The Longsword Chronicles: Book 01 - King of Ashes

by GJ Kelly

  "What is happening?" Meeya asked, her voice tight with fear.

  "It is as Sarek says." Gawain replied.

  "It...it cannot be, Longsword..." Sarek muttered. "It cannot be..."

  "Watch. That you may tell the others, and your kings."

  The two prisoners were hauled to the cauldrons, their clothing ripped from them, and steel glinted. They died without a sound, or at least it seemed so to the watchers high on the rim. Again, steel glinted, and when the butchering was complete, the parts, all of them, were thrown into the cauldrons.

  "It cannot be....it cannot be..." Sarek muttered over and over again.

  "Mihoth!" Meeya gasped, reaching out to clutch Valin's hand.

  Valin was mumbling something in elven tongue, and though Gawain did not understand the words, he recognised that they were being repeated over and over, just like Sarek.

  There was a sudden percussive sound from below, as the soldiers simultaneously came to attention, and then slowly began marching in columns to the cauldrons, bowls in hands. Sarek sobbed, and buried his head in his arms. Gawain reached out and grabbed the officer's hair, jerking his head up.

  "Watch, for your king! And for the others!"

  They watched as dark ranks queued, bowls were filled, soldiers ate and then marched back to dark tents. When it was over, Gawain's were the only dry eyes surveying the scene below. The pot-tenders calmly refilled their cauldrons with water from great butts left open to collect the rain, and then poured sacks of unidentifiable matter into the water, and began stirring once more.

  "It cannot be..." Sarek mumbled once more.

  "It can, and it is." Gawain hissed. "We go, now."

  They slid back from the rim, and hurried down the slopes to rejoin their companions and the horses.

  "Sarek, what has happened?" Rak whispered, staring wide-eyed at the tear-streaked faces of the thalangard and the Threlland officer.

  Sarek shook his head. "I cannot say it....I cannot say it...."

  "We ride, as soon as it is dark, out of this forsaken land." Gawain hissed.

  "Dark?" Allazar gasped.

  "We must stay hidden here until it is safe to travel."

  "Traveller..."

  "Would you rather risk detection by that horde?"

  "No!" Meeya gasped, and Sarek shook his head violently.

  "Then settle, and keep good watch."

  oOo

  34. Friends

  Desperation was etched on the features of both thalangard and Threlland patrol officer, and it was so obvious that they wished to put as much distance between themselves and the Morloch army that none of the others dare ask what it was they'd seen.

  "They had but two watchmen on the rim, Traveller," Rak sighed. "Why wait until nightfall?"

  "They had but two watchmen that we saw in daylight. We may have passed many in the darkness. We camp here until nightfall. Eat frak if you wish, but drink sparingly."

  "I am not hungry." Meeya said, and sat hunched against the mound of ore-slag, as did Sarek and Valin.

  Gawain watched them, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  "What happened, my brother?" Rak said softly, "What was it you all saw?"

  "Later." Gawain muttered, and checked the horses, ensuring they were hobbled and the muffles on their hooves intact.

  All too soon it began raining again. All the discipline that the group had learned on their journey to the Barak-nor seemed to have washed away too, and they sat huddled, cold and dejected and fearful, wrapped in their cloaks and saying nothing.

  It was yet early afternoon, and though the sky was overcast and laden with drizzle, it would be hours yet before nightfall. Gawain sighed, and stared out across the wasteland, his nose wrinkling at the acrid stench of the Barak-nor which seemed suddenly stronger in the rain.

  "What did you see, mithroth?" Elayeen suddenly asked, and though she spoke softly, they all started, so long used to whispering and so stretched were there nerves.

  "You must ask the thalangard, my Lady." Gawain whispered, his back to them all. "And you, Lord Rak, must ask your Captain."

  "You are cruel again Longsword," Allazar protested, "We would not doubt your word."

  Gawain shrugged. "It matters not whether you doubt my word, wizard. As Rak plainly says, Threlland will not listen to me. Nor will Elvendere, nor Callodon."

  "Very well," Rak sighed. "What was it you saw, Captain Sarek."

  "I cannot say. It is...I cannot say it."

  Gawain turned slowly on his heel, his eyes swimming black, and he stared down at the officer. "Your Lord has commanded you to speak, Sarek. Answer him."

  "Do not make me say it, Longsword, I beg you?"

  Gawain gazed at Sarek, and then turned his back on them all once more.

  "You saw the prisoners." Gawain said to the distant hills that gaped as though disembowelled.

  "We all did." Rak acknowledged.

  "Penned, like sheep."

  "Aye."

  Gawain folded his arms, wishing he could see the ocean. He'd spent so many hours on the cliffs of Raheen, gazing out over the Sea of Hope. But that had been so long ago. "Just like sheep."

  "Aye?" Rak repeated.

  "While we watched, the enemy emerged from their tents, and formed ranks, and waited, patiently."

  "For what?" Allazar asked, frowning.

  "For breakfast."

  "Breakfast?" Allazar gasped. "What breakfast? What ails Sarek so, and the thalangard?"

  Gawain shook his head, once. "They do not eat spikeweed and ore-slag, Rak, as once you suggested. They eat their sheep, so carefully herded and penned."

  Sarek choked back a sob, and Gawain turned, his expression cold. "Is that not so, Captain Sarek?"

  Sarek looked up into Gawain's dark eyes. "Aye, my lord. It is so." He looked down at his hands, and continued, "They are an abomination. We must destroy them. All of them. Every last one. Else we are lost."

  Rak's eyes widened as the full horror of it finally sank in. Allazar stood on shaky legs, staring dumbfounded at Gawain. Elayeen caught her breath, and looked to Valin and Meeya for confirmation. The thalangard nodded mutely.

  "Oh by the Teeth, Longsword, what have they become?" Allazar gasped.

  Suddenly Meeya leapt to her feet, and launched herself at the wizard. In a flash her hands were around his throat, her charge knocking him onto his back as he gagged and struggled. In the blink of an eye, Meeya had straddled him, and clutching his throat in an iron grip she began beating his head against the rocky ore-slag, a hissing stream of whispered elven invective pouring from her lips.

  Sarek and Valin were on her in an instant, trying to drag her from the wizard, whose face first blue flushed a sudden red as her hands were prised from his neck.

  "Meeya!" Elayeen cried in a whisper, her voice regal and commanding instant attention, "Meeya thalangard!"

  The elfin ceased her struggling, and her shoulders slumped. Still Valin and Sarek held her, but with a nod from Gawain they too released their grip.

  "Eest varl." Meeya sighed. "Eest vakin varl..."

  "In the common tongue, Meeya, I command it." Elayeen demanded.

  "He is a liar!" Meeya spat.

  "By the Teeth..." Allazar croaked, still laying on the ground, rubbing his throat, "What have I said to cause such offence?"

  Meeya turned to face Elayeen, tears streaking her mud-stained face. "We were not sent for you, mifrith Elayeen-thalin. They sent us to kill ithroth."

  Elayeen gasped, stunned and wide-eyed, as Meeya slumped to her knees sobbing, while Valin stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder.

  "It is true." The elf spoke, his voice low and rich. "Our wizards said you were dead. That no-one could survive being taken from Faranthroth. They said that ithroth was Morloch-cursed, that there was no danger to the land with the Ramoths gone, no danger but the one they call DarkSlayer."

  Elayeen turned to Gawain, her eyes filled with pleading and confusion as Valin continued.

  "The wizards sa
id you were dead, Elayeen-thalin, and that for Elvendere we must go to Threlland, and find the DarkSlayer, and kill him. Only then would the lands be safe."

  "They are liars." Meeya sobbed. "They said Morloch was destroyed, but his spirit lives in ithroth's eyes. But you live, mifrith Elayeen-thalin, and Threlland is our friend. And ithroth has shown us Morloch's army."

  "But Allazar too is friend..." Elayeen said, "Surely..."

  "No!" Meeya pleaded. "He is wizard! The same as them! All the wizards at Elvenheth gathered, and told that Morloch was dead, but lives in ithroth! They lied about Threlland, they lied about you, they lied about ithroth! They have done this, all of this, the wizards! Man does not eat Man! Only wizards can make so evil a thing! Only wizards!” Meeya's voice faded into wracking sobs, and Valin knelt beside her, comforting her.

  Allazar staggered to his feet. "In truth..." he began, but his voice cracked.

  "In truth," Gawain said quietly, "Only wizards could make so evil a thing, and so many of them."

  "Longsword..." Allazar croaked again, his eyes wide with hurt.

  "Take the first watch." Gawain commanded.

  Allazar gazed at him for a moment, confused.

  "Go higher up the slope. It will afford a better view."

  Allazar nodded, and then stared at the rest of them. None but Gawain would meet his eye. Dejected, the wizard turned, and picked up his sodden blanket, and began to crawl up slope of the mound, to lay on the top.

  "This is..." Rak began, but could not find the word. "We are all friends here...this horror must be shared..."

  "I will relieve him soon." Gawain announced, and turned his gaze on the thalangard as Elayeen stepped closer to him.

  "They are friends too, mithroth." She said quietly, reaching out to touch his arm.

  The thalangard looked up, and saw the shimmering blackness swimming in Gawain's eyes, and for a moment they held their breath, but did not flinch away.

  Gawain turned his head to stare deep into the hazel-green eyes imploring him to peace. "I intend no harm, my Lady." Gawain said. "But I would know the truth."

  "The truth?"

  Gawain nodded, and turned his gaze back upon Meeya and Valin. "You said Gan had sent you."

  "He did." Valin replied, "But he does not know of the wizard's orders. He alone believes Elayeen-thalin might live, though she is declared Faranthroth, and he alone trusted your word that Threlland is frith to Elvendere."

  "And Thal-Hak?"

  Meeya looked up, confused.

  "Does he know of the whitebeard's orders?"

  "I do not know." Meeya whispered.

  "My father would never allow such an order to be given." Elayeen said with commendable conviction.

  "Your father, like every other king south of the Teeth, listens to wizards." Gawain replied coldly. Then he took a deep breath, and shrugged. "You are all tired. Sleep, if you are able. But sleep lightly. I shall make a brief patrol, and then relieve Allazar."

  "I would come with you, mithroth..."

  "No. You are tired too, my Lady, and I would have you here."

  Elayeen nodded, and wrapped her arms around herself beneath her cloak as Gawain turned and crawled quietly up the mound, following Allazar's tracks.

  He found the wizard laying on the wet blanket, gazing through the rain towards the great crater's wall.

  "Credit where it is due, whitebeard, you've picked a good spot for a watch."

  "From here I can see so much." Allazar sighed. "Yet I have seen so little."

  "Do not take the thalangard's words too much to heart, Allazar. If I thought for a moment you were in any way responsible for what we saw, you would be long dead."

  "Yet the elfin would have taken my life. It was in her eyes, as she squeezed the life from me."

  "Perhaps you should try defending yourself from time to time."

  "I am a wizard. I have a sacred oath..."

  Gawain snorted. "Sacred horse dung."

  "It is sacred to me. To all wizards. No wizard may harm the races of Man..."

  Gawain sighed impatiently. "The frightening thing is, Allazar, you truly believe that."

  "I must believe in something."

  "Then believe in something a little more useful. No wizard may harm the races of Man? In a pig's eye. Morloch is a wizard, or had you forgotten?"

  "No, I have not forgotten."

  "Good. Then since Morloch is a wizard, and not one of the races of Man, it's about time you did something about harming him, isn't it?"

  "He is too powerful. He has aquamire."

  "True. But considerably less than he had before."

  "Aye."

  "And your precious brethren in Elvendere. What of them?"

  "I do not understand the question."

  "Which side are they on, Allazar. Who do they fight for? Who will they fight for? Morloch? Elvendere? The races of Man? Or for their own twisted ends?"

  Allazar gazed out towards the devastation wrought by ancient miners, but made no answer.

  "In the coming battles, in the coming war, Allazar, there will be two sides. Friend, and enemy. Soon you will have to choose, as will your brethren in all the southlands. It matters little to me which way they choose. As for you, I would rather you chose...wisely."

  "I have already told you, Longsword. I have sworn to Brock of Callodon, and to myself, that I would aid your cause. I am not, and never have been, your enemy."

  "Good. You see, you are learning to be a true whitebeard. Most men would simply have said 'I am your friend' and have done with it."

  Allazar still looked utterly dejected. "To which you would have replied that just because you haven't killed me yet, doesn't make me your friend."

  "More wisdom."

  "I thank you."

  "Thank me by watching all around, and not just that wall yonder. I shall relieve you in two hours."

  Gawain began to slither backwards, but froze when Allazar turned wide and mournful eyes upon him.

  "Longsword...I did not know. How could I have known?"

  Gawain shrugged, and his eyes flickered briefly. "You are a wizard. You tell me."

  Elayeen cast him a nervous glance when he slithered to the bottom of the mound, but Gawain simply nodded, and then moved off, loping stealthily across the blasted landscape. He made good use of the heaps of spoil and slag, hollows and deeper pits, working his way slowly northward towards the opening in the great horseshoe-shaped crater wherein Morloch's eastern army lay bivouacked. He was convinced that there would be a heavier guard, a stronger watch, a greater force overlooking the stronghold than a mere two pairs of eyes high up on the rim.

  But he found nothing, which was both a relief, and extremely curious. Perhaps this army was complacent, trusting entirely in Morloch's arrogance and apparent invincibility. But they must have felt the ground shake, seen the vast snaking column of liberated aquamire coiling up to the sun, and known, or at least guessed, that disaster had struck in the Teeth. Even so, there was no sign of Morloch watchmen beyond the solitary figures patrolling above the entrance to the crater. Not on the Threlland side of the camp, anyway.

  Gawain lay quietly on the wet slag-rock, peering through tufts of spikeweed, hoping to see something, anything, which might provide some hint of the army's plans. Riders, perhaps, bearing messages. More wagons. Anything. There was nothing. Just incessant rain, and the barren, devastated landscape of the Barak-nor.

  At least his suspicions with regard to the thalangard had been confirmed. And his suspicions with regard to wizards in general, and Elvendere's in particular. It seemed as though the coming war was opening on two fronts; the northern line against Morloch's army, and a more insidious and amorphous front against the concealed intent of a hidden whitebeard agenda. At least Allazar's horror on learning of the enemy's hideous diet was genuine; no-one, not even aged royalty with generations of regal inscrutability ingrained, could fake such a reaction. Never, in the combined history of the southern kingdoms, had so vile an act been conc
eived, much less perpetrated.

  Gawain sighed, and tried to quell his own rising stomach. Strange aquamire might give him clarity of thought, but it did not render him immune to revulsion. It was only his rage up on the rim that had held it in check. Rage against Morloch, and the foul creatures sent across the Teeth to hold the farak gorin when the breach was made and the floodgates opened.

  Only one thing gave him cause for a degree of relief. The black-clad workers he had seen attacking the northern slopes of the Teeth were driven by aquamire, and thus required little in the way of food. The revolting ritual seen this morning seemed to indicate that the troops already in the southlands were not similarly driven, and could be considered in some respects more vulnerable than their comrades beyond the Teeth.

  He sighed again, and cast another furtive glance all around. Still no signs. There were hours yet until nightfall, but while his lonely vigil might well be providing him with time to consider all that had happened, it would doubtless be worrying his friends back at the camp.

  Friends? Gawain considered for but a moment. Yes. Inasmuch as they were not enemies. The thalangard had proved themselves duplicitous. Sarek had displayed unexpected weakness, Rak was struggling with a horror that fell far beyond his diplomatic and gentler inclinations, and Elayeen... Elayeen needed Gawain to live that she might live, and self-preservation was the strongest of instincts. As for Allazar, he was still a wizard.

  For a fleeting moment, the word 'cruel' seemed to blaze in Gawain's mind. But he snuffed it with strange aquamire. The enemy were within sight; the watchman atop this side of the rim could be seen, just, every twenty counts. This was no time for tender thoughts or gentle emotion. They had seen what they had seen, and must carry that information to Eryk of Threlland, and Brock of Callodon, and to all the royal crowns. There would be time later for Gawain to permit his vision to be clouded again by that dread disease which had so recently afflicted him. After the kingdoms had united, and smashed these black-clad vermin back into the Teeth from whence they came.