Scabbard's Song (5 page)

him now? There was a long pause during which Soldiers heart was racing like mad, then the other dragon answered, Oh, I think that was just an example he can start now, from the top of the list, working his way down through it, but with no more errors. Thank you, murmured Soldier. Speak up! Dont mumble, chorused the dragons. Yes, yes, I will. First comes an emperor, who is entitled to an eagle or a vulture. Good, cried Gilchrista. And so on . . . A king with his gyr falcon. Princes, dukes and earls all have the same bird, a peregrine falcon. A knight of course has a saker, while his esquire may carry a lanner on his wrist. The knights lady will hunt with a merlin. Now, what comes next? Soldiers mind was in a bit of a whirl. His brain suddenly froze. What came next? Was it a yeoman? He could not remember. It had, after all, been years. A yeoman, yes - yet there seemed to be someone missing. What rank? Surely, below an esquire and a knights lady was a yeoman? There was no other . . . Take your time, said Wilandow. Time has a mellow quality for dragons. We savour it. I think . . . no, wait, yes next comes a young man. He carries a hobby hawk! Excellent! cried Gilchrista. You nearly forgot the young man, didnt you? Yes, I admit it, I did, but then the hobby came to mind and I fitted the hawk to the rank. Thats a brilliant way of doing it - but the list is not yet finished, said Wilandow. There are more, of course. Yes there are, for after the young man comes the yeoman, who hunts with a goshawk. Then the priest, whose bird is the sparrowhawk. After him the holy-water clerk, whose permitted raptor is the male of the same species carried by the priest, which we call a musket. Well, theres a piece of information we didnt expect, said Wilandow. Gilchrista added, No, we werent aware that the musket was a male sparrowhawk. You learn something every day, dont you? But the list is not yet finished, as Im sure you know. Continue. Soldiers heart started beating again. Surely it was over? As a knight he had not taken a great deal of interest in the ranks and birds below his own station, but he thought he had accounted for them all. Another one? Or two? How frustrating this was. The best thing to do was go through the birds and see what might be missing. He knew his birds better than his people. So, eagle, vulture, gyr, peregrine, saker, lanner, merlin, hobby, goshawk, sparrowhawk, musket . . . what other raptors were there? Harriers, kites, fish hawks like the osprey were not used. Nor were buzzards. There werent any more, surely? Even as he was thinking he heard the sound he had heard many times before in his life: a series of keh-leek notes, then a repeated kee-kee-kee. Soldier had no doubt that it was Wo who was mimicking the calls, from behind the trees, and he went into a cold sweat. Fancy forgetting a kestrel. He had almost lost his life because the bird he wanted was such a common sight in his old land that it passed from the mind, like finch or pigeon. Gilchrista said, That was lucky. Wilandow added, Very lucky. I hope you werent cheating, Soldier. Cheats never prosper, you know. You mean that kestrel over there, calling just at the right time. Yes, yes, oh, it was pure luck. How on earth, or anywhere else, had Wo known that the kestrel was the last on the list? So, my dragon guards, the last on the list is the knave or servant, who is permitted to hunt with the kestrel. Have I performed my task satisfactorily? May I now pass into the cave? You have passed the test, you may now enter, said the red dragon. Be our guest, added the green. Oh dear, groaned the disappointed old woman, cracking open a skull like a coconut, all them good bones. Are there any dangers I should be especially aware of, inside the cavern? Or in the underground lake? Who knows? said Wilandow. Theres only one way to find out, added Gilchrista. Thanks for nothing, muttered Soldier. Then came another call from the tree line. It was the cry of an eleonoras falcon - keya - a harsher sound than that of a kestrels call. And you too, he directed back at Wo, thinking it was a good thing Wo had not mimicked the eleonora first, or Soldier might have been lying dead on the ground from a dragons blow. Soldier pushed through the curtain of spinal cords and entered the cave. Just inside he unhooked his tinder box from his belt and, striking a light, lit the faggot he carried. This torch enabled him to see into the cavern. There were dancing shadows on the walls, from the flame of the torch, but apart from those nothing moved. Encouraged, Soldier ventured further inside. Right at the back, some twenty yards from the entrance, he found a set of steps cut out of the rock, descending into the lower regions of the earth. Boldly he took this route, hoping it would lead him to the underground sea. No ugly gnomes sprang out from behind stalagmites, nor goblins dropped from overhanging stalactites. It would indeed have been rather unfair if, having got past two formidable dragons, there should be more obstacles in his way. In fact he made it to the stony, sloping shore of the flat, calm sea without hindrance. He tested the water with his hand. It was icy cold. He began to strip to the waist, wondering how he was going to see to find his sword in the blackness of the lakes depths. Once ready for his dive, he held the torch high above the water. It was clear down to the bottom. There he could see something shiny, a blade definitely, lying on the bottom. Why is there no lady of the lake? he muttered. Theres usually a lady of the lake who retrieves the sword. But for a king, not for some ordinary mean knight. Knights had to get their own swords. It was then he saw the silvery shadow pass below. A long very long lean, serpent-like shape. Perhaps fifty yards in length? But as thick as a mans waist, with powerful swimming muscles. The serpentine form moved away, out of the light, and into the darkness of another part of the lake. A shiver went down Soldiers spine. It was naive of him to think that there would be no more obstacles, obviously. Here was another. A monstrous water serpent. Only one? Perhaps there were more? Soldier continued to watch, counting the seconds under his breath. The monster came again, a full minute later. This time Soldier had time to study its head, which seemed to consist of two large eyes and foot-long jaws with rows of teeth. All along the creatures back was a dorsal fin with sharp spines protruding from it. There was a similar fin running the length of its belly. It snaked through the water with ease, turning once it reached the rocky shelf. Then, again, it slid out of sight, into the darkness of the rest of its kingdom. Soldier watched, timed the visits. There seemed to be only one, which was good. But gauging the depth of the water and the time it took to turn away then reappear again, Soldier guessed he would not be able to retrieve Kutrama and get back to the surface before the monster was on him. He stared down into the depths of the water. There was a hiding place down there, beneath the shelf of an overhanging rock. If only he could hold his breath long enough for the serpent to come and go, so that he could surface and escape without harm. There was nothing else for it, but to make the attempt. If he failed . . . well, that was not to be thought of. He jammed the torch in between two stalagmites, so that its light fell on the water. The next time the serpent turned and slid again into the shadowy regions, Soldier dived. It was all he could do not to expel his breath with the shock of the cold. He kicked hard, going downwards, the temperature of the water growing even colder as he did so. It hurt. He hoped his muscles would not seize in such freezing conditions. He used his arms as well as his legs to propel himself downwards. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Was he any closer? His lungs were aching already. Twenty seconds. Twenty-five. Nearer and nearer came the bright blade. It almost seemed to be dancing with excitement down there, on the verge of being owned again. Another ten seconds and Soldier was now struggling, fighting to stay under while the natural buoyancy pulled the other way. Finally he was there. His hand reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword. He had it in his fingers. Yes, the blade was his! But there was no way he could stay under the water. He had to reach air, and soon, or he would burst. The rock hang was near, but his body could not stand the lack of oxygen. He kicked upwards, heading for that burning light, above the surface. On the way up he sensed the serpent returning, then saw her silvery form above him. Kutrama was in his grasp, though, and if the monster impeded him, he would run the point through the lower jaw and up through the creatures brain. Armed as he was, and so desperate for a breath, he knew he would kill the reptilian undersea creature if it attacked him or got in his way. But it merely turned at the rocky shore, made its usual manoeuvre sliding past the smooth, stony edge of the cavern floor where it fell into the lake, and out again into the dark side of the water. It was like a captured wild beast, circling its cage, going round and round without any real purpose except to keep moving. Soldier broke the surface and sucked in air, his throat rattling with the effort of drawing in oxygen. Then he was on the shoreline, lying on his back, no longer troubled by the cold, but feeling the warmth of exhilaration. He had succeeded! He had the sword. The word Kutrama was etched into the blade. His sword, indeed. It vibrated in his grasp, as if welcoming his grip. They were together again. He had left the scabbard, Sintra, with Wo in the woodlands. Having dressed again, he made his way out of the cave, snuffing the torch at the exit. The two dragons now took little notice of him. Gilchrista gave him a passing glance, but Wilandow merely sniffed. Soldier felt that he should be given some credit, some praise, for having achieved his goal. But these were dragons who had seen it all before, and would see it all again. Once they had established that he was the bona fide owner of the sword, then their work was finished. The old woman gave him a little wave, as if to say never mind, perhaps next time? and watched him go down to the forest fence. Wo was ecstatic. You did it? I never thought you would, Soldier. Ive sent a good few to this place and never seen hair or tooth of them again It was your kestrel call that saved me, admitted Soldier, though I could have done without the follow-up - the eleonoras falcon cry. Wo looked mystified. Soldier frowned. Was that not you? Who made those bird cries? No, said a voice from above, startling the two companions, it was me. The raven sat on a branch above the dog-mans head. Well, said the raven, you dont think a man could mimic a bird that well, do you? I did it perfectly. If it hadnt been perfect, youd have been stomped to pulp by those dragons out there. They dont like cheats, you know. Your rib cage would be ploughing up a gnomes beet field by next week, if it wasnt for me. I grant you that, said Soldier, but why the eleonora? Just to make you sweat a bit. You know we have this ambivalent relationship. Sometimes I like you, sometimes I hate you. Its one of those things. Shall I leap up and crush that bird in my jaws? asked Wo, his eyes narrowing. I could do it just like that, before it flies. No, no, answered Soldier, wearily. The creature is right weve both helped each other in the past, and equally, weve both wronged one another at certain times. Leave him be. I must now return my sword to its scabbard . . . He took Sintra from Wos hands and, with a feeling of completion, slid Kutrama into her. Immediately, the scabbard began a song. This was like no other song she had sung before. It was the first time Soldier had understood all her words. Very quickly all present realised what the lyrics were saying. This was no wizards melody, but the history of a knight. Soldier was being told, at last, who and what he was, and where he came from. The information was startling and unwelcome to Soldiers ears. He had dreamed much of it before, without the names. He was aware of slaughters and massacres. He was aware of great wrongs, but had not known who had perpetrated them and for what reason. The people in the song all seemed to be villains, there being little honour in the protagonists. To his great sorrow he learned that he had a history of which he should be ashamed. Soldier had felt this history before now, of course, had known he carried a great hate in his soul, a great enmity, which had come out at times with terrible unstoppable ferocity, such as when he killed Wos kinsman, the dog-head Vau. You are the knight Valechor, sang Sintra, and for ever and aye you have fought a feud against your mortal enemies, the Drummonds. Border clans, both, your family and theirs have killed and killed, until one fateful day the Drummonds slew your bride, the lovely Rosalind, and left her bleeding in her bridal gown upon the mountain snows. You, Sir Valechor, went out with your men and hunted the Drummonds down until you had them trapped in a valley, where you slaughtered them without mercy, hate and rage ruling your head. It was a terrible massacre, one at which you were cursed a thousand times. Blood soaked the white heather and the dog-rose withered on the vine. Animals now forsake that glen and birds no longer nest in its trees. Yet there was but one who escaped, a Drummond who swore to right the wrongs his clan had suffered under the Valechor blades. This Drummond rose to the right hand of the king, who stood apart from your quarrel and let it fester. Squabbles between knights, the king said, were not the concern of the throne, but to be settled by the combatants themselves. The king would not interfere, no much how much blood was spent. There were battles between the knight Drummond and you, the Valechor, and in one such battle the bride of Drummond was slain. An eye for an eye, a bride for a bride. It was an accident, for she wore the armour of a man, and was for all appearance yet another knight. But Drummond was of no mind to accept you, when you asked for forgiveness. Death was all that rested in his mind. Your death. The death of the last Valechor. Or the death of the last Drummond, who shortly after the killing of his wife murdered the king and took his throne. This is how things are now. One seeks the death of the other, even following him into another world. The Drummond is here, snarled Soldier. The Drummond came after me when I was flung from the battle into this world. The Drummond might have been here first and you the one to follow. Thats true - but I must find him . . . And seek an end to this terrible feud! cried Wo. Soldier, listen to yourself! You may have been a ferocious enemy to the dog-people, and others in this world, yet you have always fought with honour. Just