‘Fascinating!’ said Cedric. ‘In terms of culture, of way of life, are they very different to yourselves?’
‘I believe so, yes. They do not build dwellings as we do; they build temporary homes of wood and hide that they can pull down and move quickly. They have few horses, if any, but understand the forest far better than we do. The trees are very tall in the valley and they climb them and can move through the boughs with little effort. There are also darker rumours about them, but I do not know how true they might be.’
‘Go on,’ said Cedric. ‘By Artorus, I wish I was taking notes.’
‘Worry not, I can tell you again. Our word for blood is vrno and we call these people the Vrnaeltha, or just the Vrnae. The Blood Elves, they are called. It is said that, although our religions were once the same, theirs has become debased and they now believe Zhun, our god, needs to be satiated with blood. They will take and drink blood from many animals for their rituals and, if their need is dire, they will use their own blood if required. I do not know if people are killed in their ceremonies, but we fear that it might be the case. Rumours abound of their raiding parties climbing the valley wall and stealing elves from our tribes to be killed on their altars. They may even take humans. There is said to be an underground pass leading to human lands from Vrneskali, “Blood Valley”. They have little care for angering humans with such activities as that anger would be taken out on us, not them.’
‘Really, if they did not sound so intimidating, I would love to visit them.’
Astania eyes widened. ‘You would not! You really would not! We fear them and so should you. Some of the tales of them may be exaggerated but all rumours start from a kernel of truth, do they not?’
Cedric grinned mischievously. ‘Well, perhaps not then; perhaps they are a little too fierce even for me.’
Astania, still unused to human irony, nodded. ‘They say there are monsters in their forest, monsters they hunt and slay, or even use as beasts of burden or of war. Terath could tell you much more than I, of course. Other things said about them are that they wear the bones of animals as adornment, that they wear little or no clothing, and that their hair is the darkest black, like ours, but their eyes are yellow or even red. I do not know if I believe all of this, though’
‘Intriguing,’ said Cedric. ‘They sound like the lowest form of savage, like the primitive human tribes of the far north, beyond even the Red Mountains.’
‘But to say that would be a mistake,’ Astania said earnestly. ‘They have their own songs and poems. They write nothing down and can remember their history back thousands of years. Just because they do not follow our ideas of a civilised people, it does not mean that they are not, just that they are different. ‘
‘Very different,’ said Cedric. ‘We have no records of these people at all.’
‘You would not – they have never made themselves known to you.’
‘And the Aelthenwood is the only place they exist?’
‘No, I believe there are similar peoples in the Siovania, the forests to the far north where more of our people fled after the war with the humans. There is a mountain range, maybe even these Red Mountains of which you speak, and there are high forests isolated by these mountains. There, too, the Vrnae exist it is said, forgotten by all but the wise among us.’
‘Then I am fortunate to be in the company of the wise here.’
She snorted, an elven trait signifying polite disagreement.
‘Terath is the wise one; I merely learn from him.’
‘And one day you will replace him.’
‘No, Dirthen is older than I – I will merely assist. I am promised to Dirthen. A child born to us both will have a good chance of having our haraska and of eventually being our new loremaster.’
‘You will have a child with him?’
‘Yes.’
‘It is just that Itheya seemed to regard the possibility of becoming pregnant as extremely unlikely, no matter how many ... um ... dalliances she might have.’
‘That is because she has not undergone meliatele.’
‘Meliatele?’
‘Yes. When a woman is ready to conceive she approaches the loremaster for permission. If he is agreeable, she will become one of the handful of people to attend meliatele. She, her husband and the others selected will journey to a high place in the mountains and spend a week undergoing the festival rites. When she returns there is a good chance she will already be with child.’
‘What? You are saying that, unless she undergoes this festival rite, she will never have children? That the loremaster dictates who can and cannot breed?’
‘No, it is just that without going to meliatele the chances of having a child are very small; it is seen as something miraculous when this happens. The women that do attend it, though, have a very good chance of having their child, or even of having two children.’
‘Then how often is this festival held?’
‘Twice a year in spring and early autumn.’
‘So, if your people need more children, why not hold it more often? What exactly happens in this festival?’
‘I am not allowed to say. But I can tell you that a woman has to drink an elixir and that its ingredients are rare enough to restrict the amount of times the festival is held and the number of people we allow to attend.’
‘And if these ingredients disappear?’
‘Then I fear for us. Our hold in this world, as you can see, is tenuous.’
‘I do. Then war and battle are enterprises that cannot be undertaken lightly.’
‘You are correct’
‘I wonder now why you agreed to join us so readily here.’
‘I believe it was a close vote. For me the chance to regain our lost artefacts, and the history that goes with them, made it an easy decision.’
Cedric coughed uncertainly. ‘I do wonder as to how many more the Grand Duke is prepared to release to you.’
‘You said there would be more.’
‘I did and I meant it. I still do. He, though, like most men is covetous and the sight of gold makes him more covetous still. I swear to you, though, that I will do everything in my power to see you get many more of the pieces we discovered.’
‘Then I believe you – all our people see you as a man of honour.’
‘I am flattered. Now I have spent enough time here, I fancy an early night. I would be grateful if you could assist me down the stairs... Oh and the healing you offered earlier, that sounds like a fine idea right now...’
He continued to talk as he shuffled slowly down the cracked steps, the light from the torches throwing out great shadows behind them.
Cheris lay on her bed half asleep, watching little Rosamund snaffle the last of the meaty treats she had cadged for her from the kitchens. Outside, through her small window, it was dark already, Felmere Castle nestling gently under its coverlet of stars. Though the night was relatively young and she had only just eaten her early-evening meal she felt quite prepared to stay where she was till morning. The cat finished its food, preened itself for a minute and hauled itself on to the bed before curling up into her midriff and falling asleep.
She was about to forego her evening prayers (again) and blow out the candle on her bedside cabinet when there came a quiet but firm tap on her door. She groaned, sat up on her pillows, disturbing the cat, and ran her fingers through her hair.
‘Come in.’
The door opened and Morgan strode in briskly, shutting the door behind him. She had barely seen him since the elves had found her and did not know how to react.
‘Can I help you?’
He pulled a chair up to the bed and sat on it, noticing the wariness in her eyes.
‘Yes, I am sorry, I have not really had a chance to speak to you since we arrived but I have been busy.’
‘That is understandable.’
‘Maybe, I am not one for all this responsibility really.’
‘You seem to be doing just fine – from what I can see you h
ave the respect of everybody here. So what exactly do you want with me anyway?’
He looked at the floor for a second as though preparing to say something he had no wish to. ‘You know that by letting you roam free here I am technically breaking the law.’
She nodded slowly, and knowingly. ‘I have been waiting for this.’
‘Any mage called to the mainland should be in the presence of at least two Knights of the Thorn at all times. You have to be watched, in case you choose to set fire to someone in a fit of pique.’
‘So you will be sending for some knights as soon as you can?’
Morgan smiled, running his fingers over his scar. ‘The only knights we can reach at present are in the south with Esric. Getting a message to them will be difficult.’ She looked at him blankly, letting him continue.
‘May I be frank?’ he said. She nodded. ‘We all know why the nobles keep the mages hidden well away from the world, and watch them like hawks when they summon them.’
‘We do? I thought it was because we were a danger to the people.’
‘Think about it. You are dangerous, that cannot be denied, but you have full control over your powers. You do not threaten without a reason. No, what the nobles fear is that you will get the idea into your head that you could supplant them and rule in their stead. Now, as far as I am concerned, if you wish you can depose me any time you choose; this very moment if you like.’
She giggled, unable to control yourself. ‘Are you suggesting I attack you?’
‘I would rather you didn’t. What I am trying to say, badly, is that I have no inclination to change your current situation at the present. People here know what you are, but I have explained to those that matter that you are not well and are recuperating. A lot of the time the knights are for show, to reassure the people that the scary mage is being watched. People here, though, are much more concerned about the war and they have accepted my words about you for now.’
‘Thank you, Morgan; I appreciate it.’
He nodded and got up to leave but stopped at the door.
‘What is wrong exactly?’
Their eyes locked for a minute, his curious, hers guarded.
‘Nothing.’ she said.
He sat down on the chair again. ‘I see one of the kitchen cats has adopted you.’
‘Yes, she must have come in when the maid was here.’
‘Given her a name?’
‘Rosamund.’
‘Any reason?’
‘No, it just popped into my head.’
‘You know what they say about mages and their cats.’
‘Witches and their cats you mean.’
‘I suppose so. Sorry. There was no slur implied.’
‘None was taken. May I keep her?’
‘Of course, as long as you tell me what is wrong.’
‘Persistent, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. I am trusting you enough not to call for men to watch over you. You could at least tell me.’
‘Very well.’ She eased herself off the bed the other side from Morgan and started to pace the room. She did not look at him directly.
‘It was something Baron Felmere said before the battle I fought in. It was mentioned almost as an afterthought. He requested that none of those present attack and violate the women of the town. He spoke as though such an action was commonplace.’
‘It is, on both sides.’
‘Why? Are men such beasts?’
‘Not normally, but this is war; it changes things.’
‘How? Are there not girls at the camp who provide such a service, such an outlet for frustrated passion?’
He caught her sombre, worried face at last. She stopped pacing and looked directly at him. He spoke, slowly and deliberately.
‘You think what Trask did to you was because he thought you attractive? I can assure you that was not the reason he did what he did. It has nothing to do with sex. It is about power and control. To do such a thing to the enemy’s womenfolk is to show them what defeat means; they do it because they can and there is no one to stop them. It is something the women in the theatre of war have come to accept; it is the price they pay if their men are not brave or strong enough to protect them.’
‘Then you know my next question.’
‘No.’
‘You were with Felmere’s men, yes?’
Realisation dawned on him. ‘You are asking if I have done such a thing?’
‘It is a reasonable thing to ask, I believe. We are alone in here; I think I should know.’
‘The army changes people, Cheris; they do things they would normally abhor. It takes a lot to drive a blade into a man, keeping a grip on it as his blood flows over your fingers. At least, it does the first time; the second time is easier, and the third easier still. Killing becomes mundane after a while, all the more so if you earn the admiration of your peers by doing it. If men you respect take and use the enemy’s womenfolk, why should not you? These are the wives, mothers and daughters of men you hate, after all.’
‘Mothers and daughters?’
‘Are all fair game. Aged seventy years or ten they need to be shown what supporting the wrong side means.’
‘You truly believe this? If so, I would like you to leave.’
‘I have not yet answered your question.’
‘Then answer it. I am getting tired.’
‘I will not deny it. Many of the men in this garrison, in this army, are guilty of the same thing as Sir Trask. I am not one of them, though.’
Her breath hissed through her teeth. ‘Should I believe you?’
‘Yes. I never have because I have a ... loyalty to someone, a trust I do not wish to betray.’
‘To whom?’
‘My wife.’
She gave an exclamation of surprise. ‘I did not know you were married! I rather thought the opposite was true, given the way Lady Mathilde keeps looking at you.’
‘You are misreading the situation. Besides, though, I say I am married but the situation is a little more complicated than that.’
‘How so? You are either married or not?’
‘Now who is being persistent?’
‘It is part of my mage training. Questions lead to truth, do they not?’
He seemed to weary a little and stopped looking at her.
‘Very well, I will tell you. Few people know everything. I have just spent weeks with an exotic and highly curious elf maiden and even she failed to get it out of me. You are to be congratulated, I suppose.’
Morgan stood and faced the door, lost in his memories.
‘It would be sixteen years ago now that we married. Her name is ... was Lisbeth and she was literally from the next farm to me. Usually such marriages are family arrangements designed to secure land or money, or both, but in our case it was a genuine love match. She was a little younger than I, but sharp and pretty and a world cleverer than I would ever be. We used to tease each other a lot, make each other laugh; we genuinely enjoyed each other’s company and so married almost as soon as we could. Within a year we had Erik, a boy who fortunately took after his mother in both looks and manner. We lost another a year later, due to a harsh winter, but we had plenty of time for more children. Plenty.’
He stopped, his back to Cheris.
‘I am sorry, Morgan. If this is too difficult...’
‘No, I have started now. Anyway, ten years ago, sorry, nearly eleven now, there were rumours of war brewing in the east. As I was to find out later a baron called Corax whose lands bordered Roshythe was agitating the Arshumans by laying claim to the city. He was an idiot who fell prey to Arshuman plotting. They goaded him into a foolish attack in which he was killed and his army routed. They had been planning for war for some time and used this as a pretext for a full invasion, smashing our useless defences and getting as far as Athkaril before being stopped.
‘What did I and all the other peasants like me around Glaivedon know of all this? Very little. We had families to feed. Anyway, I h
ad goods to sell and so said goodbye to my wife, child, parents and grandfather and took the wagon into the town of Glaivedon, some ten miles westward. After selling the goods and making a tidy profit I retired to the inn. I fully intended to eat and return home that day; I had promised my wife this, after all. But there were rumours of war and much gossip floating around so I had a drink and listened. Then I had another, and another. Eventually I crashed out on the floor, my mind a fog. War seemed imminent so I decided to talk to the family about evacuation when I got home.
‘Turned out, the Arshuman attack had started days before; they already were within a few miles of us. Blithely ignorant, I rode my sore head home.’
‘And when you got there?’ Cheris asked quietly.
‘My parents’ home was burned to the ground. I saw my parents’ bodies. My father had resisted – he had been cut to pieces – and my grandfather – killed by a single dagger thrust. My home, a small building next to a brook less than a mile from my parents’, was undisturbed. But my wife and child had gone.’
‘Gone? You found no bodies?’
‘None.’
‘So what happened to them?
‘I do not know. Not for certain.’
‘The refugee city; perhaps they fled there.’
‘As soon as I could I went there. I wandered every inch of the shit-lined streets calling for her, but there was nothing. I did hear what had happened to others, though.’
‘What? What did you hear?’
‘What is war without profit? I heard that the Arshumans had received a lot of gold from slavers out of Fash and Kudreya. They were following in the train of the army, picking up those they could make money out of, then shipping them back to their homelands. My father resisted so he was killed; both my mother and grandfather were frail and sick so they were of no use to anyone. My wife, though, was pretty and a boy could give them many years’ service. So I believe they were taken, sent to Artorus knows where – to what end I do not wish to think.’
The Forgotten War Page 85
