Kasper
There was once a woodcutter’s son who was as brave as a lion. His country was in danger and he knew he must answer the call. So one day he saddled his horse and set out along the winding road to …
The world shattered in noisy pieces as I jerked awake, staring right into the furious face of Captain Gawel looming over me.
‘Recruit Bator! What do you think you’re doing?’
I swallowed. ‘N–nothing, sir.’
‘You were asleep!’ He pushed his face up to mine. Eugh, his breath. It smelled of the tripe and beer he had for lunch. ‘Asleep,’ he hissed, ‘in the middle of an important lesson.’
I glanced around the room. Nobody else looked back at me. They were all too scared. Gawel put the wind up everyone, including me.
‘Do you think you’re smarter than everyone else? Is that what it is, Bator?’
‘N–no, sir. Not at all.’
‘Just as well, because you’re stupider than everyone else. You’re from that hick village – what’s it called again?’ Captain Gawel pretended to think. ‘Ah, yes, that’s it. You’re from Fish-the-Moon, where the people are so dimwitted they think you can catch the moon in a net.’
A ripple of nervous laughter ran around the hall. A prickle of anger rose in me. I’d heard that barb once too often, and it made me reckless. ‘Thing is, sir, I know that lesson already.’
A gasp, quickly suppressed, rose from the rest of the class. My stomach sank. What on earth had I just said? Had I gone mad? Gawel was silent for an instant. A terrible instant. ‘You know it already,’ he said in a toneless voice.
My scalp crept with fear. But I was in for it now so I thought I might as well just say it. ‘I know the story by heart. I can even recite it to you, if you like. There was once a woodcutter’s son who was as brave as a lion –’
‘Enough!’ The voice wasn’t Gawel’s. It belonged to someone I recognised at once, though I had never seen him before – not in the flesh, at least. The man stepped out from the curtained doorway. His was the face that stared at us from photographs in our textbooks and his portrait adorned our mess hall.
Captain Gawel snapped to attention in a stiff salute. ‘Commander! Sir!’
‘Very well, Captain. Stand down.’
The hush in the room was tangible. All eyes were fixed on the Commander.
‘Recruit Bator, do you know who I am?’
I couldn’t drag my eyes away from that scarred face, the pale blue eyes that seemed to look right through me. I gulped. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘You are to come with me. At once.’ With a sharp movement of his black-gloved hands, the Commander drew the curtain and motioned me forward. I did as I was bid, cold gripping at my heart, my limbs heavy as lead. I could feel everyone’s eyes on my back – Gawel’s and those of my fellow recruits, whose bellies, I knew, ached with a mixture of envy and fear. Envy because it was an honour to be singled out by the Commander. Fear because who knew what it was exactly the Commander wanted? I was being marched off into the unknown by a legend amongst men, a legend respected but also feared by all – Commander Alek Los. I had no idea why he had come for me, but I was afraid it was not for my own good.
He closed the door behind us and motioned for me to follow him. We went down one passageway after another, through an outer door and across the courtyard in silence. We walked all the way to the bounds of the world I’d lived in for three months. I hesitated; to go beyond the locked gate was forbidden.
The Commander sensed my hesitation. ‘Don’t be afraid. Everything is about to change for you.’
Those two things were contradictory in my mind, but I didn’t dare to say it. The Commander must have guessed my thought, because he smiled. ‘Despite the stories they tell you back there, not all changes are for the worse, Recruit Bator.’
I was startled. It confirmed what had been in my rebellious thoughts these last few months. ‘Sir?’
Unlocking the gate, the Commander gestured for me to come through. I did so and came out into a narrow grassy space between the inner and outer wall of the citadel. I looked around and saw that there was no gate or door leading out. Or so it seemed. The Commander touched his hand to a block of stone and, with a grinding sound, it slid back to reveal a dark opening about as tall as a child. He turned to me. ‘Do you know why I have chosen you, Recruit Bator?’
‘No, sir,’ I whispered.
‘You’re from Fish-the-Moon – an oddity even in this land of oddities, where people believe impossible things.’
The anger swiftly rose within me and just as swiftly died away. The expression in the Commander’s eyes was not of contempt, like Captain Gawel, nor even of the teasing kind that I’d come to expect from my fellow recruits. ‘Yes, sir. I am.’
‘I’ve been watching your progress.’ He paused. ‘You’ll be wondering why.’
My thoughts exactly, but I was hardly going to say so. I kept my eyes steadily on his face as he went on.
‘You know what lies beyond the citadel, don’t you, Bator?’
I nodded. ‘I’ve heard stories, sir.’
‘Stories.’ His tone was bland. ‘Indulge me. Tell me what you’ve heard.’
‘There is the Tower where a witch has been held prisoner for years. She is an evil hag whose glance can turn you to stone.’
‘I see. And how is it that she is there?’
‘Once upon a time, the rich and powerful feyin realm of Night called itself our friend. But –’
‘And who are these feyin, young man?’
I stared at him.
The Commander smiled. ‘Like I say, indulge me. Right from the beginning, tell me their history.’
‘Long, long ago, in the dawn of ages in Krainos,’ I recited, thinking of the stories I’d read in our history textbooks, ‘there were many more of the immortal beings that are known as feya. In those days, the feya even married humans on occasion. Their offspring were known as feyin. They were not exactly like the feya, and not exactly like humans, but something in-between. They were not immortal, though they lived longer than humans, and they had special powers. But living amongst humans diluted their powers and so, many centuries ago, they decided to leave the surface of the earth to live underground. Some people say their feya goddess, known as the Lady, led them there. Others say it was our Angels who showed them the way. Since then the feyin have lived underground, deep within the caves below Krainos. Their realm is called Night. And over the centuries they have lost whatever humanity they once shared with us. Their realm is prosperous and powerful, but they are an alien people.’
‘Very good, young man. Go on. Tell me what happened next.’
‘Well, sir, Night always claimed to live in peace and trust with us, but on occasion conflict has broken out. There had been more than a hundred years of peace until, one day ten years ago, the Prince of Night launched war upon us. His black ships appeared from nowhere, falling upon our coast like vultures. Our settlements were attacked and many of our people killed or injured or taken prisoner by the fearsome Night Marshals. We fought back bravely until our Supreme Council was attacked and our army was rendered leaderless. It seemed that we were doomed. And then …’ I hesitated, and looked at the Commander.