by Susi Wright
The others dropped their weapons and shuffled fearfully towards the only exit, as the fingers of fire spread across the timber floor and up the walls.
Thirty Red Guards burst in through the door, moving quickly to arrest the conspirators. Evidence of their crime was everywhere. The leader had died by his own hand, and his fifty followers were bundled out of the burning building and off to prison by the armed guards.
Outside in the street, Espira hurried to offer the captain a few Gaian water-movers to extinguish the blaze, but they could both see it was too late for the warehouse.
“Let it burn!” said the captain, “It was a breeding ground for vermin anyway. You certainly uncovered a nest of vipers!” He looked at Espira with undisguised admiration. “I suppose you can also read minds! I would love to have a fraction of Gaian talents . . . or at least have Gaian spies working for the Red Guard!” He laughed at her level stare, and strode off after his men and prisoners.
Luminor arrived on the scene with a few warriors who set to work with water sprays from the town wells to prevent the spread of the blaze to other buildings. He swore soundly as he came up beside Espira. “How I miss my greatest talent!” He stood beside her, watching the warehouse collapse in flames. “And . . . so much for not causing a stir!”
“You know how Fire is, Father!” she said.
The following day was busy with the fortification of the citadel and its battlements. Barrels of arrows and long torches were positioned along the walls beside vats of pitch. The seventy men of the Red Guard drilled and exercised all morning, and cleaned and sharpened their weapons all afternoon. At dusk, Gaian scouts flew in with news that the Cerulans, two hundred strong, were still a day's march away.
And late that night, woken from a dream of Fire and ghosts, Espira knew that her people had finally made camp on the cliff-tops of the Garron.
*
As first light crept up the face of the Garron, Commander Stolis began to send the first Morvians down with an experienced samblar-rider in the lead. The descent was laborious and slow, the goat track narrowed until it was hardly wide enough for a single man, but the sure-footed samblars managed, although mid-morning, two fell to their death with Morvian riders. After that, everyone dismounted and picked their way one step at a time, holding tight to each other and their children.
It was difficult for Espira and the Gaians to watch, but apart from a few flights with children as passengers, there was little else to be done. The majority had to make the descent on their own: a long, snaking line of people and animals, edging foot by foot along the thin crumbling track, spreading out across the cliff-face in a wide zigzag, which finally reached the base of the mountain and wended across the ground into the rear gates of the city.
As people were brought into the citadel, sympathetic citizens led them in groups to the stadium and invited them to settle in as best they could; it was well after dark when the last Baramese soldiers trudged tiredly in, saw to their animals and set up tents or bedrolls, and finally found some rest. Around the perimeter of the arena were stables for the samblars and at one end, there were kitchens where Yengian women had spent the day cooking in large pots; from there, they dished out bowls of stew well into the evening until all the visitors were fed.
Later, when all were sleeping soundly in warmth and safety with full bellies, Espira found Ji in a quiet corner, sharing his blanket with La-poo and staring at the stars.
She lay down beside him. “How is your leg?” She pulled back the blanket and drew a sharp breath at the fresh blood. “Oh! All the riding has broken stitches and opened the wound!”
Ji took her hand, placed it on his thigh and grinned. “Heal me, love!” He gently tugged her other hand to his chest and unlaced her arm-guard to check her injury. Her wound was still reddish, the skin puckered with stitching, but it was knitting together, healing quickly. He ran his fingers very lightly around the edges, before looking up to study her face. “What's this I hear . . . about you setting fire to a warehouse?” he teased.
She forced a smile. “I did not!” Her face sobered, “But a man died terribly, after I fought with him! I tried, so hard, but I could not defeat the fire like Father used to – it was too strong!”
“Men die terribly all the time!” said Ji, hugging her tight, “And there will be more of it tomorrow. We must do whatever it takes to get these people to Baram!”
Espira sighed heavily. “Perhaps one day, there will be an end to it! Peace is Father's dream – and mine – that is the dream which must come true!” She kissed him, attended to his wound and in turn found healing in his embrace.
The Cerulans attacked before dawn on the predicted day.
They were on foot, carrying long-bows and grossly unprepared except for five stone-throwers, their tall ladders and some ropes. Completely unaware of the extra forces within the citadel and brazen to the point of stupidity, they launched rocks and began scaling the walls, expecting they could overcome the seventy guards with their two hundred. Nimble and determined, some even made it to the top of the wall, avoiding burning pitch and arrows that downed their comrades, but none breached it.
Punishing assault from the battlements, fortified by a solid line of archers and soldiers, slowed their attack. Flying warriors swooped down from the parapets, rained them with arrows and assailed them with chaos, the most formidable foe the Cerulans had ever seen.
The slavers were routed before the sun was full up.
The fifty remaining retreated at a run across the open ground, abandoning their catapaults and scaling ladders; the forces in the citadel let them go, to spread news of the magic which now protected the fortress.
Yengi had only suffered a mere handful of dead and a score of casualties. Two Gaian warriors had taken arrows, but their injuries weren't serious; they yanked out the shafts and nursed their own wounds, their backs propped against the stone turret wall. Beside them, the captain of the Red Guard caught their attention with a grateful nod and turned relieved eyes on the Cerulan retreat.
Luminor joined him, while Xandor checked on the two wounded warriors. His voice was kind. “You see what my daughter means, when she speaks of Gaian aid?”
The officer smiled. “I am indeed impressed, Lord Luminor! When we meet with the council today, I will press for Yengi to join the Alliance – the Red Guard holds weight here – and Jonas has been a believer since your first visit!”
Espira flew down from somewhere outside the walls, landing beside them. “I look forward with great pleasure to that meeting, Captain Kellan!” she said.
She knows my name! The captain smiled.
Chapter 52 : TREATY
Jonas received them with bustling enthusiasm.
It was midday and the sun, at its zenith, shone glorious and warm into the chamber. Flooded with light in the centre, the meeting table was adorned with a bright array of fine foods which had been miraculously prepared since the battle.
Jonas ushered Luminor, Espira and Captain Kellen past the councillors, who stood and respectfully nodded, towards seats at one end of the table. Ebullient, he seated Espira first. “Lady Espira . . . we are grateful beyond words! Lord Luminor, your warriors are a wonder! And, captain, the Red Guards were valiant, as ever – though we grieve the loss of six more, I believe!” He spoke apologetically to the captain. “I should have listened to you, Kellen, and increased our recruits earlier this year.”
Over the meal, praise for the merits of the battle abounded. The council members had all watched it from the safety of their high tower and each had something to say about the fighting, though not one had ever wielded a weapon of any kind. They congratulated their visitors and each other, repeatedly; it seemed the accolades would never end, as pleasant as they were.
Espira smiled to herself. Captain Kellen deserved respect for solely shouldering the defences here. The council, apparently elected by popular vote, was surprisingly inept. It was obvious to her, they discussed much, feasted often and with exception of
Jonas, did very little else.
Of course, Luminor had noticed this on his first visit, hoping over time that Jonas could inspire some improvements. Old habits died hard and today they seemed intent on talking the afternoon away. But then, he had always been of the opinion that humans talked too much.
He and Espira nodded politely until there was a lull in conversation.
“Respected councillors,” Espira rose to her feet, “It is clear you see the benefits of our co-operation! My father and I ask you to consider a written treaty . . . to join the Alliance. Yengi is the one of the last strongholds of the Known World along the foothills of the Impossible Mountains. But these peaks are not the impenetrable barrier we believed them to be . . . in their depths and beyond are terrible creatures!
“As you have witnessed . . . occasionally, the mountains can be crossed. Yengi and similar fortresses will need to be ever vigilant. And, without a push to drive them from the shores of Dulis, there might still be some threat from the Cerulans. We could leave Gaian scouts here . . . if you accept.”
Kellen cleared his throat. “If you are ever going to listen to my advice as military advisor, Jonas, let it be now! Councillors, I urge you to accept! Our defences need improvements and I will see to that, but nothing will ever compare to the aid promised here. The ideals of the Alliance, I understand, can improve everything!”
Espira nodded to the captain, who looked most pleased with himself. Next to him, Jonas stood up abruptly, his face beaming, and strode out of the room. The other members exchanged quizzical looks. And Espira smiled steadily at them all.
Moments later, Jonas returned, proudly brandishing a parchment and quill. He cleared a space between the crockery and placed the document on the table, flourishing the pen in the air. “Here we are, my friends . . . I have had this drawn up for weeks. It is time for you all to sign!”
The mood throughout the city was festive. The council tower bells pealed for victory and new alliance and there was feasting.
Espira gazed out of the open window of her room at the night sky, looking forward to beginning the journey back to Baram. Tomorrow, Ra would join them and together they would fly home, leading a host of homeless people and returning soldiers.
Home. What a wonderful word!
It seemed a thousand years since she had left on this adventure, Ardientor at her back, vibrant, alive and yelping with elation to be riding the dragon, on a quest to glory. And glory, they found . . . at a price.
Her reverie interrupted, she half-turned and smiled as Ji put his arms around her. “Thinking of home?” He kissed her cheek. “They are waiting in the feasting hall for you, Essie. You and uncle are the guests of honour!” He took her hand and pulled her with him out of the room and into the street; hurrying along, he turned to grin. “Besides, it is far too long since I danced with you!”
Chapter 53 : REUNION
The breeze was cool and the sky was a clear cerulean blue.
As if in consolation for their mighty ordeal, Fate gifted the travellers with fair weather and few mishaps for the greater part of the journey home. There had been little rain and abundant sunshine, so even the marshlands of Troon had receded and become less hazardous.
Wild animals and paltry thieves gave the large group with its dragon-guard a wide berth. Ra hunted occasionally. One evening, a rare kudros was sighted; the giant, winged predator presumed it could stalk within a furlong of the people. It was gone the next day and only its severed leg was found by the roadside.
The roads were for the most part level and dry. Camping and cooking were much easier while the clement conditions prevailed and rations lasted well, thanks to Yengian generosity. When the company had set out from the citadel, the packs on the samblars bulged with supplies from its overflowing storehouses; a dozen new long-carts, loaded with passengers, creaked briskly along, pulled by twenty-four massive yaks, a personal gift from Jonas. Along the way, hunting was good and streams plentiful. Everyone was well-fed, and with ample rest during a string of mild nights, their buoyant spirit seemed to increase with each day closer to Baram.
Crossing the border ranges of Lealand, on the final push to the Capital, they had hardly counted the days. For the cavalrymen, the hours of riding were passed in pleasant banter or anecdotes of the quest; the tales of past exploits became taller as they were told and retold. By the evening's campfire, legend would be born.
Stolis and his captains rode vanguard, scanning the surrounding forest and hills, too wise and experienced to be complacent.
“Do you think it might be going too well? We haven't been attacked in days!” Commander Stolis asked Jimbu, with a wry grin.
“I would not tempt the minions of Ill-luck by mentioning it, sir!” The Morvian captain was quite superstitious. He wasn't smiling.
Riding abreast of them, Ji laughed. “I don't think there's a single thing in the Known World that could worry me now! We are less than a day from home . . . and soon I can claim my bride!” He glanced skyward at Espira and the dragon and rode on for some minutes, whistling merrily.
Suddenly, he whooped and yelled an invitation over his shoulder, “I feel like a run! Who will race me? I'll buy an ale in the Capital for the man who can beat me to the crossroads!” Spurring his samblar, he sped ahead at full gallop, stirring a dust cloud in his wake.
Several of his squad took the challenge, breaking away from the company and passing Stolis and Jimbu from behind, with shouts of their own. The race was on.
Ji leaned low over his mount's neck, streaking off far into the lead and disappeared over the next crest in the road, three comrades in hot pursuit.
The commander looked at Jimbu and rolled his eyes. “That's what happens when we are not attacked for days!”
Jimbu frowned. He rode out of necessity, nothing more. His samblar was safe, a plodder, more like the Morvian florks. He made a sign to ward off evil. “Why are humans such reckless riders? He will probably fall and break his other leg!”
Stolis stared at the empty road ahead. “No worry on that score, brother – he is the best rider I have ever seen! But he will have a care, when I give him latrine duty tonight!”
The brisk, cold wind of the final day buffeted cloaks and stung cheeks, a reminder of winter's advent. The sky was grey. Yet hearts, one and all, were warm with hope as the column filed across the bridge spanning a tributary of the Capital river, with the main bridge and the open barbican gates in sight a mere furlong away.
The dragon and the Gaian fliers had been sighted from the watchtower before the scouts had flown in to explain that the huge beast was friendly. There was no panic. Sentries, who had recognised the Gaians, knew well to expect all kinds of magic and a welcoming party of riders had been sent out along the road, with flags and banners flapping in the wind.
Samblars shrilled, catching sight of long-missed stable companions and cavalry mounts echoed the greeting, pawing the ground and chafing for home. Ji's mount reared and he laughed with abandon. He rode a fast pirouette, wild excitement in his eyes.
Commander Stolis raised his voice sharply. “Brother Ji! Keep your samblar in-hand and your men in formation! We shall enter the Capital in a dignified manner!”
Espira rode the dragon to land in the centre of Capital square. She could see the column of army and refugees had begun streaming through the gates; bystanders who had lined the road, walked with them. A triumphant smile lit her face. She dismounted, people cheered loudly and she joined Luminor within the circle of Gaian fliers.
The cheering throng swelled rapidly; people jostled for a closer look at the legendary creature and its rider, overjoyed at the return of the heroes.
Luminor leaped a man's height into the air, to another roar from the crowd, and searched the bobbing heads for Fralii. Blocked by several rows of waving citizens, she stood with Aleana, tears streaming. People saw the direction of Lord Luminor's gaze and the press of bodies parted as he rushed to her, Espira right behind him.
Fralii threw hers
elf into Lumi's arms, clung to him for a long moment, wordless and sobbing. Then she flung out an arm to include Espira in the embrace and both women cried together with the sweet pain of reunion.
Close by, Aleana's tears, as she hung back allowing the moment, came from joy and her awareness of great tragedy.
It was only seconds before Fralii looked up, expecting to find Ardientor, somewhere behind her husband and daughter. Her search became frantic. Why is he not here? She raised her brimming eyes in question to Luminor, and she knew, gasping with the horror of realisation. Her scream of denial silenced the crowd and hundreds of people bowed their heads to her sobs of misery.
Luminor met his mother's eyes sadly, as he held Fralii's trembling body tight, doing his best to calm her. “No-one had the power to save him from his choice! I am so sorry, my darling!” He spoke directly into her ear, his throat tight with emotion. He pressed the silver dragon into her palm, holding her hand between their bodies, a token consolation, but it was something.
Aleana's loving sympathy reached out to them, enclosing all three, bathing them in its gentle light, and she turned to embrace Altor who had arrived at her side, his face a mask of grief.
The vanguard of riders reached the square. They dismounted, handing their samblars to eager stable-boys. Ji stood by, restraining himself, while Essie's family embraced. Stolis and Jimbu made their way to the centre of the square to join Xandor. Having shucked off his pack, he now cradled his son in one arm.
This silence required an address. He looked at Stolis, then Dak, and indicated with his eyes to the crowd around them. Dak answered with an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
The silence grew loud in Espira's ears, filtering through her emotion. She quailed for a heartbeat, but drew courage. Much of it came from memory of Ardientor, some came from Ra. It bolstered her own reserves and gave her strength to face the moment. She locked eyes with her father and pulled away, squaring her shoulders. There is no better time . . . I must speak.