by Greg Curtis
This one unsettled him as well, though in a different way. The other horrified him. This … called to him somehow. As if he was supposed to find that windswept crag. Become part of that ceremony. Though he didn't know where it was or why he would want to go there. He certainly didn't know what he was supposed to do when he got there. Was the dream a sign that he should seek out the feminine presence? He didn't know if she was even human. He hadn’t seen her face nor heard her voice – unless of course her words were the thunder. He had only felt her. How, he didn’t know.
Still, the sun was rising, the sky was blue, and warmth was returning to the land. Briagh shook off the last of the fragments of the dream and let its memory slowly fade. The dark vapours lifted like mist in the sunshine. And that he thought was as it should be. He was a man. He had no place for dreams in his life. Not even nightmares. Besides, he had a lot of sleep to catch up on. After weeks on the trail getting here, catching only a few stolen hours of sleep here and there he was exhausted. This was the first night he'd actually made it all the way through to the dawn. He should be grateful for that mercy.
Briagh got up and started tending to the ashes of the fire. It had burnt out as he had slept. But at least here there wasn’t the bone chilling cold of Abysynth, and he didn’t feel too cold, even in his little camp. A roof would have been good, but the canvas sheet was good enough for the moment. This was a warmer land than Abylon, and spring was finally here. Celes' head had obviously started burning a little brighter, bringing some much needed heat to the world. Still, the warmth of the fire was nice and he tended to the fire, stoking the flame and then adding a little more wood. A few deep puffs over the ashes soon revealed some embers underneath which glowed orange, and it wasn't long before the twigs he had tossed on top of them had caught fire. After that it was just a matter of putting the split logs on top of them and waiting for the fire to burst into full life.
While it did that Briagh tended to his morning ablutions and then filled up the kettle with water from the nearby stream. By the time he had done so the flames were burning brightly and he hooked the kettle on to its stand over the fire and let the water heat. Then he put the remaining strips of salted bacon and a couple of eggs he'd bought on top of the flat cooking stone, and waited for them to cook. He had to admit that his breakfasts lately had been an improvement.
He was however, acutely aware that he was running out of food. He needed to return to the town and buy some. But did he want to do that? Even though no one had come for him in the days following his arrival as he'd feared, he still wasn't sure that he wanted to risk facing them again. Not when they all knew he was a morph.
Yet did he want to leave either? That was the question that he'd been wrestling with for days. He could just pack his bag and go – but where would he go to? There was no safety for him back in Abylon. Not from the people. And now it seemed not from the wolves either. But he hadn't yet thought to find out what land lay east of Wynde Par. Whether it might be one where he could live without fear. He needed to ask.
There was one other thing he needed to find out about. There were other morphs here. Somewhere. He should probably find out where. It would be good to speak with others of his own kind. Maybe even others who might have fled Abylon.
For the moment though he was becoming comfortable here. Despite being exposed as a morph. No one had come. No one had threatened him despite knowing what he was. But was it safe for him to stay? And even if it was, for how long? Because he might not be staying in town, but he knew that the workers in the fields across the other side of the stream knew he was here in this copse of trees. Some had seen him using the stream to wash in and had raised a hand in greeting. But even if they hadn’t, the smoke from his fire would surely have given away his presence.
Maybe the priest had been right? Maybe no one really did care. Maybe there was no one more dangerous to his health here than the pair of ugly turkeys that seemed to want to raid his camp for food scraps whenever they could. He wanted to believe that. But it was so hard to accept after a lifetime spent running and hiding.
Stay or go. Those were his choices. And he didn't feel safe with either of them. Yet there was no third option. Unless of course it was to go searching for a crag on the top of a cliff and a strange woman he had never seen.
Briagh settled instead for eating his breakfast when it finally cooked – that was the problem with using flat cooking stones, they took forever to heat through – and then drinking his tea. After that he he remained sitting for a time, his back leaning against a tree while the sun shone brightly down on his face. And he concentrated on doing nothing. That was all he'd really been doing since he had arrived in this land anyway. Sitting and worrying while nothing he worried about ever happened.
Eventually though he came to a decision as the sun rose higher and his breakfast digested. He'd had enough of sitting doing nothing. And he was out of bacon, bread and cheese.
With that Briagh started damping the fire and emptying the pack out so it could hold more food. Once done he walked out of the clearing and through the small copse of trees to the road leading into town. It was time to be bold. It was time to have a little faith in these people. And if it all turned bad, to remember that he was a morph. If nothing else he was faster than they were.
Chapter Eighteen
Two and a half weeks of hard riding brought Elan to the Ellys Gorge and the ancient stone bridge that crossed it. She was relieved to see it. Because on the other side she knew lay both her safety – the soldiers from Abylon would never dare cross into Wynde Par – and her quarry. In fact she suspected he had possibly crossed this very bridge himself. Although there were a dozen bridges that spanned the gorge, this one was the closest to Abysynth, and where she’d last seen him before he'd escaped her.
Of course he could have taken another bridge. There was one barely ten leagues from this one. But it wouldn't have mattered if he had. She wasn't tracking him. She couldn't. Even if she'd been skilled in tracking there was no trail left for her to follow. She was not going to find him that way. Rather she was going to have to use a different tactic. One she almost felt like a criminal for even thinking of using.
Elan would use her title and position to get what she wanted done. Even if that title and position were currently somewhat in doubt. But the morph had to be caught. Caught, interrogated and executed. And since she couldn't do that herself, the fae would have to do it for her. At the least they'd have to find him. They wouldn't do that for a strange human woman who'd crossed into their land. But for a Princess of Abylon? That was a different matter.
Before making the crossing Elan took a little time to make herself more presentable. Carefully she washed off what grime she could from the trail and then ran a brush through her hair. That done she changing her heavy riding cloak for a more presentable one. One with a proper ermine fur trim and which bore the emblem of the rampant cockatrice on the breast as well as on the back of the cloak. She also placed a blanket bearing Abylon’s emblem over the rump of her horse. Ceremonial riding cloaks and blankets always impressed. Wearing her armour she guessed she still didn't look much like a Princess but at least she felt a little more presentable. There was no way anyone would mistake her for a commoner. In any case there was no way he could pretend to be one if she wanted to. The fae would know the truth. According to everything she had learned of them, their magistrates and lords always had a soothsayer present for important meetings. They would spot a lie.
Finally, satisfied with her appearance, Elan mounted her horse once more and crossed the bridge.
As short as it was the journey was a momentous step for her. For a start the trip felt significant, not least because it was the first time she was able to make her own decision and this one saw her leaving Abylon. Her Realm. The only home she had ever known. Elan let that understanding wash over her.
Here she knew she was safe from the will of the Court. They could not touch her. Not unless she chose to return to Abylon
. And that was something she would not do. Not when to return was to sacrifice her brothers, be hand-fasted to a monster and then give her kingdom into his hands.
But here there was far more for her. In Abylon she was a Princess with no power. Here she was a commoner with ironically enough, far more power. The fae allowed women to hold positions of authority. They could run businesses and lead towns and cities. They could head schools and take up positions in the armed services. And perhaps of most importance to her, women could choose whom they married. They could say no.
In Wynde Par she could live a true life instead of that of a pampered pet. Though ironically she wouldn't be a princess since they had nobles but no royals. And even the power of the nobles was limited. They might have wealth and authority, but most of the running of the fae realms was done by councils. She didn't understand quite how the two systems of rule worked together and who had authority in what matters – the magistrates or the lords – but she knew it was an archaic arrangement that had lasted over a thousand years. Obviously it worked. And the people seemed to accept it. At least she hadn't heard of a revolution in either of the nearer fae realms happening in centuries. Nor even of any great strife.
That was the gift of the realm to her. Here she could be safe from an unwanted hand-fasting to a man unworthy to be her husband. She could find some worthwhile occupation. She could perhaps even become the poet warrior she dreamed of being. And in time if she worked hard and made herself popular among the people, she could even be given the position of magistrate. The appointment was made by acclamation.
But she hadn't come here for that – which was just as well since there was always a price to be paid for gifts and she only knew a few of those that were part of living among the fae. But she had come here to find that accursed morph and finally finish the job she had begun. Once she had done her duty she would leave. She would have to. The fae wouldn’t want her to stay. Especially if they found out what she'd done. But they wouldn't harm her. Because even though they would be upset about her taking the life of someone in their land, they would let her go because she was royalty and they would not touch her. They would be angry with her though.
She supposed they would have reason to be upset. Because even though they didn't yet know it, they would help her in her quest to break their laws. And when they discovered what she had done they would consider that she had dishonoured them. And that they had dishonoured themselves by helping her.
That help arrived sooner than expected. Barely an hour after crossing into Wynde Par Elan saw the patrol heading her way. Thirty rangers at least, were riding toward her on their verdan horses.
Elan had expected a patrol to ride out to meet her, and that they would meet her long before she reached the nearby city of Egoli. Outsiders might imagine that it was luck. It wasn't. The fae might appear to be relaxed about military matters as they didn’t have an army, but that wasn't the case. They had a system of concealed watch towers with lenses and mirrors running the full length of their side of Ellys Gorge. And they watched every crossing of the bridges leading into their land. It was why she'd neatened herself before crossing. And why she was had chosen to don her cloak, marking her as royalty.
If she'd been just a simple trader crossing the bridge, no one would have come. But she wore the rampant cockatrice on her riding cloak, and the moment that had been seen someone had rushed to their tower, lit the fire and sent the message. There was an important visitor arriving.
Elan was pleased to see the rangers heading her way. Because she intended to use them in her plan. They would help her to find her quarry.
The chances were that the morph didn't know that the rangers were aware of where he was living. But then, not many knew that the fae were highly suspicious of strangers and kept a very close eye on any in their realm. In fact, they spied on everyone. Most people knew only the common gossip about them. That they were fastidiously neat, rigidly law abiding and unfailingly polite. Not that they were deeply suspicious and watchful.
Elan waited patiently for the rangers to reach her, not wanting to give them anything other than the impression that she was completely at ease. As Julius had told her many times, the illusion of calm was often more valuable than calmness itself. It made people think you had everything under control. Immediately they rode up she introduced herself, making sure she was the first to speak. Again, it was about looking as though she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Captain, I am Princess Elan Feldmight of Abylon. I come on behalf of my father King Harold the Good.”
Her words raised a few eyebrows among the rangers. They'd known that someone important was coming. But not that it would be a princess. And in this realm a princess was seen as being of more importance and authority than back in her home. These rangers probably imagined that she might actually one day rule the realm.
“Princess,” the Captain nodded respectfully to her, “I am Captain Hillaren of the Forty First rangers riding out of Egoli. Your pardon but we had not heard that an official visit was planned.” His eyes immediately darted to either side of the Princess, making the point that she was not accompanied by soldiers as she should be.
“One was not planned as you can see. I am here unofficially. But I have need to speak with your Lord on a matter that concerns both of our realms. Lord Daelyn of Egoli I believe.” She was lucky to have his name. Fortunately her people did keep her informed of such matters and so she knew the names of all the noble families of the nearest realms and cities. And Egoli was the nearest city. If Briagh had set up home in any of the nearby towns and cities, it would be the rangers under Lord Daelyn's command who would find him.
“Then of course we would be glad to escort you to Egoli to meet with him.”
The Captain made the offer immediately as was proper, and Elan accepted it. But as she rode with them back down the road to Egoli she knew the real challenge lay ahead. Soldiers obeyed. Nobles were not so obedient.
Chapter Nineteen
Egoli was a very different city to Abysynth. In fact, save for its size, Elan would have assumed it was a large town. That was her first impression of it at least as she crested the gentle rise that led to it.
There were no walls. No buildings towering five and six stories high. No churches and temples with their elegant spires. There wasn’t even much stone. Or rather what stone there was, was covered in lime plaster and white washed. But it was big. The city spanned at least two leagues in all directions, and houses and other buildings dotted the countryside liberally.
Most of them were small. Bigger than shacks, but smaller than the premises she was used to. But then most of them were private homes. Simple structures a story and a half tall, with the bed chambers built into the steeply angled roofs. Of course some of them were shops, though she could only tell that from the shingles plastered in front of them. They looked similar to the houses but had hitching posts and double doors for customers. No doubt the top floor was for offices and store rooms rather than bed chambers.
Two things immediately stood out to her about the city. The first was how clean and colourful it was. Every house had a garden in front of it filled with flowering bushes. She expected there were vegetables growing out back too. As for the streets there were grass with stones laid in here and there like paths. But it was the terracotta roofs that really made everything so colourful. She'd always known that the fae liked the clay tiles. But she'd never understood that they could stain them. So every house and shop had the same white walls and doors made of polished cedars and redwoods. But no two roofs were the same colour. Looking around the city she found herself staring at a rainbow of colours that jumbled together beautifully.
The second was the cleanliness. To say it was clean was an understatement. It wasn’t just that no one littered. It was also because none of the fires burnt coal. The fae disliked the stuff. So they burnt only wood, and thus there was little in the way of soot to land on any of the white walled buildings. Of course, that als
o meant there were no steam wagons in the streets hauling massive loads of freight. No private steamers either. And all the mills they'd passed on their way here had been powered by wind or water. This realm was primitive in many respects, and relied too much on magic. Which was all fine and useful, so far as it went. Steam and electricity were the future. Over time she thought, Wynde Par and the other fae realms would be left behind as those realms like Abylon which embraced technology, progressed.
One other thing that struck her as they rode through the city was the complete lack of fortifications. This was a major city. It should be protected. And yet it wasn't.
Where were the walls? She kept asking herself that as they rode. There should have been walls everywhere to protect the citizens in case of attack. And yet there weren't any. Instead they had small two story tall towers with ladders. Simple wooden structures that soldiers stood guard in. Soldiers armed with longbows rather than rifles. Among the rangers she expected longbows to be the norm, along with their phosphor bronze chain rather than good steel. They were quicker to use and had nearly the same range. But in the city she had expected cannon and rifles as speed of use was less important than the rang and sheer destructive power of the weapons.