Ampheus

by Jonathan Forth

  Outside, three more hordesmen came into view. “I heard something I tell you, a grinding noise,” said one.

  “Well I can’t see anything,” said another. They looked at the bodies on the ground.

  “Perhaps it was one of these idiots,” said another. “Anyway, forget that, get a load of all this loot. I’m going to have a candlestick.”

  “Me too,” said another.

  “You can have the flagon and chalice,” they said to the third. There was a pause until the third voice said, “I would rather have a candlestick! You are not trying to cheat me, are you?”

  The first voice said, “Who are you calling a cheat?”

  *

  Logar and Dorf gathered a small unit together and fought their way to the battlements above the barbican and the main gate. They reinforced the guards there, formed a perimeter and held their ground. Logar turned to Dorf. “Nothing gets through!”

  Dorf nodded, slamming Thunderclap in his fist. “Just cracking heads,” he said and winked.

  Logar stepped into the guard towers above the barbican where he found Ladryn prostrate on the ground. He kicked him in the ribs and pulled him up so he was seated on the ground with his back to the wall. His face was cut and swollen and already bruising, and he was struggling to breathe through the sock. He turned to the sergeant-at-arms. “Giving you any trouble?”

  “He’s been the perfect guest, minding his Ps and Qs; he’s a joy to have.”

  “Well,” said Logar, “can’t stay, got some Horde-whopping to do. I will be back later. It still holds: he as much mutters, moves or to that matter, glows, then chop his head off!” Ladryn’s eyes widened in panic and Logar stepped back out of the door.

  King Armanar regrouped his men with the second line and led them hurtling down the main thoroughfare where they charged and engaged the surviving Horde. The force of the assault was such that all remaining resistance crumbled. Those that put up any fight were cut down and put to the sword. A quiet descended on the courtyard that had been such a fierce battleground that morning.

  Groans and cries could be heard from the injured. There was a clatter of metal as one by one the Horde dropped their weapons on the ground and stood resigned to their fate. Everything stilled, only to be disturbed by a slight commotion from an alleyway leading into the square. Four hordesmen stumbled into sight carrying a table, chairs and a mounted moose head that they’d looted.

  The King surveyed the scene: the dead and the injured scattered on the ground. His men, like him, shattered and spent from the exertions of the battle. Some walked among the bodies. Others just rested where they found themselves, leaning on their weapons. The remaining Horde sat, hands on their heads, under guard.

  Ampheus was safe. Ampheus was secure. However, the siege would go on.

  *

  No sooner had Gorath reached his pavilion when word came that the wizard’s blue flame had been doused and the drawbridge was being raised. So, he had to walk back up the slope again. Once he crested the hill he witnessed the final moments before the drawbridge closed. He turned to Shomari. “I assume that was not part of the plan, or at least my plan anyway. How many Horde are in the castle? Enough?”

  Shomari slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid I do not believe so, my lord. We needed the wizard to hold the gate a little longer. It looks like he overestimated his ability to do so. I fear Ampheus will survive.”

  Epilogue

  The companions remained vigilant until dawn. Then from a distance a small figure emerged from the early morning mist. Ailin picked up a blanket and went to Halle. She first guided her to a small brook where she washed away some blood smears that still clung to her body, then wrapped her in the blanket and brought her back to the group and the warmth of the fire. She appeared drained and gaunt. It was clear that whatever transformation she had gone through had taken a great toll on her body. They left her in peace.

  In many ways there was nothing to say and they felt that once she was ready she might tell them more. Aland offered her some food, but she refused. It did quickly pass through Leo’s thoughts that she may have eaten already. However, he put that to the back of his mind and peered into the distance wondering what befell those that were behind them.

  Aron was the first to speak. “We have to keep moving. If one unit of Janshai followed us, the rest may not be far behind.

  “The wolves bought us more time.” He looked at Halle, but she registered no reaction. “But still we need to press on. The landscape and weather will deteriorate from here as we traverse the Nyle Ice Fields. I’m not convinced we are sufficiently equipped for the journey.” He knelt down in front of the girl, “Halle, is there a settlement near here where we can trade for warmer clothes and food for the journey ahead?” She focused on the Prince, her mind seemingly swinging from one reality to another.

  Then she nodded and stood and pointed north east and gave a hand sign to Ailin.

  “Ten leagues from here,” translated Ailin.

  Ailin lifted Halle onto Far Ranger and they set off, the horse’s hooves scraping and clattering over the scree. As they approached a small trading village it was clear that this was perhaps the last footprint of civilisation before the ice fields themselves.

  The shelters had wooden frames anchored with stones, first covered in furs for protection, and then grass coated with sods of turf to protect against the elements. Smoke drifted up from the roofs of the larger dwellings.

  Leo assumed that the settlement could be moved up and down the scree as the glacier advanced or receded with the seasons, or other cycles that may impact the flow of the ice down from the mountains. The villagers would then not need to travel far for water. They would have access to the melt water flowing through channels at the edges of the ice.

  The inhabitants would likely hunt for furs of caribou and other animals by bow and arrow then make for larger towns to trade them for necessities that would supplement their needs. Cooking utensils, spices and other essentials that would make life here a little easier.

  As they approached the village, small piles of stones could be seen.

  “They leave offerings to the gods for luck and protection. The men may leave a rock each time they go hunting to ensure a safe return home.” Daylon leaned over on his horse and picked a stone from one of the larger sculptures and slipped it into his pocket.

  “He won’t mind sharing a bit of his luck,” said Daylon. So Leo followed suit and picked a rock of his own.

  The village probably saw few travellers but would be a welcome haven to those that did pass this way. As they approached the huts, dogs could be heard barking warnings as the strangers neared.

  The children were first to rush out to greet them, seemingly unafraid of the visitors, and steered them into a central enclosure surrounded by the dwellings. There they dismounted and were greeted by the Clan head. “I am Maruq,” he said. “Welcome to our home.”

  The Prince replied, “I am Aron and these are my companions: Daylon, Aland, Ailin, Leo and Halle. We are travelling to the Misty Mountains. We wonder if we could impose on you for shelter this evening. Perhaps trade for some clothes and food to sustain us on the rest of our journey.”

  Maruq smiled. “The Clan will help where we can. We have a dwelling we reserve for visitors like you. Occasionally pilgrims and merchants pass this way.”

  For a moment his eyes rested on Halle, but then flicked on to the others. He turned to the lady standing next to him and said, “Yura, have our guests accommodated, then we will eat and talk in the gathering pavilion.”

  Yura led them to a larger dwelling. They ducked inside and saw it was divided with furs laid on the ground at the back for sleeping. The front area was open for cooking and living and was where the Prince and his companions unloaded their belongings. Yura informed them to rest a while and that she would fetch them in an hour or so.

 
Later as they approached the gathering pavilion, Maruq stepped out to meet them and ushered them inside. The hut was warm with a central fire providing the heat and light to those inside. The smoke fluted up through a hole in the roof. The whole village appeared to be gathered to greet the visitors and chatted excitedly as they took their seats.

  The food was served on wooden plates and most ate with their fingers. The dishes included caribou, wild fowl and hare, all prepared in a unique style to accentuate the flavour of the meat. Maruq explained that the meat was dried or kept frozen in ice holes dug into the ground. Root vegetables and other plants from the surrounding land was mixed into the stews.

  As the evening wore on, Aron broached the subject of trading for food and clothing. He was apologetic that he only had coins in his possession, believing the tribe normally bartered for goods.

  Maruq laughed. “We are not so backward that we don’t know the value of money. Much of what we hunt for here is sought after. Despite appearances we are a wealthy clan.”

  He chuckled again. “We live this way because of our traditions and the environment around us. It is a hardy life, yes, but simple and untainted by many of the influences of your modern world.

  “Besides, we will be heading to a local town to trade in the next week or so. We will be able to pay for a few of your fine warm ales.”

  Aron laughed. “More than that I hope!” and passed him a couple of gold coins.

  “We can give you caribou skins, suits and shoes. The fur will offer warmth on the inside. We treat the intestines to make waterproof coats; they should serve you well. We can also provide you with perhaps three weeks’ provisions. It should be enough to get you to the Misty Mountains and back. Though, if I can be frank, there is nothing up there. A few remote monasteries and nomadic hunters. These are people that want to be lost, not found.”

  The Prince nodded. “You may be correct. But we are seeking an old friend, and hopefully he’ll be willing to return with us when we find him.”

  Maruq clapped. “So be it! It is your fingers, toes and noses you’re risking up there. It gets bitterly cold. When in doubt seek shelter. It is the only thing that will save your lives if a snowstorm blows through. And one more thing; your stallions may struggle on the ice and snow with their current shoes. Our blacksmith can fix some grips. It will steady the horses’ hooves and avoid any falls or injuries.”

  “Thank you,” said the Prince.

  “Maruq, what is the easiest way around the ice fields?” asked Aland.

  “Ahhh, good question. The ice fields are vast and ever-changing. To ride around them is difficult. Not just due to the distance but the ice scrapes and grinds the bedrock and the boulders and gravel above it, pushing them out to the sides. It makes it very arduous to traverse. Crossing above the glacier is also tough as in places the surface spreads out, splits and breaks into a mosaic of crevasses.

  “Look, this is up to you, but an alternative way is through the glacier. At the point where it begins, a ridge forces the snow and ice apart. It creates a scree passageway down the middle of the ice fields and forms crevasses and passageways that are passable. The movement and melting of the snow can make it unstable but the distance is shorter. I can show you the entrance at the face of the glacier if you like.”

  Aron said, “Let me sleep on it; we’ll decide in the morning.”

  “Perhaps wise,” said Maruq. Their attention was drawn back to the glow in the gathering pavilion; the faces of the clan children who were inquisitive and eager to meet and talk to the companions. The children showed Leo and Ailin animal toys crafted from wood and string. Maruq leant over and spoke to Yura before clapping his hands and announcing, “We’d like to show you some of the traditional ritual dances that are performed during our festivals.”

  Yura ushered some of the children into the centre of the hut. The drum slowly started to beat and a couple of Elders began to recite verses of ancient tales handed down through the generations. Others clapped or hummed the verse.

  Yura sat next to them. “The dances represent many of the famous stories of the tribe; hunting the caribou as they migrate across the frozen wastes; the flight of the condor up to the stars; and survival through the winter blizzards.”

  The children imitated the animals or acted out the stories of fabled hunters. “See the little one on the end, he’s hunting a caribou with his bow and arrow.” They would also cry out the calls of the animals and whoop as the dances gathered pace.

  Yura continued, “These tales remind us of the challenges we face and the strength we have to overcome them. They keep us united as a tribe. They are as much a part of our daily lives today, as they were for our ancestors before us and those that will come after us.”

  The evening slowly came to a close but as Aron was leaving, Maruq held him and Daylon back.

  “Stay with me for a while.”

  As they settled down, Maruq smiled and turned to Daylon. “So, I sense your spirituality and connection to nature; you are what they call a seer? May I ask what your senses tell you?”

  Daylon bent his head to acknowledge this. “I know we’ve met recently. I perceive the same sensation from the Clan as I did when I first encountered Halle. There are those among you that are shape changers.”

  “That is correct; we were the wolves you encountered last night. We were on a hunt, caribou not people I may add. Though we did run into a band of Janshai that were tracking you down.”

  Aron said, “I must warn you, there are others on your trail that your clan must be wary of. These intruders are pursuing us but so far we have managed to evade them, though of course I believe we are in debt for your interference last night.”

  Maruq nodded. “I felt it was the right thing to do. Not everyone in the Clan is born with the ability. Perhaps you may now see why we live remotely. Thankfully, people see us as simple hunters and traders. We can range and hunt freely here. Living closer to humankind would make life, how should I say it, complicated. It is man’s failing to seek out demons and wipe out that which he does not understand.”

  Maruq paused. “What do you know about the girl?”

  “Not a lot, but we think she is an orphan. She is deaf and does not speak. But she has been helpful in many ways as we found last night.”

  Maruq nodded. “She is pleased to be travelling with you and will continue to do so. I do not believe her failings are physical but are linked to her abilities as a shape changer. With the incremental senses given to her as a wolf, perhaps she has to make sacrifices in her human form.

  “She is also a white wolf, which is extremely rare, and a sign of nobility. There is a story of a clan further to the north, cut down by ranging Janshai. I suspect that she is a survivor of that raid and may have been the daughter of the chief. She has no recollection of this but sometimes our hunters cross paths with that clan, so we can find out more.”

  Maruq continued, “Anyway to another matter. I happen to be the clan’s Elder and chief. I am also a shaman and can perform certain spiritual ceremonies and rites. I sense you are on a mission of some importance. I would like to offer you the opportunity for a vision journey, one which sets your spirit free to wander through space and time. I will act as your guide in my wolf form. You can find traces as to what happenings may befall you in the future such that you can accede to them, or perhaps challenge and prevent them.”

  The Prince nodded and watched as Maruq placed a small pot of water on the fire. “We drink a broth formed from buds of a plant native to this region. The broth acts as a conduit to open the drinker’s mind find a path to the spirit world.”

  Maruq picked some strips of bark, lit them in the fire and blew out the flames. A deep white smoke snaked around the room leaving an intoxicating and musky aroma that filled the gathering pavilion.

  “The fire and incense will cleanse our bodies and minds for the journey.” As the broth
boiled, he poured some into a wooden cup for Aron and himself and gestured for the Prince to drink.

  Maruq started a slow methodical chant, in one hand he held feathers and in the other a rattle that he shook in rhythm with the chant.

  Aron felt a warmth passing through his body, his eyes became heavy and his perception slowly changed. The colours in the room took on a more vivid intensity. As he turned or moved his hand, trails of light flowed from his fingers and petered out. The room seemed to close in around him until he found himself in a dreamlike rippling world. A large wolf was waiting for him and turned to lead him deeper into other levels of understanding.

  The wolf led him through his diminishing consciousness. Further away from his reality until Aron became a vague apparition floating in a grey mist of space. He seemed to hover above the world, remote from what was happening beneath. He took comfort from what he saw.

  His father and Logar sitting in Ampheus’s council chamber; his mother standing proud on a ship, its white sails billowing in the breeze; the armies of Windstrom and Aquamura preparing to march; Sumnar and Fayette resting in the catacombs; and an old hermit sitting on the ridge of a mountain beckoned to him as he passed.

  Aron was overwhelmed by a sense of hope that what is worthy and right remained steadfast in response to the Dark Lord. His vision swirled into a vortex again, the wolf leading him deeper, extending into a new reality. A path of life leading into the future.

  He stood at the end of a cobbled alley; there was nowhere left for him to go. Below him Aron saw a vision: of Dryw Henge; of Gorath, his body surrounded by a swirling black spectral form.

  Gorath was standing over King Armanar. His father fallen, a sword piercing his armour, his arm raised to protect himself as Gorath struck him with a shard of lightning. His father twisted his body and screamed in agony.