The Longsword Chronicles: Book 03 - Sight and Sound

by GJ Kelly

  “No,” Gawain asserted. “Those creatures had been lurking here unseen for a very long time. I’m certain they were responsible for the lack of larger animals that should be found this deep in the forest. If they’d been despatched here a week ago the place would still be thriving.”

  “If that is true, then the Kiromok would have been extremely old.”

  “Is that not possible?”

  Again, Allazar shrugged. “I cannot say. I know of no records to indicate that dark creatures of aquamire have survived for so long. Usually they were destroyed by kindred forces, sooner or later, and it has been a very long time since they faded into legend.”

  “Well, they’re not legends any more.”

  “Indeed. How fortunate then that the circles of Raheen gifted your lady with the sight of Eldenelves. Without it…”

  “Yes, I know. But you may as well have said ‘how fortunate for the baths of Calhaneth.’ What if those things had caught us halfway between here and the ruins of the city, in the gloom of the deep forest?”

  “Ah.”

  A sudden chill gripped Gawain’s spine, raising gooseflesh and hackles. “Dwarfspit.”

  Seeing the chill run through Gawain’s frame sent a shudder of alarm through Allazar’s. “What is it, Longsword?”

  “Suppose that was what Brock meant by his word ‘Urgent.’ Suppose the Kiromok have been unleashed upon Elvendere?”

  “I would prefer to suppose no such thing, and will suppose instead that enough of the brethren there have remained loyal and are able to cope with such a dreadful possibility.”

  It was late afternoon when Terryn and Rollaf emerged from the forest from the north-east, the former carrying fresh-cut stave of white oak, the bark still on and knobs where smaller branches had been stripped clearly visible. This they handed silently to Allazar, and with a nod to their captain, who moved to join them, held a brief conversation with Gawain.

  “Still no sign of badger or boar, milord,” Rollaf announced quietly.

  “Aye, no sign,” Terryn confirmed.

  “Followed the trail of that kirimok thing for a bit. Got the pattern fixed in our heads. In case.”

  “Aye.”

  “Thank you,” Gawain acknowledged. “We’ll spend the night here. I don’t want to be caught in the dark halfway along the road by more of those things, if there are any.”

  “Do you want the men out, my lord? They can keep watch from the trees on our flanks.”

  “No thank you, Tyrane. I’ve done my share of snoozing up a tree on night watch in the past, though not while waiting for anything as unpleasant as we faced today. I’d rather we all stayed close. Likewise on the road tomorrow, we’ll move as a tight group. I doubt very much that there’s anything other than us and things ‘dark’ in this part of the forest. My lady can give us warning of such threats.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  They watched the two scouts move quietly away to the camp by the boarding hall, and then Allazar wandered away holding the white oak stave in one hand, and the Dymendin staff in the other.

  “A new stick for the wizard Arramin,” Gawain explained. “I think Allazar is going to make it a little more robust than the last one was.”

  Tyrane smiled appreciatively. “He’s a funny old bird, is Arramin, but the lads and I are really quite proud of him, my lord.”

  Gawain nodded, and bent to pick up the remains of the silvertree sapling with its makeshift fabric strap. The end was charred for a good twelve inches or more, and the remainder of the staff split for almost half its length. “With good reason. It’s another reason why I’m in no hurry to rush down the road to Calhaneth. We’ll let him rest and see how he feels in the morning.”

  A bright glow drew their attention to Allazar, who was holding the two sticks side by side, the Dymendin staff shimmering brightly, then beginning to pulse, the oak stave seeming to absorb the light on the side touching the Dymendin. The light faded, and Allazar studied the white oak staff before turning it a little and repeating the procedure. Seven times in all he subjected the oak to the process, before he seemed content and strode over to them.

  “There,” he smiled, handing the oak staff to Gawain, “A staff worthy of our comrade.”

  Gawain studied it for a moment. The sharp-cut knobs where branches had been cut were curiously smooth, and little more than bumps in the wood now, and the bark had a smooth sheen to it.

  “I thought perhaps you might like to present it to him, Longsword, since it was by your side he fought?”

  “Bah,” Gawain announced, handing the staff to Tyrane while he untied the fabric strap from the old stick and tied it to the new. “He’s Brock’s wizard, a wizard of Callodon. It’ll mean much more coming from you and Tyrane, and the woodsmen who fetched it for him.”

  Allazar nodded, “Yes, yes it might at that.”

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t need it,” Tyrane added softly, admiring the strange sheen and the smoothness of the bark.

  “Indeed.”

  Elayeen still stood watch at the north side of the pools facing along the avenue, swivelling her head from time to time. Gawain left Tyrane and Allazar holding the three sticks, and walked to the camp area in the shade of the boarding hall were Kahla and Jaxon sat quietly watching over the sleeping Arramin.

  Wordlessly, Gawain stooped and picked up the unopened package of food and the water skin Elayeen had refused earlier, and received a smile from Kahla as he did so. Then he found Elayeen’s saddle and packs, and rummaged in them until he found her spare pair of buckskin knee-length boots.

  She stood on the blue-stone edging at the furthest pool, lukewarm water gently playing around her toes, the flow there made to keep the stone clean and free from algae and debris.

  “Do not obstruct my vision of your surrounds,” Eldengaze rasped when he stood before her.

  “Shut up,” Gawain said quietly, careful to avoid looking into her eyes. “Step forward, I’ve brought your dry boots. If you stand in the water any longer not just your feet will shrivel like prunes. And I happen to like your feet as they are. Without them, we would not have met.”

  “I am the Sight…”

  “Shut up, Eldengaze, and do as you’re told,” Gawain put the boots, food and water skin on the sparse dusting of grass at his feet and then took Elayeen’s shoulders, drawing her forward to him. Then he placed her right hand on his left shoulder, and knelt in front of her, slipping his left hand behind her right knee to raise her leg a little and place her foot upon his thigh while he reached for her boot.

  “You’re no good to me ill, or exhausted. You don’t have to stand alone for hours at a time.”

  “Your light obstructs my vision. So too that of the Word.”

  “And does it obstruct your vision now?” Gawain sighed, gently guiding her foot into the boot.

  “No.”

  “And is there any darkness with range of your sight?”

  “No.”

  “Shut up, then, and give me your other foot.”

  Elayeen shifted her weight and lifted her left leg, and Gawain held the boot while she eased her foot into it, her hand still resting firmly on his shoulder.

  “There. Comfortable?”

  She gave no answer, and instead, moved to unsling her bow now that she could rest it on her boot again. But Gawain knew precisely what she was doing, he’d seen her do it often enough now, and he took hold of her wrists as he stood in front of her.

  “Do not block my…”

  “Shut up. Leave your bow where it is. You need food and drink and you will eat and drink and rest for a while.”

  He stooped again to retrieve the food and water skin, then stepped to the side and moved around to stand behind her.

  “Here, the water skin, I’ve popped the stopper,” Gawain brushed the skin gently against her right arm, and she took it, and drank.

  When Elayeen had drunk her fill she handed him the water skin, and he stoppered it and slung it over his shoulder.


  “Unsling your bow, and hand it to me.”

  There was a long pause, and Gawain was about to repeat the command when she complied.

  “Good. Now you can take another two steps forward. There is grass underfoot, such as it is. There’s enough light coming through the hole in the canopy above for it to grow, though sparsely. Good. Now you sit.”

  Elayeen crossed her right foot over her left and gracefully sank to sit cross-legged on the grass. Gawain sat behind her, sideways on, his right arm and shoulder against her back, the bow resting on the dry ground to his left. He unwrapped the package of food, and found a slab of beef between two slices of unleavened bread, cheese, and an apple.

  “Here,” he said softly, leaning forward a little and handing the package around to rest lightly in her lap. “It’s not much. Tell me if you want more,” He held it there until Elayeen took it, and then sat back again while she ate leaning against him.

  “We’ll spend the night here, and if Arramin is well enough, move on in the morning.”

  There was no answer, only the occasional rustling of the package, and the sound of leaves rustling in the breezes.

  Gawain could feel Elayeen’s breathing in the gentle pressure of her back against his arm, and in the stronger breezes he felt the soft caress of wisps of her hair against his cheek.

  “Understand this,” he said firmly, “I do not know what strange sense of duty the circle in my father’s hall has placed in your head. I don’t know whether my lady is a prisoner within you screaming to get out…”

  “I am she,” Eldengaze asserted, and Gawain grimaced.

  “If so, then you will understand this. I have a duty too, to you, and to the others, and to the memory of my people. I have a duty to the people of the lowlands, some of whom are my friends. I want you back. But I will not spend the time we have between here and Shiyanath and the coming war in the north pleading with you to release my lady. If you are truly miheth, then let go of the eldengaze and learn to use it, rather than it using you. And if instead you be some heartless relic of a bygone age and my lady hears my voice, then she will understand. She will know that I love her. She will know that I have not abandoned her, and she will know why I cannot do as Allazar might wish me to, and fawn around you in foolish hope of a warm and tender look or a gentle word. The fact that you stood idly by while Arramin suffered tells me you are not she who I love, whatever you may say to the contrary.”

  “I am the Sight, sent to watch over the Word and the Deed. Touch me not, nor block my vision of your surrounds with your light.”

  “Very well. I shall try not to do either. But you will comply with my commands as you did this day in the fight against the Kiromok, and as you did just now. You will take rest, you will eat, and drink, and you will guard my lady’s health as you would guard mine. Do you understand all I have said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” Gawain sighed. “Do you want more food? I can ask Kahla to fetch it.”

  “No.”

  “How is your hand? Do your fingers need attention?”

  “No.”

  “Very well,” Gawain picked up Elayeen’s bow and swung it around so that it rested by her left knee. “Your bow is here, to hand, the ground is dry and so is the string. I will ask Kahla to bring you back to the camp. You are too far removed from us all here and there is no advantage to this position.”

  He waited while Elayeen reached down with her broken hand and reassured herself that her bow was indeed safe and close, but made no reply. Then he stood, and walked back to the ruins of the boarding halls, leaving Elayeen to Kahla’s care.

  oOo

  6. Outskirts

  It was some two hours past dawn when Arramin finally woke from the deep sleep induced by the Eeelan t’oth. Kahla examined his hands, gazing in wonder at the efficacy of the elven unguent before applying another thin coating of the salve and re-bandaging the wounds. Arramin seemed to take it all with the kind of reluctant tolerance usually found in elderly patients who’d prefer death to being a burden to those around them. He ate breakfast, and afterwards, rose shakily to his feet assisted by Jaxon, and assured everyone watching that he was fit to travel.

  “I believe, Serre wizard, the men of Callodon and the First of Raheen have something for you,” Gawain announced quietly, and Tyrane and Allazar, flanked by Rollaf and Terryn, approached with the white oak staff.

  “Oh dear me…” Arramin managed, as Tyrane made the presentation.

  “I think you will find this one a trifle more hard-wearing than the last,” Allazar smiled.

  “Alas,” Arramin said sadly, his lip trembling and his eyes damp, “I fear it may be some time before I can do justice to such a fine tool,” and he held up his bandaged hands.

  “Bah,” Gawain announced, “The elven ointment works wonderfully well.”

  “It is true,” Allazar confirmed, leaning on the Dymendin, “Longsword’s hands were burned badly by aquamire, and healed within a week with the same unguent.”

  “Here, Serre wizard,” Tyrane said proudly, “Allow me,” And using the fabric strap Gawain had knotted in the middle of the staff, hung it over the old wizard’s shoulders. “The lads cut it from a proud old oak not far from here, and glad they were to do it for a wizard of Callodon who stood to the fore.”

  “Oh dear me… I know not what to say. I… thank you, thank you all.”

  “You’re sure you’re fit to travel?” Gawain asked again, “We can rest a while longer should you wish.”

  “No, no, my lord, in truth the salve and the medicine of yesterday have removed all but the most trifling of discomforts from my hands and I am anxious not to delay our journey any longer than I already have.”

  “There was no delay, Arramin. I would not have risked taking the last miles to Calhaneth in darkness yesterday, not after facing those creatures. But if you’re sure, then well strike camp, and leave this place. If we can reach the outskirts of the ruined city in the afternoon we might find a safe place to spend the night before seeking out the water road tomorrow.”

  Half an hour later, they were once again on the road to Calhaneth, though they rode at a far more cautious pace than they had the previous day. Still, they made good progress thanks to the broad and ancient avenue, travelling faster than they would have on foot in spite of all their apprehension. Gawain had been quite correct; to have faced three Kiromok in the middle of this forest would have been awful. The prospect of facing one more, never mind three, was too grim to contemplate.

  They rode in a tight group, Elayeen leading of course, with Kahla and Jaxon just behind her. In deference to her, Gawain placed himself on the right flank, and Allazar on the left. At least their ‘brightness’ would not obscure her vision to the rear where Tyrane and the men of Callodon held station. Arramin, of course, rode in the centre, a packhorse to each side and one behind him.

  They ate on the move, paused only when necessity demanded it, and rode in silence, ears straining for sounds in the forest around them.

  Shortly after noon, Elayeen slowed to a halt, and all followed suit. She cocked her head, and all listened, and all heard a strange sound from the north, coming in snatches in the breezes, and then it faded and was gone. Even the horses, their ears pricked forward, seemed disturbed, snorting and twitching their ears.

  “Last time I heard anything like that, there was a tourney in the castletown, and I was returning from a patrol, and was at least five miles away,” Tyrane whispered.

  “It did sound like a throng cheering,” Allazar agreed. “Far off.”

  “But the city is in ruins,” Arramin whispered, astonished. “Surely it cannot have been resettled?”

  “There are none who would journey to Calhaneth since its destruction,” Eldengaze asserted, and the volume of her voice in the stillness of the woodland made them all start.

  “No-one ever goes to Calhaneth, Serres,” Jaxon whispered.

  “Could it have fallen to the enemy, my lord?”


  Gawain gaped over his shoulder at Tyrane. “Fallen how? There’s nothing there, is there, Arramin? Nothing for an enemy to occupy?”

  “History speaks of the great conflagration sweeping through the city, my lord, the complete ruin of hall, hostel and home.”

  “Yet the enemy are encamped at the Barak-nor, and in the north-western wilds beyond the farak gorin, Longsword, and there are no comforts there.”

  “A third army? In the south?” Gawain stared at Allazar.

  “If true, we are heading straight for it,” Tyrane muttered. “But there have been no signs of pickets or patrols.”

  “Except for the Kiromok. With them at your disposal, Captain, would you need patrols and pickets?”

  “No, Serre wizard, I don’t think I would.”

  “Dwarfspit. Surely if there were an army here in the south, Elves would know it and would have destroyed them long before now?”

  “There are none who would journey to Calhaneth since its destruction,” Eldengaze asserted once again.

  “Not even if Morloch’s hordes were camped there?”

  There was a long silence.

  “Dwarfspit.”

  “If there is an army there, Longsword, Elvendere would certainly engage it. Or at least hold it. Perhaps it is the ‘urgent’ matter to which Brock alluded?”

  “Why would he not have mentioned it? Or at least given a warning?”

  Allazar shrugged. “He would have expected you to ride north, across the plains of Juria to Ferdan and thence to Shiyanath. He would certainly not expect you to take the route we are travelling. No-one at the Kings’ Council could possibly have anticipated this journey.”

  Gawain sighed, trying to calm the rising sense of frustration building in his stomach. “A third army, here in the south, would be a catastrophe. Tyrane, wouldn’t the Callodon Westguard have detected the passage of a horde?”

  Tyrane shook his head. “We are a very long way north of the border, my lord, far beyond the range of the Westguard. This is Old Kingdom territory. Gorian territory. Juria lies to the east.”