Knight's Dawn (26 page)

niceties with you. Ive come to warn you. Theres an eagle on the way. An eagle? An eagle which is not an eagle. You love speaking in riddles, dont you? What does that mean? Kaff has sent a magician, a man called Olgath, to kill you. Hes a warrior, as well as a magician. Hell chop you into little bits. Soldier nodded. Dont sound so pleased with it all. Well, I cant help thinking this is the end of the track for you. Look at you. Dressed in scarecrows clothes, a rusty old sword in your hand! What have you been up to? And wheres that idiot rogue Skagg? Did you run out of food and eat him? At the moment hes probably being taken down from the gates of a tyrants mansion and feeling very sorry for himself. But never mind him. Where will I meet this Olgath? You say hes a warrior? His mother was a washer-woman and he has her brawn, if his fathers brains. Some of those washer-women! Have you seen their meaty arms? Anyway, where? Search me. All I know is hes on his way. I had to fly like mad to keep ahead of him. Just keep your eyes and ears alert. In the meantime, Im hungry. Ive delivered the message. Youve been warned. Theres nothing else I can do. He looked around him. Theres not much to eat out here, is there? Im not used to chipping through permafrost with my beak. I must look for some old squirrel caches. Once the bird had flown, through the stark network of bare black branches that tangled the sky, Soldier let out a heavy sigh. What a load was on his shoulders. Yet, there was no telling that it would all be for the good. He was here to persuade someone to do a good deed. That was not always rewarded. He made himself a fire, and thawed and cooked some edible roots which he dug from the ground with the sword. This work caused the weapon to break at the tip, further depressing the wandering man. Fortified, though hardly satisfied, Soldier continued his bleak journey through the woods until he came to the shores of a vast frozen lake ringed by forests. On the other side of the lake he could see a small mountain in the lea of some giant mountains seven of them - which had their tops somewhere high above the level of the clouds. The shadows of these seven massive and brooding mountains fell across the lake, making it colder and more foreboding than anywhere Soldier had yet seen. He gathered some firewood, made a bundle, and strapped it to his back. Then he stepped out, onto the frozen surface, into the cold, cold shadow of the homes of the gods. A chill entered his heart, icier than any winter weather he had experienced thus far. That freezing shadow penetrated him as a frozen mist, reaching down into the depths of his spirit and causing him the utmost despair. Would he even see the other side of this white lake, let alone find the path to the wizard who might cure his wife? He walked. He walked all day and all night. In the morning he guessed he was about halfway across, though the mountains seemed no nearer in aspect. No sun rose. It remained a grey, frozen world with a marble sky, utterly forbidding in every way. At noon an eagle flew over his head. It landed on the ice in front of him. In a moment it had transformed into the shape of a muscled warrior. Olgath had arrived, fully armed and armoured. Soldier blinked with eyelashes glittering with frost. His face and the backs of his hands, and his feet, had gone beyond being painful, into a numbness. He felt the heat of his hearts fury enter them now, warm them into a tingling hurt. His blood rose in temperature. Who was this barbarian, to come flying in over the vast spaces which Soldier had had to conquer on foot? Soldier parted his lips and he croaked. Get out of my way, oaf! I have a hatred in me which heats my brain to the level of activity enough to stun your belief. Have you not heard of my battle with the dog-warrior? I slew him in a great frenzy which had even the red pavilions looking at the ground, a sickness gripping their hearts. I shall unleash that same anger on you, if you do not step aside and let me pass. Olgath snorted, swishing his sword. You are not even armoured, and that sword looks likely to fall apart after the first blow. Soldier looked down at himself. It was true. He was entirely vulnerable. He had no protection. On realizing how unequal the fight was going to be, he retired a hundred yards, removed his pack of kindling and firewood, and thought a little. He was a soldier and had a soldiers brain. It might not be the most intricate instrument in his body, but it did serve him at times like this. A soldier always makes the most of his environment. If he is without weapons in a rocky place, he makes himself a slingshot, or uses heavy stones as missiles. If he is in a wooded place, he makes himself a servicable spear. What did he have about him at this moment? Ice. A whole lake of ice. This had to be of some use to him. With his back to Olgath, who stood waiting for his challenge to be taken up, Soldier went down on his knees. Using the broken sword he began to carve largish plates from the ice. He found that the idea of imminent battle had raised his energy levels. He was full of zeal, full of the fire of combat. This gave him the strength to do what an hour ago he would not have been able to do. Within a short while he had cut himself some plates of armour out of the sheet ice. He made thongs from torn hems of his clothing, bored holes in the plates, and hung the frost-fashioned armour from his body. Thus attired, the hero then turned to the villain, and called him out. Oaf I called you and oaf you are. You have the brains of a gnat and the testicles of an ant ... Olgath answered in kind. This kind of taunting might go on for some time before any blow was struck. But both warriors were eager to feel sword bite flesh. This was a cold, strange land, this place of the lake in the shadow of the gods, and neither of them had the desire to prolong their presence in the region. Lets get it over with, snarled Olgath. The first blow was struck by Olgath on that glistening afternoon out on the frozen lake. Chips of ice flew up as the blade creased into Soldiers ice-armour. Birds flew up in the far trees at the sound of Olgaths loud attack-oath, which echoed round the lake, forests and mountains. Bears turned in their sleep. Ermine stopped, startled, on their rabbit-tracking quests. Wolves turned from high crags and wondered. There were eyes on these two dark figures out on the ice. Animal eyes. Perhaps wizard eyes. But no human witnessed this combat. Soldiers furious blows began to rain on the metal armour of his opponent, causing dents to appear in various places. Olgath staggered back under the onslaught. The magician now admitted to himself that he had not expected such a terrible attack. Soldier, he realised, was a veteran when it came to single combat. His footwork, his eyes, his use of the weapon all served to announce that this was not new territory to him. Olgath now doubted what Captain Kaff had told him, about Soldiers effeteness, his supposed ineptness. Kaff had likened him to a woman. Olgath gave as good as he got, forcing Soldier back on his heels under a similar furious flurry of blows. Both men seemed fairly evenly matched. Soldier at one point had an opportunity to stab Olgath in the throat, but failed to make it a killing blow because of the blunt sword end. He cursed to high heaven and beyond, thinking he should have selected a better weapon to steal from the Old Mans pile. The battle on the ice went on for the rest of the day. In the early evening, the raven arrived, and frustrated both combatants by flying around and between them offering advice and encouragement to Soldier. Flap, flap. Watch it! Watch his left hand, Soldier! Hes going to punch you. Thats it. Step back, parry, thrust, no, no, slash. Oh, youve missed him. Keep your balance on your back foot. Watch his eyes. You can always tell their next move by their eyes . . . Flap, flap, flap, flap. Eventually both men had had enough of the ravens constant chatter. By silent mutual consent they both took a pause in the fighting, while Soldier remonstrated with the bird. Look, please go away. But I want to help. Hes a crafty one. Youre just being a nuisance. Well, theres gratitude for you. Soldier shook his head. I know you mean well, raven, but youre not helping. Youre liable to get me killed ... Or me, interjected Olgath. . . . and if Im going to die Id rather it was my own fault and not yours. All right, all right, Ill just stand over there and watch. Id rather you went away, said Soldier. Thats not fair. I flew a long way to see this fight. I think Im entitled to spectators rights. Well - so long as you dont fly around or shout anything. I wont fly around, said the raven, ruffling his wings, but I cant promise not to shout, because I might get carried away. What if he sneaks up behind you while youre not looking? Ill have to warn you. There wouldnt be a choice. I think I can take care of myself. Ha! However, they left it at that, and the fight continued into a crystalline night, with the stars providing a frosty heaven, while the world below twinkled just as brilliantly. The wolves came out with the darkness and howled Soldiers name. The sound echoed round the hills. He could not hear the word clearly enough to recognise it, especially above the noise of clashing metal. It got colder as the night went on. The pair were now becoming exhausted and frequently had to pause to gather breath and strength. The length of their intervals was becoming more and more extended with every halt of the fight. Under the mild glare of a blue moon they battled. Finally, as dawn came up in a grey and forbidding coat to remind them that another day was due to be ushered in, they stopped altogether. Soldier went back and collected his bundle of firewood while the raven flew off and returned with tinder. Olgath changed himself into an eagle, flew around the hills until he spotted a hare, stooped, scooped, and returned with a meal. They made a fire out on the ice and roasted the hare for breakfast. As Olgath chomped away on a haunch, having returned to human shape, he voiced what was in both their minds. I think weve fought enough. Clearly were both evenly matched. Were not going to get anywhere like this. Soldier nodded. I agree, but then this was not my idea in the first place. What are you going to tell your employers? Olgath licked the hot fat running off his fingers and let out a sigh. I dont think Ill bother. Im not going back. Ill fly over to Carthaga, over the Cerulean Sea, and settle there. Its warmer anyway. They dont have winters like these on that coast. He stretched out a hand. Good luck, Soldier. It was an honour to do battle with you. Youre a better fighter than you look. When I first saw you, I thought, this skinny runt? Ill cut off his legs and use them to walk home afterwards. But I see how wrong I was. The raven whistled. Listen to it! Mutual admiration guild. Well, so long as you two have stopped short of kissing and cuddling each other ... But they hadnt. They hugged, kissed each others rough cheeks, shook hands again. Then Olgath once more transformed himself into an eagle. He took the remains of the carcass of the hare in his talons and went aloft. The last Soldier saw of him was the magnificent raptor with its powerful wings, flying over the dark forests of the morning. What a wonderful bird, murmured Soldier, watching the eagle disappear from sight. What a wonderful bird, squeaked the raven, mimicking Soldier in high, sarcastic tones. Thats the trouble with you humans, you always admire brawn over brain. What does it matter that a bird has a big wing-span, or huge talons, or glides on thermals like a god? There are those of us who are sharp-witted and who could fly circles round those thugs of the sky. Soldier turned and grinned again. Of course. I owe you a lot, raven. I wont forget. Now, I must continue my quest. Be off with you. Ill see you at the city, when I return. If you return. As you wish. Soldier got to his feet, removed the ice armour, and wearily continued his journey under the oppressive eyes of the gods.

Chapter Twenty-Four

On the other side of the lake Soldier found the path up the mountain. As quickly as winter had descended, summer arrived. It came in as a hot wind, sweeping down the steep slopes and melting all ice and snow in its way. The sun came out, blazing hot, to parch the hills. He avoided the trees when huge icicles began dropping as giant spikes to bury their points in the ground beneath. There was such a cracking, creaking and groaning from the world around him that it seemed as if the earth was coming apart at the seams. Great slabs of ice slid rumbling down the mountainside, shooting dangerously past him like sledges, to crash into rock pillars and stacks under ledges and rims. Hissing fissures appeared, from out of which steam and gases rose, filling the air with oppressive fumes and decorating the rocks with yellow-green stains. Tendrils of heat licked from these chasms, and occasionally hideous creatures, neither afraid nor hostile, crawled from the depths to slink away before Soldiers approach. The skin of these creatures was repulsive, as if they had not seen air for a thousand years, and their sad glare as they looked once over their shoulders before vanishing into the morning was reproachful and demanded apology. Below him the bright blue waters of the lake appeared as the ice melted. Floodwater from the snows raced joyously down rocky stream beds to shoot out from high crags, spilling over into the lake. Everywhere the water was rushing through cracks and creases in the earth, to find its way finally into valleys throughout the whole region. Before the noon sun appeared, blood-red, sizzling above his head, the world had appeared in all its earthy, watery colours, through the snows. Just when I had started to climb, panted Soldier, now with a raging thirst. Someone up there doesnt like me. He drank from a clear, tumbling stream. Mountain goats scrambled away from his approach. There were beds of garnets at the bottom of the stream. He reached in and grasped a handful, intending at a later date to make a necklace for his beloved Layana. Wild sheep jostled each other on the path as he continued to ascend. Animals and birds had appeared from everywhere to meet the instant summer. It was as if they had waited on sprung heels for the first sign of the wind, then leapt out into the warm air. Lush grass had appeared, sweet new leaves sprouted from bushes, buds popped open. Insects arrived in their millions, most of them gnats and midges. Frogs croaked and sent out long tongues to gather them in. Fish leapt in the rivers and streams, silver bars under the sun. A profusion of mammals rustled in the grasses beside the mountain paths. At one point where the track faded, he was lost, but he found some talking rocks. Where do I go? he asked them. There is a stone called the Needle of Destiny, further up. You must follow the stream now, for it is here the path ends. Go to the stone and rap on it with your knuckles. Someone will answer. Soldier thanked the rocks and did as he was bid. He found the needle, just as they had said. It was a roughly-hewn obelisk, four-sided, with a blunt point. There were markings and hieroglyphics on three sides of the stone. The fourth was virgin blank, as if waiting for an imprint of some kind: perhaps the biography of some unheard-of king? He struck the stone with his knuckles. Instantly the earth opened before him, and Soldier went down some steps into what appeared to be a cellar below the needle. He could not explain it afterwards after he had surfaced again but the cellar was like another country. Once he was standing on the flagstone floor he could not see the walls. They lay beyond some distant horizon. There were seas down there, and mountains, plains and valleys. There were great rivers, and fields of wildflowers. There were bears in the forests, and whales in the ocean that he crossed in a living ship which he knew would bleed if he were to cut it. The ship pulsed and breathed below his feet. He stood on its deck, its three sails swollen and full like the breasts and belly of a pregnant woman, and let the cool wind flow through his hair. Other vessels passed his own, each carrying a single creature on its deck. Sometimes it was a mortal. Sometimes it was an animal. Less often it was a mythical creature, like a griffin or a basilisk. Always their eyes were on some distant place and they ignored any attempt at communication. Some appeared as if they had been sailing for years, perhaps centuries, seeking something they wished to find. Once or twice the ship which passed him was empty of any passenger and on these occasions the craft bellowed painfully like a wounded beast, its hollow-horn cry ringing faintly over evening isles. Soldier remained standing on his own deck, his hand on the warm, veined mast which bent and swayed with each new tack they took, until he had been deposited on the white sands of a distant shore, covered with blanched seashells and bleached driftwood, along with the bones of ancient creatures not yet known, not yet born, not yet found anywhere else on the earth. Long lines of surf went booming down the strand, tossing yet more of the oceans treasures up on the white sands. Here he met a black-skinned beachcomber in a faded robe. This wise-faced and magical fellow had a long, flowing beard and hair which billowed about his head. There were no sandals on his feet. He carried a staff made of ebony and his eyes were as intelligent and promising as the evening summer skies. His countenance carried peace and good will in its features. Soldier asked the man if he were a wizard. There was a slow nod in return. Then Soldier explained that he had travelled far and long in search of someone who could cure ills. The beachcomber replied that he had that power. He then asked Soldier for his wish and Soldier, not expecting the question so soon, had to think of the answer very quickly. My wife and her sister have a terrible affliction, he said. Can you cure them of it? You are permitted to plead for only one. Soldier was tired and confused. I dont understand. You can request a cure for your wife, or her sister, but not both. One wish only. Or one question to be answered. The choice is yours. You may think about it. Soldier thought about it only briefly. As a citizen of Guthrum the responsible thing to do would be to ensure the ruler of the land was sane. But Soldier was not a pragmatic man, he was an emotional one. He loved his wife and wanted her well, no matter what the wider consequences were. In his mind there was no choice. The queen would have to wait for her time. I wish you to cure my wife, Princess Layana, of the affliction which causes her so much distress. It is already done, replied the beachcomber, and went on his way, examining the bounty of the ocean which the storm tide had scattered along the beach. Soldier called after him, Can you tell me who I am and where I come from? but the beachcomber ignored his cries. One wish only. Or one question. Soldier threaded his way through piles of seaweed and driftwood to his living ship. Once again he was taken across high seas, through beautiful malachite islands which called to him in plaintive tones to step on their shores. He ignored their cries, desperate instead to return to his own home. A golden horn appeared in the heavens, his own name etched upon its brilliant surface. Once he had landed again, and climbed the steps back up to the obelisk, he had forgotten the name on the golden horn, and was as before, cursed with a blank mind and an empty memory. Standing by the obelisk again he was minded to return to the world below, to find his name again. He knocked again on the stone - knocked until his knuckles were raw and running with blood but no stair appeared the second time. With a heavy heart he began to descend the mountain, down past the talking rocks, to the shores of the lake below. Finding no wood or rope to fashion himself a craft, he looked along the shore line for some other boat-building material. There he found a mass of elvers, squirming in sargasso weed. He made a raft of tangled eels, which took him, writhing and knotting, over the lake to the far side. At the end of two weeks he was again in the cavern of the dwarfs, having unlocked the secret of wizards mountain. Spagg was there, feeling very sorry for himself. Look at these hands, these feet, he said to Soldier. Stigmata! Im stigmatised for life. He showed Soldier the holes in his extremities. Soldier nodded. We will make Caezor pay for these crimes to you. Do it for yourself, said Xnople, not this moaning weak- No, no. I cannot do it for myself. I violated the lords wife. I deserved to be hunted down. Xnople snorted. From what I know of the lady, it was probably the other way around. She is a temptress, that one. There are not many like her amongst her sex, but that particular enchantress has brought many a man to his knees. Some say she is not a mortal lady at all, but a wicked fairy, who seduces wandering knights without mercy. Soldier sighed. Well, I must fight this Gaezor in any case. He tortured my servant. Im not your servant, retorted Spagg. And I think we should be on our way home, rather than messing around here. Leave this so-called lord to stew. Lets use shanks pony to get away from here and back to our own people. But Soldier would hear none of this talk. He girded his loins, took up his broken sword, and went out of the cavern. He left the wood, and trotted down the meadow which led to the manor. Spagg followed at a distance. Come out and fight, Caezor! Soldier yelled. I want my scabbard and my brigandine returned to me. Something then occurred to Soldier, and he turned to speak to Spagg. What does Caezor know of the brigandine? Why, everything, replied Spagg. He tortured the truth out of me. I told him that if a man wore the armoured jacket, it would keep him immune from blows. He knows if he puts it on hell be invulnerable. Thanks, muttered Soldier, sarcastically. Now I shall be fighting an unbeatable foe. Youre welcome. Soldier remained undaunted. He repeated his challenge. At the third call he saw the lady Cresside appear behind the crenellations on the manor-houses flat roof. She stood there, the muslin from her wimple flying in the breeze, and stared down at Soldier with contempt in her eyes. My husband is coming, she sneered, to cut off your head and spike it on the manors gateposts. At that moment the gates of the manor were flung open by unseen hands. Soldier stood, legs apart, and braced himself for battle on the meadow. He was exhausted with his journey, and his previous combat, but there was no help for it. He had to stand his ground and fight an invincible enemy. The scent of camomile and myrtle wafted from the courtyard within. Medlar trees were visible, growing in circles of earth set amongst the flags. From the interior, Caezor, armoured in the brigandine, with drawn sword and plumed helm, came riding out with the intention of cutting Soldier down. By the time he reached Soldier, Caezor was already dead. His faithful charger continued to thunder towards the stalwart outlander. The lethal poison in the tips of a thousand tiny needles, each no bigger than a stinging-nettle hair, had penetrated his skin. A fatal dose had entered the lords bloodstream and caused his heart to seize on contact. Such a bolt of pain had gone through him that Caezor had gripped sword hilt and reins with iron fingers. He sat so stiff and upright in his saddle that his mistress did not know he had departed this life for places unknown. She believed him to be still alive and determined to ride down his treacherous guest. The charger bolted out of control, past the standing Soldier, who stood and watched its progress, amazed at his good fortune. Husband! shrieked Cresside. Where are you going? Soldier and Spagg later found the horse wandering at the edge of the forest, its reins dangling in the dirt. Caezors grey, bloated body was discovered further on in the wood, caught in the fork of a dead hornbeam. Removing the brigandine, they found the inside of the velvet-padded armour covered in small droplets of wet blood, looking not unlike the hips and haws which decorate rose briars and hawthorns in the autumn. Clearly it was this garment which had killed the lord of the manor, with its deadly mass of tiny pricks. Soldier realised that he had had a lucky escape, and his heart was heavy with the knowledge that his wife - or someone using her name had tried to murder him. Would you look at that, announced Spagg, in horror. That couldve been you or me, Soldier. The poison had caused the corpse of Caezor to swell in death, and it now lay like a huge distended fungus on the floor of the forest. Soldier found his scabbard and his good sword, Xanandra, on the body. He took them. The brigandine he left lying open on the chest of the former lord. Spagg took the dead mans purse, half-full of gold coins, and a jewelled dagger. He even plucked some silver buttons from his under-waistcoat, putting them in the purse with the coins. There was a opal brooch on the mans velvet cap and a pearl earring in his left lobe. Spagg offered these to Soldier, who declined, and thus they too ended up in the purse. This will pay for my trip out here into this hell-ground of fairies and monsters, said Spagg, with some satisfaction, and for these holes in my hands and feet. Soldier did not blame the market trader for robbing the corpse. Caezor had treated him badly and deserved to lose his treasures. Perhaps they might have gone to the dead mans wife, but she was rich already, not only having her grand house, but all the wealth which lay within. The dwarfs came out of their holes in the ground and spat on their former master. Some danced a jig around his body. They praised Soldier and Spagg, calling them heroes. Be merciful, said Soldier, feeling contrite. Take his remains back to his wife, so that she might give him a proper funeral and burial. Do not desecrate the corpse, nor mutilate it in any way. Even a man such as this needs to be respected in death, and the feelings of his wife taken to account. But the dwarfs heeded not his words. They called Cresside a whore and a false wife, and twisted and tore Caezors arms from their sockets. They hacked away his legs. These limbs they bundled up like firewood gathered from the ground and threw them into a nearby pond. His head they ripped from his body and hung in a the strong net of a fairyland spiders web. They took the torso out into the meadow and sent it rolling, accompanied by a great cheer, down the hill like a giant egg. Gresside stood on the roof of the manor house and watched all this with a grim face, her thin lips like a scarlet scar across her pale features. Then she turned and left, to be seen no more by the two travellers. Soldier went from that place with a heavy heart, took Caezors horse for his own, and let Spagg