by Stuart Daly
‘I’m glad I caught you before you snuck out of the House of Whispers,’ Caspan said. ‘I’m leaving early tomorrow morning on a mission and didn’t know if I’d get another chance to say goodbye.’
‘That was very thoughtful of you, lad. Duke Connal had a chat with me after dinner and told me that you and your friends would be heading off with Shanty. I mightn’t go on missions like the rest of you, but the Duke keeps me abreast of things. It’d be a bit difficult for me to organise everything around here if he didn’t.’ Gramidge gave Caspan a sombre look. ‘So where are you off to?’
‘Deep into Caledon. There’s a tomb containing what might be one of the most powerful Dray weapons ever created.’
‘Any ideas as to what it is?’
Caspan shook his head. ‘I suppose we’ll find out when we get there.’
‘Well, I know I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but make sure you keep your wits about you. And keep an eye out on your friends, especially Sara. I think she’s a little fragile at the moment.’ Gramidge eased up on the bellows. ‘There, that should do it. Now we’ll just wait for –’
He was cut off by a swarm of bees that shot out of the skep. Caspan leapt back and glanced worriedly at the steward. ‘Is that supposed to happen?’ he asked, trying to swat away the bees with his free hand.
‘Yes, yes, yes, it’s perfectly normal,’ Gramidge reassured him. ‘But try not to move. I know it can be a little unnerving the first time, but they’ll only bite if you disturb them.’
‘Won’t they sting us?’ Caspan asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
Gramidge put down the bellows and picked up the ladle and jar. ‘Not on the hands or face, but I’ve had a few doozies on the stomach and legs.’
Caspan started to panic. ‘But we’re wearing tunics and breeches!’
‘Yes, but they won’t stop an angry bee.’
The boy stared fearfully at the hundreds of bees swarming around them. ‘Couldn’t you have mentioned that before?’
‘A slight technicality,’ Gramidge said, brushing his concern aside. ‘Stop fussing about or you’ll really stir ’em up.’
‘I think your smoke’s done a good enough job of that.’ Caspan only now noticed that bees were amassing on his thighs. He closed his eyes and fought against the urge to bolt. ‘Can you please hurry up?’
‘All in good time. You can’t rush a good drop of honey,’ Gramidge said calmly, stooping down and reaching inside the basket with his ladle, forcing another swarm of bees to come shooting out. Startled, the steward quickly withdrew the ladle, accidentally hooking it on the inside of the opening and dragging the skep off the shelf. The instant the skep hit the ground, a buzzing cloud emerged from within.
‘That’s not good,’ Caspan heard Gramidge mutter, just before he felt a sharp pain in his right thigh.
‘Ouch!’ he cried, dropping the dish and its smoking contents.
‘Don’t panic! Don’t panic!’ Gramidge warned. ‘Everything will be fine as long as we back away slowly. Just do exactly as I do. Remember, a calm bee is a good bee, but an angry bee – YOWPERS!’ He threw the ladle in the air and clutched his right buttock. ‘That felt like a lance! Run!’
Gramidge and Caspan ran for their lives. Thousands of bees chased after them in a deadly, buzzing cloud. In spite of his fear, Caspan couldn’t help but see the humorous side of the situation, and he laughed so much that he could barely see where he was going. Without the lantern to light the way, he and the steward charged blindly through the forest, swatting madly at the bees. Eventually, somehow, they burst free of the woods and staggered onto the training field. They sucked in air and stared anxiously at the dark wall of trees.
‘I think we’ve lost them,’ Gramidge said after a minute or two, removing his hood. He slumped to the ground, clutched his backside and winced in pain. ‘Geez, that bee had it in for me. I don’t think I’ll be able to sit down for a week.’ He glanced at Caspan. ‘How did you fare?’
Caspan rolled up his sleeves, undid the top of his tunic and did a quick inspection of his arms and chest. ‘I only got the one bite,’ he said, amazed. ‘But I’m covered in scratches.’ He lay down on the grass, removed his hood and guffawed. ‘I can’t … I can’t believe that just happened.’
Gramidge chuckled. ‘That’s the fastest I’ve run in my life. I think I knocked over a tree or two, and my backside feels like it’s been stabbed with a red-hot poker. Hang on – what’s this?’ He twitched his nose, as if something was stuck up there, then snorted and sent a bee shooting out of his left nostril.
Never before had Caspan seen something so hilarious, and he rolled across the grass, holding his sides and laughing hysterically.
‘Not so loud, Cas,’ Gramidge cautioned, looking across the field at the House of Whispers. ‘You’re making so much noise somebody might hear you. The last thing we want is for the Duke or one of the Masters to come out to see what’s going on. That’d be a fine end to the night.’
Caspan tried to regain his composure. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve just never heard of anybody having a bee stuck up their nose before.’
‘I’m lucky it didn’t sting me. Imagine how painful that would have been.’ The steward pulled off his gloves and sighed. ‘I might have a look at that book on beekeeping. You never know, it could have a few helpful tips.’
Caspan wiped tears of merriment from his eyes. ‘Are you sure you want to do that? There’s nothing quite like hands-on experience.’
‘Oh, be quiet.’ Gramidge threw a tuft of grass at Caspan and climbed to his feet. ‘We should head back inside. I think that’s enough excitement for one night.’ He offered Caspan a hand and pulled him up. ‘It’s a shame you’ll be heading off tomorrow. I’ve got to fix that skep and I could have used your help. There’s no telling how the bees are going to react when I go back into the clearing. I might walk straight into an ambush.’
Caspan smirked as he dusted himself off. ‘I wouldn’t be going anywhere near them unless I had a cartload of smoking dung and a thousand men at arms.’
Gramidge smiled. ‘You see all the fun you’ll be missing out on, lad? Exploring tombs might be adventurous and all, but nothing quite compares to being chased by a million irate bees. Beekeeping – that’s where all the action is.’
Caspan grinned. ‘I’m not going to argue with that.’
CHAPTER 10
THE QUEST BEGINS
The first rays of dawn painted the walls of the House of Whispers a light grey-pink when the friends and Shanty assembled outside the stable the following morning. As they would be flying a great distance, they only summoned Frostbite, Bandit and Talon. Sara had developed greater confidence in taking to the sky with Cloud Dancer and was eager to ride her, but conceded that she would only slow the others down. Her pegasus only had the endurance for short flights, and they didn’t have the time to stop every few hours for Cloud Dancer to rest.
They fitted the Wardens with Gramidge’s new harnesses and saddle cloths, secured their equipment and provisions, then mounted up. They sat in tandem: Roland and Kilt atop Bandit; Lachlan and Shanty on Talon; and Caspan and Sara strapped themselves into the harnesses atop Frostbite.
‘I wish you the best of luck,’ Duke Connal said, blowing warmth into his hands. He was standing in front of the stable, accompanied by Masters Scott and Morgan, and Gramidge. ‘Not that you’ll need it. I’m sure everything’s going to be fine. Just stick to the mission and follow Shanty’s instructions. He’s had a lot of experience at this sort of thing and will see that no harm comes to you. I’d like to be here when you return, but I can’t keep the King waiting. You must remember to send word of what you discover. Use one of our ravens and send the message directly to the King. Gramidge will help you with that.’ He glanced at the steward. ‘Are they set to go?’
Gramidge made a quick inspection of the Wardens’ saddle straps. ‘All ready,’ he said, stepping back and looking earnestly at the riders. ‘Now remember, take care and don’t do anything
foolish.’
Roland paused from pulling on his thick leather riding gloves. ‘What? Like entering a trap-riddled Dray tomb deep within enemy territory?’ He grinned roguishly. ‘Nah, we’d never do anything crazy like that.’
Gramidge’s chin trembled and he wiped a fold of his cloak across his eyes.
Sara regarded him with soft eyes. ‘Aw, you look like you’re about to cry.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Gramidge snapped, blinking furiously. ‘My eyes always water in the cold, that’s all. And it happens to be a particularly cold morning, in case you haven’t noticed.’
Sara smiled sweetly at him. ‘Of course.’
Gramidge scratched his right buttock vigorously, drawing a curious look from the Duke. ‘Now, have you packed everything: weapons, food, drinks, lanterns and rope?’
Kilt drew a patient breath. ‘Yes.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Lachlan assured the steward. ‘We’ve left nothing behind.’
‘What about your soul keys?’ Gramidge persisted, looking at Kilt and Sara. ‘I’m sure you’ll need Whisper and Cloud Dancer.’ He raised a finger as another thought popped into his head. ‘Oh, and what about blankets? You’ll need plenty of them. It will be really cold where you’re going.’
‘It’s okay, Gramidge, we’ve got that covered.’ Caspan jerked his head towards the blankets strapped to the rear of his saddle.
Between him and his friends, Caspan felt that they had enough equipment to get through any situation. Rather than wear dark grey tunics, as was customary when training, the treasure hunters wore dark leather jerkins beneath their black cloaks, which not only allowed them to blend into the shadows, making it hard for enemies to spot them, but also offered extra protection against any traps they might trigger inside the tomb. Caspan had opted to wear the scarred leather doublet he wore when thieving for the Black Hand. It didn’t offer any advantage over the jerkins worn by the rest of his friends, but he regarded it as an old, trusted companion. He was also armed with a bow, which was slung over his shoulder in a waterproof, doe-skin cover.
Everybody, however, was equipped with a sword, dagger and a lantern. They also carried their saddle bags on their backs, and strapped to the sides of the Wardens were waterproof sacks containing enough provisions for several days, and leather bags full of equipment vital for exploring tombs: lengths of rope and grapples, tinder and flints, metal pitons, small hammers, candles and pieces of chalk.
‘Gramidge, they’re no longer apprentices,’ Master Scott said. ‘They’ve completed their training and know what they’re doing, so stop fussing over them.’
The steward sighed. ‘I know, I know. I can’t help but worry. I feel like a mother duck saying goodbye to her little ducklings.’
Sara stuck out her bottom lip at him. ‘You’ll make me cry in a minute.’
‘Well, what does that make me?’ Shanty asked, turning his nose up at Gramidge. ‘The ugly duckling?’ Everybody laughed, and the dwarf nestled into a more comfortable position. He took a firm hold of the leather grip behind Lachlan and glanced at the Duke. ‘We’ve got a long trip ahead of us, so we should get going. I had a chat with Sara last night, and she showed me the course she’s charted. She’s a clever lass. I couldn’t have planned a better route. We’ll be back in a day or two and send word of what we’ve discovered.’
Duke Connal nodded solemnly. ‘Hopefully it will be a weapon that will crush the Roon and the highlanders.’
Roland saluted him. ‘Here’s to that.’
‘Shanty will do his best to look out for you, but he can’t be everywhere at once,’ Morgan warned the former apprentices. He looked as stoic as a statue, his arms folded across his chest and his stern features given a ghostly appearance by the lantern hanging from the stable eave. ‘Remember what we taught you – always work as a team and watch each other’s backs.’ He regarded the treasure hunters for a moment, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. ‘I can’t wait to hear of your adventure when we next meet.’
Scott smiled encouragingly. ‘I’m sure they’ll do our order proud.’
The six riders said farewell and, with Lachlan and Shanty leading, flew over the top of the House of Whispers.
‘Don’t forget to keep warm!’ Gramidge yelled, chasing after them around the manor house, clutching his backside. ‘I don’t want you coming back with colds. Oh, and I also smuggled a flask of my special cider, Slap Across the Face, into one of the saddle bags, but don’t tell the Masters.’
Caspan chuckled to himself, believing everybody within a square kilometre would have heard the steward’s announcement. He gave a final wave and flicked Frostbite’s reins, sending his drake soaring over the training field and the forest beyond.
It was mid-morning by the time they left the fields and pastures of Dannenland behind and reached the coastline of Lochinbar. Caspan had never seen this section of Andalon before, and he marvelled at the gigantic waves that rolled across the sea and crashed against the towering cliffs, water spray shooting over a hundred feet in the air. The wind here was much stronger, and Shanty directed the group higher to avoid the sudden gusts that threatened to rip them from the sky and send them spiralling out of control into the cliffs below.
Once stabilised at a higher altitude, Caspan shielded his eyes from the sun and peered to the east, wondering if he might see the coastline of Saxstein from this height.
Two hundred years ago the emperor of Saxstein had sent his fleet across The Channel to conquer Andalon. But not one of his ships made the crossing; all came to a watery grave when they were dashed by the waves against the cliffs that stretched all the way from northern Caledon to southern Andalon, forming a perfect, natural defensive barrier. Caspan had learned during his studies in the archive that this was due to a shallow, underwater rock shelf that bordered the coast and extended up to five hundred yards into the sea. Waves, driven by the strong easterly winds, were projected upwards into towering walls of water upon reaching the shelf. No ship could withstand their force. It was said, though, that smugglers knew of areas where the shelf didn’t extend from the cliff. When the tide was right, secret passages of calm water appeared, providing access to hidden coves, where the smugglers unloaded their goods before heading back out to sea.
To the west, Lochinbar was an inhospitable, wind-swept barren land. Exposed to the blustery weather, the few trees that managed to grow here leaned severely to the left, some so much that Caspan wondered how their roots managed to keep them upright at all. This was nothing like the patchwork of fields and the pockets of woodland he had seen surrounding Darrowmere, the capital of the duchy, during his first trip north. He very much doubted anybody lived along this section of coastline, and there was nothing here of any strategic importance.
And it was for these reasons Sara had decided to come this way. There would be no motive for the highlanders to send troops this far east, for there was nothing to conquer. Hopefully, if all went to plan, the companions would be able to reach the highlands unnoticed.
Caspan was drawn from his thoughts by Roland, who steered Bandit closer to Talon to get Lachlan’s attention. ‘Care for a swim, Timmity Tom?’ he yelled over the buffeting wind and crashing waves.
Caspan grinned. It had been several weeks since Roland had last teased the large boy about his red nightcap.
Lachlan smirked and shook his head. ‘No, thanks. This is about as close I plan on getting to the cliffs.’
Roland pointed downwards to a monstrous wave that rolled out of the sea, which rose to over a hundred feet upon hitting the underwater shelf. It broke with a thunderous boom long before reaching the cliffs. Roland whistled in awe as he watched the surging wall of water draw closer.
‘Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?’ he persisted, glancing at Lachlan.
Lachlan drew breath to reply, but Shanty tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Just focus on keeping Talon steady.’ He jabbed a finger in warning at Roland. ‘And you’re flying too close for my liking. A strong gust
could send you careening into us any second. You won’t be able to control your manticore in time, so pull away. Keep a gap of at least twenty yards between us, otherwise we all might be having that swim before you know it.’
Roland nodded obediently and, much to Kilt’s relief, who was holding tightly onto her leather grip and looking anxiously at how close they were to Talon’s wings, steered Bandit a safe distance away.
They continued following the coastline for several more hours until Shanty looked across at Sara, nodded, then directed Lachlan to lead the group slightly inland. Following behind Talon, Caspan was wondering what had happened, when Sara gestured at a wall that stretched across the countryside.
‘That’s where we’re stopping for a rest,’ she explained.
Caspan recognised the landmark as Mance O’Shea’s Break. He’d read about it only yesterday in the archive. This thirty-foot-high wall, reaching from one side of the country to the other, marked the border between Lochinbar and the Caledonian lowlands. It had been built last century to stop border reivers and lowland clansmen from raiding farmsteads in northern Lochinbar, but it had been overrun and abandoned long before the current ruler of the duchy, the King’s brother, Duke Bran MacDain, had been born.
Whilst Roland and Caspan kept circling, Lachlan and Shanty descended to inspect the remains of the wall’s easternmost fort. In a cruel twist of fate, the Break’s garrisons, set strategically along the wall every few miles, were often now home to bands of the very reivers it had been constructed to repel. Fortunately, Lachlan and Shanty could find no evidence that any lowland bandits were using the fort as a base, and it wasn’t long before they signalled for the others to join them.
They took shelter in what Caspan assumed was once the garrison’s sleeping quarters. One of the room’s walls had been completely knocked down, and all that was left of the roof was a ribcage of rotten beams. Dust and rubble littered the flagstone floor. Still, it offered some protection against the howling wind.
