Contents
Imprint 2
Preface 3
Drawn into Taleth 3
1 4
A Rare Woman 4
2 28
Tath Garnir 28
3 55
In the Court of the High King 55
4 75
Captive 75
5 100
‘Jaws that slice’ 100
6 119
Beyond the City 119
7 141
The Sha-ellev 141
8 165
Julia 165
9 186
The Staff of Nuall 186
10 207
Beneath the Mountains of the Nare 207
11 229
The Outcast’s Return 229
12 254
Before the Mrauuk 254
13 277
Balthazar Earthroot 277
14 300
The World Beyond Ours 300
15 319
‘And so, by the First Light of Dawn …’ 319
16 339
Upon the Mountain Top 339
17 360
The Chiatt Crystal 360
Imprint
All rights of distribution, also through movies, radio and television, photomechanical reproduction, sound carrier, electronic medium and reprinting in excerpts are reserved.
© 2020 novum publishing
ISBN print edition: 978-3-99064-979-4
ISBN e-book: 978-3-99064-980-0
Editor: Hugo Chandler, BA
Cover images: Andrey Kiselev,
Ilya Podoprigorov | Dreamstime.com
Coverdesign, Layout & Type: novum publishing
Internal illustration: M.R. Reynolds
www.novum-publishing.co.uk
Preface
Drawn into Taleth
Since Michael Oakes was first drawn into Taleth, carrying the spirit of Mikael Dal Oaken, he has walked with the Powers, fought the Tsarg and ridden the fabled Piradi. He has heard the voice of the Corruptor and has conversed with the Wolves. He has found companionship, loyalty and love. He has learned much but he knows that there are still so many questions to answer, and Sorin, the Majann, for all his power, can answer very few. In his own world, he and David have a new travelling companion, Martha Spinetti, Netti for short. Events have conspired to force them to tell her their true situation, but Netti has taken it all in her stride. Michael has experienced the thrill of flying with the Valeen of the Antaldi, a rare offer of aid from the austere people of the Forest, but his journey to Tath Garnir, the King’s city, has been brought to an abrupt and violent end. In his own world he had fled the noisy bar of the White Hart Hotel in Newport and has now woken lost and confused in a dark alley.
***
1
A Rare Woman
For a while he lay there, and he tried to calm himself after his fall. Here he appeared to be in a dark alley. In Taleth he would have landed somewhere just inside the city walls, but he had no idea what state he was in. The previous synchronicity suggested that he was there as he was here, winded, bruised, dishevelled and lost, but nothing more. Of course, he could not be sure until he switched back. He hoped that Fah Devin had made it safely to ground and that Sorin, presuming he survived the Garshegan, could halt the effects of the poison. He struggled to his feet and brushed himself down, trying to orientate himself. He had no idea how far he had walked; it had been Friday when he switched but there was little clue to what day or even time it was other than it was dark.
He heard traffic noise and he saw that the alley led out at one end to a road with streetlights. He made his way along, stumbling in the darkness, knocking over some bottles and falling once, against a pile of black bin bags, by the time he reached the road, his frustration at the darkness was such that he decided to make for the first friendly light that he could see and hang the consequences. What he saw on the other side of the street was a fish and chip shop, brightly lit, comfortably gaudy and, what was more, empty. He crossed the road and walked towards the open door. As he did so he caught sight of his reflection in the glass. He looked a complete mess, muddy stains criss-crossed his jeans and his shirt, his hair was dishevelled, and his hands bloodied. He contemplated retreat, but the woman inside the shop had seen him and she had come around from behind the counter; a look of concern on her face.
“Are you alright, love, have you been in an accident? Come in and sit down a minute.” She was a small woman, but she had that natural tone of command that led people to accept proffered help without question. “You are in a mess and no mistake. Do you speak English? My Welsh is very ropey I’m afraid; I don’t try hard enough with it I suppose. Here I’ll get something for your hand.” She left him sitting for only a moment before she returned with some antiseptic wipes and plasters.
Michael was glad that there was no-one else around. “Thank you, you’re most kind.”
“Ah, you do have a voice, good. How did you get into this state?” She asked as she cleaned his hands and knuckles,
“I’m afraid I got lost, I have a condition. I black out sometimes and if I’m not careful, I end up like this.”
“Oh, you poor man, like petit mal, you mean. How unfortunate. Well, it’s Saturday night so the hospital will not be a nice place to be, although it is still early. Are you staying in Newport?”
“Well, just outside, The White Hart Hotel, I think.”
“There are several of those, I think, but we should be able to work out which.” She had finished covering the two gashes on his knuckles with plasters. She now considered the next step. “Have you eaten? No? Right well it’s early, as I said, I won’t get much custom for at least an hour yet. There’s always a gap between those who come in for their tea and the after-hours lot. Here, let me shut up for ten minutes while you have some haddock and chips on the house. I will have a look in the phone book and see which hotel you are in.”
She reached up and flipped the Open sign to Closed as Michael began to protest. “No, no, it’s no trouble really. Come on.” She led Michael through to the back of the shop and sat him down at a table. She continued to question him as she piled a plate with chips and a portion of haddock. “Did you come down from the coast?”
“Yes, we stayed in Aberystwyth on Thursday.”
“I like Aberystwyth, I have an aunt up there, by marriage, not that I am now, not since his lordship took off. But that will mean you either came down through Llandridnod Wells, through the beacons, or you took the coast road.”
“We took the coast road. But we didn’t join the motorway, we came across on the minor roads.” Michael hadn’t realised he was hungry, but the fish and chips were genuinely delicious. “This fish is excellent, sorry, I don’t even know your name?”
“That’s because I didn’t tell you it’s Dianne, and you?”
“Michael, this is really good.”
“Best chip shop in the street.” She laughed at her own joke. “So you didn’t take the motorway.” She sat down opposite him, she had an old Yellow Pages in her hands. “My son says that I should get a computer to look things up on, but I like the feel of paper personally.”
Michael was able for the first time to look at her properly. Her hair was mainly hidden by a hairnet and a white cap, but what he could see was black. Her face was careworn, but still handsome, although her nose was a sharp thin one that gave her a rather severe countenance. She was slim but not thin and she gave off an air of confidence and control that probably stood her in good stead late at night. “Right, if you came in from Aberdare or Caerphilly then you would be on the north side so … ah, here we are. There’s only one White Hart up that side, which makes it easy. I’ll ring you a taxi, while you finish your supper.”
While he was eating Michael realised that he had no way of paying, but when Dianne returned, she had anticipated this, and she produced a twenty-pound note from the till. “Here, this will get you home.”
“I can’t take that, although you’re right I have no money on me. I will come over tomorrow and pay you back.”
“There’s no need, really, I rarely get the chance to play the Good Samaritan and maybe it will store up some reward for me if the Lord sees fit.”
A car horn sounded outside. “That was quick, business must be slack. Here, I’ll wrap the rest of that, and you can take it with you. The driver knows where he’s going. Now you watch yourself, Michael, it’s a big scary world out there and you need to take care.”
“Thank you, you are a rare woman, Dianne.”
“That’s what I told his lordship, a rare woman, because I let him walk out. Most of the women round here would have broken both his legs for him. Off you go, I’ve got customers on the way.”
So, armed with a twenty-pound note, a half-eaten haddock and the remaining chips Michael set off in the Taxi across Newport. The incongruity of his life made him smile as he continued to enjoy the fish, while the driver chatted away in the front. Not an hour ago, he had been high above the capital of Taleth, beset by storm and demon and now he was in the back of a rather dirty black cab, which was struggling through the Saturday night traffic in Newport.
After a rather stop-start fifteen minutes they arrived at the White Hart. Michael paid the driver and deposited what was left in a charity dog by the entrance. He put what was left of his free meal in the nearest bin and trying to appear more nonchalant than he felt, he walked up to the reception desk.
“Good evening, I …”
“They’re in the bar, sir.” The duty receptionist was a man, and by the look of him a rather surly one.
“I’m sorry?”
“Your friends, they’re in the bar. They were out looking for you, now they’re in the bar.”
“Oh, I see.” Michael was going to thank him, but since he had turned away, he decided not to bother. Instead he walked into the bar and he spotted David at the counter downing quite a large whisky. Netti was nowhere to be seen.
“Hello, David.”
David spun round on hearing his name; his face was drawn and tired, he had obviously had little sleep. “Michael, where the hell have you been? Quickly grab those drinks and follow me. Netti is about to ring the police.” Michael did as he was told and picked up the two large glasses of wine and followed David out of the bar and up the stairs. Their two rooms were at the top of the building and it took several flights to get there. As Michael reached him David was knocking on the door of Netti’s room. “Netti, it’s alright he’s turned up. He’s …”
The door flew open and Netti threw her phone onto the bed. “Thank God, Michael, we’ve been worried sick. We spent the whole day searching for you.”
There was little he could say except. “Sorry, I went out for some air and I switched while I was walking. I‘ve only been back for forty minutes or so.”
David was concerned about whether Netti had instigated a full search or not, but Netti reassured him. “No, I was still on hold, fortunately. But I did ring the hospitals again, not that they keep records of calls necessarily.”
“I suppose not, but Michael you look a mess. Have you eaten?”
“Yes, I have actually; a Good Samaritan by the name of Dianne gave me a fish and chip supper and the taxi fare to get back here.”
“Well, there’s a rare woman in this day and age.” Netti was surprisingly calm about it all.
“That’s just what I told her. Look, I’m really sorry, but I don’t think that anyone is going to let anything really awful happen to me. I mean they all seem to have too much invested in me to let that happen.”
David was extremely sceptical. “Are you saying that there are people who will not allow you come to harm because you are important?”
“Not people exactly, but certainly major players in the game that they are playing.”
Netti took one of the wine glasses from Michael. “Okay, we’ve both had an awful fright and worn ourselves out all day looking for you, but that’s done with, I have fuel in my hand now and I want to know what has been happening to you and don’t go leaving bits out, I will be able to tell, we deserve all of it after today.”
So, with Netti and David sitting sipping their wine, Michael sat on the bed and he began to recount the last few days in Taleth. He did leave out some things, his starlit encounter with Ayan, was not their affair; also the dream about Sorin and the two promises. All of that seemed too serious and sacred to be banded around a bedroom in a hotel. He also left out the house of the Mualb entirely, although he was not quite sure why, perhaps because he felt a personal attachment that was not necessary to share. Even without these there was enough to sate Netti’s curiosity and she seemed fairly satisfied when he had reached the encounter with the Garshegan.
David was still concerned for Michael’s safety. “But how can be sure that you have survived that fall?”
“I can’t, David, not for certain, but I’m alive here and so it seems logical to assume that I am alive there.”
“Logical, since when has any of this been logical. It has been one crisis after another and now we simply have to find somewhere where we can at least lock you in, even if you walk around and around the house in your trance or whatever it is.” David was definitely in need of sleep. “The sooner we get to Street the better; I may buy some chains on the way to make sure that you stay in one place at a time.”
Netti had clearly been weighing things up in her mind. “Now, now, David, calm down. I think I have a better solution. While the flat over the clinic is being refurbished, I am ‘house-sitting’ a really nice house in Glastonbury, on a semi-permanent basis. It is set back away from the main road; four big bedrooms and a study and a conservatory which opens onto a very private garden. It would serve us all very nicely. You could set your chain to a spike out in the garden and let Michael walk around that to his heart’s content. It would save on carpet at the very least.”
The notion of Michael chained to a stake endlessly walking round in circles obviously tickled David and he began to laugh, which caused the others to do the same. With the tension thus eased, Michael asked if he could have a shower before getting some proper sleep and David was now quite happy to let him. David and Netti returned to the bar to leave Michael to wash, so he stripped off his dirty clothes and he entered the bathroom. He knew that he would be disappointed; nothing now would match the exhilaration of washing in the house of the Mualb, but it was clean, serviceable and warm.
He took his time, letting the water cascade over his head and massage his shoulders. It was strange to think that his other self could be lying in the dirt somewhere close to the walls of Taleth, but perhaps he was being washed by the rain of the storm. He suddenly remembered how swiftly the storm had thrown itself against them; no natural weather could have appeared so quickly, perhaps closer to the mountains, but not out in the open plains. There was too much that made no sense about the attack. How had they known that there would be flyers? How had they known where they were? Were they so numerous that they could wait in ambush at every possible point on their journey, surely not? Was it his fault? Perhaps the Corruptor could always tell where he was. With that thought in his mind he dried himself, slipped into the bottom half of the pyjamas that David had given him, and lay down to try and sleep.
He found himself dreaming, before him was another mountain range and he seemed to be drifting down to it from above. The jagged peaks reached up like claws out of the snow which lay everywhere, frozen into great drifts. As he drew nearer, he became aware of a figure moving through the snow, a figure with the stature of Uxl of the Tarr, but as he finally came to rest upon the snow, he realised that this figure was not of earth. It was thinner, paler, fluid, like slowly drifting clouds moulded into shape and given limbs and a head. He surmised this to be a First One of Air, the Auwinn, long since thought to have faded from Taleth. The figure strode effortlessly through the deep snow, which seemed to part before it as it moved forward, and close behind it after it had passed. Its goal was a cave, the mouth of which sat beneath an overhang of rock and was thus protected from the snow. He followed now on foot as the Auwinn entered the cave.
They passed through several sets of great doors as they made their way into the mountain, each was differently decorated, but the detail of their decoration was blurred to his dreaming eyes. Finally, they reached an inner chamber, the walls carved and decorated with painted images. Around the edges were shelves and tables that obviously held objects of great value and import. Three other Auwinn stood around a great casket of green crystal. Upon the casket, a great wolf with pure white fur lay dying. She raised her head as they approached and howled painfully one last time before a shudder indicated the end. Michael sensed her spirit leaving her body and he knew in that moment that this was one of the Veyix, the Lost, and that her spirit was now condemned to wander just as Lonett must. The Auwinn bowed their heads and they began a long slow chant to honour the departed, but Michael’s eyes were drawn inevitably to the casket. He began to have a terrible premonition that he would soon be standing there in the flesh and that meant that the casket contained one thing and one thing only. The Chiatt Crystal. The Doom of Taleth.
***
The next thing Michael knew was David shaking him awake.
“Come on, Michael, we need to make an early start.” David was already dressed. “I’m going down to settle up and then we can set off. We’ll pick up some breakfast on the way, that way we can miss some of the traffic. The weather’s turned, sadly, it’s been raining all night.”
“Oh, okay, can we stop off to repay Dianne, the fish and chip shop Samaritan?”
“I suppose so, if you can find it.”
“I think so, I’d like to try anyway.”
“Alright, all the more reason for a swift exit this morning.”
“Yes, sure, I’ll be dressed when you get back.”
Michael was as good as his word and with their few belongings gathered, the three of them made a dash across the car park in the now hammering rain and set off. Despite David’s misgivings they found Dianne’s shop without too much trouble, Michael mentally retracing the taxi journey, and he pushed thirty pounds through the letter box with a hastily written thank you note.
Driving became very difficult; the rain was so severe that the windscreen wipers hardly made any impact at all. David was finding it increasingly difficult, and he made the decision to stop for a while until it eased off. They found the first available roadside café and they decided to have something to eat while they waited for a pause in the onslaught.
The food was really quite good, and they settled down to eat while it continued to rain. David and Netti were in better moods today as they had had some sleep, but for some reason Michael became uneasy. Something was wrong, he didn’t know quite what, but there was a nagging doubt growing in the back of his mind.
He voiced his misgivings to David, but he was unconcerned. “I can’t see what’s bothering you, Michael, it’s probably just the stormy weather getting to you.”
“Maybe, it is, but there is something, I’m sure of it, I just can’t quite put my finger on it, that’s all.” He cast his eyes around the rest of the half-filled café; no-one seemed to be paying any attention to them. It had that bleak impersonal look that places attain when no-one has any reason to invest real care in them. He had been in many such, airport lounges, hotel lobbies, doctor’s waiting rooms; each cleaned and swept and serviced with soulless indifference, each as sad, crowded and lonely as the dayroom of a care home, where time passes despite the inertia of age. All of the others were doing what they had done, having a break from the terrible weather. All were eating or drinking, except two men who were paying their bill and talking to the woman behind the counter, nothing that was in anyway unusual. He tried to ignore his unease.
After a while the rain eased a little and David suggested that they continue their journey. As they settled into their seats in the van, Michael looked across the car park to where the two men, he had seen paying a while before, had also chosen to leave.
“Why did they wait so long before going to their car?”
David was more concerned with pulling out on to the wet road. “What do you mean, ‘why did they wait so long’?”
“Those two men in the blue car, the BMW.” David was now on the road itself, “that left just after us.”
“What about them?”
“Why did they wait so long after paying their bill, before they left?”
“Because they were waiting for this rain to ease off, just like we were. Why are you so concerned?”
Michael acknowledged in his head that David was probably right, and that it was nothing, a coincidence, but even so … “I just thought, I don’t know, maybe they were watching us and that was why I felt uneasy.”
Netti was equally sceptical. “I don’t see how, Michael, we stopped at that café at random, we hadn’t planned to, had we?”
“No, I know that … it was just … oh, forget it. You’re right, they just left the same time as we did, that’s all.”
But for Michael it wasn’t all and he couldn’t forget it. He started to glance back every few minutes and each time they were still there. David stuck to his policy of keeping off the major roads and they were fairly empty. Michael tried not to look back deliberately thinking of other things, but he couldn’t shake the sense that they were indeed being followed. For once, even Netti was quiet as they drove on, the insistent rhythm of the windscreen wipers and the drum of the rain, was a background to all their separate musings.
Suddenly David broke the relative calm. “You may have a point you know Michael; I have slowed down several times to give them a chance to overtake, most BMW drivers wouldn’t be seen dead trundling along behind one of these, but each time they have slowed to match our pace. I’m going to make a few random turns when I can, and we’ll see what they do.”
For all her apparent desire for excitement, Netti, started to look very worried. “What if they turn too and they are tailing us? Who do you think they are?”
Michael tried to reassure her. “We’ll think about that when we are certain that they are following shall we?”
David had spotted a crossroads up ahead. “Okay, we should go straight on here, but I’m going to go left, here goes.”
He took the turn very deliberately and sedately, indicating well before he turned. Sure enough, the car behind turned left.
“Well, alright, it still could be coincidence, I’ll try a few more.”
David made a sequence of left and right turns, each time the blue BMW, matched their course. “That almost covers it, Michael, but I’m going to try a sharp turn in a minute without indicating, if they follow us, we will know for certain. Hold on tight.” David threw the van into a sharp left turn and then accelerated away up the side road, he knew that he couldn’t outrun a chasing car, but at least their pursuers would know that they’ve been rumbled.
Michael watched out of the back window and he saw their pursuers nearly overshoot the turning, but by braking hard they swung around in an arc that took them perilously close to the hedgerows. The speed, with which they caught up with the van, left Michael in no doubt at all that they were determined not to lose them. The way in which the driver was cursing also gave Michael the definite impression that they cared very little that they had been detected; in fact, it was more that he wanted Michael and the others to know they were not going to get away.
“Well, that confirms that they are tailing us, but who are they? They don’t look like they’re police, so any ideas Michael?”
“I don’t know, I’m trying to think.” Michael felt an anger building inside. He had remained oblivious to the problems in this world for much of their journey. Now he decided that he at least could take charge for once. “The one thing in our favour is that they don’t actually seem to want to stop us, for now. How are we for fuel, David?”
“I filled her up yesterday; we should be well on our way to Bristol before I need to worry about it.”
“Good, so well in amongst people. David, I think a change of tactics is in order, we head back to the main roads and then we will at least have other people around us should they, whoever they are, decide to actually get physical.”
Netti, who had been nervously quiet up until now, saw a chance to shake off some of her fear. “Absolutely, I think that’s the right way to go. I think that we aim to join the motorway as soon as possible, at least then even the filling stations will be reasonably full.”
“Yes, I agree with all of that and as strategies go, it is a good one, but it has a flaw that neither of you have spotted. Heading for the motorway would be fine if I knew where it was and where we are.”
“You mean we’re lost?”
“Exactly, and the rain is getting worse again.”
Michael looked out of the window, David was right on both counts, the rain was much heavier than a few minutes ago, in fact it looked heavier than it had been when they set off, and the countryside, even if they could have seen it, was giving no hint as to where they were headed. He could hardly see the blue car behind them, but he knew that it was still there.
“David, just do your best to follow main roads, eventually we should hit somewhere that has some proper signposts, big enough to read at least. Can you remember how many turns you made?”
David racked his brains to remember. “Three, no, wait … four left, one of those was a fork rather than a turn, and two right and then the last one so five left in all.”
“Okay, so, we were heading south-east at the start, and we have effectively turned left three times, so that means we’re heading approximately north-west, does that sound right?”
“Yes, I see what you mean, heading back into the hills above Newport, that might account for the rain getting worse, we’re heading back into it.”
Netti had caught up with Michael’s thinking. “So if we make another left turn, we will be heading down to the coast again and we can pick up the main road, is that what you’re thinking?”
Michael had been thinking that, but he sensed that Netti needed to feel better about herself, she had been shaken by this new development. “Sort of but you got there before me.”
She smiled. “My sense of direction isn’t very good, but I can picture things in my head and clocks and compasses are easy when you do that.” She reached over and squeezed David’s arm. “Once we hit the motorway, I’ll take over for a bit if you like.”
David didn’t turn, but he sounded grateful. “I won’t say no to that if we can find a services to pull in at, we might even be able to find a big lorry that we can sneak out behind. You never know. Netti, write down their registration number, if we get a chance to give them the slip, then maybe I can find out who they are.”
Michael was pleased that they both sounded positive. He turned his thoughts back to who these two might be, and how they had picked up their trail. They definitely didn’t look like policeman, or none he had ever dealt with; they were certainly human, not Tsarg, he had a momentary vision of a Tsarg in full leather battle armour, hunched over the steering wheel snarling randomly at the traffic around it. No, Tsarg would have attacked in the café, wildly without pause, with fear only of their master’s displeasure.
It was then that he remembered a shrill bird-screech of a voice. ‘Don’t you touch me! How dare you. I am of the blood and must not be assailed. I will not be …’ the voice of the man in the hospital and at the reservoir, Mr Perkins; they had yet to solve the riddle of his presence. There was also the possibility that these two men were from the gang who had set up the scam at the art gallery. They would still be desperate to locate the curator and find out just how their comrades were blown to smithereens, and probably just as keen to discover why he wasn’t. If their plan had been part of a large-scale operation then they might have contacts in all sorts of places and as Michael had wandered around Newport for twenty-one hours or so, he could easily have been spotted.
If he was right, they may well be hoping that he will lead them to the curator, possibly even to a few valuable paintings; anyone who was going to blow the gallery up would surely have removed a few selected works, which could be sold to private collectors. They rarely remembered their scruples when offered something special at a discount. That whole world of dealers and collectors and so-called critics disgusted him, and it angered him that he might be being drawn back into it all again.
He looked out at the rain, it hadn’t eased, it seemed to be endless and the force with which it struck the ground gave the impression that it came from below as much as from above. David had made a left turn further back and so they should, in theory, be back onto better roads. The one they that they struggled along at present was narrow and hedge lined. The camber of the road was such that the rain was collecting at the side of the road and rushing down the curving incline that it had arrived at somewhat faster than they had. David took things slowly where the road was narrow although they had met no traffic coming the other way.
They did however pick up another vehicle in their modest convoy; a farmer in his Land Rover had slipped in behind them from a field and he was now in between them and their tail, who on this road would have no chance of overtaking. Michael started to hope that perhaps they might be able to shake them off after all, when suddenly David slammed on the brakes.
“Damn, the road’s flooded ahead.”
Michael was against the idea of stopping even with the farmer and his vehicle behind them. “How deep does it look? Can we make it through?”
“It’s hard to tell, if I try and then get stuck, we really are in a mess. But I’m game to try it if you want me to.”
Michael felt they had to keep moving if at all possible. “Try it, David, I’m sure that it’s just surface water.”
“Okay, here goes.” He released the brake and they moved into the water. It was deeper than they had suspected, by at least eight or nine inches, but they were nearly through, when with a thud the left side front wheel caught in a hidden pothole and with a shudder, the engine stalled and died. “Blast we nearly made it. Now what?”
The solution was already squeezing past at the side of them. The farmer’s Land Rover had no problem with the water and once past; he had jumped out and was signalling to them.
“Come on, Michael, I think he’s getting a tow rope out.”
As they clambered out into the flooded road, the farmer shouted over the noise of the rain. “Get this hooked up and we’ll have you out in no time, man, once she’s out I’d give it a few minutes mind, to let the water drain, before you fire her up. If your missus steers and you two give it a shove from the back it’ll jump her out of the hole that wheel’s in. I told the council about it months back, but they never take any notice.”
Without trying to talk against the hammering rain they did as he suggested, and they hooked the tow rope to the towing bar at the front of the van. Then Michael and David waded back into the water to give the van a starting push. The water was cold, but they were both soaked to the skin in any case, a little more hardly made things worse. The farmer signalled and started his engine, Michael and David bent their backs and braced them against the rear of the van. Michael felt the initial shudder as the tow rope straightened and then two strong arms grabbed him from behind and he was thrown sideways into the flood. As he gasped for breath and he tried to regain his feet he was struck in the side and fell, this time backwards, losing his footing completely and crashing his head on the submerged tarmac of the road. The van had started to move and both Netti and the farmer were oblivious to the drama unfolding behind them.
Michael was dragged upright by one of his attackers and through blurred vision he saw David as he struggled with the other. He was losing his grip and when the man was free, he kicked David viciously in the stomach. As Michael was dragged to the blue car, he saw David staggering to his feet and Netti running down to the water, having finally become aware of what was happening.
Michael was thrown roughly face down into the back of the car. His arms were pulled back and he felt wire cuffs being snapped over his hands, finally a blanket was flung over him and a heavily accented voice barked. “Stay down, and no fucking noise, you hear!” The car was then slammed into reverse and Michael was thrown first right and then left as the driver spun the car around and roared back up the narrow road that now had the appearance of a small river. It was fortunate for Michael that the road was empty, unsecured as he was in the back of the car, at the speed they were travelling any collision would certainly have thrown Michael straight through the windscreen. But the weather had dissuaded all but the hardiest of drivers and these two now seemed to know where they were going, and they were determined to get there as fast as possible.
After about half an hour, the car made a sharp left and, from the vibrations, they appeared to be on a gravel access road. When they stopped, Michael heard the driver’s door open and the barking voice shouted something that Michael couldn’t make out, then as the back door of the car swung open he felt the tearing begin as he switched back to Taleth. As one darkness was exchanged for another, he wondered how they would react to being unable to interrogate him.
***
As he had expected he might, he found himself in darkness, or half-darkness. He lay on his back, hands bound underneath him, his clothes were damp, and he was cold. His eyes focused and he saw with a quick glance that he was in a small poorly constructed hut. The roof, and the walls were a mismatched patchwork of broken planks and sacking and the door was cracked and split. Near to the only light, which came from a space between broken planking, sat two men, who could easily have been part of the hut themselves, for their clothing bore the same hallmark of mismatched repairs. Their heads, their arms and their faces were bound in strips of cloth, partly Michael suspected to hide their appearance, but also as a makeshift protection against stray knives. They each had flagons of a strong liquor, the smell of which burned in Michael’s nostrils like vinegar and they were engaged in the dual activity of playing dice and complaining.
“Ah, seven again, you have the dice on your side, Krakis, you son of a whore. Tomorrow I will steal us some different dice.”
Krakis, laughed and gathered the handful of coins on the floor in front of him. “If anyone else had said that they would find themselves breathing through their neck, Duvan, but since you have met my mother and only speak the truth, I forgive you. Now let me take some more of your money.”
Duvan took a long drink from the flagon, the fact that he needed to tip it at quite an angle suggested that they had been drinking for some time. “One more time, that is all, or else I will not be able to pay your sister what she charges these days.”
Krakis took a drink in his turn and then he laughed again. “Now I know that you are poor at numbers, my friend, for you did not start out the evening with enough coin to afford my sister, even if she would consider accepting you as a client. She has risen in the world, Duvan.”
“What she likes men who wash more often than I do?”
“Once would be a start, Duvan, or perhaps I could throw you in the river, back where we fished out this sack of meat, he was getting a good wash pressed up against the grating like that, looking for all the world like a corpse.”
“He’s about as much use as a corpse, no coin on him, nothing we could sell. I hope Frappo gets back soon and he has found someone to pay us for our trouble. He must have come from somewhere; he didn’t just fall out of the sky.”
Krakis drank again. “Maybe he did. They say in the south that there are desert storms that can whirl a man far into the air and deposit his body a day’s ride away. Perhaps that storm that hit dropped him in the river. He could have come from anywhere.”
“He hasn’t come from just anywhere, Krakis, he is dressed Cluath style, and a Cluath rider at that.”
“But we found no weapon on him, Duvan, nor any device to indicate family.”
Michael stayed still, to avoid their attention, but he couldn’t help flinching at that, his Nare axe must have fallen from his hand when he fell.
“Why are we sat guarding him anyway? He’s not going anywhere, there hasn’t been a sound out of him since we pulled him from the water. We could be out earning money somewhere.”
“True enough, Duvan, true enough, but Frappo will pay us, he knows better than to expect us to do this out of friendship, and I regret that you are not earning, for when you have money in your purse, that you have gainfully stolen from someone else’s purse, I am a happy man. Now show me your coin, you are in for one more round you said.”
“Alright, one more, but then I’m off, they will be turfing out the taverns soon and that is when I do some of my best work.”
“Oh, that you do, Duvan, you’re are a master at relieving a drunk of his last few coins. Shall we say two gals a round, or are you feeling lucky?”
“Two is fine, Krakis, you swindler, you won’t find me giving coin away.”
Duvan reached into his belt and flung down two coins; a gal appeared to be a small coin, silver in colour. Krakis matched this with two coins of his own.
“Throw, my friend, you have the dice.”
Duvan shook the small cup with the dice inside and slammed it down. “Five, ah, my luck changes at last, I’ll stake you two more on higher, Krakis, what do you say?”
“Very well.” He put down two more coins and Duvan did the same. Once more he shook the cup. Down it came.
“Nine, hah, my luck has started to change, perhaps I shall be shagging your sister after all, Krakis. I’ll go four more on lower.”
“Indeed, four it is.”
Once more coins were added to the pile and Duvan began to shake the cup. It slammed down and Duvan laughed with glee. “Three, now I’m on a roll, four more on higher, Krakis, you are going to regret forcing me to play another round.”
“I fear I may, Duvan, but only four more when you threw a three, surely it’s worth more than that. Let’s make it interesting how about ten? – or are you scared of losing it all again.”
Duvan had taken another drink and this time he appeared to have drained the flagon. “Afraid? I am not afraid of anything, ten you say, let’s say twenty, Krakis, you nyatt’s arse. Twenty on higher!”
“Now you are talking like a real man, Duvan, not some scab from the sewer. But I want to give you a chance to afford my sister don’t I, so how about we make it fifty?”
“Fifty? When I threw a three? Krakis you have had too much to drink, but I won’t argue, you called the bet. Show me your coin.”
Krakis put down a small purse. “That has fifty-three gals in it, Duvan. Put down yours and then throw.”
“I will.” He reached in his belt and pulled out a similar purse, tipping it up he counted out fifty of the small coins. Michael was watching Krakis, he had reached down behind the flagon and was tapping out a complex rhythm with his fingers in the dirt. Duvan added the last few coins to the pile and was unaware of Krakis tapping fingers.
“There, that matches yours and now I shall take the lot from you and watch you weep, Krakis.”
He raised the cup and shook it. The tapping fingers moved faster as he shook the cup and then as he slammed down the cup they stopped. The cup was lifted and Duvan roared with anger. “Seven? Seven! Every time I stand to gain a tidy sum these bastard dice come up seven. You are a cheating durg, Krakis, I’m going to slice you up good for this.” He staggered to his feet and fumbled for his knife.
Krakis laughed and he collected the money, he had obviously had far less to drink than his companion and the charm that he had worked was well beyond Duvan’s understanding.
“Cheating, Duvan, you drunken bag of filth? How could I cheat, you rolled the dice each time? What do you think I am? Some sort of mage with powers over a pair of dice? That would be a fine charm to be able to work, now wouldn’t it. Face it, Duvan; you are a born loser, which is why you work for Frappo, and so am I, which is why I work for him too.”
Duvan had found his knife and he waved it in Krakis direction. “I don’t know how you did it, but you did it. You are going to pay this time, Krakis, I want my money.” He lunged forward, but Krakis was too quick, he slipped to the side and he kicked Duvan’s legs from under him. He then stood with his foot on Duvan’s arm so that his knife was pinned to the floor.
“Calm down, Duvan, Frappo will be back any time now and then he will either pay us or you can go off and find some other drunks to wrestle with. Either way you will be back in coin by the morning. Although sadly, my sister will be in the bed of some fine lord or other, so I would forget about that particular pleasure.”
Duvan struggled for a moment and then he gave up. He was just getting to his feet when another man ducked through the broken door.
“I heard shouting, what has been going on?”
“Ah, Frappo, we were just talking about you, weren’t we Duvan; wondering when you would return and how much we were going to get paid for this evening’s work.”
Frappo was a thin weasel of a man, with lank dark hair and a face that was as scared as Michael’s own, though in his case, the wounds spanned the years and etched a permanent record of his career. His eyes were sharp, and they danced about above the snub of a nose he sported; it looked to Michael as if it may once have been longer. His clothes were less ragged and confused than his employees, but they were nonetheless shabby and old. His tunic may once have been green and it bore the hint of an emblem, but the colour and the design had faded. His legs were bound as the others, but all in the same material. At his waist, a thick belt held two wickedly curved knives and various keys hung in a bunch jangling harshly if he moved. Over everything else he wore a long black coat, long because it had been designed for a taller man, but this too had gashes and tears. The clothing, and the coat in particular, marked Frappo out as a man who knew that he had to scrap hard to make a living, but also that should you get in a scrap with him you’d better watch out.
“You’ll get paid, Krakis, you know me I never expect something for nothing.” His voice was thin, but as sharp as the stiletto, that he might be holding next to your ear. “But not tonight.”
Duvan, who was brushing himself down, took a swaying step towards him. “What? Why won’t you pay us? We could have been out earning, whereas …”
“You sat drinking slarag, that I provided remember, and if you lost money to Krakis at dice, then that is your affair, not mine. You’ll get paid, Duvan, but not tonight.”
Krakis too was a little frustrated by this turn of events. “Are we to assume that none of your contacts in the guard or at the court have any idea who this flotsam is, Frappo? How can that be? He certainly wasn’t born here, he’s a plainsman or I’m a currack, so he must have come through the gates. Someone must have seen him. He has a memorable face, just as you do yourself, Frappo, and no one forgets you, however hard they might try.”
“I’ll forget your insults for now, Krakis, but one day I might remember them all together and then I’ll slit your throat with pleasure.”
“You may have to take your turn, Frappo, I have a habit of annoying people.”
“You do indeed, but you are too good at what you do to be easily replaced, though no-one is entirely indispensable, Krakis.”
“No, Frappo, no-one, not even you.”
Frappo paused and he stared up at Krakis’ grinning face. “That too I will ignore, but back to business, I gather that he hasn’t shown any sign of life?”
Duvan sulkily turned towards where Michael lay. “None save a heartbeat.” He kicked Michael’s legs savagely to vent his anger and Michael had to concentrate to suppress a reaction. “We haven’t touched him either, so any damage he had before we found him.”
“Oh, I believe you, Duvan, but the situation is as before, he is dead to the world and we don’t know who he is, so we cannot sell him back to his loved ones. But I do have a second option; I always have other options, that is why I survive. There is a certain magic man, who thinks he is a mage, although I feel that he is deluding himself; he likes to do experiments … on people; living people, well living to start with obviously, and he pays pretty good money for strays who can’t be traced. This sack of bones and flesh will suit him perfectly; there won’t even be any screams to smother.”
“Are you referring to the gentleman they call ‘Old One Eye’? Oh, I know him, he’s got about as much magic in him as a lump of durg fat, but he knows how to sew a wound nice and neat and his needles are mostly clean. I didn’t know he liked to cut people, that’s interesting, and he pays well?”
“He pays a fair price, Krakis, and asks no questions, neither. So, I reckon that we lug this one over to him while it’s dark and get what we can.”
“By we you mean us, I assume?”
“Naturally, Krakis, I am the broker, you are the hired help, and best you remember that.”
“Oh, I remember, Frappo, I have a good memory.” He turned to Duvan. “Come on, Duvan, stop sulking, it is a short drag up to Old One Eye’s place and then you will still be ready for chucking out time at the Bandit’s Head.”
“Shut your mouth, Krakis, I’m sick of listening to you.”
Frappo laughed as if he was slicing the air in the hut. “Krakis, it’s a wonder you are still above ground. Now pick him up and let’s get moving.”
Since he had ‘awoken’ to the situation Michael had been trying to consider how he might escape, and he had come up with few options. He wondered if he might try falling and rolling away when they took him out of the hut, but he had no idea how the land lay, and he needed somewhere to roll into. He had considered telling them he had friends at the court and risk being taken there, but he had no way of knowing where Sorin and the others had got to, or whether Tuggid and Gath had reached the city yet. Now, it appeared as if he was being sold to an amateur anatomist of dubious standing and Michael expected little sympathy from him for his plight. His options were disappearing rapidly. He prepared himself to jump up and make a charge for the door and risk everything on the element of surprise. But then something happened that made them all pause.
In the centre of the hut a strange light had begun to glow. His captors stood transfixed as it began to grow in size and intensity, gradually forming itself into a vertical line, a thin column of piercing white fire. It began to vibrate like a taut string and then from it stepped a figure. Its body shone, and it seemed only semi-substantial, a figure of light and mist; Michael took it for a child at first, for its face was age-less and its body androgynous, though its eyes were entirely black. When it spoke, it did so haltingly as if the common speech of the Cluath was unfamiliar to it and in some way distasteful.
“Men … of Tath Garnir … my thanks … for keeping bound this criminal … dangerous he can be … dangerous above your mind’s thought … to imagine it you could not … I a demon of his punishment … have been sent … his soul to claim … his body to the flames … will go in time. Rewarded for your … actions you shall be … take these and … be gone.” With a gesture of its hand it caused coins of gold to appear and then fall to the dirt. The three men cast a quick glance at the money and then at the demon and then with much scrabbling and pushing they gathered what they could and made their escape.
The strange figure laughed, a laugh that Michael did not feel had any humour in it at all. It then turned its attention to him. “How easy it is … to buy the Cluath … it has ever been thus … I know you are … awake, Michael, and know I also … who and what you are … You seem determined … dangerous places you seek … but you will not … cannot be … allowed to die … important you have become … perhaps always it has been so … even before … the mighty have felt … the echoes of your steps … behind the clouds … under rock and stone … in root and tree … and beneath the waves … they feel your feet upon the face … of Taleth … your every move disturbs the very threads … the strands that give … meaning and … shape. No, you shall not … die before … the task is … complete … and then … none can tell … save One who knows … do not thank me … for this … event … I do what … must … be done … no more … although some would … say wrong it is.” With another wave of its hand, Michael felt his bonds crumble to dust and then he saw the figure step back into the column of light, which then disappeared with a crack.
It was only when the figure had gone that he realised that it had addressed him as Michael.
***
2
Tath Garnir
Michael sat up and began to rub life back into his arms, partly because he needed to and partly to give himself time to think; to take in what had just happened. This being, whoever it was, seemed to know everything; more it seemed even than Sorin’s secretive friend and certainly more than Michael himself. The words it had spoken confirmed some things but concealed much more. Who was it hinting at, ‘behind the clouds … under rock and stone … in root and tree … and beneath the waves …’ Behind the clouds, the chamber of the First Promise, perhaps; under rock and stone, Corruption, maybe; in root and tree, Cerlinith and the other Powers, possibly; but beneath the waves, who was that meant to refer to? Michael had encountered none who referred to the sea, none who had even mentioned the waters. And just who was this strange being of light who could apparently travel anywhere at will. What had Sorin said about the walls being protected by ancient mage craft? Did that at least mean that the being was not sent by Corruption? Or maybe just that he was not a threat to the city?
He tried to gauge the time by the light, but it was difficult. The light coming in through the broken planks was not moonlight and he realised that it was from some form of lanterns. Maybe they lit them on the walls at night. Krakis had kept on talking about the drunks being turfed out of the taverns, when did that happen, he wondered, surely in the early hours. He decided to risk taking a look out through the broken door, without leaving the relative safety of the hut.
He found that he was gazing along a confusion of doors and crates, wood and sacking. It was a back alley. Huts and sheds and clutter lined the right side; to the left was the city wall itself. High up, he saw as he had suspected a burning lantern casting a weak light into the alley. The sky behind was dark, but tinged at the edges with grey, the first hint of sunrise scratching at the darkness. Something with a tail scurried across from a drain cover and into one of the sheds; voices in the distance were calling orders along the wall.
Michael ducked back inside. It was maybe an hour before dawn, two at the most, he could afford to wait quietly here, Frappo and the others would be unlikely to return, and facing the city in daylight was a safer prospect than finding his way in the half darkness, especially when it was clear that there would be characters like Duvan and Krakis around. He was cold, and he had not yet dried out, which made things worse. He decided to search the hut to see if there was anything that he could use. After scrabbling round in the shadowy corners, he discovered some old sacking, dry but far from clean, Michael, ignored the dirt but he shook them well to disturb any crawling things that may have been hiding there. He then stripped off his damp clothes and wrapped the sacking around his shoulders and legs. With several layers in place he felt warmer and he settled down with his back against the wall opposite the ramshackle door to wait for the dawn.
He had not meant to fall asleep, but he woke with a start as he heard voices, close by. He jumped to his feet and clutched his makeshift blanket to himself, he tried to focus so as to catch the words in the air.
“Come on, Nargus, get a move on, he wants the stock down at the stall before the customers get there, not after they’re gone.”
“Shove it, Fahb, I’m going as fast as I can, you come and get some of these sacks if you think we are in such a hurry. Why does he store the stuff up here so close to the wall anyway?”
“Why do you think? Because it’s cheap! Is that it? Good. Get up and we’ll be off.”
Michael looked out to see a cart trundle away from the end of the alley as the two men took their wares off to sell. His clothes were at least drier than last night. So, he shook the worst of the dirt off and he dressed himself. Stepping out he hoped that it wasn’t too obvious that he had recently fallen into a river and then dried out on the floor of a hovel.
