Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary (27 page)

I bid you farewell and good luck

     Lieutenant Edward Morris-Tailt

And beneath the farewell another hand had
written in a more hesitant style.

To whom it may concern.

If you are searching this repository of
records for a resolution to the quarter-men plague that again places Jadde’s
peoples in jeopardy, then search ‘Theology’ and read the books Divine Justice
and Ethics for a Morale Life. There you will learn whether you have a real need
to rediscover Jadde’s weapon. If you have no other choice, I beg you not to use
the weapons lightly, for they are capable of destroying an entire race. If you
decide the quarter-men are STILL inherently evil then you will find clues to
take you to the solution of your problem.

Kristopher Falconfeather

Nardin’s vision swam and he blinked to
refocus. It was a monumental document. If the priesthood realised it existed
they would confiscate it and possibly even kill him. Sire Steth could be
trusted but what of the Abbot and the Brenna? Were the rumours of approaching
evil actually the return of the quarter-men? He feared that was the case.

Nardin’s eyes remained blurred and for the
first time he feared he had done them irreparable damage. He prepared to inform
Steth of his discovery. As an afterthought he hid the diary inside one of the
defunct computers as a bargaining point should the priesthood turn on him with his
discovery.

The room remained blurred and he groped his
way to the light switch. The door burst open sending him spinning onto the cold
tiled floor.

‘Assistant did you not notice me open the
door?’ Steth’s voice asked in concern.

Nardin rose on an elbow and stammered, ‘my
eyes . . . I can’t see . . . too much reading . . . lights too bright.’

‘Let’s get you up to a comfy chair; a bowl
of cherry cordial will revive you. Then we have an urgent development to
attend.’

‘I have a discovery to report Sire.’

‘Concentrate on recovery first my assistant.’

Nardin managed to grope his way up the
narrow winding stairs as Steth closed the library door and followed him. The
dark stairs soothed his vision and a little focus returned.

A draft of the sweet cherry drink revived
him as he nursed a bruised elbow. Steth sat opposite him in his padded chair in
the scriptorium, when he thought Nardin sufficiently recovered he carried on.

‘Whatever you have discovered it must wait.
I have both good and further alarming news.’

‘Of Cabryce?’

‘No, of Malkrin – he has returned to the
border.’

Relief washed Nardin – his friend was
alive.  And then he realised Malkrin needed to know what he had discovered:
urgently.

‘Malkrin has a band of strange people with
him and a caged devil. The Brenna have been alerted and
Erich Gamlyn rides
with a troop to confront him.’

Nardin tried to focus on his mentor and
failed.

Steth stood and grabbed a cloak. ‘We must go
there, to prevent any bloodshed. Come Assistant, there is no time to lose.’

CHAPTER
TWENTYTWO

T
he journey had taken its toll on them all,
including the demon. The day after Malkrin’s and Bone-thrower’s detour the
creature had sickened and refused every rabbit, pigeon or snake they killed for
it. They even tried a haunch of wild pig they had cooked for themselves, but to
no avail. Then two days ago as they’d passed the scattered bones of the wild
cat outside Hunters Cave, the demon had died. At first they thought it sleeping
and had prodded it with the butt of a spear, to no avail. Malkrin had put his
hand between the bars and touched its cold flesh and lifted an eyelid. The eye
was unmoving; the creature had left this world.

‘We must continue on with the carcass my friends;
for it is the only proof we have of the evil that threatens to engulf us.’

It was a bad omen, but Malkrin tried to be
practical by pointing out that demons were after all susceptible to illness
like they all were.

The Wolf Tribe’s ritual journey had kept
the track clear of landslides and debris, so hauling the cart was not too
arduous for the fit warriors. Two days after passing the cave they spotted the
distant ribbon of the stockade across the Darent Pass and stopped to wash the
journeys grime from clothes and skin. Malkrin decided they needed to look refreshed,
confident and powerful to persuade the border guards they were not just a band
of thieves.

It had gone midday when they hauled the
cart to within hailing distance of the barricade. By now the demon was beginning
to decompose. The stink made Malkrin gag as he prepared to hail the guards
astride the fortification. He strode a few paces in front of his men, being
careful to keep his arms open before him.

‘Good men of the Seconchane do you
recognise my face?’

Silence greeted him from the faces on the ramparts.

‘I have returned to save you from a deadly
danger. I must speak to the officer in charge.’

Still no one atop the barricade wall moved
but from somewhere a warning arrow bounced from a nearby rock. Malkrin had
expected to be ignored so it was slightly encouraging; at least he had
someone’s attention.

‘I must speak to an officer. I mean you no
harm I just wish to save you, your wives and children from a ghastly death. There
is a horde of demon creatures approaching and I cannot keep them at bay with my
few companions.’

Two figures stirred on the battlements and
another whose tunic incorporated a purple sash of rank appeared.

‘Outcast, you dare to return with a bunch
of bandits and a ridiculous excuse. How do I know there is any truth in your
words?’

‘I bring you a dead demon for you to
inspect.’

‘We have nothing to fear from dead demons.’

‘It is one of the fearful creatures that
the Goddess Jadde fought and destroyed.’ Malkrin then shouted as loud as he
could, ‘and they have returned in hordes beyond count to slaughter us all.’

‘I need proof that your words are true
before I summon my commanding officer.’

‘Will this suffice?’ Malkrin swept his
cloak to one side and revealed two of the gold suns emblazoned on his tunic.

‘You have forged the sun symbols or stolen
them.’

‘How could I steal them when I am outside Cyprusnia?
Rest assured my power has increased fourfold and I have a companion with me who
has a similar ability. Would you prefer a demonstration of his powers?’

‘Go ahead if you must,’ the officer sneered
disbelievingly.

‘Bear in mind he has a single highsense
decoration,’ Malkrin primed them.

Palreth casually strode in full view of the
stockade and raised an arm. Malkrin’s third sun glinted on his chest. He threw
a sparkling blue fireball into a fir tree alongside the track. The tree burst
into flames and vicious blue lightening discharging into the air and ground
around it. A fearsome smell of smouldering wood and sharp acrid smoke assailed
the officer’s nostrils.

‘Impressive demonstration, Outcast, I will
summon the Brenna. I hope for your sake you can prove what you say. Of course
they may decide to finish you for good.’

‘This is not the time for man to fight man
but never the less, a wise decision officer of the Seconchane. Tell your
superiors that hordes of demons are heading this way and each is more ferocious
than any wild animal they have ever hunted.’

‘Stay where we can see you all. It will be
several hourglasses before my commander gets here.’

‘I or my companions will not move, our
errand is too desperate to leave unanswered.’

The officer and another man vanished from
view so after a few minutes Malkrin ordered his comrades set a camp fire and
prepare for a long wait. They caught another wild pig and stuffed it with oat
meal and then roasted it on the campfire. Much later as the sun began its slide
toward the mountains they were drinking from their water containers and
discussing Brightwater’s chances of resisting the quarter-men when the Wolf
lookout shouted a warning.  Malkrin stood and gazed at the palisade, the gates
in the wall had creaked open and as he watched a troop of horse mounted Brenna
emerged. Stones and dust flew around a blur of hooves and the thunder of
charging horses filled the air. Some of Malkrin’s band raised weapons
nervously, others looked about to run.

‘Stay calm everybody, we must trust them or
we’ll get nowhere,’ ordered Malkrin. The horsemen reined in their mounts and
quickly surrounded Malkrin and his companions. Palreth, Mondroth of the
Celembrie and
Talgour
had never seen horses and looked fearfully at the strange sight of men riding
tamed beasts.

‘A mighty weapon,’ Mondroth said in awe.

Malkrin looked closely at the horsemen. All
were Brenna as he had expected. They were led by Erich Gamlyn
. Malkrin’s heart
sank as he saw who represented the priesthood
amongst the horsemen; it was
Sire Helm Rantiss
who glared as if he was meeting quarter-men and not Malkrin’s brave band.

‘You have news, Outcast?’ snapped Gamlyn.

Malkrin stood in front of the Brenna Ruler
who had in some way disposed of Cabryce. Malkrin’s thoughts seethed, revenge
boiled in his heart, but his mind said, not now. It was best to pretend
ignorance of her fate. Malkrin kept his voice steady, ‘I bring the worst
possible news . . .’ He paused, his thoughts filled with images of drawing Palerin
across Gamlyn’s throat. ‘. . . I have tidings of an imminent catastrophe for
the whole of the Seconchane.’

‘Really. I am told that caged carcass is
proof of this tale.’

’We have brought this demon with us. It is of
the same tribe that the Goddess Jadde was victorious over. Its brethren have
returned and are consuming all the lands and people in their path.’

‘So on the basis of a dead creature, you
expect me to believe this wild tale?’

‘I have these reinstated highsense stars, they
show I am still well respected amongst the peoples I have met and lived with.’

‘People?’ he turned his head and laughed to
Helm Rantiss, who then echoed the mocking laughter. ‘You mean more examples of
this motley band.’ Gamlyn gestured to Malkrin’s companions.

‘I am an authorised representative of my
people’s Senate,’ protested Talgour.

‘And I of mine,’ added
BalthWolf
.

Gamlyn laughed and sneered, ‘you, a Wolf
bandit – an authorised member of a band of hoodlums more like. Why should I take
your word as well as the outcasts?’

Gamlyn reined his horse round, and over his
shoulder shouted. ‘Be gone, before I order my men to send you to Jadde.’

‘I have proof that Olaff, novice of the priesthood
lives in this man,’ Malkrin shouted. ‘He died trying to reach me for reasons I
know not, but the priests do.’

Gamlyn turned his horse again; back toward him.
Malkrin’s highsense detected a sudden curiosity; he had latched onto Malkrin’s
implication of priestly involvement. He had said the right thing, the priests
had a lot more influence on the Brenna than he, Malkrin, had previously
realised. ‘Olaff was the possessor of a great highsense that would have been of
great use in defending the Seconchane. But as he lay dying after fighting demons,
he transferred his highsense in a method I can only envy, to this man.’ Malkrin
pointed, ‘to Palreth of the Sylve, a great warrior and now possessor of the
greatest highsense. I offer his abilities to the Seconchane’s defence when it
becomes necessary – in return for your help to defeat the demons.’

‘I say again – what demons? All I see is a rotting
hulk, for all I know it could be a grass munching cow.’

Malkrin was thinking fast, this was not
going well. His highsense flashed an answer or was it just plain intuition.
‘The priests have warned you, the ruling Brenna, of an oncoming evil. You know
this – and now you know they were correct.’

Gamlyn sneered and tugged the horse’s
reins. The animal turned and Gamlyn went to dig his ankles into the animal to
send it back to the stockade. Malkrin saw his arm rise, about to indicate the
mounted Brenna follow.

He had only one trick left which he’d saved
as a weapon should the Brenna turn on them. He would have to use it as a
demonstration now. And if it failed there would be no option but to slink away
and try to think of another approach to convince his people. But he had a good
idea what the wasp-spitter would do.

‘I have found this mighty device on my
travels, it also will aid us,’ Malkrin shouted; ‘it releases powerful wasps at
great speed. Watch the ancient’s magic on that rock.’

Gamlyn’s derisory laughter assaulted him as
he produced the small device.

Malkrin pointed it at a rock sitting atop a
landslide nearby. He had risked spitting the metal stick’s wasps twice
yesterday to familiarise himself with the technique and now hoped the weapon
still contained a full hive.

He held it in both hands for it had a
fearsome kick when the wasp flew. He squeezed the lever slowly and a colossal
roar filled the narrow pass, seeming to echo from all directions. The rock
suddenly blew apart sending shards in all directions.

As one the horses neighed in fright and
reared either from the noise or from sharp splinters of stone stinging them. Riders
fell from their mounts or were sent charging away in their horse’s panicked frenzy
to escape. In an instant the arrogant superiority of the Brenna had been
reduced to a large pile of thrashing limbs. The chaos caused a huge dust cloud,
as it settled the six Brenna riders that remained raised themselves unsteadily
to their feet. A couple of the more sedate horses stood and pawed the ground
nervously; the others had bolted taking their riders with them. Through the
dust cloud Gamlyn approached Malkrin; a sword extended before him.

‘For that, your life is forfeit Outcast,’
he announced.

Malkrin withdrew Palerin. He had no
intention of fighting; he would just ward off the strikes, although he would
have loved to plunge the sword deep into Gamlyn and hiss, ‘
for Cabryce
,’
while staring into his dying eyes. His companions had arrows notched, but as
Malkrin had ordered they did not release them.

‘
Think
Sire Gamlyn, fighting will
get us nowhere. The priests were correct.’ he implored through clenched teeth.

Gamlyn’s reply was to sweep his sword at
Malkrin’s head, his face contorted with rage. In that same instant Malkrin lanced
Palerin before him. The clash of blades seared the dust laden air and echoed
along the mountain pass. Both blades met again and again in instinctive attack
and defence. Malkrin used his highsense to predict exactly which way Gamlyn
would direct his blade. He was aware of his companions warding off blows around
him, but paid most of his attention to Gamlyn. The air filled with cries and
oaths as his men attempted to calm the aggressive Brenna.

‘
Cease
,’ a new voice commanded.

Malkrin and Gamlyn spun round in the
direction of the open gates. Sire Josiath Nighthawk sat before the fighting men
on a panting horse. Well behind him a sedate procession approached on foot and
horseback that Malkrin had previously only seen on ceremonial occasions. A collection
of muscular Acolytes supported the Abbott on a litter, his bulky frame sat in
an ornate chair with four carved poles in each corner held by the trainees.
Another priest rode alongside the litter and with him strode Nardin. He was
holding the pommel of the priests saddle for guidance and stared ahead
unfocused.

It was so strange to see the Abbott outside
of traditional ceremonies that Malkrin and Gamlyn paused with swords in mid
stroke to stare at the rarity. Gamlyn glared first at Malkrin then at the
priest.

‘Who are you to tell me what to do priest.’

Malkrin noted that Gamlyn was sweating and
out of condition, whilst with Palerin he had slipped easily into a defensive
routine.

‘Sire Gamlyn this is not the time for
hostilities. It is a time of unity and change,’ proclaimed Josiath.

Gamlyn stared from the priest to Malkrin
then sheathed his sword. Malkrin returned Palerin to his scabbard.