Roger Taylor - Ibryen

As she walked along, she put her fingers to her mouth and gave a loud but very short whistle. The sound bounced sharply from wall to wall, stirring the silence. Somewhere a bird fluttered up in alarm. Within a few moments, Frey and Assh appeared, one bounding through a window, the other sneaking up silently, belly low, behind her. Jeyan knelt down and embraced them. Tails wagging, they nuzzled her. These were allies that she could truly trust. Their damp fur stank but Jeyan was a long way from being disturbed by unpleasant smells now.

‘Well done,’ she whispered passionately. ‘Well done. Tonight we’ll celebrate. We’ll eat.’

It was some time before she reached her destination. She had, in fact, many places which she had made suitable for living in, and many other places which she knew to be safe from anything other than the most determined search. Today however, she had chosen the one she liked the most, the one she was inclined to call home and where she preferred to spend most of her time. It was situated at the southernmost edge of the Ennerhald, farthest from the city. Just as the Ennerhald at its opposite end seemed to be encroaching on the city, so here the forest that ran south towards the mountains also seemed intent on repossessing its ancient terrain. The strange atmosphere that pervaded the deserted city became eerie and watchful here as root and branch did their work, and man-made shapes gradually crumbled or disappeared under foliage and vegetation.

Further south, the forest was bounded by a fast-moving and dangerous river that tumbled violently out of the mountains. Further south still, the empty land that lay between the river and the mountains was regularly patrolled by the Gevethen’s army for fear that the Count might perhaps seek to ford the river and move through the forest to attack the city. But the forest, like the Ennerhald itself was ignored – or avoided.

At one time, Jeyan had considered moving into the forest completely, but she rejected the idea. While perhaps it might have been safer, it would have provided an even more alien and isolated existence than the one she now had; also, there would have been a feeling of desertion, treachery almost, in abandoning the city completely; she could see no life ahead of her that did not involve active opposition to the Gevethen. As it was, she had acquired enough forest lore to trap the occasional animal or bird, and forage roots and fruit to carry her over those times when a street purging or a curfew or some other activity that brought unusual numbers of Citadel Guards on to the streets, made venturing into the city to steal food too dangerous.

Her chosen sanctuary was in the centre of a long block of buildings that had once perhaps been dwelling houses, though there was so little in common between the architecture of the Ennerhald and that of Dirynhald that few could have argued the point. Certainly the buildings were unusual: a motley arrangement of unsymmetrical roofs covered them while inside was to be found a seemingly incoherent mixture of large and small rooms, set at many levels and joined by twisting stairways and winding corridors. Some of the rooms reached up through two and more storeys to disappear into the elaborate roof space, some had curved and undulating walls, while others were rigorously straight. Here and there the faint remains of huge wall paintings could be made out and cold-eyed carvings of both people and outlandish creatures guarded unexpected places. Not that the history of the buildings or their builders concerned Jeyan. It was sufficient that parts could be made warm and dry and that they had many entrances and exits which could be well disguised.

Before she slipped through the bushes that were growing out of an opening in the wall, she routinely looked to see if a particular loose branch had been disturbed. It never had been in the past, but that did not prevent her from always checking. Then she sent the dogs in. Branch or no branch, if someone more cunning than she had gained access then they could debate their cleverness with Assh and Frey first. She heard the dogs scuttling around noisily, sniffing as though they had never been there before, then they ran back out to her. All was well.

Later, as night rolled over the forest and into the Ennerhald, Jeyan pondered the day. Dried from the soaking she had received earlier, and warmed by the food she had eaten, she had expected to feel replete and relaxed, able to stretch out like the two dogs, and rejoice in what she had achieved. But no ease came. Instead, a shadow of the trembling that had possessed her as she fled from the city, remained. Its buzzing insect persistence filled her entire body, keeping her restless and tense, almost as though a thunderstorm was pending.

Perhaps one was, she thought. Regrets at what she might have unleashed flickered briefly again at the edges of her mind, but were overshadowed by both a cold satisfaction and the simple survivor’s acceptance that what was done was done, for better or worse. All that mattered were the consequences for herself.

Consequences.

Now there would be change. The whole structure would have been shaken. Not damaged beyond repair, by any means – there would be others to take Hagen’s place – but where change existed, so did chance, and so did opportunity. But so too did danger. None of the crowd would have recognized her, of that she was sure, and most would have presumed her to be a man. But word must inevitably reach the Gevethen that Hagen’s killer was a street creature, and from that it would be but a step to presume that she hailed from the Ennerhald. The only question that remained was how determinedly would the Gevethen seek out the murderer of their closest and most able counsellor. Forays into the Ennerhald had been made in the past, but its winding streets and innumerable buildings and hiding places would have absorbed an army far larger than the Gevethen’s city companies, and rarely had such ventures yielded anything other than a handful of pathetic souls too feeble or witless to run.

But this time, it would be different. This time, vengeance would be sought.

The trembling threatened to return. Out of hard-learned habit, Jeyan used it to bring herself to her feet and, snuffing out two of the candles that illuminated her adopted sanctuary, she moved across the room to the pile of blankets that served as a bed. As she sat down, she clicked her fingers and the two dogs woke immediately and looked at her, ears pricked. She beckoned them and embraced them when they came to her.

‘We must be careful, dogs. More than ever. Watch and listen. Smell them coming.’

Assh yawned and Frey scratched herself and, with a final squeeze, Jeyan dismissed them. Both of them slumped down alongside her. The physical contact with the dogs was important to her. If only she could be as they were, she thought, lying back. Unaware of the future, and probably the past, also. Responding only to the needs of the moment. Now awake, now asleep; now fierce, now quiet. Their calm seeped into her. The single, tiny candle that remained reduced her world to a small domed enclave surrounded by darkness. For a moment, memories of times long gone returned. Times when the world was not only safe but inviolable, when the only danger was an angry look from a loving parent. Once, such memories used to make her weep. Then she had learned to sneer at her youthful naivety. Now she felt only anger and sadness.

And again, hatred for those who had brought this about. As it did almost every night, her vision of the Gevethen perishing at her hand returned to soothe all ills and to sustain her. Tonight, it was more intense than ever. Jeyan was more like her dogs than she knew; she had tasted her prey’s blood and she wanted more.

As she felt sleep overtaking her, she reached out and extinguished the remaining candle.