The Longsword Chronicles: Book 03 - Sight and Sound Page 18

  The wheel goes ‘round and ‘round and ‘round,

  Hmm-hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm! Hmmf!

  And he stepped out, leaving the safety of the land behind him. He’d gone about ten feet when a strange noise stopped him in his tracks and drew Tyrane and Terryn’s attention to the aft end of the barge. A small but sharp clang, as though something had fallen and struck the steel deck. Gawain continued walking, trying not to speed his step while concern for the barge and wheel began to gnaw at him.

  Hmm-hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm! Hmmf!

  It wasn’t working. No amount of thinking of happy dancing wizards nor humming their ludicrous happy wizard dancing song could calm the butterflies gathering in his stomach, especially when he saw Terryn jump down onto the main deck of the barge, then appear at the port side moments later waving what looked like a small stick…

  There was another clang, and this time Gawain saw the blur of the thing which had made it. It was an elven longshaft. A quick glance down showed him what he least wanted to see. Elayeen in classic pose, her longbow drawn, aiming high, and south, and there in the distance, approaching at what seemed to be an impossible speed, a black dot, growing against the leaden skies.

  “Hurry, my lord,” he heard Tyrane announce calmly, before the captain jumped down onto the main deck of the barge and disappeared from view, presumably to retrieve his crossbow.

  Movement from the corner of his eye, and he saw Elayeen nocking another arrow to the string. He glanced up at her target and sudden alarm surged through him. It wasn’t some enormous Graken travelling at impossible speed towards them, it was much, much smaller, and much, much closer, and travelling very rapidly indeed. Gawain heard the twang of a powerful crossbow, saw the flash of a steel bolt zipping towards the black winged creature and realised instantly that he would never make the barge before the thing made him. When a second crossbow twanged, Gawain simply dove headfirst into the water in the aqueduct, only dimly aware of the wings which sliced through the air where he had been standing a moment before.

  The water was surprisingly warm, Gawain thought, as he fought against the weight of his clothes, boots, and weapons, making powerful sweeps of his arms to propel himself up and along the aqueduct. He’d taken a good breath, and intended to use it all as best he could. He could see the dull metal of the aqueduct floor beneath him, and realised that with his height he could probably stand in the water with perhaps an inch or so of his head sticking up above it. Instead, after swimming almost halfway to the barge underwater, he stopped, turned in the water so he was standing on the bottom, and pushed up gently, reaching up to grasp the lip of the aqueduct wall.

  When he eased his head out of the water enough to breathe, he heard shouting.

  “There! There from the east! Look out below!”

  Gawain swung his head around, and saw Tyrane screaming down at those on the ground while pointing behind him. A flick of the eyes showed what looked to be a large, crescent-winged bird speeding like an arrow towards the ground from the east and slightly south of the wheel. He heaved himself up to look over the aqueduct wall, and saw Allazar rushing to knock Elayeen and Kahla from their feet and carry them in his headlong charge into the water of the mooring pond, just as the black shape swept across the pond and zoomed up into the air once more.

  “My lord! Hurry!” Tyrane cried, and Gawain struck out from the wall and swam hard towards the gate at the end of the aqueduct.

  “Down! Down!” another cry, and Gawain plunged under the water once more, thrusting himself forward.

  This time he swam below the surface until he made the gate, then reached up and grasped the top of it, and eased his head up to breathe again.

  “Tyrane!”

  “My lord!”

  “I’m at the gate! Where is that thing?”

  “North! North! North!”

  Gawain turned his head, and heard a curious ‘phut!’ like the snapping of a flag in a gust of wind as a streamer of white lightning shot over the aqueduct wall from below. Ahead, streaking in from the staging pool and heading straight for him was the bird. He took a breath and thrust himself under water, looking up through the water as the creature flashed low overhead, jinking up and over the forward deckhouse of the barge as it went.

  Again, Gawain pulled himself up. “Tyrane!”

  “Wait! Wait! It’s swinging ‘round again!”

  “Dwarfspit! Tell me when it’s clear so I can get over the gate!”

  “Wait! It’s going low! Wait! Now! Now!”

  Gawain heaved himself up, intending simply to thrust himself over the gate and onto the prow of the barge, but it wasn’t that simple. In the water, swimming had been an effort but effective, but out of the water, the weight of his sodden clothes and boots, not to mention his weapons, dragged him back. He kicked at the gate, but it was smooth, metal, and there was no purchase for his boots. A hand suddenly grabbed the tunic and shirt at the scruff of his neck and heaved, and Gawain flopped over the gates like a landed fish.

  “Down! Down! Down!” Tyrane screamed, and Terryn released his hold on the King of Raheen and flung himself down onto the gratings alongside the forward deckhouse as a shadow sped over them.

  “Inside! Quickly!”

  The two men needed no second urging, stumbling along the wet walkway on hands and knees, boots skidding, to tumble the two feet down onto the main deck and scramble into the shelter of the forward deckhouse.

  “Elve’s Blood, what is that thing?” Gawain gasped, dripping.

  “Bloody fast is what it is!” Tyrane asserted, peering through the porthole cut into the front bulkhead and fitting another bolt to his crossbow. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” Gawain eyed his bleeding knees, scraped badly again for the second time in as many weeks. “What about below?”

  “I don’t know m’lord, I saw the wizard tackle both the ladies into the pond, and Arramin has been loosing his lightning at the creature.”

  “Let’s hope he hits it then. Where is it?”

  “Lost sight of it! It moves too fast for bolts and arrows.”

  “South!” Terryn called, and they swung their heads. The dot was speeding high above the southern canal, straight towards them.

  Tyrane and Terryn levelled their crossbows and paused.

  “Give it a good lead!” Gawain urged, “Much more than you would a pigeon!”

  The shape grew, bolts were loosed, and incredibly, the winged creature jinked up at the last moment, streaking over the bolts as they passed harmlessly through the point where, had no evasive action been taken, it must surely have been struck. Gawain caught a good look at it as it soared overhead zooming upwards, almost vertically, looping towards the east for another pass.

  It had the fork-tailed and crescent-winged silhouette of a common swift or swallow, but with a long and sharply pointed bill. And it was much larger than any swift or swallow of nature’s making, its wingspan perhaps six feet, tip to tip. It was black, and the leading edges of those scimitar-like wings seemed impossibly thin and sharp. But it was the creature’s speed which was truly astonishing, its wings a blur as it powered up into the sky before turning and arrowing down again. It seemed to be aiming itself at someone or something on the ground, and with a sudden sense of alarm, Gawain thrust himself out of the deckhouse and up to lay across the walkway and the lip of the caisson, looking down.

  In the mooring pool, which was perhaps six feet or more deep, Elayeen and Kahla were clinging to the blue-stone dockside, their gaze fixed on the approaching creature. Allazar was treading water in front of them, holding the Dymendin staff aloft one-handed while he thrust at the water with his free hand, trying to keep himself high enough out of the water to provide a shield for the two ladies behind him.

  Gawain could see that shield, a shimmering disc in the air, its diameter perhaps twice the length of the staff. There was another curious phut! and a streamer of white lightning burst from the doorway of the blockhouse, where Arramin held his staff at a low angle, but
the black winged beast jinked up again, evading the white fire before flicking south and up over the trees.

  Gawain dragged himself up on his knees and waved frantically, shouting the elderly wizard’s name, but he doubted he would be heard over the sound of the water jets spraying on the boat-lift’s bearings. Arramin obviously saw the movement though, and ducked back into the blockhouse, and there came an immediate clunk and rattle, and the wheel began to turn.

  “South! South!” Tyrane shouted, and a quick glance showed the beast streaking along the broad canal once more, heading straight for them again.

  Gawain shoved himself back onto the main deck, laying on the grating and pressing himself up against the hull. He heard the crossbows release, almost in unison, saw the shadow flit away, and heard Terryn’s curse. Another miss.

  “It’s swinging east again!” Tyrane called, and Gawain pulled himself up onto his screaming knees.

  “It’s going low!” he shouted, and the dark-winged thing was, aiming for their three comrades in the pool. Gawain heaved himself over the walkway again to watch as Allazar, tiring now, raised the Dymendin staff, and his shield, again. Arramin stood poised in the doorway of the blockhouse, staff at the ready, and Gawain suddenly leapt to his feet and made a frantic gesture with his right hand, chopping it back and forth over his head, bobbing up and down as though he were ducking a blade.

  Arramin took a pace forward from the doorway, white fire streamers flickering from the end of his white-oak staff, and Gawain heard the flag-snapping fluttering of the discharges. Then, from his position leaning precariously over the edge of the caisson, he saw Allazar thrust himself up from the water, the Dymendin staff held aloft and the shimmering shield angled high over himself, Elayeen and Kahla. He watched, stunned, as the dark-wing, jinking low under Arramin’s fire, just clipped the rim of Allazar’s shield. It was enough.

  It ricocheted off, spinning, whirling as though it really were a scimitar flung at an enemy, but at incredible speed. Its wings flicked, it twisted and writhed, trying to regain control of its flight and gain altitude, but it failed, and slammed into the trees beyond the grassy verge to the west, where Gawain had last seen Elayeen and Kahla sitting quietly. He distinctly heard several impacts as the creature ricocheted from bough and trunk, but then the hiss of cooling water drowned out the sounds from below as the caisson dipped lower towards the pool, Jaxon and Rollaf running across the open paving to help those immersed in the water there.

  oOo

  12. Ups and Downs

  “What was it, Allazar?” Gawain asked, the pair of them dripping on the dockside while Jaxon and Rollaf secured the barge by its chains.

  “A Razorwing of the Tansee. It must have been the aerial guardian you believed your lady glimpsed when first we entered the forest, and again when we were on the southern avenue.”

  “Guiding the Kiromok?”

  “Perhaps, or perhaps merely keeping watch over the city in the south.”

  “It would explain the lack of larger birds. Heron and the like.”

  “Yes. They are extremely dangerous creatures, and unlike the smaller birds of nature whose shape and speed they imitate, they do not subsist on insects on the wing. The Razorwing is carnivorous. Nothing on the wing, nothing of nature’s making, could hope to evade it in open sky. Within the forest though, there is safety. We are fortunate the horses followed Gwyn into the trees when your lady commanded she go there.”

  “Elayeen ordered Gwyn into the trees?”

  “Yes, Longsword. It was her urgent shouts of command to the horses that brought my attention to the scene, and away from the cooking of the goat. Fortunately for her, and for Simayen Kahla. Whatever the strength of her Sight and whatever her skill with the bow, she couldn’t possibly hope to bring down a Razorwing of Tansee. It would have sliced them in half and returned to feast on their remains when it was safe to land. It is, of course, a creature of aquamire.”

  “Oh my lords!” Arramin gasped, a little breathless from hurrying to join them after securing the controls of the great boat-lift.

  “Arramin. You understood my signal then?”

  “Yes, my lord, shoot over the creature’s head to force it down, I would not have thought of such a tactic, thinking instead to strike the creature or deflect its attention away from its quarry.”

  Gawain smiled. “You did well, master wizard, and your white fire was considerably more impressive than at the baths. I hope your hands are sound?”

  Arramin beamed. “Indeed they are my lord, though the credit must go to this wonderful staff. Without it, I would have been entirely useless.”

  “Nonsense, Serre wizard,” Tyrane asserted. “You’re a wizard of Callodon. It’s a wonder you could bring us down in the wheel and fight off that Razorwing at the same time.”

  “Oh dear me. Well, far be it from me to diminish your high opinion of me, Captain, but once the controls had been primed I only needed to pull two levers to bring you down.”

  “Is it dead, Allazar?” Gawain asked quietly.

  “What’s left of it is buried in the trunk of a tree, where soon it will decay to ash. They are foul creatures, originally intended to defend open land and guard passes. Can you imagine trying to wend your way along the Downland Pass with one or more of those attacking you? When the war against Morloch intensified and the dark enemy began to realise it would not go well for them, the Tansee created flocks of Razorwings, and launched them against allied forces. They would simply crash into the kindred races, destroying themselves along with their unfortunate targets. They were very effective. Against cavalry, they would swoop low above the ground, taking the legs from horses, against infantry, taking the heads from men and elves.

  “Nor was night any defence, for it is believed that the Razorwing sees the heat of life within nature’s creatures, as well as their shape and colour during the hours of daylight. Thus, they are weapons at any time of day, in any weather. They are not, however, invincible, as you have seen. Their speed and agility is their principle protection.”

  “Then let’s hope there are no more of them. An arrow-straight canal is just the thing to give it a good run-up. Why did it wait until now to attack?”

  “I suspect it was meant to remain in the vicinity of the city in the south, but like the Kiromok it may once have guided, food became scarce and it had to expand the circle of its patrol. Remember, your lady saw something even before we entered the forest north of Jarn. It was seeking food, rather than looking simply to destroy us. Its instructions clearly did not include sacrificing its own miserable existence. I suspect the screeching of the wheel when it was first operated carried far along the canal, and attracted it. Come, Longsword, let’s get out of these wet clothes and leave this place.”

  “Good idea. Elayeen and Kahla?”

  “Are changing clothes too, in what remains of the boarding hall.”

  “They’re unharmed?”

  “Yes, though shaken. For a lady who cannot see to find herself in the water with a lady who cannot swim and a dark enemy in the air was doubtless a trifle unnerving.”

  “So was being stuck a hundred feet in the air with it.”

  “A hundred and twelve, my lord,” Arramin corrected, gently.

  “Remind me, Allazar, when was the last time I killed a whitebeard?”

  “Ah.”

  Gawain and Allazar squelched aboard the barge where their saddles and belongings were stowed, and retrieved their spare clothing, changing in the relative privacy of the forward deckhouse.

  “He did well, before you mention it,” Gawain mumbled, towelling himself dry.

  “Yes, he did. And he was quite correct you know, the white oak staff helped enormously in focusing his energies. And a good job too, considering he hasn’t used them in an age.”

  “Do you think that’s the last of the darkness, between here and Ostinath?”

  Allazar shrugged, wringing out his sodden robes. “I certainly hope so. I had thought us already far beyond any
thing Morloch might have seeded in that lamentable city. I confess, I am astonished by the creatures we have encountered since leaving Raheen. They speak of a level of sophistication in the west which neither I nor Arramin of the D’ith Sek imagined existed there.”

  “Would you have expected Arramin to know of such things?”

  Allazar sat on the metal bench and pulled off his boots, emptying them out while he thought for a moment. “Alas, as a D’ith pat I have no real understanding of the degree of knowledge which is available to the higher orders. I knew of course that to ascend the scale I would need experience in the service of the kindred, then when the Hallencloister felt it appropriate, to sit an examination in the halls there before proceeding. Think of the ranks as a series of locked doors, Longsword, you must first obtain a key before you may unlock the door to discover what lies beyond.”

  “You’ve spent many hours on watch with Arramin, has he given no clues?”

  “He is both wise and erudite, Longsword, and also a wizard of the D’ith Sek. Obviously he knows I am D’ith pat, I was once in service to Brock as is he, but since I am also First of Raheen and have demonstrated a certain degree of power with the Dymendin staff, he speaks openly as though I were an equal.

  “However, he is of the old school, and wants no truck with politics. Thus, he avoids such discussions, and I, in deference to his wisdom, do not press. If that sounds like whitebeard flim-flam then I apologise, but in truth, Master Arramin is, I sincerely believe, precisely what he appears to be: an historian, who long ago abandoned all desire of progress through the ranks of the D’ith once he had access to his beloved libraries. And he is a wizard who would willingly burn his own arms off in defence of the kindred.”