The Forgotten War (68 page)

Ulian had a book open in front of him. He asked the next question as Ceriana pondered the man’s words, trying to fight the chill that was gripping her throat and stomach.

‘It says in this book that your order was founded in imitation of the dragon worship common in elven societies about a thousand years ago. It also says that you wish to control dragons and
use them to purge this world of the unworthy, so a new order can be brought about. Can you tell us exactly who the unworthy actually are?

‘That will not be for us to decide; the creatures that have been awakened will choose. The wisest ones, the Aelva, will be spared – that we know – but, apart from that, the
will of the oldest creatures is closed to us.’

Ulian cleared his throat. ‘What you are saying is that you wish to awaken these monsters and let them loose to wreak havoc upon the world. What if they deem you unworthy and set about
slaughtering you?’

‘Then we will accept our fate and commend our unworthy spirits to the Ancient One. Death holds no terrors for us.’

‘Don’t believe him!’ Ceriana said to her companions. ‘They can control the dragons through the stones. They are hardly going to attack their own people.’

‘No,’ said the man. ‘Not if the will of the creature proves stronger. When one of our priests fuses with one of the Oldest Ones, it is never certain who will emerge the more
dominant of the two.’

‘How many of these stones are there?’ asked Wulfthram.

‘There are descriptions of each of them,’ said the man, ‘and their location, in ancient works of the Aelven, which were granted to us by them as reward for our long and trusted
friendship. They were, however, written in cypher; it has taken us a millennium to decrypt but part of these writings. There could be hundreds of these stones. The unencrypted writings were carved
on dragons’ teeth, bound in gold and kept in the great Aelven cities. Each tooth contained a portion of the writings found in the entire book; all six of these, however, have been lost over
time.’

The man behind him whom Ceriana had recognised earlier spoke: ‘None of this is important. We have come here for the stone. Will you give it to us, or do we leave empty-handed? If that is
to be the case, let us warn you – we will bide our time and take it back when we can, by force if necessary. Not to do so would dishonour our god.’

‘That depends,’ said Wulfthram. ‘Tell me, is there any way this stone can be neutralised? Its power drained? Do your Wych tomes cover that at any point?’

‘There are ways,’ said the tall man. ‘But we will never do this. It is to defy the will of the Ancient One to do such a thing. And’ – he leaned forward, looking
intently at Wulfthram – ‘we will never tell any other of the way it is done either.’

Wulfthram spoke airily. ‘Beneath this mansion there is a small dungeon; I use it rarely – only for the most heinous of criminals and egregious of offences. There is a man I can
engage in the town, an expert on hot iron brands, a man thorough in his work pulling teeth or nails, turning the thumbscrews, fixing the bridle, that sort of thing. Do you wish me to employ him
now? It is cold and damp down there. Wounds will never heal; rather they will fester, fill with pus; maybe an amputation would be necessary; we have the saw and the rag to put between what is left
of your teeth to do such a thing. It would be easy for us to arrange it. So I ask again: how do you drain the power of this stone?’

The tall man smiled mirthlessly. ‘We have come here voluntarily to request the return of our property and you threaten us with torture and mutilation. I doubt that the Oldest Ones would
find you worthy. However, we were expecting such an eventuality and have not come unprepared. Our temple is close to the great jungles in the south. Many toxins thrive in these conditions; some,
when mixed together, can produce unusual effects. Before leaving our ship this morning the three of us drank such a substance. If we do not return by noon on the morrow, its poison will kill us.
The neutralising substance is with my brothers on the ship.’

‘Noon tomorrow,’ said Wulfthram. ‘It still gives us enough time to persuade you to talk.’

‘Our deaths will be assured, but so may yours. The substance we have imbibed is corrosive and unstable. Before we die we will sweat profusely as our organs start to break down. Any man
nearby who touches us will contract the poison and suffer the same fate. It is an agonising way to die. The longer we are away from the antidote, the greater the chance of this happening. Your
torturer is as unlikely to see noon tomorrow as we.’

‘So I should tell my man to wear gloves then?’ Wulfthram was unmoved.

‘You are glib but this poison needs but the barest contact to work on another. Say your man wipes his brow, scratches his ear. That is all it would take.’

‘Pah!’ said Ulian. ‘He is bluffing; no such substance exists.’

‘Maybe in your little world, but there are so many things out there you have never seen. Do you wish to take such a risk?’

The other black priest spoke again: ‘Will you give us the stone?’

Ceriana spoke in the most even voice she could manage. ‘If we do, you will use it to control a dragon, which may well be turned against our own people. Surely you can see that we could
never agree to such a thing.’

‘Then we have nothing more to say to each other. We will take the stone for ourselves when you least expect it. However,’ – he reached behind his neck and unclasped a thin
chain from which hung a small disc of black metal – ‘before I go I give you this.’ He handed it to Ceriana. ‘It is an amalgam of dull iron and sky metal, fallen from the
heavens. Wear it under your clothes, close to your heart. While you have it your fusion with the creature will be held in abeyance. Nothing more will happen to you. We want the stone before it
becomes irretrievably yours, so it is as much in our interest as yours to stop any further changes in your body. If you remove it at any time, though, what has been held in check will resume at
some pace. So do not take it off. Ever! When we take the stone, then the intended fusion with the real dragonlord will begin.’

The priest behind the tall man smiled and Ceriana knew: he was to be the one to join with the dragon and, if he could take control of it, the first place he would come to, to judge the unworthy,
would be here.

‘We have no real quarrel with you,’ the tall man resumed. ‘The circumstances of our meeting are unfortunate. The next time we meet things may be somewhat less civil. I, Luto,
and my brother priests, Dravan and Melnikor, bid you farewell.’

He turned to leave, but as he did so the three of them were faced by a row of halberds, their cruel head spikes pointing at the men’s midriff.

‘It is all right; let them go.’ Wulfthram raised his hand to the guards, confirming his order. They sat down and watched as the three of them slowly left the room. After they had
gone Wulfthram signalled to Bruan, who came over to him.

‘Follow them.’

As Bruan was about to leave with his men, Wulfthram called him back.

‘The
Vesper of Kibil
is in the harbour. It is a fast caravel with an experienced crew. If they take to sea, follow them at a safe distance. Do not engage them, unless you have to.
Report back to me as soon as you are able.’

After Bruan had gone, he called for food for Ceriana who was pensively toying with the medallion.

‘It is a dull thing, is it not?’ she said absently, half to herself.

‘Are you going to put it on?’ he asked her gently.

‘I suppose I had better; it looks harmless enough, I suppose.’

He helped her fasten it around her neck. When that was done, she pushed the metal disc under the front of her dress so that it was both against her skin and obscured. Servants placed some bread
and cheese before her, along with a couple of pies and a warm posset. She ate slowly, completely unaware of the others watching her.

‘What is the plan now, my Lord?’ Ulian asked.

‘It is unchanged. I will sail to Oxhagen within the next few days. Farnerun knows of my intentions, so hopefully he will have men at the town to assist when I arrive. I will engage one of
the exiled fishermen to serve as a guide. ‘

‘And if you succeed in returning the stone to its place of rest, what is to stop the black priests from reclaiming it as they have already done once before?’

‘Guards. I have asked Farnerun to consider posting a garrison at the place – a matter I will pursue when I get there. I just want shot of the damned thing, so my wife can get back to
a normal life.’

His wife was quietly nibbling at a large chunk of bread. ‘Wulf,’ she said.

‘What is it?’

‘You know I will be going with you when you sail, don’t you? And I don’t want any arguing to the contrary; no one is more involved in this matter than I.’

‘But you heard the fisherman’s story. This could be dangerous.’

‘And you heard the black priest. According to him, I am changing in some way and my life could be incredibly short. What more possible danger could I be in that I am not in
already?’

‘The lady has a point,’ said Ulian with a wry smile.

‘But the dangers we may face are unknown ones – spirits or worse.’

‘Then swords and force of arms are pretty much useless, don’t you think? You will be in as much danger as I, maybe even more so. Can swords defeat spirits? Or will they merely make
the bearers targets? I am going; you cannot deny me this.’

‘I think I should go, too,’ interrupted Alys.

‘Artorus’s eyes, this is not a scenic cruise followed by a picnic on the beach. None of us may come back alive! Do you really think it wise for both baron
and
baroness to go
and risk their lives simultaneously?’

‘Bruan will manage your lands,
our
lands, perfectly well on his own. He has done this many other times, including when you left here to come and marry me.’ She pouted at him
in such a way and with such firmness of expression that he knew the argument was already lost. He had never seen such resolve in her eyes and had to admit he was quietly impressed by her.

‘Very well, Ceriana, I will cede to you just this once. But do not think I have become every inch the compliant husband.’

‘I will believe that when the Gods come down from the heavens and start playing tag in the courtyard. Anyhow, I would much prefer you stubborn and unyielding to being a scold’s
lapdog. It makes our disagreements far more stimulating.’

All this time Alys looked like she wanted an opportunity to speak. Eventually Ceriana noticed her.

‘What is it, Alys? What are you trying to tell me? Do I need a bath?’

‘No, my Lady! I mean, well maybe, just a little. No, it was something that man said earlier.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, he said they had writings from the elves that they had been deciphering; he was a bit vague when saying exactly what these writings talked about, but it all seemed to revolve around
these stones. He also said they knew how to drain the stones of power, so presumably that crops up in these writings somewhere.’

‘All fine and well,’ said Ulian. ‘But, unless we had these tomes in our possession, there is little we can do about it.’

‘But we have!’ Alys beamed. ‘Some of them, anyway. He said the unencrypted versions were written on dragons’ teeth and bound in gold. Well, when Professor Cedric
uncovered that secret chamber of the elves on the coast here....’

‘...He found two of them!’ Ulian said quietly.

‘You are saying, we may know how to drain these stones? That we could already have this information?’ Ceriana looked hopeful.

‘Possibly,’ said Ulian. ‘But it is a remote chance. The language they were written in is so archaic it might as well be cypher. Cedric has taken one to the Aelthenwood to see
if the Wych folk can fare better with it. The other resides in the Grand Duke’s treasury in Tanaren. I could write and request its release.’

‘No,’ said Ceriana, ‘I will do that. I will also write to Father so I can explain its importance. Maybe your Cedric will return with the knowledge required to translate such an
artefact; we lose nothing by trying, surely.’

‘No, my Lady, we lose nothing at all, and thank you for remembering, Alys. The memory of an old man has even more holes than his socks.’

Ceriana walked over to the north wall, where the tall, mullioned windows overlooked the courtyard. The rain was coming down vertically; she watched it bouncing off the stone flags or splashing
into the wide puddles that had formed on the uneven ground. The drainage channel looked like a miniature river Erskon and sporadic gusts of high wind tore at the canvas sheeting of the covered
supply wagons standing stoically against the outer wall. A solitary crow hopped mournfully over the mossy stones, its glossy feathers still pristine, and under one of the wagons she saw two of the
manor’s cats, mousers both, who had abandoned their day’s work and had gone to seek shelter – too late, as both were soggy and bedraggled.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘we are not sailing anywhere with all this going on outside.’

Just as soon as she said those words, one of the doormen entered and approached Wulfthram. He had evidently been outside as his black-and-grey surcoat was stained with water.

‘My Lord, there are people here who wish to speak with you.’

Wulfthram groaned. ‘Do they wear black? Are they threatening to sweat and poison us all?’

The man looked confused. ‘No, my Lord, they say they have come in response to a messenger seeking out a Master Cedric.’

Alys looked up.

‘Send them in,’ Wulfthram said.

The two men that entered looked as though they had just taken a fully clothed bath. Water plastered their hair and their weathered cloaks and boots were sopping. They both laboured under heavy
packs and, as the smaller man threw back his hood, Alys gave a small squeal of delight.

‘My Lords, Ladies and Professors of the court,’ said Haelward, ‘you would not believe the journey we have had to get here. Talk about the god of storms!’

Willem smiled beside him. Soaked he may have been, but suddenly he had never felt warmer.