The Forgotten War

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The Forgotten War Page 47

by Howard Sargent


  As he spoke, Itheya came and joined them. She had changed into a thin blue tunic just short of the knee, fastened at the waist with a belt whose buckle was encrusted with sapphires. She wore simple goatskin moccasins and with her calves exposed Morgan could see the tattoos on the back and sides of her legs, reaching down to her ankles. Morgan stood and offered her the chair, only for her to dismiss him with a flick of her hand. She went to her father and kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘Satala, Foron, Canteleva zhasessa seatana.’

  ‘Satala, Katyush,’ he replied. ‘Cantelevia zhasessa tafalle trezem.’

  She went and sat on the floor next to Morgan with her knees drawn up to her chin. Morgan noticed casually that Dramalliel had not proffered such a greeting; he assumed it was because, unlike his sister, he had not left their home for some days.

  Cedric spoke again, slowly and deliberately.

  ‘I hope that during my stay here that we can learn a little of each other’s ways and that, even if we are unable to help each other further, we both end up enriched by the experience. If there are any questions you wish to ask either of us while we are here, please do so, Mhezhen.’

  ‘You speak well, Cedric. For many of us the only humans we meet are those who wish to despoil our lands or teach us of your religion. It will be refreshing to speak to a man of learning. My daughter speaks highly of you and she is a shrewd judge of people’s hearts.’

  As he spoke, a number of servants returned, one bearing a chair for Itheya, two carrying the trunk that had travelled so far with them, and others that set down a table before the two men and spread it with fruit, bread, strips of meat skewered on sticks, and clay goblets, which they proceeded to fill with a bright clear liquid. Morgan wondered if some formality had to be observed before they could begin, only to see Itheya fall on the food ravenously. Cedric followed. They had not eaten since early that morning, after all. Morgan ate some of the meat. It was spiced with something that gave it quite a heat. It tasted very nice but Morgan had to slake his thirst with the drink which tasted of elderflower. Itheya noticed his reddening face.

  ‘We like our food to have some z’ezhel ... er ... heat. You will get used to it.’

  ‘Delicious!’ said Cedric. ‘I have already learned that you have a great culinary expertise here. I must take the recipe for this meat back with me.’ He bathed in the approval he sensed in the room.

  Once the food was cleared from the table, Terath carefully placed the artefacts upon it one by one. Once that was done, Cedric spoke.

  ‘These were discovered by chance in ruins on our western coast. There are more of them that I was unable to bring with me, unfortunately. I am here because I wish to know more about them; they are such beautiful objects to my aged eyes.’

  ‘They belong to a different age,’ said Terath. ‘An age when we lived on the plains, not the forests or on islands over the vast sea. They have religious significance for us, the four smaller objects depicting as they do some of Zhun’s major spirits, embodiments of virtues we hold dear.’ He held up the stag – ‘Cuothos, pride tempered by humility’ – then the beaver – ‘Yeskila, hard work and industry’ – then the falcon – ‘Paskilan, the keen-eyed hunter, provider to his family, and lastly’– he held up the snake – ‘Azzha, the wily opportunist who survives through cunning. They are all beautiful objects and fine examples of the skill of our ancestors. The ruins you refer to belong to the ancient port and city of Atem Sezheia, one of our oldest and greatest cities, used by our people to embark on the settlement of the western islands following our defeat in the human wars, the Vavanaa Kradascarusioc, as we call them. Even then, it was a city in decline and, once everyone who wanted to had left, it was abandoned, leaving as we thought an empty shell.’

  Cenarazh then commented: ‘But now we know that they left many things behind.’

  Cedric proceeded to tell the story of how he had discovered the objects, though he glossed over the destruction of the sealed door. The four elves hung on his every word. When he had finished, the two older elves spoke to each other animatedly. Itheya looked intently at Cedric but did not speak.

  ‘I have had but little time to examine these last two pieces,’ said Terath. ‘But I shall tell you what I have learned so far.

  ‘The dragon is a representation of one of the first beings to inhabit this Earth, Azhanion, the Black Dragon, was the first, he was followed by the other immortal dragons, five in total charged with protecting all creatures on earth as Zhun created them. Once all life was created, they started to vie with each other for dominance. This was as Zhun wished, so he ordered the dragons to go to sleep, only to awake again if the Earth’s creatures needed to be protected from destruction or if Zhun called upon them to destroy the life he had created if it had proved unworthy to his vision. This is a representation of Sistica, the Dragon of the Sea.’

  ‘There are five other models back in Tanaren, one of them being two-headed.’

  ‘That would be Azhanion himself. Two heads in eternal conflict. These first dragons had many, many offspring; many different types of dragons came into this world.’

  ‘But where are they now?’ Morgan had not spoken before and his voice sounded husky as he asked the question.

  ‘When winter comes,’ said Cenarazh, ‘the bear sleeps, emerging again only with the first shoots of spring. Dragons, too, sleep, but they reckon time like no other creature. A thousand years is but ten short breaths for a dragon. Ages of men and elves have risen and fallen while they barely stir deep under the mountains or in their caves beneath the sea.’

  ‘Dragons can be awoken,’ said Terath, ‘but it requires the forgotten magic of the dragon stones. Did you find any of them? Like a ruby but larger.’

  ‘No,’ said Cedric, ‘nothing of that nature.’

  ‘Our ancestors hid them in our old cities on account of the possible destruction they could wreak. They set their locations down in a tome, Za shtia neto nenneven, but this was lost during the human wars. Which’, he said, picking up the last artefact, ‘brings us to the tooth.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Cedric. ‘Itheya suspected that it may be a lot older than these other objects.’

  ‘She is almost certainly correct. The first four objects date from around the time of the wars, making them some eight hundred years old. The dragon is older but the tooth is older still. We are talking of a time before even the southern human empire of Lileca rose to greatness.’

  ‘Over three thousand years ago,’ said Cedric softly. ‘Tell me, is it the tooth of a dragon?’

  ‘It is. The writing is in a dialect spoken by the Baetal tribe, a tribe long forgotten to us. It is also very formally structured and to date I have been able to translate but a little of it. However, it appears to contain lore relating to dragons and the dragon stones and discusses the summoning, binding and destruction of such creatures. It is frustrating, but I cannot be more specific than this at present apart from saying that we believe there were six of these created, one for each original type of dragon.’

  ‘I would not like to have been the one extracting the tooth,’ observed Morgan, smiling.

  ‘True,’ said Cenarazh. ‘He may well have paid with his life.’

  ‘Our forefathers set great store in the ability to ride and tame dragons,’ said the loremaster. ‘It is partly the reason why we were the first people, the first to spread over the face of the Earth before the humans came. This tooth is a link to that distant time. It is a relic beyond value.’

  ‘Which brings us to the purpose of your visit to us,’ said Cenarazh. ‘It is not I feel solely to let us look at beautiful treasures from our past. Itheya has said so much already.’

  Cedric sighed. ‘You are right, of course. I truly wish it were not so but I am charged with a request from our Grand Duke. He wishes for you to send a contingent of warriors to fight in the war we are engaged in against our neighbours.’

  ‘Ha!’ Dramalliel snorted. His father looked over to him.

 
‘My son holds strong views in this, and many other matters. Come, Dramalliel, say what you have to.’

  ‘You know what I wish for – that the heads of these humans be returned to their Grand Duke and these objects kept in our possession. To deal with the pekha is to bring destruction on our peoples. Kill them both and send the message that to trifle with us only ends in death.’

  ‘But death for whom? ‘said Cenarazh. ‘A thousand years ago, when we dwelt on the plains, the Morioka could put out an army on its own of fifty thousand. Now, even if all our allies joined with us, we could not muster a tenth of that number. The death of which you speak seems to affect us far more than the humans, who breed quickly. Our isolationism has undoubtedly helped protect us but has not stopped our decline. What say you to this, my daughter.’

  ‘Firstly,’ she said, firmly, ‘we cannot kill these humans after inviting them to our home – that would be the act of the savage. Secondly, these artefacts are just a small portion of the total. I do not like the way the others have been held back from us, although I believe that is not the fault of Master Cedric. But, if we wish to see all of them, we will have to negotiate for their return. As for us sending an army out of the forest, even if we were to agree, we would need the participation of the other tribes; we would have to call a krasa, a gathering, and discuss it there.’

  ‘May I also say, before I forget,’ said Cedric, ‘you are being offered iron weapons in return for your support. I think it was a matter of fifty knives, a hundred spearheads and five hundred arrowheads, as an initial amount.’

  ‘Noted,’ said Cenarazh. ‘As my son is aware, you cannot be killed after being invited into Zamezhenka; you will rather be treated as honoured guests while you remain. As for the krasa, riders have already been sent out yesterday inviting the tribes to meet; in six days it will happen. In the meantime I invite Master Cedric to aid Terath in the translation of the words on the tooth and to discuss human and elven lore together. Master Morgan is to be given the run of our home, providing he remains in the company of my daughter. In two days we have Armentele, a celebration of life as it prepares to sleep until spring, and you are both invited to observe that occasion.’

  ‘I am honoured,’ said Cedric.

  ‘I shall retire now – rest is the prerogative of the elderly.’ Cenarazh made to stand, wincing as he did so. Itheya ran to help him, as did Terath. Once upright, Dramalliel handed him a stick to lean on. It was not enough, though – for him to walk further support was required.

  ‘Rest on my shoulder, Father,’ said Itheya.

  ‘No,’ said Morgan, ‘I am stronger; I will help you.’

  Itheya assented and, leaning on the man and aided with his stick, Cenarazh started to make progress towards the stairs.

  ‘Isn’t it possible for someone to make a room for you up here?’ Morgan suggested.

  ‘The offer has been made, but I refused it. This is an audience chamber, not a hospital. If a room were put here, I might never leave it, and I would much rather end my days under the open sky.’

  It took a long time but eventually Cenarazh reached his quarters on the second floor where his attendants took over. Dramalliel said his goodbyes and disappeared, while Terath led Cedric off down the next flight of stairs, already deep in discussion over the tooth. Morgan and Itheya were left alone.

  ‘I will show you your room; it will be the one next to mine.’

  She led him to a room opposite her father’s, pulling back the curtain so he could enter. Inside, the first thing he noticed was that his pack had been taken there for him. There was a bed with white sheets and the ubiquitous detailed carvings on its frame and posts, and a small table under the window on which stood a pitcher designed to resemble a folding leaf and a bowl holding several of the strange warm, glowing stones.

  ‘What are these?’ he asked.

  ‘Z’ezhalitha, heat stones or warm stones. They provide light and warmth without fires and the smoke that they bring. Terath and his assistants provide and maintain them.’

  ‘Terath has magic?’

  ‘We call it haraska, power. Power to shape the elements. All of us have a little of it but the loremaster is the one who understands it best.’

  ‘So you have magic, too?’

  ‘You might call it that. My power is minor and I barely use it.’

  ‘So you won’t set me on fire, if I annoy you.’

  ‘If I could, I would have done so already.’

  She made to leave but stopped in the doorway.

  ‘Thank you for helping, Father.’

  ‘Oh, no need to do that.’

  ‘Yes ... there is.’

  ‘It upsets you, doesn’t it, the way he is?’

  ‘Of course, he is my father.’

  ‘No ... I mean; I can see you are close.’

  ‘We are, yes. I know we age slightly differently to humans but there are some years between me and my brother; for a while it was just me and father.’ She stopped.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It is strange, confiding in a human. I should probably not be doing it.’

  ‘Then I shall trouble you no further... So I have free access to your village?’

  ‘No, that is not true. You go where I say and nowhere else without me, and you speak to no one unless I permit you to.’

  ‘So what do we do now then?’

  ‘I do not know. Father wishes for me to show you the island and the shoreline, if you wish.’

  ‘That sounds fine to me.’

  ‘Not just yet, though.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘First, I wish to see my brother.’

  ‘Then I will wait here till you return.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Just one more question before you go.’

  She sighed. ‘What is it?’

  ‘The greeting you gave your father, what was it?’

  ‘The traditional one – “Honour and peace be yours.”’

  ‘And how would I say it to you?’

  ‘Satala, Itheya, canteleva zhasessana seatana.’

  Morgan falteringly repeated the greeting to her; she gave a faint smile and replied.

  ‘Satala, Morgan, canteleva zhasessa tafalle trezem, although, as I am going now, moton at ate sheren would be more appropriate.’

  ‘Then moton at ate sheren, Itheya.’

  She laughed softly. ‘Stay here. I will be back shortly.’

  She found her brother on the path outside the Zamezhenka, looking out over the lake. He heard her approaching but did not acknowledge her presence until she spoke.

  ‘Are you trying to find new ways to anger me?’

  He looked at her languidly. ‘I thought I had discovered them all.’

  Her breath hissed through her teeth. ‘I really don’t know where to start with you, little brother.’

  His expression changed, he was glaring now. ‘I am a prince of the Morioka; you should not refer to me as “little brother” any longer. I am no longer bouncing on my wet nurse’s knee.’

  ‘If you listen to reason, then I might just do that.’

  ‘What is it then, big sister?’

  ‘Why did you talk about killing the humans in front of Father; you know the decision had already been made to let them live unless they themselves threatened violence. Are you angry because you were overruled? It made us look barbaric ... and divided.’

  ‘The humans should know they are here under sufferance. We want nothing to do with them; it is they who need us, not the other way round. Besides, if they knew how you treated humans in the past, they might not be so trusting of you.’

  ‘Why are you bringing that up now? Do not annoy me any more, brother. Anything that happened in the past is just that, in the past. Besides, I had no choice with the incident you are thinking about, and they know they are here on our good graces; I have made it clear to them.’

  ‘Have you? You seem very cosy with them, especially with that fighter.’

  ‘You know nothi
ng, and neither does your man, Tiavon. I want you to speak to him. He was extremely disrespectful to me in front of the humans; the older human knew exactly what he said.’

  ‘I will speak to him but you know how he is – he thinks there is something between the two of you.’

  ‘Well, there isn’t. Make it clear to him.’

  ‘I will.’ Dramalliel looked back over the water. ‘Father gets worse every day – can you see it?’

  ‘I can. All the healers can do is try to ease the pain.’

  ‘Are you ready to lead the tribe? You may have to soon.’

  ‘You know that it is something I never wanted, but I will be ready, when the time comes; I have to be. And don’t lecture me about succession not being automatic.’

  ‘All the first families have to agree.’

  ‘It is a formality, unless someone wishes to stir up trouble.’

  Brother and sister looked at each other, looks that spoke a thousand words.

  ‘I love you, brother, though you cannot see it.’

  ‘I love you, too, sister, though you see it even less.’

  She left him and walked back up the path.

  32

  Zerannon was a town first established to profit from trade with the elves. Many people had made a good living out of it. However, as relations soured between the two peoples, an alternative source of income needed to be found. In fact, three were tried. The first, fishing, paid poorly and was hard and dangerous work; the second, the export of gems trafficked in from Shayer Ridge and other towns, was more lucrative. The third, however, and the one that distinguished it from other towns in the region, came from the mineral-rich springs that opened out on the headland overlooking the sea. People started to report being miraculously healed by the waters and soon Saint Matha’s spa in Zerannon drew the well-to-do from many miles around, all eager to experience its rejuvenating properties. The inner town was soon full of grand multi-storey stone buildings, large and airy, all commanding fantastic views of the sea through their expensive large glass windows. Soon, properties here were only second in price to those on Loubian Hill in Tanaren. A wall was built around it, not high enough on the seaward side to spoil the view, but enough to render Zerannon’s inner city one of the best places to live in the entire country.

 

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