The Battle of Ebulon (9 page)

It was a young woman with
clear blue eyes, and she held her hands up in a poor attempt at
defence.

"Apologies," he mumbled,
and took a step back. She didn't respond, as though she didn't
understand his words, but she staggered away from him, afraid of
what he might do to her.

The vortex swirled in the
air just a few feet from him, and as he looked, a middle aged woman
appeared, in little more than a bathing robe. The disoriented woman
launched herself towards him, and he barely had time to react to
the attack. He grabbed her wrists, and managed to hold her back,
despite his wiry frame, and her enthusiasm. She was
furious.

"What wouldst thou from
me?" she demanded. "Sorrow mightest thou know for this!"

He understood her, but it
took him a moment to realize that she had spoken to him in Maynari,
the lay dialect of the capital city of the Kinnon. In the same
language, he replied, "Not I, lady-fair. Look about: come are we
are all, alike, and 'gainst path. Becalm thyself, and together
shine light we shall."

She freed herself from his
loosening grip, and looked about, taking in the scene. "Name
thyself." She seemed a woman accustomed to making commands, despite
her state of relative undress.

"Kalummenon, lady-fair.
And thine...?"

She was startled by the
impertinence of his tone, but answered, "Mayadawanna. Off let us,
then, and find light promised."

Together they took a few
steps into the crowd, and it became clear that many languages were
being spoken, from all over the Kinnon. Kalummenon knew several of
them, but by no means all. He searched out words he knew, but all
the while, Mayadawanna was calling out, in her own Maynari, and
courtly Abrilian, attempted greetings.

An armoured man rushed
towards her, and they spoke hurriedly, on the edge of Kalummenon's
awareness. He sensed no ill intent from the man, and listened
instead to the cacophony of strange words.

Mayadawanna called to him,
"Found am I. Fare thee well to kindred thine!" She smiled briefly,
acknowledging his assistance, and set off through the crowd with
her new friend.

A roar from the vortex
drew his attention. A bear of a man stood, framed by the magical
light, raging uselessly. Few in the crowd paid him any attention,
until he drew his long sword, and called down a splendid curse on
those who had afflicted him thus. The man looked around,
desperately trying to decide who was deserving of his
wrath.

One man pushed through the
crowd towards the bear, and Kalummenon turned to watch the
exchange.

The bear-man seemed
surprised that someone had dared approach, but it was obvious that
the richly dressed man was not coming to fight him. The nobleman
spread out empty hands, and said in the courtly language, "Friend,
we have not done this to you, but are fellow victims. Please,
Friend, put back your sword, and join us in council. Help us
discern the true cause of this."

The bear-like man returned
his sword to its scabbard, and began speaking quietly to the
nobleman. This noble looking gentleman seemed to be a Lord or
general, and in times of uncertainty people flocked to perceived
power. Kalummenon decided that for now he should be a bird of that
flock, and pushed through the crowd towards them.

The crowd had seemed
completely disorganized at first, but now he noticed that small
groups of a certain nationality or region seemed to have already
gathered. Several other people were pushing through the crowd as
Kalummenon was, seemingly drawn to the apparent centre of power, or
else to the courtly words.

The noble began to speak
to the tightening knot of men and women around him, just as
Kalummenon reached them. "Friends, I am Vardan of Tarakal."
Kalummenon knew that Tarakal was a close ally of the politically
dominant Abrilians, and he thought this Vardan seemed to have a
charming way about him.

Vardan continued, "I do
not know who has brought us here, but it seems that each of us has
followed the call of our heart, heard a whispered name, and each of
us has been brought here from our own lands to this place. We are
all men and women of the Kinnon, and though we may be far from
home, I believe that keeping to the principles we hold dear will
only help us through this ordeal. So please, try to calm your
fellows, try to find shared languages for those who are not able to
understand the courtly tongue, and help calm those newly arrived
like Chirath here," gesturing to the newly arrived bear of a man.
"Meanwhile, I would suggest that we send out scouts to determine
the nature of the city we find ourselves in, this
Ebulon."

Murmurs of assent passed
through the crowd. It all sounded so reasonable.

Vardan spoke up again, "I
see that many of you represent different nations, so please return
to your groups, spread my words, and send some of your kind to be
close to the portal. Meanwhile, if any would like to help explore
and help us get our bearings, then please - "

Kalummenon interrupted. "I
would."

Vardan looked down his
nose at Kalummenon's simple and drab clothing, but seemed perplexed
by his impeccable Abrilian accent. "And you are?"

"I am Kalummenon, of
Peledar."

Someone snorted nearby,
and Kalummenon turned to look at him. The young blonde haired man
waved his hands, as if in apology. "Forgive me," he said, "it's
just that your name doesn't sound at all Peledarri

"It isn't. My father was a
sailor, and he named me as such."

"A pirate! Of course, that
makes-"

"I am not a pirate, and I
don't -"

"In fact, your name sounds
like -"

"I know what it sounds
like in the old language, and I am not a dog, but," turning his
attention back to Vardan, "I do have a good nose for sniffing
things out, and I am used to keeping a low profile..."

"Excellent," said Vardan.
"And you, lad?" Vardan turned a piercing gaze towards the young
man.

Blushing quickly and
fully, the young man spoke up proudly, "I am Pereg of Peledar, and
a cadet in the King's Academy."

"And are you volunteering
as well, lad?" asked Vardan. When Pereg hesitated, Vardan went on,
"It will give you a chance to make peace with your fellow
countryman here."

Pereg nodded. "I would be
happy to volunteer."

"Good man. Anyone else?"
There were a few. Wegri of Kire styled himself a poet, but looked
more like a thief, with tight lips and furtive eyes that seemed to
note the whereabouts of anything valuable. Rysil of Eilinnar was an
older man, slim, white haired, but bright eyed and enthusiastic.
Khendam of Brenave was strong and serious, and seemed to carry a
heavy burden of pain or regret despite his relative youth. Tulacha
of Chel could not be called beautiful, but her smile took you by
surprise, transforming her earnest features with a sultriness and
playfulness that would be irresistible to the right person, and
managed to be appealing to the rest.

The knot of men and women
dispersed, and Vardan was left with the six scouts, and Chirath. He
split them into pairs, with the intention that if one of the pair
fell into trouble, the other could bring back warning to the rest
of them gathered in the square.

"Behind me," Vardan said,
"the square stretches into a wide street, and you can see a gate at
the end of it. Chirath and I will scout the gate and try to climb
the wall for a wider view of the city. Wegri and Tulacha, please
scout the area to the right of us, and Khendam and Rysil, the left
side. The Peledarri pair will scout into what we assume to be the
heart of the city, away from the gate. Do not engage those you
meet. Be gone no more than a few hours. Stay out of trouble, and
report back. If you do manage to find trouble, bring
warning."

2.

Snow drifted out of
alleyways between the stone buildings. There were fading tracks
here and there in the snow, softened by the working of the wind,
but there had been no substantial snowfall since they arrived some
hours ago.

"It's so desolate,"
Tulacha said. She disapproved of emptiness, or loneliness. She
thrived in the company of others, and seeing a place so devoid of
life or warmth was unnerving. "Where did all the people
go?"

Wegri snorted. He gazed up
and down the massive stone buildings as they walked. "Thousands of
people could live here. I wonder what they left
behind..."

Tulacha thought for a
moment, taking his question seriously. "There's no sign of death or
destruction, just decay. They might have been able to take
everything with them, if it was an orderly evacuation."

Wegri sighed. "I'm going
to find out."

"What?"

"Let me know if you see
anyone coming," he added, and disappeared into the shadows of the
building.

A gust of wind howled
around Tulacha's head, and she shivered in the creeping cold,
feeling the lack of warmth all the more for standing still. She
jumped up and down, and wiggled her toes in her boots, doing her
best to keep warm. She scanned the street, first one direction,
then the other, but she saw no one. The stonework was simple, and
unadorned. The lower levels were made up of larger blocks,
especially at the corners and over doorways and windows. Smaller
blocks formed the main parts of the walls. The buildings were
packed tightly together, and some reached 3 or 4 storeys high. All
were capped by sloping tiled roofs, parts of which were piled with
blown snow, and other parts blown clear.

There was no sign of life.
No birds. No creatures. It was the dead of winter here.

She heard a bang in the
distance, and looked nervously from side to side. There was no one.
But now she looked from window to window, suddenly certain that one
of them would reveal a face.

"They left everything,"
Wegri said from right behind her.

"Argh!" Tulacha couldn't
help herself. "You startled me..."

"Apparently. There's no
sign of looting, no breakage, no bodies. It was an orderly
departure, but a speedy one. They weren't allowed to take very much
with them."

"Did you find anything
interesting?" she asked.

"No, not really," replied
Wegri, innocently. "Let's get moving, you must be freezing standing
here."

She nodded, distracted
from her momentary suspicion.

3.

"No sign of damage here."
Khendam looked about the great storefront. "And no
bodies."

"It doesn't make any
sense," Rysil said. "Why would everyone just leave, and then not
come back for their things?"

"I don't know." Khendam
led them out of the immense building, and back into the windswept
street. "I don't like it at all. There's no sign of anyone, or
anything living."

"Beautiful architecture,"
said Rysil. "Simple and well-proportioned. They must have been a
very sensible people. Dependable."

"You can tell that from
stonework?" Khendam was not convinced.

"You can tell a lot of
things, from a lot of things. Their window panes are often large,
which speaks of a certain skill or technology level. There are
sconces in the walls, as if for candles, but they have glass balls
fixed into them. They must have used magic to light their way. Just
imagine magical light filling all these buildings! We haven't seen
fireplaces, so perhaps they heated themselves by magic as
well."

"Why do you think they
have all this magic?"

"Magic brought us here,
didn't it?"

"Yes," Khendam admitted,
"but we don't know if the same people who lived here brought us
here." He sighed. "I don't like winter."

"Oh, I do," said Rysil.
The freshness, the stark beauty. The purity of it."

"You must never have
wanted for anything then. My family is not poor, but the winter is
a tough time for every family in Brenave. Taxes bite like the
frigid winter wind." Khendam wondered what his family were
thinking. Had they noticed he was missing yet? Were they worried?
How would they manage if he never returned? He shuddered to
think.

"When you reach my age,
when you've been what I've been through, you're either weighed down
by all that has happened to you, or you have learned to face life
as it comes."

"You're enjoying yourself
trudging through the snow in a deserted city? You're happy to have
been abducted from your home? And you don't care about whether or
not you'll ever return to it?"

"Now, now. We came
willingly, didn't we?"

"It was a lie! A charm! An
illusion that evaporated the moment we arrived!"

"All magic relies on
belief to some degree. If we'd wanted to, we could've fought off
the charm, whatever it was. No magic can compel you to do something
you truly abhor."

"I didn't ask to come here
and abandon all those I love."

"You were a willing
accessory to the magic. Didn't it make you feel like you were going
to serve some grand purpose, make a difference, be a
hero?"