The Longsword Chronicles: Book 05 - Light and Shadow

by GJ Kelly

  When the cheering subsided, the ship’s bell rang again, restoring order.

  “Stand down!” Balhaggan shouted, and whistles were piped, weapons disassembled and taken below.

  In less than a minute, the Melusine looked as graceful and serene as ever, an aged maiden aunt homeward bound where before there’d been a spitfire harpy bristling with sharp weaponry.

  “Deck-rake?” Gawain asked the captain.

  “Aye, m’lud. It’s what the catapults are mostly for. Raking the decks, or launching fire into an enemy’s sails or onto their decks. You there,” Balhaggan called to a sailor, “Fetch me a bit o’ the deck-rake charge.”

  “Aye, Serre!” and the mariner disappeared below decks, returning moments later with an object he handed to the captain.

  “It’s not much to look at,” Balhaggan said, passing the wicked piece of heavy, jagged metal to Gawain. “But a bucket-load of it sweeping across the decks makes short work of the hardest of men.”

  Gawain grimaced, and handed the piece of shrapnel to Allazar, who quickly passed it Ognorm, who, when Reesen refused it, quickly passed it back to the captain.

  “Can you say why it wanted us aground, m’lud, or is that a matter for King’s Orders?”

  “I believe the reason for King’s Orders is the reason for it wanting us aground, Captain. That other vessel, too. The sooner we’re back in friendly waters, the better.”

  “Aye, m’lud.”

  Later, in the privacy of a cabin now a little more comfortable for three less men in it, the four of the Orbquest and Tyrane ate a frugal lunch, wary of surprising stomachs still sensitive to the ship’s motion.

  “You think it was seeking the Orb, Longsword?”

  “Yes. I fear the Goth-lord Maraciss did indeed learn of Berek’s plans to travel up the southern shore of Pellarn to the Eramak to take ship back to Zanatheum. Silence from the dark wizards we destroyed in the forest would’ve alerted Maraciss to the fact that Imperial forces, or the Pellarn Resistance, had acquired the Orb.”

  “Then our mates will have a tough time of getting ‘ome, melord.”

  “Not necessarily. If the enemy are still looking for ships, they won’t be looking ashore in the province of Armunland. I think if any three men could make it home, it’d be those three.”

  “Arr. ‘Ope so.”

  “What concerns me more is the sheer number of ‘spitsucking darkweasels the enemy seem to have at their disposal. Is there no end to the vakin things? We’ve faced more of them these past weeks than we did at the Battle of Far-gor!”

  Allazar sighed. “Our friend Jaxon told us of the darkness, sweeping down from the north. While we faced the Ramoth streaming south from the Teeth into our lands, perhaps in the west they faced streams of dark wizards pouring into theirs. And now, with the second rising of Goth-lords in the Empire, there is no telling how many infest the lands west of the river Ostern.”

  “Which begs a question,” Gawain stretched out his legs, leaning back against the bulkhead to the side of his bunk. “If it’s the Goth-lord Maraciss holding the south-eastern provinces of Goria, and Pellarn, who was it attacking the western flank of Elvendere in the north?”

  Allazar blinked. “Morloch, surely?”

  Gawain shrugged.

  “If indeed such an attack was made,” Tyrane said quietly. “We have no way of knowing if it was.”

  “Good point,” Gawain acknowledged.

  “Well,” Allazar yawned, “We have some sixteen days at sea to ponder such matters. And thereafter, it’s a long way back to Tarn.”

  “True,” Gawain sighed, the yawn infectious in the small cabin. “What day is it?”

  “Hmm? Today is the fifth day of April, Longsword.”

  “Then it’ll be the middle of June by the time we get back.”

  “Assuming his Majesty doesn’t have you all imprisoned for aiding and abetting men of the Imperial Guard in their trespass of Callodon,” Tyrane yawned in turn.

  oOo

  63. Surprises

  The voyage southeast from the Eramak to the southern tip of Callodon was uneventful save for two squally days and nights which had the five landlubbers confined to cabin, bunk and hammock. Those two days were a pitching, rolling, heaving misery for them, which left Balhaggan and his salty crew shaking their heads in wonder at the fragility of those who’d never put to sea but once. According to the captain, the weather lashing the deck and whipping the sea into a frothing, heaving mass was merely ‘bracing.’

  Once they’d rounded the headland and the prow swung northeast, progress was smoother and, apart from April showers, far kinder to stomachs still too sensitive for anything heartier than hard-baked biscuits and occasional frak or salt pork. However, by the time they put in to Port Yarris to take on water and provisions, even Reesen was finding his sea-legs.

  There was little for them to do during the voyage, except talk and read, with Ognorm and Reesen mostly engaged in the former, lessons in the common tongue undertaken with greater enthusiasm once sea legs were finally discovered. Gawain and Allazar spent a great deal of time on deck, discussing the contents of the compendium of things they hoped never to encounter, and remembering the shock and the horror of things they already had.

  The skin on Gawain’s hands and arms had returned to its normal hue, no outward signs of any injury at all. But still he had no feeling in either, though he was sure the uppermost extent of the numbness was creeping, albeit slowly, from elbow towards wrist. Allazar took this to be an encouraging sign, though the healing process seemed much slower than he’d expected.

  On the final evening of the voyage, Balhaggan announcing that if the wind stayed fair they’d make Porthmorl harbour shortly after dawn, Gawain, Allazar, and Reesen stood together at the stern, gazing at the foaming wake and marvelling at the occasional flying fish that launched themselves briefly from it.

  Their conversation was quiet, and undertaken in a curious mixture of Ognorm’s lazy speech and elvish. For Gawain, though, it was Reesen’s smile that was encouraging. The elf had finally, it seemed, come to understand that humour was not only acceptable to his Thal, but in times of great stress, valuable, and perhaps even expected now that he was no longer a thalangard of Elvenheth.

  “Birdy-fish!” Gawain pointed, and smiled.

  “Arr, well dunmate,” Reesen announced, eyebrow arching.

  “Birdy-fish, birdy-fish, birdy-fish, three birdy-fishes.”

  Allazar chuckled, and Reesen’s face finally cracked into a broad grin.

  Gawain was suddenly struck by how little he really knew of the Ranger, quietly acknowledging that the dwarf dozing below in the cabin probably knew a lot more about the elf than he did.

  “Are you married, Reesen? Do you have a wife, in Elvendere or in Tarn?”

  Allazar translated.

  “Nai,” was the simple reply.

  Gawain nodded. “No children, that you know about?”

  Again Allazar translated, and Reesen shook his head before uttering a quiet stream of elvish again.

  “In Elvendere, it’s the female’s choice whether she has children or not, so it’s possible but unlikely.”

  “Really?”

  “Isst, miThal. Really.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Allazar confessed, looking surprised and faintly puzzled.

  “I wasn’t asking you, beardwit, I was asking him.”

  “Ah. Apologies.”

  There was a pause.

  “Well go on then! By the Teeth, a month without a rabbit and you’re useful as orse-poop.”

  “Ah, my apologies!” Allazar smiled, and translated Gawain’s question.

  Reesen frowned, looking at them as though they were idiots, Gawain especially. “Edscratchy. Elfin choose.”

  Gawain sighed. “Well that’s as clear as mud.”

  “I’ll rephrase the question, Longsword.”

  “Might’ve known it was your fault.”

 
There followed a long conversation, in elvish, during which Reesen made many gestures and Allazar’s eyebrows arched higher and higher in surprise. At length, slack jawed, Allazar blinked and stared at the elf.

  “Really?”

  “Isst, vizarrn, really. No orse-poop.”

  Allazar turned his surprised gaze to Gawain, and blinked again.

  “Well? What did he say?”

  “He said that apparently there is a significant difference in matters of biology between ladies of elfkind and humankind.”

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  “Yes, well, I don’t think he was referring specifically to anatomy, Longsword.”

  “What was he referring to, then?”

  “Apparently, ladies of elfkind literally can choose whether or not to conceive, even after… uhm… mating, shall we say.”

  Gawain blinked.

  “Really?”

  Reesen nodded, earnestly. “No orse-poop, miThal.”

  “And,” Allazar added, “What is more, they can, if they so wish, delay that decision for up to a year following the, uhm, mating, shall we say.”

  Gawain blinked again, and stared first at Allazar, and then at Reesen.

  The elf nodded.

  “A year?”

  “So he said.”

  “Arr, a year.”

  “It permits them, Reesen said, to decide whether or not their mate is worthy or not.”

  “Worthy? Worthy of what?”

  “Fatherhood, I suppose,” Allazar blinked.

  “If this is orse-poop I shan’t be happy,” Gawain murmured, gazing at them both and looking for the slightest signs of duplicity. There were none.

  “A year?”

  “Arr, miThal. A year. Look! Birdy-fish!”

  Gawain blinked.

  Later, when Gawain and Allazar were alone and walking slowly around the deck, he turned to the wizard, his voice matching the concern on his face.

  “Do you remember the road to Jarn, Allazar, when we left the Downland Pass last year?”

  “I shall never forget it. Though it would help if you told me which part of that journey you’re referring to. What is it, Longsword? I’ve seen these signs in you before and they do not bode well.”

  “I was referring to the part where the Kraal-beast attacked.”

  “Ah. Your magnificent insanity, and Master Arramin’s brave stand with a silvertree sapling in the face of thundering death.”

  “Yes.”

  “What of it?”

  “It was July, wasn’t it?”

  The wizard frowned. “Yes, though it was the end of that month when we set out with the refugees from Goria. What are you driving at, Longsword, what ails you so?”

  Gawain drew in a deep breath. “It was the last time Elayeen and I were together, alone. I have not been permitted to touch her since.”

  “Ah…” Allazar felt a curious sense of alarm rising from deep within him.

  “On the road to Jarn, when I rode the back of the Kraal-beast, it was Eldengaze I saw standing in the cart above Arramin. It was she, loosing arrows at the beast. It was she, who would’ve shot me from the creature at thirty yards to give Arramin a clear field for his white fire. I remember the agony after the fall, after I killed the beast. I remember looking up, Allazar, and seeing her standing there, cold as ice, staring back down at me. She would have killed me to give the others a chance for life, and now I know why.”

  The wizard stopped, and stared at Gawain.

  “Don’t you see, Allazar? She said I stumbled around with no idea of the consequences of my deeds. At Ferdan I worried that my deed was done, and now I know it was. I know why she would’ve shot me off the back of the Kraal and I know why she refused to let me touch her. And now, finally, we know the duty she spoke of, but refused to reveal.

  “On the road to battle at the Far-gor she said to me, I have a duty too. The circles in the hall of your fathers have wrought changes in me, just as they have wrought changes in Allazar. And in you.

  “In Rak’s house, after she’d told us the story of Issilene, and spoke of the treachery of Toorsencreed, she said that the sword and circles were created to prevent Morloch’s return. The Sight, the Word and the Deed were created to hold Morloch’s forces in check, together, and to bring about the new age. That age is almost upon us. Until it is, you, and I, and Allazar, still have our duties to perform. Those were her words.”

  “Longsword…”

  “She couldn’t go to Calhaneth, Allazar. I cannot return to Calhaneth. I cannot return to the forest… That’s what she said. Not, I will not, or should not, or would not, but cannot. Just as she can’t be throth-bound to me. Allazar... Elayeen is carrying my seed, and if she isn’t already, she shall, before our return to Tarn, be carrying our child.”

  The night was a long one, and in truth, none of the three sleeping in the cabin understood why Gawain and Allazar spent it standing alone together on deck, watching for the lights of Porthmorl. For their part, Gawain and Allazar stood side by side, and silently, each with their own thoughts, watching the waves pass by as the prow dipped and rose gently, the Melusine’s timbers creaking and rigging humming in the wind.

  Gawain’s mind reeled. What little strange aquamire had made its way into him through his blade gave him flashes of insight which served only to add to the truth both he and the wizard now, finally, understood. Gawain was not necessary to Elayeen’s decision. Gawain had not been necessary to that decision since Eldengaze had risen to ascendency along the Jarn Road. Another memory leapt to the fore with aquamire clarity:

  It was the circles that made us possible, G’wain.

  And the circles that broke us, Elayeen.

  Yes, though they did so for good reason. Don’t you see, G’wain? We are only the beginning of the story, and our part in it is not yet done. Don’t abandon me now. Please.

  He sighed, and Allazar took it as a sign that he was about to speak, and waited expectantly. But Gawain said nothing.

  Then, as the sky began to take on a brighter hue and stars began to fade, Gawain turned to the wizard and spoke for the first time in hours.

  “What day is this, Allazar?”

  “It is the twenty first day of April, Longsword. We lost a little time in the storms.”

  “I will turn twenty-one years of age, somewhere on the plains of Juria, somewhere just north of that Dwarfspit Hallencloister. And before I am twenty-two I shall be a father. How is this possible?”

  “Are you angry with our lady for keeping this from you?”

  “I don’t know. I am too dazed to be angry. Too much has happened. I would that she had told me.”

  “If you had known, you likely would not have left her side.”

  “I know. I meant, I wish she had told me, when first we were married. When first we were throth-bound. About the differences between elfkind and humankind.”

  “Perhaps she did not expect to have to make such a decision. In normal circumstances, the year would stretch ahead of you both starting afresh each night of your wedded lives. It was only after the circles and the sundering of your throth, all choice was taken from her.”

  “Vakin eldenbeards.”

  “I agree.”

  Activity about the ship increased, sails were furled, the ship’s speed dropped, and her head turned towards the gap in the harbour wall where already the rope boom was being lowered for their approach. Ognorm, Reesen and Tyrane emerged on deck, and Gawain and Allazar picked their way through coils of rope and fenders to join them on the poop deck, watching as the squat tower on the harbour wall slipped quietly past them on the starboard side.

  Oars were deployed, and the brigantine Melusine sculled towards the dockside, where, surprisingly, a large group of Callodon Guard and horses were assembling. Gawain’s melancholy mood was noted, and voices were muted. Even Ognorm seemed fretful at the odd demeanour displayed by the king and his wizard.

  “What do that lot want, I wonder?” Tyrane muttered, as much to
himself as to the others.

  “Probably come to arrest us for aiding and abetting Imperial Praetorians,” Gawain sighed. “Knowing my luck.”

  Oars were shipped, the vessel’s stern swung around, fenders were deployed over the side and the Melusine bumped gently against the dock, lines hurled ashore and tied off with practiced ease.

  The gangplank was lifted into position, and Gwyn whinnied a welcome, blue eyes blazing, tail swishing happily. Gawain managed a thin smile, but couldn’t seem to shirk the weight that had suddenly seemed to press down on him in the night.

  “That’s Verdon, a lieutenant of the King’s Couriers,” Tyrane announced, and they watched a young officer in a grubby uniform scurry up gangplank and aboard without waiting for permission.

  He strode directly towards them, his face distinctly worried.

  “My lord Vex?” he announced, not quite sure who was who.

  “I’m he,” Gawain announced.

  “My lord… news from the north. Your lady is besieged, at Dun Meven.”

  oOo

  End of Book 5. The Chronicles will continue in Book 6

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  1. Farewells

  2. Reflections

  3. Revelations

  4. Stumbling

  5. The Worn Boot

  6. Sanity

  7. Shock

  8. Sorrows

  9. Crownmount

  10. Vaults

  11. Theo of Smeltmount

  12. Being Theo’s Account…

  13. Concerns

  14. A Kind of Madness

  15. Ascent

  16. A Matter of Honour

  17. Far Removed

  18. Comings and Goings

  19. A Certain Sadness

  20. Matters of Protocol

  21. ‘Ot Soup

  22. Harks Hearth

  23. Ot Graken

  24. Scrambled Eggs on Toast

  25. Fighting Dragons

  26. A Single Drop

  27. Little White Lies

  28. Last Orders

  29. Arrangements

  30. Silent Serenity

  31. Into the Heart