"Please, tell me! Where is it, oh holy one?"
"It will reveal itself when you are ready. You have the heart of a king. Walk the path." The messenger then covered his head and moved off into the darkness. Rapheth tried to call out but could say no more. He fell into a fitful dream: dressed in armor of light leading untold legions as they cried out his name. . .
. . .
"I have never seen or imagined such a land. So strange." Said Injol. "Parso, have you ever encountered this?"
"Once. I came close to it but not by this way."
"It is no wonder it is called the land of the Hidden Kingdoms. Everything is tangled up and hidden in these woods. And fog."
"I wonder what lies hidden here?" Asked Rapheth more to himself than to anyone else.
They traveled like this unmolested for days, making their way down to the forest floor of the canyon which was a land unto itself. Baudolino and Injol were able to help them make a good warm fire every night. They listened to the sounds of birds they did not know and animals that watched the but remained hidden in the dense brush. Baudolino took time on these days to collect and study the flora and fauna for which he took many notes when he could and discussed these things with Parso and Rapheth. They had become low on their food supplies and one day while they had set up camp, Rhajit, Injol, Ephron and Shukala had decided to find meat to eat. Shukala and Ephron helped Rhajit and Injol fashion rough, primitive spears from the hard wood branches. The others stayed behind to watch the camp.
"I wonder what sort of meat we will find." Said Ephron, whittling a spear tip with his knife.
"Demon dogs, no doubt about it. Did you hear the infernal howling last night?" Said Shukala.
"Dak Ellak! Sometimes it is far too quiet. As if this place has eyes. Perhaps we will be the ones to be hunted." Said Rhajit.
"I do not like that man with us. Baudolino."
"Why not? He has been nothing but generous to us and now he needs our help." Said Shukala.
"Only after Rapheth and Parso gave him that contraption."
"Well, nothing in this world is free, Ephron. He did not know who we were. We just alighted suddenly upon his doorstep."
"I know that. Still, I do not trust such things and Rapheth's mind is becoming twisted by alchemical ideas. My father says those things are wicked. For good reason they were banned in our homeland. Besides, you two heard all the trouble they are having in Pallinona with Black Alchemists. And those maps of the stars."
"You hate star maps too?" Asked Shukala. "Ephron, my father and his father dealt with maps all day long. They are cartographers. I will be one someday. We are not evil." Shukala rebuked him. Ephron shook his head.
"It is not the same, Shukala. The mortal world and the celestial world are two different things. Thus the maps for each are different. The heavens are not for us. We are mortal men. The heavens are for heavenly creatures. We should concern ourselves with what we know and what was made for us."
"They're just maps Ephron."
"No, they are more than that. You should know better than that. Those things can open doors that should never be open. How do you know these things aren't sent to deceive us by the unnamed one? He comes in many disguises."
"Those maps cannot be understood by the wicked, the unwary or the ignorant, no matter how much they try. Besides, aren't swords made from gold alchemy? What is it called?"
"Metallurgy." Said Rhajit.
"Yet, I would not put away my sword." Said Shukala.
"But what of when other things creep in. Like more dakhmin? Injol is a good man but who wants to be like him? Really? It's an abomination. When more and more people are snatched from the streets in Hybron and used in that way how can it be stopped? Once the tide rises it cannot be pushed back." Said Ephron.
"What if you are confusing what is right and what is wrong with your own ideas?" Asked Rhajit. Ephron fixed him with a pointed stare.
"When has alchemy ever been right as long as we have known it? It is not just my personal view on the matter. Look at Injol. Did he choose to be the way he is? It was forced upon him. When is that ever right?" He finished sharpening the point of the spear and held it aloft. The other two did not answer him.
"Well," he said, "Let us hunt some meat!" As if to answer them a herd of animals came rushing through the thicket. The three chased after them and then began following the heard at a distance. After some hours they had come back carrying a wild boar.
"Pig flesh!" Shukala said with some distaste.
"There is no other choice. Either that or starve. Many people eat it and seem to do well." Said Parso as-a-matter-of-factly.
"Is it not poisonous?"
"What is wrong with pig, or boar?" Asked Baudolino.
"Nothing. Unless they are being fed bad food or the flesh is not properly prepared. It is merely a custom that some of us do not eat it, Baudolino. But I get the feeling we are going to have to lose that distaste quickly."
"I will eat it. Let us get a fire started." Said Rapheth. They bled the pig as best they could. Baudolino took the blood into a vial to use in later experiments. Ephron looked upon him with disgust. Injol and Luz set to work skinning and butchering the animal, cutting the meat in strips. They took out the offal and innards and ate those that evening. A river was nearby and they washed themselves of the blood and effluvia of the carcass and wrapped the meat in what they could carry of it and ate to satisfaction and went to sleep. The next morning they awoke to the same gray, wet sky.
"I fear we may catch a chill in this place and never recover. Ai! For some way out! Why do we continue to go north?" Asked Luz.
"Because this seems to be the only way we can find a way to go forward and eventually go south at some point." Said Parso.
"It looks like we have gone far out of our way though."
"I know. You still have your compass Baudolino?"
"Yes. We are still heading northerly."
They traveled for nearly two weeks north until they came upon by accident a host of warriors riding through. Rapheth and his small band were coming along near the river to give their horses a drink when the host of Dyrlanders came upon them. Shukala and Rhajit were becoming ill and they had no shelter in sight nor town or village and they were fearful of approaching anyone in this strange land. There were twenty men cloaked in heavy woolen cloaks, one of them wore one lined with fur. They rode them down and surrounded them.
"Halt!" Said the first man. He was an imposing figure. His gaze upon Injol was suspicious, his gray eyes cold.
"Outlanders. Who are you?" He asked. The other men with him were grim and silent. One wrong word and they might be slaughtered. Rapheth felt a sharp pain shoot throughout his chest. A terror-stricken whisper rose in his mind, unbidden. "Lie. Lie! Else they will kill you!" He closed his eyes, momentarily confused. All in a moment's notice they could be killed if he did nothing. He breathed deeply, hoping his thoughts would not turn against him like they had in that moment. He then took this time to speak up for his men. They were following him after all, lost in the wilderness.
"I am Rafka Rapheth Khalit Ka Dahlan. These men are traveling with me. We are trying to find our way back home." The man who looked like a chieftain frowned, staring hard at him and the other men.
"How is it you find yourself all the way here? You are far away. . . ka Dahlan. Khalit ka Dahlan. . ." The man said suddenly as if remembering something.
"They have the look of the other two." Said one of them.
"That name, Khalit ka Dahlan. It is familiar to me. Where are you from?"
"We traveled from Hybron. My friend here is from Pallinona. His name is Baudolino Polo II." Then he introduced all the men in his camp. Rapheth was no cunning man nor did he have a silver tongue. He knew honesty was his best action and he hoped fervently that God would grant these men long-sufferance.
"We are from the Middle Kingdom."
"Why are you here?"
"Because the queen of Hybron and Egi sought my life. T
hese men saved me from death."
"So you are a criminal and thought to come here, fleeing from your crimes?"
"No. I am the son of a king. My mother the queen of Hybron and Egi killed him and usurped the throne."
"Rapheth!" Ephron hissed but Rapheth quieted him. Truth was the only currency he had now. He continued.
"I am the son of King Khalit-Aisu Ka Dahlan,of the tribe of the Karig." The man's hostile expression suddenly changed.
"I knew King Khalit. I served as guard to his first queen. Who was her maidservant?"
"Her maidservant was my foster mother who rescued and raised me. Her name is Zigal."
"You speak the truth but I had no idea! I had not dreamed you would have ever survived that tumult."
"I know that Queen Diti died with one request to my mother; to save me from the queen."
"There is one who may know you who is also in this land but there are troubles here as well as in your own. You may have lept from one tribulation to another. Get on your horses. You must come with us."
"But we do not know these men, my lord! And we have enough trouble already!" Said one.
"I know who this one is. He is a prince of his people. I was once a stranger in a strange land and for the most part I was welcomed. I shall do the same unless they give me reason not to. Besides, remember the words of Old Hildwylla just three days ago. There was a reason for this. You men, come!" These men were golden haired or sandy haired, tall and strong but they all wondered at Injol.
"This one! He is like one of the Ohdrufrid! They are wicked! How do we know that they have not sent him and these men?"
"He is no demon or wicked man. He is my guardian and saved my life on more than one occasion. He was ill-used by Black Alchemists. I do not know of any. . .giants." Said Rapheth, feeling his nerves rattle and his heart knotting itself in twists but from his calm exterior no one knew it. Would they have to fight? They could very well lose their lives with these hardened looking warriors. Rhajit shivered and fell into a spasmodic coughing fit again. The man continued to study them especially now that his mind seemed settled about who Rapheth was. He studied Injol who remained impassive.
"Who are you? Why are you so tall? The men here with your height are evil men in league with dark gods." The chieftain demanded. Rapheth felt tension mount. Sweat trickled down his body though it was cold. All the men were ready to swing swords at a moment's notice. Injol spoke.
"If you men are tribal men at heart then know that all the races of men descended from the first twelve tribal fathers and all went their own ways upon the surface of the ground of the world. You will know that some even in the beginning were giants. The blood of giants has not died out entirely. It is even in the Middle World though most have died out. I am originally from Egi, a Gilphaen by tribal blood. The Gilphaens have been known to carry the blood of giants in them. As for dark gods I have nothing to do with that or your giant tribes. I know not of dark gods. I worship the First Pillar, Airend-Ur." He said simply. The chieftain grunted.
"I am Uwain, a chieftain of the Eostur tribe, Thane of Grunhold and Chief Thane to King Baldric. The wicked hour approaches!" He said. "You will come with us and be questioned. I would speak with this one, Rapheth," he motioned to Injol. "There is much I would hear. But until I know of your true worth you men cannot do a single thing unless you have my say-so. You shall be my guests." He turned to his own men. "Bear them hence and let us go. It grows late!" Said the chieftain. Rapheth was glad he'd decided to tell the truth and wondered where the strange thought arose from and why at this particular time. He and all his were borne along with them as they made for Grunhold.
. . .
Idwil was dressed in her wolf's fur-lined cloak dyed blue. She slid her slender jeweled whalebone pin, a wedding gift from her husband, into her thick braid to hold it in place. It also served as a weapon for though it was fashioned as a pin it was truly a very slender dagger. She took some bear fat from the kitchen and melted it to light her lanterns.
"I shall be back within the hour. Before dark. Moraven, come with me. I need your eyes and ears."
"Yes, mistress." Said the serving woman. Moraven, a small pack ready at his side followed her out the door. Uwain was gone and Millidred was asleep, which would give her time to consult with the one who gadded about the woods. She had many names. But to Idwil she was mainly Great Mother Hildwylla. Or great-grandmother.
Old Hildwylla was a great seer and a woman of great insight. She was nearly one hundred but she lived alone in the woods, her husband long since gone the way of his forefathers. She saw things others did not and heard things others could not. When the counsel of kings, thanes and chieftains failed, some looked to her for wisdom. She was from western Dyrland and was great-grandmother to Lady Idwil. It was from her that the women of her family and tribe had learned to weave with any material. Old Hildwylla had weaved Idwil's wedding gown from silver leaf and spiderweb into something more beautiful than even the finest silk dress. So lovely was she with the silver flowers wreathed in her hair that Idwil had earned the name Fairy Queen from the younger ones in the town. The old woman had saved southern Dyrlanders from destruction more than once. When the northerners had descended upon them to slaughter the towns during days of King Baldric's father, King Alderic, it was once said that Old Hildwylla had weaved from branches, twigs and leaves a wild wood that swallowed up the invading bands and it is said they ride to this day, forever lost in the wild woven wood.
Moraven was fleet as a fox and just as attentive. They had also brought their bows and quivers of arrows. Hers were stained with poisoned kingberry juice. They picked out the path that only Idwil knew well. Her great-grandmother was often not seen for months at a time. she could be found only when she wanted to be found but her daughters and their children were left with clues as to where to find her.
"Watch for the crushed kingberries Moraven. If you see a number of them down a single line, that will be the current path we can find her on." Stopping every now and then to listen for any new or ominous sounds, they then continued through wild tangles of bush until they came by the Lullinlod stream, a tributary of the Black River. They crossed it and came to a giant fallen everblack tree, its trunk holed out. It looked as if a bear had made it its home. There was a small piece of blue cloth with the kingberry pattern stitched upon it. She stopped and held Moraven's arm. He glanced at her. Idwil then made a warbling call like the tiny yellow shadrua bird. They listened in silence. A few moments later another warbling sound came from the hollowed out tree cave.
"I do not see or sense anyone." Said Moraven quietly.
"That is because no one with ill intent has dared to cross my threshold child." Said a woman.
"Great grandmother." Said Idwil.
"Great stars, child! Why do you come? It must be important."
"My husband is concerned about our predicament here in the south."
"Mmm-hmm. Have something to drink and we will talk." Her eyes were blue as the bluest sapphires and sharp as daggers. "Hurry. They come at night." She ushered them inside. Inside was bare except for a small roll of blankets, a spindle, a table made of pieces of raw damp wood and a few dishes and a small chest. Hildwylla took their lanterns and set them on the table, the only light in the room. She was short and fat and her eyes were merry but they saw all things and when she stared at a person the intensity was unsettling. She took a stone ewer and poured two stone cups full of brottrunk mixed with sour kingberry juice They drank it down. She then set the ewer down and merely stared at them.
"Great Mother, how do you remain out here without meeting trouble?" Asked Moraven timidly. Old Hildwylla made something that sounded like a deep chuckle.
"There are ways and then there are Ways. I know the Ways through. Some men use devices through them. I know them through and through. When one is as old as I am in the old ways, one can see them and walk them."
"What . . .ways, Great Mother?"
"Ways you cannot imagine. You ar
e green yet and have not come back to the ancient ways yet. So you cannot see them or walk them. I can. So, I remain." Moraven still looked puzzled but Idwil had an inkling of what the old woman meant. Yet, they had business and it was not to question the Great Mother about the doorways of the world.
"Forgive Moraven for he is young, as you say. I came, Great Mother, because my husband does not sleep at night. Many months now he does not sleep. The Ohdrufrid and the Wodrufrid have not attacked so far this year but he believes. . . we believe that they are planning a war against the people." Hildwylla sat back on her bed roll and glanced between the two of them.
"You," she pointed at Moraven, "I have seen running and jumping like a deer. You are good but be careful. They have your scent, young one." She turned to Idwil. "War is brewing. I can feel it. He has good reason to be afraid. They call up the darkest ones. They have among them a necromancer. A Man in Black."
"Then Master Uwain was right in that-"
"He was and is. And there is more. This Man in Black has been once of the king's court."
"He has turned from the king's service or fled his service?"
"I said no such thing. One cannot be sure of these men in black as they cloak themselves and their intentions so well. But it does make one wonder about why he is loose so far south and why the king does nothing to stop them. The king above all else wants unity under his hand. At any cost. He eschews the tribal ways. The old ways."
"But these ones, they call to the elder gods. If he is in league with them perhaps he too wants to return to these ancient gods."
"But there is one more ancient still. Our first tribal father, one of the original twelve served the Father-god. Not the lesser gods under Him. He is even older than they."
"This Man in Black, what is he?" Asked Idwil.
"An alchemist." She said.
"But we have an alchemist among us. Omun." Said Moraven. "He is not evil." Old Hildwylla pointed at Moraven and grinned, showing yellowed teeth.
"There is the White, the Gold, of which your friend belongs to and the Black, my son. Rottenness to the bones is the Black art."
Red World Trilogy Page 87