Mountain caprinae are shore footed, strong and of a sufficient size to carry a grown man. Omid is in charge of leading the magnificently horned beast that Jainus has been strapped to, blindfolded and facing back wards for extra disorientation. This she uses to her advantage creating an orchestra of rhythmic hypnotics from the clang of the stock bells, jingling harness, clop of hoof on stone and the subtle creak of leather under trousered cheek. Jainus’ senses are saturated with capra and the lullaby cradle of his bleating mount. They follow a herder’s track up out of the city traversing the ridge carved by the same seismic thrust as Tantalus. Known as the Wall of Alcyone or the Dragon’s Back, the ridge draws a line between the arboreal destruction that has turned most of Arboria into a desert dust bowl and the still verdant foot hills that nestle beneath the snow capped, black basalt mountains. As they pass through the Wall, before descending into the forested foot hills, there is a clear view extending to the black plateau that rises up out of the forest. A defining statement marking the end of Arboria and the beginning of the Whitelands of the far North. The fort of Brackholm, carved into the black basalt cliffs of the plateau, sits in the shadow of the towering peaks of Sterope and Merope, the twin sisters dressed in their permanent white cloaks. The assini entourage should arrive at Cas’s camp with in the hour and from there the ambush site is but half a league. For Omid it is a rare opportunity that she has been offered, doubt did not make a flutter in her mind. The sixteen cycles of her life have been marred by fear and the necessary suppression of her inherent gifts, after all it was these abilities that had made her and her brother orphans. Since then Arash has kept her safe and taught her how to mask her skill. To be able now, to use them to fight the very system that has crushed her people is more than she could have dreamed for. As if it was not enough of an enticement to rescue her Queen she would also meet one of her childhood heroes. Arash and Omid thrived upon the tales of the Great Hounds and their deeds of selfless gallantry as defenders of the Seven Sisters, holders of the Sacred Path and Keepers of the Gate. She holds her lullaby cradle with her mind as steadily as if it held a real baby, not a single whimper is heard from Jainus for the entire trek. Rahim and Jahan keep a watchful eye upon Omid as they descend the precipitous track down the slope of the ridge into the forest that clings to its sides, but she is as sure footed as a caprinae. All five men keep silent in voice and mind, least they should disturb the soporified snake, letting themselves meld with the forest that looms around them. A jay screeches territorially at them from his invisible perch in the upper canopy, fluttering from tree to tree admonishing them along their path until it passes out of his boundary. There is a stillness under the arboreal roof, free from the buffeting winds of the higher slopes. A stillness filled with a myriad sounds of the busy ness of life beneath the canopy; scurryings, scamperings, slitherings and slidings, cheepings, chirpings, creakings and crackings, crunchings, munchings, drippings and droppings, squeakings, squackings, growlings and howlings. A soft “Whooo-hoo-hoo” brings the party to a stand still. Paiman casts his eyes up searching the branches above and around him for the owner of the call. He lets his gaze soften as he feels for the messenger with his mind, slowly a pair eyes set within large grey feathered discs appear from the gnarly bark of an elderly oak. As his eyes adjust to their found purchase, the obviously large body of a great grey owl can be seen as clear as day sitting upon the branch in front of them just above head hight. “Whoo-hoo-hooo” he’d been waiting for them. Paiman and the owl stare into each others eyes for a moment before he hisses and growls and then flies off into the dark of the forest, trailing a soft “Whoo-hoo-hoo” behind him. Paiman briefly breaks their silence before returning to it.
‘We are close. Be vigilant.’
As the sun climbs higher, warming the cold night air, she draws the moisture from the ground and green with her. Wisps of delicate mist swirl like smoke around their lower legs as the company enter the camp. The night sentinels invisibly watchful of the perimeter have already alerted the camp of their impending guests. The kitchen fire is in full flame, smoke and steam join the mist in conjuring an eerie setting that muffles the senses. All is still, all is silent. If it wasn’t for the tingling hairs on the backs of their necks from the gaze of absent eyes, they could be fooled into thinking that the camp had been abandoned. A soft “Whoo-hoo-hoo” announces Cas’s appearance as he steps out of the tent nearest to the fire carrying a steaming pot of arabica, who’s delicious aroma piggy backs a wisp of mist to wrap itself around their legs and waft up into their nostrils. Seeing a dreamweaver leading blindfolded cargo, Cas swallows the greeting he was about to utter and turns to Paiman with a stygian gaze.
‘We carry the snake’s forked tongue, my Lord, but he only speaks with one. Omid has him well guarded, ‘though we leave nothing to chance. He carries a message for you from the Oak, he insists that he hand this to you himself.’
Relaxing his gaze but not his guard, Cas tilts his head back and releases a series of hoots, towits and whoo-hoos. A melee of fluttering rustles respond from the overhead branches surrounding the arrival party and four sentinels drop down out of the trees. Camouflaged from head to foot, no identifying features have been left uncovered.
‘Let me bid you welcome.’ Cas strides over to the Jainus laden caprinae, lifts the blindfold from the snake’s head and wafts the pot of steaming arabica under his nose. ‘My name is Cas, can you be tempted with a fresh arabica? I believe you have something for me.’
A sentinel has already released Jainus’ tethers and is now holding out an intricately enamelled bowl into which Cas pours the thick black arabica. With his other hand proferred ready to receive the Oak’s note, Cas holds Jainus transfixed with his gaze. Before he is even aware of his actions Jainus has removed the letter from his pocket and placed it into Cas’s waiting palm.
‘Thank you.’
Cas releases him, turns and strides back into his tent with out waiting for further words. A singular flash of his eyes and a gestured inflection of his head commands the entourage to follow him. Slightly disorientated by his backwards riding, Jainus dutifully follows Omid, still somewhat dazed and confused from his interaction with Cas or was there something in that arabica? As the last one bends to enter the tent two grey owls, that had been sitting unseen in the branches above, fly down transmogrifying to take up sentry.
‘Let me bid you ALL welcome and share with you Brian’s message, before we discuss our final strategies and move out. Time is tight so please listen carefully and leave any questions until all has been explained…..Thank you. Brian’s message should clarify much……
“As the Deer flies to the Forest
the Snake will writhe in his pit.
This Barley King is sent to you,
As the Oak must gather his Might.
In the Hornbeam you will find Shelter
to protect the Doe in her Flight.”
Ashima takes her Falcons to the forest for flight exercise twice every moon. She will be in the forest late morning for this purpose. This morning is perfect as we have heavy fog that will linger until noon. My sentinals and I will take up ambush in the trees. You Paiman will bring in the others on horse back at my command. Lord Jainus you will mark Benham and Arash, you will recognise them from the Palace d’ Belari, they will cover you and ensure your ruse is not discovered. Once we have the Queen, Carpinus has made arrangements for us to holdfast at Brackenholm. Are we all clear?’
As affirmations mumble loudly all around him, Jainus’ mind is still filled with the scent of caprinae, strong steaming arabica and the hypnotic, clip clop, squeak and jingle of his bumpy ride.
*
The mist hanging in the air gifts the Brackholm woods a mystical quality as the early morning sun draws the moisture up with it into the sky. The bridles jingle with the chomping of the horses on their bits, whilst leather creaks to the rhythm of their prancing gait, all held in the hanging silence, increasing the surreality of the atmosphere. Two Falcons perch upon Ashima, one on her right shoulder the other in her left hand, this one she offers up to Gwern by extending her arm out to his shoulder as they ride side by side. With a whistled word from her Queen the falcon hops off of her hand to take her post on Gwern’s right shoulder.
‘Her name is Shahin, she likes you I think.’
Ashima smiles deeply at Gwern.
‘She does as her Queen requests I think.’
Gwern turns his head to engage fully with Shahin and offers her a kiss. The bird bows in acknowledgement of his respect.
‘And who is her fine partner?’
‘Oh they are not mates. They are brother and sister. He is Shahnaz.’
‘You have every right to be proud, he is magnificent indeed. Are they Falconarai?’
‘Why Lord Carpinus do you try to trick me? The Falconarai are banned, none are left living.’
‘Yes, yes of course, I meant no disrespect. I forget my place.’
‘Your place Sir? It is I who am beholden to you, are you not Her Lordship’s Emissary.’
‘Yes that I am. It is strange being back in my native land after so many cycles. Past and present are playing catch with my senses. First in one hand and then the other.’
‘It will come to settle soon I’m sure.’
Without waiting for his response, Ashima lets her steed have his head. His gathered gait opens out into a loose and free gallop, Ashima raises her arms out to her sides as if they were her wings and Shahnaz takes flight, quickly rising out of sight above the swelling fog. All three imprisoned beings enjoying this momentary freedom, all three bound as one, muscle, sinew, feather and heart. Gwern’s mare throws her head up fighting the bit with impatience, desperate to join the chase. Gwern gentles her kindly through her pommel, whilst whispering promises to ease her desire.
‘Soon lady, soon. We just need to hold back a little while. Then your head will be yours with no more need to fight. Patience sister, patience.’
He turns to Shahin with a question in his eyes. She takes off from his shoulder to answer his query and flies up to the clearer sky. They do not have to wait long for the answer he is expecting. Taking his hand from her pommel and lightly twisting it into her mane, he releases his restricting grip upon her reins. Parisa needs no other signal, raising up on her haunches she lungs into an impassioned gallop. Gwern lefts himself into a half stance seat to give her total freedom of movement, keeping his balance and connection through the soft grip on her neck through her mane. He calls a fake alarm to the company’s guard that he can no longer see, trusting in Benham and Arash to make good the ruse. Shouts of confusion and raised alert, clashes of metal on metal and three ringing shots fade rapidly into the background as Parisa charges on in search of Sanaz and her beloved Ashima.
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