A Solitary Journey (9 page)

Purpose drove her to her feet. Magpie needed her. She was cold. The grey world was bitter and cruel. She was Meg Tailor and the barbarians had butchered her family, but somehow she was alive and she would stay alive—and Magpie would live even though the barbarians had butchered his family. Anger and grief and shock churned through her as she strode through the forest. A startled grey wombat waddled out of her path.

She scavenged clothing and cloth scraps from the few unburned corpses and camp detritus. She avoided looking into the masks of death and ignored the crows while she collected a handful of useful discarded items—a bag, a broken-bladed hunting knife, a chipped blue pot, a good waterbag, three belts—and she put on a thick woollen vest taken from a man. Then she cupped her hands and called, ‘Whisper!’ The grey forest was silent. ‘Whisper!’ she yelled again and waited, but nothing came out of the mist. She scooped up her booty before she hurried back to Magpie.

The mist had cleared by the time she crawled into the shelter to check the boy. She covered him with torn tunics and a bloodied coat, reminding herself that she would wash them when he woke, and stroked his dark hair before she withdrew. The morning air was crisp as she crept to the creek to refill her waterbags. She filled the blue pot and went back to where she had kept her small fire alight the previous night and stared at the grey and black ashes. Her life was awash with puzzles. She studied her arms and legs for the scratches and bruises she expected to find after the brawl with the barbarians and discovered that her skin was unmarked. There was no evidence that the blow to her face had ever happened. She pulled down the neck of the vest to check the odd scar between her breasts. It was amber with a glassy sheen and when she touched it she felt a faint ridge at its edges, and her spine tingled like it did when she made fire last night—like it had when she fought off the barbarians. She could do things that weren’t possible. How?

She collected tinder and wood and constructed a simple frame to support the pot over the fire before she attempted to rekindle the flames by willing them into existence. Although the anticipated tingling was faint, she was conscious of it when it came and noticed that it
flashed along her spine and through to the scar on her chest. But flames didn’t appear in the tinder. She gazed forlornly at the small pile and refocussed. This time the flame flickered to life and she smiled, astonished at her handiwork as she organised the pot to boil the water for herbal tea.
Who am I really?
she wondered.

K
ing Future Royal, crown askew, slumped in the throne and stared angrily at Kneel Goodman. ‘The Kerwyn
refuse
to withdraw?’

Familiar with royal tantrums from the former Queen—Future’s murdered mother—Goodman repeated the message. ‘King Ironfist’s representative, Warlord Bloodsword, says that the Kerwyn army will remain at the River of Kings and the Kerwyn fleet will anchor in the bay until Your Royal Highness agrees to fulfil your obligations to the Kerwyn people.’

‘
My
obligations?’ Future blurted. ‘I didn’t make any promises of land to his people. He did that. I just asked him to help me defeat my mother.’ He descended the five steps to Goodman and noted how the Royal Intermediary who’d formerly served his mother was a handspan taller. ‘You can tell Bloodsword to ask his own king to give him land in Kerwyn. And I want you to scribe a letter to Ironfist, thanking him for his military support and reminding him that we had an agreement about the end to hostilities. Tell him that I will keep my end of the bargain as long as he honours the original agreement.’

‘Yes, Your Highness,’ Goodman said dutifully, and added, ‘and if Bloodsword refuses?’

Future met Goodman’s gaze. ‘Send for—what’s his name with the army in the south?’

‘Marchlord Cutter, Your Highness.’

Future nodded. ‘Cutter, yes,’ and rubbed his hands together. ‘Send a message to Cutter, congratulating him on his promotion to Warmaster—make that Royal Warmaster—and order him to march his army to Port of Joy for the security of the kingdom.’

‘Yes, Your Highness,’ Goodman said. ‘And the Coalition of Chiefs?’

Future met the Intermediary’s gaze again and stared silently, until he said, ‘I’ll deal with that matter. Do these other things. Port of Joy’s security is paramount and I won’t be threatened by Ironfist or his Warlord.’ Goodman bowed and left the Counsel Chamber, unconvinced that the new King knew what to do about the enemies to the south and knowing that the Kerwyn would not be bluffed. Future watched the Intermediary’s back until Goodman was out of the chamber before he beckoned to an Elite Guard and ordered him to fetch Seer Diamond. ‘Tell the Seer I’ll meet with him in the King’s Chambers,’ he instructed and dismissed the Guard.

The space was full of memories. His mother spent many times with him in this chamber, teaching him about his father and his family’s heritage. He patted the big carmine armchair that he loved to sit in while she dealt with matters of State or allowed her ladies-in-waiting to pander to her needs, and he sank into its padded depths, savouring the mustiness of the old fabric as he ran his fingers over the coarse weave. He’d wanted her to be his guardian once he’d shown her that he ought to be king. She wasn’t meant to be dead, not at the hands of a madman. Her body was still lying in the family crypt, awaiting an official funeral. The cycle of Sun was
coming to an end and the war had prevented the Royals’ Prayer annual celebration, so he would use the opportunity to inter his mother and associate her burial with the auspicious festival of victory for his family heritage, and it would have to be held within two or three days.

A knock presaged Seer Diamond’s arrival, and he entered with his colleague Weaver. Future rose from the chair, smiling, and welcomed the two. ‘Your Highness,’ said Diamond, bowing, ‘I hope that you don’t mind an old friend joining us.’

‘Weaver is always welcome,’ Future replied, nodding to the Seer who had accompanied him on the sea voyage from the Kerwyn capital. He steered the Seers to chairs near the open fireplace and invited them to sit. ‘My mother will be buried with all Royal preparations in the Royal crypt,’ he informed them. ‘This will be in two days when we will also celebrate Royals’ Prayer. Before you go to argue otherwise, don’t. You will do exactly as I have ordered.’

The King’s unexpected and abrupt instruction brought a moment of silence from the Seers. Weaver looked to Diamond who replied, ‘As the King requests,’ and bowed his head. Weaver, bemused by Diamond’s acquiescence, also bowed. ‘Now that Your Highness is inducted and settled into the new role, it would also be a timely opportunity to establish Jarudha’s New Order.’

‘When?’ Future asked.

‘After the late Queen’s funeral, Your Highness,’ said Diamond, ‘we could announce the measures to the general population. Plans for the new temples could be given to inspire the people, along with the promises for spiritual order.’

‘New temples?’

Diamond glanced at Weaver who wore a faint smile. ‘Yes, Your Highness. Jarudha’s New Order is
the precursor to the coming of Paradise and it is written in the scriptures that the One True King with vision and wisdom will know when it is right to build the temples throughout his land to proclaim Jarudha’s New Order.’

Future looked at Weaver, who bowed reverentially. ‘Am I that king?’ he asked Diamond.

‘You restored the Royal crown to the rightful hands of the male dynasty, Your Highness. You have liberated the people and you have done this with Jarudha’s blessing. How else could you have succeeded where others failed if not with Jarudha’s guiding hand?’

‘Others?’

Diamond’s brow knitted. ‘Your mother came to the throne thirty-seven years ago. How many times do you think that others tried to
remove
her from power? How many times did jealous northern kings and southern chieftains try to overrun the kingdom? How many attempts were made against her life while you were growing up to inherit the kingdom?’

‘I don’t know,’ Future admitted. ‘I mean, I always knew she was closely guarded and I always had Elite Guards wherever I went.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘And I know there were attempts to murder her. She even tried to convince me ten years ago that she suspected the Seers were behind the assassination attempts.’ Diamond raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t worry,’ Future said, ‘I knew otherwise. Why would Jarudha’s disciples condone murder?’

‘Why indeed?’ Diamond agreed. ‘Your astuteness is proof of your wisdom, Your Highness.’

‘So you will prepare for the Queen’s funeral?’

‘It is already started,’ Diamond reassured the King. ‘And the matter of the New Order?’

‘We will talk further during the next two days,’ said Future. ‘Since I have been charged with the
responsibility to bring change, I will accept that responsibility.’

‘Spoken with a true Royal heart and the faith of Jarudha, Your Highness,’ said Diamond, and both Seers bowed before the King.

The commission awarded to Cleaver Broadback by Warlord Bloodsword came directly from King Ironfist and Broadback was still in awe of his promotion as he marshalled his troops on Kangaroo Plains. In the living memory of all of the men from The-Mountain-of-Providence, no one from his village had ever been accorded the position of Hordemaster in the King’s armies—no one until now. It was a reward far exceeding his expectations of some land in the barbarian kingdom for his family, and he was almost overwhelmed. ‘You might be the Hordemaster, Cleaver,’ said his half-brother Lance Shortarms after Broadback received the commission, ‘but don’t go getting too high above yourself with the rest of us who grew up with you.’ The man in charge of the thundermakers clapped Broadback on the shoulder and laughed and Broadback’s companions celebrated with their newly promoted leader for two nights before the orders came to march away from the River of Kings.

The orders pleased Broadback. With ten thousand men to command as he wanted, he was to cleanse the barbarian countryside of all barbarians and barbarian habitations. Bloodsword spoke to him bluntly on the fate of the Shessian people. ‘The land we’ve taken is ours. The children you find can be sent west to the trade ports for market. Get rid of the old, the sick and the lame. Use what women you need to keep the men happy. Drive the rest east, beyond the mountains, and if they move too slowly cut them down. Burn their corpses and scatter their ashes to the four winds. The
Shessians are no use to us—not even as slaves. Make the land clean for our people to settle and you will be revered as a hero!’ Broadback understood his task and relished it. Best of all, it took him away from the dull waiting in the ranks drawn up along the river. Like his men, he was spoiling for a chance to ransack the barbarian city and being made to wait while the two kings negotiated frustrated him. Waiting was no longer his problem. He had barbarians to hunt and he had men eager to hunt them.

Blade Cutter’s priorities were dramatically altered when he learned that Port of Joy was under virtual siege from the Kerwyn barbarians. His wife and children were in the city. To also be greeted with the title of Royal Warmaster confused him. ‘How am I suddenly Warmaster?’ he asked the messenger.

The red-faced young man who brought the message from the Royal Intermediary shook his head and replied, ‘Intermediary Goodman simply sent this message along with these papers, Warmaster. Everything is signed by His Highness, King Future.’

‘Then Warmaster Waters is dead?’

‘I think he was killed when the barbarians won the battle for Kangaroo Plains, Warmaster.’

Cutter dismissed the messenger and sent word with his guards to call his Shieldmasters to an urgent meeting. Then he climbed a low ridge fifty paces above his tent to overlook the campsite and the next valley where a warband of the Coalition of Chiefs’ warriors were refusing to capitulate after four days of intensive fighting. The late afternoon sunlight gave the gum tree canopies gold highlights and splashed patches of gold across the shallow hillsides. A magpie warbled to a mate in the branches above Cutter. Thin white campfire smoke trickled towards the sky.
We have a beautiful
country,
Cutter mused. The new orders took him back to Port of Joy and within reach of his family, and that raised his hopes, but the unexpected promotion to Warmaster was a mixed blessing because it sealed his personal fate. There would be no leaving the army now to live with his family. He would be constantly on duty, the sole person responsible for the security of the kingdom. He saw the first Shieldmaster walking up the lower slope towards his tent for the meeting. There were decisions to make—crucial ones. He had to give the Coalition warriors enough of a deterrent to discourage them from renewing their push north, while he marched the bulk of the army to Port of Joy. He needed to leave behind three or four Shields to fool the enemy here and that would mean selecting his most cunning and reliable Shieldmasters for that duty. The rest—some fifteen thousand soldiers, five thousand of them mounted—would go with him to fight the Kerwyn.
Warmaster Cutter,
he considered with pride as he descended to meet his men.

‘At least the King is amenable to his duties,’ said Onyx as he lowered his wineglass.

‘But King Ironfist is putting everything in jeopardy with his treachery,’ Diamond replied angrily. ‘Silverlight’s information confirms the Kerwyn intention to force Future to capitulate.’

‘Should we be concerned?’ asked Weaver. ‘The Kerwyn king is a convert. We’d just have to get him to do what Future has promised. Jarudha’s Paradise will come regardless.’

‘Any man who is willing to openly cheat another, like Ironfist has conned Future, can’t be trusted,’ said Diamond.

‘“Damned are they whose words are as lasting as misty breath on a cold morning”,’ said Vale, closing the
book he was reading. ‘The Prophet Alun offers us wise caution.’

‘Scripture is our guide,’ said Diamond. ‘We risk losing all that we’ve worked for if we don’t support our new ally.’ He turned to Seer Reason, who was standing at the door to the Inner Chamber in the Jarudhan Temple, and said, ‘Bring in our guest.’

The assembled Seers turned their attention to the door. Reason opened it and Vision entered, moving slowly, as if he had to concentrate carefully on getting his feet in sequence, and he had a vague expression with glassy eyes. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ asked Onyx.

‘Patience,’ Diamond said. ‘Is he ready?’ he asked Reason.

‘Yes,’ the Seer replied. ‘Ask him.’

Diamond approached Vision and said, ‘Can you hear me?’ Vision turned his face towards Diamond, his eyes struggling to focus, but he nodded. Diamond glanced at Reason who also nodded. ‘Show us your Blessing, Vision,’ Diamond instructed and stepped back.

Vision raised his arms and turned his palms upward. He muttered a prayer—‘Let there be the beauty of light in my presence, oh Jarudha the Merciful,’ and the Seers were astonished to see an orb of light shimmer in the space above Vision’s upturned palms. ‘Rise, oh great light,’ he said, and the orb rose to the ceiling of the chamber, spreading its pure white light wider, chasing the shadows into the recesses and under the table and chairs.

‘By all that Jarudha professes!’ Onyx gasped.

‘How?’ asked Vale, staring in wonder.

Diamond waved a hand and asked Vision, ‘What else is possible with your Blessing?’

Vision’s blank face registered a faint smile at the corners of his mouth and he quoted scripture from
The Word.
‘“And Jarudha saw that the world was cold and
dark when the light was past and night come, so He came to the Old Ones and said,
I will give you fire to warm your darkness,
and lo!“’ Flames erupted from his palms and the Seers were stunned by the miracle.

‘The coming of Paradise is here!’ said Onyx. ‘The promises in
The Word
are made real in this prophet.’

Diamond nodded to Reason again and the Seer stepped forward, and said, ‘Perhaps Vision is the new prophet.’ He looked at his colleagues, gauging their awe. ‘Vision is the son of Truth and we all know that Truth sought the Conduit to amplify his Blessing. The Conduit was lost with the death of the Abomination, but not our hope for Jarudha’s Paradise.’ He reached inside his blue robe and withdrew a long, thin glass phial. When he held it up in the crystal white light of the floating sphere the Seers saw that it was half filled with a purple powder.

‘Euphoria?’ Onyx ventured.

Reason nodded. ‘Euphoria, yes. The hallucinogenic drug that’s used among the city’s poor and disenchanted. Of course, the idle rich play with it too. Queen Sunset was fond of it. It releases the mind’s inhibitions, unshackles the chains that tell us we are simple and earthbound creatures, and lets us believe anything is possible.’ He passed the phial to Diamond, who passed it to Onyx. ‘When it is mixed with water it turns amber in colour and tastes like—like grapes.’