The Forest of Peldain

He too wore an Arelian kilt, though of strips of stiffened reed paper dyed in a rainbow of colors, and in addition a tunic of light green flax. The king permitted him to carry weapons, and he bore a sword, carrying it in the Arelian fashion, hilt downward, the blade slung up and passing under the left arm to jut up behind the shoulder, held in its scabbard by a clasp. Clicking open this clasp, he drew the sword. “Take back those words.”

“Indeed I will not,” growled Korbar. His own blade whistled free and he waited for Octrago’s attack.

It came almost immediately. Korbar was carried back by the first rush and almost stumbled. Octrago’s sword edge nicked his forearm and spattered drops of blood. He quickly recovered, and for a short while the two blades flashed blindingly in a brilliant display. It was clear that Octrago, though fighting in a style different from that taught in Arelia, was Korbar’s equal.

King Krassos and Lord Vorduthe watched fascinated at first, but then the king became alarmed at the thought of losing either man. He shouted with displeasure and leaped down from the dais where he had been seated.

“Enough! Put up your swords, I say!”

The clash and sparkle ceased. Octrago’s sword slithered up its sheath and the clasp clicked as he turned to bow to the king. Sullenly, Korbar did the same.

“I have heard tales spun as convincingly in the market place, sire,” he grumbled. “I repeat, he is a storyteller, a tool of insurrectionists who wish to draw our forces away from the Hundred Islands!”

“If you are right, you will have a chance for revenge,” Krassos promised him. “I am tired of you both: leave me. Not, you, Vorduthe. I would speak with you.”

After Octrago and Korbar had departed in different directions, Krassos beckoned Lord Vorduthe close. “So what is your opinion?”

“For one who is supposed to come from a land without war, he is handy with a sword,” Vorduthe said doubtfully.

“He was not trained in Arelia, I’ll warrant.”

“Unless he is a master of subterfuge,” Vorduthe admitted. “Still, I think there is some merit in what Korbar says. There is unrest across the water. There may be a need to forestall rebellion shortly. I do not think it safe to split up our forces at present.”

“Ah, that is why I cannot come with you,” Krassos said sadly. “I must remain here to deal with what may arise. I will tell you of my decision. I believe this man Octrago tells the truth. He has described this land whence he comes, its geography, people and customs. Its beasts, and the predacious trees of the forest. Did he invent all this? I do not think so.”

“It is odd that of fifty who set out, only their leader survived,” Vorduthe remarked.

“Hm. Well, it is the leader who is strongest. And doubtless his followers were prepared to sacrifice themselves for their rightful king. You had better learn to get along with Octrago, Vorduthe, for you and he are to be comrades-in-arms. My mind is made up. I wish you to organize an expedition as quickly as possible. Octrago will brief you. Together, devise means of getting our forces through the forest. When you have sketched out a plan, come and talk to me about it.”

“You know, sire,” Vorduthe said in a low voice, “that I have reasons for not wanting to be away on a long campaign.”

“Yes, I know, Vorduthe,” Krassos said with a hint of compassion, “but you are the man to lead this expedition. I want no other. Besides, your absence may not necessarily be a long one. Once Peldain is conquered I will appoint a garrison commander, and you can return home to your wife.”

“Thank you, sire.”

“Then I expect to see you in a day or two.”

Vorduthe bowed to King Krassos as the monarch turned casually away, flipping his cloak of woven purple grass over his shoulder, and sauntering through an arched exit from the audience room.

The king’s palace was a graceful structure of gleaming white limestone, decorated with large, brightly colored clam-squirt shells, and with thin sheets of a smooth iridescent material resembling mother-of-pearl, a costly material taken from the internal lining of trench-mouths, sluggish beasts inhabiting the shallows surrounding the Hundred Islands. On leaving, Lord Vorduthe first made his way along the docks of Arcaiss, where ships were forever arriving and departing, so that the dazzling blue ocean looked like a board game on which rested slowly moving pieces in carved and painted wood. Despite the exhilarating sea breeze, the warmth and freshness of the day, and the stirring noise and color of the wharves, he knew he was greeting the prospect of adventure in a strange land with the wrong feelings. In his heart, he agreed with Mendayo Korbar.