“How can the air be poisoned?” Markos asked as I recounted the legends I was familiar with.
I shrugged. There were many toxic fumes produced by the processes of nature. The Massouqi was probably nothing more than the result of gases being released from beneath the rocks of the scree. The area never froze, not even during the most severe of winters, but it did seem to become more deadly at times when temperatures were low—the effects had been known to spill over the upper rim of the vale.
Janir poked at an area with his dagger. “This, I take it, is forest land.”
I nodded. If my memory served me correctly the area the king was pointing at was the Silver Forest. A dense, but navigable area laced with a variety of paths differing in width and navigability. It would not be ideal. Marching through such a restricted area would carry many risks; ambushes being the most obvious. I had absolutely no doubt that if we had discovered the Bane Briar that the leaders of the Black Legion would know of it. I was also equally certain that the those same leaders would know that it was unlikely we would attempt the Massouqi. And there was the added problem of the Bell Trees. Janir looked bewildered.
The Bell Trees were an oddity of nature which many believed were a throw-back to when the world was first forming. They were tall, broad creations, dome-shaped with large broad spatulate leaves that shone silver in bright sunlight and grey otherwise. They were a majestic sight and wonderful with the weather was good. When the rains came, however, it was a different story. The foliage hardened under the precipitation and after very little time the air would be filled with a deafening chime as the leaves vibrated under the rainfall. Hunters trapped in a Bell Tree band during rainfall had often been driven deaf and mad just by the noise alone.
Janir gave me a dark look. “Is there nothing about this accursed veldt that is not out to kill or maim us?”
I shrugged. The veldt was the veldt. It was the one natural defence system that the Medrans had against all comers. Invaders unfamiliar with its nature did not last long. Even those seasoned travellers were often hard pressed to find a safe route across it. Even the established trade roads were prone to invasions of Bane Briar, and the unwary would often fall victim to fruits which looked perfectly appetising and safe but which were, in fact, deadly.
Keelan made a face. “I confess, Meriq, I do not remember this veldt being quite as inhospitable of old.”
“Given the fact that Mederlana has suffered many invasions—even after the Pentageonate War and the subsequent treaties—it should not come as any surprise that my former nation has taken the opportunity to propagate the deadlier plants across the one natural feature that offers a great deal of protection even in its more clement state for in the dry of the summer a man might as well be riding across the Kendirith Desert. The water goes deep, the grasses dry, and there is little comfort for man or horse. He might be saved by the occasional oasis of geyser grass—a deep-rooted plant with thick, hollow stems that store fresh water should he be fortunate enough to stumble across it.”
General Korlaq, who up until now had kept his presence extremely discreet, leaned forward slightly. “I am certain that our clever wizard here already has a plan to get us safely to Medravia and suitably engaged with our foe.” He gave me an easy smile which so reminded me of Balten that I could easily have vomited.
I shifted to a more comfortable position on the uneven ground and turned the map slightly to get a better look. There were two possibilities that I could consider. The first would be to turn south and circumvent the Bane Briar. We could pass through the Silver Forest and its most northern border thus avoiding having to travel directly through its centre and risk attack from hidden Legionnaires. If the Bane Briar had not infiltrated this upper margin there would be a narrow tract of land that would give us clear but extremely restricted width of march. We would effectively be bottle-necked if we did not then extend into the forest itself. This move, of course would effectively stagger the front line and weaken any defence we might need to mount.
“And the second choice?” It was Balten who spoke.
“The second choice is that we take the chance of setting camp here for the next four days in the hope that the weather will stay as hot and dry as it is now. The Bane Briar will die off very quickly under direct sunlight, but should it rain . . . well . . . then it will renew until it has completed its seeding cycle.”
Once dried out the briar would present no threat and we would, indeed be able to cut a swath through it without fear of any deadly reprisal. Either choice was a gamble and neither had a particularly solid or reliable outcome. Even if the weather was favourable we would still have to travel slowly through the tangle in case there were plants still active.
Janir motioned me to his side. I scooted myself over to him. “And if we wait Ez’n?”
The sudden small twitch of his eyebrow eloquently conveyed what he was asking me. Could I continue to sustain him without risk to myself or his plans.
“We may lose time and ground for no good reason. But nothing else will be affected.”
“You are certain?”
Dthor gave me a dark look. He had very quickly divined the situation and had shifted closer to my side.
“I know what I am doing my king. I made you a promise and it will be kept. Safely kept.”
Janir turned to Keelan. “Do you have any objection to waiting the four days to see if the weather gods will work so that we can defeat the Bane Briar?”
Keelan glanced as his Council who simple bowed their heads making it clear that they would leave the choice to him. He quirked an eyebrow at me making it clear what he thought of the lack of expressed opinion among men normally quick to give voice to almost anything that entered their heads. “Then I think we wait.”
When the Council members had disbanded Janir signalled to Jalin to bring wine and refreshments and as the youth served us the king turned to Keelan. “You are less than pleased with the outcome, Keelan?”
Keelan huffed. “I am less than pleased with the response of my Council. I know full well why they left the decision to move or wait solely to me.”
I glanced up from the map I had taken to perusing again. “Oh?”
Keelan grimaced. “And they knew I would have to elect to wait.”
“Oh?” I said again.
“You do not fish well, little dragon,” Dthor said with a smile.
Keelan grunted, taking the goblet of wine from Jalin’s outstretched hand. He added a little water and took a mouthful. “If I had said we should move on to the more difficult option it would have been seen as an attempt to put more distance between us and the M’rgaerdjinn. There are many in the Council who support Zarin’s stance regarding his son and his supposedly questionable relationship with Prince Jae’nt.”
“Supposedly questionable, King Keelan?” I ventured.
Keelan gave a dismissive snort. “To me there is nothing questionable about them. At least there is no question in my mind. Morgul gave me eyes and I am more than able to use them. A man would have to be blind or dead not to be able to see the fire between them. They burn for each other exactly as men should, honourably, openly and with just passion. I see the way you and Dthor look at each other, burn for each other. Neither a force of nature nor any god could stand against that—and no priest should attempt it. My opinion is that the M’rgaerdjinn are a contemptible herd of geldings who would have the same sterile, unfulfilled lives they have inflicted on all men. They produce nothing of worth, destroy lives on whim and none are even man enough to take wife; and, Morgul, what if they did marry? Consider the children!” The king took a deep drink from his goblet. “Zarin brought his sons up to know the history or our ways to the earliest of ways. Why now should he be so outraged by the fact that Tariq has found and embraced the love that Morgul intended for him?”
“Perhaps he blames himself for the development of Tariq’s relationship with Jae’nt in some way. Perhaps he thinks that in allowing the histories to be retained by
his offspring he has rendered them vulnerable to corruption?” I suggested.
“Perhaps that,” Keelan acknowledged, “or perhaps he simply want more grandchildren than he has any right to expect. The man is a fool. He will only serve to alienate his sons now.”
And sure enough, when I returned to the Kyr-Garrin’s marquee each of the titans to a man was holding the dual coloured scarlet and indigo cloak that marked the White Guard neatly folded in their outstretched arms. It transpired that Aarin and Iannos and Alna had been weaving the indigo wool for some time and had finally completed enough to make the cloaks. Both the young men and Alna together with a several Followers had laboured all through the War Council to slit, stitch and re-line the cloaks before I returned.
As I entered the archers turned as one man and held out the cloaks to me.
Tyrel stepped forward. “Beloved Commander, t’pahq. We would deem ourselves greatly honoured if you would give us permission to wear your colours and fight for your honour, and protection properly at your side as your accepted and sworn companions and brothers in war and in life.”
Dthor quirked an eyebrow and me and smiled. “Oh things just go on getting better and less complicated. Can’t we just have one day when something normal happens?”
“I suppose life would be unspeakably tedious if it was not the way it is.” I replied somewhat flatly.
I gazed at the young men before me as they genuflected and held up the cloaks for my blessing.
“It will be my honour to have you all at my side. From this moment you are Kyr-Garrin, members of the White Guard and answerable to no man but me.”
As I dropped the cloaks over each of the men Markos appeared in the doorway. “Ah,” he said, “Now this is what I call perfection in time.”
I dropped Tariq’s cloak over his shoulders and Jae’nt stepped up to fasten the ties. The archer’s brothers each gave the prince a supportive pat on the back as they moved away to give the couple some space.
I gave Markos a suspicious look, my eyes moving from his face to the dark red and gold lacquered box he was carrying. The container was elegantly crafted, carved with the royal sigils and capped with Keelan’s own Royal Seal in solid gold. I heaved a heavy sigh I glanced at Dthor. “All hope for something normal should be abandoned from this point, I think.” I turned to the Crown Prince. “And this is perfection in time because . . . ?
Markos gave me a mischievous smile. “Because I have a gift from my father. I believe he intended it for you—or perhaps he meant it for the titans. I am never quite sure with my father sometimes—but—well—the titans works better for me.”
He handed me the box. “A token of esteem—and Royal Approval from both monarchs—I believe.”
“You believe?”
“I believe so, yes.” Markos said with such immense self-satisfaction I could have kicked him in the groin.
I opened the box. Inside it was lined with what I knew was a very rare and costly Morlan brocade in scarlet silk, with the royal crest woven in gold, silver and copper wire drawn so finely that it could almost be mistaken for spider silk. The cushioning in the base of the box had been carefully crafted to hold seven shield shaped cloak pins of extremely high grade gold and silver.
On the top left spike a small disk bearing Janir’s family crest and on the opposite spike that of Keelan; the centre spikes of each pin bore each archer’s Morlan name glyph and a finely cut gemstone associated with the month of their birth. The centre of the pin bore the official glyph of the Kyr-Garrin. The last two stood out as completely different from the rest—Tariq’s—for it was duplicated and carried his and what would have been Jae’nt’s Morlan name glyph intertwined to form its own crest and the gemstones denoting their births had been carefully cut so that they fitted seamlessly one inside the other. On what was clearly to be Tariq’s pin Jae’nt’s birthstone was set inside Tariq’s and on the other Tariq’s stone was embraced by Jae’nt’s. No expense had been spared in the crafting of these pieces and it would be clear to any and all who saw them that only Morla’s own monarch could have had such a work commissioned.
The couple exchanged glances and then, exchanged the pins so that each would wear the other’s.
Dthor rolled his eyes heavenward. “So, no improvement in the areas of tact and discretion then.”
Jae’nt grinned. “A little late for discretion do you not think, Lord Consort?”
“An attempt at it might stop my stomach from eating itself at the thought of what is yet to come.”
Tariq shrugged. “It has not come yet. It will come soon enough that we do not need to rush towards it in our thoughts. And to try to hide now would dishonour the Kings who have shown their support and approval in gifting us these pins. It would demean the Kyr-Garrin and it would denigrate what Jae’nt and I are to each other. What would you have us do, Lord Consort?”
“You could declare qum-shoq,” Dthor suggested.
“We could,” Tariq replied, his tone making it quite clear that neither he nor Jae’nt had any intention of so doing. “But we are already that. We have fought alongside each other and each has covered the other with his life—both armies have witnessed this and none would dispute our status as war-brothers—with or without the declaration.”
The archer slouched on to a nearby bench reaching up and pulling Jae’nt to him. “This man is not just my war-brother. He is my lover. I am tired of pretence, tired of gelded zealots attempting to be arbiters of what is natural when they, themselves, are by far the most unnatural creatures under the Great God’s gaze. I will no longer disgrace love or truth or honour for the sake of a bigoted father or because some mad king had his own son put to death because he would not give himself to an even more insane priest.”
Dthor shot me a look that could have shattered a sword. I merely shrugged. I agreed with every word Tariq had said. True enough, it would not make the forthcoming trial or its outcome likely to be favourable for Tariq, but nevertheless I could not help but find myself thinking that either Keelan or Janir (or both) had plotted something.
I turned my attention again to the cloak pins, inspecting them once more as the titans fixed them.
I narrowed my eyes at Markos. “One might suspect that your father had this planned for some time,” I growled. “I know of no magic that can fashion artifacts of this quality and beauty in a matter of sectas.”
Markos gave me a very unconvincing look of indignation and then grinned. “My father has an uncanny knack of—well—discerning things. I sometimes think he might be a Seer.” The prince grinned at me again, drawing his cloak back down and throwing it around himself. “Oh,” he added as he reached the door, “He had them made about three settans ago.”
“Discernment.” I said unconvinced.
“More probably a process of manipulation and deceit,” Markos said casually. “He is very good at both.” Markos gave me a wink. “I suppose that’s why he’s king.”
“I suppose that is so,” I said as Dthor handed me a goblet of wine.
Much as we had all hoped the weather remained kind. It did not grow as hot as I had hoped, but by the end of the second day of fair sun the Bane Briar was showing clear signs of failing. The berries had lost their glisten and were shrivelling and the swollen leaves were wilting and dropping. The vines themselves had begun to shrink, starting to look more and more like mummified entrails as they lost turgidity and began to sink to the ground. This would be the perfect time to collect the acrid juice from the fruits and the stems.
In response to my call Karyn and a group of her more experienced healers arrived at my tent and I began instructing them on how you collect the toxins. Only the shrivelling fruit and bracts were to be touched because these would not explode.
“I want as much as you can extract and be sure that you store it only in properly glazed pots. This poison will eat its way out of anything that is not glazed pottery or glass itself. And one more thing, Karyn,” I said as the healer made ready to leave. “d
o not collect anything in clear sight of the encampment.”
As Karyn and her cadre left, Orrin arrived. “My friend, I would like you to share a secret with me if you can.”
The kayet regarded me piercingly. “What secret might that be, t’pahq?”
“Can you tell me how you make your grenades. Not the contents the containers.”
Orrin smiled. “I can do much better than that, t’pahq, I can teach your artisans how to make them. It is not difficult.”
“I would be very grateful if you would take the time, Orrin.”
The kayet gave a short bow “Consider it done.”
With my gatherers fully engaged I began preparations to force our way through the briar. As the vines died back they would become brittle and easily and safely beaten down.
We would still need to be careful as we traversed the area, not just because there may still be active parts of the briar, but because the thorns would become hardened and could still inflict injury on men and horses alike.
To this end I had the artisans who had followed on and subsequently caught up strip some of the marquees and dismantled siege towers of main supports and had them fashion rollers that the men and horses could push ahead of us to crush the tangle and create a safer path through. Rough hurdles were fixed to the front of the rollers to protect the operators from any wayward spray from active portions and all were cautioned to wear cloths around their faces steeped in a mix of water and strong liquor which would afford them some measure of protection should there be any errant fumes. Naturally enough the men welcomed the safety measure with a great deal of enthusiasm, and I suspected that quite a few would probably “forget” to add the water.
A Rising Darkness Page 48