The Cloven Land Trilogy

by Simon Kewin

  The Lord of Misrule laughed at her response, as if she'd told a good joke. The Doge, however, simply shook his head. “It seems you've been listening to the dire warnings of one of the mancers. Strange for a witch. Ah, but of course, that one is actually your son, isn't he? The son of a witch and an Angere wyrm lord.”

  “This has nothing to do with Ashen,” said Hellen, “and everything to do with the ice on the An. Most likely it has already frozen from bank to bank farther north. Tell me, how far have you walked out? How far west does your ice stretch?”

  “Surely not all the way to the Lost Land.”

  “You know that do you?”

  The Doge looked thoughtful for a moment, and Cait thought he was going to relent. “Eldest,” he said, “we of Guilden may, regrettably, have little time for the old ways, but it pains me that you disapprove of us so much.”

  “I don't disapprove of you. You have every right to carry on like idiots. I'm simply trying to stop you being slaughtered.”

  The Doge stood. “Will you walk with me? From the top of the tallest tower you can see much of Andar. It is a good place to consider the state of the world, I find.”

  “Happily. Lead the way.”

  The Doge glanced at Cait. “And your companion? Do you have your own underling to mimic you, too?”

  Hellen spoke before Cait could get a word out. “Cait is a witch from another world. She has suffered much, battled much in our defence. She has crossed all of Angere, and the An too, to be here. She has faced death and horror. She is no underling, Doge.”

  Instead of taking offence at the clear irritation in the Hellen's voice, the Doge dipped his head to Cait. “Forgive me. We are honoured and delighted to have you in Guilden, Cait.” The Lord of Misrule, standing beside him, bowed also, so low that his crown fell to the ground, scattering sticks and feathers to the floor. He proceeded to scoop up the scraps and stick them back in, dropping two more for each one he retrieved.

  The Doge took no notice of the fool beside him. “Then, if the two of you would like to accompany me, the Sun Tower is this way.”

  They walked together from the throne room, the Doge leading the way, the Lord of Misrule following, swigging from a bottle of wine. They climbed more stairs, winding in a helix, until they emerged in a bright, airy room, circular in shape, diamond-paned windows all around. It reminded Cait a little of a lighthouse. A narrow balcony ran round the outside. The Doge ducked through a low doorway and held it open for them to follow.

  Outside, the wind was immediately strong, gusting at them from all directions. The city of Guilden surrounded them, streets arcing out from the central square just as the painting in the Hall depicted. Muffled by the distance, Cait could hear the background roar of the throng, their conversations and shouts and footfalls. Occasionally the breeze brought with it a scent of cooking meat or spice. Beyond the city on one side lay the frozen An, the temporary town of stalls and tents. On the other side, evergreen forests swept away to climb the foothills of the distant mountains. It was beautiful, the air so clear it seemed to bring everything into sharper focus. Looking at it, it was truly hard to believe anything could threaten it.

  The Doge gazed out over the Ice Fair. “Tell me, Eldest, do you know how long Guilden has stood here?”

  “Long enough,” said Hellen.

  “Let me tell you. I know the wicca don't write things down much, but if you knew your history, you'd know this city has stood here for over six hundred years. In that time we've had fires and floods and storms strong enough to topple our towers. But we're still here. Guilden will always be here. A bit of ice won't finish us off. Nor will some fairytale monsters from the Lost Lands.”

  “And how will you keep these fairytale monsters at bay when they attack?”

  “We have defences. We have guardsmen and watchmen. See the line at the edge of the city? Those walls are solid stone and ten feet high.”

  “And will they be manned during the revelries?”

  The Doge smiled. “The guards may be a little less assiduous it is true. But the walls will remain as strong and tall as ever I believe.”

  “I see. And if the undain choose to march from the west, on the river side where there are no walls?”

  “Even if such a thing were possible, which of course has never happened before, we still have our defences. Do you see that clear line arcing across the bay? The Line of Fire we call it. A channel containing black powder and fish oil has been cut into the ice, enough to blast right through should any sort of attack come. We need only ignite it, and we'll have open water between us and the main river.”

  Hellen gazed out, considering. “Ingenious. How wide?”

  “How wide what?”

  “The channel – how wide a gap will it give you?”

  “Twenty feet.”

  “And you think that much water will stop the undain?”

  “It's well known that running water defeats sorcery.”

  “And how many guards do you have in total?”

  “Hundreds. And many of the citizens can be called up as militia if the need arises.”

  “Even if they are lying drunk in the gutter?”

  “Even then. During the three days things are different, of course. People are free to do as they wish. But if there were an attack” – his tone made it quite clear he thought such a thing unlikely – “I'm sure they'd want to come to the defence of Guilden. It would be a brave invader who tried to interfere with the revelries of the Ice Fair.”

  Hellen didn't speak for a moment. She walked around the circular balcony, gazing over Guilden, the wind making her grey hair lash about.

  When she returned to the Doge she said, “You seem to know much about witches and sorcery. However, let me point out one or two small mistakes. Firstly, Guilden has been here for only three hundred years. There was a city six hundred years ago but it was ten miles farther north and was swept away by the great flood. I know that because it is written in the records at Islagray. As it happens I do know a bit about our history. I also know that the undain will laugh at twenty feet of running water and simply leap over. Just as they will leap over or smash through walls ten feet high. When they come a few hundred guards, a few thousand city folk will be able to do nothing at all. We of Islagray will do what we can to help, but it won't be much either. If you want my advice, you should abandon the Ice Fair and start organizing people into a proper army. As I've suggested to you before.”

  The Lord of Misrule, standing beside the Doge, put his hands to his ears, feigning horror at Hellen's words.

  The Doge also appeared to be unconcerned. “You really believe that all this, mighty Guilden is in danger?” He indicated the scene with a sweep of his arm. “The city is vast.”

  His words amused Cait. Guilden might be large by Andar standards, but it was nowhere near the size of cities back home. “I've seen the undain army,” she said. “Seen their numbers, seen what they're capable of. Hellen's right. Your walls and ditches will be utterly useless. Your people will die.”

  “Half of Andar has conveniently gathered here to be slaughtered or enslaved,” said Hellen. “You have to do something.”

  The Doge smiled at them both as if they were amusing children and shook his head. “Well. I'll be sure to discuss your concerns with the captains of the Guard. Now, unless there's anything else, perhaps you'll excuse me? Regrettably, an Ice Fair doesn't organize itself. And do, please, enjoy all that Guilden has to offer while you are here, yes?”

  Hellen began to turn away from him, but then she stopped. “You know, you still haven't answered my question.”

  “Question?”

  “When I came in I asked which of you was the Doge and which the Lord of Misrule. I'm afraid I'm none the wiser.”

  She turned and strode away, Cait following closely behind.

  8. The Ice Fair

  Cait found Nox by the northern wall of Guilden, scowling at the scene around him.

  “Come to man the barricades?
” he asked.

  “Would it help if I did?”

  Nox shrugged and called to one of the men upon the wall, directing him angrily to move farther along. Nox had taken control, started organizing the defences, arranging formations. He looked stressed and exhausted. He also looked like he was enjoying himself immensely.

  “You found some people to order around then?” asked Cait.

  “A few. Not enough. Ninety percent of the people in this city are too busy enjoying themselves to care. Maybe five percent believe there's an invasion coming and are willing to stand and fight.”

  “What about the other five percent?”

  “They're the real idiots. They believe the undain are coming and they welcome it. They're like Andar goths, embracing the darkness. You know, kids like you and Danny.”

  She ignored his gibe. “So how are the defences looking?”

  “They'd look a lot better with some modern weaponry. If I had a tenth of the arsenal Genera keeps at the refinery we could slaughter the undain before they reach the walls. As it is we have swords and spears and all sorts of other weapons that are basically pointed sticks made from metal.”

  “Don't you still have your gun?”

  “Oh, sure. Just no bullets to fire from it. At least we'll get some warning of attack now. I've posted forward guards, manned with horns to raise the alarm.”

  “And then?”

  “We'll fight as best we can. Now at least the defenders are all singing from the same hymn-sheet.” He flashed a grin at Cait, like he knew a really exciting secret. “Plus there are the barrels of black powder I unearthed in the cellars they laughably refer to as the armoury. Most of it was for fireworks or the Line of Fire.”

  “Black powder?”

  “It's basically gunpowder. Although quite how a society invents gunpowder but not cannon or rifles escapes me.”

  “You can still use it on the undain?”

  “We're setting up fire pits we can explode under them as they approach. Hellen's witches will come in handy. Apparently some of them can send a spark shooting through the air to set the barrels off. Spells used to light ovens and log fires that we can put to a better use.”

  “You can't bury gunpowder in the ice.”

  Nox scratched the stubble on his chin. Somehow, despite their situation, he had managed to keep it fashionably short. “True. We've got more guards with horns to raise the alarm if anything comes that way. If they do, the witches and mancers will start blasting them with, you know, fireballs or whatever nonsense it is you do.”

  “You should put witches who can sense the undain with the forward guards. Might give you a little extra warning.”

  He nodded his head, like he thought she'd actually said something sensible for once. “I'll talk to Hellen, see who's available.”

  “And will it be enough?” asked Cait. “Can we keep them out?”

  Nox shrugged. “Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to be wildly optimistic?”

  The following day, a procession of fire snaked its way across the ice from Guilden. The Lord of Misrule led the way, waving to the gathered crowds with exaggerated self-importance. Seemingly oblivious, a dog lay on the ridiculously long cape he trailed behind him. It barked at the crowds with enthusiasm as it was pulled along.

  Behind, a long procession of revellers walked onto the ice, many carrying smoking torches that filled the night air with scents of pine-resin and honey. Some wore skates on their feet, metal runners like those Smoke on the Water had sprouted. Others had tied metal frames to their shoes with lines of little spikes underneath to give them grip. Everyone was muffled up in layers of wool and fur, but their eyes were bright, reflecting the thousand lights of the torches and lanterns of the Ice Fair.

  The processions walked toward a line of unlit bonfires, rising like a small mountain range along one bank of the bay. Each district of Guilden built their own fire, a competition to discover who could create the biggest and who could decorate theirs with the most outlandish effigy. The crowds cheered as the Lord of Misrule walked down the line, setting each bonfire alight. Flames licked up the sides of them. Some were truly enormous, fifty or sixty feet tall. Several had an effigy of the Doge in a golden chair on top but others were crowned with exaggerated monsters that were, perhaps, their builders' idea of the undain.

  Cait stepped back from the fires as the flames took hold, the raging yellow lighting up the faces of the assembled crowds. It was strange and troubling to be surrounded by so much merriment. She wished she could enjoy it all. Wished she could lose herself in the celebration and forget what was coming. They hadn't managed to persuade anyone that the threat from the undain was real. The people of Guilden were too busy having fun to notice their world ending. Ran had returned from the wilds two days previously to report no sign of an approaching army, but it had done little to reassure her.

  Danny, holding her hand, stepped back with her. “Any sign of the others?”

  “Nox is still at the walls, ordering people about. I saw Johnny a while ago. He was supposed to be watching for trouble, but someone had given him another lute and made him start playing. He didn't look too upset.”

  “Apparently the minstrels compete for the crowds too,” said Danny. “The one who writes the catchiest Ice Fair song, the crowd favourite, is crowned as the king of something or other.”

  “It is all pretty crazy,” said Cait. “Wish we could have come and just enjoyed it.”

  “Yeah.”

  There had to be thousands on the ice now, people of all ages, the entire population of Guilden seemingly. A hubbub of voices filled the night air: shouts, laughter, the occasional scream. Cait wondered if they were screams of delight or terror. Each time she thought it had to be the start of the attack, but each time it turned out to be nothing worse than drunken revellers chasing each other.

  “Have you seen Hellen?” She had to almost shout in Danny's ear to make herself heard above the roar and crackle of the fires.

  “Not for a while. She said she had to commune with the powers that be.”

  “What powers?”

  “Haven't a clue. You know what she's like.”

  Arm-in-arm they walked away from the fires to the main street of the Fair, a wide, straight road with the other streets curving off it. Mainway it was called. They walked past a fire-breather, billowing great clouds of red flame into the night sky to roars of appreciation from a crowd of onlookers. He was no mancer; like any fire-breather back home, he spat out sprays of some oily, flammable liquid to produce his flames. The brief warmth on her face was very welcome.

  “Drink?” said Danny. “Something hot?”

  “Something hot would be good,” said Cait.

  A spice merchant had set up next to the fire-breather, doing a roaring trade in cups of steaming liquids of various descriptions. Mulled wines and ales were doing particularly well. A sign above the stall declared the owner to be Merdoc, Supplier of spices to the Witches' Isle. There were copper vats set along his stall from which he dispensed his drinks to the crowds.

  “Something to keep the cold out,” said Cait to the merchant when it was their turn. “But we need to keep clear heads.”

  The merchant considered his stocks. “The fireseed and lovespice cordial is very popular. The spices come all the way up the Spice Route, thousands of miles from the distant lands of Azandia.”

  “Lovespice?”

  “So-called because it is so sweet, like a lover's touch, yes?”

  “Uh, yes,” said Cait. “I suppose so. We'll take two.”

  As the merchant poured their drinks he looked up into Cait's face and stopped for a moment, looking puzzled.

  “What is it?” asked Cait.

  He resumed pouring. “Nothing, nothing. Forgive me. You reminded me of someone. Someone I met on the road here.”

  “Who?”

  “A wicca called Fer. I don't suppose you know her?”

  “Yes. A distant relative.”

  “A
h. Tell me, is she well? She did me a great service, protected me on the road. But when I last saw her she was in a bad way, lost to the world on the Witches' Isle.” Merdoc leaned in closer so no one else would overhear. “We were attacked by one of the undain. Can you believe it? Flew clear across the An. Never seen the like.”

  “The last I saw her she was fine and well,” said Cait.

  “Ah, good. Is she here?”

  “No. She's gone off on a long journey.”

  “I see,” said Merdoc. “A shame. I hope to see her again one day so I can thank her properly. And that Hellen Meggenwar. Very kind to me, she was, very proper. I don't care what folks say around here. Lots of them laugh at the witches and all the old ways but I'll hear none of it.”

  “Then … you've heard the warnings about Angere? The coming of the undain?”

  Merdoc nodded. “I've heard them. Who hasn't?”

  “Yet you're still here?”

  “If the stories aren't true then I can't afford to miss out on the Ice Fair. And if they are, well, I suppose it doesn't make any difference one way or another does it?”

  “No. I suppose not.” Cait sipped at the liquid Merdoc had poured her. It was delicious: fruity and spicy at the same time. She could feel it warming her insides as she drank.

  “That's wonderful, thank you. How much do I owe you?”

  “Please, my treat,” said Merdoc. “Any relation of Fer and so on, yes? Now you take care out here. No knowing what goes on out on the ice, yes? And I'm talking about the people of Guilden, not the undain.”

  “We'll take care. Thank you, Merdoc.”

  They sipped at their drinks as they walked farther from the land. A line of ice sculptures had been carved there, beautiful ghostly figures in the shapes of trees and dragons and men with deer-antlers growing from their heads. Like the fountain in the Golden Square, the sculptures had been lit with thousands of tiny sparkling lights that seemed to be frozen within. Cait and Danny walked around them, marvelling at their beauty.