The Forgotten War (54 page)

Morgan looked at him appraisingly. ‘Settled.’

‘Good. Speaking of salted meat let’s have something to eat.’

They sat and did so. The statue still burned, blue fire licking up and down the haft of the spear. Everywhere the autumn leaves fell around them, leaving the trees naked, their splayed branches
reaching up into the cold grey sky. The forest over the river, though, was still relatively green. And silent.

Later that day Morgan was about to start a fire, using only the dead branches of the trees as Cedric advised, when the older man called out to him.

‘She is coming back!’

Morgan joined him looking across the river. Itheya was crossing the river on her own. Huddled under the branches of the trees were other figures, obviously with orders to stay where they were
for now. She was followed by two other horses, following without reins, one of which was nearer pony-sized rather than a full-sized warhorse; the other seemed a twin of her own charger. As before,
her horse clambered on to the island and she slid gracefully off the animal to face the two men. Morgan noticed that she did not carry her bow.

‘Have you spoken to your father, the Mhezhen?’ Cedric asked politely.

She nodded. ‘You are to come,’ she said, ‘with me to meet my father.’

Morgan turned to Cedric. ‘Well, you have your answer, my friend. I would guess the smaller horse is for you.’

‘You are correct,’ she said. ‘She is a good mount, obedient and patient; if you are taken ill, she will understand.’

‘I am surprised that you are allowing a warrior into the forest,’ Morgan said to her.

‘Your sword is to be tied to your scabbard, as is your knife. Do you have any other weapons concealed on your person?’

‘Yes. You are not going to search me, are you?’

She looked at him balefully. ‘If I have to.’

He laughed. ‘It won’t be necessary. I have a knife in my boot and one hidden in my belt. I will leave them with our friends over the river.’

‘Do so. As for your friends, they must leave here. The fire will be put out now and after that they will be seen as targets by some. Return your weapons to them and tell them to go
immediately. There is a human city three days away. It would be a good place for them to go.’

‘Pardon me for saying so,’ said Cedric, ‘but is something wrong, my Lady? You seem a little ... distracted.’

She shot him a dismissive look. ‘No.’

‘Then forgive me for being presumptive.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘it is I who should apologise. There have been ... differences between us as to how you should be treated. There is great curiosity about the things you have
with you, but some want them returned unconditionally and others are prepared to listen to what you have to say. Also, there is resistance to having a human warrior among us.’

Morgan spoke. ‘I can go with the others if you wish – as long as you promise to look after Cedric and return him safely for us.’

‘No, I have told them that you look after him. I have ... vouched for you. If you behave badly in the forest, I will be punished for it.’

Morgan was stunned. ‘You really didn’t have to do that.’

She shrugged. ‘It is nothing. Just do as I say and do not insult or upset anyone. You are my responsibility now.’

‘As you wish.’

She brought his horse to him. ‘She is a strong girl but not wilful. She will carry you well.’

‘I have got to get on her first,’ Morgan grumbled. He was not the tallest man and hated riding anyway. To him, the mare, however stoical and patient, presented a challenge. It took
several attempts before he could swing his leg over the damned thing; once he had finally managed he looked at his companions. Cedric was beaming from ear to ear. Itheya was trying to look as
distant as ever, but he could see she was close to smirking at him. He looked at her directly.

‘Yes? Have you something to say?’

She covered her mouth with her slender fingers. ‘No, do all humans ride as you do?’

‘Most are considerably better,’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘Really? I hardly thought it possible ... anthropoid.’

He was about to unleash a cutting rejoinder but the horse was already carrying him over the river where Haelward was already standing on the bank.

‘You have to leave,’ he told him. ‘Only the two of us are going in and once that happens you will be fair game.’

‘We will make for Zerannon then,’ said Haelward, ‘and await you there.’

‘There is an inn there called the Spectral Goose. The keeper is called Ham; he knows me. Give him five crowns and ask to stay until I arrive. The beds don’t have too many fleas and
the food is passable. We will see you all there. If we are not there in, say, six weeks, consider your part in this mission over. Return to the front or do whatever you see fit from then
on.’

‘As you say. See you in a few weeks.’

‘Yes, and thanks – if I don’t see you again that is.’

‘You will. Artorus will see to it.’

Morgan nodded to him and swung his horse around, heading back to the island.

Upon his return, Itheya busied herself with strapping his sword inside its scabbard using a strip of leather. She had to stand close to him to do this, her head craned over to see what she was
doing. Her ponytail was held high, exposing the alabaster skin on her neck.

‘Your friend tells me you are brave, that you saved his life in the pass fighting the Kergh, which you call ettins. Is that the right word – ettins?’

‘Yes, it is the right word, and Cedric was very much over-emphasing my role in crossing the pass; he saved me as much as the other way round.’

‘This war, you have fought in it a long time?’

‘Too long!’ he said. ‘And not through choice. I used to live in the area being fought over; I just got caught up in the fighting.’

‘And your scar?’

‘It happens in war. I have others on my body; getting wounded is part of the job.’

‘Sick man Cedric believes that you are not naturally a man of violence and I can see what he is trying to say. Our people ... well, we are in tribes, yes, and tribes cannot agree on
anything. We fight often, usually over nothing; we are often violent without reason. It is a failure in us, I feel.’

‘Not just in your people, I am afraid, and you are wrong, I
am
a man of violence – my actions defined me long ago.’

‘Well, in that case I will ask you to control your urges to kill until you leave Seyavanion, with or without our help.’

‘As you wish, but how will I release my murderous frustrations, though?’

‘I will find you a prisoner or something; he might be difficult to kill without a weapon, though.’

‘I will use my bare hands; I am very good with them.’

‘I do not doubt it, though your horse might disagree. There, I have tied up your weapon.’ She stepped back from him. ‘Now for the knife.’

She busied herself with his knife. ‘This won’t take long.’

‘Your tattoos, the markings on your skin, what do they represent?’

‘The
khazoeth
? They are our spirits. We have one god whom we do not depict. The spirits, though, they carry out his instructions on this Earth and we are free to display them on our
bodies, this one is Etheren. She is a bird with a beautiful song. And this is Gharaghanann the spider – she eats the male after mating, you know, and this one’ – she pointed to
her shoulder – ‘is Lhuzhenna the willow, a sad tree and beautiful.’

‘They are very intricate, and delicately drawn, the work of an artist really; how many do you have?’

‘Many, I am the Mhezhen’s daughter, so am allowed a lot. They are on my arms, back and legs; most only have them on their arms or back. The more
khazoeth
, the higher you stand
in the tribe. We have specialists in our tribe who draw them on our skin. It is painful – your skin swells and burns for a while, but the ability to endure it is the mark of a warrior. There,
the knife is done, you are now a warrior without weapons. This is good. You are fit to enter Seyavanion.’

‘Thank you. Now where is Cedric?’

‘He is trying to get on his horse. Do not try and help him; he is proud.’

‘And braver than me; few men with his illness have attempted so much.’

‘I think he is proving something to himself – that his sickness will not hold him or stop him doing what he wants. I have seen it in others; it is important to them – to still
be vital despite it all.’ There was a brief silence between them, then Morgan spoke again.

‘What did your father say about the carving Cedric gave you?’

‘He is intrigued. He wishes to know more, especially about the tooth.’

‘Why the tooth? It is not as beautiful as the other models?’

‘But it is the oldest. If it is what I think it might be, then, well, I had better say no more until Father sees it, but it could be very, very important.’ She looked at him. Morgan
thought she could almost be smiling.

‘You ask many questions, do you not?’

‘I am curious, that is all. I shall be quiet if you wish.’

‘No, I am instructed to answer whatever you ask.’

‘Do you have any family other than your father? Who will lead the tribe after him?’

‘I have a brother, Dramalliel. You will find him less friendly than I; he was against your coming. Tiavon is a friend of his; they share similar views of you,
hemenestra
. They were
difficult to win over. As for the tribe, I am the eldest, so I will succeed when Father dies. But with us things can get ... complicated in that regard. You will learn more in due
course.’

‘Is Tiavon still trying to get us killed?’

She looked at him with her clear strange eyes. ‘Yes, he may even succeed; it will depend on you and your friend, on what my father and Terath our lore master think of you when you meet.
They are both reasonable people; you would have to do much ill to bring them to violence against you.’

‘I see,’ said Morgan, clucking his tongue. ‘Cedric thought you and Tiavon were ... involved with each other, but if your views differ so strongly perhaps he was
wrong.’

She did laugh then, a light musical sound. ‘You do speak plainly. I like that; it is rare to find in my brethren. There is no man with whom I am involved. I have lain with him, yes, on
several occasions, but I have done this with many of our warriors. It is an honour for them to be with a Mhezhen’s daughter. If they have been brave, or have helped me or the tribe, I may
choose to reward them. It is normal with our people; you humans are different I believe.’

‘Yes, as a rule anyway. What of pregnancy, don’t you risk having a child that you do not want?’

‘Of course not! A rare foolish question, warrior man.’

‘The name is Morgan.’

‘I know, I may even call you it one day.’

At that point Cedric burst into the clearing. He was flushed and sweating but was astride the horse and looking triumphant.

‘See, my boy, you have nothing on me. Ten minutes that took and now I just want to get off and sleep.’

‘No, no sleep,’ said Itheya. ‘We travel now; we will go gently but will be at our village in just over a day. We have some daylight left and need to use it.’

‘What of the trunk?’ asked Cedric.

‘I have people waiting on the bank. When they see us leave they will come and collect it. It will not be stolen from you, you have my word. When you meet Father it will be there with you.
Come, the air is freshening – there will be rain soon.’

She was right. Overhead the sky was darkening and the cloud was thickening. A swirling wind sent up showers of leaves that caught in their clothes and hair. Morgan remounted his horse, finding
it a lot easier this time, while Itheya walked to the statue. She said some words that he could not make out, then cast some sand or dirt over the bowl. The blue flame diminished, turned a
pale-yellow colour and finally went out. Cedric had been right about her – she did seem sadder or more troubled this time while also being friendlier and more open with them. Perhaps not
having Tiavon hanging over her shoulder made a difference. She walked to her horse, mounted it lithely, then spoke to them both.

‘I will take you to Father then. My responsibility for you’ – she faced Cedric – ‘will end there. My responsibility for you, though’ – she glanced at
Morgan – ‘continues till you leave the forest or are killed.’

She gave her horse the gentlest of kicks and moved off ahead of them. They struggled to follow her. Seeing this, she waited for them in the river.

‘You,’ she said to Cedric, ‘remain next to me so I may help you if need be; your friend can follow if he is able. If he falls off’ – she shot Morgan a backward
glance –‘we leave him, though we are allowed to laugh at him first. Come.’

The three of them ploughed through the water. Morgan briefly looked behind him. Already, Haelward, Leon, Samson, Willem and Varen were distant figures, going in the opposite direction. He
wondered when and if he would see them again. Ahead the forest loomed large. Great thick-trunked trees overhung the water, packing close together, their broad roots showing through the mud of the
riverbank. Under the leaves all was darkness. Itheya led them to a stretch of bank where the land sloped relatively smoothly down to the water. Without stopping, she climbed on to it and under the
trees, taking Cedric with her. Morgan heard the splash of water as the other Wych folk went to collect the trunk, then, after taking a deep breath, he followed Itheya into the darkness.

They were back at the sacred lake; its black waters a veritable fissure into the underworld. The sweet, smoky aroma from the incense burners shrouded the onlooking villagers.
The women watching were singing softly, and many of them had garlands in their hair. The men; grimmer in aspect, had painted their faces with charcoal-black stripes. They gripped their spears in
honour to the warrior emissary standing on the platform. Cerren stood there, his faced also painted, his expression euphoric. Some hours before he would have eaten the spirit meal, a mash of grains
containing the same substances Dumnekavax had used to contact the spirit world some days before, and its effects would now be working on Cerren’s mind. He could probably see Ukka waiting to
speak with him, tantalisingly close, but still too far apart. They needed to be brought together and that was Dumnekavax’s job.