The sun was barely up when they set off the next morning, still eager to put distance between themselves and Virr. With a cloudless blue sky stretched above them and rolling fields spreading out before them, Will wanted to dwell on the immense beauty of the central Mydren plain—but something held him back. It felt like a dark cloud covered them as the events of the previous night had plunged Conlan into a deep, brooding silence.
Will could understand it. While they had always known the bigotry they would be fighting, the reality that it was the educated leaders of Mydren who had managed to reduce women to little more than cattle in the minds of many had shaken Conlan to his core. Will knew the high esteem in which Conlan had held his mother, knew he would not have felt that way if his grandfather had not also loved, honoured and respected his daughter. Within Conlan’s experience, as he had expressed it to Will, the poor treatment of women had always been a thought process with the common people that education would inevitably solve. That assumption had now been shattered. Will had seen the disbelief in Conlan’s eyes. He had expected more of Melus, and if a village councillor could let him down so badly, the problem went far higher and was far more entrenched than Conlan’s limited exposure to the people of Mydren—his people—had led him to believe.
Yes, Will could understand Conlan’s mood, but he did not want it inflicted on the others. They needed something bright and cheerful, so, pulling rank, he handed out instruments and got them all playing and singing the eight songs they knew all the lyrics to. And they soon discovered, as Will had hoped, that it was very hard to sing cheerful songs and feel miserable.
In the months that followed, they travelled slowly through the central plains. Will found he enjoyed the lifestyle, enjoyed the peace and was almost able to forget where they were heading and why. The effort his troupe put into their work was impressive, and Will was delighted when word of their achievements and skill started to spread. They began to have delegations from the towns and villages around them come to meet them on the road, asking if they would be visiting. In several instances there had been heated arguments between two or more delegations over who would get the right to host the players that night. As they crept ever closer to the Central Tower, they were even invited to play in private shows in some of the houses of the rich. They had been handsomely paid for their work, and this had made life easier for them too. Everywhere they went people seemed to have heard of them and their skills. However, for Will, his proudest moments were when they passed other player troupes on the road and they stopped to talk, treating them as equals. Occasionally a competing troupe would even try to lure away his men with promises of more money, which Will considered a sign that they were getting to be accomplished players.
The happy, smiling faces around him gave Will a deep sense of joy along with the peace he felt at being engaged in honest employment again. Life was fun and relaxed, and the exhaustion and headaches, while difficult, were manageable with regular sleep, good food and generous amounts of lepdrac.
There were problems, of course. The worst incident occurred when Moylan, Freddie and Teris got into a fight with the locals one day while they and Conlan were trying to drum up trade around the town they would be playing in that evening. It all started when a group of very drunk men in an inn had thought it would be fun to knock the Idiot around. Being in a public place, in broad daylight, Conlan had been forced to maintain his role and take the blows, cowering on the floor, until he was rescued by the others. The ensuing fight had almost seen them all locked up by the Protectors. Fortunately Will had managed to talk them out of it, agreeing to pay a fine for disturbing the peace instead, and providing the Protectors free entry to their entertainment. But after this unpleasant encounter they kept to themselves in the towns and villages they passed through, observers only to everyday life in Mydren.
And what Will saw worried him. Protectors giving speeches about the ‘Evils’ among them, showing the Avatars’ ‘Wanted’ posters and telling people it was their duty to report anything suspicious. In some places rewards were offered for information, leading to many people being accused of being an Avatar when it was obvious they were not. They heard rumours of people being abducted, of Protectors dragging away the suspected. And some never came back.
Merckley
With each town and village they passed through, the rumours, whispers and stories of sudden violence steadily grew. It sapped the life from them; practicing their juggling, playing their instruments and advertising themselves as they travelled became something they now had to force themselves to do. It felt wrong to shatter the fearful silence of those they travelled past on the road. Will could almost feel the crushing tension just under the surface. He saw it in the way people glanced at each other, slow and cunning or quick and frightened. There were evils living among them, just as the Protectors claimed. Suspicion, distrust and fear—quiet, unassuming evils that often disguised themselves as the noble desire to protect and defend, yet stripped men of their rational thought and filled the empty space with aggression.
They heard the stories of the attacks: mostly young girls who shared a passing resemblance to Eleanor’s wanted poster being beaten and worse before being dragged to the Protectors for rewards that were never paid out.
In the most recent whispered story, the victim had ended up dead. When they heard that tale, Eleanor branded the attackers cowards, and Will saw her struggling to maintain her composure, her rage a caged beast she desperately wanted to release before it ate her alive. Her sparring session with Conlan that night had ended in his first-ever defeat at her hands. There had been cheering and praise, but for Eleanor it had meant nothing; her expression had been blank, disconnected. Conlan was not the enemy she wanted to fight.
Will could see his own concern mirrored in the eyes of the others. The last time Eleanor had become truly enraged, Nethrus and hundreds of its inhabitants had been destroyed. In an attempt to provide a distraction, Conlan decided that Eleanor would accompany Davlin and Will when they went to scout the next town—the town of Merckley, which they should be arriving at the next day.
Merckley was much bigger than the villages they had been playing to for the last month. The warm, soft pink of the light, reflected from the huge, smooth stone defensive walls, had dominated the horizon for the last hour. It glinted off the silver buttons on the uniforms of the Protectors who manned the walls, making the town look like it was decorated with fairy lights that twinkled cheerfully, drawing them in.
The sun pushed down on Will like a heavy weight. While his blue Sage robe might make him look the part, in the height of summer it was hot and uncomfortable. Sweat trickled down his back and made his hair damp at the nape of his neck.
Will distracted himself from the heat by taking in the stunning landscape before him. As they got ever closer to the Central Tower, the wild, open spaces and forests of Mydren had begun to disappear. Eleanor had complained about it, but Will thought the farms and villages that replaced it were just as beautiful. The multi-coloured network of cultivated fields was laid out before him like a well-made quilt. Villages, appearing as dark spots in the distance, shimmered in the heat of the still, summer afternoon. Peaceful.
Amazing how the surface can show one thing when something so dark lies underneath. Despite the heat, Will shuddered. Meran shook himself too, not especially happy either. Will wondered if it was the heat or because Conlan was not the one riding him. Maybe it’s just because we have to go so slowly. The pace was dictated by Davlin and Eleanor, who were following behind, juggling as they walked—although in Eleanor’s case it was more of a jog due to her shorter legs. Eleanor had five colourful, heavy, seed-filled leather balls that were a blur of motion as she tossed them higher and lower, spinning to catch them behind her back every so often. Davlin used four short, very sharp knives, which he juggled with careless nonchalance. While Eleanor demonstrated more skill, control and dramatic flair, the danger of Davlin’s knife-throwing always drew a bigger crowd and caus
ed more of the travellers they encountered to stop and stare. This gave Will ample opportunity to explain that they were part of the player troupe ‘Kinngsmenn’ and were planning to put on a show in the next town that evening.
It was midday when they reached Merckley. Unlike any other Mydren village or town Will had been to during the day, this town’s gates were closed. The men they had seen patrolling the wall also seemed to have gone. Eleanor gave Will a puzzled look. Davlin’s expression did not change, but his eyes were watchful. Will dismounted Meran as gracefully as he could in a long robe and handed the reins to Davlin, looking up at the closed gates.
“Something isn’t right,” Eleanor whispered in English.
Will considered turning back, but while he was debating what action they should take, Eleanor marched towards the towering wooden gates and hammered against the ancient, silver-grey, weather-warped wood with her fist. High above them a blond head appeared over the wall, looking down.
“What do you want?”
The yelling voice was high, childlike. Not pleased with being forced into this exchange, Will stepped forward.
“I am Colltim of Nayburn,” Will said. “I lead the ‘Kinngsmenn’ players, who, later today, are going to be at these very gates to put on entertainment the likes of which the people of Merckley have never seen. I would speak with your town leaders about the best place for us to set up and their cover charges.”
“Go away!” came the yelled reply as the head disappeared.
“Young man, I do not believe you understand,” Will tried again, fighting the feeling of dread that was spreading out from his stomach whilst endeavouring to keep his voice firm and strong. “We are players; we have a sanction from the Lords of Mydren that gives us access to any town or village in daylight hours. There are very few circumstances under which we can be denied entrance. I would know what circumstances have come about here.”
They waited, the silence ominous. When it became evident that there would be no further response, they turned, heading back the way they came.
“What was that about?” Eleanor asked in a whisper, speaking Dwarfish to include Davlin.
“Something is very wrong. That was a child guarding the gate,” Davlin replied.
“We have to get inside the town,” Eleanor said thoughtfully.
Will recognised a familiar expression on Eleanor’s face. Ideas were whizzing through her head, and would continue to do so until she found the most dangerous option, which she would then present as her plan. Will smiled. Maybe he was being a little unfair.
“Can you destroy the gates?” Davlin asked.
Eleanor nodded. “Yes, but that would not be subtle or sneaky. What if thousands of Enforcers are having a party in there?”
“A party is unlikely,” Davlin replied with a smirk. “But I see your point.”
“We should head back to the main track; then we can circle around the wall. Maybe we can find a way in,” Eleanor suggested. This did not sound all that dangerous, but was it necessary?
“Or we could just head back to the others and bypass this town completely,” Will said. Both Eleanor and Davlin gave him the same hard look. “We are being players to help us travel through Mydren, not because we want to perform at every town we pass,” Will argued. “Bigger picture here—what does one town matter?”
“They closed the gates. If it was something simple, like sickness, they would have told us. We need to investigate,” Davlin insisted.
“Conlan would want us to check,” Eleanor added.
“Conlan would not want us to go poking around some town without his knowledge,” Will replied.
Eleanor frowned, her eyes tracking from Davlin—who stared placidly at her—to Will, and back again. But before she could speak there was a piercing scream from inside the town—a woman’s scream, articulating the absolute depths of human pain and horror. The sound went on and on, filled with agony and terror. Eleanor glanced back at the gate. The scream changed everything; there was no denying there was something very wrong, and someone who needed their help. Choice was gone. Now it had to be done.
They followed the track, then broke off into a small copse. Will removed his robe, leaving it with their equipment, and Meran then followed Davlin and Eleanor through the thin trees towards the high walls of Merckley. As they stood facing the great walls, getting inside did not seem very likely. The huge stone blocks that made up the barrier before them were so closely fitted that handholds for climbing were non-existent—and they had no ropes. Davlin stared up, frowning, and Will could see Eleanor was thinking again.
“I do not believe we can get in this way,” Davlin said.
“Yes we can. Just give me a moment to work it through,” Eleanor replied.
Davlin looked at her. “I was unaware that Avatars could fly.”
Eleanor giggled. “As far as I know, we cannot.”
Davlin looked confused as Eleanor dropped to her knees near the wall. She rested both hands on the ground in front of her then closed her eyes; her breathing became slow, calm and regular.
Nothing happened.
Davlin moved to place a hand on Eleanor’s shoulder, but Will pulled him back, shaking his head. It seemed unwise to startle someone who had the power to blow you up. Davlin nodded, then pointed down. Where the wall disappeared into the ground, something was growing. Tiny green stalks were pushing tentatively against the soil, moving grass and detritus aside, rising. They surged up the wall in spurts of growth, the stalks getting thicker, more joining them, growing, attaching, climbing. As leaves began to unfurl in little pops of green, Will realised what he was looking at—ivy. It was growing at a massively increased rate, the stalks thickening and multiplying before his eyes, growing so quickly it was as if they were watching a stop-motion film. It looked more like a green, innumerably tentacled animal than a plant, moving slowly up the wall, gripping, spreading.
Davlin watched wide-eyed, glancing occasionally at Eleanor. “Wow,” he murmured, and Will smiled at his use of the English word.
Once the ivy plant had reached the top, it stopped growing, the stalks thickening for a few moments longer.
“It looks as if it has been there for many years,” Davlin said. Will nodded. Eleanor took a gasping breath and toppled onto her side. Davlin ran forward, pulling her into his arms.
“Eleanor?” he asked, shaking her slightly.
Will crouched at Eleanor’s other side. She was pale, eyes closed, body limp. He reached forward and felt her neck for a pulse—it was there, but weak and rapid. He quickly pushed a string out to her, and had to search for the small remaining spark of Earth energy. There was an odd vibration through the spark, and as he extended his string over it, Will felt her pull energy from the Earth, along her permanent connection, slowly increasing her levels. An automatic response to a sudden loss of energy—Freddie and I don’t have that.
Opening her eyes, Eleanor blinked a few times to focus them and smiled. “Did not expect that to work,” she said, her voice weak and strained, looking up at the ivy.
“It was genius,” Davlin told her, relief in his eyes.
Eleanor nodded. “It was, but it was not my genius. This was Conlan’s idea.” She grinned at their confused looks. “Conlan once explained to me the difference between natural and unnatural magic. The example he gave for natural magic was finding a seed in the earth and encouraging it to grow, giving it energy so that it would grow far faster than normal. I have often wondered how easy it would be to do. As it turns out—not so easy.”
“Are you hurt?” Davlin asked. Will saw the way he pulled Eleanor closer into his chest, his fear for her obvious in his eyes.
“No, not hurt, just a little tired,” Eleanor said, patting his arm. “But it will have to wait, because now I have to climb a wall.”
And here comes the danger.
“I will climb the wall and investigate. You and Will are going to stay here,” Davlin said, looking to Will for confirmation. But before he could giv
e it, Eleanor shook her head, sitting up with the help of Davlin’s hand on her back, her voice soft but firm.
“I have to climb. The ivy is strong, but I do not think it will be strong enough to hold either of you. I will climb the wall and ‘convince’ the child at the gate to open it for you.”
“No.” Davlin’s objection was almost a yell.
Eleanor glared, anger flashing in her eyes, but her voice was calm. “Okay, you try climbing. But when you fall, breaking your leg and destroying the ivy, understand that I do not have the strength to make any more grow or to help carry you.”
“Conlan would kill me if he knew I agreed to this,” Davlin muttered, helping Eleanor to her feet. She gave him a sly grin.
Will (Book 2) Page 27
