Chapter 18
Gondell lay awake in the darkness trembling. If I hadn't seen him, it, well whatever that creature was that came to me, if I hadn't seen him disappear in a cloud of dust and reappear as that strange dog-like being... well, I would almost imagine that Ruaq were playing a cruel joke on me. But that was no Goblin, so I have to hope. He studied the Man sentry who had taken up his watchful position again, alert and upright and felt a gloominess fill his heart. I wish they weren't on the wrong side, I quite like these men! I hate to think of them being injured or killed. In his mind he began to imagine massed Guild forces assembled at the ponds, maybe waiting hidden, preparing an ambush, a hail of well aimed arrows felling both Goblin's and Man. I hope it doesn't come to that, Captain Steig really is decent. In all honesty, when he lets his guard down and relaxes, well... he would admit, he doesn't want to be here any more than I do. Such a terrible waste, he acknowledged, yet, I do not dare warn him. He is still in bed with the enemy, and his loyalty is to his king, not to me, and certainly not the Guild. That is a risk I dare not take, no matter what my feelings are toward him.
“You cannot sleep?” the sentry spoke softly as Gondell shuffled.
“I am far from sleep,” Gondell agreed, his mind racing, filled with anticipation and thoughts of freedom.
“Then sit with me a while... if you wish,” replied the man, “You may share my rations, and my boredom,” he laughed quietly.
“What time do you think it is?” Gondell asked as he shuffled alongside the Man, and accepted a thick slice of what he could only describe as a pleasant mix between biscuit and chewy cake, flavoured with honey and laced liberally with nuts of all kinds.
“It is just after midnight by my reckoning, five hours or so until the dawn. Many hours of tedium ahead of me,” he sighed, “But maybe we can chat a while to pass the time. Tell me, what of your homeland, what is it like, and the people?”
“There is not much to tell,” laughed Gondell quietly, “We are not a very adventurous people, in fact, we could be best described as reclusive, we keep ourselves to ourselves and bother not over much about the ways of the world outside our own country... which is very green and homely,” he added as a wave of homesickness washed over him. He pictured his cosy hole, and not for the first time longed to wake in his favourite chair to hear the kettle singing, only to find that recent events had been nothing more that a disturbing dream.
“The Captain tells me that you have no great force of arms, no standing army?”
Gondell chuckled, “We have a few old militia, we call them bailiffs, but no more than a handful in the whole country... there has been peace for so long that all of the old swords and armour have rusted away to nothing. Captain Steig speaks the truth. We are not aggressors, and never will be.”
“Peace,” the sentry sighed as though trying an alien word for size, “That would be a dream come true. To live our lives without fear and threat.”
“Oh dear,” Gondell laughed sadly, “I think Steig only listened to half of our conversation, or at best only believed half. There is no threat as far as I am concerned. The only threat comes from the northern armies, if rumour is to be believed, and that is only casual rumour at home, like the rumour that it might rain later when heard on a cloudless day, the rumour that one can admit is a very slight possibility, but very unlikely... if you understand my meaning!”
“It must be a pleasure to live in your country,” the Man nodded, “What is your profession?”
“My profession...” Gondell debated, “Well, that is quite difficult to answer, for I have no trade as such. Maybe you could call me a fisherman, for I do sometimes sell part of my catch to earn a few extra coins. But I have never really wanted for anything, like many others of my race, I inherited wealth from my father, and my needs are few and modest, so I rarely need to spend anything beyond my normal day to day requirements.”
“A nice life to live,” the Man replied as a distance came into his eyes that were illuminated by a small watch fire. “I also fished, many years ago, out on the wide Median Sea. I was a youngster then, and they were happier times.”
“Did you catch the Rosta?” asked Gondell eagerly.
“That I did,” the Man smiled, his expression revealing obviously happy recollections, “I crewed aboard the fishing ships, some catching on long lines with many hundreds of hooks, some dragging vast nets, but that can be a dangerous life. The deep is home to more than just fish.” he added with a grin. “So I returned to life ashore and learned the art of carpentry, I repaired ships rather than sailed in them.”
“So you are not a career soldier?” Gondell asked, wondering if any of the stern and well trained Man soldiers had actually chosen the profession.
“Grief no,” he replied, “When the draft came, we all had no choice but comply. We do have a standing army, many thousands strong, but they are in barracks, they defend our homeland. It is true that we trained, and trained hard, but we are not soldiers. In our company here, there are no professional soldiers, no born warriors, we are carpenters and musicians, farmers and yes... even a few fishermen.” He passed Gondell a small flask filled with a light and flower scented liquor, “Take a small drink with me, it is not strong, but it will keep the chill from your bones. I am called Gradden.”
Gondell blinked away the tears welling in his eyes, and felt a deep regret that the Man had shared his name.
Why could you not have displayed some evil or cruelty? A small voice nagged inside his head, why do you all have to be so good at heart? Any act of wickedness would ease my conscience, but you are good people, good people who have been misled and lied to. How can I remain silent now? How selfish would that be? And how would I ever live with myself if any of you die because of me?
Those questions writhed and squirmed in his mind and at the pit of his stomach long after he had made his excuses to end the uncomfortable conversation. And closing his eyes, he pretended to sleep while he wrestled with the guilt that he felt deep inside.
Daylight crept into the camp, and still Gondell struggled with the conflict that raged inside as the Goblin host milled around, some nursing aching heads, some wounded more grievously.
“They are no better than animals,” Captain Steig confided as he hefted his heavy back pack, “They reduced in numbers last night, fighting with troops from the resident garrison. Mark my words, more heads will roll when they get back to the city and face their officer commanding. Ruaq has not displayed great leadership on this sortie.”
I have a feeling that heads will roll much sooner than that, Gondell thought, but returned Steig's grin. I cannot let them walk into a trap, he decided finally, but I need not say anything yet, tomorrow when the desert is in sight will be close enough, they only need a few minutes warning, if they are as reasonable and respectable as I believe, it shouldn't take long for the good captain here to make his decision.
“One word of advice,” continued the captain, “Drink as much as you can now, and then spare your bottle today. There will be no opportunity to refill it again until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.” he glared at the motley band of Goblins, “They have not the sense to prepare, they begin this march with wine in their veins, and water bottles half empty. Some will fall along the way, for the air from the desert drains the body of moisture. Tomorrow will be a hard day.”
Harder than you imagine. Gondell clamped his mouth shut tight, avoiding the warning that raced toward his lips. I trust you Captain Steig, for my heart tells me that it is safe, yet, you have no need to know just yet.
There is little to tell of that long day of marching, except that Gondell began to understand Steig's warning as he felt the air changing. Faint at first, subtly the heat crept upon the marching columns. Gondell blessed the captain many times as that long day drew on, ahead the Goblins, tired and dehydrated from a long night of debauchery began to suffer. Many took long gulping drafts from their leather water skins, despite Ruaq's frequent orders to the contrary.
br /> This air has even sucked the water from the grass, Gondell noted. The green fresh shoots of the previous two days trek now shrivelling to shades of yellow and rusty browns.
Struggling out of his leather waistcoat, which had suddenly become very heavy and stifling Gondell submitted to the thirst that had begun to rage and tugged the stopper from his still full flask.
“Use caution and restraint,” urged Gradden who strode alongside, “Take only enough to wet your dry mouth. Later, when the night has fallen and the temperature has dropped we will all drink. We have made this journey many times before. Heed our advice Gondell, then you can laugh with us as these worms drop like flies tomorrow.”
And so it was that finally the sun sank slowly into the west and Ruaq called a halt, shouting. “We rest now, but tomorrow we move again before the dawn.”
As Ruaq called his halt, across country, and very far ahead Ulaff sat cross legged upon the dry ground and busily plucked the feathers from a small pile of sand grouse.
“This is the best place to stay tonight,” Jebez had advised as they rode down into a deep crater-like depression, a feature unnoticeable until they stood at the very edge. “I can only guess, but I think that this place may have been a lake or pond many years ago. There is still a small seep of water in the middle, more than sufficient for our needs. Here we can relax with a fire tonight, and the surrounding grasslands hide abundant food for those who know where to look.”
“Easy for you to suggest a fire,” snorted Feron, “But pray tell me, what do we burn? I have seen not one solitary tree for over two whole days now.”
“There is plenty of fuel here, a fuel that burns hotter and longer than any wood. Its collection is the task that I had in mind for you. Fair Fiorina and Tillendur will accompany me, with their sharp eyes and skilled bows. Ulaff has work enough caring for your horses and preparing camp. You have the privilege of collecting dung Master Dwarf.”
“Dung?” cried Feron, looking from face to face amongst his companions, seeking any mirth.
“The dried dung of Aurochs, you will easily find many wide pats, desiccated by the constant wind. Complain not, it is nothing more than dried grass... or do you wish to eat your meat raw. Cooked or not, it is all the same to me.”
“I have done many base things for the good of my friends, but this is the first time that I have been required to collect dung.” he stated, “But, for the good of the group, I will agree, but never breathe a word of this after today. The king is my cousin... you do know that!” Being the statement that Feron made whenever he wished to point out that he forsaken personal dignity for his friends.
“I swear that no mention of this will ever pass my lips.” replied Tillendur solemnly.
“I also promise to say nothing,” Ulaff grinned, “Unless very drunk, or provoked.”
“Just make sure you bring back plenty to cook,” huffed Feron as he turned and stomped off across the plains hunting for dried brown pancakes.
Tillendur and Fiorina had not disappointed, their arrows flying straight and true as Jebez, in hyena form had flushed brace after brace of grouse from the dried grass.
“You are truly amazing,” the Elf thought to her as another bird fell to the ground and she lowered her bow.
“Many years of practice, and a keen eye.” she replied happily.
“No, although your skill with a bow is without doubt impressive, I refer to your influence. A Ghul, you can enslave even the living dead.”
“It is also a curse,” she replied quietly, “And something over which I have no control. And also a growing worry in my mind. Tillendur, to be with me is to accept what I am, and to understand that while I may not welcome the advances of all that see me, they will still advance. Jebez is harmless, he understands that even if I did not belong to you, he would never dream of achieving me for himself. He is in a strange world, an existence between life and death. But there will be others, many others as the years pass, and they will be drawn to me despite my unwillingness. I worry that it will be a difficult life for you to accept.”
“Promise me that it is only me that you desire, and I will walk through fire for you.” Tillendur responded, a passion in his voice. “I have heard told many times, as you have also mentioned yourself, that when a Nymph finally gives her heart, it is forever, and unshakable. Tell me again that this is true, then never mention it again. Fiorina, I truly love you, but my eyes are wide open, your influence over me is strong, but not absolute. If I so wished, and though it would break my heart, if I harboured any doubts I could walk away from you. Believe me now and search my feelings, you will find no doubt in my mind... or my heart.”
“Then I am truly happy,” she sighed contentedly, before giggling wildly and loosing another arrow without taking aim, a speeding grouse falling to her skill. “Feron was right,” she whispered as a grin played on her lips, “I do not need to see my target, only hear it.”
The evening surrendered to night, but the fire that Feron had built gave a warm glow that drove away the sudden chill in the constant breeze.
“It is always so in the desert,” Jebez explained, “By day always heat upon heat, but at night, it is as if some giant sponge soaks up that heat leaving behind only chill and loneliness.”
“Have you no idea how long you have wandered in this form?” asked Tillendur, reading the hidden words behind those that the Ghul spoke openly.
“Many hundreds of years, yet now, I know there is some limit. You have talked about the great battle that took place. This I did not see.”
“So you can be sure that it has been less than one thousand.” Fiorina added, sensing his pain and frustration at the uncertainty he had concerning his own past.
“Yes, but how many years exactly is a mystery to me.”
“Jebez, do you trust me?” Fiorina asked, prompting his mind for silent response, “Do you trust me enough to open your mind completely to me, I feel your hesitancy, the way that you lock away your deepest shame, I believe that I understand what you hide from me.”
“I do trust you Fiorina, believe me I do, but there are memories inside me that I would not wish for you to see. Fiorina, I am a savage beast, a creature of depravity when the hunger is upon me. This is a side of me that I would not want you to witness.”
“Jebez, you have nothing to fear. I know who, and what you are. There is a beast lurking inside every one of us, even inside the Elves, although they deny the fact and bury their feral instincts deeply. I will not judge you, I understand the hunger. Trust me and open your mind, I may be able to help you remember your mortal life. I may be able to answer some of your questions.”
The Ghul met her gaze across the fire and felt his heart melt. “How could I ever refuse you,” he whispered as he closed his eyes and invited her inside his mind.
Feron flinched as the Ghul stiffened and groaned, his eyes flying open to expose glowing white orbs in the dim firelight.
“Say nothing,” warned Tillendur as he laid a restraining hand on his friends arm, “He is well, and this will soon pass.” The Elf had caught snatches of her conversation, and his heart swelled with pride, fed by her deep compassion. I hope she can lead him toward a greater understanding he thought, maybe she can help him find a little peace within himself.
“Take my hand,” she whispered. Jebez had felt his head spinning before complete darkness had enveloped his mind. Now his eyes were open, and she stood beside him, offering her slim pale hand.
He looked down at his own, tanned hairless skin glowed in the sunlight. “You are of the race of Man.” she said softly, “And tell me where we are now?”
Jebez looked around and suddenly his focus cleared, he found himself stood in the middle of a bustling market place. “I know this place,” he gasped, “This is the market place in my village, but how is this possible?”
“Trust me,” she whispered, “I can lead you, but you must tell me what you feel, your memories.”
“This is not real.” he sighed. r />
“It is real, these are your deeply hidden memories, I cannot make you see these things, you were here, you did see this... we just have to work out where and when.”
“Well, this is Pendle Market, so it must be a Wednesday, yes look, these are my vegetables, this is my stall. Oh Fiorina, it is flooding back now, so clear and strong. I am a farmer. I was a farmer. I have a wife,” he gasped as the vision of a woman drifted before his eyes. “I am twenty three years of age... and my name is Jebez, her name is Amaril... and she is pregnant, she carries our child now.”
“Think Jebez, what time of the year is it, can you remember any event of significance.”
Tears flooded his eyes as he turned to her. “I know exactly when now. It is early summer, and exactly one year before the great war. Fiorina, I am scared now, the memories are coming back so fast, I'm not so sure that I want to recall any more, for I am set to leave soon, I have been called up, the king is under the sway of Nilgoth, the Bringer of Darkness. Preparations are being made. Fiorina, I am excited, I have been selected for the Royal Guard. Please no, no more.” he cried, and felt her squeeze his hand, transferring a peace and tranquillity to his mind. “We can leave at any time you wish,” she sad softly.
“I was so young and naive, I couldn't see his true evil, stupid and impressionable, and so proud to be selected for his personal guard.”
“You cannot change the past Jebez, but take comfort that today you can recognise your mistakes, you grew as a man, you have grown understanding.”
Jebez squeezed his eyes tightly shut and a tear rolled down his cheek. “I had a son, but I never saw him.” he shook his head sadly. “I was in the desert when Amaril gave birth, patrolling rather than caring for my family. Separated, ambushed!” he gasped, “They tricked us, they lied to us.”
“Who?” Fiorina asked, her tone soft and patient.
“Goblin scum,” he hissed savagely as the memories assaulted his senses, “They betrayed us, turned on us... for water, I remember now. We became lost. We had no water, completely lost. We always carried more than the Goblins, and they attacked us, to take our water.” He winced as pain flashed in his eyes, “One of them stabbed me, but I killed him. There are so many bodies around me, I see them clearly, my friends are dead, all of them, I am alone.”
“We can leave here at any time you wish,” Fiorina reminded him as she sensed the end of his mortal life loomed. “You do not need to recall the end.”
“But I do Fiorina.” he stated, turning to her, a fire burning in his eyes, “I have held suspicions for so long. Only yesterday I felt that I must have been a soldier, in their camp I was disgusted to find the sentries drunk and asleep, I found it almost as an insult. Now I have confirmed, I was a soldier, and I must have been a very good soldier to be selected for the Royal Guard. I wish to see who gave me this existence, I wish to remember his face, for should I ever meet him in the desert or here on the plains I wish to repay him for his horrendous gift to me.”
“So be it,” she sighed, and led him deeper, “But bitterness and revenge are not easy bedfellows to live with.”
“But Fiorina, you misjudge me.” he replied, his tone serious. “Yes, it is true that I seek retribution, but you have given me a gift that is far more powerful than bitterness and regret. You have given my Amaril back to me, now she is back in my heart, and although I now know that she has been dead for almost one thousand years, she will always be alive in my mind. Her memory will ease my loneliness.”
“Then I am content,” Fiorina smiled, despite her own feelings of unhappiness, guilt and distress.
“None of this was your fault, for I know that you blame yourself. I know who you are now.” he added knowingly, “Even though I were only a babe when King Manus led my people from the mountains and across the plains, everyone knew the name of Fiorina, the Nymph. But I hold you blameless, because now that I have seen you through mortal eyes, I accept that there would be nothing that I wouldn't do for you. I hold you blameless fair Fiorina. Now please, guide me to the end, then my story will be complete.”
“He was once a Man,” said Fiorina as the Ghul stalked silently away across the crater and climbing to the ridge dropped down into the grass. His memories restored.
My selfishness goes far beyond even my own guilty imagining, she told herself as she picked half heartedly a small grouse carcase, he may claim not to hold me responsible, yet if I had resisted temptation, his people would have not been led to the north, he would not have found himself alone and thirsty and injured in the desert. He would have never met Him, and been given such a terrible choice.
She shuddered as the images flashed back into her mind, the burning red eyes and slavering jaws, the pure evil of the nameless one, the original and most powerful of the Jinn, the Desert Demons.
How like evil to lie and cheat, to offer a life of immortal bliss and wonder, but give only misery.
“I am filled with the flesh of your comrades,” she heard the words spoken clearly, “My hunger is satisfied, even my delight in killing is blunted, so I offer you a choice young Man. I can end your pain and give you life eternal as a creature such as I, a life of power, or I can tear you apart now.”
“I am already dying,” Jebez had replied, his hands clutching the ragged puncture wound in his gut, so to end this quickly would be a blessing of kinds.”
“Then as you seek death, I will give you life... of a kind.” and with one savage bite from yellowed fangs dripping with foam and saliva, Jebez had awoken to find himself alive, but consumed with an overwhelming urge to kill, and devour the flesh of his own kind. His mortal memories erased.