Song of Echoes Read online

  ‘Lucky it’s not.’ Jerrum laughed. ‘You’d struggle to lift it.’

  ‘That’s enough of your lip.’ Hamar grinned. ‘Give me a sword and I could still teach you a lesson.’

  Toryn glanced at the plant in Hamar’s hand. ‘I guess it does look sorry for itself.’

  Hamar shivered. ‘This ain’t right. It’s too cold for the time of year.’ He stooped, groaning again as he replaced the shoot. ‘We’ll need every last one to thrive if we’re not to starve next winter.’ He spoke softly to the shoot as he patted down the soil. He glanced up. ‘This is my seventieth — no, seventy-first spring, and I’ve never known it like this.’ He pushed down on his knees and stood. ‘One after the other, no decent sun for... what is it? Three, four years now? If you were to ask me, I would say—’ Hamar sighed, shaking his head. ‘You’ve not listened to a word I’ve said have you, lads.’ His brow furrowed as he squinted at the horizon. ‘Think we’ll call it a day. I’ve finished repairing the barn door so can give you a hand with the rails tomorrow.’

  The three squeezed onto the seat of the cart. Toryn passed the reins to Jerrum. ‘You take the old boy in.’

  Jerrum chuckled. ‘Hamar or Ned?’

  Hamar’s elbow jabbed into Jerrum’s ribs. ‘Watch it, next time it won’t be my elbow, and it will be sharper.’

  Jerrum clicked his tongue. ‘Take us home, Ned, before Hamar forgets why he needs his sword.’

  He laughed again, but Toryn ignored him, choosing instead to take in the view. The setting sun picked out the furrows in the fields and shed some light between the thick trunks of Midwyche Wood. Ahead, the River Tam still flowed fast with the youth of the mountain springs. Further to the south, beyond the wood, it slowed and widened as it departed their land and headed for the sea.

  The cart jolted as it joined the hard surface of the lane. Hamar mumbled on about the weather, while Jerrum still chuckled at his joke. Toryn stayed silent. The lane climbed gently to meet the bridge that would take them across the river, bringing the first houses of the village into view. The evening sun tinged their thatched roofs red, in stark contrast to the dark cloud above the trees. Wisps of smoke climbed out of chimneys as suppers were cooked for smithies, tanners and those returning from the fields. Toryn guessed Hamar’s great—great—grandfather would have seen the same view after his day working on the farm.

  2. Morning Mists

  Elodi strolled out onto the wide terrace high on the south wall of Archonholm. She tipped back her head, opened her arms, and let the warmth ease the bumps and potholes from her aching bones. The long journey south had been challenging for the horses, and her carriage was not built for speed or comfort. Her Chief Advisor, Wendel, had stipulated the new Lady of Harlyn should be seen in the proper ceremonial carriage, and not on horseback. But Elodi had insisted on bringing her horse, Sea Mist. The tall gray had been a gift on her sixteenth birthday from her father. Without a second thought, she had named him after the color of the mists that rolled in from the sea on still, cold days and engulfed her city. She smiled, pleased she had not relented to Wendel’s disapproval. The few moments she had spent in the saddle had helped to keep her sanity when the refines of the carriage had felt like a cage.

  Elodi pushed the thought of the forthcoming meeting with the Archon to the back of her mind. For the first time since leaving Calerdorn, she was alone. She had given Wendel the morning off on the pretext she could explore the citadel, but the real reason was she wanted a moment without his words of advice buzzing in her ear. She felt guilty. Elodi would need the benefit of his wisdom in the coming months, but for now she would enjoy the blue expanse of sky, and surprisingly, the silence.

  Throughout the long winter months, the gray, featureless clouds had shrouded the weak sun and drained her land in the north of both light and hope. She looked up, taking pleasure watching the clouds drift slowly to the east. Elodi turned to gaze up to the Archon’s Tower. Standing well over two hundred feet higher than the rest of the citadel, it dwarfed the city’s many other towers. Higher still, a fluttering blue banner snapping in the breeze, informed those for many leagues around, the Archon resided within. She wondered who was brave enough to attach the Archon’s colors to the post jutting out from the conical roof, and whether the center of the Foranfae Forest was visible from such a vantage point.

  Elodi moved closer to the edge of the terrace and glanced down. Close to five-hundred feet below, a narrow bridge spanned the deep gorge separating Archonholm from the Caerwal Mountains. The center of the bridge caught her eye. At the top of its span, her father had fallen to his death almost a year to the day. She pushed down the pain and gazed at the mountains. She had watched the peaks of the Caerwals climb ever higher while still many leagues from Archonholm, but only now could she appreciate their immense size. High above, water seeped through cracks in the mountain wall. Elodi imagined a restless ocean behind, patiently seeking for a weakness in the ancient rock, but thankfully the Caerwals held firm, keeping the real enemy at bay. She focused her attention to the opposite end of the bridge. At the head of the pass, she could just make out the portcullis forming the Lower Gate through the lingering ground mist. Beyond, unseen, stood the great iron and stone of the Caerwal Gate.

  The celebration to mark the completion of the latest stage to strengthen the defenses would take place the following week. Her stomach clenched. As a child, she had believed the stories of the Caerwal Gate to be a myth. She could not comprehend a structure standing taller than the highest tower of Calerdorn, but in days, she would stand in its shadow.

  The breeze dropped. Far below, the sound of hammers chipping at the rock, rose to the terrace. Hundreds of men formed chains to carry back the stones to feed the insatiable desire of the Archon to strengthen the city. But how long could they resist if the Golesh hordes broke through with their fabled dark beasts? What devilry had the enemy devised in the centuries since the last battle on the Gormadon Plain? If they had the strength to breach the immense gate, surely Archonholm could not hold out for long?

  She shivered and turned back to the mountains.

  ‘One of the best views in the land, they say.’

  Elodi spun around. ‘Apologies’ — she stammered — ‘Lord Broon, I was not informed of your arrival.’

  ‘Apologies?’ The lord smiled. ‘Oh please, there’s no need.’ He stood back. ‘Well, haven’t you grown. You couldn’t be anyone else but your mother’s daughter, tall and with your long, auburn hair. Always said she had the agility and strength to challenge even an Amayan to a duel.’

  Elodi turned away. ‘Yet not strong enough to survive my birth.’

  The lord placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘Yet strong enough to keep the fever at bay until she’d brought you into the world.’ He leaned against the balustrade. ‘It must be… what? You were twelve the last time I visited Calerdorn, so it has to be ten years?’

  ‘Sixteen, and I was only eight.’ She grinned. ‘I’m certain you had dark hair the last time I saw you.’

  Lord Broon laughed and ran his hand across his head. ‘Makes me look quite the statesman, don’t you think? Also makes my weather-beaten face look even redder.’ He frowned. ‘Sixteen years. Has it really been that long? Surely not. But would you look at me, forgetting the formalities.’ The lord bowed low, groaned as he straightened, and held out his hand. ‘Greetings, Lady Harlyn.’

  ‘No please, call me Elodi, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the title.’

  He turned to the mountains across the chasm. ‘Oh, you will I’m afraid. Only too soon the responsibility weighs on your shoulders.’ He pointed to his hair. ‘How do you think I turned gray and got this stoop? And please, you may also drop my title, it’s Bardon’ — he glanced behind — ‘when it’s only the two of us.’

  Elodi joined him at the edge. ‘Thank you. I shall need your support in the coming months. Wendel is immensely knowledgeable and helpful, but a second opinion would be welcome.’

  Bardon chuckled. �
�Good old Wendel still going strong, eh.’ He nodded to the sky. ‘Warms my heart to feel the sun on my face again.’

  ‘And comforting to see the defenses at close hand.’

  He leaned on the warm stone. ‘Your first time, I assume. This must be my fifth, but it still takes my breath away.’

  Elodi turned back to the walls of the citadel towering over their heads. She bit her lip. ‘I have to admit to being a little anxious about the meeting.’

  Bardon raised an eyebrow. ‘Just a little?’

  She grimaced. ‘Well, quite a lot to be honest.’

  ‘So you should, and I as well. I fear he’s going to impose new levies. The people of Broon already struggle to meet their obligations. Another rise will not be popular.’

  Elodi stepped closer. ‘We must make our case for more resources at the Nordruuk border. Not so long ago, the Ruuk clans fought amongst themselves and rarely bothered us, only venturing south in winter when supplies were short. Yet nowadays they’re forming alliances. We’ll soon require double the numbers to put a stop to the raids.’

  Bardon rolled up his sleeve to reveal a scarred forearm. ‘I’ve had the pleasure of fighting a few in my time, and most have left their mark. Not the easiest fellows to kill.’ He pulled a face. ‘I dare say I’ll be wearing a few more battle scars before long. We too have seen a rise on our side of the mountains. My predecessors did their best to encourage the starving clans to settle in our northernmost reaches, and until recently, it appeared to reduce the raids.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘I don’t think the Archon appreciates our situation.’

  Elodi peered up to the tower. ‘What’s he like? The Archon?’

  ‘Challenging.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Try not to hold his gaze for long. I’m certain he can read what’s on our minds. When you’ve lived five centuries, I guess intuition plays a major role.’

  Elodi felt her pulse rise. ‘My father remained wary of him.’

  ‘I was sorry to hear about your father. I always found him to be an honorable man, not to mention a good friend.’

  ‘Thank you. That means a lot. He always spoke highly of you.’

  Bardon returned to the ledge. ‘I gather it was a quite a storm. The wind blows strong along the mountain wall in early spring, and the bridge is difficult at the best of times.’

  Elodi’s gaze wandered to the mountains. ‘What could have possessed him to be crossing on such a night?’ A tear formed in her eye. ‘There isn’t a moment I wish he’d…’ She turned away, determined not to cry in front of the lord. Elodi had wept for days in the privacy of her room on receiving the news; but no more. Now she had to be strong.

  Bardon broke the silence. ‘Allow me to show you the second-best view in the land.’ He gently took her arm and guided her from the edge. ‘I’ll caution you now. It will also take your breath away.’ He led her through the archway and down the narrow passageway connecting the north and south terraces.

  Elodi shivered as the thick stone shut out the heat of the sun. ‘Makes me feel at home.’ Her voiced echoed back off the walls.

  Bardon spoke over his shoulder. ‘I have to say, if offered the chance, I’d live out the rest of my days here. I feel the cold more with every passing year.’

  The light grew as they neared the opposite end of the tunnel. Elodi gasped as the world revealed itself. As far as she could see, the green canopy of the Foranfae Forest covered the rolling hills like a thick carpet, coming to within a few hundred paces of Archonholm. The main road passed beneath them, crossing the impressive Menon Bridge, before forking to the east and west to take travelers to the northerly realms.

  She turned. ‘I hadn’t appreciated its size. It took days to travel around the western edge, but it’s not until you observe it from here, it sinks in.’ She hesitated to ask her question, but already felt at ease in Bardon’s company. ‘Do you get a… a sort of strange feeling from the forest?’

  He nodded. ‘I do. There’s undoubtedly an eerie nature to the place. The Archon must have the same view. He won’t allow a single tree felled, even though it’s on his doorstep. The only decent trade we’ve had in years is down to his demand for timber from our forests in Ormsk. He’s had enough wood to build a new gate, a citadel, and have enough left over for a table for his council.’

  Elodi shivered. ‘Did my father speak to you about Durran Wood?’

  ‘He spoke of a Wyke Wood.’

  She shivered. ‘The very same. I note the locals’ name for the cursed place has traveled.’

  He nodded. ‘Then yes, he did. Is it still a concern?’

  ‘If I had the resources, I’d have every tree chopped down, burned and the ashes buried.’ Elodi sighed. ‘If only I could open a door to the past and bring back the Great Dorlan.’

  ‘Ah yes, the noble warrior of Calerdorn. I haven’t heard that tale since I was a young lad.’

  Elodi managed a smile. ‘Every child in our land is brought up with the stories of our heroic son. His deeds at the Draegelan Trench before the ice came, help to chase away a bad dream on a dark night. Our knights still bear his banner.’ Her gaze wondered to the north. ‘Back in his day they would have numbered in their thousands, but these days we struggle to maintain two hundred.’

  ‘And his legend lives on after eight hundred years? Must have been quite the dashing knight.’

  ‘More like a thousand, or thereabouts. And indeed he was, we still have his likeness hanging in many halls of the city.’ She blushed. ‘Couldn’t take my eyes off him as a young girl.’

  Bardon smirked. ‘Never hurts to have the odd hero around the place.’

  ‘Oh, what I wouldn’t do for one now. In our version of the legend, Dorlan fought and defeated Ormoroth, the scourge of the old northern lands.’

  ‘Dorlan as well, eh? Our legends tell of Gildorul of Keld defeating the old Scourge of the North in hand-to-hand combat.’ He lunged, jabbed his hands forward and twisted. ‘Gored clean through with a single thrust of his great spear.’

  Elodi grinned. ‘Well, your man may have polished Dorlan’s armor. We’ll agree to let him have that honor. I dare say every telling embellishes the tale further, but I don’t think any are complaining. He’d soon drive out the evil from Durran Wood. I came within a league last year and even from that distance I sensed—’

  ‘The Council demand your attendance in the Great Hall.’ They spun around to find a gray-robed, shaven-headed woman standing beside the wall. Without waiting, she turned and walked back inside.

  3. of Past Glory

  ‘Sorry there’s not more.’

  Hamar smiled at Toryn’s mother. ‘Nonsense, that’s plenty, Miram.’ Hamar winked at Toryn and scooped a potato over to his plate.

  Toryn pulled it back. ‘Don’t, you’ll starve.’

  ‘You eat it, you need it more than me.’ He called through to the kitchen. ‘Thanks again for having me over, Miram. It’s very kind of you. Can’t say I care to cook these days.’

  ‘You’re always welcome in this house, Hamar. You’ve had a long day, you deserve it.’

  Toryn finished his meal sooner than he would have wished. He pushed away the empty plate. ‘Tell me about the gate again, Hammy.’

  Hamar sat back, taking the request as a cue to light his pipe. ‘Ah, the Caerwal Gate. Only ever caught a glimpse from halfway down the pass. Even from that distance, it looks huge. I tell you, if the Golesh can smash through the Archon’s gate, we may as well slit our own throats before they—’

  ‘Hamar!’ Miram shot him a glance. ‘Do you have to talk about such things over supper?’

  Hamar eyed his empty plate. ‘Sorry, but the lad did ask.’

  Toryn called back. ‘Don’t worry, it will never happen.’ He looked at Hamar. ‘Will it?’

  Hamar tipped back his head and blew smoke at the ceiling. ‘I shouldn’t think so, but even if they did, Archonholm will never fall. You should see it.’ His eyes wandered around the room. ‘If you roamed these lands your whole life, you’d never find anot
her place like it.’

  ‘Doubt I’ll get the chance.’

  Hamar frowned. ‘Sorry? What chance?’

  ‘To leave this place.’

  Hamar patted Toryn’s hand. ‘Maybe you will one day. You should go visit Archonholm. I would say only the highest mountains are taller and sturdier.’ He pointed the tip of this pipe at Toryn. ‘The Archon’s Tower is so tall you can see his blue banner fluttering from ten leagues away. And the defenses grow stronger by the year. I once served on a detail quarrying stone to fortify the west wall. I was a young man back then, so imagine what the Archon has done in all that time.’

  Miram bustled over carrying two steaming mugs. ‘I should hope he’s been busy, seeing as it costs us more and more of our shrinking crop every year.’

  Hamar took the mugs. ‘Now, Miram. I won’t have a word uttered against the Archon. He stood up when no one else could, kept the peace all this time, and we’re only safe in our beds at night thanks to him.’

  Toryn took a sip of his brew. ‘Didn’t you say you met him once?’

  Hamar frowned. ‘Did I? Can’t remember. Anyways, why all the questions all of a sudden, Tor? I thought it was only mountains and forests that interested you.’

  ‘Elrik said there’s rumors the Archon’s knights are coming’ — he lowered his voice and leaned forward — ‘seeing as it’s been twelve years since their last visit to this backwater.’

  Hamar glanced to check Miram. ‘Them’s rumors. Only the Marshal would know for sure, and you won’t hear a word from him.’

  ‘It’s not just Elrik, others in the village are saying the same.’

  ‘It only takes one spark to start a fire. It’s nothing but a rumor until the horses’ hooves clatter over the bridge.’

  Toryn put down his mug. ‘Well, did you meet him or not?’