by GJ Kelly
“Farewell, friends, there’ll always be a warm hearth and as much comfort as we can provide for any Rangers of the Kindred, here in Fourfields. Safe journeys, and honour to you.”
Polite bows were exchanged, and then Elayeen smiled, stepped forward, and hugged Tilly, whispering in the young girl’s ear as she did so, “Thank you, friend Tilly. Take good care of Borbo, and of yourself.”
Tilly was weeping and beaming at the same time when Elayeen drew back.
“Don’t forget, the liniment is in your pack,” Tilda wiped away a tear, “And clean bandages too. Make sure to use both, Ranger Meemee, until you’re well healed.”
“I shall, Healer Tilda, and I shall ensure Ranger Leeny uses it too for her bruises.”
Embraces finally made, hands and arms clasped a final time, the three Kindred Rangers mounted, and rode slowly for the stream and the path alongside it through the woods as the sun rose.
They didn’t look back, which was as it should be.
oOo
17. Crossing the Lines
Elayeen resumed their generally south-westerly course, and for the first three days the pace was set by Meeya’s comfort rather than any need for haste. Too much jolting in the saddle would not assist cracked and bruised ribs to heal, and there was always the possibility that her bow would be needed. In truth, Elayeen too was grateful for their reduced speed of travel, her own hip bruised deep in the bone and only now beginning to respond to the liniment Tilda had supplied.
On that third evening, the air chilly but dry and their camp made in the comfort of a stand of tall shrubs atop a rise, Elayeen announced that she would take a walk in hope of exercising the ache from her legs and lower back. Valin protested, but to no avail. Elayeen simply asserted that she would not be straying beyond the range of eldeneyes, she had her bow, and would return in an hour or two. Meeya understood better than Valin what Elayeen was about, and was quick to reassure her husband that here in the wilds between the Shasstin and the friendly hearths of Fourfields, no harm could come to their queen.
Smiling knowingly, Elayeen took her leave, remembering all the nights she had yearned to be alone with Gawain on the journey from Ferdan to Raheen, and left Valin and Meeya to enjoy each other’s company in peace, at least for a couple of hours.
It would be the middle of the month when they passed to the east of Juria’s Castletown and the border with the Jurian plains. That same journey, undertaken from Tarn using the direct route south down the plains, would only have taken them some eleven or twelve days at a leisurely pace. Taking the longer route around northern Threlland and down the east coast into Mornland as they had, and with the delay in Fourfields, would add another twenty-eight to that eleven, and there’d still be around a week’s ride due west to reach the Castletown, had it been their destination.
Elayeen sighed. Apart from the tremendous risk they’d taken at Fourfields, they hadn’t done too badly, considering they were four weeks out of Tarn already. Nine or ten days to reach the imaginary line drawn east across southern Mornland from Hellin’s Hall in Juria, and then perhaps another five weeks journeying south to the second imaginary line drawn east across Arrun from the hills of Dun Meven on the Callodon side of the border. Perhaps six or seven weeks then, to reach the region on the River Sudenstem where the last riders of Raheen had made their new home. By the beginning of April, they should be safe, and patiently waiting there for Gawain’s arrival.
That was the plan. But they would have to be much more careful than they had been, she knew. The maps they carried were clearly not to be wholly relied upon, smaller communities not being marked thereon at all. Being spotted by Tilly of Fourfields was a lapse which could have cost them much more dearly than cracked ribs and bruises. She summoned the Sight, and studied the grey world around her, seeing nothing that should not be there, here in nature’s realm. There was something very troubling about the evil which had lurked atop the hill. Not only should it not have been there, it should not have been there for so long.
Most of Mornland’s population dwelled in the coastal region, where groves and orchards thrived, so she had learned from the books in Rak’s study. Go as far south as that line drawn from Juria’s Castletown though, and the climate, and thus the land, changed, too far from the shadow of the mountains of Threlland to be spared the worst of the weather, and what fruit and olives could be grown there suffered often from blight. Further south still, down near the border with Arrun, grasses proliferated, and as Lord Rak himself had said, sheep thrived. Sheep, or rather of course their wool, were the mainstay of the weavers for which Arrun was so highly regarded.
Because of this, most of the few wizards who gave service to Mornland were to be found either in the land’s capital, Princetown, or in towns nearest to it, or less commonly, the towns and villages along the coastal region north of Princetown Harbour, where the Wizard Imzenn himself had served. There were trading posts, small villages and occasional fortified communities similar to Ferdan along the border with Juria, but few places worthy of a pin on a map in the midlands. Perhaps that was why no wizard had learned of Croptop Hill and its evil.
Perhaps the cheerfulness born of self-reliance in the face of natural adversity had served also to work in Morloch’s favour, and word simply had not spread from the riverside town of Fourbanks to places where a wizard might hear it and perhaps understand the significance of the stories and taboos. Perhaps. Thinking of Morloch brought images of Tarn flooding to the forefront of Elayeen’s mind, and she pushed them away, anxious not to allow worry for her friends there to wreck her train of thought.
Gawain seemed to make everything look so easy. He’d simply wander off alone, think, and come back with a clear understanding of events, portents, motives and messages. Elayeen had a good mind, and she knew it. It was just that lately, it had been somewhat distracted by events around her, and at times, not entirely her own.
There was no reason at all for Croptop Hill. Had the evil lurked within striking distance of the hugely important town of Fourbanks, then of course great strategic importance could be attached to it. The same could not be said of a hill out in the middle of nowhere, where in fact only long after the rune-graven pillar had been erected did the small farming hamlet spring up nearby.
It made no sense. Neither she, nor Valin and Meeya had been able to understand why such foul creatures would be planted there, tethered as they seemed to have been by the pillar, never venturing beyond the slopes of the hill. At least, never to anyone’s knowledge, and certainly never as far as Fourfields. Croptop was now a name she gave to a worm which niggled and annoyed her, as did the curious creatures and their charcoal-grey peach-stone hearts. They seemed somehow small, and could easily have been avoided by keeping well clear of the hill. Small and easily avoided did not seem to fit what she had learned from her cursory reading of Allazar’s book, before he’d taken it to Crownmount. Small and easily avoided did not seem to fit any weapon Morloch might bring forth from his ancient arsenal against the free kindred peoples of this world.
Another cast of eldeneyes, and nothing of note revealed, Elayeen continued her slow circumnavigation of their camp, sure of only one thing. Her hopes of alleviating her aches and pains with exercise had been entirely futile.
Elayeen’s plan began to show signs of fragility the moment they encountered the River Shasstin northwest of Fourbanks on the seventh of the month. Not only was it broad, it was deep, and the waters icy cold. Any crossing would be fraught with peril, and they at once understood the importance of Fourbanks, and why the town had sprung up at the fork in the river.
“Black water,” Valin sighed, and shook his head sadly, and then looked up at the grey skies. “A sure sign of depth.”
“If the books I read are to be believed, and there is no reason for them not to be deep. But, it is only the central channel which may be deep enough for the horses to have to swim.”
“Indeed, miThalin, that may be true in summer. But in this season, the waters
are higher, faster, and colder. This is the same river which was impassable at the border near Tarn in midwinter, and here, it has already been broadened by many swollen tributaries on its long journey.”
“We cannot venture too far down river lest we encounter people from Fourbanks,” Elayeen sighed. “And we dare not risk another call upon our duties as Rangers, nor draw attention to ourselves.”
“I was not suggesting that we do, miThalin. The river may doubtless be forded elsewhere other than at the town with its docks, boats, and bridges. Just not here.”
“Then we must go upstream until a suitable crossing is found. We are in no hurry, after all.”
So they followed the northern bank of the Shasstin, finding only two likely fords by early evening. There had been no traffic on the river, though this was no surprise given the season and the recent battle in the north. They made camp a few yards from the tree line of a small wood, Valin dug a fire-pit, and set a small cauldron of stew upon it, all three of them remaining immensely grateful for the provisions heaped upon them by the people of Fourfields.
While they waited for the stew to cook, Elayeen drew her knees up beneath her cloak, and rested her chin on them.
“I think tomorrow we might continue west for a few hours, and if we find no other crossing, go back and try the place by the gravel bank.”
Meeya seemed surprised. “I thought we were in no hurry? Are we close to another village? I don’t recall one from the map.”
“No. It is just a feeling. I do not wish to venture too far upriver, and I do not think the geography will change so much as to benefit us. The longer we remain within sight of the river, the greater the chance of our encountering boatmen. The Shasstin is by far the biggest, deepest, and broadest river in Mornland. Once we are on the south bank, our journey to Arrun should proceed without substantial obstacles.”
“The horses may well have to swim the middle of the river, and it’ll be freezing,” Meeya murmured, as if thinking aloud while giving the pot a stir.
“And we and the packhorse are heavily laden,” Valin announced, “We may need to fashion a raft to carry the provisions, and tow them and our equipment across. If we wish to keep them dry.”
“Do we have enough rope?” Elayeen asked, considering the complication.
“Yes, miThalin. Though it may take more than one load to pull everything across. The flow is fast, and I would not advise risking all on a single crossing.”
“And the water is freezing,” Meeya repeated, ominously.
“Then one of us will simply have to make the crossing first, and we may draw upon that experience to decide how best to proceed with the packhorse.”
“I will go,” Valin announced, “With the packhorse. Once safely across I will light a fire, and make ready for your crossing.”
“And if it is so deep that the horses must swim?” Meeya sighed.
“Then we’ll all get wet as well as they.”
“And frozen. We could just go around in circles until summer, Leeny?”
“No, we are still far too close to Morloch’s domain for the Merionell’s comfort.”
The stew, when it was ready, was hot, filling, and delicious, and the thought of losing provisions to the river was a sobering one. When the fire had been smothered in the pit and the three of them had settled for the night, Elayeen pushed aside any lingering concerns about Croptop and bent her mind instead to the obstacle rushing past them about fifty yards from the tree line, and fell asleep pondering which items they could afford to lose to the river, and which were truly essential for their continued journey south.
In the morning, after a simple breakfast of slightly stale flatbread and jam, they set off, and finding the terrain if anything to be more inhospitable for a crossing upstream than down, returned to the gravel banks where Elayeen had decided they stood the best chance of fording the river without the use of boats or bridges.
The oiled and waxed tent and groundsheet Valin had obtained in Tarn was used for the first time, but not for shelter. Instead, it served to wrap large bundles containing all things which needed to remain dry for use on the far side of the river. Clothing, cloaks, blankets, bedrolls, boots, food, bowstrings, anything which might be rendered useless by the freezing waters that stood between them and the south bank.
They shared the rest of the load between them, and waited, shivering in the chill breezes, cloaks of course in the bundles now roped together and in position on the packhorse. Valin, stripped to his undergarments, checked the packs and bundles a final time, and without a glance for Meeya or Elayeen who were similarly poorly attired in nothing but their underclothes, stepped out into the freezing shallows, leading the animals by their bridles and speaking words of encouragement to them.
It was a little easier going than they thought, the horses making it almost across the forty yards or so of water without needing to swim, but there was a section of perhaps two or three yards where instinct combined with the river’s depth and rate of flow had the animals almost submerged before hooves regained the firmer ground of the riverbed. The waterproof bundles floated clear of their packsaddle frame, though remained secured to it by a length of rope.
As soon as Valin and the horses were on dry land on the southern bank, the elf, shivering violently, dragged the bundles ashore, and made them and the horses safe near a swelling of tall shrubs. There, he opened a bundle and after stripping off his soaking underclothes, towelled himself vigorously with a blanket, and set to making a fire-pit and fuelling it.
By the time Elayeen and Meeya were halfway across the Shasstin, Valin was dressed in warm dry clothing, the fire in the pit crackling, and he standing ready with the rope should he be needed to assist the ladies ashore. He wasn’t, though he was needed to help with rubbing down and unsaddling of the horses while the two elfins hastily stripped and towelled down by the fire, teeth chattering loud and uncontrollably.
They made camp there, where they had made landfall on the southern bank, though with a wall of shrubs between them and the river, spending the rest of the day making sure the horses would later be fit to travel, and re-packing bags and bundles. They had crossed the river with the hope that the more perishable items of their provisions would survive. Most did, but some inevitably succumbed to a soaking and had to be discarded. Bread was their keenest loss, but they had set out from Tarn with very little of that and there was nothing they could do but lament the loss of the luxury given them by the folk of Fourfields.
After that, and once fully dried out, they continued on a track some thirty points west of south for two days before Elayeen turned a little more to the south in order to avoid the border region with Juria, and on the thirteenth day of the month, the day grey with misty rain, she declared that they had reached the imaginary line which ran from Juria’s Castletown in the west, to Princetown Harbour in the east. The rest of their journey, she announced, would be generally due south now, all the way to the Sudenstem near Lake Arrunmere.
“In two weeks or thereabouts we’ll cross the border into Arrun, and pass to the east of the Hallencloister. From there we just keep going south, avoiding any habitations, until the hills of Dun Meven are on the western horizon, and the Sudenstem before us.”
Valin sniffed, his nose still red from the dregs of a cold he blamed on the freezing waters of the Shasstin, even though both Elayeen and Meeya had remained in rude health.
“Then let us hope for rabbits and dry fuel to cook them with, or that we acquire a taste for dwarven muck-cake, for we have eaten the last of our civilised provisions.”
“Now you know a little of how I felt, travelling from Ferdan to Raheen with G’wain and the wizard Allazar.”
“Did you suffer a cold on that balmy summer’s journey, miThalin?”
“No.”
Valin sniffed again, and then mumbled: “I’m sure it was terrible.”
“The expression ‘bah’ is but one of several mihoth frequently employs which I find are often quite appropria
te in certain circumstances. He has another which I think would be fitting at this juncture.”
“And it is?”
“One lump or two?”
“I believe the appropriate response is ‘ah’.”
oOo
18. Kistin
Over the following fortnight two distinct changes adversely affected the elves and their journey south; the rolling hills and woodlands of Mornland’s midland wilds gave way to gently undulating terrain covered in windswept shrubs and grasses, and February’s beginnings of chill and occasional drizzle gave way to gales and lashing rain which varied from a cloak-snapping blustery to a howling tempest in the blink of an eye and lasted for hours on end. It was cruel weather, and when the tempest was raging, the only sensible thing to do was take shelter as best they could in the lee of gorse and hawthorn, and wait for the storm’s passing. They had crossed into Arrun, and the welcome which the weather provided would have seemed an ill portent, had they been given to rustic superstition.
It was perhaps as well they weren’t, for on March 2nd, a sudden lull in the weather and a burst of weak sunshine gave them pause, and afforded Elayeen an opportunity to consult her maps. They were on the line, she declared, running due east from the D’ith Hallencloister in the west, to Nordshear, Arrun’s northern capital town near the east coast. The sudden stillness of the air, and the silence of the wilderness, reminded them all of Croptop, and Elayeen hastily stowed the map and set off again at a good pace, grateful for the sound of the horses’ hooves and snorting breath.
It was tiring though; the relatively open terrain, in comparison with Mornland, meant that while a village, hamlet, or farm might be seen far off and thus avoided, but also meant they needed to use eldeneyes far more frequently to ensure they evaded all contact with any people who might venture into the wilds. Wild sheep and goats were becoming conspicuous already, and it wasn’t too far beyond the pale to imagine enterprising individuals seeking to add them to their flocks, or indeed to their cooking-pots.
