Dryw Henge

by Jonathan Forth

  “We run sir.”

  “Run? That’s rather undignified.”

  “Well if you want to survive the morning and not be run through by an Aquamuran knight’s lance then dignity is the sacrifice you will have to make.”

  The rout was chaotic and disorderly. Immediately after the horn had sounded the retreat there was a shout of ‘every man for himself’. The remainder of the Horde turned heels and fled. Such was the collapse that many sustained further injuries either running into each other, or each other’s weapons, if they had them that is. Many simply abandoned them there and then on the battlefield and fled for safety. Or anywhere actually, safety being a relatively conceptual two months’ march back to Gamura.

  “I suggest we get out of here.”

  “Shouldn’t we run, it may be faster!” said General Popin.

  “But we don’t need to be the fastest. Just faster than the next man.” He nodded to a soldier passing them missing an arm and half a leg. “Plenty for them to finish off before they get to us!”

  “I heard the rout often results in much higher casualties for the retreating force than the actual battle itself.”

  “Hmmm, not in this case, Sir. I’m not sure there are that many of the Horde left.”

  “Do you think they will rally and go back on the offensive?”

  “Well I like your optimism but first, many will need to go back and fetch their swords. Hard to rally armed with a fistful of grass and a lump of earth in each hand. Nope, I think we are done for. On the bright side you and I live to fight another day. Unlike the rest of our men, most of whom are face down in the mud as we speak!”

  *

  Commander Orrick stood in front of a gathering of his senior officers. “I am happy in my heart that so little Aquamuran blood was spilt on this day. Through it was the foolish attack of our enemies and the arrogance and folly of their leaders that led to their failure.

  “It is their men, their horsemen and foot soldiers; those not here for pride, treachery or personal gain that have paid the true price. They demonstrated their valour on the field of battle, and we will honour them. Raise a glass ‘to the fallen’.”

  “To the fallen,” they all repeated.

  Chapter 10

  The Terramian Cavalry

  Aron, Saturnus and Daylon were riding together and Aron challenged Saturnus once more. “I can’t believe we are just heading to Dryw Henge without any idea as to what is going to happen and how to stop it. Whatever it is. All those years sat on top of the mountain contemplating the greater meaning of the universe,” he said sarcastically, “not give you any insights at all?”

  Saturnus looked at Aron. “Don’t think I’ve been sitting in a war room plotting the eventual downfall of Gorath as I was not. It was on a personal voyage of discovery of the mind, the body, and my relationship with the world around us. About how there are extremes within us, how we find balance; balance between right and wrong, truths and falsehoods; kindness and acts of malevolence.

  “I anticipated the world would come to me at some point. But please understand me, I had neither thought of the trials of the realms or considered how they may be solved.”

  Aron was getting frustrated, “All right, fair enough, let’s accept that and move on. Assume Gorath has all five totems. How do we stop him?”

  “Stop him from what?” said Saturnus. “It’s still not clear to me what it is Gorath will achieve by bringing the five totems together.

  “Let’s go back. We believe that the universe is formed by the four elements: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. Each element contains its own unique properties, which work simultaneously to bring balance to our world. None of the elements are inherently good or bad; however, each has both positive and negative qualities.

  “Bringing them together is going to ensure harmony, nothing else. If Gorath believes it will give him unyielding power to bend the elements on this earth and conquer the wills of men, he is mistaken.”

  “What about the fifth element, Quintessence, you can’t just ignore that. That’s what caused all the problems in the first place and it is what sustains Gorath such that he may accomplish his goals. Daylon described it to me as a dark energy that permeates the other elements; it’s the totem which can overwhelm and enslave the rest.”

  “I thought that way once but remember, Gorath appeared from nowhere with the fifth element, it drove him to butcher and murder his grove. We were panicked and desperate facing an unknown power and destiny, but most of those actions were those of a man, not a physical totem.

  “I believe the fifth element is subtler, permeating the others and the fabric of all things. Just another element of the balance. It is the man himself and his desires and dark ambitions that enslaved the Quintessence Totem and not the other way round.

  “Quintessence is also thought to be not of the material world, almost spiritual. That is why it is said to have the power over life. It is unencumbered by the relationship of the other elements that erode and age over time, and because of this, it may be more attuned to those with pure thoughts whether those are in hatred or in goodness. Gorath vented such pure evil that it answered him.”

  “So,” said Daylon. “I hear what you are saying but humour me for a second. What I hear is that even if the four elements are part of the puzzle, left on their own they will find a natural balance. Quintessence is the key. If we can separate the Quintessence Totem from Gorath, then he will lose his powers.”

  “That could be one option,” replied Saturnus.

  “Well,” said Daylon, “it seems to be the most logical approach to me. We intercept Gorath on his way to Dryw Henge and take the Quintessence Totem. It’s a very practical solution to an oddly philosophical problem.”

  “Uhumm,” said Aron. “But Gorath still has his armies, the Janshai, beasts and elifants. You can’t just walk up to his door and say ‘excuse me could I have the fifth totem please?’”

  “Details,” replied Daylon. “We have our cat, we’ve just got to work out the best way to skin it!”

  “One more thing,” said Saturnus. “In my travels of the mind I sometimes heard a whisper, no more, of a sixth element. It may just be conjecture or myth. It rests removed somehow from our known world.

  “But the sixth element was connected and part of the fifth element. In fact, two parts of the same. Both aligned to life or our existence. The first Quintessence, which is all pervading and manifests itself within man and his physical form and purifies him from the ravages of time.

  “The sixth is not in a physical form; it is light, thought, consciousness. It is in fact the essence of all things. As I say just a whisper. Perhaps the Grand Library of Celestina may unlock the mystery. There are many ancient scrolls held there.”

  “Well we can’t be doing with all that now,” said Daylon. “We’re having enough trouble with the five!”

  *

  Sumnar came alongside Raisa.

  Raisa had the simple flowing hairstyle worn by Janshai tribeswomen. Sometimes they decorated their hair with braids, but Raisa preferred hers long and free. Tradition was that a girl’s hair was symbolic of the earth and the freedom of its long grasses. Raisa liked that, though her body may have been enslaved, captive of the Janshai, her hair was wild and free, like her untamed spirit.

  Her Terramian skin had darkened in the sun, it had also brought out her warm brown freckles that contrasted to her soft honeyed complexion. But most striking of all were her bright blue eyes, glinting like the ice hues deep within a glacier, they set her apart from the tribe.

  “Your brother was my apprentice. He was a bit of a tearaway when he first arrived at Ampheus. Though he was naturally gifted with height and strength, but also had determination and dedication.

  “Growing older he became a soldier with honour and respect, a fine young man. I know what happened to you and your parents is a trav
esty and although the pain may diminish in time, it will always be with you.

  “But I think your parents would be proud of him. Maybe if he lived and grew up in the village of his birth he would not have achieved all that he has. He is admired and one of the finest captains of the guard Ampheus has ever had.”

  Raisa smiled, “You can imagine I am gladdened that I have a family still, alive still, and a brother no less. My upbringing was perhaps very similar. I was an outcast and orphan to be derided and beaten. The lowest of the tribe, but I used my wits to survive, and I found a natural affinity for horses. I could calm them, break them and tame them, a whisperer as they say. Soon the traders of the wild stallions captured on the plains would seek me out, the Janshai horsemen too.

  “Then I met Aksel and found a kindred spirit. Someone who could see another better way for the Janshai. He took me under his wing and I became Janshai. He is the descendent of Janshai noblemen. There are those that thrive in the lust for killing and power, but given the chance there are many that would follow him to a more peaceful path.”

  “Perhaps he may get the opportunity yet,” smiled Sumnar, and then paused. They rode alongside each other for a while deep in their own thoughts.

  *

  It was not uncommon for children of the realms to be abducted by the Janshai and taken to the steppes of Gamura. Life was harsh there, the infant mortality rate high, so one way to maintain the population by assimilating them into the Janshai and their ways.

  Raisa could remember the long journey back to Gamura. She, like the other small children, huddled on a cart, bound to its sides and the older children walked. If they fell behind or caused any mischief they were slain on the spot. Boys in particular had been treated harshly. An older boy had spat in the face of a Janshai and was beaten until he lay limp on the ground. He’d been left there to die and the remaining children slowly filed past his bloodied body. It was a clear message from the Janshai, disobey us and die. The smaller infants whimpered and cried as they shuffled past. A comforting arm offered by the older children was cast off by their captors.

  Raisa survived, against the odds. Many she’d known since birth didn’t. They were paraded through the Janshai encampment then allotted to Janshai families. Those that had lost children of their own. A boy for a boy. A girl for a girl. Some of the Janshai hacked at her golden hair and took as souvenirs as she awaited her fate. She was too numb to resist.

  She quickly got the routine. Girls were used as slaves, to forage for food, fetch water, kindling and firewood and for cooking. Any disobedience resulted in a beating from her captors. The Janshai captain who’d raided her village had handed her over to a distant relative who lost a young daughter the year before. The mother of the family, Tora, was harsh and unforgiving, though not prone to extremes of violence like some.

  At night she was chained and slept on a bed of dry grass, by the flap of the yurt. If it was cold, she may be spared an old blanket but only on the bleakest nights would she get to sleep under a fur.

  First to work in the morning, she would clear the dying embers of the fire from the night before and start a new blaze. She was last to eat the scraps that were thrown in her direction. Her strength of will and endurance were enough to bear what trials she faced. She’d look down at her legs and arms, the dark bruises and scars a patchwork of reminders of the times she’d returned back to the camp empty handed. At six she’d been tattooed on her shoulders, her markings designating her as a slave.

  As she grew older, she enjoyed a freer life, more accustomed to a normal Janshai. The family that had adopted her bred and trained the fighting stallions of the Janshai warriors. Gradually she became trusted to feed and groom the horses. She’d accompany them to the blacksmith if they needed shoeing or a new saddle. As she passed through the camp she’d come across other children with similar markings, their skin darkened from constant exposure to the sun. It made it more difficult to tell the Terramian children apart, but the tattoo markings remained.

  They would never stop or chat, it was forbidden, but eventually she would recognise faces she’d seen before and perhaps a comforting glance or half-smile would pass between the two. At these times she’d reflect on her family, and particularly her brother. She wondered if he had he escaped or was he similarly held at another Janshai encampment.

  Over time Raisa gathered a few trinkets for herself: brass bracelets, silver earrings and a headdress of cloth and hairpins. Though it was the necklace, which still hung around her neck, which was her most precious gift. She thought of her brother once again and hoped he’d found a better life.

  In time Raisa became aware of another boy at the encampment that also shared the same markings of a slave, and yet he was clearly a Janshai. She and Tora had found an understanding and respect in the years and she felt comfortable enough to ask questions in time.

  “Tora, there is a young man in the camp, a Janshai, but with the slave markings, who is he?”

  Tora’s face clouded like thunder and Raisa thought she may strike her, but something held her back.

  “Just stay clear of him. His father was a traitor to the Janshai and executed, his son’s life forfeited. It is a sad tale as they were once a proud and noble family. No good can come of associating with him.”

  Raisa watched. The boy lived with his uncle who was a high-ranking Janshai warrior and frequently a client of Raisa’s family. Often he required the boy to ride the horses as clearly he had a natural instinct for those that would be suited to combat. Young skittish horses, wide-eyed with fear, would calm to his touch, and willingly follow his gentle coaxing to the saddle. Though those skills never seemed to get the boy a break.

  If he showed any insolence or disobedience he was knocked down by a fist into the dust or beaten by a stick. He always got back up, slowly, surely, one knee at a time, then onto his feet. He’d brush himself down and carry on where he left off. He never begged for mercy, cried out in pain. Once she saw him being dragged to the centre of the encampment. His arms and legs were bound to four stakes buried into the ground, under the day’s unrelenting sun, and the night’s bitter cold. At times young warriors would stop, kick dust at him or throw dirty water over him. He remained, unbroken, silent.

  Other times the women used him. The disgrace of performing a slave’s chores like her, gathering wood, carrying water must have been humiliating to the proud young man. It was on one of these errands that they first got to spend time alone together, as she’d approached the stream.

  She hesitated, went to turn back, but something compelled her forward and instead she went to the spring and crouched next to him, lowering her jug into the crystal cold current that flowed at her feet. She knew he’d not turned to look at her, but equally felt his presence and knew that he was aware that she was beside him.

  “Raisa,” she said. There was a pause.

  “My name, Raisa.”

  He turned to look at her; it was the first time she’d looked directly into the boy’s eyes. They were grey as granite, she felt herself gasp an intake of breath.

  “Do not make the mistake of thinking we are kindred spirits, we are not. Slaves we may be, but that is all we have in common. Whatever purpose you have in addressing me, it is misplaced and will not result in a positive end. It will only bring you trouble, that is certain.”

  Raisa stiffened, annoyed by his supposed superiority in misery. “We are both orphans at the hands of the Janshai. We seek our revenge against those who wronged us. Whatever my standing now, I will prove my value, rise up, and then when the time is right strike down those that killed my family.”

  He paused, returned the stare of the young slave girl, like a lighthouse arc fanning back and enveloping her in light and resting upon her. She thought she’d said too much, overstepped a line. That again her action may result in the severest punishment.

  “Aksel, my name is Aksel.”

 
*

  “The tattoos,” Sumnar inquired some time later. “What do they mean?”

  Raisa looked down at her arm. “We make them from wood ash, first to dye the skin and then prick it with a small iron needle. Most Janshai are tattooed from the tips of our fingers to our necks. There is no rule; you’ll see Janshai with tattoos on their bodies and heads. Most are just symbols of Janshai life; the mountains, fire, beasts and lightning.”

  Then she paused in thought. “But the tattoos on the arm depict battles and killings. A stroke above the wrist for each.” Sumnar instinctively glanced down at Raisa’s arm.

  “Six,” she said, as if to pre-empt his thought. “You cannot be a Janshai and avoid death, it is not possible. Let me tell you though, unlike most Janshai who wear these with pride, for me each stripe is a mark of shame.”

  *

  Prince Aron was deep in thought as Daylon rode up to him. “Sire, is everything alright?”

  The Prince’s expression grew dark and he shook his head. “The vision I had at the clan camp was of my father’s death. At the hands of Gorath at Dryw Henge.”

  Daylon opened his mouth in surprise, “You did not say! Listen, visions can mean anything. I’m not sure they can be taken so literally. Even as a seer, I can’t say, hand on heart, that a vision is a future reality that’ll come to pass. It’s just your mind dealing with the environment around it.

  “Times of tranquillity or fear can produce very different visions. It’s like a dream. It does not surprise me, given the turmoil that we are experiencing, that you would have a vision of death.

  “It may simply be a way for you mind to resolve your anxiety or even some form of anger directed at yourself. Perhaps you were feeling some doubt about our progress to find Saturnus and failing your father. That’s what the vision was trying to represent.”

  “You don’t think it was a harbinger of my father’s imminent death?” asked Aron.

  “More like an opportunity to find some peace for something subconsciously in life that is bothering you, so that you can perhaps change and address it in reality. To find that inner peace.”