‘You will be dancing?’
‘Yes, is that so strange?’
‘No. I suppose not. So you are a warrior and a dancer? Any other skills?’
‘I sing, too, and I am required to know the history of my people over the last five thousand years as well as many other things that I will not bore you with.’
‘And you sail. Are all elves this talented?’ Morgan was smirking and, although her head was turned in the direction she was sailing, Itheya seemed to be perfectly aware of his expression.
‘I may do all these things. But I excel at none of them. It is just that I am a Mhezhen’s daughter. All these things are expected of me. Humility is important, too, as well as the ability to entertain unwanted guests.’
They had reached the middle of the lake and the light was beginning to turn as the sun began its long descent behind the clouded sky. Skilfully, she steered the little craft towards the eastern shore and followed its course in a northerly direction. They passed another glade full of tents; this one was much was larger than the first one Morgan had visited, stretching back at least half a mile from the shoreline. Once they had left it behind, he saw many other wooden houses secreted tastefully behind the trees.
‘You see,’ she said, ‘there are many more of us that you thought.’
‘Does your tribe live around the whole lake?’
‘In clusters, yes. We are one of the largest and most powerful tribes in the forest. Many smaller tribes owe us their loyalty. We have ties with most of them going back many centuries.’
‘What about rival tribes?’
‘There are several; most, though, are much deeper into the forest than ourselves. Our chief rival, the Ometahan, live just to the south, on terraces carved into the shoulders of the mountains.’
‘What about war? Do you ever fight?’
‘Yes, but it is not as you might see it. We are few in number and have fewer children, so if a dispute cannot be resolved peacefully then, yes, we fight, but we try to avoid excessive loss of life.’
‘How? And how do you fight among all these trees?’
‘We do not. Inside the forest are some wide open spaces, fields large enough to hold armies. We arrange a date and a time and meet there. The battles themselves are quite formal. Bow, spear and horse are all exercised, but each tribe’s Mhezhen watches carefully. As soon as it is obvious which side has the advantage, the losing Mhezhen concedes and the battle ends. An agreement to end the dispute is then made to the winner’s advantage, with the loser making concessions determined by both parties before the battle. It is a sensible system that keeps both tribes at near full strength. See, we are here.’
They were at the northern shore of the lake. The light was rapidly dimming. Itheya steered the boat on to the muddy bank and the two of them got out and hauled it on to the ground. Leaving her blanket behind, she said, ‘Follow me,’ and disappeared into the trees.
He did so, keeping track of her by watching her white arms and legs. After some five minutes she stopped and spoke to him.
‘Between the mountains and the sea the ground slopes gradually. The Taethan enters the sea over the lip of a high cliff, falling into its waters as a fine spray. Mostly the slope is not noticeable but there are places where it falls steeply. We are at one of those places now. Can you hear the water?’
The sound of water rushing over stone was easy to hear, overpowering as it did the sad sigh of the trees and the early calls of a solitary owl. Itheya turned from him and disappeared down a steep defile in the earth, which appeared before him as though Artorus himself had thrust a colossal knife into the ground. Looking down, he saw steps had been carved into the stone under his feet. They were not steep but he still hesitated as they were all shrouded in darkness. He saw Itheya’s white face turning to look at him.
‘I see the brave human warrior has finally met his match, terrified as he is by a few steps.
‘I cannot see them, you must have much better night vision than I.’
She climbed back towards him. ‘Take my hand.’
He grasped her hand. It was like clutching warm gossamer. Gently she led him through the defile until they stood on a stretch of leaf-covered earth.
‘This way.’
A right turn and a brief walk, and the source of the noise was revealed to him.
This was obviously the point where the water left the lake and headed towards the sea. He stood before a waterfall, but it was so much more than that. Over a series of broad stone shelves the water danced, the slope of the ground gentle enough for the water to proceed serenely, falling over a low stone lip into a small pool, then over another lip and into another pool. There were many of these lips interspersed at irregular intervals along these broad falls. The water itself never got to more than a few inches deep and Morgan could see figures above him standing in its midst. He wondered why anyone would do such a thing with evening pressing on. Then it became obvious.
They were lighting lamps.
Posts had been fixed into the stone somehow and atop them flames flickered and danced. The flames in each lamp were of different colours – some were pale blue, some a rich green, or corundum, or sunflower yellow. There were dozens of these lamps spread up and down the falls as well as some thirty feet below him, arranged in a semicircle around the night-dark splash pool. From somewhere opposite him, across the falls, he started to hear singing, the voices of men and women meshing into something ethereal. He had never heard the celestial choir at the Grand Cathedral of Tanaren but he reckoned they would be hard pushed to come up with anything as mellifluous and dulcet sweet as what he was hearing now. Itheya, next to him, stood rapt, her eyes closed, swaying gently as the music possessed her. Morgan did not shut his eyes, for in the light of the lamps, the water was changing colour as it flowed downhill, so that the whole waterfall now resembled a shifting kaleidoscope of iridescent hues. He stood in silent wonder, letting it all wash over him, it was almost like a waking dream.
The night had fully arrived when the singing stopped and Itheya opened her eyes. ‘Let us return,’ she said softly to him.
The same sort of lamps now lit up the defile, so climbing back was easy and they were back into the boat and on to the lake in no time. As Itheya pushed the boat into the lake, Morgan rubbed his eyes. ‘Am I seeing things?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Z’ezhesheken, fireflies.’
Across most of the lake he could see the flickering lights of the small creatures. Some were close enough for him to discern the wing beats. As with the falls, there was a shifting panoply of colour – yellow, red, green and white. It was enough to make him laugh out loud.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.
‘No, this is just quite the spectacle. I am used to brown and green and grey, not this variety of colour. With this and the falls I have had my eyes opened.’
‘You enjoyed the falls?’
‘Indeed. I thank you for taking me there.’
‘Elemassena, we call them. The “Singing Falls”. In daylight they are equally beautiful; you can just sit, shut your eyes and listen to the cascade. It is easy to fall asleep and have nothing but the gentlest of dreams there.’
‘The choir, what were they singing?’
‘It is a different song every night. Tonight it was a song of remembrance, of the times when we lived in the plains. Such songs educate our children. They will be singing it at Zamezhenka when we return and at other places along the shore.’
She moved the tiller slightly and the wind caught the sail. As they moved through a cloud of fireflies, she started to sing softly:
‘Azhai olenke eona keonon mar feno
Sasara cerena olenres sha resklo
Sasa fisken cothonda tulo sefel vocrezha
Merenklay ul sessha cot sylvco sylvezha
Ara vanionon xenestran vuzazha nesteran vuto cobera
vuto cobera vuto cobera nesteran vuto cobera
Ten desenda uzhcothon pelevaa colzhava
Flentesben remotho crata oleneklo
Tafalantesh zai tonos ezhint netarasglo
Ara vanionon xenestran vuzazha nesteran vuto cobera
vuto cobera vuto cobera nesteran vuto cobera
Fen hassan zai neaniath in birra cot blere
Isisesh zhai thenestra enteriz olentere
Fen voto hashara voto cellenta hashera
Ara vaniona toluno fliazhintra hurbera
Ara vanionon xenestran vuzazha nesteran vuto cobera
vuto cobera vuto cobera nesteran vuto cobera
Coth olea dromea onati frozomel
Coth olea dromea onati entracel
Ara vanionon xenestran vuzazha nesteran vuto cobera
vuto cobera vuto cobera nesteran vuto cobera
Ara vanionon xenestran cober’
‘And you have a beautiful singing voice as well. We have a saying about the people of Tanaren in the south; it goes: “The only thing wrong with the southerners is that they are perfect.” I get the impression that saying could equally apply to you.’
She coloured slightly, though he could not see this in the murk.
‘I know your humour by now, so I am aware you are not being serious.’
‘I was when I mentioned your voice. Tell me, are all your songs sad and melodious, relating melancholy stories from the past?’
‘Well, that one is, and I only sang a small portion of it. What is love without loss? What is love without pain? As we remember our ancestors and their life on the plains. We have happier songs, for other occasions. Here is one.’ She started to sing again but this one was much livelier and half shouted. He guessed it was one to sing after too much zhath.
‘Xe ate holosh, em meon uven rotosh
Plefennia manosh! Plefennia manosh!
Toro meon crefer egia vono cramata
Bromosi eontra ve nestero fezhaya!’
‘And what is that one about?’
‘It is sung at Dromeantele, a spring festival for the young. You may hear it at the end of the evening. It has instructions from a woman to a man on how exactly he should please her. Do not ask me to translate it and do not tell Father that I sang it to you.’
‘I take it that it is what we would call a bawdy song.’
‘Yes, and not one a Mhezhen’s daughter should be singing to a human.’
‘Have you ever sung it to another elf?’
‘Yes, and he obeyed the instructions, too.’
Morgan laughed. ‘I guess he would.’
The island was coming into view. He already could see it was lit up from one end to the other, and as he got closer he could see how. All of the banner poles and flag poles thrusting up from the ground were blazing with the blue fire he had first seen on the statue when they had summoned the elves. None of the flags or banners was burning, though, even though the flames were licking at them. Also hanging between the houses were small crystals glowing intensely with a pure white light; he hadn’t noticed them earlier. He hadn’t looked up he supposed; there must have been several attached to a series of thin chords and tied to the various roof posts between buildings. As they got closer, the singing came to him again, drifting from the Zamezhenka across the gentle waters of the lake.
Itheya moved the tiller a little and, as the boat started to angle sharply towards the island, she spoke again.
‘In the forest we have large shaggy beasts, horned – you would call them cattle, I suppose. Our name for them is strugo. They eat the leaves no other creatures can; they can also eat bark, moss, lichen; some even say they can eat the wood. They wander the forest in family groups between ten and twenty strong. Each small tribe is allowed to kill one a year, the larger tribes two. These creatures are quiet, stoic and dependable. They are strong but hardly ever use their strength. When one is killed, the others, instead of charging the hunter, surround the fallen one and refuse to move away from it. We have to leave and come back a day later for the body. They mourn their fallen; it says to me that the differences between ourselves and the beasts around us are smaller than we like to think.’
She stopped a second to check their course, then continued.
‘Do not take this in a way it was not intended, but you remind me of such a creature. You seem strong, gentle even, but I know I would not like to face you in battle.’
‘You are saying I remind you of a cow.’
She giggled, a sound almost as musical as her singing. ‘No, I was taking some aspects of an animal’s manner and comparing it to some aspects of yours. That is all. But I have a problem. I have known few humans, but those I have met have either been here to harm my people in some way, or. worse, have betrayed us; betrayed me! The strugo are never false; their hearts are always true and dependable. That is where you differ. I want to trust you Morgan, you and Master Cedric, but I do not know if I can.’
‘What of the man who taught you our language?’
‘He was not my only teacher. Father could speak your tongue long before he appeared, but, yes, he betrayed us and his betrayal was great in the end. All the humans I have known thus far have proven false. I do not wish it to happen again.’
‘Which is why your brother is the way he is?’
‘Partly. He also resents being the younger of the two of us. I am the one born to rule, the first in everybody’s thoughts. I will speak at the krasa not he; it is I who lead the forest patrols, who will preside over the festivals when Father ... is not here. He is strong and clever, skilled with spear and bow, but nobody ever notices, and his resentment only increases over the years.’
‘Itheya,’ – Morgan leaned forward so he could see her face clearly – ‘I cannot speak in absolutes here but with every fibre of my being I will never try to betray you. I have no designs on your people; my only job here is to protect Cedric. Really, if I am being honest, you are wasting a lot of your valuable time on me. If you have better things to do tomorrow, I will happily stay in my room under guard.’
‘The tribe, including Father, wanted to allow Cedric in and only Cedric. It was I who wanted you here, which is why I stood surety for you. I was curious about you. You had an interesting smell, metal and leather and sweat, and I liked your eyes; they are deep, they tell many stories. So you are not wasting my time, not at all. Of course, you will be on your own tomorrow while I practise for Armentele. Then there is the krasa, which no outsiders may see. You will be sick of your room by the time this is over.’
At last, the boat glided into the harbour. She secured it and together they returned to the Zamezhenka. The roof sections were closed now and the light of the glow stones reflected warmly off the tiled floor. Small groups of elves huddled there, listening to the music coming from the top floor. Itheya led him to the second floor where a circular table was laid out at the centre and was laden with spiced rabbit, eggs cooked in a fiery red sauce, apples and blackberries, as well as a large pile of flatbreads. The elderflower drink was there as well as a sweet mead and a spiced drink of dark berries. Morgan sampled as much as he could. Cedric was there with Terath, as well as Dramalliel and Tiavon, but Itheya’s father was not to be seen.
‘He eats alone these days,’ she said. ‘All these people can be too much for him.’
Cedric came over to him. ‘I have had the most stimulating day,’ he said. ‘I will never be able to set it all down in writing, I am bound to forget something.’
‘Learned anything new?’ asked Morgan.
‘Well, I can awaken a dragon, maybe even control one, and then send it back into its slumber.’
‘You can?’
‘Well, no. But we are getting there. That tooth is the key; if only I had brought the other one. I have given Cenarazh these pieces unconditionally and in perpetuity. I am sure the Grand Duke will not mind.’
‘Well, you know him better than I.’
‘As in, not at all, I know.’
Dramalliel came over to them both. ‘Well, humans, what are you plann
ing to do tomorrow?’
‘Oh, I will be with Terath all day probably. Your father hopes to join us if he is able.’ Cedric struggled to talk and swallow some fruit at the same time.
‘That is good. Keep exchanging your ideas; it is always good to know your enemy, so I am told. As for you, warrior, what does my enchanting sister want to do with you?’
‘Very little. She is practising for the festival. I daresay I will have to remain in my room.’
‘You will go mad with boredom. I have an idea. sister, come here I want to ask you something.’
Itheya came over. ‘Yes, brother.’
‘You are leaving the poor human in his room all day tomorrow. What kind of host will he think we are?’
‘It will only be while I rehearse; maybe one or two hours.’
‘Why don’t you leave him with me for that time. I have an idea or two to keep him amused.’
‘No. I know what you will do. He is my responsibility, not yours.’
‘And what exactly do you think I will do to him?’
‘You will try to fight him; maybe even try to kill him. I know you, brother; you see it as a test.’
‘I give you my word, Itheya; I will not kill him.’
‘The answer is still no.’
‘Do I get a say in this?’ Morgan asked quizzically.
‘You do not.’ Itheya was pouting.
‘Just let me go out for one half-hour. Nothing bad can happen in that time.’
‘Yes, it can.’
Cedric intervened. ‘What if I go with him, and Terath. I get a chance to see outside this building and our two older heads can keep any hot-bloodedness in check. We can also make sure it is no more than half an hour.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Menestron! Very well, but if there is any trouble or bad blood, I will not be forgiving of anyone.’
Dramalliel smiled at everyone. He looked utterly charming ‘Till tomorrow, warrior Morgan. I will see you before noon.’
As he left, Morgan noticed Itheya’s troubled face. ‘Don’t worry!’ he mouthed to her. He knew he should have declined, but he also knew Dramalliel would keep sniping and sniping until he got what he wanted. Better to get any trouble over and done with. He only hoped that she would not see this as a betrayal – breaking his word in less than two hours was a record even for him.
The Forgotten War Page 51