by R. E. Palmer
The unfamiliar birdsong caught Toryn’s attention. He peered up between the leaves to see a small, yellow bird perched on the twigs at the top of a tree. It sang with a vigor belying its diminutive size. More joined the brightly-colored bird in the treetops. They huddled together as they sang to each other as if sharing the events of the day. Toryn listened, recalling Hamar’s tale of the Three Maidens teaching birds different parts of their song. If true, it must have been beautiful to hear, judging by woodland’s evening chorus.
For a precious moment, Toryn forgot his worries, losing himself in the birdsong as the scent of the blossom-laden trees took him back to the first of the summer evenings of home. He let out a long sigh as the last warmth of the setting sun bathed his face.
Hope tugged at his sleeve. ‘You’ve stopped. I thought we were in a hurry?’ Toryn nodded, and without a word, walked on, leaving the moment behind. He knew with every step they drew nearer to the Caerwal Mountains and the gate. But what had happened since the attack? He shuddered at the memory of Captain Bulstrow’s violent end; it seemed such a long way off as he stood beneath the fragrant blossoms of the woods.
Toryn watched the birds nestling together other on the crowded twigs, taking pleasure from the arrival of summer. If the Golesh had broken through, surely these trees would already be charred stumps, and the skies empty as the birds would have fled north. He listened again, trying to identify the birds whose songs he knew. Despite their predicament, Toryn grinned to himself. Not so long ago, he spent his days building fences while dreaming of the world beyond his borders. Yet here he now stood, having walked half the length of the land, and on his way to deliver a vital message to the Archon. But what he would say, and how much use Hope would be, he could not tell. Thankfully, he had at least three weeks to contemplate his message before they arrived.
Toryn glanced up and noticed they had left the cover of the trees. To the east, the Kolossos Mountains loomed tall, and, as the last light waned, Caranach showed its pink-tinged face. Toryn stopped to gaze upon the west face of his old friend, taking comfort from the part of the world he knew remained true. The lines of the familiar face revealed they stood due south-west of his farm, by perhaps a league or two. He had left only seven weeks hence, but it felt like a lifetime ago. The urge to see his home, and especially his mother, surprised him. He imagined strolling up the path to find her tending the herbs in the small garden outside the kitchen window. She would run and fling her arms around him. Then, stand back and gaze in amazement. He heard her voice exclaim, well look at you, haven’t you grown.
‘We going that way now?’ Hope nudged his arm.
‘That’s my home.’ He pointed to the peak. ‘Between here and Caranach.’
She shrugged. ‘How nice for you. Are we visiting your folks?’
‘I… I don’t know.’
‘Why not? Don’t you want to go home?’
He turned away. ‘I do, but we have to head south.’
‘Suit yourself.’ Hope stared into his face. ‘Am I still going with you?’
‘Yes.’ He sighed. ‘The voice says so, remember?’
Hope nodded as if she did not care. She glanced over his shoulder and grimaced. ‘What a hideous mountain.’
Toryn felt obliged to come to its defense. ‘It’s the tallest in the land, well, the land we know.’ He puffed out his chest. ‘And I intend to climb it one day.’ He slumped. It sounded ridiculous when spoken out loud. The parts of the journey causing the most difficulties had been mountain pathways and ravines, not to mention tripping over tree roots. How could he possibly scale Caranach?
Hope scoffed. ‘Can’t see why. It’s the last place in this land I’d want to call upon.’ The clouds returned, cloaking the mountain from view. She smiled. ‘There, that’s better. The gods have drawn the curtain. Now we can’t see it.’
Toryn looked at a clump of trees on the ridge opposite. ‘It’ll be dark before long. We’ll camp over there for the night. Then it won’t be long before we’ll need to find a way into Kernlow.’
43. One Summer’s Eve
The work to repair the gatehouse had gone at a pace surpassing Elodi’s expectations. But restoration of her once beautiful city would take many months, possibly two years to complete. She had ridden out to the plain to give thanks to the workforce who had the unenviable task of clearing and burying the enemy dead. As the sun began its descent, and the men and women returned to safety behind the walls, Elodi chose to stay a while longer and give Sea Mist a chance to gallop across the cleansed land. But if she thought the rare moment to spend time alone would clear her head, she was mistaken. As Sea Mist gladly sped through the cool evening air, Elodi’s decisions of late, clouded her mind. Rightly or wrongly, she and her Council had ruled against taking back Drunsberg. Captain Cubric had reported no signs of their foes venturing forth, so she had been satisfied to leave them holed up inside the mine for the time being. Besides, until she knew of events at the Caerwal Gate, she was reluctant to commit a large force anywhere other than Calerdorn. But no word had yet been received from either Bardon or Archonholm.
Elodi glanced back to the towers, standing tall against the reddening sky. Consolidate, always secure your position. The words of her father had much to do with her decision. Calerdorn was vital to the future of her realm. A strong city would provide the foundation for all actions in the near future. And while she still had the service of the Celestra, she had hope. As long as she could secure supplies from the south of Harlyn, she could hold their position, or at least put up a fight to make the creatures of Nordruuk think twice before launching another raid.
The ground rose. Elodi looked up, surprised she had ridden so far from the walls. She slowed, turned Sea Mist, and let him stand. To the north, the red-tinged peaks of the Dornan Mountains drew her eye. The occupied fort at Draegnor beyond, had split the members of the Council. Ultimately, Elodi had cast her deciding vote as its head, to rule out an attempt to recapture the old fort. It pained her to leave it in the hands of the enemy as it left a wide part of her border open, but she was unwilling to take it back at a cost of depleting her army, and of course, more lives. After a long debate, they reached a compromise. They dispatched a small force to keep watch while informing the Ruuk they could not expect to have a free reign over her realm. Should they ride out, they were to withdraw and defend the narrow pass at Tunduska’s Gorge in the Dornan Mountains while waiting for re-enforcements.
Elodi nudged Sea Mist, and he readily set off. The saddle rose as his head and neck lowered and his stride lengthened. Elodi tilted with him as his power surged. She cried out, not caring who would hear. ‘Ride, Misty, ride!’ He shot forward, streaking across the plain as if barely skimming the surface. Rising in the saddle, she yelled her defiance into the wind. They sped towards the city. Elodi’s heart swelled as Calerdorn’s towers loomed ever higher into the evening sky. They had stood against far greater foes in the past, and Elodi vowed they would endure under her rule. Harlyn would not fall. Let the full force of the enemy come. Let them break on the solid walls of her city like waves on the impregnable cliffs of Dorn. Let them—
Her eyes fell upon the small pile of stones commemorating the knights lost in the battle. Sea Mist eased to a canter, bringing Elodi back to the reality of her precarious situation. While they could rebuild the walls of Calerdorn, the gaps in her ranks could not easily be filled. But the forces at her command had proved themselves once, and she believed they could be victorious again, if used wisely. A single wrong move could spell the downfall of her realm. One at a time with an eye on your next three moves. Her father’s advice on playing the board game, Squares, came to mind. As a young girl, she sulked for hours following defeat, but her father insisted she would learn nothing if he let her win. Now she appreciated why he insisted she played both him and Wendel when she detested losing so much. But she could recall every move the first time she had beaten her father at fourteen. At times you had to sit back and wait for your opponent to r
eveal their strategy. Later, you might take the game to them with an unexpected move, catching them on the hop, letting them make the first mistake. The hardest part was to balance caution with boldness. Until now, her foes had been in control. Even when she thought she had taken the initiative at Durran Wood, Uleva had been one step ahead. But unlike Squares, if the Archon failed, Elodi would face two opponents on the other side of the board, and both would command many more pieces. And what of Uluriel? Did the woman who drove the Archon to the brink of defeat still live? Uluriel had pushed the immense forces of the Seven Realms to the brink of destruction; Elodi could only hope if Uluriel had not perished in the last battle, at the very least, the conflict diminished her powers.
Elodi looked back to the memorial. As soon as she could, she planned to build another, fit to honor all the two hundred and eighty fallen. But that would have to wait. The living took priority and her forces had to rebuild and prepare for the darker times she knew lay ahead.
Gundrul had been right about Ruan. Within ten days he was back on his feet, and in only seven more, he had reported fit for duty. But Aldorman had yet to rise from his infirmary bed. His wounds had become infected, along with many others, leading the apothecaries to suspect the enemy had used poisoned blades and arrows.
Sea Mist’s hooves clattered on the road as he took Elodi back to the gatehouse. The walls still bore the stains of Uldrak’s devilry, but much of the rubble had been cleared and the gaps had begun to fill. The evening workforce at the gate cheered as she entered. Elodi waved but still felt uneasy with the adulation as it only added to her sense of responsibility already weighing heavily on her young shoulders.
‘Ma’am!’ Gundrul strode down the cobbled road. He pointed to the sky. She glanced up to see a bird. A message! It had to be from Bardon. Elodi urged Sea Mist across the stones and up into the city.
Still panting from her ride, she took two steps at a time to the top of the East Tower. But Wendel had beaten her to it. He glanced up from the small roll of paper as she burst through the door. She gasped between breaths. ‘Do we need Gundrul to translate?’
He nodded. ‘Probably best to confirm, but from the little of the tongue Ruan taught me from his sickbed, I think I can read it well enough.’ Wendel’s nose wrinkled as he re-read the note.
‘Well?’
‘Bardon is true to his word, ma’am. As it had been four weeks since his last dispatch, I took the precaution of spending the day in the tower in readiness.’ He handed the paper to Elodi. ‘Such big news from such a small note.’
She scanned the strange words before her. ‘Has it sailed? Has the fleet sailed, Wendel?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am. They departed a day ahead of schedule.’ He took her hand. ‘If the winds have favored Lord Broon, they will make landfall in the Lost Realms early tomorrow.’
44. a Voice From Afar
At first, Toryn could not be sure, but as the light of the new day grew, the Archon's blue banner could be seen flapping high in the sky, far to the south. Hamar had said you could see it from ten leagues, but they had to be at least twice that distance from the city. Toryn smiled; perhaps not all Hamar’s tales were as tall as the Archon’s Tower.
Toryn sat back on the rocky ledge jutting out from the hillside and let out a long sigh. They had made it. He and Hope had trekked virtually the entire length of the Five Realms to stand within reach of their goal: the great fortress city of Archonholm. Just the sight lifted his spirits. Archonholm had been the foundation of the realms north of the Caerwals as Toryn’s ancestors had ventured forth in search of fertile lands to feed their growing numbers. And since the days of the war, the city had served as the guardian against the evil amassing on the other side of the gate, not content with conquering the lands south of the mountains.
Toryn lay back and inhaled the clear, blue sky as he listened to the birds. He watched them flutter overhead and whistled along, taking heart from their eternal melody. It had taken the best part of three weeks to wend their way through Kernlow’s golden fields of wheat and barley, before giving way to the green vineyards of Gwelayn. The wide plain rose to deliver them to Farrand; the southern-most realm. Once through the ward of Tamarand, they had finally reached Holm. At first, the open skies to the east exposed by the end of the Kolossos Mountains had unsettled Toryn. He had lived his life with the ever-present ridge protecting him from the bitter easterly winds, and for most of his journey had been be a useful guide. But their abrupt end suddenly made the world a bigger, more daunting place.
Now another feature dominated where the mountains ended — the Great Foranfae Forest. Toryn climbed to his feet and found his eyes drawn to its expansive green canopy. The trees stretched from close to where he stood on the east slopes of the Menon Hills, right out to the horizon, dominating the ward of Holm. Of all the regions of the Five Realms, Foranfae numbered among the few as yet unexplored. Even Hamar had limited knowledge, although it had not stopped his dear friend pondering what terrible wonders were hidden within. Hamar reckoned a power lay in its trees, only the Archon could muster. Toryn speculated whether a Singing Stone stood at its center, but he had not the time to consider the mysteries of the forest — his objective lay south.
Toryn looked back towards Archonholm. He gasped. As the morning haze lifted, what he had first taken to be clouds, turned out to be the snow-crested peaks of the Caerwals. As far as he could see from east to west, the sheer line of the mountains rose reassuringly high and impenetrable.
Toryn turned to find Hope standing at his side. As before, she had changed as they progressed through Kernlow, leading Toryn to believe a Singing Stone had to be in their midst. Her eyes had cleared and Toryn saw a glimpse of the Hope from the timeless wood. She gazed at the mountains, and Toryn thought he saw a flicker of recognition. Her eyes widened; her mouth gaped. Toryn took her hand — it was cold despite the warm day. He squeezed her hand. ‘What is it?’
Hope’s head shook slowly. ‘An unfamiliar voice… in the Song.’ She searched his face as she struggled to come to terms with the change. She mumbled. ‘A great power, a very, great power.’ She took a step away from Toryn, twisting her head. ‘It’s everywhere. All around.’
Toryn’s heart sank. ‘The Ul-dalak?’
She wavered. ‘I… I’m not sure.’ Her lips trembled. ‘I cannot tell. It could be one of my order, but... different, strong… such power. It comes from—’ She tilted her head and frowned. ‘Far away, far to the south, many leagues yonder.’
‘The Archon. It has to be, he must be of your kind.’
She continued as if not hearing his reply. ‘Over mountains, tall mountains, like a great wall.’
Toryn stared at the horizon. ‘But it cannot be, that’s beyond the gate, outside the Five Realms. Nothing could—’
‘No!’ Her head turned as if trying to find the meaning from the mountain wall. ‘It’s a warning... or a threat...’
Toryn shivered. ‘From the old realms? What does—?’
Hope clung to his arm, gripping so tight it hurt. She gasped. ‘We’re in great danger. Your leader is in peril. The Archon cannot hear. He does not listen.’ Hope stiffened. She whispered through her clenched jaw. ‘It’s found me. It sees me.’
Hope clutched her head, screamed, then sagged into Toryn’s arms. He staggered back, gently lowering her to the ground. He scanned the ledge, convinced unseen eyes were upon them, but they remained alone. Hope’s chest rose and fell rapidly, but as he cradled her crumpled body, her breathing slowed, and she drifted into a deep slumber. He wiped away a trickle of blood seeping from her ear, constantly checking for signs of their watcher. Hope needed to rest, but while they stayed on the exposed ledge, they were vulnerable. He had no choice but to move her to a sheltered spot. Toryn scooped his arms beneath and gently lifted her so not to disturb her sleep. He checked his footing and carried Hope to a thicket further down the slope.
Once under cover, he placed her on a soft bed of undergrowth and stepped back. To his
relief, she slept peacefully and appeared to have suffered no harm from the encounter. Despite the shelter from the bushes, Toryn could not shake the uneasy feeling of being watched. He looked out to the forest. The climbing sun warmed the thick canopy of the Foranfae, enticing the trees to release the cool night air still trapped beneath its boughs. Toryn watched the mist rise and thought back to the tale of the Three Maidens. If the Gods truly raised the peaks of the Kolossos to save the world from the falling sky, the unprotected forest would have been flattened had the Evil One succeeded. Now, the threat came not from above, but from the south, and more recently, the north. Who would save them this time? Did the old gods still watch over them? Or had they abandoned the world as the tales told, leaving mortals to fend for themselves. Toryn guessed they were long gone, and the destiny of the Five Realms lay in the hands of the Archon. But Hope had claimed he was in peril.
She stirred. Toryn turned to find the old, confused Hope from the grasslands of Dorn. He held out a hand. She took it without question, and he led her out from the bushes and down the slope. He turned before their path dipped below the ridge to look once more to the towers of Archonholm. His joy on seeing the Archon’s banner deserted him. The journey was the straightforward part. The real challenges lay ahead.
Hope stumbled and stopped. She stared at Toryn as if unsure of her young companion. Her brow furrowed. ‘Where are we going?’
Toryn placed his arm around her stooped shoulders. ‘Remember the voice from the Song?’ She nodded. He pointed south. ‘It says we must go to Archonholm. We have to deliver a vital message to the leader of the Five Realms.’
