The Magelands Origins

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘There ye are, boss,’ a voice said. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere.’

  He turned to see Conal standing by the entrance to the cave.

  ‘What is it?’ Killop said, his voice causing pains to shoot through his head.

  ‘Keira sent me to look for ye,’ Conal replied. ‘Everyone’s outside having breakfast. This is a braw place ye found.’

  ‘I’ve no idea how we got here,’ he said, rooting around on the floor for his clothes, while ensuring that Kallie’s nethers weren’t on show. He shook her shoulder.

  ‘Fuck off,’ she groaned.

  ‘Best give us a moment to get ready, Conal,’ he said. ‘Which way is out?’

  ‘Left from here, then right when you come to the crossroads,’ he said. ‘Keira said to, um, make it quick, they’re getting ready to leave.’

  ‘Right, well you can tell her you told me.’

  Killop sat as Conal left the cave. He pulled on his clothes, and pushed the thick dark hair from his face. He shook Kallie again. ‘Time to get up, sweetness.’

  She rolled over onto her back, opening her eyes a crack.

  ‘Why are the walls moving?’

  ‘Sunlight hitting the water.’

  ‘Water?’

  He reached out a hand. ‘Here, I’ll show you.’

  They arrived outside into a bright summer’s morning in the glade, just as the others were clearing away the breakfast dishes. There was no sign of Kalayne. Kallie kissed him and went to find her sister.

  ‘You’d better shift yer arse,’ Keira said to him, looking ill and bad-tempered. ‘We’re out of here in five minutes.’

  ‘Where did you sleep last night?’

  ‘In my tent, of course,’ she said. ‘Where the fuck do you think? I can always find ma way home after a night on the bevvy. Besides, with you two missing, Tornface, Calum and me had the tent to ourselves.’

  ‘Sounds like it could have been awkward,’ he said, stuffing food into his coat pockets, and looking around for his pack.

  ‘I was too pished to give a fuck, wee brother,’ she replied, swinging her shield over her shoulder, ‘and it’s not like they were getting it on in front of me. What happened to you?’

  ‘Can’t remember,’ he grunted, finding his shield among those stacked up by the dismantled tents.

  ‘But ye do remember…?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Not likely to forget it.’

  ‘Kallie wasnae best pleased.’

  ‘Do you blame her?’ he said. ‘That auld bastard says the lizards are going to kill her, while I find myself a black-skinned woman.’

  ‘Aye, that would put a downer on yer day.’

  ‘There’s no such thing as black-skinned people, but.’

  ‘And how the fuck would you know? If it’s hotter up north, then people might not be as pale as us folk down here. And he said ‘dark skin’, not ‘black skin’. And he said that her soul would die, not that she would be killed.’

  ‘Pyre’s sake, did you memorise every fucking word?’ He pulled his shield onto his back, his pack strapped on, his sword sheathed. He was ready.

  She shrugged.

  ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘Chief says we’ve to keep all that stuff to ourselves. Everything that the auld bastard said to us in the cave, about how we were already defeated, as well as his half-arsed prophecies. Chief doesn’t want to depress everybody.’

  Klannit whistled. ‘Let’s go!’

  With Klannit leading the way, the rest of the group started the long tramp back down the glen. A light rain came on, and while the drizzle soaked them through, it kept the midges away. Everyone who had stayed in the clearing talked and laughed as normal; their annoyance at Kalayne’s behaviour forgotten thanks to his generosity with the food and drink they had enjoyed all night. Those who had gone in with their host were reticent, and looked troubled. Kylon had a scowl on his face, and clutched his Rahain crossbow like he wanted to shoot something. Kallie looked grim, especially after Killop had told her the chief’s instructions on keeping it all quiet. From her sister’s sideways looks at him, he guessed that Kallie had already told Kelly at least the prophecy part, and she was pretending not to know.

  Back at the mountain pass, Killop was relieved to see that the snow had gone, and that the drizzle was confined to the glen. Clara and the young scouts, Calman and Kalma, had already loaded the baggage onto the donkeys, and were waiting for them.

  ‘Morning, Clara,’ Killop said.

  ‘Morning, you lot,’ she replied, looking as if she had enjoyed a good night’s rest. ‘What did I miss?’

  Three days later the path moved out of the mountain range and into a series of grassy foothills that were familiar to Killop. The path was what he knew as the goatherds’ way, a track he had often played on in his boyhood.

  Keira had started to regale any who would listen with tales of her wild youth, pointing out the tree from which she had almost accidentally hanged herself, and the dell where she had beaten up three boys, the Kenneth triplets, single-handed.

  ‘I panned the wee bastards’ faces in for them, they were shitting teeth for days,’ she was laughing.

  Aye, and Killop remembered how his affronted da had been made to apologised to the village for his daughter’s assault on the boys, and how for a whole third afterwards everyone had tutted and shaken their heads at the family whenever they had passed them on the street.

  ‘She’s in a good mood,’ Kallie said to him.

  ‘She’s always happy when she’s reminiscing about inflicting violence on people.’

  ‘That explains why she’s happy a lot,’ Kallie said. ‘How about you? Not looking forward to seeing your village? What was it, again? Goat-something?’

  ‘Goatcross.’

  ‘Aye, that was it,’ she said. ‘Well?’

  He thought. Part of him wanted to be home again, see the houses, streets and people he knew so well, but it felt wrong to be returning while the war was raging. He hadn’t thought that he would be back until the fighting was over, and the Rahain kicked out of Kell.

  ‘Mixed feelings.’

  ‘Am I going to get to meet your ma and da?’

  ‘Do you want to?’ he said. It hadn’t occurred to him that his parents might soon be introduced to his lover. They had met plenty of his girlfriends before, but they had been teenage romances with local village girls, and as there were no secrets among the people of Goatcross, his ma and da often knew who he was seeing before he had told them. This was different, though. He was going with someone they had never met before, someone from the far western corner of Kell, practically in Brig, and he knew how his da felt about outsiders.

  ‘What are they like?’ she asked.

  Before he could answer, Klannit signalled a stop to the hike down the valley. The green and purple slopes on either side swept up to form low rolling hills, and there were a few stone shacks dotted about, bothies for goatherds and shepherds. A fresh wind was blowing up from the south, and the clouds were scudding across the blue sky.

  Conal ran to the rear of the column, where Killop and Kallie were.

  ‘Chief’s after you,’ he said.

  They went up the line, past the others, who were drinking from their canteens and snacking from their packs. Up at the front the chief was waiting, along with the other leaders.

  ‘Ah, Killop,’ the chief said, ‘the very man.’

  ‘Chief.’

  ‘We thought it best if you and your sister go down to the village first,’ the chief said. ‘You can say your hellos, and let them know we’re coming. Klannit will go with you, and we’ll all follow down in half an hour or so.’

  ‘Aye, Chief.’

  ‘Leave your packs,’ Klannit said to him and Keira. He had already unbuckled his, and handed it to one of his squad.

  ‘See you soon,’ Killop said to Kallie.

  They strode down the path, and soon left the others behind.

  ‘Must feel good to be heading home,’ Klannit said. ‘I
was wishing the other day that I could see my own village again.’

  ‘Where you frae?’ Keira asked.

  ‘The south-west,’ he replied. ‘My family farms the land from the Brig Pass all the way down to the Lach border.’

  ‘I thought those were the lands of the Kylanna twins?’ Killop said.

  ‘They are,’ he replied. ‘They’re my sisters. Younger sisters, I might add. The land would have come to me if I hadn’t been chosen as champion.’

  ‘Ye kept that quiet, big man,’ Keira said.

  ‘Aye,’ he said, shrugging. ‘Once you become champion, you have to give up your lands, same as when Kalinda became herald.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Keira, halting on the grassy path. ‘No smoke.’

  ‘What?’ Klannit said.

  ‘She’s right,’ Killop said, pointing over a small rise ahead to the right. ‘Goatcross is on the other side of that hump. From here you can usually see smoke coming from the chimneys.’

  Klannit put his hand up to shield his eyes from the lowering sun as he looked where Killop was pointing.

  ‘Let’s see what’s going on,’ he muttered.

  They walked the final mile to the village, and could see from a distance that there was no movement in the main street. There were about sixty stone and timber houses in Goatcross, and a few other farm buildings, workshops and barns, scattered across the land in front of them. Many bordered the village’s main street, while others were on the valley floor back from the road. Every door was shuttered closed, and the entire place was silent, except for the sound of the wind.

  ‘Hello!’ Keira shouted, as they passed the first house, a low cottage on the left, its green door closed and barred.

  They reached the centre of the settlement, where a stone-faced well stood at the side of a crossroads. There was a large building on the right, the only two-storey edifice in the village. The lower floor was constructed from stone, while the upper was timber, with a covered balcony running along one side.

  ‘Goatcross Hall,’ Killop said.

  ‘Where we have the dances,’ Keira added.

  Klannit stepped up to the hall’s front entrance, a large oaken door, painted dark green. He unsheathed his sword, and struck the centre of the door with the hilt three times.

  ‘Open up in the name of the Kell,’ he bellowed.

  There was no response from within.

  ‘They’ve all gone,’ Killop said. ‘Keira, we should go to our ma and da’s…’

  ‘Who’s making all that stramash?’ a voice yelled at them from down a lane to their right. Between a long barn and a line of stone houses, an old figure was shambling towards them, steadying herself with a stick. ‘Are the lizards here?’

  ‘No, Granny Kalicia,’ Killop replied, recognising the elderly woman. ‘It’s me and Keira.’

  She frowned as she saw Keira. ‘Hope yer not here to cause more bother, hen.’

  ‘We’ve come ahead of the chief, granny,’ Killop said, before his sister could reply. ‘This is Klannit, his champion.’

  She eyed him up and down.

  ‘Last one was a lot bigger.’

  ‘Where has everyone gone?’ Killop said.

  ‘Buggered off, the lot of them,’ she replied. ‘A few days back, a messenger lassie came from some high heidjin, Conor or somesuch. Said the lizards were coming, and that their mages would flatten the whole village, so we were all to pack up and head for safety.’ She spat onto the grass.

  ‘What about our ma and da?’ Keira asked.

  ‘Aye, them as well.’

  ‘Which direction did they go in?’

  ‘How should I ken?’ she asked. ‘I telt them all, I said, you lot can leave, but I’m staying. No jumped up reptilian radge is going to put me out of my own home.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to find out where they were going?’ Killop asked.

  She shrugged and continued to frown.

  ‘Well, Granny Kalicia,’ Klannit said, ‘thank you for your help. The chief of the Kell will be here in a bit, with a score of others. We were planning to stay in the village, can we please use your hall?’

  She narrowed her eyes at him, staring until, after a long awkward moment, he blinked away.

  Kalicia smiled. ‘When the supposed chief gets here, I’ve a thing or two to say to him about his running of this war, if it really is the chief, and yer not just yanking ma chain.’

  ‘No, granny,’ Killop said, ‘it’s the truth.’

  She huffed. ‘Better get the key, I suppose.’ She turned and started to walk back down the lane.

  Klannit sighed and sat on the steps leading up to the hall’s front door.

  ‘Stubborn auld quine,’ he said.

  ‘That’s putting it mildly,’ said Keira, joining him. ‘I could think of a few better things to call her.’

  ‘Of that, mage, I have no doubt.’

  When Kalicia returned with the key the chief’s party were in sight at the edge of the village, and they had reached the crossroads by the time she was swinging open the front door of the hall.

  As Klannit talked with the chief, Killop sought out Kallie.

  ‘They’ve all fled,’ he said. ‘Rumours reached them about the Rahain destroying villages.’

  ‘Rumours?’ she said. ‘We know it’s true.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘but a panic will only make things worse.’

  ‘It doesn’t look like they left in a panic,’ she said, glancing around.

  She was right. The village looked untidy, but there was nothing to suggest that people had fled.

  ‘I think I’ll go check on my house,’ he said. ‘My ma and da’s house, I mean.’

  ‘Want me to come?’

  ‘Aye.’

  They followed the left branch of the crossroads down the hill to the burn at the bottom of the valley. They passed the village forge, and a few houses, before taking a lane that wound through some back gardens until it reached a low cottage made from the same grey stone as the rest of the village.

  There was a low wall around the house, with a garden to the side and rear. Killop went through the gate, and crossed the two paces to the front door. He gripped the handle and pulled, but it was locked shut.

  He beckoned Kallie to follow him, and they made their way across the grass to the left of the house and round the back. A big old beech tree grew in the centre of the garden, with a broken swing hanging by one rope from a thick branch. Killop gazed at it for a moment.

  Kallie took his hand.

  ‘Guess I don’t get to meet your folks then.’

  ‘Pity,’ he said. ‘They’d like you. I like you.’

  She looked up at him and laughed. ‘My man bear.’

  He took her in his arms and kissed her.

  ‘Shall we go in?’ he said.

  ‘You know a way?’

  He walked over to one of the large shutters next to the back door. He crouched down, and stretched his left arm behind the wooden slat, feeling for the catch. He unlatched it and swung the shutter open.

  ‘Be back in a minute,’ he said, hoisting his leg over into the dark room beyond.

  He jumped down into the kitchen, unlocked the back door, and let Kallie in. He led her through the silent house; the last of the day’s light filtering through the shutters, sparkling the swirls of dust that hung in the air. Everything seemed to be in place, except there were a few things missing, including the two old swords that had been hung up over the fireplace. They came to Killop’s room, barely big enough to fit a bed in. On a shelf were a few possessions remaining from his childhood; a catapult, a knife, a small wooden bear, and some old belts and buckles.

  Kallie picked up the bear.

  ‘My da made that for me,’ he said.

  She closed the door.

  ‘And your ma made you for me,’ she said, pushing him back onto the bed.

  That evening, the chief and his party settled themselves into Goatcross Hall. It had one main room, with a couple of side rooms fo
r storage, and a tiny chamber with a toilet pit. There was little food in the village, but Granny Kalicia had found them some old cured beef, and a few casks of ale, which she opened up, once she was assured of the chief’s authenticity.

  ‘I’ll not have it be said that Goatcross was found wanting when the chief visited,’ she had said.

  Their fastest runners, Conal and Koreen, had been sent down to the bottom of the valley, where it opened out into low lying farmlands. The road from the Northern Pass to their capital Meadowhall was about eight miles distant, and the chief wanted news of what was passing.

  It was a quiet affair, and most were laid out in their blankets on the wooden floor of the hall soon after it got dark.

  In the middle of the night, Killop was awoken by a shake of his shoulder.

  ‘Conal’s back,’ Keira whispered.

  He untangled himself from his covers, and from Kallie’s out-stretched arm, and got to his feet. He followed his sister through the dark, trying not to step on anybody. They went up the wooden stairs onto the balcony, where the chief and his closest were waiting. Conal and Koreen were also there, glistening with sweat in the night air. The sky was black above, clouds covering the seven stars. A torch had been lit and placed into a wall-fixing, its flame flickering in the wind.

  The chief nodded as they joined them on the creaky balcony. ‘We have a report,’ he said. ‘If you please, young scouts.’

  ‘Aye, Chief,’ Koreen said. ‘We turned west when we got to the road, and found a small town about a mile along it.’

  ‘Middlemill?’ Killop asked.

  ‘Aye, that was it,’ she said. ‘They had a watch on the gate who told us that Conor ae Connorie had led the Kell army through the town three days back, on their way to relieve Meadowhall, which, as far anyone there knows, still stands.’

  ‘The five thousand lizards that broke away,’ Conal said, picking up the thread, ‘are known to have entered the southern end of the pass two days ago, which would put them a couple of days from Clewwyd’s force at the Knuckle.’

  ‘Pyre,’ Klannit said. ‘Conor must have got his lot out of the mountains just in time.’

  ‘Some hope remains, then,’ the chief said. ‘Conor has four thousand warriors. If he can hold the Rahain at Meadowhall, it’ll give time for the Lach to arrive.’