by P D Ceanneir
Havoc allowed the silver mist of the Muse Orrinn to close and he rested his head on the pommel to think, Tia watched in silence.
‘I’m not sure our friends from Ternquin are to be trusted,’ he said to no one in particular.
‘How so, they are your own people, descendants from the same desert tribe?’ asked Tia.
‘True, but also not very forthcoming in regards to information,’ Havoc said, ‘it’s as if they have something to hide. Something I want to get to the bottom of before we journey on.’
‘The rank of “Sernac” was used hundreds of years before the royal title of king was even thought of,’ said Lord Ness as he walked beside the prince. ‘As far as I have learnt from the library of the Jehu Chi Monks, it has not been used for over two thousand years when the last of the Elders left Assassi.’
Havoc, who had told the Ri Tia’s story about the mysterious Lord Sernac months ago, nodded. ‘I realise that, but we have all been under the impression that Aunt Cinnibar controls the Brethac Ziggurat along with Uncle Kasan. Who is this Sernac that calls himself the Earth Daemon’s Acolyte? Is he a Ri of the Ri Order or maybe someone from Ternquin?’
‘I know not, my lord, but I dearly wish to know,’ said Ness Ri and then raised a finger in the air to emphasize his point. ‘If I was going to be a leader of a secret and discredited order, I would not show myself, but manipulate others to my will. This “Lord Sernac” is obviously a title he has chosen from the past, a title to emphasise his rank within the Order. If your father could find out his true identity, then I believe it will weaken the Order to his advantage, think on it.’
Havoc did think on it and realised that his old master was right. They both walked over the cobbled road from the harbour ahead of the shore party. Behind them, the Cybeleion wallowed on the water overshadowing all of the other ships. The prince and his group had a wonderful view of the picturesque fjord as they climbed the mountain slope to the heart of the town.
Captain Carbaum insisted that he leave some of his own men on board the Sky Ship as a token of security for the prince. Havoc was sceptical, but did not give the captain that impression and instead said it was not necessary. The captain’s men walked on behind the group. Some of the wounded, however, remained on board the quest ship grateful to receive salves of Falesti healing balm from the lovely Wyvern. The captain took only two of his lieutenants and ordered the rest to disperse to their homes. The lieutenants were a pug-faced bull of a man called Djroosh and a sly fox-featured thin soldier called Marken, who carried an ornate crossbow made of cedar and cherry tree, which was well cared for and polished to a sparkling lustre.
Powyss, Tia, and Little Kith were never too far away from Havoc as they walked closely behind the prince and the Ri. Furran, Hexor, Foxe, Velnour, Captain Danyil, Gunach, and Lung followed close behind them. In their wake walked ten of the Falesti infantry and their leader, Thane Garnet. Whyteman and Linth walked with this group.
The Paladins became the spectacle of interest for the locals, who were dressed much the same as Carbaum. Their iridescent green armour rippled with each movement and from the light that struck its surface. Each of the knights wore their sword battle ready and each wore their snug-fitting coned helmets. The prince’s helmet was the only one with a black horsehair tail plume taken from Dirkem himself.
The path they walked took them east through a sparsely inhabited area of the woodland. Most of the town sat on the north side of the fjord and built in such a way that it steeped up the slope of the adjacent mountain; however, the most imposing obstacle was not the mountain, but that huge tree.
The Falesti gasped in amazement at the sheer size of the behemoth growing out of the soil at the road’s end. Never before had any of them seen a plant of this size. The prince, who had already seen it in the Orrinn, felt overwhelmed by its immense proportions.
‘This gentleman is the town’s Boughhauss, or town hall. It is a Ternquin Tree and is very rare. The town is named after it,’ informed Carbaum with a note of smugness in his voice as if he was showing off a prized possession. ‘Legend has it that when my people were running from the troubles in Assassi, one man, called Oland, found this tree and the subsequent path to Mortkraxnoss beyond it. He is the one who brought my people here to live.’
The squat base of the tree was thicker than the Cybeleion was long. Its long branches stretched far beyond their sight, as they were lost amongst other pines that grew around it. The trees root system stretched just as far in all directions, the thick tuber stems forced up the earth to form sizeable hillocks that the group had to traverse through via a worn flagstone path. To everyone’s surprise, these hillocks had doors, windows and quaint little chimney pots.
The captain led the group beyond the hillocks and onto a set of stone steps that led to the lowest limbs of the Ternquin Tree, which sprouted from the boll. Once on the wide boughs, they climbed around natural notches in the bark to the next limb like a stairway spiralling around the trunk. Havoc found himself wondering why there was no lift like the one at Ten Mountain Palace, because the climb was steep and tiring. To add to their tiring climb, the wide, flat-leafed canopy of the Ternquin added extra protection from the elements, but also retained the warm moist air seeping out of the ground to make the interior stifling.
Fortunately, the main hall was only a quarter of the way up and built on top of three wide boughs. It was a typical stone built tribal hall, long and wide, with a pointed thatched roof and a narrow hole in the middle to let out the fire smoke. There were many windows with open shutters and a huge platform with tables and chairs outside, which they later learnt was part of the Tavern courtyard. The tavern was another building attached at right angles to the hall that just looked like another part of the same structure. Wooden pathways spread outwards from the buildings and beyond the Ternquin Tree towards the pine forest that grew over the lower slopes of the mountain. Even at this height, anyone could just walk off the tree and onto the mountain slope. The Ternquin’s branches even snaked up the hill to extraordinary lengths.
At the entrance to the hall, through an archway made of bluestone with huge oak doors, stood six guards in chainmail and padded jerkins. Word of their arrival had obviously spread and Carbaum talked at some length with an officious looking man wearing a long blue tabard and holding a white staff. Both men walked inside leaving the De Proteous and his friends alone outside to chat while they waited.
After a while, they emerged again and Captain Carbaum asked them all to enter, but the man in the blue tabard stopped them with a raised hand.
‘You must first give up your weapons, my lords,’ he said with a nasal voice that matched his pinched face. Two of the guards moved forward to take the guests armament. No one made a move and they all looked at the prince.
Carbaum relieved the tension in the air. ‘Ward Iffyd is merely following rules. If it makes you feel any better, your highness, you may come in with six men. The rest can stay outside with your weapons?’
Havoc nodded once to his men and they duly gave up their weapons. The prince passed SinDex to Furran who took it from him gingerly. ‘Remember Furran...’
‘I know boss, don’t touch the hilt.’ Furran saw Carbaum frown at the exchange then the captain followed the prince, Lord Ness, Powyss, Captain Danyil, Little Kith, Lung, and Whyteman inside the hall.
A large iron dish, with firewood sitting under a brick chimney, covered in terracotta clay, took up the centre of the hall. Off to one side were two rows of banqueting tables. Behind the chimney sat a red throne made of painted wood and copper. Sitting on the throne was an old man, white haired and grey bearded. He wore a red toga over chainmail and thick leather trousers with the hem tucked into shiny brown boots. On his head he wore a crown of ivy and moss expertly woven into a wicker band. Standing beside him were several men, two of whom, obviously his personal bodyguards, wore mail and carried swords at their sides. Others were more formally dressed, like Carbaum, and one of them wore a short blue robe and
carried a similar white staff just like the official at the door. He wore a gold medallion depicting the five-tiered temple of the Brethac Ziggurat pyramid, which Lord Ness noticed and drew the prince’s attention to it with a slight nod of his head.
‘Prince Havoc of the Roguns,’ said Carbaum, ‘allow me to introduce the Sernac Polmyn and his chief advisers, Lords Varner and Jollis.’ The captain pointed towards the two friendly looking men that sat at one end of the banqueting table eating a bowl of soup and drinking wine.
‘This is the Archward Mannheim,’ said Carbaum as he introduced the tall sallow man in the blue cloak, who fixed Lord Ness with a baleful stare from his cold grey eyes. ‘The Archward looks after the...moral integrity of My’thos Lore and subsequently the souls of us all.’
‘Do well to remember that Master Carbaum,’ said the Archward in a gruff voice.
‘My father has not spoken yet, Archward, do well to remember your place,’ said Carbaum politely enough but with chiding undertones. Havoc could sense that there was a tussle here between these two, the dislike for each other was evident, but the prince could also sense that this Archward had rank over many here.
Mannheim glared at the captain then his cold face softened and he turned and bowed to the old man on the throne. ‘Forgive me, my lord.’
The Sernac waved away the Archward’s comment and with a tired hand he called Havoc forward.
‘So you are a prince of the Roguns? Such illustrious company indeed,’ he said in a croaky voice. ‘You are, of course, welcome here as if you were one of my kin...which of course you are.’ The Archward groaned at that and frowned.
‘Thank you, my lord,’ Havoc bowed, ‘you are most kind.’ Havoc introduced his friends, but all of the natives in the hall stared at Lord Ness when the prince mentioned his name.
Everyone flinched when the Archward slammed the base of his staff on the wooden flooring. The sound it made echoed off the hall’s stone walls. Dozens of serving boys and girls wearing the same blue tabards as the door official hurriedly laid food and wine on the table.
‘Please have some food, my friends.’ said the Sernac as he rose to join his two advisers at the table. ‘You are just in time for a midday meal.’
Havoc nodded to his friends and they sat down to eat. Only the Archward and the two bodyguards declined to join them.
‘My son tells me you saved him from the Epicentre and you come for the Gredligg Orrinn?’ said the Sernac.
‘Correct, sir,’ said Havoc as one of the serving wards filled his wine goblet. ‘Your son has been most helpful in bringing us here. So, if there is any more information you can give us about the...’
‘We cannot help you, information if forbidden to outsiders!’ snapped Mannheim.
‘Oh good gods, Mannheim... they are not outsiders,’ said Polmyn as he started shelling a goose egg.
‘What you seek is impossible, Prince Havoc,’ offered Lord Varner as he used a napkin to wipe the soup from his beard, ‘no one can reach the Isle of the Dead.’
‘How can that be?’ asked Lord Ness. ‘We know where Mortkraxnoss will be once every two years?’
‘How did you come by this information?’ said Mannheim, who was now scowling at the Ri and pacing up and down behind the Sernac.
‘Well, we discovered the Second Marker in Sjardhiem. It explained everything,’ answered the Ri as he plucked at a chargrilled piece of chicken breast.
‘The room went silent. Mannheim pursed his lips before speaking into the silence.
‘You desecrated the Replica Throne of Grendal the Wayfarer, a gift from my ancestors!’ he said with a slightly raised voice.
‘The throne is intact,’ said Lord Ness with a distinct tone of annoyance.
‘This…this cannot be borne!’ yelled Mannheim, ‘our life here has been disturbed by the likes of you!’
‘Likes of us?’ frowned the Ri.
‘Sinful Rawn kind, like you!’ the Archward pointed a crooked finger at the Ri. ‘Yes, I recognise your Ri attire,’ Mannheim was glaring at him from across the table, ‘white robes for the innocent, or is it the pure? I never can tell. Your Eldi were not so pure when they destroyed the hopes of the Elementals all those millennia ago.’ At this point, he levelled his staff to aim it at Lord Ness.
‘You have come to take the Gredligg Orrinn from us!’ he said, ‘we are the rightful heirs to its knowledge, not those who turned their backs on us all those years ago. We are the watchers that guard the route to the portal of the dead! You will not take what is rightfully ours!’ When the rant was over all eyes looked at the Ri sitting back in his chair waiting for the Archward to stop.
‘Firstly, Archward,’ said Ness Ri, ‘the Elementals were disposed with because of their dabbling in strange arts that linked them to the Dark Force of the Earth.’
‘Preposterous! We...’
‘Secondly, knowledge is for all to use. No one can be so narrow-minded to deny wisdom to the youngest human and watch him or her grow without the sentient comprehension of wisdom to fulfil their destiny.’
The Archward’s sallow checks were glowing red with anger, his dark eyes blazed hatred towards the Ri.
‘Thirdly, you can have the Gredligg Orrinn if you are deluded enough to believe it is yours, be my guest, but only the dead can walk on Mortkraxnoss.’
‘Perhaps then,’ smiled the Archward, ‘your journey to the Isle of the Dead can be arranged.’
Everyone gasped at that comment. None of Havoc’s friends was used to a Ri being insulted. Lord Ness was about to stand as he scowled at the Archward, but Havoc placed a hand on his arm and indicated for him to stay seated, which he did.
‘I realise that our presence here is going to be a little awkward for everyone,’ said the prince calmly…’
‘Awkward!’ cut in Mannheim, who was about to launch into another angry tirade, but the slamming of the Sernac’s palm on the table stopped him.
‘Archward! Please leave us!’ he said loudly.
‘But, my lord…’
‘We shall discuss this later, Mannheim!’
Mannheim slammed his staff down in obvious annoyance. Everyone, including the young servants, watched to see what the tall thin man would do next. He looked fit to burst with rage, but instead he snapped his fingers and the servants left by the nearest exit. The Archward stomped off also and, to Havoc’s surprise, so too did the two bodyguards, at first he had thought they were the Sernac’s men, but clearly not.
‘As diplomatic relations go, that could have gone slightly better Master Ri,’ whispered Powyss which got a few chuckles.
‘It can do no good to anger the Archward, my lords,’ said Jollis giving the Sernac a sidelong look, ‘his reach is long.’
‘I thought the Sernac was in charge here?’ asked Danyil.
‘In the past, maybe, nowadays life has changed...since we lost the Talisman of Mortkraxnoss,’ said the Sernac.
‘The Talisman of Mortkraxnoss? I’ve never heard of it,’ said Lord Ness.
Polmyn, Carbaum and the two lords remained silent. Finally, the old Sernac blew air from his cheeks and stood up.
‘Son, Prince Havoc and the Lord Ness please join me on the roof garden,’ he said.
A huge set of sliding glass doors led to a rear terrace and to the garden, a shady glade dappled with sunlight through the large leaves of the Ternquin’s canopy, where delicate winter flowers bloomed in the early spring warmth. Polmyn spoke as the group walked towards the parapet wall at the far end of the terrace.
‘Long ago, after the chaos of the Elemental War,’ he said, ‘the survivors wrote the My’thos Lore. In its pages it was decreed that a harmonic balance to rulership should be adhered to. On the Earthly Plane there should be a King to administer to his subjects and rule the land they tilled, while on the Heavenly Plane above there shall be a priest to administer to the souls of those who worked for the King. This then gave the balance meaning and peace reigned for many years. However, the balance between ruler and priest is no
t always even, such as it is between Mannheim and me.
‘The Rawn Arts are frowned upon in this society. Anyone possessing the aptitude to use the Arts is…discouraged…or forced into exile.
‘The Archward has many followers in the town. They believe he is chosen to lead them to the Hall of Whispers. That I laugh at, but he has followers of strength that weaken my power.’
‘But he is just part of the problem,’ added Carbaum.
‘The problem we have, my lords, is twofold,’ said Polmyn as he walked beside Lord Ness over the narrow arched bridge towards an open sunny platform full of more colourful plants. Water troughs and pipe work, cunningly hid amongst the greenery, irrigated the soil. They walked to a balcony that looked down to the tavern and the hall.
‘We know where the entrance to the Floating Isle is,’ continued Polmyn, ‘but we can’t get to it, because we need the Talisman of Mortkraxnoss. Unfortunately, it has been stolen.’
‘I would need to understand what this talisman does, my lord?’ said Ness Ri.
‘Of course, it aligns the Guardians.’
‘And the Guardians are?’ asked Havoc.
‘To explain that you will have to see them for yourself, but in secret, because it is forbidden to go there without the Archward’s permission. I will send you with my son to the Gateway of Life; from there you will be able to see the Guardians.’
Havoc was none the wiser. He hoped Lord Ness knew what was going on, but one look at the Ri, and he could see the same confusion that was evident on his own face.
‘So the burning question is, who stole this talisman?’ asked Havoc.