Ampheus

by Jonathan Forth

  “Who needs a bath, boys?” said the elder boy with a glint in his eye. “Is it us or them?” he sneered.

  Without warning, the three peasant boys dashed forward and grabbed the two brothers and dragged them splashing waist deep into the river. The boy who grabbed him was too big and strong for Ladryn. He could feel his thick fingers grasping the back of his neck forcing him under the water. He’d try and get his footing but his feet would sink into the soft sludge on the river bed as he pushed up to grab a breath, coughing and spluttering, choking on the muddy river water which forced its way into his burning lungs with every desperate breath.

  As he panicked he felt the strength drain from his body. Then the grip loosened and let go. He struggled towards the bank, his hands and knees sinking into the mud, the water from his sodden hair still streaming down across his face. He wiped it sideways and looked up, tears welling up in his eyes from both the fright and stinging mud in the river water. The three boys hung, taut, suspended in the air above him. Their faces were contorted against the forces that restrained them, cursing and spitting. He turned to find his brother drenched behind him, his arm and fingers extended, the exertion draining his face.

  “Well, little brother, what do you want me to do with them?” he said, his voice dead to any emotion.

  Ladryn looked up at them, hatred burning in his eyes.

  “Kill them.”

  His brother nodded, he scowled and clenched the fingers of his hand into a claw. The bodies of the boys broke and contorted, their bones crushed, piercing their organs. Ladryn’s brother then cast his arm, throwing the bodies into the river, swept downstream towards the village.

  He looked at his younger brother.

  “We must leave this place and never return. There is nothing for us here.” Ladryn nodded; he would follow his brother anywhere.

  *

  Aron and his companions stood at the gate of the convent. At the suggestion of Sister Hulda, they had changed their clothes into light brown woollen habits with hoods, more becoming of monks and perhaps making them a little less conspicuous. Aron smoothed down the front of his habit and remarked, “I feel closer to God, though a little itchier.”

  This brightened Sister Hulda no end, which was probably for the best as it was clear she was nursing a dreadful hangover. Leo wondered why the convent had a number of monks’ habits handily lying around, but decided not to go there. It was evident Sister Hulda ran a religious sect that was rather flexible in its application of the principles of the Church. More practical and realistic in how it fulfilled its purpose.

  “One more thing, Halle!” she called and made a sign and beckoned with her hand. A small girl stepped forward from the throng of nuns standing nearby and stood next to Sister Hulda. She was a thin, almost insubstantial wisp of a girl. Leo thought that if you were not seeking her out specifically, that you would never notice her in a crowd. Leo could not remember seeing her previously; she seemed like a wraith.

  When she removed her hood and he peered closer, he realised that’s where the resemblance ended. Everything else about her was striking. She had fair, almost white hair, and both eyes sparkled like crystals, one green and the other blue.

  Sister Hulda introduced her. “This is Halle; she has lived at the convent with us for five years now. We are uncertain about her true background. It is understood she was an orphan from the Misty Mountains, sold to a merchant who regularly travelled from the Misty Mountains to the Nyle Ice Fields and the lowlands beyond.

  “He used her as a slave: she cooked, cleaned, washed, tended the horse while he basically drank and beat her. She was malnourished, mistreated and ran away and was found wandering through the woods by foresters who brought her to us and she has been with us ever since.

  “She may be a useful guide to you on your journey; it may be worth your while to take her with you. I do warn you though, she is deaf and mute. She has never spoken, not a word since she arrived. I do not know if this was debility at birth or caused as a result of her mistreatment. But she can communicate ably enough with hand signals.”

  The Prince frowned. “Sister Hulda, this is a very generous offer from you and Halle, but I have to decline. We are travelling fast and light. I don’t want to wait to be waylaid by extra baggage, especially by a deaf and mute girl. And besides, we don’t have a spare horse. By the look of the girl, she is so frail, I fear that she may not last the journey.”

  “She’s stronger than she looks,” replied the sister. “If she can help navigate you, then it may lessen the risk of discovery if you do not constantly need to ask for directions.”

  The Prince nodded. “It is a fair point,” he said, considering his options.

  Daylon had been observing the girl closely. He sensed something in her, a wisp or faint trace of something unnatural and compelling. Another presence that melded with her spirit. He looked quizzically at Sister Hulda, who returned his stare and nodded. An unspoken question had been answered between the two.

  He turned to the Prince. “Aron, I sense some merit in bringing the girl. She may be useful to us in more ways than are initially apparent.”

  “Well,” said the Prince, “looks like the united wisdom of the sister and our seer outvote me, so be it!”

  Ailin trotted ‘Far Ranger’ forward. She leant down and offered her arm to Halle, who grabbed it. Ailin swept her up on the back of her horse. “She’s as light as a feather, and she can ride with me. Two women riding a horse will still be a match for any man.”

  “Well,” said the Prince, “Sister Hulda, we bid you farewell. Thank you once again for your hospitality and shelter. I wish you and your nuns safety and sanctuary in the months to come.” With that the travellers turned and continued down the path and back on course for the Nyle Ice Fields.

  Chapter 11

  The Horde

  The Queen and her retinue were making ample time, although, given its size, it was slowed by the presence of the carts and servants travelling on foot. Still, they managed eight leagues a day. The Queen preferred more urgency as the roads between the two capitals were well travelled and in good repair. They had not met any trouble, so the Queen felt that they could really push on.

  Ambassador Kelton appeared more concerned about his own sense of self-importance rather than the seriousness of their journey. He insisted on preparation of full quarters every evening, extravagant feasts, and readied himself every morning in his full regalia. The Queen was quickly tiring of the apparent pomp and display and the need for the Ambassador to display this wealth, as well as his desire to ensure his own personal comfort.

  Finally she snapped. “Ambassador Kelton, enough is enough. We must ride with more urgency. I sense you are holding us up, and you of all people should understand the criticality of our voyage.”

  The Ambassador squirmed awkwardly in his seat and avoided her gaze. “I apologise, my Lady; nothing could be further from the truth.”

  “Rolden!” she called. He approached both her and the Ambassador. “We need to press on. Ten leagues a day. With the greatest of respect, ensure that the Ambassador and his staff keep up and do not delay us further.”

  “Yes, my Lady,” he said, and smiled to himself. It was exactly the piece of theatre he proposed to the Queen the previous evening, and she’d played her part brilliantly. The face of Ambassador Kelton was dark with rage, which worried him. Why would he be so bothered by what was a slight increase in pace?

  *

  Sergeant Hart and his men returned two hours later. They had twenty bows and trussed-up batches of arrows. Gulden inspected them. “Good, that should be more than enough. I think this time we shall be more than a match for these dark angels.”

  That night at camp, they found a small copse of thin trees that they used as shelter. They lashed the torches to branches such that the light was higher in the sky, making it easier to make out the gargoyles as th
ey approached.

  The archers dispersed around the perimeter of the camp, each supported by a swordsman to act as a protector and to feed the arrows. They dipped them in oil so that when lit they could help light the sky and act as direction finders for the gargoyles. If they hit home, at least they would be able to trace where the dark angels had fallen. They divided the skyline into quadrants by the stars, two soldiers responsible for defending an area of the sky. They were ready.

  Gulden guided the men through their quadrants, though most knew the night sky like the back of their hands, as had their forefathers before them. They weren’t just navigation tools. They served as mystical and spiritual reminders of the soldier’s place in the universe, a sense of comfort and belonging. He scratched a rough map of the constellations into the dirt as he spoke.

  “Here are our quadrants. In the centre there are Orion and Taurus.” He drew lines out from these joining to an outer circle representing the horizon and pointed to the constellations as he spoke.

  “Cassiopeia, to the north-east,” and moved around the horizon.

  “Aries and Pisces to the west. Scorpius, Canis Major and Leo to the east. Ursa Major in the north-east, and then finally back to Cassiopeia.” Each soldier was allocated a band of the sky to defend.

  “Let us take inspiration from the stars lest they remind us of our families and our lives.” He spoke of the myths fondly, like a grandfather telling a child. The men listened attentively, though all knew the stories well.

  “Leo the great lion in the night sky. Leo the fierce lion that was killed by Hercules as part of his twelve labours. The lion could not be killed by mortal weapons, as its fur was impervious to attack and its claws sharper than any sword. Hercules tracked him down and strangled the great beast. Look, the stars form the head and chest, and then move down the lion’s back. Give us the strength and cunning of Hercules, so we can defeat any of the creatures we face.”

  Gulden continued. “Orion was a massive gifted hunter, the son of Poseidon. It was said he was killed by the sting of a great scorpion that later became the constellation Scorpius. Orion’s belt has three stars, with Rigel and Betelgeuse being the brightest.”

  Gulden moved the stick around the circumference of the circle he had drawn.

  “Aries the ‘ram’ whose fleece became the Golden Fleece, a symbol of kinship.”

  The men glanced around at each other. “To our fallen brothers, let us find fortitude in their memory. Let us not fail them and the sacrifice they made.”

  “Scorpius. Orion once boasted that he could kill all the animals on the earth. He encountered the scorpion, and after a long, fierce battle, Orion was defeated. In reward, the scorpion was raised to the night sky for all eternity. Antares, the brightest star in the constellation, is said to be the heart of the scorpion.

  “Canis Major. The famed Greek dog Laelaps was so fast he was elevated to the skies by Zeus. Laelaps is also considered to be one of Orion’s hunting dogs, trailing behind him in the night sky in pursuit of Taurus the bull. You can tell it links to the brightest star in the night sky, Sirius.

  “Taurus the ‘Bull’; when Zeus fell in love with the Princess Europa, he transformed himself into a white bull with golden horns to whisk her away. The brightest star in the constellation is Aldebaran, which forms the bull’s right eye. Five stars in close proximity to the naked eye lay a path to the points of the bull’s horns.

  “Ursa Major or ‘larger bear’. Zeus was smitten by a young nymph named Callisto. Hera, Zeus’s wife, was jealous and transformed Callisto into a bear. While in animal form, Callisto encountered her son Arcas. Being the man that he was, he was inclined to shoot the bear. Zeus wouldn’t let that happen so he turned Arcas into a bear as well and placed them in the night sky. The outer edge of the back and tail of the bear are like a ‘bowl’. It will always lead you to the North Star to aid navigation for centuries past.”

  “Finally,” said Gulden. “Cassiopeia was a Greek queen; she boasted that her beauty was greater than that of the sea nymphs. This offended the gods and she was banished to the sky for all to gaze upon. For our mothers, our wives, our betrothed, for our daughters back in Ampheus, we will fight to our last breath.”

  *

  When the gargoyles came, and the guards knew what they were looking for, it surprised the soldiers how easy it was to see them. Dark shapes descending from the sky silhouetted against the stars. At the signal their arrows fizzed with fiery flames into the night. Many of the arrows hit the dark angels. They would screech and crumple, falling to the ground, struggling to climb back up into the sky. When they managed to ascend, lit up by the arrows, they were sitting targets for another archer. Any that got close enough would be easily illuminated by the flames and cut down by the swordsmen before they could attack.

  Two attacks were easily repelled; bodies of gargoyles lay strewn around and within the camp. Swordsmen strode around the flailing bodies of the beasts and plunged their blades into their leathery chests to finish them off. The gargoyles made a retreat and the soldiers raised their swords and cheered, the victory raising their spirits.

  At dawn, once again Gulden strode round his men. “Well fought tonight, the victory is ours. I am beginning to believe we have the upper hand.” They had not lost any men or horses.

  “Mount your stallions and let us get under way so we can make further ground before the sun is too high in the sky!”

  “Sir, a moment; what is that?” Gulden followed Sergeant Hart’s line of sight. A dust cloud seemed to be moving towards them.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t like it. Let’s move out and avoid it if we can.” Then he trailed off. Similar dust clouds approaching from the north, west and south. There was no escape.

  “Circle the horses. Prepare to defend yourselves.” The dust clouds approached. Shapes became more distinguishable and the distinct forms of riders on horseback became more apparent. For a brief second, Gulden thought that it might be Windstrom knights coming to meet them, but his hopes soon disappeared.

  The horsemen drew up fifty or so yards from them and he realised that they were surrounded and outnumbered.

  Perhaps a hundred horsemen outnumbering them three to one. The men-at-arms were servants of Gorath, his horsemen ‘The Janshai’.

  Their dark faces were painted with stripes of red and black, their hair falling matted to their shoulders. They snarled revealing black and yellow teeth. Many wore animal headdresses: wolves, bears and big cats. Others displayed trophies on leather necklaces including shrunken human heads and breastplates made of human bones. All held the spears, axes, maces and the L-shaped swords distinctive to Gorath’s armies. Weapons that could slash and rip depending on the direction they were swung.

  They threateningly encircled Gulden, Ambassador Martis and the remaining men. As they cantered around them, the horsemen showed the whites of their eyes, poking out their tongues. They slapped their fists against their chests, clashing their small round shields with their weapons and letting out blood-curdling cries and grunts.

  One piercing cry rose above all others, and the Janshai drew to a halt, turned and faced the knights.

  A rider broke ranks and approached Gulden and his men. From the number of tokens appended to his body armour, he was a veteran horseman of the Janshai.

  He leant forward on the neck of his horse. In a deep, croaky voice he spoke. “Well, it’s unusual to chance upon a band of Amphean knights in these parts. Brother knights, perhaps we should break bread and share ale together. Let’s regale tales of adventure and daring deeds.”

  Gulden faced the Janshai. “The surprise is all ours. I would doubt the Janshai could tell any tales of adventure and daring deeds. Death and slaughter maybe! And we have no need for such horror stories as we are peaceful travellers taking a well-earned pilgrimage to Windstrom. It is curious to happen upon a band of Janshai so far from home. I am a little be
wildered, so I can only assume you are lost and in need of directions. Pray let us be of assistance so we can direct you back to the putrid cesspit whence you came.”

  “Ahhh, sir, that is most kind of you, but we too are taking a little break ourselves. As you quite rightly say, living in a putrid cesspit can bring you down a little. Sometimes you just need to take a vacation. Get some rest and recuperation and take some time off from all the pillaging and murdering.”

  He turned to his men. “Isn’t that so, boys?” Nods and a general chorus of agreement erupted from his men.

  “We just can’t help ourselves. Once a Janshai, always a Janshai. You know what I mean, just can’t help ourselves, can’t switch off.”

  He pointed at a shrunken head. “This is the skull of the owner of a little inn where we just stayed. We had a lovely time, spent a bit of time on the coast; the boys enjoyed their walks along the cliffs. But you can’t come home without a souvenir, can you? Eh, boys?” he said smiling and tapping the skull. Again, nods and a general chorus of agreement erupted from his men.

  “Though for me, the problem with travelling,” continued the Janshai, “is the insects around here which irritate me. Always buzzing around, trying to suck your blood, some the size of your fist. Even bigger in these parts I believe.”

  “Oh they don’t bother us,” said Gulden. “We just swat them away with our swords.” And grinned at the Janshai.

  “Quite, well,” the Janshai paused. “Delightful though all this tittle-tattle is, I guess we should get down to business, since we are both here, and now such good friends. So there’s the small matter of the King’s scroll. You have it, and we’d like it. It’s very simple!”

  Gulden shrugged and held out his hands apologetically. “I’d really like to help, but you know how it is. Bequeathed by the King, sworn under oath, protect it with my life; it puts me in a bit of a spot. Not a lot of wriggle room really.”