The Rawn Chronicles Book One: The Orrinn and the Blacksword: Unabridged (The Rawn Chronicles Series 1) (4 page)

“Yes, I did, master.” Havoc nodded.

“Skrol is an old language, about six thousand years old, they say. The Eldi and the Old Gods created it between them so they could understand each other better. It is very difficult to understand, because it is said to be the language of the sub-conscious mind.”

Havoc wondered where he was going with this. His master stopped and looked at him.

“You did not tell me that you could read Skrol so fluently.”

“I can’t…. Well, only a couple of words.”

“‘Fear is our greatest ally and our worst foe’ – those are the words on the sword’s blade,” said Ness, watching Havoc very carefully.

Havoc did not know what to say and merely shrugged; he tried to change the subject. “Father told me to ask you about the Orrinn.”

“Ahh… The Orrinn,” said Ness Ri. All queries about Havoc being able to read Skrol now seemed to vanish, and he became more enthusiastic about the My’thos book. “As far as I can interpret it, it is a Muse Orrinn about seeing or communicating at long distances.”

This intrigued Havoc. Muse Orrinns were rare and were mainly specific thoughts on a subject that the My’thos had at that moment, thoughts trapped in time. The most common Orrinns were Elemental Orrinns, which held knowledge of only
one
particular element. Elemental Orrinns were very useful in student training.

“How do I use it?”

“Meditate and calm you mind. However, I will not deceive you; it will take some years of practice. You father gave up after a decade.”

“Oh… great.” He felt disheartened.

“Don’t worry, I will guide you; now let us get something to eat, shall we?”

Chapter 3

A Council of War

Five days later, the princes were standing on the east palisade overlooking large swathes of the Aln plain. Far in the distance, a dust cloud stretched high above the horizon.

Mia and Eleana joined them and, as the hour wore on, Havoc’s twelve-year-old sister, Verna, ambled over clutching her doll, Prissy.

“It does not seem to be getting any closer, does it?” She said.

She was a wide-eyed, short girl with light brown hair and a constantly runny nose, which she always wiped on Prissy’s dress. Although, Havoc knew all too well that Verna’s gift was in her all-knowing intellect that she inherited from her mother.

“The wind is blowing in a different direction now,” said Eleana. “It must be a large army to kick up that amount of dust and chaff!”

“Probably all heavy horse,” muttered Magnus.

“Uncle Kasan likes to make an entrance, it seems,” said Havoc.

The Vallkyte delegation, when it came closer, consisted of a thousand horses and six carriages all with elaborate decorations. The armoured horse knights gleamed in polished silver steel plate that dazzled the children so much that they had to cover their eyes at times.

“Well, I tell you one thing,” said Verna, “they could not sneak up on us.”

The whole spectacle was a remarkable sight. The knights held aloft their lances and banners, their horses’ mouths lathered with foam, and the ground trembled under the galloping columns.

“Uncle Hagan’s was better,” said Magnus. “Did you see the size of those sky ships?”

“Yes, Magnus,” said Mia sarcastically. “We did.”

“Awesome!” said Magnus.

The girls giggled.

Havoc had to agree with his brother. The arrival of King Hagan of Sonora was very impressive. Early yesterday morning, as the mist from the sea cleared, three sky ships appeared silently from the north. They flew swiftly, hugging the coastline, and only slowed as they passed the royal apartments; they caused a bit of a stir in the naval yards as they landed on the southern tip of Naval Isle

The sky ships were large, about the size of the Roguns’ seagoing battle-class galleys, but their sails were bigger and hitched into a horizontal triangle. Under these sails was a short, stumpy mast called an Orrinn Tower, where an Elemental Orrinn, on this occasion, of the wind element, would constantly blast strong gusts out of large hull ports and into the horizontal sails to keep the ship aloft. The Orrinn inside the tower was fixed into a hinged wooden frame and gyroscope so it could be directed, from the helm, at any part of the sail to cause momentum. Outrigger sails on the forward, port and starboard sides of the ship were there for steering. Sky ships were a very rare occurrence. They had to be robust in design and flawless in flight, and it was only the very rich who could afford them.

All thoughts of sleep on that early morning for Havoc and his siblings disappeared, as the ships came into view. The princes could see the sky ships from their apartments, it being the weekend, and a break from their training at the academy. They quickly dressed and rushed out with their parents to welcome the new arrivals.

Ground crew anchored the ships to the docks as the royal party arrived. Havoc could see that Carras Knights in their fine silver armour were already there to welcome the delegation on shore. King Vanduke, to the children’s surprise – for he was not an early riser – was ready, too. Bedecked in his ceremonial armour, and barking orders to his men, squires and stewards.

The three sky ships were of similar size and coloured in a light-varnished pine, but the sails were different, and two of the ships were a dowdy grey. The third was black with a giant emblem of the Sonoran royal crest. From that boat, armed men came in fine tight-fitting grey armour that Havoc noticed was tailor made for each warrior. While the armour of the Vallkytes was crisp and clinical, the Sonoran’s were all pomp and sparkle. Each warrior had lacquered diagrams of animals on their chests to denote rank or noble status, and long, coloured plumes of various species of exotic birds stuck out from their helmets, with their swords strapped to their back in a battle ready mode.

King Hagan was one of the first off the ship, a stocky bull of a man, with a quick wit and a loud booming laugh like Vanduke’s. He walked straight past his brother and grabbed Molna, lifting her off her feet and planting a slobbery kiss on her lips.

“Put me down, you rogue,” she said, giggling.

“How is the most beautiful girl in the world? Second only to my wife, of course; if you had only married me, you would have had all this,” he said, indicating the sky ships.

“I have all I want here,” she said, pointing to Havoc and the children.

Vanduke gave a light cough. Hagan turned to him.

“Van… there you are,” he said, grasping the king in a warrior’s handshake, both gripping the right arm just below the elbows. “Must have missed you; you should have dressed better.”

Havoc, who thought that his father looked very handsome, laughed with everyone else. Hagan admired his jovial personality; was quite fond of Vanduke, and any disrespect shown was always in jest.

The Rogun King said nothing, and Hagan’s bearded smile faded.

“Do we always have to do this?” he groaned.

Vanduke’s only reply was to raise his eyebrows.

“All right, then.” He knelt in front of the King of the Roguns and said, “Well met, My Liege, please accept my honour and fealty.” He stood after saying the traditional greetings to the head of the Cromme dynasty.

“Are you happy now? That I always demean myself in your presence once again, in front of a staring crowd.” He said this with a smile.

Vanduke was impassive, and then his face broke into a grin. “I am always happy to see you, Hagan.” He hugged him.

“Where is Vara?” Molna asked Hagan.

“The queen is acting regent in my absence… Secretly, I think I have worn her out.” He winked at Molna and she gave him a playful slap on the chest.

“Now, who wants to see the
Pollmion
?” asked Hagan.

The flagship,
Pollmio
n
,
and
the other two, being
Raxion
and
Jezzrion,
had eighty men to crew each. Most were, of course, the kings’ warriors. As the Rogun party toured the vessel, the first officer, a young, dark-haired man, took the children to see the Orrinn Tower, where they met two similar redheaded girls about the same age as Mia. These two were Tilly and Letti, Hagan’s twin daughters and, subsequently, Havoc’s cousins, whom he had not seen for over a year. There were greetings all around, but Havoc and Magnus were more intent on asking a young officer, Willan, about the Orrinn and its role on the ship.

“Well, you will not be able to see it, because the tower is too high, but it sits in a hinged cradle, which is linked to the helm,” said Willan. “The gust of wind it produces is constant and we can control it with metal flaps to direct it better; the Orrinn itself is quite large, about the size of a man’s head.”

The helm was up on a low-tiered aft castle with a direct line of sight to the tower. The sail cables connected to two angled wing-like masts at each side of the stern and one long horizontal mast jutting out from the bow. Three short, hinged poles on either side could adjust to any angle to tighten or loosen the sail. All over the ship, rope, cables, pins and pulleys were in abundance. Havoc could not even begin to understand what they controlled.

“Isn’t the ship heavy?” asked Havoc. “How can the main sail lift it?”

“Good question, Your Highness,” said Willan. “You see the tower?” He tapped the side, and the boys realised that it was made of a brown metal, and not wood, with Skrol symbols written around the base. “It acts as a funnel. The wind from
underneath
the Orrinn travels down it and is forced
out
of the bottom through chambers that direct it onto the surface of the hull, which, I am sure you noticed as we came in to land, is more wing shaped on each side; this gives us the lift we need to keep us in the air.”

“If there is a hole in the bottom, won’t it sink if you sail on water instead of fly?” asked Magnus.

“No, the pressure in the funnel stops that from happening.”

“How do you activate the Orrinn?”

“By incanting Skrol, it only takes a couple of symbols. The inscriptions on the tower do most of the work.”

The rest of the day they spent with Tilly and Letti exploring the ship’s quarters, bunks and galley.

That was yesterday morning, now, on the walls of the east gate, they could see the serried ranks of the Vallkyte host stopping at the open entrance.

Trumpeters from both the Rogun and Vallkyte royal parties announced the arrival of their subsequent monarchs. A single white horse-drawn carriage flanked by knights trundled into the city. The townsfolk lined the route and cheered, throwing flowers under the wheels of the carriage.

The children followed from the ramparts as the procession continued up the half mile to the palace gates. They took the stairs down to ground level and ran on ahead to the small square at the palace entrance.

As he ran, Havoc could not help noticing a tall man on a white charger who seemed out of place. His armour was different from the steel plate that the soldiers wore. Instead, it was a matt white and handsomely tailored to his muscular frame. The shoulder guards caught his eye, for they were of a strikingly rich colour of red that was in stark contrast to the white. A long black cape that covered the charger’s rump finished off his impressive appearance.

King Vanduke, Queen Molna, King Hagan, Ness Ri and Sir Cort, the Rogun High Steward, waited for the visitors in front of the palace. Havoc could not help noticing that his father was pacing nervously.

When the Vallkyte party stopped in front of them, the tall white knight dismounted and stomped, long legged, to Vanduke; he took off his helmet and bowed, saying the traditional greeting to the head of the family, and gave the king a warrior’s handshake. Havoc realised this was King Kasan of the Vallkytes; he also noticed that he did not kneel in front of his father during the greeting, but Vanduke chose, at that time, to ignore it. All knew there was no love lost between these two brothers.

“If Uncle Kasan is on horseback, then who is in the carriage?” asked Verna at his side.