The Longsword Chronicles: Book 02 - Sword and Circle

by GJ Kelly

  “Do you propose to charge the outpost then?”

  Gawain chuckled quietly. “Dwarfspit, Allazar, even in the darkest days of my assaults upon those cursed Ramoth towers I wasn’t that reckless!” Then a sudden doubt tweaked at him. “Was I?”

  Allazar shrugged. “Reckless compared to whom?”

  Gawain smiled and dismounted. “There’s open ground all around the outpost and beyond to the sea. No chance of approaching unseen from the flank or rear. We’ll head for the outcrop at the base of the cliff, inch our way around until we have them in sight.”

  “And then?”

  Gawain eyed the wizard, his face set grim. “And then we’ll deal with whatever we find there.”

  “A sensible course of action,” Allazar mumbled, joining him on foot, and then added hopefully, “Perhaps it is Elayeen, who has stolen a march on us and awaits us with ale and roast boar and news of Morloch’s sudden yet welcome demise.”

  “Is it eating rabbit that makes you such an optimist, wizard?”

  “Hope for the best, Longsword, but be prepared for the worst. Then your only surprises will be pleasant ones.”

  They left the track and moved quietly westward, away from the road and its signs of recent activity. Ahead of them, soaring almost vertically, the cliffs of Raheen. But also a hundred yards or more of open, rock-strewn ground before the safety of the bluff.

  Gwyn snorted from behind them, and Gawain smelled burnt wood, and tensed.

  “No sign of lookouts above.” He muttered quietly. “And none in sight at the bend in the road.”

  “Odd,” Allazar agreed. “Surely even Morlochmen would not be so incautious if ambush is their aim.”

  “Agreed. Or we’re here much sooner than they expected.”

  They squatted beside a bramble at the edge of the tree-line, the horses behind and to their right. If there’d been a watch on duty on the far side of the track or in the uneven and open land on the approaches to the outpost, the animals would be spotted immediately.

  There they waited, minutes passing slowly, watching for any sign of movement which would give away a look-out’s position. None came. Finally, it was Allazar who broke the silence, whispering:

  “Is that the smell of beef roasting?”

  “Let us hope so, wizard, and not the unspeakable evil we saw in the Barak-nor.”

  Allazar shuddered in spite of the warmth of the afternoon. “Aye.”

  “Wait here with the horses. I’ll cross to the bluff. Give me a signal if you see any alarm being raised. Then I’ll work my way along the base of the cliff until I can survey the outpost. If all’s well, I’ll give you a sign. If and when I do, follow my route and bring the horses, first to the bluff, then along the cliff.”

  “I understand.”

  Gawain nodded, and with a final look up, and all around, he sprinted for the bluff. Allazar scanned the distant track and beyond, but saw and heard nothing, no sign of any movement or activity to suggest Gawain had been seen. It took a good twenty minutes for Gawain to pick his way through the rocky terrain to a point far enough east that he could see the first out-building, and then he dropped to the ground and eased his way further around the cliff.

  Allazar watched the young man intently for what seemed an age, before Gawain moved back, stood, and waved in the wizard’s direction. Twenty minutes later the two met halfway between the bluff and the point where Gawain had signalled.

  “It’s not Elayeen.” Gawain said, mounting Gwyn.

  “Ah.” Allazar exclaimed, climbing up on his horse. “And from your demeanour I’d say it’s also not Morloch, nor Dark Riders.”

  “No, indeed it isn’t.” Gawain announced, keeping his arrow strung in his hand. “Stay close, to my left and behind, and be ready to ride hard straight to the Sea of Hope if anything untoward should occur.” And with that, Gawain led the way back to the tree line, onto the track, and then at a gentle canter, along the road and around the bend.

  Ahead of them, the flag of Callodon fluttered on a pole atop the inn where a year earlier Gawain had found the Pellarnian scabbard in which the Sword of Justice now reposed. Then, the inn had been deserted, abandoned in the aftermath of Morloch’s Breath, as had all the other buildings. Now, there were people on the stoops, and horses in the corral. Gwyn whinnied, the other horses seemed to reply, and the men, all clad in Callodon’s colours, rushed to arms.

  “Too late,” Gawain sighed to himself as much as to Allazar, “You’re all dead.”

  “Hold in the name of the King!” a deep voice boomed at them from a tented area by the wells opposite the inns and their outbuildings.

  “What King?” Gawain called back, reining in.

  “Callodon’s king, who else? Advance with care, strangers, and identify yourselves.”

  They were well within range of the guardsmen’s crossbows when a shout from the inn to their left announced: “There’s a wizard there, Serre!”

  “Halt!” the commander declared, and Gawain and Allazar obeyed promptly.

  “This is the wizard Allazar, once in service to Brock, King of Callodon, and now in service to Gawain, King of Raheen.”

  “I don’t care who he is, my lord, if Raheen indeed you be, if he doesn’t open his robes by the time I’ve finished this sentence he’ll be a…”

  But Allazar unselfconsciously threw open his robes to expose his torso, in clear view of all those holding crossbows trained upon him.

  “…Ah, thank you, Serre wizard.” the commander announced. “And if you gentlemen wouldn’t mind dismounting and if you Serre wouldn’t mind putting up your arrow?”

  “And if you, Serre, wouldn’t mind telling us who in Brock’s name you are and what you’re doing here before I finish this sentence I might not nail your head to that tent-pole with this arrow…”

  “I am Captain Tyrane of the King’s Own Guard, and if you gentlemen are indeed who you claim to be, I was ordered here to hold the Pass for your arrival weeks ago.”

  Allazar drew in a sharp breath and Gawain’s eyes narrowed. “Ordered how? When last we saw Callodon’s crown, he was at Ferdan, and no-one could have overtaken us on our journey here.”

  “If you gentlemen wouldn’t mind dismounting,” the Captain repeated again, with great patience, and with a slight tilt of his head indicated the two dozen well armed guardsmen still holding their crossbows rock-steady, fingers resting lightly on the triggers.

  Gawain gave Allazar a nod, and they dismounted. Gawain put up his arrow, and flipped his wrist to stow his string. Captain Tyrane watched closely, and then strode forward to stand in front of Gawain.

  He looked first at the young man’s eyes, then at the pommel of the longsword slung across his back, again at the Raheen bowstring wrapped around his wrist.

  “I am ordered,” Tyrane said quietly, “To ask you this: Which was the first meal you had with our King, and where?”

  If Gawain was surprised by the question he didn’t show it. “Breakfast,” he replied, “At the guards’ headquarters outside of Callodon castletown, after I fired the Ramoth Towers at Stoon and at Jarn.”

  Captain Tyrane looked simultaneously relieved and worried, and called over to his men. “As you were! Secure the road, lookouts to their posts.” Then to Gawain he added, “My apologies, my lord. King Brock’s instructions were quite specific.”

  “Again, Captain, how is possible such specific instructions arrived before I and the wizard Allazar?”

  Tyrane frowned, and glanced at the wizard in surprise before answering, nonplussed. “Carrier pigeons, my lord. Between Ferdan and castletown.”

  “Ah.” Gawain coughed. “Something we had no use for in Raheen…”

  “Quite so, Sire,” Allazar interrupted graciously, “Tell us Captain, what other news from the world?”

  “News? Alas nothing specific. We’ve been here some time, effectively cut off save for a two-weekly supply wagon from Stoon. We heard brief accounts of some kind of wizard’s uprising at the Council meeting in Fe
rdan, and then our orders to secure the Pass arrived. We’ve heard little since then. Stoon is all but abandoned now, little more than an inn and a store for farmers. Most of the local folk moved to Jarn. We have a force at Jarn holding the other end of the road, and the northwest is well guarded. Shall we go inside my lords, our supplies are good, we have hot food and ale a-plenty, and the lads got the heated baths stoked. I’m sure we can find fresh clothes too.”

  Gawain and Allazar noted the crisp uniforms about them, and the well-scrubbed officers wearing them. They were suddenly keenly aware that their own appearance must be appalling, very far removed from that expected of a King and his Wizard.

  Gawain coughed again. “Very good, Captain. I think we shall avail ourselves of your facilities. Perhaps you could notify your watch-keepers, I am expecting my lady to arrive from Jarn, perhaps later tonight, or tomorrow morning.”

  “I shall, my lord. This way, if you please…”

  Two hours later and Gawain, King of Raheen, sat alone with his wizard, sipping warm Callodon ale and working his way through a slab of roast beef with hot vegetables. They were dressed in plain and rather drab clothing recovered (“liberated”, the Captain had put it) from an inn-keeper’s rooms in one of the empty premises at the outpost while their own soaked in a soapy tub. And the hot bath had worked miracles on both of them.

  “Doubtless,” Allazar had remarked, “We not only look a trifle more respectable, but are now less offensive to our vanguard’s nostrils too.”

  “Why didn’t I know about these ‘carrier pigeons’, Allazar?”

  The wizard shrugged, sawing another hunk of beef from the slab on his own plate. “I doubt you needed such speedy communications in Raheen, Longsword. Certainly the dwarves don’t need them, neither do elves, nor Mornlanders nor indeed anyone in Arrun. They were developed long ago when Callodon and Juria faced each other off so often there was every likelihood of a real fight actually happening. The pigeons helped prevent such accidental outbreaks of war. And occasionally helped to start one.”

  “Ah.”

  Allazar shrugged. “They’re not altogether reliable, and the messages they carry tedious to cipher and decipher lest they be intercepted and read by unfriendly eyes. But they can be handy in emergencies. If it’s any consolation, Longsword, I had forgotten about them myself and like you was thinking our Captain Tyrane a liar and a Morlochman until he mentioned them.”

  “They could be useful though, later, to hold our forces together at the farak gorin.”

  Allazar grunted and shrugged again while he chewed. Once he’d swallowed he stabbed a roast potato and said quietly: “The pigeons will not have gone unnoticed by those at Ferdan, Longsword, and I’m sure that the military minds there will make of them what they will. With luck, since our good Captain was deployed here, more will have arrived in Callodon with news of recent events, and with luck your lady will be able to advise us all as to how the world fares.”

  Gawain didn’t answer.

  “You do mean to wait for her, Longsword?”

  “Only until dawn, wizard. If she hasn’t arrived an hour before sun-up, we’ll go on ahead. We can make use of the stores the Callodon guard have stockpiled, oats for the horses, and water skins. Enough for a day or two at The Keep. No longer than that.”

  “You’ll forgive me for remarking that this seems harsh, especially in light of our current security. Will Elayeen not be offended to arrive and find you gone?”

  “I hope not. I shall leave a note for her in the care of Captain Tyrane if it’ll make your expression more like you’re chewing roast beef and less like you’re chewing a wasp.”

  “Your parting was hardly on the best of terms, Longsword. Here you can rest together, alone and in peace, there’s no need to hurry with the Pass held safe.”

  Gawain nodded his agreement, and then his regal inscrutability failed him. For a fleeting moment, Allazar saw great sadness sweep like a shadow across the young man’s face. “In truth, Allazar, I would not have Elayeen see the ruin that was my home. For her, it still exists as it once did for me, in tales and songs, all green and lush, and thrilling with life. And I’m afraid, Allazar. I am terribly afraid.”

  “I have never heard you say such a thing, my friend! Elve’s Blood and Dwarfspit, what could possibly strike such fear into the heart of the Longsword warrior who braved the Teeth and Morloch himself?”

  Gawain drew in a deep breath, took another gulp of ale, and when he put down his tankard and looked at the wizard, it was with a blank expression of kingly self-control in his steel-grey eyes.

  “You saw how our frustration and anger nearly consumed us when it was twinned on the border with Juria. My heart was shattered by the visions of my homeland which greeted me a year ago and those visions haunt me still. Do you think I could bear such heartbreak again if it be twinned and magnified by throth, and Elayeen’s sorrow for me and my people?”

  Understanding at last, Allazar reached across the table to grasp Gawain’s forearm. “I shall write the note advising your lady to await us here, Longsword, if you wish. It may seem less… personal, if I choose my words wisely.”

  “Thank you, Allazar. I would be glad if you did. Though I will append some words of my own I think.”

  “Good idea,” the wizard agreed, “Even if it’s only three of them.”

  After the meal, Allazar went off in search of paper, pen and ink, and Gawain tended to the horses. Gwyn was unsettled, and Gawain knew why. So close to home, yet there was no home awaiting them atop the Pass. Once he’d reassured her, he set about acquiring the supplies they would need for their brief stay at the ruined Keep of Raheen. Food for themselves was of course frak, and Gawain could easily imagine the wizard’s dismay at that after such hearty fare at the inn. Food for the horses was oats, and nose-bags were found in the abandoned stables. Water was the heaviest and most essential item, and Gawain took care to fill more water skins than would strictly be necessary, remembering with a sudden shudder the vile brown-white ooze that had been the Styris at the Farin Bridge.

  Later, as dusk approached and found them dressed once again in their own fresh-laundered clothes, Allazar handed Gawain the letter he had written for Elayeen.

  Gawain nodded approvingly, sitting at the table they had shared at lunch earlier. “I’ll give you whitebeards one thing, you know how to use a hundred words when ten will do.”

  Allazar smiled sadly. “I hope she will understand. I have tried to stress the pains of throth without overegging the cake, while at the same time reassuring her.”

  “It’s a good letter, Allazar.” Gawain said softly, and appreciatively. He took the pen Allazar offered him, and the wizard left him writing at the table and crossed to the bar to fill their tankards with ale.

  Captain Tyrane strode in through the open doors, and seeing Gawain busy with a document, moved immediately to Allazar.

  “Serre, there’s been no report from the lookouts of any traffic on the road to Jarn, and my scouts have reported the road clear for at least two hours north of the bend.”

  Allazar nodded sadly. “Thank you, Captain. I fear his Majesty’s lady will likely not arrive until tomorrow morning, by which time we will have departed.”

  The scrape of a chair drew their attention and Gawain approached them, the letter to Elayeen sealed in his hand. “I would be obliged, Captain, if you would give this to my lady Elayeen when she arrives tomorrow.”

  Tyrane took the letter and bowed. “From your hand to mine, and from mine to hers, so shall it be.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I know not what other orders King Brock may have given you, but I would be glad if you and your men would provide protection to both my lady and the Pass a while longer, at least until the wizard and I return. I don’t expect we’ll be more than two days.”

  “My orders were to hold the Pass for your arrival, my lord. Beyond that, I’m sure my King would expect one of his captains to exercise his initiative in the best interests of Callodon. We’ll
hold the Pass, and keep your lady safe, until Callodon himself orders otherwise. And if I may say so, my lord, I don’t think any of his pigeons know the way here.”

  Gawain smiled. “Thank you. King Brock seems to have a knack for finding honourable men for his guard.”

  Tyrane straightened his back, and his eyes gleamed. “I’d be obliged if you wouldn’t mention that to the lads, my lord. Only I’ve just recently convinced them that this duty was by way of a punishment for slovenly appearance and failing to maintain their weapons and drills. Be a shame for them to start backsliding now.”

  “My lips are sealed, Captain.”

  With a bow, and then a polite nod to Allazar, the Captain took his leave.

  Gawain and Allazar returned to the table with their ale, absent-mindedly picking at half a loaf of bread on the table between them while shadows lengthened, and lamps were lit. After a long silence broken only by the occasional squawking of gulls to south and men outside moving with quiet purpose from time to time, Gawain sighed.

  “Longsword?”

  “I believe my lady has retired for the night. Probably plans an early start in the morning.”

  “Ah.”

  “Well. It’s a not a bad idea. We should do the same. Our supplies are in order, we are well-fed, and so are our horses. Tomorrow, Allazar, an hour before dawn, we ascend the Pass to Raheen.”

  “Then goodnight, Longsword. Sleep well.”

  “I doubt it.” Gawain said softly, and headed for his room. And was asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.

  oOo

  6. Sticks and Stones

  An hour before dawn, and the outpost at the foot of the Downland Pass was filled with quiet determination and men moving purposefully but without haste about their duties. Gawain checked the supplies of water on their pack-horse for a final time, and then cast an inquisitive glance at Allazar. The wizard simply nodded, his face inscrutable in the pre-dawn iron-grey light. Satisfied, Gawain strode briskly to the outpost commander, who was standing in what was apparently his customary position by the wells.