Following Chalc’s lead they sat on the mats cross legged. The old man took a kettle of boiling water from a small stove and made tea. After it had steeped he served each of them a cup before taking his own and sitting cross legged before Chalc. In the dim light Arwhon could swear the old man glowed slightly but couldn’t be sure. Chalc bowed from the waist.
“Master.”
The old man returned the bow.
“Not Master, Chalc. You already have one of those.”
The old teacher looked toward Arwhon, who wondered how he knew.
“A man can only have one Master. Teacher is a more fitting title for me now Chalc.”
He spread his gaze over the group before him.
“You bring strange companions Chalc. Two with eyes not of Man, one dressed in green armour and one carrying a Tarkent sword, a young gryffon and three Barsoomi Riders.”
Arwhon’s face registered surprise.
“How could you see? Shiri has a glamour on us?”
The old man’s smile was warm.
“Don’t be alarmed. I see what is, not what someone wants me to see.” He turned to Chalc. “Introduce us please, Chalc.”
Chalc did so and they sat sipping tea silently while the old man observed them.
“May I see your blade Chalc?” The old man asked and Chalc unsheathed his sword and laid it in front of his Teacher, Yongsan, who picked it up and examined it.
“Good work, as I would expect from such an excellent student. Have you kept up your training?”
Chalc gave a small seated bow.
“Yes Teacher. It’s a part of my life.”
Yongsan nodded and returned the sword to Chalc.
“May I see your blade?” he asked Arwhon who unsheathed his sword and laid it in front of Yongsan. The teacher studied it for a while in silence, at one point flicking the blade with a fingernail to elicit a pure ringing tone and nodding sagely.
“This is one of yours Chalc?”
Chalc inclined his head shyly in reply as Yongsan continued.
“This is the finest blade I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen many over the years. It rings True and has something beyond skill in its manufacture. It is indeed a work of art. The design on the blade is most intriguing. Where did it come from?”
In answer, Arwhon held up his right hand so Yongsan could see the Ring, grown into his flesh, part of him.
“Ah, the young man who is foreseen.”
He noted the astonishment on Arwhon’s face.
“You may look M’Herindar but you are not. You forget, I see what is. So you’re the one the design has chosen. Very well, I’ve been keeping something for you.”
He rose and went behind a screen, talking as he went.
“When the Dominion came here, a lot of valuable and rare artefacts were sent up into the hills for safe keeping. One arrived here anonymously with instructions. When the owner arrived, I would know and could pass it on.”
Yongsan reappeared from behind the screen holding a small piece of what appeared to be metal.
“You must be the owner I was to look for.”
He handed the object to Arwhon.
It was a small rectangle of an unfamiliar metal, hinged down one side. On the outer surface was etched the same design as on the Ring, Sword, Dagger and Helm. Arwhon found he could open the two sheets and discovered the inner surfaces were covered with a minute strange text. Yongsan looked on and commented.
“This is the first time I have ever seen it open up. It would never open before.” He looked at the text. “Dwarvish, I believe. Can’t read it though. Better put it away for now.”
Arwhon tucked it away into an inside pocket as his sword was handed back to him. Yongsan then stepped to Shiri and rapped on her armour, nodding approvingly. Eventually he turned his attention to Krissi.
“Is she dangerous?”
Arwhon considered his reply.
“I don’t really know. How did you know it was female?”
The old man held out his hand toward Krissi who sniffed it then rubbed her head against it like a cat. Yongsan scratched behind her ears.
“The males smell stronger and are not so friendly. There are not many of them, as only the smartest ones live. The others try to follow their sisters’ first flight from the high crags where the mother nests and fall to their deaths because the male’s wings take much longer to develop than those of the female. Males with sense wait until their mother judges them developed enough to survive their first flight before they attempt it. Nothing will challenge a fully grown male gryffon.”
This was the first person Arwhon had met who knew anything about gryffons and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip.
“Do you know why Krissi is growing so quickly?”
Yongsan turned to Arwhon with a smile.
“Gryffons grow in relation to how much they eat. In the wild it can be a while between kills so they grow slowly but if you keep pouring food into her she’ll grow very rapidly. Bigger than a small horse when fully mature.”
Yongsan focused on the Riders and bowed.
“I’m sorry for your loss. You still unconsciously move as four would. I sense the space. Right now it’s important I spend time with these three people and don’t want to bore you. It will be a long day. I suggest you walk back to the village and have a day of ease or, challenge some of the men to an archery competition. There are one or two in the village who know your tongue. Thank you for coming to visit.”
He bowed again as the Riders rose and made their way out of the school. All Riders knew and respected authority and were quite happy to be released from sitting still in one place for so long.
“Do you reckon we could place bets on the archery Randar?” Breeta asked as they walked away.
“Don’t see why not,” he replied. “What do you reckon Neta?”
“Be like taking sweets from babies,” she replied with a grin.
Chalc looked up from the bowl of rice and steamed, chopped vegetables Yongsan had prepared for lunch and thought about how to say what he wanted.
“We have to be at Pindayo in one week. We’ve already been all through the northern highlands recruiting aid to overthrow the Dominion occupation and we agreed to meet there. No one told us of the Royal Family being imprisoned in their own keep and held hostage though. What are we to do?”
“Eat your meal and enjoy it. We will talk of other things for now, I’m curious about your companions and what you’ve been doing for the last twenty years since you were taken by the Dominion soldiers. Eat, talk and I’ll think on your problem.”
Arwhon liked the old man and he felt Shiri did also. She relaxed in a way she relaxed in very few places. Shiri took her job of Shield seriously and was nearly always on guard in some way or other. Krissi was doing the rounds of everyone, so he tossed her another scrap from his bowl. She wolfed it down, looking for more. After lunch when the utensils were put away, Krissi came and curled up at his back to sleep while they sat cross-legged, talking the afternoon away.
Before they left, Yongsan suggested a way to rescue the Royal Family.
“Do you still remember your ‘Black’ training?” he asked Chalc.
Chalc seemed surprised at the question but indicated agreement.
“What’s ‘Black’ training?” Arwhon interrupted.
Yongsan raised his eyebrows in surprise at the young man’s rudeness but answered anyway.
“We have to know our enemy’s training as well as our own. ‘Black’ refers to a group in Tarkent who practice the arts of subterfuge, concealment and sometimes assassination. We learn those ways also but only as a means of spotting a possible attack from someone trained in that manner. Chalc and I would have no difficulty in gaining access to the Royal Palace, even if it were guarded by a thousand men. It’s what we do when we get there that is the problem.”
Once more he turned to Chalc.
“Tomorrow I’ll come to the village ready to travel. I’m going with you. The
best answer to the puzzle will come without thought. We’ll sleep on it.”
With that he ushered them all out of the gates in the fading light of the day and the three of them with Krissi made their way back to the village.
When they arrived it was to find three shamefaced Barsoomi Riders. After a few direct questions it was confessed that not only the men of Wychee but also the women were very good archers and the Riders were now without coin.
In all his dealings with the Broken Landers and the inhabitants of Tarkent, Arwhon had no indication from the Ring he wore that those he had met were dishonest. The same went for the Barsoomi. In those three lands, Man had developed societies which functioned well and expected honesty to be openly and freely given. None of these peoples were self serving and they freely cooperated with each other within their society. You could rely on what they said and what they said, they did. He thought back to Petrad and the innkeeper at Cumbrisia’s End. Also Men, but not the sort who benefited the world around them. Somewhat like the thugs Kroy had used and Willem from the Council of Ten in Belvedere. Overall it was harmful to any society to have dishonest people like them in it.
Arwhon drifted off to sleep dreaming about an ideal world.
Yongsan appeared at sunrise before anyone but Chalc had risen. He used a staff for walking and had a small pack with him. Tucked into a sash, wrapped around his middle, were two swords, a long one like Chalc’s and a shorter one. When Arwhon came from the sleeping room he saw the two of them sitting on the verandah deep in conversation. He left them to it and went to the kitchen to make tea for he and Shiri. After the tea and before they dressed and left their room, Arwhon took all the items with the Ring’s design and placed them on the floor together. The small metal folder lay open on the floor among them. Why Arwhon chose to touch it with the Ring he wore was beyond him but when he did there was a blurring of the letters and suddenly the writing had changed to a form he could read. It was tiny and cramped but his M’Herindar eyes saw it easily. The words read:
Only a True heart can bear
The Ring of Truth and the Dagger too.
Plus a Sword to cauterise
The Lies where Darkness hides.
A Helm to protect the head.
And this Writing to guard a True Heart.
He pointed out the writing to Sihron’del but she couldn’t read it. Only Arwhon’s eyes could make it out.
“The sword and helm weren’t even made when this was written. How odd. What do you suppose it means by, ‘This Writing to guard a True heart’?”
Shiri’s laughter brightened the room.
“That’s easy. Nothing exotic about it at all. It probably means you should wear the little plate over your heart. I suppose having the design facing out would be sensible. I’ll make a little pocket for it in both of your undershirts. Just remember to swap it over before washing the one you’re wearing at the time.”
She went off to find Chalc’s daughter to request needle and thread. Before long she’d made a pocket in each of Arwhon’s undershirts and he slipped the little hinged plate in one before dressing. The skin over his heart felt warm beneath the metal plate and it was somehow comforting.
“What made you think of that as the answer?” Arwhon casually asked Shiri, curiosity getting the better of him.
“I don’t know. It just seemed obvious.”
She looked him up and down. Since his time in the Tree of Ch’ron, Arwhon had become a very handsome man, even for a M’Herindar. Shiri felt stirrings and shut them down. Arwhon had honour even if she didn’t want him to and living like this, even fraught with danger, was still better than being parted from him.
Frustrating as it was.
They finished dressing and went out join Chalc and Yongsan. Chalc greeted them both and they sat down to discuss a plan Yongsan had devised. It was an interesting strategy but very dangerous for the old man and Chalc and also the Royal Family if it went wrong. Yongsan explained it to Arwhon and Shiri.
“Chalc and I enter the Royal Palace Keep and talk to the King. We want to hide the Royal Family in the Keep so they will not be discovered. One of us then creeps back down and opens the front doors of the Keep and then the Gate in the Wall to make it look as if the Royal Family has escaped. It will be easier to fool the soldiers than it will be to safely get the Royal Family out. They cannot move as quietly as we can. The discussion we are having at the moment is to agree on who stays with the Royal Family once we are inside. We disagree.”
To Arwhon there was no difficulty in choosing.
“Chalc comes back out. He leads the Tarkent forces. Have you mentioned the Amulet, Chalc?”
Chalc blushed at his omission and turned to Yongsan.
“Sorry Teacher, I have an Amulet which renders me invisible. I didn’t mention it because I knew the pure teachings say we can be invisible with proper training and you trained me that way. I was therefore embarrassed to talk of it.”
“It’s better to use a tool if it comes to hand than discard it. At least your training means the sound of your passing will not give you away. You shall open the doors and gates then. Agreed?”
Chalc was relieved.
“Agreed.”
Two hours later, after Chalc promised his daughter he would return after the war ended and all the goodbyes were said, they set off. Yongsan rode on Darla behind Chalc. She didn’t mind, as two from Tarkent were not much of a load, particularly as Yongsan was so small and wiry. The Barsoomi Riders were gaily farewelled by a number of happy and slightly richer townsfolk.
In five days there was to be a gathering in Pindayo.
6. Cause and Effect.
The Empress Martine was tired. This was supposed to be a time for rest and recreation but she was a week late for her treatment and feeling it. The Dark Mage had apologised to her each day his fell beast had been out of range of his summoning, explaining there were limitations to his magic as far as mentally calling across vast distances. The extra week had been hard for her to bear, waiting for her return to Goristoum.
What a journey.
The reptilian beast eventually arrived to convey Martine and the Mage from her camp outside Belvedere to Goristoum. It was huge, with leathern wings and a narrow pointed head full of ferocious teeth. Its body was long and scaled with a slender tail and four legs ending in taloned claws. She had never even heard of such a beast, let alone seen one. The Dark Mage had chuckled evilly as the enormous riderless monster flapped lazily over her army, preparatory to landing, soldiers running from around her tent as it descended.
“I travelled far, following rumours, to find this beast. It comes from the mountains in the south of Draakon and it is the beast they name themselves after. They call it a ‘drakon’ and they are few. I took it as a hatchling and it obeys me now. The beast is useful for travelling vast distances rapidly. It’s the best I can offer to get you to Goristoum in time for your treatment. The flight will be cold but we will be there in less than a day.”
As the drakon glided in to alight near her tent, her men scattered as fast as they could to get out of its way. One unlucky wretch was too slow and the giant flying lizard-like creature’s serrated jaws impaled him, before he was swallowed whole in one jerking gulp. Martine was trepiditious as she followed the Dark Mage toward the beast, spotting the saddles at the base of the neck, in front of the wings, as she drew closer. Its multi-faceted eyes followed her every move and Martine was sure she would have been on the menu if not for the cloaked Mage in front of her. Mounted on its back, the Dark Mage showed Martine how to strap herself in to the saddle to which she clung tightly as the drakon became airborne.
The take off was gut-wrenching as the huge wings beat forcefully to push them into the air but the flight itself was a wondrous experience. Martine revelled in seeing the country stretched out below like a map and took great satisfaction in observing the blackened, desolate Plains of Barsoom as they flew over the south eastern corner of what had once been thriving grasslands.
>
Stiff with the cold of altitude, Martine arrived at Goristoum just on dusk. The Empress had been away from her capital for more than a month and there was a lot to catch up on. She would not have the time to enjoy her ‘special’ bath until affairs of state were taken care of but she was desperately starting to feel the need for some of the life giving energies it passed on to her.
After a much needed sleep that first night, the Empress Martine was forced to sit on the Throne of Debrishar all the next day, listening to wittering courtiers and hearing complaints and charges against those suspected of treason or sedition. Carlinna had been as helpful as possible, bringing restorative drinks and refreshments for her mistress throughout the long day and justice had been dispensed rapidly and efficiently.
The bodies now dangling from posts along the city’s major thoroughfares were mute testimony to the speed with which Martine solved problems. The fact most were probably innocent had nothing to do with the result. It all depended on who brought the charges and how much power they had. The only way to remain the fox among the chickens was to kill off any other potential foxes before they tasted flesh.
Today she had been fox hunting.
Lamps had been lit as the daylight departed, gloom filling the Throne room and the number of petitioners diminished to a trickle. Soon it would be time for her to bathe. After which, she decided, a little bed time play might revive her. She signalled Carlinna and whispered in her ear. Her servant nodded and went to search out the idle young men Martine kept as playthings. They would be bathed, scented and oiled, ready to accommodate her every whim when she eventually returned to her private chambers; energised and fortified with new life, after her time spent soaking in the blood of young maidens.
The Fall of Belvedere Page 17