The Cloven Land Trilogy

by Simon Kewin

  “Hellen,” he said, his voice little more than a rasp. “I came as soon as I could. Forgive me.”

  Hellen didn't reply for a moment. She was panting heavily. Finally she stood, arranging her hair into some sort of order with her fingers. “Well, well. It's about time you came back, Borrn.”

  The old wyrm lord, Ashen's father, kicked at the remains of the undain. “I've tracked this abomination south for many miles. It seems our old rider blades have some power against them after all. That is good to know.”

  Hellen walked up to him, studying him in the glow of the werelight. “So here you are, alive after all. And all this time you've been too busy, have you? Too preoccupied to even visit your son?”

  Borrn held out his hand. It was shaking noticeably. “I ask you again to forgive me. I have travelled far and wide. I have seen much and suffered much. I was unable to return any sooner. I have been … imprisoned.”

  “We scoured the aether for you.”

  “It is a long tale, Hellen, but I give you my word. I would have come back if I'd been able. Tell me, how is Ashen?”

  “He's alive and well. Gets his looks from you and his sense from me.”

  “He's near?”

  “He's at Islagray. A mancer of Guilden now.”

  That surprised the old wyrm lord. “Truly?”

  “Truly.”

  “Then, as soon as I've reported to Caer L'dun I must seek him out.”

  “Yes, you must.”

  “Will you come south with me?”

  Hellen shook her head. There was something in her face Cait had never seen before. A tenderness as she looked at this ragged, battle-worn dragonrider. A tenderness despite her apparent anger at him. “I wish I could. But we're heading north to face the undain.”

  “To face the undain?”

  “To face them or slow them as much as we can. The riders will defend Caer L'dun. It's up to us to protect Guilden and Hyrn's Oak and every other town down the An.”

  “You will never succeed,” said Borrn. “I've been watching for them in the high north, far beyond the borders of Andar. I've seen them coming. There are too many. This one was only a spy, scouting out the land for the main army.”

  “I know,” said Hellen. “It is hopeless. Still, we have to try. Make your report to Axana, give them what guidance you have. Then you should go to the Isle to see your son. While you can.”

  Borrn stepped closer. He touched Hellen on the side of her face. “And you?”

  To Cait's surprise, Hellen didn't sweep his hand away. “Perhaps I'll get back there too. Perhaps I won't.”

  Borrn nodded, as if this were exactly what he'd expected. His weariness seemed to weigh him down for a moment. “Very well. I am happy to have seen you at least one more time, Hellen Meggenwar. All these years I have thought of you and Ashen often.”

  “And I you.”

  The rider lingered for a moment longer, a faint smile on his face. Then, with a nod at Cait, he turned to lope into the shadows of the trees.

  Hellen kicked the remains of the undain into the river. “Well,” she said after a moment. “You just never know who you're going to bump into on the road do you?”

  “He's a fine looking man,” said Cait. “In a rugged, outdoorsy sort of way.”

  Hellen narrowed her eyes as she studied Cait. She looked like she was about to say something scathing, but changed her mind. “We'd better get back to the boat. We both have more important things to worry about, don't we?”

  “How did you even find me?”

  “I found the others by the tree and they said you'd wandered off for some fresh air. Don't do it again. At the very least take Ran or someone with you. Haven't you noticed it's not safe in Andar any more? Not for any of us but especially not for you.”

  Six of them in the boat once more, they set off from Hyrn's Oak the following morning. Hellen spoke little, lost in her own thoughts. Whether it was because of Borrn or because of her conversations at Caer L'dun, Cait didn't know. She had overtaken the other witches the day before, along a wooded section of the road hidden from the river. The boat would get to Guilden first.

  The blocks of ice they encountered on the river soon became so numerous that they took to weaving around them to make further progress. The biggest chunks were out in deeper waters, but soon the shallows were covered with sheets of ice, and all they could do was plough through. Their progress slowed.

  “Surely we could move into slightly deeper waters?” said Nox. The inactivity of the journey hadn't suited him, and he'd grown more and more irritable. “We're getting nowhere cracking through this ice.”

  Hellen, lost in her own thoughts, didn't reply.

  “Too dangerous,” said Johnny. “If we go any farther out we'll risk the serpents. With all this ice it's hard to make a dash for the safety of the shore.”

  “You know that for sure do you?”

  “Not at all,” said Johnny. “But fortunately Smoke on the Water does.”

  “We're never going to get there at this rate. How far is it to Guilden anyway?”

  “Two, three more days.”

  “Great,” said Nox, muttering, but loud enough for them all to hear. “What an enjoyable trip this has turned out to be.”

  Soon the ice became so thick that they ground to a complete halt. The eyes on the golden figurehead closed, as if it were exhausted. “So what now?” said Danny. “We walk the rest of the way? Might have to backtrack a little so we can reach the bank.”

  “Actually,” said Johnny, “I think there's a better way. This is a magic boat, right? It might be worth everyone getting out for a moment.”

  “Why?” said Nox. “What's going to happen?”

  “You'll see.”

  Hellen climbed out first, Ran leaping over the side to offer her a steadying hand. She scowled at his presumption but took his hand anyway. Cait trod warily, she and Danny holding on to each other, testing the ice with each foot before putting any weight on it. The cold crept through the soles of her feet. The six of them stood in a huddle, watching the boat, waiting for something to happen.

  “So, what?” said Nox. “We stand here and admire the paintwork?”

  “Watch,” said Johnny.

  The boat jerked and shook. Cait could feel the magic fizzing through it. Grating, harsh magic, utterly unlike anything she could work. The boat jumped once more, then flew fully round in circles, faster and faster, a blur of green.

  When it stopped, it had changed. Two metal blades ran the length of it, resting upon the ice. It was no longer a boat, but a sledge. The eyes of the figurehead were wide once more.

  “Cool,” said Danny.

  “Oh yeah,” said Johnny. “Now we can move more quickly. Reckon we'll be in Guilden late tomorrow.”

  “Very good,” said Hellen. “Unnatural magic, but handy, I'll give you that.”

  They set off again, the babble of water replaced by the hiss of ice. Cait still peered forward constantly, reaching out with her mind, expecting the undain to be revealed around each twist and turn of the river. More and more she stared into the west, conscious that the army could come for them from that direction too.

  They slid north all that day and the next, encountering nothing on the ice save the occasional long-legged bird padding around as if confused at where the water had gone.

  The sun was setting once again, heavy and red in the west, when they saw a cloud of billowing smoke around the next bend. Hellen stood, peering forward. The smoke was tinged orange by fires as it rolled over the ice toward them. They could hear its crackling, and the cries and screams of many people.

  “Guilden,” said Johnny.

  7. The Lord of Misrule

  Cait and Hellen pushed their way through the teeming streets of Guilden.

  They'd been there four days now. Cait had imagined Guilden burning when they'd approached. That the undain were already there, destroying the city, slaughtering the people. But the smoke and flame they'd seen were from one of
the huge conical bonfires set along the edge of the river. Each evening, to cheers from the gathered crowds, they lit another, a count down to the Midwinter festivals now only a week away. Already the ice on the bay was covered in stalls and tents and raised stages and arenas for games, all arranged into streets as if the city itself had spilled onto the river.

  Tall iron braziers, ornately decorated and set upon wooden platforms to keep the heat from the ice, had been positioned along the rows for illumination. Each evening there were more and more people out there, many on skates, whizzing along in groups or lines, taking part in races whose rules Cait couldn't begin to understand. Others sipped at hot, spiced wine or danced and cheered as groups of musicians performed a dazzling variety of musical styles.

  No one seemed to be remotely worried about the threat of the undain.

  The city was so crowded there were no beds to be had anywhere. A village of large communal tents had been set up on the ice to help house the hundreds of visitors flooding into Guilden. Taverns and hostels were completely full, as were all the wayhouses in the surrounding area. Fortunately, Hellen had the key to Ashen's quarters, three rooms at the top of a leaning, creaking wooden house near the docks. It was basic but had enough room for the six of them to sleep in. They laid out what bedding and matting they could find, although Ran seemed perfectly happy to sleep on the hard floor.

  It was a frustrating time for Cait and the others. They spent the first few days trying to warn people of what was coming, trying to make their voices heard. But the people of Guilden seemed too intent on enjoying the festivities to listen to dire warnings of their imminent destruction. Some simply shrugged as if to say what can you do? Others nodded as if they understood, explaining that, once Midwinter was out of the way, they would turn their attention to the threat. Many were simply too drunk to listen. In many ways, it was tempting to join in with the celebrations. The crowds in the streets were so good-natured, so intent on having a good time, it was hard not to get caught up in it all.

  On the third evening, Cait and the others gathered in their garret room to discuss what they should do. Shouts of laughter and the sing-song cries of the street-vendors provided a background chorus.

  “I will speak to the Doge,” said Hellen. “I've sent word to him, although there's been no response yet. These city rulers like to play their games. They think their little empires are the whole world. Tomorrow I will go there and make sure I'm heard.”

  For once, Ran spoke up. He stood by the window, glancing outside repeatedly as if he expected danger to threaten at any moment. “I will head north, out of the city, see if there is any sign of the undain army.”

  Hellen considered for a moment. “Will you take anyone with you?”

  “Best I go alone. I can move quietly and quickly. If I see anything I'll return with word. It may give us some warning.”

  “Very well,” said Hellen. “Johnny, you know people here. You should go out there and talk, listen for news and rumour, find out anything that might give us a clue about what the undain are doing.”

  Johnny lay ragdolled across some sacks of straw scattered on the wooden floor like cushions. He looked up with clear alarm at her words. “You think there might be Angere spies here?”

  “Could be. We know some of them can alter their appearance. Both Cait and I have seen them do it. For all we know there are hundreds out there now, reporting back to Menhroth on how best to take Guilden.”

  “But, you know, can't you and Cait spot them with your voodoo powers?”

  “It's hard,” said Cait. “Trust me, I've tried. The streets are too crowded. Even with the seeing stone, by the time you line up people with their auras, they've moved on and ten other people have got in the way.”

  “But you've seen them?”

  “It's hard to be sure.”

  “It's not only undain spies,” said Hellen. “There'll be people here arriving from the north all the time. Maybe you can pick up word of something. Anything might be useful.”

  “Network,” said Johnny. “Got it, I'll try. Danny, want to come with?”

  Danny nodded. He and Johnny had struck up a close friendship, bromancing around the fair together while Cait worked with Hellen.

  “And what do you have planned for me?” asked Nox.

  “You're good at strategy,” said Hellen. “Guilden clearly isn't ready for an attack, but perhaps you could assess the state of its defences, see where the weakest spots are?”

  Nox nodded. “Shouldn't take long. What about the others from Islagray? Where are they?”

  “They're here. There aren't many of them, but perhaps they'll be able to do something when the moment comes.”

  “Yeah,” said Nox. “Perhaps.”

  “Well,” said Hellen. “Then, assuming we survive the night, let's see what tomorrow brings.”

  Cait and Hellen crossed the wide, cobbled square that lay at the heart of the city. In its centre, a round fountain sprayed water high into the air. When the coldest weather came the water in the fountain froze completely, a column of ice that the mancers lit up with a thousand dancing, glimmering lights. Ahead of them, the palace was an ornate stone building, its many towers making it resemble a vast crown, windows glowing red and blue for jewels. The entire square was called the Golden Square because of the palace's gilded spires. In the centre of the façade, thirty feet up, she could see the jutting balcony where the mancers and the Doge appeared for the Ice Fair pronouncement. Cait imagined the whole square thronged with revellers earlier that year when news of the snows came. The scenes of delight Ashen had described.

  The square was busy enough now even though it was still early. The background chatter of a hundred conversations filled the air. Did no one understand what the coming of the ice meant? No one seemed at all concerned. Queues of customers snaked up to the stalls selling spiced breads, the smells delicious.

  Hellen was not in a good mood, cutting through the crowds as if they were little more than annoying bushes in her way. At the Palace gates guards blocked her, demanding to know her name, her business. Hellen gave them short shrift, glowering as she told them who she was and pushing on through. Cait followed in her wake.

  They found themselves in an echoing hall that was just as crowded as the square outside. A line of red-robed secretaries sat at desks upon which were set out enormous ledgers. The secretaries were attempting to field shouted requests from the crowds of gathered merchants and travellers, occasionally scribbling things in the ledgers with quill pens. Many of the supplicants held out rolls of parchment which they banged on the desks to attract the attention of the secretaries. Handfuls of coins were exchanged, sometimes slammed onto the tables, sometimes slipped across discreetly as the merchants and performers vied for the best sites for their stalls and pitches.

  Hellen pulled Cait past the hubbub, ignoring demands for them to join the queues and await their turn.

  They climbed a flight of wide stone steps to reach a grand hallway, sunlight slanting in to light up gilded pillars. More guards stood there, holding wooden staffs with curved blades attached to them. They wore extravagant gleaming helmets, feather plumes curving from them. Hellen didn't hesitate, walking into the hall before anyone could stop her.

  The columns held up an ornate roof where a map of the whole of the city of Guilden had been painted. Cait peered upward as she and Hellen crossed the hall. The detail was incredible: each street and house visible, each boat on the An, even the people and dogs in the streets. By some magic everything moved. The tiny people flowed through the squares and alleys and smoke rose from flickering braziers. Birds soared across the scene. She searched for a miniature Danny and Johnny somewhere in the throng but couldn't pick them out.

  Two thrones sat at the far end of the hall, both occupied. In the larger one, highly decorated and set with jewels, sat the man who was clearly the Doge, his dress ornate, all finely stitched purple and gold. A crown like the palace in miniature sat atop his head. Cait couldn't he
lp wondering how heavy it was.

  Next to him, in complete contrast, sat a ragged man on a rickety, lopsided chair. He wore patchwork clothes and a crown in the same shape as the Doge's, but fashioned from twigs and straw. Instead of jewels, stuffed birds and fish eyes adorned it. Where the Doge carried a short golden staff, the symbol of his power, the other carried what looked like a dried fish of a similar size. Both men studied Hellen and Cait as they approached.

  “So,” said Hellen. “Which of you is the Doge and which the idiot Lord of Misrule?”

  Hellen had explained it all to her. For the period of the Midwinter, for the solstice and the day either side, the Doge formally handed control of the city over to the Lord of Misrule, whose role was to oversee the merriment and chaos. For those three days, the Lord's word was law, not the Doge's. In the week beforehand, the Lord of Misrule shadowed the Doge, poking fun at all the ceremony and pomposity, making his preparations for tricks and games and celebrations. The Doge was elected for a period of ten years but a different Lord or Lady of Misrule was chosen from the people each year.

  It seemed like a good system, maybe one they should try back home. According to Ashen, Guilden was a completely safe, law-abiding place for the rest of the year. Allowing people to let their hair down for three days appeared to help keep the peace the remaining time.

  The Doge leaned forward, a disapproving expression on his face. The ragged Lord beside him mimicked the Doge's movements, copying also his sombre glower.

  “Well, well,” said the Doge. “The famous and terrible Hellen Meggenwar. It is rare indeed for the Queen of the witches to visit us here in Guilden. How may we be of assistance?”

  “I am no queen,” said Hellen, “as well you know. And you know also why I'm here, I think.”

  “You've come for the celebrations?” asked the Lord of Misrule. “Come to join in the dancing and debauchery?”

  “Dancing and debauchery would suit me very well,” said Hellen, “if it wasn't for the undain army marching across the ice from Angere to kill us all. I find mass slaughter spoils a celebration. Don't you?”