Gawain popped the stopper from a water skin and took a long drink before continuing. Even the horses seemed to be listening, and the buzzing of insects, so noticeable earlier in the evening while he was brushing Gwyn, had faded.
“Now, it just so happens that as the Goth-lord approached the Farin Bridge from the west, a young Forester by the name of Gillyan Treen was about to cross the bridge from the east. She was returning from the Downland market to her post in the woodlands of Bernside, on the shores of Lough Rea in the midlands when she saw the Goth-lord’s dark shadow sweeping towards her, and saw and heard the agony of merchants and travellers on that busy road as the swarm overcame them.”
Gawain smiled grimly, remembering the indolent guardsman at Ferdan on his first visit there a year ago…
"You're a Royal Jurian Forester, and never seen an elf?"
"No, I'm a Royal Jurian Forester who's spent the last two years guarding these offices and answering every simpleton's question that comes through that gate. Anything else I can do for you, traveller recently out of Callodon, or may I return to my duty?"
“What happened? What did she do?” Elayeen demanded, though her voice was soft as nightfall.
“Sorry. I was just remembering… You’ve not heard her name before?”
“No.”
“Ah. Well, now you have. Gillyan Treen was a Forester in the service of the King and though she knew it not that summer’s morning, she was to change life in Raheen, forever. It’s important to know that while the woodlands in Raheen were nothing like the great forest of Elvendere, we did have woodlands, and copses, and yes, what we called a forest. And Foresters, too. Quite often the Foresters would train in the lowlands alongside those of Pellarn and Callodon, and… well… one or two might’ve crossed the Eramak for a quiet poke around in the woodlands of Goria now and then, just to keep an eye on things.”
Elayeen smiled in the starlight, and Gawain thought he heard Allazar’s stifled chuckle.
“Anyway,” Gawain smiled too, “It’s also important to know that two years earlier, Gillyan Treen had come face to face with a particularly unfriendly wildcat in the woods and in the ensuing commotion, not only did she receive a nasty mauling but her shortbow cracked when its string was broken and the sudden shock of the bow being released broke it. The wildcat too was injured, by Gillyan’s blade, enough to encourage it to flee.
“As soon as Gillyan had stitched the worst of her wounds and bound up the others she set out to find the wildcat. It was wounded and had been mad enough as it was without pain adding to its misery and so Gillyan sought to end its suffering. In short, she tracked the beast, and when she found it, having no bow, she remembered a trick she had learned from her grandfather as a child, and using her spare bowstring in the manner of a spear-throwing stick, threw an arrow at the wild creature and, with great good fortune, knocked it from its perch in the boughs of a tree and eased its passing with her knife.
“From that point on she practiced the throwing of arrows daily, so that should her bow ever be broken again she would not be defenceless at range. The shortbow was the Raheen weapon of choice back then, much better suited for horsemen than any other.
“And so to the Farin Bridge, two years later. Seeing the swarm approaching and the awful damage it inflicted on horse and rider, Gillyan at once urged her steed into the river. As the Goth-lord swung south, entirely heedless of the Forester, the swarm slowly did likewise, but not before it completely overshadowed the Styris and the bridge. Gillyan tried to pull her steed’s head under the water but even Raheen horses draw the line at trying to breathe submerged, so while Gillyan was safe from the clawflies’ attentions, her poor horse suffered deep and spiteful lacerations on the nose and ears before finally, to protect its eyes, it at last plunged its face deep below the surface.
“When the shadow had passed and both horse and chosen mount could hold their breath no longer, they emerged. Seeing the direction that the swarm and the Goth-lord had taken, Gillyan Treen immediately gave pursuit, but the speed of the Graken and clawflies outstripped horse and rider, though not by much.
“In the Great Hall there was consternation. Messages were arriving of an invasion by a ferocious winged horde led by a flying creature of enormous size, as well as messages of man-eating locusts and garbled news of tiny carnivorous birds wreaking havoc across the western reaches. Edwyn’s advisors, keenly aware of the king’s youth, advised closing the Pass and calling the Thousand to reinforce castletown.
“Others laughed off the reports as some kind of lunacy. Wizards alternately called for fires to be lit, that the smoke might deter any flying creatures from approaching the capitol, and for beasts, cattle and the like, to be slaughtered without the walls so that any voracious invaders might feast upon the carcasses and not upon his royal majesty and his loyal servants, meaning of course the wizards themselves.
“Instead, Edwyn ordered the guard to stand to the walls and instructed the rest of his ‘loyal servants’ to follow him up to the top of the Keep, probably so everyone would see the King in command of whatever might occur, be it bird, beast, locust or lunacy.
“What occurred of course was the Goth-lord, and the swarm. Armun Tal astride his Graken overflew the Keep, while the swarm sent the guardsmen screaming in bloody agony from the walls. Then, while the wounded lay writhing and sobbing and utterly incapable of action, at some unspoken command from the Goth-lord, the swarm settled on the stones of the walls. The walls weren’t high or strong-built, they were more symbolic than functional, a boundary declaring ‘here dwell the Crowns of Raheen’ rather than a real defence. Now they were black and heaving, alive with the Goth-lord’s creatures.
“Armun Tal’s Graken back-winged into the courtyard in front of the Keep itself, and while it was folding its immense wings one of the wizards atop the tower sent down streamers of fire. He might as well have sprinkled the Goth-lord with rose-petals. Armun Tal simply waved the streamers away and a small cloud of clawflies flew up from the wall behind him to swarm upon the offending wizard who ran, screaming in pain and panic, blinded, flailing, only to tumble over the parapet to his doom on the flagstones below.
“Where is the Crown? Armun Tal demanded from the Graken’s back. I am here, Goth! Edwyn replied. It is said the Goth-lord laughed, and when he did, the heaving black walls seemed to ripple and shudder as though the swarm really was a part of him. You will kneel before me, boy-king, Raheen is mine, or my army shall feast upon your people!”
Gawain sighed in the night and shook his head sadly. “I stood so many times atop the Keep, in the very spot Edwyn himself stood nearly four centuries ago. I looked down upon the courtyard as he did that day. Looked at the north walls as he must have done, and tried to imagine them all black and crawling… the walls aren’t there any more…”
Gawain sighed again, pushing away the memories of his devastated homeland.
“But there you are. Look down upon Armun Tal Edwyn did, and royal crown he was, part of a line unbroken since time immemorial, a line which stretches down to me. I shall come down, Goth! Edwyn said, and we shall discuss the matter. Again the Goth-lord laughed. There is nothing to discuss! Come down, boy-worm-king, and give me the crown, or I shall send my horde to fetch it!
“Come down Edwyn did. Down the spiral steps worn smooth from centuries of boots upon them. Down to the Great Hall, and the thrones therein, and the Circle of Justice wherein stood the Sword of Justice. This sword that I carry. The very same longsword with which I have wrought such vengeance upon the Ramoth and Morloch.”