The Elusive Invader
This is the most recent version which I'm currently re-drafting.
Chapter One
Caelef leant back against the smooth trunk of a wide beech tree taking deep draughts of air to regain his breath. As his pulse slowed he took a long drink from his leather flask. Water, refreshing for his dehydration yet warm and stale. His heartbeat steadied but his sense of urgency remained, spurred on by the gravity of the message he carried.
As he turned to look south his eye followed an undulating landscape rolling away to the horizon. The sky was deepening to purple with the encroaching night’s blackness. Veiled by this darkness were acres of cultivated fields with the occasional hamlet or village set amongst the arable land. Encircled by mountains, this was the river valley of Thirlanden. On the north bank of the river was a single craggy hill which, though lower than the surrounding mountains, commanded a view across the entire valley. At the summit of this crag lay Caelef’s destination, Thirlanden Castle.
Now looking ahead he watched as the last traces of daylight faded. A mile or so distant stood a village with a couple of inns, a gathering place for local farmers; smoke rose idly from chimneys where welcoming light radiated softly from windows. Thoughts of fire, food and drink filled the messenger’s mind, seeming to make the already chill air bite into his bones. He had run or walked all day and, with the castle still several miles away, could go no further than one more mile to an inn. Drawing his cloak about him he limped towards the village.
Important as it was, the news Caelef bore would have to wait another night to reach the ears of the king. It was news which had both angered and saddened him and had lain heavy on his mind throughout the days of his journey. The king would feel the same on its telling, as would everyone in Thirlanden, but tonight they could rest in peaceful ignorance as he slept exhausted. Tomorrow they would hear of the invasion.
----- ----- ----- -----
Halmorn sat alone turning the pages of a book. Whenever he found an opportunity for solitude he headed for his private study with a volume from the castle library. He preferred the writings of the former king, Howak, partially because they gave him an insight into his grandfather’s era. The one passage he often returned to was Howak’s account of the desert tribes who inhabited the vast land across his country’s western border. These nomadic people were generally feared though in truth little was known about them. The old king’s words, though intriguing, were frustratingly brief. Yet they were at least factual, rare facts among the common speculation and superstition about the desert.
Raising his eyes from the book Halmorn looked out of his window to the opposite bank of the river. His mind followed the water’s flow to the Eastern Sea and he shuddered at the thought of that great expanse of ocean. Absentmindedly he toyed with a bronze clasp suspended from a thin chain about his neck. All Teyns had a dread of the open sea despite that very few had ever seen it. Halmorn often wondered at this fear for, although he shared it, he felt it to be irrational. He reflected on how his country lay between two unknowns it feared, the desert and the sea, but if Howak had shown the desert need not be feared, then what of the sea? Could that too be approached with confidence?
“Halmorn?”
His name was sung out in a questioning way, a pure sound rather than a word, which filled the air with a clear pleasant ring. He smiled and accepted defeat before confrontation. He knew that tone and the intention behind it, the way his name was used in a seemingly innocent way. Any moment now she would appear from the adjoining room with something in mind. She would look at him with appealing eyes to weaken his resistance and flutter him into submission. The most respected warrior in Teynland was as dominant as a kitten when his wife wanted him to be.
Anerel stood in the doorway and they exchanged smiles. Her slim figure never failed to set his heart quickening even after several years of marriage. Like Halmorn she too was from the north, straight black hair fell about her shoulders and a dark complexion gave her a healthy appearance even in cold spells.
“Are you busy?”
“No, not really,” he said, closing Howak’s book.
“Hal?” She said, walking towards him.
‘Here it comes,’ he thought.
“The children are restless. It’s been a long time since we were away from Thirlanden.” She stood close to him with her hands behind her back. “The king would understand, just a little while, not too far away.”
Her brown eyes appealed and demanded behind dark lashes. Halmorn looked up into her gaze, shifting his look between those hazel eyes.
‘Why not?’ he thought, ‘these are peaceful times.’
“I shall consult with the king,” he said, deepening his voice in a tone of mock deference, “and ask if he can spare his Chief General.”
“I’m sure he can.” Anerel laughed and reached out to caress his shoulders. “The children want to see their grandparents and the farm will be a lovely change for all of us.”
‘She’s organised this already,’ Halmorn thought then said, “Yes, it’s been too long since we saw my parents.”
He laughed.
“What’s funny?”
Standing he held her in his arms.
She looked up into his eyes, brown eyes set in strong features beginning to show lines of maturity. She ran her fingers through his thick crop of black hair where it was tinged with a little grey; he was past his youth yet still had many years of strength ahead.
“Just the thought of being an ordinary family man for a while rather than a soldier.”
She shared his laughter.
----- ----- ----- -----
Unless one was willing to risk a perilous climb there was only one way to reach Thirlanden Castle. A narrow path wound up the towering crag’s western flank occasionally bridging deep fissures or hugging precipitous cliff faces. With foundations hewn from solid rock, the castle’s position and form were such that it remained hidden from view until virtually the last moments of approach. It had been built in centuries past when the need for strong defence had been severe. All Teyn knew of its cunning deception yet, from a distance, few could honestly claim to tell it from its natural surroundings.
Despite his youthful strength Caelef had laboured up this route to the outer gate tower. He hailed a gatekeeper and waited, feeling small and exposed before the imposing defensive walls. A grim-faced burly character appeared. He looked concerned to see the unkempt messenger carried a scroll bearing a seal of urgency, signifying the bearer must deliver his message personally. The gatekeeper was hesitant but, as the recipient was to be King Altharg, Caelef was escorted through the double gates to the castle interior and up to the king’s high tower.
After his many days of travel Caelef now stood patiently as the king read the words a second time. Altharg looked up, his eyes held bewilderment and profound sadness. Caelef felt his stare go through him to the door behind for a while then he sensed the king’s eyes refocusing on his. Nervously he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
Altharg spoke solemnly. “Do you know the contents of this message?”
“Yes sir. Lady Myran stressed its urgency and importance. She told me its content in case the scroll should be lost or damaged.”
Altharg nodded his approval.
“Do you know the whereabouts of General Halmorn’s rooms?”
“Yes. I’ve been to Thirlanden before sir.”
“Then fetch him, quickly.”
“Yes sir.”
Caelef turned and hobbled to the door. Noticing this, the king said, “Wait, I’m forgetting your exhaustion, call the guard.”
As the guard went to summon Halmorn Altharg bade the messenger to sit at his table. He poured him a drink from a pitcher of water.
“Rest here as best you can for now lad,” he said with a distracted air then walked across to a window.
Hardly believing he had been served by the king, as he drank in hesitant sips the messenger thought, ‘What a day this is.’
Altharg gazed out across the landscape surrounding Thirlanden. His stare was on the northern horizon but his mind’s eye drifted further. On from the mountains guarding Thirlanden’s rich farmlands, across miles of open grassland lying between a great ridge and a swift river, beyond high moorland, across the northern reaches where a vast forest stood to the east and a flat plain to the west, finally to miles of uninhabited hill country, the extremity of his realm. Beyond lay the kingdom of Teynas Waith, and beyond that North Teyn, the dark nation, a country of broken rocky terrain and scant recognisable civilisation. Yet it was Teynas Waith which lay heavily on the king’s mind, and the reason for this was still hard for him to accept. Ever since the time when his father and the king of Teynas Waith had signed the Teyn Charter the two countries had been allies. Even before the charter there had been no hostility between them.
A knock on the door broke into his thoughts.
“General Halmorn sire,” the guard announced.
Caelef began to stand but Altharg motioned for him to remain seated. A little nervously the messenger looked up at Teynland’s Chief General. Halmorn was not a tall man but possessed a broad muscular build, making him appear to be of greater stature, he seemed relaxed while carrying an air of surety and controlled power. Caelef inclined his head as Halmorn gave him brief quizzical glance. He then looked at the king whose blue eyes within his bronzed face held a deeply worried look. Altharg smiled weakly.
“Trouble sir?” Halmorn easily read his king’s mood.
“Aye, and of the gravest nature, please sit down.” He hesitated then said, “It appears we have been invaded.”
Halmorn’s expression hardened. Again he glanced at Caelef wondering at the reason for his presence.
“By whom?”
Altharg sighed deeply. He stood and crossed to a table where he picked up a parchment map then returned to place it before them. It showed the three kingdoms of Teyn, the desert to the west and the seas which surrounded all other boundaries. Drawn many years past, the fact that the map remained unaltered was a sign of Teyn’s prevailing stability.
A feeling of cold fear gripped Halmorn. “Not the desert tribes?”
“No, they would have overrun us by now.” Altharg hesitated again. “Apparently by Teynas Waith.”
Halmorn looked at the king in astonishment. An attack from North Teyn could be understood, even expected, for North Teyn made the crowd in Teyn’s three, but an invasion from Teynas Waith! Halmorn couldn’t imagine a reason for any hostility.
Altharg said, “This lad brought the news from Lady Myran in Delmare. Lisan Castle has been taken and even as we speak Delmare may have fallen.”
The king looked old and tired.
“I fear I have to instruct you to go to war.”
Halmorn spoke gravely. “There’s no question of it. I’ll take the army immediately. Yet I can’t believe King Zenale would plan such an attack. Do you suppose he’s been overthrown?”
Altharg said, “I too cannot believe it. Hoping Zenale is innocent is to assume he may indeed have been overthrown, which I could never wish for.”
For a moment Altharg and Halmorn gazed thoughtfully at the map before them. Feeling uneasy in their silence Caelef looked to one man then the other, king then general, general then king. He was the son of a farmer, his only accomplishment being a swift runner. In the presence of these two great men he felt awkward as if he was the cause of the troubled news. The words he had borne had made him feel deeply alone for days yet now, he reflected, for the moment he shared a profound secret with the king. Although aware of his true station he felt a oneness with Altharg, though it was a lonely feeling. He wondered how often the king felt lonely in his high tower.
Halmorn echoed Caelef’s thoughts as he said, “I feel a sensation of deep emptiness, of loss.”
Altharg nodded and said simply, “Go, and make ready.”
Without further words Halmorn left as Altharg stared blankly at the map.
Feeling he was intruding on the king’s private thoughts Caelef stood, bowed unnoticed then hurriedly followed the general.
Despite his urgency, so that he could think clearly, Halmorn walked slowly down the tower’s spiral steps whilst toying with the clasp about his neck. He was concerned for the people of his homeland in the far north, being so close to the border they must have been affected by the invasion. He stopped dead in his footsteps as he remembered the promise to his family. He cursed. But this was war, not even Anerel’s guiles could distract him from this.
Caelef, running from behind, nearly bumped into Halmorn but the general seemed distracted so he went on ahead, though unsure of what to do with himself.
Halmorn called after him. “Hey lad, wait a moment.”
He stopped and looked back up the stairway.
“Do you have an errand?”
“No sir. I’d like to help if I can.”
“Where are you from?”
“Lisan sir, I was working in Delmare when the news came.” Feeling the need to prove the credentials of his family loyalty he added, “My grandfather fought alongside old King Howak.”
Halmorn smiled. “Mine too.”
He instructed Caelef to have messengers sent to him and also told him where he could find food, then went to his family.
----- ----- ----- -----
Anerel was playing with the children when Halmorn walked in, when they saw their father they ran to him shouting. He swept them up effortlessly, one in each arm, and they giggled as he whirled them around. Aged ten Telan was the elder and, though born in Thirlanden, he was unmistakably a child of northern ancestry. He looked a miniature of Halmorn except for being more lithe than his robust father. His sister was Reala, though the family called her Little Raven. She had midnight-black hair and a piercing stare, disturbingly thoughtful for so young a child. Anerel looked on with a warm surge of affection. Being a long way from her birthplace, the closeness of her family gave her a strong feeling of home in Thirlanden.
Before she could speak Halmorn said to the children, “I need to talk with your mother, you two play together for now.”
Anerel was smiling but she detected a sullen air about Halmorn. He knelt and put the children down gently then he and Anerel went into the adjoining room.
“What’s wrong?” She closed the door. “Did Altharg say if he could spare you?”
Halmorn took a deep breath and spoke reluctantly. “A messenger has brought word of trouble in the north. Lisan Castle has been sacked and Delmare may be under threat.”
“No! Who’s attacked us? What of Ulthwaite?” She stepped towards him.
“Who? We think Teynas Waith. We’ve no word from home, though I’m sure we’d have heard by now if there was any danger to Ulthwaite.”
“Teynas Waith?” Anerel shook her head. “So you need to go north?” She spoke flatly.
Halmorn sighed and nodded. “Yes. Altharg has instructed me to take the army. We can’t delay. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
She looked worried and silently cursed his position.
War. It was the first time she had known it and the thought of him going away to kill or die chilled her. Outside there was a blue sky with bright sunlight, but she felt cold and dark. Now she understood the feelings of Halmorn’s mother in her exile from the castle and the son she loved, and from her dark memories of wartime. Hope filled Anerel she would be spared the same.
“The children will be disappointed, they think they’re going to the farm.”
Halmorn held her gently by the shoulders.
“I know. I’ll talk to them, I’ll explain without worrying them. They’re too young to understand about war, or to be frightened by tales of it.”
Suddenly she broke. The possibility of danger to Halmorn worsened the thought of their parting. She clung to him and sobbed into his chest.
Stepping back after a few moments she dried her eyes and looked at him directly.
“Go now, make your preparations, but be back early tonight.”
----- ----- ----- -----
Caelef had arrived at a quiet Thirlanden well before noon. For the remainder of the day and into the night the castle was noisy with activity. Halmorn sent messengers to all castles and villages between the south coast and Delmare, the message they bore was brief though grave.
‘Make ready for war. Halmorn is to march in the defence of Teynland. The king has decreed all able bodied men are to meet the army on the Green Way between Thirlanden and Delmare.’
Halmorn then brought together his captains and shortly after they went about ordering their soldiers to ready themselves. Weapons were to be gathered, provisions arranged, farewells said.
Satisfied his orders were being carried out, Halmorn returned early to Anerel as he had promised. The family ate together and the children were allowed to stay up later than was usual. Halmorn could hardly bear to say goodnight to them. Once they were asleep Halmorn and Anerel talked for a long time before retiring. Their love making that night was passionate yet tender, their imminent separation serving to bring them closer together. For a while after they lay in silence, looking into each other’s eyes before drifting into a sleep of shared and troubled dreams.
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