The Longsword Chronicles: Book 03 - Sight and Sound Page 13

  “I will gladly teach you in the morning, my lords,” Arramin asserted, though his voice was still a little querulous.

  “Thank you, Serre wizard,” Gawain said softly. “Lady Kahla, perhaps you would be kind enough to help with Arramin’s hands when your duties to my lady are done, please? He’s worked them hard today and if they’re anything like mine were, they’ll itch maddeningly if left untreated.”

  “Of course, Serre,” Kahla agreed, and stood to help Elayeen to her feet.

  “And please make certain my lady sleeps, we all need her well rested. It’s a long way still to Ostinath.”

  That first night out of Calhaneth, Elayeen was the only member of the group who did sleep, the others merely dozing fitfully and starting at every sound in the night.

  Next morning, Arramin was as good as his word, and it was a group of weary-looking men who assembled in the forward deckhouse to listen to his explanation of the simple controls. One thing quickly became obvious; unlike a horse or a carriage there was no way of stopping the barge in a hurry. It could quickly be disengaged from the chains at the bottom of the canal which towed it along, but then the momentum of the vessel would continue carrying it forward. A good look-out would be needed at all times, and especially at night. It was of course the barge’s ability to maintain its constant rate along the canal which gave it such an advantage over the horses and effectively halved the travelling time to Shiyanath.

  The horses were less nervous of the barge when they were led back aboard after breakfast, and once the vessel had been pushed off and the chains engaged, the passengers settled as comfortably as they could. Tyrane began drawing up a rota for the watch, and Gawain quietly notified the captain that he would prefer night-duty, late, when Elayeen was sleeping.

  “It’ll prevent my light from dazzling her vision of our surrounds,” he explained when Allazar raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’ll be able to sleep in the rear deckhouse during the day, all being well.”

  “Ah.”

  “In the past, of course,” Arramin sighed, “There was such regular traffic in both directions along the canal that two people could man the barges quite happily, one on watch during the day, and one during the night. Alas, in those days, they faced no real threat, except perhaps the remote risk of a fallen tree.”

  “Alas, Serre wizard, after a thousand years I think the risk of a fallen tree is far from remote. I’m surprised the canal still holds water.”

  “The water is replenished from the Avongard, my lord.”

  “You’ve mentioned this Avongard before, Arramin, what is it?”

  The chain below them rumbled and clunked as a new length was engaged, and Arramin took his white oak staff from his shoulder and sat on the bench seats under the canopy of the forward deckhouse. Gawain, for his part, slipped the Sword of Justice from his back and sat, bleary-eyed, opposite the old wizard.

  “The Avongard is an underground river, my lords,” Arramin announced, settling back against the metal bulkhead behind him. “It runs, they say, from the Dragon’s Teeth in the north, the length of the land, following a great ridge, traces of which we saw on the journey across the plains to Jarn.

  “It is the source of the rivers Ostern and Eramak, where it is forced in part to the surface by some fault in the land, and is likely also the source of the three rivers and the lakes of Elvendere, under which it flows. In elder days it was believed that the waters of Avongard possessed such purity that no evil could cross its flow, and thus during the war between Morloch and the kindred, Morloch’s forces of dark-made evil could not cross from the western wilds to the civilised east.”

  Allazar smiled weakly. “Although, the presence of Elvendere and the elves who dwelled there may also claim some credit for that.”

  “Indeed so,” Arramin acknowledged. “Of course, in time, the superstition concerning the Avongard waned, and there were those at the Hallencloister who rigorously debated the very existence of a single subterranean river. If there were such a thing, they claimed, then in time it would have worn such an immense channel below ground, the surface would have collapsed long ago. They argue instead that there are perhaps many smaller flows dotted here and there, generally following a line which may be inferred from the ridge-ways which are evident in places from the south of Jarn and running northwards. They also dispute the existence of a single ridge running north to south, and that is of course easier to substantiate using records extant from the time of Applinius.”

  Gawain stifled a yawn, and felt the vibration of the chain through the bulkhead behind his head.

  “Yet, that the waters of Avongard flow from Ostinath to… the city in the south, is clear to behold. It is that flow which provides power to the mechanisms driving the chains which propel us, and it is that flow which feeds the canal itself, keeping the waters refreshed and at a working level. It is also that flow which drives the great lifts which we must navigate along the way.”

  “Assuming those mechanisms are still functional,” Allazar added.

  “Oh dear me, yes. Though, given that the chains and locks along this part of the canal are working wonderfully well, it my hope that the immense wheels of the lifts will likewise be in good order.”

  Gawain felt his eyelids becoming surprisingly heavy, and wondered why the voices of the two wizards seemed to be increasingly vague and distant during their discussion about great wheels and water flows and balances. And then his head lurched forward, snapping him awake, and in his haste to appear awake and alert he banged his head into steel of the bulkhead behind him.

  “Dwarfspit!” he sighed, rubbing the sore spot. “I think I shall retire to the rear deckhouse and sleep. Wake me if I’m needed.”

  “Of course, Longsword,” Allazar smiled, though humour was still very far from all their minds.

  Pausing only to retrieve his bedding from his saddle and to give Gwyn a pat, Gawain made his way to the aft deckhouse. Rollaf and Terryn were snoozing quietly in the middle of the vessel, forage caps pulled down over their eyes. Tyrane was already asleep on his blankets on one side of the deckhouse, a cloth tied lightly around his head to block the sunshine from his eyes while he slept. The watch rota the Callodon officer had created had himself and Gawain on deck through the night from midnight to mid-morning, and the rest of the daylight hours divided between the remainder of the party.

  Once he’d settled on his bedroll and cloak and tied a darkening cloth about his own eyes, Gawain wondered at the Callodonians’ ability to sleep with the barge in motion. The vibration of the chains propelling the vessel rumbled and clunked through the metal of the deck-plates, and it didn’t matter which way he turned, he couldn’t get comfortable at all. Although the light from the morning sunshine was blocked out by the cloth around his eyes, colours swam in the darkness and shapes seemed to move in them. He found himself wondering what Elayeen saw when she closed her eyes. The dark-cloth tied around his eyes was one she’d once worn in the Barak-nor, to hide her hair and stop it shimmering like a beacon in the moonlight, so long ago.

  Now here they were, fleeing from the city in the south at a fast walk of a pace, carried along on a rumbling monstrosity floating on a great water road. The city in the south. They all knew its name, yet some unspoken agreement between them all prevented them from uttering it, and had done ever since Rollaf had given voice to all their dread of it yesterday. It would be a long time, Gawain knew, before any of them would speak its name again, if at all.

  Rumbling chains, a clunk, a brief silence, then another clunk, and then more rumbling. Over and over again, each pair of clunks representing another thirty-three yards between them and the city in the south, between them and the screams, and the names, and the horror that would be replayed there shortly after noon. Gawain wondered if they would ever be far enough away not to hear them again, and then the rumbling faded, and his weariness finally overcame his discomfort, and he slept.

  When he woke, moments later it seemed to him, he shifted slightly on h
is bedding and then with a start realised there was no vibration in the deck-plates, no sound of chains rumbling from below. Gawain sat and dragged the darkening cloth from his eyes, and blinked in the glare of a bright afternoon. Tyrane still slept on the deck across from him, and so Gawain stood quietly, looking forward for the cause of the lull.

  Allazar and Jaxon were on the port side of the barge, using the poles to shove the vessel towards the far bank, and when Gawain stepped up onto the walkway to the side of the aft deckhouse he saw why; a tree had fallen, some considerable time ago by the looks of it, and its rotting trunk and branches blocked almost half of the canal.

  He yawned. Elayeen sat cross-legged on the roof of the forward deckhouse with Kahla beside her, and they appeared to be eating. Arramin stood on the starboard side walkway, his staff held lightly in his bandaged hands, and with a sudden sense of alarm, Gawain realised the two scouts were nowhere to be seen. He decided to leave Tyrane sleeping, and stepped nimbly down on to the main deck, picked up the longsword, and strode forward past the horses and up onto the walkway again.

  “Serre wizard, where are Rollaf and Terryn?”

  “Ah, good afternoon, my lord. The two scouts are on land, they scouted around the fallen tree to note the extent of the blockage, and said they would make what they described as a sweep of the area? I am sorry if we disturbed your sleep, my lord, there is really no need for you to be up.”

  Gawain shrugged. “How long have we been idle like this?”

  “Off the chains? Not long, really, no more than ten minutes. When the obstruction was spotted we released the chain, and once we’d slowed, the scouts jumped the gap to the left bank. Master Allazar and Serre Jaxon have only just begun to manoeuvre us towards the right bank, to pass the obstruction.”

  In truth, even with only the two men on the poles, the barge was making good progress sideways across the canal, as Arramin continued:

  “Once at the southbound side of the canal, we shall pole up past the tree, and then back across to the left bank to retrieve the scouts and take up the northbound chain once more.”

  “And my lady?” Gawain asked softly.

  “Has reported nothing dark. Though she did seem to take an interest in the sky behind us to the southeast several hours ago, but said nothing. Possibly that dark creature on the wing you referred to earlier, my lord.”

  Gawain nodded. Perhaps Morloch had placed some creature on the wing above Calhaneth to keep watch on the dreadful artefact there, and perhaps to guide the Kiromok. But the city in the south was a long way behind them now. Not far enough for anyone’s liking, but far enough that some aerial guardian should no longer be of any concern to them. He hoped.

  “I think I’ll try to sleep some more, Arramin. But wake me if I’m needed.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  And so Gawain returned to the aft deckhouse and his bedding. Tyrane hadn’t stirred at all, and the young king remembered his own sleepless night as he laid back down and pulled the darkening cloth over his eyes once more. He dozed, listening to the sound of the water gently lapping at the sides of the barge and the occasional metallic sounds of boots on the walkway gratings. Later, he thought he discerned footsteps, and though he couldn’t be sure they were moving at all, he had a sense of forward motion; Allazar and Jaxon poling the barge forward past the obstruction, no doubt. Then something drew him out of the warm and swirling mists of slumber, and he was vaguely aware of the rumbling of the chains once more, and then he sank back into sleep.

  Sunset found Tyrane and Gawain sharing a frugal meal in the deckhouse, their bedding rolled up and tucked away under the metal benches. Everyone else had eaten. Elayeen had moved, and was now sitting on the roof above them; the watch would be stationed at the forward deckhouse, and sleepers would use the aft. Allazar and Arramin were on watch.

  When the two men finished eating and were draining their mugs of weak Callodon wine, Rollaf approached and sat on the bench Gawain indicated with a nod.

  “Milord, Serre. Terryn and I made a sweep when we went on land at the fallen tree. Thought you might like to know, nothing big, and nothing recent. No sign of them kirimok things neither.”

  “Birds?”

  “Plenty. More’n before, back in the south. Had another sweep when we went through the gates too, same thing.”

  “There was another lock?”

  “Aye milord, about two hours ago now. Wizard said not to bother waking you for it. Went through smooth. Me and Terryn nipped off while the lock was filling. Land’s a bit higher here than it was, or something.”

  “Thank you, Rollaf. My compliments to Terryn as well.”

  “Milord. One more thing though, Terryn reckons he saw swirling, on the water, over on the eastern side. Says he thought it was fish. Wizard Arramin says it’s very likely. No reason for there not to be, wizard says.”

  Gawain nodded thoughtfully.

  “Thing is, milord,” Rollaf added, “We ain’t seen no sign of fisher birds.”

  “Fish in the placid waters of this canal would be a heron’s paradise,” Gawain agreed.

  “Aye.”

  Rollaf quietly took his leave, and rejoined his comrade in the middle section of the barge near the horses.

  “Is the lack of herons significant, do you think m’lord?”

  Gawain shrugged. “It might be. Bigger birds like open skies and would be easy pickings for anything dark on the wing. The further north we get the better.”

  “Aye.”

  “Come, let’s leave the deckhouse to those about to sleep, and go up front.”

  Once beyond the shelter of the roof, Gawain gave a polite wave to Kahla and Jaxon, but Elayeen studiously ignored him, her gaze cast far over his head towards the north and swinging west. They walked quietly past the dozing scouts, and Gawain paused for a few moments to greet Gwyn and brush a few stray oats from her chin and nose. The horses had been watered and fed, and Gawain made a mental note to pay closer attention to them now he was on the night watch with Tyrane.

  At the forward deckhouse, the wizards sat opposite each other, turning their heads occasionally to glance through the simple portholes cut into the forward panel either side of the chain-lever and controls. The great canal stretched arrow-straight before them, away into the gloom.

  “Good evening, Longsword, Captain.”

  “Allazar. All’s well?”

  “It is. You know of the lock, and the tree?”

  “Yes. I slept through the former, but saw the latter.”

  “Alas I slept through both,” Tyrane grumbled.

  “There was really no need to disturb you gentlemen,” Arramin smiled, “The vessel is surprisingly easy to manoeuvre with the poles. Or so I’m told, for Serre Jaxon would not permit me to help with them.”

  “How are your hands, Serre wizard?”

  “I believe tomorrow morning will be the last application of that miraculous elven unguent, my lord. The skin is healed wonderfully well, and the itching is receding.”

  “You do look much better,” Tyrane agreed.

  “Yes, yes I do believe I am, thank you. Though I suspect we are all much relieved given the distance that grows between us and the city in the south.”

  “Indeed,” Allazar sighed, glancing again out of the porthole.

  “How far do you think we have travelled, Arramin?”

  “Oh dear me, well, I should think we are perhaps eighty miles or thereabouts from the southern terminus. We lost very little time around the obstacle, and in fact it took longer to pass through the lock than around the tree which blocked our passage. We perhaps travelled twenty miles before stopping for the night yesterday, and have gone some sixty more today.”

  Tyrane was impressed. “That’s a good rate.”

  “Yes, and if there are no further obstacles in our path tonight, another sixty miles will pass under us by dawn tomorrow.”

  “Of course we’ll have to stop on occasions,” Gawain yawned, “It’s only about a three-foot
jump to the tow-path but I’ll not let Elayeen risk it. And the horses will be glad of some exercise when we do. A chance to stretch their legs and enjoy what grass grows on the banks.”

  “We’ll need to do a bit of hunting too, my lord, once game becomes available.”

  Gawain thought for a long moment. “How would we cook anything bagged for the pot?”

  Arramin stood from the bench, swung it over on its hinges, and lifted a deck-plate. “There is a brazier and griddle, my lord, though it is not large by any means.”

  Soon, four heads were craned over the compartment Arramin had revealed.

  “Big enough for a couple of grilled rabbits,” Allazar smiled happily.

  “Or a pot of stew, though we’d need wood for the brazier unless the wizard can produce a supply of charcoal from underfoot too?”

  “Alas, Captain, I cannot.”

  “Are there any other surprises aboard this craft, Serre wizard?” Gawain muttered.

  The elderly wizard shrugged. “Tools as might be necessary to the barge-men of old, and perhaps also to us,” and he closed the compartment before stepping between Gawain and Tyrane to open another on the port side of the barge. “Hammers, axes, spikes for mooring, lengths of chain and wire rope. A spade too. There are more, of course, in the aft deckhouse. It is a long journey between the two cities, and though there was much traffic along this great water road, the elves of old were well prepared. Of course, they would have had far more comforts than we.”

  “We do have dried vegetables in our provisions, if nothing else we can set our camp-pans upon the brazier and make a nourishing soup.”

  “Wouldn’t take long for the eight of you to exhaust a sack of dried peas, Tyrane. I’m content enough with frak, but there’s little enough of that remaining from our hasty departure from Ferdan. We’ll have to hope for small game, and resort to fish and pigeons if we must when our supplies run low. Though catching the fish will be a challenge without a net, I daresay.”