The Long War 01 - The Black Guard (77 page)

* * *

Several hours and several funeral pyres later and Brom was sitting in his father’s study, the room Sir Rillion had used for the past month. He’d removed anything that was red in colour and had thrown two Red knight banners on the funeral pyres. He had not yet returned to his old room and he was not keen to see who had been sleeping there, or what state they’d left it in. Currently he was content merely to remove his armour, unbuckle his sword and have a drink. Lanry and Rham Jas had joined him and the mood was far from jovial.

‘What if Pevain reaches Tiris and they send another fleet of knights?’ asked Brother Lanry, taking a pull on his pipe.

‘Unlikely,’ replied Brom. ‘From what the prisoners say, the barracks in Tiris are mostly empty now and any reinforcements will be sent to join the king. I don’t think they ever really gave a peasant’s piss for Ro Canarn.’

Lanry shook his head. ‘So much death for so little gain.’

‘And we’re not exactly helpless anyway,’ supplied Rham Jas with a grin. ‘Nanon and a few of the others want to stay. You never know, Canarn may become the first place where men and Dokkalfar live side by side.’ He considered his own words. ‘You’ll need to plant more trees, though.’

Brom took a long swig of ale and wiped the foam from his chin. ‘There’s much that needs doing and planting trees isn’t near the top of my list. People are sick, homeless and many have lost family and friends. Canarn is not going to be the same for a long time yet.’

‘Well, with no rationing of food and healing supplies, the worst of the despair will pass quickly,’ said Lanry. ‘Pevain had ample food and water for everyone, but refused to give it out. I’ve sent Fulton and a few others to open the warehouses and give the people back what was pillaged. Full bellies will make everything seem better in short order.’

Brom had left the Brown cleric to minister to the populace and, other than an address planned for the following morning, he thought his time would be best spent thinking about the army of knights of the Red far to the north and about his sister’s safety. If Canarn could be made strong again, it would provide a pivotal southern fortress for the Freelands and, Brom hoped, it might even prevent reinforcements being sent across the straits. There was no other usable landing on the coast of Canarn and the docks of his city were the first thing that needed to be reinforced and defended. If the king wanted more men to come north, they would have to go overland through the Darkwald and Hunter’s Cross.

‘How long do you want me to stay for?’ Rham Jas asked. The Kirin had been a little quieter since the death of Ameira and the news of his son was clearly playing on his mind. ‘I’ve got a few… appointments.’

‘I hope you’re not planning to go on an enchantress killing spree without me,’ Brom said with a friendly smile.

‘That was the plan,’ Rham Jas replied without humour. ‘I’m the only one who is immune to their…’ he wiggled his fingers in the air, ‘sorcery, or whatever you call it.’

THE TROLLS OF FJORLAN, THE ICE MEN OF ROWANOCO

History does not record a time when the Ice Men did not prowl the wastes of Fjorlan. A constant hazard to common folk and warrior alike, the trolls are relentless eating machines; never replete, they consume rocks, trees, flesh and bone. A saying amongst the Order of the Hammer suggests that the only things they don’t eat are snow and ice, and that this is out of reverence for their father, the Ice Giant himself.

Stories from my youth speak of great ballistae, mounted on carts, used to fire thick wooden arrows in defence of settlements. The trolls were confused by bells attached to the arrows and would often wander off rather than attack. Worryingly, there are few records of men killing the Ice Men, and those that do exist speak of wily battle-brothers stampeding them off high cliffs.

In quiet moments, with only a man of the Hammer for company, I wonder if the Ice Men have more of a claim on this land than us.

From ‘
Memories from a Hall’
by Alguin Teardrop Larsson,
first thain of Fredericksand

THE GORLAN SPIDERS

Of the beasts that crawl, swim and fly, none are as varied and unpredictable as the great spiders of Nar Gorlan. The northern men of Tor Funweir speak of hunting spiders, the size of large dogs, which carry virulent poisons and view men as just another kind of prey. Even the icy wastes of Fjorlan have trapdoor Gorlan, called ice spiders, which assail travellers and drain the body fluids from them.

However, none of these northerners know of the true eight-legged terror that exists in the world. These are great spiders, known in Karesia as Gorlan Mothers, which can – and indeed do – speak. Not actually evil, they nonetheless possess a keen intelligence and a loathing for all things with two legs.

Beyond the Gloom Gates is a land of web and poison, a land of fang and silence and a land where man should not venture.

From ‘
Far Karesia: A Land of Terror’
by Marazon Vekerian,
lesser vizier of Rikara

ITHQAS AND AQAS, THE BLIND AND MINDLESS KRAKENS OF THE FJORLAN SEA

It troubles me to write of the Kraken straits, for we have not had an attack for some years now and to do so would be like tempting fate. But I am the lore-master of Kalall’s Deep and it must fall to me.

There are remnants of the Giant age abroad in our world and, to the eyes of this old man, they should be left alone. Not only for the sake of safety, but to remind us all that old stories are more terrifying when drawn into reality.

But I digress. The Giants of the ocean were formless, if legend is to be believed, and travelled with the endless and chaotic waters wherever tide and wind took them.

As a cough in Deep Time, they rose up against the Ice Giants and were vanquished. The greatest of the number – near-gods themselves – had the honour of being felled by the great ice hammer of the Earth Shaker and were sent down to gnaw on rocks and fish at the bottom of the endless seas
.
The Blind Idiot Gods they were called when men still thought to name such things. But as ages passed and men forgot, they simply became the Krakens, very real and more than enough when seen to drive the bravest man to his knees in terror.

From ‘
The Chronicles of the Seas’
, vol. IV, by Father Wessel
Ice Fang, lore-master of Kalall’s Deep

THE DARK YOUNG

And it shall be as a priest when awake and it shall be as an altar when torpid, and it shall consume and terrify, and it shall follow none save its father, the Black God of the Forest with a Thousand Young.
The priest and the altar
.
The priest and the altar
.

From ‘
Ar Kral Desh Jek’
(author unknown)

THE DOKKALFAR

The forest-dwellers of the lands of men are many things. To the Ro, arrogant in their superiority, they are
risen men
– painted as undead monsters and hunted by crusaders of the Black church. To the Ranen, fascinated by youthful tales of monsters, they are otherworldly and terrifying, a remnant of the Giant age. To the Karesians, proud and inflexible, they are an enemy to be vanquished – warriors with stealth and blade.

But to the Kirin, to those of us who live alongside them, they are beautiful and ancient, deserving of respect and loyalty.

The song of the Dokkalfar travels a great distance in the wild forests of Oslan and more than one Kirin youth has spent hours sitting against a tree merely listening to the mournful songs of their neighbours.

They were here before us and will remain long after we have destroyed ourselves.

From ‘
Sights and Sounds of Oslan’
by Vham Dusani, Kirin scholar

THE GREAT RACE OF ANCIENT JEKKA

To the east, beyond the plains of Leith, is the ruined land. Men have come to call it the Wastes of Jekka or the Cannibal Lands, for those tribes that dwell there are fond of human flesh.

However, those of us who study such things have discovered disturbing knowledge that paints these beings as more than simple beasts.

In the chronicles of Deep Time – in whatever form they yet exist – this cleric has discovered several references to the Great Race, references that do not speak of cannibalism but of chaos and empires to rival man, built on the bones of vanquished enemies and maintained through sacrifice and bizarre sexual rituals. They were proud, arrogant and utterly amoral, believing completely in their most immediate whims and nothing more.

Whatever the Great Race of Jekka might once have been, they are now a shadow and a myth, bearing no resemblance to the fanged hunters infrequently encountered by man.

From ‘
A Treatise on the Unknown’
by Yacob of Leith,
Blue cleric of the One God

T
HE
P
EOPLE OF
R
O

The house of Canarn – descended from Lord Bullvy of Canarn

Hector of Canarn
– Duke of Ro Canarn –
deceased