by P D Ceanneir
They trudged through the rain, marching along the Tallyus Way, which was the wide paved road through the town that led to the castle grounds. Along the way, Havoc noticed that since his last visit the countess’s civic improvements were more profound. Caphun was always a walled town of compacted streets nearer to the outer battlements, and closer to the castle there was a smattering of houses nestling in chaotic cluster amongst the copse of pine trees, which felt like a walk in the countryside from one small village to another. Now, with Bleudwed’s influence, the prince recognised more paved paths throughout the trees, newly installed storm drains, street signs on white posts and, in some areas closer to the castle mount, a re-strengthening of the main battlements of the castle walls and new annexed buildings.
The walk up the zigzag of road to the west gate was tiring and invigorating at the same time. Havoc felt the buzz of the two pints of ale fading to a dull headache. Once through the gate they entered the west stairway that led to the outer courtyard. Guards, in the livery of the Haplann Hart, staffed the stairway and the great inner courtyard. Their escort took them to the main entrance, a white painted oak door with a pair of huge iron door knockers in the shape of boars heads. Once inside they all removed their wet raincoats and Morden asked them for their weapons.
‘It is standard procedure for all weapons to be left in the armoury at the main gatehouse,’ he informed them, ‘but on this occasion there is a weapon rack inside the main reception room; you can leave them there.’
All of the Paladins who crowded the narrow corridor to the reception room looked towards their leader. Havoc merely nodded, unbuckled his sword's harness and sheath then passed it towards Morden, who looked at the finely crafted sword with awe. The rest of group did the same.
Havoc pushed open the double doors and was surprised to see two familiar faces greet him as he entered the reception room, Hoban and Neiva, Bleudwed’s adoptive parents.
‘So good to see you again, my Lord,’ said Neiva curtsying as Hoban smiled and bowed.
The prince surprised them both by hugging Neiva and shaking Hoban’s hand vigorously, ‘I am very pleased to see you are both so well, you have not aged a day since I last saw you both. I hope you have made some of that delicious stew, Neiva?’ asked Havoc with a wide grin.
‘Oh, I think I can do better than that, my lord.’
Havoc then introduced Lord Ness and the Paladins to the couple.
Inside the room there were luxurious soft couches sitting in front of a tall log fire. Old hand-constructed tables and cupboards leant against the wood-panelled walls and expensive ornaments of exquisite beauty decorated their vibrantly vanished surfaces.
Velnour whistled as he looked around at the high windows flanked by velvet drapes and the tall portraits of various Haplann counts that festooned the walls.
‘Can’t hide money can you?’ he said to Foxe, nudging him with his elbow.
‘True,’ said Foxe, ‘and she’s unmarried.’ Both of them chuckled but stopped the instant they saw Powyss narrowing his eyes at them.
Havoc and Little Kith both stood by the roaring log fire to dry off when Hoban walked up to them and pointed to the wall above the mantelpiece.
‘Do you recognise that brute, my lord?’ he said.
Both Havoc and Kith turned to see an eight-foot high bear skin pinned to the wall, its large head looked down at them with it's mouth hanging open and they could all see the sharp curved incisors inside it's mouth.
‘That is never the bear I killed before I met you, is it?’ said Havoc in surprise.
Hoban nodded, ‘see the maimed claw is slightly shrunken compared to the other one because of the infection the beast received after being trapped in my snare?’
Havoc stared, ‘yes, so it is. A fine keepsake.’
‘Mulvend... I mean Bleudwed hates it, but I always get my own way eventually,’ chuckled Hoban.
‘You killed that bear?’ Little Kith asked Havoc with a note of surprise in his voice.
‘Yes, and I have the scars to prove it.’ Havoc tapped his chest where the bear had marked him with its claw.
Kith was looking at Havoc with new found respect. ‘Boss, you never cease to amaze me,’ he said. ‘I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.’
Havoc was touched. ‘Well I’ve never met anyone quite as tall as you before,’ he replied with a hint of a smile.
‘I get my height from my mother,’ said the giant with a straight face.
Havoc frowned. ‘Erm…your mother was tall then?’
‘No, she just liked tall men.’
Havoc looked at Little Kith’s deadly serious face and tried not to laugh. Sometimes one was never too sure if Little Kith was being funny about the things he said, but when the big man winked the prince burst out laughing.
A set of double doors opened to reveal a long banqueting table full of overflowing platters of food. The tall steward that opened the door was wearing a long white tabard with the Haplann Crest on his chest. He called everyone into the room and the Paladins rushed in an undignified rabble and helped themselves to the food. Lord Ness tutted and shook his head, ‘you’d think we don’t feed them!’ he remarked to the prince.
‘My Lord,’ said the steward bowing towards Havoc, ‘the countess would like to see you now.’
Lord Ness gave the prince one of his shrugs that said, “I’ll look after things down here”. Then he smiled as he glanced towards the banqueting table and the group of soldiers filling their plates with heaps of food.
‘I’ll make sure there are a few crumbs left for you,’ he told Havoc.
‘Good, because I am starving.’
The steward took him up winding stairs to the door of the countess’s study. They traversed a long corridor that stretched along the east wing of the castle. Row upon row of high widows let in light to make it bright and airy. Havoc noticed that the sun was setting and he had a good view of the surrounding lands beyond the glass. The White Castle sat on top of a rocky crag called the Mount. Down on ground level there was once a quagmire of marshland that, in ancient times, was known as the Quirnlure. Subsequent generations of Haplann Counts had drained the marshland, apart from the natural motte that sat outside Caphun’s walls. Now, with Bleudwed’s improvements, the land for miles around was lush with fields of various crops that swayed gently in the wind, bordered by hand-planted trees to act as windbreaks or criss-crossed by Dhrystone walls. New farms had sprung up along these lands as far as the Firelands in the south and newly constructed roads linked to every one of these. Havoc had to admire Bleudwed’s tenacity; she had accomplished much in just three years.
Eventually, the steward stopped at a door at the end of the corridor and knocked once. He entered by just popping his head around the edge of the door and informed Bleudwed that the De Proteous was here. There was a short reply and the steward opened the door wider to let the prince through and then reverently closed it silently as he left. Havoc felt butterflies ripple around in his stomach; he told himself that he would act in a formal manner until he was sure of the countess’s intentions.
Bleudwed was sitting at her untidy desk dressed in a silver and blue evening gown, pearl necklace and a diamond-studded tiara set amidst her blonde curls of hair.
The prince noticed the emblem of the prancing White Hart, skilfully embroidered on both sleeves of the dress in silver. This was the symbol of the Hunt Protector, the ancient title of the Haplann lords before the time of the Eldi. Havoc had to remind himself that titles such as Baron, Earl, Count and Duke were relatively new and only introduced by his own people. Most of the nobles in the east of the continent still referred to their lands as Mormaerdoms as they did since the last age, in a time before the Eldi introduced the modern calendar
Nevertheless, Bleudwed’s beauty struck him, she looked calm and serene as always. The complimentary smile faded from his face when he realised she was not alone in the room.
A purple-cloaked Havant stood at the window with her bac
k to him. She turned, and because her hood was down, he could see her face.
It was Tia.
Havoc’s eyes went wide. Somewhere in the darkness of his mind the Blacksword shifted in curiosity.
The girl on the roof, he whispered. Havoc acknowledged him with a mental nod. ‘Tia, what a pleasant surprise,’ he said as he tried to fill in the pause her sudden presence had caused. Tia wordlessly bowed towards him. The surprise was also evident on the countess’s face as she looked from the prince and the Havant in turn.
‘You know each other?’ she asked.
‘The prince and I passed the Canndali together last year, my Lady,’ answered Tia.
‘Oh, yes of course.’ If Havoc did not know any better, he could have sworn that the countess’s face showed relief.
‘Am I disturbing anything?’ said Havoc.
‘No, we were just talking about you. It is quite fortunate that you arrived in town on this very day.’ Bleudwed was fishing for an explanation from the prince and he had to think quickly.
‘I came to collect Dirkem from Stable Master Viler; the stallion’s lame leg was due to a sprain, nothing else. Viler is the best man around at treating those sorts of injuries. My men and I are staying in the local tavern and we will head off to the Eternal Forest in the morning. It seems that our being here has drawn much attention.’
This explanation satisfied the countess, she smiled and nodded her head. Tia was standing off to one side of the desk, her sword, like the princes, had been left downstairs before entering the countess’s study. The three metal clasps that buttoned her cloak were open to reveal a narrow gap where Havoc could see her short skirt and her shapely tanned legs.
‘I have apologised to Countess Bleudwed for the intrusion,’ said Tia ‘but it is the only way to outline my mission to her.’
‘What mission is that?’ Havoc asked with genuine interest.
At this point Bleudwed stood up. ‘The Queen of Sonora has ordered her to accompany you on your quest.’
Havoc could not say he was at all surprised, he had a feeling that something like this was the reason that the Havant was here. Yet he still stared in astonished silence at Tia.
Ah! A little spy, said the Blacksword, who seemed to accept this revelation with a dry chuckle.
‘Under the terms and articles of the Haplann Treaty she is well within her rights,’ added Bleudwed, who was smoothing the folds of her dress down with anxious hands.
‘Quite so,’ said Havoc, ‘but I was led to believe that you administered your faith to females only, Tia.’
‘Some of the Cybeleion crew are made up of Falesti Females, my lord. Wyvern Flial, I believe they are called,’ informed Tia, making the prince aware that Cinnibar was far better informed than he was. Nevertheless, it stood to reason that the women folk of the Falesti would join the crew on this mission; their songs could manipulate the Choylorran tree far better than their men folk.
‘I see, but the Falesti have religious beliefs of the Earth Mother, not of the Derma Ken.’
‘I am well aware of that, my lord. The Havant system is a free worship order, we are very… accommodating.’ Tia furnished him with a bright white smile; Havoc noted that the smile did not reach her eyes.
The prince nodded in understanding. He knew that his hands were tied in regards to the Havant, there was not much he could do, but he could not shake off the feeling that he was letting an enemy spy join them on the quest.
‘Very well, Tia, it will be a pleasure to have you with us,’ he smiled, ‘could I perhaps have a talk with the countess, alone please.’
Tia excused herself and bowed out of the study door, shutting it firmly as she left.
Havoc turned to Bleudwed, who shrugged at his annoyed face then placed her index finger to her lips to ask him to remain silent. She then took him to a corner bookshelf and pulled a volume of Correlations’ of the Heavens by Lartet Waterhouse until it angled halfway. There was a click, and then the whole unit opened outward to reveal another room behind it.
More hidden passageways, thought Havoc. This room was of a similar size to the study; in the centre was a large table with a three dimensional model of a mountain and its steep slopes, beautifully crafted and precise in scale. The rest of the room's walls were covered in more shelves, stacked with books and scrolls. Over by the only window sat two soft chairs around a round table where an oil lamp glowed brightly to illuminate most of the room. One book, opened face down on the table, told him that the countess used this room a lot.
‘Sorry Havoc, she arrived yesterday and explained everything to me about her orders from Cinnibar,’ the countess’s face showed concern as she watched him look around, ‘then when I heard that you were here...’
‘It’s alright; Cinnibar has obviously sent Tia to spy on me and used the terms of the treaty as a way onto the mission.’
‘The Ancarryn!’ she suddenly cried in excitement, ‘you won...well the Blacksword won. I was so happy to hear that you managed to escape with your mother.’
‘Did you not hear that the Blacksword revealed himself as me?’
‘No,’ she frowned, ‘no-one has mentioned it to me.’
‘There seems to be some kind of Identity Block that stops people associating me with the Blacksword, I think it has something to do with the Muse Orrinn on SinDex.’ He was walking around the table as he spoke.
‘Well, why am I not affected by it then?’
He looked up at her and smiled, ‘it’s probably because you’re special.’
‘Ohh,’ she blushed, ‘you’re such a charmer.’
‘What is this representing? It looks familiar,’ he said pointing to the model.
‘It should be familiar, look at the other side, where the forests meet the mountain slope.’
He did so and saw a large three-storied mansion house sitting at the foot of the mountainside, surrounded by high walls that formed into a courtyard. The model was so lifelike that he half expected to see miniature people walking about. At the end of the courtyard was a pool, made of see-through resin, with pseudo-water coming out of a fissure in the rocks.
‘By the gods!’ he gasped, ‘it’s the mountain spring, where I named you.’
‘That’s right,’ she grinned at his shocked expression. ‘I’ve bought all the land there and started building Mulvend House next to the spring, it will become my summer retreat. I don’t spend much time in Caphun these days and the Mulvend is closer to the Little Dell, which I regard as my home anyway.’
‘It’s going to look beautiful,’ said Havoc, and truly meant it.
‘I just wish that you could be there when it’s complete. How long will you be away?’
The prince shrugged and shook his head, ‘I’m not sure, but we will be able to communicate with each other through the Lobe Stones.’
Bleudwed gave him a sad nod, ‘yes, I suppose so.’
‘Oh, that reminds me,’ he fished into one of the pouches in his belt and pulled out a white orb, ‘this one belongs to King Kasan, the Blacksword stole it from his personal rooms. Your studies on the Lobe Stones will be more rewarding if you have two of them, yes?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she took it from his hand, but did not back away from him; it was almost as if she felt a necessity to be close to him. Confused, Havoc ignored her body language and made a move to the door. She reached out and grasped his arm.
‘Please be careful, Havoc, and come home safe,’ she implored him.
‘I will.’ He gave her a brotherly hug, patting her back and inhaling her sweet smell, ‘will you join us at the food table?’
‘No,’ she said breaking away from him, ‘I have much work to do.’ She turned her back to him and looked intently at the model. As Havoc closed the door, she softly sobbed into the palms of her hands.
It would have been a comical moment if those involved had seen the funny side, but alas, no. The Paladins were chatting and laughing amongst themselves as they sat at the long banqueting table, eating the r
oast pork, goose and beef on offer and drinking Caphun’s reserves of Fire Wine dry when the prince and Tia walked into the room.
There was instant silence from the group as they stared in disbelief at the Havant. Nobody turned to look when a loud thud of a chicken leg fell from Furran’s greasy hands onto his metal plate. Even Lord Ness, sitting at the head of the table with Hoban and Neiva on either side of him, gawped wide-eyed. The memory of Jynn Ri hunting them after their escape from the Haplann Mines was still fresh in the survivors memories.
‘Do gentlemen not stand when a lady enters the room?’ Havoc snapped, ‘or has etiquette changed since I was away?’
Everyone stood, some reluctantly, and mumbled a half-hearted welcome.
‘This is the Havant Priestess Tia; some of you may have met her already. She will be joining us on the quest.’
As he feared, the silence that followed the prince’s introduction was cloying with tension. This, thought Havoc, was not a good start to an adventure.
The “good start” went from bad to worse as the prince’s party arrived at the launch site three days later. They had avoided Ten Mountain and the Atyd Barnum’s home; the prince did not intend to see Barnum again, although the desire to see Lorimar was hard to push to one side.
The Cybeleion was now finished and floated just a few feet above the ground, four thick steel anchor chains held it there. A large hinged door was open under the hull and acted as a ramp so the prince and his Paladins and their mounts could climb aboard.
‘This is amazing,’ said Hexor, a sentiment that they all shared as they wandered over the deck of the Sky Ship.
Unfortunately, Barnum was on board, with no Lorimar or Bronwyn. He treated Havoc kindly enough, but the prince sensed the Atyd’s usual cold distain. He informed him that the Queen of the Falesti was recovering after giving birth to a daughter a week ago. She and Barnum called her Starwyn, meaning “Illuminated Goddess”, and she was very healthy. Soneros Ri had been sent on ambassadorial missions around the island proclaiming to all that Starwyn was the future Queen of the Falesti. The fact that Havoc would not see the queen or his son before he left made him feel very sad, and he sensed that Barnum knew it.