The Forgotten War (60 page)

Cedric asked Itheya what the tents were for.

‘Various things – the craftsmen work here; horses are stabled here; some store food or other goods such as medicines or dyes. There are two other places like this at other places on
the shore. Some people sleep here but most of the village is on the island ahead.’ She gestured ahead of her.

As they passed the tents, they fully beheld the lake. Close to the shore, less than two hundred yards distant, was the island of which she spoke. It was large and like an irregular rectangle in
shape and, although trees still grew there, it was covered in wooden buildings. From what Morgan could see, each building was a perfect circle, although the size of each varied. However, it was the
building at the centre that dominated the others. As well as being the largest building, it was the only one over one storey high. Three storeys it must have been, each storey dotted with small
windows that could be closed off with shutters. A series of hide-covered diagonal posts made up the roof of each building. But the most notable feature of each building were its flags. Even the
most humble construction was dwarfed by its flagpole and the colossal flag attached to each one. With the wind dead, the full effect could not be seen, but it was obvious that this was not a place
desperate to conceal itself. The central building had half a dozen flagpoles surrounding its roof, pointing outwards like spokes, with an additional one upright at its centre. That one was flying
the green and gold.

‘Just how large is your tribe?’ Morgan asked. To his surprise, it was Dramalliel who answered.

‘We are over four thousand strong and can put nearly a thousand warriors in the field with just an hour’s notice. This is our major settlement but there are others close to the lake.
Our father is waiting for you in our main building on the island.’

Morgan suddenly became aware that any work in the tents had stopped and a crowd had gathered behind them. He could hear the words
vheyuzheko
and
pekha
being whispered and curious
children asking questions of their parents. He turned and gently waved at them. Most of the children ran and hid behind the adults, but a couple of them responded in kind, smiling shyly as they did
so.

Nestling against the shore were several large log rafts covered in planks. Several elves armed with large poles stood waiting to punt them to the island. They dismounted, leaving the horses to
be led away, and climbed on to a raft. Itheya stood next to the men as two elves pushed the raft into the water and proceeded to steer them gently onwards. During the short journey Morgan noticed
many elegant sailing vessels gracing the water, becalmed at present, waiting for the wind to pick up. This was obviously a prime location in the forest, belonging to an important tribe. How
important he was yet to find out.

The rafts came to rest on the island. Itheya and Dramalliel led them between the smaller roundhouses to the grand building at the centre. Morgan noticed all the houses were decorated with
painted wooden carvings, detailed depictions of horses, birds, wolves and stags. He wanted to stop and look, but he was already being left behind so he put on a spurt and rejoined the others.

‘This is Zamezhenka, the leader’s house,’ said Itheya. ‘You are welcome here and no harm will be done to you while you remain; no weapons are allowed to be drawn inside
it.’

They were in front of it now. It was a colourful building, its walls painted in pale blues, greens and golds. From the second floor, poles jutted out at a right angle to the walls carrying
banners displaying the animals of the forest – deer, bears, wolves, eagles and herons – all richly painted and shown engaged in various activities – running, rearing, flying...
Unlike the smaller houses, the window spaces were teardrop shaped and the frames were carved in the shape of animals, their heads jutting out at the bottom, leering and growling at passers-by. At
length they came to the great double door. It was all black wood with a great carved wolf’s head at the centre of both panels. A loose stone path led to the door on either side of which were
more banner poles flying the green-and-gold banner of the tribe. Guards attired in livery of the same colour and carrying spears stood at the open door and ushered them inside.

Morgan was expecting a packed earth floor and a dark room lit by torches. Instead, he walked into a light and airy circular inner courtyard open to the sky with a white tiled floor patterned in
blue with depictions of trees, birds and waterfalls. Looking up, he saw that the central floor sections of the second and third storeys had been raised using a pulley system and that the hides on
the roof had been pulled back to allow the light in. Surrounding the courtyard were entrances to several rooms, their doorways closed off by hand-painted sheets made out of a thin white fabric. A
citrus smell was heavy in his nostrils, fresh and invigorating. Cedric was already in the midst of the courtyard, casting his eyes about him.

‘The animals you have seen and this painting on the tiles tell stories,’ he told Morgan. ‘There are many elven fables and legends. Storytellers here are much prized, and there
are day-long festivals in summer and winter for the children when they are told the history and mythology of their people. The elves hold a lot of festivals.’

‘We do,’ said Itheya. ‘We actually have the festival of Armentele two days from now. Preparations are going on in the pavilions on the shore. That is why it seems so deserted
here.’

Dramalliel was ahead of her, standing at a wooden stairway to the next floor. ‘This way,’ he said curtly.

The second floor was laid out like the first, though without the tiled courtyard. They came to another set of steps and climbed them, Morgan allowing Cedric to lean on his arm. Itheya excused
herself here. ‘I will change and join you shortly,’ she said, before disappearing behind a curtain into one of the rooms.

They were left with Dramalliel, which was not heartening. Ascending to the third floor, the first thing Morgan noticed was that were no rooms. He then realised that they were in some sort of
audience chamber. Even though the central floor section was raised there was still a lot of space here. Following Dramalliel, they passed a few open, unshuttered windows and stood finally before
the man they had travelled all this way to meet.

The open roof and windows covered the room in a patchwork of light and shade. However, the high throne they faced would have been in darkness had it not been surrounded by a series of smooth
polished stones held in circular bowls on wooden supports. These stones all glowed, giving off a soft red light and a mild warmth which Morgan could feel against his skin even several strides away.
In brackets against the walls were lemon-coloured candles whose orange-blue flame was responsible for the citrus smell he had noticed earlier. The throne was made of tastefully gilded wood, carved
into which were various abstract shapes – whorls, circles and spirals. Upon it sat an elf clad in black and gold with long silver-white hair spread about his shoulders. He wore a thick golden
torque around his neck and each finger held a thin golden ring. His robe was studded in green and white gems and he wore a thin crown of gold with a colossal diamond at its centre. He sat on the
throne leaning on his right arm; his right foot bore a boot of supple black leather but his left was unshod and instead rested on a cushioned stool. Morgan could see it was slightly misshapen and a
broad bandage was wrapped around his calf. To his left on a smaller, far less ostentatious, chair was another man, also silver-haired and clad in simple brown. His intense blue eyes fixed both men
intently. Dramalliel went and sat on a chair to their left, slightly removed from the others. The figure on the throne looked from Morgan to Cedric with soft violet eyes that were not unlike
Itheya’s.

‘
Satala
, humans. Welcome to Zamezhenka, the palace of the Morioka tribe. I am Cenarazh, the Mhezhen – that is the leader of the tribe. To my left is Terath, our loremaster,
that is, he who retains the knowledge and history of our people. Please be seated.’

Servants, whom Morgan had not noticed before, placed some padded wooden chairs behind them. As he sat, he noticed that these, too, were beautifully carved. Carpentry was obviously a revered
profession here.

‘
Satala, Mhezhen Cenarazh, Satala Terath
, I am Cedric of Rossenwood, scholar – that is loremaster – of my people. With me is Morgan of Glaivedon, warrior of renown, and
a man who tends to my infirmity. I come here partially seeking enlightenment from your people and also with a request from our Mhezhen, the Grand Duke.’

‘Indeed, my daughter has already mentioned your imperfect health, something I can detect now you sit before me. Our people are blessed with a more robust constitution than yours and are
far less likely to suffer from the plagues and agues that haunt mankind. Ironic, is it not, that I should be one of the few among my people to be afflicted with a canker of the leg? It will kill me
eventually but I will resist it as long as I am able.’ He clapped and the servants returned. ‘
Pileti ivvita hanara baramboros azhaza codarahenezharon zaikele frotan
.’

As Morgan tried to wrap his ears around the mellifluous complexities of the language, the servants departed.

‘I am sorry to see that illness has impaired your abilities,’ Cedric said. ‘At least, unlike me, you have a son and daughter capable of assisting you with your onerous
duties.’

‘That is true. We have few children here and it is important that they fulfil the expectations we as parents have for them. Mine have done that and more.’

As he spoke, Itheya came and joined them. She had changed into a thin blue tunic just short of the knee, fastened at the waist with a belt whose buckle was encrusted with sapphires. She wore
simple goatskin moccasins and with her calves exposed Morgan could see the tattoos on the back and sides of her legs, reaching down to her ankles. Morgan stood and offered her the chair, only for
her to dismiss him with a flick of her hand. She went to her father and kissed him on the cheek.

‘
Satala, Foron, Canteleva zhasessa seatana
.’

‘
Satala, Katyush
,’ he replied. ‘
Cantelevia zhasessa tafalle trezem
.’

She went and sat on the floor next to Morgan with her knees drawn up to her chin. Morgan noticed casually that Dramalliel had not proffered such a greeting; he assumed it was because, unlike his
sister, he had not left their home for some days.

Cedric spoke again, slowly and deliberately.

‘I hope that during my stay here that we can learn a little of each other’s ways and that, even if we are unable to help each other further, we both end up enriched by the
experience. If there are any questions you wish to ask either of us while we are here, please do so, Mhezhen.’

‘You speak well, Cedric. For many of us the only humans we meet are those who wish to despoil our lands or teach us of your religion. It will be refreshing to speak to a man of learning.
My daughter speaks highly of you and she is a shrewd judge of people’s hearts.’

As he spoke, a number of servants returned, one bearing a chair for Itheya, two carrying the trunk that had travelled so far with them, and others that set down a table before the two men and
spread it with fruit, bread, strips of meat skewered on sticks, and clay goblets, which they proceeded to fill with a bright clear liquid. Morgan wondered if some formality had to be observed
before they could begin, only to see Itheya fall on the food ravenously. Cedric followed. They had not eaten since early that morning, after all. Morgan ate some of the meat. It was spiced with
something that gave it quite a heat. It tasted very nice but Morgan had to slake his thirst with the drink which tasted of elderflower. Itheya noticed his reddening face.

‘We like our food to have some
z’ezhel
... er ... heat. You will get used to it.’

‘Delicious!’ said Cedric. ‘I have already learned that you have a great culinary expertise here. I must take the recipe for this meat back with me.’ He bathed in the
approval he sensed in the room.

Once the food was cleared from the table, Terath carefully placed the artefacts upon it one by one. Once that was done, Cedric spoke.

‘These were discovered by chance in ruins on our western coast. There are more of them that I was unable to bring with me, unfortunately. I am here because I wish to know more about them;
they are such beautiful objects to my aged eyes.’

‘They belong to a different age,’ said Terath. ‘An age when we lived on the plains, not the forests or on islands over the vast sea. They have religious significance for us,
the four smaller objects depicting as they do some of Zhun’s major spirits, embodiments of virtues we hold dear.’ He held up the stag – ‘Cuothos, pride tempered by
humility’ – then the beaver – ‘Yeskila, hard work and industry’ – then the falcon – ‘Paskilan, the keen-eyed hunter, provider to his family, and
lastly’– he held up the snake – ‘Azzha, the wily opportunist who survives through cunning. They are all beautiful objects and fine examples of the skill of our ancestors.
The ruins you refer to belong to the ancient port and city of Atem Sezheia, one of our oldest and greatest cities, used by our people to embark on the settlement of the western islands following
our defeat in the human wars, the
Vavanaa Kradascarusioc
, as we call them. Even then, it was a city in decline and, once everyone who wanted to had left, it was abandoned, leaving as we
thought an empty shell.’

Cenarazh then commented: ‘But now we know that they left many things behind.’

Cedric proceeded to tell the story of how he had discovered the objects, though he glossed over the destruction of the sealed door. The four elves hung on his every word. When he had finished,
the two older elves spoke to each other animatedly. Itheya looked intently at Cedric but did not speak.

‘I have had but little time to examine these last two pieces,’ said Terath. ‘But I shall tell you what I have learned so far.