The Song and the Serpent

As they followed Laxander, Adan saw a small track, like a deer path, winding between the trees, which gradually began to grow closer together. After a short time of walking, the forest around them grew thicker, and the foliage denser, so that they could only see a few paces away from the path.

The earthy smell of damp moss and old leaves filled Adan’s nostrils, and beams of hot sunlight illuminated swarms of gnats buzzing in warm air. Starlings and cardinals sang in the trees above.

Adan wiped sweat from his brow and took a drink from his water skin, which he had refilled that morning.

“How many villages have made their way to the fortress?” Kian asked Laxander as he followed the younger man.

“I’m not sure,” Laxander answered. “No more than a dozen.”

There was a moment of silence before Kian spoke again. “How many able bodied men do think there are?”

Laxander thought for a moment before answering. “I would say more than a thousand, but I can’t be sure of that either.”

Kian nodded and they continued without a word.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone there from Enys Island, would you?” Adan said at length.

Laxander shook his head without looking back at Adan. “I don’t. I’m sorry. Do you know someone who came from there?”

“Yes. A friend. A young woman named Layla.”

Laxander was silent as he followed the trail left around a large patch of thick rhododendron.

“I don’t think I know anyone by that name,” Laxander eventually replied, “but to my understanding, most of the people from Enys Island came here, so there’s a good chance that she’s here.”

Adan tried not to allow hope to take root in his mind. Everything had gone so wrong so many times in the last week that he couldn’t allow himself to hope that Layla was alive. But he did increase his pace from the rear, pushing Kian and Laxander forward, despite the afternoon heat.

“Did I hear Samo call the fortress ‘New Esta’?” Kian asked many footsteps later.

Adan could see the bard’s head bob as he nodded.

“Yes, I don’t know who first said the name, but it has stuck since everyone first heard it.”

“I’m not calling it that,” Kian said.

Laxander turned and glanced back at Kian with a puzzled look. “I don’t suppose you have to. But why not?”

“Because Esta hasn’t fallen yet.”

Laxander was silent for ten footsteps before asking, “Would you rather we called it ‘New Farel’, then?”

“No!”

The vehemence in Kian’s voice made Adan stop in his tracks.

Laxander stopped as well, and turned to face Kian, concern on his face. “I meant no offense, milord.”

Kian looked at the ground. “No offense taken, but Farel is gone. There is no more Farel. So don’t call me ‘milord’ either.”

Laxander looked at Kian for a moment before nodding and turning around.

They remained silent for the rest of the journey.

The path seemed to go on forever westward through the dense underbrush, with no discernible change in the foliage or the topography. The afternoon seemed to crawl by as Adan grew hotter and tireder, but he refused to change his pace and slow down. The heavy thud of the horses hooves blended with the sounds of the forest around them.

When the sun had finally fallen closer to the horizon, and the rays of bright sunlight had faded into an orange light above the trees, the path began to slope upward. They followed the path up a gradual slope that rose slowly above the flat forest behind them.

“We’re almost there,” Laxander said through tired breaths. “The fortress is just beyond this slope.”

With their last reserves of strength and determination, they climbed the steady rise until they finally reached the top.

The trees ended at the apex of the slope, and they found themselves on the edge of the forest looking down into an open, circular valley, shaped like a giant bowl. The treeline continued around the valley’s edge, tracing the ridgeline and surrounding the crater in an ocean of green. Adan guessed that from his side of the valley to the opposite ridge was about a mile across.

The three travelers stopped as they looked down into the wide open space.

Further down the slope, a circular fortress lay in the center of the valley. Three hundred paces from where they stood, a crumbling stone wall ringed the crater, and in the center of the ring stood an ancient citadel.

Adan could see the gatehouse, a large rectangular structure facing them on the west side of the wall. The gatehouse was crowned with parapets and battlements that look as dilapidated as the walls, but the wooden gate that hung in the entrance was new, recently made from solid planks of hardwood.

Between the wall and the citadel, Adan could see large stretches of farmland bordered by huts and roads. A stream ran through the city as well. An archway in the base of the wall allowed the small river to flow into the city on the northern side and a similar archway on the south western side allowed the water to flow out. Adan saw the stubs of what used to be an iron grate that protected these weak places in the walls, now rusted away by decades of abandonment.

A lone hill rose above the wall on the south-eastern side of the fortress as well, covered in green grass that almost reflected the orange sunlight.

But what made Adan sigh with relief were the hundreds of people working out in the fields, walking among the houses, or standing guard on the wall where the stones remained intact.

“Well, there it is,” Laxander said, stepping forward to lead them on.

We made it, Adan thought as they descended the hill.

As they approached the gatehouse, Adan could see small patches of green growing on the clefts in the rocks. Moss, fungi, and other growths gave testament to the age of this stone structure.

“How old is this place?” Adan asked.

“We don’t really know,” Laxander replied. “Like Cellion, this place was abandoned a long time ago, but we think it’s much older than the tower nearby.”

“How much older?”

“Since before the founding of Esta.”

As Adan drew near to the city, he was struck by the similarity the fortress shared with Undelma: A large circular wall in an open valley, a tower-like structure in the center, the pattern of concentric circles moving outward. Could Undelma and this fortress share a common architect?

His thoughts were interrupted when they came within fifty paces of the gate.

“Halt where you stand!” A voice shouted from above. “Explain who you are and your business here.”

Adan looked up to see an older man standing atop the battlements above the gatehouse. He held a spear in one hand and looked down at them with a scowl. Tatters of gray hair and hung down around a wrinkled face with a crooked nose.

Adan and Kian stopped at his address, but Laxander continued to walk forward.

“Calden, you know perfectly well who I am,” the young bard shouted in return. “Now open the gate.”

“And that’s why I wasn’t talking to you, young master,” the watchmen replied. “I’m speaking to the strangers beside you, the ones wearing the garb of our enemies.”

Adan noticed several other warriors standing beside Calden and looking down with interest.

“Thick headed geezer,” Laxander muttered before raising his voice again. “And it hasn’t occurred to you that, since they are accompanied by the Chief Bard’s apprentice, they are in fact on our side?”

“It has occurred to me, but I’m not allowing anyone into this fortress unless I know their business, especially not dressed as they are. And perhaps it hasn’t occurred to the Chief Bard’s apprentice that they have forced you to comply with their wishes and threatened to kill you if you don’t help them get inside the walls.”

Laxander sighed with exasperation. “This is Kian, son of Hathian, Lord of Farel, and his bodyguard Adan. They are seeking refuge here after escaping from Undelma itself.”

There were exclamations of wonder among the faces of the watching men.

Calden’s suspicious face transformed into a look of confusion. “Are you having me on?”

Laxander shook his head and rolled his eyes. “No.”

Calden looked Kian and Adan over and then glanced back at Laxander. ‘You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Laxander almost growled.

Calden stood up straight and cleared his throat. “Unlock the gate!”

Adan heard the unmistakable sound of a beam being removed from behind the gate. Then the door cracked open.

Laxander led the newcomers to the opening and they passed into the dark gatehouse. A dozen men stood just inside the arched opening, watching them as they entered. More than half of them held some kind of weapon, swords, hammers, or axes, while the rest stood empty handed. None of them wore any armor.

Twenty paces away from the main doors, an open archway led into the city beyond. As soon as Laxander, Kian, and Adan had entered, pulling the horses behind them, the doors were hastily shut and the armed men moved to stand in between them and the archway.

As the unarmed men replaced the oak wood beam that held the main gate in place, Adan, Kian, and Laxander stopped in the doorway and stood still, waiting to see what would happen next. After staring at the armed men long enough for each man to avert his gaze, Adan saw the torture of Calden round a corner and enter the gatehouse through the archway.

“I’ve sent a runner to bring all the village leaders and mayors here,” the watchmen said as he approached. “This needs to be verified through the proper channels.”

Laxander let out an audible sigh, but he didn’t argue the point.

Adan eyed the older man as he drew them. Although the man looked old enough to be in his sixties, he stood straight with his shoulder square and walked with steady confidence. A sword hung in a sheath on his left hip, a hand-and-a-half blade of oiled steel with a polished black leather handle. Adan wondered at the care Calden gave to his blade while his clothes were in tatters, and when Adan locked eyes with the older man, he didn’t look like the others had.

There’s fire in this old man, Adan thought. I wonder if he’s ever seen any combat.

A long silence followed as they waited, a silence full of intent stares and suspicious looks. A small crowd of bystanders had begun to assemble outside the archway, watching the newcomers with interested faces.

Adan searched the crowd for any sign of Layla, but the faces gazing at them belonged to strangers.

She’s not here, he told himself. Don’t allow your hopes to rise.

“Adan!” A high pitched voice shouted outside the archway. “Adan! Kian!

Adan’s heart leapt when he heard it. He would know the sound of that voice anywhere.

“Layla!” He shouted. His voice echoed in the stone arched chamber.

Layla burst through the crowd of onlookers and ran toward him, her blond hair flying out behind her.

“Layla! You’re alive!”

The armed men did nothing to stop her as she bolted past them and threw her arms around Adan.

He caught her up in a tight embrace and held her close, feeling tears coming to his eyes. Surprised by his own relief at seeing her, Adan held her even tighter.

“I thought you were gone,” she said.

Adan heard emotion in her voice and realized she was weeping tears of relief as well.

“You made it here,” was all he could reply.

Layla pulled away and embraced Kian as well. “I can’t believe you’re alive,” she said. “I’m so sorry about your parents.”

Adan saw tears in Kian’s eyes as he embraced Layla.

“I suppose we’re all orphans now,” he said.

“There’s no need for interrogating these men,” another familiar voice said.

Adan looked to the doorway and saw Governor Fagus pushing through the crowd, followed by several more strangers. The governor of Enys Island wore the same clothes Adan had last seen him wearing, but with new rips and dirt caked on his garments.

“I can identify these men,” Fagus said as he came to stand by Calden. “They visited our island only a day before the warnings arrived. This is Kian, son of Hathian and his bodyguard, Adan Calan-son.”

Adan felt an unexpected twinge of familiarity at the mention of his father’s name. He had not been referred to as Calan-son for many years.

Layla must’ve told him who my father was, Adan thought.

As Layla stepped away from Kian’s embrace, she returned to Adan’s side and grasped his hand. Adan laced his fingers in between hers and held tightly as a warm glow filled his chest.

A handful of older men pushed through the watching crowd, which had doubled in size. All of them looked to be older than forty years of age, and wore fine clothes, although their garments shared the same wear and tear as Fagus’s robes. They were evidently the leaders of the villages that had traveled to New Esta, gathering at Calden’s request.

After eight of them had assembled in the gatehouse, another two men passed through the archway: One, an older man wearing the the brown robes of a bard, and the last a tall, broad shouldered man with a bare chest. Black locks of curly hair fell down to his shoulders and a two-handled sword hung at his side.

What little hair the bard had was gray, as was the long beard that trailed down to his chest. A large mole sat on the man’s cheek, and it was all Adan could do to keep his eyes off the obtrusive growth.

“Calan-son?” The bards voice rose above the whispers in the enclosure. “Calan the former bard of Farel?”

Adan nodded. “Yes, he was my father. He died when I was young.”

“He died when he was too young,” the bard replied. “Smallpox, correct?”

Adan nodded again.

“You share some visual likeness to your father, but your voice is unmistakably his.”

”Are you Hurst?” Kian asked.

“I am,” the Chief Bard said with a nod toward Kian.

“They came to Cellion,” Laxander cut in. “They were looking for survivors and came across our watch party. A troop of Undelman’s followed them to the tower and we slew them.”

A ripple of excitement passed through the assembled crowd.

“Well, I should say that Kian and Adan slew most of them for us,” Laxander added. ”We only helped them finish the job. So I agreed to bring them here.”

Hurst nodded toward his apprentice. “You did well. Here is where they belong.”

“Why do you wear the garments of the Undelman warriors?” A deep voice asked.

The question came from the bare chested stranger who stood behind the rest of the leaders with his arms crossed.

Kian looked at the man. “These robes were our means of escaping from Undelma.”

At Kian’s words, the whispers died away and a sudden silence filled the gatehouse.

“No escapes from Undelma,” the black haired man replied, returning Kian’s gaze.

“Except us, it would seem,” Kian stated.

“I’m sure we’re all eager to hear what happened,” Fagus broke in, “but am I correct in guessing that you two have traveled a long way?”

Adan and Kian both nodded.

“And I expect you need rest and refreshment?”

”And a change of clothes,” Kian added.

“I’m sure we can arrange that for the son of Hathian, can we not?”

Several of the other leaders nodded their agreement. Adan noticed the bare chested man standing still and silent, watching everyone closely.

“We can find a room in the citadel,” one of the leaders, a heavyset man with white hair and beard said.

“We can supply two proper meals,” Fagus said, “and I’m sure by morning we can have new clothes prepared. And we can care for your horses as well.”

“Very good,” Hurst replied. “Lord Kian, would you consent to meeting again tomorrow morning to tell us your tale?”

Kian nodded.

“Then we will let you retire for the night and rest in safety.”

The leaders turned toward the crowd of bystanders, who moved aside to allow them, the bards, and the two newcomers to pass into the fortress.

After a word from Fagus, two young men offered to take the reins of Arrow and Havoc. Adan and Kian relinquished their mounts, and allowed the young men to lead them away. They trusted Fagus to honor his promise and care for the animals.

Layla’s hand stayed firmly in Adan’s as they began walking toward the center of New Esta.