‘Well, what do we make of all that?’ asked Cedric. It was a half-hour later. All five of them had left the cave and were eating a lunch of flatbread, berries and jenessa in the small clearing outside.
‘I think we have been successful,’ said Terath. ‘Unfortunately we have been far more successful than we had a right to be. Everything that we saw in the lake indicates a terrible truth.’
‘What truth is that?’ said Morgan. ‘We saw a man creature and a snake dragon on a lake, and a young girl and this ruined city Cedric knows so well. What does that tell us?’
‘The ceremony was designed to locate a dragonstone; we thought it would not succeed because the stones are dormant and we could locate them only at a relatively short distance anyway. The strange man we first saw was holding one in his hand. It was an active stone, Morgan, and he has raised a dragon with it.’ Cedric sounded concerned. ‘The only question is where?’
‘The only landscape like that around Tanaren would be in the Endless Marshes. There are other marshes in the country but those seemed to be going on for ever. It could be nowhere else. Perhaps that is why we have heard nothing about it so far.’
‘The other vision of Atem Sezheia and the girl was strange. Something was blocking it. I needed to draw on more power to make the image clear,’ said Terath.
‘But the City of Light is at the other end of the country to the Marshes, if the Marshes it were,’ said Cedric. He scratched his head.
‘Then there are two stones,’ said Terath. ‘We saw no dragon with the second set of images, so the process must be at an early stage. Remember the face of the girl, but for the time being it is the Marshes that are our immediate concern. Your war is not important compared to what we have seen. There is a raised dragon; it could kill more than the greatest army you could muster. No matter the result of the krasa, we three will ride with you when you leave. This creature has to be stopped and the answer to how this can be done lies in the script on the tooth; I am convinced of it.’
‘So only we can stop it?’ said Morgan disconsolately. He continued to eat the bread but, despite its freshness and the delicacy, it tasted like wood pulp in his mouth.
In the midst of the Aelthenwood, almost at its geographical centre, was a tall hill. No trees grew upon it; rather it was covered in long sweet grass from its base to its crown. It was flat-topped and, if one stood atop it, the entire Aelthenwood could be surveyed – east and west an unbroken line of trees with the jagged snow-capped mountains to the south and a grey swathe of sea to the north. It was a view with no equal in the forest but to its inhabitants it held a far greater significance. It was the political heart of the country of the elves.
The location of the krasa.
In total some fifteen tribes, their leaders and retinue had gathered there. It was the morning of the second day and the tribes were voting. It had been an exhausting time for Itheya and her brother, who had accompanied her. She had opened the debate with a long and impassioned speech and, once that was over, had spent the rest of the day and half of the night going from tribe to tribe – cajoling, persuading, bullying, haranguing and begging – in an attempt to sway them all to see her point of view. Now she was to find out if her efforts had been rewarded. At the centre of the hill was a large stone plinth which had been carved with many figures of beasts and birds with elves pursuing them with bow and spear. Time and the elements had worn many of these figures almost smooth and many of the subtleties of design created by the original craftsmen had been destroyed. Its function then as now, though, had remained unchanged. For at its centre was a hole under which was a deep bowl-shaped recess and it was into here that the votes had been cast. The elves used wolf claws and teeth as tokens, claws being yes votes and teeth no votes. The man to count them was a member of the Rengereth tribe, deemed to be as neutral in this case as it was possible to be. Itheya had expected her brother to argue against casting all ten of their votes in favour of the proposal but he had not said a word against it.
‘In this, I shall not stand against you. I know how much it means to you, even if it does look like you stand foursquare with the humans.’ This was in the hour before dawn when she had just finished speaking to everyone and was hoping for an hour or two’s sleep. She was just grateful for his response and could not be bothered asking for the reasoning behind it.
Now, however, the counter of the votes was about to start. As he pulled each token out of the small pit, he would raise it and show it to each tribe in turn before calling out the result. This was to ensure no cheating could take place. It also meant that, with close to eighty tokens, to be counted, it was rather a slow and tortuous process. ‘One tooth, a no,’ he would call, before showing it to all and sundry. ‘Overall total: six to four against.
Itheya was sitting on the grass next to her brother pensively watching the man. She noticed Cullenan, Mhezhen of the Ometahan, with his son Culleneron. Both were looking at her. The possibility of her marrying Culleneron at some point was one that had been long mooted.
‘One claw, a yes,’ called the man. ‘Overall total: fifteen to twelve against.’
It was not going well. She consoled herself with the thought that she and her tribes had voted first so many claw tokens would be at the bottom and the last to be pulled out.
‘What will you do if it is a no?’ her brother asked.
‘There is nothing to do. We return home and the humans leave unmolested.’
‘You could still go with them; many riders would follow you.’
‘Father wishes me to respect the vote and I agree with him.’
‘Will you not miss the two humans? You seem fond of them.’
‘My feelings in this case are not important. They rarely are.’
Dramalliel smiled. ‘My poor sister, the reluctant queen.’
She shot him a fierce look. ‘Say rather that I am one who fulfils her duty.’
‘That I do not doubt, sister; I never have.’
‘One tooth, a no. Overall total: twenty-three to twenty against.’
‘How many votes are there, sister?’
‘I believe seventy-eight.’
‘Then there could be a tie.’
‘If there is, then the proposal is defeated. We need a majority.’
‘Then start praying for claws; numbers are running out.’
‘One claw, a yes. Overall total: thirty-three to thirty-two against.’
‘Careful, sister, your nails, you are digging them into your arms; you could draw blood.’
‘I will draw blood if you are not quiet.’
‘Votes are starting to go in your favour.’
‘Our favour.’
‘Of course, I misspoke.’
‘Where did you learn to be so glib?’
‘You and Father taught me; I had to do something to counter such righteous earnestness.’
‘I swear by Zhun we cannot be of the same blood.’
‘That is just wishful thinking on your part.’
‘Then I shall keep wishing.’
‘One tooth, a no. Overall total: thirty-nine to thirty-eight for. One vote remains.’
Her brother said something but she didn’t hear him. He was right, though – her nails had drawn a trickle of blood on her arm. Her jaw was locked solid with the tension.
‘One claw, a yes. Final vote: forty to thirty-eight in favour. The proposal to send warriors into the human lands is accepted.’
A cry rang out from the assembled tribes; Itheya closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer of thanks. When she opened them again, she saw Cullenan coming towards her with his son. She rose to meet them.
‘Congratulations, Itheya’ he said. ‘Rarely has one so young carried a vote at the krasa. Granted the influence of your tribe helped greatly and the good wishes we all bear your father, who is respected by all here, but your achievement in this place stands on its own.’
‘Thank you, Cullenan. So it is to be as we agreed.’
‘Yes, I a
nd my affiliates will supply two hundred horse, as will you and your allies. The deep forest tribes will supply a further fifty. Both you and Culleneron will jointly lead, commanding fully on alternate days. We will all meet at the agreed rendezvous at dawn three days from now. This agreement will last a year and will be conditional on the humans supplying us with iron and the release of further artefacts; a further krasa will be called in one year to see if this agreement is to be renewed. Zhun protect you all.’
Within the hour Itheya was speeding back to her people. It was not as many warriors as she had hoped and co-leading with Culleneron was bound to be problematic, but she had to be content with the result – it was a victory after all.
Her victory.
Back at the island, there was a whirlwind of meetings in a very short time. After Dramalliel had left to muster the horsemen, she saw her father, then Terath and Cedric, and learned about the rebirth of the dragonstones. She saw Morgan, who confirmed he would ride with them and act as their guide and escort, and then, after several other meetings to discuss logistics, supplies and other details, she retired to her room, exhausted. She had not been there long though when a servant brought the message. ‘My Lady, your father wishes to see you.’
It was quite late. There were few people around as she strode, barefoot, into her father’s room. He lay on his bed, his foot resting on a high stool. Two attendants were with him constantly but he dismissed them as she entered.
‘You wished to see me, Father.’
‘I did, yes. Come closer, I cannot see you.’
She went towards the bed and knelt in front of him.
‘That is better, my daughter; you will not have much time to yourself now and I needed to speak with you.’ He swallowed loudly, ‘First, I wanted to congratulate you on winning over the krasa; few here thought it could be done.’
‘It was hard work, Father.’
‘Nothing of worth can be achieved without hard work. Your success, however, will bring about problems of their own.’
She wrinkled her eyebrows. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘You will command the warriors jointly with Culleneron; this means you will be gone for some time – a year, maybe more.’
‘Yes, Father. Culleneron is a fine warrior, though like many young men he is prone to foolhardiness and rash decision making.’
‘I am sure you will manage him. My point, however, is when you leave here you will not see me alive again.’
She got to her feet. ‘You cannot know that, Father. I...’
He raised his hand. ‘No protests! We both know in our hearts this to be true.’
She choked slightly; her throat had dried.
‘Now this is the problem, child. With you gone and me dead, your brother will command until your return, but – and I have my spies so I know the truth here – he will try to assume full power in your absence.’
She found her voice again. ‘He would not dare! We are not back-stabbing humans. He would never have the support.’
‘Did he object to you putting all ten votes towards your proposal at the krasa? I thought not. He wants you out of the way. He has many of the younger warriors on his side and few of them will be riding with you. He will seize power by force, if necessary, see you exiled and possibly plunge our tribe into a civil war that could severely damage our status as the pre-eminent tribe in the west.’
‘No, I do not believe he could be so stupid and destructive.’
Cenarazh propped himself up on his pillow. ‘He is not your little brother anymore; he is a man consumed with jealousy and ambition. With your duties taking you away from the island so frequently, you have not seen him change. As I have got worse, so the likes of Tiavon have been whispering poison in his ear. When you leave, the temptation will surely be too great for him.’
‘But, Father, I have to lead the warriors; I cannot lose face like this.’
‘Of course you must go, but there is a solution.’
She looked at him dumbly. ‘What?’
He propped himself up on his elbow and pulled out the bolster cushion that he had been resting on. That you are named Mhezhen before you leave.’
Itheya wrinkled her forehead and squinted at her father. ‘How can that possibly be? I will be gone in under a day.’
Cenarazh spoke slowly. ‘You can be named such if I am no longer here to hinder your progress.’
She was scornful now. ‘Father, you are not going to die before I leave, the healers are sure of it.’
‘No, I am not, not without assistance from a third party.’
Itheya switched from scorn to alarm in a trice. ‘What are you saying, Father? What exactly are you implying?’
Cenarazh indicated the cushion he was holding. ‘That I am no longer of use to the tribe, that it is time to pass the leadership on. On to the rightful heir, Itheya, on to you. Take this cushion and place it firmly over my face. Do not lift it until I stop moving.’
It took a second to register with her what he was suggesting. She took a couple of steps backwards, her face a mask of horror. ‘No, Father, no! I cannot.’
He leaned forward a little, his pale face no longer shrouded in gloom. ‘Listen to me, child. I love you. You are the finest daughter any man could have, but I cannot describe to you the pain I am in. When I rest it is dull, persistent, like I am being gnawed by rats in a dozen different places. When I move, it is as though my veins are liquid fire. The pain never stops, never eases. I am dying in agony, Itheya. I merely propose that you end my pain for me, that you release my spirit to Zhun and grant me peace. The fact that you will become Mhezhen is merely serendipity. Terath will be called to verify my death and he has been told to say there are no suspicious circumstances. There is no man more loyal.’
Itheya was rigid, her eyes wide, despite that she took the pillow from her father.
‘You will never perform a greater, kinder duty than this,’ he said to her.
Her voice was a strangled gasp. ‘You ask too much, Father, I cannot destroy that which I love.’
‘What you love is a husk, child, a shell. I am no longer the one that raised you, much of that person has gone already, eaten away by pain. Your thoughts must be with the tribe now, what I am asking you to do is for the benefit of our people, the people that we both must serve.’
She continued to resist. ‘No. Even if I were to agree with you and were happy to let your spirit fly this world I could not do it by my hand. Why could not others perform this task or you yourself for that matter, why should it be me?’
Cenarazh coughed, a hacking cough that briefly coloured his yellow skin. ‘I am too weak, child,’ he finally said. ‘Otherwise I would have already done so, and as for letting another end things for me, would you let them if you knew? Would you seek vengeance against this perpetrator? Would you believe him if he told you that I had commanded such a thing? Besides, as I have said, it would be an act of love, of mercy on your part. Please do not force me to order you to do it, for order it I will if I have to.’
She swallowed, her mind was racing, her throat dry. ‘You would command me? You truly want this so badly you would order your daughter to...?’ He nodded. She swallowed again. ‘Very well, Father, if it is what you truly wish.’
‘With all my heart,’ Cenarazh whispered quietly.
She clutched the pillow firmly, her arms shaking. ‘Father, I ... I still have so many things to say to you, so many things to discuss, to learn. I am not ready to command, I will be bereft...’ She choked back a sob, her usual eloquence had deserted her.
‘You have been ready for a long time,’ he said. ‘Now, please, prevaricate no longer, do what has to be done.’
He lay back and spread his arms wide. She placed the pillow over his face, it was almost as if somebody else was working her body, surely she could not be doing this?
But she was. Trying to steel herself, she pressed the pillow down firmly, trying to clear her mind, trying to ignore the choking sounds he would soon make.
She saw herself as a child riding her first horse, with him there smiling, encouraging her, always encouraging. She saw him again, holding her as she cried as the horse was put to sleep after breaking its leg. She saw him watching proudly as she sang and danced at her userazha, her ceremony to mark her passage into adulthood, and here she was now choking the very life out of him...
She abruptly hurled the pillow against the bedroom wall. He started gasping, dragging in great lungfuls of air. She buried her head on his chest, soaking it with her tears.
‘I cannot, Father, I cannot. Forgive me, but I cannot do this.’
He gently put his hand around her head. ‘It is all right, Itheya. I understand. Thank you for your loyalty, and your love.’
They both took a minute to compose themselves. When this was over she gently placed the pillow back under his head.
‘You will be leaving tomorrow?’
‘Yes, Father, we are all to meet at the Pass of the Knife the following dawn.’
‘Then allow me to wish you the very best. May Zhun watch over you and bring you back safely.’
‘Thank you, Father.’
‘You had better go now.’
‘Of course, Father. Sleep well.’
‘I will try, my dear. Now get some rest; you will need it.’
She bowed low to him, kissed him on the forehead, and left the room, knowing deep in her heart that it was as he said – that she would never see him alive again.
43
Ahead of them was a small island covered in trees and brush, sitting in the midst of a sluggish river that wound lazily eastward as if it could barely muster the effort. The land either side of it sloped gently to the water’s edge; it was mainly grassy downland, broken up by the occasional tree or stand of bushes, a gentle valley amid the low chalk hills. The ground was heavy after the recent rains, the smell of sodden mud and grass was inescapable, and the horses threw up great clods of turf as they trotted over it.
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