Jelninolan’s voice was almost inaudibly quiet when it interrupted the ensuing silence. ‘We only discovered the presence of the Doppler once Uldini had returned to the Sun Court.’
Perplexed, the Triumvirate members looked at each other. ‘We shall need to discuss among ourselves whether to accept your words, because they will have a long-term effect on any further negotiations’, said Windita finally, and the other members of the Triumvirate nodded in agreement. ‘We shall speak to you again tomorrow’, she concluded.
Uldini wanted to protest, but Falk and Jelninolan held him back. They stood up, bowed and dragged the protesting Arch Wizard out of the meeting room.
No sooner were the double doors closed behind them than Uldini pinned Falk against the wall using magic and whispered into his ear furiously. ‘What exactly were you thinking of?’ he said, growing more furious with every heartbeat. ‘You bring the Sun Emperor into disrepute, you reveal that he was manipulated by a Doppelganger, and make absolutely no attempt to present the story from his point of view. So you really want us to fail?’
Falk couldn’t move, but his fury was evident in his voice. ‘Think about it, you numbskull! Everything that the three of them said in there is true. Justinian made a pig’s ear of it. Telling them about internal political pressure or insubordinate senators would have changed absolutely nothing. Anything they would have heard would only have confirmed their belief – that the Sun Emperor betrayed the Brazen City for his own benefit. Now at least they know that he didn’t have the crackpot idea himself. If they believe us that Doppler has his finger in the pie, at least they will listen to us when we bring up the subject of how we are going to act against HIM, WHO FORCES. And that, in the final analysis, is why we’re here.’
Uldini reversed the spell as Jelninolan was laying her hand on his shoulder. ‘He’s right’, she said softly. ‘Of course we have to get everybody on our side, but that will only work if we can concentrate their minds on the Dark Days that are inevitably approaching us. The fact that they are all united in their disgust regarding Justinian’s treachery is quite exceptional. Not even Palustra showed any hint of offering forgiveness.’
The Arch Wizard snorted angrily and floated up to their room. ‘I really hope your gambit works, because if they don’t believe our story about the Doppelganger, then in their eyes we’re nothing but a pack of liars, and the negotiations will be over before they’ve even begun.’
They retired to their quarters without saying another word. Falk took up his position by the window, stared into the night and wondered how his apprentice was managing out there.
***
Ahren breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted the silhouettes of Khara and Trogadon in the torchlight of the longhouses. It had taken him a while to find his bearings in the unfamiliar surroundings, and to locate their meeting point. As he and Culhen approached his companions turned and caught sight of him, and he could tell they were not happy with his delayed appearance.
‘Where were you?’ asked the dwarf, irritated. ‘We’ve been standing here forever, kicking our heels, and I was really beginning to get worried about you.
‘I managed to get myself a job at a blacksmith’s’, said Ahren defensively. ‘Nobody wanted to talk to me about Bergen all day long, and so I thought I might try and win the trust of an Ice Lander.’
Trogadon was about to continue scolding but then paused. Khara too seemed to be considering what he had just said and held back with her rebuke. ‘You know something’, said the warrior, ‘that’s not such a bad idea.’ He looked at Ahren thoughtfully. ‘I think I’ll copy your plan and give it a go too. Any smith around here is bound to happily employ a dwarf.’
Khara seemed somewhat baffled and shrugged her shoulders. ‘They were all very friendly to me, even if nobody had anything important to say about the Blue Cohorts. I’ll visit everybody I had longer chats with tomorrow again. Maybe somebody will let something slip.’ She didn’t sound particularly convinced herself, but neither Ahren nor the dwarf had any better ideas, and so they started heading back towards their lodgings. They crossed the deserted market square with its dilapidated stalls and burnt-down torches lending the area a gloomy tone.
Trogadon was looking around him alertly, a hand on his weapon, which was hanging from a loop tied around his back. ‘I really don’t like this. It seems the night watch are beginning to neglect their duties, or the stock of torches is running low. One way or another we’re like sitting ducks here. Every respectable citizen has long since gone to sleep in the safety of their homes.’ He threw an irritated look at Ahren who shrugged his shoulders apologetically.
They quickened their steps and entered a narrow lane which led directly from the market square to their lodgings. Suddenly they were confronted with six figures, all holding sharp knives or thick cudgels.
‘Damn it’, said Trogadon and stood still. Ahren took a step backwards and took his bow from his shoulder while Wind Blade made a scraping sound as Khara pulled it from her scabbard. Culhen went into a crouching position and emitted a continuous low growl.
The six figures approached them silently, staying all the time in the shadows, making it more difficult for their potential victims to make out their movements.
‘You’ve bitten off more than you can chew!’ shouted Trogadon loudly. ‘Get away from here while you’ve got the chance!’
The attackers neither answered nor slowed down, and the dwarf cursed quietly. ‘Stupid, desperate or greedy, it makes no odds. They’re faster than me, so we’ll just have to go through them.’ He pulled out his hammer and weighed it in his hands. ‘Do your best not to kill them, or we’ll have the city guards breathing down our necks.’
Ahren put his bow back with a curse, and took out Wind Blade instead. It was too difficult to see for him to be certain that his shots wouldn’t be fatal. He was going to have to improvise. Khara pulled the scabbard out of her belt and held it in her left hand, which Ahren found puzzling.
The bandits were almost upon them. Trogadon took a step backwards so that they would be fighting in the light of a torch. ‘Hold Culhen back. If anyone gets savaged by a wolf, the word will spread faster than it takes Culhen to swallow half a pig’, he instructed Ahren. And then the fighting began.
Stay back! The apprentice ordered his wolf. Just then a gaunt man dressed in tatters entered the flickering light and aimed a large cudgel, flecked with dried blood, at the young man. The Forest Guardian took a step back in surprise and just managed to parry the unexpected weapon. Whoever the person standing in front of him was, he had been in more than his fair share of fights. Ahren could see hunger in the man’s sunken eyes, and he figured his attacker hadn’t eaten in a long while. He almost felt sorry for the man, but then the cudgel swung towards him again, nearly connecting with his shoulder. Ahren turned in towards the blow, steered the weapon aside with Wind Blade, and pushed his shoulder into the man’s chest while at the same time kicking his enemy’s standing leg sideways with his own shin.
The move was as effective as it was simple. The man’s mouth made a surprised O-shape, and he fell over like a tree being cut down, landing with a thud on his back. Ahren finished the man off by hitting him in the head with Wind Blade’s pommel. There was no chance of his attacker getting up again. The bandit groaned, his eyes rolled around in his head and he lost consciousness.
Ahren heard a noise behind him, and when he spun round he saw a little woman standing over him, a crooked dagger over her head, ready to attack. Her triumphant smirk was wiped off her face by Culhen leaping on her back and throwing her forward. Ahren reacted immediately by rising up from his crouched position and smashing his free fist with an upward motion into the chin of the staggering woman. She collapsed on the ground like a sack of potatoes and Ahren was in doubt that her fight was over.
Thanks, big lad, he quickly transmitted to the wolf. He took a deep breath and had a look around him, holding Wind Blade in a low defensive position in case of any unexpected atta
ck.
Trogadon was standing with his foot on the chest of his fallen enemy, who was making ever weaker attempts at trying to hit the dwarf with his cudgel. If the warrior felt the blows on his leg, he certainly wasn’t showing it. He was holding the weapon-hand of another attacker in a vice-like grip and Ahren could hear the dreadful sound of crunching bones as Trogadon tensed his muscles and squeezed the unfortunate’s hand around the grip of his own weapon. The dwarf then head-butted the screaming man and Ahren saw a few teeth flying through the air, followed by the defeated bandit once the dwarf had let go of his hand. The other attacker had now lost consciousness due to lack of air. Trogadon examined him briefly, before lifting his leg off the man’s chest.
Khara was dealing with the enemies in her own merciless manner. She parried their blows with Wind Blade, using the wooden scabbard as a blunt sword, slamming it down on outstretched arms and legs, causing their bones to crack. Her two attackers were soon lying on the ground, holding their broken limbs and groaning while the swordfighter quietly put her weapon into its scabbard, before fixing it onto her belt again.
Trogadon examined the scene with a disappointed look. ‘Was that all? Oh well,’ he said slowly, ‘we’re fine and they’re all going to survive, so all-in-all an enjoyable little skirmish.’ He gestured his companions onwards. ‘We should keep moving though, in case the noise attracts any more vultures. And anyway, you should always stop when you’re ahead.’
As they hurried to their lodgings Ahren asked himself how many more desperate souls would be created by this siege, and when the facade of civilisation, still visible during the day, would finally begin to crumble.
Chapter 17
They all had a restless night, though free of further fighting. Ahren had hardly slept a wink – he was too on edge following the brief, brutal confrontation. He couldn’t get the images out of his head of the single-minded desire to kill he had seen in the eyes of the cutthroats. They were no Dark Ones, nor were they professional highwaymen and women; instead, they were desperate inhabitants of a city under siege, running out of food and seeing no other way out of their predicament than going on the hunt at night. Ahren was relieved that nobody had lost their life, but still he couldn’t help asking himself if it had been a mistake to be so merciful. Perhaps someone else would fall victim to their weapons the following night. He comforted himself with the thought that they would hardly be ready for action again in the foreseeable future, and if he and his friends were successful, the siege would be lifted in five days time anyway.
If they were successful. It made him dizzy to think how much depended on Bergen being found. In spite of the dreadful effects of the siege, most of the residents of this city were trying to live their lives as normally as possible, and that made Ahren more determined. He wanted to save the old North woman who dished out the food to the hungry, not to mention Vandir, who had so willingly given him work. And then there was the Sunplainer couple with their young child standing behind him in the queue, and all the people and dwarves who wanted to do their best for the community in spite of the dreadful circumstances, and who weren’t just thinking of themselves.
Ahren had caught a brief glimpse of how much worse the situation could get, and he was certain of one thing: if the citizens of the Brazen City started fighting amongst themselves, then the peaceful co-existence of so many different cultures would be shattered, possible never to be repaired again. He simply had to find Bergen!
At last the first rays of light shone through the air vent into the tiny, shabby room, and Ahren threw off his blanket and got to his feet.
Trogadon was still snoring heavily, but Khara was staring at him, her eyes wide awake. She couldn’t have slept well either, and when she stood up, she grimaced. ‘How can a bed be too soft and too hard at the same time?’ she whispered in annoyance and rubbed her aching back. ‘Is there anywhere at all I can practise The Twelve Greetings of the Sun?’ she asked doubtfully.
Ahren frowned. Even if the Brazen City didn’t officially belong to the Sunplains, it had been delivering weapons for decades in the war against the Eternal Empire. He couldn’t imagine that a traditional performance from the Empire would go down to well in the present fraught atmosphere. The apprentice was about to shoot down her idea when a thought struck him. ‘Come with me’, he whispered, and they climbed over the dozy dwarf, who blinked at them and mumbled something that sounded like ‘I’ll be with you in a bit.’
The two of them went out onto the wooden landing, and Ahren turned to face Khara with a grin on his face. He then interlinked his hands in the form of a stirrup and looked up. ‘The roof is just above us and it’s nice and smooth. We won’t be disturbed up there.’
Khara nodded happily, and using his stirrup, pulled herself up the wall and onto the roof in a flowing, graceful movement.
The young Forest Guardian tried jumping up after her in a far less delicate manner, finally managed to grasp the edge of the roof with his fingertips. He was about to slip down again, but Khara grasped him by the arm. He pulled himself up with a groan and rolled over onto the roof.
‘Well, we really need to practise that’, he panted and got up onto his feet.
Khara giggled. ‘Good idea. If Falk saw you doing that, you’d be spending the week clambering up the sides of buildings.’
The girl was probably right, and Ahren realised that this was another thing he could practise independently. ‘Thanks for the suggestion’, he mumbled with a sigh, and got into the starting position for the Sun Greeting.
Khara did the same, after correcting his foot stance. Then they remained in that position for one hundred heartbeats of total stillness. The sounds and smells of the city hardly reached them up there, and the weak light of the first rays of sunshine lit a sea of whitewashed roofs around them, interspersed with the elegantly curved wooden roofs of the longhouses, which gave the appearance of cows among a flock of grazing sheep.
Then the sun crept over the city walls and everything was immersed in a golden sheen. Khara used that moment to begin the slow movements, which loosened her muscles and sinews and induced a deep concentration. Ahren imitated her actions and his spirit was filled with contentment. Even Culhen seemed to be getting something out of it, because the apprentice could feel the wolf relaxing in his sleep at the bottom of the wooden staircase.
Ahren breathed in the morning air deeply. It was still clear as the forges were only now firing up and the smoke from the chimneys had not yet dispersed. He turned his head to the left at the Tenth Greeting and saw that Khara was as completely relaxed in her movements as he was. The sun was shining off her jet-black hair and a thin layer of perspiration made her exotic face shimmer. It struck the young Forest Guardian that he felt drawn to her more strongly than he wanted to admit to himself and was relieved when the next greeting meant looking away from her again. He suppressed those emotions, allowing himself to be carried away by the peaceful harmony of the movements, but a persistent echo of his feelings for the young swordswoman remained, even when the session was finally finished.
Khara beamed at him happily. ‘You had a good idea there for once’, she teased, and he smiled in embarrassment.
All of a sudden, he felt that his arms and legs were too long, that they refused to co-ordinate properly. And his mouth was terribly dry. ‘I’d better get to Vandir before he thinks I’m trying to skive off work’, he said quickly, and he almost fell off the roof in his hurry to get away from the young woman and the confusing feelings she had released in him. He quickly slipped over the edge of the roof, hung on by his fingertips and then let himself drop, falling heavily on his hands and knees – as if this was his first day training as an apprentice Forest Guardian.
Cursing quietly to himself, he called for Culhen, who sprang up immediately in order to follow his confused friend.
Is everything alright? asked the sleepy wolf, sensing the turmoil within Ahren.
Yes, Ahren responded curtly, trying to concentrate on the work tha
t awaited him so that Culhen wouldn’t find out what was troubling him.
In spite of his best efforts, he couldn’t resist one glance back. And there was Khara, standing on the edge of the roof with a hurt expression and looking at him with a scowl.
By lunchtime Ahren was thanking all the gods that he had become a Forest Guardian and not a blacksmith. He would rather take on Dark Ones any night then stand in a forge day in, day out, doing the most backbreaking of work.
Vandir had greeted him cheerfully that morning and they had set to work. Ahren had to keep the fire blazing, add coal with the heavy shovel, and operate the bellows at the same time, while the smith worked away on mighty steel hammer. Time and again the Ice Lander would issue a barrage of instructions, ensuring that the fire would be the right temperature for that stage in the process. Sometimes it had to be really hot and blazing, other times glowing and low; sometimes the apprentice would have to take burning coal out of the forge, or he would work the bellows until he was panting as loudly as the leather monster he was struggling with.
Ahren didn’t have a moment to ask the blond man questions, and by the time the sun was at its zenith and adding to the heat of the fire, the apprentice was asking himself if he would ever find out anything about Bergen before he melted away to nothing or his heart gave up.
Vandir announced it was lunchtime, just as Ahren was ready to collapse.
The powerful smith gave him a sympathetic grin. ‘The first days are always the hardest. Then it gets better. Wait here while I get some food and water. I’d invite you into the longhouse but the fever is rampant among the family, and I don’t want you to get sick.’
‘Are you not afraid?’ asked Ahren in surprise, but Vandir gave a dismissive wave.
‘I’ve had it already, so it’s hardly likely to do me any harm’, he said casually. ‘But my uncle and my cousins are really suffering’, he added glumly. Then he disappeared inside, returning a short time later with a chunk of cheese and some roast pork. He put the food, whose tempting aromas made Ahren’s mouth water, unceremoniously down on an up-ended water drum, and they both helped themselves. Ahren gave a contented sigh with his mouth full. Then he mentally heard a coughing sound.
The Brazen City Page 29
