by Jon Kiln
“But what about the water dragons that guard it?”
“We have nothing to fear. We are here as friends. The monk will welcome us. I can see that the lanterns are lit, that means he is at home.”
Linz guided the boat alongside the wooden pier that jutted out into the lake, leaping from the boat in order to secure the moorings tightly.
“Madam Lisl,” greeted Ghaffar warmly as he emerged from the temple. “It is a long time since I have seen you. Are you here on official business?”
“Hello, Ghaffar. Yes, official business. I don’t think you’ve met my son, Linz.”
“A pleasure to meet you, sir,” said Linz politely.
“Such good manners. You have trained him well, Madam Lisl.”
“My brother would perhaps disagree with you,” Lisl said, as they followed Ghaffar. “My son has proved to be rather rash and disobedient in recent times. I have come to you for help.”
“How intriguing. It’s unlike your brother to ask for help.”
“To be fair, it wasn’t really his idea. He is still quite cross that you helped the foreigners escape from the lake. But in part, that is why we have come to you now. The Princess Myriam is traveling towards Castle Locke. I want you to take my son to join her there.”
“You want me to take Linz away from the lake?” asked Ghaffar incredulously. “Do you expect some sort of union with Myriam?”
“Precisely the opposite,” replied Lisl. “But it is time to end our isolation, and Myriam could be our one chance to maintain our independence. Linz can help her. He can help her claim the throne of Palara.”
“With all due respect, Madam Lisl, I think Myriam needs an army in order to claim the throne of Palara. I’m not sure that one young lake boy is going to make much of a difference.”
“Please Ghaffar,” insisted Lisl. “He has gifts… he has powers.”
“For you, Madam Lisl, anything. If it makes you happy, I will take the boy to Castle Locke. But I won’t be held responsible for any consequences that fall on your people as a result.”
Lisl sailed by herself back to Halawa, the main settlement of the Lake Men. The morning breeze from the water ruffled her long brown hair. There was a chill in the air, but her fur cloak kept her warm. She felt as if a turning point of some kind had been reached. She felt strong. She knew in the heart that she had done the right thing.
As she entered the wooden building where she lived, Clay approached her. “He has gone?”
“Yes.” Lisl calmly picked up some pieces of dried meat and dropped them gently into the pool of water that contained the polopon fish, their sharp teeth quickly tearing the meat apart as they churned the water excitedly.
“So what happens now?” asked Clay, perturbed by his sister’s calmness.
“The monk will take Linz to Castle Locke in the Berghein Valley to meet Myriam. But nothing will change for us until she has been able to reclaim the throne.”
“No sister, you’re wrong,” corrected Clay. “Everything has already changed for us. Everything. We have revealed our existence from those that our people have spent centuries hiding from. I have sent my heir out into their world. We will never be hidden again. There is every chance that the soldiers of Palara will be burning our villages down within a matter of weeks, if not days.”
“Perhaps, but we have to have faith. Faith in Linz, but also faith that the gods will guide events in our favor.”
“Did you make an offering at the monk’s temple while you were there?”
“No, those are not my gods. I sacrificed a dove this morning, as the sun rose over the lake. Linz sat with me and we said the sacred words together.”
“Good,” nodded Clay. “I guess there is nothing more that we can do. Should we tell everyone what we have done?”
“There is no point alarming everyone, not until we hear from Linz. Once he can tell us how he has been received at Castle Locke, then we should tell them. Try not to worry, Clay. Why don’t you take me out in your boat, like we did when we were children?”
Clay’s boat had always been his pride and joy. A small skiff, he had made it when he was thirteen. Their father had helped him to select the trees and prepare the wood. It had taken months of working on it every day to shape and form the hull of the craft. He had never felt prouder than when he had lifted the mast into place.
His father had made a speech when he had taken the boat out onto the water for the first time. He had been nervous, unsure if he had sealed it properly, anxious that the water would begin to seep through the wood that he had so carefully joined together. All of those fears were quickly forgotten as the wind filled the sail and the boat had begun to skim across the water. Every day, when they were growing up, Clay had taken Lisl out in the boat. They had spent hours fishing together or just exploring the edges of the lake.
They had stopped the day that their father had been killed. Clay had had to assume his duties as chief of the tribe. Lisl got married, and they had to grow up.
As the boat sailed across the water, Clay looked across at his sister. He felt like a child again.
51
“We are nearly there, Princess,” declared Zander. “Beyond that border post lies the Berghein Valley!” They had been traveling along the narrow forest trails, concealed by the trees as they made their way steadily west—west to safety.
As they looked down onto the guard post, still within the safety of the trees, they could see that the border was being heavily patrolled by Palaran soldiers.
Myriam was excited to be so close to the end of their long journey, but nervous also that there was still danger ahead. “How are we going to get past the guards?”
“We could create a distraction?” offered Ganry. “Create a skirmish to draw their attention, and that would enable you to push through the border.”
“That’s too dangerous, Ganry. You wouldn’t stand a chance against numbers like this. I won’t lose you now after you have brought me safely this far. There must be another way.”
“Zander, is there not another way across the border?” asked Artas. “What about those cliffs? Is there a way that we could bypass this border post?”
“I imagine that they will have patrols all along the border, but maybe you have a point. We’ve always thought of the cliffs as being too unstable for anyone to use them as a crossing point, but these are desperate times. There are occasionally reports of bandits living in some of the small caves that have formed, and the paths are notoriously prone to collapse and avalanche, so it’s just a question of which dangers we want to face.”
“We’d have to leave the horses, though,” said Ganry. “They’re not going to be able to take those cliff paths.”
“That is true,” agreed Zander, “but there is a farming settlement near the base of the cliffs, and we would be able to commandeer some horses there for the final leg of our journey to Castle Locke.”
“What do you think, Princess?” asked Ganry. Myriam scanned the blue skies that stretched as far as the eye could see. A lone eagle circled high overhead, occasionally calling out a lonesome cry as it searched for prey in the grassland below.
“Let’s tackle the cliffs,” decided Myriam. “Lead on, Zander! If any bandits get in our way, they had better watch out. The stones in my dagger are glowing brightly and I am in no mood for being messed around!”
“She used to be such a sweet girl,” grumbled Ganry to Artas.
“I heard that, Ganry!” shouted Myriam. “I’m going to make you walk in front to test whether the cliff trails will take our weight!”
Ganry took charge of removing the saddles from the horses and setting them loose. Zander and his men repacked their rucksacks, leaving behind anything that was not essential, trying to make their load as light as possible for the climb.
“Are you ready for this, Barnaby?” asked Hendon, concerned that the strenuous ascent might be too much for the old man.
“Don’t you worry about me,” winked Barnaby. “I might
be old, but I can keep up with you.”
“We have a short distance from the edge of the tree-line through into that first rocky outcrop. We will be exposed, and it is possible that we will be spotted by their scouts, so we need to make sure that we move as fast as possible,” explained Zander. “I will lead the way. Karam will take the back. Aban, Yasir, and Najid will protect the flanks. If we are detected at all, you have to keep moving and we will engage with the enemy. Ganry, if you stay with Myriam, then you can keep her safe and keep moving forward with her if there is any trouble. If all goes well then we’ll stop and get our bearings once we reach the protection of the rocks. If there is trouble then just keep moving and push as far up into the cliffs as possible. Any questions?”
Ganry approved. “Sounds like a good plan.”
“Right, on my lead, leave a count of two between each other so that we are not tripping over ourselves. Ready… Now!” Zander suddenly leapt forward and was sprinting across the open ground, keeping low to try and avoid attracting any attention from the Palaran scouts. After a count of two, Artas leapt forward and quickly followed in Zander’s footsteps. Next went Aban, Yasir, and Najid to create a protective flank. Then it was Ganry and Myriam, running together. Barnaby was next, then Hendon, and finally Karam brought up the rear.
When they had been scoping out the route to be taken from the safety of the trees, it hadn’t seemed so far, but now, with his heart pumping and his legs moving as fast as possible, Ganry could feel his body straining. Beside him, Myriam was moving smoothly, composed and calm as they quickly covered the open ground. The rocky outcrop was in sight now. They could see that Zander had nearly made it to safety.
“Quickly! Hurry now!” hissed Zander. An arrow suddenly thwacked into the ground close to Ganry’s foot.
“Damn it! They’ve seen us. We have to move faster!” urged Ganry, trying to see which direction the archers might be shooting from so that he could try and protect Myriam. The arrows began to fall increasingly thickly. Ganry could see that Artas had made it to the safety of the rocks and had quickly notched an arrow into his bow, trying to see where they were shooting from, trying to see whether he could take them out and protect the others. Artas loosed several arrows but still the attack came. Eventually, Ganry and Myriam made it to the safety of the rocks.
“Keep moving!” urged Zander. “Don’t wait for us, push higher! Artas can stay with me to try and hold them off.”
“I can’t leave without making sure that everyone is safe!” protested Myriam.
“You have to go now, Princess!” insisted Zander. “Ganry, keep moving, find a defensible position and wait for us if you can. We won’t be far behind. Go!” Garny grabbed Myriam by the arm and almost dragged her onto the trail that was heading higher into the cliffs. Behind them, they could hear the arrows clattering onto the rocks that were sheltering Zander and Artas.
***
“This path is going to get steep pretty quickly.” Ganry cautiously tested the loose rocks that were already feeling like they were shifting beneath his feet.
Myriam looked back over her shoulder to see whether she could see any sign of her companions. “Can we not wait for them here?”
“Not yet, we’re too exposed, we need to keep moving. Come on, a bit further. We can rest in a moment.”
Back down at the rocky outcrop, Zander was becoming increasingly worried as the arrows continued to rain down on them. Hendon and Yasir had only just made it to safety, but Barnaby had been wounded in the leg, and Aban and Najid were trying to carry him the rest of the way. Zander knew that even if they got to the rock that Barnaby wouldn’t be able to cope with the steep narrow cliff paths that lay ahead of them.
“Karam! Karam! Quickly! Get to safety!” shouted Zander. As Karam dived beneath the cover of the rocks, Zander looked out and saw the arrows embedding themselves deep into the bodies of his men. Aban fell first, then Najid. Unprotected, Barnaby also lost his life to the cold stabbing pain of an arrow in the chest.
“No! Barnaby!” wailed Hendon, watching on as his friend fell.
“We need to move now!” ordered Zander. “They will be coming for us!”
“We can’t leave him there!” sobbed Hendon, wrestling against Artas who was trying to restrain him from dashing back out towards Barnaby’s dead body.
“We have to. We have no choice. If we don’t go now we will all be killed. Yasir, quickly, lead the way!”
Yasir began to bound up the steep slope of the cliff, picking his way between the loose rocks. Artas, dragging the bereft Hendon behind him, followed after, with Karam and Zander bringing up the rear.
Up ahead, Ganry had found a small ledge where the cliff path narrowed. Confident that he could overpower anyone who tried to approach, they had decided to wait for the others. Ganry had his trusty sword, WindStorm, guarding the approach, while Myriam stood behind him with her blade, Harkan, drawn—the stones in its hilt shining brightly.
“Ganry! We are approaching!” shouted Yasir, seeing the light reflect off Ganry’s drawn blade.
“They made it!” gasped Myriam, immediately sheathing her dagger. They gathered on the small ledge, quickly trying to catch their breath after the strenuous sprint to safety and the steep ascent that they had had to make. It took a moment for Myriam and Ganry to realize that their numbers were fewer.
“Aban? Najid? Wait… where’s Barnaby? No… No… Please no.” Myriam could see from Hendon’s ashen face that Barnaby hadn’t made it to safety. She wrapped her arms around him and tried to console him.
“We have to keep moving.” Zander’s breathing had steadied, he was ready to continue. “Their arrows won’t be much of a threat now, but they will come after us on foot. They won’t be far behind.”
Ganry shielded his eyes from the sun, and tried to see if he could spot any pursuers. “Should we try and block this path in some way?”
“We could create a landslide without too much difficulty. But I think it’s better if we just focus on moving as quickly as we can. We need to head up towards that peak and then work our way down to the valley floor. Yasir, lead the way. Let’s move.”
Treading carefully but as quickly as they dared, the companions moved in single file along the narrow cliff path, frequently dislodging loose stones beneath their feet that tumbled far down beneath them.
“I see them!” pointed Artas, looking back at the path below them. “There looks to be about ten of them!”
“What’s your aim like with that bow?” asked Zander.
“I’ve never seen better,” said Ganry, with a nod towards Artas.
“See how many you can take out, Artas. It will slow them down at the very least.”
Artas positioned himself on a small outcrop and notched an arrow into his bow, patiently taking aim and waiting for a clear shot at the soldiers that were working their way up the cliff towards them.
Zander and the others continued to push forward, continued to push up. The top of the cliff was in sight and they were beginning to feel that they had a chance at reaching their goal, of reaching safety.
Myriam looked back at the sound of falling rocks and could see one of the soldiers of Palara falling lifelessly down the side of the cliff, snared by one of Artas’ arrows. “Please, can we wait for him?”
“He wouldn’t want us to. He’ll catch us up. He’ll be moving faster than us anyway. Don’t worry, I’ve got a lot of faith in Artas,” replied Ganry.
“We’re nearly at the top,” urged Zander. “We’ll stop there and wait for Artas.”
At the top of the cliff, Myriam gasped in delight as the Berghein Valley was revealed below.
“I can’t believe we’ve made it!” exclaimed Myriam.
“We haven’t made it yet,” cautioned Ganry. “But at least here comes Artas! How many left, Artas?”
“There are at least five still on the path.” Artas panted from his sprint.
“Why don’t we wait here and finish them off?” Ganry was eager for WindS
torm to sing.
Zander thought about it for a beat. “Yes, I think you’re right. We can’t risk drawing them down into the village. If there are only five, then we will be able to overpower them, given we have the advantage. Quickly, let’s conceal ourselves and wait for them.”
Myriam could feel her heart pounding as she tried to control her breathing, while they lay in wait for the pursuing soldiers. It seemed like they had been hidden for an eternity, and she began to wonder whether they had perhaps given up the chase and turned back. Just as she was about to say something, she heard the scuffling of feet along the stony path, the clinking of weapons being carried. Myriam clutched Harkan, her knife, tightly, drawing strength from the glowing stones. As the soldiers from Palara rounded the bend at the top of the cliff, there was a deafening roar as Ganry leapt from his hiding place, wielding his sword and shouting.
There was a tremendous clash of metal, screams of dying men, and then an eerie silence. When Myriam emerged from behind the rock where she had been hiding, she saw Ganry standing proudly with the soldiers at his feet. The mercenary had done his work.
52
“What sort of reception do you think we will get at Castle Locke?” asked Yazid, riding beside Qutaybah as they made the journey from Villa Salamah in Vandemland, and across the border into the Berghein Valley.
“She will be pleased to see us, I imagine.”
“Have you met the Duchess before?”
“No, never,” replied Qutaybah, “but I have heard plenty of stories about her.”
“Does she really have powers?”
Qutaybah raised an eyebrow. “What sort of powers do you speak of?”
“You call her a witch… and I have heard others speak of her as being some kind of mystic.”
Arexos was riding behind Qutaybah and Yazid. He remained silent, but he was intensely interested in their conversation—any talk of magic intrigued him.
“You shouldn’t believe fairytales!” laughed Qutaybah. “There is no such thing as magical powers. The Duchess is just a clever woman who knows how to rule. Her power is her mind, and her ability to outwit the foolish men that attempt to control her. Some men see that as witchcraft.”
