Teena had never recovered from the death of her husband, Kern, who’d also been slain by Hob in the arena. She was still fragile, and I didn’t want to cause her pain. Tonight I would grit my teeth and wear that dress for her sake.
Finally I opened my father’s present. It was a single earring, beautifully wrought from silver alloy in the shape of a tiny white wolf. There was a note with it:
I gave this to your mother, Jacanda, many years ago, on the day we were married, as a token of our love. There was a pair, but the other is lost and this is all that remains. Please wear it.
With love,
Your father, Tyron
My earlobes were pierced, but I rarely wore jewellery. For this I would make an exception. I fitted it carefully into my left ear where my hair was cut short to reveal my scar. Then I studied my face in the mirror. The little wolf gleamed in the late autumn sunshine that streamed almost horizontally through the windows.
I’d been wrong. It was even better than the blades.
I would wear it always.
I walked across the city towards the admin building. My father was the most successful artificer in Gindeen, with the largest stable of human combatants and lacs. That often made for a hard morning’s work, which could occasionally spill over to take up a large chunk of my afternoon. But this was the lull between seasons when no fighting took place in the Wheel.
It wouldn’t be too bad, I thought – just a couple of tedious hours of paperwork which, today, would include dealing with the wages. Then I would be able to return home for some combat practice.
The admin building was a large oblong wooden structure, two storeys high. The outside was painted grey, which matched the boring tasks that went on inside. My heart sank as I approached it. It sank even further when I saw who was waiting for me.
It was Jon, who’d been my boyfriend before Leif.
Jon was good-looking and I’d once been crazy about him. But all that was in the past. Now I was with Leif; I never even looked twice at another boy. Unfortunately Jon still thought he could win me back.
As I drew nearer, I saw that he was carrying a parcel.
‘Happy birthday, Kwin! Here’s your present,’ he said.
I hesitated. To refuse would gain me nothing. I didn’t want to encourage him; nor did I want to hurt or offend him in any way.
‘That’s new,’ he said, staring at my earring. ‘Is that a present from Leif?’
I shook my head. Leif hadn’t given me a present before he left for the Barrier. I’d been slightly hurt – after all, he’d known that my birthday was just a few weeks away. But I didn’t really blame him: he’d been so caught up in his preparations to leave. Maybe he’d remember when he returned. In any case, last year he’d bought me the best present ever – a pair of red Trig boots for fighting in Arena 13.
‘No, it’s from my father,’ I replied.
‘What did Leif buy you?’ Jon persisted.
‘I’m sorry, Jon, but I have to go. I’ve a lot to do today.’
‘If he doesn’t come back, Kwin, I want you to know that I’ll still be here for you.’
‘He’ll be back, Jon, you can be sure of that!’ I snapped angrily before pushing past him to enter the building, ignoring the proffered parcel.
I used my anger to fuel my work. Never had I completed the accounts and wages so quickly. Then it was back home for an energetic workout on the training floor my father had installed. In size and shape, it was an exact replica of Arena 13.
I was working with a new lac that Ada had patterned for me, and there was a lot to do. I spent most of the afternoon dancing behind it and developing Ulum – the sound-code that would enable us to communicate while fighting – while Ada looked on. You communicated with your lac by drumming on the floor with your boots. This told it what position to take up and what manoeuvre to execute. It was a private code, unique to each combatant and lac – your opponent couldn’t understand it.
Finally I danced in front of the lac in attack mode, trying to work off the anger that was still simmering inside me. I knew that it wasn’t Leif’s fault – his mission was important – but circumstances had taken him from me. It had happened so quickly that he hadn’t thought about my birthday.
The afternoon went well, and Ada was pleased with what she saw, but at last she called a halt.
‘That’s enough for today, Kwin. Time to get ready for your party!’
I pulled a face – though I knew she was right. I wanted to look my best for the sake of my father and sister, so I went to wash and change into Teena’s dress.
I don’t remember much about the party. I still felt angry, but I had to put on a smile and appear cheerful. Maybe I drank too much punch – or perhaps it was stronger than usual; whatever the reason, the evening flew by quickly. I remember dancing with a young man I’d been introduced to for the first time – he and his parents were surprise guests at the party. His name was Goodwin and he paid me a lot of attention.
After the party my father took me up to his study. That was something that happened only rarely, and I knew he had something important to say. I wondered whether I’d made a fool of myself at the party and he was about to tell me off.
I sat down facing him across the desk. Then he gave me a warm smile, and I knew that I wasn’t in trouble. As usual, my father was sipping his glass of red wine.
‘You seemed to be enjoying yourself tonight,’ he said.
‘It was fun. Thanks for the party – and thanks again for giving me the earring,’ I said, touching it.
‘The young man you danced with …’
‘You mean Goodwin?’ I asked. Although I’d mostly been with Goodwin, I’d also danced with one of Wode’s sons.
‘Yes, young Goodwin. His parents have just made a formal proposal of betrothal. He’s their eldest son. They came to the party tonight to appraise you and our family. They liked what they saw.’
I was stunned. Some of the wealthier families in Gindeen still believed in arranged marriages. It was a way of consolidating wealth: the eldest son inherited most of this; added to the bride’s dowry, it ensured continuity of social standing.
‘I refuse!’ I said, coming to my feet, feeling my face burn with anger.
‘Of course you do. Please sit down, Daughter, and listen to the rest of what I have to say,’ he said calmly.
I sat down and took a deep breath, trying to control my anger. ‘I love Leif. One day I hope we’ll be married!’ I told him.
‘I know that – one day I’ll be happy to stand at your side and give you both my blessing. All I ask is that you follow the niceties with Goodwin. You’ve met him now. You need only be in his company twice more, and then we can refuse him. Why upset him? His parents are good people – he’ll eventually make someone an excellent husband—’
‘Not me!’ I snapped.
‘Of course it won’t be you, Kwin. But why cause offence? Next week his parents will hold a party and we will be invited. The following week there will be a third party on neutral ground. All you have to do is dance with Goodwin and make conversation. You seemed to find it pleasant enough tonight. Then we can make a polite formal refusal. Won’t you do that for me?’
I found it hard to say no. Goodwin’s father was the joint owner of one of the largest gambling houses. In order to unite the city and cement the alliance with the Genthai, Tyron needed to keep such men on his side.
I sighed and nodded. I’d agreed, but it wasn’t the best end to my birthday.
THE STONE BRIDGE
And they came at last to the second river, and saw that the chart was good. And here they saw a wonder indeed – a bridge built of stone.
Not without justification was this later named the Bridge of Sorrows.
The History of the Conflict by Eitel the Pessimist
LEIF
Now that we had to travel on foot, it took us almost three days to reach the river we’d seen from the heights above the Grey City.
There was no
bridge, but it was wide and shallow; in places the water reached no higher than our ankles, and fording it proved easy. Once across, we continued our journey north. We entered a second pine forest, but this time the terrain was hilly, our progress impeded by deep, treacherous ravines that ran from east to west, and many days were wasted in backtracking to find a way round. The map hadn’t been drawn to scale, so it didn’t show a clear way through.
Each night, just before sunset, we halted, and Garrett dutifully amended the chart, trying to add detail to what had previously shown only major features. Each ravine was recorded, and the fastest and most direct route northwards clearly marked.
The chart had shown mountains and the Grey City, and next to the latter Garrett drew a skull as a warning, aware that those who followed needed to avoid it.
Finally, through the trees, we glimpsed the second river marked on the map, and here the chart seemed to be accurate.
Another week on foot, I thought, should bring us to the city on the island, and the High Wall beyond it.
From the wooded slope, I looked down at the river, now less than a day away. Below were grasslands dotted with broad-leaved, deciduous trees and scrub. We were about to leave the shelter of the pine forest and would be more vulnerable to attack from the sky.
The sun was setting and the shadows were lengthening down in the valley. I’d previously noticed what I took to be a ford across the river – an area of shallow water with stones close to the surface. But now it was clearer, and I could see that it was the bridge marked on my father’s map. I pointed it out to Garrett.
‘I can see it!’ he cried. ‘No need to get our feet wet this time.’
We moved on towards the river, taking the path of least resistance through the trees and scrub.
Less than twenty-four hours later we were standing on the banks of that river, marvelling at the bridge, which was still some way downstream.
The river was a wide, surging torrent, its far bank dauntingly distant. Never had I seen such a river. By comparison, the puny ones of Midgard were hardly more than muddy streams. But the greater miracle was the bridge; the stone bridge that spanned the torrent in thirteen long, graceful, sweeping arches. The map had given no indication of its magnificence.
Midgard had only single-span bridges made of wood and rope that needed constant renewal. This looked as if it had existed for centuries and might endure until the end of time itself.
‘How would you build such a bridge?’ I asked. ‘How could you even begin?’
The stone supports went right down into the river bed. What kind of technology could have held the water at bay while the masons worked? I wondered.
We made camp right on the riverbank, but at some distance from the bridge. Until now we’d seen no sign of djinn activity but, had there been humans in the vicinity, the bridge would doubtless have been part of a trading route.
When the sun set, Garrett slept while I stood watch. The time passed uneventfully, and soon it was my turn. At first my sleep was peaceful, but then, once again in my dream I heard the beating of wings. This time there was more than just darkness, with the tree canopy overhead. I was back in the central courtyard of the Grey City, turning to watch the winged creatures swarming down from the open doorway high in the wall. Time seemed to halt. That moment became an eternity, and my terror had gone so that I was able to study them with detachment.
It was hard to estimate their size – they were too far away – but it was now clear that they were shaped like insects, with three distinct body parts that gleamed silver, like highly polished armour. But there was something very strange about their heads. Something disturbing, I thought … But they were just too far away to see clearly.
Suddenly they formed a pattern in the sky: the image of the silver tree fern.
Then I woke up; Garrett was shaking me. Over his shoulder I could see the grey clouds to the east tinged with pink. It was almost dawn.
I sat up. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ I asked.
‘I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep again, but you were tired,’ Garrett said. ‘You’d have done the same for me. Here’s breakfast …’
I sat up and accepted a strip of cold meat, chewing it without enthusiasm. We couldn’t risk lighting a fire. Anything might lie in wait across that bridge.
‘I heard noises in the night,’ Garrett told me, ‘from somewhere near the central span. It sounded like a woman weeping. And look at that!’
He pointed at the bridge. In the grey pre-dawn light, dark birds could be seen wheeling high above it. My heart skipped a beat, but then I saw that they bore no resemblance to the winged creatures that brought death from the sky. They were too far away for me to be sure, but they reminded me of the vultures that soared above the slaughterhouse and the Wheel back in Gindeen.
‘It looks like we’ve an eventful morning ahead. Let’s make a start,’ I suggested.
I began to rise, but Garrett put a hand on my arm. ‘I think we should go back,’ he said. ‘Head back towards the Barrier.’
I looked at him in amazement. ‘Go back? Why?’
‘We’ve come a long way and seen a lot, Leif – much more than I expected. We’ve reached the second river. We’ve identified a threat from the air and know that it’s located near that ruined city. We should take that knowledge back with us – take it back while we can.’
I looked up at him searchingly, but he had turned his head away. ‘You think something’s going to happen, don’t you? Is it the bridge?’
Garrett nodded and gestured towards the river. ‘If I try to cross it, I’ll die. I saw that stone bridge in my dreams. I die on that bridge.’
‘Then you go back, Garrett. Take what we’ve learned with you. You’ll save lives by doing so. But I need to go on. There’s more to see, and I intend to go all the way. I’m going to follow my father’s map to its very end. I want to see the High Wall and the gate – and find out if we can get through it. I want to take that knowledge back to the Genthai. If they ride through the Barrier, they need as much information as possible.’
A silence fell between us. I took a long drink from my water bottle and stared out across the river. The turbulence of the previous day had abated, and now, although there was a current, the water lapped at the banks with a soothing rhythm. However, it did look very deep.
Garrett turned towards me again. ‘It’s not because I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘But if I die now, I’ll miss something I’ve waited a lifetime for. When that army of Genthai warriors rides across the bridge to attack the djinn, I want to be with them.’
‘Then you deserve to be with them. Go back.’
Garrett frowned and then shook his head. ‘No. Give me the ghetta!’ he demanded.
I sighed, retrieved the small piece of white wolf fur from my jacket and held it out. I suddenly realized what Garrett intended, but there was nothing I could do. He seized the love token and tossed it into the river. It was carried away by the current, and then sank.
‘I wanted to shame her,’ he said. ‘I hoped that Meira would be hurt when it was sent to her after my death. You see, she’s already refused me three times. When I persisted, she called me an oaf. But now it doesn’t matter any more. Who could blame her anyway? A man like me isn’t meant to marry.’
Garrett came to his feet and began to strap the longsword and shield across his back, looking with determination at the bridge. ‘A warrior doesn’t need a woman,’ he said, without a trace of bitterness in his voice. ‘Maybe I’ll never ride across that bridge with the army, but I’ll die bravely now. Let’s go. Remember me, Leif. If you do get back safely, then tell them what I did.’
My heart was heavy as we prepared to leave: Garrett had infected me with his sense of foreboding. Perhaps we’d both die on that bridge … I wondered if I’d ever see Kwin again.
Soon we were walking across it. Up close, it was even more impressive – so wide that five or six men could have walked abreast – but at the point where each span met, i
t narrowed considerably: only a single horse could have passed through the gap in comfort.
One day a Genthai army might indeed ride across this bridge, but they’d be forced to do so in single file, and any supply wagons would either have to be left behind or dismantled and carried across.
Beneath our feet was a mosaic of grey, blue and red tiles; at our sides parapets lined the bridge; on top of them, every twenty paces or so, were lifelike carvings of the heads of predatory animals or birds. At the midpoint of the first span there were two black metal spikes. I wondered what their purpose could be.
I stared at the central span ahead of us, where the vultures were still circling. Even as I watched, three of the birds swooped down towards the bridge. The sun was now just above the horizon, like a baleful red eye peering through the ribbed clouds, turning the waters of the river to blood. In the dim light I thought I saw a number of figures crouching beside the left-hand parapet.
‘There, Garrett – what do you see? There – just below those birds.’
‘Humans,’ Garrett answered. ‘Five in all. Three of them are children. They seem to be tied to the bridge.’
I was astounded by his reply. The only humans left alive were supposed to be confined within the Barrier. This contradicted everything the people of Midgard believed. What did it mean? Had the djinn done this?
We broke into a run; as we neared the central span, we came to a halt, shocked to see the butchery that had been carried out here. On our right, by the eastern parapet, were three male corpses. They’d been stripped naked and partially dismembered. Above them on the wall there were seven spikes, and three carried severed heads, the faces and beards covered in red gore.
Two vultures were feeding on the corpses, their neck feathers streaked with blood. A third was pecking at the furthest of the three heads.
Garrett ran at them, and they flapped up into the air and began to circle menacingly.
The Warrior Page 6
