The Warrior

by Joseph Delaney

  We were fastened together by a long rope wrapped about our waists. Led by the Mede, we walked upstream along the riverbank. At first I was apprehensive, but all I could hear was the river chuckling over rocks. Even this sounded sinister and malevolent to my ears – like the laughter of some unseen beast delighting in our plight.

  It was a cold night, and the first odd thing that I experienced was someone or something sniffing close to my face. I felt warm air on my left cheek, like the breath of someone who was inspecting me closely.

  Was it the Mede? I thought suspiciously. Did they exaggerate the danger of the crossing by such tricks, seeking to increase our respect for their arcane knowledge?

  Suddenly the air about me was in turmoil. I was being buffeted by a fierce wind and wondered if we had entered the Barrier itself. The series of squalls kept coming at me from different directions, and I found it hard to keep my balance.

  Then, equally suddenly, all became calm and still. But, as the last fierce gust faded, I thought I heard a scream somewhere behind me. Had I imagined it?

  Then I was aware of distant whisperings – and heavy footsteps close by, as if other walkers had suddenly joined our party; as if each of us had a mysterious companion.

  All this unnerved me, but I took slow, deep breaths and tried to stay calm – though on several occasions my hands strayed towards my shoulder scabbard. Somehow I kept my nerve, obeying our guide’s instruction.

  All at once the Mede cried out, ‘Halt and remove your blindfolds!’

  I did as he commanded and looked about me. His voice had sounded nearby, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Two of the Genthai warriors were gone too – simply vanished into the night. These had been the last two in our column, and the rope that had bound them to us had been cut. Had one of them cried out as he was taken? Was that the noise I’d heard?

  We all knew how risky the crossing could be. Now two of our party were gone, and we were down to eight. Two living, breathing men – warriors whom I had begun to count as my comrades – had been snatched away. I felt the loss keenly.

  Then I looked back to see, in the faint light of the stars, the Barrier rising from Earth to heaven. It looked exactly as it had from the other side, but only now did I fully realize that we had indeed crossed over. Ahead lay the unknown lands ruled over by our enemies, the djinn.

  Yet, as Konnit had told me, the landscape looked very much like the one we’d just left. The river still flowed, and there were stark, leafless trees on either bank.

  We spent the day there, and the following night the Mede brought our horses through. They all came through unscathed – I was very relieved to see Laras – and we now had two spare mounts to carry our baggage. At dawn we began our journey north.

  We were all fully armed. Despite my lack of skill, I carried two longswords in scabbards on Laras’ flanks, along with my shield and bow. My short sword and a quiver of arrows were slung across my back.

  As the river began to curve away in an easterly direction, we approached a tall tree – some sort of conifer surrounded by clumps of a silver tree fern. Garrett gestured left and we headed north, away from the river. I wondered why he’d made that sudden change of direction. All day we rode, with Garrett in the lead. Finally he called a halt, and we camped for the night.

  At dawn we continued our journey, but not before Garrett had consulted what appeared to be a map.

  ‘We have a map?’ I asked him in surprise. ‘Konnit said that no Genthai had ventured far beyond the Barrier.’

  ‘Yes, Leif, we have a map. It was sketched by someone who sailed beyond the Barrier many times.’

  ‘You mean the Trader?’ I asked.

  Garrett shook his head. ‘Your father drew it.’

  DEATH FROM THE AIR

  The first ghetta will be lost in water; the second shall bind the two unto death.

  Amabramdata: the Genthai Book of Prophecy

  LEIF

  ‘Math made several journeys across the Barrier with the Trader,’ Garrett said, ‘but on the last one something went wrong. The Trader left him behind, and he returned alone overland and drew this map of the route he took.’

  ‘Did he quarrel with the Trader?’ I asked.

  Garrett shrugged. ‘Nobody knows. Your father never said, but he never worked for the Trader again. Soon after that he bought a farm, then met and married your mother. But he gave us this map. We will follow Math’s journey in reverse. Here – take a look.’ He handed it to me.

  I studied it carefully, noting the desert directly ahead, with the forest beyond it – then two rivers that we would have to cross. At the top, far to the north, was a city on what looked like an island in the middle of a wide river. Just beyond that, a thick horizontal line had been labelled High Wall and in that wall was marked a Bronze Gate.

  ‘There’s a wall and a gate marked. So my father must have gone there. I wonder how far it is. The map gives no indication of scale,’ I said.

  ‘That’s where we’re headed. We think it’ll take us a couple of weeks,’ said Garrett. ‘We’re hoping to take a look at that gate. Your father didn’t write anything down, but it seems he said something about it when he handed over the map. From the Western Ocean he followed that river as far as the city in the Trader’s ship. That wall is a big defensive structure. Our aim is to assess it – and also to see if there’s any way we can get through that gate. We might decide it’s better to stay on this side of the wall and defend it against whatever lies further north.’

  ‘There must be djinn in that city …’

  ‘Your father confirmed that; we want to avoid them at all costs. The truth is, Leif, we’ll be lucky to cover even a small part of that distance – though verifying the accuracy of the map is of value. One day, if the route is viable, a Genthai army may follow it as they ride to do battle with the djinn.’

  The sparse woods soon came to an end and the terrain became dry and featureless.

  Garrett guarded the map jealously, but I’d committed much of it to memory. This area was marked as Stony Desert, and we were riding across coarse dark sand, rocks and scrub.

  We would be visible from miles away – an easy target for the djinn. We had no idea what form they might take now, after centuries of evolution, but Ada had warned that they could look like insects or crustacea, or be similar to humans. Whatever their shape, they would be fast and strong and would probably overwhelm us easily. I shuddered to think of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of djinn like Hob attacking us. We would surely not survive – unless, as Ada had suggested, we were able to communicate with them.

  But what words could we offer in our defence? After all, we had left Midgard and crossed the Barrier in defiance of the djinn’s wishes.

  Garrett decided that, while we were crossing this desert, it was best to travel at night and sleep during the day, so we spent an anxious ten hours in a shallow depression, taking it in turns to keep watch. During this time there was no sign of enemy activity; indeed the only movement on that vast plain was the rippling of clumps of stunted grass in the breeze.

  This was worrying: we had packed provisions for no more than a few days and were relying on hunting to supplement our diet. We’d heard wolves howling in the distance, but the Genthai didn’t eat wolf meat. Even worse was the fact that there was no source of water, and our small bottles were almost empty. Moreover the grass was insufficient for the needs of our horses. We’d brought small bags of feed for them, but these wouldn’t last long. The map showed that the desert would eventually give way to trees, but as there was no scale, we didn’t know when that would be.

  So we felt a great sense of relief when, just before dawn on the second day, the landscape began to change. The grass became greener, and soon there was the occasional tree. The following night we entered the vast pine forest promised by the map, and heard the reassuring sounds of small creatures scurrying about in the dark.

  We made camp during the night, and at dawn we awoke to a chorus
of birdsong. There was also a background buzz of insects, which bit us mercilessly. The air was mild again, though winter was not far off; soon there would be the first frost.

  The world beyond the Barrier seemed very similar to Midgard. I was disappointed. I’d expected that as we advanced into djinn territory, the land would change.

  We soon found a stream and were able to fill our bottles and water the horses. Later we set out with our bows to hunt the small grey furry animals that leaped from tree to tree. They seemed to have no fear of us and were easy prey. These creatures were quite new to us, and we risked lighting a fire to cook them.

  I felt safer in the shelter of the trees. If djinn were in the vicinity, I hoped we would be difficult to detect. Moreover the glades had grass for our horses, so Garrett decided to remain there for a few days to rest, hunt and investigate our route. That first day he took one of the warriors out on a reconnaissance mission. They returned to report nothing other than a continuation of the forest. There was still no sign of djinn.

  On the second day Garrett asked me to accompany him. He’d decided to range further afield: we’d ride as far as we could while the light lasted, camp for the night and return the following day.

  We rode until sunset, discovering nothing new, and then made camp as planned. After supper, as we gazed into the flames, Garrett spoke without looking at me.

  His words shocked me to the core.

  ‘I don’t expect to return through the Barrier, Leif,’ he told me. ‘I think I’ll die here.’

  It was a few moments before I could think of something sensible to say in reply. ‘You sense your death approaching?’ I asked.

  He nodded. ‘Yes, I have a strong sense of it. For the last four nights I’ve been having the same dream. It always ends in the same way.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me about it?’ I suggested.

  ‘Maybe I will later. But I want you to do something for me. There’s a woman I’ve been seeing from time to time. One day I hoped that we’d marry. Her name is Meira. Konnit will tell you where to find her. When you get back to the tribe, I’d like you to give this to Meira. Tell her I sent it.’ He was handing me something.

  I accepted it with a frown. It was a small piece of white wolf fur, clumsily stitched into a triangle.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s called a ghetta. It’s a love token, traditionally offered to a woman when a man asks her to marry him and joins her family. Usually it’s passed from man to woman, in person, from hand to hand. But I don’t expect to return. It’s my way of saying goodbye and hoping that she’ll remember me.’

  ‘I’ll hold onto it for you now, if it makes you feel better,’ I said. ‘But you’ll give it to Meira yourself. I feel sure of it.’

  Garrett nodded, and his mouth lifted in a smile. However, what he’d revealed made me uneasy. Garrett was the strongest and most positive of us all, the rock upon which our little expedition could rely. If he was going to die, perhaps none of us would survive.

  Then I would never go home; never see Kwin again.

  The following morning we rode back through the forest without speaking further, concentrating on the signals coming from our immediate environment and further afield; in particular, the sounds of the forest.

  But it wasn’t a sound that warned us something was wrong. It was the silence. The whole forest – branches, twigs, leaves, the small birds and mammals – had suddenly become perfectly still. We were the only living things moving, the only creatures making any noise. And it seemed to me that the sounds we made were increasingly loud, each hoof striking the ground like a drumstick reverberating on a taut skin.

  Then, as we approached the camp, I smelled something that filled me with horror and made the bile rise in my throat. It was the metallic smell of blood and the sweet stench of rotting. Death lay ahead: I knew it.

  As we rode into our camp, all my fears were confirmed. Our remaining six comrades had been slain.

  I’d seen death before. I’d seen warriors and children torn to pieces by werewights; I’d seen men I cared about slain in Arena 13. But this was something else; something far beyond my experience.

  At first we were wary, keeping our distance from the corpses. But we saw that pieces of flesh had been torn from the bodies with great savagery. Only their short chain-mail hauberks and helmets had resisted the attack. Their hempen trousers had gone, and hardly any flesh remained on their bones.

  What could have done it? Some type of wolf? I wondered.

  We paced the perimeter of the camp, looking for tracks. At last we were compelled to examine the bodies. Garrett took the lead, and I forced myself to kneel by each one in turn. I tried to hold my breath against the stench; later I tried and failed to close my ears to the sound of Garrett vomiting.

  The fragments of skin and flesh that remained on the corpses had a greenish tinge. The eyes had gone, but the sockets had been fractured as if something sharp had been forced in. Small slivers of bone had broken away.

  I realized that these warriors hadn’t even had time to draw their weapons and, although Genthai mounts were trained to remain by their rider even if he had fallen in battle, there was no sign of the horses. Only hoof prints leading in several different directions. What had frightened them away?

  I must have been in shock, not really taking in details of the scene, because it was some time before I noticed the pine needles strewn across the camp. Some even lay on the bodies.

  I looked up, puzzled, then turned to Garrett and pointed out the damage to the leaf canopy. The trees above had lost most of their needles, twigs and even small branches. Garrett stared upwards, shaking his head. He looked bewildered.

  I knew of no bird or flying creature that could have brought about such destruction – though it did explain why none of these men had been able to draw his weapon. The attack had been swift, possibly silent, and had come from a totally unexpected direction.

  ‘Death came from the air!’ Garrett said grimly. ‘I think the djinn have found us.’

  THE GREY CITY

  A warrior may become a king; a king must be born a warrior.

  Amabramdata: the Genthai Book of Prophecy

  LEIF

  I was afraid. My fear was not for myself or for Garrett. I feared now that we would fail to complete our quest.

  As we travelled through this land, I had expected to find enemies on every side, but its very normality had lulled me into a false sense of safety. Now there were novel dangers, as yet unseen. We didn’t even know what we were facing.

  Could our six comrades have been slain by some type of winged djinn? I wondered. Ada had never mentioned them, but of course they might have changed in many different ways.

  The enemy could strike again at any time, and I had little confidence that we’d fare any better than these six warriors. Yet I didn’t want to give up and go back; we’d learned little, but I feared that Garrett would call a halt to the expedition. I wanted to continue as far as the High Wall, the furthest extent of my father’s map.

  I needn’t have worried.

  ‘We have to go on,’ he said. ‘But first we’ll see to our dead.’

  Perhaps it wasn’t wise to build the funeral pyre, but that was the Genthai way and there was an ample supply of wood. Rather than waiting until sunset, as was the custom, we set light to it immediately. Garrett wanted to be well clear of the campsite before nightfall.

  We watched the flames consume the bodies.

  ‘I can’t bear to think that they’ll never see their families again. Never sit in the Meeting Hall again. Never go home. Their lives have been snatched away and I feel like part of me has been taken with them. I’ve had a vision of my own death, but I never saw this …’ Garrett whispered.

  I walked away from him and paced up and down the clearing angrily, watching the sparks fly up into the sky like souls ascending into the heavens.

  Then, just before the sun went down, we rode north, still following the route in
dicated on my father’s map. Of the mounts that had fled the clearing there was no sign.

  The forest seemed without end, and progress was slow and difficult. It was with relief that, soon after dawn on the ninth day since crossing the Barrier, we saw the Grey City to our north.

  It was set on a narrow plateau halfway up the slope of a high, roughly conical hill; a hill that stood at the south east of a big range of mountains. The buildings appeared to be made of grey stone, and even from a distance there was some evidence that they had fallen into disrepair.

  ‘I’d like to take a closer look,’ I told Garrett. I hoped that something new, a change from the monotony of the journey through the forest, might distract me from my morbid thoughts. I had been closer to Garrett than to the other six warriors, but now I missed them; I kept seeing their shadows among the trees, my imagination playing strange tricks on me.

  ‘So would I, Leif, so let’s do just that. If it turns out to be inhabited, we’ll get as close as we can without being seen. If it’s deserted, we’ll investigate fully. Either way, we might learn something new about this land – and the climb will give us a good vantage point from which to spy out the lie of the land ahead. We might be able to see where the forest ends – and even as far as the High Wall and the gate.’

  However, it was almost mid-afternoon before we reached the foot of the first of a series of slopes. I estimated that it would be two hours up to what I now called the Grey City, and at least another hour to descend again. That would leave us a couple of hours to explore. We should be back in the shelter of the trees by sunset, I thought, glancing nervously up at the sky.

  The pine forest might have become monotonous, but even though I knew that it presented no real defence against our enemies, I’d felt better with the tree canopy above my head. Exposed to the night sky on a hillside, we would be easy targets.

  So we tethered the horses and began a climb that took longer than I’d estimated. We didn’t want to risk leaving our chain mail and leather armour behind, and each of us had also taken a short sword, and soon we were covered in sweat and gasping for breath in the afternoon heat. Garrett was struggling in his chain-mail hauberk.