by Wayne Mee
The Karn, Shag, had become their 'servant', finding them food of sorts and seeing to their other needs, yet though Shag played the fawning fool, Skatha could easily see in the creature's piggish eyes that it 'followed and served' only as long as it thought Lucfelian could bring it something in return. Once Skatha, eager to test his new 'hand', had asked leave to kill it, but Lucfelian had only shook his head. "'Unto all things there is a season'", he had said; "And unto all creatures comes their just reward'".
Lucfelian had gone on to explain that, using the power of his 'dark arts', he had discovered that the Slathland king had launched an invasion against the very land that he himself was making for. When Skatha had protested that they were in no position to take on the might of Slathland, Lucfelian had merely laughed. It was a sound that had made Skatha's cold heart turn to ice.
And so the three of them had journeyed northeastwards, searching always for the Wold, the elusive Land of the Wee'ns, until at length they had come upon the banks of this broad river. Again, Lucfelian's black arts had told them that 'this was the place', and so they had awaited the coming of the Slathlander's invasion fleet --- a fleet led by the ruler of mighty Slathland himself, Alexis V.
And now it had come.
Once again Skatha stood behind his liege lord, his naked sword blade resting lightly on his shoulder as he waited for Lucfelian to finish the ancient incantation. The ending came and the blade swept down --- and The Shadow was once again released into the void, free now to seek a 'new host' --- only this time it was a very 'special' host he sought.
***
Ragnol reg Das, otherwise known as the foreigner Halfhand, scratched his twice broken nose with the three remaining fingers of his left hand and watched the two strangers being brought aboard his scout ship.
When the pair stood before him and the four burly guards backed away, Ragnol looked them both up and down before addressing himself to the taller, well dressed one. He spoke in the Trade Tongue, for Slath was a difficult, harsh language, not spoken by many save true 'sons of the fatherland' and a few 'adopted siblings' like himself.
"The shorter of you is clearly a Karn of some sort, though I had heard tales of them being much taller and more powerful than this skinny wretch. As to just who or what you are, sir, I have no idea."
Skatha, having had a spell or 'glamour' put on him by Lucfelian just before the Nar-Graith's sword obediently struck his master's head from his shoulders, grinned deeply and bowed.
What Ragnol and the other Slathlanders saw was a very tall, regal-looking man, dresses in a strange scale-shirt that seemed to reflect the shadows instead of the light. He wore a helm of the same material and a long dark blue cloak trimmed with fur. His left hand ended with a strange curved blade or hook rested on the jeweled hilt of a longsword. A matching dagger hung from a tooled leather belt with a golden buckle. Clearly this was a personage of some importance, though Ragnol felt a chill sweep over him when he looked into the stranger's eyes.
Having long been ensorcelled with 'the gift of tongues', the Nar-Graith faced Ragnol straight on and replied in slightly archaic Slath. "Who I am, my good captain, is Skatha Hass Skarlag. What I am is an emissary from the far distant land of Jarlish-Xyx. I have travelled long and hard and would have words with your leader. Be that you?"
Ragnol tried to shake off the sudden feeling of awe mixed with a gnawing fear that washed over him as he stood before this tall stranger. With an effort he dragged his eyes away the other's shimmering hook. A 'foreigner' himself, Ragnol knew all too well the Slathlander's inbred hatred for all things not from the 'glorious quiffing fatherland' --- yet there was something about this 'royal messenger' that made his blood run cold.
"Like you, I am but a messenger of sorts. These six ships you see here are but the advance scouts. My liege lord, Alexus V of Slathland, follows closely with the rest of the fleet. I shall send word you request and audiance."
Skatha's cold smile sent a shiver down Ragnol's spine. Fighting off the feeling of dread, he decided to try a little 'diplomacy' of his own.
"I find it passing strange, Lord Skatha, that an ambassador from such a far away land as Jarlish-Xye would undertake such a long and dangerous journey with just one servant --- and such an unsavory one at that."
Skatha had to restrain himself from using his hook and ripping this arrogant fool's heart out. Instead he waved a ringed hand back towards the distant mountains.
"My party, good captain, was attacked while on route to your great kingdom. My loyal servant Shag and I are all that escaped."
"Bandits? Trolls?", Ragnol inquired. "I fear the mountains south of here are crawling with thieves and murderers."
"Filthy Stoners!", Skatha hissed, then checked himself. "I believe they are called Delgii in the Common Tongue."
Ragnol's three fingered hand went to his neatly trimmed beard. "That's odd. What little I've heard the Delgii reported them to be an honorable race, though a bit, er, 'conservative'. You have papers, Lord Skatha?"
The Nar-Graith shrugged. "Alas, all letters of state were lost. But my message to your monarch is committed to memory. You have only to bring me to him, good captain, and your duty will be done." Skatha unconsciously fingered the vile of red powder he had in his pouch that Lucfelian had given him. Mixed with wine, the potion became tasteless, yet it rendered the victim helpless to the 'Coming of The Shadow', a new spell Lucfelian had conjured in an attempt to make the host's body last longer. Skatha had but to get Alexis V to drink a toast to the imaginary alliance he was to propose and Lucfelian would be free to 'possess the unwitting host'.
"I'm sure, Ambassador Skatha, that the High Gnash will be overjoyed to receive you. "
"I'm sure he will," Skatha muttered as he followed Ragnol back to the raised stern.
Shag, trembling with fear and excitement, followed silently along in their wake, while high overhead, despite a strong wind a small, dark cloud hovered where no cloud should be.
***
From the deck of the High Gnash's flagship, Nex saw the scout ship returning. Though the sun was almost down, he could make out that bastard Halfhand standing at the prow. Beside him he could see two others as well, all ringed round by Slathlander guards.
"The 'foreigner' returns, My Liege. With prisoners."
Nex still felt a twinge of pain in his groin, yet he refused to let on, though he mentally counted the ways he would like to 'pay back' Alexis V for publicly humiliating him.
"Be they the fabled 'Wee'ns', dear Nex? Or has our 'beloved foreigner' brought us some new diversion?"
Before Nex could think of a fitting reply, Ragnol's scout ship was alongside the much larger one. A rope ladder was lowered and soon Ragnol and the two strangers were soon standing before the High Gnash.
"Well, Halfhand?", the King of All Slathland demanded. "Where are the Wee'ns you promised us? And who is this 'gentleman'? One of your 'foreign friends'?" Alexus V turned his regal gaze from the glamour that was Skatha to the abomination that was Shag. "And just what is that creature lurking behind your foreigner? We are not accustomed to have such vermin in our royal presence!" As though to emphasize the point, Alexis V held a scented ball of lavender up to his nose.
Ragnol took a step forward and, sweeping off his plumed hat, bowed low. "Your Grace, may I present Lord Skatha Hass Skarlag, ambassador from the great, though far-off kingdom of Jarlish-Xyx. Lord Skatha's party was attacked and all killed save he and his, er, servant. Yet he assures me that he has an oral message for Your Majesty. He but awaits your royal ear." Ragnol bowed with a flourish and backed away, inwardly glad to be clear of both the tall stranger and his own volatile monarch.
For a moment Alexis V sat watching the tall foreigner. The old priest, Tarus Brag, bent to whisper something in his ear, but was casually brushed aside.
"Nex!", the Ruler of All Slathland called, his eyes never leaving Skatha's composed face.
The burly warrior came forward and went down on one knee before his liege lord.
/> "What think you of yon ambassador from, how did Halfhand put it? Ah, yes. 'From the great, yet far-off kingdom of Jarlish-Xyx'".
Nex eyed Skatha with the keen observation of a weapons-man. "By the looks of him, Your Grace, I'd wager he wields a sword better than a pen, and that 'hook' he sports seems sharper than the keenest tongue! Though he does have the look of a bum-quiffing dandy about him!"
There was some laughter at this, cut off quickly by the High Gnash's raised hand.
Skatha made a mock bow. "In my country, my lords, it is said that 'a sharp blade cuts but once, whilst a sharp word cuts forever.'"
Nex colored, his body stiffening. Alexis V however, let out a high pitched giggle.
"Well spoken, Lord Skatha! Nex seldom has his clumsy thrusts parried in such a neat manner --- save perhaps by another foreigner, Ragnol reg Das, whom you have already met!
"Come, sit here by me. I would hear more from your 'great yet far-off kingdom!'"
A chair was brought for Skatha beside the raised dais. Servants scurried for wine and sweetmeats.
"Perhaps, Your Majesty, not so 'far-off' as your advisors would have you think."
The smile vanished from the High Gnash's painted face while Skatha's broadened.
"My lord and master, the mighty Kariff of Jarlish-Xyx, thirteenth of his line to rule the Twin Kingdoms, sends you, his cousin-king of glorious Slathland, greetings. Gifts and royal letters of state were, alas, 'lost in transport', but the gist of his princely offer I hold here in my head." All the while Skatha's good hand toyed with the vile of red powder concealed in his pocket.
"'Princely offer', you say? What can a distant 'desert king' offer me that I do not already possess?"
"An army, my lord."
The High Gnash snorted. "Look around you man! I HAVE and army!"
Skatha played his part to the hilt. Leaning closer he whispered in the High Gnash's ear. "THIS is your army? These few ships and handful of men? My lord, my master commands a fleet of gallies that, if launched all at once, would fill the entire Middle Sea. His soldiers outnumber the very stars in the sky --- half a million of which are even now not far behind me."
Alexis V nearly choked on the sweet he had been tasting. As servants rushed to his aid, Skatha helped the gasping despot to rise.
"Perhaps a glass of wine, your majesty. To clear the throat. But may I suggest you have it in your private quarters, where we can both talk more freely about the 'coming of my master'".
Having swallowed the bait as well as the sweet, the High Gnash of Glorious Slathland nodded, and, leaning on Skatha, made his way to his private rooms. Wine was brought and left --- to be served by the smiling ambassador from Jarlish-Xyx.
***
Thorn felt like a swimmer desperately seeking a distant shore, a shore hidden by darkness. on a moonless night. Wherever he turned there was pain; deep, soul-shattering pain. He cried out, but the sound of his screams rang hollow in his mind, blotted out by the heavy blackness that pressed in on him from all sides.
Later, much later, the blackness exploded as he finally opened its eyes opened. Burning, white light flooded into his being, washing over him in a wave of yet more pain. The blackness returned, almost welcome this time, for, wrapped in its velvety blackness, he sensed that he could finally lay his burden down.
Then suddenly 'she' was there; a glowing version of the love he had so lightly left behind. Fernleaf of the flashing eyes and fiery temper and the heart that is truer than true. 'Don't you dare, Bramblethorn Higgs!' her dream-self said to him angrily. 'Don't you dare go off and die on me in some far away land! Your place is here, Thorn, back with me in the Wold! Do you hear me? Back here with me and the children we'll make together! You rise up now and get things done. We'll be waiting for you when you return --- so don't you dare dally!'
Like that lost swimmer, Thorn fought his way towards the sound of her voice, the promise of her words and the aching hope in his heart --- and finally reached the shores of reality.
He was alive after all. Battered, bruised and in pain --- but alive!
"So," a soothing voice said. "You've come back to us at last."
The light dimmed enough to see, though the room continued to swim. He saw what he took to be his feet, covered by a thick quilt. At the end of the bed stood a tall form with a grizzly, white beard and laughing eyes.
"Mithdar!" The words made the light and pain return, but he held on.
"Yes, it is I. You've had us all quite worried for some time now. That was a very foolish thing you did, facing two Nar-Graith single-handed. But all's well that ends well --- for now at least."
There came a squeak from the doorway and Timin rushed in. The tray of tea and biscuits he had been carrying fell clattering to the floor. "You're awake!", choked the little Kirkwean as he rushed to the bed and clasped his cousin's pale hand. "I thought... that is, we all feared... Oh, Thorn, you've come back to us!" Timin's shoulders began to shake and tears ran unashamedly down his face.
"Gently now, you two," the old tinker cautioned. "He's through the worst of it, Timin, but not yet out of the woods. Besides the broken arm and cracked ribs, the poison used on him nearly made his heart stop."
"It DID, Thorn!", Timin burst in. "Your heart DID stop! When we got you back here you were as white as the belly of a fish! Why, if it hadn't been for Mithdar's skill, you would have died for sure! You've been dead to the world for nearly two months now as it is!"
That last bit of information rocked Thorn the most. "'Two months'?! I've lain here for two whole months?!" He tried to sit up but the pain made him almost swoon.
"What of the war? Of Erin, Kel and the rest? he managed through gritted teeth. "Is Lady Zoean alright?!" The effort exhausted him and he lay back sweating on the pillow. Timin bathed his forehead with a damp cloth, but Thorn's eyes were riveted on Mithdar.
The old mage sighed, came round and took his other hand. "They are all fine, save for a few minor scrapes and bruises. As for the war, it is all but over. The Karns have scattered and there has been no sign of The Shadow."
Yet Thorn noted the sound of sadness in his old friend's voice.
"But there is something," he said softly. "Something you are not telling me. Please, I have a right to know."
Timin's watery eyes went to Mithdar's.
"You asked about the war, Thorn," the mage began. "And I told you that this war is all but over --- but there is yet another one that has just begun." Pain and sorrow shown forth from the old man's now misty eyes, yet there was the iron hardness of resolve in his voice. "Far to the north Slathlanders have invaded your homeland."
Timin could hold back his tears no longer. "The Wold, Thorn! They've taken The Wold!"
The cry that rose from Thorn's lips had little to do with physical pain.
***
Chapter 38: LEAVETAKING'
"You be stayin' here, darlin' girl, 'n let that be an end to it!" Erin reached for his horn of ale, his wolf-grey eyes set in a manner that warned he would brook no further talk on the subject.
Yet Zoean Ithilian was far from finished. She put her hands defiantly on her shapely hips and glared up at the tall weapons-man.
"That is NOT the end of it, 'me darlin' man'! For, despite how you or my brother bellow and bawl, I WILL go with you and the two Kirkwean!" Her green eyes flashed in the warm, sunlit morn, daring him or anyone else to stand against her.
The manling, whom many called 'The Raven', tossed down his ale horn in disgust. "Arthdain! She be your sister! For quiff sake talk to her!"
The golden haired prince shrugged. Over the course of the long, hard winter Arthdain and Erin had gotten to know each other quite well and the prince had been forced to modify his somewhat one-sided views towards the tall weapons-man. The fact that between his sister and the manling known as The Raven there had developed something more than a casual relationship, albeit a 'stormy' one, now seemed to give him cause for laughter rather than his earlier anger. Also, Nim-Lothian custom, perhaps due t
o their very long lifespans, saw nothing wrong with a maiden having one or even several lovers before finally choosing her 'life-mate'. Taking his headstrong sister's personality into account, Arthdain now believed that the whole volatile affair as nothing more than a harmless flirtation, an attraction of opposites. Like a summer storm, full of sound and furry at the beginning, Arthdain felt the attraction would soon blow over.
As for 'Mankind as a whole' however, Arthdain retained his somewhat 'less than flattering' judgment. Still considering the newer race as 'despoilers of Lear's blue skies and Quent's lush body', he saw Erin as a likable oddity from an otherwise detestable sub-group of humans.
Several times over the course of the 'Winter-War', as it had come to be known, each had saved the other's life, making them, in the ancient tradition of the Nim-Loth, 'shield-brothers'. Also, each deeply respected the other's skills: Arthdain for his woodscraft and mastery of tactics both afoot and ahorse, and Erin for his almost magical use of weapons and his ability to draw others too him like honey draws bees.
"It's been many a long year, shield-brother, since my little sister paid heed to anything that I had to say. She is a Zorina of the Royal House of Ithilian. Under Nim-Lothian law only our father the Zorka, or her rightful husband, could forbid her from following some course of action she has set her heart on. You could, of course, marry her --- but knowing Zoean as I do, I doubt even THAT would work!"
Erin's weather-beaten features creased into a frown. Clearly he didn't want Zoean coming with them on their dangerous journey back to The Wold. If they made it there at all, only hardship and death awaited them; yet, under their own law, only her father or her husband could stop her. Zorka Agwain was far away and besides, Erin had seen for himself what little effect he had had on his high spirited offspring. But to MARRY her! That was a step that the free-roving weapons-man was not prepared to take!
