The Longsword Chronicles: Book 01 - King of Ashes

by GJ Kelly

  "I do not think so, Sire." Rak opined. "We barely survived the journey, and we have the advantage of youth."

  Eryk smiled. "Aye, perhaps you're right. I wish I had the same advantage at times." Then he eyed Gawain critically. "But at others, I am glad to have lived through a gentler age."

  They watched Threlland's king leave Tarn, flanked by a small and, they knew, hopelessly inadequate honour-guard. Sarek took his leave and returned to the barracks, and Allazar made his weary way, alone, to the inn.

  Back inside Rak's house, Meeya spoke briefly with her husband, and then as they all settled to a welcome hot meal, Valin announced in his low and sonorous voice:

  "Mihoth and I shall leave for Elvendere at first light."

  Elayeen blinked. "Tomorrow?"

  "We must carry word of what we have seen to our people. We shall go straight to Gan-thal's province, and speak with him first. Elvendere must know that Threlland is frith to Elvendere, and needs our aid. Thal-Hak must know that the wizards have lied. All must know that you and ithroth live, and are well in Threlland."

  "You must tell them who I am." Gawain said quietly. "It may help persuade Thal-Hak to attend the council in Ferdan. Elayeen-thalin of Elvendere may be faranthroth to all, but Queen Elayeen of Raheen lives, and is to be honoured, lest I be offended."

  "It shall be as you command." Valin acknowledged.

  Elayeen rested her hand upon Gawain's. "You do not have to do this, mithroth. The name causes you grief, and it may not persuade my father at all."

  "Any grief I feel will be as nothing compared to the pain of seeing all Threlland another Barak-nor. Or Elvendere another Raheen. It's past time I remembered who I am. I only wish I did have five hundred Raheen cavalry at my disposal."

  "If Meeya and Valin can persuade my brother and my father to attend the council, we may not need five hundred cavalry." Elayeen smiled sadly.

  "How so?" Rak asked, bemused.

  Meeya smiled, and Valin positively grinned.

  "Eryk has underestimated Elvendere's strength." Elayeen announced, her eyes bright with hope. "It is law in our land that all elves must begin practice with the bow from five years of age. It is by hunting, and by the bow, that we live. We can bring thousands of archers to the field."

  Rak dropped his fork, and it clattered noisily onto his plate. "Thousands?" he gasped.

  "Thousands." Meeya agreed.

  "Then do make sure to tell Thal-Hak that all Threlland is, what is your word? Frith to Elvendere."

  "We shall." Valin asserted, straight-faced.

  As dusk fell, a yawning Lord Rak of Tarn bade his houseguests an early goodnight, and retired, leaving Merrin to show the thalangard to their room. Gawain frowned as Merrin led them out.

  "My lady, I thought you had but the one spare room?"

  Merrin flushed a little, and then smiled, and led the thalangard down the hall.

  "I too am tired, mithroth." Elayeen smiled, and stood, and took his hand. "Are you not?"

  In truth, Gawain was tired. It had been a long and gruelling journey back from the Barak-nor, and undertaken in great haste.

  "I should check on Gwyn." Gawain announced.

  "Gwyn is safe and warm in stables, mithroth."

  He stood and gazed down at her, and saw her eyes, wide and glistening, and felt suddenly hot.

  "But it is every Raheen's duty to tend his horse..."

  Elayeen blinked. "Oh."

  "But..." Gawain added hastily, "Gwyn is in stables, after all..."

  "And safe, and warm."

  "Aye..."

  "And we must rise early, to bid farewell to Meeya and Valin." Elayeen said softly, leading Gawain by the hand.

  "Aye..."

  "Then we too should retire."

  "Yes..." Gawain mumbled, eyeing the embers in the grate, and wondering how it could be possible for such a sudden rise in temperature as he felt now, Elayeen's hand in his as he she led him to their room. Perhaps, he thought, he was sick, struck by some dread disease...

  oOo

  38. Messages

  Gawain and Elayeen did indeed rise early, as did Rak and Merrin, to bid farewell to the thalangard. Sarek had received word of the elves' intentions, and appeared in company with four mounted guardsmen, who were to be the thalangard's escort, though surprisingly the guards were dressed in dark and unremarkable clothing rather than their normal uniform.

  "I thought it might lend credence to our friends' reports if they were escorted clear to Elvendere, my Lord." Sarek explained. "These men are all volunteers, and know the risks."

  Elven eyes blinked, and Gawain nodded appreciatively.

  "I do not know how kindly Juria would take to such a military incursion." Rak mumbled.

  "Hence the lack of uniform, my Lord." Sarek explained carefully, noting the tiredness around Rak's eyes.

  "In truth," Gawain said, yawning, and Sarek noted the tiredness in his eyes too, "If Meeya and Valin are seen safe and well in company of four armed Threllanders, it will indeed lend much weight to their claim that Threlland is frith to Elvendere. But the decision must be yours, Meeya, and yours, Valin."

  "We welcome your company, friends." Valin said without hesitation.

  Rak remained hesitant, and then addressed the four guardsmen. "You know the risks? Your reception at the border with Elvendere may not be...pleasant."

  "Aye my Lord, Captain's told us what we might expect. But we're glad to go."

  "There may be great danger." Elayeen said, sincerely.

  "Aye, my Lady. But see, we always wanted to see elves, and then one day Longsword brought you into our land, and then your two friends arrived as if from nowhere. It made us think, perhaps there might be elves in your land, who've always wanted to see dwarves, but never have."

  Meeya and Valin smiled, and then turned to Elayeen, and bowed, and then Elayeen hugged them both tearfully.

  "Speed your journey home, my friends." Gawain said softly, clasping Valin's arm, and Meeya's, in turn. "Go safely, and keep good watch."

  The small group of friends, now reduced in number by two, watched as the thalangard rode out of Tarn, escorted by four dwarven guards in unremarkable clothing, who looked all the taller for the pride with which they sat saddle.

  "I must see to my men." Sarek announced. "I begin their training today, in Longsword's less than honourable arts."

  "Carry on, Captain." Rak acknowledged.

  "My lords, did I miss an important briefing last night?"

  "I don't think so," Rak looked puzzled. "Why?"

  "You both look as though you've stood watch through the night. We are safe in Tarn my lords, and my men will keep good watch, I assure you of that. You should both retire."

  "I think I shall." Rak smiled, and turned back into the house with Merrin.

  "And I." Gawain agreed, and likewise, led by his lady, disappeared indoors, and back to a warm bed.

  Later that afternoon, Gawain was checking Gwyn in the stables when Rak appeared in the doorway.

  "Traveller...or should I now call you Raheen, or Gawain?"

  "Rak, you may call me what you wish. In truth, I answer to so many names I find I sometimes wonder who I am."

  "Traveller, then, for it always reminds me of my son."

  Gawain smiled wearily. "What brings you out into the daylight, my friend?"

  Rak smiled back. "I might ask the same. You are well rested?"

  "Aye. Sort of."

  "I am glad. You have done much of late, and are deserving of gentler moments."

  "Yet I cannot stop thinking of the Morlochmen, as Eryk calls them."

  "Nor I. But already I am told that guardsmen are arriving in small numbers. Eryk must be passing the word at each town and village he passes on his way back to Castle Town."

  "They must take care not to be seen massing on the northern slopes, or the enemy will know they have been discovered."

  "The loss of three Black Riders may already have alerted them."

  "Perhaps. In truth I
do not know. They are strange creatures."

  "Aye. But I had a purpose in coming here. A message has arrived for you, and I know not what it means."

  "A message?"

  "Aye. From Martan of Tellek."

  Gawain paused in his grooming of Gwyn. "What does he say?"

  "It is curious. He says: 'Tis like honeycomb in a glass jar, yet with an occasional sting. Six times, not five.' I do not understand it. Is this something I should know?"

  "No," Gawain smiled. "It is nothing. I took him a gift of the finest Jurian brandy. I told him it would ease the pain he yet suffered in his ribs, but if he drank more than one glass before noon he'd fall over five times before bedtime. It seems I miscalculated."

  Rak smiled. "He too deserves gentler times. Songs are sung about him in the mines. I hope your gift hasn't aggravated his injuries."

  "As do I, my friend, as do I."

  "Well then, I shall leave you to tend your horse. My Lady is preparing what can only be described as a feast for our evening meal, I thought I'd warn you in advance. After living on frak for the best part of two weeks, I find my stomach is somewhat nervous at the prospect of rich food."

  Gawain grinned. "Aye. But I'm so hungry today it's Gwyn that's nervous."

  Rak laughed.

  Gawain paused, and then walked across the stable to stand close beside his friend.

  "Something troubles you?" Rak asked quietly, glancing around. Lyas and the master groomer were in the tack room, out of earshot.

  "Rak, you are...older than I."

  "Ah."

  Gawain flushed. "Is it normal...what I mean is...My Lady is elfin..."

  "Ah."

  "And well, I have had little experience..."

  "Ah."

  "Well. What I mean is, are they all so..."

  "What?"

  "Enthusiastic?"

  "Ah."

  "And..."

  "And?"

  "And...demanding."

  "Ah. That is something which I am told decreases in time. At least I hope it is so."

  "Ah."

  "Indeed. Well, I shall leave you to your horse. If I do not keep Travak from the kitchen while Merrin is cooking, I fear for my life."

  Gawain nodded, and when Rak had gone, he returned to Gwyn, and his duty. He'd hated lying to his friend, but the significance of Martan's message was too important, and besides, he did not trust the wizards in Threlland any more than he trusted wizards anywhere. He smiled grimly as he slapped Gwyn on the neck and told her how ugly she was.

  The farak gorin was like 'honeycomb in a glass jar." Which meant that beneath its wicked glazed surface, it was not solid bitchrock and pain. The old miners were cutting their way through it at the rate of six times their own length in a day, with just the occasional "sting". Which Gawain assumed might mean a minor injury on the sharp rock, or perhaps the occasional surprise in the rock's structure. He did not know. But the tone of the message was optimistic.

  When he returned to the house by way of the back door and the kitchen, he found the Lady Merrin and Elayeen talking in whispers over the stove. They fell silent immediately he entered, and smiled at him a little too...enthusiastically. He nodded to them both, and hurried into the main room, where Rak was sitting on the floor playing with Travak.

  "Your duty to Gwyn is done, Traveller?" Rak asked, as Travak banged his wooden horse on the floor.

  "Aye, though in truth the young apprentice Lyas did my work for me. But it provides a pause, and serves to remind me of my home, as it once was."

  "Do not be downhearted at Eryk's response yesterday, my friend. The news we bore was a great shock to him, and there is much he must do."

  Gawain sighed. "I had little idea that the lowlands were so poorly prepared. In Raheen, we had the cavalry, and foresters, and all our men at arms were skilled with the arrow. It was...well, it just simply was."

  Rak nodded as Travak giggled happily. "Your father lamented the loss of Pellarn to the empire. We were all unprepared for that battle when it came. I believe Davyd had it in mind to maintain a strong force, ready to ride to the aid of any of Raheen's neighbours should the need arise."

  "They came here, to Threlland, I have been told."

  "Aye. There are many that would have left with them to aid Pellarn. But, as Eryk said, it is never a simple matter to send an army across borders. None, except Elvendere, would contemplate denying passage to Raheen forces, for all knew that Raheen was content and secure upon the high plateau, and were no threat. But in the lowland kingdoms, memories are long, and there are many tales and songs of battles waged to reshape borders."

  Gawain frowned, and looked deeply frustrated. "But against a common enemy?"

  Rak shrugged. "It is still a question of politics, my friend, and I do not believe that coming from the somewhat rarefied atmosphere of Raheen you would understand such things."

  "Can you teach me?"

  Rak smiled. "Can you teach me how to hurl an arrow three hundred paces with nothing but a piece of string tied to my wrist?"

  "Yes."

  "And how long would it be, with practise and your instruction, before I could reasonably expect to hit what I am aiming at over such a distance?"

  Gawain shrugged. "A long time, depending on your natural talent."

  "There is the answer to your question, my friend. I am born into diplomacy and the world of southland politics. Just as you were born to rule, and have been taught the skills necessary to command respect, as well as martial practices."

  "Oh."

  "You see," Rak sighed, and picked Travak up and placed him on his lap. "If Brock of Callodon, for example, were to say: 'To Threlland! We must aid the Black Hills!' his forces would muster, and head north. But at the Jurian border? Word would reach Willam of Juria, word that a massive force of Callodonian warriors approached. In the long history between those two lands, there have been many wars."

  "It is a simple question of trust, surely?" Gawain protested.

  Rak shook his head sadly. "Trust yes, simple, no. A crown guards its throne and its people as jealously as Elvendere guards its forest. Sureties would be required, by means of which reparation and redress could be guaranteed in the event of...eventualities. In our example, who would feed the Callodon army as it marched north to aid Threlland? Who would recompense Jurian farmers for the beef that would be slaughtered to feed such a throng? And as for Callodon, what surety would they have that Juria would not take advantage of the fact that all Brock's forces were fighting in the Barak-nor?"

  "As I said. A question of trust."

  "As you said. If my neighbour asked to cross my garden to aid another neighbour, I, trusting him, would permit the passage without let or hindrance. But I and my neighbour have grown up together, and are good friends, and there is neither envy nor enmity between us, nor any history of such. If a stranger asked the same right, would I not naturally regard him with suspicion? Ask questions, have him watched, make arrangements for recompense should he damage Merrin's vegetables or flowers in his crossing?"

  Gawain nodded sadly.

  "Where kings are involved, the same principles apply, and that means politics, and wizards, and treaties, and formal alliances and agreements. Eryk made a telling point, my friend. Suppose Juria permitted Callodon to pass through their lands, but demanded command of that army? Can you see Brock of Callodon handing over control of his forces to Willam? Can you see Callodonian men-at-arms obeying Jurian orders? It is complex. Thus Eryk called you a boy. You are young, and in matters of politics, a child. It was not meant as offence, Traveller. It was an honest appraisal, and a fair indication of the response you may expect from the Kings' Council, should one indeed be formed."

  "There is no time for politics, friend Rak."

  "I know. Yet it is unavoidable. I fear Eryk was also correct when he said things would be different if you had five hundred Raheen cavalry lending weight to your words."

  "I have nothing behind me but ash, and dust."

 
"And friends, Traveller."

  "Few enough of those."

  "One is all a man needs."

  Gawain sighed, and then a servant appeared in the doorway.

  "My Lord," the servant said quietly, "The wizard Allazar is without."

  "Please send him in, Darrin, he is welcome as always."

  Moments later, Allazar appeared, slightly breathless and flushed with apparent excitment.

  "I have news, my friends," he beamed. "A message!"

  "Sit, friend Allazar, warm yourself." Rak indicated a chair, and Allazar hurried to it.

  "Brock of Callodon has sent word. Even now, he is with Willam of Juria, in the Castle Town of that land."

  "So quickly?" Gawain gasped.

  Allazar shook his head hurriedly. "No, he is there in response to my original message, before you travelled to Elvendere to bring your Lady out of Faranthroth. The snows clear late in the far south and Brock has only just reached Juria."

  "What of his army?"

  Allazar looked surprised. "His army? They remain in Callodon. Word has not yet reached the crowns from Eryk, it is far too soon."

  "Then how..."

  "You recall, Longsword, the messages Lord Rak dispatched when you returned from the Teeth? Brock answers that message. He travels north, and hopes to persuade Willam of Juria to join him. He brings no army, for the first messages spoke not of Morlochmen already in the southlands, but of a threat years hence."

  "I would that you blasted whitebeards could communicate the way Morloch's do. It is far quicker."

  Allazar stared at Gawain for a moment, and then gazed into the flames. "That requires aquamire, Longsword, which we do not possess, nor never shall, I hope."

  Gawain sighed. "There must be something we can do to speed them here. To circumvent this...this damned politics that stands like a farak gorin between need and action."

  Allazar glanced at Rak, who simply shrugged, and went back to keeping Travak happily occupied.

  "Brock is a good man." Allazar said, at length. "And when he learns who you truly are, he will commit his forces, I am sure. He would do so anyway, for you rid his land of the Ramoths. Willam of Juria too, owes you his very life. Mornland and Arrun are a gentle people with few military resources, though I do not doubt they will gladly offer all they can. It is upon Elvendere, though, that our hopes are truly pinned."