The Aebeling (3 page)

‘Four kinds?’

‘Yes, in all of history, Meshech has only seen three peoples; the
Twacuman,
the
Ancuman
, and the
Priecuman,
and now there is you. You are unlike all of us so you must be another kind of
Priecuman
. Nothing has ever been said of a fourth kind of people.’

‘I do not know the answer to that question.’

Caewyn smiled. ‘I think that time will answer that for us. It is strange though – you are so new to me, but you seem so familiar.’ She moved and sat beside him. ‘Do you have any questions?’

He did – a lot. ‘I do, can you tell me why the Rakians were trying to kidnap you?’

Caewyn shrugged. ‘They were going to make us
theow
. But it has been some time since that happened. It is strange to see them here. No one has made it over the mountain unnoticed for many years – until today.’

Conn led the comment slide; ‘It is a lot of effort and risk for a theow.’

Caewyn answered matter of factual. ‘A Twacuman theow is highly regarded and consequently very expensive. If they had been successful – they would have more money than they could ever need.’

Conn was still confused. ‘But who would be the purchaser? Surely a slave taken as such is illegal.’

She nodded. ‘True, but there is still one place where the laws are ignored, and that is Rakia. Not all things are as they should be. Anything else?’

‘I don’t understand why I can understand what you say and what the Rakians said despite the fact that I don’t know your languages. You also understand when I speak.’

‘One of the many gifts of the Gyden was that all should understand each other, even if our mother tongue is different. The Priecuman speak four different languages; but there is no need for them to learn each other’s language, though many Priecuman speak more than one of their languages. We have always spoken our own language as well as Silekian – a Priecuman language that we use to communicate with all Priecuman. Twacuman is the only language that is not understood by anyone else – except for you, that is.’ She paused. ‘That is why I was surprised – it is very strange that you can understand it.’

She paused while Conn contemplated the answer.

‘So you are from a place call MacLeod??’

Conn didn’t have a real home to speak of – at sixteen he had joined the British army, and later he was an elite sportsman and academic, and he had spent most of his life on the road. ‘No – that is just my name. My family is from Taransay.’

‘So, Conn MacLeod il Taransay, you are a curiosity.’

Taransay was a small island off the coast of Scotland in the Outer Hebrides, and was one of the historic homes of the MacLeod clan. His father had mentioned it to him as a child – his grandfather, Conn’s great grandfather, was one of the last to live on Taransay, before leaving to join the army; another of a continuous line of MacLeod soldiers. Conn had even visited the island; and he remembered it as deserted, cold, and desolate. It was however the first thing that sprang to mind; and he was now stuck with it.

The girls retired for the night; moving in beside Derryth in the yurt. Conn stayed outside to think; he had too many thoughts running around his head to sleep anyway. His first full day had been surreal – he had killed five people – and yet he didn’t feel bad about it. He had killed before – as a soldier he was responsible for the deaths of many in the two wars that he had been involved, and he had been involved in fights since he was ten – first to survive and then to compete; boxing, several forms of full contact martial arts and even cage fighting . Still, this was different; this was very personal and very final.

As night settled the stillness became eerie, as if the grove behind them sucked in all sound until everything was totally silent. Conn, however, felt strangely comfortable and at home. He had never felt at home anywhere before so this was very unusual. He patted the dog that sat at his side.

‘You know, old girl, this is all very strange. Here I am sitting in a place I have no right to be in, having killed five human beings, and with three people who don’t call themselves humans, and yet I feel fine. How bizarre is that?’

When Elva made him go and sleep when she relieved him after midnight, he still didn’t have any answers, and he was no better informed when he rose at dawn. Derryth was now alert but still weak, and had a monster headache that Conn gave him a herbal draught for. It would also help relieve the pain in his shoulder. Derryth was desolate about failing to protect Caewyn, who it appeared was their duty to protect, and also pledged his life to Conn, tracing the symbol of a heart on his palm in blood.

Outside the yurt, he found Elva watching the grove.

‘Is there anything wrong?’ Conn asked though he didn’t expect a response. He was surprised when she answered so easily.

‘No – Caewyn went for a walk in the
holtwudu
. I am waiting for her return.’

‘Is that safe?’ Conn still felt a feeling of antipathy coming from the grove.

Elva nodded. ‘No harm will come to her in a
holtwudu
.’ She saw Conn looking curiously at her, so she continued. ‘A
holtwudu
is usually home to the
feldelfen
.
’

‘What is a
feldelfen
?’ Conn felt silly asking simple questions but he had no choice.

‘They are
Gyden
but they are not...’

‘
Gyden
? I’ve heard Caewyn use the term but I ...’

She laughed dryly. ‘For one that seems to have much knowledge, you seem to understand little. The
Gyden
are the beings that are in us, in everything around us – they are the essence of life because they created and nourish us. It is said that they speak to us and they guide us – should you be listening and wish to hear.’

‘There is more than one?

‘Perhaps.’

‘Are they worshiped?’

She shook her head. ‘
Twacuman
do not worship
Gyden
– we honor them and heed their counsel should they speak. It is said that the
Priecuman
and
Ancuman
are a little devout in their rites and rituals...’

Conn returned to the grove. ‘And a
holtwudu
is very special...’

She looked at the grove and nodded. ‘
Holtwudu
are said to contain the secrets of every single person ever born – and the
feldelfen
protect the groves from those that might want to gain access. If you have the need, there is much power in the knowledge inside a
holtwudu.
It has been a long time since anyone has ever seen a
holtwudu,
and I have never heard of anyone going into a
holtwudu.
’

Conn didn’t know what to say; a twelve year old girl just went into something that no one has ever gone into before.

‘And yet...’

Alva shrugged. ‘Caewyn is Caewyn. She is very special – and she is much older than her years.’

Caewyn indeed returned safely less than an hour later and said nothing. Conn was curious but couldn’t find the right words to ask – so he said nothing as well.

With Derryth’s condition stable, they packed and headed for home – which Conn’s improvised sun dial indicated was north. The travois had been improved with more padding, and with Derryth loaded on the frame, they headed slowly downhill.

Elva led the convoy of almost twenty horses, with the Poitevin now towing the travois, and Conn riding alongside. It was mid-afternoon when they first saw the small group of riders and donkeys in the distance. Caewyn was confused.

‘That is Abrekan and his sons. It is strange that we missed him – we passed through here yesterday.’

Elva immediately rode ahead to greet them, and almost simultaneously a group of over twenty Twacuman wiga arrived in some haste from the direction of the lake. Conn looked at Caewyn curiously.

The young girl blushed. ‘They are from our village – they will be looking for us.’ She smiled. ‘I suspect that they will be annoyed at me…’

‘Why…’

‘I didn’t tell anyone where I was going …’

CHAPTER 02

Elva returned with two wiga, who, despite their initial shock at seeing Conn, spent their time admonishing the young girl for leaving the village. Or at least tried – Caewyn said sorry and smiled sweetly and they immediately forgave her. She was hard to stay mad at. Elva stayed crosser for longer – it seemed that she had discovered that she had been misled by Caewyn, but even she gave up being mad sooner than she should have.

Minutes later they arrived where Abrekan and the rest of the wiga waited. Caewyn dismounted and raced over to hug the elderly man who waited and watching them arrive. She then introduced him and his two sons – Eggar and Godric – to Conn, as merchants from Trokia, and old friends to the Twacuman. Clearly Priecuman, they were however not identical in appearance to the Rakians – the Trokians appeared more East Asian than South Asian.

After the introductions, Caewyn suggested that they stay there for the night. Everyone immediately agreed. For a twelve year old, Caewyn’s opinion certainly seemed to carry a lot of weight.

It was only after setting up the camp for the night that Conn found himself alone with Abrekan.

‘Conn il Taransay’, Abrekan began, ‘I must say that I am surprised to meet you. I have never seen the likes of you before – and I have spoken to merchants from everywhere in Meshech and they have never mentioned golden haired wiga on giant horses. Where is this Taransay you say you are from?’

Conn needed a story – and a good one too. As always, parts of the truth were always necessary to create a good lie. ‘It is a small domain in the land of Alba.’ That was true enough. ‘I was travelling with some companions from the keep of my King – a Healdend – and during our trip my companions and I were confronted by a huge storm. We were lucky that we found caves to shelter in – and I sheltered alone with my animals while my companions were in a nearby cave. After the storm, the valley was covered in a heavy fog, and when it cleared, I left the caves and found myself alone in these mountains – and my companions are nowhere to be found. It is most perplexing.’

Conn considered his story ludicrous but it was the best he could come up with. He had never considered that he might need to explain himself. He watched Abrekan ponder his explanation, and whilst he probably didn’t believe in ‘magic’ caves, what could he say.

Abrekan nodded slowly. ‘What you say is beyond my understanding. It said that when the Gyden walked the earth, they could travel from any nation to another like you or I can walk from one house to another.’ He changed the subject, and pointed to Conn’s belongings, organized in a pile near his yurt. ‘You do seem well prepared’

There was nearly four hundred kilograms of supplies piled in and around the yurt. Most of the weight was made up of the essentials as food, shelter, clothing, and weapons – of which there was a significant supply, while the rest included utensils, tools, equipment; and forty kilograms of seeds – for every kind of crop that he might ever need. The last three items were different but important; silk worms, chickens, and gold. The moth pupas were in hibernation, the dozen chicks clucked away in their little travelling cage on the back of the donkey, and the fifty kilos of gold coins and bars was well hidden in the packs. Silkworms were an economic necessity, the chickens were an easy and ready source of protein, and you never know when you might need money.

Conn agreed. ‘I was moving with my belongings to a new domain about 20 days ride from the home of my family. It was spoils from a war where I was lucky to be on the winning side.’

‘And your family?’

Conn shook his head and tried to look as sad as he could. ‘Sadly, none are still alive. Some years ago, they were all killed...’ he paused for effect ‘in an attack by pirates.’

Abrekan commiserated. ‘That is truly tragic. And now, by the Gyden’s grace, you find yourself in Meshech.’

Conn was happy to change the subject. ‘So Meshech is that the name of this nation?’

Abrekan shook his head. ‘No, you are in the nation of Halani, which is located in the middle of Meshech. Halani is the home of the Twacuman, and there are several Priecuman nations that surround Halani.’ Abrekan drew a mud map on the ground. ‘This is where we are and here is Rakia, Silekia, Lykia, Moetia, Kania, Gatina and Trokia. I hear you had a problem with some Rakians.’ He pointed to each in turn. ‘We are from Trokia, and Trokians are one of four Priecuman tribes – the Silekians, the Gatinans and the Moetians are the other three. Of the others, Lykia is Moetian, Rakia is Gatinan, and Kania is Trokian.

‘And here?’ Conn pointed to an island that he had drawn north of Kania. ’What is that called? Is that the home of the Ancuman?’

He shook his head. ‘That is Cyme.’ He smiled. ‘It is a small island populated entirely by women – Priecuman women. As for the Ancuman, their home is somewhere across the sea – I don’t know where.’

‘An island of just women – they must be capable warriors to able to keep that domain all to themselves?’

‘Yes; highly skilled in all forms of combat; but especially in hand to hand combat. They provide a service to other domains as bodyguards – nearly every Healdend in these lands has had a bodyguard from Cyme at some time.’

Conn looked up to get his bearing. ‘If Trokia is to the west, why did you come from the east?’

‘I normally come from the west but a long series of misfortunes meant that my course was changed. This time I came from Lykia.’

‘I see that you have brought pack animals with you – what do you carry?’

He continued. ‘Wine mostly – the Twacuman need very little but they do like good wine, and I bring in the best that I can find. I trade the wine for tanned hides; the goat hides from Halani are the best in all of Meshech, and I turn them into many things, but cloaks are my specialty. My family have been the only Priecuman allowed into Halani for over two hundred years – another reason why I am surprised to see you.’