CHAPTER NINETEEN
An hour-glass before sunrise Malkrin glanced around, no one had spotted him leaving his sleeping hut. He crept back to the mortuary and opened the door, moonlight lit the racks. The same shelf was occupied and he glided to it and looked at the grey bloodless face within the mask.
‘Forgive me friend, I have more use of these than you now do,’ he whispered, and pocketed the three suns from the mysterious corpse. He had a feeling they may be of use, but what exactly other than a symbolic badge of rank he had as yet little idea. Malkrin closed the man’s jacket so his theft of the suns was not revealed then slunk back to his sleeping furs. Luckily he had not disturbed the rest of his companions who slept undisturbed deeper within the hut.
The surviving members of BerantWolf’s band left the Celembrie village at first light. Three of Thicheal’s men had just buried the body of the three-sun man. He watched them sprinkle fragrant rose water onto the grave and chanting to Jadde in their tradition before shovelling soil with wooden tools. Now as TrathWolf’s band ran, his curiosity about the three-sun men fermented. Whatever talent the dead man had it had not stopped him from being killed. Had he been separated from his companions, or had the quarter-men killed the other two as well?
He gave up pondering and concentrated his highsense on the woodland they were running through. With some trepidation he ran alongside TrathWolf so he could give instant warning of approaching quarter-men. TrathWolf had persuaded Chief Thicheal’s Celembrie to abandon their villages and return along the sacred path to Brightwater. It had not been a difficult persuasion; after two quarter-men raids the Celembrie knew their very existence was in jeopardy. Thicheal also recognised the need to preserve what he could of their possessions and way of life. The chief had ordered his people to pack and take with them only what they could carry. They would follow TrathWolf's party as soon as Jadde allowed.
Malkrin leapt a rotting tree trunk spread across the path and smiled wryly – he had become TrathWolf's second- in-command. It was necessary that he do his utmost for all of the scouting party, he extended the thought to encompass all their tribes and his people back in Cyprusnia, and put TrathWolf’s grudge to the back of his mind.
They stopped briefly to eat and drink. Talgour and a Wolf warrior took over carrying the hammock containing the Eighth from Malkrin and Halle. All too soon they were off again. As the sun went down behind black storm clouds they found a large overhang over a path which led down steeply to a fast river. Light faded and driving rain came suddenly, sheeting down past them to the river below. They huddled under the bank giving up lighting a fire amidst the wind driven rain that blew under the overhang. They ate a cold meal without enjoyment, just to stave off hunger. Malkrin was glad to complete his watch then settle in his damp sleeping fur for the rest of the night.
The next day saw them running again at first light and they uneventfully reached the Sylve village. Malkrin looked around, the bodies had all gone and the wrecked tree houses had been tidied and damaged bark repaired. The village took on a semblance of normality except for near total absence of life. Only one tree-home showed a golden glow from its windows and Malkrin and TrathWolf headed for it.
Aldred the elderly Sylve greeted them as they neared the gigantic tree. He looked grave but grasped each of their hands and arms in a double grip and welcomed their return. Tabra joined him as the band settled to rest.
The Sylve man drew Malkrin and Halle to one side. 'I have further bad news.' He paused and looked sadly at them, ‘who is Seara’s father?'
Halle recoiled as if assaulted, ‘how do you know her name? What’s happened to her?’ he demanded sharply.
Malkrin mirrored the sudden horror filling his friends mind.
'She is well, and she is with us. But I fear her heart is broken for she will not stop sobbing.'
‘How did Seara get here? How long has she been here?’ Halle rushed at Aldred and Malkrin grabbed his friend’s shoulder.
‘Since this time yesterday.’
'Take us to her.' Malkrin ordered. His lips compressed into a thin line, what had she been through? He desperately needed to know.
Aldred paused; further anxiety flooded his face. ‘First you should know of one other strange event concerning Seara.’
‘Spit it out,’ Malkrin rasped impatiently.
‘Her dead companion has put a strange curse on Palreth.'
Malkrin stared at him as if a dark possession had also overwhelmed Aldred’s senses. Halle pushed past and Malkrin followed through the tree-home door.
They entered a warm bedroom where Seara sat bolt upright on a large bed. Thick embroidered covers were drawn up close to her chin as if to ward off reality. Her tear-swollen eyes stared at the ceiling high above in the hollowed tree-room. She had a huge blue grey bruise on her forehead, her arms were covered in deep cuts and her hair was a mass of knotted clumps. Halle scooped her into his arms, smothering her with paternal protection. Malkrin peered closely into Seara’s eyes; they still contained an inner resolve, and something more. A sudden grief soaked maturity gained since he had last seen her.
'Seara child, it’s me,' Halle cried.
She put her arms around him. Malkrin thought it best he left them in mutual consolation. Her story would have to wait.
Outside, dark clouds threatened more rain, but the air was fresh and full of woodland aromas. He breathed deeply, spotted Palreth wandering randomly deep in thought.
'Greetings Palreth, how goes it with you? And what has happened whilst I was away?' he began – and finished.
Palreth pressed hands to his head and ran into the nearest tree home muttering incoherently.
Malkrin sat and idly rotated a fallen twig. So much was happening and all bad. The demon tide was approaching. Luckily the main horde appeared to crawl as it consumed all in its path. He estimated three weeks before it reached Brightwater, but roving bands of quarter-men were bound to reach there before then. He had to get Seara away tomorrow although she appeared in no fit state. They could barely afford this day’s rest let alone more. He sat and digested all the bad news as the sun travelled toward its midday point.
Finally TrathWolf strode purposely to him. His wolf-skull headdress had loosened on his head and Malkrin thought how incongruous it looked as the top jaw looked to be biting TrathWolf's nose. Malkrin smiled despite their terrible predicament.
'You find all that has happened funny Seconchane?' TrathWolf scowled coldly.
'Not at all, but we all have our ways of coping with all we've seen and found,' Malkrin retorted.
'Huh,’ TrathWolf snorted. ‘What of your companion’s daughter?'
‘She needs consolation and rest. I do not know her story yet. We must be patient.'
'If she is not ready to travel then we will leave her behind – with you.'
Malkrin glowered.
'Outcast Seconchane are only little better than their reclusive brothers so there is little loss.'
Malkrin stood up quickly and faced the insult. His hand gripped Palerin in preparation.
TrathWolf smiled his ice cold smile that matched the look in his eyes. Malkrin drew a step closer, his grip on Palerin firmed.
'Good, you still have spirit Outcast – you may serve me well after all.'
‘Retract your insult, or meet the consequences,’ Malkrin snarled, simultaneously bracing himself for a fight.
A familiar and welcome voice shouted.
'Enough, I will be ready to march with you tomorrow.'
Both men spun round. It was Seara, pale and red-eyed, but again the spirited girl Malkrin remembered. Then he peered closer. She had a look of steely resolve – and the look of a wild warrior with her matted hair and firm mouth. Halle was behind her, managing to look both relieved and concerned. Seara had matured further; she now had an adult determination burning behind her eyes.
TrathWolf walked off, a look of renewed respect in his eyes for both Malkrin and Seara.
??
?Where is Palreth, I must find him before he loses his mind?'
Malkrin pointed to the tree abode. ‘Take care Seara, I saw him labouring with internal battles.’
'I will look after him; for something of the bravest man I have ever known resides in him.' She started to run after Palreth; then turned. ‘Malkrin, don't worry about me. My father has terrible news for you . . . I'm sorry.'
With that she dashed into the tree-home and Malkrin saw her shadow flit behind the window and disappear. He frowned, more bad news? It was as if she were offering her condolences. Who was the brave man – Palreth? He looked questioningly to Halle.
‘You have some grave news Malkrin,’ Halle fiddled with his leather wrist guard agitatedly, ‘would you like to go inside?'
'Just say it - what can be worse than the predicament we're all in?'
‘I’m afraid Cabryce is dead.’
Malkrin stared at him, a numb feeling seemed to start at his head and drain through him until it reached his stomach, which then contracted as if he hadn’t eaten for a whole season. He felt leaden, at the same time light-headed. Then anger rose to replace the numbness, he smacked his fists together.
‘How . . . how did it happen?’
Halle relayed the account that had been passed to Seara by Olaff. Then he retold how Olaff had appeared in Brightwater and their subsequent journey to Sylva.
‘So the priests’ want me back do they – we mustn’t disappoint them then,’ Malkrin stated, feeling as if he’d eaten something poisonous, an acid taste rose in his mouth. He would savour revenge when he met Erich Gamlyn and grieve later when he found Cabryce’s resting place. He had been sure that Cabryce would outlive him, safe in Cyprusnia amongst friends. But then he hadn’t allowed for the unpredictable Brenna.
‘I must make sure Seara has no more information. And I’ll see what ails Palreth.’
Malkrin stormed to the tree-home. There was so much going on in his head, the situation had to be clarified. Surely something had to go their way soon. He burst through a round topped door that snugly fitted the contours of a recess in the trunk. It was dimly lit inside with light provided by two high up windows carved through the hollowed trunk. It smelt of woodland sage and wild garlic, comforting and welcoming like his and Cabryce’s home. He forced the overpowering emotions away and focused on a large carved bed set into the very fabric of the tree. On it Seara sat cross legged cradling Palreth’s head. The Sylve hunter’s face seemed more relaxed, madness had left his eyes and he now watched Malkrin calmly. Seara was massaging Palreth’s temples. Malkrin could see the mist of her healing soaking into the young man’s skull.
Malkrin stood at the bottom of the bed and gripped one of the crude bedstead’s upright posts. ‘Forgive the intrusion,’ he muttered then patiently waited for Seara or Palreth to speak.
An interminable time passed. Then Seara lowered her hands and spoke as clear as a mountain stream.
‘His crisis has passed; I have been able to calm his troubled mind.’
‘A demon wounded his mind in your battle with them?’
‘Not wounded, and not a demon – more a heroic angel giving him a great gift.’
‘What . . . who?’
‘Ollaf. An instant before death took him.’
‘What?’
Then she told him of Ollaf’s highsense and how he had somehow sent it into Palreth’s head.
‘Palreth’s people have no experience of highsense talents. I have shown him how to contain it in a shielded part of his mind. I am showing him how to only unleash it at his bidding, and I will train him further in the next few hours.’
‘I hope he is reliable, for it is a danger to us all if he allows it to escape of its own volition.’
‘It will not. I will work with him and hone his abilities.’
‘You can do that?’ Malkrin was astounded Seara’s highsense had developed along with her maturity.
‘I can, and I will.’
Malkrin nodded. ‘Carry on helping him to manage this weapon; it will be of great use. Tomorrow I must begin the journey back to Cyprusnia. I will leave you and your father to help the allied tribes muster in the Brightwater lands.’
‘Do not return unprepared and bent on revenge. We cannot afford to let you sacrifice yourself in that way.’
‘I do not go off unprepared, woman. I have seen and fought the horror of the approaching quarter-men and that is enough to drive me on.’
‘You need to convince the Brenna, if not the priesthood, before you can even begin to muster our people to defend just Cyprusnia only. And then you must persuade them to come to the assistance of tribes they know nothing of. The Brenna will deny any other organised tribe even exist and will claim you have invented it all to gain re-admittance to Cyprusnia.’
Malkrin paused for a moment, reluctant to acknowledge her logic.
‘They are not stupid. It will be obvious to them you are consumed by revenge.’
She was right; he was not fully prepared and was hell-bent on retaliation.
‘Thank you Seara. I will discuss this with the Brightwater Senate, TrathWolf and representatives of the gathering tribes first. Together the leaders must find a solution before I return to Cyprusnia. I will keep my passions contained and find some undeniable proof to convince the Brenna.’
Seara nodded and helped Palreth to sit upright. Then she swung her legs from the bed and whispered to him.
‘Rest Palreth, I will bring you food later.’
Palreth lifted an arm in silent acknowledgement and immediately let it flop down as if it was not part of him.
Malkrin followed Seara from the tree-home.
‘He must come with us tomorrow.’
‘He will, and I will be there to help him.’
‘I know.’
Malkrin strode off to take up his lookout duty. Then at last in the early hours before dawn he was free to sleep. But he lay on a tree-house bed thinking of its last occupants all too recently slaughtered by quarter-men. Could the peoples prepare a defence substantial enough to protect the Brightwater lands and stem the demon tide? He drifted into sleep hoping and hoping.
Seara awoke him with a cup of steaming broth. Her face again looked weighed down with grief. He began to console her but she interrupted.
‘It’s not just Olaff that saddens me Malkrin.’
‘What then child?’ he asked softly as he put a hand on her shoulder.
‘I tried to heal Eighth’s wound earlier and nothing happened. I felt cold and nothing warmed my hands. The healing deserted me.’
‘We have to get used to highsense lapses child. We both have grieving to do, stress and great loss affects our abilities.’ He looked into her large sad eyes, ‘but they will return – believe me.’
Like a story told from end to beginning, the band journeyed back to Brightwater. They were joined by eighty of the most athletic Celembrie led by their super-fit leader Thicheal. The rest of his tribe were following and being watched over by most of his warriors. Malkrin hoped the Celembrie people would keep ahead of marauding quarter-men. If they were half as athletic as the warriors he saw with him now, he felt confident they would.
With the distant roar of the great river in their ears the band passed a scouting group of Brightwater hunters and one ran back to break the news of the reconnaissance party’s return. Soon it seemed that everyone had left their work tasks to flood over the Lighthouse Bridge in celebration. But the cheering soon stopped as they noticed a Wolf warrior leading the group with a symbolic broken spear to proclaim another terrible loss. Then with a collective gasp people noticed the tired warriors carrying an ivy laced hammock containing the Eighth and then that BerantWolf and other warriors were missing. The group trudged passed lines of the silent people of Brightwater. Two young hunters solemnly took the hammock carrying the Eighth from two exhausted warriors.
Word of the slain and wounded spread beyond the crowd at lightning speed and Malkrin noticed members
of the Wolf Tribe join the crowd and push through urgently, to confirm the news of their fallen chief. Soon a wailing started to permeate through Malkrin’s exhaustion; it was BerantWolf’s wife and daughters howling in despair. Then the lamenting receded and as they took the path to the Senate building clapping started, hesitant at first then growing in volume as cheers of support were added. Heartened now he noticed heads rise bravely, and communal determination take over the crowd.
Senate officials guided Malkrin, TrathWolf, Aldred and Thicheal to the audience chamber for an immediate conference. This time padded seats were arranged in a semicircle before the Senate. Malkrin smiled; no attempt was made to impress or intimidate them with any misplaced show of power.
Malkrin and his companions were offered a meal which they devoured greedily having not eaten properly for days. The semi-circle of tribal representatives finished the food as members of the Senate marched in and sat adjusting their ceremonial clothing. He highsensed their anxiety which gathered over them all like the approach of a wild storm. Under this anxiousness he sensed a determination to prevail.
The debriefing began.
TrathWolf related every detail of the reconnaissance. It took an hour and Malkrin began to tire as recent events settled in his mind. The magnitude of the task ahead bore down on him, but then TrathWolf’s accounting of the heroic deeds of BerantWolf and Olaff and the genocide of the Sylva stirred in him a wash of anger which regenerated his resolve.
Thicheal spoke with determination seeming to speak Malkrin’s thoughts. ‘We have a mighty task to accomplish, my friends. Some of you belong to tribes that until recently I had no idea existed; but we must all work as one to prevail over the quarter-men scourge.’
There was a murmur of resolve from everyone around Malkrin.
Thicheal continued, ‘I have some ideas on how to defend Brightwater and the lands beyond, and I ask you to add your thoughts to mine. These are desperate times and we must not just defend our peoples, we must wipe out the demon horde or we will have to retreat; then retreat again and again as the demons whittle us down. It may take a lifetime but I see that they will never give up until we are all mere piles of bleached bones.’ He looked around each person in turn to confirm he had their attention. ‘We must plan carefully now, or they will surely destroy all that we know.’
Thicheal sat down suddenly as if the outpouring had deflated him.
First of Senate stood and bowed in acknowledgement of Thicheal’s summing up of their predicament.
‘Yes indeed Chief Thicheal, thank you. We must now make urgent and detailed plans as you suggest.’
Malkrin added his voice to the murmur of assent.
First of Senate continued, ‘my librarian and his assistants continue to delve into our oldest records to see how our ancestors dealt with the quarter-men of their time. I also have discussed with my Senate about constructing defences. We have set up a workgroup to organise plans and labour to build fortifications around the Gorge of Golgoth. This should be enough to stop the demons entering our lands from the south.’
Fourth of Senate, a grey haired woman in her middle years, rose, then added. ‘We must warn the wild men of Trothwell. For those here who do not know; they are on our easterly border and will be the first tribe to encounter the demons on that front.’
‘I will undertake that task,’ announced Ninth of Senate, ‘I have taken many hunting parties that way and know of their customs. I will take gifts also, to gain their allegiance.’
First of Senate nodded, ‘take a hand of warriors and leave after this meeting.’
The council lapsed into logistical planning and scribes fussed around taking notes. Malkrin rested patiently and thought of what had to be done to regain the Brenna’s trust. He thought of his initial resolve to search for Jadde and how his quest had been subverted by the threat of the quarter-men. And for the first time a suspicion arose. Were the Brenna so insular in outlook they had no knowledge of the tribes that dwelled beyond their border or of the approaching Archgry threat? Had his crime been deliberately reported so he could be exiled to find out the true situation? Could it be possible that they actually expected him to return? And why were they so concerned about the stranger killed in front of his dear wife?
And then he realised he had something that would allow him access to an audience with the Brenna and convince them about the approaching Archgry-quarter-men. He thought of the captured demon; it could unknowingly aid them.
Then he checked in his pocket to ensure the three gold suns were still there. As he touched one he felt a strange power tingle his fingers – a kind of communication from someone or something. He snatched his fingers away: this was not the time or place to experience something unworldly.
How had the gold emblem done that? With sudden insight he realised he had just experienced the first reawakening thought of the Goddess Jadde.