Wildling (18 page)

Chapter Twenty Six.

The wayfarers had done something to his home. Dorn didn't know what. But he knew something had changed from the moment he'd returned to it after meeting with Sena and he was sure it was their doing.

He felt the change. Ever since that day he had felt it. It was as though there was a presence there. Constantly he felt it. Or rather, he felt her. Whoever she was. He found himself unexpectedly looking around a hundred times a day as if she was behind him. But there was no one behind him. Every so often he thought he heard a woman speaking, in a language without words and without sounds. A language he didn't understand. And sometimes he thought he saw her. A glimpse of something from the corner of his eye that was never there when he turned to look. An image that just like the language he didn't understand. Someone had been there, but like the words he kept hearing, he couldn't even have described her.

The nights were more difficult again. He dreamed, and he had never really dreamed before. But he didn't know what he dreamed. Each morning he woke up knowing that something had passed during the night, but he didn’t know what.

He saw and heard things he could neither see nor hear. He dreamed things that he could never remember. And he knew he wasn't alone. If it hadn't been too fanciful he would have said that his home had become haunted.

But this night was different. He dreamed and he knew what he dreamed. Understanding it was a different matter.

He was in an outdoor class being taught something. He understood that. But none of it made sense. The woman teaching them was right in front of him, yet he could make out nothing about her. The woman beside her sitting and observing he couldn't understand. And his classmates were similarly indescribable. They were there, sitting on the flat stones beside him, so close that he could have reached out and touched them, yet he understood nothing about them. Neither their forms nor their faces.

And the lesson, the words being spoken, he didn't know them. Neither the voice nor the words. And yet he understood what was being said. It was a history lesson. Of a history he had never heard. Yet he was suddenly certain he had been taught it before somewhere. In his other dreams perhaps.

After a while he realised that she had been speaking for some time. It was just that he hadn't been listening.

“... Now move the years forward several thousand and we see where we are. The descendants of the sun elves still travel the world, all of them with the remains of our magic strong and our histories remembered. But there are few of them. They are a people without life and death will soon claim them.”

“
The wood elves have become a people almost at their end. The last of their days are upon them and with their passing Tellur el Ve will return back to forest. There are few farms producing any longer. The irrigation schemes they created have failed with none to look after them. The towns and villages that they had built have been destroyed so that there is no longer shelter available.”

“
And the dusky elves have reaped as they have sown. This has been a slow moving disaster for them. They could have stopped it at any point, but they didn't. So instead they have been moving north once more, heading back into the land they ruined. Little by little seeking out whatever food and shelter they can steal. Kidnapping those with magic and knowledge to aid them in surviving their own folly.”

“
Of the four peoples only the humans have grown in numbers and strength. With their magic less than it was they have found other ways to survive. They have built great cities, converted forests into farms, crafted terrible weapons. They have even little by little started reclaiming the wastes. Finding ways to live where the others cannot.”

“
But the humans like all the other races carry within them the seeds of their own destruction. They grow and prosper on the outside but within them they decay. Their souls wither, their connection with the world grows less. In time they will destroy the world around them and with it themselves.”

“
The people of the world, our children, are dying. All of them.”

“
That would have been the end of it. The world would have been bereft of people and none would have been left to mourn their passing. But in time perhaps the world would have brought forth a new people to replace the elves. That is the way after all. None last forever. No men and no people. But new men and new people replace them in time. All ends are also beginnings. But this end has a manticore's sting in its tail. A barb that would prevent the coming of a new race to replace the elves. This end may be final.”

“
Eighty years ago one of the humans uncovered an ancient shrine and began to worship at it. And he found power in that worship. The power of fear. For the shrine was to the ancient God of Fear, Dica.”

“
Fear is a terrible master. The greatest of all the corruptions of the soul. It feeds the darkness of hatred and wrath as nothing else. And when there is nothing of light to oppose it, it grows. For eighty years it has grown.”

“
And in its resurgence fear has sparked wrath and war. Dica has reawakened the ancient God of War, Talos. And with Talos once more awake and raging the dusky elves have become the most terrible of warriors. Now they no longer fight just for victory. It is not enough to simply win. No, they must destroy their enemies to the last man, woman and child. And their enemies are everyone. There can be no peace save the peace of death.”

“
The worship of these two of the thirteen gods has started to destroy the world. The dusky elves carry the word of Talos on their souls as they set about killing and enslaving the world. The Dicans carry Dica's name on their souls as they slowly overthrow all other rulers and destroy all other faiths.”

“
And the reason they are so strong, the reason they can do these things, is that the other eleven gods and goddesses have been forgotten. Their shrines and temples are empty. So the followers of Dica and Talos roam the world unchecked and the high priests' magic is heightened.”

“
Think of it as a contest,” the teacher continued her instruction. “There are only so many followers and so much faith and the gods must all vie for it. For so long Dica and Talos have had nearly all of them, and the support of their believers has been fanatical. Dica in particular has had his followers destroying the temples and shrines of others, killing their priests. He has also been murdering anyone with the gift because the gift is divine. In the absence of other faiths, wildlings are the only ones who could stand against his faithful.”

“
As Dica kills them Talos steers another path. He knows that the spark of the wildlings is divine as well, but where Dica sees only the threat he sees opportunity. He wants that gift returned to his followers. He wants his followers strong that they may make him more powerful. That they might fight and prevail.”

“
And for the longest time the wayfarers have known the shape of the battle and been unable to do anything. Their strength was too great.”

“
Then a few months ago something happened. Something new. The high priests of the remaining eleven were returned to the world in Terris Lee. We do not know how it happened or why. We do not know who is responsible. But we do know that we were brought here for a reason. We need to act.”

“
A plan was formed. We will reclaim the realm of Terris Lee and bring the rule of the thirteen back to it and the wastes. We will restore the temples of the other gods to their glory and bring back the worship of them. With that worship strengthened the hold that Talos and Dica have upon their followers will weaken as it must.”

“
This is the way that you have all been told of. The way of the elf. We must return to the way of the ancient elves so that we may in time move forward.”

“
That's madness!”

Even dreaming Dorn knew that, and he wanted to shout it at the teacher. But he didn't. Restoring a few temples and shrines and bringing people to worship at them would stop neither the dusky elves nor the Dicans. The only thing that would stop them was force. It was the only thing that either of them responded to. Still he said nothing. This was not the place to speak. And yet though he said nothing he was heard.

“Madness? No. Desperation perhaps.”

The teacher turned to face him directly; he could see her perfectly and yet he could still make out nothing about her. “You have helped with the plan though it was never your intent.”

“When you struck with the arrows you showed at least a few Dicans that they were not safe in their faith. That despite their power they could be hurt. And when you harmed them with the white wrath you sent a powerful message that has resonated throughout the church. That they are not safe from their fear.”

“
Dica draws his priests from a very select group of people. Cowards. Those who tremble in the dark. Those who fear every sound in the night. They are the ones who flock to him, because in him they believe they are safe from that fear. And cowards will do anything to avoid their fear. So there is no act too heinous for them. Nothing they will not do. Not if it will save them. But the white wrath has shown them that even within their temple and protected by their faith, they are not safe from fear.”

“
Already others are using it elsewhere and that message is being spread. The Dicans may yet invade the wastes in numbers, but they will not be so strong as they once were.”

“
As for the dusky elves they too have been sent a message. A message of defeat. Now their allies have become their enemies and they are being broken. They are being forced to retreat to Tellu el Ve, a land where they have destroyed their means of growing food. In time they will be broken.”

“
You should be pleased child. Though your actions have been ill considered you have helped to weaken two powerful enemies. You have helped to bring back hope into the world. Hope that when the people are gone, the world will once more be able to bring forth another people.”

“
You all have. And you should all be pleased with that.”

The teacher had turned back to speak to the others, and one by one she addressed them directly. Telling them almost exactly what she had told him.
That their actions were those of soldiers fighting a war. He wondered at that. Were they really soldiers fighting a war? Just as he often wanted to believe of himself? Or were they all just wildlings? Fighting to survive? And killing out of rage and fear? He had no way of knowing since they like the teacher herself were beyond his ability to make out. But when she had finished with them he decided to find out.

“
Who are you teacher?” He knew something of her from what she'd said. That she was some sort of high priestess. But whose?

The words didn't escape his mouth, but apparently they didn't need to in order for her to hear them. To be amused by them. To cause her to laugh.

“Asked and answered child. I am your teacher.”

“
Now the lesson is ended. Tomorrow we will speak of Terris Lee. Of the past and the future.”

And with that she was gone. They were all gone. And he was left alone on his stone in the grass, surrounded by other stones.

Maybe that should have confused him. Made him ask questions. And yet it didn't. For some reason it just left him tired. And as the warm sun beat down upon his back he felt his eyelids quickly growing heavier. Could a man go to sleep in a dream? It seemed wrong somehow. And yet as his eyes closed over he knew it was happening.

The real question was how much of this would he remember in the morning?

Chapter Twenty Seven.

It was dark when Sena and Eris made camp in the fields just outside Lampton Heights. But that was no hardship for them. They were used to spending nights under the stars. All wayfarers did it. It was simply a part of life for them.

But this time it was Sena who had to do most of the work in setting up the camp. Gathering the wood and the water, building the fire, preparing the dinner and setting out the furniture so they could eat it in comfort. Eris was in the wagon resting. He had pushed himself hard all day, using his gift to transport them all the way from the temple of Balen Rale to the realm of Lampton Heights in barely twelve hours. Two hundred and some leagues in that sort of time was a feat of endurance few travellers could manage. And there weren't many who had the gift of travelling to begin with.

Still, she didn't mind. They had made the journey as they had to, and she could see her visitors already walking across the meadow towards them. Soon they were close enough that she could see the relieved smiles on their faces. Everything had gone as it should.

Of course as she looked back across to the city itself and saw the dark smoke rising from it covering the moon, she knew that others would not agree. Especially when she could hear the sounds of battle echoing down through the still night air. And where she could still see flames. This had been a very bad day for the Dicans of Lampton Heights. And with luck the morning would be worse.

“
Sena Erilis?”

“
Speaker Oldivar.” She greeted her guest politely, nodding her head with hands clasped in front of her as was proper when addressing a priest. She nodded to his family as well. His wife and their three children. For some reason they were all looking nervous. But after what they'd done and the day they'd had that was probably only to be expected. Still she didn't think they had any reason for fear. Not any more anyway. “Please make yourselves comfortable. The meal will not be long.”

“
We are grateful.”

They did as she asked, dropping their packs to the ground, finding the chairs, unfolding them and making themselves comfortable in front of the fire as they introduced themselves. Fairly soon they all had mugs of hot ginger tea in their hands, something that would soothe the nerves and warm the blood as the night cooled and they waited for dinner.

They were an interesting family Sena thought. And perhaps a perfect example of what the world should have been like but for the Dicans. The father a priest, was a speaker for Zylor the God of Justice, and had been forced all his life to conceal his calling. His wife was a wildling and had likewise been forced to hide her nature. As for the children, they were still too young to yet show their gifts if they had any or decide their callings. But the Dicans would kill them anyway if they suspected.

Sena guessed though that there was more to the family than the faith and the gifts. If she wasn't mistaken there might also be more than just human blood in them as well. The wife showed just a touch of wood elf ancestry, while the husband if she had to guess, had a little of the wayfarer in him.  In short, they were everything the Dicans most wanted to destroy. Which made what they had done all the more satisfying.

“It went well?” It was probably a little forward of her to ask, but Sena was curious.

“
It went very well.” The Speaker smiled at her, and his family did too, a little nervously. “The one who found this weapon has surely been guided by the thirteen. Perhaps Warreth the White has spoken to him of his wisdom.”

“
I doubt it Speaker.”

Sena shook her head sadly, wishing she didn't have to. “Dorn lives in a shrine to Xeria, but follows none of her teachings. And he has committed terrible acts, though perhaps because these are terrible times, he felt forced to do so. He lives with guilt for what he has done, but denies it loudly. And he lives in anger for what the Dicans have done to his family. If anyone was in need of your counsel it is him.”

“Then if he should ask I, or any of my brothers and sisters in the service of Zylor, would be glad to grant him our lord's justice. And though the path may be nearly unbearable, redemption is beyond none.”

“
Thank you.”

But why was she thanking him Sena asked herself? It was Dorn who was in need, not her. And she had the strange feeling that his need was not what she understood it to be. Not after both her brother and the lady had started speaking in riddles about Dorn. They didn't understand him but they claimed there was some sort of connection between him and the Mother. Or maybe just between him and the shrine. She didn't actually know which and she suspected they didn't either. Having no answer though she quickly changed the subject and asked instead about the attack.

“It went as it should.”

The priest quickly started telling her about the plan. About how he and his wife had carefully prepared the hollowed out logs, filling them with the white wrath pods and then early that morning before anyone was awake had started dropping them one by one into the burning braziers up wind of the Dican temple. The Dicans loved their fires, and so their temple was surrounded by braziers, ornate pails made of bronze mesh that they lit every night and every morning. It wasn't for the warmth that they loved fire she knew. It was for the light. They feared the darkness.

And because they feared strangers in the night – and with good reason – they also made certain that their temple was locked each night. None but the faithful would have been inside, something that the priest had counted on.

So the logs had warmed through slowly before catching fire in the embers of the previous night’s fire, and the spores of the white wrath had been released to be carried gently in the air and into the temple. From there everything had worked exactly as expected.

They had dropped all the logs in the Dicans' braziers just as the four bells had been sounded across the city. Twenty minutes later the first of the priests asleep in their beds had started screaming. And by five bells all five hundred priests and men at arms had been driven out of their minds with waking terrors. Probably a few others in the nearer houses had been affected as well. But because they were further away, the hope was that it had not been so terribly.

The priests had burst screaming from the huge temple and descended upon the still sleeping city like a plague of mad men. Running in all directions, fighting imaginary monsters and fleeing others. And because the spores were still in their lungs and the city was walled, they had then spent most of the day running through Lampton Heights and causing strife.

They had started fires across the city, trying to burn the demons out of their minds. They had attacked people and had had to be restrained by the city guards. Many had been embarrassed by the priests, not least because most of them were wearing nothing more than whatever they slept him. And some apparently didn’t wear any clothes to bed. The city's markets had had to be closed as the Dicans rushed around knocking over stalls and tents and attacking people at random. Court had had to be stopped for much the same reason. And much of the city had fallen into panic as people saw them and didn't know what to do.

There had been injuries and some deaths. Some because the crazed priests had jumped off buildings. Some because they had started fires that had burnt out of control. Some because the priests had attacked them and though most were unarmed they were still savage. Fear had leant them surprising strength.

The city guard had spent the entire day running around Lampton Heights chasing them down and locking them up. And in all the confusion someone had burnt their huge pyramid temple down. The smoke from that fire had spread like a blanket across the entire city.

By the time the speaker and his family had left the city that evening most of the crazed priests were locked away. A few were still causing havoc. Some were on the rooftops still screaming. Most were calming down slowly, though their screams could still be heard across the city.

What would come of this the priest didn't know. But he knew that with the temple burnt to the ground and maybe as many as two hundred and fifty priests driven out of their minds with fear, the church had had its nose well and truly bloodied.

He also thought that few if any of those priests would be returning to their faith. Why would they? Their service was based on fear. The one thing, the only thing that Dica promised them, was that they would never have to be frightened again. Just so long as they killed and tortured Dica's enemies, burned the temples of the other gods and brought fear to everyone else that was. Now that promise had been broken. Dica had failed them. The priests' faith would be shattered.

Recruitment would be hurt as well, and the Dicans were always looking for more believers; cowards to join them and do anything they wanted in order to feel safe. But they had been publicly shown to be weak. To be unable to protect their own.

And then there was the position of the church within the realm. Undoubtedly its position had been shaken. The balance of power would shift back a little to the courts and the nobility.

This had been a very bad day for them.

The hope was that that would end the war with the dusky elves. That the Dicans would be forced to retreat as they regrouped and tried to find out what had happened. That they would fear that they had enemies closer to home and couldn't afford to have their forces too far away. And when exactly the same thing was hopefully happening in the Kingdom of Yed, that was Sena's hope too.

But those who carried out the attacks had to be taken to safety. The Dicans might not have the services of hounds and other wildlings, but they could still find witnesses and torture information from anyone who might know anything. And they would. The Temple of Justice needed to make sure that the Dicans never suspected their hand had been involved. It wasn't that they feared the reaction. The Dicans were going to try to kill them all anyway. It was that an unknown enemy was always more frightening than a known one, and they wanted the Dicans to be frightened. Never knowing who had attacked them, or where to look for the next threat. That more than anything else would weaken them.

And strangely Sena realised, Dorn had started that fear in them. Teaching them that the wastes were frightening places. Sending their priests home one after another in complete terror, many of them grievously injured. Bearing the marks on their faces that had shocked their brethren. Those marks had stood testament to the fact that the Dicans weren't safe from attack.

Now, once the priests recovered from the days’ activities, she thought it likely that the church would assume that something from the wastes had followed them home. Something so terrible that they couldn't face it. The same thing that had torn their brothers apart.

Maybe the speaker had been right she decided. Maybe, despite his childish fits of temper and his unseemly violence, Dorn had actually been guided by something of the divine. In the wake of the return of the ancient high priests anything was possible. She knew that her brother and the Lady Sylfene suspected it.

But even if they were right surely it couldn’t be that Xeria was the one guiding him? The Lady and her brother had to be wrong on that matter. The Mother was no war goddess.