The Servant of the Black Horde

By David Schipp

Jasham: healer, judge, imposter, immortal.
Who is he? Where does he come from?
What are his plans?

Leaving the southern lands with his prize, Jasham heeds the call of destiny -
returning once more to his homeland. But he is not alone. His friends are few and his enemies are gathering to oppose him, all moving inexorably toward the land of the Villers.
Everything hinges upon the Contest - and now that it has been called the final stage of his plans, forged long ago, can finally begin...

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Schipp
• Release date: Jul 6, 2012
• ISBN: 9780987224958

David Schipp

David J Schipp lives on the south coast of New South Wales, Australia. He is an emergency nurse, musician and software designer. Currently he is completing his fourth work of fiction, is writing a non-fictional work relating to music recording and completing an application that allows for the remote controlling of music software.

Book preview

Part 5: Mystery

Chapter One

With one explosive breath she erupted out of the water. It made way for her, allowing her lungs to fill again. They were burning from holding their contents for so long and now, once given reign to work, they moved air in and out, fast and furiously. Water entered and was expelled quickly.

She struggled for a few moments on the surface, spluttering and coughing, looking about wildly for the boat. It was not there, neither was her friend, and she began to panic. The shoreline was still some distance away, not too far for her when she was able, but that was not the case here. She was tired and sore and her limbs were like stones dragging her down.

She could not stay where she was - she would be back under soon - so she made an attempt for the shore where the waves lapped along muddy banks. Looming above were high banks of earth and tree roots and above them, trees and grass. She crawled out of the water, wet, muddy and exhausted and lay onto her back. The light, white dress was sticking to her skin and entangling her legs. It was no longer white, it was brown, streaked with mud.

The sky above was grey, featureless and sterile. There had been a gentle breeze before, but now there was nothing. She lay there for some time while her chest heaved and her limbs shook, feeling pain in all sorts of places. The most notable was her head, on the side. She knew that she had received a cut there but she was too afraid to place her dirty hands against the wound. It would have to wait until she was clean again for she had no intention of whatever injury she had received becoming infected.

The bank was too high to climb where she came ashore. Along further it dipped and she made her way over, slipping and sliding as she did. Grasping an exposed root she pulled herself up and over the lip, onto the dry, grey grass.

Though it was the height of summer, she felt chilled to the bone and she drew her arms about her, trying to conserve what heat yet remained in her. Her arms were blue, mottled, bumped and shivering.

To the north was a village, but it was not her own. Over at the other side of the lake was her home. It was half a day’s walk from where she stood. Out on the lake the water was still and empty. Gone were the fishing boats. Gone was the row-boat she came on.

Barefoot, dirty, wet and cold, she struggled on, searching for the track that wound its way around the lake. It was dry and rocky, hard underfoot. It stretched out an impossible distance but she had no choice. It led home and that was the only thing that mattered.

When she reached the rocky beach that lay on the eastern shore, seemingly an eternity later, she quickened her steps. It was long and desolate but at the other end of it was an old wooden jetty that jutted out into the water like an accusing finger. She was sure to find help there. When she reached it, bruised and bleeding from numerous cuts on her feet, she found it as deserted as the lake. The signal fire was made but unlit and the men charged with tending it were strangely absent.

It had been some time since she climbed from the waters and now she was dry. The cold lingered, holding her in it icy clutches, refusing to let her be. She was tired, injured and dirty, but now she was home.

Once she climbed the hill her heart began to sink. The farms beyond were uninhabited, left to their own devices. The soil was broken, there were neat rows cutting through the brown plots like scars, but there was no one to tend them.

She passed the watch-house and it was as silent as the farms. She stopped when she saw it, her mouth hanging slack at the sight. There were deep cracks in the walls and the doorway was open and derelict. She feared to enter, to see what mysteries, and perhaps horrors, it held.

She jolted herself into motion, quicker this time, almost running to the square, empty like everywhere else. The streets were silent. The houses had nothing to tell her. She ran down the road, down the slope to the end, turning left, running to her house, to her mother and father.

With an eerie creak she pushed open the old, wooden door. The house was dark and the air still and she held her breath.

She called tentatively for them at the door. There was no answer of any kind and she pushed her way in. There she waited for her eyes to adjust, watching as the shapes of furniture congealed out of the darkness. Her house was the same but…

No, there were differences.

There was a chair up against the wall, a new chair, one she had never seen. There were changes here, one’s she could not understand.

Her own room was full of things. Not her things. Her bed was still there but the blanket was different, one of the old ones. There were boxes stacked along one of the walls filled with objects no one needed. This was no longer her room. This was a place where you put things you wanted to hide, things you did not want on display. She had become, almost in an instant, one of them – forgotten, hidden away, but a memory.

She found her chest somewhere amongst the piles. It was packed full. Her life, her memories, herself, was hidden away in there. She had only need of one thing. There in the dim light she pulled off her dirty slip and cast it onto the floor, wriggling into something clean quickly to hide her naked state. She found a dress and donned it quickly too. The bare skin below her knees was black, brown and red with mud and blood and her feet were a state. She found water in the kitchen to wash her feet, legs and arms. She scrubbed her face too, finding it had been marred by her adventures as well.

The kitchen had been left quickly, but not too long ago. There was food in the pantry. It had not spoiled. The bread was still soft. She found her belly empty and she took some of it, chewing slowly as waves of exhaustion flowed after her.

For some time she sat at the table where she had shared untold meals with her family, starring into space. She was now unbearably tired.

She woke suddenly, her head resting upon her arms. Her vision was hazy and she blinked away the sleep. How long had she slept? She did not, and could not, know.

Pulling her chair away, she went back into her room and found some shoes in her trunk. Her feet were still sore, but they were covered now in soft leather slippers and immune to the bumps of the uneven road. She left the house in search of answers, for now that she was clean and dry that seemed the next thing to address.

She looked up at the sky. It was still grey and lifeless and the sun was absent, not even a blob of indistinct light. It was as if she had been caught in a moment and was trapped, destined always to live in that moment and no other. This felt too real to be a dream but she knew it was something other than the existence that she had known.

There had to be someone out there. The loneliness was closing in about her, chilling her heart as the lake’s waters had done when she first came here.

The rest of the town was dead quiet and deserted. There were no answers there. She found herself looking to the sky southward and that was where she saw it. The grey was broken by black, swirling clouds that beckoned her. It was something other than the monotony that she had found. It was something akin to life and that was what she wanted above all. She broke through the trees that lined the northern edge of the plain, looking out over the flatness, gazing at the display of weather on the horizon.

It was a storm, building in intensity. She could see flashes, angry bursts in fat, black clouds. Rumbles that seemed to make the very ground beneath her feet shake called her. She stepped out onto the hard, packed earth and walked towards it, towards whatever it held for her.

Without the movement of the sun it was impossible to gauge the passage of time. Her love had told her it took almost a day to walk to the other side and it seemed to her that she was halfway there. Sometime after leaving the north side she struck a trail. It came from where she was headed – slicing through the featureless land like a promise. Looking back, she saw it went in the direction of the village, but more to the east. Countless feet pounding into the dust had made the track. Here and there were odd prints, large and patterned. But what was the most curious were the two lines that created a parallel path, straight and unchallenged, ever southward.

Ahead the clouds continued to build in size and ferocity, gathering over the hills that were appearing vaguely on the horizon. A black something appeared out of the shimmering haze, sitting on the ground. As she neared she saw it was a large tent, standing resolute against the absolute flatness around it.

A narrow river bed cut its way right through the centre of the land. It was too wide to jump and too high to climb easily. The passage across was aided by the road, which cut its way into the banks on either side. This crossing occurred a little way from the tent that was on the south bank. It was empty inside except for a box that she did not open. The storm was calling her and she could not wait.

Ahead were the hill and the old tower that Daniel had told her about. He said that there was no danger there, that he had been there numerous times. Together they had watched his father walk the plain toward it, unfearing and resolute. There were no ‘Soul Takers’, he told her. This was meant to scare children and keep adults from the monument. Also, he said, there was nothing there of any significance, despite what his father attested.

Now it was her turn to walk this path – to see for herself.

There it was before her, at the end of the long and straight road. The footprints went on, as did the odd tracks. They lead her onwards to the storm. She could see the flashes in the sky clearly now. She knew she should be afraid, but she was not. This was the only sign of life that she had seen and she would seek it out. The answers would be there.

It passed over her quickly, so fast that she did not see it until it had overtaken her. She was buffered by a force that nearly sent her reeling, like a strong wind or a slap from a foe. The air changed immediately on its passing, it had been dry and dusty, now it was damp and held the promise of rain. She kept walking, determined now that there was something for her to find, some answer, up ahead.

A short time later she saw them. There were figures appearing almost out of nowhere. They were black dots at first and then tall, thin shapes. Soon they became men and she quickened her steps.

Some of them she knew. They were from her village and she had grown up with them. She stopped and waited for them to reach her but called to them when they were still some distance away. They did not call back.

She stood in the centre of the path and they passed her wordlessly on either side. She spoke some of their names but they did not reply – they did not even try. They saw her, some nodded in recognition, others returned her questioning look with regret, some with sad resolve. They were pale and insubstantial like death.

Her mother and father were not amongst them, neither was Daniel and this gave her some hope.

Then there were others that she did not know. They were interspersed with her friends. The first of them were black armoured men, soldiers. They passed her but did not look her way. Their eyes were hollow and empty, sad and dejected. They knew were they were headed, they knew what was before them. They knew it was destruction. They had no choice.

The second kind: tall, lean and grim faced men, dressed in green and wearing helmets. They kept their faces set resolutely onward as they passed but also did not speak.

The line ended, the procession continued on northward, leaving her. When they passed she heard nothing but the shuffle of boots on the hard earth. Now they were gone there was just the wind whistling in her ears and the distant thunder. She turned to face the way they had come, to the hills and the tower that rose as a line above the haze. The clouds were dark and angry about it, flashing madly above the spire. She started again, step after step, to the source of the noise and light.

The sky was aflame now. It boiled and heaved like a living creature, spewing forth light and power onto the tower which erupted in sparks and embers. The hill was alive as well. There were people standing on the top of it, in front of a grey and aged building. They were blurry and indistinct, their movements disjointed. They fought for their lives, struggling together in a mad dash of desperation.

Before them, racing up the hill was a massive black thing, swarming up toward them with relentless ferocity. She could feel its hate - its utter malice. Here and there she could see the forms of soldiers being carried upward with it - their weapons were drawn and ready. There would be a reckoning on the top of that hill and then many, many more men would walk the quiet and lonely path northward like the others.

Then there was a huge detonation from above, a crack that threatened to split the earth where it struck. It was so bright she could not look into it. Then another, and another, striking the black surging thing, causing it to writhe in agony and terror.

She was standing behind it quite some distance. She thought she was safe.

Moments later she realised the truth was altogether different. The lighting was causing the thing to retreat. It was slithering back. It was coming toward her fast. She would be trampled by it.

Still the lightning rained down upon it, pushing it even faster. She thought she had been struck too but it was not that which gathered her up. She was being pushed to the side. Something was pushing her out of the way of the black thing. Something was rescuing her.

For heaven’s sake, a voice yelled into her ear for the noise of the thunder was deafening now. Run! Do you want to die?

She knew what the voice said was true. The back thing would have trampled her moments later. She made it to the side without any time to spare, turning to see it go past. Then she saw what it really was.

It was a mass of bodies, black and leathery, scarred and hateful. She saw baleful eyes regarding her as it passed, many, many, burning eyes. Claws gripped the ground and ran, heading from the assault from above.

She was grabbed again, pulled further away. The voice belonged to a man, a tall man, and he was running for all his might but her resistance was slowing them both.

Run! Run! he was calling, and she obeyed, stopping only when they were some distance from the danger, stooped and breathing heavily. They both stoped to catch their breaths.

Do you want to die? the tall man asked again, his words contained in a painful gasp.

He was dressed like the tall ones she had seen walking the plain but there was no helmet on his head and his jacket was different. It was fine and regal. It did not match.

No, she replied, then asked: What was that?

I don’t know, but… Then he said words that she did not recognise, but their meaning was clear. He swore. It’s coming after us. Run!

He was right. She turned, seeing some of the blackness break off and surge toward them. She could see the forms of misshapen men with murderous eyes. They were coming after her and the rescuer.

He was already some distance ahead and she struggled to catch him. The tall man stopped suddenly and turned. She was ten, perhaps fifteen paces behind him and closing. The black shapes were even closer behind her - she could feel their hot breath on the back of her neck. There was the smell of rotting meat in the air.

He was running back now and in his hand was a sword she had not noticed before, shining silver. She could see red in it as well, fire red, hungry, angry red. He took the weapon in both hands and stepped around her, swinging as he did. She did not stop to see the result of the meeting, she kept running hard. Behind her there was a huge detonation like the lightning had struck the earth nearby. It was followed quickly by a wave of force that knocked her off her feet. She could see it pass, causing the dust to swirl onwards. Once it was gone the world became suddenly silent.

Turning back the battle she expected to be there was gone. Then the tall man stumbled before her. The force of the blast had pushed him and he tripped and fell, rolling onto the hard earth. One of the black creatures was attached to him. She could see its claws ripping through the arm of the jacket. The man flipped it effortlessly over his head and the creature landed with a thud near her. It turned its hideous face in her direction and regarded her with eyes that were full of loathing and lust. It licked its lips with a long and dripping tongue, rose onto its hind legs and quickly stepped in her direction. A moment later it was cut down from behind, sliced neatly in two by the tall man’s sword.

It did not die. It became two halves now, alive, smaller and diminished in strength. The man moved in again and the top portion leapt up at him, knocking him backward - the sword falling from his grip.

It should have finished him but instead jumped back over him, joined itself again and bolted off to where it had come. She could see the pain in it and it was still bleeding oily black on the sand. In a moment it was far away, the only evidence that it had been there was the evil smelling trail in its wake.

The tall warrior flipped over and looked back at the place he had come from, finding nothing. Then, with a sigh of exhaustion, he collapsed back onto the ground, fanning his arms out beside him, letting his sword fall into the earth with a dull, lifeless thud.

Its hunger was fading now. The redness was leaving it – but it did not go without purifying itself of the stain of the black creatures. Smoke rose in thin wisps into the air as tendrils of evaporating blood. Soon the blade was clean again – pure.

He lay there for some time and she watched him. She watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest slow gradually. He was still facing the sky when she nudged him with her hand causing his eyes to snap open.

Are you hurt? she asked him cautiously.

Hurt?

Are you injured?

He sat up quickly, startling her, then looking down over his body. There was no blood and he shook his head.

What about your arm? she enquired, pointing to where the material of the jacket was hanging in shreds.

He pulled the jacket off carefully. Under it was a thin and finely woven shirt of green – the brown green of the grass. His arm escaped the fate of the sleave of the jacket. The skin was intact though there were ugly red welts where the claws had scratched. Already the arm was turning purple.

He grunted when he saw it, flexing the limb and wincing painfully. It’s not too bad, he pronounced finally, pulling himself to his feet. We’d better get back to the hill.

What was that you fought? she asked. This was the first time she had met anyone that was communicable. She was determined to make the most of the opportunity.

I have no idea, the tall man replied quickly. I’ve long since given up being surprised by anything I see in this place. His attention was on the hill and the tower. I must have passed out for a while, he muttered to himself. The storm’s gone.

He was right about that. The storm had passed, but he was not unconscious for any length of time – if at all. It was only moment. In that time, the loud and angry clouds had vanished completely. Was this possible? she wondered. She knew it was not.

He was behind her now, gathering the sword that he had dropped. He had no visible scabbard and so it remained in his hand.

Whatever it was, he continued, I have no intention of sticking around so that it can find us again. Are you okay to travel?

Okay? she repeated, having never heard the expression before.

Can you walk? He pointed the sword at her legs.

She nodded.

They walked, quickly toward the hill and the tower.

How did you get down here? he asked her as they made their way over the rocky ground.

I walked. I walked from Watchers.

I know that, he replied, his voice sounding slightly irritated. We all did. What I mean is: how did you get down here? he asked, pointing to the dry earth. How did you get through the defensive line and the Viller army?

I didn’t come from The Stairs, she told him. I came from the Village, like I said.

Oh, the man grunted in recognition. You do realise that you walked right into the middle of a war?

I do now, she admitted. A very strange way, not that she had a vast experience with wars.

What’s your name?

Marianna, she told him truthfully.

I’m Jim, he said grimly. When we get up there you’d better see Boyes. He’s dealing with you locals. I’m sure he’d be interested in your appearance.

Had she heard him correctly? She could scarcely believe it.

You know my father? she demanded.

He’s your father? Jim asked, stopping and looking her up and down. Ah... I thought you looked familiar. You look a lot like your mother.

Then he stopped and stared at her, his eyes wide like two full moons.

Hold on there… he said, his face forming a frown. You’re Boyes and Amelia’s daughter? She nodded. You’re Daniel’s…

Daniel? Marianna interjected. Daniel is up there… She pointed to the hill.

Jim was not smiling. He found no joy in her finding Daniel. What he did do was mutter under his breath and start again to the hill. She followed him, quicker this time for Daniel and her family were there.

They were still some distance from the base of the hill when he stopped suddenly, looking up at the grey building that sat upon the top.

What the hell? Jim exclaimed.

What is it? Marianna asked nervously, looking to what caught his attention. What is the matter?

I don’t know. Where’s the defensive line? Where is everyone?

He was running now, coming to a halt at the bottom of the hill. Before them, blocking their way, were short trees that lined the hill. They were covered in thick spines that threatened to do more damage than the claws of the black creatures. The way to the top of the hill was impassable.

This was all gone…Jim was saying, his voice rising in pitch. He swung the sword up against the nearest of the trees. It bounced of harmlessly, spreading bits of leaves out in its wake.

He moved off to the right, his eyes darting between the silent building on top of the hill and the first line of small trees.

Marianna! he called out to her and she came to him. He had found what he had been looking for. There was a barely discernable path between the trees. They would be able to get through, though she expected that she would be scratched somewhat on the way.

After a short time they reached the top of the hill, scratched yes, but safe. She didn’t expect the black things to get them here. Jim walked to the doorway, a dark and wide open orifice in the building. Two doors were set on each side, metal and rusted, ineffectual. There he stood gazing into the darkness beyond. His face turned to her, offering a frown. Slowly he shook his head in disbelief.

Hello! Jim called into the reverberating chamber beyond. Hello!

No one called back, and their silence was like a wound to him. He slumped against one of the doors and rubbed his head.

I don’t understand any of this… he said to himself. One minute I’m on the hill and we’re all up here and fighting – and the next thing everyone’s gone and the trees are back. It’s almost as if…

As if what? she asked him when he did not finish his sentence. She had pinned everything on finding her loved ones there only to find that her defender had probably lost his mind. Where is my father? she demanded. Where is Daniel?

He stopped his rambling and stared right at her. His eyes were wide open again.

That’s it! he exclaimed, pointing to her urgently. Of course! It makes perfect sense.

What makes perfect sense?

You’re here and you shouldn’t be. You’re here like Samuel was.

Samuel? she asked. Daniel’s father?

That means that this isn’t real.

As soon as he said it she knew he was right. Everything here was wrong. Everything. Jim felt it too and he had his own story of strangeness. She understood none of it really, but at least now she knew that it had no rules. Now she knew she had no right to expect anything to happen the way it should.

That means that you have something for me, he told her as he stepped in her direction. His eyes were determined, even desperate.

What? she replied, stepping back quickly. What do you mean?

You have some information for me. What is it?

I don’t know what you are talking about. I don’t know you…

Stop playing games! he bellowed insanely. We’re running out of time. What do you know? Tell me what you know!

She shrank from the change in him, running for the path between the trees. She heard the sound of the sword fall with a discordant clang and the sound of his feet on the earth behind her. In a matter of moments he had pulled her to the ground and flipped her over so that their faces were a hand’s span apart.

What do you know? he demanded angrily, spitting into her face with each distinct word.

Her heart was pounding. She could not move. He had pinned her fast to the ground. His eyes were staring madly into hers, red, angry and bloodshot.

I don’t know, she sobbed back. I don’t know. Please…

He rolled off her, sitting dejectedly on the ground next to her. She kept sobbing on her back, her eyes tightly shut.

Where is Samuel? he asked quietly, like he was ashamed.

I don’t know, she replied between sobs. I don’t know anything. I’ve been searching for my family for ages. I saw the storm and I came here. That’s all I know.

I’m sorry, Jim said. Then she heard him stand and walk away, back to the doorway.

Evening should have come. Night should have fallen. Instead it stayed perpetually day-time. She was getting tired but the hazy sun refused to allow her the opportunity to sleep. She sat huddled against the grey stone of the building, watching the man that had attacked her. He was sitting some distance apart, his head down, his mind no doubt turning over the events that they had experienced. This tall man was infinitely strange but he did seem to know more than her. She could not ask him anything now. The fear was holding her back.

Her sight ranged over the flat and featureless plain, looking out into the haze. The road that had led her here was gone. There was nothing to suggest the path that she had taken. Would she be able to find her way back again? It was certainly on her mind. This ‘Jim’ had shown himself capable of protecting her, but he was just as dangerous to her and had proved himself rather unstable. If she ran, would he stop her? Would he go after her?

As she mused over this she noticed two dots several clicks to the north. They could have been almost anything from that distance. She watched them for a while, watched them grow. She had seen the line of soldiers on the plain heading north. Now she was seeing two men returning. Yes, they were men, she was sure.

Jim! she called to her companion and his head snapped up sharply. There was sorrow in his eyes.

She pointed to the plain where the two shapes had formed into men, still some way from the base of the hill. He saw them immediately.

Who is it do you think? she asked.

I don’t know. He came and stood next to her and shielded his eyes against the diffused light, squinting.

You don’t know much, Marianna commented dryly. Perhaps it was foolish to antagonise him, all things considered, but now she may have help approaching them slowly.

I sure seems that way… he muttered, returning to his sword that was leaning against the wall.

As he passed she saw it better. It was longer than she remembered it, polished silver and deadly sharp. This she knew. What was not expected was the design that was etched into the blade. She had seen it before, many times. She raised a hand to her neck to touch the leather thong that she expected to be around it - and the end of it a metal charm, red in colour, hidden away. It was her Flame. It was a symbol of her affiliation with a secret and outlawed society.

She found nothing there. It was gone.

Jim had a sword with the same design etched into it. Jim had a Flame.

The two figures clearly became men as they neared. She could see that one of them was a local man and the other was dressed as someone from the city. Jim went down to where the hidden path between the short and thorny trees emerged. Standing there, with his sword in hand, he waited for them to come into earshot. They knew the location of the passage as well. They were making their way up towards where the tall madman waited.

You two! Jim yelled finally. Stop right there!

They obeyed, standing shoulders above the trees.

Identify yourselves, he commanded.

How about you identify yourself? one of then shot back.

I hold the only way up here, Jim pointed out, so if you want to come up…

I am Samuel, son of Benjamin of the Watchers Village, the other yelled back. Who are you?

What about your friend?

I am Spelg of the Judicial Council, the first replied. I have the authority to command you man. Let us through!

Very well… Jim conceded. Come on up…

Jim was relaxed when they arrived at the top of the hill. She had heard him mention Samuel’s name and expected him to be there. Now, here he was. She was glad because Jim also expected answers and she hope Daniel’s father would have them.

It was strange seeing Spelg here. He lived and worked in the city. He was a judge but he was different to the others of the council. He was a kind and fair man, unlike his colleagues. She had met him when she was at the college living with her Aunt. They were friends but Marianna suspected like many others there was more to it than that.

Let’s get down to business, Samuel, Jim said to the older of the two impatiently. I’ve been waiting for you to appear to tell me what to do next. Let’s have it so I can get back.

I’m sorry, replied Daniel’s father, clearly confused. What are you talking about? You told me to come here. You told me the Sleepers would be here.

What? Jim asked, seemingly just as perplexed. Stop playing games, Sam. You’re wasting time. You know as well as I that it’s short. I didn’t tell you anything. You’re supposed to meet me here. That’s how it works.

I don’t know you friend, Samuel said quickly. All I know is that you sent me here. You told me this would be my last journey. I have nothing for you other than that.

You don’t know me? Jim pressed. You don’t know me?

That’s what he said, friend, Spelg replied for Samuel. Perhaps you should…

This has got nothing to do with you, friend, Jim snapped. Stay out of it.

Jim had lifted his sword and pointed it at the judge dangerously. Marianna knew that he was capable of using it and she certainly could not predict his actions. They were all in peril from this man.

I’m going to ask you again, Sam, Jim began dangerously.

My reply will be the same. I don’t know you, but you seem to know me, which has put me at a disadvantage. Perhaps if you tell me your name…

Fletcher, Jim told him cautiously. Jim Fletcher.

Well, Jim Fletcher. It seems that you and I have a problem. We’re stuck here in this strange world and neither of us know how we came here or why, though you must know something, otherwise you would not have told me to come here.

Are you serious? Jim shot back quickly. I didn’t talk to you. I didn’t send you.

I have only known him for a short time, Spelg said carefully, but he seems to be telling the truth to me. Why don’t you drop your sword so that we can talk like civilised men? Then the judge looked around Jim to where she was standing, up against the wall. I know your companion, he said. You’re Kara’s niece aren’t you?

She nodded.

Samuel gasped when he saw her too. Marianna? he exclaimed, like he was seeing her finally. Daniel’s Marianna?

She nodded again.

Oh great, Jim said angrily, looking each of them in turn. You all know each other?

I didn’t know Samuel before today, Spelg confessed. Can I suggest we sit and talk this through? I am getting tired standing here.

She sat with the two new arrivals whilst Jim sat apart, a little way up the hill, with the Flame Sword across his knees.

Where are you from, Jim Fletcher? Spelg asked the tall man quietly.

Jim, she told the judge. His name is Jim.

Jim looked directly at Samuel. I’m a Sleeper, Spelg. I came from down The Stairs.

Samuel gasped again.

Where did you hear that name? Daniel’s father demanded. Where did you hear about the Sleepers?

From your son, Jim replied simply. From Daniel. It was a fitting name for what we were. We were sleeping down there. And now, we have awakened. He spread his arms out grandly.

Spelg leant forward. We? There are more of you?

Yes, but not here. Not in this place. Sam was right. This is a strange world. This is a dream world. I’m in a dream.

Then we are all dreaming, the judge pointed out.

Jim shook his head sadly. No. It’s only me. You people are supposed to be messengers.

Messengers? Samuel said with a deep frown. But you gave me a message.

I keep telling you: I didn’t, Jim protested. Listen, when I dream, I dream of you, Samuel. You have something to tell me and then I wake. That’s the deal. Speaking of which... His eyes became suddenly hard. We had a deal. I was to give myself to the cause and you people were to let me go. Now I find myself back here again. I can only assume I’m knocked out on the battlefield somewhere.

Why would we be messengers? Spelg asked, raising a brow speculatively.

Because you’re dead, Spelg, Jim declared impatiently. You’re all dead.

Chapter Two

Avolio always found advantage in his position, but it was an illusion now. He was no judge. In reality none of them remained in office. That did not stop many from assuming the continued responsibility of governance. The king was in the process of restructuring but that was a long and involved process. Places such as Khohbar were sufficiently distant from the capital so that reforms were a long time coming.

Ferraris was the Chief Justice of the port and he held onto his power jealously. Regardless, Avolio had no interest in changing any situation despite his new found allegiances. He had other issues in mind.

I’m not sure I can help you, Avolio. People come and go regularly here. I cannot keep track of everyone.

I’ve been told she was in the company of a Viller official.

That makes it a little easier, the Chief Justice admitted. Who was the official?

My sources say he is called Varhia. He was what they call a ‘Guide’.

Ferraris shook his head. Perhaps they ported here and then sailed on to the north port. That seems obvious to me.

There was a nervous cough beside him. Avolio took the hint. There was someone else we’re looking for, he said, a young man, rather tall.

Ah… now that’s a different matter altogether.

Victoria lent forward urgently. Did you see him? she asked.

No, my dear, I did not. But I do know something about him.

My niece is desperate to have news of him, Avolio explained cautiously.

I see. The Chief Justice nodded. I shall tell you what I know.

Thank you.

I do have a price though.

Of course, Avolio said with a sigh.

Nothing comes for free, Avolio.

What is it?

We will gladly pay what you ask, Victoria added.

Avolio looked at her sharply. This was a negotiation and she had given Ferraris the position of control. The Chief Justice was smiling broadly. Avolio was just about to discover just how much this information was about to cost him.

As you know, Ferraris began, reforms are sweeping the land with His Majesty’s push to dismantle the Judiciary in the city and the southern centres. The north is next, I fear. Then, our positions would be in jeopardy. Everything that we have worked for will come to nothing.

You make it sound inevitable. What can I do to change that? asked Avolio.

I have heard the stories. I know you were in the Battle of the Hylands. I know you were with His Majesty at the point of victory.

I was one of many, Your Honour.

But still, you have influence, Avolio, The Chief Justice pointed out. There are positions in the new councils. Someone with experience will be needed to chair them. A well place word from you…

You want me to suggest you to the king?

I was hoping that there would be more than just suggesting. I was hoping that there would be a strong recommendation from you of my fitness for the position.

I am not sure if I have the influence enough to give such a recommendation.

You are too humble, Avolio, Ferraris replied with a smile. I see that. I think you would be surprised. You were with him when the battle was at its most desperate, I heard. That counts for something.

Victoria gripped his arm and squeezed. When they began this search she begged him to take her. She spoke of love lost, something that he could understand. His love was lost as well. He understood the longing. This was the first news they had since they began their quest. She wanted it. She needed it.

Avolio sighed again. I will give my recommendation, but you must understand it is up to His Majesty to decide, not me.

I am content with that, Avolio.

What do you know? Victoria asked.

Nearly three weeks after the invasion I was visited by the Northern Fleet Commander of the Viller Navy, a man named Scicluna, Ferraris told them. He had another captain with him who had been searching for someone: a tall, young man.

Victoria sucked in her breath quickly at the revelation.

It was rather co-incidental, he continued, because a week prior to their arrival I was visited by one of my contacts. The young man was indeed within the port. I knew exactly where he was. The Viller captain that had been looking for him arranged for him to be ‘collected’.

Collected? Avolio enquired, raising a brow.

Do I have to spell it out for you, Avolio? Dead or alive.

Victoria gasped. Avolio did not turn to her. His eyes were firmly clasped on the Chief Justice. What was the outcome? he asked grimly.

Ferraris smiled. Alive... fortunately.

And where is he now?

They took him in one of those sleek vessels of theirs, the Chief Justice informed them. To the south, I assume.

No, Avolio disagreed. Not south. North. It must be north. Thank you, Your Honour, he said then, placing his hands upon the arms of the chair in order to rise, you have been most helpful.

Avolio pushed back his chair and grasped Victoria’s arm firmly, lifting her to her feet.

There was one other thing, Avolio, Ferraris added. It might not be important, but then, it just might be.

What is it?

There was another Viller at that meeting. He was a politician of some sort, here to observe the invasion. What was his name? The Chief Justice shook his head. No. It doesn’t matter. What matters is what caught his interest. They were talking about your friend and he seemed not to be paying attention right up until the captains mentioned the band.

If there was any doubt that the young man Ferraris was talking about was Lewis, it evaporated right there and then. Avolio restrained Victoria from another out of place exclamation. What band? he asked evenly.

The captains said the man had a band on his wrist and it might be golden, but my source mentioned that it was grey. That’s when the other Viller sat right up and got interested very quickly. From what I hear, the ‘collection’ was probably going to be fatal for your friends but the Viller politician intervened.

Avolio frowned. You said friends?

There were two Royal Guardsmen with him. They put up quite a fight, I understand.

Then they went by ship? Avolio asked, seeking further clarification.

That’s right.

Avolio bowed low in thanks and went to the door, letting Victoria enter the hall. He was about to follow when another question came to mind: May I ask who your source was?

Avolio! Ferraris replied, his voice betraying his shock, though it was contrived. You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?

Where were they ‘collected’? he asked finally.

There is a merchant by the name of Stur. He was employing and accommodating them.

Avolio nodded once and pulled the door behind him. Victoria was standing right in front of him, her face creased.

So we sail north? she asked.

Yes, he agreed, but not right away.

But we have a lead?

Yes, but our quarry has almost a full year head start on us. A few days won’t matter.

Something is bothering you? she asked him, looking into his eyes.

Something is not quite right, he admitted. I must talk with Captain Vincent.

They exited the rich abode of the Chief Justice out into the bright sunshine and the vibrant street. About them the throng moved, busy and colourful. Over the din of the street they could hear the noises of the port - bells and horns.

Three men approached. They were no threat, Avolio knew them well. One of them was an old employee, a mercenary from the Hylands: Genty. The other was one of the tall newcomers, a soldier, and the third was an ex-soldier from Mharum. He was now Victoria’s aide.

Byrne had left them many months earlier and without his quiet, sensible demeanour, Avolio had found Genty a little unmanageable. It was not that he was insubordinate. He was a fighting man and could follow orders when necessary. It was just that he had a knack of finding trouble, or perhaps trouble was good at finding him. Regardless, both Genty and Trouble knew where each other were most of the time.

Langston, one of Captain Mitchell’s men, stood head and shoulders over Gentry. Avolio initially hoped that he would be a viable Byrne replacement, but as it turned out it seemed that the ex-judge had inherited two Gentys. Whatever odd and annoying behaviours Langston had they rubbed off on the mercenary and when Trouble came for Genty, Langston was quickly behind. Both of them sauntered across the busy street, wearing those dark coverings on their eyes and chewing goodness-know-what. The streets had been cleared of obvious weapons. The Villers had decreed it once they took charge, and the Militia carried on the edict, controlling the port after the Villers had departed. Ferarris controlled the Militia, and therefore controlled the town. Neither of the two wore swords – Langston never did – instead they had weapons of the old time, slung over their backs. The Militia did not know what the purpose of them was and so Avolio’s men could remain armed against trouble.

Victoria’s aide was no fighting man. He was one of the military, stationed in Mharum. He had ridden with General Kestava, chasing Avolio, Vincent and Jim Fletcher across the country. In the battle that ensured, all but a few of the pursuers had been killed. This man, Vasy, had been saved by Genty. They knew each other it seemed. Genty explained the relationship, how it had been Vasy that had allowed them through the north gate of Mharum on the fateful night of the invasion. Sometime later Vasy had found himself by Victoria’s side and ordered about by her mercilessly. Now he was with them in the north port of Khohbar, in the company of Genty and Langston. The influence of the other two was starting to show. He did not wear the eye coverings, nor did he chew, but it would only be a matter of time. Also, Genty had seen fit to show him how to use a sword. It had become almost a mission in the mercenary. It was a shame, for the man was a gentle soul. Avolio wondered how he ever found himself in the army.

That was quick, Langston observed once they had crossed over. The tall soldier had learnt the local language months earlier, and although not perfect, was good enough to tell jokes. Many of which none of them understood. Langston would laugh, but he was the only one. His accent was odd, but Avolio had grown used to it.

We have a lead, Avolio informed them.

Thank God! Langston exclaimed, using an outdated and – up until recent times – outlawed expression, slapping Avolio on the shoulder. It’s about time. Where to next?

The newcomers had many mannerisms that Avolio found difficult to understand. One of the first he discovered was their refusal to give due consideration to rank. Jim had done that. Langston was technically the same as Genty, an employee, a servant. This man acted like he was partner, an equal. No amount of subtle reminder made any difference. Avolio believed that a blunt approach was unlikely to work either -worse than all that, Genty was starting to take the same stance.

He sighed.

North... but not right away. There’s something we need to clear up first. Right now we’re going back to the house.

Right, said Genty resolutely - and then set about clearing a path in a noisy and ostentatious manner.

The plan had been simple, Vincent told him. Beverad had sent the young lieutenant, Kash - and a contingent of guardsmen – with Lewis in their midst – northward by ship to Port Kharge. He had hoped the Villers would follow them like they were to the other parties. From Kharge, Kash was to decide whether to go inland from there or continue under sail to South Khondoh or further to the northern port. By then the enemy would have lost interest in the chase.

It was clear from the outset that something had gone wrong. Avolio learnt on arriving at Kharge that the vessel that Kash had hired never reached the port. They would not have sailed on, for it was dark and the only way onwards was around Choparah, a promontory lined with rocks and having nothing in the way of navigational beacons. Something had befallen them earlier. Avolio knew full well what it was and Victoria suspected. She had been upset and Avolio felt ill-equipped to comfort her.

They had only sailed half a day southward from Kharge when they found all the evidence they needed to know the truth. There, in the small bay of Bholearoh, was the wreck. The wood had been smashed without mercy by the waves but its original shape was obvious. On the north end of the long beach within the bay was a fishing village. Enquiries told them two things. There were survivors, and they were being chased by Villers. The trail led inland. Vincent said that Kash would keep going north. He had his orders. The next place to look would be back at Kharge or even South Khondoh.

So, they returned again and that was when Avolio visited the Chief Justice and when the lead was attained.

Overshadowing all of this was the question of Kara.

The Prince of Viller, initially a captive and then a tentative ally, told Avolio of his wife’s departure in the company of the guide, Varhia. Tusajan had not gone into the specific details but Avolio heard the inference. There had been coercion involved and probably impropriety.

She was long gone and Avolio could have let her go, but for what Spelg had told him.

For now, he said, she must be lost to you, but you will find her again…

He could not let her go, despite their past, despite what had happened between them. He loved her, even though there had been angry words and mistrust. He did not know where she was and what she was doing, but he did know that she was in some amount of trouble and that she needed him.

Spelg had promised that he would find her again and this, and this alone, was driving him on.

The townhouse of the merchant Stur overlooked the southern port. It was close enough for his visitors to see the water and all its beauty, but far enough away to avoid the sounds and smells of the docks, at least on most days.

When Avolio and his party returned the master of the house was absent.

Captain Vincent, the highest ranking officer of the Royal Guards, was in his room. Avolio knocked, and when he was granted entrance, pulled the doors behind him, sealing the room from the hallway.

Each of the apartments was richly appointed, particularly those on the upper floor. Each had a balcony that overlooked the bay and its sparkling waters. Stur lived in comfort here, wholly unlike those he was supposed to work for. This alone spoke to Avolio that there was something wrong here, this was what prompted him to ask his last questions of Ferraris.

Any luck? Vincent asked as Avolio slumped down into one of the chairs within the room.

Yes. We have a lead and a good one. Lewis was here.

Vincent smiled. Excellent, he replied.

No, Avolio corrected what he believed was a slight misunderstanding, shaking his head. I mean Lewis was actually here, in this house.

What? The captain’s expression changed rapidly. There was no longer a smile.

When we first arrived what did Stur tell us? Avolio asked cautiously.

You were there.

I know, but I want to be sure I heard the same thing as you did.

He said that he hadn’t seen Kash or Lewis, the captain reminded him, and hadn’t heard anything about them.

If that’s the case then why had I just heard that they were… they were collected from this very house?

The Chief Justice told you this? Vincent asked with both brows raised.

He did.

No offence, Your Honour, the captain said suspiciously, but I have never found the judiciary to be completely honest.

Avolio coughed uncomfortably. I must agree, but in this case… He took a deep breath. Ferraris needed something from me and I think that he would have done almost anything to get it. I don’t believe that he was lying.

Someone is lying, Vincent retorted.

Clearly, Avolio replied urbanely. To be honest I don’t trust Stur or Ferraris. You wanted news on your men? Well I have it. All that is left is to determine what really happened here. He narrowed his eyes. What can you tell me about our host?

Vincent went to the doorway and opened it enough for him to see the corridor. He returned to his chair and sat carefully, keeping his eyes on Avolio all the while.

Stur was one of our officers, the captain replied. He was good, but plagued with injuries. We had to retire him, but the captain before Beverad saw an opportunity. Stur’s family had been established merchants here for generations. The guardsmen saw a chance to keep an eye on things here without placing an obvious man in the town.

A spy, you mean? Stur is a spy?

No, Vincent replied, shaking his head. Spy is too official for this situation. He agreed to keep us informed about developments here and we agreed to keep him in the brotherhood. You would understand that the ties of brotherhood are strong.

This is why you believe Stur’s story, Avolio grunted.

I have to believe it.

That could be your biggest liability.

Vincent frowned. What do you mean?

Blind faith. Your man could be compromised but you have to believe him, no matter what – and he knows this. If he is, then he’s making a fool of you.

The captain returned a hard look but Avolio was not deterred. He was not afraid of a look, or cold steel. What he was afraid of was losing a chance because of narrow-mindedness.

I’ll tell you what you have to do, Avolio said seriously. You have to look into this.

You’re not giving the orders here, Avolio.

I attained an equal rank with you before I left the army, captain, if you want to pull rank. This has to be dealt with, firstly to put your mind at rest, and secondly to verify the news I have received.

Vincent stood I will get the bottom of this, he declared decisively. We will question Stur and we will get the truth.

Hold on, my friend! exclaimed Avolio, standing and restraining the captain. We have no proof of anything. If you question him now… This has to be done carefully.

Vincent began to think. Burchell came from this town, but he’s running things back at Mharum, he said thoughtfully, losing his desire to find and interrogate their host. There must be someone else. He clicked his fingers. Come with me.

The guardsmen were in the servants dining room, much to the ire of Stur’s household. The room connected to the kitchen and was simple and functional. There was a large table here where the staff dined. At this moment there were several of the guard sitting around it, not eating, but taking and seeing to weapons and equipment. The noises of food preparation entered the room from a wide doorway. Lunch was being prepared and the aroma of the cooking permeated the room as well.

The captain set next to one of his men, a lean, muscular guardsman with hair the colour of clouds on a bright day. He was sharpening his blade with deliberate carefulness, making long stokes along the sword with a grey stone.

Quinn, Vincent began. This is your town? You grew up here?

No sir, the guardsmen responded without looking up. I’m from the north port.

But do you know people here?

Of course. I worked both ports before I was recruited.

The captain gave him a look that could not be denied. I need you.

Yessir.

Vincent turned to Avolio. Take Quinn and your two men down to the docks, he ordered. You know what to do?

Yes, Avolio replied, but… you’re not coming?

I don’t want to scare off…

The captain almost said the name, but then quickly realised where he was and who could be listening. Avolio stood and waited for Vincent to finish his sentence, knowing that it needed completion. Beverad had been in the position many, many years when Avolio met him. Vincent had less than a year’s experience. Though he was doing well, there was moments still when the captain was overwhelmed by the job.

…opportunities? Avolio offered when the silence between them became uncomfortable.

Yes, Vincent agreed, opportunities.

The five of them walked leisurely down to the docks, seeming unconcerned by all around them. Avolio and Quinn took the lead. Genty, Langston and Vasy were behind them. Avolio had not intended to take Victoria’s aide but somehow he was there. Genty had probably invited him. The ex-judge could do nothing about it. If there was a fuss then the nature of the mission might have been exposed. There was to be no hint of seriousness in them as they left. There was to be no indication that they were on any official business. Thus Quinn discarded his uniform in favour of the garb of a common man. They were unarmed but for the rifles slung over the backs of Genty and Langston.

The dock was alive with noise and smells. There were people everywhere, moving to and fro, shifting boxes and barrels all along the narrow strip of artificial land that was the northern shore of the port. The water was below them, under old wooden planks. There were wide cracks between the boards and