4

The King in the Pines

“Our heroes rested for a moment,” Shayar told, “on the edge of a great clearing. There they saw a pack of blackmaws – fierce creatures, big, and murderous indeed.”

Shayar studied some of the faces in the crowd. This story, though the heroes were not always Tauth and Serafina in its many tellings, was a popular one. Therefore, many faces – particularly the adults and the older children – were brimming with excitement. They knew what lay ahead, what Tauth and Serafina would vanquish!

“It’s the King in the Pines!” a young man, what others might call a lad, whispered to his friend. His friend giggled in childish excitement.

“Yes, I can’t wait!” she whispered back.

Shayar spotted that the two had grabbed each other’s hands. He’d spotted them earlier, too, for they couldn’t stop stealing glances at each other. The innocence of it made him smile, even though he had much to smile for on that day. He said a prayer for young love, quietly and under his breath, and continued his story.

ⱡ

The afternoon was hot and sticky, and sweat had begun to tickle Serafina’s brow as they dismounted their horses. Up ahead, a considerable distance away, the thick forest fell away suddenly and the light, which shone unabated, revealed a clearing larger than the square around the Old Ash.

“They will know we are here,” Tauth was making no attempt at being silent; his armour clinked and clanked, and his footsteps were heavy. “They can hear us, they can see us, but above all – they will have smelt our coming.”

“Then why have they not pounced? I know enough of wolves, blackmaws or otherwise, to know that they prefer ambushes,” Serafina stride beside Tauth was as brazen as the knight’s. “And these blackmaws are intelligent, as you say. So, why not attack us now?”

“They must have a reason,” Tauth spoke as if he were guessing. “Truth be told, I had expected them to have leapt at us a mile back.”

Serafina spoke now with feigned confidence. “And what does that mean?” She was uncertain of what to feel, but she felt that fear was a useless thing to give in to. In a pouch around her belt, a pouch which was always within her arm’s reach, there was a flint and some dry twigs. In a satchel she’d slung, she carried four flasks of water – one of which she now retrieved and carried in her left hand.

“If I were a betting man, and I am not, I would bet that the King in the Pines wants a parlay,” Tauth seemed more certain.

They were closer to the edge of the clearing now, and at its centre, at the base of a tall and lonely pine tree, was a collection of black masses. The entire pack, numbering at least twenty, was gathered there. The pine tree, though, caught her attention most immediately. There were no pine trees in the old forest, and very few outside the Greycaps or Morburgs. Rarely, they grew at the tops of the tallest hills of Berchsire but that was far, far to the west.

Then, there came a howl – high and blood-curdling.

This snapped Serafina out of her daydreaming.

“We can’t kill them all,” she whispered to Tauth. All twenty of the blackmaws, which, in the light, were more fearsome than she’d noticed in the shimmering dawn, were now on their feet. They were all snarling, too – so much so that it sounded as though she was fast approaching the foot of a waterfall.

“Trust me,” Tauth’s voice was hard. He kept his sword at the ready as they approached.

They stopped now, on the southern side of the stream which ran through the centre of the clearing. On the other side, in various poses and stances of canine readiness, was the pack. Behind the pack, atop a large boulder, there was the blackmaw that Serafina guessed was the King in the Pines.

He was larger than the other wolves, but he was older too. The tips of his fur had begun to grey, and his snout was the colour of ash. His eyes, though, were a dark golden and they were large – each eye seemed to be the size of Serafina’s palm. Aside from that, and his size, he was no different to the other blackmaws.

Without fully understanding why, Serafina took a step forward. The nearest blackmaw to her, with blue and red eyes, snapped and barked so loudly and suddenly that she nearly stumbled back. She did not, however, retreat. The blackmaw opposite her, which in her own head she named Glass-eye, snarled at her with venom in his eyes. He was but a few feet from her, and she knew that all he needed was a word from his King. She closed her eyes, then, and focused. In her mind’s eye could see in hazy light, rendered in greys and whites and blacks, the water in the stream that separated them, tracing its way through the clearing. On her hip, she could feel the flint and twigs. She willed the flint to spark an ember and one of the twigs caught. For now, and until she willed it otherwise, the twig would not catch beyond the ember.

“Oh, Great King in the Pines,” Tauth began in a booming voice, snapping Serafina back to reality yet again. “We seek only safe passage to the tower of the wizard! We mean you no harm, O Pine King!”.

“You…” Serafina’s hair stood on end. It spoke? It could speak Dunwennish? Its voice was… scratchy. That was the best way to describe it – it sounded like someone dragging a sharp knife across an anvil until the knife went blunt.

“You…” it continued, moving its maw with great effort, “killed… my… boys.”

“We hadn’t a choice, your Highness!” It was amazing, Serafina thought – Tauth regarded this canine with more respect than he had her father! “They pounced on us while we slept. We had no cause to bother them, then – as we have no cause to bother you now!”

“There… must… be… blood,” the King in the Pine rasped. “Not… Yours. Prey… that fights… back… deserves… to live.”

“Then whose, O Pine King?”

“A man… your kind… evil… hunts and traps… us. Before you… I lost many… sons and daughters… to him.” The King now gave a low howl, and the pack’s hostility melted away as they sat down or began to pace and sniff the ground harmlessly. “He wears… armour. Swears… no… loyalty to any… King.”

Serafina saw Tauth’s face, which had loosened as the pack dropped its hostility, harden again. “Tell me where, O Pine King.”

“Patience… first… you must know.”

“Know what?”

The Pine King leapt off the boulder and walked toward them, slowly but each step was heavy and purposeful. The grass around him seemed to make way, bend out of his path, as he approached.

“He seeks to… turn my… people… into… slaves. Like lesser… beings. Like… horses or… common… dogs.”

“Does he train them, your Highness?”

“Breaks… them, yes. Makes them… obey. He carries… a ring. Golden. The ring… bears us ill-will.”

“How can a ring bear you ill-will?” Tauth asked, and Serafina would have sworn she saw the King roll his eyes.

“My father made that ring,” Serafina interjected. “At least, he made it magical. Some years ago, an augur visited our castle. He said he was a traveller and he asked for a place to rest for the night, and to eat. He would pay us with his augury, he said.”

“Yes… The Heartless Man was… here… with… he who… breaks my people,” the King spoke.

“Is that his name, your Highness? The Heartless Man?” Tauth looked at the King and then Serafina, who just shrugged. It was the first she’d heard this name.

“He did not tell us his name, only that he was an augur from the Ark-Aliha.”

“I have heard tell of this place,” Tauth nodded his head as if pondering. “The great canyon mazes of the Uttar Raegis, yes, I know of them.”

“Kill… that… man. And… our… debt… is settled,” the King turned their attention back to the matter at hand.

Tauth smiled a dark smile at the wolf-King. “Certainly, O Great King in the Pine. I shall hunt him with great pleasure!”

“That is… good… to… hear. You are… eager…”

“Tell me, O King, where shall I find this man and his camp?” Tauth disregarded the comment and his tone was heavy.

“Follow… the stream… north. Deeper. He hunts there… in the… place where… they cut stone. Kill. Him.”

Tauth nodded curtly and the King’s old eyes flashed in response. The old wolf turned to leave as did Tauth, their message for each other conveyed without words.

*

“The King was right,” Serafina spoke up after they’d been following the stream for an hour. Tauth didn’t want to answer the questions he knew were coming. “Why are you so eager?” She was sat atop her horse and Tauth was on foot, checking the tracks along the stream.

“When the King in the Pine first mentioned the man without a lord, I had an inkling that he might belong to the company that attacked me and my men,” Tauth turned around and looked up at the great lady. She was still in her white riding dress and her blonde hair glowed like a lazy flame in the afternoon light, and she looked at him with an expression that was a mix of curiosity and concern. “Then,” Tauth continued, “your story about the ring and the augur confirmed it for me. Perhaps he is their captain, their sergeant, whatever. My men… they were good men. Beyond that, our squires… they were good lads,” he fought hard to not let his voice crack as he spoke.

He turned back to the stream.

“Revenge is the fool’s errand. I know it,” he saw nothing new on the bank and turned to mount his horse – his back to Serafina the entire time. “But I have little else left in me. I come with you now… so that I may pay back Kademos in kind for what he did to me and my men.”

“Well,” Serafina sounded softer than usual, causing Tauth to shift uncomfortably in the saddle. He hadn’t been as successful at containing the sorrow as he’d hoped. “At least revenge is a better motive than ambition or greed.” Tauth couldn’t help but smile, and finally he turned to look at Serafina as they rode.

“True,” he nodded. “But what an odd thing to say!”

“I could think of nothing else appropriate,” she grinned and Tauth laughed. “Come to think of it,” she laughed a little, “it wasn’t entirely appropriate either!"

They rode in silence for a bit, and Tauth dismounted every once in a while to check the tracks. They stopped for the night only after the sun disappeared behind the canopy, and the fading slivers of yellow light streaked through the gaps in it. The spot they picked was beside the stream, though not quite on it, in at the foot of an old and grey willow. It was while setting up camp that next they spoke of something other than the forest and their quarry.

“Well, Serafina,” Tauth spoke as he erected his tent, “you now know why I am here. Why are you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she looked at him with an eyebrow raised, and her mouth screwed. “I am here to do the right thing – my father must be stopped!”

“Yes, I know that. But why? Why you?”

“It was something Havenock taught me – for though he is mad, he is equally wise,” she said after a moment’s thought. “Those with the power to act have the responsibility to do so. I am simply… doing what I must do.”

“Very noble of you,” Tauth noted as they now sat around the fire. He pulled out his rations and began to cook – this time, it was veal steak. “Nobler certainly,” he spoke as he cooked, “than my motives.”

“If it helps,” Serafina spoke between mouthfuls of honey and oat, “I do not believe your motivations are solely personal.”

“Why? Certainly, I have given you no cause but to believe that!”

“Call it intuition, Tauth,” she shrugged. “But you are, I believe, a better man than you might give yourself credit for.”

Tauth chuckled, but he did not speak for if he spoke then he would have disagreed. He had spent long years in service of a cruel lord. Tauth felt, therefore, that was no better than his master. He tried to do his duties kindly, as did all his company, but their service betrayed the oaths they’d made to their Lord God; Banc.

“Certainly,” Serafina continued, “you are a better man by far and away than my father.”

He chuckled again, and cooked, and let the matter rest.

When he retired to his tent, for Serafina had volunteered to take the first watch, he resolved to be the man that Serafina thought him to be, and pushed aside the memories of his dead brothers-in-arms as he turned onto his side and tried to sleep.

ⱡ

“Oh, the Knight wants revenge!” someone in the crowd said, with mock excitement. “How interesting and original!” he laughed.

“Well, I would want revenge, wouldn’t you?” someone nearer Shayar grumbled.

“What of that augur, eh?” the man who spoke was the same man who, earlier, had cast aspersions on the westmen for being highminded and cruel to a one. “Them northfolk, I tell you,” he was clearly oblivious to the fact that Shayar was one the northfolk, “they’re proper queer! Augury and what-not…” he tutted. “The only magic is in stories and in food, I tell you!”

Shayar chuckled, endeared by this prejudiced man who seemed to want to tell people things. “I ask you, oh he-who-tells,” Shayar called on him, “what say you of those Medeans and their drinking of sweet wine?”. Shayar’s own view of Medea, a land of white mountains, limestone cliffs, ancient cities, sweet wine, and warm weather was tainted by his many happy memories there.

“Oh!” He-Who-Tells was fired up now, “the sweet-wine is a stain on this land, I tell you. By Banc, it’s awful! Why sweet? Why wine? Why can those stupid people not enjoy a beer! Them’s got no soul, I think. No one with a soul can drink that piss!”

The crowd roared with laughter.

“I thought they kill the King in the Pine…” the young man whispered to his friend, and she looked at Shayar puzzled. “Maybe the one we were told as kids was wrong?” he offered explanation.

“But it’s kinder, isn’t it?” she turned to her man. “Better, I think.”

Her man smiled at her, as she looked up at the clouds with a pensive face. Shayar could hardly look away, so drawn was he by their smitten-ness. But look away, he did.

“Now, then,” Shayar began to pluck his sitar again, “our heroes find themselves resting and thinking, as they wait for dawn…”

The crowd fell silent.