The Forgotten War (3 page)

‘Not impossible, no, just unlikely. Do you really want to put yourself and the boy through this? It would be terribly hard, even for a fit soldier in his prime.’

‘Willem volunteered, just as I did, so the answer to your question is yes.’

‘Very well then,’ Morgan replied. ‘But be aware also that there are ... creatures in the mountains as well as groups of brigands forced up there by the war and by the
Baron’s men. If we are encountered, I make no guarantees about what might happen.’

Cedric sounded confident. ‘I have made a study of the dangerous creatures that lurk in the wild places of the world. No one knows more about what we might encounter than I.’

Morgan was not expecting such bravado. ‘OK then, say Artorus and Mytha the war god see us through the mountains and we cross the plains and get to the forest, do we just walk in? How do we
entice the Wych folk to speak with us without them killing us first?’

‘There is a ritual. The river Taethen which borders the forest is usually quite shallow. There is an island in the river on which the summoning ritual can be performed. They watch the
river constantly; it will not be long before they will come to see us.’

‘And then they will kill us as they do with all unbidden visitors; their hospitality is legendary after all.’

‘Ah,’ Cedric nodded, ‘I will concede that point to you. I cannot guarantee that they won’t kill us, so we will be rather relying on my skills as a diplomat at that
juncture.’

‘You have skills as a diplomat?’

‘Not really no, but what I have to tell and show them should be of great interest to them. It would be their loss if they kill us first.’

‘That is comforting.’ Morgan got the impression that nothing he said would make any difference to the old man. ‘What if I refuse to go?’

‘Then I will go alone. I am bound to try with or without the help of others.’

‘Very well,’ said Morgan. ‘I thought you would say something like that. But tell me, why? Why the Wych folk?’

‘Ah, now that is a tale in itself. Allow me to start with a history lesson.’

Morgan sat back in his chair expecting to be there a while as Cedric continued.

‘Over eight hundred years ago in the east the empire of Chira was beginning to expand. Its old enemy, Anmir, had been subjugated and the people of the lakes paid it tribute. To the north
and west lay great fertile plains on which it cast envious eyes but these lands were already occupied. The Wych folk, Aelva or elves had been there for thousands of years, their light cavalry and
skills with the bow making them perfect inhabitants of the plains, hunters of elk and herders of cattle. They were clannish folk, though, divided into many tribes all of whom held ancient enmities
for each other; it was an odd thing but many of the Aelven tribes coexisted on far better terms with the humans of Chira and Anmir than they did with their own people. It was partly because of this
mistrust that, when one day the Aelven Lutelia tribe immediately north of Chira was attacked by fellow elves of the Baetal tribe, the Lutelians approached Chira for help. It was the worst thing
they could have done. This started the first war of the Aelva. It lasted twenty-four long years but by the end of it Chira held the lands of the Lutelia and the Baetal, both tribes ceasing to exist
as separate entities as they were absorbed into human society.

‘The retaliation wasn’t long in coming. Just a few years later the Wych general Gellethon launched a stunning attack on Chira. Two great battles on the lakes wrested these lands from
Chiran control and then, at the Battle of Lebethra, two-thirds of a Chiran army was destroyed in a day. The Aelven tribes, united for once, encamped outside the capital itself – it was
Chira’s darkest hour, one of humanity’s darkest hours. But they resisted, refused to surrender and the tide slowly turned. Gellethon’s great army started to dissipate and be riven
by infighting. Then the Chiran general Kathan drew them into petty skirmishing which sapped their will and resolve even further. The Wych folk were not equipped for long sieges and so withdrew from
Chira city itself back to the lakes where Kathan continued to harass them. And then...’ Cedric made a flamboyant gesture with his arms ‘...came the decisive stroke. A young Chiran
general named Tolmareon – later Tolmareon Aelvhassen – had a brilliant idea. While the Wych folk were occupied fighting humans in the lake country he struck directly at their homelands.
Tribe after tribe fell to him as he carved through the plains until he reached the sea. It was at this time that his commander, Tanar, moved here and formed our own country of Tanaren.

‘Gellethon reacted to this incursion, abandoning the lakes and moving north to meet the Chirans. They met at the plain of Shefom and, despite having a mobile army suited to fighting on
open ground, Gellethon was worsted because Tolmareon had sowed the ground with stakes, ditches and other obstacles designed to hamper the Wych horsemen. It was a conclusive victory.

‘The Wych folk hung on in a greatly reduced territory but their time was counting down. Nearly fifty years later Chira declared war on them on a pretext. There was some resistance but it
was all over in two years. The remaining Wych folk fled into the forests or over the sea and Chira held the plains at last. The Wych folk of the Aelthenwood have been there for nearly eight hundred
years.’

‘And,’ said Morgan as Cedric finally seemed to have finished speaking, ‘because of all that they hate us and kill us on sight.’

‘Not always, no. They fought with us at Hawk Moor in the War of Succession; their hatred of Chira overcame their hatred of us.’

‘But Chira is not involved this time.’

‘No, but Arshuma is a client kingdom of the Chiran Empire. If pressed, they could ask the White Empire for military aid but they will not do that as they know it will mean an end to what
little sovereignty they have. Despite that, the spectre of the looming empire should be a powerful one for the Wych folk.’

Morgan still sounded sceptical. ‘Yes, but in that case they have had ten years to join us but haven’t. What by the Gods would suddenly convince them to do so now?’

‘Two things, one of which I am not interested in but another that does interest me greatly. The first of this is iron and steel. The Aelva do not mine – they are creatures of nature
– but this means they have very little iron weaponry that isn’t antique. Their weapons are often tipped with flint or obsidian, though I have heard that they make use of metal from
rocks that fall out of the sky. The Grand Duke feels that offering our ancient enemies iron weapons is more a symbolic gesture of trust than anything else. But he bade me make the offer to them.
The second thing, however, is much more intriguing.’ He drew himself forward, lowering his voice confidentially.

‘In the far west of the country, in a bleak uninhabited place close to the sea and blasted by the wind, are some ancient ruins, possibly thousands of years old. In my capacity as a
scholarly collector of antiquities and student of the ways of the Wych folk I have had occasion to visit there several times in my career and this spring I decided to go again, probably for the
last time. I took Willem and a couple of other sturdy fellows ... and Alys, a student with a gift for drawing, my past sketches of the ruins not really being up to scratch. So when we got there we
proceeded to slowly cover the place foot by foot, recording our findings in a scientifically acceptable manner. It is a most unusual place; I could recognise three different architectural styles
and five phases of building...’ He looked at Morgan, who was obviously drifting.

‘Sorry, my boy, I shall get to the point. This place being on the coast, I think it was once a port, you know. Well, the land is unstable and prone to slipping and this is exactly what had
happened since my last visit. A large portion of the cliff wall had collapsed into the sea. It was tragic to see the demise of something that had stood for many centuries but, as I walked through
the rubble, where the land had fallen I saw something new. Stairs ... a stairway leading down a shaft cut under the hill. I cannot tell you the level of excitement that I felt; scholars such as I
can go an entire lifetime without seeing such things. I was all for charging down there straight away until Willem pointed out the nauseous smell coming from the shaft and the dangerous broken
nature of the stairs. We left it until the following day when the smell had disappeared. Torches lit, we slowly climbed down the shaft. I counted 198 steps, six times thirty-three, both significant
in Wych folk mythology. The walls and ceilings of the shaft were all of vaulted stone, which had prevented its collapse, but the carvings on these walls! Some of the original colours remained
– vivid blues, reds and greens with pictures of rearing stags, fierce bears and wolves. There were hawks flying on the ceiling as well as gentler animals, goats and oxen, all of which are
spirits or deities in Wych mythology. But then, finally, I realised there was a beast whose long, thin body ran the entire length of the shaft, coiling over the ceiling, down to the walls and back
to the ceiling again, until at last we were confronted by a frowning stone door on which the beast’s fierce head was displayed. The head of a dragon!’

‘Dragons are myths,’ said Morgan unconcernedly as he finished off the food.

‘Maybe, my boy, but what we were looking at was a depiction of the Wych creation myth and I quote, “The great black dragon opened its maw and out streamed all the animals of the
Earth, but soon they sickened through cold and damp and so the dragon breathed again and thus gave the world fire.” That is part of the annals of the Aelven. Before our second war with them
the priest chronicler Adalferth travelled to their lands recording their histories and mythologies. After setting these things down in writing, he returned with other priests and tried to convert
them. They were all killed, one of the catalysts for the second war. Anyway, we had to get this door open.’

‘What caused the smell?’

‘The dragon’s eyes,’ Cedric replied. ‘On closer inspection we realised that his eyes were in fact spheres permeated by holes set into the stone. They were made of a
strange red stone, inside of which was a powdery substance that smelled so strongly that even now, after all these years, it made our eyes water. They are still examining them back at St
Philig’s. The door itself, though, would not budge and I regret to say we had to force it. Once it gave way it collapsed backwards and shattered, a regrettable loss...’

‘So, what was behind the door?’

Cedric’s eyes lit up, like a beggar thrown a leg of mutton. ‘Things you could not imagine. Straight away I sent one of the lads back to St Philig’s to bring wagons, such were
the amount of finds that were there. My theory is this: after the second war, many Aelvenfolk fled our lands by ship. If they sailed from these ruins, perhaps they gathered what treasures they
could find and sealed them, hidden from human eyes, in this chamber.’

‘But why not just take them with them?’

‘I do not know. Maybe space on board was at a premium. Maybe they intended to return for them but for some reason never did.’

‘And now you feel they want these objects back.’

‘Indeed! Willem, fetch the trunk.’

‘Yes, Master Cedric’

Willem sprang up from his sitting position and dragged a large black trunk next to him towards the table. He pinged open its clasps and lifted up the heavy lid. Inside, concealed in vellum
wrappings, were half a dozen objects of indeterminate size and shape. Cedric lifted the first one out and delicately unwrapped it, a hungry look in his eye.

The first object was a statuette of a stag, maybe the size of a man’s head. Morgan was about to agree that the delicacy of its features, its cocked ears, its large eyes and the finely
carved tracery of its antlers marked it as a masterpiece of its kind, but then dully realised in the dim light that it was entirely fashioned from pure gold. He leaned back in his chair.

‘Artorus’s eyes!’ he sighed softly.

Cedric grinned at him and unwrapped the other objects one by one.

The second was a falcon, each feather carved in the minutest detail; blue gemstones served for its eyes but, apart from that, it, too, was all gold. After this was a beaver, again golden apart
from its rudder, which consisted of a series of tiny glittering amethysts held together by ... by what exactly? After this was a snake twisting and coiling in on itself, green gems set in its
golden back.

‘Two more objects,’ said Cedric. He proceeded to unwrap what looked like a canine tooth, except that it was over a foot long. Its root was bound in gold and set with red gems. The
tooth itself was carved with dozens of tiny delicate lines; it looked like a script but Morgan, a literate man, could not fathom a word.

Cedric saw his confusion. ‘I think it is ancient Aelven; no human living today can know what it means.’

‘You think they might translate it for you?’

‘Why not? Can you imagine...’ Cedric gasped in excitement. ‘A cultural exchange ... with the Wych folk – what an achievement that would be!’

‘And the tooth itself comes from what animal?’

Cedric shrugged. ‘I hope it is long dead, whatever it is.’

The last object took the efforts of both men to lift it out. It was long, narrow and three to four times larger than the others. Cedric gingerly unwrapped it. Morgan’s jaw fell
slightly.

He assumed, correctly, that it was a dragon: a large reptilian head with red gems for its eyes, a long thin snake-like body, each scale rendered in gold, its tail lifted into the air, the claws
on its feet studded in white stones. Its wings were vestigial and folded over its back. The worth of this piece must have been staggering. Cedric took note of his companion’s numbed
expression.

‘There are six of these, and another of the teeth. Each dragon is different. Notice the wings on this one; on some of the others the wings are much, much larger. They are all individuals
and they all represent ... something.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘No. Not for certain. The mythologies are not clear. The dragon itself was worshipped as an elevated spirit involved in the creation of the world but other than that I am
guessing.’