The Source of Magic, page 26
“What kind of distraction?” asked Chloe.
“We need the help of the savage clans,” John continued. “Whatever forces that can be mustered at short notice on the coast will have to be enough. They need mount a large attack on the island, or at least make it look like a large attack. We’ll then sail around to the opposite side of this island and come ashore there.”
“What about the people who die in the battle?” Chloe asked.
“What we are looking at is short-term casualties verses long-term deaths. The quicker this war is over, the better for everyone,” said John.
The suggestion of seeking the help of people who had so recently held them captive sat uneasily with the group who fell into silence as they rode.
The swamp wasn’t getting any easier to navigate. A number of times they had to double back on themselves just to find a better way forward, and a number of times they needed to ride through shallow water just to make headway.
John cut some branches from a tree that were as straight as he could find. He cut them down into poles with an axe and tied them together with some hanging vines he had pulled down from the trees. When he was done, he had a sturdy fifteen-foot pole that he could use to prod at the ground in front of them, testing for thick mud and suck holes as slowly progressed.
The constant croaking, chittering, and buzzing of the denizens of the swamp grew to a crescendo as twilight came. They were still deep in the swamp and found a small island refuge for the night. They didn’t sleep much; most of their time was spent swatting at insects that would crawl over them or land on them, attracted by the sweat on exposed skin or the opportunity for a fresh blood dinner.
The following day brought much of the same, though they noticed that the land was becoming firmer and the water was less invasive as they tended towards the southwest. By nightfall they had emerged from the swamp and saw the return of proper fields.
John was happy to leave the oppressiveness of the swamp behind and he could tell that the girls felt the same. Melanie, as always, was an open book. She smiled wide and stood up in her stirrups and stretched up high to brush her hands through the large soft leaves of the first proper tree they passed under. Even Chloe joined her sister in smiling at the sight of Melanie acting out what they all felt in their souls.
They camped for the night and slept deeply, free from the unsettling feeling of the soggy ground and carnivorous insects of the night before. In the morning they kept riding south-west in search of a road, which they discovered bisecting a field of clover and tiny white flowers.
It was anyone’s guess where they would end up travelling south along the road. If nothing of interest were to waylay them then they knew at least the ocean would put an end to their ride in that direction. They took numerous breaks along the road, giving the horses time to rest and eat. They all took the opportunity to recover from the saddle soreness that had developed in the swamp, where dismounting was less appealing and a sure path to wet feet. John would stretch and walk in the sun, kicking at small flower heads and watching the girls as they relaxed.
During these breaks Selphie would collect one of Blackwell’s books from her saddlebags and sit cross-legged in the grass. Carefully opening the tome, the leather bindings cracking stiffly, yellow musty pages were laid bare across her thighs. Blackwell had the intentions of order and neatness when starting his entries, the tops of each page dated in neat calligraphic dates and introductory sentences. However, as the entry progressed, the writing became fervently scrawled as if he were afraid he would forget some key piece of information if he didn't capture quickly enough. The margins of the page became a space for further exposition or explanation along with hastily drawn diagrams. Selphie would be deep in thought reading over a page, whispering to herself as she read, and waving a hand in small, close motions lost in a world of ancient lore until it was time to move on.
Chloe shared none of her sister’s fascination with the grave-robbed books. She found a more constant companion in Melanie, who was keen to move about and make use of her body, basking in the bright sunlight.
The two of them would challenge each other to races or climbing some nearby tree. On the surface John would pick Chloe as the winner of physical contests. She had the lean muscle of a track and field star, along with clothes that didn’t hinder her movement. Melanie was still wearing her new blue skirt and white blouse, though it was quiet travel worn now, and had a physique more suited to winning competitions of a more salacious nature.
It may have been the skirt hiding her powerful legs that lulled both John and Chloe into making false assumptions. In feats of agility and speed, her catlike nature exerted itself and she would suddenly be bounding ahead of her opponent, her dress bundled up and held in one hand, her tail shot straight out behind herself for balance. Chloe still had the upper hand in raw strength though, and they would occasionally end up tumbling over one another squealing and laughing until Chloe had Melanie pinned down in the long green grass.
It was during one of these pit stops along their southward journey along the road that they spotted a small contingent of savages off in the distance. Their blue skin made identification a simple matter. The leader of the band of savages was a huge beast of a man. He was taller even than John – one of the few people on this world he had seen who were – with a body that was reminiscent of a bear’s. There were four other men in the group who more closely fit with the image of a savage warrior that John had made during his previous encounter with Malak and his unit.
There was a tense moment as the savages approached. Neither side was quite sure of what the other was going to do. The girls gathered behind John with the horses held close by with their reins. John took the initiative and held up his hand to wave a greeting to the group.
“Hallo there!” John called out in a loud but jovial voice.
The savages slowed their walk a little and looked to the surrounding trees with their hands moving to rest on the hilts and handles of various weapons. As members of an invading army, they were used to the dark looks and minimal tolerance of the civilian population. John’s appearance of goodwill put them on guard for an ambush.
“I understand you are looking for the Cambrian army and are offering a reward," John said. "I need to talk to whoever is in charge of your army.”
For a moment, John felt like an alien landing on Earth in a fifties movie saying ‘take me to your leader’.
“Any information you have, you can tell to me. I will pay you,” the big man said, pulling a large purse of coins from his belt.
“It’s not that simple. I have a plan that will help your people ,but I need some assurances from your leaders before I say anything,” said John.
One of the other savages stepped to the side of the leader and they had a short, whispered conversation after which the leader spoke again. "You might be spies. We will take you to our camp, but if you are lying, then I will kill all of you.”
John simply nodded while staring into the savages unblinking eyes. There had been a pragmatism in his voice that gave his threat far more gravitas than if he had been waving an axe around to make his point.
The camp was nearby and it only took them two days of steady walking to arrive.
They were a far quieter group than Malak and his men had been. John introduced himself, and the girls and in turn learned that the giant savage was called Kelor.
Each morning, the dawn ritual was performed. There was a difference to what they had seen when they were captives. The savages all checked and touched up their dyed skin and unique dark blue-black markings. However, when they faced the rising sun, the leader, standing out in front of the others, called out, “We are the people of two worlds. We are given power in this world and give honour to Rainma in his.”
“Honour to Rainma!” The other four shouted.
After the first morning, when John had noticed that they did not honour Annak, he moved up next to Kelor to ask about the difference just as much to pass the time as to satisfy his curiosity.
“I am not a skalt and I do not sing the skalsang of our clan," Kelor grunted, but then after some consideration he continued, “We used to fight the followers of Annak. Now we fight side by side.”
“You don’t sound too enthusiastic about having them as allies," John said promptingly.
“They fight well enough when the time comes, but they feast too much and laugh too much," Kelor said.
“You don’t like laughter?” John asked.
“Our people live at the very tops of the mountains as the great one, Rainma, strongest of the great ones, does in his realm. It is a hard life but it makes us strong. Only a fool would laugh when the wind is like daggers against your skin and the ground is hard as iron.”
Kelor fell silent and it seems to John that he had gotten all the conversation from him that there was to be had. All the other men were equally as stoic and silent. Even in the evenings they seem to prefer sitting in silence staring into the fire over conversation.
Kelor and his men prefer to keep to themselves in the evenings, sitting on one side of the fire while John and the girls stayed on their side. Selphie had her books and continued to study them intensely while John, Melanie and Chloe kept themselves occupied with their own conversation.
The savages had made camp on top of a hill with a large flat plateau that afforded them a good view of the surrounding land. They would easily see any enemy forces moving about or preparing for an attack.
Once they had walked up the hill, John had the opportunity for a proper look at the camp. There was little order to where people had set up, and rather than one central point, each clan had created their own sub camp within the greater whole. There were a lot of bonfires around which the savages had erected their tents and bivouacs. It struck John that this was a raiding army. There was no permanency to the site and with each person responsible for their own tent and gear, the bulk of their force could be up and moving in ten minutes.
It wasn’t just an army of men, either. A large portion of the force was made up of women, though it seemed as if they held different positions within each clan. At a cursory glance, as they made their way through the tents, some clans seemed to have a large portion of female warriors, whereas others seemed to have women in a support role within the camp.
The smell of burning wood, smoke and food hung over the camp and John could see the nearby spit of forest that had already given up a huge swath of trees to the camp’s fires.
Kelor led them to a clan camp that was located halfway to the centre of the main body. John wondered if there was a hierarchy to camp location, or if it was first in best dressed.
John could feel the eyes of the army on them – the four of them were the only naturally coloured people in a sea of blue bodies. However, it seemed as if there was some respect paid to Kelor as the warrior who was guiding them and the interest went no further than looks. John felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and he realised he had tensed up his muscles. It was as if through a sixth sense could tell that some of the onlookers weren’t as friendly as others.
At the Rainma clan’s camp, there were about thirty men gathering about and out of one larger tent came a women. John realised he was looking at a portal witch.
She was the first savage who wasn’t entirely blue. Almost all of her face was left a natural colour, she had only a dark band painted across her eyes running from one temple to the other. She was a little shorter than the men but still powerfully built, with arms and legs thick with muscle. She wore simple brown leather breeches and shirt with bangles on her ankles and wrists made from wood and bone, off of which dangled various feathers and beads.
The woman stepped forward and the men parted the way respectfully for her.
“Who are these people, Kelor?” She asked.
“Namina, they claim to have knowledge about the coward army and demanded to speak to you,” he said.
“I know what you are looking for and how the war started. The Cambrian army is hiding because they are protecting what was stolen. It isn’t in the capital, and your attacks there won’t lead to anything but a lot of dead people," John said.
There was a burst of commotion from the men and John knew the information he had was valuable.
“I know you are offering a reward for information about the location of the army. What I have is far more valuable. I have a plan on how to get your stolen property back," John said.
“Why would you help us against your own people? Are you so interested in wealth that you wold betray them?” Namina asked narrowing her eyes, slightly.
“I‘m a foreigner and I don’t owe allegiance to the king or government of Cambria. Also, I want more than just a reward in exchange for the information I have. I want an assurance that when we are done, you will end the war and go home.”
“If you are telling the truth, then you will have your reward. It will be up to the council as to if we withdraw and I cannot speak for them, but I will call for the end of the war. Come sit here," Namina said, indicating to a log by her tent.
John sat down and Namina retrieved a small wooden bowl from her tent then sat on the log facing John. She gathered up some dirt from the ground and spat in the bowl.
“You’re going to see if I’m telling the truth with runes," John said as she passed the bowl over.
Namina looked surprised. “You have some knowledge of the ancient magics?”
“You tend to pick things up when travelling with a totem witch and two students of magic.”
Namina looked towards the girls with a new respect in her eyes. John spat in the bowl and handed it back. Namina then mixed up the mud and drew the complex runes on John’s forehead. The surrounding savages moved in close to keen to see the magic in action.
“What do you know of the things we seek?” asked Namina when she was done and the runes began to glow.
“A source of your magical power has been stolen by the Cambrian wizards. You think it’s in the capital, so you’re throwing everything you’ve got at the shield they have around it. You have men out in the countryside looking for the army. What you don’t know is that they army has your source of power, and it isn’t on the mainland. They have retreated and are in hiding on an island off the coast. I can point it out to you on a map,” said John.
He wondered if he had lied if he would get any warning that his head was about to explode. Though he wasn’t curious enough to lose his head over it.
Namina nodded when John had finished, stood up, and pointed to one of the savages. “Go and spread the word to the council that we must meet tonight. I have news of the Great One.”
John wondered what this great one would look like. At first he thought of some bejewelled statue. Then it occurred to him that the totems were just carved stone until they were filled with magic. There was a chance the great one was some sort of ancient earth mother statue. It would explain the ritualistic importance.
Kelor and Namina escorted John and the girls to a long wooden trestle table was set up in the middle of the camp on neutral ground at the centre of all the clans. John stood at one end of the table. The gathering of the council did not take long. Portal witches with their retinue of warriors filtered in from the various clan camps as the word of the meeting spread.
To John’s eyes there was little to distinguish one clan from the other. The warriors were all blue, the portal witches had left their faces un-dyed. However, he could see that there were obvious animosities and friendships between different clans. As the groups entered the neutral space, they would greet some people warmly, clasping arms and thumping each others backs, while others groups were regarded with glances of suspicion and open animosity.
Unexpectedly, there was a familiar face amongst the warriors. Malak was one of the representatives of the clan of Annak. He came up to John when he saw them sitting at the table, much to the uneasy looks of Kelor.
“When I heard we were gathering to hear from unpainted people, I did not think it would be you,” said Malak with a smile on his face.
“I did not expect to see you again, Malak. Perhaps this time you can refrain from tying me up," John said.
Malak gave a hearty laugh, slapped John around the shoulders with both hands and then took his seat. Malak was as close to a friendly face as John could see amongst the people gathered. He could tell that they were curious as to why the four outsiders were there but they still looked like the enemy.
“I have information about the Great One," Namina called out over the table, bringing everyone to silence.
She then related the information that John had shared. When she finished, there was an eruption of conversation.
“We must call all our forces together, abandon the capital and attack the island,” said one of the clan leaders named Vanjar.
There were general nods and sounds of approval from around the table. Obviously, many of them had be thinking the same thing.
John stood up to speak. "Do anything too drastic, and you risk alerting the Cambrians that you are on to them. If you move all your forces away from the siege on their capital, they might move on from the island, hide somewhere else, and then you have lost the advantage. On top of that, I understand you don’t have a navy or much experience with ships, so you have no way of moving your whole army to the island.
“If you gather just the forces you have here and now, you won’t need as many ships. I can go to the Sandgate and hire ships to transport you. I’ll lie and say there are refugees looking for transport, and when you board it will be too late to turn back. When you get to the island your goal isn’t to defeat the Cambrian army. It is to distract them. Make them think you are the vanguard of a larger force. While they’re distracted, I’ll go ashore on the back side of the island, secure the Great One and leave. Then you withdraw.”
“You might have information to sell, but you don’t have a voice at this table!” yelled a warrior named Vanjar at the opposite end of the table.
“I think his plan has merit,” said another.
