Mordraud, Book One (24 page)

‘
Don’t you go getting any strange ideas, young man,’ he thought. ‘She’s untouchable. And you look like a tot with your mother’s milk still fresh on your lips.’

It was hard to resist Deanna
’s wanton beauty. Her every movement, each time she opened her mouth to speak or to eat – everything seemed calculated to draw attention to her body. The closer the warmer season came, the thinner and flimsier her garments grew. Mordraud didn’t know whether he’d make it through a whole season of heat and sheer fabrics pretending to be just a boy, when inside he already felt like a man.

‘
That’s enough now! Stay focused, lad... And think only of your goal...’

Mordraud climbed the stairs and opened the door to the reading room. Deanna w
as leafing through an old collection of stories about knights, without much interest. A warm golden light bathed the room, filtered by the fine linen curtains fluttering at the open window.

“
Here’s breakfast. You must eat something – yesterday you didn’t have dinner,” Mordraud said with a smile. “And I won’t take no for an answer.”

“
I’m not hungry.”

Mordraud moved
closer with the tray and stood still in front of her, without the slightest intention of giving up.

“
Well Mordraud, did you hear what I said?! I’m not hungry!” barked Deanna, jumping to her feet. When she was in such a mood, she’d get cross with everybody, even him. But he’d got used to it.

“
I don’t care if you’re hungry or not. You have to eat, and that’s that!”

Deanna scowled at him, then suddenly lowered her head, half-closing her eyes.

“What’s wrong? Have I got honey on my face?”

“
No...” the young woman murmured. “It’s just you seem... erm... taller. Even your face has changed a bit.”

“
What?! What are you saying?”

“
Look.”

Deanna lifted a hand and touched her forehead.
“When you first came here, I was taller than you by a whole head. Now just a couple of inches and we’ll be able to look each other in the eye.”

Mordraud blushed in embarrassment. Something
’s not right, he thought. ‘I’ve always grown with harrowing sluggishness. It’s not possible – she’s making fun of me...’

“
You’ve also put muscles on your shoulders,” she went on, finally breaking out into a smile. “I hadn’t noticed...”

Mordraud coughed and shuffled his feet, feeling terribly tense. Listening to Deanna comment on his body had hur
tled him into utter confusion.

“
Well... time goes by for everyone...” he muttered, settling the tray on the table noisily. “Oh, I’ve forgotten the honey pot. I’ll fetch it.”

His was a genuine retreat. Deanna hadn
’t managed to tell him in time that the bread was already spread with honey, because he’d rushed to the kitchen, breathless and eyes wide in amazement.

“
What’s she saying now?!” he lamented, floundering. “I really don’t think I’ve grown... I still look like the same child...”

Mordraud observed his hands. His breathing calmed until it was back to normal, and the nervousness that had gripped him disappeared.

His fingers seemed different.

They were longer, and the calluses from the sword he handled every night made his skin look slightly older. Even his wrists had
turned thicker, and likewise all the way up to his chest. He was growing sturdier, and he hadn’t even realised. His torment returned with the violence of a slap.

‘
Don’t do anything stupid, young man... Don’t even think about it...’

His
endurance didn’t last long, of course. Deanna came to him in his fantasies, completely naked on the double bed, inviting him to join her, rubbing her thighs and opening them just wide enough to make him dream. He could picture himself from behind, as he advanced, towering over her. Broad well-defined shoulders, legs of steel, and arms that could tear the world apart.

“
I could have done without this,” he moaned in despair, going back to staring at his fingers.

“
I really could have...”

“Sernio, are you home?”

The old
bookseller jumped in surprise. He was just peeling the second of two old soft potatoes, and wasn’t anticipating visitors that day. He opened the door to his shack and took a step back so his unexpected guest could enter.

“
Saiden, sir! Please come in...”

H
e hadn’t seen him for a couple of years. Since the last time he’d stopped by in Eld and bought a bagful of books; Sernio had survived for months on the money he had left him. It was stunning how like his grandfather he was, Sernio reflected, as he beckoned him in.

Saiden
was the grandson of Saite, renowned as a chanter in Cambria when Sernio was still a boy. He’d met him while working in the library at the Arcane. His grandfather was very famous at the time. One of the greatest harmonies experts in the history of Cambria. A voracious reader. His son, according to those who’d met him, at least equalled his father in ability, but had left Cambria when very young. Thus Saiden had grown up outside the Imperial territories, and hadn’t followed in his grandfather’s footsteps at the Arcane. They looked like two peas in a pod. The same hazel eyes, and unusually glossy black hair. His face bore the faint traces of fine lines. Astounding, mused Sernio. His spitting image.

“
I’d like to buy a novel or two. I was passing through to order supplies for the cold season, and hoped you might have something interesting.”

“
I have very little really...” Sernio replied, with an excessively servile manner. “But I am sure I can find something to your liking.”

Saiden
lived at six days’ ride from Eld, going south. An especially wild uninhabited area. In a tower standing on the remains of a small deserted town eroded away by time. Saiden had explained to him that his family, including his grandfather, had owned the tower when the town was still inhabited. He didn’t require much company – he enjoyed being on his own. For many years he’d been a respected chanter in Calhann, on the Inland Sea Strait, but had tired of living surrounded by people. An elusive character, Sernio decided. But he stirred a natural sense of trust, although he was unaware why. Then again, he had met his family, which had left an excellent impression.

Sernio
began searching through his books for something Master Saiden might appreciate.

“
Do you still have pupils, sir? Would you like something for them too?”

“
Yes, I have two or three. But they have to study other things – I don’t leave them the time to read my novels...” he replied, laughing.

The last time
Saiden had dropped by, he recalled, he’d stocked up on historical novels. Romantic reconstructions of well-known moments from the past. Sernio dug out a couple of books he’d probably never offered him.
The Dawn of Legend: Syl’s Second Imperial Era
– a great read, he thought. He also took
The Battle at Hann Bridge
– a great classic.
He handed them to Saiden, who thumbed through them and nodded in approval. “Excellent... Have anything older?”

“
Well, you see... There aren’t many documents from the First Era, and the historians often debate on...” Sernio stopped and apologised. When he got onto the topic, he tended to talk too much. Master Saiden obviously already knew all these things, he thought. He must certainly have had the benefit of an outstanding education.

“
No, please go on,” Saiden invited him, unexpectedly. He placed the books on the makeshift table and sat down on a log. Sernio fetched two glasses and a jug of water, and endeavoured to make himself comfortable opposite, despite his embarrassment.

“
The historians have elaborated many theories on the First Era, sir... The only written evidence from that period already talks of Cambria, as the capital, Syl and Calhann almost as we know them today. No other documents are available to us that would help us reconstruct who initially settled in these places or what they were like during the First Era. I’m referring to the fact that we have no idea of the roots to the world we live in, sir... We are somewhat ignorant regarding our past, if you’ll allow me to use this expression.”

“Some say the First Era belonged to and was dominated by the Aelians, isn’t that so?” Saiden responded. Sernio nodded but with little conviction.

“
Certainly. It’s believed the Aelians lived in that period,” he returned. “But what carried Cambria to become our capital? And who were the Aelians. And what happened between them and us? We know practically nothing.”

Saiden
puckered his lips for an instant. “We are nonetheless talking of one thousand five hundred years ago – it’s likely everything’s been lost.”

“
Hmm, of course...” replied Sernio. He didn’t want to contradict him, but he found it most strange that there was a hole of such a size in the weave of history.

“
It’s true many don’t even believe Aelians ever lived in Cambria,” concluded Saiden, going back to leafing through one of the two heavy tomes. “I can indeed see how the topic is an appealing one... The boys I used to educate in Calhann would also pose similar questions.”

“
And what did you answer them, if I may ask?”

“
That the Aelians existed, and they lost terribly against us,” exclaimed Saiden as if it were self-evident. “Besides, I’m convinced our people came down from Ankhar, and it’s precisely for this reason we have no written remains from an older period.”

Sernio
stared at him in amazement. It was a brilliant theory. Lacking in evidence perhaps, but absolutely brilliant. That another continent lay much further to the north was common hearsay, but an idea founded on truth, in his opinion. Saiden’s suggestion offered a solution to many of history’s enigmas.

“
Nonetheless, the mystery remains of the Aelians’ downfall... and, by consequence, how we came to take their place. Unfortunately, we know practically nothing about them.”

“
They’re not so different to us,” Saiden commented. “We’re more alike than we might seem.”

“
Have you ever met one?!”

“
A couple,” replied Saiden. “I’ve been lucky enough to exchange a few words with them.”

“
Fantastic...”

“
Indeed,” concluded the chanter, getting up off the log. He took his books and placed some gold Scudos on the table. A conspicuous amount, too much really. Sernio went to refuse some, but Saiden told him the sum was fair. He left the shack and Sernio followed him outside.

“
It was a pleasure.”

“
All mine, sir” replied Sernio. Larois and Gwern were walking together along the road that passed by the house. Sernio acknowledged him and Gwern waved in return. “EVERYTHING OKAY? STILL GOT SOME POTATOES?” Gwern asked, attracting Saiden’s attention with his cries.

“
Yes, I have. Thanks, my boy!”

Saiden
retraced his steps and went to Sernio’s side. He was staring at Gwern. He seemed puzzled, disoriented. “Who’s the boy?” he inquired.

“
Oh, a local orphan... He brings me food now and then – a lovely boy.”

“
I see...” he replied, following Gwern’s movements until he disappeared round the corner.

“
Sernio, can we go back in your home for a moment?”

“
Of course, maestro. Please go in...”

Saiden
crossed the hut’s threshold, looked at the road and stared at Gwern’s back, as he briskly walked away. The old bookseller asked if something was the matter. His guest replied there was not, still perplexed.

“
You’d like to look at some more books perhaps?”

“
No... I was wondering...”

“
Yes, go on,” Sernio exclaimed in astonishment. The chanter seemed in difficulty. Although the door was closed, he went on watching the boy’s back, as if he couldn’t take his eyes off Gwern.

“
Do you know the lad well?”

“
Yes, he’s a dear boy who drops by to bring me food from time to time. He’s smart. And has an astounding memory.”

“
You should suggest that he comes to study under me.”

Sernio
stammered without uttering a word. It was an incredible surprise.

“
But... are you sure. Well... he’s still very young... If you like, I can call him back and introduce you, so you can get a better idea...”

“
I already have all the information I need to make that assessment.”

“
But I don’t know if Gwern intends to study chanting... Or rather, we’ve never talked about it.”

“
That’s why I’m asking you to speak to him.”

What was all the hurry,
Sernio wondered uneasily. ‘Why’s he interested in Gwern?’

Saiden
was behaving in an utterly inexplicable way. He had urgency and was feverish. He was filled with a vague euphoria.

“
So... you don’t want me to...”

“
No,” Saiden broke him off. He turned round again. His forehead was beaded with sweat and a faint smile transfixed his face. “I already know that boy can do great things. He trusts you, doesn’t he?”

“
Yes, I think so...” burbled Sernio.

“
Good. Then I’ll even offer him an attractive price. A very good one. Remember what I ask,
my friend
...” uttered Saiden, gripping his shoulder.

“
I want Gwern as my pupil. I won’t accept a refusal.”

***

“Have you managed to find him?”

“
No, sir, I regret to inform you...”

“
Don’t be a bootlicker with me! DON’T EVEN TRY IT!”

“
I’m sorry, sir... I didn’t want to...”

Dunwich
was sitting in his favourite chair, with one leg up over the armrest and his body slumped in the cushions. He’d searched everywhere for a good explorer, someone with sharp wits and observant eyes, and this was the best he’d been able to find.

He
’d have spent less if he’d taken a simpleton from the Temple of the Infirm, he mulled in vexation. With the same results.

“
I even told you where you might find him. What’s so hard to grasp?!”

“
Sir, I looked in Eld, as you advised me, but I found nobody fitting the description you gave me... And all the boys look more or less the same there – the streets are filled with packs of orphans!”

Dunwich raised a hand to his eyes in desperation. Sometimes he had the impression that Cambria was a tin-pot power. How did it manage to stay standing with people like that, he wondered dismally.

“I said: a boy with black, slightly wavy hair, probably shoulder-length... eyes of an intense green... always with a younger boy, brown hair, thin and sickly-looking...” Dunwich’s voice rose to an uncontrolled bellow. “And you,
in six months,
have come up with nothing?!”

“
But, sir...” the terrified man endeavoured to explain. “They’re wary of newcomers in Eld. They can recognise a stranger just from how he walks... I had to take precautions, I acted discreetly...”

“
Good!” Dunwich clapped in sardonic applause. “So let’s do it this way: I have to take precautions too... So I’m halving the promised salary. Any objections?!”

The expert hunter almost grovelled on the gr
ound, but didn’t complain. He was standing before a Lance, and one of the most influential. Just a snap of the fingers could condemn him to an amusing year of forced war service at the front.

“
Be off with you, and don’t show your face here again. The money’s in that bag,”

“
Thank you, sir...”

Dunwich threw his head back and heaved a heavy sigh. How was it no
one dared scour Eld, he wondered. The rebels were dangerous but they weren’t gods. A disguise, a little shrewdness and he could even live in Eld – Dunwich was sure of it. He would have liked to do it all himself, but he couldn’t be absent from Cambria again. He’d soon be setting off for the front, leading a cavalry regiment. He beamed just at the thought. That appointment meant he’d be heading the assault against enemy lines. No more playing at strategies with the precious Lance troops. Real war at last.

‘
And to think that as a boy I hadn’t even considered a military career’, he mused to himself. ‘I chose to accept Asaeld’s proposal purely because of that girl... What was her name?’

He thought on it. His head was so crammed with thoughts it took him a while to remember.

‘Lisea, that’s it! She was always glued to that rough stocky guy... Denor... Oh, how I envied him! And he wanted to be a Lance. I certainly reasoned like a fool as a boy.’

He took advantage of the moment
’s relaxation to pour himself a glass of excellent malt spirit from the West. It was a pleasure, and an increasingly frequent habit, that helped him soothe his nerves and reflect.