“Where are they now?” he asked her.
“Moving to the north-east. They’re maintaining a close formation, mounting few patrols. I saw many souls gathering to oppose them, but in small groups, none with the strength to halt their advance.”
“Then they will need our aid,” Vaelin said.
“No.” The hooded man was the only one present to be seated, perched close to a campfire that he prodded with a sturdy walking stick.
“You have advice to offer, Master Erlin?” Vaelin asked him.
“Just obvious fact, brother.” Erlin sighed and drew back his hood, offering Dahrena a smile rich in sympathy. “They have more than twice our number, do they not, my lady?”
She shot a guarded look at Vaelin and nodded.
“The tribes would have to unite to have a chance against them,” Erlin said, turning to Vaelin. “And they won’t. I tried to warn the chieftains but they wouldn’t listen, thinking this just another slaving campaign. Every few years the Volarians come, sometimes they can be bought off with ore and captives taken from the other tribes, sometimes they fight them so the young warriors can earn their first scars. It’s been going on for over two hundred years now and is almost ritual. They do not understand what they face. By the time you join battle they’ll be defeated and scattered.”
Erlin turned back to the fire, Vaelin noting the whiteness of his knuckles on his stick as he prodded the embers.
“You are known to the tribes,” he said. “You can guide us to them? Speak for us?”
“They do not speak as one. When the tribes are not fighting each other they fight amongst themselves. By the time we had negotiated with all it will be too late. In any case, they will see you and these people as just more enemies to fight.”
“You expect me to sit here and ignore a slaughter?”
“The Ally’s creature is trying to draw you out, surely you see that. And you did not come here for war, you came for the knowledge you imagine I hold. The key to defeating the Ally.”
Vaelin frowned at the sardonic note in Erlin’s voice, the tone of a man facing an all-too-predictable outcome. “This has happened before?”
“There have been a few over the centuries. Scholars, kings”—he gave Vaelin a brief, regretful grin—“warriors. All facing the unhappy truth of the Ally’s existence, guided to me by ancient lore or gifted power. Though none found me in times quite so troubled as these.”
“The Ally means to make an end. This time it will be different.”
Erlin sighed and got to his feet. “Then I had best show you what I showed them, brother.” He pointed his stick towards the east where the black clouds hung low over the peaks. “Though I doubt these folk will find the climate to their liking.”
• • •
The hills remained stubbornly empty as they marched east, tracking through valleys devoid of life save a few elk that scattered at the first tinge of their scent on the wind. “The mountain folk are miners,” Erlin explained. “Digging copper and tin from the mountains which they trade to the Volarians, despite their perpetual difficulties. There are few seams this far north and any scouts will be preoccupied with this latest incursion.”
“You have lived here a long time?” Vaelin asked.
“Six years this time, though I once lingered for nearly three decades. That was two centuries ago, when the people here were not so fierce.”
“What kept you here?”
“A widow with several children. She had a harsh tongue but a kind heart and didn’t seem to mind if I stayed and played the husband. When she passed the children had grown and the Volarians were mounting their first slaving operations. I thought it best to move on. Though I am always drawn back.”
“By what?”
Erlin’s expression clouded as he paused to regard the fire mountains in the distance, their fiery glow brighter now, and the sky above ever more dark. “In good time, brother.”
In the evening Lorkan, Cara and Marken gathered around Erlin, keen for stories of his travels. Cara’s memory of him was the dimmest of the three but she still recalled his tales from her childhood sojourn to the Fallen City. “Did you return to the Far West?” she asked. “To the temple above the clouds?”
“Indeed I did.” He glanced up at the Sentar who had also gathered round. They seemed to be amongst the few people with whom he had little experience and found their endless hunger for a story a surprising contrast to their fierce reputation. “Though I stayed only one night.”
“Was she there?” Cara pressed. “The Jade Princess?”
“She was, and as lovely as ever. Unmarked by age and still singing her beautiful song. I was glad I made the effort to hear it again, though the journey was harder than before. Even the land of the Merchant Kings is not immune to strife.”
“Jade Princess?” Vaelin asked.
