Celtika (20 page)

‘Another raiding party came from the south. I think they were Trinovanda. About thirty of them, very young. They stayed at a distance from the fort but killed some of our cattle in full view. Cunomaglos sent a champion. The matter was settled quickly, with fists, wrestling and skinning knives. Cunomaglos took four horses in exchange for the dead cattle, then allowed the war band to take their dead champion away. The head was not worth taking, he roared at them. But it had been a good contest, and the Trinovanda, if they are not part of the desertion of the land, should be reckoned seriously. They live far away, but they are probing other territory.

‘After that, we had a month of peace. And then the emissaries from Brennos came.

‘They came at night, five men, weary from the long ride from the coast. Their torches were so bright they clearly intended peace, and I opened the gates and admitted them. They were rank, wet and hungry. They had been recruiting along the river. They had heard of you, Urtha, and your
uthiin
horsemen. They were eager to talk to you, they said. They were also intrigued by what they called Shadow Hero Land. Their leader was called Orimodax.

‘We set a good meal for them, considering the lateness of their arrival, mostly boiled pig, salt fish, soft bread and crisp apples, and a good flagon of wine. They were courteous at the feast; they refused the best cuts of meat, though I insisted they share in them, and when Cunomaglos arrogantly challenged them on their deeds in battle they simply stared at him, though Orimodax said, “That will make an interesting discussion for later.”

‘And though they continued eating, there was something unpleasant in his calmness.

‘Halfway through the meal, Orimodax offered me a spear as thanks for the hospitality. I shall give it to you later. It has an interesting inscription on its shaft.

‘As soon as they were refreshed and relaxed I explained that the man they sought was on a dream quest. I didn’t tell him how foolish you had been to even think of it, nor what madness had descended from the air at the moment of your birth to make you a man of such selfish judgement. I made you sound better than you are. You were away in the north, that’s all they needed to know.

‘All Orimodax said was, “That’s a shame. There’s a bigger quest gathering under Brennos and the three clans, and he’ll have to miss it.” Orimodax cut more meat from the carcass on the table, then looked around him. “But there’s no reason for the rest of you to miss this chance of glory.”

‘No man here is free to leave the fort,’ I advised him, and perhaps I should have understood the scowl on Cunomaglos’s face better, but I didn’t. I assumed it was because I was suggesting the weakness of the guard on the stronghold, which indeed I was. I added, “Not until Urtha returns,” and hoped that this courteous stranger would be satisfied with that. He certainly seemed to be.

‘“I understand,” he said. “When Urtha returns, tell him that we are recruiting men from across the northern world to join the three clans. We are of the Tectosages; the others are of the Tolistobagii and the Trocmii. You’ll have heard of us, I imagine. We have certainly heard of you. We welcome all tribes, though there are restrictions and rules of behaviour which you will have to adhere to if you choose to join us. Our three leaders are Brennos, Bolgios and Achichoros, three great warlords, three fine champions. We are gathering the army along the southern banks of forest-edged Daan herself, the most wonderful river in the land. A thousand offerings have been made to her and she sings of success and triumph, of great battle and great glory; of great treasure to be found in the singing earth itself, in the heart of the caverns of a hot land where for all of known time a price has been paid by powerful men to see their future.”

‘He had our full attention now. He went on, “Among that treasure is hidden something that belongs to all of us, something that was stolen during the first wasteland. Brennos will reclaim it. He needs ten times a thousand warriors. Make your own ways there, when you can, and if you’re in time you will be welcome to join the Quest. I would personally welcome you among my own Tectosages. We could continue that discussion…”

‘He looked meaningfully, but with a smile, at dark-faced Cunomaglos, who nodded his head in acknowledgement of the compliment.

‘I thought about what Orimodax had said, then agreed to let you know just as soon as you returned from the north.’

*   *   *

Orimodax and his men were quartered comfortably at the end of the long evening. Ambaros, guardian of the stronghold, went warily and worriedly to bed. He had every cause for concern. He awoke in the early dawn to the sound of horses leaving the fort. Bleary-eyed and dizzy with wine he stumbled from the king’s lodge to see Cunomaglos and the rest of the
uthiin
riding through the open gates, fully armed and equipped, kicking their dark horses into a canter, following the men from the Tectosages. Only a few older men remained behind. The fort had been deserted.

Ambaros ran to the stables and untethered his own horse, then rode like the wind after the deserters, catching them at the river, where the road to the coast began. He rounded on Cunomaglos, stopping the young man in his tracks, pacing his horse up and down in front of him while the others watched.

‘Is this how you repay Urtha’s loyalty? Is this how you exercise his trust in you?’

‘I counselled him against leaving,’ said the other man angrily. ‘This is how I serve something greater.’

‘Yourself! Your greed!’

‘What else did Urtha serve if not himself? If not his greed? And all for a dream! Well, he should have been here. This quest of the three clans is a dream that will never come again. Orimodax has described enough of it, and what can be achieved, to persuade me that every man worth his shield would want to be a part of the greatest raid in the world. This will be spoken of and sung about when the sky
itself
lowers on the land. We
have
to go. And you have to stay. You are only half the man you were, Ambaros, but you have twice the wits. You’ll find a way to hold the fort.’

The line moved on. The ten
uthiin
stared hard at Ambaros as they passed, blank, hard faces, utterly without remorse or regret at their treachery. These men had once been his friends. It was as if he no longer knew them. They had dreams in their eyes, like a winter’s mist; they could see nothing but the unknown, and that unknown glittered with gold. Ambaros would have flung his short spear, but he was in no doubt that Cunomaglos would have flung it back with greater accuracy. And there were the children to think of.

Ambaros was shaking his head as he recounted this act of treachery, a desertion that I imagined was as bad, in his mind, as any wasteland. ‘After that, the tragedy,’ he finished. ‘We guarded the walls as best we could, and made provision for a retreat into hiding. We expected raids, perhaps a night attack from Ghostland itself—the dead have come against us in the past; your stronghold was built too close to one of their paths, Urtha.

‘But I swear on my shield, the riders that night came from the place
beyond
Ghostland. They were our Shadow Heroes! Out of the night, from the Beautiful Realm, they crossed the divide on a raid of incomprehensible fury. Among them was a woman, urging them on, her face veiled, her movements quick, her voice harsh and strange. Why would they do such a thing? We have all seen them from a distance, we’ve all stood on Morndun Hill and looked into the Bright Land. We’ve admired the horses, the gleam of armour, the flash of weapons, the turreted enclosures, the shimmering woods. Why would they turn against us? We stood no chance at all. I’m sorry for your wife and son…’

Urtha raised a pacifying hand to the older man. ‘I’m sorry for your daughter and your grandson. I know you would have fought like a madman to save them.’

Jason and Ullanna had listened patiently, understanding very little. When I had summarised Ambaros’s dreadful tale for them, Jason said with a shrug, ‘If this is that second wasteland that so worries you, then it was started by the man Brennos. This Dog Lord, who left you open to attack, would have gone with Orimodax anyway. You would still have been abandoned. This sounds like modern greed, not ancient prophesy, this desertion.

‘You’re back, now. You can reverse what has happened. You’re the king, after all.’

Urtha acknowledged Jason’s optimism. ‘I can’t reverse the death of my family and friends,’ he said grimly. ‘Though I shall certainly avenge them. Even my dogs turned against me. My three favourite hounds.’

‘
Your
dogs,’ Ambaros said with surprise. ‘No. They were the only three which stayed true when the others were bewitched and turned into killers. Ulgerd tried to protect your son Urien, but the boy thought he was being attacked and stabbed the dog. Even so, Ulgerd fought against the others, but he failed and Urien was unable to leave the house. I fear he’s dead. But Gelard and Maglerd carried Kymon and little Munda in their jaws, escaping up the valley. I followed. We were the only three to escape at that time, though these few sorry others limped after.’

Urtha was looking shocked, almost enraged. ‘The dogs saved my children’s lives?’

‘Carried them for hours,’ the older man said. ‘Saved them and made them safe, as if they’d been touched by magic. I’ll take you to them. Each child has a powerful protector in those dogs of yours.’

Urtha shook his head in despair. ‘No. I’d believed them to be killers. Their heads snarl silently from the gates. But for that act of misjudgement I’ll make amends.’

Ambaros was distressed. ‘You’ve killed them? Each day, after the attack, those dogs waited by the jetties, watching for you. It’s as if they could smell you coming home. They pined and cried for you, Urtha. They were ashamed of what had happened, that they’d been unable to save more than two.’

Urtha shook his head woefully. ‘I took that shame for guilt. I’ll make amends. But now, take me to my children!’

The older man hesitated only for a moment before saying, ‘I’ll take you to see them. That’s all I promised. They are two days’ ride away. Bring only who you need, we’re short of horses.’

Urtha asked for me and Ullanna. Two of Ambaros’s riders would come as well. Niiv and Jason returned to Argo, not without some argument on the part of the woman.

When we were packed and ready, Ambaros led the way from the camp to the river, but instead of turning back towards Argo, he cantered along a narrow track through the woods, going deeper into the hills.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Fierce Eyes

The tired, slack-eyed horse that was supplied to me for the ride was not just an abandoned grazer, too old for Cunomaglos and the
uthiin
to have taken with them, too useful, still, to sacrifice, but was also small. For a tall man like myself, the experience of riding the animal was only a marginal improvement on that groin-straining journey by reindeer. I do not like riding with my toes dragging in thistles. I was soon at the rear of the small, straggling column of riders and complaining to Urtha.

‘I thought you
keltoi
were
proud
of your horses.’

‘We are. The best horses come from the land of the
bolgae,
over the sea. We often sail there and steal them. We breed them and train them more for turning ability than speed, if they’re to be chariot horses, and more for stamina than strength if they’ll be ridden to raid. But when they’re older, we let them roam free. They’ll always find their own grove to die. To come across a horse-shrine is considered very lucky.’

‘This one’s already got a grove in mind, I suspect.’

For two days we headed west through a series of deep, echoing gorges andsilent valleys, crossing over sparsely wooded hills, finally entering a forest of enormous depth, a place of shimmering, misty light, a green chapel where restless, curious movement disturbed the shadows.

It was not necessary to ask where we were going. Only one place could lie at the end of this tortuous journey. Ghostland, the Land of the Shadows of Heroes.

By the third morning, Urtha had resigned himself to a simple fact: that he would see, but not touch, his surviving son and daughter. We finally came out of the forest to find ourselves by a wide, fog-shrouded and slow-flowing river. Dark woodland rose behind a narrow pasture on the other side. Creatures had grazed there, and slipped down the muddy bank to drink.

We camped. Ambaros used a bull’s horn to blow a sequence of rising calls, repeating them throughout the afternoon. Animals came out of the dark forest to the river’s edge, staring at us before bolting back to cover: giant deer, bright-eyed wolves, two brown bears, a playful group of grey-backed lynx, a sullen troop of stark-ribbed, snarling dogs.

When the children came, Urtha cried. I sat with him, watching through drier eyes as the boy and girl approached and crouched at the water’s edge, staring at us as if they could only just make out our shapes. We were shadows to them, I felt sure of it. But they were curious, they could not resist the sound of the horn, and no doubt that curiosity had led them from their shelter to this limit of their new world. Behind them, staying close to the trees, I could just see the forms of three cowled, cloaked matrons.

‘How did they cross the river?’ Urtha finally asked. ‘No one can cross the river to that place.’

‘Your hounds dragged them there, and left them,’ Ambaros said. ‘Then crossed back as if the journey was as easy as a winter’s forest hunt. I’d followed them, trying to slow them, so I saw it all. Those three women came from the trees and picked up the children, carrying them out of my sight. You had remarkable hounds, Urtha. More remarkable than you knew.’

‘But I can’t hold my daughter or mock-fight with my son. For all I know, they’re dead and what I’m seeing are their ghosts. That’s the land of shadows, over there, and they have no business running through its woods, not yet.’

I knew what was coming. I could feel the pressure of Urtha’s thought, as if some winged messenger had flown from one head to the other, a silent portent preceding the moment at which Urtha articulated his desperate need: can you help me cross the river, Merlin? Can you use a little charm?