The Longsword Chronicles: Book 02 - Sword and Circle

by GJ Kelly

  “Meleeah! You cannot tireanda! Fenestratia est!”

  But Elayeen held the bow firm, gauging her aim by feel, and by memory, and by the long years of practice all Elves endure almost from the time they can walk.

  Outside, Gawain tensed, his eyes fixed on the man who stood not ten feet behind and slightly to Jaxon’s right and Gawain’s left. There seemed to be something wrong with that man’s hands…

  “You said you were pursued, Serre Jaxon, and that your numbers have declined? Is there an enemy then we should beware of?”

  “Yes,” Jaxon confirmed. “Though not one we have seen. On our long journey here, we lost friends in the night. Sometimes one, sometimes two, sometimes a week passed without an attack. But on dread days we would rise with the sun and find one of our number slain, torn open as if by some animal…”

  “My lady! Nai tireanda agath fenestratia!” Allazar gasped.

  But Elayeen simply held her breath, waited for her heart to pause in its beating, and with a certainty beyond explanation in spite of her blindness, released the arrow.

  At once there was the crash of splintering glass. The stone point of the shaft, fitted by Gawain himself as a precaution against the charmed armour of Morloch’s black riders, struck the pane while the string was still driving the arrow forward. And though effective against charmed armour, the flint tip simply shattered almost into dust at the impact, and the dowel at the head of the arrow where the stone was bound and fixed into a slot carved in the wood, split.

  Still, the elven longbow is weapon of immense power, and though the tip was destroyed, the shaft flew through the remains of the window pane, twitching and writhing like an airborne snake, to strike the shadowman harmlessly on the chest.

  But the shot was not entirely ineffective. The fletched end of the arrow tumbled upwards and slapped the shadowman in the face, though of course Elayeen saw it not, and to everyone else’s eye it was a Gorian man who cried out briefly and stumbled back apace, clutching his face and damaged eye.

  It was the cry that galvanised Gawain as much as anything else, for it was not human. No, the sound that skirled from the throat of the surprised ‘man’ was more like the screech of some agonised great bird, and the hands that it put to its face were not hands, but claws bearing talons beyond the wisdom and sanity of nature’s making.

  “Alarm!” Tyrane cried, “Down!” and raised his crossbow as the terrified Jaxon stood rooted to the spot, staring at the horror he had turned to face, a horror which moments before had stood so close behind and unseen. Tyrane could not shoot, not with Jaxon in the line of fire.

  Nor could his guardsmen, as the men and women of Goria surged away from the creature in their midst, horror clouding all their judgement as some dived to the ground and others simply fled in whatever direction they happened to be facing.

  “Grimmand!” Allazar suddenly cried, and forgetting Elayeen, was through the door and out onto the boardwalk in a matter of heartbeats. “Grimmand!”

  Another elven longshaft sang across the cobbled yard, this time its passage unhindered on its journey through the now vacant square in the window left by the first. It missed Gawain by inches, passing his left shoulder as he leapt from the boardwalk, the longsword already drawn and swinging. But it did not miss the man-shaped creature lunging towards Simayen Jaxon. The arrow slammed into the creature’s chest and passed most of the way through it, but still the creature’s forward momentum was unchecked, its target clearly the Gorian leader.

  Gawain’s sword continued through its mighty arc, whistling over the top of Jaxon’s head to slam into creature’s chest too, and that did check the beast’s attack.

  “Run!” Gawain shouted to the paralysed Gorian, and finally danger penetrated through horror to galvanise Jaxon’s consciousness. He fled, towards the stables north of the inn as, incredibly, the creature staggered backwards, fell, and then began to rise again, the great gash in its chest closing, sealing against the solid black ooze within.

  A crossbow bolt fizzed past Gawain’s right shoulder and slammed into the creature’s head, Tyrane tossing aside the discharged weapon and drawing his shortsword, his face blank, unmoved by the horror rising up once more in front of Gawain and intent simply on destroying it.

  More bolts slammed into the creature from different directions, and though the thing staggered this way and that on its two human legs, yet still it advanced, though now its gaze was fixed on Gawain.

  “Grimmand!” Allazar’s voice screamed above the sound of crossbows being fired and cocked, and the screeching of the creature at each impact.

  Gawain snatched a glimpse over his shoulder and saw the wizard advancing, staff raised high, sparks crackling around its ends and its entire length glowing brightly.

  “Down, Tyrane!” Gawain yelled, hurling himself to the left, and the captain threw himself to the right as a searing blast of white-hot lightning ripped through the air between them, burning a gaping hole clean through the creature, and the tents by the wells, before slamming into the cliff beyond, blasting smouldering chunks of rock from them and leaving a blackened, smoking cavity in their place. At once, the lightning was gone, and with a quiet ‘whoosh’, before the creature’s remains had a chance to topple and fall, it was consumed in rush of purple flame, leaving an oily cloud of smoke rising slowly, and dispersing.

  “Aaach!” Allazar growled, slamming the staff onto the cobbles and leaning on it, his face a picture of disgust as he watched the plume rise and fade on the breeze.

  Gawain and Tyrane pushed themselves to their feet, the former eyeing the wizard with frank astonishment while the latter commanded his men to order and called for the whitesleeves Turlock, lest any of the Gorians had been harmed.

  “What in the name of Dwarfspit was that thing, Allazar?” Gawain gasped, sheathing the blade. “How could it have lived through bolts and blades?”

  “It was a Grimmand of Sethi. A foul creature of ancient times, dark-made and utterly evil. The Grimmand of Sethi can take the guise of any person they have slain, and thus they were employed in the elder days, as assassins and murderous infiltrators.”

  All around them, the Gorian refugees gathered and stared at the young warrior, and at a wizard the like of which they had clearly never seen.

  “They cannot be slain as ordinary men,” Allazar continued, “though dousing with oil and burning was said to be effective. And a wizard’s white fire, of course.”

  “At last,” Gawain muttered, “Compindathu, wizard. Your speech finally seems to have returned to normal.”

  “Ah.”

  A gasp went up from the gathering, though it was perhaps more of a sigh. Gawain at first looked to the throng of mingled Gorians and Callodonians, and then followed their gaze. Emerging on to the boardwalk, tentatively using her bow to test the ground before her, was Elayeen.

  “Miheth!” Gawain added his gasp to the crowd’s, and ran to her.

  “I hit it twice, did I not?” She asked, her voice worried, staring at his chest while he held her shoulders lightly.

  “Yes.” Gawain said softly.

  “And it was a dark-made thing, wasn’t it? Not a man I shot?”

  “It was a dark-made thing, my lady.” Gawain said, completely in awe of her.

  “A Grimmand of Sethi,” Allazar confirmed, announcing his arrival for Elayeen’s benefit.

  “I’m sorry Allazar, I still don’t understand you.” Elayeen said sadly.

  “No no, that was what the creatures are called, my lady. It was a Grimmand of Sethi.” Allazar said softly, and then, as a smile twitched at the corners of Elayeen’s mouth, added simply, “Ah.”

  “I heard your explanation through the open doors. I was worried about my marksmanship though, especially when I saw Gawain move towards the line of flight of my second arrow.”

  “It was a bit close, now you mention it, miheth.”

  “You moved, G’wain. I told you I would know your brightness in a crowd.”

  “I know. And h
ow clever of you to shoot out the window with your first arrow, giving you a clearer shot for the second.”

  “Ah.” Elayeen said, and suddenly looked more than a little sheepish.

  oOo

  14. Simayen

  Dusk found Gawain, Elayeen, Allazar and Tyrane eating a frugal meal at a large table at the inn, the captain making his report at the same time.

  “Healer Turlock says the refugees are in reasonably good health, nothing that rest and good food can’t help. There are a few blisters and bruises, but nothing serious. I’ve housed them in the barn to the south for now, at least they can be together there, and in shelter.”

  “Warehouse.” Gawain said after a mouthful of salt pork. “It was a small warehouse for heavy goods that needed the Pass to be entirely clear for slow passages up or down.”

  “Oh.”

  “Sorry, please continue, Captain.”

  “I’ve released some of our supplies for them, what food they were carrying was barely fit for dogs. Some mouldy meat, stale bread made from wild grasses along the way. It does mean my lord that remaining here will be difficult without a re-supply from Jarn.”

  “Well, now that our wizard seems to have had his speech returned if not all of his senses, as long as Healer Turlock has no objections we can move to Jarn. Slowly though. I don’t want to rush, and I doubt our friends from Goria will want to either.”

  Tyrane agreed. “I’ll confer with the whitesleeves for his opinion, my lord, and let you know as soon as possible. At least there’ll be provisions in Jarn, and we can send word to the castle regarding our new arrivals. I’ve asked this Simayen Jaxon to come and brief us as soon as he has his people settled. They’re still concerned that one of their own number was one of those Grim things.”

  “Grimmand,” Allazar said. “If you think it will help, Captain, I can visit them, and reassure them that there are no more such creatures in their midst?”

  “That would be very good of you, Serre wizard, thank you. Might help the men sleep a bit easier tonight too.”

  “I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” Gawain said earnestly, sipping at his mug of ale, “We haven’t heard what Serre Jaxon of Goria has to say yet. I got the distinct impression it was his speaking of ‘the darkness’ that attracted the fixed attention of that creature, and I’m not sure it’s a subject that’ll bring us much comfort.”

  After the meal, Tyrane sought out the whitesleeves, leaving the three alone at the table.

  “So, Allazar, no more voices?” Gawain asked.

  “No, at least none of which I am aware, Longsword.”

  “Do you remember what they were saying? What purpose they served?”

  Allazar shook his head. “No, but I believe they were filling my head with knowledge. Knowledge which will make itself known when needed, and which may very well be necessary in all future dealings with Morloch.”

  “I have never seen you produce such a searing blast, wizard.”

  “Precisely, Longsword. Before this afternoon, in the yard, I did not know how to summon white fire with the power of a D’ith Sek. And before this afternoon, I did not know the name ‘Grimmand of Sethi.’ It was, I think, the makers of the circle who put that knowledge in my head, to be called upon when necessary.”

  “And my sight?” Elayeen asked, “Am I doomed to eat nothing but sandwiches the rest of my days?”

  “Of course not,” Gawain insisted fervently, “I’ve still got plenty of frak.”

  Elayeen smiled and took another dainty bite of her sandwich.

  Allazar sighed. “I cannot say, my lady. That knowledge does not appear to be in my head. But I do firmly believe you have the sight of the Eldenelves, and can see the magic that is the life in all living things. And also, as we witnessed today, the absence of it in dark-made creatures. Without that sight, I fear this afternoon may well have ended in catastrophe. And who is to say that your normal vision will not return in time? Certainly you seem to see more clearly now than yesterday, is that not so?”

  “Yes,” she agreed, “The edges of the gingerbread men are becoming sharper, and other shapes clearer. Yes, my world is brighter than it was when first we descended.”

  “Then,” Allazar said, lightly resting his fingers on her broken hand, “there is hope. Yet my intuition, like Longsword’s, is that we must be guarded when speaking of the circles and such gifts as they have given us. Indeed, it is probably best we speak of it not at all unless we are sure we are completely alone.”

  “Hmm,” Gawain agreed, “Though I am far from certain why these changes are being wrought in you both.”

  Allazar nodded. “It is worrying, I know, but consider this: The magi of old foresaw a time when Morloch would break free of his bonds beyond the Teeth, and foresaw that one day he would raise an army against all the southlands. So they created a great power with which to smite the Teeth and knock him back beyond them, and created the lock, sword and circle, to keep that power safe against the day of its need.

  “They also clearly foresaw the qualities in each of the three kindred races necessary to unlock that force and send it north. It was very wise of them, and shows that our forebears possessed great wisdom, as well as great foresight.”

  Elayeen put down the remains of her sandwich, and brushed at her tunic though no crumbs had fallen there.

  “What concerns me most in all this,” Allazar almost whispered, “Is that the elder magi not only foresaw all that, but also foresaw the need to gift a wizard with knowledge and power far beyond his lowly station and education, and the need to gift an elfin with the mystic sight of her ancient forebears. It means, my friends, they foresaw that we would need them, together with the wielder of the sword, as the events of today amply demonstrate. I worry what else might lie in store for we three, that they should impose these ‘gifts’ upon us.”

  With that sombre thought hanging in the air between them, Allazar left Gawain and Elayeen and trudged off down the road to the warehouse, his staff clunking heavily on the cobbles though he carried it with the same ease with which Gawain carried the Sword of Justice.

  “Do you still believe Allazar to be an enemy, G’wain?” Elayeen said while he cleared the table and stacked plates picked clean upon the cracked and dusty bar.

  He sighed as he sat back down beside her, dragging his chair closer so their shoulders pressed together. Taking her right hand in his left, he took a long breath. “No,” he confessed after a thoughtful silence. “It’s very hard to maintain my distrust of the one wizard in all the world that the circles on the floor of my fathers’ Hall held worthy enough to unlock that great wave. But by the Teeth, E, don’t tell him I said so. It’s bad enough him being able to set fire to the cliffs of Raheen with that stick of his without my having to endure the smug grin that’d plaster his face for months if you did.”

  Elayeen smiled, and Gawain melted. “You know, apart from shooting the window, you were breathtaking.”

  “The window was an accident, G’wain, and it was all Allazar’s fault for not warning me properly.”

  “There you are, that’s exactly what I mean! Thank you for being on my side against the bloody whitebeard!”

  And before she could protest, he kissed her.

  It wasn’t long before Tyrane returned, and with a nod from Gawain sat at the table.

  “Your wizard will bring this Jaxon fellow shortly, I left him in the warehouse with his staff sparkling somewhat alarmingly while he assured the refugees there were no more of these Grimmands in their number.”

  “Good. From what we all saw this afternoon I think I now share your opinion about these Gorians, or refugees if that’s what they are; they’re hardly military.”

  Gawain had seen Tyrane wince a little and then realised what he’d said. Elayeen, however, her arm now in his, didn’t seem to notice.

  “I doubt even the most adept of spies could maintain a cover with one of those creatures lashing out next to him.” Tyrane agreed. “If these are the Gorians that
your lady’s escort spoke of, then I’d say they’re not so much dressed as Callodonians, as that closeweave cloth is common to labourers on both sides of the Eramak River.”

  “Yes, or the slaves taken from Pellarn simply continued making it there as they once did in the Old Kingdom. I’m sure Jaxon can tell us. But for now I’m more concerned with this ‘darkness’ he spoke of.”

  “I too, my lord. I don’t know what he meant by ‘guardstones’, but I do know from the officers in the Westguard that the number of Gorians crossing into Callodon in the last twenty years is a very small number indeed.”

  “I do know what guardstones are,” Gawain said, grimly, “and whatever it was they were fleeing from, it must’ve been dark indeed for so large a number to risk crossing them together.”

  “Oh, my apologies, the healer has pronounced all in the Gorian party fit to travel, and having witnessed from the stables your wizard’s exploits earlier, has no objection to your lady or your wizard making the journey either.”

  “Excellent. We should start for Jarn tomorrow then, and take the road slowly. How many wagons are there?”

  “Two my lord, and four spare horses to draw them should all my men ride escort.”

  “At least the four ladies in the Gorian party can ride in the wagons, and the men take it in turns. I think I’d like an advance party in the van, and a good rearguard, and an even better guard on the western flank.”

  “I understand my lord.”

  “When we reach Jarn, Captain, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave the matter of the refugees entirely to Callodon.”

  “Of course. Once we arrive I’ll send word to the Castle, I’m sure arrangements can be made to provide for them. Do you and your lady intend to ride on for Elvendere, my lord?”