CHAPTER TEN
Malkrin stood and gestured to Bulwan and his elders to thank them for their hospitality, then indicated he must leave before his pursuers returned. The Skatheln elder looked confused; he appeared to have lost the rapport that Jadde’s scriptures had initiated.
‘Explain to him Halle,’ Malkrin ordered tersely.
After a short time in unspoken explanation Halle spoke with an undercurrent of tension. ‘I have explained our situation to Bulwan as best I can, and he has promised not to mention our meeting if the searchers return.
Seara looked at her father then to Malkrin and then back to her father as she assessed the gravity of their predicament.
‘Come daughter we must leave immediately.’
Seara wished her new friends a reluctant farewell. They gathered their backpacks and the Skatheln danced a farewell. After the short ceremony the tribe retreated to the tree line to watch the three companions leave. Bulwan alone stood on the path in the open. With his hand he gestured what looked like a bird flying away.
‘He wishes us a safe journey,’ Halle said, and they raised hands in parting.
Malkrin and his companions travelled in silence for some time along the cliff edge, each deep in their thoughts. Malkrin tried to guess the identity of the mysterious searchers. He concluded they had to be Brenna: the only people with access to Jadde’s symbols of highsense recognition.
They used the rest of the daylight to look for a crossing point.
‘Keep up Seara,’ Malkrin snapped in frustration after two hourglasses of travelling the rim of the watery chasm.
‘We’ll never get across – what’s the point in hurrying,’ she moaned.
‘Quiet daughter, and keep up, you don’t look tired.’
Like me, she’s just frustrated and irritable with lack of progress, Malkrin thought.
The cliff dipped down to the water’s edge several times but was always either non-fordable or the opposite cliff face too shear. They stopped often to examine the ground for spoor, but it was too rocky to reveal foot, paw or hoof imprints. Recent rain had washed any prints from patches of mud and sand. Intermittently, faint paths disappeared into scrub, but were not frequently used. Malkrin’s highsense was not detecting any danger, but there was no way of telling whether the mysterious searchers had passed this way.
‘A path must lead to something,’ he snarled, thinking aloud. ‘It doesn’t matter which side of the river we are. I’m still hoping the end of this path will be at a Wolf Clan village.’
‘If they’re hostile we can retreat back along a path we now know,’ Halle added.
‘Back to the Skatheln,’ Seara added hopefully.
They camped that night sheltered in a large circular walled enclosure covered in ivy and scrub. The bowl shaped depression opened at one side to a gap in the cliff leading down a narrow and treacherous path to a small pebble strewn beach. The foaming torrent was too deep to wade and too wild to swim.
They’d allowed Seara first watch again. Malkrin could see her now just above him carefully scanning the surrounding countryside from amongst high grass. She had concealed herself well with just head and shoulders protruding. He trusted her. She was being forced by circumstance to mature quickly. But still Malkrin couldn’t sleep, the revelation that they were being sought by mystery high-people was a real concern to him. He knew of no one else who currently had any highsense recognised amongst the Seconchane’s ordinary folk. There was only one conclusion he could reach – the Brenna, or the priesthood had kept people with three highsense talents secret from the ordinary folk for some unknown purpose. He dismissed an earlier idea that the Brenna had raided Jadde’s sacred chest of sun symbols merely to make themselves appear important.
What was he being sought for? Or could Halle and Seara be the ones sought – to be forced back to Cyprusnia to admit their hidden highsenses. The strangers must have hidden highsense gifts, but what were they? Malkrin felt weighed down with unanswered questions, adding to the aches from the journey.
He propped himself on an elbow, and noticed Halle sitting watching over his daughter as she guarded them.
‘I see you too are alert. We must be increasingly wary, lest our pursuers use a highsense to detect us.’
‘Perhaps if we come across more people they will have information on the searchers whereabouts,’ Halle suggested.
‘Or they may take the searchers side and hold us until the strangers come to collect us. There may be a reward on our heads.’
Malkrin finally sunk into a restless sleep until Seara woke him for his watch. The position of the moon told him she had done more than her allotted period.
‘Get some sleep girl,’ he ordered softly.
Later Halle took over from him and he only awoke at the smell of cooking. Seara was roasting slices of venison in the resurrected fire and Halle was pouring hot nettle tea into three clay bowls.
Today he hoped to find evidence of the Wolf people and track them to their settlement. But would the three companions be welcomed? If the Wolf Tribe were friendly then would the meeting follow their experience with the Skatheln and be an exchange of folklore and tribal legend containing clues to further mysteries.
He hoped the three of them would pass as destitute traders from the outskirts of Cyprusnia. They were obviously too poor to barter anything the Wolf men would want – apart from Palerin and that was out of the question. Halle’s spear, bow and flint dagger were not for exchange either.
After a meal they followed the cliff-top along the huge flooded rend in the earth. A barrier of rocks meant they detoured away from the cliff. Eventually they found a way back to the cliff by forging through long grass.
After two days of frustration they rested on rocks at the river edge to debate whether to strike inland along the next animal path they found. An hourglass of debate later they carried on following the cliff-top path.
The third day found them climbing a particularly steep slope after their latest failure to cross the torrent. The hill rose to a high crest and they quietly approached the summit not knowing if Wolf men or their pursuers would be beyond. Malkrin’s highsense again detected no danger so they continued to climb. The view began to enlarge; a sharp right-hand bend in the river concealed the opposite bank. By the diminishing height of the opposite bank Malkrin hoped the cliff also lowered further on their side.
Out of breath they reached the summit and a totally unexpected vista opened out. There before them they had the crossing they sought. Not gentle slopes leading to a stepping stone strewn river, but before them stood a huge artificial bridge. Its construction so unusual that they stood and stared open mouthed.
Two giant trees had tunnels bored through them the height of a tall man. Thick trunks had been laid horizontally and scoured flat to provide a walkway wide enough for four horses. Other giant angled trunks supported a spectacular suspension over the gorge. These boles were braced at an angle from either riverbank and acted as piers locking into the bottom of the horizontal span. Ornate carvings of stars combined with horizontal lines to decorate the exact centre of the span. Faces of gods or warriors had been chiselled into the wood all along the suspended trunks. Beneath the bridge the river raged unobstructed.
Malkrin stared in awe, running his eyes up the enormous hollowed trees. As well as supporting the structure they grew naturally from either side of the gorge. Their upright trunks led far above the bridge span to where tree tops would have been. But the leafy canopies had been replaced with glowing domes of curving wood with an infill of yellow glass. The sun concentrated within the glass to charge the globular structures with a translucent yellow glow. He guessed the glow remained at night, and knew the sight would be incredible.
Surely the work of Jadde on her journey through this world, Malkrin marvelled. He noticed his awe mirrored on his companion’s faces.
On the far side, the grass bank expanded to form a rolling meadow. In this wide area a large number of dwellings rose from the grass
looking like artificial hillocks. They also contained glass windows and doors lit internally by the same yellow glow.
Halle gestured to the nearside edge of the bridge where the path expanded to form a track to the first tree buttress. It was guarded by two warriors who stood staring at the three with hands on sword scabbards in readiness. They wore cloth headdresses of identical yellow colour with orange and green leggings and matching tunics. One stepped to a structure at the foot of the bridge and withdrew a long fluted horn. Placing it to his mouth he blasted an eerie note. The sound echoed around the cliffs disproportionally louder to the effort the man put in.
Instantly a crowd of people began to spill from the dwellings. Children ran to the bridge waving coloured banners that streamed behind them in the same fluttering exuberance as their shrill greeting. Adults followed at a more sedate pace, waving a welcoming greeting as they stared at the distant figures of Malkrin and his companions. More men emerged from beyond the hilltop, leaving scythes and harvesting knives at their workplaces and approaching the bridge curiously. The guards continued to stand before the bridge as Malkrin and his friends approached. The children halted behind the guards but kept up an excited cacophony as if Malkrin’s small band were returning heroes.
‘Stay here,’ Malkrin ordered, ‘I will ensure the guards are as welcoming.’
‘I’m sure they are Sire, the children have not been ushered away.’ Seara smiled her friendly innocence.
Malkrin agreed, but he advanced with his highsense fully alert just in case.
He caught the children’s excited chatter as he approached. Strangely, their tongue was similar to their own but with a heavy accent. He stopped half way to concentrate his inner ear. His highsense picked out snatches of conversation.
‘Hess noowt thy same as thee last visitors . . .’
‘Nowt a god, more a galthern . . .’
‘Naaw, hess a honoured une . . .’
Malkrin could follow the comments now. There was no threat, merely strong curiosity. He approached the guards who moved their weight from foot to foot in expectation. Malkrin stopped ten paces before them and gave the Seconchane sign of greeting and peace. He extended his hands to his face for longer than etiquette normally allowed. Then he spoke quietly to confirm his intentions.
‘I wish to meet your people in peace and harmony, and seek only information not hurt.’
‘Whoo arth thou?’ one guard enquired.
‘I am Malkrin Owlear, once two sun holder. I am now merely a trader with my two companions.’
‘Trader?’ The man looked hard at Malkrin, concentrating on his dialect, ‘Trade wot?’ he asked.
‘We trade information, tales and the love of the great Goddess. We would speak with your village elders.’
‘Elders?’ the guard looked confused then realisation penetrated. ‘Thy Senate, thou wish ta speak with thy Senate?’
‘Yes, if we may.’
‘I will tak yoo.’
Malkrin was tuning in to the strange version of Seconchane. He was surprised at how easy it was to adapt to the strange tongue. The guard waited while Malkrin gestured Halle and Seara forward. The throng of children closed around them with excited voices as the guard led them through. Seara took the youngsters hands in quick greeting as she passed and the children screamed in delight. Seara beamed. Her pleasure spread to Malkrin and Halle, inducing them to extend the hand-touching greeting to adults as they passed. Gestures and smiles of welcome were given in return. It was as if this were a traditional greeting for valuable and infrequent visitors.
As they walked Malkrin peered down below the bridge to the surging torrent, then to grassy banks as they walked from the bridge. He relaxed, and felt as if they’d accomplished something to be finally across the river. The guard led them along a well kept road to a huge segmented building like a five pointed star. Each angled extension was roofed in living grass. The green blanket led to a strange turret in the centre where each section of the building converged. Golden light filled glass windows dotted through each joining wing and the turret walls. The frontage of the extension nearest them had an ornate door carved with an eagle with stars in its claws.
Another guard stood before the door. This man was bedecked in a triangular cloak of yellow cloth embroidered with an edge of stars. His arms were folded over a black staff with a vicious half moon blade on the upper end. As they drew close Malkrin’s sudden unease evaporated as he realised the moon-blade was wood painted in gold with the cutting ability of lead.
Again Malkrin, Halle and Seara gave the welcome sign. The man mirrored it and Malkrin repeated his request to meet their Senate.
‘Travellers, you are welcome to the lands of the Brightwater people, for these are bad times. News from strangers will be well received as we prepare plans to combat the dark scourge.’
‘Thank you,’ Malkrin said. His thoughts raced. He had become accustomed to the accent, and the tribes name was familiar, but the memory refused to surface. Then he had it – another reference to Jadde’s scripture. ‘Jadde was the saviour of the Brightwater tribe.’ Already he knew more than the Seconchane’s most learned scholars.
‘The Senate are gathering. Will you take refreshment while they prepare?’
‘That would be welcome, we have journeyed far.’
Malkrin glanced at his companions; they were still puzzling out the strange drawl and the scripture references.
‘Enter,’ the man said simply. He lowered the gold blade and indicated the now open door with a sweep of his arm.
Malkrin tramped down worn steps into a room tinted with yellow light. Large dark-wood doors ahead were closed. He assumed they led to a hall in the centre of the star building where the Senate were preparing to receive them.
Turning a corner they entered a room lined with wooden benches along three whitewashed walls. The fourth wall was bare apart from its centre where a huge embossed emblem in gold depicted an eagle clutching prey in its talons. A servant in a plain blue uniform handed them china bowls with handles, full of steaming aromatic liquid. Malkrin grasped his with reverence, because the only items like this were owned by the Brenna, and they kept all delicate china in locked cabinets. Halle gingerly lifted his bowl to sip the contents and Seara looked around as if she would be scolded for touching her bowl.
They had just finished the drink when the inner doors opened and a figure in multilayered yellow cloaks emerged. He pounded a mace of woven withies on the wood boarded floor. Malkrin assumed it was a ritual start to a welcome ceremony.
‘The Senate will see you now,’ the man thundered.
Halle and Seara followed Malkrin through the doors.
He had experienced so many unusual events since leaving Cyprusnia that Malkrin expected nothing to faze him. He stepped down tapestry covered steps with confidence and into a huge room excavated below ground and soaring far above. The roof was held up by great interlaced wooden beams fashioned into a twist ascending to a domed ceiling. Malkrin realised he was indeed at the centre of the star building. The interior of the hall was lit by the usual pale yellow light splashing from enchanting yellow glassed windows.
Warriors stood at intervals around the periphery of the room. Malkrin highsensed them quickly and realised their presence was more ceremonial than intimidating. A shadowy figure moved purposely in the background. Unexpectedly, a dazzling beam lit the room, as if the sun itself had entered the building. A concentrated lance of gold light focused onto a great horseshoe shaped table inset with reflective panels. These rays were like sun reflecting from rippling water – straight into Malkrin’s eyes. Beyond the glare and behind the table sat shadowy robed figures. All wore ornamental chains around their necks bedecked with faceted jewels. The gems caught the searing yellow light, multiplying the many beams. Light splashed around the room with a lancing, blinding glare. If the figures moved or even when they breathed, facets of the jewels sent numerous light arrows flashing around. Parts of the large meeting hall were high
lighted then dimmed in a dancing display of bright colours.
Malkrin looked to Halle and Seara who were lit in a multitude of flickering light points. They flashed and played over Halle’s hairless head and simultaneously Seara’s hands and clothes. Everything was yellow and gold, then red, then blue, always superimposed by searing white. Even the shadowed faces around the table were tinted with gold shafts that shifted and swirled. The effect was awesome and would have intimidated lesser people. Malkrin highsensed the Senate’s test and squinted, following the beams back to their source. He realised a strange bowl shaped glass object below the turret created the magic. That wasn’t magic at all. It gathered the light from turret windows and split it, sending narrow beams around the hall. He shielded his eyes and the figures behind the dancing light came into focus.
Halle touched him on the shoulder and whispered.
‘Sire, I see their thoughts. They are testing us. They believe lowly folk will be awed by their cleverness.’
Malkrin nodded in agreement. Then turned to the Council, ignoring the dazzling lances and set his face to show the unconcern of a powerful warrior. He crossed his arms, set his legs slightly apart and stared at each face as if nothing unusual was occurring.
The Senate leader in the centre of the horseshoe spoke without emotion.
‘You are welcome strangers. What is your business here with the masters of light?’
‘Do you usually welcome strangers by blinding them with trickery?’
‘We are the Council of light; the great sun bends to our will.’
‘Such a simple ruse does not impress us. You are the Brightwater Senate first, masters of light a poor second. Goddess Jadde would not be impressed with your trickery.’
‘Goddess. We do not believe in such things here.’ He flicked a hand in dismissal, ‘we have harnessed the sun to provide light to our lives and dwellings.’
‘The Goddess decreed we should seek higher virtues and understanding. But you seek to blind guests with cheap trickery.’
Malkrin heard an irritated sigh behind him.
Suddenly Seara moved toward the bowl shaped object and pulled a chord that moved a thick cloth back over the channelled rays. The entire council looked stunned by the bold move as if no one but them could have worked out how to extinguish their magic. The guards merely stood rigidly and awaited orders.
Malkrin suppressed a smile and nodded to Seara. Well done, he thought. Then he turned back to the Senate. They were now revealed in natural colours, and had recovered from Seara’s brave action.
No warrior moved to arrest Seara and no one moved to reopen the curtain.
The spots before Malkrin’s eyes receded and the council were revealed to be two women in their middle years with sparkling jewels lacing their grey hair. Alongside them sat seven men with neatly trimmed beards and moustaches. All the Senate wore heavy ceremonial gowns of pale cream with flashes of brighter yellow. Under the gowns were glimpses of simple clothing in grey and black. They all wore gold necklace chains woven around a myriad of jewels which still glinted in normal light. They stared curiously at Malkrin and his companions. The most authoritarian man, in the centre of the Senate, rubbed his chin as he silently examined them. Then he shrugged.
‘Forgive us. I can see you are not ordinary folk easily impressed by such things. What do you seek from us?’
‘We wish no harm to you and your people and travel in peace. We seek only information.’
‘We wish you and your companion’s peace also.’
The preliminary testing appeared over. The head of the Senate leaned closer and peered intently at Malkrin. ‘Before we discuss urgent matters, what information do you seek?’
Malkrin searched the faces, highsensing no animosity, more a kind of pent up urgency clothed in curiosity.
‘What information do you seek?’ the man repeated.
‘We search for two things. First, we seek the great Goddess Jadde. Do your priests have records telling of the Goddess Jadde and her journey through your lands and perhaps her whereabouts?’
The Senate leader frowned, ‘We only have reference material, some of which is ancient and unintelligible. We have no need of priests, only scholars, so know of no actual goddesses. I will consult with our principal scholar to answer your question.
The robed leader turned to an elderly man on his right and they whispered for many minutes.
Seara became bored and moved to a corner of the hall, to a globe set within a wooden pedestal. Halle gestured and she reluctantly returned to her father’s side.
The Senate elder finally finished his discussion and turned back to them.
‘The Light of Souls Library within the Lighthouse Bridge is where we keep our records. Most have remained in readable condition for countless lifetimes. Nalbar, my Principle says we have two old documents mentioning the name you seek. They will be made available for you to read. But why you seek one of the ancient gods is incomprehensible to us.’
Malkrin thought it best not to admit that they had no knowledge of written letters and words. He hoped a scholar could read the holy documents to them. At last the thought of finding out where the great Goddess actually resided, filled him with impatience. He disguised it with outward calm.
‘I thank you Senate Leader, we look forward to seeing the holy documents.’
‘The leader laughed humourlessly, ‘they are not holy, just dusty and faded. Possibly rewritten from times when survivors settled here from the dead cities. Now, speak of your second request; then we have two of our own. If you answer satisfactorily you will be free to stay as guests or leave our villages unhindered.’
‘We are being sought by men adorned with three highsense suns, do you know of them?’
‘Your terminology is strange. But yes three strangers passed this way asking of people meeting your description. They stayed overnight and left heading south and into great danger. They believed you journeyed in front of them and sought to rescue you before the dark legions engulfed you.’
Malkrin ignored the references to danger. He’d mastered the fear of death many years ago and was immune to threats to his life. But what were they going to be rescued from? He put the ‘rescue’ word to one side for now.
‘Why do they seek us and where were they from?’
‘They proclaimed that all three of you are important to them in the coming ordeal. When we asked from where they hailed they pointed north in the direction of the distant cold mountains and said High Nirfana.
‘North is where?’
‘The direction you travelled from.’
Then they must be Brenna, Malkrin thought in relief. But High Nirfana was not a place in Cyprusnia and therefore another puzzle. He risked one more question.
‘What of the great danger that threatens to engulf us?’ He added pieces of information together. ‘The danger threatens to engulf the High Nirfana people and you?’
‘I will answer your question with our first question. What do you know of the advance of the Archenemy?’
Arch enemy? Did he mean the Archgry? Malkrin wondered. ‘You talk of the Archgry?’ The continued referral back to the Seconchane’s enemy in the ancient scriptures was becoming alarming. First the Skatheln’s reference now this. He began to realise how closeted his people were from outside influence and reality, and just how many references to life outside Cyprusnia the holy scriptures contained.
‘Recently a large number of strangers from the far south have passed through our lands. They tell of the return of the Harvesters of Humanity. These destroyers are known by many names. The one you mention is but one name; also they are the Archegrie or the Arachnid-men, Beetle-men or the Arch-devils. But one thing is for sure; they have again risen from the depths of the scorched lands. Out of a pitiless ancient era they return to destroy all in their path.’
‘All who flee before them say they are heading this way,’ added one of the Senate with foreboding.
Malkrin thought for
a moment, highsensing his companions foreboding as they pieced together the information.
‘I only know that a tribe called the Skatheln flee toward the Seconchane lands. They are now a destitute people from the lush forests far to the south. Their Gods have deserted them.’
‘Gods, paa!’ As if possessing only one mind the Senate waved and laughed dismissively.
‘No such beings exist, certainly none that will help us all now,’ the leader said.
‘I seek the Goddess Jadde. She fought and defeated the Archgry and will do so again.’
The Senate leader replied patiently, ‘your people have beliefs and scriptures based on the ancient war of all wars. I suspect our records will be found to be similar.’
He looked gravely at Malkrin. ‘Now my second question to you.’
‘We are led to believe – from the ones that search for you, that you have certain hidden talents. They are what? We need to list them and add these abilities to our plan of action. Every conceivable defence must be considered as we prepare for the coming struggle.’
‘Our talents, should we have any, are our own to use or give as we see fit. They are not for others to manipulate and cannot be defined as they fail us as often as they succeed.’
‘I see . . . You do not fully realise the gravity of the ordeal we must all face before another year passes. Soon all the tribes – your own included; will be engulfed in a tide of half-men-half-demons who know no mercy. It is very possible none of us will survive. Our entire peoples could become as the dust of our ancestors – extinct and forgotten for all time.’
Malkrin glanced to his companions. Their eyes showed sudden concern; something evil really was coming this way.
‘Should the time come to repel such an enemy, I and my companions will add our meagre talents to the forces of good, and fight alongside you.’
The Senate spokesman bowed slightly.
‘That is all we can hope for – for now. You are all free to stay. Our principle scholar will allocate a learned researcher to show you the documents that tell of the Goddess Jadde.’
Malkrin nodded in thanks. The Senate rose and each gave a strange ceremonious sign either of farewell or deference. Then the seven men and two women rose from their seats and followed each other in a procession of rustling gowns through a door in the far corner of the chamber.
Malkrin turned to his companions, exchanging a look that said, what next? They waited and shortly an official appeared through the same door the Senate had gone through.
‘Peace to you, friends, my name is Praled Litsky. I will show you the records you require and where you are to sleep and rest. I will answer all your questions to the fullest of my power.’
‘We thank you Praled Litsky. What is your status in the Brightwater people?’
‘I am a librarian and seeker of knowledge. I have been recently appointed to research old documents relating to how the Demon-men were defeated in ancient times. We hope to recreate the victory and save our people from the hardships the old-people endured.’
‘We have a lot to learn from you and your people,’ Halle said.
They walked through the narrow lanes weaving past the numerous turf roofed buildings and homes. Malkrin kept one ear tuned to the conversation and took in the sights of a settlement so different to Cyprusnia.
‘You also have a library from the times of the old people?’ Praled asked Halle.
‘Yes, we have indeed, a few of the writings are dedicated to Jadde and I believe somewhere her deeds are written in words.’
‘We ordinary folk cannot . . .’
‘. . . Tell me of your people and how you run your community,’ Malkrin interjected, fearful that Halle was about to give away their inability to read letters.
They exchanged information as they walked through the community. The village was far larger than was at first apparent. A gap had been hewn through a rocky buttress. Through this arched opening Malkrin glimpsed a second and larger village in the valley beyond. Around the gently sloping hillsides more buildings and dwellings occupied their individual niches. Malkrin estimated the combined Brightwater villages were larger than Edentown.
‘I have many things to show and tell you,’ Praled stated proudly.
Malkrin listened intently, and along with Halle and Seara learnt from Praled of the lands and people of Brightwater. They had harnessed sunlight to heat and light their dwellings and they were trying to rediscover the ingenious skills of the ancient ones. But they had not yet found a way to stop the Archenemy plague destroying them.
The three paused frequently to stare wide eyed at unusual features and decorations. Praled explained the items were: fountains, statues and the strange animal shaped shrubs were called topiary. Then in astonishment they stopped to view an elderly man treading inside a giant rotating wheel. It was coupled to a leather band that ran a spinning metal device which trapped a length of wood. A man was using it to fashion wooden chair legs with a sturdy knife.
‘It’s a Ferris-wheel coupled to a lathe, from an old book that has decayed. We worked out this contraption from a mildewed picture,’ Praled explained.
As they progressed through the streets the Scholar pointed out other inventions incorporated into the Brightwater people’s everyday lives. He showed how painted and enamelled bowls were fired in kilns. How mashed wood turned into thick parchment called paper. He took them to where strange tools called ploughs were fashioned in an open fronted barn.
‘These,’ he explained, ‘are used to till the soil by tamed beasts called bufflo’s. They looked confused so Praled led them into a recently constructed stone tower and up to the open top.
‘A lookout position,’ he explained, then led them to the far corner. From there he pointed to a valley where the beasts could be seen creating long furrows with their masters guiding them. Malkrin recognised the beasts from the distant herd he’d spotted in the plain nearer to Cyprusnia.
In the end it became too much for Malkrin to take in. These people were surging ahead of the Seconchane in many ingenious ways. He realised just how much they had to learn.
The Brightwater people manipulated light everywhere. Most buildings contained beautiful coloured glass windows set into the grass turf. The interiors shone with the sparkling light of summer streams and winter ice. Malkrin could see Seara was totally enthralled by the time they had climbed the spiral staircase to the library in the Light Bridge. He watched her enter the yellow domed room with eyes darting from one curiosity to another. He noticed fogged glass in a wooden door frame which shielded the document area from direct light. Praled explained it contained a filter to reflect harmful rays, keeping the documents dry and pristine and kept further text-fading at bay.
Malkrin nodded impatiently, the documents describing the great Goddess’s abode were beckoning him with a tangible power.
‘My grandfather rescued these from a damp storeroom,’ Praled explained. ‘It has proved a continuous revelation since then to relearn some of the archive’s contents and attempt to use this ancient knowledge.’
By now Malkrin and Halle were conversing freely with the kind old man. Malkrin instinctively knew he could trust him and was becoming convinced his people were trustable too.
‘What made you realise the necessity to relearn them?’ Malkrin asked. ‘I gather you started years before you found the Archenemy existed.’
‘Like your people we had a priesthood; another all smothering sect. They ruled over the people and defeated the Senate in every ruling, for lifetimes they constricted us with superstitions and supernatural threats. They took the brightest boys for acolytes, the best food, the fairest serving girls, and the healthiest livestock. Collectively, we had had enough. The Senate gradually shifted from being subservient puppets allowing the totalitarian priesthood to smother our souls, to an organised council promoting active resistance. Then the priesthood abolished the Senate and the people erupted in revolt. The priesthood were slaughtered and religion was
banished. My ancestors sought a new direction, a new beginning. This search led them to the old document storeroom. Since then we have restored and then consulted the old peoples’ books.’
‘How long ago did this happen?’ Malkrin asked.
‘In my grandfather’s time just before my father was born.’ Whilst explaining, Praled removed a dusty leather volume from a shelf high up on a battered metal rack. ‘This has been little studied. It is the diary writings of a priest from many lifetimes ago. It is written in the priesthood’s convoluted language on goatskin parchment. We believe it to be re-worded, violated from the originals by pious misguided hands. But if I remember right, it contains the words of the Goddess called Jadde.’
Praled placed the volume before Malkrin on the worn table.
He felt a hidden knowledge emanate from the document and opened the cover, respectfully holding the page edges gingerly in his fingers and scanned the squiggles they contained. Some of the letters were especially ornate and stood out, they often appeared to be the same symbol, but he had no idea what it was. Halle and Seara peered over his shoulder both looked as confused and frustrated as he felt.
‘Sire Praled, I have a small confession to make.’ He looked up to the old man’s face seeing sympathy written there. Praled had guessed.
‘I would gladly teach you the written word my friends. But it will take time and patience. It will not be learnt in a day.’
Under Praled’s teaching the letters grew into words. The words grew into sentences and then into pages. These then expanded into whole accounts forming a whole book. The books were categorised into a multitude of specialities. And so the summer passed in scholarly learning and increasing knowledge on many subjects. Using the library daily they discovered an ancient, frightening, but absorbing world. All three grew in stature and wisdom, Malkrin and Halle lost their leanness and Seara blossomed into womanhood.
And then during a late summer drizzle a band of Wolf tribesmen came to the Bridge of Light. In a cart they hauled a trussed and hissing creature from the depths of Jadde’s world – and Malkrin’s life changed yet again.