by GJ Kelly
Finn used his knife to break the seals around the edges, and a pry-bar to prise open a lid nailed shut perhaps before anyone in the room had been born. Within, neatly wrapped in waxed canvass, they found canisters containing yard-long arrows, and a dozen well-wrapped Callodon longbows. The latter, with their waxed packets of strings, they left undisturbed, having no need of them. The arrows, though, were inspected, and aside from spots of rust on the points and some occasionally threadbare fletching, appeared serviceable, and the elves took a canister of twenty-five arrows each.
“You are welcome to take them all,” Dannis smiled. “In Callodon, the crossbow has found favour over the longbow, and though the longbow is still used for sport and for hunting, the simplicity of the mechanical crossbow allows even untrained soldiery to bring bolts to bear upon an enemy. Hence the age of these… exhibits.”
“Thank you, Serre Curator,” Elayeen acknowledged, “But these may well be of use to other Rangers who pass this way and who may be in need either of bow or of arrow.”
“Ah, an excellent observation, Ranger Leeny, how foolish of me not to recognise the possibility of a future need. I’ll have Finn re-seal the box and place it in readiness somewhere much more convenient than in the down-below.”
The lid was closed, nails banged back in accordingly, and Finn took the crate away, mumbling under his breath as the door was closed behind him. Elayeen handed her arrows to Meeya with a request that she begin her new career as a Master Fletcher by attending to the more threadbare of the flights, and then drew Dannis away from the table and towards the map.
“Serre Curator, what news in detail have you received, from Juria in particular? I am concerned for a friend of mine, who travelled that way early in the New Year.”
“Ah. Alas, I fear the occasional reports and letters I receive from Callodon are often bereft of any detail at all, and are often so vague I have to resort to deduction to understand whether or not they are of any consequence to Dun Meven. I do keep them together, in the order in which they are received, if you can be more specific concerning your friend, I can search them for you?”
“I fear I cannot be more specific either, Serre Curator. Last I heard, he was bound for the south, and would have passed through Juria at about the time you said the Graken was sighted there.”
“Ah. And at the time the Flagellweed was sown in the vineyards. I understand. I am sorry, Ranger Leeny, I can provide no details over and above the scant information I have already given you. For a great many years, Dun Meven has masqueraded as a simple village, and, if ever questioned, a museum. And that pretence continues to this day. Consequently, all communication we receive from Callodon is in the form of letters of the kind which might be written from one old fellow to another, so that if intercepted along the way, there would be no real evidence of any military activity here.
“Of course, I rather suspect that Juria knows only too well, or at the very least suspects, the true nature of this hill, but they pretend not to know just as we pretend not to be something of a fortress in the event of hostilities commencing between our two lands.”
Elayeen sighed in frustration.
“The games we play here to the east of your forest home must seem very childish to you, Ranger Leeny,” Dannis apologised. “I am sorry I cannot be of any more help regarding your friend.”
“I have only seen these lands standing together, side by side, in the face of the enemy from the north. I know nothing of any enmity or other history which may have existed before Kings’ Council in Ferdan.”
“Ah. Well, these pretences of ours will seem even worse to you, then. There is much history between Callodon and Juria, and Dun Meven has played its part in events even further in the past. This hill is very old, lady Ranger, very old indeed.”
Dannis sighed, and gazed at the map on the wall, as though deciding whether or not to speak further of Dun Meven’s history. Then he nodded to himself, and with a gentle hand on Elayeen’s elbow, and led her around his desk to face the map on the wall.
“Do you know the history of Aemon, Ranger Leeny?” he asked, sitting back on his desk where Elayeen herself had sat before the crate of weapons had arrived.
Elayeen shook her head. “Only that he was a wizard, the creator of white fire, and a pure light.”
“Yes, he was a mystic, of elder times, and there are yet tools of the D’ith which bear his name. But he was far more than just a wizard with a mastery of fire and light. His history is a long and complex one, and best told by a wizard who has spent much time studying in the Hallencloister, up there, to the north of us.
“Aemon travelled, and did much to quell the more warlike of the many tribes dotted about the lands. It might be said that he did much to shape the kingdoms, helping to bring to an end the barbarism which once plagued all these eastern lands. I do not know anything of the history of your land or your people, Ranger Leeny, and I know little enough of our own. But I have been the curator of Dun Meven all my adult life, as were my father before me, and his before him. I know the down-below. And I know it was not built by Callodon. It is far older than that.”
Something in the old man’s tone held Elayeen’s attention in thrall, and she saw his eyes, old and rheumy yes, but sparkling with intelligence and perhaps a little cunning, and they seemed to flick this way and that. She glanced at the map, and saw that those old eyes were flitting from coloured pin to coloured pin.
“But I am rambling!” he suddenly announced. “I shall cut a long story short, and say that I, in common with my father, and his, believe that Dun Meven was made by Aemon himself, as a refuge from the warring tribes he sought both to pacify and to civilise. Perhaps in your own journeys, lady Ranger, you might encounter an old wizard by the name of Arramin, once of Callodon. I do not think you will find a finer historian than he, and he’ll be able to tell you all about Aemon, I shouldn’t wonder. Last I heard, he was in service to the King of Raheen, but after the battle in the north I suppose he could be anywhere.”
Elayeen’s heart skipped a bit on hearing Arramin’s name, but she remained inscrutable. She was, after all, Leeny, a simple Ranger in service to the Kindred. Just as Dun Meven was a simple village. Suddenly, the games that Callodon and Juria played seemed a little less childish to her.
“Those pins there, what do they signify?” she asked, innocently.
“Oh my dear Ranger Leeny, how foolish of me. Of course you would not be familiar with the geography of our eastern lands. Those pins mark the location of prominent hills. They were placed there, those pins, by my grandfather and my father.”
“Why?”
Dannis smiled. “Oh, well, it is an old idea which alas I fear shall end with me. My own son left Dun Meven many years ago now, when he came of age. He wanted to see the world, he said, not simply to gaze at a picture of it upon the wall. And the down-below held no interest for him at all. We had letters from him, from time to time, but then even they stopped coming. I have no idea what became of him. My poor wife died ten years ago, her heart broken with the weight of wondering what had befallen her only child. Children can be so utterly thoughtless, when they are older…”
Elayeen fought hard against the sudden vision in her mind’s eye of an elderly elfin, a spindly-legged scarecrow worn down by the weight of years of worry…
“But,” Dannis sighed and shrugged away his own melancholy, “It is an interesting idea, isn’t it? That there may be more Dun Meven’s in the lands, made by Aemon’s hand, sanctuaries deep and strong, wherein the Master of Light and Fire himself might once have taken refuge. There are still some old codgers around, like me, who call the lawless wilds of this world ‘Aemon’s Land’, for there the only law was of Aemon’s own making, all people were free, and your life was your own to defend.”
Elayeen gazed at the map, and its coloured pins.
“And now, Ranger Leeny. Now that you have rested well in a warm bed, does this fresh day bring greater or less urgency to your need to send word to Callodo
n of your discoveries in the east?”
“Neither greater nor less,” she admitted. “But my desire to send word to Brock is perhaps somewhat tempered by the knowledge he plans to send a patrol and a wizard this way.”
“In truth, he may already have done so.”
“If that is true, he will remain unaware of the Graken and the threat it posed to Dun Meven and its surrounds. Your rider might not have arrived at Harks Hearth yet.”
“Shall we walk outside a little? The day is warm and bright, and some fresh air might blow away the dusty cobwebs of thoughts of Aemon and elder days. Come, I’ll show you a little of Dun Meven.”
Valin looked up, and made to move, but Elayeen gave a slight shake of her head, and left him there with Meeya to follow Dannis out into the sunshine. She was armed, of course, and eldeneyes had revealed no threat. It was highly unlikely that in this high hillside village, any spies of the Toorsencreed could hope to infiltrate Callodon life. Not in so tight-knit a community as this appeared to be.
As they walked, Dannis pointing to and describing this building or that, Elayeen became aware that the curator was leading her towards the small cliff that had seemed from below the hill to have been cut into the summit. Closer to it, and she could make out a portal of stone, cunningly painted to match the earthy colours of the sheer wall above and around it.
“And there you see the main entrance to the down-below,” Dannis announced. “Big enough for a column of three horses to ride into. Though, in truth, not once in my memory have horses entered there save for when the order came from King Brock himself to break open the stores and send weapons to the front. We ourselves use the small entrance off to the side, there, beneath the brambleweed vines dangling from above.”
“And behind the portals?”
“A broad path, which slopes downward to a mustering area where riders may dismount. And then a smaller path, winding like a corkscrew down into the heart of the hill. There is water, too, a great lake of it, I and my forebears believe. You noted the wheel I pointed out, and the donkey tethered to it? It serves to draw water up from the down-below, from one of many catchments where rainwater is stored, draining slowly into the lake we believe exists in the depths. There are more wonders in the hill, but these I fear must for now remain a Callodon secret. Please forgive me, Ranger Leeny, but my duty is also to keep such secrets safe, as well to undertake the duties of Curator here.”
Elayeen nodded. The thought of going into the heart of the hill, out of sight of the sun, made her strangely uncomfortable.
“It is those wonders which have served to convince all Curators of Dun Meven that this place was not built either by Callodon or in recent times. Once on the path into the down-below, one cannot help but feel the great weight of ages of time pressing in upon one’s very blood. I often wonder how many thousands of years this hill has stood like a silent guardian, here, protecting its secrets. In my youth, I used to explore the chambers and passages, but it is surprisingly cold down there in the depths, and damp in places, and I am neither as young nor as adventurous as I once was.”
Dannis stopped near the camouflaged portal, and turned to face the village. From there, everything was as it should be when gazing upon a rustic village scene. People out and about, washing on lines, smoke from chimneys, people at work and children at play. Suddenly, the elderly curator, feigning deafness for his own amusement, and stooping slightly with age, was gone. In his place, an elderly man, yes, but straight of spine, firm of gaze, and commanding of presence. The sudden transformation was distinctly alarming.
“And now with the gates of Dun Meven at my back I can tell you, Ranger Leeny, I have given no small amount of thought to the disturbing news you have brought to my doors. It is true that Brock is aware of events in the north described by the riders of Threlland, and it is true he is taking steps to deal with those events. As I said, those measures may even now be in progress. It is also true that Devun has taken additional information concerning the Graken and its sighting here over Dun Meven to Harks Hearth, and thence to the king’s attention.
“Your news, however, does, as you say, lend considerably more urgency to the matter. A Goth-lord, wounded or otherwise, at large in the southeast is a matter for both Arrun and Callodon to consider with all due gravitas. I have attempted to find a way to condense your account to a size suitable to fit upon a small strip of paper, but alas, though I spent all night at the task, I could not find a form which would convey the necessary detail without losing most of the meaning or all of the urgency.”
“I do not understand, Serre Curator.”
“Surely knowing as you do the nature of Dun Meven you would also know that our original purpose, as defined by Callodon and not Aemon of elder days, was to keep watch on the disputed plains to the north, and Juria? We have, to that end, a watchtower on the summit above us, and even to this day it is kept manned. In the event of an enemy advance, it falls to Dun Meven to give early warning to Callodon, and thereafter to provide a centre of operations which can be well-defended and serve as a fortress for counter-attacking the enemy.”
“I was aware of this, yes, but…”
“Then you must also understand that sending a middle-aged guardsman on a middle-aged horse all the way to Harks Hearth would hardly constitute an ‘early warning’ should an enemy advance?”
“I agree.”
“I have two carrier pigeons, Ranger Leeny, which are refreshed from time to time, and which are able to carry a short message direct to Callodon Castletown. They are to be used only for emergencies of the kind I have just described, namely an enemy attack, or an enemy advancing upon Callodon’s northern plains. I had thought that if I could condense your account sufficiently to a size suitable to be carried by bird, I might bend the rules a little. A Goth-lord at large somewhere in the southeast surely constitutes a threat to Callodon’s borders, no?”
“It surely does.”
“Alas. I fear I have failed. I cannot find a way to transmit the information coherently in so small a space as I am permitted. If I alarm Callodon with an incoherent attempt, there might well be chaos, with all manner of repercussions. There is, I have been told, a high degree of concern regarding the west, and it would not do for the Jarn Gap or the South-halt to be depleted of strength needlessly through an error on my part.
“I am skating on the thinnest of ice where my duty is concerned, Ranger Leeny, there are only four people in Dun Meven who know of the birds, and you are now one of them. Myself, Bede, and Finn are the others. Devun of course knows too, but he is not here.
“I am telling you this, lady Ranger, because I am aware of events that took place at the Battle of Far-gor, and I know that the Kindred Rangers are trusted by all lands. If by some chance you discovered the existence of the two birds independently, you might believe us dishonourable, or worse, deceitful and not to be trusted. We are not so, I do assure you. I am bound by my duty, as you are certainly bound by yours. And so I have told you of the birds, and I tell you also, with deepest regret, I cannot send your account by bird to Callodon. I must retain them, lest the emergency I have described, however unlikely, should occur before the birds could be refreshed.”
Elayeen drew in a breath, and considered the news Dannis had imparted. Duty, she knew only too well, was a harsh mistress. “I understand,” she managed, trying to keep disappointment from her soft and lilting voice.
Dannis nodded, gave a weak smile, and seemed to shrink before her very eyes, stooping, hands shaking a little, becoming once again the wizened old Curator of Dun Meven everyone in the village would instantly recognise.
“May I ask, Ranger Leeny, if my assumptions are correct, and that of the three Rangers, you command?”
“I do.”
“Perhaps, then, I might make a suggestion? The threat posed by the Goth-lord and the Graken-rider, together with the deadly plants sown in the wilds, endangers both Callodon and Arrun. You have two Rangers in your command. When all of you are rested,
you could despatch one to the trading post at Lake Arrunmere, and one to Harks Hearth bearing all the details of your knowledge. From those two points the news may be carried swiftly; by boat along the Sudenstem to Sudshear in Arrun, and by horse to Callodon.”
“And I?”
“It might be wise for you to remain here, lady Ranger, lest the patrol and the wizard sent out by King Brock arrive before your officers can reach their destinations and pass the word. You would be able to give the men of Callodon and the wizard first-hand knowledge of the threats.”
They walked slowly back to the edge of the village, and towards the long building that was the command post. Elayeen considered the suggestion. It made perfect sense, of course. But it meant the three of them separating, and she did not know how well that would sit with Valin and Meeya. Probably not well at all.
“There is no need for a decision this minute, Ranger Leeny,” Dannis smiled, as if guessing at her train of thought, “You all still look half-starved from your sojourn in the wilds of Arrun. It’s but four or five days fast ride to Harks Hearth, and three or four to the trading post of Mereton on the north shore of Lake Arrunmere.”
Elayeen nodded, and felt her heart sink as Dannis opened the door and ushered her in to the command post, where Valin and Meeya looked up from their work.
For Rangers Leeny, Valdo, and Meemee, the decision would be an easy one. Warnings must be given, separating was the fastest way to achieve that end. Only for Elayeen, Valin and Meeya would there be any hesitation, and of course, Dannis had never heard those names. No-one in Dun Meven had.
oOo
39. A Cheery Farewell
Elayeen broached the matter of their separation on the evening of April 5th. They were sitting in their apartment after a long and lively dinner with Dannis, Bede and Finn, and the latter’s wives. There was music, played by Dannis himself on an ancient fiddle, and story-telling, and genuine warmth. Spring had certainly sprung, nights were drawing out, and the elves, as Meeya had said they would, looked much more themselves after the rest and good food Dun Meven had provided.
