Blade stopped and turned to him. “What is it?”
“There’s something in the water.”
“Of course there is, Polly,” shot Darryck. “Your piss, by the look of it. Got a bit of a fright?”
Rhoie said nothing. He took a bit of crocodile meat and tossed it in the water a few feet in front of Darryck. Again, the meat was devoured instantly by what looked like a thousand tiny snakes, writhing over one another in a frenzy for mere seconds, reducing the meat to nothing, and then dispersing.
Almost in unison, the Talons of Freedom raised their hands high above their heads.
“Keep all exposed areas out of the water,” Blade ordered, then looked around at his men to see the order was unnecessary.
“Good idea, chief,” offered Darryck, breathing heavily, still staring at the spot where Rhoie had tossed the meat.
“They’re called devil worms,” came a voice from above.
Rhoie looked up and saw a very old man standing on a branch above their heads.
“Give them some respect,” the old man said in a deep raspy voice. “They will eat one another in those little feeding frenzies, and they’ll have no regard for you.”
“Hello, Maurious. It’s good to see you,” Blade said, clearly relieved. “Surely you know a better path than trudging through the water.”
“Yes, Blade,” he answered. “It’s time for you to rise from the swamp. Darryck, turn around and climb the tree behind you.”
Rhoie observed closely as Darryck followed the instructions. Most of the trees were difficult to climb, as they had discovered while trying to find a place to sleep at night, but this one’s branches were suitable for Darryck to make his way up to a thick area of foliage, and then to actually walk upon the branches above. Rhoie looked more closely at the branches, as Martial followed behind. At first, it looked as if they were walking on air, but as he watched Khardon and Bedde follow, he was able to work out a distinct pathway up into the trees, where the brush was just a little thicker than the growth around it. Rhoie took the climb behind Dilano, and was surprised at how easy it was to navigate.
He looked behind as Blade began to climb. Ahead the men were gathering in the branches around Maurious. He stood upon the odd canopy over the swamp and looked at the spiritual leader of the Talons of Freedom. He had never had an idea of what the great Maurious looked like, but here he was – a raw, physical presence, applying itself to the ethereal character of his imagination. He was a striking figure, a rugged old man with wizened skin. He had eyes that were both kind and intimidating. Maurious continued to look down upon the swamp as the last of the Talons made their way along the route. Rhoie thought he appeared troubled, almost as if he were wincing at an unpleasant thought or memory.
Suddenly a scream erupted from the swamp. Rhoie looked down to see Ghardon grunt, then stumble. He grabbed onto a tree branch and screamed. The devil worms must have found a way through his leggings. The others instinctively reached towards him.
“Leave him!” Maurious bellowed.
But the Talons did not listen. Darryck moved to the edge of their escarpment, and looked as if he were about to jump in to help.
Maurious abruptly rose and threw a heavy knife down through the trees and into Ghardon’s chest. The young man slumped into the water, a look of surprise and pain on his face, as the devil worms swarmed to him.
Blade was already halfway up the tree. He put his head down and sighed, then moved along. There was nothing to do. Ghardon was dead, and Maurious’s knife had probably saved the others. They would have tried to save him, and could have been drawn in themselves.
The three remaining men below moved away from Ghardon’s body carefully but quickly, and continued towards the pathway.
It took a few more minutes for everyone to make their way to the canopy. Once they were gathered, Maurious addressed them. “A moment’s pause for a fallen comrade,” he said simply, and bowed his head. The rest of the group followed suit.
The pause was quite long, and Rhoie was grateful. Although he had not known Ghardon well, he had thought of him fondly. He was a good fighter, and loyal. Then Rhoie’s thoughts drifted back to Brandi. The wound caused by Brandi’s death would never heal completely. Liam had told him as much. Now, with the death of another friend, Rhoie was saddened and frustrated with the meaninglessness of their loss. Yet, somehow, he was growing strangely cold to the concept of death. Life and death were all around him, back at the tavern, at the Bok settlement, and here in this swamp. Things lived and died; that was the way of it. Loved ones were no exception, and neither was Arconus.
In a cold, clear, miserable voice, Rhoie heard himself say, “Arconus must pay.”
Maurious heard this and addressed the group. “Follow me. We have much travelling yet. Then we will discuss your decree.”
XXI
There are those who question – is it we who drive fate, or is it fate that drives us? This question is meaningless, as it falsely assumes a separation of the two.
– The Tomes of Æhlman
Tomorrow they would be in the capital. It had been many years since Filos had been there, and he was looking forward to it. As a man of travel, Filos always felt a subtle contentment, a kind of dull, persistent joy, which ran through him as he approached a destination.
“You are in good spirits,” remarked Rhemus.
“I suppose I am,” answered Filos. “There are times of doing, times of contemplating and times in between. Contentment most often resides in me during the times in between.”
“Times of anticipation or reflection?” Rhemus asked.
“I’m not really sure. I don’t believe it’s useful to question happiness. What is the value of knowing the recipe if one enjoys the dish?”
“Perhaps if you know the recipe, you can repeat it.”
“Yes, indeed, but even if you can repeat the recipe, you cannot recreate the experience. Joy is an ethereal creature. If you are hungry enough, a cold bowl of porridge might seem the best meal you have ever tasted. Cold porridge is not difficult to make, but to recreate the satisfaction, you would have to go hungry before making it.”
“Agreed, but suffering is not required in your argument. A meal is also better when enjoyed with friends and family.”
“Indeed, and that is an experience worth repeating, but it will be different every time. Go ahead and try to design a great party. I can promise you that joy would be usurped by work. Happiness is to be experienced, not choreographed. It is a rare enough feeling. Enjoy it when it passes over you. Do not try to catch it, as the effort itself will distract you from the experience.”
“I shall try to remember that.”
“It took me a long time to puzzle out that touch of wisdom. It is a small thing, but well worth it.”
“Personal happiness is at the top of the pyramid. It is what each man should be free to seek,” said Rhemus.
“... and the leader of a people should strive to support his people in this goal, by providing law, security and freedom,” added Filos. “That is another quotation from the Tomes of Æhlman. Are these recollections from Bandalanu’s memory?”
Rhemus looked thoughtful. “They must be. It is sometimes difficult to know the difference between my own memories and his. But yes, the Tomes of Æhlman must be his. These words are strong in his memory. Also strong are the memories and actions of followers of this book; women, I think.”
“Yes, the Æhlman Sisterhood.”
“Who are they, and who was Æhlman?”
“Æhlman was a man of great power. He rose from nothing to become an advisor to many Kings, until King Dreanka did not like the advice he was giving. Apparently the King tried to have him killed several times, and when that did not work, he labelled him a traitor and sent him away. Æhlman hid in the mountains to the north, in the ruins of an ancient civilisation. It is said there were magical remnants of the civilisation that Æhlman and his followers discovered and made use of. Some say it was the magic he fo
und there that allowed him to live longer than a normal man. He emerged stronger, under another King who sought his guidance, and remained advisor to other kings as well. Whether by magic or by fate, it was said Æhlman was the first, and only, of the short-lived race to possess the power of the Walvaai. He was also a fine philosopher. He used his powers for good, and tried to show the rest of humanity the beauty of the universe beyond what a normal man could see.”
“He could observe the æther?”
“Yes, Rhemus. I believe he quite literally could. Perhaps as you can. I don’t know. My grandfather’s grandfather knew him. He dismissed Æhlman’s powers as a fluke of nature, and was always far more impressed with the example he set as a man, than in the powers he seemed to wield.”
“What kind of powers?” asked Rhemus.
“Of course you must ask,” Filos chuckled. “You are still an eight-year-old boy, after all. I was hoping you would ask me more about his philosophy.”
“I already know it,” Rhemus replied, tapping his head.
Filos’s smile faded. “Yes, I suppose you do. Well, he could do much to manipulate a man’s mind. He could just about read someone’s thoughts, and further, make him think what he wanted. My grandfather told me that this was not strictly true, but rather that Æhlman was able to use his talents and cleverness in combination to create this illusion. In warfare, it was as if he could literally see the location of the enemy, and he seemed to be able to communicate with animals.”
“What of the Æhlman women?” asked Rhemus.
“Ah, yes, the Æhlman witches,” Filos sighed. “Excuse me, the Sisterhood. They are a secretive lot, closely linked to the Walvaai, though I’m not certain how. A few women who travelled with Æhlman to the mountains stayed behind and founded the Æhlman Sisterhood. Though it is said other woman were also drawn there, those with certain abilities of their own, who took over the workings of the Sisterhood when the original followers of Æhlman passed away.
“They study the Tomes of Æhlman extensively, and are able to imitate many of Æhlman’s abilities. They also furthered their studies in different directions to increase their power. They are sometimes able to glimpse the future. They can manipulate thoughts to a certain extent, cast illusions, make people change their minds or forget things. They have just enough magical ability to be dangerous, both to themselves and to others. And they take Æhlman’s prophecies quite literally.”
“What are the prophecies?”
“I never considered them as prophecies myself. I just believe Æhlman was an optimist. In the worst of times, Æhlman would tell his followers that things were sure to get better. He would say things like, “One day the Fates will summon a true king for Jeandania who could usher in a hundred years’ of peace” or “The rule of law will one day be written for the protection of the people, not for the protection of the King”, things like that. The sisters would write these things down, and now they live by them. There are many valuable words in the Tomes of Æhlman. I say it is philosophy, the Sisterhood call it prophecy.”
“Perhaps there is little difference between the two.”
Filos shrugged, and chuckled. “I suppose you are right. Good philosophy is merely the truth.”
XXII
Arconus’s power was consolidating in the days leading up to the carnival. The people feared him, but were beginning to look for reasons to support him. Still, a giddy murmur floated upon the breath of Jeandania, “Where is Liam Foster?”
– Fedora’s Tales of Jeandania
“Are you sure this is going to work?” came Travis’s voice from the driver’s seat of the cart.
“Of course, Travis,” Lyra answered from inside. “Just don’t say anything other than what I told you. It will work out fine.”
“Are you as confident as you look?” asked Liam.
“What difference does it make?” Lyra retorted.
Liam shrugged and peered out between the panels of wood on the walls of their cart. They were just outside the dragon’s head, and Liam felt a familiar sense of dread. He had been through the dragon’s eyes many times, and through the mouth more than once. Never had he passed through the gates without some unpleasant purpose. One day, should he live long enough, he vowed that he would walk through the dragon’s head in a time of peace, and take time to admire the remarkable sculpture.
The youngest of their five recently acquired goats, Samishra, nuzzled up to him again. She had been so persistent in her affections over the last two days that Liam had felt obligated to name her. Samishra meant ‘friend of Ishra’, the Goddess of Peace, and the young kid had given him some comfort on their journey to the capital. There were only two carts in front of them now. When they had arrived early in the morning, there had been over a hundred.
“You share Travis’s doubts,” Lyra said, rather than asked.
“The guards have been searching the carts rather meticulously.”
“Don’t worry, Liam,” she said, patting his hand affectionately. “If you need to see the King, no matter how ridiculous the idea seems to me, I’m going to get you in there.”
She pulled her hair back. She and Travis had acquired farmers clothing in the last village they passed through. Lyra was wearing a buttoned blouse, a vest and a skirt. When she was finished with her hair, she unbuttoned the top four buttons of her blouse. She tugged her shirt back under her vest and made some other mysterious manoeuvres that suddenly revealed, to Liam’s mind, a rather uncomfortable amount of cleavage. Then she put on a large cloak with a hood.
“Don’t you think it about time to climb into your box?” she asked.
Liam chuckled and opened the door at the bottom of the cart. There was barely enough room for him to fit inside. He squeezed in, and Lyra closed the door, then slid the feeding trough on top of it. Liam heard her climb through the hatch in the ceiling, to join Travis in the driver’s seat.
~Æ~
“Stop yer cart,” the guard said in a bored voice, with his hand in the air.
Travis tugged on the reins, and the ragged old mule was happy to comply. “Morning, sir,” he said politely.
“Show yerself!” the guard barked at Lyra. She pulled back her hood and shook out her long black hair. The expression of the guard changed immediately.
“Well, ma’am, on yer way te the fair, eh? Should be a right dandy old time,” he said with an anxious look, like a child hoping for a piece of candy.
Travis looked over his shoulder to see that the other guards were opening the back of the cart.
“Oh, we are so looking forward to it. Do you think we will be able to actually see King Arconus?” Lyra asked enthusiastically.
Travis thought Lyra’s performance a bit excessive, but he had the sensation she was doing more than just flirting.
“Oh, no doubt, ma’am. He’s scheduled to ’dress the assembly every day.”
The other guards had opened the cart door after some struggle and were now climbing in. Travis tried not to look nervous as he repeatedly checked their progress.
“You mean we can see him tomorrow?”
“Ever’ mornin’ at nine o’ clock. Yes ma’am, it’s gonna be good time. ’Course, I seen him plenty o’ times on account a’ my station,” he lied, leaning an elbow on the cart footstool.
Travis heard a bleat, a scurry, a thump and then an odd breathless wheeze. Travis looked back to see a hapless guard lying on his back on the ground, and the ram that had launched him there nervously running about the other carts.
“Now look whatcha done,” the head guard moaned at his men. “I’m terribly sorry ma’am, uh, and sir. We’ll have that goat back in just a minute.” He turned to face his men, and bellowed with all the authority he could muster. “Boys, get outta there, git that goat and let these people be on their way.”
It took several minutes for the men to gather up the ram and return it to the carriage, but soon enough Lyra, Travis, Liam and five goats were entering through the city gates.
“
So, Lyra,” Travis began timidly.
“Yes, Travis?”
“Did you do that?”
“Do what, Travis?”
“The ram. Did you make him do that?”
“Oh, that. No, I never learned to do anything with animals,” she said, absently fastening her blouse buttons.
“So that was just dumb luck?”
“It could have been, but I doubt it. There are several of my sisters who can make animals do things. One of them might have been here.”
“But you don’t know?” Travis asked, full of surprise.
“They really don’t tell me much, Travis. I’m just a swain sister.”
“Oh, right,” Travis answered, understanding nothing.
“I think I ought to get Liam out from under the goat feed, don’t you?”
“Yes, I suppose that would be a good idea,” Travis answered.
As his impossibly beautiful companion made her way down through the hatch, Travis felt as if he were glimpsing the real world, a world far bigger than the one to which he was accustomed, and far bigger than he could imagine. Not only were there people in the world with the ability to perform magic, or talk to animals, or read minds, but they were everywhere. He tapped the reins and murmured a prayer to Ishra but he felt somehow certain that she was nowhere near.
XXIII
The seeds of rebellion are not planted in a garden and nurtured;
they are scattered wide across the land.
It is the only chance for something to take root.
– Lazaro’s Flame
They had been travelling for three days. At various times, they found themselves climbing high into the trees or low into the water. Rhoie noticed, as he followed his brethren through every turn, that there were many alternate pathways to follow. He supposed they led to Maurious’s fishing holes, or to edible vegetation, or perhaps to more turns, more choices, and then nowhere at all, like a giant maze through the trees.
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