as coals and his skin pale and waxy. He was hairless and swathed in black also. His polished boots glistened with the moisture from the grass. He beheld her as she stared at him dumbly; then he spoke, in an accent she had never before heard, thick and guttural.
‘We have been looking for you. It is time for the thief to return what she has stolen from us.’
She turned her horse quickly and spurred it, not so gently this time, galloping away from the man as fast as it could possibly take her. Behind her the man regarded her for a minute, his face as impassive as granite. Then he turned on his heels and strode back towards the beach.
20
‘Where shall I put these jars?’
‘On the third shelf, next to the citrus leaves.’
Cheris was helping Anaya. They had moved to the forward camp earlier that day and she was arranging the medical supplies in the hospital tent. There were a lot more nurses here as well as some men clad in dark leather. She asked Anaya what their purpose was.
‘Oh, they are the surgeons. They pull pieces of metal out of people and perform amputations. The big man holds them down and one of the others uses the saw. They have to cut the flesh around the limb in a circular manner exposing the bone. Then they saw through that. I help to staunch the blood flow and try and control the pain. We use tincture of thadmion, a herb from the Endless Marshes that can knock out a bear. The main problem, though, is shock; that alone can kill a man I am afraid.’
‘Will there be many amputations after the battle’?
‘That,’ said Anaya succinctly, ‘depends on how the battle goes.’
‘What happens to the men once they have recovered; I take it they can no longer fight.’
‘No,’ she said with a dry laugh. ‘If there is a job they can do in the army, then they do that. You may have seen a few of our former patients around the camp. If there is no job, then they are paid whatever wage the army can afford and cut loose. What happens to them after that I do not know, I’m afraid.’
She stood back to look at the shelf she had just stacked. ‘Sorry Cheris, every time we talk I do nothing but lower your spirits.’
‘No, you’re not like that at all. I find what you have to say very informative. There are books in the college library that I read as a child regarding our wars. They were full of tall knights with silver-tipped lances and giant chargers swatting aside the cowardly enemy and covering themselves in glory. No amputations or even blood for that matter.’
Anaya looked straight at her. ‘You fight tomorrow; you will see plenty of it for yourself.’
Cheris did not answer, rather busying herself with emptying another trunkful of exotically coloured jars.
‘I will pray for you tonight,’ said Anaya. ‘My time here has sorely tested my faith, but I will ask Elissa and Meriel to watch over you. I hope they will listen.’
‘I hope so, too,’ Cheris said, trying to laugh lightly. ‘But thank you, I will take any divine help I can get. Hopefully we can talk in two days’ time after a victory.’
‘I have seen many victories and defeats here. No matter what the outcome I will be happy to see you come back in one piece.’
Once Anaya was satisfied with the way the hospital tent was being organised, Cheris made her excuses and walked out into the fresh air. With battle imminent, the noise and excitement of earlier in the week had subsided. People were grimmer now, more focused, as the day of destiny loomed before them. She had been given a large black hooded cape, to cover the red robe on the battlefield where it would make her an obvious target, and she wore it now as she was feeling the chill.
There was a large gathering of people at the centre of the camp where there were no tents, used as it was as a parade ground. It had a high wooden platform at its centre on which a couple of figures were standing, preparing to address the crowd. One was a dark-robed priest of Artorus; the other in her full-length white-and-red robes was a priestess of Meriel. She then saw other priestesses walking among the throng, swinging censers full of smoky incense. The incense, it was believed, helped confer Meriel’s protection against injuries. The priest spoke first.
‘Warriors of Tanaren, you stand here before me ready to prove your worth in the eyes of the Gods and to defend your country from the ravages of the enemy. Know you this, Artorus stands with you in this fight; he sees that the cause is just. Did he not say unto us in his divine proclamations “Unto the men of Tanaren, in perpetuity, I giveth the lands of the rivers of the Derannen to sow and reap in the name of my sister Sarasta. It is theirs to protect and nurture as long as they remain true to my word and my teachings.” And so it is, my brothers – march into battle with those words ringing in your ears and know that, even if Xhenafa should call you to him in the fight, you will stand at Artorus’s side as one of those privileged few who have sacrificed all to make his word good. The blessings of Artorus and his consort Camille upon you.’ He then started to recite the Prayer of Artorus with his audience joining him.
As she finished reciting the prayer, Cheris noticed Marcus at the back of the crowd, a little way from her. She sidled along towards him, just as the priestess of Meriel was beginning her address. She idly wondered if the line in the prayer about showing mercy to the undeserving was appropriate but concluded that the prayer should be taken as a whole; it was more about making oneself a better person in the sight of the Gods than anything else. She had put her questions of belief to one side for the time being. As the large crowd showed, when one’s own life is in jeopardy, belief becomes a sturdy prop indeed.
‘Divine Meriel,’ said the priestess, ‘protect the lives of your humble servants who march into battle in the cause of justice. Give them strength for the fight ahead, ease their pain and heal their wounds. Remember the story of the soldier of justice who, after fighting for many good causes, s
uccumbed to the rigours of time – his beard turning grey and his strength greatly diminished. He went and stood on the banks of the great river Balkhash, removed his armour and cried out in anguish to the Gods. “Where art Ye, O mighty Gods, for I have fought many battles in Your name, have won many great victories to further Your purpose and yet here I now stand, frail and helpless, unable to carry a sword. Why have I been forsaken and forgotten, left to die in the mud of the river.” Hearing no answer, he jumped into its watery depths and waited for Keth to claim his soul. But it was then that Meriel came to him, lifting him above the waters and setting him down on the bank. “Oh warrior,” she cried, “all of the Gods know of your victories. Why do you claim We have forgotten you?”
‘“Because I am old and frail,” he replied, “and can serve You no longer.”
‘“No,” said Meriel, “You serve Us merely by being. Not just in battle is Our glory reflected. For every man, woman and child that obeys Our teachings and practises Our virtues our purpose is served. Now go home, and honour the span Artorus has given you.”’
‘And so my friends,’ continued the priestess, ‘if you honour the Gods, not just in battle, but in every aspect of your life, then Meriel will protect you from harm. Even if Keth the wicked casts a plague among us Meriel will be there.’
Cheris reached Marcus and nudged him in the ribs. He beckoned her away from the crowd and up an incline to the mages’ tent.
‘I have been told,’ he said, ‘that I will be leaving tonight.’
‘Tonight?’ she said, her eyes wide.
‘Well under cover of darkness anyway; we have to get to the hill, which is heavily wooded and hide there until the gates are unlocked tomorrow.’
‘Can’t you just get to the hill tomorrow night when all our troops are deploying?’
‘They have deemed it too risky and have changed the plan; we go in tonight and hide. Look!’ He pointed. ‘You can see the hill from here.’
The Forgotten War Page 31
