The Forgotten War (21 page)

‘That is a good response.’ The Elder gave a grim smile. ‘I propose Vengefarak return to the Jagged Hill with Raduketeveryan as his second. The choosing of the six followers I
will leave to them. And, as for the Twin Snake, I feel that I alone should decide on those to go, as it is as much a diplomatic visit as an investigative one. Firstly, I will send Fasneterax, for
he has specifically requested that he prove himself for the tribe again and I could not refuse him in the circumstances. Secondly, I will send Tegavenek, the youngest of the Circle and still a
doughty warrior. Representing the youth of the tribe, I will send Cerrenatukavenex, one of our most promising young warriors. And, lastly, to assist Tegavenek when he mediates with the Twin Snake,
I will send a wise head on relatively youthful shoulders – Cyganexatavan shall go.’

Cygan stood still as a stone as simultaneously the thunderstorm finally hit. A brilliant white flash of lightning was followed almost immediately by a ferocious crack of thunder. He could hear
people around him calling it an omen. And then the rain started to fall. The wind whipped it in all directions so there was no shelter in the great house. A torch guttered and went out. Someone
whispered in fear: ‘Ukka is angry! She has sent the Malaac and has persuaded Cygannan to send thunder. Ukka is angry!’ the man cried. It was taken up by others until at last the Elder
was forced to do something to placate the dozen or so wailing men.

‘Silence!’ he said, his voice commanding. ‘Tomorrow, after the moon rises and we are safe on the island, I shall drink the nectar of the Gods and walk the divine path. I will
discover what the Gods need in order to be appeased. Now return to your homes and we will meet shortly after the light breaks to send the child to join with Ukka.’

Cygan didn’t hear him; he was already on the jetty stripping the cover off his boat. The rain stung his eyes; steering the boat would be very difficult in the driving wind but he
didn’t care.

All that concerned him was how to tell Vaneshanda.

She was lying in the hammock with the children in their cots. The screen at the rear of the house had been pulled down and secured. (He had to loosen then retighten its
fastening to get in.) The fire hissed angrily as streaks of water came through the chimney and spattered upon it. Despite the rain and howling wind and the sound of the screen being whipped in all
directions, the house was perfectly warm. Cygan wiped his sore eyes and brushed some water out of his hair. He removed his sodden clothes and hung them close to the fire. With great dexterity he
climbed softly into the hammock next to his wife’s warm body. He hoped she was asleep, despite the storm, but as he lay back she stirred softly and moved under his left arm.

‘So what happened?’

‘I will tell you in the morning, but I am afraid you won’t like it.’

He felt rather than saw her eyes open. ‘He is sending you away again, isn’t he?’

Cygan sighed his affirmation. ‘Uxevallak will look after you. He will go around the fish traps and gather the food, for you, for Shettevellanda or anyone else that needs help. He may not
be able to fight and travel like many of us, but he is always there in a crisis. As for the Elder, his mind was made up before I even reached the great house.’

‘You know he sees you as a future Elder, or at least as one of the Circle. This is why he always sends you out. Whether it is to the north to trade with the Taneren, or elsewhere to talk
to other tribes, it is always you, always you.’

‘I am the only one that speaks the language of the Taneren, that is why I go north. But you are right. I shall speak with him in the morning and try to persuade him to keep me
here.’

‘Cyganexatavan, you will do no such thing. He has bestowed upon you an honour. You cannot refuse without losing face.’

‘I would if you asked it,’ he replied softly. Overhead crashed more thunder, louder than ever. Their little daughter began to cry. ‘Go see to her, make sure she is all right.
What has happened to Shettevellanda has made me even more determined that not even the most vengeful God will ever stop my children from having their naming ceremonies.’

Vaneshanda picked the little girl up and climbed back into the hammock with her. Cygan held them both, trying to keep them warm as the storm raged outside.

They managed to secure a room at the inn, which was, as Morgan surmised, largely empty. The landlord regaled them with tales of times before the war when on market day there
would be ten to a room and how in the largest room downstairs people would pay a penny to spend the night sleeping by leaning against a rope that he had tied there some three to four feet from the
ground. They ordered some food to be brought up to their room in an hour or so, and Sir Varen went to check the stabling for the horses and the storage of the wagon. The gear that the wagon held
the rest of them took to the room themselves.

It had a small, low bed which Willem and Cedric would share; the rest of them arranged their bedrolls around it. It had one window, which overlooked the square. Once settled, Samson, Leon,
Haelward and Rozgon decided to go and reconnoitre. Beside the main square, the rest of the town consisted of under a dozen streets, most of which hugged the main north and south roads out of the
town, so Morgan did not expect them to take too long. After twenty minutes or so Sir Varen returned.

‘This place is practically deserted,’ he said ‘If you take out the soldiers and the people who supply them, there is hardly anyone here. And I am pretty sure we are being
watched. The stable wing overlooks the river and just across it was a man pretending to take a stroll up and down the bank, but he barely stopped looking at what I and the stable lad were doing. I
gave the boy a ducat to let us know if something suspicious happens.’

Morgan went to the window and after gazing out of it for a short while he said, ‘You’re right; there is a man walking around the cockpit who keeps looking up this way. Surly-looking
fellow, with a pointed beard and wearing gloves, possibly doeskin. It is not surprising – Ulgar will want to know where we are. We need to stay alert, though.’

‘All this cloak-and-dagger stuff is beyond me,’ said Cedric. ‘What on earth does anybody hope to achieve with all this?’

‘Maybe nothing,’ said Morgan. ‘Or maybe they are just watching in case I shout at the tavern keeper, or haggle too aggressively over the price of cabbage. Any excuse to clap me
in the stocks.’

‘Then make sure you do not give him that excuse,’ said Cedric.

Samson handed over the money. The four of them had located a couple of traders off the square and behind the mansion house; it not being market day the town was very quiet,
with little to buy, so it was with some relief that they had discovered somebody selling vegetables and other basic foodstuffs. They bought some bread and enough vegetables to make a potage and
decided to go back to the tavern. As they were about to turn left to go back into the square, Leon said, ‘You have all noticed him, yes?’

‘Yes,’ said Rozgon. ‘Let’s carry on down the south road here for a while.’

Walking not more than twenty paces behind them was a man dressed in Ulgar’s green and white. Although he appeared to be following them, he appeared to make little or no attempt at
secrecy.

‘Artorus’s teeth!’ said Samson. ‘Leon’s seven-year-old could make a better job of spying on us. What’s this fellow’s game?’

‘Perhaps he feels he has too many teeth of his own,’ said Rozgon. ‘Maybe we should loosen a few of them for him.’

They continued down the rutted path that hugged the eaves of the tiny thatched cottages till they came to a turning leading to a small cobbled square with a well at its centre. They walked into
the square. The man following blithely behind them did the same – at least, until he got to the square. At that point he stopped as Rozgon’s arm around his throat held him fast with a
grip of iron. Leon put a dagger to the man’s face.

‘I take it you fancy having an extra mouth?’ Leon pushed the dagger on to the man’s cheek, drawing a drop of blood. The man tried to talk but Rozgon’s throat hold meant
that only a choking sound got out. Haelward spoke.

‘Loosen it a little, Growler; he’s going nowhere till he talks to us anyway.’ After Rozgon, to an extent, complied, the man spoke.

‘You’ve got it all wrong. I am not following you – I just wanted to talk,’ he gasped.

‘Well, now is your chance,’ said Haelward. ‘Be quick about it; none of us is a patient man.’

‘I just wanted to warn you – a gang of the Baron’s hired thugs and killers are after you. They will try and attack you tonight; if they can’t, it will be tomorrow after
you leave here.’

‘I see. So one of Baron Ulgar’s lackeys is coming to tell us that Baron Ulgar is trying to kill us. We are not all touched by Uba here, boy.’ Rozgon tightened his throat lock
again.’

‘No, not Ulgar – Fenchard! It is Fenchard you need to watch here.’ The man’s voice was a strangled gasp.

Rozgon let the man go. After putting his hand to his throat and breathing deeply for a minute, he looked in turn at each of the stony faces of his audience, then continued: ‘I am one of
Baron Ulgar’s armourers. After they returned from seeing you all earlier I went to an anteroom where we have some equipment stored when he stormed in with another man. I shrank against the
wall so they couldn’t see me. Fenchard was ranting about being insulted by a common thug – no one, he yelled, gets away with saying things like that to him. I am sure you are not
surprised to hear that he is as popular among Baron Ulgar’s staff as a dose of the pox. Anyway, he finished by saying, ‘‘You know what I pay you for – tonight or tomorrow,
see that it gets done. Let’s give Felmere a kick where it hurts by killing his men.’

Rozgon shoved the man in the back. ‘How can we trust this fellow? He could be setting us up; everyone knows Vinoyen and Fenchard are close. It could be a ruse to lure us into
trouble.’

‘No, no, that’s not the case,’ said the man. ‘Baron Ulgar has no love for the man of Glaivedon but he will always respect the Grand Duke’s wishes. He is very loyal
in that regard. Fenchard, though, is different entirely; he is only loyal to his own interests. He also has come into an awful lot of money; no one knows where it comes from but it is enough for a
sizeable army and for him to hire all kinds of brigands to do his dirty work... And, well, I was at Fort Axmian; I saw who led the counter-charge and broke the Arshumans. You were one of them,
too.’ He nodded at Rozgon. ‘You saved my family that day. I owe you and have always vowed that I would repay you somehow.’

‘Well, if what you say is true, then you have done just that,’ the big man replied. ‘But, if I find out you are lying...’

‘I am not! May Xhenafa take my wife and children if I am not speaking the truth.’

‘Off you go, my friend, before your boss notices your absence,’ said Haelward.

‘Thank you, sir – just watch out tonight.’

And he was gone.

‘If we stay in the room,’ said Samson, ‘there is not a lot they can do.’ They had returned to the inn with the news and were discussing their next
move.

‘You are right of course,’ said Morgan, ‘but that would probably just mean they will pursue us out in the open when we leave tomorrow. We could find a decent defensive position
but it could take time and we need to be at the pass three days from now.’

‘Then the only other option is to confront them here.’ Samson seemed nervous at the prospect.

‘I am afraid so. Sir Varen, you stay here tonight and guard Cedric and Willem. The rest of you, let’s take a quick walk outside; we need to chat. After that I will speak to the
innkeeper, I may need to part with some coin to keep him sweet, looking at the trade he is getting I am sure he will be grateful for it and more than willing to turn a blind eye to what we have to
do.’

There were still a couple of hours before the sun went down. Morgan took the opportunity to visit the stalls where the others had bought their supplies earlier; he took just Cedric with him.
While he was there he bought some turnips and some apples on the turn – ‘For my horses. I will be sleeping in the stables with them tonight; you have to be wary of rustlers after
all.’

They strolled back to the inn, taking plenty of time, and Morgan slowly explained to Cedric that all horses loved apples and that he would slowly feed them all to them through the course of the
night. He spoke loudly and repeated himself many times over, just as the rest of his men were doing at the same time in the tavern. They seemed carefree and oblivious to the shadowy figures lurking
in doorways or slowly following ten to twenty paces behind them...

The night was crisp and cold. The weak waning moon cast little light on to the courtyard at the rear of the inn, on one side of which stood the stables; only a solitary
lantern, hanging from a bracket over the inn’s rear door, cast its pallid yellow glow over the straw-covered cobbles. There were ten stable doors in all, facing on to the courtyard, then on
to a slippery greensward that separated the courtyard from the river, a river swollen by the recent rains. The river could be heard but not seen and only the occasional lantern illuminated the far
bank. The bridge could just be noticed poking out in the distance from behind the inn’s east wall. In contrast to everywhere else, it was well lit with lanterns and flaming torches that
turned the dark waters under its arches a churning crimson. Apart from the constant rush of water, no other sound could be heard.

Suddenly, a figure emerged into the courtyard from behind the last stable. He was cloaked in black and hooded. Almost noiselessly he scampered past the stable doors until he reached the fourth
one from the inn. Halting there, he put his fingers to his lips and gave a low whistle like a calling bird, and within seconds he was joined by five other men, all cloaked but not as quiet as the
first man – the distinctive sound of metal against metal could be heard; it appeared some were wearing chain mail. They all congregated around the same stable door.