by Robert Ryan
Goose bumps stood out on Lanrik’s skin. He suddenly recalled what Arawnus had said to him at Esgallien Ford after he returned from Galenthern: You’ll be the Raithlindrath one day. He also remembered his promise to Carnona, which had seemed futile at the time, but now he felt as though everything fitted together properly at last, albeit in a way that he had never have seen coming.
****
The brief days of high summer waned, and the march toward autumn quickened. The ling flowered profusely and turned the hills purple while stags roared during the rut. The moorland was fog-ridden, and frost had browned the bracken in the rocky hollows that it favored. Word came, as expected, that the enemy’s attacks along the frontier had been repelled, and the elug armies had withdrawn southward.
Erlissa spent much of her time learning the ways of lòhrengai. Now that she had used it once, that door was open and could not be closed. Nor did she any longer want to. Using it had woken in her a thirst for knowledge that she had long suppressed. And she had reconciled her conflicted emotions about her parents. The confrontation with the elùgroth had taught her that there were many ways to serve.
When she was not occupied by her studies, she explored the hills with Lanrik, roaming long and far. He told her of his plans for the new Raithlin, and she spoke of lòhrengai and her growing desire to learn more.
On a cold day when incessant rain kept them indoors, Lanrik showed her the new Raithlin motif. It was the same trotting fox as always, looking back over its shoulder, but a half moon had been added above. He told her that it signified the hidden powers that existed in Alithoras beyond the usual recognition of men. It brought back memories of their journey to the fortress and she grinned.
****
Lòhrens started to return to Lòrenta, and the lengthening nights were spent talking before warm fires. One traveler gave Lanrik and Erlissa word of an emerging legend. There was a man, silent and grim, whose dark past drove him to risk his life fighting for the innocent weak against the evil strong.
“What’s the man’s name?” asked Lanrik.
“He’s called Gwalchmur.”
Appendix A. The Red Cloth of Victory
Halls of Lore. Chamber 7. Aisle 23. Item 346
General subject: Migration of Camar tribes
Topic: The founding of Esgallien
Author: Careth Tar
People can say what they want. I know the truth.
It is told that Conhain grew restless under the sway of the Halathrin and was eager to lead his tribe toward the fertile lands of the east. Certainly, report of other clan-chiefs who had established free and prosperous realms in those wide regions sparked such a desire in many.
Other stories suggest that a lòhren foretold him a difficult journey but long life, lasting fame, and wealth for his nation if he led the migration.
The truth is that the less people know the more they invent.
Conhain had great love for the Halathrin. All he wanted was to dwell among them, to roam their great forest domain and learn of their lore. The immortals had enriched his life, as they had his entire clan. Their influence had ennobled generations of migrating tribes, often primitive and barbaric races fleeing turmoil in the west of Alithoras. They taught them the higher arts of civilization and formed a federation that resisted the northward incursion of elugs.
Nevertheless, Conhain knew his people wished to migrate and that they would march eventually. He had decided that when the time came he would relinquish his chieftainship and remain in the lands that he loved: until I spoke with him.
I did not predict long life and fame. Indeed, I warned him that if he led his people eastward he would not survive to establish a kingdom.
Yet I asked him to go anyway. I foretold that if he participated in a battle when they reached their destination, his people would be victorious. If he did not, they would be destroyed. No more had I seen, no more did he ask of me. In a quiet moment, away from witnesses, friends or family, he resolved to sacrifice everything for his people.
Necessity often drives me against my will, though seldom has it filled me with such anguish, for Conhain's like is rarely seen. He was a vigorous leader, always willing to listen to his people, quick with a smile and slow to anger. Slights he swiftly forgave and was generous to friend and stranger alike. When I told him of the danger to his clan, even the death that awaited him, he did not rail against circumstances or show anger at the lòhren who asked so much of him. Instead, he thanked me for helping his people.
This much is true of what the stories say. There were great eastward migrations, and the lands toward the coast were lush and fertile. The free cities had begun to flourish. However, word of their prosperity was ever exaggerated, and the hardships of the earlier resettlements glossed over.
Ebona was the chief mover of this. She held a high place in the counsels of some clan-chiefs, though most had ceased to listen to her and turned their ears toward the wisdom of the Halathrin and the teachings of lòhrens. Consequently, her power and authority was much diminished and her time passing. This, she could not endure, for being a creature of ùhrengai that had left her birthing lands when the ancient Camar moved toward Halathar, she had been sustained instead by their worship and blood sacrifice. But they had emerged from those dark days and put the primitive ceremonies of their ancestors behind them.
Yet once, she was a goddess, and she craved that again. She wanted kings to rule beneath her, to guide the destiny of the multitude at her direction and to increase her strength by their veneration and sacrifice. I know this to be true, for I sought to dissuade her from that path. However, my attempt was futile. She despised me, for I held the trust of many chiefs and the more they heeded me the hotter her hatred grew.
On a time, when fresh rumors of the east were stirred up, Balmur, a young clan-chief, came to prominence. He was a favorite of Ebona, and he heeded me not, nor any other lòhren, and seduced by the prospect of kingship and rule by the side of a goddess he gathered many to him. He promised them a realm free of Halathrin influence, governed according to ancient Camar custom.
Whether by accident, or as I think more likely, the design of Ebona, there was at that time a great attack by the enemy who sought to force a crossing of the ford in the Careth Nien just east of Halathar. A joint regiment of warriors from several Camar tribes guarded the ford, and Conhain was their leader. The ford was defended, with great loss of life, and the enemy repelled. However, during the battle messengers were sent to the Halathrin for aid, but it never eventuated. I discovered afterward that the messengers never reached their destination, nor were they ever seen again.
Balmur proclaimed that the Halathrin had left them to fight and die in their stead and urged that the time was right to migrate. There was great anguish, and his words caught like fire in dry grass. Swiftly he acted, Ebona always nearby, and a host nearing ten thousand was readied, though ill prepared to march.
At the dawn of a bleak day, the people commenced their journey. Conhain, against his true desire, led a great mass. Balmur another, though not so large, and he was irked that although he had goaded the people into this action most still followed Conhain.
They marched side by side, the bulk of the warriors at the front, and then the women and children. Behind each column was a ragged band of wagons that carried their hastily gathered supplies. Last of all was a rearguard of warriors that drove cattle and other stock. It was a great mass of humanity; some on horseback but most on foot, and it flowed and ebbed like a second river along the north bank of the Careth Nien.
During the long march, Ebona was ever at the side of Balmur, and they headed their column on matching milk-white steeds. They were surrounded by her hounds, great black beasts that snarled at all who neared them. Conhain, though he had a great roan warhorse, chose to lead it by hand instead of ride. He spent most of each day walking up and down the line, sharing a quick joke with the people and offering encouragement.
Neither Balmur nor Ebona had specified
a destination. However, Conhain knew that they could only travel so far before building shelters. Summer was swiftly passing, and the cold and wet would soon set in. It would be foolish to continue the journey into winter, for the frail would be at risk of sickness and exposure, yet Balmur refused to discuss the issue, saying only that they must travel as far as possible from Halathar. Contention grew between the leaders as the weeks passed.
Conhain, like all his people, had been born near Halathar and had never left the region. But I had. Of all the host, including Ebona, I was the only one who had travelled the lands we now traversed. Each day I discussed the upcoming terrain with him and his retinue, and a time came when I told them we approached Esgallien Ford. I knew it was a good place to settle. The land was fertile, and the climate conducive to raising crops and stock. Also, the ford could be defended against enemy attack; a benefit to the Camar and the rest of Alithoras. Conhain considered my advice for several days then announced that he would winter at the ford and establish a city there.
Balmur was incensed and stormed into the camp. He insisted, to no avail, that Conhain reconsider as the ford was too close to the influence of the Halathrin. Then, in an unseemly rage, he drew his sword. Conhain signaled for his retinue to eject him. Disarmed and ashamed at his treatment, he returned to Ebona, and together they conceived a great evil. Balmur would suffer no denial of his will, and Ebona coveted blood sacrifice.
Within the week, the host reached the region of the ford. Balmur might have led a portion on, but many repented their earlier haste and saw the necessity of establishing winter shelters. He knew he could not muster a sufficient number to face the perils of travel or to found his own realm. Discontented, he undertook the guard of the ford.
Conhain camped a few miles upstream, and more of the people now looked to him for leadership, and he ordered things to his will. Most importantly, he sent forth scouts to survey the country. These had been specially trained in Halathar and were named Raithlin.
When the Raithlin started to return they brought tidings of good lands, fertile soils, expansive forests and game. Most influential were reports of a gold-rich creek only a day’s march to the north. Conhain, unusually silent and withdrawn, rode there and inspected it. After some time, with a strange expression on his face, he proclaimed that he would establish his city there, with all the high knowledge and skill the Halathrin had given his people, and that it would act as a bulwark against the enemy.
On a hill above the site, he ordered his banner planted in the ground and left. When he rode away he did not look back. I knew he would never return, and I think he felt it too. It is said that when the shadow of death is heavy upon some men they see a vision of the future. I do not know if that happened to him. He did not say so, and I did not ask, but his manner suggested it.
During the journey back to the camp, we learned from Raithlin who had crossed into Galenthern that an elug army swiftly approached. Further on we heard that Balmur’s guard had ceded the ford after a short battle and fallen back to Conhain’s encampment. The enemy now faced the Camar on the north bank of the Careth Nien.
When we returned I sensed treachery, and ùhrengai too. It was spread out in an invisible net over all our people; men, women and children alike. Instantly, but still too late, I deduced Ebona’s plan. She had sent word to the enemy and brought them here. Thus, a battle would be fought and the spilled blood committed to her as a sacrifice.
I had no doubt that she arranged it. The enemy was perhaps larger than she had anticipated, for their force was a third greater than our own. But that is the way of perfidy – the betrayer is often betrayed. Yet though she had miscalculated, I did not sense any worry. The total destruction of our host would only increase her power all the more, and greatly enhanced, she would return to Halathar and attempt to dominate other Camar tribes.
There was fear and despair in the camp, for the warriors doubted they could defeat the elug army, especially with divided leadership, yet they could not retreat swiftly enough with women, children and the elderly to avoid battle.
Balmur came once more to Conhain, and this time Ebona was with him. She demanded a sacrifice, and promised that fortified by blood, she could ensure a Camar victory. Conhain did not consider it. He refused, and it was the only time that I saw him lose his temper. In great fury he scorned Ebona and ordered his retinue to cast the two of them from his presence.
Ebona must have thought he would be forced to agree. At first she shrank away from his wrath, then her eyes flashed with hatred. Had I been quick enough I might have prevented what happened next, but Balmur drew his sword and slashed at me while Ebona cast flame from her fingers among Conhain’s retinue. They were forced away from their lord, and she turned her power upon him. Her fire struck the sword from his grip and drove him to the ground where she set her hounds upon him.
Swiftly I killed Balmur, but not soon enough. I glanced at Conhain, and the mad din of the barking hounds pierced my ears, and their bloodthirsty snarls caused my hair to stand on end. Never will I forget the sound.
Conhain was in trouble. He was viciously mauled, some of his flesh hanging in ribbons, his fine clothes shredded, and his face smeared with blood. He kicked with his legs and with his arms struggled to keep the dogs from his throat. Yet I saw that already he was mortally wounded.
I flung lòhren-fire at the hounds and scattered them, but a blast of ùhrengai smashed me to the ground. Ebona strode toward me, and the hatred of all the long years where her power had been eroded by lòhrens and Halathrin blazed in her eyes.
“Die!” she screamed.
She stabbed at me with fingers that spurted ùhrengai, and a battle ensued. Word of what happened afterward spread far and wide. Great was her strength even though she was diminished from what she once was, but necessity drove me, as it ever does, and at length I found a way to prevail.
Men saw that she, who was once a goddess, was now humbled and stripped of the remnant of her power, and the hounds whimpered and yelped as they fled with her into the wilderness. What they did not see was the dispersing of the net of ùhrengai that she had cast over the people. So ended Ebona’s influence over the Camar, but she will hate me so long as the world endures.
I staggered toward Conhain, thinking to find him dead, but somehow he held the breath of life to his broken body. We tended his many wounds and staunched the flow of blood with linen. I fixed a square of the white cloth to a gash in his scalp, but it, like the rest, was soon stained red by his lifeblood.
He turned weakly toward me. “It’s as you foretold.”
I nodded, unable to speak. Only a man of great heart could cling to life with such injuries.
“I’m nearly done,” he said. “But help me one last time, old friend. I have a final duty to perform.”
With disbelief I helped him. He should already have died, but we assisted him to his warhorse, and he commanded that his feet be tied to the stirrups and his waist lashed to the saddle. It was done, but I do not know what kept him upright except the iron-like power of his will that for a time was stronger than fate.
Slowly we proceeded to the battle lines. Word went ahead that Ebona was banished and Balmur slain. Men saw Conhain on his warhorse. They realized that their leader, whom they loved, was coming to fight with them and their hearts swelled. The despair that was in them transformed into sudden hope, and they chanted his name. But even as they did so, the enemy attacked and swept toward us as a dark wave.
Conhain made a sign, and men with carnyx horns stood forth. They who bore them were tall, and the bronze horns matched them foot for foot. The warriors held them high, the mouths of the horns twelve feet above ground, and voiced their unearthly moan that sounded like an otherworldly beast.
The Camar believe the horns invoke supernatural aid, and having heard them rend the air before a battle, I know why. Whether Conhain believed it himself, or merely used them for effect on the superstitious elugs, I do not know. Nevertheless, the elug host faltered un
til their own war drums quickened, and then there was a sudden tumult.
As the enemy approached, Conhain undid the square cloth from his head. It was soaked red with his blood but he held it high.
For a moment he glanced at me, and above the din of horn and drum he spoke.
“Nothing lasts forever, Aranloth. Not men, or chiefs . . . nor even cities.”
He turned to the elugs again and suddenly jerked his arm down. Even now I can see the droplets of his lifeblood splash to the ground.
“Charge!” he yelled.
The Camar warriors moved forward, and the two forces met with a horrendous clash. It was a great battle, but this is a testimony of the founding of Esgallien and the man who made it happen, not a record of the fight. It is enough to say that the Camar prevailed.
I do not know when Conhain died, for I did not see it. There are stories that he slew twenty men. Others say that his warhorse killed many by hoof and tooth. For myself, I doubt he lived more than moments after he signaled the charge with what was afterwards called the Red Cloth of Victory.
Thus was Esgallien founded. In the end it was a good thing, for long will the city help to protect the north, yet even as I write on my return to Lòrenta, after some ten years of advising his son, I still feel Conhain’s blood on my hands.
Appendix B. Encyclopedic Glossary
Many races dwell in Alithoras. All have their own language, and though sometimes related to one another, the changes sparked by migration, isolation and various influences often render these tongues unintelligible to each other.
The ascendancy of Halathrin culture, combined with their widespread efforts to secure and maintain allies against elug incursions, has made their language the primary means of communication between diverse peoples.
For instance, a soldier of Esgallien addressing a ship’s captain from Camarelon would speak Halathrin, or a simplified version of it, even though their native speeches stem from the same ancestral language.