The Gathering Storm - Elsewhere, Book 1
Chapter 7

The following three weeks passed in the business of preparation. The various squads of bowmen, villagers and Equiseen were chosen. In addition the necessary camp followers were recruited; cooks, a quartermaster and his team and wagon drivers. Once the main body of the rescue party was on board ship these people would return with the wagons to Theyos Raal, as Emerden had explained to Nula.

The Dallagaen worked extra hours mining ore for the metals necessary for steel production. The Equiseen village forges turned all their production hours to making swords, arrow and spear heads, shields and camp cookware. All the Pixies who could sew set about making tents under the direction of Doorsh and Mirren. Upon completion each tent was enchanted by Thalaenna to make it waterproof. Tent poles had to be cut and guy ropes woven, and a small mountain of food was accumulated in a barn belonging to the quartermaster; a small, practical man named Horras who owned a farm to the east of Maybor.

This had been designated the starting point of both arms of the mission and they would travel together for the first two weeks as they crossed the Near Plains. After that they would ford two streams where they met to become one of the tributaries of the River Lyte, which flowed past the city of Lytos Meer on its south side. Then the two branches would go their separate ways; those on the quest to the northeast and those on the rescue mission to the north, while the four intrepid volunteers from the Carnival headed into the city itself to replace ships.

Piles of blankets, spades, axes and the like, plus all the tents and weaponry joined the food in Horras’ barn. Carts and horses were requisitioned from every farm in the district and the carts built up with wooden frames and tent fabric to form covered wagons. The volunteer cooks and their assistants spent their time preserving tonnes of food which would otherwise spoil before the end of the journey; drying or salting meat and fish, making fruit preserves in jars, dried fruit and vegetables and great wheels of cheese and organising sacks of peas, beans, grains, flour, tea and sugar beet.

A comprehensive military hierarchy was established and rank assigned according to ability and experience through tests devised by Garron Moor and Prince Illion. The squads trained daily on the grasslands near their villages, building up their strength, stamina and skills. The Equiseen drilled the villagers in swordsmanship, while sergeants appointed from their own populace built up their strength and stamina, and the Elves shot countless arrows into targets. The soldiers went home each night weary but with a sense of purpose and a growing confidence in themselves and camaraderie with their fellows.

This feeling was not universal, however. Some few of the soldiers had volunteered due to an unwholesome fondness for violence and aggression, while others had been ‘volunteered’ for their village’s squad by their father’s recommendation to the sergeant, rather than any desire on their own part for adventure, justice or humanitarian sympathy.

These circumstances were both particularly true in the Lobor squad, where the sergeant was having a hard time envisaging a day when ‘unity of purpose’ or even ‘do it right now, because I’m bloody well telling you to, that’s why’ would be concepts his squad would have any success with. There was a certain amount of petty squabbling among his so-called men, who looked more like boys barely out of short trousers to him, but perhaps he was just getting old.

His mayor, despite his promises to the Council, had nominated Brin Smith to the sergeant’s post then abruptly excused anyone who owned a business or who’s family would struggle in their absence from service, which seemed to include most of the town. Several businessmen had volunteered their oldest sons in their stead and the rest of the squad seemed to consist of the town bully and his cronies, unpleasant fellows all. Brin was sure he could knock them into shape, but he wasn’t sure he could do it by the time they reached the Chasm. They were a hard headed bunch, to be sure.

Peeter Smith, who was a distant relative on his father’s side, Nate Joiner, and Dan Butcher weren’t so bad, he supposed. Full of youthful exuberance and a little rough around the edges, but able to take orders. Peeter in particular hadn’t been keen on his father’s decision to sign him up, but he wasn’t a bad lad at heart. It was more that he was unwilling to leave his sweetheart for weeks on end, and having seen the young woman in question Brin could understand why. He hoped that once they were on the road he would settle down and embrace the spirit of the venture.

For his own part, Brin had no wife to take leave of anymore, his beloved Irene having died from a fever five Turns previously. His smithy was being ably managed by his two boys and he was only too happy to replace some meaning for his days again. He had fought in the last battle against the Meerans, and two smaller skirmishes before that. His fifty Turns seemed to melt away though, when the opportunity for one more adventure came along. Brin was determined to do right by his men and train them well, and just as determined to acquit himself with honour when the time came. He squared his shoulders and went over to where they were grumbling their way through fifty press-ups, ready to march them a few miles before sunset.

Mikkol had been devastated by the news that there would be a battle in just a few weeks and he and Aysh would already have left.

“Maybe we should wait until afterwards,” he suggested to Aysh as they walked through the village square amid industrious preparations.

“And maybe you’ll be killed and never come back,” retorted Aysh. “Or maybe you’ll come back promoted through valour on the field and won’t want to leave your shiny new career. Or maybe the Meerans will attack while you’re gone and kill me – except that I would lift a sword to defend myself and the village and instead of thanking me they’d shear my braid off and banish me as soon as the battle was over. Maybe I should offer my services to the rescue mission and have done with it. There will always be a reason not to go, Mikkol, but I have no reason to stay. Except for you.”

Mikkol saw the fear in her eyes that he might change his mind and leave her there and his resolve strengthened.

“Alright Aysh, forget I suggested it. We’ll stick to the plan.” Nevertheless he felt a stab of guilty regret as he watched his father examining newly made swords across the square.

Naturally his father, suspecting nothing of his son’s imminent desertion, had given Mikkol the rank of lieutenant in their village’s squad, equal to his friend Jessen Flax. Jessen’s new bride Lorra watched with teary-eyed pride as he made preparations to leave, standing with Hanna Bayn, whose husband Jonor was also in the squad. Hanna’s pregnancy was just beginning to show and she didn’t know whether her own tears were because she was pregnant and overly emotional or because Jonor was going, but she couldn’t seem to stop crying.

“It’ll be alright,” Jonor told her, wiping her face with a handkerchief. I’ll be back before mid-turning. I won’t miss the birth.” He kissed her forehead and held her close, hoping it was true.

Aysh observed this scene from across the square and felt just a brush of guilt on her conscience. Seven young men from her village, who she’d known since they were all children together, and twelve older men from twenty to fifty, including her own father, would be marching off on a noble mission, plus Mikkol’s father who was General in command of all the squads, both Equiseen and Manguin. All the other villages would be making similar sacrifices. And not everyone would come home. Somewhere deep inside Aysh realised she was being very selfish, even cowardly, which both shocked and horrified her almost to the point of changing her mind. Then she saw Taya smiling sympathetically at her from behind the well and her heart hardened. They had no choice now. If they didn’t leave it would all come out in the end; everything she had seen, and they would be ruined.

Taya had been at her side almost constantly for the last three days and never stopped talking about the joining and the joys of life afterwards amid wifely duties and responsibilities and the hope of soon becoming a mother. As if she knew anything about it. Lorra had been sweetly bashful about the pleasures of domestic bliss. Her joining week of blissful isolation had been curtailed with the onset of preparations, so she had only had her husband to herself for three nights and days, but clearly this was enough time to develop a rather becoming blush when Taya asked her how wonderful it was to be a wife, rather obviously for Aysh’s benefit.

Hanna Bayn on the other hand had been almost disturbingly frank about the joys or lack thereof of incipient motherhood. Taya’s disappointment at her uninspiring description of morning sickness, backache, indigestion and lack of sleep was almost palpable. Aysh had to choke down her laughter and pretend to have swallowed a fly.

No, staying was not an option. Aysh would gladly have volunteered for the squad had it been an option, in fact she yearned more than anything for the chance to march off with Mikkol and their fathers. Left at home with Taya to make fish hooks, nails and needles and wonder whether she would ever see Mikkol again she would probably go mad. He father turned to her that night after supper and asked her whether she wouldn’t like to delay until everyone came home. Her mother immediately agreed that this sounded like a very good idea, but Aysh had her answer calculatedly at the ready, anxious that nothing should disrupt the plan.

“I just couldn’t bear that father. There will be a battle and people die in battle. What if Mikkol doesn’t come back? Or you, or his father? It would be too sad to have our joining day without my father to present me and I know Mikkol feels the same. And I would truly rather have just one day as his wife than never be joined at all.”

Her words were all true, yet she felt again that brush of guilt which was now becoming familiar to her to a degree she found quite unsettling. Her father suspected nothing. He felt only pride in his daughter’s love for himself and her intended and could deny her nothing.

“Very well,” he told her. “The day before we are to leave you and Mikkol will be joined in a quiet ceremony with just family and close friends present. Anything more ostentatious would be in poor taste at a time like this. You will have one night in the joining tent before we march. If we are all fortunate you will only be separated for a few weeks, then you’ll have the rest of your lives to make up for it.”

“Thank you father,” she replied, hugging him close for what would be one of the very few times she had left.

Nula rowed her coracle across the lake and moored it to the jetty at the village of Maybor. She wanted to visit her parents before they all left and had decided to do a little shopping as well and drop in on some friends in the village. The jetty stuck out from the muddy shore by around twenty feet and had a dozen sail and row boats moored to it. Long beaked birds pecked at the damp sand, digging for worms and small crabs as the lake water rippled down the beach away from them, then squawked in irritation as the tide returned to fill in the holes they had dug. On the shore men sat on crates mending fishing nets; some of them smoking pipes, chatting and laughing together. Nula knew several of them on sight and greeted them as she passed, asking after the health of their families. One young man ran up to her holding a parcel wrapped in paper.

“Mistress Nula, I thought it was you,” he said breathlessly as he reached her.

“Finn, how are you? How are Shana and the baby?” asked Nula, smiling.

“They’re well, very well. I wanted to ask you if you’d give this to your mother. She was wonderful with Shana, we’re really grateful.” Finn proffered the package, which had a decidedly fishy odour emanating from it.

Nula took it from him and put it in her basket. “Thank you Finn, I’m sure she’ll appreciate this. I’m seeing her later on. Do tell Shana I was asking for her, won’t you?”

Nula continued up the shore, past the net racks and baskets filled with the day’s catch. Women stood chattering nineteen to the dozen as they sorted and gutted the catch ready for sale. Nula tried not to breathe through her nose as she passed them. Walking between rows of small stone houses, she headed up the main street. The town of Maybor was organised in a logical fashion, with twenty or so shops lining the main street and the houses on the streets which crossed over it at right angles and on other, smaller lanes and crescents winding back to where town gave way to countryside and farmland took over. Nula paused in several shops, both to collect small items she needed and to say hello to the proprietors. Having grown up in Maybor she knew almost everyone in town and they all wanted to give Nula their opinion on the tumultuous events surrounding the New Turning. By the time she reached the schoolhouse, she felt quite overwhelmed by it all. Peering around the door, she saw a classroom full of children of all ages, sitting at desks and listening intently to their teacher. The walls were decorated with brightly coloured pictures and there were shelves of clay models and books on all sides. The teacher was a young man with brown, wavy hair, dressed in plain black trousers and a white, full-sleeved, lawn shirt. He had a kindly yet intent face and was conducting a history lesson with great fervour.

“Now children, who was it who commanded the peoples of the forest at that time?” he asked, one finger raised ready to select the first child to lift their hand. A small girl with blonde pig-tails and a nervous look tentatively put her hand in the air and the teacher pointed at her.

“Yes, Melodii?”

“Please, sir, was it King Doradin?”

“Yes, well done. Our own King Tilarion’s father ruled over the forest at that time. Sadly he was killed at the very end of the battle. Does anyone know who ruled the Meerans?”

This time an older boy with curls and freckles raised his hand.

“Please, sir, it was King Victor’s father King Heldon, but the army was really led by General Fennet, because King Heldon never left Lytos Meer.”

“Well done! Top marks, yes that’s right Jack. The Meeran King has never left Lytos Meer, he merely sends his men out to fight for him, no pun intended!” the teacher laughed quietly at his second rate joke, then when no one joined in he looked abashed and coughed to hide his embarrassment. Quickly he fired another question at his eager class of students.

“Can anyone tell me what happened in our towns here on the lake shore during the battle? What happened to the women, children and old folk?”

“Evacuation!” shouted a small boy in the front row, forgetting to raise his hand. Nula was startled by the sudden resurgence of unpleasant memories from her childhood and accidentally bumped the door, causing everyone in the room to turn and look at her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t want to interrupt. I’ll go.” She turned to leave but the teacher ran to the door and caught her arm.

“Nula, please wait! The children would love to see you, don’t hurry off, please?”

This plea was echoed by all the children in the room and Nula couldn’t resist them. Smiling, she came back in and sat in the chair which one of the older boys brought forward for her.

“Thank you, Marrus,” said his teacher. “Everyone, aren’t we lucky to have such a special visitor today? Special because for everyone in this room, the first pair of hands that ever touched you belonged to either Mistress Nula or her mother. And also special because Mistress Nula was here during the evacuation and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind telling you all what she remembers about it!” The teacher turned to her. “You don’t mind, do you Nula?” he asked quietly. “Sorry to spring it on you. I don’t remember anything about it you see; I was only a baby.”

Nula could hardly think of anything she would enjoy less, but regarding the crowd of eager faces looking at her with frank adoration, she could hardly say no.

“Of course. It’s not a problem at all,” she said, then wondered how to begin. “I was very small; only about five. My father and uncle went to join the fighting. My sisters and I went with my mother into the forest and stayed with my aunts and cousins. My mother had to leave us to treat the wounded, so we were very scared that we’d never see them again.

There hadn’t been time to pack all our things, so we only had what we could stuff into a small bag and I remember that I left my favourite doll behind and I was afraid that the Meerans would steal her.”

There was a low murmur of laughter at this comment and Nula blushed slightly. “Of course that was ridiculous, but I didn’t know that. I didn’t know anything about the Meerans except that they hated us for some reason I couldn’t understand and they seemed to want to kill us all. I couldn’t think what I had done that could possibly make someone want to kill me. I was unaware of their claims about the Fall’s Gate.”

Nula’s throat felt tight and she paused and took a deep breath, thinking she should get back to a safer area. “It was very crowded in the forest. All the Elves and pixies shared their homes with families from the five towns, but that wasn’t enough, so large tents were set up in the market clearing for everyone else. I was lucky to have family to stay with; most people were bunking with strangers. I stayed with my Aunt Rosa and cousin Saera in their little house and they only had two beds so I shared Saera’s. My sisters stayed with my Grandmother and other aunts.

It was four weeks from the time that we knew the Meerans were coming and we were evacuated, till the time that the battle was over and we could go home. We had been afraid they would fire the towns, but they never came near. Our houses were exactly as we left them. It was just that, well, King Doradin wanted the place where the battle had been.... tidied up before the townspeople crossed it.” She had been going to say ‘cleared of bodies’ when she remembered who her audience were.

The freckled boy called Jack raised his hand. “Please, Miss, did your parents come home?”

“They did, Jack, and so did my uncle but many people were not as lucky as me. Several of my school friends lost their father or an uncle and one or two an older brother. It was a horrible time in our history and although it’s important to remember why it happened and try to make sure it doesn’t happen again, I really don’t like to think about it much.”

“But aren’t we planning for another battle now?” persisted Jack. “My father says that once the squads all leave the Meerans will attack us again and kill us in our beds, so we’re preparing for another evacuation!”

This declaration caused an uproar in class as the children started to argue over whether Jack was making it all up and two little girls at the front began to cry. It took their teacher several minutes to calm everyone down, by which time he decided they should all go outside to eat lunch and play in the sun till it was time for afternoon school. Once the classroom was empty he turned to Nula.

“I’m sorry, Jack’s father is against the whole expedition and very vocal about it. I try to keep Jack’s view balanced but it’s a struggle. Sorry for ambushing you like that as well. Was it horrible of me?”

He looked so penitent that Nula had to forgive him. She let out a sighing sort of laugh and hugged him.

“It was, moderately, but that’s alright. Joss, don’t your class know that you’re my cousin? I didn’t mention your father by name because you seemed a little reticent about the connection. How are Uncle Jaems and Aunt Anna, by the way?”

“They are both well, and no, I don’t advertise to the children that I have any sort of life of my own. I honestly believe that some of them think I sleep in the cupboard each night. It’s easier that way than to have them pestering me with questions. How are Uncle Tom and Aunt Maegren?”

“Well. I’m going to visit them later. I’ll tell them you asked. Joss, are you going? With the expedition I mean.”

“No. I wasn’t chosen. I’m not sorry, to be honest. I don’t think I’d be much good with a sword. Besides, I have my children to teach and where would they be without their Mister Joss to drill them in their studies? They’d fall terribly behind. I hear you’re going though, setting off on a brave adventure. My father’s very proud of you.”

“Really?” Nula laughed. “I expect my father’s been exaggerating it out of all proportion; it’s really not that brave.”

“Of course it is! You’ve never been further than ten miles from your father’s farm before and now you’re all set to trek across the whole realm! I think you’re very brave. I hope Emerden takes good care of you.”

“He will. We’ll take care of each other. And we’ll be back in a few weeks, once we know what’s happening with the trees and how to fix it. I should go; it’s still a long walk to the farm, but it was lovely to see you. We’ll catch up again when I get home, okay?”

“Of course. You be careful out there and hurry home.”

They stood and hugged again, then Nula picked up her basket and left, waving goodbye to the children as she walked out of the playground. It took her about an hour to reach her parents’ farmhouse, which was a few miles out of town along a hedge-bordered lane past her father’s neat fields of grain crops, cows and sheep. Opening the gate to the farmyard, Nula waved to her mother through the open kitchen window, then picked her way across the yard between a dozen chickens, her father’s dog and two cats who were lazily sunning themselves in the midst of it all. There was a delicious smell emanating from the kitchen; pies and cakes sat cooling on the sill and the counter inside and Nula’s stomach rumbled in anticipation. Entering the house through the boot room door, Nula took in the familiar sights and smells of home which always made her feel safe and secure, no matter what else was happening in the world. Her mother stood at the large, deep sink, washing potatoes and carrots ready for the evening stew pot, but as Nula came in she dried her hands and came over to embrace her daughter.

“And how’s my youngest on this fine morning?” she asked, kissing her soundly on the cheek.

“I’m well, Mother,” she replied. “And I have a gift for you from Finn and Shana Chandler, and greetings from cousin Joss.” She produced the package of fish from her basket and laid it on the well scrubbed wooden table which took up a good part of the kitchen.

“Caught this morning, I’ve no doubt. He’s a good lad, that Finn Chandler. Takes good care of Shana and the baby. So what’s all this I’ve been hearing about you planning great adventures away from all your responsibilities? Do your women know you’re abandoning them?”

Her mother sounded stern, but Nula could see the twinkle in her eyes and knew she was only teasing.

“Mother, Noor has everything well in hand. I’ve been over every case with her in great detail and there’s nothing she can’t handle. She’s at least as capable as I was at that stage. And she knows she can send for you if she needs you.”

“Of course she can. And I know how good she is; you’ve trained her well. I hope you’ve really thought about this trip though. Sleeping rough, walking all day every day – it’ll be hard. I don’t know what Emerden’s thinking, letting you volunteer.”

“I didn’t volunteer, I insisted, despite his objections.” Nula looked so indignant that her mother couldn’t help but laugh.

“I can well believe it! You always did what you wanted, and did it well. My beautiful, headstrong girl; you know I’m proud of you don’t you? And you’re father too. Couldn’t be more so.” She reached out and stroked Nula’s cheek in the way she used to when Nula was a little girl and her eyes glistened with nostalgia.

“Mother, don’t; you’ll make me cry! What’s brought all this on anyway? I’ll only be gone a few weeks, then everything will be back to normal.”

“What, can’t a mother tell her daughter she loves her without something being wrong? I don’t know what the realm is coming to!”

“Where’s father?” asked Nula, to change the subject.

“Where is he ever? In the fields, with the men, tending to whatever needs tending. He’ll be in for lunch soon. Now tell me, when are you going to let Emerden make an honest woman of you?”

Nula almost exploded with laughter. “Honest woman?! Mother you sound like Aunt Anna. Since when do Pixies regard true love as dishonest? Unusual maybe, but hardly sinful. Emerden and I are perfectly happy as we are. Has father been talking to Pastor Mallory again?”

“No more than usual, but you always went with your father to church and I think he’s confused about how you meld Pixie beliefs with Manguin and why you don’t want to get married. You know how folk talk in town. They respect you because they know you’re good at your job but they seem to think that if you were really Pixie you’d have gone off with your sisters to the forest, so you must be more Manguin like your father. So they don’t understand you not marrying your man and being respectable.

I don’t mind, of course I don’t. Long as you’re happy, I’m happy. I think you might be wrong about Emerden though. He’s like his father and Aedon was always traditional. Now his wife was a pretty thing, shame what happened there. If only they’d called on me instead of trying to do it themselves. I know the Carnival folk didn’t hold much with midwifing before you convinced them, but it could have saved her.”

“Mother, how do you know about Em’s mother? I never knew anything till this week!”

“Oh, you hear things, women talk don’t they? I never heard details, just that the birth went bad and they both died. So sad.”

“Well, I happen to know something you don’t then. It’s not as straightforward as it seems,” confided Nula.

So Nula told her Mother the whole story of Emerden’s sad history and by the time her father came in for his meal, Maegren understood better why the forest was in such a hurry to rush off across the realm. Nula ate with her parents, then headed back into town. She had one last stop to make before she went home.

Half way up the main street was a large building with a bell tower, or steeple, at the front. The arched wooden door stood ajar and Nula went inside, breathing the mixed scents of candle wax, musty books, incense and fresh flowers. The light was dim and rainbow coloured, from the large stained glass window at the far end. Nula walked up the aisle to the front and sat in a chair, waiting. Every Sunday of her childhood, her father had brought her here for the service. None of her sisters had wanted to come; they were perfectly happy to take their beliefs solely from the forest, but Nula had always been curious about her father’s faith. After a few moments a door opened to the side of the chancel and a young man with a serious expression walked towards her. He was concentrating very hard on the book in his hand and nearly walked right past her chair without realising she was there, but Nula coughed quietly and he looked up.

“Nula, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. I was working on my sermon. How are you?”

Nula smiled and moved along two chairs so he could sit down. “I’m well, Mallory, how are you?”

“Worried. All these young men going off to fight, it’s just terrible. They all seem so excited, as if they don’t even realise that many of them will be painfully injured or killed. They’ll replace it difficult, I think, once they get there and see what they’re up against. I was trying to include some words of warning and comfort for them in my sermon, but it’s difficult to be comforting while making everything sound terrible and scary. It’s not that I think they shouldn’t go exactly, the injustices suffered by those poor Jentsies certainly warrant righting. Freeing the oppressed and stopping those cruel Raquin from causing any more harm certainly seems in keeping with the Good Book. It’s just I feel that those young men may need guidance when they’re far from home and no one will be there to give it to them.” Mallory broke off, looking concerned and pensive, as if he was pondering over a solution but was afraid to voice it.

“Mallory, you have an idea, don’t you?” asked Nula perceptively.

“Well, perhaps. I don’t know how well received it will be though.”

“Tell me. I know the people in charge of this expedition. I could put in a good word for you, if you like.”

“You know the Elven King? Nula, I didn’t realise you were so well connected. Well, if you’re sure. I was thinking that perhaps someone could be appointed to look after the spiritual welfare of the men while they’re away. A sort of chaplain, if you like.”

“Mallory, I think that’s a wonderful idea, and you’d be perfect for it. I’ll tell Emerden and he’ll put it to the King. Do you think your father and Kethyn can manage the two churches between them while you’re away?”

Kethyn was Mallory’s twin brother, who had taken over the church in Lobor when its incumbent passed away. They had both followed in their father’s footsteps and Mallory had provided most of the pastoral care in Maybor for two Turns now, allowing their father to live in semi-retirement.

“Me? You think I wanted to go myself? Oh, Nula, I’m not sure I’m right for it. It’s such a big job; a hundred men, some quite young and never travelled far from home before, counselling, funerals and so forth. I’m sure there are others, better suited than myself.”

Nula smiled again. Mallory had always been such a humble person, truly devoted to the people he served, always working hard to make life better for them and give them hope and peace. He and his brother were the same age as Nula and they had gone through school together before Nula had left to become her mother’s apprentice. She had always admired his dedication and his integrity, and decided that she couldn’t let his own self-effacing attitude hold him back from what he clearly wanted to do.

“Mallory, I think you’d be perfect for it. And I think the fact that you feel the way you do probably means there’s no one better suited for the job. I’ll talk to Emerden. Start packing.”

Mallory looked shyly at her, slightly bowled over by her forceful attitude, not that there was anything unusual about that. He had always had a soft spot for Nula, though he didn’t really understand her. She was so pretty and kind, so dedicated to her work, almost to the exclusion of all else until she had met Emerden five Turns previously. She had always come to the church as a child, and still did occasionally, but she was a Pixie like her mother and sisters and he didn’t know if she took to heart the messages he found so undeniable in his bible. Yet she didn’t really act like a Pixie either, staying with one Manguin all this time. She was a conundrum, but he really liked her. He drew a deep breath and looked her squarely in the eye.

“Alright Nula, if you really think so. I’ll talk it over with my father and Kethyn. I’m sure we can work something out. Was there anything I can do for you? Or did you just stop in to sort me out?”

Nula laughed and patted his arm. “Nothing today. Just visiting old friends before I head off on this trip.”

“I see. God included?”

She laughed again. “Yes, I suppose God included. But don’t you always say He’s everywhere? Won’t He be at the other end of the realm too?”

“So you were listening! And here was me thinking you were becoming a total heathen, believing all that ‘web of magical energy in the sky’ nonsense.”

Nula regarded him quizzically, not sure how serious he was. “Mallory, how do you think the Elves’ magic works, if that’s not all true? Or any magic? It may not be so in the mortal realm, but here it’s undeniable.”

“Perhaps, but so is this.” He tapped the cover of the old, leather-bound bible he was holding. “Don’t forget everything my father taught you, will you Nula? There might be more in this world than you or I understand, but when things are difficult, you can replace so much truth and comfort here.” He pressed the book into her hands and stood up to let her out of the row of seats.

“Mallory, I couldn’t! Not your bible.” Nula was taken aback by the gift, unsure of his motivation for giving such a precious item.

“Don’t worry, I have another. I just want one of these to be with your leg of the expedition too, since you won’t have a pastor. You might replace it comes in useful.”

“Well, if you’re sure, then thank you.” Nula wasn’t sure if her friends would agree, but the gift was obviously kindly meant, so she placed it in her basket. She stood to leave, but paused in the isle.

“Would it be taken amiss if I hugged the pastor?” she asked.

“I’m sure no one would misunderstand, even if anyone were here to see,” he laughed, giving her a brotherly hug. Be well, Nula, and God be with you on your mission. I’ll be praying for you.”

“And with you, Mallory. Take care.”

She left the church as the shops were tidying their outdoor stands away and closing up for the evening and headed back down to the jetty. Somehow she felt more ready now to leave; more peaceful about the mission. She glanced at the book in her basket and frowned, wondering. Had her visit to the church done as much for her as it had for Mallory? Shaking her head, she dismissed the notion and put her basket down in the base of her coracle. Getting in, she cast of the mooring rope and set of back home.

The next morning Aysh gave Mikkol a summary of her conversation with her father and they began to make some surreptitious preparations of their own. While Taya was busy helping her mother, Aysh sneaked out of the village with a pack full of food and other necessities, plus two blanket rolls. She took them to the copse of trees where they had been practicing sword skills. She planned to return that night with water skins and other essential items. Their swords were still under the bush, wrapped in waxed cloth to protect them. They wouldn’t be able to take a proper tent but she hoped a couple of hides sewn together and slung over ropes between two trees would suffice. The rainy season was still some way off and she hoped they would have found something more permanent by then.

At the carnival, those who were planning to leave were also busy. Everyone knew to pack light, because they would have to carry it all on their backs for at least the first three weeks. For Emerden’s group that held true until they returned home. They had decided to take George, the horse who pulled their cart when they went through the Fall’s gate, as he could carry their tent canvases. Fresh poles would have to be cut from trees each night. There wasn’t much water available on the Near Plains between the River Mist and the River Lyte and it would have to be carefully conserved. In order not to hold up the departure of such a large number of people, the Carnival folk had decided to leave the night before and go as far as Horras’ farm. He was an old friend of Nula’s father and had agreed to let the dozen of them sleep in his hay barn and to stable George with the wagon horses.

Prince Illion was juggling his own preparations with the demands of fatherhood and as a result was surviving on almost no sleep. The twins were not unusually demanding, or so he was told, but Lorissa seemed to be almost constantly feeding one or other of them and despite the help of various ladies-in-waiting he often found himself winding, rocking or changing a small, writhing, red-faced and noisy person. He was sure that the overwhelming love that must be part and parcel of parenthood would sweep over him very soon. Of course it must. He had no doubt whatever that one day he would look into the face of his tiny and preferably sleeping son or daughter and he would absolutely adore them. It only worried him slightly that this had not yet occurred. His main concern at present was how his wife was managing to stay sane on even less sleep than him and with the constant demands on her body to produce milk for the babies. She always smiled at him and said she was fine, that of course they wouldn’t get much sleep for a while; it was only to be expected. She claimed to love feeding the babies and told him that she hardly ever had to do anything else; her mother and her ladies took care of everything so that she could rest a little. But despite the many claims on his time, Illion was not blind to the strain in her eyes and the slight tension in her arms when he tried to hold her close. His concern distracted him from his other duties and troubled his few hours of rest. In his office, the desk was piled high with lists and schedules. He met regularly with Quarter Master Fisher, Captain Moor, Emerden, the various sergeants from the Manguin villages and King Tilarion to discuss their progress. Unfortunately this seemed to have the effect of creating new lists and schedules to add to the pile. He tried to work through them, ticking off items as they were completed or arranged, but his sleep deprived mind was beginning to suspect that they were breeding overnight. Sighing, he pushed back his chair and stretched his arms to relieve the built up tension. He decided to walk out past the trees to where his men would be doing target practice, honing their skills before the battle. He might even shoot a few arrows himself. Yawning, he left the parchment covered desk to its reproductive devices and headed for the stairs.

Eventually, the allotted day was upon them. Everything was ready and all they had left to do was wait. The carnival folk shared one last meal together at Demet’s cookhouse; those who were going and those who would be left behind. The room had a subdued air about it until eventually Marielle could stand it no more and began singing a lively song to cheer everyone up. It was a melody they all knew and soon the whole room joined in till there was a smile on every face.

The moment of departure was put off until it could be ignored no more, but as evening descended the twelve travellers and their horse walked through the clearing and over the Bridge of Aught Else, where they were saluted by the duty guard as a mark of respect for their possible sacrifice. It was a gesture they found both touching and sobering, reminding them as it did of the dangers that lay ahead, especially for those who were ship bound.

There was a moment of tension as Jonor stepped towards the bridge for the first time in twenty Turns. He had been dreading it for weeks, re-entering the forest after his long exile, had even considered wearing some sort of disguise so that no-one would recognise him. In the end he walked beside Fron, bareheaded and unashamed, looking squarely ahead of him as he approached the Bridge Guard. Emerden saw them glance uneasily at each other when they recognised Jonor, deciding whether they should bar the way to a person who was clearly part of King Tilarion’s expedition, but who they had known all their lives was exiled from their community. Emerden spoke quickly and quietly, urging them to think of the big picture and not cause a problem in their departure, since it would ultimately be resolved in Jonor’s favour by the King, who would not thank them for creating an unnecessary disturbance on such a day.

Fortunately they listened to him and allowed them all to pass without a murmur. Jonor decided then that he should be as invisible a presence as possible until his branch of the party split from the army two weeks hence. They arrived at the barn and handed George’s reins to Horras, who was there to greet them and get them settled. They each found a patch of hay to sleep on and rolled out their blankets. Emerden, lying next to Nula, noticed that she looked sad.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” he asked quietly.

“No, of course not,” she whispered back. “I was just thinking about Oerayn. Neryn and Caeya took him back to the forest today. He’s doing very well and I know they’ll take excellent care of him but.... well, I suppose I’ll miss him. I’ve never really had to take care of any of the babies I’ve delivered. Their parents are there to do that. I liked it. I know I only had him for a few weeks but babies are so easy to love.”

Nula was sure that if she said any more she would start to cry, so she broke off and swallowed hard. Emereden nodded sympathetically and held her close, the germ of an idea forming in his mind that he planned to raise once the present situation had been dealt with.

Several hours earlier and as many miles away, Mikkol had stood at the front of the Gathering house waiting for Aysh to arrive. It is always the bride’s prerogative to be late but Aysh felt she was ready in good time. Her mother and Taya, however, continued to fuss over her dress and hair until Harran finally declared that anyone who did not leave the house immediately could stay home.

Aysh stepped out into the early evening and walked the few hundred yards to the Gathering house. Taya, as her bridesmaid, walked ahead of her, brandishing her bouquet like a trophy and enjoying all the attention. Heads turned towards the small group as they passed. However, as pretty as Taya looked in pale blue gossamer with cornflowers woven into her braid, she was easily outshone by Aysh herself. The golden rays of sunset burnished her tawny hair to a gleaming bronze and her hastily stitched gown was of rich, cream satin which complemented the deep tan of her skin. The gown left her arms bare and while the neck was cut high in front, it was deeply cowled at the back. The skirt was full and long, skimming her hooves and swishing as she walked. Taya had elaborately adorned Aysh’s hair with star flowers, winding her braid around her head like a crown. Harran and Keera walked proudly behind her, arm in arm. Keera was mildly regretful that her only daughter’s joining was to be such a small affair and on the eve of a departure for battle to boot. She smiled determinedly though, unwilling to let anything spoil the event.

Despite the decision that only family and close friends were to be invited, the hall was crowded. Relatives from the other villages as well as from their own jostled for a good view of the bride’s entrance. There was an atmosphere of constrained energy, of anticipation, and a party would provide a natural release.

As Aysh entered the hall Mikkol’s breath caught in his throat. He thought she had never looked so beautiful and worried again that he might not live up to her expectations. She walked towards him, her eyes locked on his; eyes filled with serenity that reassured Mikkol and dispelled his anxiety. She joined him at the front of the hall, their families around them, and listened as the elder began to speak. Most of the ceremony passed in a blur for Mikkol, so captivated was he by the woman beside him. Aysh had to squeeze his fingers to prompt a response when the elder asked if he was there voluntarily. When the time came for gifts, Aysh presented him with a bow and a quiver of arrows.

“For the adventure before us, in battle or the hunt,” she said enigmatically.

In a brave gesture which defied tradition Mikkol gave her a beautiful yet cruel looking serrated knife, which raised more than a few eyebrows. Mikkol went some way to lowering them with a few well-chosen words.

“I know you’re looking forward to preparing many meals in our home when it’s finished. With this carving knife I hope every meal time reminds you of this day.”

After the blessing he leaned forwards to kiss her, but first whispered in her ear “There’s a belt and sheath to go with that in my pack. I hope you’re ready for more training.”

The kiss Aysh bestowed on him to seal their joining was somewhat less demure than her father might have wished, but seeing the joyous glow on his daughter’s face he simply sighed and took his wife’s hand.

“I suppose she’s not my little girl anymore,” he lamented.

“Oh, she’ll always be your little girl,” Keera reassured him. “Her love for her husband doesn’t diminish her affection for her old father. You’ll see.”

“Old?” he objected, frowning his denial, then seeing the twinkle in her eye he laughed ruefully. “Keera, how is it you can still rile me after all these years?”

“Consistent practice and attention to detail,” she replied with an absolutely straight face, before going to help Lena Moor with the food.

Outside the sun was descending towards the Ever Tree a mile away and the street torches were being lit. Despite the small guest list, many other villagers came out to wish the newly joineds well and by the time the feasting and dancing was over it was fully dark and only a few hours till midnight. The village walked Aysh and Mikkol to the bridal tent then left them to their one night together before the ominous day to come.

Aysh and Mikkol were left standing in the tent, alone for the first time of their joined lives and both suddenly nervous. The tent was as sparsely furnished as any Equiseen home. On one side stood a table and two chairs, on the other, a bed. The table was set with a tray of food and a pitcher of water. If this had been a normal bridal week the tray would have been left outside each afternoon and replenished by one of the village women. The bed was low but comfortable, with blankets and cushions. Aysh found that she didn’t know what to say. She was aware of the mechanics of what was supposed to follow, but wasn’t sure how they would get to that point. Her stomach was full of butterflies and she looked at the floor, determinedly keeping her gaze away from the bed. Lorra Flax had managed, despite her blushes, to tell her that it was a bit sore the first time but then quite nice and that Jessen had been very sweet about it. She hoped that Mikkol would at least be able to act like he knew what he was doing. Mikkol watched Aysh stare at the floor and hoped that he wouldn’t disappoint her. She looked so beautiful and the attraction he felt toward her was so strong, yet he was still surprised by the almost primal desire he felt for her. Part of him wanted to just seize her and kiss her hard, putting his hands all over her body and pressing her onto the bed, but she looked nervous – almost fragile – and he didn’t want to scare her. In the end it was Aysh who broke the silence.

“So that’s it, I guess. The rest of our lives can begin.” The silence closed in again, so she added, “Did you see Taya batting her eyelashes at Jaimee Rush, trying to get him to dance with her? But he likes Lucee Horn; I know because Hanna Bayn told me.”

Mikkol stepped towards her and took both her hands in his.

“Aysh,” he whispered and she looked up at him. He dipped his head and kissed her gently, brushing his lips over hers in a question. He felt her lean into him in response and she returned his kiss, teasing his lips apart and flickering her tongue across them. She let go of his hands and wound her arms around his shoulders and neck, pulling him into her. Mikkol held her waist, feeling the heat of her through the soft fabric. Their kiss, though intense, was still a little restrained and eventually they broke apart, breathing heavily and gazing at each other.

Aysh giggled and Mikkol raised his eyebrows quizzically.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just that... we’ve kissed a lot of times now, with no expectation that anything would follow. Tonight it’s like there’s a Haraquin in the room – not literally, you know the saying! Like there’s a big thing no one wants to mention but no one can stop thinking about it.”

“I know what you mean,” agreed Mikkol, smiling at the metaphor. “I don’t want you to be nervous – I mean, no more than I am. Remember, I’ve never done more with anyone else than I have with you.”

“You’ve kissed someone else though?” asked Aysh. It hadn’t occurred to her that Mikkol might have a romantic history.

“I kissed Lorra a couple of times last harvest time. We didn’t get along well enough to start walking out together though. Then Jessen asked her to walk out with him and they were really well suited. I suppose it was just a childish infatuation. You don’t mind, do you? I take it you’ve never kissed anyone else?”

“No. But I don’t mind that you have. Um... how much do you... I mean I suppose your father spoke to you ... I mean, I guess tonight’s pretty important...” she tailed off, not quite sure what she wanted to say and having no idea how to say it.

“Aysh, I’m not going to ask you to do anything you’re not ready for. Just because we went through the ceremony doesn’t mean it has to be tonight. Why don’t we just start with what we know and take it from there?”

Aysh smiled and nodded, feeling reassured. Then, just to make sure he understood that she was definitely ready for more, she put one hand behind his head and pulled him in for another kiss. She reached for his hand and slid it up the smooth satin of her gown until he was cupping her breast. Although she had initiated the move she gave a surprised gasp of pleasure when he instinctively squeezed and rubbed, half-groaning himself as he felt her nipple harden in his palm. He wrapped his free arm around her back and as she pressed against him she could feel the evidence of his desire for her through his tunic. Both of their eyes flew open and they stopped mid-kiss. Very deliberately Aysh stepped back and eased her dress off her shoulders, letting it drop to her waist. She gauged Mikkol’s appreciation of what he could see, then slid the slippery fabric over her hips till it fell to the floor. Turning, she lowered herself onto the bed, lying down on her side, her head propped up on one hand. She bit one side of her lower lip provocatively and raised one eyebrow, almost challenging him to make the next move. Mikkol wasn’t one to refuse a challenge, so he removed his belt and lifted his tunic over his head, revealing a dusting of dark hair across his chest and down his torso. Aysh hadn’t seen a naked boy older than about six and certainly never one who was so visibly lustful. She realised her expression must have been quite telling as he lay down beside her because he followed her line of sight and laughed.

“I guess tonight is full of discoveries. I’ve never seen a naked woman before either.”

It felt strange for Aysh to hear herself called a woman, but it also made her feel oddly powerful. She was the cause of these feelings in him. She was the one he wanted; no other. Emboldened, she leaned in to kiss him again, traversing his back and chest with her hand until finally she worked up the courage to reach down and gingerly stroke him. She marvelled at how soft the skin was, yet how big and firm it felt in her hand. She wondered nervously how it could possibly fit inside her.

Now it was Mikkol’s turn to gasp in pleasure at her touch and he responded in kind, taking his fingers down to explore her. She moaned and held on to him as he rubbed and teased and he, encouraged by her reaction, pushed a finger inside her. Aysh tensed and gave a short scream as he broke her hymen and Mikkol froze.

“Aysh I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you okay?”

Aysh nodded, calming her breathing down.

“I’m fine; you just took me by surprise is all. I guess your finger’s smaller than... you know. Probably easier this way, right? I mean, Lorra said it would hurt the first time, so at least that’s out of the way now.”

“Oh, I’m not sure. I didn’t think of that, really it was just, well this was supposed to be nice for you. I mean, someone said it would be. Do you want me to stop?”

Aysh thought he looked so disappointed she felt quite sorry for him. She did wonder who had been giving him all this advice though. Trying to salvage the moment, she said, “Just keep kissing me, alright?”

Mikkol complied, more than slightly nervous now of hurting her and aware that his ardour had been somewhat deflated. He really wanted to give her the bridal night she wished for though, so he started rubbing her again with his thumb the way she had liked. When she started to relax he began to move his finger again inside her. Aysh remained tense at first, but soon found that it felt nice and she discovered that the more she relaxed the nicer it felt until she was subconsciously moving her hips and breathing in quick noisy gasps. Then suddenly he stopped, causing a small flash of disappointment, which was replaced by anticipation as he moved himself on top of her and between her legs. Mikkol kissed her breasts, her neck, her mouth; hurried, nervous kisses that made her feel as if he was scared to stay in one place for very long. Then ever so slowly he began to ease himself inside her, using every ounce of self control he possessed not to rush. He saw a small frown of concentration on her forehead and wondered whether he was hurting her, but she assured him she was only concentrating on relaxing and enjoying the moment. For Mikkol it was a case of trying not to enjoy it too much too soon. The sensation was so incredible; it took everything he had not to explode instantly. He paused, concentrating on each breath until he felt more controlled. Aysh gripped fistfuls of the sheet and tried to figure out whether what she was feeling was pleasure or pain but for the life of her she couldn’t decide. As Mikkol began to move his hips against hers she focussed on trying to relax and enjoy it as much as she had before. Then, just as she was starting to feel her body reciprocate, to feel something build inside her so that she wanted to hold him and pull him further inside, to hear herself gasp and moan with every thrust, he shuddered and pushed himself forwards, groaning. Then he stopped, panting into her neck. After a few seconds he lifted himself up onto his elbows and smiled exultantly at her.

“Aysh, that was incredible!” he whispered. “Wasn’t it incredible? I mean, was it? It wasn’t, was it?”

His expression fell like heavy rain as a swift crisis of confidence set in.

“It was nice,” she tried to reassure him. I didn’t quite get to incredible. I’m sure that next time, though, it’ll be fine. And I’m glad you thought so.”

Mikkol lay down next to her looking disappointed and frustrated.

“I’m sorry, Aysh. I wanted it to be perfect.”

She grinned and nudged his ribs. “Well, you know what ‘makes perfect’, right?”

She sighed then as another thought intruded.

“I suppose it must be nearly midnight. We need to leave soon if we’re going to make it to the foothills before breakfast time.”

“Rest a while first, then eat something. We’ll still make good time.”

He kissed her forehead and pulled the blanket over them both, resting his hand on her arm as he closed his eyes.

Aysh woke as some creature rustled a bush outside. Peeking through the door flaps she saw that the moon was well past its zenith. Creeping back to the bed, she shook Mikkol’s shoulder.

“Mikkol!” she hissed. “Wake up; it’s after midnight. We need to go.”

Mikkol started awake and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“I must have fallen asleep more deeply than I wanted,” he yawned.

They dressed and packed the food that had been left for them in a cloth bag. After drinking a large tumbler of water apiece they set out in the direction of the copse of trees where their packs and swords were stowed. Once they had collected those they planned to turn north and cross the grasslands, stopping to sleep once they neared the foothills. As they walked east Aysh paused and stole a glance back towards the village and the life she was leaving behind forever. Then, taking a deep breath, she joined hands with Mikkol and strode purposefully into her future.