The Long War 02 - The Dark Blood

by A. J. Smith

  Vithar Xaris was the first to speak, though he was not the oldest, or the wisest, shaman present. Sitting behind him was Vithar Loth, a Dokkalfar almost as old as Nanon, who was also known as the Tree Father. He claimed to have planted the first shrub of the Fell Walk. It probably wasn’t true, but few of the forest-dwellers would deign to question the old shaman.

  Xaris took a step away from his wooden throne and spoke in a deep and commanding voice. ‘We welcome the children of men to the Fell Walk... we ask that they respect our forever as we respect their now.’ He thrust out his chin and raised himself up to his full height. The Vithar was over seven feet tall and more slender than any man. ‘We sit in the presence of the one we loved and in the embrace of the shadows provided for us.’ His words were formal and dry.

  Vithar Xaris spoke slowly, and his long, drawn-out sentences echoed around the auditorium. He droned on about the maleficent witches, though he lacked any practical knowledge concerning them. He spoke of the need to challenge the Dead God, but his words carried no conviction. By the time he addressed the old-blood in their midst, Nanon was becoming annoyed. He rarely felt the emotion and found it deeply uncomfortable now.

  ‘The Shadow,’ he said, motioning towards Utha, ‘is our greatest weapon and he should be protected in the Fell for as long as possible... he will endure as we will endure.’ Another long pause and Xaris resumed his seat. ‘We will now meditate on how to answer the coming threat.’

  The Dokkalfar all bowed their heads and followed the Vithar’s instructions. Nanon puffed out his cheeks in frustration and the men turned towards him with questioning looks.

  ‘I’m a patient man, Nanon,’ said Rham Jas in a whisper, ‘but this is getting dangerous.’

  The old Tyr couldn’t disagree and a glance at Utha told him that the old-blood thought the same. Reluctantly, Nanon stood up and prepared to interrupt the meditation.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Rham Jas, aware of how rude Nanon’s intervention would seem.

  ‘I don’t want to pin my life on we will endure,’ replied the Dokkalfar, cheerfully slapping the Kirin on the shoulder. ‘I’m going to offend some of my people.’

  When he stood up he had been uncomfortably reminded how short he was compared with the other forest-dwellers. He was over six feet tall, taller than all of the humans except for Dalian, but slight for a Tyr. The guards standing before the humans were all well over seven feet in height, and several significantly more, and they towered over Nanon. They grasped their heavy leaf swords in ceremonial position.

  Taking a few strides down the stepped seating, Nanon coughed in mimicry of the human method of attracting people’s attention. As one, the seated Dokkalfar slowly tilted their heads at the interruption.

  ‘Nanon, you may not speak yet,’ said Vithar Loth, the Tree Father, in a gravelly croak of a voice.

  ‘I wasn’t asking for permission,’ replied Nanon. He nudged his way past the guards and stepped into the centre of the auditorium. ‘I will speak.’

  Vithar Xaris looked offended, but he was stopped from speaking by a raised hand from Loth. The Tree Father peered at Nanon through narrow, black eyes. His head was not tilted and he appeared to be assessing the short Tyr standing in front of him. Nanon could not sense the Vithar’s thoughts and he knew that the restriction was mutual. They were the oldest two beings in the Fell Walk and they would have to rely on words alone. Their usual gifts of perception and premonition would not work on each other.

  ‘When did we last meet, Shape Taker?’ asked Loth. ‘And how is your mate?’

  Nanon stepped to the front, feeling only slightly naked under the gaze of so many tilted heads and black eyes. ‘I haven’t seen Jasn in many years. I hope she is well,’ he replied, silently pleased that he’d remembered her name a few months ago. ‘And I believe we met three... or maybe four hundred years ago.’

  The humans whispered incredulously as Nanon revealed his age to be much greater than they had believed possible. Rham Jas merely smiled. Nanon winked at him across the auditorium.

  ‘And now you are a soldier of the Long War,’ continued the old Vithar, leaning forward to observe Nanon’s human clothing and Ro longsword. ‘In the lands of men... Have you abandoned your forever so easily?’

  Nanon chuckled and glanced around. A hundred Dokkalfar appeared to agree with Loth’s barbed comment.

  ‘You’re an old fool,’ he said cheerfully, causing dozens of other Tyr to grasp their leaf swords and stand more upright. ‘And if we sit here and meditate, we’ll be meditating on our own deaths in a few days.’ He stopped smiling and thrust out his chest, reminding them who he was.

  ‘Wake up!’ he shouted. ‘You’ve been asleep too long.’ He turned away from the seated Vithar and addressed the other forest-dwellers. There were a hundred Tyr, and many more Dokkalfar watched from below.

  ‘We will not endure... not like this... we will die, and from our bodies will grow new Dark Young. Our forests will burn and the Dead God will rise.’

  ‘Silence, Tyr Nanon,’ ordered Vithar Xaris.

  ‘Make me,’ replied the old Tyr, growing suddenly very angry. ‘Rham Jas, come here.’ He gestured to the seated Kirin who, a little awkwardly, got up and made his way to the centre.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said, looking up into the implacable face of an eight-foot Tyr warrior.

  Nanon grabbed the Kirin by the shoulder and pulled him to stand at his side in the middle of the open space. ‘This is Rham Jas Rami Dark Blood. He can kill the maleficent witches.’ Nanon then gestured to the muscular albino sitting to his left. ‘Utha, here please.’

  The old-blood was less compliant than the dark-blood and glanced across at his young squire before slowly standing up. Utha had not taken his eyes off the Kirin assassin.

  Utha the Shadow didn’t need to ask anyone to move. They all got out of his way without comment, and he sauntered over warily to where Nanon and Rham Jas were standing.

  ‘Make it quick or Randall and I are going to find somewhere else to sleep this evening,’ said Utha. ‘And I’ll break that Kirin’s neck before I go.’

  ‘Me? What have I done?’ asked Rham Jas, with an exaggerated look of innocence on his face.

  ‘Enough!’ interrupted Nanon, through gritted teeth. ‘This is Utha the Shadow, last old-blood of the Shadow Giants.’ He paused. ‘You might not like me and you might want your safe little world to endure... but these two men are soldiers of the Long War and we are wasting their time.’

  ‘We will endure,’ stated Vithar Loth, placing his hand on his chest and ceremonially bowing his head. ‘And meditate on the ones we loved.’

  ‘Then I defy you,’ said Nanon. ‘I go to fight the invaders... I go to fight the Dark Young... Maybe I’ll kill some of them before they kill me, maybe I won’t.’ He gave Rham Jas and Utha a weak smile, before adding more quietly, ‘But I won’t endure any longer. I will wait one hour so that anyone who wishes to join me can make themselves known.’ With a snarl, Nanon turned from the Vithar shamans and strode from the auditorium.

  * * *

  Nanon was not human and it took him time to calm down. When Dokkalfar became genuinely angry it was with a stubborn and persistent anger that refused to abate until its object had been eliminated or reconciled. As neither had yet occurred, he chose simply to sit on a high tree branch and wait.

  The hour he had given his people was a kind of ultimatum to which the forest-dwellers were not accustomed. Even those Tyr who wished to accompany him found the concept of a time limit a strange one.

  Beneath him, down a winding wooden staircase, several dozen Dokkalfar warriors stood in impassive silence. Each had leaf blades and black wart strapped to their wooden scale armour. All of them were young, and they had all agreed that meditation was merely going to see their people killed and their forests destroyed. This had calmed Nanon somewhat, but he still scowled whenever a new recruit came to him asking to join the fight.

  Rham Jas and the other humans had been confine
d to a high balcony. Much to Utha’s annoyance, they had not been allowed to leave. Nanon had no intention of permitting them to join him in repulsing the hounds and the Dark Young. The old-blood and the dark-blood were far too valuable to be thrown away defending the Fell. When he led his host west, Utha would go south and Rham Jas north. With luck, that would reduce the risk that they would have to kill each other. Dalian was going to return to Ro Weir and lay the groundwork for the assassination of Saara the Mistress of Pain. Randall and Glenwood were to accompany Utha and Rham Jas, respectively.

  ‘Why is this entire place built vertically?’ asked Rham Jas, suddenly appearing from above. ‘Would it kill you to have flat ground?’

  ‘It’s not my settlement,’ Nanon replied. ‘I have no idea why the Fell Walkers do what they do.’

  The Kirin assassin plonked himself down on a thick tree branch next to Nanon and handed him a steaming mug of nettle tea. The old forest-dweller smiled thinly and took the mug, raising it to his nose and inhaling the refreshing scent.

  ‘You still in a mood?’ asked Rham Jas.

  Nanon nodded, exhaling wearily. ‘I’m too old for this stuff. Occasionally it would be nice just to sit and meditate. But I have responsibilities.’

  ‘Don’t we all...’ was the solemn response from the dark-blood. ‘Me, you, Utha, Dalian... rest isn’t exactly on the cards for any of us, is it?’ Nanon sensed that the Kirin was seeking some kind of reassurance.

  ‘I can’t give you what you want, Kirin man. I can’t tell you it’ll all be okay.’

  He bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment, allowing his mind to feel the assassin’s anxiety. There were lingering doubts in Rham Jas’s mind, mostly centred around his daughter. He was also dwelling on his friends, Bromvy and Al-Hasim. His concern for their well-being helped the Kirin keep himself grounded while he was immersed in so much that he didn’t understand.

  ‘I wish I knew what was going to happen, Rham Jas, but I don’t... the future is a murky cup of over-brewed tea.’

  ‘Profound... very profound,’ replied the dark-blood. ‘Useless, but profound.’

  ‘At least you have a path to follow, Kirin man,’ said Nanon, attempting a smile. ‘And at least you accept what you are. Utha is more conflicted.’

  ‘Not about me, he’s not,’ replied Rham Jas.

  ‘If you’d known what he was, would you still have killed his friend?’ asked Nanon, already knowing the answer.

  ‘Yup, though I’d maybe have apologized afterwards. It’s not Utha’s fault that the Purple are all cunts.’ Rham Jas’s face broadened into a wide grin. Nanon was reminded how much he valued the friendship of this strange Kirin man.

  ‘Utha the Shadow...’ The Dokkalfar spoke the name with confusion, as if even he didn’t believe the old-blood was still alive. ‘He has the most difficult path of all.’

  Rham Jas frowned. ‘Why, where’s he going?’

  Nanon smiled and took a deep and refreshing drink of tea. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. He certainly wouldn’t. Which is why I haven’t told him. I think someone... or something... else is going to be his guide.’

  The Kirin shook his head. ‘Can’t you ever give a straight answer?’ he asked.

  ‘I can. I just choose not to,’ replied the Tyr. ‘The problem I have is that Utha doesn’t know me and has little reason to trust me. At least with you I have a degree of trust.’

  ‘I trust you, you know that. I got my katana and my left hand back because of you.’ His words were heartfelt. ‘So where is the Ghost headed?’

  Nanon turned to face his friend and raised his eyebrows, emphasizing the importance of what he was about to say. ‘He’s the last old-blood, the last man who can reach the halls beyond the world. He’s going to Oron Kaa, in Far Karesia.’

  ‘What’s in Oron Kaa?’ asked the Kirin.

  ‘An abbey, of sorts,’ replied Nanon. ‘It’s where the maleficent witches are trained. It’s also where the last Fire Giant ascended... there’s a staircase... and a labyrinth... and a guardian... it’s very complicated.’

  Rham Jas screwed up his face, trying to make sense of what he was being told. Nanon could sense his confusion and was uncomfortably reminded how difficult it would be to explain all this to Utha himself. The concept of the halls beyond the world was difficult enough for humans to grasp, but the idea of actually going there would drive many a man to madness. Nanon hoped that because Utha was not a normal man, he would be able to understand what had to be done – even if he did not fully comprehend the journey.

  ‘He’ll understand when he gets there,’ Nanon said, mostly to himself. ‘And his squire should keep him sane on the journey.’

  ‘That’s a lot of responsibility for a young lad whose hand shakes when he holds a sword,’ retorted Rham Jas.

  ‘I saw him fight a bunch of mercenaries with no shaking at all. He has a stronger heart than you or I, Kirin man.’ Nanon was fond of Randall. The young squire had a clarity of mind that permitted little doubt to intrude. He was also utterly devoted to his master, and that would count for much.

  ‘Enough about the Ghost and his boy,’ said Rham Jas, shaking his head. ‘What about me and Kale... and Dalian?’

  Nanon found himself falling uncomfortably into the role of wise old mentor. He was not a leader, just an old Dokkalfar who knew more than he wanted to. ‘You’ve never needed my permission or advice, Kirin man,’ he said drily. ‘Kale stays with you, Dalian goes to Ro Weir... you’ll need him when you go after the Mistress of Pain. She’s more dangerous than all the others put together.’

  The assassin grinned, more like himself than he had been since Nanon rescued him from Leith. He glanced down at the fingers on his left hand. ‘And you go to your death against ten thousand hounds and a load of Dark Young?’

  ‘I’m not that easy to kill, my friend,’ Nanon replied, confident that his destiny was not to die defending the Fell. He remembered something else and cast his mind back to Lord Bromvy Black Guard, waiting in Ro Canarn, far to the north. ‘And keep an eye out for the Red Prince,’ he said cryptically. ‘I think he’s important... certainly to Bromvy and Tor Funweir.’

  Rham Jas burst out laughing, causing the assembled Tyr below to look up at him and tilt their heads. ‘You are the most obtuse bastard I’ve ever met... and I flatter myself that I know a lot about being obtuse.’ The Kirin struck Nanon on the shoulder in a manly fashion.

  ‘I have never fully understood why you humans have to strike each other to show affection. Shaking hands I understand, but hitting me?’ The forest-dweller glanced down. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘He wasn’t actually attacking me.’ The waiting Tyr resumed their quiet contemplation. Rham Jas carried on chuckling to himself and made no comment regarding the Red Prince, whoever he might be.

  From below, Nanon heard gasps from the Tyr. Making his way through the press was a giant Dokkalfar warrior with a longbow slung across his back. He had not been present in the auditorium and Nanon did not recognize him. As he made his way upwards, Nanon felt the forest-dweller’s name. He was Tyr Dyus, called the Daylight Sky by the other Dokkalfar, and Nanon sensed a great wellspring of age and power within the huge warrior.

  ‘An honour to meet you, Daylight Sky,’ said Nanon, with a wary smile.

  Dyus removed his bow and sat cross-legged on the top step, just below Nanon, and bowed his head respectfully. ‘The honour is mine, Shape Taker,’ he said, with reverence. ‘I have two gifts for you... the first.’ He passed his longbow to a confused-looking Rham Jas. ‘She is called Sky Reader and will serve you well, dark-blood.’

  The Kirin looked at his friend and shrugged. ‘Er, thank you... looks like a good bow.’

  ‘It is better than any longbow made by men,’ replied Daylight Sky, without a hint of arrogance. ‘Its arrows fly straight and true.’

  ‘And the second gift?’ asked Nanon.

  ‘The second gift is my life, Shape Taker... I pledge it to you, to the Long War and to those we loved.’ Th
e words carried a deep sense of sadness and conviction, and in a great show of trust between warriors he allowed Nanon to feel this.

  With a smile, Nanon gathered himself and leapt from the branch, landing before the assembled Tyr. There were close to forty Dokkalfar who had pledged to assist him in defending the Fell. With the coming of Tyr Dyus, he felt ready to begin.

  ‘Greetings,’ he said cheerfully. ‘My name is Tyr Nanon. I am called the Shape Taker of the Heart, and I go to fight...’ He looked down at the dark faces of the Tyr before him, identifying Tyr Ecthel, Tyr Vasir and many others whose names he did not yet know. ‘We are outnumbered and many of us may die,’ he continued, ‘but I promise each of you that I will lead from the front and ask nothing from you that I will not undertake myself.’ He paused, glancing up at the Kirin. ‘We are forty against ten thousand... to say nothing of the Dark Young, but we know this ground, we know these trees and we can deal death from cover, never giving the invaders a target...’ Another smile, broader this time, and Nanon concluded, ‘Make no mistake, we can win.’

  * * *

  The forests of the Fell had an atmosphere all of their own. Nanon closed his eyes every few miles to allow himself to feel the texture, smell and vibrations of the woods. The ground was uneven, dotted with tree trunks and lined with deceptively sharp brambles that made it difficult to travel quickly. There were no straight lines and visibility was limited unless you found higher ground or climbed a tree.

  They were spread out in a long line, sweeping through the Fell in the direction of the hounds and their Dark Young. It was strange to Nanon that they should be actively seeking out those monstrous entities. He wasn’t sure why he was immune to the fear of the darkwood trees, but he knew that he could slowly transfer his courage to the Dokkalfar who travelled with him and eventually they would be able to resist the insidious terror.