PASCO

48

Turning and Turning

Pasco stood next to the newly constructed trebuchet that overlooked the twisting valley of the Serpent Path. The outer boundary walls had been shored up by great piles of earth, and the morning air was thick with the scent of freshly turned earth. The valley floor was awash with a ribbon of thin mist that was evaporating as fast as the sun rose in its arc across the sky.

Inside the walls the grounds of the Keep vibrated with hammering and clattering as all available members of the Ancestors' Own worked with feverish activity. The Mester had left some interesting instructions, not all of which Pasco completely understood. But of course, the Lady would have her reasons. He eyed the foreboding structure of the trebuchet with some unease, and wondered at the purpose of the runes that had been burned into the beams. The gouge the monstrosity had made out of the side of the mountain slope was impressive, he thought, eyeing the cliff face opposite, that was now missing a sizeable chunk. Of course airships did not stay still.

He shrugged mentally and turned his attention back to the work at hand. While they worked, Locryn and Jory were filling Delen in on the scene she had missed while she had been asleep.

"And then he called her what?" Delen's eyes were wide, and she lost her grip on the rock she was carrying. She retrieved it and dumped it on the netting with a curse. "And they blew out the wall of the mess? Really? Which one of them was it?"

"I've never seen anything like it," said Locryn with a scowl. He looked equal parts angry and impressed, and was using the physical exercise to take the edge off his agitation. Pasco had never seen anyone pile stones with such passionate intensity. "Jory, how did you know that he was a Revenant anyway?"

"There's a picture of him in the text book," said Jory. "He's on the first page. The fact that the Mester wasn't able to kill him the first time-"

"You mean the textbook the Mester wrote?" said Delen. "Ancestors above, I can't believe I missed it all." The light in her eyes dimmed a little. "And Candle just went with him?"

"She knew him," said Locryn, smashing a large stone into the ground. "That much was obvious."

"The Mester will have to deal with them," said Jory, wiping one grimy hand across his face, and pausing to catch his breath. His voice was not entirely steady. "We can't have a fully fledged Revenant running around, and since Candle has thrown her lot in with him...she'll have to share the same fate."

"I don't think I could shoot Candle," said Delen. "If I saw her."

"She will become a killer, if she isn't one already. And not just any killer but a dangerous one. With her demon whispering in one ear and the Revenant in the other, there's no knowing what evil she is learning. She could have stayed here, safe with us. She's made her choice." He squeezed Delen's shoulder and turned away.

Pasco kept his thoughts to himself, working with slow, efficient movements. None of them where happy. The proclamation had been sent out the previous evening - anyone encountering Candle was to shoot on sight. The Revenant they were to leave alone, merely getting word back to the Mester. The Lady had come dangerously close to losing control in the fight with the Revenant, Pasco knew. It had pushed her to the limit of her control but not a single step further. Pasco was almost as curious as Delen as to the details of their shared history, but it seemed that the Revenant had fought the Mester before.

"Perhaps the Kenning is right," Delen was saying, looking up at the glamoured tower behind them. "Perhaps we should evacuate."

"No!" signed Pasco. He loved his Havian brothers and sisters, but sometimes their lack of aggression and common sense vexed him sorely. Thank the Ancestors they had the Lady to tell them what to do. "If we do not make our stand at Gwavas then where? If the barbarians defeat us here there is nothing to stop their march into the interior - the passes are undefended."

"You're right," said Jory. He was looking older than Pasco had seen him look for many a year, his brow furrowed and his eyes cloudy with sadness. In fact, he looked as weary as when he had first joined the Own, and had felt the burden of his crimes with crushing guilt. Pasco drew in a deep breath of rich mountain air. They were all on edge, and losing Candle had been the last straw.

He knew, for all the Mester's planning and preparation that it would be difficult to match the Lochlanach's weapons for sheer brutality and firepower. The Ancestors' Own had ingenuity and preparation on their side. They had magic on their side and the Ancestors' protection. However the Lochlanach had advanced weapons that no one really understood, except perhaps the Mester. At least they no longer had a Teurek shaman, he thought with some satisfaction, as he turned to survey the work of the day. It remained to be seen which side would prevail. There had never been a fair test, and he had a feeling that one was close at hand. However, if the Lochlanach were expecting to destroy Gwavas with the same ease they had destroyed Hanternos and Sterlester they would be in for a surprise.

A runner came to a breathless stop in front of them.

"The Mester has called a meeting," she said. "Training Hall C, fifteen minutes."

Pasco nodded at her, and they stowed their tools, making their way up to the Keep. The notice had gone out to everyone, and the place was crowded with men and women all moving in the same direction. Pasco's team joined the throng and waited patiently to find a spot in the large hall, which was filling up rapidly.

"Keep me a spot," Pasco signed to his teammates. "I'll be right back."

He slipped off to one side and then ducked down the corridor in the hope of finding the Mester alone for a few minutes. He made a beeline for her office and met her coming the other way down the stone corridor. He almost lost his nerve at the lack of emotion in her stare as she regarded him, but of course, she was still recovering from her fight with the Revenant. Truly, it could not have come at a worst time.

"I'm sorry, Lady," he said, without preamble. "I truly am, but I have to ask - is there nothing that can be done? For the child, Candle."

"It is regrettable," said the Mester. "But-"

"I know it can be done," Pasco persisted. "Because you stand here before me, your mind whole and sound. Is there no way-"

The Mester looked left and right, to make sure they were alone and then spoke to him in the language of their shared youth. The Teurek tongue sounded harsh and guttural in that place and Pasco shuddered, ashamed that he was asking so much of her.

"Pasco, my old friend, my path is not open to everyone. You know this."

"But-"

"I am not trying to be difficult. I have done things and seen things that no human should endure. A clean death is the best I can offer Candle, and I am glad to offer it to her. It is so much better than the alternative."

"But surely-"

"Pasco," the Mester stood up, and put her hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes. "My Ancestor's protect me. And every day they must fight to protect my sanity."

"And why do Candle's not protect her?"

"Maybe they are trying."

"And why do yours succeed where hers do not?"

The Mester paused, her eyes boring into him.

"Not everyone's Ancestors are created equal," she said, at last. "But Pasco, there is no time for this conversation. Please do not make the mistake of thinking that I do not care. Forget Candle for the moment and focus on the present. We are at the precipice, old friend - you must know this?"

Pasco nodded tersely, and let the matter drop. The Mester walked down the corridor and Pasco followed a few respectful steps behind her. The training hall was now full to bursting with chattering members of the Own. There was an instant hush as the Lady walked in, all eyes focused on her as she strode to the centre of the room, and stood on a chair so that she could be seen by all. Pasco drifted in behind her joined his teammates at the side of the room, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall, watching the Mester expectantly.

She cleared her throat.

"Early this morning, the Watchers at the Ironside Redoubt above the Serpentine Path brought down a small barbarian airship." There was a cheer, but the Mester's face remained sober. Pasco and Jory exchanged glances, the implication immediately clear to them. "While this was indeed a victory for us," the Mester continued, "some of the barbarians escaped into the fell. I have just received word from the Watchers at the Sentinel and Black Star that a sizeable force is marching across the isthmus, with Gwavas in their sights. There are at least five airships with them."

The silence that greeted this pronouncement was now tense and the Mester drew in breath to speak to the uneasy crowd.

"Sons and daughters," she said, her voice throbbing with emotion. She cleared her throat and began again, her voice ringing out across the hall. "Sons and daughters of the Reach! This is grave news indeed, but not wholly unexpected. We have long prepared for this moment and now the moment of truth is upon us!" She turned her head, meeting the eyes of the men and women in her immediate line of sight. "The debt you owe is about to be called in. Too long have we set ourselves apart from the wider world, isolated by space and time. We have grown complacent, too comfortable in our beautiful land, too idle in our homes, too enamoured of our arts. And our people have paid the price - our towns lie in ruins and our families slaughtered and scattered to the winds!"

The Mester's voice caught as her gaze swept over them. "But not all have perished in the flames of conquest. Our enemies underestimate us, they think our backs are broken. But hear me now, and hear me clearly! It is the barbarians who will dash themselves upon the stone walls of our resolve. It is the barbarians who will shatter their bones on our courage, and it is the barbarians who will splinter before us like unyielding glass. They think the war is over, that they will march to an easy victory but this is not so. For while our rage has been sluggish to wake, once roused the spirits of war cannot be denied. We do not fight because we hate these empty men, these monsters filled with hate and violence - we fight because we love what they seek to destroy. We are the protectors, we are the guardians, we are the light in the dark, the stone circle in the gloaming. Shields will be broken, blood will be spilled and our hearts will be tested! Men and women of the Reaches - do not fear death. Tonight, dear friends, we shall make our Ancestors proud, even as we march into their embrace! We are the rock that holds back the tide. We are the thin line that stands between life and devastation. We are the Ancestors' Own."

Her eyes sparkled with moisture as she regarded the men and women before her.

"I am proud of you all," she said quietly. "Proud to serve with you and proud to fight alongside you. Now go - make your final preparations and make your peace with the living. The barbarians will be here by Night Fall."