The Q'Herindam

by B Cameron Lee

  He would be seen by whoever was in command.

  Although he had grown and filled out and no longer cringed, the guard on duty still knew Cringle as the homeless lad who used to pilfer on the streets of Crossroads and refused to let him in. However, that lad was not the Cringle of now who sat tall on Vixen’s bare back and demanded in a loud, carrying voice that he had to see the Commander of the Militia. Eventually the Sergeant in charge of gate duty came out from the guardhouse to see what the fuss was about and at the mention of Arwhon’s name, ordered the gate to be opened. Cringle was guided to a hitching rail outside a small building where he slid off Vixen’s back and looped her reins over the rail. The Sergeant bade him wait outside the door while he went in to the Commander. Within moments, Cringle was being ushered into the office.

  The man behind the desk stood up and gestured to a seat which Cringle took. He knew the Commander by sight, as did most people in Crossroads but unlike the guard on duty at the gate, the man opposite didn’t recognise the assured fellow in front of him as the scruffy orphan who used to live on the streets of Crossroads.

  “Sit please. I believe you bear a message from Arwhon nasi Tsalk.”

  “Yes Sir. Durhain’s Pass is closed and Myseline is cut off.”

  “I already know that. We had a pigeon from Penultimate a week ago,” the Commander interrupted as he studied Cringle. The man’s face suddenly took on a confused look. “So how did you get here if you were over there?”

  Cringle waited for the Commander to finish before he answered the question.

  “I came here by deep paths under Mehgrin’s Wall, guided by a race unknown to Man. Arwhon sent me to warn you of the possibility of an attack from the Forbidden Lands coming down the Grand Valley. Over in Myseline, an enemy force of unknown creatures has forged south from the Forbidden Lands bent on pillage and destruction. Arwhon is moving north to meet them with Shiri and the King of Myseline’s army.”

  The Commander looked amazed at this information but snorted derisively when Cringle mentioned the King’s army.

  “Jerome couldn’t raise an army. Who’d follow him?”

  “Haven’t you heard?” Cringle asked, surprised. “Arwhon killed a Q’Herindam Mage in Encarill, overcame Jerome and rescued King Rickard who, after Arwhon healed him, is now King again.”

  The Commander slammed both hands down on his desk and let out a whoop of joy.

  “Damn. Arwhon must have been sent by Fate. He just can’t stop doing good for the lands. You must be proud being his servant. Sergeant!”

  The Sergeant came rushing in, expecting trouble but found his Commander in an ebullient mood.

  “It seems there’s a possibility of invasion from the Forbidden Lands. I want half the garrison fully armed and ready to march to Forbidden in the morning. Captain Longman will lead. You will be his sergeant. Ready supply wagons and take some homing pigeons, as I will need to know if there’s trouble there or if you need any reinforcements. Got that?”

  The Sergeant saluted and shot out of the door on the double, yelling for his Corporals as the Commander turned back to Cringle.

  “You can tell your Master that the situation is well in hand.”

  “Sir. I cannot. Arwhon is in northern Myseline by now and I have no way to reach him or communicate with him. My instructions were to proceed to the Darkwood from here.”

  The surprised Commander looked up and closely studied the young man before him. There was more here than met the eye. One didn’t just go to the Darkwood, it was off limits to Man yet this fellow spoke of the Darkwood conversationally. His dark Cheshwon face was unusual for around here and the Commander finally realised he had seen that face before. On the streets of Crossroads. Many times over the years.

  “You used to live in Crossroads did you not?”

  The young man looked slightly abashed.

  “Yes Sir. Arwhon first saw me here and was kind to me so I pursued him and begged to serve him. A lot has happened since then, most of it good and my life has turned around.”

  As the Commander was listening, a sudden idea came to Cringle. Why not use his new found status for a little self help.

  “Commander, until I was five or six years old a woman used to look after me. Her name was Holly March and she was paid in advance to care for me but abandoned me instead. You wouldn’t happen to know how I could find her would you.”

  The Commander was pleased. Here was a chance to reward Arwhon’s Servant for his diligence. It shouldn’t be difficult to discover the whereabouts of Holly March as his small intelligence network knew most of what went on in Crossroads. Might as well put it to use.

  “I’ll see what I can find out Cringle. Return here tomorrow after the men have left for Forbidden. I may have information for you.”

  He showed Cringle to the door and Arwhon’s Servant took himself off to The Black Butt for a well deserved bath and hot meal while Vixen was curried and cared for in the excellent hostlery out the back.

  The next morning Cringle walked Vixen through town to the Militia Headquarters. On the way he stopped at the best saddler in Crossroads and tried a number of saddles on Vixen. She stood quietly for him as he checked their fit and made sure the padding was in exactly the right place on her. He took great delight in purchasing a brand new, understated, quality saddle which was extremely comfortable for both him and Vixen. He also enjoyed bargaining the saddler down and managed to get himself a good deal which included a sheepskin under-pad for Vixen’s comfort. After the transaction was completed he mounted up and continued on to Militia Headquarters feeling good about having money to spend. He’d been careful with what he’d been given and shown wisdom in what he’d purchased.

  Cringle sat comfortably in his new saddle, watching as half of Crossroads garrison marched out on its way to Forbidden. Three hundred men in uniform, a staggering number considering the size of Crossroads, but for as long as there had been the threat of Dominion, those men had been needed in defence of Cumbrisia. Now the threat may be coming from a different direction. Cringle entered through the gates leading Vixen just as the last wagon rolled out. An inconspicuous figure in the dusty yard.

  The Commander came back into his office and closed the door. Turning around he was surprised to find Cringle sitting in the chair he had occupied yesterday. How did Arwhon’s servant get in? It didn’t matter, he was invited. Plus the news was good.

  “Ah, Cringle. Good morning. I do have news for you. Holly March didn’t go far. Apparently, about twelve or thirteen years ago, she married a farmer by the name of Solver Barton. According to my information, Holly Barton has two children and still lives at Solver Barton’s farm. Its north of town and on your way to the Darkwood. The name of the farm is ‘Edgecombe’ and I’m reliably informed they sell a lot of honey and beeswax.”

  Cringle was overjoyed. At last he had a clue he could follow in his search for his mother. He would talk to Holly tomorrow but first he needed to buy a bedroll to go with his saddle, camping off the side of the Great South Road hadn’t been too unpleasant, sleeping in leaf drifts with only his Darkwood cloak and the fine blanket given to him by the Guilar but if the weather turned… He would have gone hungry too if not for the food packages supplied by the Dwarves. Cringle rose and thanked the Commander profusely as he backed out of the door to quietly be on his way.

  Cringle felt no regrets as he left Crossroads the next morning. The small city had been his home for seventeen years but he didn’t miss it. His life had changed as had his horizons. What had once seemed grand and imposing was now seen as merely large and showy. The day was already warm, even though autumn was progressing and clouds scudded across the sky as he guided Vixen to the north east. His little pony had become quite used to him now and after all they had been through together, they had reached an understanding. For the first time in her life Vixen had an owner she could trust, who cared for her and made sure she was looked after. Cringle, who’d never had anything in his life before Arwhon to care for, no
w felt gratified to have a companion who now looked out for him and responded to his ministrations.

  The morning became afternoon as the miles disappeared under Vixen’s sturdy hooves and the road became far less travelled and more overgrown. As the daylight started to fade, Cringle was beginning to wonder if the Commander’s information was correct. It didn’t really matter, as this was the way to the Darkwood and he still had a message to deliver to Vehrin’del. Fancy, him knowing the Queen of the M’Herindar, who’d have ever thought…. A sign appeared, attached to a post at the side of the road.

  ‘Edgecombe’.

  This was it. Cringle turned Vixen down the farm track and they rode through the trees until a small group of buildings came into view. There was the main house and a barn plus a small shed and a byre. Smoke came from the chimney and a light shone inside. Cringle rode up to the house and dismounted, leaving the reins hanging. Vixen had learned about that. He stepped up onto the porch and knocked on the door. The singing inside the house instantly stopped and there were sounds of movement before a voice called out.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Cringle. Come to call on Holly Barton. I’m alone.”

  A curtain was moved to allow someone inside a view of the yard and soon the door was opened. Cringle immediately knew it was Holly, even though she’d abandoned him well over thirteen years ago. The intervening time had been easy on her, as she didn’t look much different from when he had last seen her.

  “Jonsan!” Holly involuntarily exclaimed and tried to shut the door on him.

  Something inside Cringle stirred in recognition of the name and he stuck his foot in the door before gently pushing it open and stepping into the room. He caught sight of two young children scurrying into another room as Holly stood shaking before him, fear written all over her face.

  “I haven’t come for retribution Holly.” Cringle assured her. “I’ve been lucky lately and my life has become something special. I just want to know anything you can tell me of my mother. Anything at all. Because one day I hope to find her. Please help me.”

  Holly visibly relaxed at the tone of Cringle’s plea and offered tea which was gratefully accepted. Solver Barton didn’t seem to be about but the two youngsters shyly appeared from the back room. An older boy and a girl who looked a little like her mother. Holly spoke as she put the water on to heat.

  “I’m truly sorry for abandoning you. It’s preyed on my thoughts for years but I could see no other way for me to get on. A man won’t look at a woman who already has a child, specially a foreign one and I wasn’t getting any younger. Your mother gave me enough money to last for a couple of years but I kept you for three more years after it ran out. It wasn’t easy. My life was slipping away. Sorry.”

  Cringle saw the tears in her eyes and felt compassion. He never knew the full story behind his being on the streets and now, thanks to the spell Vehrin’del used on him, all those years of beatings and pain were just a far distant memory. There had to be a time for forgiveness.

  “It’s alright Holly. I’m fine with it. As I said, all I want is information about my mother.”

  Holly brought his tea.

  “Solver is away in town. You’re welcome to stay the night but you’ll have to sleep in the barn. There’s hay in there for your horse. After we’ve eaten I’ll show you something and tell you more about your mother. But tell me, what have you been up to lately?”

  Over his mug of tea, Cringle gave Holly a brief rundown of his meeting with Arwhon and the bare facts of becoming Arwhon’s Servant. The Barton family had heard of Arwhon, whose fame was growing in the lands, and were awed by his success. Cringle didn’t mention the Darkwood, some things were best left unsaid. Before supper he went to see to Vixen and Holly’s son came out to help, asking questions about soldiering and fighting. Cringle tried to answer without glorifying killing. Taking the life of another was really the last resort.

  When the remains of the evening meal had been cleared away, Holly went to a chest at the side of the room and rummaged toward the bottom of it before drawing out an object wrapped in a piece of cloth. She returned to the table and unwrapped it in the lamplight. It was a fan. She passed it over to Cringle with an admonition to handle it carefully.

  Cringle opened the fan gently and gasped at the sheer beauty of the painted silk. The design was intricate and eye catching. A sinuous beast in gold on a black background, twisting and twining around a bird which seemed made of flame. It was wondrous. He closed the fan and opened it again, wafting it a little to see how it worked before catching his finger with an edge. He felt pain and looked down to see his cut finger welling blood. Holly caught his look.

  “The frame is steel and all the outer edges are sharpened like razors. It’s a thing of beauty but also a weapon.”

  Cringle paid more attention to it now as he sucked his finger and found Holly was right. It was a weapon. He closed it and handed it back to Holly who wrapped it back up.

  “I want you to have it Cringle. Your mother left it for you. She said the fan would always be known in Cheshwon and if someone came to collect you, I was to show it to them.”

  She passed it across the table and Cringle felt gratitude swell within him. His profuse thanks were interrupted however.

  “Cringle. I treated you badly and you have every right to be angry but you aren’t. It’s the least I can do, returning your heritage. I kept it in the hope of getting it to you one day and I’m sorry it was not sooner but, thanks to Fate, things have a way of working out.”

  Cringle agreed but had one more question to ask.

  “The name you called out when you first saw me. What was it again?”

  Holly searched his face for a moment. “It’s your name Cringle. The one your mother gave you. Jonsan.”

  Shortly after, Cringle went to sleep in the barn listening to Vixen’s stomach gurgling, dreaming of his name and the owner of the fan which was now tucked inside his saddlebags, sheathed in its protective cloth.

  After breakfast, Cringle said his goodbyes and once more trotted off in a north easterly direction. It was another two days at least to the Darkwood and he would have to rely on Rangers for directions once inside it. That is, if they would let him in.

  Two days later, Cringle caught sight of the Darkwood in the distance. Even though he had been under its spreading canopy before, he still felt a sense of trepidation at the thought of approaching it alone. As he drew closer, the trees loomed higher and the light beneath their foliage seemed to darken in concealment. Vixen strode forward as the light around Cringle dimmed with the approach of evening, he aimed for a gap in the trunks and in an almost quavering voice he called out.

  “Hello in there. I’m Cringle, Arwhon’s Servant. He instructed me to come to speak with your Queen. I’ve been in there before but not on my own. Hello. Hello.”

  There was a chuckle from behind him and he spun in the saddle to find a couple of M’Herindar Rangers standing there, arms crossed, totally at ease.

  “We know who you are Cringle. You have the touch of the Queen on you. Any M’Herindar would be aware of that. Did Sihron’del not tell you of it?”

  Cringle meekly shook his head as the Ranger continued.

  “I am Barhain’dal and this is Colarn’dal. We’ll take you to the Queen. Follow us.”

  So it was that Cringle rode into the Darkwood by himself, following two Rangers and arrived in front of Queen Vehrin’del two days later. He noticed that the green of the trees was not quite so bright now and the M’Herindar he saw seemed a little preoccupied. In fact the whole mood under the trees was more somber than he remembered but he said nothing.

  Cringle dismounted and got down on one knee, bowing low in front of the M’Herindar Queen who’d removed his fear and given him a gift of quick learning. He loved her, couldn’t help it in fact and knew he would give his life for her if need be. She reached down and gently placed her hand under his chin to draw him to his feet.

  “Ah Cringle,
you’ve grown a lot since you’ve been away and I sense you’ve also learned much too. How are my daughter and Arwhon?”

  Cringle composed himself. It would not do to gabble at the Queen of the M’Herindar and make a fool of himself. He drew breath.

  “Sihron’del was well when I was sent away, beautiful as ever and healthy as can be. Arwhon is Arwhon. He has the Firemagic of Durhain now and is leading a small army against an invasion into Myseline from the Forbidden Lands.”

  At the mention of Arwhon having the Firemagic of Durhain, there had been a collective gasp from the M’Herindar who had gathered to see Cringle received by the Queen. Fire was anathema to the Darkwood and here was one of its adoptive sons with the ability to freely use it. The Queen’s demeanour changed and she took Cringle by the arm, leading him immediately into her tree house. Jahron’dal followed behind after collecting Cringle’s saddlebags from the M’Herindar detailed to look after Vixen.

  Inside the Queen’s residence, Cringle was shown to a seat at the table. Vehrin’del sat opposite.

  “What did you mean? An invasion from the Forbidden Lands?”

  Cringle was surprised by the urgency in Vehrin’del’s question.

  “King Rickard received messages by pigeon, one saying Durhain’s Pass was closed and another about an invading force from the Forbidden Lands.”

  Vehrin’del and Jahron’dal locked eyes. It was Jahron’dal who asked the question of his wife, the Queen.

  “Do you think the Q’Herindam have broken the Pact?”

  Vehrin’del shook her head.

  “We don’t have enough information yet to be sure but we must prepare for the worst.”

  Cringle wasn’t sure what they were talking about but it didn’t sound comforting. Vehrin’del rose and went to the kitchen. Cringle sat quietly while food was prepared. During eating and over a special wine afterwards, Cringle related the events which had occurred since they were last in the Darkwood together. Some Vehrin’del and Jahron’dal knew about but most of Arwhon and Shiri’s adventures were new to them and it seemed to give them much to think on. After his third glass of wine, Cringle felt brave enough to ask the question which had been nagging him ever since he entered the Darkwood.