River Amodeo even to the Lanmarthen Marshes.
Then Lord Dreldragon declared that he would turn west and dare the Dry Forages and the mountains beyond, for it came to him that it was meet that he should return once more to his homeland. And the Lady Zanya declared that she would venture with him, for she was constant in her love for him, and their marriage had always been a chastity proof against all temptation.
But the others were sore afraid, fearing to try the westward way lest they come upon creatures of the Swarms. Therefore Lord Dreldragon released them from all oaths of fealty, and they parted to their separate dooms. Thus did Lord Dreldragon turn his face to the west, vanishing from the sight of history.
And his companions travelled east, and came in the fullness of time to the seaport city of Brine, and thereafter their ways were scattered unto all the nations.
And through this scattering the tale of Lord Dreldragon came to the shores of Ashmolea, and thus to the opportunity of this Chronicle, which is written straight and true, telling only of things well-witnessed and therefore verified as true …
60
Drake and Zanya parted from the last of their followers at the point where the Amodeo River entered the Lanmarthen Marshes. The followers went downriver towards Brine, which lay to the east. But the two lovers turned upstream, following a branch of the river into the Dry Forages.
Upstream, in the Dry Forages, the riverbranch they followed shrank to a shallow sun-slashed rush of water over shingle. It bent toward the north.
'If we march north,' said Drake, 'we reach mountains. Beyond them, the Scourside Coast.''And to west?' said Zanya.
'Desolation. Then mountains. Then a rough road by river, forest and highland, taking us at last to Trest, and then to Estar.''Which choose you?' said Zanya.'Whichever you agree to,' said Drake.
'You've heard more tales of the inland than have I,' said Zanya. 'Choose.'
'Well,' said Drake. 'North, to the Scourside Coast. . . that takes us to the shores of the North Strait. That's a bitter place at the best of times. West . . . the road leads
sooner to hearth and food, if any such have survived the S warms'West it is,' said Zanya.
Leaving the river, they trekked westward across a stum-biestone wasteland of dust, wind, sun and broken rock. Then they came upon a range of mountains.
'Beyond those mountains,' said Drake, 'we may find the Swarms.''I love you,' said Zanya.They kissed, renewing the vows of trust and devotion.
Then shouldered their packs and dared themselves west. Hints of long-ruined road helped them find the way to a pass between the mountains.
As they chanced the pass, they were full of trepidation. Drake had spoken the truth. For all they knew, the Swarms might have overrun the entire western seaboard of the continent of Argan. In which case, they might well encounter monsters beyond the mountains.
Yet, while they feared, they also hoped. Drake, in particular, hoped to find some way to return to Stokos. For, now that Gouda Muck was dead, surely Goudanism must be entering its last days. Drake desired to return home, taking Zanya with him as his wife.
As the travellers neared the end of the pass, they were confronted with a wilderness of jumbled rock which had crisp, sharp fracture-lines showing no sign of weathering. This rock had been shattered within the last few years.'Perhaps there was an earthquake here,' said Zanya.'And perhaps not,' said Drake grimly.
He thought he knew what might have caused this shattering.
After labouring for a day over shattered rock, the two lovers reached a river running from north to south. Both banks were a wreckage of broken rock.
'We stand, I think, on the banks of the Fleuve River,' said Drake. 'This is, I believe, where a death-stone was once used by a wizard named Heenmor. The death-stone brought the very cliffs to life.''Says who?' said Zanya.
'Says I,' said Drake. T had part of the story from men who travelled with that questing hero of undying fame, Morgan Hearst. Those men fled downriver on rafts before the very cliffs themselves began to move. So part of the tale I have by observation of what is here, and by deductions from that observation. I see-'
T see,' said Zanya, 'that we are in danger of hearing another lecture on the Scientific Method.'
This was something of a sore point between them. While ruling at the Gates of Chenameg, Drake had got into the habit of pontificating at length on such subjects as the Theory of Knowledge, Axiom-Structured Discourse and the Reductive Crisis of Categorizations. They had had more than one row about it.
'I'm sorry,' said Drake. T didn't mean to start preaching. I must've caught the habit from Gouda Muck. You can't live with a weird old bugger like that for year on year without getting a bit strange yourself. Anyway, from here we have to go north, up this river. Then cross the river. Then we go west through the Kikashi Hills into Trest.'
And that they did.
As they went, Drake dreamed of his future.
At the Gates of Chenameg, Drake had tested and refined his ability to lead, to rule and to govern. He had made many mistakes – some of them almost disastrous – but he had survived. Yes. Even though he had faced mutiny, subversion, treason . . .
He was sure he would be able to rule on Stokos, if he got the chance.
There were obstacles to overcome, of course.
He would have to overthrow the last remnants of Goudanism, if any such survived. Who ruled on Stokos now? When the pirates were driven from Androlmarphos, had Stokos stayed loyal to its rulers from the Teeth? Or had the locals seized the chance for revolution?
Worse still – might the Swarms have got a foothold on
Stokos? If they had, it might be a devil of a job driving them from the island.
'Whoever rules on Stokos,' said Drake to Drake, 'whether it's pirates, priests of the Flame or the Swarms themselves, I'll likely need an army to take the island. Aye. And ships to move the army. My nobility itself will not suffice.'
But he was sure ships and army would not prove impossible to come by.
'This,' said Drake to Drake, 'is my destiny. To rule as a king. I feel it in my bones.'
Whatever he felt in his bones, he felt hunger in his belly, for their long lean march saw them scavenging slugs and earthworms before they were finished.
At last, in early summer in the year Celadric 3, Drake and Zanya entered Trest from the east. They were intercepted by a patrol of Rangers, roving Rovac warriors who maintained order on the eastern marches. The Rovac directed them to the nearest nameworthy place, the High Castle of Trest, a stronghold held by Captain Occam for the Triple Kings – Hearst, Blackwood and Miphon.
T once heard of three questing heroes thus named,' said Drake.
'Our kings are the same three,' came the answer. 'It is their peace we enforce.' 'Good,' said Drake.
This was a welcome piece of news indeed. He was acquainted with all three of the Triple Kings, which should make things easy enough when it came time to persuade them to lend him ships and an army. Meantime – he had other, more urgent problems to worry about.
Zanya had not been in proper health for some time, and her condition was worsening. Odd fevers took her; she suffered night sweats, diarrhoea, nausea without explanation. Sometimes she found herself icy cold and shivering in the noonday summer sun.
She was not pregnant.
Thus Drake was glad when they reached the High Castle, an ancient wizard stronghold of daunting battlements and sky-challenging towers, all girt round with a flame trench which could only be crossed by a single
