The Forgotten War (178 page)

And, as she always had done, Syalin did exactly what her father told her.

More memories. Each worse than the last. Syalin dug her nails into her palm and became aware of her current surroundings.

And they were idyllic. A lightly wooded glade at the water’s edge with pale sunlight filtering through the trees bathing her ashen face with its soft warmth. All around her were the tents,
banners and soldiers of Felmere. Among them was the man she was supposedly here to protect, though, if truth be told, they both knew she was no longer really needed. His wounds had healed well
enough and he could wield a sword as well as any other man there. It had been odd for her, though, because over recent weeks the soldiers of this army had gone from being hostile to her, to
grudgingly accepting her, and now to ignoring her – so used to her had they become. She was as much part of this army as any of them and she was still unsure as to whether she liked it or
not.

Morgan, who seemed to be smiling more and more these days, came over to her.

‘Dreaming again?’

She looked embarrassed; a bodyguard should not be caught daydreaming. ‘No,’ she said quietly, ‘not dreaming.’

‘Oh all right then, you just felt like looking stupid for a while.’

‘Obviously,’ she said archly, ‘I have spent too much time in your company of late.’

He laughed and slapped her on the shoulder; so many times he forgot to think of her as a woman. ‘Come with me, I have to meet someone.’

She started to follow him through the camp. ‘Morgan, I need to talk to you.’

‘What about?’

Her legs were longer than his and she overtook him, waving at him to stop. He did so and looked at her curiously. She brushed her hand through her tousled hair. It was growing.

‘I think you are being overly kind to me.’

Now he looked puzzled. ‘In what way?’

‘You no longer have need of me. You are surrounded by a loyal army – what possible use have you for a bodyguard?’

‘Are you asking me to release you?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I am asking you to make a decision based on purely practical issues and none of those issues should include my feelings or what I may or may not
want.’

Morgan looked at her, a twinkle in his eye. ‘We will talk about this later on. In the meantime...’

‘Yes?’

‘Get your hair cut.’ He walked off, leaving her standing running her fingers through her hair for the dozenth time that day.

Outside the camp, on a low hill from which the great falls could be seen as a smoky white line in the distance, Morgan finally saw Itheya again. She wore black now, her hair was long again and
she wore bangles of gold as well as her torque. Morgan immediately knew what this meant.

‘You are Mhezhen now?’

She nodded. She did look happy to see him but there was a great tiredness and strain behind her eyes. There was obviously much to tell.

‘Your brother?’

She shook her head.

‘I am sorry. Was it you...’

‘It might as well have been.’

‘Ach, by the Gods...’

‘I will tell you more later. There are more important things to discuss now.’

‘Such as?’ Morgan realised something else was agitating her, not just the death of her brother. He could also see that she was eager for the subject to be changed.

‘We are camped about a mile away, on the other side of this hill, as I am sure you know. I only joined up with my people yesterday, riding hard with my escort where the hills slope down to
the forest. We rode along this ridge.’ She signalled the line of low mountains that ran alongside the lake, the hill on which they were standing being at its southernmost point. On its
western side a trail ran along a level shelf about a quarter of a mile across, dropping sharply into the forest on one side while having high grey cliffs on its other. These ended in jagged
scree-covered peaks that increased in height the further north they went.

‘We rode along this ridge,’ she said again. ‘And we met ... someone. Someone who wishes to speak to you, and to Dominic Hartfield. I have met him, haven’t I, Dominic
Hartfield?’

‘Yes, you have. Sorry, Itheya, but who by all the Gods are you talking about?’

‘A woman. A cloaked woman. She was ... odd. She did not tell me her name but she wishes me to bring the two of you to see her. Tonight.’

Morgan shook his head. ‘But why should this woman want to see me? And what has she got to say anyway?’

‘She was vague. Some information regarding this war. There was power around her, very strange power. I really think you should speak with her.’

‘What did she look like?’

‘I never saw her face. She kept herself hooded. I cannot say more other than there seemed an aura to her, old power; it was very strange.’

Morgan looked at her again; her brow was knotted with concern. ‘Your word is good enough for me; now, let me show you around our camp.’

They started to walk down the hill when Itheya stopped suddenly. Syalin stood blocking their way. The two women glared at each other before Itheya spoke to Morgan. ‘Is this the girl who
tried to...?’

Morgan nodded. ‘She is my bodyguard now.’

Itheya’s violet eyes flared. ‘This lanky
iketsua
guards you! You did not kill her? I will never know what goes on up there but sometimes I think it is full of wood!’ She
pointed to his head before walking up to Syalin and standing inches away from her, sniffing and examining her, just as she had done to Morgan all those months ago. Syalin was inches taller than
them both and stood stock-still appearing wryly amused by events.

‘There is one problem with her,’ Itheya said finally. ‘She is too tall. I suggest removing everything above her neck, I may accept her then. Maybe.’

‘It is the Baron’s opinion that matters to me, not that of a Wych who thinks steel is a daringly modern novelty.’ One thing Syalin could do masterfully was disdain.

‘And the blonde bitch thinks herself important, too.’ The two women locked stares. ‘
Emek danate presh kulkazha sel myen fanza ketsua
.’ Itheya hissed at her.

‘
Azhemek danate sima tafalkhur luleketsua
.’ Syalin spoke the words as though they were second nature. ‘You forget, elf maid, that in the south from where I hail we trade
regularly with your seafaring peoples. It is understandable, I suppose; it is obvious that you are one of their rustic cousins and anything larger than a log canoe must confuse you. Mixing with
more civilised folk will educate you over time.’

‘You are Koze then. A whore of the Emperor. It is obvious your demeaning treatment at his hands has made you bitter.’ Itheya seemed to be enjoying herself, despite the malice in her
eyes.

‘And you are the Wych queen who gives it away to anyone who so much as smiles at her. Your reputation precedes you.’ Syalin was evidently enjoying herself, too.

Itheya stopped to look daggers at Morgan. What had he been saying about her? ‘I choose my pleasures,
iketsua
. No man has ever taken me against my will. It must surprise you that
some women can do this rather than just get used like some dumb beast. Perhaps it is you that needs to learn here, not I.’

Syalin had a pithy reply on her lips but Morgan forestalled it by stepping between the two women. ‘Perhaps you both need to learn. We are not at war here. Syalin, leave me with Itheya a
while, seeing as the two of you cannot be civil to each other.’

Syalin gave a rare smile and tiny bow. ‘Do not let her stab you with her ears,’ she said before walking down the hill.

Itheya let her get out of earshot before rounding on Morgan.

‘What have you been telling her about me? That I am some sort of human doxy unable to control my own passions! Did you not wait until I had disappeared up the hill before you started to
talk behind my back? I trusted you! Have you mentioned the two of us to anyone? Does everyone I care for betray me in the end?’ She was shaking with temper.

Morgan tried to speak softly, at least to try to pacify her. ‘I have not mentioned you to anybody. Whatever knowledge she has of you has not come from me. She is very clever and extremely
perceptive. The slightest nuance in conversation she picks up on. I did not have the faintest idea that she could speak your language, for example; perhaps she has a wide knowledge of your people,
I really don’t know.’

Itheya was breathing heavily, fighting to regain control of herself. Morgan waited, letting the process unfold naturally. Finally, she seemed to calm a little, she even smiled; her flash of
temper melting away before his eyes. ‘And that is another thing. I swore at her in my language and she told me to be more polite. I have never been belittled in my own tongue before. And by a
human! The shame will live with me for ever.’

‘And I will tell no one of that either.’ Morgan sounded relieved; he certainly was glad to have her smiling again.

‘Good. Now let me see this camp of yours and we can catch up with what has happened with each other over the past few months.’

And that is what they did. Morgan led her past the armouries, cook house, hospital and stables, before leading her to his tent for a light meal. They talked non-stop during the tour. Morgan
updated her on everything that had happened, the siege, the destruction of the turncoats of West Arshuma and the offer of talks from the Arshuman King. In return, and falteringly for her, Itheya
told her of her duel with her brother, its outcome, and how the months since had been spent touring the other tribes, dispensing weapons and talking to them all trying to listen to their concerns
and win them over.

‘I do not know how successful I have been,’ she reflected. ‘To be honest I have just kept busy. If one is busy, one cannot have time to think. That is why I returned here as
soon as I could.’

‘And I thought you were dead, I have been waiting for your people to leave us at any time. They have done well, you know, since you left – rounding up those fleeing the siege,
destroying those who fought back. I have had little communication from them but I haven’t really needed any. I am very ... relieved to see you are not dead at any rate. I have worried about
you ceaselessly since you left.’

She looked guilty. ‘I should have got word to you; I am sorry but I have been very busy, so very busy.’

They ate in his tent, alone, with Syalin guarding the entrance. Looks, but not words, were exchanged between the two women much to Morgan’s relief. Once the meal was served, Itheya put her
legs up on a stool, shut her eyes and sighed.

‘I was harsh on you earlier,’ she said. ‘I really thought for a second that you had been talking about me. If word got to my people about ... us, it would be difficult for me.
I would lose a lot of respect with the other tribes, you understand.’

‘I understand.’ He replied, barely intelligibly as his mouth was full of bread. ‘You should have trusted me though, I really wish you had.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, a little forlornly. ‘I have had trouble with your people in the past, I should have known you were different, I really should have.’

‘That missionary who taught you our language?’ Morgan queried. ‘Exactly what did happen there?’

Itheya opened her eyes and groaned. She ate a little grain mash and winced. ‘It is selfless of you to eat the same food you give your horses. Our horses would not touch it, however.’
She met his even stare. ‘It was a long time ago. I was really only just into womanhood and my brother was only just starting to go out on patrol, but it was I who was on patrol the day we
found him.’ She stopped and took a drink before sighing softly to herself. ‘Humans who come into our forest generally fall into two types. The first are those who have heard of our gold
and seek to take some for themselves. We kill them instantly and leave their bodies to feed the forest. The other type is rarer and they usually come alone. They come to tell us the words of your
gods, an exercise in futility, but they still come. We do not kill them unless they are really annoying.’

‘Then what do you do with them?’

‘We talk to them and try to persuade them to leave. Failing that we tie them up, blindfold them and take them across the river at night where they can find their own way back to the human
lands. If they keep returning, then we do have to kill them. Some of them seem to want it that way.’

Morgan brushed some dust off his boots. ‘And why was this man different?’

‘He was fanatical, even by the standards of fanatics. He seemed to have no intention of preaching to us directly. Every night he would sleep on the human side of the river and then at dawn
he would wade naked into the water, walk up to the forest and spend the entire day shouting out passages from your holy books. The strange thing was that it worked. A crowd would gather to listen,
out of his sight, wondering what this
lakua
, this maniac, was doing here. Eventually, as he showed no sign of giving up, I as patrol commander decided to ride out and speak to him. I told
him we had no time for his religion but he did not seem to care. He said the more he understood about us the easier it would be for him to convert us.’

‘How did you understand him, I mean with the language difference?’

‘With difficulty. I told you before I had some of your language taught to me by father but at that time I was not very proficient with it. He made me an offer. I take him into the forest
and teach him our ways and he would teach me his language. Even then the idea of our peoples trying to learn from each other appealed to me. I agreed to his request.

‘I learned much from him, but there was a lot of hostility towards my decision. Father supported me, though, but he did say that the man was my sole responsibility and any consequences
arising from my actions I would have to deal with myself. He was the first human I had any lengthy contact with. It excited me; he was so odd.’

‘Eccentric?’

‘I do not know the word.
Pathulka
, strange, you understand? Anyhow after a few weeks I started to show him some of our village, as I did with you. He was fascinated with everything
and little by little my trust in him grew. I was so naive – it embarrasses me to think of it.’