Chapter 5
Calum woke to the sound of wooden plates being placed on the table, the welcoming smell of cooked meat hung in the air. Calum looked around him. Jun was gone and the farmhouse was bright. Taylan was laying out a cooked breakfast on the table.
“Where is everyone?” asked Calum rubbing at his eyes.
“It’s midday,” said Taylan, “we both slept late.”
“Where’s Roland?”
“He’s out with the horse, he wanted to wake you at dawn when I got back but I told him to let you sleep,” said Taylan putting another plate on the table, “here, have some breakfast.”
Calum pulled himself up to the table.
“It looks like you got caught last night,” said Taylan pointing to Calum’s face.
Calum touched his cheek, it was swollen and bruised.
“It seems,” said Calum lowering his eyes to the strips of cooked meat on his plate.
Calum finished the meal, quietly, and thanked Taylan for his kindness. Taylan gracefully accepted and wished him the best on his travels.
Calum left the household and saw Gabri tending to some chickens in a pen. She looked at him quickly and then looked away. He wanted approach her but he did not know what to say, he felt like a fool. He continued across the large clearing past Jun who was chopping firewood by the stables.
“Have a good journey, Prince Calum,” he chirped and then went back to his chore.
Roland was brushing down the horse near the clearance exit. Calum took a deep breath, not sure what to expected.
“We should go,” said Roland to the horse.
“Yes,” Calum replied.
“It’s yours to ride,” said Roland not looking at him.
“What?”
“I said, the horse was yours to ride,” Roland paused for moment, “yesterday.”
“You can ride. I’ve gotten used to walking.”
Roland led the horse out of the clearing and Calum followed. The two walked the paths the forest, beside them the horse lumbered, riderless. The day passed and as dusk drew closer the fast running waters of Gella’s Way came and went.
The next day came. Calum woke to see Roland staring out into the forest, as he usually did.
The whole day had passed without a single word passing between the two. Calum had noticed Roland’s body had become hunched and heavy under his cloak.
“Where are we headed to now?” asked Calum to break the silence.
“A week to the west is the Grove of Diana,” said Roland not looking at Calum, “I need to be there for the Festival of the Horse and Bear. After that, we have another week of travel.”
Calum was suddenly aware of the fact Roland had not looked at him since he had hit him. The tension had grown large between the two.
“Then we are travelling together for a while longer,” stated Calum.
“If you do not want my company I can get you a boat back at Gella’s Way.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” laughed Calum.
Roland did not respond.
“See here,” stated Calum firmly, “I need to get to Dunway and you want your land, that’s why we are together. Isn’t that the way of it?”
“Indeed.”
“Well, I still need to get where I am going and you still need your land. So, we continue as we are.”
“If you wish,” said Roland quietly.
“Don’t feel bad, Roland,” laughed Calum, “I will have my revenge one day.”
Roland looked at him and shook his head.
“Come, then,” cheered Calum, “the day is wasting.”
Roland no longer hunched as he walked but returned to his usual, strong posture.
Calum was perplexed by how heavily Roland allowed emotion to weigh on him. Calum had almost forgotten the feeling of being struck. The only memory he held onto from that night was that of the firm Arn breast he had grasped in his hand. In that moment, the nipple had pressed hard and tantalisingly against his palm, a smile crept across his face as the memory took him away from the boredom of the forest path.
Next time he would have more and Roland wouldn’t be there to get in the way.
The days passed and the forest gave way to Diana’s Road again. This time they were on the far side of Yulas’rel. The pair followed the road for just a few miles before abandoning the beautiful mosaics of the highway and returning to the muddy back roads that Calum had grown accustomed too.
The forest continued on endlessly.
More days passed, the forest now seemed a darker green to Calum but he could not be sure. He had not realised he would grow so tried of the dense foliage and started to yearn for the open, golden plains of his homeland. To see a distance village and wonder who lived there and what they were doing at that moment or spy a trade caravan on the horizon and watch it crawl, slowly, across the world.
The corridors of trees and brush all seemed the same. Sometimes, he wondered whether Roland was simply leading him down the same four tracks and eventually would reveal the The First Kingdom still lay just beyond the tree line. His father’s men would descend on him and he would have to stage a daring escape to evade capture.
When the fantasy was over he would return to the long walls of green that passed to the side. The horse’s rhythmic clops marking the time.
At the end of the fifth day they came across a small wayhouse. All manner of men stood by its door holding mugs of ale and talking loudly. It was more men than Calum had seen since they had left Salm’rel.
A stable sat to the side, numerous beasts of all types were tied to the railings outside.
“We stay here tonight,” said Roland.
“Why are there so many people?”
“For the festival,” answered Roland and took his horse to a railing and secured it.
The festival was to be held the next night, Calum had learnt. A celebration of The Horse and The Bear, two servants of the gods and guardians of Diana. Calum had heard many things about The Horse and The Bear but did not realised they were worship in their own right in the forests. A mercenary hired by his father once told him he had seen The Horse when he was escorting a merchant ship from Marina’s Cove to Hawkescliff.
As the ship came around The Hold, The Horse, large as a mountain, was galloping across the waters of the southern sea. Storm clouds, alive with lightning, formed its mane. Its hooves kicked the ocean into the air, forming fierce cyclones that even at such a distance caused the boat to rock. The Horse galloped north towards the Heartland and then, as it hit the horizon, it became nothing but a storm of clouds and lightning.
Roland and Calum entered the wayhouse, it was bursting with men and women, not a single chair was spare, the space between each person was barely enough for even Calum to squeeze through. Every flat surface had a mug or plate resting on it, most discarded and soiled, a few still full of meats and breads.
“Roland,” called a man from across the busy hall.
As he waved, widely, a few men turned there heads and then almost as quickly looked away.
“Come, don’t get lost in the crowd,” said Roland as he pushed his way through the bodies.
Calum followed in his wake, the room became nothing but a forest of legs and torsos. As he shuffled through some looked down at him, others were too engaged in conversation and gave him no attention.
Calum bumped into Roland as he came to a sudden stopped. Calum struggled around the large frame to see what was happening in front.
There stood a tall, Kaborn man with dark brown hair that hung to his shoulders cut neatly at the base of the neck, a thick but short beard covered his sharp angular chin, his eyes large and dark, his skin the rich bronze of Calum’s people.
“Roland, I don’t want to alarm you but I think you may have a prince following you,” laughed the man.
“You were never very good at recognising your betters, San,” replied Roland, “I’m sure you’re confusing him someone else.”
“Now I look, more closely I can see I have made a terrible mistake,” smiled San, “come I got a room for you. Follow me, if you will.”
San led the way through the crowd and into a long corridor at the back, he stopped at a door and entered. The din of the main hall outside softened as the door shut.
“Ah, Roland, you couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
“What do you mean?”
“The scourge of the nobles, you still are, sower of chaos. What a masterful stroke, stealing away the Prince Calum. The First Kingdom has probably already descended into civil war.”
“Then you had best get back and make your coin.”
“Is there fighting at home?” asked Calum worry taking his voice.
“Don’t listen to the fool. You said, yourself, your family is united.” said Roland, “San, shut up and get us some food.”
“I am joking, my prince, Kabrace still stood when I left it few weeks ago,” said San with a reassuring smile and vanished out the door.
Roland stood by his cot and took off his cloak. Calum arranged himself in another corner. San reappeared with a plate of roasted meats and vegetables and sat them on a small table in corner.
“Are they talking about me at home?” asked Calum as San sat down the plates.
“No, nor on roads. You have done a very good job of disappearing,” San replied.
“Your father will be keeping it quiet as long as he can,” said Roland.
“Am I safe here, does anyone else know me?” asked Calum.
“It is hard to say,” said San, “people from all over come to the festival, maybe a few will recognise if you, if they are given the chance.”
“That is why you will stay in the room until after the festival,” said Roland, “when it is done I will come back for you.”
“Where are you headed?” asked San.
“Is that your concern?” growled Roland shooting him a hard look.
“Of course not, I was merely making conversation. I can see you are both very tired from your travels,” San stood up, “I will see you tonight. That cot is mine, don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”
And with that, San was gone.
“I want to see the festival,” said Calum.
“It is too risky, if someone recognises you all of your efforts will be for nothing,”
“Is that your concern?” challenged Calum, “I wish to see the festival while I am here. And there is enough distance between me and my father that I don’t need to hide from him.”
Roland looked at him for a moment.
“If you wish, but I am not your minder,” said Roland firmly, “you will find your own way to festival and your own way back. I will not have you following me around.”
Calum was excited, he did not know what to expect. He wondered what amazing sights he would see the next night.
The day finished and night came. San rejoined them, he was delighted to hear Calum would be joining in on the celebrations and offered to help Calum find his way to the grove. Roland grunted from the corner but said nothing.
It was afternoon the next day when San declared it was time to leave. Roland, as though to make point, said he would leave later in the evening and the two went on without him.
Calum enjoyed San’s company as they walked a muddy path that wove through the trees.
“Are you from Kabrace?” asked Calum as they walked beneath the tightly knit canopy.
“Yes, my prince, you may recognise me. I served your brother as a mercenary.”
Calum looked at the man but his face was not familiar to him. Many men worked in the courts of The First Keep and San did not seem noteworthy.
“No, I don’t, I’m afraid.”
“I commanded a regiment under Low King Damon when he thinned the Haali tribes. They were a savage bunch but your brother was a well co-ordinated Battlemaster, even at his young age, it was quite a campaign to be part of.”
Damon had been charged with a campaign against the encroaching northern hordes four years ago, only thirteen at the time.
Calum’s uncle had demanded Damon prove his worth before he be named the Low King. Many had been disappointed when he had proved to be such an effective Battlemaster. Damon not only thinned the tribes, he also managed to push the Haali back beyond the Grey Wash.
Some of the nobles had wanted him to falter or, even better, die in the war and then Calum could be easily named Low King and the pact of his grandfathers formed would continue untarnished. But when his brother returned a hero, the dissenters were forced to swallow their objections and anoint Damon the successor of King Wren.
Calum had never been happier than when he saw his brother return to Kabrace and watch him bath in the love of his people. Calum loved his brother and would never have a crown at the expense of Damon. Also Calum knew, just as his father did, Damon would be a better King than Calum could ever be.
“Do you think there will be war?” asked Calum, “once Father reveals I am missing.”
“There will be war, eventually,” said San, “you may be an excuse but are not the cause. Your mother’s family has been looking to remove Low King Damon since the day your father recognised him. They are just waiting for the right moment.”
“My mother does not want war, she loves Damon like he was her own.”
“You mother is good woman and wise consort but she has little power in the east since she allowed Damon to take the crown from you. It is sad, but we Kaborn are cursed to war amongst ourselves, are we not?’
That was what the other men say of the Kaborn. The men cursed by the gods to be at constant war.
Ka had used their obsession with war as a strength and under the great ruler the people of The First Kingdom had conquer all the lands north to south, east to west and after Ka had built his throne with the power of countless swords, his crown was taken from him by his brother with a single blade.
It was said the gods were so dismayed by the death of the chosen ruler, they cursed the Kaborn to be at war with itself until the Mother Dragon returned to eat the world.
There was a truth to the story, for never in the times that man had memory of their deeds, had The First Kingdom been at peace for more than a handful of years. That was until Calum’s grandfathers had signed the pact between the eastern and western families marrying Calum’s father, son of the first amongst the men of west, to his mother, daughter of the first amongst the men of the east. Once the pact was done both of his grandfathers wandered north into the mountains of the Crown never to be seen again.
If only Damon had been within the union.
The afternoon turned to twilight as they wound there way along the path until the trees parted and the great Grove of Diana appeared. A huge clearing populated with burning braziers.
On the far side of the grove stood a huge stone stage of three levels, each level the height of two men. Atop it a huge golden statue of The Horse was anchored, kicking its hooves into the dark of the night sky, its mane flying behind it. The statue arched over the clearing as tall as the tallest tower of the First Keep.
Calum gasped, barely able to comprehend the enormity of the figure. Between its hooves, on top of podium base, much smaller but still the height of two men, was a golden statue of The Bear.
In front of the pedestal was a whole host of tents and stores being worked by the Arn. Jugglers and stilt walkers made their way through the crowds drawing cries of excitement wherever they went. Nearby, a man was eating fire sticks to the cheers of the onlookers who threw coins of copper and silver.
“Well, my prince, I shall leave you to enjoy the festival,” bowed San.
“Where are you going?” asked Calum.
“A mercenary is always on the hunt for gold and there is plenty to be made here,” he said simply, “if you want to leave early you can follow the path back the way we came. Otherwise, I will meet you at dawn by the statue of The Bear.”
Calum nodded and San disappeared into the crowd. He looked around and saw a hut selling fruits he had never seen before.
“Fruits gathered in the deepest part of the forest,” declared an excited Arn, “just five hammers.”
Calum handed the man the copper coins from his pouch and took a round, purple-red fruit. Calum bit into fruit the taste of sugar and sourness swirled in his mouth, it was delicious. After finishing the first, he bought five more and munched on them happily as he wandered the clearing.
A group of performers were doing the comedy of Illiad the Lost, a story based on the man who was said to have led the some of first men west. The performance was coming to its conclusion.
“But Illiad, men cannot breath underwater,” shouted the woman in green gown dressed as Diana the Blessed.
“I have not heard such a thing in all my travels across this land and I am Illiad the Wise,” cried the man in blue dressed as Illiad, “surely, if the gods would not allow me to breathe underwater they would have told me so themselves.”
The man grabbed a young woman from crowd.
“Excuse me, good lady, do you think a man can breathe underwater?”
“Of course, they can,” laughed the embarrassed woman with the traditional response.
“As beautiful as you are smart,” he announced and then slyly added, “the shows almost over meet me in tent afterwards, won’t ya?”
The woman laughed hysterical as the performer playful squeezed her breast and the men in crowd cheered Illiad on.
“Well then, Diana,” said the man releasing the woman who escaped back into the crowd, “it is time for me to continue my journey.”
The performer mimed swimming through the water.
“See,” he exclaimed, “I told you a man could breathe underwater, return to the forest where you know better? For I am Illiad the Wise and these are my brides.”
Two men appeared dressed as mermaids with seashells in their hair and strips fabric holding large melons to their bare, hairy chests, their faces painted with over-the-top make-up. The crowd cheered and laughed as the mermaids pulled men from the audience, kissing them and smearing the make-up across their faces.
The mermaids then called to the audience.
“Now, if you think that Illiad was Wise.”
“Then you’re in for a big surprise,” yelled the audience back as the mermaids pulled up their short dresses exposing themselves to the crowd.
The audience cheered and threw silver and copper at the performers. Calum threw a coin himself, a wide smile on his face and moved on as the actors thanked the audience.
“Stay, if you will,” called the man dressed as Illiad his voice growing softer as Calum walked way, “for the somber the tale of the brothers, Hama and Gella.”
Calum found himself under the hooves of the great Horse statue that towered above. The people around him did not seem to give it much heed, but Calum could not ignore it. His neck ached as his tried to study the craftsmanship of the statue, running into the occasional person who laughed at the wide-eyed boy and told him to be more careful.
The statue was beautiful. Kabrace was known for its masons and sculptors and none could have carved a statue as realistic as this one seemed.
Once Calum was satisfied he had memorised every line, he dropped his attention to the stone stage in front of him. Festival goers walked freely upon it, some using it as a bench from which they could watch the festival below.
The stonework was bare and simple but well crafter. The corners came together at a perfect angle, at least it would have if time had not chipped away at the stone. The slabs that made up the pedestal seemed to be bonded together to make an almost continuous surface, only the slightest change in texture gave any indication it was not a solid piece of stone.
Calum made it to the upper level and in front of him was the statue of The Bear, its face wild and alive. The light from the brazier danced across the gold surface making it appear as though the fur ruffled in night air. The detail of work was amazing, Calum noticed the creator had even managed to add saliva to the bared fangs, a fitting tribute to the servant of the gods.
A group was gathered at the back of statue in half darkness. Calum looked beyond them, there sat another clearing, but rather than lit by bonfires and braziers it was lit low by scattered torches and lanterns. Tents had been set up in the shadows but they were not open. He felt drawn to the place for some reason.
Calum looked into the dark of the mysterious city. No one moved among them, he wondered what would happened if he descend into it. He looked back upon the mass of cheerful souls celebrating in the light behind and as he did he spied a vendor selling some roasted nuts. A realisation came upon him and laughter hits his lips.
It was the travelling folk’s camp. A camp very similar sprung up outside Kabrace when the festivals came to the city. Calum had let his imagination run wild and felt a bit foolish but the same time gleeful at the mystery he had enjoyed for a moment.
Calum turned back to the statue of The Bear and, after appreciating it a while longer, descended the stone tiers and as he did he saw Roland, talking to a group of elderly woman with long, golden hair. They were dressed in robes of silver and blue. Calum kept walking, he knew he was not to disturb Roland tonight, but also, he did not want Roland to disturb him.
A small shop sold venison sausage baked into a sweet cake and Calum bought two for his evening meal along with a mug of ale with pieces of fruit floating in it. He found a place in the clearing, sat on the grass still warm from the day and enjoyed his meal.
A young woman emerged from the crowd, catching Calum’s eye as he took a mouthful of ale. She held his gaze and approached. When the woman was next to him, she lowered herself gracefully to the ground beside him.
“Are you alone, poor boy?” she asked sweetly.
“I am here with some friends but I have lost them in crowds,” replied Calum with a smile.
“May I sit and talk awhile?” she asked and did not wait for a response, “my name is Cystine, what’s yours?”
Her eyes were bright green eyes, her slim body was draped in a flowing, emerald dress.
“I’m Calum.”
“You’re a long way from The First Kingdom, Calum.”
“Everyone keeps saying.”
“Do the Kaborn worshipped The Horse and The Bear?” she asked.
“The Kaborn do not worship the gods like others do,” said Calum, “but I never miss an opportunity to enjoy the company of beautiful maidens.”
“You are certainly a man of The First Kingdom,” laughed Cystine, “but, tell me, you do believe in the power of gods, don’t you?”
“Of course, our fathers just did not think to raise temples in their name,” he replied, “the gods will do as they will, they don’t listen to the voices of mere men.”
“It is very wise of your fathers. The gods can be uncaring, it is true, but the guardians are much kinder.”
“Do you worship The Horse and The Bear?”
“Of course, I am Sister of Diana. It is my duty to keep this place scared need she return from beyond.”
Calum was taken back he had not expected to meet a Sister of Diana wondering the crowds of the festivals.
“Pardon, I didn’t realise I was speaking with one so honoured.”
“Tell me, my dear boy,” she said her voice becoming soft, “what do you seek in forest?”
“What one does at a festival, eat some good food and enjoy some cheer.”
“Do they not have food and cheer in The First Kingdom?” she asked moving closer and looking into his eyes, “why do you come all this way?”
“I am travelling through the lands to see the wonders beyond my home. This grove will be one of the wonders I remember.”
“An adventurous soul, how glorious, just like mine. I knew it when I saw you,” she laughed loudly, her black, curled hair bounced around her shoulders as she moved her head, “come, Calum, let me show you some of the wonders of the grove.”
Cystine pushed herself up off the ground and Calum stuffed the rest of the venison into his mouth and took a final swig of the sweet ale to wash it down. He then hurried after the Sister who was moving elegantly through the crowd which parted for her.
“Have you seen the statues, Calum?”
“Yes, they are very impressive.”
“Diana made them by her own hand to watch over the grove. If she is reborn, it will happen in this very place and The Horse and The Bear will take their golden form to guard her as she grows from a babe to a maiden.”
“Do you think Diana will return?” asked Calum.
“I hope not. Diana is above all other men, in strength and wisdom, and if she must return, it will be because the gods, themselves, shake with fear.”
Cystine came to a stop, in front them was another young woman wearing the same dress talking intently to man dressed in heavy mail.
“Yin,” she called and the young woman looked up, “I am showing my young Kaborn friend the Inner Spring, could you help me?”
“Certainly,” said Yin and turned back to the man, “if you would excuse you me, good sir.”
Yin stood up and walked over. The man in armour did not seem impressed.
“This is Calum, he’s visiting from The First Kingdom,” explained Cystine, “his friends have lost him in the crowd, so I am keeping him company.”
“A wonderful night is it not, Calum?” said Yin, “what is it I am showing you?”
“The Inner Spring, sister.”
“Of course, let me show you the way.”
The three moved through crowd and beyond the light to the dark shadows that surrounded the bright festivities. Calum looked back, the sounds now low in the night air.
“Here,” said Yin and held out her hand.
A small blue orb of light escaped her hand and moved through the trees.
“Is it true, the Kaborn do not have magic?” asked Cystine.
“We have lost the art in our lands,” nodded Calum, “we get by with our swords and machines.”
“But how do you heal the sick?” asked Cystine.
“We don’t, people die young there.”
“How sad,” said Cystine sadly.
“Enough, Cystine,” sighed Yin, “follow the orb, if you will Calum. It will lead the way to the Inner Spring.”
Yin turned to return to festival
“Come with us, Sister,” said Cystine, “you know the way better than I.”
There was a moment between the two.
“If you wish,” said Yin.
The three moved through the trunks of the trees, there was no path here. Calum stepped over roots and squeeze through the gaps he found. The young woman called to him to make sure he had not lost his way. He always replied with laughter and reassurances as the blue light danced here and there, throwing hard shadows through the forest.
Finally, he found the two young woman standing inside a small clearing lit by several of the glowing blue orbs. In the centre a huge, stone pillar just taller than Roland erupted from the ground, water bubbled from the top and then skimmed down the sides collecting in a small pool at the bottom. The pool emptied into a stream that vanished into the woods.
Calum felt it. A powerful pulse that seemed to come from inside him like a heartbeat. As he moved closer to the pillar the beat became stronger and more intense.
“Isn’t it magnificent?” whispered Cystine.
Calum was silent as no words came to him. He moved closer, the stone was pulling him in. His very being pulsed as a cold, hard energy rocked his body.
“What is it?” asked Calum at last staring into the clear water that ran across the stone surface.
“The heart of the forest. The magic that warms the ice of north and blunts the axes of south.”
Cystine was behind him, he felt her hand snake around his torso. She held him tight. She kissed his neck and a power shot through him, her hand drifted down gently laid her hand between his legs. The pulse now shook his body physically, he had never felt anything like it before.
“Do you feel it, Kaborn?”
“Yes.”
“Then the magic is one with you tonight.”
She placed her hands gently on his shoulders and turned him around, her eyes wide and glistened in the blue light.
“I have been waiting for you, Calum. Thank Diana, we have found each other at last.”
Her robed dropped and she stood before him naked.
For the first time when faced with a naked woman, Calum paused.
He did not know why but his mind was spinning. He was nervous. The festival. The forest. The golden statue of the Bear. The purple-red fruits he had tasted bitter and sweet. The pulsing grew louder.
He tore at his clothes and when he was free he pushed Cystine onto the soft grass. The energy pulsed in through his body and rattled his skull. His groin throbbed.
His mind was gone, his body took control and he was in Cystine, his face buried between her firm, warm breasts. Cystine moaned with pleasure as he thrusted himself into her again and again. The moment had him and after a few more short thrusts the surge rushed through his body and he fell quiet on top of her.
Panting, he pulled himself off her, rolling to the ground beside her. C