Red mantle, p.11
Red Mantle, page 11
part #3 of Mantle Chronicles Series
My lip trembled. ‘I was afraid.’
‘It would have been foolish not to be afraid.’ He stood. ‘Now rest, for we leave as soon as you are well enough to travel.’ He kissed his finger and touched my forehead. Then he left and I slept peacefully.
XII. Waters-Meet Bridge
All morning, we rode westward, through the lush water meadows of Kor-erif. The Vizier was justly proud of the fact that the farms of Kor-erif produced all manner of products, from grapes and citrus fruit to potatoes and pumpkins. We might have been tempted to break our journey at any number of wayside stalls set up by enterprising farmers, if it was not for the huge hamper of fresh food that the King had insisted, we take with us.
At first, we were mystified about the customers who came to these cheerful little booths, as we had met no other travellers on the packhorse track since we left the city. Then we discovered that each farm specialised in specific items and the booths were meeting places where individual farmers could trade their own produce for something that their neighbour grew. Now I understood why the Vizier had been eager to tell us that the King’s Council set specific rules for what should be grown on each farm. They had made it unnecessary for the people to compete with each other at the market. Instead, each small community produced everything that they needed and simply exchanged their goods. Ardin was impressed with the idea, but the thought of trying to persuade the Central Meeds to trade with the Northern Meeds and Camlan made us all laugh. The plan worked for Kor-erif and that was where it would have to remain.
The land was falling steadily, gradually, towards the valley of the River Benoa. That afternoon, we rode into a beach forest crossed by countless small streams. The air smelt of mushrooms and was cool and damp, but it was not unpleasant. The carpet of dead leaves disintegrated under our horses’ hooves, rising and fluttering behind us like butterflies. Dappled sunlight flickered across the forest floor and there was life everywhere. The fox ran along with the wolf, both enjoying the freedom of the forest and although we saw little of him, the eagle was circling above the canopy, following our progress.
We camped that night in the forest and before sunset I stole away from the others to walk alone with the fox and wolf. We met many of the wild creatures living there. They knew nothing of Red Mantle, but they were pleased to see a Green Mantle and some even offered us shelter in their own holes and burrows.
Yared sniffed the chill of evening. ‘My people are afraid of the Peleron. None of my kind has lived in the dark mountains for centuries, not since the coming of the White Ones.’
‘They are just a myth!’ barked the fox as he rolled on his back in the leaf-litter.
‘They exist.’ Yared looked into the distance and his eyes narrowed. ‘Those who have strayed into the Peleron and returned alive have seen them.’
‘Who are the White Ones?’ I asked and they regarded me with amazement.
‘You go to the Peleron and do not know of the Snow Devils?’ Yared shook his head.
‘Humans might have another name for them,’ said the fox sitting beside me on a broad log. ‘Or, they might not know of them at all. Perhaps they avoid humans.’
‘The Snow Devils are afraid of no one.’ Yared faced me, wearing one of his sagely faces. ‘The White Ones are creatures of incredible stealth and speed. They hunt alone in the mountains and will kill and eat anything.’
‘But worse,’ the fox relished a good story, ‘they don’t kill like other creatures, to eat and stay alive. They kill for the pure pleasure of killing. They play with their prey. They say that they have to sense fear before their saliva runs.’
‘Enough!’ I put a finger on his muzzle. ‘It’s not unknown for cats to take pleasure in their kill and I have even known a fox or two that will play with an earthworm before gobbling it down.’
‘Only when they’re bored with living in a Palace!’ He chuckled.
‘Not like the White Ones.’ Yared insisted. ‘They could be large cats, but my people have always believed that they were white wolves.’
‘We thought they were white dogs.’ The fox sniffed. ‘Supper is cooking!’ We started to make our way back.
‘Are you concerned about coming into the Peleron, Yared?’ I asked. I never doubted his bravery, but the mysticism of the wolves often prohibited them from certain activities and places.
‘Concerned? Yes!’ He stopped. ‘But only for you, the fox and the other humans. There is an ancient covenant between my people and the White Ones. We do not hunt in each other’s lands. When we reach the Peleron, there are certain rituals that I must perform to warn them that I travel their paths as a protector of humans and not as a hunter. I will eat no meat nor make a kill until I go beyond their borders. That should protect me but not you.’
‘Perhaps I should seek them out and explain our purpose there too.’
The wolf looked me in the eye. ‘The lives and intrigues of humankind are of no interest to the White Ones and they do not recognise the power of any Mantle. You would be better hurrying through the mountain passes to Kashkie.’ From Yared’s face I could see his concern was real.
‘Thank you for worrying about me,’ the fox nudged him. ‘You said nothing about the horses and the eagle.’
‘The horses are of no consequence, although Green Mantle’s beast is friendly enough and as for the sky hunter,’ Yared curled his lip, ‘we both know that it is no more a bird than you or I. It can take care of itself.’
The following day found us camped on the banks of the Benoa. Malek’s horse had thrown a shoe and stumbled, sending her rider headlong into a tree. Blue Mantle sealed the wound, but the poor fellow was dizzy and Ardin insisted that we camp early and give him time to rest. None of us objected for the land here was pleasant and we were all aching from days in the saddle. The forest had thinned, and grass vied with purple clover to carpet the open spaces and helped to sweep the eye to the rush-edged riverbank. Here and there, gaps in the reed beds afforded easy access to the water, which was clear and inviting. No sooner had we set up our camp than Ardin and Hodin raced upstream, shedding their clothes as they went, yelling and hooting like small boys. Seguido soon followed, splashing and roaring louder than both. Blue Mantle strolled leisurely to the river, making certain that no one could observe his entering the water and Malek was content to dangle his feet from the bank until a submarine Ardin tugged him in, fully clothed.
Smelda and I went beyond the river bend, to a shallower pool in the lea of a rocky outcrop. The water was icy cold but refreshing. It reminded me of my childhood in Brak when I would swim in the river with the servants’ children and none of us caring about nakedness or position in society. They were joyful days, full of noise and silliness and Channa scolding me for losing my shoes again.
Smelda shrieked when a nosey water rat came to inspect us. He was honoured to meet Green Mantle, he told us, although he had expected that all Mantles were male. He rolled and played between us, catching small pebbles like a dog might chase a stick, until he grew bored and we were chilled by the water. We ran barefoot back to the camp, wringing out our wet hair and grateful for the warm brew that Blue Mantle had prepared.
Hodin brought me a gift, a smooth and shiny black pebble. It was obsidian, dark volcanic glass, created when the hot lava of a volcano cools quickly. He grinned. ‘We’re getting closer. Most of the stones on the riverbank are volcanic. According to Seguido, we’re a couple of hours’ ride from Waters-Meet, so the water from the Peleron rivers washes this stuff down from the mountains.’
‘That must be why the water is so icy,’ Smelda wrinkled her nose.
We lazed away the afternoon, mending worn riding clothes, playing cards and watching the world drift by on the river. A pair of herons left us rainbow trout for supper and mindful of my aversion for flesh, Yared and the fox went off to dig for wild turnips and potatoes. In the late afternoon, it began to drizzle, a gentle drone rising from the surface of the river. We huddled under Seguido’s canvas shelter and told each other stories until it was time to eat.
✽✽✽
Three fast-flowing rivers combine with the Benoa in a steep ravine that is known as Waters-Meet. Like Star Wish Falls, in the White Gorge, it is a place of breathtaking beauty and the source of many legends. A little east of the ravine, the Heli River joins the Benoa and together they cut their way through a narrow chasm. At its deep heart, the canyon’s cliffs rise taller than Mount Befell and ghostly birch trees cling tenaciously to the narrow ledges of its heights. Like a giant south-pointing arrow, from the north, the Arangi River, and from the Peleron, the Zebanta River, surge to meet with the Benoa in a funnel-shaped cauldron of turbulence and white spray. The steep walls of pink granite magnify the roar and thunder as the grey torrent boils over four cataracts before swirling in a mist-crowned whirlpool. Above it all, swaying gently in the prevailing wind, the delicate tracery of the Waters-Meet Bridge provides the only access to the Devil’s Cage and the Peleron.
‘I’m not going over that!’ Ingo brayed as we caught our first sight of the bridge. Our path had taken us through open woodland and then along the top of the gorge, where the Heli and the Benoa converged. We ate a pleasant meal, watching the water below through the tops of beech trees and were impressed by the gathering power of the river but nothing could prepare us for the sight and sound of Waters-Meet.
The track had been cut through the higher, eastern cliff, framing a view of the flimsy bridge, the opposite cliff face and the fine rainbow spray of the invisible waters below. Even from this distance, we could hear their terrible thunder and when we reached the bridge the roar and turmoil was painful to our ears. Close to, the bridge looked no less formidable and not being able to see the bottom of the canyon without standing on the bridge did nothing to raise our spirits.
‘Why do you pause?’ the eagle swooped low and yelled but I could hardly hear his voice.
‘The horses are afraid,’ I told him, which was quite true, but they were not alone.
‘I knew I should have stayed in Vellin,’ the fox muttered from inside his travelling bag. ‘Tell me when it’s over.’
Seguido had dismounted and was leading his horse towards the bridge. That was enough for Ardin’s faithful Gavalan to step backwards uncertainly. Hodin looked at me. ‘Can’t you do something?’
Courage was something that none of our animals lacked, even Ingo, the donkey. I had to give them something else, so I changed their view of what they saw. To them, the bridge was strong and solid, spanning nothing more terrifying than the river Listi below Vellin. It was a view that I knew well and could conjure it for them in great detail, but it would be hard to maintain the image in all their minds, so I urged their riders to get across as fast as they could. Blue Mantle joked that he wished that I could do something similar for him. We laughed nervously and urged our beasts onto the narrow wooden slats.
I looked down, through the rope superstructure, to the ice-grey torrent below and shivered. I could feel the sway of the bridge and hoped that my simple enchantment of the horses would hold. The bridge sagged towards the centre and ahead, Seguido had passed that point and was urging his horse up the other side. After him, Ardin and Smelda edged along cautiously, followed by Kaileb and his two friends. I was thankful to see that Ingo and the other donkey had lost their fear for the moment. Hodin and I spaced ourselves so that our movements did not affect each other and over my shoulder, I could see that Malek was trying to do the same, but his weight on the bridge was causing it to swing more. Behind him, the other two young men, Orino and Megos were close together and talking as they went. Megos was nervous of horses and Orino was attempting to lead both their animals and I could sense their nervousness about being close together, although they believed themselves to be on a safe bridge.
As Seguido reached the farthest side, the anxiety of the horses caused one of them to kick out, missing his neighbour and catching Megos on the knee. He cried out in pain and stumbled. I remember feeling the Old One joining minds with me as he swooped and took control of the horses’ enchantment. In a long, long fraction of a second, we watched Megos totter sideways, his knee a mass of blood and disappear over the side of the rope balustrade. Smelda screamed and urged her horse to the end of the bridge. Seguido tethered his mount and raced back onto the bridge, yelling something. I could hear Orino cursing himself and everything around him, including Megos. We were all torn between getting our animals and ourselves safely over and the plight of our companion.
Seguido passed me and yelled, ‘He’s hanging on, just below the bridge but he can’t hold on much longer!’ I felt my heart leap into my throat, and I urged Gilbert on. Before I reached the other side, Kaileb, and Ardin had gone to help. After handing Gilbert over to Smelda, I joined Hodin and Blue Mantle back on the bridge to help Orino with his horses, and to take Malek’s horse, so that he could help lift Megos.
We watched as Kaileb and Seguido climbed down to where Megos clutched at the rope supports. We could not hear what they said but a rope was lowered, and they fastened it to Megos. Kaileb climbed back to help as they pulled together and slowly the young man’s head appeared above the wooden slats. Seguido remained below, guiding his legs and protecting them before he scrambled back. They carried Megos across the bridge and set him down so that Blue Mantle could examine him.
The kneecap was crushed and although we could ease his pain, Blue Mantle would need time to repair the bones. The eagle perched on a rock beside Yared and spread his wings. Yared gave him a suspicious glare, but the bird flew down to settle beside Megos. Ardin moved to wave him away but I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘Let the bird see him.’
The Old One fixed his eye on Megos, who trembled and fell backwards in a deep faint. Blue Mantle stiffened but said nothing. About the injured leg, there rose a fine haze of sparkling points of light, like tiny fireworks, so intense that we had to shade our eyes or look away. Seguido muttered something about unearthly power and Ardin looked to Blue Mantle, who shook his head. Slowly, the lights faded, and the knee was scared but healed. Kaileb gasped. The eagle took to the air once more, calling only to me, ‘It will be sore for some days so you must make him rest.’ Then he was gone above the clouds, leaving me to explain as best I could.
‘That is no eagle,’ Seguido wagged a finger. ‘What wickedness are you harbouring Green Mantle?’ He glared at me and I was tempted to try to explain the truth but fortunately, Megos groaned and started to sit up. They were distracted by his miraculous recovery and I moved away while they fussed about him, deciding to set up a temporary camp and make a brew.
‘I knew that sky-hunter would cause trouble for you,’ Yared snarled. ‘Your man-king is suspicious and so is the gypsy magus.’
‘Why do you call Seguido a magus?’ I asked him.
‘There is deep power in him, like the power in the young Mantle. He sensed the danger on the bridge before the man fell. I was watching him.’
‘Perhaps,’ the fox whispered, ‘he might understand about the Old One. Blue Mantle knows that it was not Mantle magic, but he may believe you learnt such tricks from your mother. Hodin will accept that too. Ardin and the others are only grateful that the young man is safe and well.’
The fox was right. Megos’ accident had frightened them, and his sudden healing was attributed to the wilful power of Gwythin, the renegade. Without exception, they were grateful for it, if a little mystified about what part the eagle played in it. Blue Mantle counselled me to be cautious when using any powers passed on by Gwythin and Hodin wanted me to show him how I did it, when we got back to Vellin. For most of them, other perils threatened and when we made early camp, they began to murmur about the Peleron. It rose up before us, mountain after mountain, dark and foreboding in the twilight. Yared had left us at the bridge. He had his own appointment to keep with the White Ones and I prayed to the elements that they would remember the covenant made with the wolves.
Seguido took charge of settling the horses for the night and I wandered over to him with a mug of brew. He took it, his expression thoughtful, unfathomable and for a moment, we regarded each other. Ingo, scratching himself against a sapling drew both our attention and made us smile. After a moment, Seguido turned to face me. ‘Is it true, that the Lady Gwythin gave you such powers?’
‘Gwythin is my mother and although the Souran doesn’t approve of her methods, sometimes they are useful.’ I moved to the back of the corral, out of earshot from the rest of our camp. ‘But to answer your question, no she didn’t give me the power to heal. All Mantles alleviate suffering and speed recovery when they can and from time to time, we can do more. Not even we can restore a body instantly. It takes deep magic, old magic to do that.’
‘And you know how to use this old magic?’ He followed me.
‘I know a little of it.’ I leaned on the trunk of a tree. ‘What I’m going to tell you is a secret and must be kept between us. Not even the Souran know, although I think Black Mantle suspects.’ I was about to test my trust in Seguido and hoped that our bond would be greater than that of the Brotherhood. I had no idea what they would do with such knowledge but after the attack on me in Kor-erif, I suspected it would not endear me to them.
‘Sandor once showed me a special cave in the woods near Wyke. Inside that cave lived one of the Old Ones, the great ancient powers that shaped our world. It was he who taught me what I know and how much more I could learn.’
‘This has to do with the eagle doesn’t it?’ He moved to my side.
‘Why do you say that?’
He leaned towards me, supporting himself by his arm, his hand just a little above my head. ‘Because I sense that there is a greater soul inside that bird. It more than just a hawk.’
I could feel and smell the warmth of his body. It was not unpleasant. ‘You can sense those kinds of things? Then perhaps you too have hidden depths and secrets? Are there mysteries about you that I should know?’ I met his eyes.
