CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The band of Wolf men staggered across the bridge. Before Malkrin’s dismayed eyes their faces hung with exhaustion. They stared fixedly ahead at nothing, as if bewitched by an evil god. The men shuffled along as if carrying a dead weight – the encumbrance of failure. But also it was a weight of horror, for in their midst they pulled along a nameless thing drawn from the memory of ancestors. Malkrin tore his eyes from the creature to the warriors. At the head of the column a Wolf warrior held aloft a broken spear. The symbolic shaft appeared to signify defeat, but held aloft with grim dignity. Two others limped while supporting each other. Another had lost his headdress; it had been replaced with a dirty dressing.
A vast crowd, almost the whole population of the Brightwater villages lined the road from the bridge. But this time the atmosphere was sombre as the Wolf men trudged by. As the band came level to the crowd the people gasped with fear at the constrained creature that they dared not name aloud. It was not only dark in appearance but also in temperament. Its snarling and hissing chilled every watcher to his or her very soul.
Malkrin watched from the library window. Then as the caged horror went past below the Light Bridge, he rushed down the spiral stairs, out of the hollow bridge abutment. He ran fast through the silent crowds and jumped up a grassy hillock above the crowd for a better view. Chained and trapped within a sapling lashed cage was the Wolf men’s captive. It was as if a demon from the heat of a cursed fire had been beguiled by some powerful enchantment. The cage it occupied looked too weak to hold even a goat. Two poles jutted out from front and rear, these were held by Wolf warriors. Ropes stretched from within the cage to other warrior’s fists should the beast within break free. Malkrin noted every detail of the creature. Its muscular and barbed legs protruded through the bars. Malkrin thought that it walked upright as men would. But now trussed with thick ropes holding its arms firmly to its hideous chest it was immobile. The creature had a black shell forming its back; it looked as hard as metal armour. The shell projected over its head to form a protective helmet. Involuntarily imitating the whole crowd, Malkrin stared, hardly believing the captured horror was for real.
He had recently skimmed an ancient book on the biology of animals and insects hoping unsuccessfully to find the Archgry creature. He compared the brute before him to what he had learned from pictures illustrating the text. He recognised the armour as a carapace protecting the internal organs in the same way beetles, other insects and crustaceans were formed. A rostrum was the name given to it by the entomologists of ancient times.
But this insect was human-sized, well muscled and with a face that was almost human.
The creature seemed to sense his horror and flexed its head in Malkrin’s direction. Its face wrinkled with hatred as its ferocious yellow fangs glinted with saliva. Red eyes glared with a ferocity that chilled him, it was as if the creature recognised a powerful enemy.
Bevin Talgour the senate officer approached the procession. Their exhausted march paused whilst he conferred with the Wolf Chief. Then he led the procession to the punishment cells set into the high hillside above the twin villages. The rigid iron-barred caves usually housed citizens who’d committed misdemeanours but now Talgour must have decided one was to be the creature’s cell. Not a single Brightwater citizen followed, most stared in dismay at the now undeniable evidence of evil legions approaching their once safe lands.
Malkrin was so engrossed he’d completely ignored his companions who had joined him on the hillock and were whispering heatedly to each other. Halle had his daughter’s arm in a tight grip.
‘Is there a problem my friends?’
Seara and her father lapsed into a guilty silence.
‘It’s Seara,’ Halle admitted, ‘she’s adamant she should treat the Wolf warrior’s injuries. I have informed her of the dangers. We don’t know their moralities and beliefs. They could resent outside interference, their religion may forbid treatment. Or treatment by a female may be seen as a commitment to that man. Who knows the dangers, they are numerous.’
Malkrin thought about Halle’s anxieties then came to a decision. ‘Seara has done well healing the sick in Brightwater these last few months. We must extend her highsense skills to other strangers. I‘m sure it will be seen as the mercy of Jadde.’
‘But what if they discover she is Seconchane?’
‘I will accompany her.’
Seara inclined her head to her father in a silent plea. Malkrin sensed her healing highsense brimming over like never before. If she could heal the injured warriors it would surely be an initial gift to help placate the age old feud between the Seconchane and the Wolf people.
Halle still looked uncertain.
‘I will accompany her – with Palerin ready,’ he said again to reassure Halle. ‘They will see me as a powerful warrior like them. Her healing will be a gift of peace from us to them. When they realise we are Seconchane it will show our compassion and put across a message of reconciliation.’
‘I must accompany my daughter.’
‘No, you are too close, too protective, and you may emit suspicion. We don’t know if they can highsense us as we can them.’
Halle hesitated; a frown creased his face with indecision. Then his features relaxed.
‘Very well, I see your line of thought. My daughter is now an adult, at home she would have been granted her first highsense sun. I still treat her as a child needing a father’s protection.’ He stepped back, ‘I will continue my duties.’
Malkrin nodded, his friend had become well respected by the Brightwater people as a teacher of hunting lore and recently as a wise interpreter of their scripts.
Malkrin and Seara followed the Wolf warrior procession toward the punishment cells. They were soon close enough to see the creature being dragged to the largest cave, fronted by the thickest bars. It was complete with a mildew covered sleeping mattress and cobweb hung table and chair.
He heard Talgour explain to a Wolf warrior, ‘this cell is rarely used. It is reserved for the most dangerous criminals.’
The creature struggled like a rabid dog. It was taking a number of Wolf warriors and Brightwater officials to haul the trussed demon from its wheeled prison cart through the open cage door. Finally the barred gate crashed closed. A long knife was thrust through the bars to sever the demons restraining ropes. Instantly it began gnashing at the bars, saliva dripping from its jaws. Suddenly it spun toward the crude furniture, and with a flick of its limbs, sent wood splintering around the cave-cell. Malkrin looked on dispassionately; it was a demonstration of raw power. Armoured arms had looked feeble within the thick rope restraint, now free, the creature was a lethal force – an adversary to be feared.
All the warriors not involved in caging the demon had sat dejectedly in a grassy hollow. Malkrin looked quickly around the exhausted men, alert to any hostile move. Could the Wolf warriors tell he and Seara were Seconchane? His highsense could only detect the frustration of proud but defeated warriors and images of a black horde advancing like a nest of disturbed and angry ants.
Malkrin directed Seara toward the exhausted Wolf Chieftain. She pressed her hands together before her face in the traditional greeting she had taught her Brightwater friends. Malkrin stood behind her, alert and stern faced but also performed the greeting.
Then as if pricked by a dagger tip he felt animosity emanating from someone nearby. He glanced around, the Wolf warriors still rested in exhausted postures. To one side, three had returned from caging the demon. One of them stood rigidly upright and stared, his eyes locked on Malkrin. The man had a close trimmed beard, and his startling blue eyes were set in a prominently boned face framed by greased flat locks tied behind his ears. Even worn out he was a formidable warrior. They exchanged glances summing up each other’s abilities. Then purposefully the Wolf tribesman looked away to the demon. Malkrin knew he did not rest, but was on a warrior’s knife-edge.
The Wolf Chief spoke to Seara, and Malkrin ripped his eyes from the blue e
yed warrior. He would have to be permanently on his guard whilst the Wolf brethren stayed in Brightwater. The Wolf Chief talked in a garbled version of Seconchane – it was a repeat of their experience with the Brightwater accent. He concentrated hard and tried to remember the few words of Wolf dialect he had picked up from elderly Seconchane hunters. Seara listened intently then began a halting conversation. Malkrin chose not to interrupt as she became quickly more proficient. He looked on in amazement, how had she picked it up so quickly? He concentrated his mental gift, instantly forming a highsense rapport with her. He already knew Seara had an incredibly quick mind even without any highsense being used. He suppressed his surprise at the small highsense he’d just created to link with Seara.
He refocused on the Wolf Chief, copying her technique. The chief’s words astounded him; it was as if he were speaking pure Seconchane.
‘. . . I am touched to be offered such assistance from a beautiful woman. But will your warrior partner permit it?’ The chief nodded respectfully to Malkrin.
Malkrin bowed slightly in respect. ‘Sire, it would be an honour to allow my kinswoman to heal your companions’ injuries.’
‘Friend, I thank you on behalf of my men.’
Seara took this as permission and bent over the most serious of the wounded men.
Malkrin nodded to the Wolf Chief, ‘leader of brave men, when you have rested I would like to converse with you. Meanwhile with your permission I will observe my young companion for she is greatly gifted.’
‘Stay as long as you wish friend. I look forward to speaking with a fellow warrior later, for Indeed I am tired. I recognise something in you, but at present I am leaden with the travelling away from our sacred tradition and must rest.’ He glanced appreciatively to Seara. ‘I believe my men are in soothing hands.’
Malkrin bowed slightly and moved off to stand a distance behind Seara, allowing his highsense to observe waves of her healing compassion.
Soon a man was walking normally on a once severely injured leg.
Her second patient had received a slash across his forehead that almost scalped him, his features were so blood covered it was hard to discern his age. The warrior cradled his left arm limply, his face distorted as Seara gently held the ruined limb. Two minutes later she indicated for the man to stop examining his pain free arm, then laid her hands to his head. The man released a deep sigh and settled into the grass as if he was lying on the most comfortable of beds.
Through his highsense Malkrin observed the miracle of Seara’s healing. Energy flowed from her in a miasma of curative power. Ethereal wisps swirled around the warriors head, settled onto the injured area then were absorbed. Before his eyes the wound scabbed then hair began to grow in the healing scalp. The scab fell away to reveal a long pale scar and Seara moved her hands back to the man’s arm and the same ethereal mist soaked into it. Malkrin looked closely; the warrior’s face had relaxed into that of a teenage man. He smiled contentedly lifting both arms and placing them under his cheek and slept.
Seara moved to her next patient. Malkrin looked on in awe; he would never tire of seeing her practice her gift. The speed at which she was accomplishing the healing amazed him. Just viewing the sad state of these warriors earlier must have triggered an increase of her highsense.
The last few months he had observed her heal many of the Brightwater people and now she was treated with near Goddess status amongst them. In their eyes her skills surpassed Malkrin’s scholar-warrior aura.
Finally she was finished and the wounded slept, their minds healing to match their bodies. Seara rose and stood in surprise as she glanced behind Malkrin. He turned and for the first time noticed six of the uninjured Wolf warriors standing reverently behind him. They watched Seara’s every move as if she had descended from the Goddess’s abode purely to bless them.
Malkrin perceived no threat and Seara moved to them. She rested a hand on a warrior’s shoulder and smiled. ‘Time to rest brave soldiers,’ she said in a soft but commanding voice. The men meekly nodded and laid themselves down. Malkrin could see she was worn out, but looked fulfilled with the many successful healings. Seara didn’t speak a word as he guided her back down the slope to her and her father’s accommodation.
As the sun went down Malkrin returned again with Seara accompanied by three Brightwater people assigned to attend the Wolf warriors. The Wolf fur clothed men had scavenged firewood from the surrounding woodland and a fire was blazing. The Wolf warriors had erected thick cloth enclosures from small packs. They were neat and efficient structures just big enough for one man to sleep shielded from the elements. Malkrin remembered one of the few things the Seconchane knew about the Wolf people was that they camped primitively owing to the necessity of travelling without unnecessary burden.
After Seara had checked her patients she left to return to her father, leaving Malkrin to sit with the Wolf Chief and share Wolf Clan food. They had barely begun when a warrior acting as a token guard warned of an approaching Brightwater Officer.
Bevin Talgour the Senate official approached Malkrin and the Wolf Chief. ‘Forgive my intrusion friends, but on behalf of my Senate, may I take this opportunity to join you and learn more of the approaching horde?’
Malkrin and the Wolf Chief performed the universal greeting sign then nodded. The chief pointed to a spare fur-cape spread on the ground and indicated a warrior fetch Talgour refreshment. The Brightwater official thanked him then sat down and joined Malkrin in consuming the food washed down with herb scented liquor.
The Wolf Chief turned to Malkrin.
‘I Dayal BerantWolf leader of the Wolf Clan believe you are not of the Brightwater people. Having observed you this day, I now know from where you and your kinswoman hail.’
Malkrin nodded, wondering how much BerantWolf had surmised.
‘But you do not behave as others of your secluded tribe do.’
‘Tell me how you have gained this knowledge then I will tell you our story.’
‘Your Goddess-blessed healer has powers of the mind. These abilities are known to have been mastered by the strange people inhabiting the sacred Monthorn Mountains. This tribe have always jealously guarded their lands. They have been misinformed by their Gods into believing only horror lies in the domains beyond them. They fear to leave their fertile valleys. Am I not correct?’
‘Some of us have had our prejudices cleansed since leaving our homeland.’
The Wolf Chief roared in triumph, ‘I knew I was right. By the Great-Wolf – the horrors I have seen have not left demons in my head. You are Seconchane!’
Malkrin allowed a brief smile, ‘I am pleased you were not permanently disturbed great BerantWolf. Tell me why your people have always raided my people’s borders and then I will tell you our story?’
‘It is a good bargain.’ The Chief turned to Talgour, ‘have patience Bevin Talgour. You in Brightwater have long known of our sacred journey.’
BerantWolf adjusted the fur cloak wrapped around him and looked directly at Malkrin. ‘We are a travelling people for three of the four seasons. We only rest in solid dwellings for the winter cold. Many lifetimes ago, before even the great tales were told, the gods decreed our ancestors had a sacred route to follow. At that time Great-Wolf decreed the road would pass through the Seconchane's lands. It was to follow a hallowed route past the Rainbow Waterfalls then up the Mountains of Respite to circle like the flight of the albatross past the Crystal Lake. Then the road would travel along two passes and through the great Wood of Drondor back down to our winter sojourn. It has always been a certainty that if we complete the circle then Great-Wolf will be satiated and he will gather us ample food for cold winters. He will bless us with many children and allow our tired legs to continue with renewed vigour.
But for many generations we have not been able to complete this journey. Never do we feel contented, rarely do our bellies feel full, rarely can we provide for our youngsters and elderly. We are forever saddened and our lives flounder. The spirits
of the dead do not soar as they should along the sacred route. They do not accompany us and we are saddened. The long winter nights are filled with Great-Wolfs howling.’
Malkrin highsensed truth and torment in BerantWolf’s account. ‘Forgive my ignorance Chief BerantWolf; you have scriptures saying this particular route is your tribe’s sacred duty?’ Malkrin felt the dawn of understanding the like of which no other Seconchane had ever had. He presumed the Brenna or priesthood hadn’t kept the verity to themselves.
Dayal BerantWolf stared at Malkrin without malice. ‘We have never been able to discuss our sacred route with your tribe. But these are desperate times and I observe sincerity in both you and your young companion. I hope now for your understanding. In answer to your question Seconchane Malkrin – you are half correct; we have no scriptures only the great story-songs. They are recounted accurately from grandfather to grandson. And so it has always been.’
‘This explains why my people believed you intended to invade us,’ Malkrin added with understanding. ‘Our masters have always wrongly preached that you coveted our prosperous lands.’
The Wolf Chief’s face reddened with suppressed anger, he stabbed a finger. ‘We have been wronged and it is a curse you must lift. It is in our sacred songs that the journey was given us by the great Goddess Jadde-Wolf, for us to continue regardless of sickness or famine. Our people take great pride in teaching her words to our children by relaying the Jadde-Wolf songs and stories exactly as we in turn were taught by our fathers. It is our hallowed duty to memorise these accounts; and act on them.’ BerantWolf’s voice changed to a hiss,’ but your people have never allowed us to pass. Some of our warriors are obstinate and follow the exact word and will never give up trying to enter your land and fulfil the sacred route.’
‘I must ask, why continue such an arduous trek? I have seen the lands between the Brightwater and my Cyprusnia and there is game to be caught, wild fruit to be eaten and wild corn, rye and wheat to be nurtured into great fields to feed your people.’
Dayal BerantWolf sighed with a lifetime of frustration. ‘But that would involve interrupting the sacred journey and that is only permitted in winter.’
Malkrin thought of the Wolf people’s reliance on ingrained tradition. They had been inflicted with a blind observance to a dogma that stopped them from settling and prospering. He was saddened by the whole revelation and lapsed into thinking of the generations of distrust and misunderstood conflict.
All three men silently mulled over the traditional hostility, from their viewpoints. Finally Talgour spoke.
‘Our tribes must be as brothers to prevail in the ordeal to come. I must negotiate an agreement between you.’
Malkrin and Chief BerantWolf nodded cautiously.
‘I must first tell of my current status,’ Malkrin began, ‘after which you may refuse to deal with me or my companions.’
BerantWolf nodded, his curiosity aroused. Talgour also agreed although he already knew Malkrin’s account.
‘I was leader of the hunt until . . .’ Malkrin told of his unpredictable highsense talents, then the iron rule of the Brenna, the subversion of the priesthood and of his punishment and finally of his, Halle’s and Seara’s adventures.
Dayal BerantWolf listened attentively then at the end he added more wood to the fire, deep in thought. Finally as if having read and sifted the Seconchane’s priesthood and the Brightwater people’s entire scripture libraries he came to a decision.
‘Your tale has the bright sound of truth. You will become great in your tribe although you at present have been wronged.’
He paused and Malkrin sensed him coming to a momentous decision.
Malkrin and Talgour looked into the flickering fire, waiting for BerantWolf’s revelation. Finally the chief spoke clearly and decisively.
‘I believe my people must temporarily abandon the sacred route. Great-Wolf will not return and release the Goddess Jadde-Wolf from her imprisonment in the Crystal Lake. She will not come from there to defeat the demon legions – we must do this ourselves. The approaching hordes will allow us little other choice, for they are advancing to consume us all.’
His voice rose with the power of certainty. ‘It will be my people’s and the Seconchane’s and the Brightwater brethren’s final chance.’
Talgour spoke passionately. ‘This is a brave decision – I know the Senate will concur. Together we will all prevail; separately we will all be destroyed.’
‘Indeed, I also agree,’ Malkrin added thinking of the captured demon, the plight of Bulwan and his Skatheln and the dire warnings of the Brightwater Senate.
BerantWolf looked as if a great burden had lifted and a determined resolve entered his eyes. Malkrin reassessed the chief; he was not as ingrained in tradition as he had feared. But would his Wolf people be as flexible? BerantWolf had a huge task ahead just to win them over.
‘I am gladdened we are agreed to act as one,’ Malkrin said. ‘But I must persuade our priesthood and our Brenna rulers to give up generations of deeply seated prejudice. And once our mutual ordeal is over they must be persuaded to allow the Wolf people to journey through Cyprusnia.’
Under the bright stars Malkrin thought of all that had been said. But there was another journey to travel before he dared return to Cyprusnia. He had to observe the hideous black tide with his own eyes. For how could he hope to persuade the Brenna and the priesthood if he had not seen the malevolent swarm for himself? It would take the greatest of persuasion to even convince the Brenna to listen. But to enable him to try he must first assess their enemy. And during that journey he must also find the three-sun travellers.
There was one more story to tell before plans could be laid, the information was vital. ‘Tell us of your capture of the black demon, Chief BerantWolf.’
The Wolf-chief sunk once again into his furs, his face tightened and his eyes looked into a great void.
‘It is both a long and a short story. We lost twelve brave warriors and slew only three of the demons. This is how we met them in battle.’ Chief BerantWolf’s eyes looked deep into the fire as he began the account. ‘My people were on the very furthest part of the sacred route from Brightwater; where the great grass plain meets the seared mountains and the plain of glass. In the distance the great glowing mountain of Thorian stood from the plain like a Goddesses’ breast. It had always been barren and even from our great distance away it shone at night with an evil light. Now, in my lifetime the glow has faded to nothing, moonlight now lights it normally. Rain has also returned to it and covered the great mountain top in snow and allowed the lower slopes to grow purple grass.
But our latest journey to this point has shown the distant view transformed with evil. We saw a black flood of vile creatures rolling down the slopes and where they had passed over the purple grass the land behind was again barren. I realised we were witnessing the beginning of a spreading scourge.
I called a halt to the sacred journey, took three warriors to a distant high rock and from there saw distant demon hordes swarming in columns on the glass plains. The creatures had ravished the lands beyond and were entering the vast purple pastures on this side of the mountain. We watched for four days and the scorching horde trickled ever nearer. The black stain sent out occasional black dots before them and from our great distance the nearest four dots became a scouting party of four demons. I decreed the creatures be intercepted and caught for they may provide food both for the body and for the mind. I handpicked seven hands of brave warriors and ordered my people to continue the sacred journey at unprecedented speed without us.
The battle was vast; eventually we killed three and captured this one. Twenty sunsets later we met the point of the sacred route nearest the Brightwater lands. I brought the creature to you in the hope of seeking the coalition we have agreed this evening.’
It was a hideous story. Malkrin could only admire the fortitude of Chief BerantWolf and his warriors for what they’d seen and endured. He dwelled for many breat
hs on the determination of BerantWolf to break from his sacred journey to bring them the demon. He could see that Talgour was doing the same.
The moon had travelled far through the night sky when the three men finished planning for the new expedition. BerantWolf and his six best warriors would accompany Malkrin, Halle and Bevin Talgour on a reconnaissance for the Brightwater tribe and Malkrin to observe the menace. They would also detour to warn other tribes near the demons’ route. Overall the journey would provide invaluable information and assess how to combat the scourge. Perhaps if fortune favoured them they would also discover potential weaknesses in the demons or in their fighting preferences and maybe solve the mystery of his three-sun pursuers. For Malkrin and Halle it would be a journey within a journey.
Malkrin wondered if BerantWolf would choose the Wolf warrior with intense blue eyes and greased plaits. He feared he would have to watch for enemies much closer than the evil horde.