The Longsword Chronicles: Book 06 - Elayeen

by GJ Kelly

  “You’re not from these parts then,” the girl announced, her voice trembling a little, the words addressed to Valin, “Else you wouldn’t be within a mile of Croptop, yonder.”

  “Croptop?” Elayeen asked.

  “It’s what we call the hill, on account of the trees atop it are like, well…”

  Again Elayeen recalled her own cropped head of hair, and grudgingly admitted that the hill with its stand of trees did make the rise look as though it had suffered a cruel pudding basin cut.

  “Why should we avoid this Croptop?” Valin asked.

  “’Cos nothing and no-one that goes up there comes back down again. I seen you all headed straight for it, so I blew my horn to warn you. Sometimes we get travellers up from the Bay or from Fourbanks at the river, and they might not know to avoid it.”

  “Your horse needs rest and water after the run,” Elayeen announced softly, and in truth the great beast did.

  “Aye, poor Borbo, he’s not meant for riding really. Sometimes I take him out to see the lakes and the world outside the fields he ploughs. We already had a good run first thing this morning. May I take him to the stream? You won’t hurt him, or me?”

  “Yes,” Elayeen smiled, “You may take him to the stream, and no, we won’t hurt him, or you.” She nodded to her companions, and as the girl slipped nimbly from the great horse’s back, they slung their bows and slipped the arrows back in their quivers, dismounting to walk back to the stream with the stranger.

  “Where are you from?” Elayeen asked, moving closer to the wary girl. “Our map shows no settlements between here and the town of Fourbanks at the fork in the River Shasstin, and that’s a long way the southeast of here.”

  The girl smiled, though nervously, and her nervousness could be heard in her chattering reply. “We call it Fourfields, since most everyone came from Fourbanks to start with and there were four farms in the beginning. It was like, you have four banks at the fork in the river, and we got four farms and fields, so there, we’ll call us Fourfields. But there’s only one Borbo, though, and he works so hard, which is why I like to take him out to see new sights when the ground’s fallow in winter, like now. They said they might take him to the war in the north, but my Da’s the mayor and he said no, we needed big Borbo for the crops and the plough and the dray to help send food for the war and that was enough. I wouldn’t have run him so hard, not after a good run out at dawn, but I didn’t know what else to do to stop you going to Croptop.”

  Elayeen smiled, and eyed the slender Mornlander. She was perhaps thirteen, maybe almost fourteen, at that awkward time in a girl’s life, and she was clearly struggling to appear calm in the face of three well-armed and frankly, in Elayeen’s case at least, grimy and rather intimidating strangers. Elayeen doubted anyone in northern Mornland had seen an elf, never mind this young woman from a hamlet so small it didn’t warrant a scratch on a map.

  “My name is… Leeny,” Elayeen announced. “These are my friends, Meemee and,” Elayeen paused a moment, and then smiled again, “Valdo. We are making our way to the village of Sernen.”

  “Sernen? It must be on the other side of the river then, I haven’t heard of it.”

  “It is near the mouth of the East Shasstin, at the coast.”

  “Oh. I haven’t heard of it. My name’s Tilly.”

  “Where is this Fourfields? Is it far, and are there many people there?” Valin announced, his voice formal and as stern as ever.

  The effect on Tilly was immediate, and she took a pace backwards, bumping into the immense horse drinking from the stream.

  “You must forgive Valdo,” Meeya announced gently. “He isn’t used to speaking with gentle folk in the common tongue. We are…” she trailed off, shooting a hopeful glance towards Elayeen.

  “We are Rangers of the Kindred, once of Elvendere,” Valin eased his cloak open to display his tunic and the grimy but proud emblem worn there. “And we are travelling to Sernen, in honour of the wizard Imzenn, who once served the people there.”

  “Oh!” Tilly gasped, blinking, wide-eyed. “I didn’t know you were elves! We’ve never seen elves! You must’ve been in the war in the north, we heard tales from newsriders who got it from people passing downriver through Fourbanks!” she blinked again, and seemed caught between a respectful bow and a curtsy, and at that, Elayeen stepped forward.

  “Come, Tilly, we are simply travellers, and nothing more, and do not warrant such gestures of respect. Tell us about Croptop, while Borbo rests, and then we can be on our way.”

  Valin sighed, and folded his arms, and Meeya jabbed him with a discreet elbow.

  “Croptop’s always been taboo, ever since the first farmers came here, long before I was born. We thought it was all tall tales and nonsense to chide naughty children until four years ago when a newsrider’s horse came limping in, all covered in blood. Da… my father… him and Trigo tracked the horse back, and the trail led up there.” Tilly nodded towards the distant hill.

  The three elves shielded their eyes against the glare, though in truth the day wasn’t that bright, but the act gave them all a chance to employ the Sight without Tilly noticing. They saw nothing in the grey wash that was eldengaze, save the distant fuzz of the trees and the light dusting of grasses on the terrain around them.

  “Trigo’s an old goatherd,” Tilly explained, “But does a lot of hunting too. He and Da said the newsrider’d made a camp for some reason, tired maybe, and it must have been late, Fourfields isn’t far after all. But Trigo said there was blood on the ground by the fire, and no sign of what made it, nor what carried the rider away.”

  “And this was four years ago?”

  “Yes. We all gathered in the round-barn and heard Da and Trigo tell what had happened. Everyone decided then that the old taboo was for good reason, and to stay well clear of the place. Then, just before New Year, Gillane hay-for-brains got drunk on his uncle’s bilberry wine, and come over all brave, and was showing off for the girls, and said he weren’t afraid of Croptop and it was all stories. He said it was likely a wild-man from the north or something did for the newsrider and he’d prove it by taking his bow up there and making camp there all night.

  “Every one of us tried to stop him but he just laughed and said we were all babies. Off he went. When he hadn’t come back by next midmorning, we got worried, and word got to Da and he and Trigo some of the men went out to look for him. They come back, but Gillane never did. Said they found his camp up there thirty good yards from the tree line, and his fire still warm, and blood on the ground like before with the newsrider.”

  “When precisely was this?” Valin asked, trying to sound friendly and charming, but failing.

  “Precisely just before New Year, end of December, on the twenty-ninth I think. Don’t you have New Year in Elfdere?”

  “Elvendere,” Elayeen smiled gently, “And yes, we do. Then this fellow Gillane disappeared only four weeks ago?”

  “Aye. It’s why I came hooting and hollering to stop you before you went up there and ended up like him. He always was a muck-twaddling idiot, even his own Da said he’d likely cut his own ‘ead off during the reaping one day. But I couldn’t let no-one just ride up there without them knowing, not if I seen them and could give warning.”

  “Thank you, Tilly. It was very courageous of you so to do, we might have been brigands, or worse.”

  The great shire-horse snuffled and shook its immense head, and began walking slowly towards a small rise to the southeast.

  “He wants to go home, I think,” Tilly sighed. “He’s had a big enough adventure for one day.”

  “Is it far?” Elayeen asked.

  “No, over the hill there, and down the other side. Then follow the stream all the way through the woods and then there you are. Will you come? No-one will ever believe me if I tell them I met three elves and saved them from Croptop! Please say you will! Please?”

  Tilly stood there, eyes pleading, while the great horse wandered slowly, ripping clods of grass
from the verdant ground and eating as he went. Elayeen regarded Tilly closely for a moment, seeing the desperation in the young girl’s expression, and remembering the excitement with which she herself had gazed out of the forest dreaming of freedom and strangers from far off lands.

  “Will you wait with Borbo for a moment? I must speak with Meemee and Valdo.”

  “Yes! Yes, I’ll be just here. It’s not far, and I know my Da will want to meet you, and my Ma’s a really good cook!”

  Elayeen smiled and moved away, Valin and Meeya following.

  “Valdo?” the elf asked quietly.

  “It was the best I could do on the spur of the moment. I’d hoped not to encounter anyone, and had given no consideration to false names or occupations. Besides, Kindred Rangers travelling to Sernen in honour of Imzenn?”

  “It was the best I could do on the spur of the moment, miTh… Leeny.”

  “Do we go with her, Leeny?”

  “If we do not, word might spread rapidly of an encounter with three elves claiming to be Rangers bound for Sernen. The River Shasstin is immense, it flows from its source in the mountains of Threlland clear to the border with Juria in the west, and then around and all the way down to the coast in the southeast. Word may well spread quickly its entire length, for all we know.”

  “And if we do accompany this girl,” Meeya offered, “We may at least be able to keep up the pretence and allay suspicion long enough for us later to lose ourselves in the wilds once more, and so avoid any further contact with the people of this land.”

  “Though we have had little success on that account so far,” Elayeen sighed, wondering how it was possible for Gawain to make decisions so rapidly when so much needed to be considered.

  “The horse is big, and the girl is small,” Valin insisted, “And at the extent of my range I couldn’t be sure if I had seen anything at all.”

  “I am not blaming you, Valdo. Perhaps I am blaming all of us, we really need to be much more careful.”

  “Well, we are here now,” Meeya whispered, “And so is Tilly of Fourfields.”

  “And so is this Croptop. I do not like the stories she has told us. We are not very far removed from Morloch’s domain, after all. I think I would like to speak with her father on the subject.”

  “I do not think we should interfere,” Valin asserted. “Our aim is to remain hidden, after all.”

  Elayeen felt her stomach turn over, and knew it was for her to decide. A sudden realisation dawned, and it made the decision for her. “Alas, you have openly declared us to be Rangers of the Kindred. We cannot possibly leave now, and abandon this place. It would violate the oath, should something dark lurk hereabouts and go unchallenged by us. And if word spread the breadth of Mornland along the length of the Shasstin that elven Rangers of the Kindred abrogated their responsibilities and abandoned their duty, what becomes then of the ninety-five?”

  Valin’s eyes closed, and he breathed a long sigh. Elayeen thought she caught the words ‘vakin’ and ‘dwarfspit’ in the sibilant exhalation, but ignored it.

  “Oh well done, Valdo!” Meeya muttered.

  “Come. We have no choice but to accompany Tilly to her home, there to meet her father. I would know more about the evil that blights this land, deal with it if we can, and then go back into hiding as quickly and as unobtrusively as possible.”

  Tilly, of course, was delighted at the news, and clutching great handfuls of Borbo’s mane, leapt nimbly up onto his back, and beaming happily, led the way, though at an ambling pace.

  “You mentioned that your mother is a really good cook?” Valin enquired.

  “Oh yes! Her chicken and mushroom pies are famous!”

  Valin glanced across at Elayeen, and she saw the corners of his mouth twitch before he stifled the smile.

  “Her steak and ale pies are wonderful too! In fact, she’s very good with pies of all kinds! And stews, and roast lamb, and of course roast beef…”

  Elayeen’s stomach rumbled, in spite of their recent breakfast. She decided that perhaps her earlier decision to wait for the unknown rider to approach might not have been so unwise, after all.

  oOo

  10. Sheep, Badgers and Wolves, Oh My

  ‘Not far’ turned out to be more than three hours at Borbo’s ambling pace, and Fourfields, when the path beside the stream through the woodlands opened out and Tilly began pointing and chattering excitedly, was little more than a hamlet of perhaps forty souls all told. The buildings were of wood, clustered together, and surrounded by rich, tilled earth lying fallow for the winter, and there were in fact six distinct fields that Elayeen could see stretching away to the east.

  Barns, pens, coops and all manner of farmyard outbuildings were jumbled together as though emptied from a bag, and, standing alone slightly to the south, the largest was a circular structure with a conical thatched roof which they imagined was the ‘round-barn’ Tilly had mentioned earlier.

  The young Mornlander girl beamed with delight, and sounded her small horn, bringing the residents out of their homes and into the angular patch of ground that was perhaps their equivalent of a town square. By the time the four riders approached and slowed to make ready to dismount, the entire population of Fourfields was gathered there, and a tall, weather-tanned and powerful-looking man eased to the fore.

  “That’s my Da,” Tilly whispered. “He’s the mayor.” Then she called out: “Da! We got visitors, and they’re elves!”

  A buzz of exclamations rippled through the throng, and as Tilly leapt nimbly from the shire’s back, her father took a pace forward.

  “Take Borbo to his corral, Tilly, and see him safe and sound now.”

  “But Da…”

  “Now, Tilly. There’s only one Borbo in Fourfields, you know that.”

  “Aye Da…” and with a last desperate glance over her shoulder at Elayeen, the girl led the mighty shire-horse through the throng and away.

  Elayeen decided not to wait to be invited to dismount as a stranger might, instead stepping gracefully from the saddle and advancing towards the Mayor of Fourfields, with Valin and Meeya close behind her, as friends would.

  “Greetings and well met,” she announced, “And honour to you. I am Leeny, these are Meemee and Valdo. We are Rangers of the Kindred, south-bound about our duties. Your daughter, Tilly, risked much to give warning when we unwittingly approached a hazard you know as Croptop.”

  The tall fellow looked astonished, concerned, and then proud, and another buzz of whispered conversation rippled through the crowd behind him.

  “Greetings and honour to you, Rangers of the Kindred. We’ve heard a little about the war in the north since it was won, from newsriders out of Fourbanks, and they spoke of rangers from the forest in the far west. We never thought to meet any of you, though. My name is Pahdreg, the folk here call me the Mayor of Fourfields but as you can see, we’re not really a village, much less a town worthy of a council or a chain of office.”

  “Yet even we three need a spokesman and one who must take responsibility for decisions, and that duty falls to me,” Elayeen smiled, “Just as your people rely upon you, Pahdreg, Mayor of Fourfields. But we came not simply to exchange greetings. Your daughter risked her own well-being to warn strangers of a threat, and briefly described two recent events which we found disturbing. If you have heard of the Rangers of the Kindred, you will doubtless have heard of the oath made to Gawain, King of Raheen and Commander of the Kindred Army?”

  “Aye, to serve all the kindred races and watch for Morloch’s evil about the lands, so the newsriders say. But there are so few of you, less than a hundred they say, we never dreamt three of your number would be standing here in our small patch of Mornland! But that only serves to remind me further of my duties, the best of which is to bid you welcome you into our home, and hope you will take such humble comforts as we are able to offer?”

  “Thank you, Mayor Pahdreg. In truth our diet has not been so hearty of late, and we are anxious to learn more about this
Croptop, and the nature of the threat which exists there.”

  “Then please, come, my wife Tilda here has a warm fire in the kitchen hearth, and fresh pies baking in the oven,” Pahdreg turned and called to a young lad, “Luka, go fetch your grandfather will you? Tell him Fourfields has visitors and the Mayor has need of Trigo’s old noggin again.”

  The boy waved an acknowledgement and sprinted away, the crowd dispersing as Tilda hurried towards a well-kept but distinctly rustic farmhouse, Pahdreg leading the elves behind her at a more measured, dignified pace.

  Elayeen cast a quick glance around, noting that perhaps half of those who’d gathered in the expanse of land between the dwellings were children.

  “We’re not many here now,” Pahdreg said quietly, noticing Elayeen’s interest. “Though from spring onwards we get more folk by way of casual labour out from Fourbanks, young people mostly; those not keen on fishing or a life on the river. Those of us you see today are the true residents, and live here year ‘round.”

  “I was surprised,” Elayeen admitted, “When we encountered your daughter, and she spoke of habitations nearby. We had imagined that Fourbanks would be the only settlement we might encounter this side of the fork in the river.”

  “For a long time it was, but back when my grandfather wasn’t much older than Tilly, many folk on the river got fed up with depending on grain from the barges and the high prices it fetched, and some of them came out here with a view to trying their hand at farming. Fourfields has been here ever since. Grown too, we keep less than half our produce for ourselves, and sell the rest. Here, mind the step, it’s a bit muddy.”

  Pahdreg stepped up onto a raised boardwalk running in front of the house, and held open the door, ushering the three elves inside. Their horses waited patiently nearby, a small gaggle of children gazing up at them in wonder, and the Mayor reassured them that their belongings, and their animals, would of course remain perfectly safe.