Leiyatel's Embrace (Dica Series Book 1)

by Clive S. Johnson

  “And is that Dican threat no more?” Leadernac keenly asked, for it bore directly on his own concerns.

  “Little enough now that it can be safely discounted.” Storbanther smiled. “That’s why t’time’s now ripe, why t’plan were taken out and let run.”

  Storbanther held his tongue, wariness in his eyes, but then said, in way of changing the subject, “So. What’ve I got to offer Nouwelm, eh? That were what thee asked, what must still be uppermost in yer mind.”

  It hadn’t been, but Leadernac feigned it had, but then only half listened as his thoughts drifted far from Storbanther’s next words. “’Tis a simple enough offer, my friend, a very simple offer indeed. What I offer thee is Dica, plain and simple, the whole realm of Dica, lock, stock and innumerable barrels.” That certainly dragged Leadernac’s thoughts back, and so poured them straight into Storbanther’s palm.

  34 Two’s Company

  Berra had waved them off in the wan light of dawn, their stomachs filled with yet more excellent fare and packs stuffed with plenty more. She’d bidden them return at any time, and with that had gone back to her mixing and baking. They’d found themselves startled by the sudden loss of her simple yet cheery company, already missing her light and inconsequential chatter, even as they stood in the yard before her door.

  The sun hadn’t yet risen above the horizon, so the heavy dew now coating everything toned the verdant landscape with its silvery tints long after they’d climbed back up her lane and out onto the highway at its top. There, Falmeard had noticed large milk churns sitting on the platform at its junction, revealing how Nephril had chosen that one lane amongst many.

  Their progress through the Esnadales towards the northeast had been quick and easy despite the highway, its many stout, stone bridges and well-tended fords being thronged with people. From their occasional brief chats along the way, it became clear it was market day. Most people carried their wares in handcarts but some shouldered their burdens whilst others had asses or small ponies laden with panniers. Hardly any carts or wagons were evident, only the one being seen all morning.

  By midday they’d climb away from the busy dales and had reached a high and lonely spot, where the highway turned sharply south. It swept down towards the lower reaches of the castle and out to its southern wall, there set against the Eyeswin Vale.

  Their own way, however, was to follow a smaller lane, one that ran off to the north and continued their climb in a lazy meander onto the higher flanks of the castle. It rose towards the distant outline of walls and buildings that marked the start of The Upper Reaches.

  There, the fields and copses gave way to a mantle of courtyards, halls, and other once bustling places, that all crept their way up the very side of Mount Esnadac. There also, the lush green roll of agrarian dales abruptly gave way to the black, stone pelmet of buildings that circled Dica, beside which the lane could be seen leading to the north, towards the Scarra Face.

  They knew Pettar, Drax and his party would have all travelled this same way for there were few other choices, and none so clear or direct. In fact, all routes eventually led to the Aerie Way, far up where it clung to the sheer side of the mountain, across the Scarra Face itself. Penolith could almost see Pettar’s footprints on the road and it buoyed her spirits, but also reminded her of how far they’d still to go, which brought her some troubling doubt.

  She was certainly unused to walking, her tired legs and blistered feet now testament to that. Naively, she’d assumed she’d have been mended and refreshed come the morning, but she’d been wrong. She’d had terrible difficulty getting out of bed, never mind making her way down to Berra’s kitchen. Fortunately, her stiff and aching legs had eased enough to avoid complaint by the time they were leaving. Now, though, she had serious doubts they’d carry her up the long rise ahead.

  She’d only tarried a short while over her misgivings, but when she turned from the view she’d been pretending to enjoy, she saw that Nephril and Falmeard were already well ahead. She started to run, to catch up, but then found herself spread-eagled on the ground, her mouth full of dirt and her palms stinging.

  Through the sharp pain she became aware of a dull throbbing in her leg, making her wary of moving. With her face still pressed to the ground, only her hearing was unaffected and by which she eventually recognised Falmeard’s return.

  He’d bent down at her side and cried in alarm, “My lady? Are you alright? Speak to me, for Leiyatel’s sake, say something!” She managed to move her head slightly to one side and spat a mouthful of dirt. Falmeard let out a great sigh of relief. “Thank the Certain Power! I feared the worse.”

  He helped her roll over and then started cleaning dirt from her face and mouth, whilst she brought her palms before her eyes, looking numbly at the trickles of blood. Falmeard also noticed and quickly set to tending them, just as Nephril appeared. Despite the blood, it was actually her throbbing leg that most worried her, and which also alarmed Nephril.

  Between them, they carefully carried her to the verge where she was made comfortable against its banking. Other than a graze or two to her hands and knees, she appeared unhurt, but when Nephril felt along her leg, she yelped in pain.

  He’d only reached her lower thigh but had quickly snatched his hands away, refusing to check further. Penolith sensed the pain was much higher and couldn’t understand Nephril’s reluctance, but was in too much agony to care. Steeling herself, she explored it with her own hands and was soon crying out with yet more pain.

  Nephril rose and stood over her, cupping his chin in his hand. “Thou hast strain o’ the groin, mine dear, a common complaint in those unused to walking. ‘Tis not serious but will delay us for thou wilt find walking most difficult.”

  She looked crestfallen, and steadily more dejected, but then found her spirits strangely lifting. A determination welled in her, a stubborn resolve that she wasn’t going to let them down. Much against their wishes, she began to stagger to her feet.

  Eventually, she could stand, but the pain showed clearly on her face and Nephril refused to let her carry on. “If thou goes at it without consideration for thine self then thou wilt only make matters worse.” He felt her uncompromising determination wash across his mind and so relented a little. “Well, if thou wilt not rest then it be safest to take it easy, work through it gently, but thee must take great care not to rush. Remember, ‘tis now most prone to further harm.”

  Gingerly, they began the slow climb up the lane. It was therefore some time before they reached the long line of walls and gables that marked the start of The Upper Reaches, and where they once more stopped to let Penolith rest. They helped her sit back against the wall where the lane turned to run alongside it. Nephril took out some of Berra’s milk and bread and there they had their repast.

  As they ate, they enjoyed the wonderful view to the south, but were even more cheered when Penolith announced that her leg felt much better, although Nephril wasn’t wholly convinced. Their forced rest did at least give them some time for talk.

  It was Falmeard who seemed, strangely enough, to have been smitten the most by the Esnadales. “I’m so pleasantly surprised by the dales and its folk, you know. I must admit, I was very wary of treading so far south, but it’s been far from claustrophobic, as I’d feared it would be. I’ve actually found it unexpectedly homely, and it’s left me with a fondness I can’t quite explain.”

  Nephril looked sideways at him and saw the wonder in his face, and smiled. “Although still quite few in their numbers, ‘tis the one part of Dica that doth take me back most closely to the splendour the whole realm once had. It reminds me of the hustle and bustle that used to infuse it. They are a good folk, simpler than of old but more open and forgiving, and seemingly free of contrivance and scheming, which is a good thing I suppose.”

  Falmeard thought for a moment before suggesting, “So unlike Storbanther then, eh, Nephril?”

  Nephril threw him an appraising eye. “Indeed so, Falmeard, indeed so, thine observation
be most astute and greatly provoking.”

  Nephril sat back, lost in thought, as Falmeard continued. “I can’t explain where it’s come from, but I feel so at home in these gentle parts. It’s as though the soft and fragrant air brings with it fond memories, but I can’t quite see what they hold, not in detail, it’s only their intimacy I feel. I’m sure I’ve never been here before, but I’ve now a yearning to settle, you know, to cease my wanderings and take root. Aye, maybe even get myself a trade or something, become a part of its community and share their pleasures. I wonder if I could turn my hand to working wood, or even metal, for I’ve noticed how few and poor their wagons are. I’m sure I could do better, and I’ve seen masses of discarded tools around the northern parts. They’d certainly come in useful. You know, when this is all over, I think I’ll do just that, gather together what I’d need from my old haunts and move down here, into one of those disused farms we’ve seen so many of, and set myself up.”

  Penolith had steadily become transfixed, her mouth slowly dropping, and found herself forced to exclaim, “Falmeard! I’ve never before heard you say so much in such a short space of time. You must bring yourself to speak more often, it’s so pleasant hearing your thoughts. Strangely enough, they seem to echo some of my own. Maybe we should set up together, eh, in some pretty dale, although for the life of me I can’t think what I’d be best suited to.” They began laughing together, somewhat awkwardly, whilst Nephril smiled and closed his eyes.

  He’d only been half listening, for his mind had been toying with Falmeard’s comment about Storbanther. He knew there was some significance in there somewhere but couldn’t quite prise it out. Falmeard may not be quick but he often seemed to have a deeper insight than he was aware of, often seemed to hit quite innocently upon the very nub of a matter, and there he was right in one respect. Storbanther wasn’t like others, certainly not those in Galgaverre, but nor was he a true Dican, not in his ways and thoughts, and certainly not in his speech. Where could he have hailed from so long ago, and why had he cast up in Galgaverre. More importantly, where was he now and what on earth was he doing, and why?

  Nephril began to feel their time slipping by and started to become anxious. It was a long journey, now even longer at Penolith’s slower pace. They needed to be on their way soon, if not earlier, and so, with an assisting arm, he reluctantly encouraged Penolith to stand.

  To Nephril’s surprise, she actually seemed much recovered, in far less pain. She admitted to the odd twinge or two but did seem to walk more strongly as they eased their way back into the walk.

  Her apparently rapid recovery seemed to Nephril a sure sign of Leiyatel’s benevolent gaze, something he also felt more strongly in himself. It reassured him to know with certainty now that they’d remain within her gaze for the rest of their journey north.

  As the day rolled on, and the slope of the castle across their path became steadily steeper, the great outer wall slowly drew in far below as it followed the vale’s close sweep. Eventually, it would squeeze between the Eyeswin River’s deep gorge and the sheer rise of the Scarra Face. Although still some way off, the Scarra was even now clearly visible in the distance.

  The Scarra’s unending stack of balconies began some way ahead. At first they were only a few deep, but as Nephril well knew, they piled ever higher as the Scarra quickly climbed, until they were hundreds deep against the underlying sheer face. At their distance, though, they were lost to the vastness, only lending evocation of a scratched wall, as though scrawped by some giant cat’s claws.

  In the furthest distance, out of sight beyond the Scarra’s gentle curve, the balconies finally lost their tenacious grip and gave out completely to bare rock. It was only the Aerie Way that then carried on, slashed across the Scarra’s naked face. Mount Esnadac rose sheer above it as a massive overhang, directly above the Eyeswin’s swollen gorge far below.

  To fill the time, Nephril had pointed it all out to them, explaining how the balconies began again on the far side. It was when he mentioned its famous viewing gallery that Falmeard took a keener interest. For Penolith, however, it just made the length of their journey seem even more stark.

  Before long, the lane came to an abrupt end as the slope became too precipitous to hold it, and there they turned onto a short but steep flight of steps. These led to the first balcony, still open to the sky, but it wasn’t long before it ran beneath another, marking the start of their steady climb from one to the next, until the air grew more chill and the wind blew stronger.

  It may not have been the case in the past, but now the balconies were all much of a sameness; a low wall to the outside and a run of windows and doors on the inner, each set within ornate frames now weathered almost flat. At first they couldn’t resist looking into all the rooms, but soon lost interest when each proved disappointingly empty, holding no more than dust, debris and detritus, and many forms of desiccated dung.

  That exposed expanse of the castle had long since fallen empty and derelict, its offices and apartments, its stores and shops all having soon fallen out of favour as the pressure of numbers subsided. Few wished to live there by choice, although it did have occasional visitors. There was still some passing traffic, wayfarers travelling between the Eastern Gate and the Esnadales. They were infrequent at best, and certainly made no impression on the miasma of ancient neglect that now hung so palpably there.

  Its repetitive boredom usually drugged its few passers-by into insensibility, and Nephril and Penolith were no exception, but Falmeard was. It was fortunate, for it was only he who noticed something moving some way ahead, something that billowed sporadically out from the walls at their level.

  He alerted the others and they quietly slipped into the next dank room, where they waited. Along with the natural whistles of the wind as it clawed its way fitfully along the Scarra, they eventually heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

  Nephril peered cautiously through the window, trying his best to see along the balcony. He soon noticed a robe flapping into sight, swinging in its owner’s gait and caught by the gusting wind. It was a Galgaverran robe, a none too clean one at that, but one in which a Galgaverran priest hurried along.

  Penolith had also seen him but had recognised him as Endran, and her heart immediately rose. With her mind full of thoughts of Pettar, she stepped out onto the balcony right in front of him. “Endran? Well met fellow, how goes you?” Endran nearly jumped clean off the balcony, but his face soon filled with delight and astonishment.

  “Guardian! Oh what a fortuitous meeting, how I’m relieved and delighted, ma’am. You’ve saved me an awfully long walk, and the Sentinar and Pettar a great deal of valuable time.” He bowed low, but again jumped as he straightened, for Nephril and Falmeard now stood beside Penolith.

  “I think it’s safe to assume,” she said, “that you’re on a messenger’s errand, and that I’m your message’s intended recipient, so, what’ve you got for me Endran, spill it out quickly, man.”

  He drew a deep breath and relayed Pettar’s messages word for word, as though he were but a sheet of paper upon which they were written. All the while, Penolith listened, seemingly unmoved. On the other hand, Falmeard let out the odd gasp here and there. It was only when Endran delivered Drax’s final message that Falmeard made any comment. “I knew it, I knew it! That’s what was wrong with him. Ha! Obvious now it’s been said.”

  Nephril had remained silent, but that last piece of the message did set his mind racing.

  Penolith kept her composure before Endran, and when he’d finished, she expressed her gratitude, then offered him some food and drink for which he was thankful.

  Nephril was about to talk with Penolith when Endran spoke again. “My Lady Guardian? I’ve something further to add, although it wasn’t part of either message so I’m afraid I overlooked it.” At first he hesitated, but then said, “Pettar and the Sentinar discussed what they were going to do next, ma’am, after they’d given me their messages. If you’ll excuse my repeating some
thing only overheard, not directly privy to as it were, then I’m sure they’d decided to go to the sconce, or get near to it, ma’am.”

  He bowed slightly, awaiting her instructions, but it was Nephril who then said, “I am not at all sure I like the sound of that, Penolith. It doth seem to me too risky by far, even at this late stage, at least until we have a firmer plan against which to wager.”

  She agreed and spoke quickly to Endran. “Are you fit enough to return with some haste?” He said he was. “Return to them with my explicit instruction not to do anything, anything at all, not until we’ve met with them. Let them know we’re following on with all haste. That’s all, Endran. So, if that’s clear, you may leave as soon as you feel up to it.” Endran confirmed his understanding, bowed low and was gone so quickly it was as though he’d never been there.

  Nephril seemed very agitated. “What are they thinking of? There is no knowing what Storbanther would do if they were to be found poking their noses into his affairs, nor what his five hundred priests are now capable of, not after he has had them under his wing for so long.”

  “But they’re only Galgaverrans, Nephril, after all.”

  He laughed, hollowly. “They may be, but Storbanther certainly is not, as we now well know. There be no telling what he would do to safeguard his schemes.”

  Falmeard then said, “Shouldn’t we get on our way as soon as possible then? The sooner we’re there, the sooner we’ll know they’re still safe, after all, Endran may already be too late to stop them anyway, so, so, well, at least they’d have some aid from us. Does that make any sense?”

  Nephril clapped him on the back and started gathering their things together as Penolith said, “We can’t fault your reasoning, Falmeard, and we can always discuss it further on our way so, come on, let’s be off.”