Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary

by Clive Ousley

  Dayal BerantWolf listened attentively then at the end he added more wood to the fire, deep in thought. Finally as if having read and sifted the Seconchane’s priesthood and the Brightwater people’s entire scripture libraries he came to a decision.

  ‘Your tale has the bright sound of truth. You will become great in your tribe although you at present have been wronged.’

  He paused and Malkrin sensed him coming to a momentous decision.

  Malkrin and Talgour looked into the flickering fire, waiting for BerantWolf’s revelation. Finally the chief spoke clearly and decisively.

  ‘I believe my people must temporarily abandon the sacred route. Great-Wolf will not return and release the Goddess Jadde-Wolf from her imprisonment in the Crystal Lake. She will not come from there to defeat the demon legions – we must do this ourselves. The approaching hordes will allow us little other choice, for they are advancing to consume us all.’

  His voice rose with the power of certainty. ‘It will be my people’s and the Seconchane’s and the Brightwater brethren’s final chance.’

  Talgour spoke passionately. ‘This is a brave decision – I know the Senate will concur. Together we will all prevail; separately we will all be destroyed.’

  ‘Indeed, I also agree,’ Malkrin added thinking of the captured demon, the plight of Bulwan and his Skatheln and the dire warnings of the Brightwater Senate

  .

  BerantWolf looked as if a great burden had lifted and a determined resolve entered his eyes. Malkrin reassessed the chief; he was not as ingrained in tradition as he had feared. But would his Wolf people be as flexible? BerantWolf had a huge task ahead just to win them over.

  ‘I am gladdened we are agreed to act as one,’ Malkrin said. ‘But I must persuade our priesthood and our Brenna rulers to give up generations of deeply seated prejudice. And once our mutual ordeal is over they must be persuaded to allow the Wolf people to journey through Cyprusnia.’

  Under the bright stars Malkrin thought of all that had been said. But there was another journey to travel before he dared return to Cyprusnia. He had to observe the hideous black tide with his own eyes. For how could he hope to persuade the Brenna and the priesthood if he had not seen the malevolent swarm for himself? It would take the greatest of persuasion to even convince the Brenna to listen. But to enable him to try he must first assess their enemy. And during that journey he must also find the three-sun travellers.

  There was one more story to tell before plans could be laid, the information was vital. ‘Tell us of your capture of the black demon, Chief BerantWolf.’

  The Wolf-chief sunk once again into his furs, his face tightened and his eyes looked into a great void.

  ‘It is both a long and a short story. We lost twelve brave warriors and slew only three of the demons. This is how we met them in battle.’ Chief BerantWolf’s eyes looked deep into the fire as he began the account. ‘My people were on the very furthest part of the sacred route from Brightwater; where the great grass plain meets the seared mountains and the plain of glass. In the distance the great glowing mountain of Thorian stood from the plain like a Goddesses’ breast. It had always been barren and even from our great distance away it shone at night with an evil light. Now, in my lifetime the glow has faded to nothing, moonlight now lights it normally. Rain has also returned to it and covered the great mountain top in snow and allowed the lower slopes to grow purple grass.

  But our latest journey to this point has shown the distant view transformed with evil. We saw a black flood of vile creatures rolling down the slopes and where they had passed over the purple grass the land behind was again barren. I realised we were witnessing the beginning of a spreading scourge.

  I called a halt to the sacred journey, took three warriors to a distant high rock and from there saw distant demon hordes swarming in columns on the glass plains. The creatures had ravished the lands beyond and were entering the vast purple pastures on this side of the mountain. We watched for four days and the scorching horde trickled ever nearer. The black stain sent out occasional black dots before them and from our great distance the nearest four dots became a scouting party of four demons. I decreed the creatures be intercepted and caught for they may provide food both for the body and for the mind. I handpicked seven hands of brave warriors and ordered my people to continue the sacred journey at unprecedented speed without us.

  The battle was vast; eventually we killed three and captured this one. Twenty sunsets later we met the point of the sacred route nearest the Brightwater lands. I brought the creature to you in the hope of seeking the coalition we have agreed this evening.’

  It was a hideous story. Malkrin could only admire the fortitude of Chief BerantWolf and his warriors for what they’d seen and endured. He dwelled for many breaths on the determination of BerantWolf to break from his sacred journey to bring them the demon. He could see that Talgour was doing the same.

  The moon had travelled far through the night sky when the three men finished planning for the new expedition. BerantWolf and his six best warriors would accompany Malkrin, Halle and Bevin Talgour on a reconnaissance for the Brightwater tribe and Malkrin to observe the menace. They would also detour to warn other tribes near the demons’ route. Overall the journey would provide invaluable information and assess how to combat the scourge. Perhaps if fortune favoured them they would also discover potential weaknesses in the demons or in their fighting preferences and maybe solve the mystery of his three-sun pursuers. For Malkrin and Halle it would be a journey within a journey.

  Malkrin wondered if BerantWolf would choose the Wolf warrior with intense blue eyes and greased plaits. He feared he would have to watch for enemies much closer than the evil horde.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Four days later Malkrin, Halle and their new companions bade farewell to Seara, the Senate and the Brightwater people. With them was Eighth of the Senate once the Brightwater’s greatest hunter, but now past his prime. He and Talgour represented their people and would confirm the demon hordes’ progress for the Senate. Seventeen Wolf warriors stayed behind to guard the rabid quarter-man and of the six accompanying the reconnaissance party one constantly stared at Malkrin with eyes of fire.

  Not only was it a Brightwater tradition to welcome people along the Lighthouse Bridge, but it was also custom to wish them a farewell in the same manner. The people threw rose petals at the party for this was a token of favourable luck for a good journey.

  At the far end of the bridge Halle left the party briefly to kiss Seara goodbye. Malkrin hesitated and did the same. Seara handed them each a lucky charm, it was a corn dolly woven around a sparkling yellow marble from the glass workshops. Malkrin kissed it and put it safely in his goatskin backpack. Momentary guilt washed over him as if he were betraying his beloved Cabryce by accepting the gift. He turned abruptly from Seara wishing he knew how his wife was fairing.

  He rejoined the party without looking back.

  Inevitably his thoughts returned to immediate danger. He could not relax whilst one of his Wolf warrior allies held a grudge against him. Malkrin felt the waves of animosity beat against his highsense. He signed mentally to tune it out, but left a background alert within his mind should the waves of hatred sharpen to a surprise attack. He would have to confront the man shortly. An enemy in such close proximity was not the best way to begin an important reconnaissance. Their first stop would be the Wolf people’s encampment. Malkrin hoped that the grievance filled warrior would then stay behind with his people.

  Slowly the hot sun rose and scorched them as they ran. Malkrin and Halle kept up with the arduous pace but in the midday heat Eighth-of-Senate and Talgour began to gasp in ragged heaves then stumble, forcing BerantWolf to slow the pace.

  At last in the cooling evening, the scent of wood smoke and cooking food registered on Malkrin’s senses, indicating the Wolf tribes close proximity. Minutes later an encampment emerged through dense woodland. A huge conglomeration of flapping fabric and waving banners f
ormed a camp beside a fast flowing brook. Behind the assembly a dense wood of ancient oak and spruce trees shielded the camp. To another side a wild orchard of apple and pear trees provided a ready food supply that young children enthusiastically harvested. The tents were laid out in a vast temporary village, beside each stood a sturdy wooden wheeled cart. Malkrin surmised they held the tents and belongings of the occupants during their endless journey. People milled around, cooking food, repairing carts and tents and organising belongings.

  Chief BerantWolf was met by three burly warriors, their headdresses only slightly less ornate than Chief BerantWolf himself. They exchanged a greeting ritual of wrestling arms then listened intently as BerantWolf briefed them about events preceding his return. Occasionally the chief gestured to Malkrin’s companions. His explanations seemed to unsettle his officers and they stomped away. One gestured to another man dressed in the obligatory Wolf skull headdress but with bones hanging from his shoulders and waist in rattling strings.

  BerantWolf ignored them and led his new companions to a huge cooking fire with an ancient sooty pot suspended above, from which aromas nagged Malkrin’s stomach.

  Looking around Malkrin noticed bands of men debating fiercely, and highsensed the gathering tension. He trusted BerantWolf’s authority, however something wasn’t right. He spotted the plaited haired warrior; he was part of a particularly outspoken debate going on around the bone decorated man. Malkrin focused his inner ear on the men’s discomfort: it was their deeply held tradition again. All the men were taking the ritual journey for granted. It was the Goddess given problem he had feared would be a huge barrier to the reconnaissance. The Wolf tribe could not stop their journey either for man God or demon. He tried to figure out why they could not just pause and wait.

  Malkrin sat listening intently, amplifying the voices with his highsense. He looked up for a moment as Halle shook his head unable to summon his own highsense.

  Then he had it.

  The men refused to re-walk the ritual journey back the way they had already travelled. For timeless generations they had headed in the direction of sunrise at this point and to head toward the setting sun was against tradition. Malkrin glanced at BerantWolf; he was standing expectantly to one side as if awaiting a challenge. Again Malkrin admired BerantWolf’s ability to circumvent convention. He had proposed a change to generations of chiselled-in-stone journeying and was preparing to meet the consequences. Malkrin highsensed the plaited haired warrior arguing for BerantWolf. It was a surprise to Malkrin: a sign of the man’s loyalty.

  Some men approached BerantWolf and spoke in urgent whispers. The man with the bone lines hissed and gestured in the direction of the Brightwater mountains. Others backed him up by pointing as well. BerantWolf stood arms folded and shaking his head, loyal warriors joined him and stood immovably either side of him. The plaited haired one stood firmly on BerantWolf’s right side.

  Malkrin gripped Palerin’s pommel, things looked as if they were about to get out of hand. Eighth-of-Senate looked uneasy, although exhausted he drew a curved and polished sword and moved to join the confrontation. Malkrin wondered if it had ever slain another man and doubted it. Talgour held Eighth-of-Senate back with a hand and shake of his head then whispered forcefully.

  ‘Not our argument.’

  Malkrin added, ‘I see now how BerantWolf will resolve it. We will be safely on our journey tomorrow, do not fear.’ It was a bluff but he needed to keep his companions from adding to the dispute.

  People in the camp were running to alert other warriors, who soon appeared out of the woods and from tents. They ran over, Wolf tribesmen who knew the reason for the confrontation explained the dispute and the newcomers joined whichever side their loyalties lay with.

  The odds appeared stacked against BerantWolf as crowds of men debated. Then the women joined in, their higher pitched voices added to the mayhem.

  Malkrin was amazed the chief allowed the debate; the many raised voices seemed a cacophony of rebellion. It was impossible for his inner ear to work out who was saying this and thinking differently, or who was playing true. Most surprisingly, with all the weaponry on display not a single drop of blood was being shed.

  Then above the outcry BerantWolf’s voice rose in a single command.

  ‘Enough.’

  And an expectant hush transformed the crowd, leaving only birdsong in the trees and the bleating of the tribe’s goats.

  BerantWolf continued in a smoothing tone. ‘Cast your bones Seer, and read the Goddess’s wishes.’

  The bone-thrower gyrated in a twirling dance. His bone strings clattered and shook rhythmically. He spun faster on his heels, gradually lowering his body as if he were willing himself to drill into the ground. Then in a blur of movement, when Malkrin was sure he would overbalance in a tangle of limbs, he threw the bones in an arc around him. The bone-thrower crouched as still as a poised snake and hissed a prediction in an unearthly call that pierced Malkrin’s inner ear and sent a shiver down his spine.

  ‘If forward is chosen then doom awaits all. But if a group travel backward some will not return. Of these, some will be lost, some will live to travel again, and some will gain honour. But all that are to die will rest in the soil of a distant land. A stranger will also journey with you carrying the seeds of victory in his head. Choose right and within three moons the Wolf Tribe’s honour will be defended. A great tale of sacrifice will be told, but the Goddess’s rule will wither.’

  The bone-thrower shook like a dog shedding water and his eyes refocused. ‘That is the Goddess’s warning and her true words.’

  Reverentially the crowd fell silent. BerantWolf considered the counselling for twenty breaths, his massed companions waited quietly and expectantly. Then BerantWolf spoke.

  ‘BalthWolf has predicted doom for a few when returning along the sacred route to learn more of the demons. But the Goddess predicts doom for all if we do not act. I am convinced it is necessary to our very existence to discover how to destroy this terrible new enemy.’ He looked from one to another of his company of warriors, his eyes laden with responsibility. ‘The Goddess’s wrath will not descend on us just because we are forced to break our sacred duty for a vital task. If we do not confront the demons then none will survive to do her will – and she has assured us a courageous tale will be added to our story telling. So we will prevail.’ BerantWolf looked around his warriors and seemed to stare into each of their minds. ‘I take with me two hands of warriors. These warriors will accompany me freely of their own choice because she has decreed some will not travel the sacred route again. The rest of my people will continue the hallowed journey to the bridge of the Brightwater people and await my return. BalthWolf will guide you in my absence.’ He turned to the bone-thrower, ‘honour my decision – do not continue the sacred route past Brightwater. Send a patrol ahead toward the Seconchane to report whether demons have already passed along our sacred route.’

  BalthWolf nodded in quick agreement. Malkrin could detect no duplicity behind the seer’s agreement. He glanced at the plaited haired man, who turned to glare sparks at him and Malkrin’s concerns over the man’s hidden agenda resurfaced.

  BerantWolf stepped to one side, his features hardened and he spoke with the dread of a father asking his sons to die.

  ‘Ten loyal warriors join me here – but prepare for death as well as honour.’

  Murmurs rose and men began to discuss the situation with each other again. The muttering rose again to full debate, then in ones and twos warriors stepped to BerantWolf’s side.

  ‘Stop, I have more than enough for the quest.’ BerantWolf examined each volunteer then spoke to two of them.

  ‘Loyal ElroomWolf, you are advanced in years; and you will I fear falter with the pace we must maintain. Step back and help guard the women and children against the demons that will soon arrive to test us.’

  ElroomWolf bowed and rejoined the main group.

  BerantWolf put his hand to the shoulder of a young warri
or. Malkrin thought he was the same age as Seara.

  ‘Brave Eutola, you will be as fearless as your father. But for the skirmishes we may be forced to fight. We need an experienced warrior’s strength and guile. I fear you must maintain your training with the warriors that stay. But fear not – the time to prove your worth is not many moons distant.’

  Eutola bowed and walked back to the other warriors.

  BerantWolf turned to BalthWolf, ‘Carry out my instructions tomorrow at dawn. I go now to gather information to preserve all our futures.’

  Malkrin stared in amazement at the obedience that transcended the near rebellion. BerantWolf certainly had supreme authority after all. The men dispersed and resumed their various tasks as if the dispute had never happened.

  BerantWolf walked to Malkrin and his companions. ‘Brothers,’ he began, ‘we must march at speed now, lest my people become agitated by our hesitation.’

  Then he returned to his warriors, ‘The sooner we accomplish our task the sooner we can return to our families.’

  They gathered backpacks and weapon bundles and BerantWolf led them at a fast trot with the plaited haired warrior at his side.

  Malkrin surmised the man was high in the Wolf Clan hierarchy – which made his hatred harder to fathom given his Chief’s dedication to the reconnaissance. Malkrin feared a confrontation that night when they stopped to rest. He kept close to BerantWolf to try to force the plaited haired warrior to make a move there and then. His highsense detected only background hatred, the man was not ready.

  The Wolf warriors were at the peak of fitness but not Talgour who staggered and lost pace. Malkrin fell back to encourage him.

  ‘As a court official . . . I do not normally need . . . physical exercise,’ he gasped to Malkrin’s silent query. Seeing his predicament Malkrin took his backpack adding it to his own, and then supported Talgour. The official’s chest was heaving and spittle was foaming around his mouth. After a short break, BerantWolf continued at a pace Talgour could maintain and with the lighter load the Brightwater official found hidden reserves of energy to keep up with them. A few days would see him fit, Malkrin guessed – by the look of his determination he may be at the front of the column by then.