The Forest of Peldain

The villagers were mingling with the seaborne warriors, who had begun to take liberties with the young women, to the displeasure both of parents and the young men of the village. Vorduthe intervened before there was bloodshed—his men were in no mood to tolerate hostility. Once they were fed, with a generous hospitality he now realized was no more than normal behavior here, he separated them. Not far away was a pleasant pool, fed by a clear stream, which the villagers used for bathing. He ordered the men there, so they could wash away the sweat and grime of their long ordeal.

It was an opportunity every man used with enthusiasm, including himself. After he had enjoyed himself in the water he returned to the bank where he had left his weapons, armor and garments. He found Mistirea standing there, watching him sharply.

“You swim well,” the Peldainian High Priest remarked.

Vorduthe grinned. “Everyone in the Hundred Islands swims well.”

“Of course. Here it is not a necessary attainment… for most. Can you dive?”

“Naturally.”

“How deep? How long can you stay under?”

“Long enough to find pink shells in the coral shallows,” said Vorduthe, still grinning. Mistirea frowned. Shells and coral were foreign words to him.

Suddenly he stripped off the purple cloak he wore, followed by the shift-like robe beneath it. Naked, he stood on the edge of the pool, and Vorduthe could now see more clearly how magnificently muscled he was about the shoulders and torso.

With barely a pause the old man plunged into the water, then swam strongly to the middle of the pool, keeping his distance from others who still disported there. It was evident he was a much-practiced swimmer. He floated for a moment, then flipped himself over and disappeared beneath the surface.

Vorduthe kept his eye on the center of the expanding ripples where he had been. Time passed; the ripples smoothed over. More time passed. He scanned the pool: Mistirea had nowhere reappeared.

Alarmed now, he called to the serpent harriers in the pool, urging them to dive in search of the missing priest. As they were about to obey him Mistirea suddenly surfaced, in the exact spot from which he had vanished. He spent a moment or two filling his lungs. Then still swimming easily with vigorous strokes, he returned to the bank to stand before Vorduthe.

“Can you stay down that long?” he demanded.

“… I am not sure,” Vorduthe confessed.

“You will dive. You will dive deep and long.”

To his vast surprise the dripping High Priest placed both hands on Vorduthe’s shoulders and stared with an almost insane intensity into his eyes.

“You are Peldain’s salvation,” he said in a low, urgent tone. “I and I alone am able to recognize you, and this I know.”

His hands dropped. He stooped to retrieve his garments, then turned and strode away, leaving Vorduthe gazing after him in bemusement.

Chapter Eleven

Several times during the night Vorduthe and Octrago were called on to intervene in disturbances where the serpent harriers, conscious of past and coming dangers, recklessly sought to enjoy themselves with the village’s women. It was a sullen set of local folk who early next morning gave the strangers a filling breakfast of crunchy nut-flavored cobs, quite unlike any fruit they had ever seen, and with relief bade them farewell.

The day proved idyllic. The Hundred Islanders marched leisurely through an enchanted landscape carpeted with the soft mosses and waving grasses of Peldain. There were clear streams, hillocks, villages and hamlets—always set amid groves of the magical trees that gave the country its magical economy.

They met no resistance, and Vorduthe began to wonder if the Peldainians were akin to savages, unable to organize themselves effectively or defend their territory.

“As we shall soon enter Lakeside, our strategy must be decided,” he said to Octrago during the midday halt. “What is your intention?”

“First let me hear your proposals,” Octrago countered.

“Well, do you think it is conceivable that a force like ours could actually take possession of the kingdom? If the center is seized, is all done? And can the center in fact be seized?”

“It is the same here as in the Hundred Islands,” Octrago told him. “Strength is what counts. The difference is that here one needs little strength, since the opposition has little. Very well, then. Come, I will draw a map of Lakeside. We shall infiltrate by night and converge on the king’s palace. There we shall give Kestrew and his band of ruffians their desserts. Tomorrow morning Mistirea will proclaim me king—and you will deal with dissenters, first of all in Lakeside and later throughout the land.”

“This is easier than you made it sound in Arcaiss.”

“There was the forest to deal with,” Octrago said blandly.

Vorduthe became accusing. “So you admit deception.”