The Forgotten War (65 page)

‘Artorus help me, but we will attack them at Tantala! We need some time for injuries to heal and for further drafts of men to arrive. I also want those two bridges built over the river
under the hill. Two weeks should be enough. Two weeks, no, make it ten days, gentlemen, and we move on Tantala. May Mytha grant us victory and a final end to everything we have worked for. The
decision is made.’

Cheris noted the mixed reaction in the room from Fenchard’s exultant face to Dominic’s worried frown. Only Sir Trask was completely unreadable and there was something about that that
unsettled her even more.

The barons started to get up and mill around informally, chatting with each other; the meeting was obviously at an end. She wondered why they had to attend in the first place as their
contribution had been nil (Marcus would explain later that it was protocol owing to the mages’ unique status), but it had been nice for her to get out, notwithstanding the grisly scenes in
the square. She wondered if they would be leaving now when she saw Baron Esric heading towards them. He smiled warmly at them.

‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ he said to them. She got the impression he would be far more at home dancing the terrastep with the elegant perfumed ladies of the court
at a formal ball than slogging over a muddy battlefield spattered in blood and covered with wounds. There would be no shortage of elegant ladies wishing the same, she was sure. She returned the
smile while Marcus replied.

‘It is a similar pleasure for us; you remind me very much of your father. I did actually fight by his side in the earlier days of the war when, if I recall, you were training with the
Silver Lances in Tanaren. He was a generous man and is a grievous loss to us all.’

‘Yes, he was,’ said Esric. ‘But miss him though we do, the present is all that matters. Tell me, do either of you know this mage who will be joining me?’

‘Mikel?’ said Cheris. ‘Yes, he is a very good friend...’ (Did she hear Marcus snigger?) ‘He is nearer my age than Marcus and will not let you down. Unlike me, he
has some experience of war already. When you see him, tell him I send my fondest wishes and ask him, who is feeding the cats.’

‘The cats?’ Esric frowned. ‘You obviously do know each other well, I see. Fear not, I will convey your message word for word when I see him.’

‘Oh and if you have a sister, keep her at a safe distance.’

Esric laughed. ‘I have two sisters actually, back in the southern capital, Sketta, and I doubt either of them would be too displeased at any close attention from a handsome man.’

‘Then they are little different to most women of my acquaintance, and I had probably better include myself in that assessment. Is that not the case, Marcus?’

‘I dare say,’ said Marcus. ‘But do not listen to her; she is teasing you. He will greatly aid your cause in the south.’

‘Tell me, Baron Esric,’ Cheris asked, ‘why are there two separate wars going on in the north and the south?’

‘Oh you can blame the Arshumans for that!’ said Esric. ‘When they first attacked us they made a two-pronged assault into our lands, a large army in the north and a smaller one
in the south. No doubt their intention was to meet in Athkaril, having swept past all of the Seven Rivers. The northern army nearly succeeded but we blocked off the southern one before they could
cross the Vinoyen. And there have been two wars fought here ever since.’

‘So few people seem aware of this, though.’

Esric laughed, ‘Indeed, if the whole of the Seven Rivers are embroiled in a forgotten war, then we must be fighting the forgotten, forgotten war. It is not a heartening thought but at long
last the Grand Duke seems to have taken notice of us. Perhaps the Gods are swinging our way at long last.’

‘We can but hope,’ said Marcus.

Suddenly through the door came another figure. It was Anaya. She looked a little red in the face and her robe was dishevelled. She came up to her fellow mages.

‘Sorry for bothering the two of you. I do not normally come to these meetings but I need to ask both of you as well as Sir Norton and Baron Felmere something.’ Her breath was short,
as if she had been running and her clothes were wet. The rain had obviously broken outside. ‘It seemed a good idea to catch you all in the same place while I could. Tell me, what has been
decided here?’

‘A further attack on the Arshumans in ten days or so,’ said Marcus. ‘Are you able to patch up the wounded in that time?’

‘Ten days.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Um, most but not all, Marcus. It is not a major problem really.’

‘Well, come on,’ said Cheris with a grin. ‘Out with it, what is it you wish to ask?’

‘Magical business,’ said Esric. ‘I will take my leave and hope to speak with you another time.’

After he left, Anaya spoke. ‘As you know, I have been away from the college for many years. It has left me a little ... rusty, with some aspects of the theory and practice of our art.
Having the two of you here is an opportunity from the Gods.’

‘So what is it you wish from us?’ asked Marcus.

‘Baron Felmere has kindly loaned me a small house. It is only an hour or so from the town of Shayer Ridge as the crow flies but on this side of the river. It is also just a day’s
hard walk from the town of Felmere itself and about two to three days’ travel by horse from where we are now. I have a couple of tomes there and made some notes last winter that I would like
to discuss with you both. A kind of a symposium, I suppose; it would just last a day or two then we could return here. My patients will be fine with the nurses for a few days. What do you say? Are
you agreeable?’

She seemed so keen, so eager, that there was only one answer they could possibly give.

‘Of course,’ said Marcus. ‘I am sure both Cheris and I would be happy to attend. You will need to speak to Felmere, though, and Sir Norton.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes, I will do that now.’ She left them and headed for Sir Norton, who was speaking to Emeric.

‘It will be a change of scene, if nothing else,’ Marcus said to Cheris.

‘Like being back in one of your lessons again,’ she groaned. ‘I am not a natural student.’

‘Well, as if I hadn’t noticed that before,’ he laughed. ‘Just be grateful you have natural ability. I am sure you slept through most of my tutorials.’

‘Marcus,’ she asked, her voice lowered, ‘if we had been given a vote over this battle, would you have been a yea or nay?’

‘A nay,’ he said. ‘It is probably my age but I think this course of action could be rash.’

‘Then, if it had been up to us, there would be no battle in ten days. Why is it I feel we are underestimating our opponent?’

‘Because we are,’ came the succinct reply.

Anaya was speaking to Felmere now; with him were Fenchard and Lasgaart. At length she returned to them. She was smiling.

‘The Baron agrees,’ she said. ‘As long as we are back within ten days. I have some matters to attend to first, so maybe we can leave the day after tomorrow.’

‘We are at your disposal,’ said Marcus. ‘I doubt that either Cheris or myself has any matters stopping us from attending.’

‘If nothing else,’ said Cheris, ‘it will alleviate any boredom. Is this house in those woods under the mountains?’

‘Yes,’ said Anaya, ‘It is a pretty place.’

‘Good. I would like to see woods. Shall we leave here now?’

Sir Norton was coming towards them. After saying their goodbyes, they left the house leaving the barons to their machinations.

It was raining heavily. The square was now free of people, well, living ones anyway. She saw the cage was empty and that there were more heads on spears than there had been earlier in the day.
She dully remembered during the council hearing cheers coming in through the open doorway; she assumed it was one cheer per lopped head. After getting in the wagon they rode back through the
street, the rain increasing the pungency of the refuse in the open sewer. She would be perfectly happy if she never entered Grest again.

After passing through the walls, the wagon slowed; the dirt path was rapidly turning into mud. Pulling her hood tightly over her head, she thought through the events of the day. More mud and war
seemed to sum it up. Getting off the island had seemed like a great opportunity at the time, but now with all her heart she knew she would have been quite happy to return there.

There was an hour, maybe an hour and a half, of daylight left when Itheya returned to him. With a gesture for him to follow, she led him out of the Zamazhenka and turned east,
following its wall. Curious to see where she was going, he willingly followed. They were at the side of the lake now; the wind had picked up again and was playfully tugging at the hem of her tunic.
She stopped and waited for him.

‘There,’ she said, pointing, ‘we will take a boat; I will show you the lake.’ Ahead, the shore of the island curved around a little, following its line in a semicircle,
and lying at rest in the tiny harbour it created were a number of small sailing boats. They were colourfully painted, mainly in yellows and blues, and all had carved figureheads depicting birds or
fish or snakes. She skipped playfully across to the first boat and hopped in. It was only big enough for two people. Morgan followed her a lot more gingerly.

‘Won’t you be cold?’ he asked.

She looked behind him. Morgan turned and saw one of the people who had served him food earlier in the day running up to the boat. He passed her a black cloak, which she arranged over her knees.
She smiled at Morgan. ‘Do you wish for one, too?’

‘No thank you; I have my own cloak.’

The servant released the rope and handed the end to Morgan. Taking a paddle, Itheya gently steered the boat out of the harbour. Once there, she hoisted the sail; it was a lemon colour, a shard
of brightness in the deepening gloom. Within seconds the wind caught it and they started to skip over the lake’s surface.

‘I will only be able to show you a little of the lake now. We may have time to see more another day, but I doubt it. We have Armentele coming up and then the
krasa
and I have to
watch you and perform my other duties.’

‘What about tomorrow?’

‘Maybe. I will be dancing in the festival and will need to practise with the other women. While I am doing that, you will have to stay in your room – unless Father wishes
otherwise.’

‘You will be dancing?’

‘Yes, is that so strange?’

‘No. I suppose not. So you are a warrior and a dancer? Any other skills?’

‘I sing, too, and I am required to know the history of my people over the last five thousand years as well as many other things that I will not bore you with.’

‘And you sail. Are all elves this talented?’ Morgan was smirking and, although her head was turned in the direction she was sailing, Itheya seemed to be perfectly aware of his
expression.

‘I may do all these things. But I excel at none of them. It is just that I am a Mhezhen’s daughter. All these things are expected of me. Humility is important, too, as well as the
ability to entertain unwanted guests.’

They had reached the middle of the lake and the light was beginning to turn as the sun began its long descent behind the clouded sky. Skilfully, she steered the little craft towards the eastern
shore and followed its course in a northerly direction. They passed another glade full of tents; this one was much was larger than the first one Morgan had visited, stretching back at least half a
mile from the shoreline. Once they had left it behind, he saw many other wooden houses secreted tastefully behind the trees.

‘You see,’ she said, ‘there are many more of us that you thought.’

‘Does your tribe live around the whole lake?’

‘In clusters, yes. We are one of the largest and most powerful tribes in the forest. Many smaller tribes owe us their loyalty. We have ties with most of them going back many
centuries.’

‘What about rival tribes?’

‘There are several; most, though, are much deeper into the forest than ourselves. Our chief rival, the Ometahan, live just to the south, on terraces carved into the shoulders of the
mountains.’

‘What about war? Do you ever fight?’

‘Yes, but it is not as you might see it. We are few in number and have fewer children, so if a dispute cannot be resolved peacefully then, yes, we fight, but we try to avoid excessive loss
of life.’

‘How? And how do you fight among all these trees?’

‘We do not. Inside the forest are some wide open spaces, fields large enough to hold armies. We arrange a date and a time and meet there. The battles themselves are quite formal. Bow,
spear and horse are all exercised, but each tribe’s Mhezhen watches carefully. As soon as it is obvious which side has the advantage, the losing Mhezhen concedes and the battle ends. An
agreement to end the dispute is then made to the winner’s advantage, with the loser making concessions determined by both parties before the battle. It is a sensible system that keeps both
tribes at near full strength. See, we are here.’

They were at the northern shore of the lake. The light was rapidly dimming. Itheya steered the boat on to the muddy bank and the two of them got out and hauled it on to the ground. Leaving her
blanket behind, she said, ‘Follow me,’ and disappeared into the trees.

He did so, keeping track of her by watching her white arms and legs. After some five minutes she stopped and spoke to him.

‘Between the mountains and the sea the ground slopes gradually. The Taethan enters the sea over the lip of a high cliff, falling into its waters as a fine spray. Mostly the slope is not
noticeable but there are places where it falls steeply. We are at one of those places now. Can you hear the water?’

The sound of water rushing over stone was easy to hear, overpowering as it did the sad sigh of the trees and the early calls of a solitary owl. Itheya turned from him and disappeared down a
steep defile in the earth, which appeared before him as though Artorus himself had thrust a colossal knife into the ground. Looking down, he saw steps had been carved into the stone under his feet.
They were not steep but he still hesitated as they were all shrouded in darkness. He saw Itheya’s white face turning to look at him.