The Longsword Chronicles: Book 03 - Sight and Sound Read online

  “Aye, my lord, unless the wizards know of any means to lure them aboard in numbers?”

  Allazar and Arramin eyed each other briefly, and then smiled and shook their heads.

  “Well, there’s no need to fuss about it now. We can give the matter some thought over the coming days. Apart from the lock and the fallen tree, did anything else of interest occur while Tyrane and I caught up on our sleep?”

  “No, Longsword, nothing of note. Your lady stretched her legs from time to time, though only on the main deck of course. And we did put in briefly for the ladies to avail themselves of a little privacy. These things are of course much simpler for men aboard a vessel such as this and, as you say, there’s barely a yard of water between the canal wall and the walkway.”

  Gawain nodded. “Needs must. I for one certainly don’t begrudge such pauses. I think we ought to avail ourselves of more time on land now we’re under way and far from the city. Now I’ve seen the pace at which the barge travels, it wouldn’t hurt to run or ride ahead along the path, for exercise if nothing else.”

  “True enough,” Allazar agreed, “It’s at night when the barge has its main advantage over travelling by horse. It needs neither rest nor feeding.”

  “What about yourself and the good Captain, my lord? When will you avail yourself of such exercise when on the night watch?”

  “Now would be a good time I think, Arramin, since you mention it,” Gawain smiled. “Our duty doesn’t start until midnight, and that’s a few hours away yet. Do you feel like a stretch, Tyrane?”

  “Aye m’lord, the legs could do with it. I’ll fetch my crossbow first though.”

  Gawain nodded and Tyrane nipped back to the aft deckhouse where he’d stowed the weapon.

  “We’ll come back aboard up ahead,” Gawain announced quietly, then slung the longsword over his shoulder, stepped out of the deckhouse and up onto the walkway, and made the three-foot jump to the tow-path as casually as he might step over a puddle.

  Tyrane emerged from the aft deckhouse and saw Gawain walking briskly along the tow-path keeping up with them, and with a graceful leap, joined him on land.

  “I took the liberty of advising those settling for the night that we were stretching our legs and scouting ahead a little.”

  “Did my lady say anything?”

  “Only that she had seen nothing dark.”

  Gawain sighed, grateful to feel soft earth beneath his boots when they stepped off the tow-path onto the grassy bank. But then he was gripped by the urge to ask a question that had long niggled at the back of his mind, and now, in the aftermath of Calhaneth and alone on the bank with the captain, seemed a good time, and he stopped walking.

  “May I ask you a question, Tyrane? You needn’t answer if you feel it inappropriate.”

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  Gawain paused, and waited as the barge slid onward through the starlit night. “When my lady speaks, does her voice not sound odd to you?”

  “Odd, my lord?”

  “Yes. I have seen her talking with our new friends from Goria, and on occasion with you when you have addressed a question to her. Yet it’s occurred to me, since we left the city in the south, neither you nor anyone else seems remotely distressed or disturbed by the change in her tone since we returned from Raheen.”

  “I have noticed no change in your lady’s tone, my lord, except of course the abruptness of her speech, and the strangeness of her vision. But we all know this is the result of your battle with the dark wizard Salaman Goth. It’s our hope that the elven healers the whitesleeves spoke of will restore your lady to us all.”

  Gawain looked stunned, and if he’d cared to admit it, he was, a little.

  “And her voice… it does not sound as though it came from some ancient crypt, and grate like flint on steel against your nerves?”

  It was Tyrane’s turn to look stunned, and then appalled. “By the Teeth, no, my lord!”

  “Ah.”

  “Does it sound thus to you?”

  “Yes,” Gawain admitted quietly. “Ever since the Kraal’s charge upon you all on the Jarn road, I’ve wondered how you and the others could bear to hear her speak, and marvelled at your diplomacy in saying nothing of it.”

  Tyrane was aghast. “No diplomacy is needed, my lord, your lady’s voice to us is as sweet as it was the day she announced she would go up the Pass to join you in Raheen.”

  “Ah.”

  “Quite obviously it is some foul magic cast upon you by that Goth creature, some dying curse, flung upon your ears after your lady shot the black-eyed bastard’s heart out.”

  Gawain nodded. “Yes, yes perhaps you’re right, Tyrane. Perhaps when we reach Elvendere, all will be well.”

  “May I also be frank with you, my lord?”

  “Always, Tyrane. You are Brock’s man, not mine, and I count you a friend.”

  “The lads and I, Rollaf and Terryn? You should know there is only one thing we would not do for your lady, nor for you.”

  Gawain eyed the captain standing tall and proud in the starlight, the reflection of a waning crescent moon sparkling in the waters of the canal behind him. “What’s that?”

  “We won’t go back there,” Tyrane announced with simple honesty. “Forward to war or to whatever Morloch has in store for us, death or darkness, whatever awaits us in the north. But we won’t go back there.”

  “Nor shall I, my friend,” Gawain replied with equal sincerity. “Come, let’s put a few more yards between us and that place, and overtake the boat. We’ll scout ahead a bit too I think.”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  And so they loped quietly along the west bank of the canal of Thal-Marrahan, overtaking the barge with a wave for the wizards on watch, and ahead. The night was fresh, an ocean of stars sparkling and making a clear charcoal wash of the sky. They ran gently until Gawain judged they were about a mile ahead and then slowed to a walk. Before them, the canal continued its remarkable straight path through the forest, and around them, the noises of night birds, but little else save an occasional gentle splash in the canal to speak of fish there.

  “The Empire could move an army through the forest into our lands,” Tyrane said softly, “Who is there here to stop them?”

  Gawain shrugged. “Yet the forest is vast. How would an army live? According to the maps I’ve seen, the terrain to the west is rugged, the ground rocky and with deep valleys. Allazar has spoken of a river gorge, lined with trees, plunging deep into the earth, far to the west. Terrible terrain to march an army across, even with supplies. Arramin would likely know more, from all his reading.”

  “Aye.”

  “They’d have to cross through all that and hundreds of miles of forest just to arrive here. Besides, such forces as the Emperor might possess are more than likely busy with their own problems. As I understand it, it’s really only in the south, and in the region of Pellarn, that the Empire comes close to touching our lands. It’s why they were so anxious to take the Old Kingdom, and why they’re so anxious to hold it, I suspect.”

  “Would elves patrol this far to the south of Elvendere?”

  “I have no idea. I doubt it. Though I do wonder what other great works they possess which we know nothing about. With this canal, and the broad avenue which ran through the woodlands near Jarn, they could have moved an army of elves to the border with Callodon, Juria and Pellarn and no-one any the wiser.”

  “At least we now know why Raheen and Callodon found themselves alone in the fight for Pellarn.”

  “Yes. Aside from their elvishness, elves had a good reason not to travel this great water road south. And from my own studies as a boy, it seems Pellarn was lost even before The Thousand joined with your Westguard and rode for the castletown.”

  “I was there, my lord.”

  Gawain gasped, remembering the one-eyed old soldier who at dawn each day ran the flag of Raheen up the pole atop the Keep. “You saw the battle for Pellarn?”

  Tyrane shook his head in
the gloom. “Alas no, my lord. I was on General Jordin’s staff, and we were in bivouac on the banks of the River Ostern. General Jordin called it a ‘jumping off point.’ We’d ridden there, through the Jarn gap, then turned to the northwest. I wasn’t much older than yourself, my lord, at the time, a lieutenant in the General’s staff. My assignment was to support the quartermaster and lay up supplies for men and for horses, and to provide any assistance with the field hospital there if needed. That’s where I first met Healer Turlock, though he was just beginning his career as a whitesleeves. He’d been a village healer before taking the sleeves and the king’s Black and Gold.”

  “I didn’t know Turlock had seen action.”

  Tyrane shrugged. “He was sent forward with a small re-supply group once the main force advanced towards Pellarn Castletown. He came back not long after with the first group of wounded, and remained in the field hospital. But I still remember the day when the Red and Gold arrived, with the Black and Gold on their left flank, up from the south.”

  The captain took a deep breath, and slowed his pace a little, remembering.

  “We heard them, long before we saw them. It was like distant thunder on a clear day, people catching it on the breezes, and pausing in their duties. There was chaos, everywhere. The field hospital was the only place in any kind of order, but having no idea of the number of casualties to be expected they were already over-run with civilians fleeing east. There’d been no warning, nothing, until the beacons were lit and the messages arrived saying the western defences on the Eramak had been burst asunder and praetorians were flooding in… None of us were ready for war. None of us except Raheen.

  “So there we were, supplies going this way and that, the General consulting his books and we junior officers running around trying to find food for everyone and then came this distant thunder, on a clear day. A sudden calm seemed to wash over us as we all paused and looked to the south, as though the answer to everything was about to arrive.

  “Then we saw them, rounding the woodlands to the southeast, glinting in the sunshine like a wave of dancing jewels rolling towards us. General Jordin came out of his command tent, his uniform tunic undone at the neck as always. Who by the Teeth is that approaching? he demanded to know. It is Raheen, General, and the Westguard up from the South-halt, someone shouted back. Well tell ‘em to hold up, I’ll want them on the left flank! the General replied. And I distinctly heard some youthful officer’s voice yell back, over the thundering of those glorious hooves, you tell ‘em Serre! You tell ‘em!”

  Gawain smiled in the darkness, and tried to imagine a young Tyrane screaming at an old coot of a General over the noise of thirteen hundred horses at the canter.

  “They hit the River Ostern in a column of twenty-five, or so they said, I didn’t count, I was too busy cheering. Then the front lines disappeared in a huge cloud of spray where they hit the water. It’s shallow there, a few inches, no more, on a bed of sandy gravel, a natural ford where traders crossed east to west and back, to and from Jarn. That great cloud of spray didn’t seem to end as they thundered through, the Red and Gold and Black and Gold. I thought once they’d passed onto the Plains of Pellarn on the other side of the river, there’d be no river left, so much water did they kick up.

  “We watched them all, riding tall, northwest across the plains towards Pellarn Castle and its town. Invincible. Unstoppable. We watched them all ride back again three days later, though they were not so many. Not so many. We knew, all of us who had seen them before that day, we knew then that Pellarn was lost.”

  “The castle was already in the Emperor’s possession before our forces arrived there, the enemy swept through the defences at the Eramak so quickly.”

  “Aye, so we heard later. It was a hard lesson to be learned, that too much peace is a bad thing when it comes to war.”

  oOo

  10. The Wheel Goes ‘Round

  Life aboard the barge settled quickly into a simple routine, and though there were occasional obstructions to deal with, they coped easily enough with fallen trees and boughs. Once, Arramin and Allazar reported that during the day they’d had to pole for a distance, two sections of chain at the bottom of the canal had failed, though of course when or why they couldn’t say. Several locks were passed, and at each, they stopped the chains behind them before starting those ahead. It seemed the correct thing to do, to preserve the mechanisms for posterity if nothing else.

  The scouts had reported an increase in life in the forest, birds of many kinds proliferating, and on the third afternoon out of Calhaneth, Terryn had reported seeing traces of deer. And with Eldengaze assuring all that ‘nothing dark’ lurked within range of her sight, those not actually on watch or sleeping took to walking the horses along the tow-path, either keeping pace with the vessel or riding ahead and allowing the animals to graze on the bank.

  Gawain found himself enjoying the night watch with Tyrane. The captain had a good deal of experience in Brock’s service, and during their long watch through the night, talking quietly in the deckhouse or standing before it at the prow gazing into the water, Gawain learned much about Callodon’s forces. Such as they were. It was small wonder volunteers had been called upon to ride north to Ferdan; what decent cavalry there was outside of a ceremonial squadron at the castletown were on duty with the Westguard. They patrolled a region known as the South-halt, from the salt-marshes southwest of Jarn, all the way north to the source of the River Ostern. Brock would not denude that force and allow Goria free passage onto his plains.

  More than that, though, Gawain knew that night watch meant relief from the grating rasp of Eldengaze, and her complaints about his ‘brightness’. The ache in his heart for Elayeen seemed to tug at his sensibilities much less, knowing that she was sleeping soundly in the shelter of the aft deckhouse. It wasn’t so much a case of ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ but more a case of knowing that while she slept, she was his beloved Elayeen, and Eldengaze had no power over her. It was probably a futile hope, he knew that, but it gave him more peace of mind than he’d otherwise have if he’d had to endure the vision of her in the grip of the Sight during daylight hours.

  There was also the distinct and private thrill of knowing that he had only his own senses to rely on while Elayeen slept.

  With the barge on the chains and Tyrane at the prow, Gawain would spend an hour with Gwyn and the horses, making sure they were comfortable and well tended, and using the spade from the barge’s toolkit to clear up after them if needs be. They seemed content enough now they were used to the vessel and its motion, and since they weren’t being called upon to work too hard, needed less feeding. The grasses growing along the bank beside the tow-path supplemented the grains Tyrane had packed in their provisions, and that helped, as did the exercise on land. Boredom is as unwelcome to horses as it is to people.

  Clouds scudded overhead on that third night out from the city in the south, and when he’d assured himself the horses were sound, Gawain rejoined Tyrane at the prow. There was perhaps an hour before dawn, and two or three before the day watch stirred and had their breakfast.

  “Darker tonight, m’lord.”

  “Aye. New moon soon. Should brighten up after that, assuming clear skies. We might have rain tomorrow from the looks of the clouds.”

  Tyrane nodded, and the two men leaned back against the deckhouse, arms folded under their cloaks. “At least we’ll have a roof over our heads if there is, unlike the horses.”

  “True enough. According to Arramin, a rope would’ve been strung between the deckhouses and canvass covers hauled tight over it to form a canopy for horses and men, should they have needed covering. They’re long since rotted away to nothing though.”

  “I do wonder, m’lord, what the elves must have thought of us, all those years ago. Here, they were building this great water road, hidden chains and mechanisms propelling boats made from a metal that neither rust nor tarnish can mar even after a thousand years. While in Callodon and Juria the people were s
cratching a living on the plains and living with their chickens in rustic shacks held together with mud and twine.”

  Gawain chuckled. “Mud and twine’s stretching the point a little, Tyrane.”

  The captain smiled. “Aye, well, close enough though, compared to this, and compared to that city in the south.”

  “They also made the thing which destroyed it,” Gawain grimaced. “So they weren’t that wondrous.”

  “Aye. But it does make me wonder. They could’ve swept us all away, had they a mind to. We must’ve seemed like primitive barbarians to their eyes.”

  “In truth, they are a strange people. But I honestly think, just as Allazar said, they would much prefer their traditional life in Elvendere to any conveniences offered by stone-built towns or cities. At least my lady would, and those of her people I’ve met.”

  “Yet they built three cities of stone, according to Arramin, as well as this great feat. And we knew it not.”

  “Yes,” Gawain frowned in the gloom, “Yes they did.”

  “Makes you wonder what lies in store at the city of Ostinath, and this fabled Toorseneth that Arramin spoke of.”

  “It does. Though my lady has said the Toorseneth has lost much of its grandeur over the centuries.”

  “Elves might think it nothing more than a rocky cairn, but it’d still be grander than the Guards’ headquarters in Callodon, which’d doubtless seem nothing more than log cabins to them.”

  “Well,” Gawain smiled, remembering his first meeting with Brock and Allazar, so long ago now. “I seem to recall having breakfast with King Brock at a table in the middle of a group of log cabins.”

  Tyrane gave a single snort of laughter. “I believe there may have been a coat or two of wood-tar since then, m’lord, I doubt you’d recognise the place.”

  “Is that a lock ahead?” Gawain said softly, suddenly serious.