As Fire is to Gold (Chronicles of the Ilaroi Book 1)

by Mark McCabe

  He’d told himself a thousand times that this was true love and he was entitled to its virtues as much as any man was. But was he fooling himself? Was it really anything more than vanity? Perhaps it was just the thought of someone desiring him despite his age that had ensnared him. Perhaps this was yet another example of the selfishness the Guardians had degenerated into? Was Jekira just one of his ‘pet’ projects? With a sigh, Tarak pushed the recriminations aside. Now was not the time for this. Questioning the decisions he’d made in the past was self-indulgence that would do nothing to help the current situation.

  The news that Nim had brought had only served to confirm his view that the Guardians were losing their way. But it wasn’t too late to put a stop to that; it couldn’t be too late, too much hinged on their continuing accord. What did Kell think he was doing, spying on one of his colleagues? Why hadn’t he simply confronted Golkar with his suspicions instead of prying into his business like that? The direct approach was always much more satisfactory, and a more appropriate way for a Guardian to conduct himself than skulking around behind another’s back. It was that very lack of dialogue between the three that had led them to this, of that he was certain.

  As if to compound the error, Kell had allowed himself to sink to dealing with the sligs. Surely that should have sounded warning bells to him, if nothing else had. How could he hope to get anything but lies from the sligs? The whole affair smacked of being mishandled. If Golkar had really got himself involved in something grubby and unbecoming, and Kell for one shouldn’t simply take the word of a slig for that, then he should be confronted with it.

  Tarak knew what he had to do. Certainly, he would do as he promised. He would join Kell in Annwn, just as he had told Nim that he would. But Kell had allowed the sligs to spook him, rushing off to Annwn, sending messages to the Algarians and Mishra knows who else, all on the word of the sligs. Tarak had no intention of jumping to conclusions himself.

  First, he would go to Tu-atha and talk directly to Golkar. Let him answer the charges to his face and then they would know what they were dealing with. Time enough to plan what to do after that. If Golkar really was up to something, then Tarak would know by the way he responded. When you had known someone for half a millennia, you could quickly tell if they weren’t being straight with you.

  He would take Nate and Arcle with him, and as a precaution, he would send Jekira off to her family for a while. As unlikely as it seemed, if there was to be conflict between the Guardians, then he wanted her well clear of any of the bother. Her people in Keerêt would be only too happy to see her and she would enjoy the fuss they would make over her impending addition to the family.

  He would be sorry to miss that himself. With no family of his own, he had come to regard Jekira’s parents and siblings with a good deal of fondness. And although he wouldn’t admit it to many, he was quite proud of the prospect of becoming a father. He was almost as excited about it as Jekira was and he certainly wanted to share every aspect of the event that he could with her. Telling her family the news would be the first such event and now, unfortunately, he would have to miss it.

  Even though it would slow him down, Nim had quite generously offered to take her with him when he left, but Tarak had felt that was being far too hasty. Apart from the fact that it would have worried Jekira to be asked to rush off so suddenly like that, he still wasn’t convinced things were anywhere near that dire.

  For a while, he considered what to do about the College. It would seem alarmist and pre-emptive to disrupt their lessons until he knew if there really was a problem. And if he did make such a dramatic move, panic would quickly spread throughout the Vale and the surrounding area like ripples in a pond. If there was to be trouble in the end, he hoped he would still be able to throw a protective arm across the Vale. Perhaps it could become a place of refuge for people in need. What more fitting role could there be for it, after all?

  Raising his glass and draining the last of the mead, Tarak rose from his chair. It was time for bed. His decision had been made; he at least of the three of them would do the sensible thing and try to talk some sense into his colleagues before matters got out of hand.

  A little while later, as he slipped under the bedsheets, sidling up to the warmth of Jekira’s body, he wasn’t surprised to find she was still awake.

  “Is everything done, my love?” she asked, turning over to face him as he joined her.

  “Yes. I will leave early. I’ll miss you.”

  “Mmmm. As I will you, my sweet. You will be careful, won’t you? Nim seemed to have got himself quite worked up about it all and that isn’t like him.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he answered with a smile, brushing some hair from her face as he did so. “I do love you so much, you know, Kira. It’s you who must be careful. Get Mareek to help you with the packing. If there is anything in what Kell says, we’ll sort it out before long. We’re overdue for some straight talking anyway and Golkar’s always been willing to listen. You just make sure you don’t get too used to being spoilt by your family. I’m the one who needs the spoiling.”

  With a laugh, Jekira reached out and hugged Tarak to her. “I’m the one who deserves to be spoilt,” she said with mock petulance as he embraced her. “I am, after all, carrying a future Guardian in my belly . . . and don’t you forget it. I should be waited on hand and foot.”

  “I won’t forget it. Don’t worry,” whispered Tarak, pulling back so that he could gaze into her eyes. “I’ll never forget that, Kira.”

  ~~~

  The Forest of Annwn was at its best in the springtime. Blossoms were falling like snow from the thousands of budding elms, giving the forest a look of enchantment unmatched throughout Tenamos. Whole drifts of the stuff, cast off by the newly formed buds, filled up the soft folds of the forest floor. With each fresh breeze, thousands more would drift down from the canopy to join their companions below. It was as if winter had returned for a brief moment with a last unseasonal snowstorm. For all of its charm, it did little to lift Kell’s spirits.

  The cabin had once been a hunting lodge but had fallen into disuse some time ago. Who its former owners were or why they had left had been long forgotten. Fortunately, it hadn’t taken much to repair it. The roof had needed mending and the pitch in the walls had decayed in places, but generally, it had still been in fairly good shape. It had berths for six but would sleep a dozen at a pinch if needed. Not that that was likely. Kell was only expecting himself, Tarak and Nim.

  The quicklings had undertaken its repair, both as a favour to Nim and as a mark of respect for Kell. Overall, it was quite a comfortable spot and the larder was well provisioned. The generous supply of wine that could now be found in the small cellar had been an added touch that Kell couldn’t resist. There was no need to live like a barbarian, regardless of the seriousness of the situation. And there was no telling how long they would be there.

  As Kell went about the task of preparing his dinner, he went over once again what he knew of the problems they now faced. The human that Golkar had summoned to this world to assist him would clearly be one of the primary threats. Unfortunately, too little was known about this stranger and there would be precious little opportunity to ascertain more. Kell would have to make some assumptions if he was to have any chance of dealing with this menace.

  The one thing he did know was that the being had some form of magical power he could use against Kell and Tarak, and presumably others. Clearly, the two Guardians would be his principal objective. As to what form his power might take, Kell had no idea at this stage but presumed he could expect it to be quite formidable. Golkar wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of bringing him here if he didn’t believe the stranger could deal with the two of them, or perhaps deliver a crippling blow which would then enable Golkar to finish them off.

  At the same time, there must be limits to the human’s powers. Golkar had to be able to control him, so he must either have a weakness or Golkar must have some way of restraining him.
He would have ensured he had some way to rein his ally in once the deed was done. Perhaps Golkar had offered him a reward in exchange for his help, or they had made some sinister deal. But even if that were so, Golkar would still need some form of insurance, some way of ensuring his accomplice didn’t end up turning on him as well.

  Whatever that weakness or that control point was, it could be the key to Kell and Tarak’s survival. And they had to do much more than just survive. If this human was unable to eliminate them, but still managed to weaken them enough to give Golkar the upper hand, then their doom would still be sealed.

  With a growing sense of despair, Kell realised it was an almost impossible conundrum. Somehow they had to manage to defeat a magical being when they had no idea what its powers were, how strong it might be, or what weaknesses it might have, if any. By the Seven Towers of Trinkolai, how was he supposed to solve this riddle?

  Not alone, that much was clear. He was going to need Tarak’s help to resolve this. He had come at the problem from every angle he could think of and was still no closer to solving it. It needed a fresh perspective. ‘What one can never solve, oft clears with two involved’, as the old saying went.

  With a sigh of frustration, Kell realised he’d allowed his mind to wander from the task at hand and he’d burnt the eggs he’d been frying on the small wood-fired stove. The meat he was grilling was fine, but the eggs were badly singed. Scraping them from the pan and adding them to the small fillet of meat, he hoped Nim would complete his errands and join him here before too long. He’d become quite accustomed to the quickling’s cooking and dreaded the prospect of fending for himself for very much longer. Sound thinking required a sound diet and he was unlikely to get much of the latter while he was the cook.

  Moving to the table, he placed the plate beside the glass of wine he’d set there earlier. Cutting a small piece from one corner of the meat he tentatively placed it in his mouth and began to chew. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all, he thought, smiling to himself as he ate. At least he wouldn’t die from his cooking.

  As he sat there, slowly eating his dinner, his thoughts turned to his fellow Guardian, not Golkar this time, but Tarak. They’d never collaborated on anything major before and he wondered how well they would work together. So much would depend on how effectively they could cooperate as it was fast becoming clear nothing short of joint action would save them now.

  Given all the unknowns about Golkar’s accomplice, it was clear to Kell their only chance for success would lie in both of them tackling him at once. A sustained two-pronged attack was what they would have to devise. If that didn’t work, then nothing would. The question to be resolved was what form their attack should take. What spells should they use? Which were most likely to be effective?

  All of these questions would need to be resolved once Tarak joined him. They would also need to consider when and where to fight this battle, assuming they had a choice. If Golkar didn’t know where they were, and they didn’t know where the human was, then it became a matter of who found whom first. They might find their attempt to take the initiative forestalled by pre-emptive action from the other side. It was for that very reason they couldn’t afford to tarry.

  One thing at least was certain: they would have to use their crystal shards. Dark as the blackest night, the enigmatic crystals nonetheless seemed, by some trick of the way they were faceted, no doubt, at times almost alive in some inexplicable way. On close examination, the blackness within seemed some times to be moving, slowly swirling or twisting, though Kell guessed that the crystal was somehow simply reflecting movement in the surrounding atmosphere.

  He had never forgotten Tanis’ warning, however, that the shards were to be used in direst need only. His mentor had cautioned that the power within the crystal could be perilous in certain circumstances. It would slowly corrupt the heart and soul of its wielder if over-used. “Use it when you need to. I am giving it to you for that reason. But use it sparingly,” he had advised. “And use it wisely. Don’t become its slave. Let it serve you, not the reverse.”

  Kell had adhered to that advice ever since, and he knew that Tarak had too. He had thought that Golkar had as well, but . . . given the recent turn of events . . . well, who knows? Perhaps this was what was behind his colleague’s behaviour.

  It was something to be discussed with Tarak, but Kell was sure he would agree. They would have to take that risk now and use it against their colleague. But they would do so with as much restraint as circumstances would allow.

  Kell turned his thoughts then to Nim. By now he should have met with Tarak and be already on his way to Elissa. And Tarak, in turn, should be on his way to Annwn. Kell wished his colleague luck for he would not only need to move swiftly but also discreetly. It was essential that they unite before either of them encountered any interference from Golkar or his accomplice.

  Kell knew that his friends were at risk. All who stood against this maniac would do so at their peril. Unwittingly, his thoughts turned to another dear friend, an ally perhaps for times just like these. He dare not draw him into this mess though, he thought with a shudder. He may be the last of his kind.

  What possible purpose can there be to all this? Kell wondered. What do the gods think they are about?

  He knew from Tanis’ teachings that four gods, the Ilaroi, were said to be watching over Ilythia. And he believed that was so, even though he’d never witnessed any direct evidence personally of either their existence or their intervention in the affairs of the world. Tanis had certainly had no doubt and had even claimed to have been chosen by Mishra herself, the most commonly invoked of the four.

  Though he couldn’t explain why, Kell had always accepted that as fact, without even a hint of doubt. At times he had even felt that Mishra was guiding him, just like she had guided Tanis, speaking to him, advising him when he was beset with doubt, helping him to choose his path in times of difficulty.

  But was all this just wishful thinking? Or tricks the mind played to explain one’s inner voices? And if these Ilaroi, these gods, did exist, did they really care what happened to mere mortals?

  The wizard hung his head in despair. He had no answers to these questions. He simply had to hope that if there were gods they would not forsake Ilythia now in the hour of its direst need.

  Chapter 9

  The rapidity with which the slig camp followers could disassemble a camp and be on the move again was nothing short of extraordinary. All of the jealousies and rivalries of the tent women were put aside as they worked silently but efficiently to strike the tents and pack their belongings in readiness to follow in the footsteps of the Sagath warriors. Along with the children and the old or infirm, they went about the task as if they’d been doing it all of their lives, and they had. The sligs were an inherently nomadic race.

  Within a quarter of an hour, the camp had been struck and they were gone. The site they vacated had more in common now with a rubbish tip than the open pasture it had once been. The scattered remnants of their fireplaces, the piles of smouldering litter, the scattered bones and debris, they would all form a lasting reminder of their passage. The sligs weren’t the tidiest of people. If they didn’t move on in search of better hunting or in pursuit of a foe, then the accumulation of rubbish would eventually provide its own impetus. When the stench and the mess finally became unbearable, even for them, they simply moved on.

  Although Mardur knew that the two women who shared the wagon she rode in would be only too happy to usurp her position as tent woman to the Second Warrior, they were the closest ‘friends’ she had among the slig women. Of the two, Varna was her only real competitor. Her mate, Larnük, was a member of Hrothgar’s hunt. Although he was a respected warrior, Mardur knew that Varna would swap Larnük’s bed for Hrothgar’s as quickly as a warrior could draw his blade. She was also young and willing and more than capable of attracting Hrothgar’s eye. Larnük often boasted of her prowess as a bedmate.

  With a chill, Mardur knew that
if Hrothgar ever tired of her, Varna was just the kind of woman he would turn to. And Varna would have no qualms about displacing her. It was the way of the sligs. What was important was to survive; the cost didn’t matter. There were no real friendships among them. Their society was strictly hierarchical. Even the camp dogs had a pecking order.

  Her other companion, Drait, presented no threat to Mardur’s position. Drait was considerably older than both Varna and Mardur. Her eldest son, Norag, had almost reached manhood. In another season or two, he would undergo his initiation and become a warrior himself. Then he would join the menfolk rather than being left behind to help the women. They would miss his help in setting up and dismantling the tents and loading up the carts. He was a strapping young lad of great strength, like his father. One of them would have to drive the wagon then in his place. Drait’s other son, Kradug, was far too young to be of much help yet and her daughter, Hara, didn’t have the strength to help with the more physical of the tasks.

  Although Drait was frequently grumpy and was a harsh mother to her children, Mardur preferred her company to that of Varna. The younger woman liked to talk more of herself or her mate than of anything else, whereas Drait’s place in the tribe was clearly established and she no longer dreamed of how she could rise higher. Mardur had found there was much she could learn from Drait and the older woman didn’t seem to mind passing on the benefits of her knowledge or her experience.

  Mardur lay in the back of the wagon, dozing fitfully as she sheltered from the heat of the sun. Her babe lay asleep at her breast, snuggled up to the warmth of her body. Idly she listened to the chatter that drifted back from the front of the wagon. Drait held the reins of the two mules that dragged the wagon forward and Varna was sitting beside her, prattling on incessantly about this and that as she usually did. Drait seemed to take little notice, an occasional grunt signifying she was listening even though she was contributing little to the conversation herself. As usual, the conversation was about Varna and her mate.