by Duncan Lay
They were met outside the huge city gates by a detachment of soldiers, as well as a tall Fearpriest and six acolytes. Before Gello could ask who this was, the Fearpriest spoke.
‘Brother Onzalez, welcome back to Tenoch! But may I ask why you arrive with such haste, and with strangers from across the sea?’ he grated.
Onzalez took a moment to compose himself. ‘Brother Horna. I return with momentous news. This is King Gello of Norstalos. He and I bring not only great fortune, but great danger. We have captured an amazing magical treasure. With it in our grasp, the whole world will be at our mercy. The days of Aroaril shall be numbered and the Great God triumphant! But, in desperation, the Aroaril-lovers have sent an army to try and take back this precious magical object, an army that will land on our shores by nightfall. We need to talk to the Council, while the forces our new ally King Gello has brought help secure the city against the army that has pursued us.’
‘What is this? An army of Aroaril-lovers, here? I thought you took our army to defeat them? What has happened?’ Brother Horna asked slowly.
‘The army, along with Nobles Yertlaan and Itlan, and our other ally, King Markuz of Berellia, remains in Norstalos,’ Onzalez said blandly. ‘The army that has dared to sail here is a pitiful force, no more than a few thousand. It was all the Aroaril-lovers could muster and, once they are destroyed, total victory will be ours. All this, and more, I need to explain to the Council. We cannot waste time here.’
Horna looked over at Gello, who stared back impassively, horribly aware that he had been wearing the same clothes for more than a week and, despite his best efforts to wash them in saltwater, he did not look like a king.
‘My men and I are all sworn to Zorva’s service. And we shall lead you to victory over the Aroaril-lovers,’ Gello stated.
‘But only if we hurry. Time is against us, Brother,’ Onzalez added. ‘I must address the Seventeen and we must begin organising the city, gathering our warriors and the people, so that we have a force capable of crushing our foes.’
Horna and the guard officer exchanged looks.
‘What is this? Has there been some change since I left? Are my instructions to be ignored now?’ Onzalez hissed, taking a step closer.
The guard officer, sweating lightly, bowed deeply. ‘Of course not, High One. All shall be ready for you.’
Horna bowed also, although not as deeply. ‘Let me escort you to the Seventeen,’ he rumbled.
‘That is more like it!’ Onzalez declared, although Gello could hear the slight tremor in his voice—and wondered if Horna picked it up also.
At Horna’s orders more carts were brought out, these ones smaller and more ornate than the carts Gello and Onzalez had arrived in from the docks. More worthy of a king and a Fearpriest, Gello thought.
Horna and his acolytes climbed into a larger cart and led the way into the city.
Onzalez sighed with relief as they rattled through the huge gates. ‘All is well,’ he told Gello. ‘The Seventeen will do whatever I tell them. And our victory shall secure them, once and for all.’
Gello only half listened. Instead he watched the city greedily as he rode through its wide streets. He was fascinated with the amount of gold he could see in the markets, and on both men and women. All but the poorest workers wore something gold as a decoration and some wore as much gold as an average Norstaline worker expected to see in a year.
‘Further up the river, the gold flows down from the mountains. The people up there can pick it out of the water, as if the pieces were common stones,’ Onzalez explained. ‘It is a sign that Zorva favours us. It has little value here but we have been stockpiling it, for use in lesser countries, such as yours.’
Gello bridled at this but the sights passing before his eyes allowed him to forget the insult, a little. The size of the city, the number of people filling its streets was awe-inspiring. To a man raised in Norstalos City, who had been taught that was the world’s greatest capital, in the world’s greatest country, it was a strange experience seeing something that was both bigger and better. Every house, even the poorest and smallest, was made of stone and lime washed in different colours—although blood-red seemed to be the most popular choice. Some of the carvings, in both wood and stone, were also stunning. They were intricate, featuring both the practical, such as fish over shops that sold fish, as well as decorative. Of the latter, these tended to be strange faces, contorted and agonised.
‘They are both a reminder and a celebration of Zorva,’ Onzalez explained, as he followed Gello’s gaze.
One thing intrigued Gello—the lack of metal. Knives, spears and the axe-clubs the guards all carried featured not familiar steel or even the bronze that Gello’s ancestors had used. Instead they had a strange black rock.
‘Obsidian. It is found in the mountains, as is the gold, and is another gift from Zorva. It can cut through anything, even be used to shape stone,’ Onzalez said expansively. He was enjoying Gello’s awe at the sights of the city.
‘Why do you not use metal as we do? You have the ability to work with gold, fashion it into shapes. Why do you continue to use this obsidian when steel cuts better and makes better armour than those padded jerkins you use?’
‘We do not have the red rocks necessary for iron. I have sent men searching for them, ever since I saw the steel your people use,’ Onzalez admitted. ‘We may have the ability but we lack the raw materials. Although obsidian does everything a steel blade can.’
‘Still, you have to admit steel has uses that rock cannot hope to,’ Gello pointed out. ‘Perhaps the lesser countries can provide some of the tools for your people?’
Onzalez whipped around but Gello kept his face impassive. That would teach the man to insult Norstalos! ‘After we conquer them, of course,’ he added blandly.
‘Indeed,’ Onzalez said after a long moment.
Gello smiled to himself. But the smile did not last long. The city saw to that. Swiftly he found himself both humbled as well as relieved the Tenochs were on his side. His foolish cousin did not know what she would be getting into! The size of the city was astonishing, while he could appreciate why the surrounding countryside was cultivated for many miles around, with a network of intricate irrigation channels and a series of small villages where the workers lived.
He tried to remember it all, so he could tell Mother later. He knew she would be interested.
As he passed endless markets filled with crowds, he felt the stares of thousands of people on him. With his—albeit dirty—tunic and trews, as well as his blond hair and lack of tattoos and piercing, he stood out immediately. But he noticed that all looked down quickly if they caught his eye, and many bowed deeply as the cart went past. As for Onzalez, he seemed to take that as no more than his due.
The bowing became more pronounced as they came closer to the huge Temple, which dominated the skyline. He marvelled at how much effort must have gone into its construction.
‘One life for every stone that was laid,’ Onzalez told him. ‘It was the first, and still is the greatest pyramid in the world.’
The sides and back were smooth, washed white with more lime, while the front was stepped—and stained a rust-brown. Gello did not need to be told why that was.
The carts rumbled around to the back of the Temple, where a walled courtyard was guarded by a dozen warriors.
‘We shall take the Egg inside, up to the Council chambers. It is in the middle of the Temple. I’ll speak to the Seventeen and then send for you, to introduce you as our valuable ally.’
Gello liked Onzalez’s confidence, as his own was ebbing at the sight of the imposing Temple. Still, once past the walled courtyard and the solid gate, the interior of the Temple proved to be luxurious, and the servants almost fell over themselves to offer him food and fresh clothes.
‘We do not believe in hardship bringing you closer to your God, like the weaklings of Aroaril,’ Onzalez said simply.
Gello surveyed the richly appointed rooms and merely laughe
d.
‘If you need anything, you have but to ask. And I do mean anything,’ the Fearpriest told him. ‘I shall go now to meet the Seventeen. Do not worry. Zorva is on our side. Nothing can go wrong.’
The docks were not like the ones at Cessor, with wide jetties and large warehouses. These seemed much less permanent, as if the Tenochs could pack them up and move them down the bank if the river’s flow was reduced. Lavrick and the other captains tied their ships to the Tenoch craft, then to each other, until the ships stretched across half the river and men had to walk from one to the next to reach the bank.
On the other side of the bank a crude shipyard waited, with a half-completed ship sitting on a slipway down to the river. Piles of timber lay to one side, while the skeleton of the ship seemed an ominous warning to them all.
Unloading the men and supplies took some time as a result, particularly as they all waited while Kay and his rangers searched the other ships and the nearby small settlement to make sure it was no trap. They reported everyone gone and everything useful taken.
Merren watched them search through the small huts, each built on a platform so they were above the ground. All were made of wood, not stone, and seemed somehow insubstantial. They were no cruder than the wood and thatch huts most of the Norstalines lived in but while the roofing was thick and well made, the walls were much simpler and seemed to be more supports for the roof than something to keep out wind and rain. Although, given this was supposed to be their winter, perhaps the cold was not a problem, she mused.
Even though it took a while to empty the ships, the pile of supplies looked small when assembled by the dockside. The bowmen had a few spare sheaves of arrows and a poleaxe each but there was little extra food.
Many of the men were struggling to stand without swaying after being at sea for days, while most of the Derthals just lay down, looking mightily relieved to be back on ground that did not move.
‘We shall have to hurry. Even if we had the time, we do not have the provisions for a siege. We shall have to rely on Barrett to help provide, as well as live off the land.’ Merren sighed.
Martil pointed to where the biggest of the Tenoch ships was tied up to a special dock further upriver. ‘While the men are marshalling, I want to have a look on there,’ he declared.
Merren just looked at him
‘It’s the one that carried Karia. Since I saw it at Dragonara, then again from Argurium’s back, I know it. I have to look over there. I have to know that she arrived here safely, see where she slept. It is eating me up,’ he admitted.
Merren hesitated for a moment, before nodding. ‘Don’t take too long,’ was all she said.
He ran up the gangplank swiftly, sword in hand. He doubted anyone would be around. And woe betide them, if they had stayed.
But, like all the others, the ship was empty. He went aft, to where most of the cabins waited. He did not even hesitate at the doorway, just went down swiftly, the Sword held before him. The sight of the ripped cabin door, obviously torn with axes, made his heart miss a beat, and he could feel the fear squirting through his body as he pushed through its tattered remnants and into her cabin. It only took a moment to see that she was gone, that there was no other sign of a struggle and no blood or anything that might indicate her death. He looked around carefully, his eyes drawn quickly to a piece of parchment on the bed. He rushed over to it and snatched it up, seeing at once the letters on the front in her familiar crude handwriting: ‘Dad’. There was a second one underneath, with a large ‘M’ on the front. After looking at that for a moment, he put it in his belt pouch and turned to the one with his name on it. He unfolded it with trembling hands and read it swiftly.
Dad, I know you will get this. I know you will come for me. I will make sure I stay safe until then. They think I am the, here she had tried to write ‘wielder’ but after two attempts had crossed it out and continued, user of the Dragon Egg. See you soon, love Karia. And underneath was a crude drawing of the two of them, holding hands, with a large heart shape drawn around them.
He stared at it for a long moment, until it blurred from the tears.
‘Hold on. I am coming,’ he told her softly, tracing the outline of her head where it had indented the pillow.
He was filled with a terrible purpose. He would get her back, no matter what it took. He tucked the piece of parchment inside his tunic, where it could sit over his heart, then strode away without another look.
He walked back to the docks, where the last men were still crossing from ship to ship and then to dry land. On the shore, the Derthals were getting to their feet now, although they still looked shaky.
‘What did you find?’ Merren asked nervously as he strode up to her.
‘Karia left me a message. She’s alive, she’s healthy and they are not going to hurt her—yet,’ he said softly.
‘Thank Aroaril!’ Merren smiled and restrained herself from embracing him, not because she could see Sendric watching them, but because of what she saw in his eyes.
‘And she left one for you.’ Martil held out the second piece of parchment.
Merren took it and read swiftly. Dear M, look after Dad. Don’t let him do anything silly. Miss you. We shall be a family. Love, Karia.
Merren took a deep breath. She knew she had to focus on the big picture, worry about the Egg before the girl but reading that made it hard. For a moment only her control wavered. We shall be a family…
‘I’m ready to lead the men now,’ Martil stated.
She looked at him and was reminded of the way he had been just before they had gone to see Count Sendric, when he had slaughtered soldiers who had tried to arrest her. She wished she could hold him back, wished even more she could break through the defences he had put around himself. But she had no choice, they had no time. They had to get the Egg back as soon as possible and she needed him for that.
She pointed to where the various Norstaline, Ralloran and Derthal warriors were slowly forming up. ‘What about the order of march? I thought perhaps the rangers first…’
Martil shook his head. ‘Their bows are all wrong for this sort of country. Too big and unwieldy. If I was Gello, I would have a few companies of men in that jungle, ready to ambush us as we march. If they know the country, they could slow us down and hurt us badly before we can get out of there. I think we should send the Derthals in there. There is none better for moving through rough country. I’ll lead them myself.’
‘Wait!’ Merren commanded. ‘We need to rest here and begin in the morning. The men—and especially the Derthals—need to regain some strength and we do not want to make a night camp in the jungle.’
‘We are right behind them! We cannot give them time to organise,’ Martil snarled.
‘What good will it do if our men are not ready to fight? That is my order and you will obey it or stay on the ships!’ Merren hissed.
Martil struggled for control. ‘Right. I’ll go and talk to Sacrax.’
Merren watched him go and wracked her brain to think of a way to get through to him. But none came to her.
Sacrax was delighted to be given the chance to lead the way but was happier to hear they could rest and begin the following morning.
‘Ground is still moving,’ he grumbled. ‘My warriors need a night to be better.’
‘They’ll need to be ready. Gello will have men waiting for you, probably hidden,’ Martil warned. ‘They have had time to plan for our arrival.’
Sacrax patted the butt of his own spear. ‘Good. I like a challenge.’
Despite her fears, Karia had been fascinated by the journey from the docks to the city. The Tenoch docks had plenty of carts and sledges, used to carry goods to and from the city itself. She was sitting in one of these, pulled by an animal she did not recognise but she longed to pat. The cart was hardly comfortable but was high enough to give her a good view of what was going on. The strange forest they had passed through had been like nothing she had seen before. The trees and plants were complet
ely different from the ones she had grown used to, living in the woods with Edil. She had seen small animals with long tails swinging through the trees, which seemed impossibly high, while strange insects swooped through shafts of sunlight. Everywhere she looked there were amazing things to see, while the smell and sound of the jungle was something far out of her experience. Then the jungle had ended abruptly, going from enormous trees to huge stumps in an instant. Forest giants lay where they had fallen, chunks carved off them, while men with strange axe-clubs hurried away, joining a rush back to the city. Beyond them, the remains of a hill, now an open-faced quarry, swarmed with activity. Sledges piled high with blocks of stone waited at the side of the road while hundreds of workers were trudging wearily back to the road, tools over their shoulders.
Beyond were more timber workers, then endless fields. She gasped as she saw the range of them, stretching into the distance as far as she could see. Like the quarry and timber workers, thousands of field workers were streaming back towards the city, dragging carts full of strange food with them. Many of the fields seemed to be filled with tall green plants producing some sort of husk-covered fruit or vegetables. She could see carts full of them, stripped of their leaves to reveal strange, golden-coloured cylinders. Other fields had bushy green plants, which the workers had obviously been digging up before being told to leave, and flee for the city. She passed sledges filled with the roots of these plants, thick purple and brown lumps, twisted and covered in dirt, and stared in wonder. How could people eat such things? On the opposite side of the river, more fields stretched off into the distance, filled with other plants she did not recognise.