Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary (30 page)

Malkrin remembered how he felt his powers
expanding after they had left the wild-cat cave. Then he recalled the dead
strangers unusual face mask. It all fitted, and in a strange way he was
relieved – relieved to go ahead with a straight forward war on the quarter-men without
having to guard against threats from unknown directions.

‘Can the Highnirvana people come to our
aid?’

‘They are working on more aids similar to
the masks your pursuers wore that will help more of them breathe lowland air.
Only then can they can join us.’

‘Can they not send a highsense to shield
us?’

‘I’m afraid they cannot project any of
their highsense abilities further than Cyprusnia.’

‘Well tell them not to take too long to
send their warriors, we may only have weeks.’

Josiath nodded and they wished each other
Jadde’s luck.

Later that day preparations and loading of
the horses were completed. A great farewell feast was arranged for the throng
of improvised warriors that would leave at sunrise.

A huge fire was lit in the town square and
great platters of roast meat, fresh bread and corn-cakes were handed around
with flagons of sweet beer and wine. Dancing and singing filled most of Edentown
that night and a bond formed with the Brenna for the first time in many generations.
Old animosities were forgotten over Bredon the Fox’s generous contribution of
ale to the event. The Brenna Council supplied the majority of the food and a
troupe of dancing girls previously reserved for Brenna celebrations performed
to drunken imitation and merriment. Toasts to inter-tribal unity were roared
above the singing and laughter, to which Malkrin’s band added their voices.
Malkrin went to his bed that night with a hoarse voice and a developing sore
head. But he slept soundly even without Cabryce at his side.

The journey began in dazzling sunshine and
the entire column made good progress with
Boele the Great Bear in the lead. Malkrin’s
companions were dotted through the column to urge the men on and answer any
nervous questions. Malkrin had told his companions to ensure all the Seconchane
and Brenna had a good look at the dead quarter-man in its cage as they passed
the Derant Pass fortification. He was convinced the delay was worthwhile to
stop the warriors believing quarter-men were mere phantoms conjured by overactive
imaginations. They would all have an idea of what they fought. Death had not
diminished its ferocious fanged mouth and evil starring eyes, but the whole
column now knew the quarter-men were not invincible. It had the desired affect
and the men marched with hope and a determination to rid humanity of the evil
threat.

As they left Cyprusnia behind, a forty
horse contingent of mounted Brenna rode ahead as scouts to keep a lookout for quarter-men.
Malkrin had no idea how far small bands of demons had infiltrated but he was
determined not to be ambushed. Whilst they travelled, Boele the Great Bear taught
Malkrin to ride a spare horse. The Bear demonstrated then helped Malkrin mount
the horse and dismount on the move. Occasionally he fell, but ignoring the
bruises. He soon got used to the jogging movement of the horse beneath him, but
his new accomplishment left him with the discomfort of a novice rider.

‘Saddle sore?’ The Bear roared, a massive
grin splitting his beard. Malkrin’s face answered his question, but his
thunderous laugh had sympathy for Malkrin’s discomfort.

They followed the now familiar landmarks of
the Wolf Tribe’s sacred route. It brought back Malkrin’s memories of Halle and
Seara and their first stumbling journey away from Wildcat Cave.

Day after day the column followed the same routine;
occasionally hunters broke away from the column to kill fresh game. The
supplies on the pack horses diminished and the few men that were struggling to
keep up were hoisted onto horseback and tied on with empty food sacks. The
weapon carrying carts and horses were spread through the column for easy access.
These were accompanied by the fittest townsmen ready to run with additional
spears and quivers of arrows in an instant. Malkrin’s saddle sores diminished
as they followed the track to the great gorge. Then the sound of rushing water refreshed
the air and drowned the song of crows and bluebirds. He drew the men into a
tighter column alongside the great rift and then rode ahead to join the Brenna
outriders, anticipating his first glimpse of the Brightwater lands.

It was an hour later, when he was at the
head of the Brenna, that the first tell-tale signs that all was not well ahead
rose above the horizon. He squinted and shielded his eyes against the sun. There
above the horizon a haze of smoke rose and thickened in the next hour to a
conflagration. BalthWolf sent his two warriors ahead to pivot the rock which
barred the exit from the rock
defile. B
eyond
the giant rocks the plain opened up. Behind sparse trees, rising smoke filled
the horizon and contained the first glow of orange flame.

It was a day’s march away at their normal
speed, but the whole column’s pace quickened to a run. In the approaching
evening, flames added a fearsome flicker to the sunset around Brightwater.
Malkrin feared they were going to arrive too late after all.

CHAPTER
TWENTYFOUR

S
eara
watched Malkrin’s band leave the Lighthouse Bridge to disappear between rising ground
and tall elms. They reappeared marching uphill between distant conifers; she
could still make out each individual by their height and gait. Her eyes were fixed
on
Palreth
and
wondered if she would live long enough to
see
him again. Malkrin’s band finally melded into the landscape.

After a minute she gave up hope of spotting
them again and diverted her attention to
the
people leaving their homes to continue the construction of earth ramparts. Around
the bridge deep ditches were being dug, the soil mounded into six foot banks alongside
to form a barrier. Seara knew another was being constructed along the east
boundary facing toward the Pit of Vorbe, where apparently the gorge released a
waterfall into a deep seething pool. Whether there would be time to finish the
fortifications she doubted. Already hunters were reporting sightings of small
bands of quarter-men in the furthest hunting grounds bordering the Sylve lands.
Sadly she realised the beautiful tree houses must be overrun, she hoped the demons
had not destroyed them.

     The last of the
Celembrie people had trickled in during the night with the Sylve survivors. It
had been a close thing with their warriors fighting rear-guard skirmishes all
the way through the Sylve forests.

Seara walked uphill behind
the great mounded homes of the main Brightwater village to where the Celembrie
people had been allocated fields to set up camp. For the rest of the day she
helped soothe the aches and sprains of people unused to such an enforced flight.

     Her highsense had slowly
returned to full power. It was as if she had found a way of healing herself by
applying her own mental hands to the raw wound of Olaff’s death, then gently
eased him into a treasured part of her memory. And of course she still had
Palreth who Olaff was part of anyway; the thought cheered her.

     Later she accepted a
meal from grateful Celembrie people and helped her father allocate able bodied Celembrie
to help with the defences. As the evening darkened, she returned to view the earthen
ramparts; the semi-circle around the entrance to the Lighthouse Bridge appeared
finished. In the amber glow emitted from the lighthouse structures she walked
back again and viewed the rows of turf roofed houses with wonder. They felt
almost like home now, she had grown really fond of all the people she had
befriended here. It was a beautiful place, only dirtied by the shadow of the
approaching demons.

     The next day she
visited the Wolf people and helped with a difficult birth, curing the woman’s haemorrhaging
with her gift. Then she healed a serious infected cut on a carpenter’s arm and the
broken leg of a worker who’d fallen down an earthen rampart. Later she visited
Tabra and the
orphan boy Filleh. They were comfortably settled in a room given them alongside
market buildings where traders bid and sold their wares.

     Three days later a cold wind started
from the south, it bore the sweet scent of spring blossom but she focused a new
sensitivity and detected for the first time an acrid underpinning of demon. She
shuddered and visions of attacking quarter-men momentarily filled her head. She
forced the images away and watched two Brightwater carpenters fashioning the
great open barrels that would be filled with oil and suspended over ditches at
strategic points.

It had been Thicheal the leader of the Celembie’s
idea; an extension of his idea of using fire-arrows. The barrels would be
constructed of oak planks sealed against leaks and bound with rope to hold the
barrel together when filled with oil. At the correct moment the barrels would
be upended, splashing oil over quarter-men in the ditch, fire-arrows would
ignite the resultant coating.

     She retired for the night to the rooms
she shared with her father. He lay exhausted with the administration of defence
tasks and additional research in the library, but stirred as she arrived. After
a quick greeting he fell into an exhausted sleep.

     The same thing happened for the next five
days, every time she returned from her duties. Now she also felt exhausted. The
smell of alien odours now hung heavy in the breeze, the people also detected
the ominous reek. The tribes worked ever more frantically, consequently more
accidents occurred. She ran from one incident to the next.

     Seara arrived at their rooms that
evening to find her father seated and keeping awake just for her.

     ‘Daughter, how are things with you?’

     ‘Fine Father,’ she spoke about the
people she had treated that day. ‘How about you?’

     ‘No revelations in the research, I believe
all the texts have been copied at some point and important information has been
garbled or missed out by scribes who thought it meaningless. My only real
discovery was of an ancient oil well this side of the Pit of Vorbe. I directed Brightwater
men there, and they found ancient pipes sunk into the ground. They freed the
choking debris of centuries and oil trickling from them. The texts state the
ancients pumped in water to replace the oil so I instructed the men to build a
gantry and force water in one vertical pipe with a ram. It worked and oil flowed
from other pipes nearby. Wolf people have loaded it into barrels, and carts
have taken them to the ditches.’

     ‘I wondered where the vast quantities
of oil were coming from – well done Father,’ she leant over and kissed his
cheek.

     ‘I fear it will take more effort than
we have time.’

     ‘Demon odour is in the air, the smell
is getting stronger.’

     ‘I know.’ He straightened in the
chair. ‘Seara, if we are overwhelmed here you must save yourself and lead as
many women and children back to Cyprusnia as possible.’

     ‘I will not leave without you Father.’

     ‘You may have to. But rest assured
child, you will leave with my blessing.’

Tears filled her eyes and she hugged him,
his familiar smell comforted her.

     ‘I won’t leave you Father.’

     ‘Do as I say child – now promise me.’

She fell silent; nightmare thoughts of
slashing stabbing demons filled her head again, but Olaff’s image was replaced
with her father’s.

‘Seara, listen closely. I believe the
ramparts along the eastern boundary from the gorge to the foothills of the Mountains
of Despair are too formidable a task to complete in the time we have. The
Senate have allocated only half of our warriors to defend this huge line and I
fear that they will be spread too thin.’

     Seara listened to the doom filled
words and knew her father was correct. Her only visit to the eastern plain had revealed
the vast space would be impossible to fortify in time.

     ‘Try to meet me here Father, I will
wait as long as I can.’

     Halle smiled and she kissed him again,
‘Of course I will Daughter.’

     But she could tell his eyes contained
little hope.

     Seara slept badly that night, and awoke
late in the morning to find her father already gone. A map lay next to her
pillow with a note.

     Dearest Seara

    
Keep this map of the mountain
passes safely on you at all times. I am to lead a band of men in defending the
nearest area of the eastern barrier. Small groups of quarter-men are scouting
in the woodland near there and our hunters are now fighting them.

     More news tonight. Remember our pact.

     Your loving Father.

     An hour later she had just attended
another accident where two exhausted workers had somehow slashed each other
with stakes they were sharpening in the bridge rampart. She had wiped clean the
blood from the second man and healed his deep wound when a sentry shouted and
rang an alarm bell. She looked toward the elm trees where she’d last seen
Malkrin’s band disappear and spotted movement – it was all jet black and seemed
full of waving limbs. The wind carried an evil hiss that strengthened as she
listened. Resting men poured from the guard huts and more warriors filled the
top of the ramparts as the first group of quarter-men burst from the trees
beyond the bridge.

     ‘Back to the town Seara,’ a Brightwater
officer gestured to her.

     She walked back a short distance and
from the middle of the bridge watched the first arrows falling amongst the surging
demons. She turned and ran to her room to retrieve Olaff’s bow and full quiver
from under her bed, then rushed back across the bridge to the earthen barrier. More
warriors ran with her to repel the demons. She stood behind an upturned cart piled
around with junk which formed a secondary fortification. A dozen quarter-men led
a half hearted rush; six reached the top of the rampart and were cut down at
the expense of four warriors. Then, surprisingly all went quiet. But in the
woods a mass of black carapaces glinted in the midday sun and moved like a
disrupted nest of giant ants. Had the initial rush just been to test the Brightwater
defences? If so there must be some organisation in the demon masses.

     She ran to the fallen warriors, three
were dead but the other was covered in deep slashes, the worst was to his
throat. As he struggled to breathe she sealed the ruptured veins and then his
throat. Her hands felt as if they were glowing as she ran them over his other
injuries, willing herself to work slowly and to concentrate the healing
highsense. Faintly she heard more shouts and screams from the rampart, and then
a dead demon crashed down beside her. At last the warrior was healed. She
handed him a flask of water and went over to another casualty who had crawled
over, leaving a smear of blood behind him like a grotesque snail trail. She
cured his stomach wound and then another warrior’s deep head wound.

     Suddenly all went quiet around her;
she stood to walk to the next casualty.

     ‘That taught the bastards,’ someone
nearby shouted triumphantly, and others cheered the small victory.

     All around her lay corpses of men and demons
some intertwined in grotesque familiarity. She rushed to the next wounded man and
looked around; their warriors at the defences were depleted.  A large group of
reserve men were rushing from the town to reinforce the barrier.

     She healed that warrior and he rose
shakily, muttered a sincere, ‘thanks angel,’ and rejoined his comrades.

     Another rush of black shelled monsters
assaulted the barrier as her highsense worked its miracle so many times she
lost count. All the once-wounded were intensely grateful and kept calling her Angel,
Queen and once even Goddess. Seara smiled back, scared of becoming numbed to
the chaos, but the sudden title and worshipping thanks bolstered her. She did
not deserve their intense gratitude; she was just doing what she did best to
help her people. Thoughts tumbled through her mind as she looked from her
raised standing point and watched thick oily smoke billow from the eastern
barrier. Then in dismay she watched a rush of warriors and women in that
direction to reinforce defences.

     And still the demons charges came and
were repulsed. The ground between the two warring sides became filled with
smouldering fire-arrows, dead demons and human corpses. Behind the rampart,
rows of dead warriors had been respectfully arranged, but now piles of bodies
still lay where they fell. Seara estimated a quarter of the warriors were dead.
In horror she watched a mass of demons gather before the woodland, more than
she thought could possibly be left. The men of the allied tribes rose again to
face them, some ran over to touch her and left with a smile and renewed energy.

The demon horde continued to flow from the
wood, hissing in a communal chorus, but waited before renewing their attack.

     ‘My thanks Angel,’ or, ‘I am in your
debt Goddess,’ and other gratitude’s were whispered to her by the healed men
before returning to their positions. More warriors who had not been healed came
to touch and thank her. She saved them the trouble of running up, and walked
amongst them armed with her bow and quiver. She smiled and kissed the few that
looked fearful or battle-shocked. An officer came over and hugged her, then
another. Soon the men were cheering, but strangely it was not for their
successful defence. They all glanced at her adoringly and shouted approval, she
felt her face redden.

     With shrill calls the demon’s renewed
their onslaught and ran forward with a chorus of hisses.

     Seara returned to where the women she
had trained were tending more wounded and carried on her healing. But there
were too many casualties and she began to tire. Her hands felt increasingly
numb and each healing took longer.

     ‘Ready with the fire barrels,’ an
officer shouted above the mayhem of battle. Seara looked up at a row of archers
ready with large flaming arrows. A roar of stamping feet assaulted her ears
from the other side of the rampart accompanied by an evil ear-splitting hiss.
Men loosed arrows and spears from the bulwark into the unseen horde beyond. She
wondered if anyone would survive the tide of demons clicking and hissing at the
barrier.