We had travelled the best part of a mile before reaching the gates of the Cities, and then we would have missed them without help; for they were hidden behind a vast hedge of yew, and could only be opened from within. Richard banged his staff nine times, three sets of three, and, after a few moments, there was a steady creaking, and the hedge seemed to collapse, as the doors gave inward.
Behind them, a long track led away into the woods, and the gatekeepers watched as we processed through, following the track, which gradually started to widen, until, turning a corner, we saw, through the dense branches, the Cities themselves.
They were spread over many acres of woodland, and, though there were some dwellings at ground level, I quickly saw that what I had taken to be lights or lanterns high above were in fact houses, many houses, built into, and upon, the wide-girthed trees. Bridges and platforms ran between them, and there were children playing, and adults going about their work, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. I would still say that it is at night-time one can fully appreciate the intricacy and wonder of the Green Cities, and when I first laid eyes on them I thought them the most beautiful thing in the world; and, though many years have passed since then, and I have seen many other marvels, I believe I still do.
Richard took his name from three large towers, built around three great trees, which together formed the points of a triangle, near the centre of the Cities. At their base there was a low platform, where stood a solemn guard of nine warriors, like statues in the darkness. As we approached, most of the men who had accompanied us started to peel away, and the guards snapped to attention like stiff crows.
Richard had instructed that Griffin be cared for in the Cities’ infirmary, and, after some initial reluctance, he had consented to be led away on a stretcher, and Thomas, Lukas, Magnus and I had left our horses and waggon in the care of Richard’s grooms, and had climbed the steps on to the platform, where we were led to a low door at the bottom of the South Tower, which the men had to stoop to enter. This gave on to a lobby, glowing a murky pink from the torches on the walls, one of which one of Richard’s men took from its bracket to light the way, climbing ahead of us up a narrow stairwell.
As we climbed – and the journey seemed an age to our weary legs, so that it felt like we were climbing to the very heavens themselves – Richard told us the history of his home.
“Long ago, the Emperor Stephen gave this land to my forefathers, because they had been driven from their own lands, away to the west, by the warlocks of the Dying Sea. We pledged fealty to him, and fought at his side, and at the side of his descendants, for many centuries afterward. But our people became greedy, and desirous of vain things; and we built great palaces, and temples made of gold, to worship false gods. And then, when the Witch first appeared in Glenaster, and laid waste to the lands of our neighbours, and burned their villages, the emperor asked for our help; but, shamefully, our leaders refused, and hid quaking behind their high walls. And the emperor went to war with the Witch, and was defeated; and then our high walls were no defence, for her fire-drakes laid waste to our fine palaces, and our great temples, and we were desolate. And the emperor gave us no pity, but rather cursed us, for our greed and cowardice. And so we had to rebuild again, from nothing; and we planted new trees, and built homes in the old ones; and we learned some of the arts of the ancient magi, of which there are so few now that they are only a rumour; and we put spells upon the borders of our land, and watched the rivers by night and by day; and so now we govern our own affairs, though we bear no malice towards the emperor or his court. But he has grown old and foolish, and his followers lazy and corrupt; and I fear for the future of our people if the empire should fail. We can withstand the Witch, for now, but we cannot defy her for ever; and if all the other lands fall, then surely ours will, too, in the end.” And he was silent for a time, as we climbed. Then I said:
“Is it really so bad, if the old empire falls? Perhaps, if the Witch is defeated, there can be a new emperor in Ampar, one who represents all the people, including your own. Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”
We stopped, and Richard turned his gaze on me, his scarred face dark and flickering in the torchlight.
“Perhaps you would like to sit on the Throne of Ampar…?” he said; and it took me a moment to realize I was being mocked.
“I have already said that to her!” said Thomas, laughing. “She is bull-headed, this one…” And I stuck out my bottom lip in a sulk.
Finally we reached the uppermost levels of the tower, where Richard’s personal apartments lay, Thomas carrying Magnus, whose small legs were far too tired to manage all those steps, and who now dozed gratefully. We set him down on a low bed, and one of Richard’s attendants covered him with blankets, and set a cup of water and a plate of small cakes by him. Then fleeces were brought for the rest of us, to guard against the cold; and I sat watching my brother sleeping, and listening to the talk of the men, envying them their confidence, their easy manner, though I know now how frightened they must really have been. There was hardly a woman to be seen, except those attending on us.
“Her Watchers chased us hard through Salem,” said Thomas, quietly. “We lost three men.”
Richard nodded.
“That is ill news. We have been watching the roads to the north, and there is much on them that we can see, and all of it foul. To the south, also, there have been things moving, even during the daytime; things that should not draw breath…”
“And meanwhile the emperor puts shadowfighters in his personal guard! He cannot know what danger he is in…”
“Oh, I think he knows. But he is afraid, and frightened men do strange things. You know he has ordered that the Dragon’s Head be used once more, for executing criminals? They are to be blinded and staked out in the sun and the rain, as food for the crows – and for the smallest of crimes.”
Thomas shook his head.
“And his grandfather outlawed the practice as barbaric… We were at the Dragon’s Head less than a month ago. I knew Lord Fyra had been threatening to use it again, but I could not believe he would actually do so…”
“There is very little I would not believe of Lord Fyra. The day is very close now, my friend. We are already weak and divided; and when we are weak and divided enough, the Witch’s armies will march into Ampar, and cast down the emperor’s throne, and she will make a new one for herself, in the North. And from there she will rule all the lands, from Calmir to Sophia. All she has to do is wait.”
“You think she is that powerful?” asked Thomas. Richard nodded.
“I see her hand in all the wars that have engulfed our people these last few years,” he said. “She is only playing with us, as a cat does, passing us like a mouse between her paws until she grows weary of the sport. If she cannot be destroyed, it may be generations before anyone dares challenge her again.”
The room grew silent for a while. The men adjusted their cloaks, and were still.
Then Lukas spoke:
“We think we know how the Witch may be destroyed,” he said, rubbing a hand across his chin, and levelling his gaze at Richard. “We think we know why so many others have failed.”
Thomas turned to him, and I thought for a moment he would rebuke him, for saying what he shouldn’t; but instead he only nodded slightly, confirming the truth of his words to Richard, whose mismatched eyes narrowed slightly in the half-light, and whose face betrayed a sad recognition, as if he had been expecting something of this kind.
“You really intend to go ahead with your plan, then, Thomas of Senningport? I thought your intentions lay towards Glenaster, but I was not sure – your mind has always been opaque to me, and I wondered why someone as wise as yourself would throw away their life so pointlessly. But if, as you say, you know something I don’t…”
“Can you think of any other way, my lord?”
Richard waved a hand dismissively.
“Once, I thought to gather an army from those still loyal, from ac
ross the empire, and defeat the Witch through strength of arms. But if the time for that had ever been, it is long past now. Her power is too great.”
“What about the Veil?” asked Thomas, and I could see Richard’s look change suddenly. “What if someone could find it?” I felt the blood rise to my face.
“The Veil was lost long ago,” said Richard, his tone bitter. “And even if it could be found, there is no one now alive who knows how to use it.”
“Still, the Witch is a living being,” said Lukas. “There must be a way of destroying her.”
“And what way did you have in mind?” asked Richard, and he lit a pipe, and blew clouds of smoke across the room. Thomas and Lukas looked at one another.
“If she could be drawn out of Glenaster…” Lukas began.
“Impossible,” said Richard, coughing slightly. “She would never leave Glenaster. It has been tried before.”
“Yet her power is tied to that land,” said Thomas. “Between the River Soar and the ice-packed sea.”
“That is why she would never leave,” replied Richard. “It is folly to imagine otherwise. Theodore the Great tried to draw her out, and the armies of Easternmost, and the brothers of Sarah Lays, whose forefathers rode to war against the warlocks of the Dying Sea. None of them returned.”
“She might cross the Soar,” said Lukas, “if the incentive were great enough, and then be killed like any other living thing.”
“What incentive?” asked Richard. “All the blood and treasure in the world would not suffice. She cannot be destroyed, you must understand that. The spellcraft that could once have undone her has long since been forgotten. The most that can be hoped for now is to hold her back for a while, perhaps long enough that she might be weakened somehow. But in truth I despair of such an outcome. I fear it is already too late.”
Just then Magnus stirred loudly in his sleep, and the men looked our way, as if they had forgotten about our presence; and they were quiet after that, and spoke only in whispers, and I pretended to be asleep, though I do not imagine they were fooled by my playacting.
CHAPTER SIXTY
The next day the sun rose clear in the domed sky, and, once I had washed and dressed, Thomas came to meet us, and escorted us down to one of the lower levels of Richard’s home, where Lukas was already eating a hearty breakfast; and we sat on stools made from stumps of oak, and ate whortleberry jam on starchy bread, and coffee so hot it burned the roof of your mouth. The light was so bright through the windows you had to squint to see across the room, and Magnus drank two great mugs of milk, thick as treacle and tasting of grass and the earth, and he burped loudly after each one.
After a while, Lukas and Thomas disappeared, and left us free to roam the land about the Towers, for, as we were told, everywhere within the Cities’ walls was safe, but still we were warned not to wander too far, and to return before the sun left the horizon. So we set off, glad to walk in the sunshine, and to be free of fear for a while.
We followed the path that led through the centre of the Cities, and at first were content to take in the beauty around us; the long branches of the trees shadowing down upon our heads, and the song and busyness of the people. I wondered if they were happy, and what darkness they had seen, up here, so close to the Witch’s lair.
After an hour or so, Magnus, who was fidgety, and not satisfied simply with a quiet walk, demanded a game of tag, and so we raced for a while in and out of the trees, till a slick of sweat glued my hair to my forehead, and our bellies ached with laughter.
As we were recovering our breath, we encountered a boy, not much taller than me, though he seemed younger, and with fine eyebrows and a stern face, staring hard at us as he wound a thin piece of root about his finger.
“You outsiders?” he asked, not unkindly. “Came through last night?”
I paused a little, before nodding in reply. He seemed satisfied with this.
“Come with me,” he said. “Want to show you something.”
We trekked after him, as he headed off the path and through the wood, and soon arrived at a large clearing, the trees at its edge arranged in neat intervals, and a broad path running away from it to the north.
“Why have you brought us here?” I asked, but the boy said simply:
“My name is Rand. Wait a little.”
We did so, and for several minutes heard or saw nothing but the wind caressing the high branches, and the sun sighing fiercely on their leafless limbs.
Then, so sudden I at first thought it was a mirage, a pair of young people appeared, coming down the path on the other side of the clearing; a man and a woman, and behind them a great company of folk, the men dressed in dark-red tunics threaded with gold, and the women in dresses of a similar design, with long sleeves that rippled in the wind.
They formed a circle about the clearing, as another man brought a fiddle up to his chin, and then, bowing to each other, they began to dance, a set of movements that seemed complex yet somehow unrehearsed, weaving in and around one another, laughing and cheering, sometimes pulling away, so one or two couples could have the more space to move in, and sometimes coming together again, so all the dancers were surging and moving as one, forming and reforming lines that traced the edges of the clearing and then moved in towards its centre, as the fiddler played fast, and then slow, and then fast again; and all the time the look on their faces was one of pure, unrestrained joy. And I realized I, too, was clapping and laughing along, as the boy was already, and we stamped and cheered our encouragement, as the sky span dizzily overhead.
“They are bidding farewell to the autumn,” said the boy, a light smile upon his lips, as he tapped his foot in time to the music. “Soon the winter will be here, and it will be too cold and dark for dancing.”
And I looked down, and saw that Magnus, who was gripping my hand, was singing slightly to himself, his face open and unafraid, and his eyes wide as he watched the dancers. And I looked up again, and found that I was weeping.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
That night it rained.
We had returned to Richard’s home long before sundown, as we had been bidden, though we spent many hours with the boy, and he showed us the quiet and hidden places where he liked to play, and the streams and brooks which curved through his home, and we promised to meet him again the following day. But when we returned, the faces of the men were dark, and Thomas hardly acknowledged us, though he seemed relieved to see us safe. We were shooed into a corner by a young woman, Iris, who had a soft, sad face, and walked with a slight limp. She kept Magnus entertained with stories, and bowls of apple and honey; but I was pleased to be near enough to the men to be able to hear some of their talk, as they gathered in one of the low rooms of the South Tower. They were too preoccupied, or too tired, to worry about being overheard.
“One of our scouting parties was attacked last night, south of the Meer,” said Matthew Longfield, one of Richard’s lieutenants. He was a slim, anxious young man, about thirty, dressed in the colours of autumn, like many of his kind, and always pulling at the coarse beard foresting his chin. “Only one of them survived: Jonas Lake, from the Southern Acres, three leagues from here. He says he only just managed to gain the wall with his life, and even then the gatekeepers had to fight off a great host of Watchers and drooj, and large wolves.”
“Wolves?” said Richard, alarmed. Matthew nodded.
“Wolves from Glenaster,” he said.
“I thought they did not hunt outside their mistress’s lands,” said Lukas.
“It seems they have learnt to,” said Thomas, and he stepped a little away from the others, and gazed for a while into the fire, the light as lambent and cheerful as his face was grave. Then he spoke:
“It was a sad hour, I think, when I was born, though I was well loved, and our home was a happy and contented one. But there are times when I wonder what my life has been for, or where it has gone; and there are bitter thoughts in my heart that I cannot deny. At such times a man will find comfor
t in the darkness, though it brings no hope. And then the world is a grey and colourless place, with little solace anywhere. The surgeons tell me my friend Griffin Drake is gravely ill, and may not last the week, and I have already lost too many men. I have pledged myself to avenge the deaths of those I love, and I will do so, or die otherwise; for no man can know his own fate. But I will see the Witch of Glenaster before my life is over, and kill her if I can, for all the misery she has inflicted on our people; and none can say that I have not earned the right. That is what I will travel across the Cold River to do, and I ask no man to come with me. The skies grow clear as death, and the waters run with blood, and there is sorrow everywhere. I have seen too much of it; and I will end it, one way or the other.”
An impatient wind battered at the windows, and all of us were silent for many minutes. Eventually, Richard and Matthew, nodding to Thomas, left the room, and Lukas placed another log on the fire, which spat fierce sparks in reply. He smiled at us, but I could tell his heart was not in it. Thomas simply continued to stare, into the flames, and for the first time I realized the force of his grief, which previously I had only guessed at.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
We stayed another two weeks in the Green Cities, and Magnus and I spent the days with Rand and his friends, or otherwise off on our own. Griffin grew worse, and by the first week’s end was near to death, and Thomas and Lukas were summoned to his bedside. When they returned, they were both silent, and spoke no words to me or my brother. And all the time I saw, all around the Cities, their people preparing for war.
They evidently expected it, as Richard had made clear, and now it was feared it might come sooner than anyone had realized; but still it seemed somehow strange and sad to me, to witness these peaceful folk readying themselves for battle, though I realized they could not have survived for so long up here without being able to defend themselves. It was the way of the world, and remains so, for no one has the wit or imagination to end it.
The Witch of Glenaster Page 18
