The Forgotten War

by Howard Sargent

  ‘Master Cedric,’ – Itheya slipped gracefully off her horse – ‘will you do me the honour of riding with me for a while; it will rest your horse for when she is most needed and I can answer any questions you may have about the next stage of our journey.’

  ‘You are very kind, my Lady, but I do not know how I will get on to your horse.’

  ‘Morgan and I will help you. Come.’

  Morgan dismounted and the two of them managed to ease Cedric off his horse. Itheya then helped give him a leg up and Morgan practically lifted the exhausted man on to her steed.

  ‘Terath,’ she called, ‘can you do something here?’

  ‘No, no, I am fine,’ Cedric interposed. ‘I’m just feeling the early-morning cold.’ He seemed eager to draw attention away from himself.

  ‘Terath can help with that,’ she said dismissively. ‘When we ride, hold on to me; you may even sleep if you are tired.’

  ‘I feel a terrible fraud here. You have far more important things to attend to than my welfare.’

  ‘The welfare of everyone under my command is important to me, and right now you are the one requiring attention. Let Terath attend to you, then you will be not be such a pressing concern.’

  ‘Strnavi, Itheya, z’ometahan zhai ne an tafallazho.’

  One of the elves at the other side of the camp was calling her. He had raised his spear to attract her attention.

  ‘He has seen the Ometahan,’ she said. ‘I had better go see.’

  She dismounted and left them just as Terath arrived, he immediately started to lay his hands on Cedric’s arms and hands before chanting slowly. Morgan watched for a minute and noticed some colour return to the old scholar’s cheeks.

  ‘I am sorry, Cedric, I should have noticed; I have been so wrapped up in this journey and I keep thinking you are indestructible. Shout out next time you feel ill.’

  ‘You forget, Morgan, that these people can sense infirmity, and what’s more they can do something about it. I can feel Terath’s power helping me already. I will be fine. Besides, I am rather keen to see this pass of theirs. Can you imagine – there is a path through the mountains we know nothing about?’

  ‘They go to great lengths to conceal it from us, I believe, and it is so narrow, it is not easily spotted anyway. I still feel bad leaving Haelward and the others.’

  ‘What? Safely ensconced in a tavern for the winter, rather than on the front lines? I am sure they will curse you when they rejoin the army in spring.’

  ‘They will probably think we are dead and the mission a failure; it is a pity we could not get a message to them somehow.’

  ‘But you will, my boy. When you get to Felmere or some other town over the mountains you can send a messenger their way. They are soldiers; they will understand.’

  ‘Sometimes, Cedric,’ said Morgan with a smile, ‘you sound like the military veteran and I like the crusty scholar... Oh and by the way, this is for you.’ He put something into Cedric’s hand.

  Cedric opened his palm. ‘Six pennies. You see, I only pretended to lose at dice because I knew the money would be coming straight back to me. Now I have some days to think how exactly I can spend it. Console yourself with the fact that I will have my hands on the Lady Itheya for the next few hours.’

  ‘Don’t squeeze too hard or she will feed you to the bears.’

  Terath laughed. ‘You can see why our Lady is so loved by her tribe; she can be as brittle and threatening as a winter frost and as warm as blue fire at one and the same time. Once she has seen into your soul, though, and has read your heart, there is no one as loyal as she. She, of course, will expect the same loyalty in return and has no tolerance for those who transgress or deviate from her own standards. It is a lesson worth learning. How do you feel now, Cedric?’

  ‘Like a new man!’ Cedric did seem to have a bloom in his cheeks, which had been an ashen grey not ten minutes before. ‘Thank you, Terath.’

  ‘If you feel poorly later on, then I will send Dirthen or Astania to do the same for you. It will be good practice for them, too.’

  Terath left them and Morgan clambered back on to his mount. ‘This never gets any easier,’ he moaned to Cedric. ‘I will always be a foot soldier.’

  ‘Unlike the people of this forest,’ said Cedric. ‘It looks like the other contingent has arrived.’

  Morgan looked over the clearing. Up on to the plateau other horsemen were arriving. As with the contingent of Morioka warriors, he noticed that over a quarter of their number were women. Their leader was speaking with Itheya now; it was as she had told him yesterday – intermarriage occurred between the tribes but so few children were born different racial characteristics between them could be striking. The Morioka were dark-haired with blue or violet eyes; the Ometahan seemed to have flaming-red hair with eyes green as emeralds. Itheya and the man she was speaking to, who happened to be one of the tallest elves Morgan had seen, came over to see them. Itheya climbed on to her horse, being careful not to hit Cedric who leaned backwards to give her room.

  ‘This is Culleneron,’ she said, a little breathlessly. ‘We will share leadership of this expedition; he speaks a little of your language but a full conversation may be difficult for him. I will translate where necessary.’

  ‘Satala, Culleneron,’ said Cedric. ‘Ve ne Cedric, al e olem Morgan. Ema olem trnacantele tafalinkare teo.’

  The red-haired elf bowed slightly. ‘Azha ve ate.’

  Itheya turned her head slightly and spoke to Cedric.

  ‘Hold me here.’ She placed his hand at her waist. ‘If you tire, inform me.’

  Once he had done this she kicked the horse and rode to the centre of the clearing. ‘Tafalavons Aelvena!’ she called in a clear high voice. Culleneron joined her and shortly after the two elves found themselves surrounded by a circle of horsemen all within hearing of the two commanders. Morgan stayed just outside the circle as Itheya addressed them.

  ‘Hrtena azha trneka. Atekele zhucetheku ze’a zhutesse se’atan craba. Tafashen hanza spetu eonameon brataspako vo’voe tafasiol. Votodane altafa havysk’ara basekykal azhatafa hawritu ar’vekleno nesprta za hemenest. Voto ne an caltazha heten tafinezho. Cotho voto nean spesa tafadane xexenesh nesptru Araelva. Cantele azha vaveress wyathan! Tafalla siol Aelvenna!’

  (‘Brothers and sisters. You have been chosen as the elite of your tribes. Together, for the first time in generations, we go to war. We do this to reclaim our heritage and to reaffirm our identity among the humans. We are proud and bow to no one. What we are about to do will resonate among our people. Elves, to war!’)

  The company raised their weapons and shouted. Culleneron then said something similar and with the same response. Morgan noticed flasks being passed around the circle; one of the elves noticed him and handed him a flask. Morgan took a drink and handed it back before he sputtered and embarrassed himself. Zhath.

  And then the elves formed into a loose column and headed northwards into the trees. Itheya hung back and waited for Morgan.

  ‘Culleneron commands today. He will lead us into the pass and I will lead us out. Humans do not know what they have called upon. There are fewer than five hundred of us but we are the finest horse in the world. We are an alliance, Morgan; you do not command us. We will fight where we deem it the most appropriate. You can request our presence in battle but we make the final decision.’

  The excitement among the elves was infectious and it had definitely caught Itheya. Her violet eyes shone radiantly and there was a bloom on her pale skin. Morgan suddenly noticed a tattoo on her neck that he was sure he hadn’t seen before. He pointed this out.

  ‘Yes, it is new. Only elves at war with peoples other than ourselves can wear it. It is Vewhenesha, the hunting wolf. The elves are hunting, Morgan; it is time for the humans to fear!’

  And with that the elves at the head of the column started to call, an eerily pitched noise not unlike that of a vast pack of baying wolves. It was taken up by the remainder of the elves, nearly five hun
dred howling voices calling for blood, and for the first time in days Morgan was reminded of the alien and savage nature of the people he had been living among. Even the trees seemed to tremble as the host plunged forth; birds scattered from the trees; deer and even bears dispersed at their approach – nothing stood before them. And still the elves called until the encroaching mountains called back to them. Morgan half expected the very stone to part at their approach.

  ‘What have we unleashed here?’ he kept asking himself. And he had no answer.

  After just under an hour’s riding they stood before a great shoulder of rock. At its base it was surrounded by pine trees with straggly patches of grass clinging to its heights. Culleneron at the head of the column disappeared into the trees, plunging downhill along a narrow path. The other elves followed.

  ‘Where are they going?’ Cedric asked. ‘I can’t see any way forward.’

  ‘It is Bleneshea Axenat,’ Itheya replied. ‘The Pass of the Knife. Never has a place been so aptly named.’

  They were near the rear of the column but eventually it was their turn to begin the climb downhill. The path was stony and lined with bracken, meaning Morgan had to concentrate on keeping control of his horse. When he did look up he started with surprise. It could not be seen at a distance but now he could see that the rock ahead was riven in two by a fissure that extended its full length but never at any point exceeded ten feet across. Itheya noticed his expression.

  ‘Some say long ago a bolt of lightning greater than one ever seen before or since struck this mountain side, splitting the entire range in two. Others say it was a rare example of Zhun himself acting to change the world while others say it is just the action of water or of extreme cold on vulnerable rock. I have no answer; I leave it to the likes of Terath to explain such things. This pass, however, crosses the entire range and never gets wider than that you can see here.’

  ‘Where is the entrance on the other side of the mountains?’ Morgan asked. ‘I have lived around the Seven Rivers all my life and know nothing of this pass.’

  ‘As it should be.’ Itheya looked at him, obviously pleased with the ingenuity of her people. ‘The cleft on the other side is concealed as this one is. We patrol it regularly and make it appear to humans that it is blocked, should any of you notice it and try to enter. I will have to ask the two of you to swear never to reveal its location for there have been occasions when a curious human has wandered into it and we have either had to drug them and release them far away or, as a last resort, kill them. As to where it exits, it is close to a river and waterfall; the river runs for some miles before it passes through a large human city, full of stone and no trees. It then joins a larger river after entering the woods to the west. The city has a high wall and a plateau at its centre on which is built a large fortification or dwelling; I do not know the difference.’

  ‘Felmere? It sounds like Felmere. So this exits near the Fel. I have travelled there many times and never knew of this place. No wonder some of us call you the Wych folk.’

  ‘It is not a name we like. We are not witches. But then we have worse names for you, so we cannot claim the high ground here. Stay close, Morgan. I hope you do not mind confined spaces.’

  She led her horse into the cleft with Morgan following close behind. He felt he was being swallowed by the mountain, delving into a river of stone. He looked up at the tiniest strip of light, a sliver of radiance in the gloom around him. The only sound was the heavy breathing of elf, man and horse and the clopping of a thousand hooves echoing and resounding off the unending cliffs.

  ‘We get trolls here occasionally,’ said Itheya in hushed tones. ‘They try to pick off any stray elves or horses. They are unlikely to attack such a large group but we cannot afford to let up our guard.’

  ‘Why is there no snow overhead?’ asked Cedric ‘We fled Claw Pass just as the snows were getting heavy there. The pass is closed now.’

  ‘Terath can explain. It has something to do with the stone raising the temperature here; you will notice the cliffs are very wet, as is the ground under us. Snow becomes water – see our breath is steaming. All our bodies will make it humid for us; see how sticky and uncomfortable our clothes will become.’

  ‘Do you know Culleneron very well?’ Morgan asked .‘Can you trust him?’

  She craned her neck to see Morgan. ‘Yes, he can be trusted. He is a brave warrior, although he could use this’ – she tapped her head – ‘a little more. It is perfectly likely that we will wed at some time in the future. I will make sure that it is a long time in the future if I can.’

  ‘Will that mean the end of any post-festival trysts? I could barely sleep for your noise that night.’

  Her eyes narrowed. She was the ice queen again. ‘That was the dancer who helped me during Armentele. It was an easy way to thank him. Other than that, it is no business of yours. I had thought that you had drunk enough not to be wakened by me; otherwise it would not have happened. Anyway, you woke me enough that night with your shouting.’

  ‘What shouting?’

  ‘You were dreaming, obviously. You kept shouting out Lisbeth all the time. Is this a human name? Your wife perhaps?’

  ‘Yes to both questions, if you must know.’ It was Morgan’s turn to be defensive.

  ‘I didn’t know you were married.’ Cedric sounded surprised. ‘You have never mentioned her before.’

  ‘She is dead. Therefore it is not worth mentioning.’

  ‘Oh my boy, I am so sorry. I should not have been so glib.’

  ‘That is all right, Cedric; you were not to know. I am one of many anyway. You should know, Itheya, that you are entering a country of widows and widowers; my situation is hardly unique there.’

  Her expression had softened. She said nothing, though; it was as if she could not find the right words. She contented herself with a slight nod, which he returned. She then continued on her way, her back high in the saddle, Cedric gripping on to her, Morgan following on behind.

  The hours passed. A human party would have stopped for a quick lunch but there was no sign of this with the elves. The stone floor of the pass was wet and covered in loose shale chippings, slowing their progress but not prohibitively so. Morgan could tell they were proceeding much faster than they had on the equivalent journey north where the ettins had ended Rozgon’s life.

  The light, or what little there was, was starting to fade. He was expecting torches to be lit among the procession; indeed, some were but most of the elves had glowstones which they held tied on to their spears. The humidity Itheya had spoken of became a lot more noticeable once these were illuminated. Morgan did feel sticky and uncomfortable; he wondered how they were all going to sleep in this narrow cleft. He decided to ask Itheya; the first time they had spoken in hours.

  ‘It is not easy,’ she replied. ‘We tend to sleep on the horses but they need rest, too, so we stay on the horses for some hours then stand in the wet to give the horses sleep. It will not be restful but it will be our only night here so we make the best of it that we can.’

  Morgan grunted. ‘I see.’

  ‘Cedric is asleep,’ she said. ‘At least he is rested.’

  ‘Good,’ said Morgan. ‘If anyone needed it, then it was him. Thanks for being so attentive with him.’

  ‘He has much ahead of him, and he is the oldest one here, except maybe for Terath.’

  Morgan did not reply. They continued on for a little while when she spoke again.

  ‘I mentioned earlier the human city that this river runs through.’

  ‘Felmere.’ Morgan replied.

  ‘Felmere. What is it like living in such a place, surrounded by stone and dead wood, full of dirt and little clean water?’

  ‘Bear in mind, I am a country dweller myself. I grew up on a farm close to a small village. I have visited places like Felmere many times, though, and have little love for such places if I am being honest. There is dirt, a press of unwashed bodies, piles of dung and other spoil. All of it causes
a miasma that you would find very displeasing, I am sure.’

  ‘But why do your people choose such a life?’

  ‘Many reasons. There is more money in cities; better opportunities to get rich. In bad years people in the country can starve – I should know. Both have their strong and weak points. Personally, though, a nice country house by the river with apple trees and abundant fish would be close to paradise for me. Maybe one day.’

  ‘Your people do not store food for the bad times?’

  ‘In a ten-year war such reserves were used up long ago. It is down to the local baron. Some are wise and store grain; others sell the excess for whatever reason. As I say, there is no easy or simple answer to any of your questions; there are as many answers as there are people.’

  She ran a hand through her hair. ‘I am sorry for being flippant with you earlier – I mean about your wife.’

  ‘No need. As I recall, I was the flippant one; you simply gave as good as you got.’

  ‘Do you miss her?’

  ‘Of course. The passage of time helps but I will always miss her.’

  She stopped her horse to let him move alongside her; there was just enough room.

  ‘My father I love, of course, but I have never loved a man in the way you obviously loved your wife. As you said earlier, maybe one day, but it has not happened for me yet.’

  ‘I am sure it will, Itheya. What restricts you, I suppose, is your status and your duty. You cannot form friendships as most of us do and when you do marry; it is as likely to be for the good of the tribe as anything else.’

  Her voice was barely a whisper. ‘You are right. of course, but my duty has brought me close to someone I have started to care about a great deal.’

  She pressed her face to within inches of his. her lips close to his ear.

  ‘Nothing can come of it, as you well know; it is little short of treachery for a princess to consort with one not of her kind. If the barrier did not exist, though, then at least on her part she would be happy for things to get as close as they were possible to get.’ She gave a quick look round, ensuring no one could see her in this darkness, then leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek. She was as soft as goose down and her warm breath smelled like a light floral wine.