Chapter II
The People of Kush
They rose early just before dawn and made their way to the Gatehouse. There were horses, a wagon filled with furs, blankets and all types of trade goods. Agoran greeted each of them in turn. Andreas appeared more sombre than usual; perhaps leaving at such an early hour had interrupted his usual routine. As they were meant to be leaving in secret, it was too much amusement and consternation that Nicholas arrived accompanied by a couple of tired looking young maidens, that he was making all kinds of promises to that he could not possibly hope to keep. Nishga just rolled her eyes with a disbelieving shake of the head. So it was with such goodbyes that Achil and Nishga climbed aboard the wagon while Andreas and Nicholas mounted their horses. Their shadows began to lengthen as the sun rose over the horizon. Slowly solemnly they began their long journey; quietly riding out of Findolin. Agoran stood guardedly at the gates as they left, silent with his own brooding thoughts. As they moved off, he hurriedly caught up with Nicholas’s young friends to swear them to secrecy.
They descended quietly down the pathway that led round the plateau and onto the plain below. Travelling in silence, all felt the wait of expectation on their shoulders none more so than Achil. Nishga was gently rocked to sleep by the short shuddering movement of the carriage. Andreas and Nicholas kept abreast to the wagon, easily keeping to its slow pace.
“How long before we reach the lands of the Mead.” Andreas leant forward stroking the horses mane. Its ears flicked and pricked up as though he were talking to it.
“Well let's see; it’ll take some days to leave Findolin, we’ll steer clear of our outlying settlements. We’ll go cross country. The last thing we want is to be detained by some over zealous patrol.” Achil shook the reigns encouraging the horses to go a little faster.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, don’t you think it’ll look a little strange that we’re not taking a more normal route. If we get spotted it’ll give the impression that we’re trying to conceal something.”
“What do you suggest?" asked Achil flicking away a small midge that had stopped for breakfast on his forearm.
“We should at least stop off at a settlement close to the border. Make our presence known by eating at a local tavern. Discuss mundane things of no great interest. Which I’m sure will be picked upon by spies of the Mandrake. If they know we are coming they will be less likely to ask us questions regarding our travels, as they will already be aware of them.”
Achil glanced across at Andreas covering his eyes with his hand to prevent being blinded by the glare of the morning sun.
“When did you get to be so devious? You're right that sounds like a plan to me. You realise of course while we are at such a place it is likely that our goods will be searched without our knowing.” Again Achil tugged on the reigns in the hope of encouraging the horses to go a little faster.
“All the better for that, it’ll show any prying eyes that we are who we say we are. And that we have nothing but goods for trade. Where should we head for? It should not be a place where any of us might be recognised.” Andreas’s horse reared up and once more he patted its mane, and under his command the horse calmed instantly.
Achil thought a moment. “There’s only one place I can think of. It’s a place I used to actively avoid. It’s filled with monks and soothsayers and all kinds of religious fanatics that will try to convert you to their way of thinking. As long as you don’t mind people approaching you with their particular message of salvation, we’ll be alright. It's called the Settlement of Kush, called after its founder. There will be no tavern there though. It's a route traders often take as their goods are often in demand there. But it does have a reputation for being dull.”
Andreas smiled. “Perfect, with that many different types of Shaman, Soothsayers, Priests, and Oracles and traders wandering around we should be able to blend in nicely. Any spies of the Mandrake will more than likely be disguised as monks. And with the religious tolerance of the Finns that‘s clever indeed; it’s probably one of the ways they got information back to whoever it is that heads up their Shadow Warriors. From there they would have known of any movement your army made, and would have known of their passing into Mead, which would have given them a tactical advantage and plenty of time to set in motion the trap they laid at the Durnham Hills.”
The feeling among the Dragon People was that the Mandrake Imperium was not such a mysterious or formidable foe, and it just came down to the fact that they were well organised, more disciplined and better informed.
“Andreas,” whispered Achil. “Your understanding of them is beginning to scare me. You‘re not one of them are you?”
Andreas's laughter bellowed out. “You know something; you could be right I've shapeshifted into an Imperial Guardsmen and didn't even know it.”
They rode on for several days, each hour passed without regret for the last. The land beneath their feet changed from lush prairie grasses to a more hilly terrain, eventually trees and rocky outcrops were appearing. The sun was drawing toward the horizon; they approached the river Severing; which cut across their path preventing them from moving forward. They followed its edge until they found a place where it was not so deep as to deter a crossing. They edged the Wagon forward until its wheels were fully submerged. Achil struggled to steer the horses across. They were almost to the other side when the wagon came to an abrupt stop. Achil struggled with it a moment and then resignedly handed the reigns to Nishga and jumped into the water. Diving down he could see the problem, a rock had wedged beneath one of the wheels stopping its movement. Achil placed his sword beneath the rock to dislodge it and heaved; unfortunately he lost his footing and slipped beneath the water, but thankfully the wheel was freed and without any encouragement the horses proceeded ashore. A bedraggled Achil made his way to the front of the wagon and climbed back onto it. They decided that with their shadows now stretching across the open meadow they would make camp for the night. It was Andreas who unbridled the horses and let them roam free to feed on the lush grasses, after he followed the others and placed his blanket on the ground to rest on, Achil and Nicholas had gone and gathered up some wood to start a small fire while Nishga took out the salted beef ready to be passed around. They ate the meal with great heart and sat back, it was Achil who first broke the silence.
“I think there’s a clearing outside Kush for traders to make camp,” he said sitting up on his haunches. “The people will come out and look to see if there’s anything we have that might prove useful to them. There's always a few people passing through there; pilgrims and travellers that want a safe place to stop for the night. Remember the people that live there can be quite zealous. I think from this moment forward we must be on our guard, assume the identities we have been given. You have had an opportunity to read who you are and where you are from. I am a merchant from Upper Mead. Nishga you being my wife must understand, as is the custom with the women of Mead, you will have to behave in a manner that suggests a certain obedience to your husband. Remember the Meadians have a stiff hierarchical society. That’s why they were so easily absorbed into the Mandrake Empire. It also means that since I am the head of the household all matters dealing with trade can only occur with my consent. Once we enter Mead proper, as my guards,” Achil gave Andreas a gentle nudge to make sure he was listening. “You will be held in high esteem as are all warriors in the kingdom of Jin.”
“Well this is it then,” replied Nishga thoughtfully. “You know what; I’m not worried at all. Okay may be a little bit, but think of all the things we've done together, so creating a little mischief abroad. I can’t wait.” Nishga’s eyes gleamed in the fading light; it was as though she were issuing a challenge to the others. And yet all four quickly fell silent. Each had heard news of what the Mandrake did to spies when they were captured, and soon it would be time to see if they truly had the mettle for the parts they had to play.
Andreas tied the horses to the wagon so they would not escape in
the night. Nicholas lay back to sleep, while Achil stared into some unknown distance in quiet contemplation. The stars were now shining above them like softened crystals in the fabric of night. And the golden embers of the fire were slowly turning to ash. Soon all that could be heard was the rhythmic echo of shallow breathing.
The next morning by the time Achil had woken; Nishga had already bathed in the river and was busy drying her hair. The aroma of bacon filled the air; a deep sizzling sound had already captured the attention of Nicholas who stood by attentively waiting for Andreas to finish cooking. Achil got to his feet and made his way to the rivers edge and submerged his head in it. The sun was gradually rising over the horizon. Peacefully it climbed above a green savannah, the warmth felt comforting and fresh.
Achil crouched down by the side of Nishga twiddling some grasses in his hands.
“I believe we should make for Kush today,” said Achil. “One thing we have yet to discuss Nishga is your use of your special powers, the Orb, and the fact that you still have your cloak; the perfect instrument, if ever there were one, to spy with.”
“I wondered when you would get round to mentioning them. The Orb we do not have, I left it with the Underlings, so that they can keep in touch with Osgaroth. As for my use of the Crystal, if I use it, and word got out, it would give warning that we are not what we seem to be. Also depending on the mystical safeguards Jin has in place, it might alert him to our presence. So we’ll use it sparingly and only in utmost need. The cloak though may be the difference between life and death, so we will use it as often as is possible.”
Achil nodded in agreement. “Very well, only in time of need will we use your powers.”
Andreas passed them their breakfast. The smell of bacon fought with the natural aroma of nature and for a brief period won. When they finished they cleared their things away and set off. The road to Kush was a winding one, and the march there uncomfortable it would be early evening by the time they got there, along the road there were few travellers. Pilgrims for the most part who had recently left the Mission of Kush. They were informed that though the Mandrake had passed that way, they had left the settlement alone and it was trading as normal. One thing they were to be prepared for was that Kush had grown as a settlement. Being a place of religious worship it owed much of its existence to kindly benefactors who wished for a prosperous afterlife. Achil thanked the strangers and shook the reins encouraging the horses forward.
“Did you hear that, untouched and grown," He said holding the reins tightly in his hands, an indication that he was disturbed by the news he had just heard.
Andreas steered his horse closer to the wagon. “That can only mean one thing. They have an understanding with the Mandrake, but at what cost? We won’t know until we arrive there.”
Achil noticed a stone by the side of the road so he hauled the carriage to a stop. 'Fifteen Leagues to Kush.' They rode on in silence. There were hills up ahead covered by a dense wood, the road ran through the centre of it. Things seemed calm enough when Nishga gasped and pointed at something hanging from one of the trees. It was a body in a metal case. The crows were picking at its eyes. Beneath it was a sign. ‘Death to bandits, thieves and spies.’
“Well at least we know our fate, should we be captured.” Nicholas’s tone was ironic; they knew before this sight what would befall them should they be discovered. The body, abject and desiccated, just made it all the more real.
The trees seemed to become more ominous as though they were standing guard at the side of the road. In the distance could be seen a clearing and further over a large structure of sorts. As the road opened out, what they saw astonished them; the fort that they thought Kush was had become something much larger. It had turned into a large walled monastic built citadel. There were large open gates to the front. A moat had been dug all the way round that had not been there previously, and above the towers to the side of the gates flew many flags, the one that was raised above all the others was the Banner of the Mandrake, the Missions new benefactors. The Drawbridge was down and people were coming and going across it. There was a small hamlet to the front of the Fort built up of both wooden and stone houses. A large tavern had also been built outside the walls with a coach and horse stables to the side. As Achil and Nishga sat in the wagon with Andreas and Nicholas at their sides, someone approached them. They looked at each other in silence. The man was a monk, a tall stocky man, with a shaven head, and clear blue searching eyes; his habit struggled against the ground and was slightly frayed, he stood in front of the wagon looking them all up and down. He was not the usual thin shaped, half starved individual, that had previously frequented such an establishment, his long robes appeared to conceal a metal jerkin and a sword protruded from the bottom of his gown, his boots were also not what you would have expected of someone of his denomination.
“May I enquire whether you are passing through, or are you seekers of spiritual guidance. Or perhaps from the goods I can see in your wagon you are here to trade.”
“We were just going to rest on our way to Horrazim, but while we’re here if we can trade and get a good price for our goods then we will.” Achil regarded the man stoically.
“You are welcome. Unfortunately you have arrived during a mourning period. Our Abbot died recently but not to worry, the new one was recently sanctified and is a fine replacement, more open minded than the last, and worldlier he is from the Central Kingdoms.”
The man seemed to be letting them know that there was a change of loyalties and status of the Monastery and its occupants.
“We are from Upper Mead. So we are used to all types of religious beliefs.” Achil made to pass the monk their identity papers.
The monk did not take them from his hands but merely glanced at them curiously and gestured for him to put them away.
“I presume you came from Findolin as your wagon and your wears match both the design and fashion of that state.” The man spoke with a hint of enquiry.
“Of course.” said Achil thinking quickly. “We have just come from there on business and purchased these goods. We are now taking our wears to Horrazim, where we'll get a good price for them.”
The monk gave Achil a searching look before directing him toward the tavern. Achil and Nishga looked at each other curiously.
“The Tavern is an addition, a symbol of our new status," said the Monk noticing the undisguised query written on both their faces.
Achil gestured for Andreas and Nicholas to guard the wagon, while he and Nishga carrying their holdalls entered the tavern. Inside was a bustling crowd of traders and travellers. Achil was surprised to see how busy it actually was, this was not the Kush he remembered. There was a small group laughing and singing by the fire.
“What happened here? This place has completely changed. It was like a crypt before now it's actually got some life to it.” Achil raised his voice so he could be heard above the din. He pushed his way passed the crowd to get to the barmen.
“Hi, we would like adjoining rooms a double and a twin for the night.”
The barmen leant forward to hear what was being said and Achil repeated the request but this time he raised his voice to be heard above the din.
“Two rooms, a double and a twin?” The barmen shouted back. “I’ll ask one of the bar maids to take you to your rooms. But I’m afraid as for adjoining ones or a double I can’t help you, we only have two left, and there both twins.”
“That’s fine,” Achil shouted back at him.
“It’ll be two silver bits for the night.”
Achil grudgingly paid the landlord and quietly remarked how expensive his tariffs were. The two of them then followed the barmaid up to their room. She assured them that their wagon and goods would be kept in the stables overnight where they would be safe. She then departed to see to their companions.
Achil ventured to open the window and let some air into the room; he took the bed nearest the window and laid himself out on its uncomfortably hard surface. T
he room was on the first floor. There was a hearth at its centre, with some firewood on a rack by its side; in front of the hearth were two chairs. The window was leaded, beneath which was a small chest; to the opposite side of the room was an ornate wardrobe.
“What do you think?” Nishga sat next to Achil speaking softly.
“I think we need to know more. The Mandrake have definitely left their mark here.” whispered Achil, sitting up and leaning back on his arms he continued. “We must be careful this place will be crawling with spies; for our side and theirs. So they will be looking out for strangers. Undoubtedly our presence has already been relayed to the Abbot. Let's just hope we don’t arouse suspicions.” Achil stopped talking; something had brushed against their door. There it was again, but this time they saw the offender it was a drape that but for a slight breeze had fluttered to close to the wind chime that hung from the ceiling near the window. He gestured to Nishga that it was nothing. Her look changed from wide eye concern to a bemused shake of the head.
“Tonight I will sneak into the monastery and see exactly if I can find out why this place has changed so much.” Nishga stood up and took out her cloak from her holdall and flung it down on the bed.
There was a knock. Achil rose, becoming instantly alert, and leapt to the door; Andreas's hushed voice forced its way into the room. Achil looked over at Nishga and motioned for her to sit back down. He opened the door and in walked Andreas and Nicholas. Achil checked to make sure the corridor was empty before closing the door behind them. Andreas sat on a chair while Nicholas sat on the bed next to Nishga. Achil explained what Nishga intended to do that evening. They also agreed that it might be too suspicious for two guards to stay in their room for the night. So they would go downstairs and have some food and a tankard of beer each, before retiring for the night. Andreas walked over to the window and stood staring out of it. From where he was he could see some movement down below him. With a tight voice he gestured for them to put out the candles and join him, as they gathered round Andreas pointed at something in the gloom. Achil’s eyes quickly grew accustomed to the fading light where he could make out a figure by the stables, it was no more than a shadow; a shape which moved furtively back and forth. A stable door was opened. Light flooded out, a face turned looking to see if they were being watched. They could make out the monk that had stopped them earlier. He disappeared inside the stables shutting the door quietly behind him.
The four of them stepped back from the window. Achil pulled the drapes across.
“Well that was interesting. Why would a monk that is able to walk freely and with impunity, behave in such a manner, unless he doesn’t wish for others to be aware of his movements.” Achil turned his attention toward Andreas, his arms folded with one hand resting against his chin.
“I’m going to see exactly what’s going on in that Citadel of theirs,” said Nishga. “What I’ll do is follow you two down to the bar, and make my way out of the tavern, and do some investigating of my own.” She threw the cloak around her body and disappeared from view.
Andreas opened the door, checked the corridor to see if there was anyone there. He moved out cautiously, followed by Nicholas. The door was shut behind them by the invisible force of Nishga. Achil lay back on his bed staring up at the ceiling; all he could do now was to wait for her report. Moonlight gently came through the crack in the drapes and landed at his feet. So now their adventure truly began. Nishga followed Andreas into the bar area. He sat by a table as close to the door as possible. Nishga waited by the door. When it opened, she quickly sneaked passed the men who were entering the bar. One of the men who was talking to his friends felt something brush passed him. He gave out an exclamation, and jumped back. His friends turned and looked curiously at him. He shrugged off their enquiry as to what was wrong, saying it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. To which his closest friend remarked that usually happened after they had a good drink and not before it. The three companions laughed together before heading to the bar.
Outside the tavern Nishga studied the route she would take, people were crossing from the other side of the road it seemed everyone was heading for the tavern for the night. She moved off in the direction of the stables, large enough to house a hundred horses, another addition no doubt of the Imperium. Her footfall was light barely noticeable. She guardedly stepped close to the stable doors and could here people talking inside. The door opened.
“Look I tell you there’s nothing in that wagon except goods for trade. And if they are with the Merchant Guilds, I certainly don't wish to be the one to upset them.”
Nishga could only catch half the conversation. The other man's voice was muffled, distant, barely audible.
“Sure I’ll keep an eye open, but it's just there’s nothing worth having in these parts unless you want a few holy relics.”
There was a stifled laugh in response. Then the monk appeared at the door saluted the guard the Mandrake way. His hand reaching across his chest to his opposite shoulder, and then he disappeared into the dark. Nishga recognised the salute, it was the way the Central Plains legionaries greeted one another. She was fast on the heels of the Monk. The man halted suddenly to look behind him, as if sensing something, but there was nothing there for him to see. Nishga had almost ran into him, fortunately she had just stopped short. He entered the gates of the Citadel. Walking through a large courtyard then on beneath an archway and into an open corridor fronting a three storey flint built building. To one side there were arched stone pillars running along to hold the upper floors in place. Nishga stopped as the man stopped, walked as the man walked and moved as the man moved. He got to the far end, took down a lantern, lit it, opened a door and entered into a haughty hallway to the back of which was a large staircase leading to the upper floors. He stood at the doorway looking out to see if he had been seen. This gave Nishga an opportunity to slip by him and into the hall. The Monk held up the lantern and walked along the cold stone floor toward the stairs, and began to climb them, at the top he moved along the landing to one of the side chambers. He stood outside a moment and then knocked at the door. A voice called him in. Nishga entered and crept over to the side. The Monk stood at the door a moment then closed it behind him.
“What news Yianis?”
The Man speaking was seated at a desk there was no pretence in private of wearing a habit, he had a chain mail jerkin on. A sword and shield hung from the wall like some trophy. His hair was long, dark, and hung loosely at his shoulders. His eyes were fearsome burning coals. He was by all accounts a true Marauder.
“Nothing of interest Praetor, just some minor merchant from Mead and his scrawny little mouse of a wife he's also got a couple of guards, probably the usual mercenaries.”
The Man stood up and grunted. Pouring himself and his companion some wine. He bent over, opened a draw from his desk and placed on the table something in a small box. He lifted the lid up and turned it round for Yianis to see. It was a Sphere.
“I bet you didn’t know that the monks here had one perfect little treasure. They probably didn’t even know its worth.”
Yianis looked in awe at it.
“What type is it? Have you been able to communicate with Jin? Is it a far sight Orb or is it one that can be used to control minds,” said the Monk excitedly.
“I have been unable as yet to ascertain its use. It is not responding to the usual commands, which means there may be a spell binding it, which explains why the monks here did not realise its importance. Until we figure out what’s wrong with it. It's just another worthless holy relic. Like all the others in the Crypt.”
The Praetor sat back down behind his desk.
“Sir what are we doing here. You should have been Praetor to all the lands of the Mead.” Yianis pulled up a chair.
“That’s not the way it works you know that. The people of Mead have willingly made themselves part of the Mandrake Imperium. They therefore retain all the rights and privileges afforded to such a state eve
n a certain degree of autonomy. Which means as long as they pay their taxes and follow the laws of the Mandrake, they can have a certain amount of autonomy, and live in peace. It's only this Western Alliance we need concern ourselves with. They are a bigger threat than any rebellion would ever be in far off Quinn.”
The Praetor leant forward placing his hands firmly on the desk; the candlelight gave his eyes a wild appearance.
“Well one thing's for sure our campaign against the Witch King of Baronia cannot commence until matters are finally concluded at home. And with the Finns uniting with Askalon and the Dragon People of Osgaroth they may in the future become as big a threat as the Witch King. Something we did not anticipate was the unity of that alliance, a unity born out of desperation. If the truth be told we should have treated with them differently and tried instead of conquest, an alliance, because in the end the Witch King is a threat faced by all, and not one made by any machinations on our part, and such an enemy needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later. If we are forced to wait another two years then the cost of dealing with him will be too great, and the outcome more uncertain.”
Yianis sat in the chair, his hand cupped round his chin in contemplation as the Praetor spoke. There was a large rasping knock on the door. Yianis jumped up and opened the door. A guard stood to attention and passed him a note. He shut the door after him and sat back down handing the note to the Praetor who quickly read it.
“Interesting.” said the Praetor, “It appears we have news regarding their Dragon Chamber weapon. They are currently being dismantled for what reason we know not. You remember on the battlefield most of them imploded, but not after causing considerable damage to our forces.”
He set fire to the piece of paper and let it drop into the bin at the side of his desk.
“Has Jin come up with an appropriate defence?” asked Yianis sitting back down and resting his hands comfortably on the arms of his chair. He was smiling in a self assured manner.
“When Jin comes back, if he decides that they really are a threat, then he will be bringing with him a force so great and a Dragon so fearsome that the walls of that City will shatter at the thunder of his arrival.” The Praetor laughed. “Anyway I want you to make one last check of the guards before you retire the night.”
Yianis rose saluted the Praetor opened the door and was about to walk through it when the Praetor gestured for him to stop.
“One moment, I know it's probably nothing but just in case, keep an eye on that merchant from Mead until he leaves. But make sure you do it diligently, remember we’re all one big happy family in this empire of ours. And another thing I will be leaving early in the morning before sun up. I have yet to visit the new garrison being built in central Mead; I want to know how quickly works are moving along, especially if it is to be the launching point for our next incursion into Findolin.”
Yianis nodded and walked out into the corridor.
Nishga took the opportunity to slip passed him as he opened the door. She watched him disappear, waited a moment. She was about to move off when out stepped the Praetor. He yawned and left for his bed chamber. Leaving the door unlocked behind him. Nishga made a mental note of which room it was, and silently made her way back to the tavern.
She walked out into the courtyard and noticed three guards at one end. Two were seated on boxes and were playing a game involving dice being rolled from a small box. They were moving small pieces round the board according to the roll of the dice. The one standing up was leaning back against the small guard house, laughing at the misfortune of one of the other guards who was having some particularly bad luck that night. Nishga carefully walked passed them but as she did so she disturbed a rat that ran out beneath the board, which made one of the guards jump up and knock the board over. The man who was having the bad luck applauded his good fortune, while the other guard who was looking on just laughed all the more.
In that commotion Nishga escaped across to the tavern. The door was half open so she squeezed through, crossed the floor unseen, and climbed the stairs to her room. She looked around making sure the corridor was empty and took off her cloak. Achil sat up on his bed as soon as the door began to open and reached for his sword. When he saw it was Nishga, he relaxed against the headboard. She walked over and sat next to him.
In an excited whisper she began to speak. “This place has certainly been infiltrated by the Mandrake. It really is not what it seems. I'm afraid what you might consider to be a disputed border settlement is no longer so. This place is firmly in the hands of the Mandrake. There is one thing of great import. One of the holy relics they’ve appropriated, it’s an Orb. If I could get my hands on it, we might be able to communicate directly with the Underlings, the Prefect of the Dragon People, and King Paladin. It would give us an incredible advantage if it's the right type of Orb.”
Achil nodded. “How are you proposing we get hold of it?”
“We're not getting hold of it, I’m getting hold of it. It’s the only way. I know where it is, I also know where it's locked away.” She stood up and put the cloak back on. The door opened and closed seemingly on its own. All Achil could do now was wait once more, so he sat back and mulled over the ever expanding Imperium and how best to slow its expansion.
The time past slowly as he waited for her return, Achil got up from his bed and began to pace up and down the room.