Drax was taken aback, and eyed Pettar closely. “Why? Did you see it as well?”
“No! No, not this time, but I’ve seen such before.” Uneasily, he scanned about the wall but then turned back to the fire, still holding tight to Drax’s elbow, almost pulling him along.
When they were once more by the fire, Drax said, “You’ve been stalked by such before, haven’t you? When and where was it?”
Pettar tried to be dismissive, but Drax sensed his unease and finally got him to admit, “Away in the north, where I was want to travel in my service to the Ambecs, I’ve once or twice come across such figures, but I don’t know who … or what they are. What I can’t forget is the chill they bring, a coldness I’m not keen to suffer again.” Drax could still feel that same cold and shuddered at the memory.
A long silence came between them, until Pettar suggested, “You know, I reckon we should just go down there and try to get close. After all, they’re only Galgaverrans, despite what Storbanther could have wrought upon them, so we should be safe enough.”
They’d quietly been joined by Phaylan who brightly offered, “Cresmol and I already know the lay of the land near the sconce, and can help devise a way there which may keep us all hidden.” It seemed he’d tipped the balance, for Pettar and Drax now found themselves in agreement.
On the morrow, they’d leave Braygar and Tunsen behind at the tower, to act as messengers or to raise the alarm if need be, and take Phaylan and Cresmol with them as guides. All that remained was to get some decent sleep, but considering Drax’s recent experience, they decided to retreat indoors.
As Pettar kicked the remains of the fire from the walkway into the inky depths below, he spoke with Phaylan, who’d hung back with him. “Thank you for your suggestion, lad. It’s shown you to have a wiser head on your shoulders than your young years would suggest, but take care on the morrow, I’d hate to see you hurt in any way, you and Cresmol.”
Pettar looked more appraisingly at Phaylan. “You were both well chosen by the Sentinar and do proper duty to us, indeed more than that. Come on, let’s get some shut-eye.” Together, they brought up the rear of their party, back into the relative safety of the tower, where it didn’t take them long to get settled down and for sleep to overtake them all.
33 To Strike a Deal
It was one of those rare days when the dawn air was surprisingly dry and the grass didn’t glisten with dew to wet ones passing feet, when The Upper Reaches were stark and clear against the azure sky, their distant features picked out by the tallow light of a newly risen sun.
The castle’s lower spreading bulk was still dark and flat in its grey reflected light, with little relief to its seemingly monotonous sweep across the western view. Its great gate alone lifted clear, jutting out towards them, its towers rearing high above their waiting party.
Leadernac and Breadgrinder stood at the head of their small group and eyed the narrow gap before them, watched out for the expected movement there. They waited on Storbanther and his detail to move out to their meeting, there on Eastern Walk.
At the end of their first parley they’d agreed their next, one Leadernac was sure would show more progress. He’d arranged for a company of his own men to be prepared and waiting in their camp on the knoll, its captain following the unfolding events from there. They were primed for various signals, ready to issue forth if need be.
He doubted they’d have cause but remembered Breadgrinder’s reticence, his distrust of Storbanther. Leadernac couldn’t deny his sergeant’s astute military mind, one he’d certainly be remiss to ignore.
Presently, as agreed, an equally small group of Dicans appeared between the towers and paused, whilst they surveyed the scene. They continued on along Eastern Walk, spurring Leadernac to keep their side of the pact, and so he moved his own party forward.
As they drew together, Leadernac could see Storbanther looking relaxed and confident, with a keen and determined stride as his hand rose for the anticipated handshake. Leadernac followed suit, lifted his own and strode resolutely on.
When they came together, their parties each halted a step or two behind, as Leadernac and Storbanther shook, the Dican the first to speak. “A very good morning to yer, Lord Leadernac. I ‘ope ya had a restful night and all’s well wi’ yer men.” He smiled broadly, his shake energetic and firm.
Leadernac returned it in like manner, and he too beamed. “I thank you for your welcome, Master Storbanther, and likewise hope you and your men have enjoyed a good night, that you’re well this fine morning.” There was a short pause as they closely eyed one another.
Storbanther looked about them as he shrugged and rubbed his hands together. “’Tis bloody cold this morning, ain’t it? Perhaps I could suggest we retire to t’castle where we can take o’ some warm food and drink, eh? What d’ya reckon? Get us a proper talk then, eh? D’ya reckon we can be trusted to honour our side o’ bargain?”
Leadernac, though, was uncertain, but Storbanther offered him an extremely winning smile, an openness that spoke of sincerity. “If tha thinks tha can’t trust me, then o’ course I’ll understand, after all we’ve only just met, like.” He shivered. “Brr! But ’tis bloody cold out ‘ere, and so warm back in t’castle, would seem a shame not to avail ourselves o’ t’chance for a cosier chat.”
It was that last that finally swung it for Leadernac, but very much against Breadgrinder’s instincts. It was a gamble, certainly, but Leadernac felt lucky this morning. “Very well, Storbanther, your offer has merit. I’ll trust to your honourable intent. If we have your word on it then I’d be willing to join you in your stronghold.” From the corner of his eye, he could see Breadgrinder’s consternation, but had already decided the stakes were well worth the wager.
Storbanther on the other hand looked pleasantly surprised. It was as though he too had played on the gamble. What he then said went some way to reassuring Leadernac. “Sir, you ‘ave mi word as guarantee of yer safekeeping while yer within our ‘ospitality. I’ll vouchsafe we’ve no ill intent towards thee, in fact, if tha’s wants mi party ‘ere as ‘ostage then take ‘em back with thee to yer camp.”
Those to his rear seemed to shuffle a little uneasily, and must have been relieved when, preferring to keep his full guard with him, Leadernac declined. “Your offer’s most honourable, Master Storbanther, but I don’t deem it necessary. I’m content to take no more than your word as hostage.” He turned to face his camp and signalled their intent. Storbanther then led the way as he enthused about the meal awaiting them.
Their walk was punctuated by nothing more than general talk about the weather and the like, but it wasn’t long before they’d passed between the gate’s huge towers and into the embrace of its arms. It again struck Leadernac how empty and desolate the place was. Considering the momentous occasion, forging links between two alien cultures, the desolation seemed to confirm Breadgrinder’s belief that the castle was almost empty of life.
As they eventually neared the great gates, Storbanther announced, “We’ll enter by yon door if ya don’t mind, sooner to be at our nosh. T’main gates tek some time to open, tha knows.” Just as he finished saying it, a small, inconsequential door at the base of the gatehouse’s southern tower smartly swung open.
Two soldiers ducked out under its low lintel, descended the few steps at its threshold and bowed low before them. They remained bent as the two parties swiftly passed between, up the steps, and struggled in over the door’s high threshold. Leadernac found himself in a very narrow passageway that followed the curve of the tower’s outer wall, along which they quickly came to an inner corner of the sconce’s quadrangle. There, Storbanther stopped and turned to Leadernac.
“If I may suggest, and wi’ yer agreement o’ course, perhaps you’d prefer to retire to mi own quarters while our men find their victuals in t’mess?”
It was just what Leadernac had hoped for and he found a ready reply despite Breadgrinder’s look of consternation. Leadernac turned to him, and withou
t making eye contact, dismissed him to go with the Dican guard, knowing full well he would later have to defend himself against Breadgrinder’s reasonable admonitions. The risk, he reckoned, was worth taking.
Storbanther invited him back into the gatehouse tower and politely led him up a broad flight of steps to the first floor, then through a wide doorway into a large and brightly lit hall.
Storbanther soon had him seated at a short table, before a roaring fire set in the hearth of a huge fireplace. When Leadernac happened to place his hands on the table’s edge, he felt intense heat glowing back from the wood, and wondered how long it would be before it began to char and smoke.
The table itself held all manner of food and drink, a goodly selection of platters and goblets set about with knives and forks. He was encouraged to help himself to whatever he fancied, but only took token fare as he’d already eaten. He was, though, more than happy to receive a mead-filled goblet, and a large one at that.
He’d only had the chance of a short sip before Storbanther launched into his welcome. “I ‘ope t’food’s to yer liking, Lord Leadernac, for I do sincerely wish you good cheer, and honestly do welcome thee and yer people to Dica’s hospitality. Me only wish is that we forge bonds between us that’ll be of advantage to us both, and long lasting o’ course.” He raised his goblet towards Leadernac and waited, expectantly.
Leadernac slowly raised his own. “A toast to our new friendship then, Master Storbanther, and to all it may promise for our two peoples, and long may it last. I drink to your health and to our compact.”
They both downed the contents of their goblets, and once back on the table, Storbanther refilled them before saying, “There’s much we need discuss, thee and me, much that’s awaited re-joining of our two realms.”
Leadernac felt somehow that Storbanther was relishing it as a long awaited opportunity to further some ancient plan or other, for although polite and courteous, he was also quite brusque and business-like. Leadernac purposely remained silent in the hope of drawing him, and indeed it wasn’t long in coming. “Now, me dear Leadernac, I ‘ave a question o’ thee that may seem a bit off-mark, but if you’d bear wi’ me, all will become clear.”
Again, Leadernac didn’t reply, but it didn’t seem to put Storbanther off. “How well does thee know tha’s own town o’ Nouwelm and its history, I wonder. What interest might thee ‘ave in its old secrets?” Leadernac took it as a comment and so remained silent. This time, however, it seemed to force Storbanther to change tack slightly. “What d’ya know of Nouwelm and Dica, eh, me welcome friend?”
It was an abrupt enough question to force Leadernac’s hand. “We know Nouwelm to be very old, and that it’s lain within the Plain of Nouwmen for many generations. Aye, and we also know, according to legend, that we came originally from Dica, from here, although few now believe those stories.”
Storbanther looked even more pleased but still a little suspicious. “Doesn’t it seem strange to thee that we two can converse so readily, that we’ve found few words to stumble over?”
Leadernac was reminded of his discussion with Breadgrinder. “Aye, we’ve already commented on that ourselves. I can see it pointing at some common line between us, but where’re you taking this idea, eh, Master Storbanther, what’re you driving at?”
Storbanther sat back in his chair and picked at his teeth whilst he considered things, but Leadernac wasn’t for being drawn. He kept silent long enough to force Storbanther back out into the open. “Would it surprise thee to know,’ he eventually began, ‘that Nouwelm and all it contains was actually founded by Dica, eh, that its very existence be owed this place?”
His eyes held Leadernac close as he waited, watching every flicker and nuance that passed across his face. It certainly added pressure for Leadernac’s reply, but who carefully leashed his words when he did. “It would not, for I’ve seen as such written down as plain truth, although it’s only survives as apparent legend.”
Storbanther nearly yelped in delight but fought back the impulse. “So! Thee’s seen old writings, eh, in Nouwelm?” He lifted his goblet and took a deep draught, covertly watching Leadernac over the rim.
Leadernac rummaged for an answer amongst his growing confusion. “Aye, I have, although little time do most there have for such, but I’ve read enough, enough to know something of Dica ... of what it perhaps once was.” He in turn watched Storbanther’s own reactions closely, and saw in them a faint glimmer of concern. Storbanther rose, nervously, and drew nearer the fire, as though chilled despite the room’s oppressive heat.
With the back of his tunic beginning to steam, Storbanther looked down at Leadernac, and for some time. Eventually, Storbanther seemed to relax enough to smile as he confided, “T’would appear I can afford to be a bit straighter wi’ thee.” He carefully placed his goblet on the mantelpiece and turned back to look Leadernac square in the face. “Are thee familiar wi’ t’Repository, by any chance?”
Although Leadernac was, something made him cautious, wary of speaking out, which Storbanther misconstrued as ignorance. “’Tis a place well hidden, or was, so ya mayn’t even be aware of it. I’ll assume thee’s silence to mean just that then, eh?”
Leadernac felt a little lost and so instinctively became more defensive. It only seemed to spur Storbanther on, though. He hurried around the table, lifting his chair on the way and setting it down at Leadernac’s side before sitting forward on it, leaning in conspiratorially. “Shall I tell thee a story, eh? One that should interest thee greatly. Now, should I?”
He didn’t wait for a reply. “Long, long ago, when Nouwelm were but a growing settlement, distant from Dica and protected from it by t’Gray Mountains, it drew much of its succour from t’teeming industry and wealth o’ this realm, like a new-born babe’s cord did it’s life blood flow through t’opened pass over t’mountains between ‘em. New lands for Dica’s oppressive numbers, aye, a place to spill into and grow yet more. Nouwelm were seen as a relief for t’castle and its realm about, a promised land that many were drawn to, but only those prepared to tolerate its primitive state. Aye, not all o’ Dica, no, but t’right ones as it were.”
It almost seemed as though Storbanther was somehow actually remembering those far off times, his eyes drifting into the distance as he carried on with his tale. “Trouble was, things within Dica then weren’t right at all, not by a long chalk.” He looked sharply at Leadernac. “What does thee know o’ t’Certain Power, Leadernac, eh, what’s it mean to thee?”
Leadernac became very cagy. “The term is not one I’m familiar with. What does it mean?”
Storbanther seemed genuinely surprised, but appeared to accept his answer without question, and sighed. “It matters not but to tell that Dica’s great fortune and strength were built upon it, and that t’realm’s great numbers were slowly crippling it, slowly but no less surely. Only Nouwelm were immune, tha sees, immune to its withering, protected as it was and still is be t’mountains. Aye, a safe haven in t’storm, and what a storm it were that quietly grew here then.”
Leadernac was beginning to lose track. “A storm? I don’t understand. What do you mean storm?”
“This I think I’m safe in imparting to thee, for those of Nouwelm are of t’same line as us, of Bazarral stock pretty much, the only stock to thrive in such a primitive place.’
It was as though they’d suddenly become close friends or kin, for Storbanther’s telling of the tale became more relaxed and open. “The greater mass of Dican people were simply that, Leadernac … Dican. They bred like rabbits on good grass, wi’ no respect for t’great burden they put on t’Certain Power, cared little for owt but themselves and their own pleasures.” He almost spat the last word. “They didn’t ‘ave wit nor nature to understand t’disaster their profligacy and selfishness were reeking on t’very foundations of t’realm, and no amount of argument on t’matter could convince ‘em.”
Leadernac’s greater engagement prompted him to ask, a little more unguardedly, “But why
were the Dicans the ones to control this Certain Power you speak of, how’d they become so preeminent?” Storbanther laughed, hollowly, but then looked wearied by his tale. “Ha! A Bazarral strength that is its own weakness.”
At Leadernac’s puzzled look, Storbanther had to explain. “The Bazarran don’t have the wit nor nature for politic and intrigue, they’re too straight and simple in their dealings to ‘ave developed such supposed talents. It made ‘em easy prey to t’scheming, conniving and duplicitous Dicans. The Bazarran were manoeuvred into corners from where they could exercise bugger all power.”
He looked withdrawn and sallow as the memory stole through him, and his voice became weaker. “Emasculated we were, but not thwarted, no, not in t’long run.” He scoffed and a little more purpose came back to his voice. “Poor at politic we may ‘ave been, but we knew well our understanding o’nature, and t’world in which it applied. After all, it’d been us who’d wrought t’Certain Power in t’first place.”
He stopped, abruptly, and turned a jaundiced eye on Leadernac. “Does any of this make sense to thee, any at all?”
“Some of it, yes, some chimes with what I know … what I’ve read, that is.”
For quite a while, the two sat quietly watching the flames licking up from the fire, each following their own thoughts. It was Leadernac who reached a conclusion first, and who quietly asked, “What is it you need of Nouwelm, Storbanther, and what’ve you got to offer in return?”
Storbanther’s face lit up with a huge smile and he clapped Leadernac on the leg. “Ha, now, that’s what I’d call Bazarral plain speaking, and tha’s cut straight to t’chase!” He shone a satisfied grin at Leadernac. “In Nouwelm there’s a repository of Bazarran knowledge, concerning t’Certain Power, secreted there without Dican knowledge. It were put there to make it safe from t’great decline that were even then known to be descending upon Dica and its lands south of t’mountains. There it should ‘ave lain, safe in its remoteness, lain there the many thousands of years since, awaiting reuse when t’Dican threat were no more.”
Leiyatel's Embrace (Dica Series Book 1) Page 30