Elder Isles 2: The Green Pearl (50 page)

Glyneth brought a long narrow book with black metal covers from the wallet. The spine was like a sheath housing a black nine-sided metal rod with a golden knob at the end. Glyneth, withdrawing the rod, saw that each of the nine sides was engraved in crabbed golden characters.

Visbhume casually held out his hand. “Let me instruct myself; I have forgotten my calculations.”

Glyneth drew the book away. “What is the purpose of the rod?”

“That is a subsidiary instrument. Replace it in the sheath and hand me the book.”

Glyneth replaced the rod and opened the book. The first page, indited in queer crawling marks with straggling tails and looping risers was illegible, but someone, perhaps Visbhume, had attached a sheet which would seem to be a translation of the original text. Glyneth read aloud:

“These nine places, along with the Gaean Earth, form the ten worlds of Chronos, and he has skewered them all on his axis. By cunning effort I have, constrained the axis, and held it fixed: such is the magnitude, of my achievement.

“Of the nine worlds I warn against Paador, Nith and Woon; Hidmarth and Skurre are purulent places infested with demons. Cheng may well be home to the sandestins, but this is uncertain, while Pthopus is trufy insipid. Only Tanjecterly will tolerate human men.

“In each, section, the almanac details the cycle of quavers and indicates the standard by which ingress and exit may be obtained. With the almanac is the key, and only this key will strike through the weft and allow passage. Lose not the key! The almanac is thereby useless!

“The calculations must be worked with precision. At the periphery of the quaver the key opens a qate where it is struck. The central node is immutable. On earth it stands when I have fixed it. On Tanjecterly, it resides at the center of the Parly Place, at the town Asphrodiske, where dwell many many sad souls.

“Such is the domain of Chronos. Some say he is dead, but if one would discover the wraith, he need only tweak, the axis, and he shall learn his own truth.

“So say I, Twitten of Gaean Earth.”

Glyneth looked up from the almanac. “Where is Asphrodiske?”

Visbhume made a petulant gesture. “Somewhere off across the plains… a journey of far distance”

“And there we can return to Earth?”

“At the low pulse.”

“When will that be?”

“Let me see the almanac.”

Glyneth extracted the key, and gave the almanac to Kul. “Let him look but keep your fingers at his throat.”

Visbhume cried out in a tragic voice: “Replace the key! Will you not heed Twitten’s warning?”

“I will not lose it. Read what you wish to read.”

Visbhume studied the indexes and those calculations which he had already made. “The time will be measured by the black moon, on its way to opposition with now.”

“How long is that?

“A week? Three weeks? A month? There is no measure but the black moon. On Earth there will be a time much different, short or long: I do not know.”

“And if we use the key at Asphrodiske, where will we come out on Earth?”

Visbhume chuckled. “At Twitten’s Corners; where else?”

“Do we have time to reach Asphrodiske?”

“It is exactly as far as is Watershade from Twitten’s Corners.”

Glyneth mused: “The distance is far but not too far.” She held out her hand. “Give me the almanac.”

“And I took you for a pretty flirtatious little softling!” growled Visbhume. “You are as hard as steel!” With poor grace Visbhume obeyed the order.

“Yonder is Visbhume’s carpet wole or whatever it is called; it stands placid and ready. Should we not ride to Asphrodiske in comfort and style?”

Kul jerked the leash. “On your feet! Go command your beast to our use.”

Visbhume ungraciously obeyed the order. The anchors were drawn aboard; with Glyneth and Kul riding in the pergola and Visbhume sitting disconsolately with legs dangling over the stern quarters, the wole set off across the plains of Tanjecterly.

THE WOODCUTTER’S HUT STOOD DESOLATE in the forest, with all its magic gone. A shaft of sunlight slanted through the doorway and laid a skewed rectangle along the width of the floor, leaving the old table and bench in gloom. The silence was disturbed only by the sigh of wind among leaves.

Everything which had happened at the hut, or which might have happened, was part of the sad and arid past, and gone forever.

At Watershade Aillas, Dhrun and Shimrod passed a forlorn seven days. Shimrod, for once somber, could report only that Murgen had not abandoned his interest in the matter.

The dear familiar chambers, with the merry presence of Glyneth only a memory, were too melancholy to be borne. Shimrod took himself to Trilda while Aillas and Dhrun returned to Domreis.

Castle Miraldra was dreary and dull. Aillas occupied himself with routine business of the kingdom, while Dhrun made a desultory effort to resume his studies. Despatches from South Ulfland caught Aillas’ attention. The Ska had carefully assembled and fitted out a powerful army in the Foreshore, with the clear purpose of striking into South Ulfland, to destroy the Ulf armies and occupy Suarach, Oaldes and perhaps even Ys itself.

Aillas and Dhrun took ship for South Ulfland with new troops from Dascinet and Scola. They landed at Oaldes and rode at once to Doun Darric.

In conference Aillas learned that, of late, no major engagements had occurred, which suited him well. His strategy dictated the infliction of maximum enemy losses, while incurring a minimum of his own: a kind of war for which he had shaped his army and which put the Ska at disadvantage. Effectively the Ska had lost control of North Ulfland’s southern half, save where Castle Sank still served as a strongpoint. Aillas drafted a letter to Sarquin, Elector-king of the Ska:

To the attention of the noble Sarquin, Elector-King: I am the legal and ordained King of Ulfland. I find that your armies still tread upon my soii and hold my people in thrall.

I ask that you withdraw your armies to the foreshore, that you liberate all Ulfish thralls still in servitude, and that you renounce your aggressive attempts against my land. If you act at once, I will demand no reparations.

If you fail to heed my request, your people will be killed and Ska blood will flow deep. My armies now exceed yours in number. They are trained to strike and strike again, but to take no blows in return. My ships control the Narrow Sea; we can burn your coastal towns at will. Shortly you will see black smoke rising along the shores of Skaghane, and your folk will know the same woe you have visited upon my people.

I call upon you to end your futile dream of conquest; you can not harm us; we can destroy you, and Bring you great grief.

These are the words of

Aillas, King of Troicinet, Dascinet, Scola and Ulfland.

Aillas sealed the letter and sent the parcel to be delivered by a captive Ska knight. A week went by and the only response was a sudden movement of Ska troops. East from the Foreshore came the great black army, moving with ominous deliberation.

Aillas had no slightest intention of attacking so massive a force. Immediately however he sent skirmishers out to lure the Ska light cavalry within range of his archers. Small parties circled to attack the baggage trains and to harass generally the lines of communication.

The Ska army split into two units of about equal strength, the first proceeding to the town Kerquar on the west and the second moving east to Blackthorn Heath, at the center of North Ulfland.

Ulf patrols became ever bolder, riding to within shouting distance of the Ska to call insults, in the hope of enticing a group away from the main body, where they could be ambushed and cut to pieces. At night Ska sentries went in fear of their lives and were as often murdered as not, and finally the Ska themselves began sending out night patrols, and setting up their own ambushes, which to some extent diminished Ulf pressures, though the Ska still lost more than they gained.

Small signs indicated an erosion of Ska morale. Previously they had attacked, with flair and impunity, and had regarded themselves as invincible. Now that they had become quarry and victim, the mantle of invincibility quickly proved to be a thing of no substance and they long and well had mulled over the recollection of their recent defeat, which could not be explained away.

Aillas wondered if they could be provoked into new errors of strategy which the Ulfish forces could exploit. He and his commanders, poring over maps, drew up a variety of battle-plans, each with notes to deal with contingencies.

So began an intricate and carefully timed set of operations: attacks, withdrawals, and ever more daring feints against the towns of the Foreshore, until these feints became actual raids, combined with assaults from the sea. At last, as Aillas hoped, the army based at Kerquar shifted to the northwest, with the effect of isolating the army on Blackthorn Heath from reinforcement in the case of sudden massive attack. Now, any plans for a Ska invasion of South Ulfland seemed to have been postponed.

Aillas instantly sent a force of light cavalry to harass and engage the attention of this army, without actually coming to grips with the highly disciplined core of heavy cavalry. At the same time he sent a special siege army, equipped with two dozen massive arbalests, catapults and other siege engines against Castle Sank, the fortress guarding the southeast. He envisioned a quick and brutally powerful assault, and so it was, despite the rebuilding and reinforcement of the garrison.

In six hours the outer walls had fallen and the citadel was under attack, with archers stationed upon high wooden towers keeping the parapets under fire. The machines sent great stones high to break open the roofs, then sent in fireballs to ignite the wrecked timbers. The defenders fought with desperate courage, and twice sallies of armoured knights were broken.

On the second night during the final stages of the operation, with flames roaring high, Aillas thought to glimpse Tatzel on the parapets. She wore an archer’s helmet and carried a bow, with which she discharged arrow after arrow at the attacking forces. Words rose in Aillas’ throat, but he held them back, and watched in fascination. She looked down and saw him; nocking an arrow to the string of her bow, she drew far back with all her power, but before she could release, an arrow arched across space and plunged into her chest. She looked down in dismay and let the arrow fly against the merlon beside which she stood, and it glanced away. She seemed to sink to her knees, and fell backward out of sight.

Aillas was still not certain of her identity, in the flickering red light, but later she was not found among the survivors and Aillas lacked all inclination to sort through the charred corpses in search of gallant young Tatzel.

The Ska army on Blackthorn Heath, learning of the assault on Castle Sank, broke camp and made a desperate effort to arrive at Sank in time to lift the siege. In their haste they departed from their usually tight formation of march, and raced north in a column, and here was the mistake for which Aillas had not only prepared but had prompted the Ska to commit. At a place called Tolerby Scrub, the Ska met an ambush of Ulf main forces, with sixty Troice knights leading the charge into the very heart of the Ska army, then wheeling and withdrawing, while from the other side came a similar charge of the Ulf barons.

The battle was far from easy, and only when troops coming down from the victory at Sank collapsed the Ska flank was the battle won.

There were few Ska survivors, and many casualties among both Ulf and Troice. Aillas, observing so much carnage, turned away in revulsion. Still, he was now master of all North Ulfland, save only the areas near the Foreshore, the Foreshore itself and the approaches to the great fort Poelitetz.

Two weeks later, Aillas, riding with fifty knights, approached the remaining Ska army near the town Twock. He sent a herald out under a flag of truce, with a message:

Aillas, King of Trokinet, Dosinet, Scola, and Ulfland, requests a parley with the chief commander of the Ska army.

A pair of heralds set a table out upon the fell, spread it with a white cloth, set down chairs and on poles hung a gonfalon with the black and silver Ska emblem, and a gonfalon, quartered, displaying the arms of Troicinet, Dascinet, Ulfland and Scola.

With two knights by his side and a pair of heralds, Aillas went out to wait ten yards back of the table. Ten minutes passed, then, from the Ska army came a similar group.

Aillas advanced to the table, as did his counterpart: a tall spare man, keen-featured, with black eyes and black-gray hair. Aillas bowed. “I am Aillas, King of Troicinet, Dascinet, and Ulfland.”

The Ska said: “I am Sarquin, King-elect of Skaghane and all the Ska.”

“I am happy to meet a person of ultimate authority,” said Aillas. “My work is thereby eased. I am here to arrange peace. We have reconquered our territory; the war is effectively won. Our hatred of you remains but it is not worth the spilling of any more blood. You might still fight but now you are outnumbered, by warriors at least equal to your own. If you choose to fight on, there will be only boys, women and old men left on Skaghane. At this moment, I could land a force of three thousand men upon Skaghane and no one could halt me.

“I wish to wound or kill no more brave men, either yours or mine. These are the terms of my peace.

“You shall withdraw all your forces from Ulfland, including Poelitetz. You shall not carry with you wealth or treasures accumulated in Ulfland, nor may you herd horses, cattle, sheep nor swine. Knights may ride their mounts; all other horses must be surrendered.

“You shall maintain sovereignty over the Foreshore, for the use and welfare of your people.

“You shall release all slaves, serfs, thralls and captives now in your custody, on Skaghane, along the Foreshore, and elsewhere, and deliver them with all kind and clement treatment to the town Suarach.

“You will agree not to conspire nor ally yourself with, nor give counsel, comfort nor assistance to the enemies of my rule: specifically, King Casmir of Lyonesse, nor to anyone else.

“Otherwise I make no demands upon you, for reparations or indemnities, or punitive damages for the lives of my people whom you have ravaged in your acquisitive lust.