The Longsword Chronicles: Book 03 - Sight and Sound

by GJ Kelly

  “About two miles,” Terryn agreed, “And big. Soft ground all around too. Lots of streams, and bigger rivers. Rain made it worse.”

  “These traces, Terryn,” Gawain pressed, “Which direction did they seem to run?”

  Terryn grimaced. “Can’t say, milord. Guts say north-south. Just traces.”

  “Anything else?”

  Another shrug. “Bigger animals. Like you’d expect. Birds too. One thing though. Bones.”

  “Bones?” Tyrane’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Aye, Serre. Bones. Bird bones, mostly. On the slope, early on, and again, up slope, when we went around the hole.”

  “Any idea what killed them?”

  Terryn shrugged. “Lots of animals there.”

  “If it was the Razorwing, any remains would’ve been disturbed or carried off by smaller animals. D’you think the trees were thin enough on the slope for that black-wing to have hunted there?”

  “Aye.”

  “Thank you,” Gawain smiled, “I’m glad you’re both back. You can fill us all in on the journey later, or Arramin will.”

  “Get something hot inside you, lad,” Tyrane clapped Terryn on the arm, “We’ll take care of the horses.”

  Terryn nodded, and handed the reins to his captain before stepping aboard down the ramp and moving up the empty barge to the deckhouse, waving at his comrade across the canal as he went.

  “People this far south, m’lord? What do you make of it?”

  “I don’t know. Just traces, he said, so perhaps as recent as a couple of months. It could only have been elves, I think. There were no signs that anyone had been at the wheel for centuries though.”

  “They’d have encountered the Kiromok and Razorwing if they’d ventured that far.”

  “Agreed. Could be why they stopped at the sinkhole and turned back. Who knows. Let’s gets the horses aboard and get back over the other side.”

  “Aye.”

  When the barge was back on the north-bound chain, and all the horses and men back aboard, Gawain and Tyrane ate an early breakfast while the others ate an early dinner.

  “Well, once the wheel had cooled and settled, I set all the mechanisms back to their resting positions, locked the wheel, and Terryn and I took our leave,” Arramin began, smiling happily and sipping his warm wine.

  “At first, the journey was of little interest, save for the various artefacts left in the woodlands, or dumped there, I should say, for it would seem that was where those who dwelled at the wheel discarded their refuse. I imagine all manner of items are buried there, but we saw large pieces of machinery sticking up out of the ground, and the ruins of some buildings too, though what they might have been I’m sure I cannot say.

  “There was also some very uneven ground, which, I surmised, was created by the spoil from the original construction works. We had to venture a good way to the east, my lords, before finally we could turn to the north, and even then all our original hopes of a gentle ride to the top of the ridge to rejoin you all that afternoon were dashed by the terrain.”

  “It seemed gentle enough from the top of the ridge by the upper pool,” Gawain sighed, “But distance softens all appearances.”

  “Indeed, your Majesty, indeed it does. There were cracks and crevasses in the slope, and areas of ancient subsidence which spoke of peril, and so to avoid unnecessary risk, we elected to pursue a safer route along the more even ground at the foot of the slope. Even there the going was soft indeed, and though the trees were certainly thin enough to allow us to ride, caution was our watchword and we walked, though rather briskly I should say, to keep your lead on us as short as we could.”

  “Tell us about this sinkhole, Serre wizard,” Tyrane prompted.

  “Oh dear, well, I am coming to that, patience my dear Captain, patience! Now, where was I… oh yes. It is now my belief that the waters of Avongard, if indeed it is they that power the wondrous mechanisms along this canal, run directly beneath the ridge-line below us. However, the great uplift which has created this ridge presents an impermeable and rocky aspect to the west. In the east, however, I am certain that what I have seen, including the vast sinkhole, Captain, alludes to the escape or leakage of those waters on the eastern side.

  “Our path was very boggy in places, and there were many small streams and larger waterways criss-crossing the land there. We were quite obliged to travel further east by these and by areas of treacherous ground we encountered in our generally northward passage.

  “It was thus we found ourselves pressed away from the bottom of the ridge, and somewhat deeper into the forest. That enormous sinkhole blocked our passage due north, however. I cannot imagine its true depth, but would estimate its diameter at almost half a mile, an estimate which met with my companion’s approval, did it not?”

  “Aye. Half a mile. Deep, too.”

  “Deep indeed. The slope was steep, and within a hundred yards of the rim, or thereabouts, we could see tree-tops below us. In centre, there was a dark hole in the green of the forest below, which suggested that the land there was either filled with water, or perhaps that there was no land there at all. I could not tell. However, it is my opinion that the sinkhole was formed in ancient times, perhaps even before the construction of the canal.

  “The route to the east of the hole saw the forest becoming dense and dark, though we were able at length to follow a stream which ran north along a bed of rock before eventually turning west again. There was little to impede our progress from that point, except for the soft ground and frequent springs. Our path took a more westerly course and as you can imagine we were rather anxious to reach the firmer ground of the ridge itself.

  “Alas, again our way up was barred by dangerous ground, and so we proceeded generally parallel with the ridge. When the skies darkened to the point where travel became too dangerous, we settled for the night. That it rained, I need not tell you, for I fear that while myself and Guardsman Terryn had an uncomfortable night, we at least had some shelter beneath the canopy of the trees above us while you were open to the elements aboard this vessel.”

  “Those of us who slept after the day’s watch did so quite well, Master Arramin,” Allazar grinned, rather smugly, Gawain thought, but he refused to rise to the bait.

  “Splendid! Well, came the morning, came the daylight, and we continued our journey. Once the trees thinned and we were upon the slope once more, we found that as far as we were north of the great sinkhole, the soil-creep and subsidence were no longer much in evidence, and we were able to ride, though carefully, to the top, and thus to the safer path of the canal.”

  “You haven’t read about this great hole before, Serre wizard?” Tyrane asked quietly, “It has no name?”

  “Alas, Captain, there are doubtless many sinkholes throughout the lands, but with no-one to venture near them here in the forest, there are none to give them names or write about them. No, this hole was not mentioned in the texts which spoke of the works of Thal-Marrahan.”

  “Perhaps the elves gave it a name?” Allazar suggested, but Elayeen, atop the roof of the deckhouse and apparently listening to Arramin’s tale as intently as the rest, said nothing.

  “If they did, I know it not.” Arramin sighed, and studied the honey-bar Allazar handed to him. “In truth, Master Allazar, you have found these ancient sweetmeats to be edible?”

  “Indeed we have!”

  “Just because no-one’s died yet, doesn’t mean they’re edible,” Gawain muttered.

  But to no avail. Arramin promptly dipped the corner of the bar into his mug of hot wine, and bit off a lump. His expression as the honey melted in his mouth spoke volumes.

  “Tell me, Arramin, how far along the canal from us do you think you were when you sent that message to Allazar?”

  “Oh dear me, my lord, I’m sure I cannot say, let me think… We crested the rise many hard-earned miles to the north of the sinkhole. But it was some time before it occurred to me that it might be very useful if we could somehow get wor
d to you that we were safe and making speed to catch up with you all. That was when I remembered old Master Tenethet. Dear me, I haven’t thought of him in a donkey’s age…”

  “Master Tenethet?” Gawain prompted as Arramin’s voice trailed away along the winding path of memory.

  “Eh? Oh dear me, yes, Master Tenethet. He taught at the Hallencloister, and his was a very dry subject indeed and one most of the D’ith Met in his classes endured rather than enjoyed. Yet it was necessary to pass his examinations as well as all the others before advancing to the rank of D’ith Sek, and so we all paid attention. His specialist subject was ‘The History of The Use of Wands, Rods and Staves From Eldentimes to Modern,’ and being a student of history I of course found it fascinating. The rest of my brethren, alas, not so much.

  “But enough of Master Tenethet. His class primarily concerned the writing of ciphers and methods to employ in the deciphering of cryptic writing. However, in late afternoons in summer it was easy enough to divert him to his favourite subject, and it was in his class I and the brethren learned the Dove of Orris. It was an afternoon’s diversion for most of us and quickly forgotten by many as an historical curiosity, but I found it fascinating, and I availed myself of Master Tenethet’s writings as soon as I was qualified to gain access to those shelves in the library.”

  Arramin paused again, turning his attention to his honey-bar and wine. The barge rumbled and clanked on the chains, horses swayed a little as they always did when the old chain was released and the new length engaged, and it was some moments later that Arramin looked up, surprised, at the expectant faces regarding him.

  “Oh dear, where was I?”

  “How far from us, when the message was sent?”

  “Oh yes. Well, I shall have to perform the calculations. Let me see, the speed of the Dove of Orris is of course finite, but over short distances and for simple calculations may be considered instantaneous… it took, let me see… hmm, thnnn, hmmm, seven hours from the receipt of Master Allazar’s acknowledgement to coming within sight… thirty-five… plus hmm…thnnn…ssmm… minus thirty-five… We had to travel about fifty-five miles from receipt of the message, so I would say perhaps twenty miles separated us at the time the message was sent, your Majesty,”

  Gawain blinked. “Oh. Is that all?”

  Arramin blinked. “Were you expecting a much larger number, my lord? I can ask Allazar to check my calculations?”

  “Aye, ‘bout fifty-odd miles I’d say,” Terryn announced, nodding seriously and thus sparing Allazar the need for mental arithmetic.

  “The Dove of Orris was first created as a simple means of locating a fellow wizard…” Arramin began, but Allazar gently interrupted him.

  “I have explained the history of the mystic device to his Majesty, Master Arramin,” and then he added diplomatically, “Though both he and I were wondering what its greatest useful range might be?”

  “Oh, dear me, I’m not sure I could say with precision. Let me see, there were a number of historical occasions where the Dove of Orris proved quite decisive when used to carry messages… There was the famous experiment conducted by the Wizard Briyenn at the Cliffs of Mothair in south-eastern Callodon, let me see, the Dove of Orris travelled from his boat upon the horizon to the D’ith Sek upon the cliff-top some thirty-two miles…”

  “I was thinking more of a message from, say, the Hallencloister to the Dragon’s Teeth,” Gawain mumbled, a little crestfallen.

  Arramin blinked, and looked up at Allazar, then back to Gawain. “Dear me no, your Majesty, that is a distance of hundreds of miles! Quite out of the question for a Dove of Orris.”

  “Oh.”

  “Ah!” Arramin exclaimed, “I believe I understand your confusion, your Majesty! Perhaps Master Allazar has mentioned that the Dove of Orris travels between two staffs in line of sight of one another, and you are wondering how it is possible that my message and his travelled twenty miles, when quite clearly the curvature of the earth should have interrupted its passage after only three or four!”

  “Well…”

  “Dear me, my lords, yes, at first consideration it would indeed give rise to much confusion. However, I do assure you, as Master Tenethet himself asserted all those years ago, while the Dove does indeed travel in a straight line, it does so only from the perspective of the two staves between which it travels, and in fact its path subscribes a great circle, or an orthrodrome, if you prefer. Of course, while it possesses sufficient energy, it also retains its radius with respect to the relative heights of the two staves above the surface of our sphere.”

  “Oh. Of course. You failed to mention that, Allazar,” Gawain said, desperately attempting not to blink.

  “Ah. Sorry. Simply assumed you’d know,” Allazar replied, with equal desperation.

  “So naturally a message from here to say, Shiyanath, would be completely out of the question.” Gawain asserted.

  “Quite so,” Arramin smiled, happily stirring his ancient honey-bar into his hot wine.

  The gathering quietly broke up, content that their companions were back aboard and in their midst once again. Kahla quietly requested that the barge be brought to a halt for her and Elayeen’s convenience, and it was Gawain and Jaxon who obliged with the poles once the vessel’s forward motion had stopped.

  It was while Gawain was loitering with the pole by the aft deckhouse that Allazar joined him, and expressed interest and disquiet at the news Tyrane had passed to him concerning Terryn’s sighting of traces below the ridge.

  “In truth, Allazar,” Gawain said softly, “I’m not sure what it means either, expect that Terryn believes he saw signs that people had visited the area north of that great hole.”

  “It is a little disconcerting though, Longsword. Certainly it must have been elves, I can think of no others it might have been, yet we know from your lady and her many assertions about the city in south that there were none who would make the journey there.”

  Gawain shrugged. “This is their land, I suppose. Perhaps after a thousand years someone decided to ignore the old taboos about venturing this way. We are a long way from the city, after all.”

  “Yes,” Allazar nodded, “Yes, perhaps you’re right. I imagine they caught sight of the Razorwing on one of its sweeps for food and simply turned back.”

  “Or turned east, and took a route deeper in the forest where that black-winged evil couldn’t follow and where Terryn didn’t venture. We’ve seen no other signs of men or elves since we left Jarn. Not recent signs, anyway.”

  The wizard sighed, and that drew Gawain’s attention.

  “What is it, Allazar, are you worried about it?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Perhaps I’m just becoming accustomed to the hermit-like existence that is the lot of a wizard of Raheen. The thought of having the unexpected company of strangers is a little daunting.”

  “Pfft. You’re just worried you’ll have to share out all those poisonous honey-bars the lot of you have been breaking your teeth on all day.”

  Allazar laughed happily, and for the first time in a long time. “While I confess I share your concern about their potential to break teeth, I feel I must defend them. They are not poisonous, they are merely old. And ingeniously preserved.”

  “Much the same could be said about the wizard Arramin,” Gawain smiled, leaning on the pole, and Allazar scowled with mock severity before grinning again.

  “Still,” Gawain continued, “Your point, if there was one, is well made. We’re three days from the next wheel and six more from there to Ostinath, and we’re bound to meet up with elves long before we reach the end of this canal. We ought to start considering what happens when we do.”

  “You are Raheen, and answering an urgent call from the Council of Kings. I’m sure your lady was perfectly correct when she asserted on the road to Jarn that none would bar our way.”

  “Much may have changed since then, Allazar. Much already has, to us.”

  “Aye. I know. Perhaps that is what c
oncerns me about Guardsman Terryn’s discovery in the south. It means change. And I have a feeling, growing, germinating like a seed within me, that all around us, the world, is changing, for everyone.”

  Gawain watched as the ladies came back aboard, and acknowledging a signal from Jaxon on the forward walkway, gently shoved off. “That’ll be those poisonous honey-bars again,” he said, but this time, neither of them laughed.

  oOo

  15. Harks Hearth

  Two days after the happy reunion of Arramin and Terryn with their companions on the barge, Arramin confidently asserted, on passing the watch to Gawain and Tyrane, that all being well, they should come upon the second great boat-lift of Thal-Marrahan some time either in the late morning or early afternoon.

  “Though technically, of course,” Arramin smiled in the gloom of the deckhouse, “It was the first great boat-lift. The second was the one which we employed on our journey from the south.”

  “Are there no more then, on the way to Ostinath?”

  “Alas, no. The ridge upon which we travel is ancient beyond all reckoning. When the world was young, the lands were convulsed as if by growing pains, and the ridge was sheared. Vast tracts of land subsided, and others were uplifted, or so it is understood by our current thinking. After the wheel ahead, we shall not encounter the ridge again until we reach Ostinath, and journey east to ascend to the Threnderrin Way. Thal-Marrahan saw no need of building another great water road within Elvendere itself.”

  “Then back on lower ground we’ll have the locks to occupy us again, Serre wizard?” Tyrane asked quietly.

  “Indeed. The land will be, I believe, much the same as it was between the city in the south and the wheel we first encountered. Though, without such dark entities as we encountered there, I sincerely hope. I should imagine, oh dear let me think…”

  There was a long pause, Arramin gazing off into the middle distance towards the horses on the main deck, while the two men and Allazar exchanged glances and began to shuffle.

  “Master Arramin?” Allazar prompted when they could bear it no longer.