by J. W. Webb
“I thought the messenger delusional and suspected these just to be brigands led by that villain Hagan. Foolishly I didn’t believe the connection with Leeth. I do now. With brigands in mind I sent riders south and east to scout and scourge, led by my three sons. They returned two days later with bad news.
“On approaching the Gap of Leeth they’d espied a host gathered at the edge of the forest and saw a dark trail of smoke rising up from behind the northern foothills of The High Wall.
“I fear the messenger spoke truly about Point Keep at least. I believe Halfdan’s mountain fortress has indeed been taken.” The duke shook his head in resignation, took another sip before continuing.
“But we had scant time to worry about that. Daan Redhand’s ships arrived two days later and set fire to our fleet, just as his father’s brigands whooped and crashed their way into our streets. King Haal has attacked on two fronts, his fiercest warriors taking my city whilst his main force marched on the Gap of Leeth.
“Vangaris’s bastion walls were breached by fire and stone, we had little time to spare on the thoughts of others. The barbarians were slaying anyone who moved. Had we not fled then we would have perished too. That night terror reigned in Morwella and bright flames rose skyward as inferno consumed Vangaris!”
Tomais’s face was almost tearful as he recalled the horror of his and his daughter’s flight from the harbour; were it not for her intuition he would have perished in those flames. Despite that they had barely escaped with their lives.
“Only Car Carranis remains free. I sent my people there—those still living. My sons and the surviving soldiers were to help bolster the garrison there, led by Starkhold of Raleen—your countryman, master merchant.”
Silon nodded. He was well acquainted with Starkhold. The former warlord’s lands weren’t far north of Port Sarfe. Starkhold was respected and feared. He was also unpredictable and stubborn with a reputation for rash decisions. He’d fallen out with the leading houses in Atarios. They’d sent an assassin. Starkhold killed him and responded by sending his own knife wielders into Atarios’s streets. The result was a bloody feud that lasted ten years, ending in Starkhold’s exile from Raleen. He’d sought refuge up in Kella. Then, after serving for five years, Starkhold was given charge of Car Carranis. Mainly because nobody liked him and those living in Kella viewed Car Carranis as the edge of the world.
Starkhold was unbreakable, they said, but Silon knew that wasn’t so. Starkhold’s chink was his pride. He would never bend, which meant that he could break. And if he broke at Car Carranis all was lost.
. Corin found it hard to believe that Halfdan was dead. That old fox was a survivor. But if Halfdan was dead then Corin would avenge him. The High King’s brother had been kind to Corin back when few others were. But it wasn’t just that. Corin felt a loyalty and bond to the Wolf leader, despite leaving the regiment. He shook his head in denial. Lord Halfdan was alive. He had to be.
Across the table Ariane was watching him. She placed a pale hand over her glass when a servant tried to fill it. “If Car Carranis falls Caswallon will have King Haal of Leeth at his walls within days,” Ariane said. “I doubt his sorcery and army of fiends could hold back that horde.”
“He’ll buy them off,” Corin said. “That’s all they want, those savages. Gold and plunder and promises of more. That bastard Caswallon probably invited them into Kelthaine. I doubt he likes this Starkhold, so let Leeth deal with him, and for a reward offer them Wynais and Kelwyn to spite Queen Ariane.” The queen awarded him a sharp look but Corin continued unabated. “That way Caswallon wins his war without using his own forces. And if Leeth turns on him, Caswallon still has his army and his spooky friends. It would explain why Perani was tardy sending aid.”
“I fear that you are right, Corin an Fol.” Ariane’s eyes were still on him as were those of the others. Even Shallan was watching him with interest, Corin couldn’t help noting.
“Kelwyn and Raleen united lack the military might to rebuff Caswallon’s Kelthaine, let alone Leeth aiding it. Our countries would fold under such heavy odds.”
“Then we cannot let Car Carranis fall!” Belmarius slammed his huge fist into his palm. “It’s simple enough! I will send word for my force to march north at once under the cover of darkness! My Bears will steal upon Caswallon’s goblin army, destroy it and then turn northeast to assist Starkhold. We might be outnumbered but with the element of surprise—”
“That is precisely what Caswallon expects you do to,” said Corin, surprising himself as he criticised the fierce general’s passionate proposal. “His spies are everywhere, one even found us on board ship.”
“I can be in Kelthaine before the king of Leeth has his breeches done up!” answered Belmarius, glowering at Corin. “So don’t fucking lecture me, boy!”
“It won’t work,” answered Corin, undeterred. He noticed Lady Shallan was studying him with interest. He smiled briefly at her and then guiltily glanced in Ariane’s direction, but the queen appeared lost in her thoughts.
“Well what do you suggest, young fellow?” Duke Tomais asked Corin while Belmarius snorted in derision.
“Skirt the mountains, general.” Again Corin held their attention. “March your army beneath the Fallowheld, then cut northwards through the Heel. Within three weeks hard march you could be at the Gap of Leeth, coming from a direction the enemy won’t be expecting.”
“That would entail passing near Darkvale and skirting the plains of Ptarni,” Silon said. “Not your best idea, Corin. And there is the Rorshai. They are unpredictable.”
“It seems fucking obvious to me!” Corin glared at Silon, angered by his dismissive tones. “Fuck the Rorshai and fuck Ptarni. Caswallon is our enemy not them.” Shallan couldn’t hold back a laugh hearing Corin’s language. She received a grim look from her father. Tomais had small love for foul-mouthed mercenary types.
“I spoke of Darkvale also. That wood is no Forest of Dreams, Corin an Fol.” Silon pinned Corin with a hard stare. “A real horror dwells thereabouts. An ancient evil matched only by the ruins of Olen Valek.
“Nightmares come alive in Darkvale, they say the Witch Queen still resides there. Even Morak is no match for Undeyna. That forest is a tangle of madness where a man’s worst fears will manifest and then follow him under those witchy groves rending the flesh from his bones. Passing near Darkvale is not an option.”
Corin shrugged deflated, “It was just a suggestion.”
“Not a good one. Besides, I have contacts in Rorshai. Some of their riders have seen lone warriors from time to time watching them from the eastern steppe lands. Ptarni scouts doubtless planning raids. There is trouble brewing out there as well. We cannot afford to get caught up in that.”
“What about Permio?” Barin enquired. “The moment this general withdraws his boyos from the Liaho, that shithead sultan will creep across the river and pounce on southern Raleen.”
“Barin’s right, Silon, we’ve seen it all before.” Corin noticed that the desert warrior Yashan was watching him thoughtfully beneath those dark hooded eyes. Beside him Cale’s blue eyes were agog. The boy was eagerly absorbing all this information.
“The sultan has more immediate worries than the acquisition of Raleen.” Yashan spoke for the first time. He exchanged a knowing glance with Silon.
“Permio is somewhat unstable at the moment,” announced Silon in reply to their puzzled faces. “An unrest that I and some others, including Yashan here, have been able to encourage over several years spent scheming in the stifling heat of Cappel Cormac and Syrannos. A difficult and dangerous task. But a necessary one. We need Permio as an ally.”
“Some chance,” Corin almost laughed in disbelief. He’d spent years fighting south of the Liaho. The only Permian you could trust was one with your knife embedded in his neck. Not that he was prejudiced in any way.
“The sultan is strong, but he can be defeated. There are those secretly seeking to bring him down. Foremost is Barakani, so-called Wolf of
the Desert. A man Yashan knows well and deems worth the knowing. Do I not speak sooth, Yashan?”
“Indeed so,” answered the Permian, his eyes shrewd and calculating. “There is a great distrust of the sultan in my land,” Yashan told them, “and his favoured guard the crimson cloaks of Sedinadola are hated by we free folk of the desert. Barakani has only to ask and the tribes will set aside their many feuds and come to his assistance.”
“Well, so what,” rumbled Belmarius. “Even if I take young Corin’s advice, which I at least deem fairly sound, Darkvale or no Darkvale.” he nodded in a surprised Corin’s direction, “Just how long can Car Carranis hold out against the numberless might of Leeth? Starkhold is tough but not known for his predictability.”
“Starkhold will hold as long as he has to!” said a strange voice.
Corin had forgotten about Zallerak.
He’d been uncommonly quiet until now. They all turned to see that the bard had vacated his seat and stood staring airily towards the distant lake at the southern end of Silon’s vineyard. The small figures of workmen could be seen toiling away beneath the warm late autumn sun.
“What a splendid spot you have here, merchant. I should like to explore your grounds at some point if you grant me leave.”
Belmarius frowned, irritated by Zallerak’s casual manner. He looked at Corin.
“Is he taking the piss? This is a council meeting not a fucking garden party.”
“He does this,” replied Corin. “It’s why we love him.” Belmarius shook his head and Barin sighed as he poured himself another glass of wine.
“So?” Corin turned to Zallerak, who was still gazing dreamily at the garden. “What’s your view, wizard? You’ve offered little to this gathering thus far.”
“Corin’s right,” Belmarius again. “We plain talking, fighting folk have little time for small talk and nuances!”
“Which is exactly why you are so predictable,” retorted the bard without turning from the window. Belmarius’s face reddened in rage but Zallerak ignored him. When he continued his voice was sharp and commanding, allowing no interruption. Cale gulped and even Bleyne sat up and listened to the words.
“This is a council of fools!” snapped Zallerak. “You skirt the surface and solve nothing!” He drained his wineglass and demanded another before slowly regaining his composure. He sighed, and then continued in a softer voice as if patiently berating a small group of likeable, yet rather simple children.
“The Tekara must be reforged,” Zallerak declared. “This is the crux. When the crown is whole again. Then, and only then, general, can you even dream of throwing down Caswallon. Then and not before! While the crystal shards are scattered there can be no hope in resisting this tide of evil. We need the Tekara back and whole.”
“Is that why you sent its broken bits deep into the desert, with only a witless prince to protect it, in a vague hope that he might overcome assassins, Groils, goblins, and bugger knows what else; his task to persuade an ancient being (that’s probably dust by now) to aid in gluing it back together?” Corin wasn’t fazed by Zallerak’s grand tone. He’d heard and seen it all before.
Zallerak looked in pain. “My hopes are not vague, Corin an Fol, and I at least have an idea of the challenges that lie ahead. I freed Tarin and sent him into the desert, yes. Both Caswallon and his master were so intent on watching your queen’s every move, they gave scant thought to the wayward prince, believing him safe in the Assassin’s clutch, as indeed he was until I intervened, at no small cost to myself.
“Even Morak deems the Tekara a side issue now. He seeks the black spear Golganak, and may the gods help us if he finds it! Still, I suspect he was angry that Caswallon did not seize the remnants of the crown and destroy them when he had the chance. As for the young prince being unprotected,” Zallerak eyes burned into Corin’s but the Longswordsman held his gaze.
“I told you that I placed a charm on Tarin so none might do him harm. I deem that should hold until he is deep beneath the Crystal Mountains. Tarin is our bait and a useful decoy for my own mission—catching Morak and his people unawares and destroying them utterly. With that task accomplished we will be able to assist Prince Tarin in his search for the Smith.”
“We?” asked Barin, thoughtfully scratching his beard. “Who exactly are we?”
“Not you, big fellow. Your way lies north,” Zallerak told him. “Well, after a brief diversion.” Barin frowned at that. “Corin an Fol shall accompany me together with Bleyne here, and young Tamersane (with his queen’s kind permission of course).” Tamersane looked up in surprise on hearing his name while Bleyne shrugged, but Corin was having none of this.
“I told you, Zallerak.” Corin rose to his feet, flushed-faced and angry. He leaned forward, his hot palms gripping the chair back. “I wish for no part in your schemes. Nor you, Silon, for that matter, or anyone else with fancy ideas. I fought the Permians for years—they cannot be trusted.” Yashan smiled slightly beside him. “The Huntsman take you and your plots, I’ll not be part of it!”
“Don’t be dense, Corin. You are already part of this as I have told you before,” said Silon, rewarding Corin with a measured glance.
“Yashan shall be our guide into the deep desert,” continued Zallerak, completely ignoring Corin’s outburst. “He knows it well and can steer us away from the sultan’s prying eyes. Hopefully Barakani will be keeping most of that one’s soldiers occupied further west, so we can slip through unnoticed.”
Corin punched the chair, sending it spinning. Both Ariane and Shallan were watching him intently but he was past caring.
“I want no part in this folly! Let me accompany Belmarius to war—or else sail north with Barin. I have already played a greater part in this crown business than I promised. Tamersane,” he motioned to the younger man who was nodding his head in approval, “Don’t be party to this madness!”
Tamersane was about to respond but Bleyne cut in first. Corin looked up in alarm.
The voice wasn’t Bleyne’s. The archer’s lips moved but it was a woman that spoke. Corin gasped; he recognised the melodious lilt of Vervandi. For an instant he saw her sitting before him, her green/gold eyes coolly measuring his own.
“Try as you might you cannot flee from your weird, Corin an Fol,” said the husky voice then in an instant she was gone.
Corin found himself staring stupidly at Bleyne’s puzzled face. Nobody else seemed to have noticed anything untoward.
Behind him, Tamersane mentioned some creature called the Ty-Tander and whether they would encounter it but Corin wasn’t listening. He felt suddenly very foolish and confused. His eyes met Lady Shallan’s; he didn’t smile this time.
“It must be reforged in the Lost Cavern,” Zallerak was saying. “Beneath the giant crystal itself. Only Croagon the blind Smith has the knowledge to do this. That old god must be awoken from his slumber deep beneath the mountains so that he can aid us.” Zallerak spread his long arms wide with excitement.
“The fires of his smithy must burn white hot again! The crystal of the Tekara is unlike any other precious stone, except perhaps Callanak the sword of legend, and few know what happened to that worthy blade. Both were made from the purest crystal,” Zallerak enthused, “artefacts mined deep beneath those mountains many millennia ago. That crystal’s more malleable than steel, you see, harder than granite and lighter than silk. A unique substance containing elements of earth power—the same as granted to the Aralais by the ancient gods, for the crown was conceived by their thought.
“And with the Tekara whole again,” Zallerak was even more excitable now and had commenced pacing the room, “We can seek out the remaining talismans, especially Callanak. I suspect that sword resides still on Laras Lassladan, an island far to the north of even Barin’s Valkador. Then,” Zallerak insisted waving his arms, “When we are thus armed and strong again, we can destroy our enemies at our leisure.”
“What the fuck is he talking about?” Belmarius had risen to his feet also and was
biting his moustache and snorting.
“Bugger the Urgolais, whatever they are! It’s Caswallon and Leeth we need bring to heel! Haven’t you been listening, bard? It’s all very well seeking this Smith god (if he even exists, which I doubt). But what of Kelthaine? Much good will it serve us all to regain a crown and lose a fucking kingdom!”
“It’s already lost.” Silon’s face was resigned.
“Which is why you, my good general, will take Corin an Fol’s advice,” announced Zallerak with a curt wave of his right hand. “Surprisingly sound advice for so slow a brain.” He winked over at Corin who had taken to his seat again, fingering his wineglass amid smoulders.
“You’ll march northeast, general,” continued Zallerak. “Lead your army up out of Raleen. Stay close to the Rorshai Heights, thus avoiding both Darkvale and any probing Ptarni scouts! The Rorshai will be watching but they’ll not intervene. They are a strange lot, granted, but they could yet prove worthy allies.” Belmarius puffed out his cheeks. He was lost for words. Who was this idiot?
“So, Zallerak, you’re a general now as well as a wizard and bard? Your talents are limitless.” Corin smiled. He had calmed down after another wine and ignored the heated exchange, instead he looked across at Shallan and she smiled briefly back at him before lowering her gaze.
“I was a general once,” responded Zallerak. But Corin ignored him. Instead he caught Ariane’s baleful glare and felt ashamed. Perhaps he should venture off into the desert for a while, things were getting complicated round here.
Outside a gentle breeze wafted through the cobbled courtyards, lifting leaves on slender boughs and burnishing them in golden sunlight. Late afternoon had arrived and they had resolved nothing. Silon decided everyone needed a break. He suggested they convene again an hour from now.
As the others wandered out into the gardens, Corin sat staring into space. A light touch on his shoulder turned his head. “You’re quite taken with Lady Shallan, aren’t you?” Ariane stood over him.