by Ben Galley
The first day, the maid had gone to find the others, but they had been wrapped in war and terribly busy: Brightshow had gone with the others to Albion; gruff Eyrum had been too busy to talk; Farfallen wasn’t to be found; Svarta didn’t want to talk to her; Elessi refused to talk to Lerel; and Farden’s uncle made her feel uncomfortable, what with all his scars and those wild eyes of his, so she didn’t talk to him either. After spending an hour or two standing in the corner of a busy room and watching the whirlwind of activity, she had wandered back to her room, bored and quiet.
For a little while, Elessi had managed to keep herself busy by helping the palace servants cook and wash, but they were worried and distracted by their spouses or fathers or sons getting ready for war, and so for the most part they ignored Elessi, and kept to themselves. She had wandered down to the steam baths in the hope of helping with the fortress laundry, but on discovering that the baths had been turned into a bubbling potion-factory by a horde of witches, she quickly made her excuses and swiftly retreated.
And so the maid had wandered the mountain fortress for hours on end, watching the comings and goings of ever-stranger people. They congregated in corridors and halls, training and preparing, whispering in strange dialects and languages. She listened to the rumours floating around. They hovered on everybody’s lips: some of the spies had returned from Krauslung, newsless and weary. Message hawks were flying back and forth in their droves. Siren wizards had been dispatched to her native Albion to rouse the old quickdoors from their slumbers. The Dukes were setting sail. Elessi sighed. At that moment, the war was the only thing that mattered. There wasn’t a single person not caught up in it.
Except her.
Elessi didn’t pretend to understand what the Sirens were going through, how they felt seeing their relatives dressed in armour and pale-faced, the tension and uncertainty in the air. She had no relatives back in Albion to worry about. She had no concept of the numbers involved or the tactics or the odds of succeeding. She had never even been to Krauslung. All she understood was that this war was necessary, that it needed to be done, and like it or not, it would be done. She had to admire the Sirens’ bravery. She felt a little guilty that she wasn’t helping in some way. Then again, she asked herself, what could a humble chambermaid like her do to help? Apparently very little.
All of a sudden, a little after noon on the second day, Hjaussfen was emptied. Within an hour, the fortress went from a bustling, crowded hub of people and dragons to a subdued, hollow mountain, inhabited now by the refugees and the unfit: the too-old, the too young, and the too-weak.
Elessi stood on Farden’s balcony to watch the brave army leave; a fleet of dragons and riders the size of which had not been seen for decades. The sky was turned into a vibrating canvas of dazzling colours, of glinting armour and shimmering scales. The sight of it made the maid’s heart jump. Wings throbbed and boomed like war drums. The riders yelled and their dragons roared in a proud symphony. Steel clashed against shields and pounded on armour. The sound of the trumpets and horns had made the mountain shake beneath her feet and the cheering from the Sirens who stayed behind had almost deafened her. Such was the orchestra of war.
Far below her, tall ships and long ships and every other type of seagoing craft the Sirens could find, braved the tumultuous seas in an effort to sail for the mainland and war. The plucky fleet had left during a lull in the storm, and by the looks of it they had left just at the right time. Most of them managed to ride the vicious winds and waves to safety. A few were not so lucky.
It did not take long for the dragons and ships to disappear into the foggy east. The wind and rain came soon after. The Sirens had retreated into the mountain, and locked their windows and doors tightly.
Without its armies, Hjaussfen felt empty and cold. Tyrfing, Lerel, Farfallen and a handful of other dragons had remained behind for now, still gathering and manoeuvring what precious others they had managed to recruit. There had been no word of Farden, nor Durnus for that matter. Brightshow and Lakkin had returned the night before, bearing the good news from Albion. Elessi had greeted them along with the others, but Farden had not returned with them. She had retreated back to the mage’s room, even more irritated than before. Elessi didn’t want to talk to him, she just wanted to make him aware that she was upset.
Evening found the maid in no better mood. She was occupying herself with lighting the candles in Farden’s room. Elessi lit her last candle and placed it amongst the others next to the mage’s bed. There were no logs for the fire and so the candles were the only form of warmth she could find. There must have been a hundred of them in the room, clustering here and there on top of the bookcases and tables, perching on upturned bowls and plates, roosting on the windowsills. The smell of burning tallow and wick filled the room. Elessi sat in a chair in the corner of the room and watched them flicker. Despite all the little flames, she was still cold, and she shivered under her layer of blankets.
After half an hour, she grew bored of the room and its myriad candles. She would go to the great hall, she decided, and sit in front of one of the big fires to warm up. They were fed day and night with precious wood, and no doubt would be toasty and warm. She blew out the candles, one by one, which took an age, and then left, locking the door behind her.
The great hall was empty save for a few servants and a young white dragon that slept in a corner. It was obviously too young to be at war. Perhaps it was its milky white skin, but to Elessi it looked ill, weak even. If its hissing snores were anything to go by, the dragon was fast asleep and deep in dreams.
Elessi found a stool and went to sit by the nearest fire. Even over the roar of the fire, the maid could still hear the howling of the wolfish wind inside the chimney flue, and the pounding of the rain on the stone above. She was glad Hjaussfen was a fortress. The stormy weather outside was frightening. It assailed the mountain like an invading army.
As she sat there and pondered what she would do with herself over the coming days, while everybody was at war, or stranded in the mountain by the storm, or off gallivanting with cat-women, two figures, one small and one large, emerged from an adjoining corridor and strolled through the hall. Despite their whispering, their voices still echoed around the hall. Elessi turned to see the Old Dragon and Farden’s uncle, Tyrfing, ambling slowly across the stone floor. The old mage caught the maid’s eye and smiled politely. She raised a hand in a slow wave. She didn’t want to be rude after all, but she couldn’t help but be curious either. They were obviously having some sort of important conversation; she could hear snatches of it over the crackling of the flames. It sounded hushed and serious and there was an urgent tone in the dragon’s low rumblings that made Elessi’s ears tingle. She peeked over her shoulder and met the golden eyes of the Old Dragon staring back at her. She flinched and instantly looked back at the fire, pretending that she was stretching her neck. It looked so unconvincing that she winced as she did it. Elessi waited until their footsteps became distant, and then she began to follow them.
Buzzing with intrigue, and glad to have something to break her boredom, Elessi gathered up her white skirts and apron and tiptoed across the hall, keeping an eye on the white dragon snoozing in the corner, and sneaked a look down the corridor. Tyrfing and Farfallen had already disappeared around the next corner. As quietly and as softly as she could manage, the maid inched along the corridor, hoping to the gods that Farfallen wasn’t blessed with some sort of unnatural hearing. Being a dragon of course, he was, but luckily for Elessi he was concentrating on Tyrfing, and the soft sound of sneaking socks behind them went unnoticed.
Elessi followed them to the dragon’s chambers, where they paused in the corridor. Fortunately for her, there were no guards outside the Old Dragon’s doors that night, and only half the torches had been lit, filling the cavernous hallway with numerous little hiding places and dark nooks and crannies. She hovered in one of these shadowy places and waited for them to move inside. She could barely keep still. All this snea
king around was making her excited and nervous.
She didn’t have to wait long. Farfallen went in first, followed by Tyrfing, who looked up and down the hallway before he shut the doors. Elessi froze, and waited. Tyrfing made a thoughtful humming noise, as if he had forgotten something, shrugged, and then went inside. Elessi held her breath. Once she heard the thud of the huge latch, she scampered down the corridor. She crouched under the door-handles and put an ear to the thick, ornate wood. She could hear their voices, muffled and low, receding further into the dragon’s chambers. It was all going so well, she thought to herself. Who knew she had such a talent for sneaking around?
Elessi waited until their muffled voices had faded away. Then, like a pickpocket reaching for a purse, she reached for the door-handle, twisted it, and pushed the door inwards with her shoulder. It creaked noisily, and she winced. A whole minute passed and nothing happened. Elessi finally allowed herself to breathe. She pushed again, and this time the door opened without complaint. Shuffling on all fours, she crept into the warm room and made for the cover of a nearby table.
The dark room was empty. A single whale-oil lamp sat atop the table, and in the fireplace glowing embers slumbered. There was a door at the far end of the room, and it hung ever so slightly ajar, spilling a shaft of ochre lamplight on the stone. Through the gap she could see figures moving, one small and one large. There was silence for a moment, and then a man’s voice mumbled something. Elessi pursed her lips. She would have to get closer.
Quieter than a mouse, the maid crawled across the room and crouched by the open door. She avoided the shaft of light as though it were a sharp blade, and pressed herself up against the wall. She tucked her hair behind her ear and hugged the door-frame. Voices drifted to her eavesdropping ears like moths to lamplight.
‘There is wine on the shelf, if you would like some. Svarta likes it.’ This was a deep voice, cavernous and throaty like a dragon’s. Farfallen sounded tired.
‘Thank you, no, we’ve got so much to do tomorrow. I need to get an early night.’ This must have been Tyrfing, thought Elessi.
‘I have not slept for days.’
Silence.
‘Are you worried?’ Tyrfing again.
A sigh. ‘Worrying is a king’s vocation, mage, yet in this case worried would be an understatement. My thoughts have been haunted since you arrived. Not that you are to blame, but you were the herald of some disturbing revelations.’
‘One in particular.’
‘I counted two.’
‘Lerel delivered that.’
‘And who sent her?’
Another silence.
‘I have faith in both of them.’
The Old Dragon cleared his throat. It sounded like a fire being stoked. ‘You may have, mage, but I am finding it increasingly difficult. Everything they do, or rather fail to do, puts the lives of my Sirens in jeopardy.’ Another sigh. ‘This war will be costly for us all.’
‘It will, but if we’re successful, then it will be worth the loss.’
‘And that success again depends on them. To be honest with you, mage, it makes my scales crawl. Durnus I can excuse given his circumstances, but I wish Farden could have been honest with me. I should have seen it the day he washed up on my shores.’
‘Maybe I will have some wine.’
Someone rattled something. A glass was put down. Liquid gurgled. Someone sipped it. ‘So are you saying that you don’t trust Farden?’
‘I have never said that, but I cannot help but suspect failure. He is too close to her. He still loves her for gods’ sake, though I cannot imagine why.’
At this Elessi’s ears pricked up.
‘And Durnus?’
‘He is something else altogether.’
‘The lack of contact with them makes me nervous. Lakkin said he left them at their old Arkabbey. I can only hope Durnus explained everything to Farden. He was so adamant about the whole thing, about keeping it secret in case it failed. He always was a stubborn old man.’
‘Obstinacy seems to be a common theme with you people.’ Another sip of wine. Farfallen growled to himself. ‘I think I made the wrong decision charging Farden with this task. I am trusting you, do you realise that?’
‘To do what, Old Dragon?’
‘To do the right thing if Farden and Durnus fail.’
Tyrfing took a deep breath. ‘But… Farfallen, with Vice there, I… I would lose Farden if I did that. I only just got him back.’
‘Then so be it. You will have to swallow your fear like the rest of us. You know what is at stake.’ Farfallen sounded angry.
‘Of course I do! Ilios showed me that future, I don’t like it any more than you do.’
‘Then I trust you will do the right thing. The child must not be allowed to live.’
‘It puts me in one hell of situation…’
‘So does it all. I will give Farden one more day to rear his head. We are at war, Tyrfing, a war I thought was over when we killed the hydra. A war I never thought I would see us fight again. A war I thought was over almost thirty years ago! By Thron if I had known I would have torn his head off there and then.’
‘Even if you had known, Vice would still have ripped you to shreds, like he almost did, judging by that scar on your chest and what you’ve told me. None of us knew, not even me.’ Farfallen growled again, but not at the mage. Tyrfing took another sip of his wine. ‘Thank the gods for that gryphon. He has probably saved us all.’
‘If only he had seen the child sooner.’
Elessi eyes widened so much they hurt. She almost lost her balance.
‘Unfortunately for us, he didn’t.’
‘I wish Farden had trusted us enough to have told us about Cheska and that unborn creature of his.’ Farfallen raked his claws against the stone floor. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t trust, but shame that stopped him.’
‘Or hope.’
At this Elessi had to cover her mouth to stop from sobbing, or shouting, or both.
‘I could have come back from the desert sooner, Durnus could have been less stubborn, Farden could have followed the rules…’ Tyrfing’s voice faded off into a mumbling trickle of possibilities, none of which were true. Farfallen sighed once more.
‘Hindsight is a beautiful thing, mage. The past is for the memory, the present is for the mind. It is up to our claws and our wings, or in your case your hands and your magick, to right our wrongs.’
‘Then let’s hope we can. Farden most of all.’
‘Luck, and the gods, mage. For the first time in my life, I’m afraid,’ said the dragon.
Their voices carried on, but Elessi had given up on listening. She had heard all she could bear to hear. Sneaking all but forgotten, she walked to the door and left it open, trudging along the corridor with her hand still firmly clamped over her mouth. She didn’t trust herself to remove it, and her other hand was clenched into a fist.
Slowly, Elessi dragged herself to her room and locked the door tightly behind her. She walked into the bedroom, to the door to the balcony where the storm raged and howled. The rain hammered the window like a blacksmith. Ignoring it all, Elessi opened the door and stepped out into the wild weather. The wind tugged and grabbed at her clothes like a lecherous beast. The rain pelted and chilled her to the marrow. She didn’t care. She walked to the balcony’s edge and peered over at the black mountainside and the frothing sea far below it. A flash of lightning tore open the pitch black sky and purged the night of its shadows, and for a second Elessi could see everything in perfect clarity. Every rock, every stone. The clouds threw themselves together recklessly, hammering and rumbling.
She slammed her hands on the balcony railing, so hard that it hurt, and then, because there was nothing else left to do, she screamed at the top of her lungs, at the storm and at the sky and the sea. Elessi screamed at Farden and his useless self, for every time that mage had snubbed her and ignored her; she screamed at Durnus and at Albion; and she screamed at herself for being stupid and inadequa
te.
Finally she ran out of breath, and her scream died away to a sob. The maid slumped to the cold wet granite and tried to breathe. Her throat was raw. Elessi closed her eyes and let the rain pummel her face and her head and the backs of her hands and her legs, savouring its coldness.
Elessi sat there for what felt like an hour, until finally she forced herself to get up. Once again, she went to the edge of the balcony and stared down at the mountainside below. Another flash of lightning dissevered the sky and she saw the rocks, jagged and dangerous, beneath her. Thunder boomed again. Elessi shivered. What was the use of it all? she asked herself.
Without thinking, she lifted her skirts and herself up and over the railing until she sat straddling it, hands strangling the metal. Elessi closed her eyes, daring herself, and slowly, very slowly, she twisted so her other leg joined the first. Her socks were soaked and the granite was slippery but the lip of the balcony was just wide enough for her toes. Her hands were still stuck fast to the railing, and her knuckles were white from the cold. The wind buffeted her from all sides, goading her on with howls and jeering shrieks. Her curly hair whipped her face sadistically. Grimacing, Elessi opened her eyes and the view between her feet made a lump stick in her throat. Her heart pounded.
‘Gods,’ Elessi whimpered to herself, staring at the rocks below. ‘What am I doing?’ She shuddered and looked up, and found a man standing in front of her, on the other side of the railing. She jumped in shock and cried out as she lost her slippery footing, and for a brief moment the rocks below her seemed to open their jaws wide and lick their jagged lips.
But she did not fall.
Eyes wide in terror, Elessi looked up and found that her hands were still firmly gripping the railing, and the man held his own gnarled hands gently on top of hers. She scrabbled for a footing and just about found it, and, with strength she didn’t know she had, she hauled herself into a standing position. She hugged the balcony railing as though it was a long-lost friend. The man slowly released her and took a step backwards, folding his hands behind his back. Elessi looked up at him.