The Brazen City

by Torsten Weitze

  ‘Thank you so much, Ahren, for allowing me to share this burden with you’, she said in a warm voice. ‘We elves always share our pain and our emotions with one another in order to modify their force, and I had buried this one here deep inside myself for far too long.’ She stretched out like a cat in the sun. ‘If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask them’, she said in an easy manner.

  The transformation in the elf was a little too much for Ahren, but he knew from experience that her folk dealt with emotions in a different way to humans and so he tried to pull himself together.

  ‘Did you know what was going to happen before the Unleashing?’ he finally blurted out.

  Jelninolan shook her head. ‘The results of an Unleashing are completely unpredictable. Even with ones that are intended, like the one you saw. It doesn’t matter which magic you are performing under their influence, whether it’s battle or healing magic, the side-effects are chaotic and always extremely dangerous. With a bit of luck the soldiers could have escaped. But the magic could have just as easily swept through the country, destroying other villages. I had to protect the army whose flank we were guarding. Otherwise I would never have taken the risk’, she explained.

  ‘What sort of chains were they?’ asked Ahren fearfully.

  ‘War Chains.’ Jelninolan’s features darkened. ‘A charm of steel, fire and fear. Luckily, we elves don’t use them anymore.’ An undertone of disgust had crept into her voice.

  Ahren compared what he had just seen with what had happened in the mill. ‘We were all lucky then, weren’t we?’ he asked quietly, and the elf seemed to understand what he was referring to.

  ‘Yes, we were. Even Sven’, she said sombrely.

  ‘Have you often experienced Unleashings?’ he asked.

  ‘Four times’, said Jelninolan quietly. ‘But this winter was my first unintended one. The other three occurred during the Dark Days and two of them were in battle. Every time it was the last option, every time the price was high, and every time it was others who had to pay.’ Her voice was raw. ‘This Sven fellow can count his blessings that you intervened when you did.’

  Ahren shuddered. ‘At least I protected you from the guilt of having killed him’, he said comfortingly.

  The elf looked at him in astonishment. ‘You’ve misunderstood me. I would have killed him even if I weren’t unleashed. Culhen is a companion animal, a gift from my goddess. Causing him deliberate harm is, according to Elfish standards, justification for an immediate execution.’ She looked out through the window towards the sun. ‘My regret concerns my failure to use an Unleashing immediately in order to free Culhen from the poison. I was afraid of the consequences it might have for the whole village. I put you into danger in order to avoid an Unleashing, only to then lose control when I reacted to a worm like that.’ She looked pleadingly into Ahren’s eyes. ‘Please forgive me...it’s only that so much could have gone wrong. I might have burned the life out of Culhen’s veins if I were in the Unleashed Condition. Or the ferocity of the magic might have damaged his spirit. I just didn’t want to risk that.’

  The apprentice realised in astonishment that Jelninolan was looking for forgiveness. ‘You did everything correctly’, he said hastily. ‘Culhen and I are very grateful to you.’

  Relieved, she nodded, and again looked out the window at the merry comings and goings of the busy villagers as they went about their work, calling out to each other and laughing.

  Realising that those were the words the elf had been waiting to hear, Ahren stood up, embraced her once again heartily and was delighted to see how much life had returned to her eyes. Then he left the room without a word, passed Khara, who looked at him in puzzlement, and went out into the bright sunshine with its hint of springtime. Jelninolan had wanted to impart an important pearl of wisdom to him and had unwittingly revealed him something else too. Now he not alone understood the dangers of an Unleashing, but also how vulnerable unprepared villages were once they came under sustained attack from Dark Ones.

  Likis beamed when Ahren and Holken entered the little trading shop in which the young man and his merchant father supplied the whole village with all the coveted everyday necessities that had had been brought in by the pedlars as they passed through Deepstone. Fine cloths lay neatly stacked on wooden shelves, and here and there were items of clothing. There were also the exotic metal goods which the local blacksmith hadn’t manufactured, and some pieces of jewellery glittered through the glass doors of a wooden cabinet. Ahren was convinced that the ruby ring on its top shelf had been lying there ever since he could remember.

  Likis was wearing his merchant status symbol with pride, and Ahren had to admit that were it not for the quiet confidence his friend exhibited when wearing it, the sight of the yellow felt hat with its hanging point would be nothing short of ridiculous.

  Likis came around from the back of the counter, gave Ahren a quick hug and clapped Holken playfully on the shoulder. ‘What brings the two of you here? Can you not wait until I close up shop?’ he asked and smiled.

  ‘I asked Holken to come along’, said Ahren firmly. He had seen the bailiff among the villagers at one of the building sites and had waved him over. It said something for their friendship, and for Ahren’s growing authority, that the bailiff had followed him without question. ‘You both know that the Dark Days are going to come back’, he began and looked at his friends expectantly.

  Likis nodded and Holken frowned. ‘Now that you’ve been named the Thirteenth Paladin, it’s staring us in the face. Why are we talking about it?’ he asked uneasily.

  ‘Because Deepstone is only five days away from the Borderlands. And because you have no town wall. You have to build one’, said Ahren quietly and simply, as if he were talking about the weather. The image of the eradicated village in Jelninolan’s memory had shaken him to the core and he was firmly convinced that the same fate awaited his home village if preparations weren’t made. ‘Otherwise Deepstone won’t survive the oncoming Darkness.’

  Ahren’s intensity and the emotional impact underlying his quietly spoken words knocked his friends for six. They both held onto the counter for support, and Ahren saw how the dreadful truth was gradually sinking in. ‘We’ll be completely overrun if a horde of Dark Ones swarms through here, won’t we?’ said Likis and looked towards Holken.

  The bailiff swallowed hard and nodded. ‘We’re only two bailiffs with short swords. What can we do?’ he said darkly.

  ‘Without effective defences Deepstone will fall with the first attack’, announced Ahren bluntly. He found it hard, jolting his friends out of their comfortable existence in such a manner.

  ‘Why are you giving us this information?’ asked Likis in an accusing tone. ‘How are we supposed to rectify the situation?’

  ‘Pramsbildt is blocking every attempt by Uldini to discuss the upcoming war. It seems that the thought of renewed hostilities against HIM, WHO FORCES is too much for him and he prefers not to think about it. Uldini says he’s come across that sort of behaviour more than once, sometimes even with kings’, said Ahren in a low voice. After his encounter with the Pallid Frog he had spoken to the Arch Wizard and made him promise to make the mayor discharge his duties to the village concerning defensive measures. But to no avail. ‘An attitude like that has never ended well. I’ve come to you because I trust you. Holken is already a bailiff and you, Likis, have always had the best ideas. Maybe the two of you can think of something that will make Pramsbildt change his mind in the coming years. You still have a little time.’

  A heavy silence lay over the room. Likis alternated between staring up at the ceiling and glancing at Ahren accusingly, while Holken tapped the ground with his foot as he ruminated. The apprentice saw with regret how he had burdened his friends with the task he had given them, and looked at them searchingly as they struggled to come to terms with what he had said. He said nothing of the elf’s memories. They were too private to share, and his promise to Falk prevented him from telling them of
the Pallid Frog. Ahren hoped the young men would be sensible enough to follow his advice and not bury their heads in the sand the way Pramsbildt was doing.

  At last Likis’s face came to life. ‘I suppose I could apply myself a little and help the mayor in some of his less pleasant duties’, he pondered. ‘He’ll begin to trust me more and more and when the time comes, I can make an appropriate suggestion to him or the village council. If Holken, as one of the bailiffs, can support my ideas, then our word should carry enough weight to persuade the village.’ The merchant’s voice had taken on a thoughtful, calculating tone, and Ahren remembered again what the old women had said in those days about the rascal Likis – that his cheek would either earn him banishment or the mayoralty. Ahren smiled in relief and thought to himself that his friend was concentrating now on earning the latter.

  Likis and Holken were now in a lively discussion concerning tactics, and the young Paladin recognised that their ideas were good and could ensure Deepstone’s survival in the long term. He was amazed to see how well they harmonised with each other, and it pained him to realise that he had nothing more to contribute. And so he hugged them both and stepped out onto the street, leaving his friends to continue making their plans.

  The first spring rains swept over the land and enveloped Deepstone in a blanket of rain which remained for two days. It was late afternoon and Ahren was sitting with his future travelling companions while the crackling fire kept the damp cold at bay outside. The Spring Ceremony was only a fortnight away and it was time to make their travel arrangements as they intended departing the day after the festival.

  Ahren hadn’t seen Jelninolan since their meeting in her room, and but for a slight tiredness the elf was in better condition than he had anticipated. Khara too was sitting at the table, and Ahren was surprised to recognise that he had missed the presence of the unyielding swordfighter. He gave her a smile and indeed she actually smiled in return.

  What Likis achieves in one afternoon, you succeed in doing after more than half a year, he thought self-ironically and he was rewarded with a yawning laugh in his head as Culhen reacted to his mind. Their communication was still limited but the wolf was beginning to grasp Ahren’s more complex thoughts, and he had at least a better understanding of their intentions if not necessarily their contents.

  A further indication of Culhen’s continuing development was that he sent Ahren a memory in response – of Culhen sitting surrounded by half the villagers of Deepstone, who were looking at him in admiration. Everybody likes me was the thought from the animal that he picked up.

  Show off! thought Ahren crankily in the direction of the wolf, who was lying at his feet under the table and gave a derogatory grunt before curling up further into a ball.

  ‘Luckily for us Justinian has gone for an honest-to-goodness siege of the Brazen City’ Uldini was just saying, which brought Ahren back to the here and now. ‘Apparently, he wants to keep the damage and losses to a minimum – after all, ideally he needs the forges to be intact. He’s clearly hoping that a few moons of starvation will bring the citizens to their senses, and they’ll open their gates.’

  Falk looked up at the ceiling and considered for a moment. ‘We should be there in three moons to stop this madness. The city should have enough provisions until then’, he said with relief.

  Uldini nodded in agreement. ‘And not only that. I’ve let the Sun Emperor know through several reliable sources that I am returning to the Sunplains. He didn’t believe the messengers when it came to Ahren’s Naming but at least there will be an official escort waiting for me at Waterheart that will bring us directly to the Sun Emperor.’

  Trogadon whistled through his teeth in appreciation. ‘That sounds really good for starters.’

  Uldini grinned triumphantly. ‘I agree. With a bit of luck, we’ll already be a Paladin richer this summer.’

  Ahren and Jelninolan exchanged doubtful glances and the elf shook her head almost unnoticeably. She didn’t, it seemed, share the little Arch Wizard’s enthusiasm, but didn’t want to destroy the rare moment of optimism that Uldini was experiencing.

  ‘Incidentally, after your midnight excursion, I informed the Wrath Elves, who are patrolling the Borderlands about the pool, and told them to keep an eye out for Pallid Frogs. Since then they’ve found and killed another five of the beasts, all on the eastern edge of the Borderlands. It seems that the Adversary had ordered the frogs to enter Hjalgar and to spread out so that he could bring the western part of the kingdom under his control. The Wrath Elves know how to prevent this. Hjalgar’s king cares little about the security of his border. Otherwise Ahren’s discovery would have earned at the very least a medal. It saved a third of his kingdom.’

  Trogadon and Falk slapped Ahren on the back and Jelninolan looked at him with maternal pride. Even Khara seemed impressed, and the apprentice almost believed she was going to congratulate him when she opened her mouth to speak. ‘We should tell Likis what we are going to need for our journey. Anything that he can’t rustle up here in Deepstone, he can get them from the surrounding villages if possible, or from Three Rivers.’ The girl had successfully changed the subject and Ahren felt he had been robbed of his moment of glory.

  ‘Good idea’, said Falk. ‘I’ll look after that as soon as I’m back from the March of Exile.’

  As soon as Ahren had heard his master’s words, ice water seemed to flow through his veins and the Pallid Frogs were forgotten. ‘Is it already time?’ he asked, aghast.

  Falk nodded earnestly. ‘The village council wants Sven out of their sight as quickly as possible, so that everybody can have done with the business, and the Spring Festival can take place as harmoniously as possible. And Jegral is refusing to carry out the ceremony as long as a malefactor is living within the community. As Forest Guardian I will lead him to the eastern edge of the forest, and he can start his exile from there.’

  Ahren remembered that Falk had been obliged to carry out that task once before several winters previously. The idea that his master would accompany Sven on his final march from Deepstone did not seem right to the young man.

  ‘I’ll do it’, he said suddenly. ‘I’ll accompany Sven into his exile.’

  There was a stunned silence as the others stared at him. Finally his master spoke in a hoarse voice. ‘Boy, are you sure you want to do this? It’s a difficult task and Sven hates you to the core.’

  Ahren nodded firmly. ‘It’s a problem between him and me which has only caused heartache. Maybe I can get through to him on the march, or at least understand why he did what he did.’ The apprentice still couldn’t put into words what had been done to Culhen, not since he had confronted Sven with his deed. ‘At the very least it should be me who brings him through the forest’, he concluded darkly.

  ‘Tradition only states that the Forest Guardian undertakes this task. It shouldn’t bother the council whether it’s the master or his apprentice. Particularly since you and Culhen are the injured parties in the matter.’

  Culhen had by then understood what they were talking about and threw in a harsh ‘woof.’

  ‘He wants to come too’, said Ahren, translating his companion’s somewhat muddy thoughts.

  ‘I’ll inform the village council’, said Falk and stood up. As he went past Ahren he placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Prepare well. You need to head off very early.’

  Ahren nodded haltingly as it slowly dawned on him what he had let himself in for. He would accompany a young man that he had severely injured out of the homeland he would never see again. The apprentice reminded himself that it was Sven’s attempted poisoning of Culhen that was responsible for his fate, but it made the weight of his upcoming task no less heavy.

  It was only the looks of the others at the table, a mixture of pity and pride, that prevented him from leaping up and saying to Falk that he had changed his mind.

  The rest of the conversation passed Ahren by. He was caught up in his own thoughts which concerned themselves completely with the
following day.

  The rain was relentless. Ahren was already soaked through by the time he got to the village square, and the murky morning’s dark clouds promised no better. Culhen trotted beside him, his tail hanging, and sneezed grumpily from time to time. An accusatory tone emanated from his thoughts.

  Wet. Hungry, resonated in Ahren’s head.

  He ignored the wolf and the rain as much as possible and concentrated instead on the five figures approaching slowly from the other side of the square.

  Mayor Pramsbildt seemed as little pleased at having to be out as Culhen, and his wet moustache hung wilting from his wet face. Likis was walking beside him. The merchant’s son had clearly used the opportunity to take the first steps in becoming Pramsbildt’s right-hand man by volunteering to help out in this unpleasant task. Every so often the village head would throw him a grateful look. It seemed that Ahren’s friend was wasting no time in implementing his plan of making a name for himself in the village, and the thought gave the apprentice courage in the miserable morning rain.

  The third person was leaning heavily on two crutches, the bandaged feet were positioned in helpful leather gaiters that were cut open at the sides to make room for the bandages. A heavy woollen cloak hid the rest of the figure, but it was clear to Ahren that it could only be Sven. He swallowed hard and forced himself to look at the other two people who were to the right of the condemned young man. Asla and Lina were walking with slumped shoulders beside Sven, and Ahren couldn’t say if their cheeks were laced with raindrops or tears. Every so often Sven’s mother would look at her son sorrowfully, but Lina just stared ahead in a strangely emotionless manner. Ahren was surprised to see that she was wearing a short wrap made of mica silk which covered her shoulders. This robe was worn by the Novices who would later become Keepers, the priests and priestesses of HIM, WHO MOULDS.