The Forgotten War (37 page)

Cygan smiled at the young man. ‘It is time to prove yourself as a warrior, my friend. In this house we can at least guard each other’s backs and in a confined space it will restrict
the numbers that can attack us at once. Hopefully, if we kill or wound a couple of them, the others will run off.’

‘Vengefarak said they attacked many times during the night,’ said Fasneterax. ‘I doubt they will be put off that easily.’

‘All the more reason to prepare our defences now,’ said the elder. ‘We can sleep in shifts until nightfall. None of us will sleep when the sun goes down.’

And this is what they did. They fixed the screen to the rear of the house, tying it securely. It was still the most vulnerable part of the defences; a clawed hand could tear through it fairly
quickly, but not before an arrow could find its mark. They then set to poisoning their weapons and eating some of their rations. Cerren settled down to try to sleep and the others sat on the floor
and busied themselves with their own thoughts. Fasneterax was checking the tension on his bow; Cygan watched him absently for a while, then decided to ask him, Why did you want to come out with us?
Why not stay with Shettevellanda?’

‘I would be no help to her now. The womenfolk know how to comfort her far better than I could. Your lady has been one of the kindest to her. I will not forget that.’

‘Dying out here won’t help her either. Not that we knew about the night devils before we left.’

‘She would find another man. The tribe looks after its own. Besides, the same could be said about you.’

‘You have me there!’ said Cygan. ‘Although you volunteered for this, whereas I was nominated by the Elder. It has worked out well for us here, though; there is no doughtier
warrior in the tribe.’

‘We go back some years, do we not? It will be like fighting off the Sand Warriors again. Maybe we will reap another harvest of enemy heads. Remember them piled high in the great house
waiting to be boiled down and stripped of flesh.’

‘I remember the smell. It was a hot summer. It was good to defend the village. They did many terrible things to other tribes. There was no room for mercy in that final battle.’

‘It was another example of outsiders thinking they could enslave the barbarians of the marsh only to end up skewered on our spears.’ Fasneterax sounded grimly satisfied. ‘Maybe
one day they will learn.’

‘I doubt that,’ Cygan said. ‘One thing my contact with people outside the marsh has taught me is that they always see war as a reasonable option when they can’t lie or
cheat to get what they want.’

Tegavenek interrupted: ‘You have such a low opinion of the dry landers.’

‘I do, yes. To be fair, I have only met and dealt with traders. Maybe I would think differently if I met others of their kind. But that is not likely to happen soon.’

Fasneterax looked at Tegavenek. ‘If we drive off the Malaac tonight and the river seems clear, what do we do then? None of the Twin Snake are here, do we mount a search for them, or do we
just return home?’

‘These are just outlying settlements, most of the Twin Snake tribe live on a river fork, half a day’s journey away, but with the river full of these creatures it will be nigh on
impossible to get to them. Our instructions from the elder were to visit the Twin Snake to find out why they did not arrive at mediation talks with him. We now almost certainly know the reason. We
are not enough to free their village on our own, so to continue up this river seems pointless. We were then told to visit the Jagged Hill to aid Vengefarak and the people there. We should still do
this if we can.’

‘According to Vengefarak, these creatures can tip over our boats and drown us. We should spend as little time on the water as possible.’

‘This is true,’ Tegavenek said, ‘but remember he was talking about a single man in a round boat on a large open stretch of water, not four men in a larger boat on a river. I
may be wrong but that may not be typical behaviour for them. Perhaps they were driven by hunger or something else making them equally desperate. Everything is speculation with these creatures. Why
did they leave their home lake? What has driven them to attack us? Are they controlled by an individual or is their behaviour completely random? All of these questions need to be answered if we are
to fight back against them.’

‘It is important you get back to the Elder with news of the events that have happened here,’ said Cygan. ‘We will take you to the Jagged Hill if we can, but your safety has to
be a priority now.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Tegavenek. ‘Any of us can talk to the Elder; we have all seen the same things. No one of us is more important than the other. Besides, as far as he is
concerned, you are already the main contender for the next addition to the Circle. You would be a grievous loss to the tribe.’

‘I am surely too young. There are older more deserving people for that honour.’

‘Dumnekavax holds great store in your knowledge of outsiders and the skills you have earned as a diplomat. The Taneren are not going to go away and to be able to deal with them may be
important to the tribe’s future.’

Cygan looked doubtful. ‘All that I care about is providing for my family. Nothing else is as important as that.’

‘Undoubtedly, but remember duty and responsibility can find you even when unlooked for.’

The sun outside was starting its descent; they all sat and waited listening to the sound of rushing water and wind sighing in the trees. Across the river the crows had settled in one particular
tree and their harsh calling could be heard constantly. Tegavenek and Fasneterax were sleeping uneasily. Cerren was awake, with one eye looking out of the building’s one narrow square window,
which faced the river.

‘We should block this before nightfall,’ he said. ‘I am sure they will attack the screen mainly but they could put their arms through here and surprise us.’

‘We will do; we have wood enough here for that.’

‘I wonder where the night devils came from; I mean how they were made. We are the children of Cygannan, the sky creator; surely they are not of the same stock as me or you?’

‘They are not. You heard the Elder say they are part reptile and part amphibian. They are the children of Ventekuu, the great snake spirit, herself one of the progeny of Ukka. The tale as
the Elders tell it is that, shortly after Cygannan made the world and the creatures of the surface, Ukka grew jealous. On looking at the world he saw that the world was unbalanced containing as it
did no great predators, no insects and no creatures of the water. Ukka then set to work to rectify this. Ventekuu was his first creation, a snake five hundred paces long. After this, Ukka created
the fish, then the midges and blood-sucking insects, the leeches and lampreys. Ventekuu saw all this boon of life and wondered, “Can I not create my own creatures, those that would serve
me?” In thinking this she was deluded, for she had no power to create life and failed to understand that Cygannan and Ukka’s creations were not their servants, but devices to bring
balance to all things, to see that as one thing died, another was born, that for every hatched bird that survives another must die to feed a snake or an eagle or a pike. And so Ventekuu fled to the
Lake of the Eye, the deepest lake in the marsh. Angry that she could not breathe life into air, she tore off her scales, cut herself on a rock to make her bleed, took the great spirits’
creations the frog and the lizard, and used their life force to create the first Malaac.

‘Cygannan and Ukka saw this and conspired to punish Ventekuu. Ukka told her that she could make many Malaac until her desire to create was sated but they could never leave the confines of
the lake. And Cygannan put all his power forth and created man, the balance against the Malaac, to show Ventekuu the full potential of life, one that her own mean and evil attempts could never
match. And so it came to be that we have the marsh and they have the lake, a balance that could only be broken by the anger of the spirits at their creations, or by powers outside the marsh –
the men of the dry lands blundering and interfering in matters they do not understand.’

‘Then it is true,’ said Cerren. ‘The gods have been angered by something and have sent the Malaac to punish us.’

‘Either that or the Taneren or other outsiders have done something stupid.’

‘Possibly,’ said Cerren, ‘but that may be out of our control. Maybe, though, we can do something to placate the Gods, to show that our errors, whatever they may be, were
accidental and can be put right.’

‘That is Dumnekavax’s responsibility. He will tell us what to do when we see him.’

Then it was Cygan’s turn to sleep. Despite the straitened circumstances he managed surprisingly to do so well, flitting into and out of dreams featuring eagles and owls hunting rats and
mice. Then as he looked the talons of the raptors became black claws and the toes became webbed and slimy. Then the birds opened their beaks and started to howl, a most unbirdlike sound. It was a
long-drawn-out noise, high-pitched and tremulous, disturbingly unnatural. It was a sound that froze his marrow and turned his blood to ice. Suddenly someone was shaking his shoulders. It was
Fasneterax.

‘Listen, the Malaac are gathering.’

Cygan realised that the noise was a real one and not a figment of his imagination – out on the river the Malaac were calling. He realised that the sun had almost gone down; the half-light
would dapple the river, tricking the eye as it threw out chiaroscuro shapes and confusing perceptions of size and distance. In half an hour it would be dark.

The others had set a fire in the fireplace, which sent out a comforting deep-red glow. There was no point in concealment at this time, as they were trying to tempt these creatures into a rash
attack. Cygan picked up his bow. It felt good in his hand. He knocked an arrow ready to fire. Any time now, he thought to himself. They all strained their ears against the river and the wind.

‘There!’ he hissed.

Out to their left was a sound like that of an animal scrabbling over wood, but it was a heavy animal, no waterfowl or young goat. He could hear its feet now as it moved on to the damp earth. It
was trying to be quiet but it was coming ever closer. Fasneterax drew his bow, and the muscles in his arms corded. The howling continued from out on the river. Suddenly the screened wall started to
rattle and Cygan saw a black four-fingered hand force its way through the gap in the screen and side wall. Fasneterax’s bow twanged. His arrow punched through the screen where he guessed the
creature’s body would be; Cygan’s arrow followed a second later. There was a cold sharp hiss and the hand was withdrawn. Shortly after they heard a splash, the sound of a man-sized body
falling into the water. The howling cut off immediately. Cygan’s heart was pumping, his blood rushing in his ears.

Still they waited. Dusk turned into night. The glow of the fire flickered around the room casting eerie shadows against the walls and floor.

‘Perhaps they have gone.’ said Cerren.

As if in answer, there came more scrabbling, much louder this time.

‘They are climbing the wall.’ said Cygan.

The noise moved upwards. They raised their heads, realising that the creature was on the roof. They saw a shadow pass over the chimney hole.

Fasneterax loosed his bow again but this time the arrow stuck in the roof missing its mark. A hand came through the hole and started to tear off lumps of thatch. Cerren threw a dart at it but it
was too dark to see if he was successful. Then it was Cygan’s turn. They heard the impact of his arrow against a solid body. There was an angry howl. More footsteps could be heard outside.
The screen started to shake as several creatures started pulling at it. Tegavenek rammed his spear through the screen impacting into a muscular body. Cerren followed suit. Parts of the screen
started to disintegrate as black-scaled clawed hands punched through it. The creature on the roof was still there tearing a larger hole into the ceiling; others of his kind joined him up there.
Cygan and Fasneterax fired off arrow after arrow, then seeing the perilous situation they set down their bows and took up their spears. They exchanged a grim look. It would be a matter of
seconds.

A creature plunged down from the roof between the two of them. Two or three simultaneously burst through the screen. One got two hands on to Tegavenek’s throat. He went down.

‘For the Black Lake!’ screamed Cerren, ramming his spear into the creature attacking the Elder. Black ichor spurted from the wound, splashing his face. Cerren pulled out his knife
and stabbed the creature again and again. It howled and thrashed in its death throes, but Cerren didn’t stop even when another of the beasts dived on him, sinking its teeth into
Cerren’s shoulder.

While this desperate fight was going on, Cygan was duelling with the creature from the roof. It was too dark to make out its features clearly; he could see its rows of pointed white teeth and
the pale-green luminescence in its eyes; the rank smell of the bog filled his nostrils. It dodged his first spear thrust, and his second. It then ducked under his third and barrelled towards him,
knocking him backwards against the wall. Cygan let go of his spear and pulled out his metal knife, a precious object bartered from the Tanaren. The creature was on top of him, its fetid breath in
his face as it made to bite down hard on the exposed vein in his neck. In an act of near desperation Cygan twisted his body, freeing his right arm. Then he sank his knife into the creature’s
neck.

It didn’t die easily. It thrashed around on top of him, its claws rending his arm as he protected his face. Cygan kept a grip on his knife, holding it firmly as his enemy’s blood,
sticky and black, oozed over his hand. Then it was still.

Kicking the dead thing off him, Cygan sprang up knife in hand, ready to deal out more death. The screen, he saw, was in shreds. Fasneterax was holding one of them at bay with his spear. Cerren
was rolling on the floor with another of them, limbs flailing everywhere. Tegavenek’s spear was impaling yet another of the monsters; he was leaning against the wall gripping it tightly, but
Cygan could see his strength was failing. He swept up his spear and finished the skewered creature off.