Stormangal immediately volunteered but insisted, “Your Majesty should stay here. We can’t risk your person out on the field.” Namweed was uncertain until Que’Devit concurred and offered to accompany the Baron.
The king paused for a moment. “Very well, we accept the sense of your counsel but must put forward more than just the two. Who else should go?”
He alighted on each face in turn but was sadly disappointed each time, until he met Laixac’s resigned expression. “It would be a mite unseemly for any of the Ladies to go, I suppose,” Laixac felt compelled to say. “And I don’t see any other men volunteering.” He shot an acid glance at Lainsward who still clung to Lady Lambsplitter’s petticoats. “So, I reckon…” He was interrupted by a surprising sound.
From behind them, down on Eastern Walk, where it ran between the arms of the gate, the sound of marching feet and the jingle of metal fought to their ears against the wind. They looked at each other, bemused, before rushing across the tower to its western side.
When they stared down onto the Walk, towards their own gate, they couldn’t believe their eyes. Coming from it at a run, a large group of armoured men were issuing forth. The Council stared down in complete disbelief at what appeared to be a Dican host rushing to meet the invasion.
Stormangal spoke for them all. “In the name of all things good, who of Dica are they?” He’d turned and stared at the king who stared back, blankly. By then, the Dican force was already breaking between the sentinel towers and arraying itself before the invaders. They’d swept the King’s Council once more across the tower.
As a tense silence again descended, with the two forces now opposing one another, Countess Ragskin screamed, “What, in the Certain Power’s name, is all this about? Eh? Where, in the blazes, have this lot suddenly sprung from, and why weren’t we told anything about it before?” Nobody of the Royal Council nor the king himself answered for by now they were all intent only on staring down onto the helmeted heads of the host of mystery Dicans.
A small vanguard was already forming and slowly strode forward a few paces, where they halted and unfurled a banner - Tree and Serpent proudly emblazoned. The new emblem added its own small, solitary and rippling slap to the enemy’s fuller chorus of banners and streamers.
Lord Que’Devit had been closely studying, delving into his great book-learning of Dican history, and surprised them all. “They’re certainly arrayed in Dican armour, of that I’m sure, but it’s of a most ancient fashion, ceremonial I’d say. Certainly not fit for engagement. What in the world are they thinking?”
King Namweed couldn’t answer. “I can’t believe it! What’s going on? Where’ve this lot come from, eh, where? And why wasn’t I told?” Nobody, not of those there, had any better answer.
It was as though the two hosts were eyeing each other up, like great, wild beasts. Que’Devit quietly wondered, “So. Who’ll be first to move, eh? Who will it be to show true mettle?” The rest were too enthralled to answer. “Who are they? Eh? Where, in all of our realm, could enough men be gathered, marshalled thus and brought to bear at such short notice?” Yet again, his questions fell on deaf ears.
The Dican vanguard moved forward a few more paces and again halted. After a minute or two, the enemy finally did the same. Suddenly, the course was set, the action intent and plain, the two sides closing in on each other in determined and measured strides. Soon, they were within easy hailing distance and there they both halted, silence once more rushing in.
Above them, the Royal Council could only catch snatches of windblown calls, but it was obvious that shouted challenges were being made and answered. To what end, though, they could only guess.
It went on for some time, each side huddling together in discussion, before once more returning to parley. Que’Devit then said, “I wonder how well they’ll understand each other. We can’t know what language they have and therefore what misunderstandings may ensue. It’s a tense time, certainly, there’s no denying that.”
It prompted Lady Lambsplitter to add her better knowledge, of history and geography. “Although we’re damned if we know where they’ve come from, it would seem fair to suppose they’ve got to be from somewhere not too far distant, not so far they wouldn’t have some common lineage with Dica, some shared history. After all, the realm once took all unto itself. There must be some common tongue to be had.”
She then said, more to herself, “For such a long time to have passed without contact, it would argue they’ve dwelt somewhere far removed … or … or some place long cut off.” She turned a startled face to them all. “Surely not! They can’t actually be from … No! No, it can’t be.” She shook her head but Que’Devit caught her up on it.
“Lady Lambsplitter? Are you seriously suggesting that we have before us … before our very gates, an army of Nouwelm?”
She threw him a rather hurt look, as though he were impugning her. “If the fable were indeed fact, and we’ve no sure way of knowing it’s not, then it would make good sense of what’s happening here.”
She’d finished with somewhat more pleading in her voice than she’d have liked but was relieved when Que’Devit said, “Aye, perhaps what was once truth can indeed fall to fable, aye, maybe so. But, if they’re from Nouwelm, how on earth did they get across the Gray Mountains, eh? How could they breach such an impenetrable barrier, eh, answer me that?” She couldn’t but, at that moment, didn’t need to for below them things were beginning to happen.
The two vanguards had slowly drifted nearer, becoming more at ease with one another, the confrontation appearing to have been diffused. The King’s Council were each trying to see what was going on, so far away and below, when Lambsplitter yelped, “If, as I’m now convinced be the case, they truly are an army of Nouwelm, then we have to accept that we’re actually under attack from our very own!” When they all turned to stare at her, she added, “You do realise, we’re actually being laid siege to by our very own history!”
21 And of Legends
Nephril grunted and then asked, “And this other one, was it also found in like manner?” to which Penolith nodded, as he pushed the first volume aside and drew the second under the glow of the lamp. Although within a similar binding, it held pages of a far newer paper, retaining much of their original whiteness, less grained and crisper to the touch.
He traced his finger in small circles over their flat weave, lifting the tip to his nose and sniffing, as Penolith said, “That’s where it was opened to when I first found it.” He looked down through the crystal discs and bent forward once more. As Nephril slowly read on, Penolith bit her lip and watched intently.
The Treason of Auldus & the Fall of Dica
i. Since Bazarral founded Baradcar founded Galgaverre and from whence begat the great realm of Dica, before the crowning of kings, before the peoples of Dica multiplied about Mount Esnadac, the Certain Power did bring forth common fortune, and thence much wealth and great strength to the land.
ii. And when the time of the kings did come the first sovereign, King Belforas, did seat within Galgaverre Nephhryl his servitor to rule over the Guardian of Galgaverre, the Guardian of the Guardian Priests, to take from Bazarral the duty of Keeper of the Tree and did office him as Master of Ceremonies for he it was who led pageant there.
iii. And Bazarral did object and did confront King Belforas and did lay open threat upon his throne that Leiyfiantel be better served by lay wisdom and lay skill and would be want in its attendance by royal ceremony alone. But the king was unyielding and did lay down the discontent of Bazarral and did take upon the throne all law unto Galgaverre and did hold unto itself all manner of capacity that once was of Bazarral, in lieu of which they did retain all authority in trade and craft alone.
iv. And in this way was uncertainty once more resolved by the Certain Power, as it must be and was ever so, and did attest to the strength and the goodness of the Lifian Grunstaan Treow, to Leiyfiantel.
v. And Dica did grow upon the Esnadales and did cree
p onto the face of the mountain and its people did multiply therein for their seed was good in the radiance of Leiyfiantel. For thirty and three generations dwelt they and did build they with stout rock and in so doing did lay to its summit the great castle of Dica, its many walls cast there about. And unto it there were drawn all peoples thereabout for it did rule as one and could not be thrown down. And in great harmony did the people prosper together.
vi. And so clement were the seasons brought cast by the Certain Power that the everlasting snows of the Gray Mountains did lessen and passage was gained into the north and upon which the peoples did spill upon new ground, and there was founded Nouwelm and its many hamlets about upon the Warmswin River.
vii. And after the thirty and three generations had come, and the peoples were very numerous and all about close upon one another unto an uncountable multitude, the Keeper of the Tree did witness affliction upon its boughs and was vexed. Vexed that the great mass of peoples did draw too great a demand and that it were become too strained and thereby he did fret that it would be no more.
viii. And Dryffus who was king then heeded not the Keeper and did decry his monition as signal of Bazarral wisdom, that it proclaim that the line of kings had usurped their power, and he would have none of it. And the Keeper was vexed the more so unto desperation.
ix. And in despair at possible passing of the Lifian Grunstaan Treow and its Certain Power, he did secrete a cutting thereof and of this slip did fashion safe keeping, and to this end did keep it about him without fail, for though Leiyfiantel may perish Baradcar would endure.
x. With the passing of the generations and the swelling of their numbers more, Leiyfiantel did sicken and succumb and did falter so that its Keeper was sorely afraid. And oft would he take slip from its hiding upon him and draw comfort from its vibrant life for it suffered not the wants of the peoples.
xi. But there came a time when Nephhryl had need to travel abroad from Galgaverre for many days and was afeared for the surety of the slip and did cast about for short keeping of it there, and to this end did choose Auldus his nephew for his strong wit and faithfulness. And Auldus did take the slip unto himself and with great foreboding did hold it true unto himself as no other.
xii. And so he was fast to his promise and did adopt his charge full right and all would have been well had knowing of the Tree’s disfigurement not been carried to Bazarral by agents unknown. And Bazarral did see, with the Keeper at distance, chance to triumph their ancient slight and did raise cry of foul action upon the Royal Court and unto its people.
xiii. And Bazarral did caste blame unto Auldus that he had brought injury upon Leiyfiantel, and by dint of his surety unto his uncle to avouch naught so he did become known to all as such. Thus did Auldus suffer in place of Nephhryl for the great hurt that was believed brought unto Leiyfiantel by him and with it great peril unto the realm. And Nephhryl was far distant in the northern lands and knew not of it.
xiv. And even afore Nephhryl could have heard aught the Royal Court did indict Auldus and did move the case with great haste by the pressure of Bazarral and they did find of him guilt of the act, and he was sentenced.
xv. And the punishment was to be unto death, but being of high Dican birth he had choice to cast himself from Foundering Wall into the Garden of the Forgotten as was his right and which right he did avow without further ado. And so it was decreed.
xvi. Upon the dawning of his Demise Day he was taken to the Foundering Wall as it happened that his uncle drew near unto the Eastern Gate on return from his journeys. And Nephhryl did hear of it and was distraught. Distraught for the needless deed and his guilt in its part and he did cry out that it must stop, and he did make great haste into the castle and unto the Foundering Wall.
xvii. And Nephhryl came forth from the precincts of the Royal Court and onto the wall and did set eyes upon his nephew alone upon its brink and he did call out, but his voice could not carry against the east wind. Distressed he did flee to him and did call all the while but the wind did blow the harder and it became the minute of the ending of Auldus and he was not heard.
xviii. Attended by the Royal Court and by the Stewards of Bazarral and by the judiciary and by Nephhryl and his entourage and by an agent unknown Auldus did make peace with his life and did cast himself from the wall unto his death. And as he fell he was seen to conjoin hands and there he did vanish and did not find the garden below. And all did stare in wonder disbelieving.
xix. And Nephhryl did make known his taking of the slip and its secretion and did once again expound reason unto the Royal Court and now unto the Stewards and they did wail their sorrow and despair their politic and did cower against the inevitable for they all saw it then, and all saw it to be too late.
xx. And from that day forth did Dica diminish, did happenchance no longer fall sure upon certainty, and prosperity and fruitfulness of the realm did begin to falter and the Tree did wither beyond sustenance of its Keeper though he did tend it still and unto its far off end.
xxi. And in due time the peoples of Dica did fall to pestilence and conflict and the crops did lessen as the clime did worsen and the peoples of Nouwelm became marooned as the everlasting snows returned to the Gray Mountains and the castle did fall into quietude and the dust did pervade where many feet had once trod and the Realm of Dica did slowly but surely diminish.
Penolith’s eyes were unblinkingly fixed on Nephril, her breath hardly drawn, she still and silent. She watched as his finger drew ever more slowly to the last verse, and from where it then slipped almost unnoticed to his side. She became aware of the flat and salty taste of blood, and so let her lip slip free from her nervous bite.
Unlike the first text, the one he’d only just left wasn’t reread, didn’t demand deeper delving. He seemed to know its story well enough, or at least now knew it afresh. He made no sound, nor moved, nor even seemed to breath. Presently, and slowly, he lifted his hand and stared at its fingers, stared at one in particular, as he drew the fingers of the other towards it. Gently, he began kneading its base, where a ring could have been, before turning to face Penolith.
“Mine dear?” he said, catching her unawares and making her gasp.
“Huh! Err, yes, what is it, Nephril?”
Unlike her own startled face, his was serene and untroubled, much to her surprise. “Mine dear Penolith? It would appear I am sent as continual burden to thee for I have yet another request.” She didn’t answer, didn’t feel the need, knowing full well she couldn’t resist his voice. “Since thou art come full as a person, it doth make what I must do all the harder, for now I can truly pity thee.”
He looked deep into her eyes but seemed to be looking through her. From some far off sadness, he stole himself to say, “I must ask of thee a service, one I can ask of no other, and for which thou art least prepared, but ask I must.”
She felt his become shallower, nearer himself, leaving only his intimate voice to fill her. “Mine dear Penolith? As thou art now even more aware, I am very old, very, very old. With that great age comes forgetfulness, the like of which thou wilt ever be want to know, for mine age is no natural thing.”
His voice was her own thought. “Much have I learned in mine time, and far more have I forgotten. While life was but mundane and inconsequent, it mattered little. The north wind hath changed all that. I can no longer retire into mine own obscurity for the world … our world, Penolith, doth now demand more, far more if we are to succeed where the past did fail.”
With his thoughts so intimate, she could feel his unrest, his wary and guarded approach. What she couldn’t see, though, was the reason, couldn’t see beyond the walls he’d purposely built. “I have need of thine mind, Penolith, need of its near perfect recall, to make of it mine repository, a safe store for such long forgotten thoughts.”
Although he no longer spoke, his words still continued to echo in her mind. ‘I have much to relearn, but it must be remembered well, and in a timely manner, be at mine beck and call when needed.’ As
though in sudden pain, his anguished cry flooded her mind. ‘Not only have I need to house memories but even greater need of thee, a need that wilt threaten thine very anchorage…’
He was trying to judge her reactions, as best he could against the annoying storm that was even now rising in his mind, against the chaotic tumble of images that were flashing across Penolith’s face. In the moment it took him to see it, he felt the flood’s surge push him unstoppably forward. “Penolith? I have dire need of thine reason for, without it, our memories will be for naught, will be but a jotter full of senseless sketches. Mine dearest, dearest Penolith? Our world is in need of thy mind. Wilt thou give of it freely? Can thou … can though trust … trust in me, so wholly … so wholly to be adjunct to mine own … mine … mine own failing mind? Well? … Canst thee?”
He’d somehow become lost, staggering about an unfamiliar place with nothing recognisable, a strange new world. Startled, he saw his own reasoned argument careen off, through the rain lashed storm and out of sight.
In its place, sitting within the eye of the storm, Penolith’s face loomed large, her kind eyes drinking him in, her gentle mouth smiling acceptance, but her flushed cheeks signalling alarm as he felt light … ever so light … indeed, as light as air … as air that now simply drifted away upon the breeze.
22 A Partnership Cemented
Incessant and all pervading, its subtle and placeless hold on his hearing niggled and jostled. It was as though, hidden deep within its almost inaudible lowest reverberations, there was meaning of sorts; sense in the drone, covert discourse, lost knowledge, missed chances.
Leiyatel's Embrace (Dica Series Book 1) Page 19
