| |
“The Kingdom has faced enemies since the day it came into being. There are the enemies outside and inside our borders. Some plan to invade and conquer, wanting to add the rich lands of the Kingdom to their empires. Others raid into our lands in search of plunder, whether that is cattle, horses, gold or even slaves. Our duty is to be the guardians of the Kingdom, to keep an unceasing watch over its lands and people.”
––––––––
MACK AND LUAN MADE their way down the hillside following the sheep tracks that wound their way through the heather. Looking down, Luan could see the line of trees that marked the path of the river along the valley below them. The going got steeper and the heather gradually gave way to rough grass and gorse bushes. Very soon Mack was struggling with the slope, slipping and sliding where rain had reduced the path to patches of gravel.
"Are you alright?” The concern showed in Luan’s voice.
"Not as young as I used to be lad!" Mack's smile suddenly disappeared as he slipped further down the hill, crying out in alarm. Luan scurried down after him, half skipping and half sliding on his backside as he desperately tried to catch up with Mack. At last he managed to grab the scruff of the old man's tunic and the pair of them finally came to halt, squashed up against the trunk of young birch that grew up out of the hillside. Mack groaned and then drew in his breath with a sharp hiss as he tried to move.
"Are you hurt?" asked Luan.
"Just scrapes and bruises I reckon," replied Mack. "Ow!" he added as he tried to sit up.
Luan helped the old man into a more comfortable position and Mack let out a sign of relief as he leaned back against the tree.
"We'll just sit here for few minutes, catch our breath like," he said, and Luan took the opportunity to stretch out on the grass. His legs were trembling after the steep descent and he lay still, looking up at the sky and waited for them to recover. Watching the clouds above him he found himself imagining ships slipping quietly through the mist and he remembered the words of the song that Lyssia had sung the night before and he sang them quietly.
"Five great ships from out of the night
Riding the waves to the land of light"
"Mack?" he said. "Where do those lines come from?" "Hmm?" Mack had started to dose off.
"Hey! Mack!" Mack's eyes flicked open.
"What is it lad?" his voice querulous.
Luan repeated his question and Mack regarded him thoughtfully.
"It is a good tale and a long one that," he said. "It tells of Amhar the Strong and his journey into the land of the Shibaan. You know who Amhar was don't you lad?"
"Yes," replied Luan. "He was the first King."
"That's right," said Mack, "and if you think about it you will see why he was called the strong. Imagine, he was just the leader of a small tribe on the west coast and he built the Kingdom. The land had never had just one ruler. For hundreds of years things had been the same, tribe fighting against tribe, with no one ever keeping the upper hand for long."
"So what was different about Amhar then?” Luan was starting to get interested.
"According to legend Amhar was no ordinary man. The tales tell that his mother was a seeress, she had the sight!"
"The sight?"
"She could see the future."
"That's not possible!" Luan’s upbringing was starting to make itself felt again. Mack gave him a long look.
"Do you want to hear the story?"
"Yes!" Luan said. "Sorry."
Mack gave him a quick smile and then leant back, composed himself and began to speak, his voice taking on a quality that Luan had not heard before.
On the eve of the longest day of the year
When the moon shone red in the evening light
The spearman stood on the threshold strong
And guarded the clan home into the night
While the bats took wing and the dog fox barked
And the owl flew low over farm and field
In the hour before dawn in the dark of the night
A son to The Lord of the clan was born
But the banshee wailed in the place of the clan
As the moonlit boy was born
Three times the mother cried to the night
The sorrowful words of the second sight
"Born to be king over all the land,
Only in the west will you destiny find,
Born into sorrow, in hope to be raised,
In time to be king, in old age betrayed" Mack paused.
"So begins the tale of Amhar the Strong. Born under a full moon on the midsummer’s eve and so blessed by moon magic and the sun god both, his mother dying in childbirth but only after foretelling his future as King. At least so the tales tell. It was over five hundred years ago." At that moment Mack looked almost as if he was feeling the full weight of those years himself, it seemed to Luan as if the old man’s gaze was fixed not on the hills around them but on the distant past.
"Five Hundred Years!" echoed Luan. He could barely comprehend so long a time. "But what about the bit with the ships and the mist? That sounded like a good bit!"
"A good bit!" replied Mack in mock outrage. "One of the greatest of all the old tales, passed down through generations, the living history of our land, and you only want to hear 'a good bit'?"
Luan smiled. "Yes please."
"All right then," Mack grinned and leaned back again. "The 'good bit' you want starts after Amhar had won his first battles and..."
Suddenly he was interrupted. Below them in the valley they could hear someone approaching, pushing their way through the brush by the stream that flowed along the valley floor. Mack gestured to Luan who rolled over, wormed his way to the edge of the bluff and looked down. About twenty feet below him the stream ran clear over gravel and along its banks trees and bushes crouched low. On the far side was a well-worn track and the ground between was a mixture of boggy grass and gorse bushes. Luan could see that someone was following the bank of the stream and he thought it strange that they should ignore the obviously much easier path. Then he heard shouts and the sound of horses’ hooves and realised why. Below him a figure broke free of the bushes and looked around wildly. Luan was surprised to see a boy, younger and slighter than himself, dirty and ragged from his flight. The boy looked as if he did not know where to turn, but then dashed across the stream and desperately threw himself at the steep slope immediately below Luan. The noise of pursuit was getting louder, Luan guessed several horses and riders. The curve in the valley bid them from sight but he judged the boy had a minute at most. Luan looked straight down the slope, the boy had made good progress at first but now he was struggling and Luan judged that he would never make it. Without stopping to think Luan locked his feet round the birch trunk and leaned out over the edge as far as he could. He stretched out his hand and shouted to the now clearly frightened boy below.
"Here! Quickly!"
The boy looked up and Luan caught a glimpse of pale skin and dark eyes. Then in a last desperate effort the boy launched himself up the slope, grabbed Luan’s hand and together they managed to scramble to safety.
The danger was not yet past. Mack pushed his hand out, palm downwards, signalling they should stay down as the noise of riders grew ever closer. From his position behind the tree he had a clear view as the group of horsemen swept around the corner and thundered by. Mack's sharp intake of breath hissed between his teeth.
"Slavers!"
The word cast a chill over Luan. To him there was only one association with that word, and that was the Pireacht. The name was a dark shadow throughout his childhood and probably that of every other child of the Kingdom. It conjured up images of faceless legions marching under the banners of a dark god from their lands far to the south, and the light of freedom snuffed out. In fact, Luan knew very little about the reality of the Pireacht other than his uncle had died fighting them. That was enough.
"Have they gone?" The newcomer’s voice was shaky.
"I think so, for now at least," answered Mack.
"Will they come back?" Luan did not want to sound afraid but he suddenly felt a long way from home. He stood so that he could get a better view.
"I don't know." Mack was trying to look down the track "Even these days they will want to travel quickly to avoid being caught. I suppose it depends how much the escapee is worth," and he turned his gaze onto the slight figure still panting on the hillside.
"Is a boy very valuable?" asked Luan.
"A boy?" Outrage had replaced the shakiness.
Mack looked at Luan and laughed. "Don't worry my dear, he's only just left home and he has a lot to learn!" He held out his hand to the girl and helped her to her feet. "You can call me Mack, and your unobservant saviour here is Luan."
Luan suddenly blushed deep red.
Her name was Bridie and she was a couple of inches shorter than Luan and he guessed maybe a year younger. Her sandy hair was short and roughly cut. She wore a loose tunic and leggings and her feet were bare. Her face and hands were scratched and cut from her escape and her large brown eyes were intense as she studied Luan with the same interest that he did her. Their eyes met for a moment, and then Luan dropped his gaze and started to turn away. A small hand on his arm stopped him and he turned back. Bridie smiled.
"Thank you."
Luan was tongue tied.
"It's er, it's, er ok," he said at last.
Mack was grinning broadly. Luan gave him a look.
"Hadn't we better get out of here?"
Mack's expression grew serious and he nodded.
"I think they're gone but we should be on our way. The question is: which is our way?"
Luan looked around. The slavers had headed along the valley which ran roughly north-south. In the opposite direction, to the south, was the small village that he and Mack had seen from the top of the hill. To the east, on the other side of the track, the land rose again to another ridge.
"East," he said. "Once we're over that ridge we'll be very hard to find."
Mack looked sceptical. "Yes, but while we're heading up we'll be visible for miles."
"At least we won't get caught on the track. We'd have no chance then!"
Bridie looked at the mismatched pair that were her new companions. Even though she had only known them a few minutes she decided to stick with them. It was unusual for her to be so quick to trust someone but there was something about the pair of them that inspired confidence and Luan had saved her without any thought for himself. He clearly didn't think anything of it either, which she found puzzling. Most of the boys she had known would have expected to be praised as a hero but Luan seemed embarrassed if anything. She found him interesting to look at. Bridie could tell that he was going to be tall and reasonably well built but probably on the slim side. He had a firm mouth and the set of his jaw showed character, he was yet to show any sign of down on his face. His hair was dark with a fringe that he was always pushing away from his eyes and his face was honest but with a sense that there was more going on under the surface. With Mack on the other hand, the feelings showed at once, and right now his face was showing a certain amount of irritation. Bridie decided it was time she took charge before an argument broke out.
"What about that gully?" She said, pointing slightly south wards.
Luan and Mack both turned and looked. Slightly to the south down the valley a gully led up the hillside opposite as straight as if it had been cut with a giant’s knife. Stunted trees and bushes lined the course of the dry valley as it made its way upwards.
"There's cover there right enough," remarked Mack. "Thanks lass. Now how do we get down this last bit?" He looked over the steep drop to the stream below.
"This way!" answered Luan and he set off along what was little more than a rabbit track heading obliquely down the slope in the general direction of the gully. Mack was just about to say that he would never make it down such a path when a little hand slipped inside his. He was so surprised that before he knew what he was doing he found himself being led safely downwards with little smiles and words of encouragement from Bridie.
