by Robin Hardy
There was no disputing this. Roman fought off a rising dread in his belly, then reached for Deirdre’s hand. “Go back to Caspar,” he begged.
“No. I will not give you up again.” Her stubbornness would remain intact to the end.
They reached an area of thick scrub trees, dense with a strange grey moss that hung down from the branches. The riders fell into a line formation of two abreast when they entered the murky, shrouded world. Their hoofbeats were muffled by damp forest debris, so the men could clearly hear the hissing of snakes and the clicking of unseen insects all about. Glancing up uneasily, Deirdre startled at a snake dangling down from a tree branch above her. She urged her horse quickly past it. As long as they kept moving, they were all right . . . she hoped.
One of the Polonti behind her reached up and cut the snake down from the tree with a stroke of his sword. Here and there a large winged insect flew into someone’s face or hair. A stale, stagnant odor rose up from a pond near them. The green scum on its surface rippled in reaction to something moving beneath it.
They kept going. Soon, the sun began its afternoon descent, and they had not seen the end of the trees yet. Roman urged his horse to a faster trot. They needed at least to clear the timberline by nightfall.
Their pace quickened to a lope, the hoofs plopping in damp, sticky ground. “Please, Lord,” whispered Roman, “please let the light last until we get through the trees.”
Almost immediately there was a perceptible darkening. The men looked up through the treetops in startled apprehension. Grey thunderclouds were slowly rolling together from the north. A few horses began snorting and shaking their bits, smelling a change in the air.
Nihl’s face became taut. “We must have the sun to guide us,” he said. A deep growl rumbled across the mountain. “Is that thunder?” Nihl startled.
“No, I don’t think so,” Roman replied. Deirdre’s horse whinnied in fear, and she reached down to stroke it comfortingly.
Minutes later, in midafternoon, the sun disappeared behind clouds and the company was enveloped in shadowy darkness. “Set your eyes ahead!” Roman ordered. “Don’t slow and don’t look aside!”
This directive was made all the more difficult by the random appearance of greenish lights. They were impossible to fix upon, appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye. Most unnerving, they seemed to move with will, and not as natural phenomena.
With great discipline, the riders loped on through the dim woods, skimming trees and breaking branches. The air grew very still, then was shaken by the crackling of thunder. Roman wove through the trees as he led the troops on an essentially straight course: correcting a left swerve with a right, alternating turns.
Suddenly their path ahead was blocked by a thick tangle of underbrush. The vegetation had changed, and the forest ahead was impenetrable. Several riders crashed together as they came to an abrupt stop. “To the left—this way. Count your paces!” Roman ordered.
They began that direction, but promptly ran into a den of hissing adders. Roman’s horse reared in fright. “Back up! Back!” he shouted. They jumbled back and rode to the right, but the brush persisted at an irregular angle. Roman started to turn in at a gap, but Nihl said, “No—we cannot get through there.”
Roman nodded and corrected his course, then paused. “How many paces have we gone since we turned? Thirty?”
Nihl slowly responded, “Ah . . . I was thinking . . . forty.” A green-lit fog began to thicken about them.
“Forty,” Roman agreed. But the farther they followed the edge of the tangled growth, the farther to their right they had to turn. At last, the mass of vegetation ended—at an impassable rock chasm. The bottom could not be seen.
Roman gazed down at the chasm. Lord, help us get through!
Thunder crackled again through the sky, very close, as lightning brightened the forest for an instant. Roman used the flash of light to take in their surroundings. “Back to the left again. We must find a way through these trees.” They turned to ride the way they had come.
Raindrops began pelting the trees overhead, some finding a clear path to beat on the riders. Obstinately, they pushed on through the rain. It was not so heavy as to obscure their sight, but with the mist and the dark, they could not discern details in their path.
All of a sudden Roman heard several behind him shouting. He jerked back on the reins, but could not understand what they were saying. “What? Nihl?”
“They say these are not the same trees!” Nihl gasped. “They are not!”
Roman wheeled to look at the trees. What kind of trees were these? What kind had the other been? “Lord God, we’re lost,” he pleaded.
The greenish fog around them thickened as if to hem them in. The forest became eerily quiet, the only sound being the patter of raindrops.
A sigh came through the trees. “Roman,” it breathed. “Roman. . . .” He sat still as ice engulfed his heart. “It’s time, Roman. It’s time for you to pass. . . .”
“No,” he choked. “Not this way.”
Lightning crashed through the sky, and on the tail of its dying growls came other voices: “Yes, it’s time” . . . “do not fight, Roman” . . . “becoming one of us.”
“No!” he shouted, spurring his horse to a prancing frenzy, since it had no-where to go. Nihl grabbed at his reins in an attempt to restrain him, and the other Polonti looked at each other. They had heard no voices but Roman’s. Deirdre’s face glistened with rain and tears as she watched her husband thrash around. Thane and Braxton looked pale and confused.
“That oppression—it’s here. I feel it—” Roman gasped.
“Roman—” Nihl began, still trying to take his reins. Lightning struck in the trees near them, sending them scattering back. A blaze erupted in its wake.
“Look! A gap! We can go through there!”
“No, Roman! It’s a fire!”
“But there’s a path through it! A clear path through the fire! Don’t you see it?”
“No! We cannot ride through the fire!”
“Come on!”
“Roman—stop!”
The Counselor met Kam in the palace foyer. “What is happening? What are the men doing?” Basil demanded.
Kam caught him by the sleeve. “Scouts have returned from Qarqar saying there’s an army coming—”
“The Qarqarians?” Basil startled.
“No, Counselor. Polonti! Marching toward Westford!”
Basil paused with furrowed brow. “Then—Nihl’s brother must not have found what he was looking for.”
Kam almost stopped breathing. “You think so? The soldiers thought it was the renegade Polonti returning to fight.”
“Where are the scouts who spotted them?” asked Basil.
Kam lifted his arms helplessly. “I don’t know. They vanished.”
“Well, it couldn’t be the ‘renegade’ Polonti,” Basil argued. “They headed out toward Calle Valley, not Qarqar. And you saw how few of them rode out of here—certainly not enough to make up an army.”
“Their number seems to have grown as word was passed along about them,” Kam remarked ironically. “If it is Bruc’s army, they will be several thousand frustrated Polonti looking for a fight.”
At that moment Iven burst into the foyer. “Counselor Basil, I have assembled the men to ride out and meet the renegade army. We are ready to crush them at your command!”
Basil required only a moment to hit on a plan. He drew up with authority, saying, “Well done, Iven. I give you command of this countercharge. But sift the men carefully first—only stalwart volunteers may ride with you. Only those who hate the Polonti and wish to fight them may go. And inform Captains Colin and Olynn that they are dismissed from their posts and may not go at all!”
Iven swelled. “Yes, Counselor!”
When he had charged out, Kam and Basil nodded to each other. “That washes our hands of the real renegades,” Basil noted.
“A fitting end for them,” said Kam. “I don
’t know how you thought of doing that, Counselor, but . . . it occurs to me that the men who hate the Polonti seemed to be the quickest to side with Troyce. I don’t think they realize how brutal an enemy the Polonti can be.” Then he laughed, “I can hardly wait to see Colin and Olynn when they find out you saved their necks by dismissing them!”
Basil smiled faintly. “Have them and Captain Reuel assemble the remainder of the men to defend Westford, in case Iven is run over too quickly.”
Shortly thereafter, an army of two thousand Lystran soldiers poured out of the gates, taking a northwest tack along the Passage toward Qarqar.
As dawn spread out over the Continent, stretching from east to west, it revealed two armies meeting on the plain north of the Poison Greens. The army headed by Asgard marched under Bruc’s insignia, and the army headed by Iven marched under Lystra’s colors—not Roman’s. With proud banners whipping in the wind and polished armor gleaming, they assembled in ranks facing each other. Then, at the trumpet blast, they clashed with shouts and the pounding of hoofs. Swords clanged together and horses fell. Screams and groans, cries and curses drifted up as souls were released forever from battle.
High above, on the jagged northern crest of the Greens, over two hundred forms lined the cliff to look down on the battle below. They watched silently at first, the only sound from among them being the horses’ deep breathing and the muted creak of leather.
“We are too late,” observed one rider.
“We’re just in time, Nihl,” corrected another. “We have already fought our battle. This one we were meant only to stand and watch. For by the time they’re through destroying each other, neither will be a threat to Westford.”
Nihl turned to the speaker. “How did you see the path through the flames? None of us saw it—not even Deirdre.”
Roman smiled wearily. “I was the one who prayed for it.”
Nihl returned his gaze to the fighting, and his hand trembled slightly on the reins. “But . . . it burned all night through the trees, on our right and our left while we passed. It cleared a straight path over the Greens for us, to lead us here. . . .” He paused in bewilderment, then looked at Deirdre. “Do you believe the Lord sent the fire to guide us?”
She glanced back over her shoulder at the smoldering trees behind them. “After what I’ve seen Him do, I would believe anything,” she said softly. “It’s no greater a miracle than His changing me from what I was. . . .” And saving me from what I might have become. She shuddered at the thought of the selfish, bitter little girl growing up to become a selfish, bitter woman. Even at her best, without Him, she would have chosen the luxury of Caspar’s palace over the treacherous Greens—and never would have experienced such marvelous things.
They watched the battle a moment more, but it was sure to be a long, bloody fight with no clear victory for either side. Then Roman sighed in tired relief. “Let’s go home,” he said, and they turned their horses to bypass the battle plain on their way back to Westford.
Here ends prematurely the Annals of Lystra, Volumes the Fourth and Fifth having been Destroyed in the devastation of the Fire of the Year 8042 since the Creation of the World. Howsoever, several details regarding other matters pertaining to Roman and Deirdre, to wit: how he came to Author the Great Law, and what became of their Children following Ariel, and the Discovery that Qarqar did produce and hoard Gold, are to be found variously in the Latter Annals of Lystra, beginning in the Year 8069 with the events surrounding Roman and Deirdre’s great-great-grandson as recorded in Nicole of Prie Mer.
May the Blessings of God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ, and the Peace that Passes All Understanding, be upon the reader of these Annals.
Glossary
Abode—the cemetery in Hornbound where, according to legend, the Qarqarians hid their gold
anakim (a NAHK im)—spirits which controlled a village though confined to figures of wood or clay
Ariel (AIR e uhl)—Deirdre and Roman’s son
Asgard (AZ gard)—the Commander of Polontis’ army under Lord Bruc; Nihl’s older brother
Avelon (AV e lawn)—the holy man who had won Roman’s mother to Christianity
Azrael (az RE el)—the name engraved on the sword Roman took from the palace of Corona; according to legend, the angel who separates the soul from the body at death
bartizan—a small, overhanging turret on a tower, used as a lookout
Basil (BAY zil)—Counselor to Surchatains Galapos and Roman
Berk—the Captain of the Bloodclad who served Tremelaine and Graydon
Bloods (the Order of the Bloodclad)—in Tremaine’s day, a special unit of highly trained, bloodthirsty soldiers; the order was revived by Tremelaine with less success
Braxton—a renegade, friend of Thane
Brock—a cook in the palace of Westford
Bruc (bruhk)—the Surchatain of Polontis
Calle Valley (kail)—the province west of Lystra ruled by Merce, then his son Caspar
Calleans (KAL ee uns)—residents of Calle Valley
Caspar—Surchatain of Calle Valley and former suitor of Deirdre; Merce’s son
Cass—a soldier of the Bloodclad
Chatain (sha TAN)—title given the son of the Surchatain; the heir to the rulership; feminine—Chataine (sha TANE)
Clatus (CLAY tus)—the Captain in command at Outpost One
Cohort—a special unit of soldiers created during Karel’s rule after the pattern of Tremaine’s Bloods, but which quickly disintegrated into a snobbish, self-serving unit that lacked any outstanding characteristics
Colin (CAWL in)—Deirdre’s cousin, who brought the wealth of his father Corneus to serve Roman after Corneus was killed at Outpost One
Coran (KOR an)—an emissary from Polontis
Corneus (cor NEE us)—the wealthy Surchatain of Seir who betrayed Galapos to fight instead with Tremaine; killed by Tremaine at the battle of Outpost One
Corona (cor OH na)—capital of Seleca which Tremaine formerly ruled; later ruled by Graydon and Tremelaine
crenelation—the squared notches edging the top of a palace wall
Crescent Hollow—capital of Calle Valley, ruled by Caspar and site of the summer fair
Cy (sigh)—Captain of the Green Unit of the Lystran army; a Polonti who went with Nihl to head off Asgard at Corona
Deirdre (DEE dra)—the Surchataine of Lystra, wife of Roman
Diamond’s Head—the capital of Goerge ruled by Sheva before the province was annexed to Lystra by Roman
drud—epithet attached to all Polonti who were in slavery at Diamond’s Head
DuCange (du KANJ)—the trouble-making silversmith of Westford
Effie—a peasant girl who saved Roman’s life
Eledith (EL e dith)—capital of Polontis, situated in a mountainous area
Elyria (il LEER ee ah)—the wife of Westford’s poulterer
Fastnesses—the mountain range running through Seleca and Polontis
Fidelis (fi DEL is)—Roman’s horse, a spirited white Andalusian
flagon (FLAG en)—a flask with a handle
Galapos (GAL a pos)—the Commander whom Roman served under and Surchatain of Lystra after Karel’s death; Deirdre’s natural father who gave his life to free her from slavery at Diamond’s Head
Galen (GAY len)—Tremelaine’s name before he began to rule in Corona
gimlet (GIM let)—a hand-held boring tool
gimmal (GIM ul)—a ring of interlocking circles
Goerge—the province east of Lystra, formerly ruled by Sheva before it was annexed by Roman
Goldie—Deirdre’s alias during her enslavement at Diamond’s Head
Graydon—Tremelaine’s brother, a sorcerer
Gusta—Ariel’s nursemaid
hauberk—chain-mail armor
High Lord—a title used by many Surchatains but rejected by Galapos and Roman as blasphemous
Hornbound—the capital of Qarqar
Hycliff (HIGH cliff)—port city in Ly
stra which hosted a fair every spring and autumn
Iven—a robber-soldier of Lystra
Izana (eye ZAN a)—a maid in the palace of Corona whom Nihl married
Jason—Colin’s older brother who had “married” an unwilling Deirdre after she had run away from Westford and married Roman; Jason killed himself after hearing the outcome of the siege of Outpost One.
jess—the strap fastened to a falcon’s leg
Josef—a slave at Diamond’s Head who taught Deirdre about God
Jud—one of two scouts sent to Corona to gather information before Roman went there to face Tremelaine
Kam—Nihl’s Second in Command, who was over the captains in the Lystran army
Karel—former Surchatain of Lystra whom Deirdre supposed for years to be her father; killed before Tremaine invaded Westford
Lady Grey—Deirdre’s favorite horse, a grey mare selected for her by Roman when she first learned to ride
Laska—Caspar’s sister, at one time a good friend of Deirdre’s
Lew—a citizen of Corona with a keen mechanical aptitude
Lystra (LIS tra)—province ruled by Roman and Deirdre
Magdel—Graydon’s daughter
Mara—Graydon’s wife
Mathias (math I as)—Oweda’s husband, a traveling merchant
Merce (mers)—the former ruler of Calle Valley who joined with Tremaine and was killed by him at Outpost One; Caspar’s father
Merry—the head cook at Diamond’s Head who came back with Deirdre to Westford
Milcom—the name of the gold idol that Tremelaine erected
Nanna—Deirdre’s nursemaid from infancy who fell under the witch Varela’s power and was killed by her
Nihl (neel)—Commander of the Lystran army under Roman; a Polonti who returned with Deirdre to Westford after she freed him from slavery at Diamond’s Head
Olynn (AWL in)—a captain in the Lystran army whom Roman made acting Commander while he, Nihl, and Kam were gone to Corona
Ooster—capital of the province that was formerly Seir, ruled by Corneus; Deirdre had been held captive there while Roman and Galapos fought against Tremaine at Outpost One.