‘Oh, damn’, was all he said, and Ahren understood why. The Elfish warhorse was sending out a wave of anger and scorn, and the only one not affected was Trogadon, who looked around with interest, while the others winced under the Titejunanwa’s emotional onslaught.
‘Whatever it is she’s telling you, I’m delighted not to be on the receiving end’, he said cheerfully, while the others looked daggers at him.
Falk stopped and spread out his arms apologetically and tried to explain to the Titejunanwa why he had left the city without her. He stammered out bits of words only to be interrupted every time.
‘Please understand…but I just wanted to…we had no choice…’ And so it went on for a considerable time before he gave up, and with shoulders slumped finally said: ‘Yes…you’re right.’
Having watched the drama unfold before him, Bergen finally stepped forward to Selsena. ‘Good to see that you haven’t lost it over the years, my queen.’ He placed his hand between her nostrils and her anger abated like a gentle summer breeze.
‘See what I mean?’ said Falk sulkily. ‘He can even control Selsena better than I can.’
Ahren suppressed a smile and thought to himself that the Paladins were indeed a big family – as was reflected by the tensions that were inevitably created by the family members’ differing and peculiar personalities.
A carriage like the one they had had travelled on from Water Heart was awaiting them at the foot of the mountain. The sun had already sunk below the horizon and so the vehicle was a welcome sight to Ahren and his companions, as it meant they would not have to march through the night. The only difference this time was that it was accompanied by two hundred heavily armed soldiers who had surrounded it in double quick time, dampening Ahren’s enthusiasm for the carriage considerably.
A commander bedecked with military medals on his chest saluted Uldini briskly. ‘The Sun Emperor conveys greetings to you, Advisor Getobo. He congratulates you on the delivery of the traitors known as the Blue Cohorts, and their leader, Bergen Olgitram.’ Then an evil smirk appeared on his face. ‘Oh yes, he also wishes to speak to you immediately concerning your attack on his soldiers and catapults.’
At the man’s words, the Blue Cohorts went into a defensive position, but Bergen called a halt with a raise of his hand. ‘Steady on there, all of you. We have signed a peace agreement and we are all going to keep to it. I am sure the Emperor has no intention of breaking two agreements in the one year’, he said, loudly and emphatically.
The Blue Cohorts lowered their weapons and the commander looked distinctly less confident than he had.
‘I love this chap’, said Trogadon with a satisfied chuckle, and stretched up to clap Bergen on his upper arm. ‘If you were half the size, I’d make you an honorary dwarf.’
Bergen grinned down at him and the commander cleared his throat in an attempt to win back the upper hand. ‘If you would like to climb aboard. The Sun Emperor awaits you.’
The carriage rumbled its way through the night and the companions sat inside, musing. Bergen had fished a couple of dice from his pocket and was sitting with Trogadon. Depending on who was lucky or unlucky, the other would groan or laugh. Jelninolan had fallen into a deep sleep, which Uldini took to be a good sign.
‘When she wakes up again, she’ll be back to her old self. She surrendered herself completely to the side-effects of the healing magic to recover more quickly although we really could have done with her help today.’
Ahren was sitting with Falk and grooming Culhen, something which the wolf was clearly enjoying. ‘Why does she find it so difficult to find a middle way’, he asked cautiously. ‘She must have centuries of experience at this stage.’
Uldini raised his eyebrows and looked critically at him. ‘The two of us have cast more powerful spells in the last two years than in the two hundred years before. Believe it or not, we had very restful lives before you went and touched the gods’ stone.’ He bit his lower lip and lowered his voice. ‘Don’t tell him this but I think Bergen might be right – we really have become somewhat rusty.’ He tensed up, as if his admission were painful to him, then floated over towards Jelninolan, slamming the bedroom door behind him.
Ahren wanted to discuss the matter with Falk, but when the young man turned, he saw the old man looking over resentfully at Bergen, who was having a whale of a time with Trogadon.
‘I knew they’d get on with each other, but that’s pathetic’, he grumbled sulkily. His jealousy was almost tangible as he saw how well the two were bonding.
‘Trogadon gets on well with everybody who laughs and drinks, you know that’, said Ahren, trying to appease his master. The apprentice was amazed at the power of Falk’s emotions - no matter what Bergen did, he always seemed to touch a nerve as far as the old man was concerned.
‘Why did he call you big brother?’ asked Ahren, hoping to distract his master, and at the same time find out a little more about the complicated relationship between Bergen and the old Forest Guardian.
‘That’s the nickname the other Paladins gave me because I always looked after them and alerted them when things got too dangerous. Just like a big brother does’, he answered absently, his eyes still fixed on the dicers.
Ahren thought there were considerably worse nicknames his master might have been called, and he began to suspect that Bergen didn’t have a problem with Falk, but that it was his master who was the sole cause of their relationship being so complicated. The apprentice simply couldn’t see what the issue was. He decided to play for time and took advantage of the Forest Guardian’s temporary loquacity. ‘Who is “the First” that you referred to earlier? It sounded almost like a title’, he asked casually.
‘It’s something like a nickname. The First Paladin that the gods created is still alive. He’s so old that nobody knows his name, because none of the Ancients who were alive that time were there at his creation, and he himself won’t tell anybody. He’s a cold and calculating strategist, and luckily, we have no idea as to his whereabouts. But one thing is certain: as soon as war breaks out, he will find us more quickly than we would like.’
Ahren started. ‘Is there any Paladin you don’t have a problem with?’
Ahren regretted the harshness of his question as soon as it was out of his mouth, but it didn’t seem to affect Falk, who simply shook his head. ‘That’s something different to me and Bergen. The rest of us never referred to the First as a brother, and it would never have struck him either. There was always a chasm between him and us which none of us ever succeeding in bridging.’ Falk finally looked away from the two gamblers and looked Ahren fixedly in the eyes. ‘The gods gave us the option of passing on our gift to our children once we tired of the fight. But the First as one of the earliest of the original Paladins never took advantage of this opportunity. Think about it: What kind of a man decides in favour of millennia of fighting?’
Ahren shivered when he heard these words, and he felt queasy at the realisation that one day he would have to fight alongside such a person against a god. The Thirteen would have to be singing from the same hymn sheet as soon as Ahren had found all the Paladins, and he was beginning to realise that this would be no easy task.
When Falk turned away to take up his sulking watch again, Ahren exploded in anger. ‘I just don’t believe this!’ he hissed furiously. ‘You’re behaving just like a godsday youngster who refuses to play with the other children because nobody asked him to! Just go over and throw a few dice with them. In the name of the THREE, you deserve a break!’
Falk glared at him, and Ahren knew he was going to pay a price for his disrespectful words towards his master, but he maintained his stare until the old man finally nodded. He stood up jerkily, as if every movement was difficult, and went over to the two merrymakers, who greeted him cheerfully and invited him to sit down. Trogadon pressed one of the wine bottles he’d found on a small shelf on the wall into the old man’s hand and Bergen slapped him cheerfully on the back. Before ten heartbeats had pas
sed the trio were laughing and cursing over their bets.
Satisfied, Ahren continued grooming Culhen and was surprised when the wolf spoke. That was good work, Ahren. The pack survives through the cooperation of its members echoed in his head. There was something stately and worthy about the wolf’s voice, and Ahren marvelled, not for the first time, at how multi-facetted Culhen’s personality had become.
Any chance of a bit of rabbit? asked Culhen hopefully, looking up at his master with amber eyes, and licking his chops. Ahren noticed immediately how quickly the young, playful version of the wolf had returned.
The apprentice chuckled and tickled him between the ears. ‘I’ll look and see if there’s anything left over.’
Ahren was tired but couldn’t fall asleep. Impressions from outside constantly disturbed him and kept him awake as he lay there; sleep kept slipping through his grasp like a nimble weasel, that twisted at the last moment as he tried to catch it. He heard the snoring of Trogadon and creaking of the carriage, felt its rocking movement and smelled the stale air of the overfull cabin. He threw off his blanket in frustration and stood up.
He went quietly to the door that led outside, opened it carefully and pulled himself gracefully up onto the roof. The Plains were only silhouettes in the night sky, and even the torches of the military escort on either side hardly cast any light up where Ahren was. So long as he remained quiet, he would not be discovered, and he would have some peace and quiet at last.
Slowly and with great concentration he went through The Twelve Greetings to the Sun in an attempt to subdue his restlessness. The movements helped him to come to terms with the events of the day, and to finally dispel the feeling of helplessness that had overcome him for a few terrible paralysing moments on the marketplace. A feeling of contentment began to spread within him when he realised that he had managed to save so many people. Not he, he corrected himself, as recognised how many times he might have failed or even been killed without the help of the others. The very thought made him dizzy. He felt a deep gratitude towards every single one of them, and promised himself never to forget this feeling, no matter what awaited them in the future.
Suddenly he heard a noise behind him, and he spun around into a low defensive position, his hands ready in front of him to parry any oncoming blows.
‘Not bad.’ It was Khara’s low voice in the darkness. ‘The arms just a little higher or your head is unprotected.’ The young woman stepped towards him, and Ahren instinctively retreated a pace. The confusion he felt any time he was alone with her hadn’t abated since they had shared the sunrise on the tavern roof, and he tried to avoid the swordswoman if possible.
Khara noticed his reaction but said nothing, looking with sad eyes out into the night instead.
‘We seem to be right night owls’, said Ahren in an attempt at a joke, but it had no effect on Khara. ‘Is everything alright?’ he finally asked.
Khara gestured to the carriage below. ‘Jelninolan released me from my servitude today. I’m free to go wherever I want to.’ Her voice had taken on a tone of great fragility, and Ahren had to resist the impulse to hug her.
‘She isn’t herself at the moment’, said Ahren, trying to explain the situation, Khara shook her head.
‘You’re wrong’, she said, contradicting him. ‘She’s saying very little, but what she is saying comes from her heart. I am no longer her servant, and I have to decide what I want to do next.’
A cold, moist hand gripped Ahren’s heart, squeezing it slowly but relentlessly as the realisation dawned on him that the young woman could leave her companions in the morning, and he would in all probability never see her again. ‘Have you any idea of what you want to do?’ he asked quietly, completely caught in the grip of his fear.
Khara shrugged her shoulders. ‘This has hit me completely unexpectedly. For many years my life has been determined by others. Strictly speaking, I have no reason to stay with all of you, but on the other hand there is no place I currently want to return to’, she said helplessly.
‘That’s all nonsense’, said Ahren, suddenly agitated. ‘We all like you and you’re a great help to us.’ He was delighted to be able to hide behind the group as he continued his argument. ‘We need you.’ He had almost said ‘I need you’ and stopped speaking for fear of revealing himself.
Khara examined him intently, her face sceptical.
Ahren decided to appeal to her honour, knowing that this was the be-all and end-all of her very existence. ‘And anyway, you really don’t want to hear that the Thirteenth Paladin was defeated in a fight with a bandit, whom you could have defeated with your hands behind your back’, he said conspiratorially and with an ironic smile.
Khara looked at him in shock, before her astonished reaction gave way slowly to a smile. ‘Well, if you put it like that, I suppose I’ll just have to stay’, she responded mischievously. Then she suddenly became serious. ‘Thank you. If the others see things the same way, then I will gladly continue to help you all.’
‘Why don’t we celebrate with a swordfight?’ asked Ahren roguishly, and secretly more relieved than he was willing to admit to himself.
Khara jumped at the idea and soon the amazed guards heard the clinking of swords and the sound of quiet laughter coming from the roof of the carriage and echoing into the night air.
Khara announced her intention of staying the next morning, and the reactions ranged from sheer joy to mild surprise that her continued help had ever been in doubt.
Jelninolan was coming back to her old self slowly and was unable to give her view on the matter, but the rest of the party welcomed the swordsgirl into the group once more as a free woman.
They were sitting together at breakfast, and were devouring the sweet, sticky pastries that had been handed into them by a servant. They would shortly be arriving at the tented encampment of the Sun Emperor and an uneasy silence hung over the group.
Then Jelninolan appeared at the door to her sleeping quarters and blinked at the others in confusion. ‘What are we doing here?’ she mumbled. ‘We need to defend the city.’
Uldini rose up, laughing. ‘You must have missed something, Auntie. We’re just delivering the peace treaty, and we were able to prevent the Doppelganger’s second act of subterfuge by stopping the 17th Legion’s assault on the city’, he announced with satisfaction.
‘You must have missed something’, said the elf, now totally awake, with considerable vehemence. ‘I’m talking about his third plan. What about the Dark Ones that are moving towards the Brazen City? I warned you about them yesterday morning when my charm net sounded alarm bells.’
A shocked silence filled the room as everyone stared in disbelief at the priestess.
‘Tell me you’re joking’, gasped Falk, but the elf shook her head firmly.
Uldini closed his eyes and Ahren inferred from the tone in the Arch Wizard’s voice that he was finding it hard to maintain his composure. ‘After your healing of Xobutumbur, you were completely away with the fairies and your babbling made hardly any sense at all. I’m certain I would have picked up on a well-articulated warning concerning the imminent attack of a large horde of Dark Ones.’
Jelninolan frowned. ‘Oh dear’, she said uncertainly, ‘maybe I only dreamed the whole thing.’
Uldini wiped his brow and let out a protracted sigh. ‘Alright’, he said resignedly. ‘How much time do we have?’
‘They’ll reach the city by nightfall’, prophesied the priestess. ‘I’m going to cast a new net now and see if I can get an overview of the situation. But we need to turn around immediately.’
‘Out of the question’, interjected Falk. ‘It’s true that we’re not prisoners, but guests of the Emperor against our wills, if you see what I mean.’
‘And anyway, we’re going to need his help’, said Uldini quickly. He floated to the door, pulled it open and screamed: ‘Chop, chop, chop! There’s an emergency and we need to get to the Emperor as quickly as possible!’
Despite his reput
ational damage, his order was acceded to immediately, and the enormous carriage gathered speed while the soldiers proceeded to quick march.
Ahren sat there in a state of shock, scarcely able to believe what he had just heard. All their efforts to protect the Brazen City from harm were once more in danger of coming to nought, and now he understood why the others became extremely anxious whenever Doppelgangers crossed their paths. Their reputations as master strategists were well deserved. The Doppler’s attempt to delude the dwarves into using Deep Fire had seemed diabolic to Ahren, and then there was the parallel acceleration of the assault by the Plainers as an ingenious back-up plan. But the massed attack by Dark Ones was surely the high point of the Doppelganger, and Ahren had to grudgingly admire his perfidious audacity. If everything had gone according to the Doppler’s plans, then the Brazen City and the Sunplainers would have torn each other to shreds before the Dark Ones would have attacked the survivors from both armies. But although Ahren and his comrades had succeeded in foiling one part of the Doppelganger’s scheme, the Dark Ones could still overrun the city because the city guards were unprepared, the city walls had been damaged by catapult and Uldini himself had blown up the city gate the previous day.
Ahren slumped down, feeling utterly miserable, but then he felt his master’s hand on his shoulder.
‘Are you alright?’ asked Falk quietly.
‘We’ve only just saved them. Twice, in fact. Is that not enough?’ groaned Ahren in frustration.
Falk grinned and then looked in resignation at Ahren. ‘Welcome to our world’, he said. ‘Uldini alone saved King’s Island nine times during the Dark Days.’
‘Ten times’, corrected the Ancient, grinding his teeth. ‘You’ve forgotten the pestilence the dastardly necromancer tried to unleash.’
‘You know what I mean’, said Falk, turning to Ahren.
The Brazen City Page 39
