by Martin Ash
Out of the corner of his eye he was aware of a second creature thrusting itself out of the soil to his left. He spun around, trying to slide to the side and away as he eluded the first creature's grasp. Between the trees he glimpsed Galry and Jace, running hard, hand in hand. Two-handed he hacked twice with the sword and backed away. The first creature brought itself around to face him; the second was beyond it. Leth retreated several steps. Both creatures came at him, making coarse rattling noises, but they lacked speed. Leth ran off, following the children. When he paused to look back both monsters had vanished, as if sinking back into the earth.
'What were they?' demanded a white-faced Galry.
Leth shook his head. 'I don’t know. But there has been terrible evil done in that place, and it is my guess that those things were responsible.'
Leth, Galry and Jace continued upon their way, keeping close to the course of the stream until it broke out of the forest onto the shore of a small lake. It was mid-afternoon. The sun had moved to a more westerly position in the sky. Leth scanned the horizon but could find no recognizable landmark that might give him even an approximate idea of his whereabouts. Enchantment's Reach might lie to west or east, he could not tell. But a faint curl of smoke was visible on the further shore of the lake, and towards this Leth now led his weary children.
v
Half an hour later they stood before the solitary cottage from the chimney of which the thin plume of smoke issued. The cottage was built of stone, supporting a roof of dense, low thatch. It was set back from the water's edge, at the fringe of the forest. The forest trees gathered behind it and a small orchard lay to one side, where a dozen fowl scratched and a couple of cows cropped the grass. A fishing boat had been hauled onto the shingle in front of the cottage. Leth removed his helm and approached the door and knocked.
A moment passed then a stocky, black-haired man in his middle years drew the door wide. His face was weathered, round and cheerful, with bright dark eyes and plump, florid cheeks. Beneath his shirt a generous paunch protruded over his waistband.
'Good-day, sir, my dears,' he said, glancing at Leth, then the children, and back.
'Good-day to you, good fellow,' Leth replied. 'I hope our sudden appearance does not disturb you. My name is Clun. I am a traveller, lost, it pains me to admit, with my two children. We seek shelter for the night, and perhaps if it is not too much trouble, a few potatoes or some bread to eat. Also, we would be grateful to hear news of the region, and in the morning be directed to the nearest town.'
The man stepped aside. 'Enter, travellers, and be welcome. It is not often we have visitors here. I am Bicault, and my wife here is Dame Anacissia.'
A short plump woman in a brown dress and shawl came forward from within. She smiled. 'Pleased to welcome you, sir, and your beautiful children.'
'Anacissia, please, will you prepare something for our guests to eat while I set the table?' said Bicault. 'They look famished. The fish broth, I think, with bread and vegetables, some milk and - why not? - I shall bring forth that small keg of plum spirit that has barely been touched. Yes indeed!'
'I will, of course,' replied Anacissia, 'but look!' She crossed to Galry and began to fuss about his neck. She turned to Leth. 'Oh sir, what has happened to your little boy? This bandage must be changed, the wound bathed and dressed. Will you allow me?'
'Of course,' replied Leth tiredly. 'Had I been able I would have made a better job of it.'
'No matter, sir.' Dame Anacissia bustled off to the kitchen, then returned with a bowl of water, clean cloth and a small pot of embrocation. 'This will do it. Hold still now, my love.'
She carefully removed the makeshift bandage that Leth had applied to Galry's throat, and gave a cry of horror when she saw the wound. 'Oh, who could have done such a wicked deed!'
Leth was reticent. 'My son is indeed fortunate that he lives. We all are.'
Without further questions Dame Anacissia attended to the wound, then applied a clean linen bandage. 'It will be all right now.'
In the meantime Bicault had set the table and when all was done the food and drink were brought forth. Leth cleared his throat, a little uncomfortably, and said, 'First things first. I am unable to recompense you for your hospitality in the usual manner for, through no fault of mine, I am without coin. Suffice to say, my children and I have not had an easy journey, and count ourselves lucky to be alive. However, this ring is of some value.' He tugged a gold ring from the second finger of his right hand. 'Are you able to take it to a sizeable town? Any reputable banker, league of commerce or quality jeweller will be able to advise you of its worth, and should offer you a good price. Do not part with it for less than fifteen crowns.'
Bicault's eyes widened. 'Sir, this is generosity indeed! But we cannot accept such a valuable item. A few coppers will more than cover the cost of feeding and sleeping you, and we are glad of your company, what's more.'
'Take it,' said Leth, and pressed the ring into Bicault's hand. 'But if you can give me a few coppers and pieces of silver in return, to the value of a silver khalot, it will make our remaining journey that much easier.'
'Are you sure, sir?' said Dame Anacissia, gazing in some wonder at the ring.
'Quite sure. I require only a few coins so that I may purchase food and lodging along the way.'
Bicault disappeared into a small adjacent room, then returned and slapped a number of coins upon the table. 'There! It comes to barely more than half a crown, but it is all the coin we have. We are not wealthy folk, as you can see.'
Leth counted out half a khalot in copper and silver coins, and pushed the remainder back to Bicault. 'Truly, this is all we need. But remember, let no one short-change you for that ring.'
'Absolutely not! You need fear nothing for that! Now, please, will you and your charming children be seated and eat and drink your fill. In fact, I will even bring forth a flask of aquavit that I have been saving for a special occasion, which will further supplement our repast in a most pleasing manner. Relax, Sir Clun, and let us enjoy this very special evening together.'
Leth was still clad in the sapphire armour, which he now removed and laid in a corner of the room. Then they ate and drank. Bicault kept the mugs topped up and very quickly, for the first time in many days, Leth felt the tension begin to slip from his limbs and a warm and satisfying glow suffuse his body and push aside the weight of cares that afflicted him. Galry and Jace, almost before they had emptied their platters, were asleep on their chairs. Dame Anacissia left the table and laid out a palliasse beneath one wall and Leth carried Galry and Jace over and carefully laid them side by side, where they slept undisturbed until morning.
From Bicault Leth learned that the cottage was situated on the shore of Wyslow Water. Leth, with relief, recognized the name. Wyslow Water was the larger of three interlinking lakes occupying a remote region on the borders of the Duchy of Giswel in the southern march of his own beloved kingdom, Enchantment's Reach. The capital lay some twenty leagues to the northwest.
Bicault and Anacissia had lived here for thirty two years, the couple now told him. They shared their home with their only son, named Gorro, who was twenty four. Gorro was just now visiting his sweetheart, who lived in the nearest hamlet, Whime, a little under a league away on an inlet of the lake. He was expected back sometime the following day.
'He's a fine lad,' declared Anacissia proudly. 'A hard worker, skilled fisherman in his father's footsteps, and a first class huntsman too. He can kill a rabbit with an arrow at a hundred paces. I've seen him do it.'
What of the state of the kingdom? Leth wanted to know. What news of the Karai?
'Ah, here on Wyslow we are a long way from anywhere, Sir Clun,' Bicault replied. 'News of the big world takes time to filter through to us, and that's the way we like it. There is trouble in the kingdom, we do know that much. I've heard that Giswel Holt has fallen and Duke Hugo been killed. A great army is moving towards the capital - may be there already, for all we know. These are dark days, sir. Da
rk days indeed. Thankfully we see little of the troubles here.'
Anacissia prompted him. 'What about what you saw last week?'
'Oh yes,' Bicault nodded sagely, his cheeks stained a deeper ruby hue after several mugs of spirit. 'Yes, there's that, it's true. I was fishing on the Water, Sir Clun, and I spied a column of troops moving along the north shore. Fifty or more, there were. Whether they were the invaders or the King's troops I could not tell. I feared then that our peace was at an end, that they were going to come here or to Whime or both. But thankfully they turned off into the forest.'
Leth only half took this in. His head was spinning. Hugo dead? Could it be true? His spirits fell once more. Giswel Holt fallen so soon? This was a catastrophe. How could it be? He had ordered Hugo to keep his troops within Giswel's walls, reasonably confident that the castle could withstand a seige for at least several weeks. He had hoped to force the Karai prince, Anzejarl, to divide his force if he wished to move on to Enchantment's Reach itself before the winter set in. In such a strategy had lain some possibility of retaliation. But with Giswel Holt in Karai hands, if it was true, Anzejarl had an uninterrupted route of supply as well as a solid, almost unassailable base from which to administer his operations against the capital.
Silently Leth grieved for his cousin.
'You are downcast, Sir Clun,' observed Bicault.
'I have many friends in the capital.'
Bicault nodded and leaned forward to replenish Leth's cup with spirit. 'Oh, these are such dark days. And I hardly doubt that the war will come to us here, and sooner rather than later. Now, now, dear. Don't fret yourself . . .'
Anacissia had begun to weep quietly, dabbing her eyes with her apron. Bicault moved to her side and put his arms around her.
'To tell you the truth, we live in fear,' he said quietly to Leth. 'Many times we have questioned whether we should stay, but the cottage here is all we have. And where would we go? We have lived here more than thirty years, and it has been a good, if hard life. It would be more than we could bear to leave it now. No, this is our home and it is where we will stay. If the invaders come, perhaps they will show mercy and leave us be, for we are no threat, and of what use are we to them?'
Leth swallowed, but made no comment. He looked across at Galry and Jace, assured himself that they slept soundly, then asked, 'Have you heard anything of the King and Queen?'
Bicault shook his head. 'There was a rumour in Whime that something had happened to the Queen. Some say she'd gone missing somehow, others that she was dead. It's hard to know what's true and what's not.'
Leth stared into his mug. Issul! Issul!
He recalled the strange vision he had had in Orbelon's world, as he descended into the Death Abyss with Rasgul and Harg and their fighters. Traversing an area of wild pasture which Rasgul had named the Meadows of Dreaming, Leth had heard, or believed he'd heard, Issul's voice calling him. He had seen her. Her wrists were bound. By all appearances she was the captive of a band of brigands.
And she had seen him.
She had risen and run towards him, calling him . . .
And then . . .
And then . . .
The Meadows of Dreaming had been a place of many manifestations and illusions.
Leth closed his eyes, shaking his head. Issul! Oh Issul, how I have loved you!
Have loved?
No! It was not past. He did not know that she was dead. And he loved her still, would love her always. Until he laid eyes on her corpse or was in receipt of some other irrefutable evidence he would believe her alive.
And even then she would live on within him.
Is the afterlife that which we leave behind in others?
Leth was surprised to feel a hand upon his shoulder. He opened his eyes, realized the tears were streaming down his cheeks, and found himself looking into the bright, moist eyes of Dame Anacissia.
'She is alive, sir.'
'Wh- what?'
'It is true, believe me. I sense her.'
Leth stared at her, stupefied. 'How-- Who? Did I speak?'
Dame Anacissia shook her head. 'You did not have to. But believe me, I sense her. The woman you love. The mother of these two darlings. She is alive. And she seeks you. She seeks you! It is so.'
Bicault, kneeling at his wife's side, nodded and said, 'It is true, sir. If Anacissia says it, believe us, it is true. She has the gift.'
Leth was beyond words. They had been speaking of the Queen's reported disappearance. Had Anacissia and Bicault guessed his identity? No. Folk such as these would have shown a far greater reaction had they believed themselves in the company of the King.
'Can you tell me more?' he managed to ask.
Anacissia smiled but shook her head. 'I know only this much. But you should take heart. Truly you should.'
Was it true? Leth scarcely dared to hope. a great wave of emotion was rising within him. He could only nod, and he reached out and put his hands upon Anacissia's and Bicault's shoulders and drew them to him. He knew himself to be in the company of friends, and no words were necessary. His head was a great weight. He laid it on Anacissia's shoulder and allowed his tears to flow freely.
vi
Leth slept a sound and dreamless sleep that night, upon a mattress of sacking stuffed with straw, set upon the floor beside his children. When he woke it was early morning, birds were singing, he could hear Dame Anacissia pottering about in the kitchen and Bicault whistling outside.
Galry and Jace still slept. Leth rose and stretched, buckled on his scimitar, and sauntered outside. It was a bright, chill, clear autumn morning. The sun, risen over the eastern forest, cast a million fiery, glittering gems upon the flat, barely ruffled surface of Wyslow Water. Leth descended to the water's edge, drew several deep breaths, savouring the bracing air and the feeling of being back in the land he had feared never to see again. Standing here he could almost believe the world to be an untroubled place.
He had slept well and felt alert and refreshed. If no less aware of the many difficulties he still faced, he was heartened by Dame Ancissia's words last night. Was Issul alive? Was she seeking him as he sought her? His heart filled his breast. It was irrational to set such store in the words of a supposed clairvoyant, yet Anacissia's insight had been uncanny. No matter his doubts, Leth was instilled with a renewed hope and sense of purpose.
On an impulse Leth stripped off his garments and waded into the lake. For several minutes he swam, until the bitter chill of the water became too much to bear. Shivering, he came from the lake and, lacking proper towelling, shook the water from his body as best he could and removed what remained with his overshirt. Then he dressed and went in search of Bicault.
Bicault was in the small byre at the rear of the cottage, milking one of his cows. He looked up and grinned as Leth entered. 'Fair morning, Sir Clun. I trust you slept well? We did not disturb you, for we felt you needed the sleep.'
'I slept very well, thank you, Bicault.'
'Dame Anacissia is preparing a hearty breakfast for us all. And she will make something to sustain you on your journey. I would say, though, on behalf of us both, that you and your children are most welcome to stay another day or longer if you so choose.'
'It is a tempting offer, Bicault, and I thank you. This is a beautiful, tranquil place. It is so easy to feel at one with the world and all nature here. I fully understand your reluctance to leave.'
Bicault nodded wistfully. 'Aye, it is a beautiful place. I saw you swimming and knew you had found the magic of our land.'
'Sadly we must be moving on. I have pressing business. Perhaps one day, when things are better, I may return and spend more time here in your company.'
'We would enjoy that, sir. Truly. And you will bring the children too?'
'If it is possible, aye.' Leth grew thoughtful. 'Bicault, you and Dame Anacissia spoke last night of your hopes that the war might pass you by - or at least, that if the invaders come they will spare you. I said nothing at the time for I did not wan
t to add to Dame Anacissia's fears. But I would be failing you if I did not warn you that I fear your hopes are unrealistic. If the invaders - the Karai - do come here, they will not spare you. It’s not their way.'
Bicault finished milking the cow and sat back on his stool. His face had grown solemn. 'I know it. But we have nowhere to go, nor the means to survive should we leave.'
'Then take this.' Leth unclasped a slender wristlet from his left forearm. 'The metal is gold, the stones precious. It is worth a minimum of twenty crowns. As with the ring, do not broadcast the fact that you possess it. There are many who would take them from you by any means if they knew of them. You can leave here with the money these will give you, and live well, very well, for a year or more in a land less troubled than ours.'
Bicault shook his head. 'Sir, your generosity is extreme, but I cannot accept this.'
'Accept it and go. Take Dame Anacissia and your son, Gorro, for as long as is required until the Karai are banished from our homeland. Then, and only then, should you return. Go north. Avoid the capital as long as the Karai are there. Take it, Bicault, and save yourselves.'
He put the wristlet into Bicault's hands, at the same time aware that to travel beyond the borders of Enchantment's Reach into the lands of the Mondane would not be easy. The Mondanes had no love for the people of Enchantment's Reach, who they suspected of dark sorcery and weird deeds. Still, with funds to bribe a border guard . . .
And once beyond the border Bicault and Anacissia could blend in without difficulty. But would the war follow them there?
Bicault was turning the wristlet over in his hand, clearly in two minds.
'I will say this also,' added Leth. 'I am well-connected in the capital. Should this crisis end and the Karai be vanquished, if you present yourselves at the Royal Palace of Orbia and speak your names and that of Sir Clun, be assured that you will be well-received. You may also be surprised. Ah, but I speak in hope of better days. For now, take heed of my warning, I beg you. Seek news of the Karai, and if they come close, save yourselves.'
