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Authors: Bevan McGuiness
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will share the Sea with us.’
‘Done,’ she said with hidden joy.
She was about to stand when, as an apparent afterthought, she paused. ‘Oh, and one other thing. She is likely to have a harp with her. An old, weathered thing of no intrinsic value, but if you could give it to me when you kill her…?’ Morag left the sentence hanging as a question.
The Commander grunted in assent and the High Priestess left, having achieved all she had wanted.
6
Aldere’s breath came in short gasps. The air up here was thin and the climb was hard but the view was worth the effort. He stood on the summit looking at the vista spread below him. To the north lay the Great Fastness, a vast grassland, sparsely inhabited and dotted with the remnants of the generations-long war that so dominated the sad history of this continent. It had finished hundreds of years ago, but the damage remained.
He turned to regard the east. At the foot of this mountain lay his home, the village. He had never heard it called anything but ‘the village’. It lay nestled where it had for centuries, tucked away beneath this mountain beside the river that stretched from the inland plateau to the sea so far away. The still air carried some sounds upwards so that even from this height, he could hear life going on as it had for countless generations; the ringing blows of Merryk the blacksmith, as he pounded the recalcitrant metal into shape, the plaintive bleating of old Hadrill’s sheep and the occasional voice raised in laughter or anger.
He let his eyes drift south, into the tamed andcivilised pasturelands of the great Asan Empire. It had always seemed to him that there was something significant about the placement of the village, just here between the mighty Empire and the wastelands that the Army of the World had created in wresting control from the Skrin Tia’k.
The sun was setting, sending shafts of golden light up through the clouds, staining the blue sky with yellows and pinks. Already a chill was seeping in and he knew that once again he had stayed too long and it was time to seek shelter. The climb down was easy enough in the light, but after dark strange things happened up here. He had seen too many things, heard too many people speak the truth about the mountain to ignore their warnings.
Seasons ago he had found a cave up here. It was small and its entrance was almost invisible to the casual observer. Each time he came up, he brought some small thing to make the cave warmer and more comfortable so that when, as often happened, he was captured by the beauty up here, his night was warm and pleasant. He took one last, long look around at the world at his feet and headed into the cave.
Inside, he wrapped himself in a heavy blanket and settled in to eat a simple meal of dried fruits and nuts before lying back amidst the furs. With the final ray of sunlight, he wondered again at the symbol carved on the wall of his sanctuary. It was clearly ancient, and corresponded to no religion or legend he knew. He’d asked every traveller who came through the village, but the stylised balance resting on a lightning bolt with the symbol for ground on one side, the symbol for water on the other, remained a mystery.
7
Hwenfayre awoke the morning after the attack curled up on her bed, still cradling her harp. Her dress was damp and her hair was a tangled mess. In her head thoughts whirled chaotically, but she felt too numb to try to make any sense of what had happened. Instead, she lit a fire in the fireplace and sat watching its flickering mysteries as her troubled mind slowly spun itself into quietude. Finally, some time after nightfall, she roused herself.
She was hungry, so she made herself a simple meal. Just as she was seated once more before the fire, there came a knock at her door. With a mixture of emotions, Hwenfayre put aside her meal and opened the door. It was Niall. He was still in uniform but the bloodstains were absent. Idly, Hwenfayre wondered if
‘Done,’ she said with hidden joy.
She was about to stand when, as an apparent afterthought, she paused. ‘Oh, and one other thing. She is likely to have a harp with her. An old, weathered thing of no intrinsic value, but if you could give it to me when you kill her…?’ Morag left the sentence hanging as a question.
The Commander grunted in assent and the High Priestess left, having achieved all she had wanted.
6
Aldere’s breath came in short gasps. The air up here was thin and the climb was hard but the view was worth the effort. He stood on the summit looking at the vista spread below him. To the north lay the Great Fastness, a vast grassland, sparsely inhabited and dotted with the remnants of the generations-long war that so dominated the sad history of this continent. It had finished hundreds of years ago, but the damage remained.
He turned to regard the east. At the foot of this mountain lay his home, the village. He had never heard it called anything but ‘the village’. It lay nestled where it had for centuries, tucked away beneath this mountain beside the river that stretched from the inland plateau to the sea so far away. The still air carried some sounds upwards so that even from this height, he could hear life going on as it had for countless generations; the ringing blows of Merryk the blacksmith, as he pounded the recalcitrant metal into shape, the plaintive bleating of old Hadrill’s sheep and the occasional voice raised in laughter or anger.
He let his eyes drift south, into the tamed andcivilised pasturelands of the great Asan Empire. It had always seemed to him that there was something significant about the placement of the village, just here between the mighty Empire and the wastelands that the Army of the World had created in wresting control from the Skrin Tia’k.
The sun was setting, sending shafts of golden light up through the clouds, staining the blue sky with yellows and pinks. Already a chill was seeping in and he knew that once again he had stayed too long and it was time to seek shelter. The climb down was easy enough in the light, but after dark strange things happened up here. He had seen too many things, heard too many people speak the truth about the mountain to ignore their warnings.
Seasons ago he had found a cave up here. It was small and its entrance was almost invisible to the casual observer. Each time he came up, he brought some small thing to make the cave warmer and more comfortable so that when, as often happened, he was captured by the beauty up here, his night was warm and pleasant. He took one last, long look around at the world at his feet and headed into the cave.
Inside, he wrapped himself in a heavy blanket and settled in to eat a simple meal of dried fruits and nuts before lying back amidst the furs. With the final ray of sunlight, he wondered again at the symbol carved on the wall of his sanctuary. It was clearly ancient, and corresponded to no religion or legend he knew. He’d asked every traveller who came through the village, but the stylised balance resting on a lightning bolt with the symbol for ground on one side, the symbol for water on the other, remained a mystery.
7
Hwenfayre awoke the morning after the attack curled up on her bed, still cradling her harp. Her dress was damp and her hair was a tangled mess. In her head thoughts whirled chaotically, but she felt too numb to try to make any sense of what had happened. Instead, she lit a fire in the fireplace and sat watching its flickering mysteries as her troubled mind slowly spun itself into quietude. Finally, some time after nightfall, she roused herself.
She was hungry, so she made herself a simple meal. Just as she was seated once more before the fire, there came a knock at her door. With a mixture of emotions, Hwenfayre put aside her meal and opened the door. It was Niall. He was still in uniform but the bloodstains were absent. Idly, Hwenfayre wondered if
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