The Long War 02 - The Dark Blood (60 page)

‘Why is this entire place built vertically?’ asked Rham Jas, suddenly appearing from above. ‘Would it kill you to have flat ground?’

‘It’s not my settlement,’ Nanon replied. ‘I have no idea why the Fell Walkers do what they do.’

The Kirin assassin plonked himself down on a thick tree branch next to Nanon and handed him a steaming mug of nettle tea. The old forest-dweller smiled thinly and took the mug, raising it to his nose and inhaling the refreshing scent.

‘You still in a mood?’ asked Rham Jas.

Nanon nodded, exhaling wearily. ‘I’m too old for this stuff. Occasionally it would be nice just to sit and meditate. But I have responsibilities.’

‘Don’t we all...’ was the solemn response from the dark-blood. ‘Me, you, Utha, Dalian... rest isn’t exactly on the cards for any of us, is it?’ Nanon sensed that the Kirin was seeking some kind of reassurance.

‘I can’t give you what you want, Kirin man. I can’t tell you it’ll all be okay.’

He bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment, allowing his mind to feel the assassin’s anxiety. There were lingering doubts in Rham Jas’s mind, mostly centred around his daughter. He was also dwelling on his friends, Bromvy and Al-Hasim. His concern for their well-being helped the Kirin keep himself grounded while he was immersed in so much that he didn’t understand.

‘I wish I knew what was going to happen, Rham Jas, but I don’t... the future is a murky cup of over-brewed tea.’

‘Profound... very profound,’ replied the dark-blood. ‘Useless, but profound.’

‘At least you have a path to follow, Kirin man,’ said Nanon, attempting a smile. ‘And at least you accept what you are. Utha is more conflicted.’

‘Not about me, he’s not,’ replied Rham Jas.

‘If you’d known what he was, would you still have killed his friend?’ asked Nanon, already knowing the answer.

‘Yup, though I’d maybe have apologized afterwards. It’s not Utha’s fault that the Purple are all cunts.’ Rham Jas’s face broadened into a wide grin. Nanon was reminded how much he valued the friendship of this strange Kirin man.

‘Utha the Shadow...’ The Dokkalfar spoke the name with confusion, as if even he didn’t believe the old-blood was still alive. ‘He has the most difficult path of all.’

Rham Jas frowned. ‘Why, where’s he going?’

Nanon smiled and took a deep and refreshing drink of tea. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.
He
certainly wouldn’t. Which is why I haven’t told him. I think someone... or something... else is going to be his guide.’

The Kirin shook his head. ‘Can’t you ever give a straight answer?’ he asked.

‘I can. I just choose not to,’ replied the Tyr. ‘The problem I have is that Utha doesn’t know me and has little reason to trust me. At least with you I have a degree of trust.’

‘I trust you, you know that. I got my katana and my left hand back because of you.’ His words were heartfelt. ‘So where is the Ghost headed?’

Nanon turned to face his friend and raised his eyebrows, emphasizing the importance of what he was about to say. ‘He’s the last old-blood, the last man who can reach the halls beyond the world. He’s going to Oron Kaa, in Far Karesia.’

‘What’s in Oron Kaa?’ asked the Kirin.

‘An abbey, of sorts,’ replied Nanon. ‘It’s where the maleficent witches are trained. It’s also where the last Fire Giant ascended... there’s a staircase... and a labyrinth... and a guardian... it’s very complicated.’

Rham Jas screwed up his face, trying to make sense of what he was being told. Nanon could sense his confusion and was uncomfortably reminded how difficult it would be to explain all this to Utha himself. The concept of the halls beyond the world was difficult enough for humans to grasp, but the idea of actually going there would drive many a man to madness. Nanon hoped that because Utha was not a normal man, he would be able to understand what had to be done – even if he did not fully comprehend the journey.

‘He’ll understand when he gets there,’ Nanon said, mostly to himself. ‘And his squire should keep him sane on the journey.’

‘That’s a lot of responsibility for a young lad whose hand shakes when he holds a sword,’ retorted Rham Jas.

‘I saw him fight a bunch of mercenaries with no shaking at all. He has a stronger heart than you or I, Kirin man.’ Nanon was fond of Randall. The young squire had a clarity of mind that permitted little doubt to intrude. He was also utterly devoted to his master, and that would count for much.

‘Enough about the Ghost and his boy,’ said Rham Jas, shaking his head. ‘What about me and Kale... and Dalian?’

Nanon found himself falling uncomfortably into the role of wise old mentor. He was not a leader, just an old Dokkalfar who knew more than he wanted to. ‘You’ve never needed my permission or advice, Kirin man,’ he said drily. ‘Kale stays with you, Dalian goes to Ro Weir... you’ll need him when you go after the Mistress of Pain. She’s more dangerous than all the others put together.’

The assassin grinned, more like himself than he had been since Nanon rescued him from Leith. He glanced down at the fingers on his left hand. ‘And you go to your death against ten thousand hounds and a load of Dark Young?’

‘I’m not that easy to kill, my friend,’ Nanon replied, confident that his destiny was not to die defending the Fell. He remembered something else and cast his mind back to Lord Bromvy Black Guard, waiting in Ro Canarn, far to the north. ‘And keep an eye out for the Red Prince,’ he said cryptically. ‘I think he’s important... certainly to Bromvy and Tor Funweir.’

Rham Jas burst out laughing, causing the assembled Tyr below to look up at him and tilt their heads. ‘You are the most obtuse bastard I’ve ever met... and I flatter myself that I know a lot about being obtuse.’ The Kirin struck Nanon on the shoulder in a manly fashion.

‘I have never fully understood why you humans have to strike each other to show affection. Shaking hands I understand, but hitting me?’ The forest-dweller glanced down. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘He wasn’t actually attacking me.’ The waiting Tyr resumed their quiet contemplation. Rham Jas carried on chuckling to himself and made no comment regarding the Red Prince, whoever he might be.

From below, Nanon heard gasps from the Tyr. Making his way through the press was a giant Dokkalfar warrior with a longbow slung across his back. He had not been present in the auditorium and Nanon did not recognize him. As he made his way upwards, Nanon felt the forest-dweller’s name. He was Tyr Dyus, called the Daylight Sky by the other Dokkalfar, and Nanon sensed a great wellspring of age and power within the huge warrior.

‘An honour to meet you, Daylight Sky,’ said Nanon, with a wary smile.

Dyus removed his bow and sat cross-legged on the top step, just below Nanon, and bowed his head respectfully. ‘The honour is mine, Shape Taker,’ he said, with reverence. ‘I have two gifts for you... the first.’ He passed his longbow to a confused-looking Rham Jas. ‘She is called Sky Reader and will serve you well, dark-blood.’

The Kirin looked at his friend and shrugged. ‘Er, thank you... looks like a good bow.’

‘It is better than any longbow made by men,’ replied Daylight Sky, without a hint of arrogance. ‘Its arrows fly straight and true.’

‘And the second gift?’ asked Nanon.

‘The second gift is my life, Shape Taker... I pledge it to you, to the Long War and to those we loved.’ The words carried a deep sense of sadness and conviction, and in a great show of trust between warriors he allowed Nanon to feel this.

With a smile, Nanon gathered himself and leapt from the branch, landing before the assembled Tyr. There were close to forty Dokkalfar who had pledged to assist him in defending the Fell. With the coming of Tyr Dyus, he felt ready to begin.

‘Greetings,’ he said cheerfully. ‘My name is Tyr Nanon. I am called the Shape Taker of the Heart, and I go to fight...’ He looked down at the dark faces of the Tyr before him, identifying Tyr Ecthel, Tyr Vasir and many others whose names he did not yet know. ‘We are outnumbered and many of us may die,’ he continued, ‘but I promise each of you that I will lead from the front and ask nothing from you that I will not undertake myself.’ He paused, glancing up at the Kirin. ‘We are forty against ten thousand... to say nothing of the Dark Young, but we know this ground, we know these trees and we can deal death from cover, never giving the invaders a target...’ Another smile, broader this time, and Nanon concluded, ‘Make no mistake, we
can
win.’

* * *

The forests of the Fell had an atmosphere all of their own. Nanon closed his eyes every few miles to allow himself to feel the texture, smell and vibrations of the woods. The ground was uneven, dotted with tree trunks and lined with deceptively sharp brambles that made it difficult to travel quickly. There were no straight lines and visibility was limited unless you found higher ground or climbed a tree.

They were spread out in a long line, sweeping through the Fell in the direction of the hounds and their Dark Young. It was strange to Nanon that they should be actively seeking out those monstrous entities. He wasn’t sure why he was immune to the fear of the darkwood trees, but he knew that he could slowly transfer his courage to the Dokkalfar who travelled with him and eventually they would be able to resist the insidious terror.

‘We’re close, aren’t we?’ asked Tyr Dyus from the tree above.

Daylight Sky was a valuable presence within the host, second only to Nanon in power and skill.

‘We are,’ replied Nanon. ‘The hounds will be under the influence of drugs and enchantments. They won’t be afraid of the Dark Young. We’ll meet the Karesians first.’

Either side of him, the line of Tyr stretched into the sombre forest. Each Dokkalfar carried sacks of black wart and high-poundage short bows, designed to kill at close range. Most wore heavy leaf blades on each hip, though a few carried two-handed leaf swords, and Nanon himself still had the longsword he had acquired in Ro Canarn.

He held up his hand to signal that the line should advance. In silence, the forty forest-dwellers moved through the dense undergrowth. A few crouched in the low branches of trees, acting as spotters and scouts, staying a little way ahead of the host.

‘Shape Taker,’ whispered Dyus after ten minutes, ‘Humans ahead... scouts, maybe fifty.’

Nanon raised his hand again and motioned for the host to halt and take cover. In an instant the forest-dwellers had melted into the undergrowth. The old Tyr inched forward, keeping his longsword low to the ground. As they waited, the noise of complaining voices carried through the trees to their sensitive ears. Nanon saw shapes, clustered together and hacking at vines and branches with their scimitars, trying to penetrate the dense forest. They made no effort to remain quiet and were spread out in disorganized patches of black metal across the old Tyr’s field of vision. They wore plate armour, with no individuality or character, and their helmets were closed and expressionless.

Nanon smiled as the Karesians blundered through the Dokkalfar woods. They were ignorant children who had not yet grown out of their barbaric beginnings. Not that they were any worse than the Ro, but Nanon always found the intractability of Jaa’s followers more difficult to understand. These men and women were criminals, sentenced to die in the hounds. Maybe they would be lucky to be killed by him rather than by some disease or drug overdose.

When all the hounds were within view, Nanon stepped out from behind a tree and raised his hand. The soldiers of Karesia saw him and were momentarily stunned as the short forest-dweller smiled at them and let his hand drop.

Arrows shot through the undergrowth, whistling on low trajectories past tree trunks and bramble bushes to lodge into the bodies of the hounds. The high-poundage bows breached their armour easily and half of the invaders had died before they’d had a chance to cry out.

‘Kill them!’ shrieked a man, fumbling to draw his scimitar.

An arrow whistled through the trees as Tyr Dyus shot the speaker in the throat. The Dokkalfar reloaded quickly and a second volley cut into the scouting force. The handful that remained were cut down from above as a dozen forest-dwellers jumped from low branches and despatched them efficiently with their leaf blades.

‘All men are dead, Shape Taker,’ announced Dyus from a tree, nimbly reloading his short bow while balancing on a narrow branch.

‘Marvellous,’ replied Nanon with a human-like smile. ‘Let’s move on, shall we?’

The Dokkalfar increased their pace. Nanon estimated that they would reach the hound lines within the hour. Where the Dark Young lurked was a mystery. Maybe the beasts would be out on the plains of Leith rather than rampaging through the Fell.

‘Shape Taker, signs of fire ahead,’ said Tyr Dyus after a further hour’s advance.

Nanon ordered a halt and the host hunkered low to the ground in readiness. Ahead, a slowly rolling bank of smoke approached them. A few burning embers carried with the smoke and Nanon felt a great sense of pain at the loss of so many trees. Either side of him, the Dokkalfar displayed expressions of anger and loss.

‘Hold for a moment,’ whispered Nanon, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, trying to project serenity into his fellow forest-dwellers. He wanted them focused to enact a swift revenge.

Then a deafening sound reached his ears and a tree trunk flew towards him through the smoke. He ducked just in time and the trunk thudded into the undergrowth behind him.

‘Dark Young!’ roared Tyr Dyus from the trees, just as a tentacle lashed towards the line of Dokkalfar. Nanon’s host jumped back and took cover behind trees as the beast emerged from the smoke. It was newly birthed and its surface was a shimmering black, not yet having developed the bark-like appearance of the older Dark Young. Two of its tentacles were planted solidly on the charred ground, pushing it upwards in a grotesque ripple of movement. Its other limbs flailed in the air, uprooting tree stumps and pulling it forwards.

The Dokkalfar were panting heavily and trying to resist the desire to flee from the madness-inducing beast. Nanon was unaffected and seized the opportunity to take a good look at the Dark Young. The beast seemed not to have noticed the concealed forest-dwellers and its gummy roar seemed to be a natural sound rather than a particular cry of war. He could see no eyes, but the feelers that undulated from its maw were reaching into the air and giving the creature a sense of its surroundings.