‘I realise,’ said Morgan quietly.
‘We had best leave,’ she said. ‘There is some distance to travel for you to meet this girl.’
Morgan stood and started to buckle on his sword belt. ‘On another topic, you and the assassin. I can understand her knowing about you, but how did you know she was a ... confidante of the Emperor?’
She snorted dismissively. ‘I am educated, Morgan; I may live among trees and caves but I know our history. The Morioka and the human empire of the south used to be well known to each other. The bodyguard of women was an idea stolen from our people insofar as female warriors were unknown to humans until they started to deal with us.’
‘So you are kin in a way.’
‘We are not! Do not aggravate me any further!’
‘Sorry.’
‘Now kiss me. While we are alone.’
They kissed, swiftly and furtively. She tenderly brushed his face with her hand. ‘Now let us leave.’
5
The four of them – Itheya, Syalin, Morgan and Dominic – left the camp just as the sun started to sink low enough in the sky to make it necessary for them to shield their eyes to see exactly where they were going. They climbed the hill where Itheya and Morgan had met earlier, then struck out along a dirt path heading north through the woods, climbing all the time. After a brief ride they left the woods behind as they reached the ridge hugging the mountain side to their right while looking over the carpet of woodland to their west far below them. A flock of dark birds, disturbed by some arboreal predator, flew out of the trees and, backlit by the sun, headed southwards before descending again in a safer stand of trees overlooking a mere of pure glass. The air was sharp and keen despite the mildness of the weather, bringing with it the scents of pine and spring flowers. Now and then, though, a chill downdraught from the mountains would run biting through their clothes, coming as it did from a highland of patchy snow and ice. Morgan hoped they would be at their destination soon. Both he and Dominic had tried to press Itheya for more details about this mysterious girl; they both harboured suspicions regarding her and wanted them confirmed, but they were to be disappointed for Itheya was saying nothing. Even with Morgan she was as tight as a clam.
After over half an hour’s gentle riding Itheya brought them to a halt. Straight away they could all see why. Running up the sheer mountain side and cutting through it like a knife was a narrow pathway. It meandered around the more formidable spikes of rock and was strewn with loose scree and stones. None of the riders could see where the trail ended.
‘Apparently it leads to a glade of pines in a sheltered bowl of rock. You will need your torches; it will be near to darkness by the time you get to the top.’ Itheya told them.
‘You have not been up there?’ Dominic queried.
‘No, this girl called me from the path. It was she who told me where it led.’
‘So this whole thing could be an ambush? It is a very good place for one.’ Syalin voiced her concerns, looking at Itheya with a measure of contempt.
‘It is no ambush.’ Itheya refused to enter into an argument with her.
‘And how do you know?’
‘I know. I am asking the men here to trust me. I am asking nothing of you.’
Morgan dismounted. ‘Well, we had better get moving. There is no way the horses can climb here.’
‘I will be going back to my people now. My task is complete,’ said Itheya. ‘I suggest you leave your “bodyguard” here with the horses; I assume she is up to stable duties.’ Morgan could not see Syalin’s expression in the gloom, something he was rather grateful for.
Torches lit, the two men started up the path. Morgan turned briefly to see Itheya’s back as she rode away from them. Syalin stood with the tethered horses, talking softly to them. The stars above them started to wink into existence.
It was not quite as steep a climb as it first appeared, Dominic with his higher centre of gravity struggled more than Morgan; he was breathing heavily in the thin air, the smoke from the torch not helping matters. Soon they were among high spikes of rock weathered by centuries of adverse wind and rain, and the horses below, as well as Syalin and the ridge on which she stood, were lost to view.
Night closed in around them. Up here, well away from the woods and the lake, it was a near-silent world. Only small eddies of wind swirling among the rocks and raising small clouds of dust disturbed the tranquillity. That, and the great clumping boots of the two men as they stumbled ever onwards, of course.
Morgan was in the lead. At length he noticed that the path had levelled and they were no longer climbing. Then he realised it was not rocks that closed in to his left and right but high, sad trees. A full moon cleared the eastern mountains and silhouetted the pines ahead. A bowl of rock, Itheya had said, sheltered, and then he realised that he could no longer feel the breeze.
‘We are here,’ he said to Dominic.
High walls of rock surrounded them, enclosing a grove maybe less than half a mile in diameter. The pines were spaced sparingly, the bare earth floor was carpeted with their needles, and a tiny stream ran in front of both men heading northwards. They could not see exactly where it went.
‘A glade of pines,’ Dominic muttered, ‘but how do we find this person? Shall we separate and search for her that way?’
‘There is no need’ came a clear voice from somewhere up ahead. ‘Just come forward a little more and you will see me.’
A clear voice indeed, and one that Dominic knew very well. He had suspected it might be the case all along, and he did not know whether to be happy beyond reason or to dread what he might find. He plunged forward among the pines, desperate to find the source of the voice. ‘Sister!’ he called. ‘It is Dominic. Show yourself, please!’
With Morgan just behind, Dominic hopped over the tiny stream into a wider space at the centre of the glade. Swinging his torch over his head he finally espied her, a slight figure, hooded and cloaked in black, so that none of her features could be seen. She even wore gloves. He ran towards her but when he had closed to within ten feet of her she held out her hand, palm facing towards him, a gesture for him to stop, which he obeyed. Morgan was beside him in a second.
‘You are the general here?’ said the girl. ‘You command the army by the lake?’
‘I am,’ said Morgan. ‘I am the Protector Baron of Felmere.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I am called Ceriana. Dominic is my brother.’
‘I will leave the two of you alone for a while, if you wish, I am not quite sure anyway why you wanted to see me.’ Morgan looked at Dominic whose face was a mask of confusion and concern.
‘Sister,’ he said, ‘why are you hiding yourself? Do you not wish to embrace your brother?’
‘Nothing would make me happier,’ she said quietly. ‘But I cannot. I am not the sister you once knew.’
‘Is it the stone? The dragonstone?’ said Morgan. ‘We know people who can help you with that. They have ancient documents, they are translating. It...’
‘Is too late for me,’ she said, her voice was very quiet. ‘I am bonded now. Thank your people for their kindness, but I can no longer return to my old life. To try to do so may even be fatal for me. But I did not ask you here to talk about me, for I have my own questions, if you are willing to answer them.’
‘Sister,’ said Dominic, ‘ask your questions if you will but I will not be dissuaded so easily. When I return to the trail down the mountain I will be bringing you with me.’
‘My darling brother,’ she replied – Morgan could hear the suppressed emotion in her tremulous voice; she seemed to be fighting back tears – ‘I cannot. Please do not torture me so. I would love, I mean love, to return with you, go to Edgecliff, comfort mother, all of that. But it is a phantom hope; it will never be. This will be the last time we will meet. Please let the matter be. Now, I have to ask you a question. Why are you here? You are headed to Roshythe, yes?’
‘Yes,’ said Morgan, ‘we are waiting for the
Grand Duke and then we go to Roshythe to discuss peace terms. After which the war will be over, I hope.’
‘And do you believe this?’
Both men were silent, the moon shining on their faces. Under her cowl Ceriana was still completely shadowed. She spoke again.
‘How many men do you think the King of Arshuma has?’
‘Not many, so we have been told; that is why they wish to talk terms.’ Morgan sounded sceptical.
‘I am not one for counting,’ said Ceriana, ‘but men have been piling into Roshythe for months; they have three or four times the number you have by the lake.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Dominic asked.
‘It is easy, brother. I have seen them. I can fly.’
‘Gods help us,’ Dominic whispered.
‘So we are going to be ambushed?’ asked Morgan. ‘Are you suggesting I wait for the Grand Duke, tell him and see what he suggests?’
‘No,’ said Ceriana, ‘I want the two of you to attack the Arshumans. Alone.’
Stunned silence. Then Dominic laughed. ‘You know less of war than even I thought you did. If they outnumber us three to one, why can we not wait for the Grand Duke?’
‘Because he killed my husband. Between us we can capture Roshythe and end the war. You two can claim all the glory for this triumph, leaving him languishing and forgotten, which is no more than he deserves. You both know I command a power greater than anything our modern world can imagine. I need you to march up to Roshythe, draw the enemy forces out and engage them in battle. Once they are committed, withdraw your cavalry and wait. I am begging you both to trust me. You be the bait for me; I will do all the rest.’
‘I have five thousand men down there,’ said Morgan. ‘If I am to convince them to throw their lives away in a suicidal attack, I will need some sort of argument. Not even the promise of booty and glory can tempt a soldier if he knows his death is certain.’
‘I have thought on this,’ said Ceriana. ‘Soldiers are superstitious, yes? Then tell them to look tomorrow into the eastern sky once the moon is at its zenith, a sign will be there for them. If they do not see it, by all means call off your attack.’
‘A sign?’ said Morgan.
‘Yes, Baron, a sign. You can tell them it is from the Gods.’
‘Very well, but if no sign is forthcoming, I will not move until the Grand Duke gets here.’
‘I understand. But there will be a sign, have no fear.’
‘And what if their king decides to hide behind his walls and not engage us? He is not stupid; he may think it is some sort of trap himself.’ Morgan’s mind was racing.
The girl must have been irritated by something for she lifted her hand to scratch her nose. Both men briefly saw her black glove illuminated as though some sort of light had been activated under her cowl.
It was too much for Dominic, never the most patient of men. Torn as he was in several directions at once, he finally snapped, his voice betraying his anger.
‘Dammit, sister, you bring us up here and tell us nothing of yourself! How did you get here? Where are you living? How are you feeding yourself and why by a thousand demons are you hiding yourself from me! I have a good mind to...!’
‘Peace, brother!’ Her voice, though still calm, was firm enough to shut him up. I will answer your questions in good time but first of all the general...’
‘Morgan. Please call me Morgan. Truth be told, I am but a soldier elevated to this position temporarily.’
‘Then there must have been good reasons for it, Morgan. Unfortunately, I cannot answer your question. You must draw him out somehow; I am no strategist.’
Morgan thought for a second. ‘Actually, there may be a way; you are right, leave it to me.’
She seemed grateful. ‘Thank you. And now, brother, your questions, you seem to know the truth. Morgan here definitely does but you seem to be running from it. I am changed. Permanently. I am bound to a great and noble beast, one that you would call a dragon. The bond is now so great that we cannot be separated for long. Her mind has become like mine and my body a little like hers. After the wyverns, our servants, defeated the traitors in the west, we came here, to her home. There are so many things, brother, of which we are ignorant. So many things. Under one of those mountains yonder lies a great and abandoned city. I know not who built it; their statues depict people who may be human but are shorter and squatter. It is dry, warm and there is food there; the dragon feeds me and it is there I have spent these last months.’
Morgan had a thought. ‘Dominic, put out your torch. The moon is giving us enough light.’
Dominic went and doused both torches in the stream. When he returned he pulled up short, his mouth ajar.
Now they could see it clearly, a red glow from under the cowl – only a soft light but definitely not a natural one. ‘Sister,’ he said, ‘show me.’
For the first time that night she seemed discomfited. ‘My blood,’ she said haltingly, ‘has become as dragon’s blood. There are few other changes in me but I scorch my clothes now. If truth be told, I rarely wear anything when on my own; it has been weeks since I put on this dress.’
‘Show me,’ Dominic repeated.
‘As you wish. Please remember, though, that I am the same Ceriana, your sister, and in most respects I have not changed.’
As the men watched, she worked off one of her gloves and held up her hand. Her nails had grown thick and yellow – the gloves must have barely fitted her– but her hand, her whole hand, was translucent. The blood in her veins shone through the skin, glowing a soft luminous roseate pink. Her hand, tiny, frail and delicate, displayed the traceries of the tiniest blood vessels within; only the bones could not be seen.
And at last she pulled back her cowl.
She had been right, Dominic thought. It was still the same Ceriana, though her hair was now long and wild, even tangled. Her face, though it had the same faint lambency as her hand, was still undeniably that of his little sister. If anything, the softly effulgent glow within her made her freckles even more dark, prominent and familiar. Unlike her hand, the veins in her face could not be seen, though the sanguine glare through the skin was the same. Her eyes, though, were no longer the gentle brown ones of his memory – backlit by that eerie glow, they were as two dark pits, making it appear that she regarded everything with the smouldering intensity of the poet. There was something else about them, too – a yellow gleam, almost reptilian. ‘I feel I have looked better,’ she said quietly.
Dominic took a step back. ‘Artorus help you, what has happened here? There must be something we can do.’
‘I am a dragon princess, that is all, and no, there is nothing anyone can do about it. I am glad you have seen me like this, however unwilling I may have been to show you. At least you now know that I cannot go back with you. However, if I concentrate hard I am able to change things, albeit temporarily. Let me try.’
She shut her eyes and exhaled loudly. As the two men stood amazed, the radiance of her skin started to lessen. The blood vessels in her hands disappeared as they became opaque, the crimson radiance replaced by pale, milky skin. By the time she opened her eyes again she had become Dominic’s little sister. She smiled – a smile tinged with sadness but a smile nonetheless. He stepped forward and embraced her.
‘I cannot hold this for long,’ she said. ‘Not without much concentration when really I need to use all my strength to speak to you both. I have a gift for each of you, but before that I need to say something to you, Dominic. Can you tell my sisters that I love them. Tell them that I hope they are winning the war against cake.’
For the first time Dominic laughed. ‘I will, sister.’
‘And tell Mother that I miss her and that she must be strong now that Father is with the Gods.’
Dominic almost choked. ‘Ceriana, you do not know? Father is not dead.’
The girl stopped, stunned. Her mouth fell open dumbly. ‘But I saw his ship...’
‘He escaped. He is sti
ll in Osperitsan, mopping up the rebels and restoring order. Him and a Baron Skellar, a friend of yours, I believe.’
‘Not ... dead? Then the Gods have not abandoned us wholly.’
‘Of course not.’
And then Ceriana Hartfield shrank into her brother’s arms and sobbed. Tears of relief and happiness soaked his armour and, as Morgan watched, the radiant glow of her hands and face returned as her concentration slipped. He watched the two of them silently as the moon shone its full light upon them all. He let time flow past him like the waters of the stream.
Finally she controlled herself, becoming human again. She beamed at them both and could not stop herself.
‘Thank you for that news, brother. I needn’t give you a message for Father, for I think you already know what it will be.’
Dominic nodded slowly.
‘Now, our business is almost at an end. Watch for the sign tomorrow then move on Roshythe leaving the Grand Duke behind. I will be watching. Which just leaves one more thing. Stay there.’
She turned and walked away for a moment, behind one of the great pines. When she returned she carried a large object that she held out to Morgan.
‘Take this, General Morgan. It is for you.’
He took it from her. Even in the moonlight he could see that it was a sword in a black scabbard. He pulled it out and the blade sang like a nightingale. He held it up to the moon. It gleamed with a pale radiance that did not come from the light of the moon, as though it was somehow generating light of its own volition. He had never known a sword so light and well balanced, and the blade itself, covered in complex geometric patterns, alien and unfamiliar, seemed to smoke in his hand. Gingerly, he went to touch it but pulled back immediately as his forefinger was bitten with cold. He heard the blade hiss slightly.
The Forgotten War Page 139
