The Warrior

by Joseph Delaney

  Somewhere deep within me the decision was made, and I spoke without thinking.

  ‘I’d like to go,’ I told Konnit.

  ‘Then be ready at dawn tomorrow. You will travel north, and receive weapons training on the way.’

  That was a shock! I’d agreed to go, but little did I imagine that it would be straight away. I was dismayed. I’d hoped for more time with Kwin while preparations were made for the crossing.

  However, I had said yes now and must stand by my decision. After all, a desire for revenge had brought me to Gindeen in the first place. Hob must be destroyed, and that had to take precedence over everything else.

  ‘How will we get through the Barrier, lord?’ I wanted to know.

  ‘The crossing carries the risk of madness or death. However, we have guides – Genthai mystics, known as Medes, who inhabit the lands close to the Barrier and are sensitive to its fluctuations. They take their name from the River Medie. The best entry and exit point lies on its bank.

  ‘The strength of the Barrier varies depending on the cycles of the moon. By taking advantage of its phases, the Medes cross in relative safety – though they do not always guide other people through successfully. There will be ten of you on this expedition. We do not expect all ten to pass through the Barrier safely.’

  ‘Why me, lord?’ I asked.

  ‘Why shouldn’t it be you, Leif? This is an important assignment, and you’ve shown yourself worthy to be a part of it. You defeated a werewight and bested Hob in combat. Besides, your presence was requested by the leader of the expedition – Garrett.’

  I knew Garrett. The big warrior had supervised my work when I’d visited the Genthai lands the previous winter. He’d had me felling trees until my hands were blistered. At first he’d bullied me both verbally and physically. But later he’d told me that this harsh treatment had been a test, part of the initiation of a Genthai returning to the tribe after exile.

  When we’d broken out of a prison in the Protector’s palace, I’d also fought alongside him and opened a gate to let the Genthai army in. I was pleased that Garrett had chosen me. It was an honour.

  My first task was to break the news to Kwin and her father.

  I went to see Tyron first – though I had to wait as he was in his office in the admin building.

  Now, well after dark, we were in his study at the top of his house. On the desk before him stood a glass of red wine.

  ‘It’ll be dangerous, boy,’ he said, scratching the stubble on top of his head. ‘You’re risking your life. If the djinn get the faintest whiff of the expedition, you’re all as good as dead. We might never see you again.’

  ‘It’s a risk I’m prepared to take,’ I told him. ‘All my life I’ve wanted to see what’s beyond the Barrier. My father sailed there with the Trader. I’ve no knowledge of what he saw or experienced. Now I’d like to see it too.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to destroy Hob. I thought you sought revenge for the deaths of your parents. Isn’t that more important?’ Tyron asked, leaning towards me.

  ‘I still want that – I’m ready to face Hob in Arena 13 again. But there’ll be no more combat until next season. I’ll be back for that. Konnit believes that we’ll gain valuable information about the djinn – things that even Ada doesn’t know. That knowledge might also be used to understand how to deal with Hob.’

  ‘Well, it’s a very risky journey, and I fear for your safety – though, having said that, at least you’ll be out of Hob’s reach. He’s been quiet recently, but he might well take revenge for our attempt on his life. You’re the one who defeated him in the arena, Leif. You’re high on his list of targets. At least beyond the Barrier you’ll be safe from him.’

  I left Tyron frowning and sipping his wine and went to talk to Kwin.

  I knocked on her bedroom door and she bade me enter.

  She was sitting in a low chair in front of a mirror, combing her hair. She always wore it the same way – long on one side but short on the other, to reveal the scar she’d earned fighting one of her father’s lacs.

  I knelt beside her and stared at my own reflection. The left side of my face bore the moko, the Genthai tattoo – deeply etched lines and whorls following its contours. That showed my heritage through the bloodline of my father, Math. The right side was unadorned because my mother, Shola, had not been Genthai. I was a half-blood, sitting between the two races, but this very fact had meant that I could act as Mediator and steer the negotiations between the city dwellers and the Genthai to a successful conclusion.

  On the right, my hair was shaved to a dark stubble – to draw attention to my missing ear; Hob had cut it off during our fight. That had been Kwin’s idea. Like her scar, she considered it to be a badge of courage – something to show off. I looked at her beautiful face in the mirror, with the number 13 tattooed on her forehead. Our eyes met and she smiled at me.

  I tried to smile back, but I saw her eyes fill with alarm. It was hard to hide anything from Kwin.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

  So I told her.

  ‘Tomorrow? So soon? No! No, Leif, no!’ she cried. ‘I might never see you again.’

  I was taken aback by her reaction. Kwin had always been so strong and independent; she wasn’t given to displays of emotion like this. But then she turned away from me and was silent for a while, considering the matter. Eventually she looked at me again, and I saw that her face was filled with strength and purpose.

  ‘You know what?’ she said. ‘I’m jealous. I wish I was going. I’d love to explore the lands beyond the Barrier!’

  We hugged each other tightly and I tried to reassure her.

  ‘I wish you could come with us, but even if the Genthai agreed, your father would forbid it. But don’t you worry – I’ll be back for the start of next season. You won’t get rid of me that easily!’

  As I began to pack my things for the journey, I picked up my father’s book and read the spine: The Testimony of Math.

  I decided not to take it with me in case it got lost or damaged. It belonged to Tyron, and I intended to return it to him before I set off. The book contained detailed accounts of Math’s training with Gunter, the greatest artificer of his time, and of each contest he had fought in Arena 13.

  However, most of the narrative concerned the fifteen bouts he’d won against Hob. It was good to read about his achievements, but I was disappointed not to have an account of the journeys he was supposed to have made across the Barrier with the Trader; the period covered by the book was before this.

  There was one short passage that I kept returning to again and again.

  While in combat I began to experience strange states of consciousness: it was as if I was floating, my arms and legs responding instinctively; but these were not my usual fast reactions – I began to feel as if I was the expression of a higher power, an aspect of Nym, the goddess of all pattern, movement and dance.

  I was no longer merely dancing the patterns of the Trigladius; in some way I became those patterns.

  I didn’t believe in the goddess, but that did not matter. The sensation was still there.

  And, once again, that contest ended in the same way. Hob lay there in two separate pieces in a pool of bright red blood.

  It seemed that my father had experienced some kind of altered consciousness – an almost mystical state. It was at odds with the rest of his account, which was factual and down to earth. There were those who really did believe that Nym was a goddess, and muttered prayers to her before they fought contests. But how could a patterning language be a goddess? I wondered. It didn’t make sense.

  Next I took my leave of Ada. I told her about my father’s strange experience. After all, she knew more about Nym than anyone else in Gindeen.

  ‘Could Nym really be a goddess?’ I asked.

  To my surprise, Ada did not dismiss my question as foolish. Far from it.

  ‘Nym was worshipped and considered to be a goddess by one religious sect,’ she e
xplained. ‘In my day there was tolerance of all religious beliefs, however outlandish, and nobody mocked them. Indeed, there were scientists who didn’t dismiss the idea. They said it stood up to scrutiny.’

  ‘Scientists believed that Nym was a goddess!’ I exclaimed in astonishment.

  Ada smiled. ‘Not necessarily a goddess able to hurl thunderbolts and rule humans, but an entity with a high degree of sentience that might, under certain circumstances, communicate with us. They believed that any highly complex system composed of many interacting parts might develop awareness. The Dictionary of Nym, that essence of the language, is now used by patterners and coded into lacs. In my time it was also embedded into devices and structures that were as enduring as rock or concrete. Some of those repositories of Nym may still survive to this day.

  ‘There is something else,’ she continued. ‘Those who worshipped Nym believed that she favoured certain people – the best and the brightest, the fastest and the deadliest. Your father was the greatest of all Arena 13 combatants; he defeated Hob and danced the patterns of the Trigladius with supreme skill. If the goddess exists, he would surely have been one of her favourites.’

  I nodded and smiled. Perhaps there had been more substance to my father’s experience than I’d allowed.

  ‘Have you any advice to offer regarding the djinn we may encounter beyond the Barrier?’ I asked.

  ‘I wish I was coming with you, Leif, but both Tyron and Konnit forbid it. They think my knowledge and skill at coding is too important to risk in such a dangerous assignment. I would love to encounter the djinn and find out what they are like now. But you must avoid them. They strike quickly and few survive. Your only hope in such an encounter is to open a dialogue. They are rational beings, and it should be possible to communicate with them. That is the only advice I can give.’

  That night I spent a few last precious hours with Kwin.

  We returned to the place we had visited together on my first night as a new trainee. Kwin had given me a night-time tour of the city, which had ended with an ascent of the high dome above the Wheel.

  Using her father’s key, she led me up the long spiral staircase inside the Wheel, where there was a smell of dust and ancient wood. It was a relief to emerge into the cool autumnal air. I looked up at the large gibbous moon, which bathed the city in pale light.

  We completed our climb up the outside of the dome, holding on to the slender hand rail until we reached the apex where, like a sharp spear-tip, the broken flagpole jutted towards the sky.

  Here we stopped, both slightly breathless, and looked about us in silence.

  I was the first to speak.

  ‘Did a flag ever fly here?’ I asked Kwin, staring at the broken pole.

  She shook her head. ‘Maybe once, long ago, but nobody remembers it. It was probably broken off in a storm – though no one has thought of replacing it. Few but the vultures come up here now!’ she said with a smile, glancing up to where they circled overhead. ‘This is one of my favourite spots. What an amazing view!’

  I gazed out over the city, my eyes drawn to the west, where I could see the silver shimmer of the sea and, beyond it, the great Barrier that encircled Midgard and sealed it off from the outer world. That roiling wall of mist or cloud had been created by the djinn after the last battle had destroyed the Human Empire.

  The humans of Midgard were counted in the thousands rather than the billions who once inhabited the whole Earth. But our numbers were growing and, unless we cut down the forests, which the Genthai would never permit, within a couple of generations our farms would be unable to produce sufficient food to feed us. It was galling to think that, beyond the Barrier, unknown acres of good agricultural land went untilled.

  I was going to miss Kwin, but my heart surged with excitement at the thought that I would soon explore those lands.

  Ada had told me that the djinn controlled their own evolution. So what were they like now? Similar to Hob or very different? How did they live? I wondered.

  I looked northwards – at the only building in the city that wasn’t made of wood. Before the defeat of the Protector, this stone palace with its marble pillars had been his. It was supposed to have been built before the fall of the Human Empire, pre-dating even the first of Gindeen’s other buildings.

  Finally I stared at the stone and bronze citadel on the summit of the hill above the city, with its thirteen twisted spires; this was Hob’s lair.

  Yes, I would journey beyond the Barrier, but somehow, after my return, I would find a way of dealing with that monster.

  One way or another I intended to have my revenge upon the djinni who had killed my parents.

  CROSSING THE BARRIER

  It is inevitable that humans will one day travel beyond the Barrier that confines them.

  Some view that as an act of heroism; others see it as a death-wish.

  Amabramdata: the Genthai Book of Prophecy

  LEIF

  I spent almost a month training before we attempted to cross the Barrier. Most of it took place in the afternoons and evenings as we journeyed towards the northern stretch of the Barrier. We were in no hurry: our crossing had to coincide with a particular phase of the moon.

  After a couple of days I was already homesick and wondering why we had set off so early. I could have spent another two weeks with Kwin.

  However, Garrett explained that we had to be ready for whatever faced us beyond the Barrier. In martial skills, I was easily the weakest of our group, he pointed out. I had the necessary speed and skill to fight in the arena, but as far as riding, archery and swordplay went, I was a novice. The month would prepare me for what lay ahead.

  There were ten of us. We practised fighting in pairs, and my partner was always Garrett. We began with the longsword. He was an expert, and much bigger and stronger than me. I was struggling.

  After a couple of sessions he shook his head and took me aside. ‘We’re not making the best of your abilities, Leif. Maybe one day, when you reach your full height and strength, you’ll manage this weapon,’ he told me, ‘but meanwhile I think you’ll be better off with these …’

  He gave me a short sword and a round shield; the latter was more than just a means of defence and could be used to deadly effect. It was three feet in diameter and its metal edge was as sharp as a razor. This combination of weapons was much more to my liking, for the sword was similar to the blades I wielded in Arena 13. Now my natural skills could be used to my advantage.

  Of course, the shields we used for practice had wooden guards, but I was soon covered in bruises. However, by the end of the second week I could give as good as I got. The skills I’d developed in Arena 13 began to pay off. I used my speed to find the most advantageous position, using the Trigladius steps that a warrior such as Garrett had no knowledge of. He was finding it increasingly difficult to fend off my attacks, and I could dance out of his range with ease.

  I also had a natural aptitude for two other Genthai martial skills: riding and archery.

  I was introduced to my mount, a black mare called Laras, with dappling on her hind quarters and a patch of white below her right eye; she was fast and responsive and eager to please, and soon we could weave our way through dense woods at a full gallop.

  My skill with the short bow also developed rapidly; by the end of the month my aim was as accurate from horseback as it was when I was on foot. My confidence increased by leaps and bounds. I began to feel more and more like a Genthai warrior.

  ‘They say that your father had great skill with the bow, Leif,’ Garrett told me. ‘It seems that you’ve inherited that gift. You have a natural aptitude for combat. I’m pleased with the progress you’ve made. Despite our limited training time, you’ve come on well.’

  I was delighted to hear his words of praise, but my weapons training soon came to an end.

  Day by day we had been getting closer to the Barrier. I had noted that there were no longer any birds, animals or insects to be seen or heard in the forest.
Until recently it had been teeming with life. Now the trees were stunted and bare.

  Above, the Barrier reared up before us like a great beast; a curtain of darkness with flecks of white, boiling like water in a cauldron. It moaned and groaned, and at night it glowed with unearthly streaks of fire.

  Nerves gnawed at my stomach. It was time to make that dangerous crossing.

  The Mede guide had come to meet us, and told us what we had to do. We would cross on foot; the horses would be brought through later. All ten of us had to be blindfolded, he said.

  ‘It’s for our own good, Leif,’ Garrett explained. ‘There’ll be disturbing sounds and sensations, but it’s the things people see that send them into fits of screaming madness.’

  I looked up at him and nodded. He was almost seven feet tall and dressed in chain mail from head to foot; with his two large swords at his hips, he was a formidable sight. I had been given a light chain-mail vest and a short sword, which I wore in a shoulder scabbard.

  The eight other Genthai warriors ranged in age from grizzled veterans in their fifties to youths hardly older than me.

  We were to cross the Barrier at night, taking our few provisions in small shoulder bags. A new moon was slowly dropping below the horizon, and I could see the Barrier ahead. The River Medie flowed towards us from its unknown source, on its banks a few stunted trees. The air was chilly.

  The eyelids of the Mede were stitched shut. He was thin, his limbs like matchsticks, his face gaunt, but when he addressed us, his voice was powerful and commanding.

  ‘In a few moments we will set off. If you want to live, you must not react to anything you hear or feel,’ he told us.

  Then he blindfolded us one by one – with deft, precise movements despite the fact that he could not see.

  It would be the blind led by the blind – but towards what? I wondered.