Читать книгу Return of Magic - Steve Reilly - Страница 15

Chapter 8

The land spread out before him as if it would never end. Vast seas of rolling grass rising and falling over the long, low swells of the ground rippled beneath the soft breeze. It felt good to be out here, almost alone, riding beside the gods. The man on the dappled mare beside him who was his companion for the mission was all but forgotten as he walked his mount through the emptiness. This was the land of entities whose beings were so great they needed spaces like this just to stretch their minds.

Lenk-shadow Gerard rode in silence appreciating the intensity of life in a place where none seemed to exist. He did not speak of these feelings with others, this idea he had of the world and what it was. He was still very young when he learned that not all people saw the world as he did. Instead he did as he was asked, when he was asked, knowing that in the end his life had little bearing on matters of importance. His was the world of man, but at times he could feel the world of the gods. It was this ability, he believed, that allowed him to do his work so well.

His memory was vague after all these years but he believed they were only a few days’ ride from the site of the moon fest. Something larger than memory led him. There was a feeling about this land he could not describe, a feeling that the true heart of the world was nearby. They should be seeing some signs of people and the strange wagons he remembered soon. He decided to stop and rest and dismounted to wait while Patrik prepared a meal of cheese and dried biscuits. He was a good man, one of the best in his command but he lacked imagination. He could not appreciate what his eyes did not see. But Patrik could ride into any town or army and by his quiet and friendly nature ride out again with more information than even those he spoke with knew they possessed. He was not tall though he could not be described as short, with a lean build and clean-shaven face. Most soldiers would not look at him twice, so ineffectual was his appearance, while most women would find him acceptable if no one else were available. But to Gerard, Patrik’s most appealing quality lay in knowing when to be silent and allow him to enjoy his world. “Sit a moment,” he offered when the food was ready.

“What’s on your mind?” Patrik asked, as he found a place on a lonely rock.

“We are not far from the site of the festival and when we are there we have important work to do. Everyone knows the people of Arravale abhor fighting and will run or die before they will pick up a sword. King Xavier wants us to make a deal to allow soldiers on their land but it will not be easy. We must do all we can to put them at ease. So, from this point on we will remove our swords and appear to ride unarmed.”

“That’s fine by me. I would not expect one of the people of Arravale to cause us any trouble.” Patrik’s acceptance of his order took him a little by surprise. He had not expected the man to so quickly put aside his weapons.

Gerard nodded at his man’s confidence but advised him there may be more to this meeting. “There may be more there than just the people of the grasslands.”

“Do the people of the south come too?” he asked, curious at Gerard’s knowledge. “I can see it may be of interest to the dealers of Frith.”

“Maybe, I don’t know that. But you may expect to see others there who are not human.” The look that came to Patrik was a mixture of confusion and surprise. Gerard explained. “It has been many years since I was at the moon fest but I remember other people who came to offer their protection of the fest. They were all armed and seemed very capable though I may have exaggerated being only a child. But I do remember them and I know who they were. King Xavier also knows who we may meet and he does not want trouble with them at this time though there are others in the kingdom who would have us attack these people immediately.”

Patrik waited, but when Gerard did not go on he was forced to ask, “Who?”

“The ones my mind remembers were elves.”

~

The horses ambled up the long slow rise. Gerard rode with his eyes half closed while enjoying the calm that rested over his body. He was not tired. He was not restless. He was at peace with the world about him. They had spied wagons heading to the moon fest just dots in the distance but he knew they had been seen because the wagons turned away, keeping clear of the two strangers in their lands. At the same time, he knew they were being watched though they had seen no one.

They crested the rise and Gerard reined his horse. The vale before him was awash with colour as if an artist had dropped his paints over the ground. The wagons he remembered from his father’s day were everywhere and just as his memory held them. Each seemed trying to outdo the next in the brightness of their display. They were strange things with their tiny windows, peaked roofs and chimneys. Some even had small railed platforms on the back with chairs for their owners to sit and take in the day. Horses wandered untethered picking at clumps of tough grass or just resting in the sun. Gerard’s stomach rumbled with the unrecognised flavours of the air as meals were prepared. Looking down on the gathering, Gerard thought he might enjoy living the life of an Arravelian.

“We’ll walk from here,” he said as he dismounted. “It will give them time to see us and accept that we mean them no harm.”

Before they were halfway down the hill a small crowd had gathered. Many more eyes watched from behind the open windows of this little city on wheels. Most of the people were as brightly dressed as the colours of their wagons which made the two elves stand out even more. Not only were they taller by a head than anyone else present but they were dressed in pure white flowing robes. One was hidden by a hood but the other had thrown the covering back to reveal a pale face framed by long white hair, as white as his robe. Both carried longbows strapped to their backs. When they were close enough to be easily heard Gerard called to them. “We come in peace. We bring greetings and good wishes from King Xavier of Arenia.”

He told Patrik to stop as he waited for a response. The people of Arravale were suspicious, but welcoming. Gerard and Patrik were given food and water and although they were wary the people came to speak with them, wondering if they had anything to trade. As the evening settled over the temporary city a young boy stepped in front of Gerard to ask if they would care to join a couple by the names of Angele and Turka at their meal. The Lenk-Shadow thanked the boy and asked him to lead the way. They wove between wagons and around cooking fires, all the while following as close to a straight line as the boy could find through the maze of people.

The day was losing its light as the sun fell into the sea of grass when the boy finally stopped. A pot hung on its iron tripod above a small fire while the unusual flavours of its contents drifted on the still air. Two people, a man and a woman, sat on wooden chairs watching. The woman leaned forward and stirred the meal with a long wooden spoon. Two elves waited motionless behind them and Gerard believed they must have been the pair he saw when they arrived. Both had their hoods lowered and the first appeared to be the face he remembered from then but so again did the other. He could not tell them apart. They were so alike they could have been born of the same seed in the same womb. They did not speak as they were introduced as Boyn-al and Sher-os but nodded and watched.

Angele served up four bowls and together they sat and talked while they ate the hot stew. After spending days on horseback and having only dried rations this was food fit for a king. The spiciness tingled on his lips and bit at his throat but then the warmth of the herbs consumed his body, relaxing him. He was beginning to feel the world around him as he had never done before. Deep within himself, he was coming to understand that the people of Arravale knew and understood more of the world than anyone in the west ever could. Angele rose to collect the bowls when they had finished. “Why do you come to the moon fest?” she asked changing the subject and finally asking what they had been avoiding.

“We seek the king of Arravale. It is our task to bring a message of great importance to the people of your kingdom from King Xavier of Arenia,” replied Gerard.

Angele stopped and looked back at the soldiers. “And what would your king say to our king?” Her question seemed casual but suspicion bit at the words.

“The message I bring is for the king’s ears only,” the Lenk-Shadow apologised.

Angele put the bowls down and sat beside Turka taking and holding his hand as she did. “Arravale does not have a king,” Turka explained. “We have those who steer the people of this land. Their role it is to help and teach when it is required. Other than that our people are free to go where they wish and do as they want. They are free to live without the bindings of others. Our only rule, the one that all the people of Arravale live by, is that no one is to raise a weapon or fist against another. If this were to occur the people would determine their punishment. Most likely they would be expelled from our lands but this has not happened in more than nine hundred years so I cannot say for certain.”

“It is our role to steer the people,” added Angele, glancing at her partner. “If you must give your message to someone give it to us and we will decide how our people should reply.”

In response, Gerard removed the bag he carried on his back and reached in to retrieve a small pouch tied with leather. He rose and bowed deep to the elves. “King Xavier had been told we must expect to meet some of the great elf nation. He sends his greetings to you and your people along with this small gift that he asks be given to your leaders. He looks forward to the day he may stand face to face with them in friendship.”

Each of the elves looked into the pouch filled with gems, rubies, emeralds, amethyst and onyx, and thanked the humans for the gift. That was the moment Gerard realised Boyn-al was a man and Shar-os was a woman. The fact distracted him for a moment but he recovered to reach into the bag again. To Turka and Angele he presented a small, wooden box about a palm length on each side and intricately inlaid with coloured woods and small gems on all faces. Set into the lid, shimmering with the glow of reflected light, was a perfect moonstone. Inside the box, carefully packed for travel, was a small sculpture. It was carved from a piece of whale bone in the shape of a tree, with delicate intertwined branches holding tiny leaves and fruits throughout. It was an ancient piece and until recently had adorned the halls of the House of the Dragon. After admiring the piece, Turka looked up. “And what message does your king send with these gifts?”

Gerard’s head dropped as he delivered his words. “Arenia sends a dire warning. Arravale must beware that there have been raids on the people of Arenia. King Xavier believes you should have knowledge of the dangers and he urges you to warn your people.” Gerard paused a moment so that his next words took on more importance. “Auchs have come out of the mountains to attack our towns.”

For the first time, Gerard saw a reaction on the faces of the elves.

“What has happened?” interrupted Boyn-al.

“Three raids on towns have forced the king to move soldiers north in an effort to watch and help his people there. The raids have only been minor with little damage or loss of life at this stage but King Xavier worries. He believes the auchs may be testing us or themselves and he fears a larger attack.”

“And what would you have us do?” asked Angele. “Even if the auchs were to attack we could not fight. It goes against all we believe.”

“Our king realises your customs prevent defence and he honours your commitment to your beliefs but he suggests you warn your people of the dangers that may exist in the north. He asks that you tell your people to be ready and to flee if the auchs enter Arravale.”

Turka nodded. “You may tell your king that we thank him for his concern. The people of Arravale will be told.”

Gerard took in a breath. “King Xavier also understands the protection given by the elves and he is comforted that you have such able people at your side but the land of the elves is far to the east and if the auchs attack the people of peace would benefit from having a protector close at hand. King Xavier offers his protection, but only if you wish it.”

Angele was suspicious at the offer. “Why would you do this? What would you ask in return?”

“My king admits that he has his own reasons for this offer. He fears that the auchs would use Arravale to by-pass his defences and wreak havoc on the towns and cities across Arenia. If he has your permission to move his soldiers unhindered through Arravale he could cut off such an attack saving Arenia and at the same time protecting your people.” Gerard waited for a response. In the quiet he heard the sounds of the encroaching night being overshadowed by the music of the start of the moon fest.

Finally, Angele answered. “We will consider your request and give you our decision tomorrow. But now, we are missing the festival. Join us,” she offered.

Gerard suddenly made a decision unlike any he had made before. It was out of character with a leader of the Shadow, a soldier trained the infiltrate and kill without mercy. “I have another request, but this does not come from the king. In this land I feel the world as it should be, as the gods wish it. When Patrik leaves to take your reply to King Xavier I ask that I may stay and join your people but I will need help in learning your ways.” Patrik did not speak. He did not need to. His wide eyes and open mouth were his response to his leader’s request. “I am sorry I did not inform you, Patrik, but I am at home in this land. I can feel its power and strength flood through my body.”

Angele shared a look with her partner before placing a hand on Gerard’s arm and announcing her response. “We will consider both questions with care and advise you but it is time we were at the fest.”

They made their way again through the makeshift city, this time led by Turka, until they came to the site of the festival. Fires burned high around the clearing as people sang, played instruments of all fashion and danced. The little group stopped and Gerard could see more elves around the festival. All were standing at the edge of the shadows.

“Oh, my,” whispered Patrik.

Out in the light, musicians, singers and dancers were all as naked as the day they were born. Gerard did not remember this from his childhood visit but guessed that his father had made efforts to keep him away. He could feel the strength of the gods in the gathering and from the antics of the participants understood what the moon fest meant to these people. It was a rite of fertility, a time when the world was reborn. Beside him Angele asked if he would join them. Both she and Turka had somehow discarded their clothing in the moments he had been distracted.