Kingdoms and Kings Book One: Markan

A homeward journey, strange weather, an old friend and

a dangerous task

Before the floods, Lemmy was able to find his way around the Near Lands quite well. Although he was an elf, and elves being notorious for their poor sense of direction, he was well known in the area for being rather a good navigator. I can tell you, most advisedly, that an elf with good navigational skills is indeed a rare creature. This is often indicated by their second name, usually, but not always, given to them by their own kind. Common names among the elf people being N'erebefound, Roam'a'Circle, Wanderlost, Strayhappy; the list is endless. Needless to say, Lemmy was in great demand when useful directions were sought. Since the waters had come to the West Meadows however, things had been much different. The whole countryside seemed to have changed beyond all recognition, besides which, he hated water. It's not that he hated water completely. He didn't mind drinking it, he didn't mind ale made from it, he didn't mind washing in it, and he didn't even mind the rain, but what Lemmy really hated was large quantities or expanses of water. The reason he hated it, of course, was that he was afraid of it and to an elf these things always go hand in hand. Elves have a simplistic approach to the problem of fear, it's easier to despise it and avoid it than to try and conquer it. Not all elves are afraid of water, in fact, some are experienced sailors, but their problem with direction sense leaves them limited to short boating trips on known stretches. Lemmy was always uneasy about crossing a bridge in case it should decide to collapse and leave him floundering in the water below. Suffice it to say that he couldn't swim and, what's more, he had no intention of learning.

For the past few weeks Lemmy had noticed that the birds and animals had somehow been uneasy, the land didn't seem settled. It could have been his imagination but he didn't think so. As an elf, he was closely at one with the land and he wasn't happy. There was also a rumour that Markan, King of the Near Lands, had gone on one of his hunting expeditions again and that meant the countryside would soon be crawling with outsiders looking to cause mischief in the Kings' absence. To Lemmy, outsiders meant danger and if that signalled any threat to his well-being, then it was surely a bad thing.

Lemmy made an odd looking figure as he wandered along a path overlooking the valley in his tatty green tunic and dirty black boots. He was particularly tall for an elf which from a distance made him look like a small human. At close quarters however, there could be no mistaking his elfish features, pointed ears capable of hearing a mouse sneeze at fifty paces, button nose capable of sniffing any danger to himself (particularly to himself) and bright green eyes able to pick out the slightest thing, day or night. His natural expression was one of despondency but when he came across something that amused him, his nose screwed up and his face would readily explode into a beaming happy grin. One of his prime sources of amusement, particularly when he was alone was to make up new words by joining existing ones. This was common among the elf nations, as you already know, to create a surname, whereas Lemmy did it for any word that took his fancy. This liking for the invention of new words sometimes made him quite difficult to follow in conversation, particularly when he was excited or embarrassed. Lemmy had taken on the second name of Map'a'Hand because of his natural ability at direction finding which, as already explained, was quite an unnatural thing for an elf. He was proud of his name because it made him something special, in his eyes at least.

He'd spent the summer visiting relatives living in the Southern Plains (mainly because he could think of nothing else to do) and was now returning to his tree house in Caspin Forest. He was eager to return home for a change of clothes and to prepare his house for the rigours of winter. He was planning to build up his food supplies and, if possible, spend the entire winter inside his cosy, albeit simple, house. He would read his collection of rhyme books and possibly attempt to write some more himself. The prospect of writing some himself didn't fill him with confidence, but his mind was made up and he would definitely think about it. All of his earlier failed attempts would not deter him.

Yes, he thought, I shall rest my body and exercise my talent.

All the summer weeks in the Southern Plains hunting, fishing and helping to build new houses for his relatives had left him feeling tired and thoughtful. He glanced in the valley at the swollen Geobi River and couldn't help wondering why the water level had risen so dramatically in the months he'd been away. His alert green eyes scanned the countryside for any signs of movement and, checking that his profile didn't silhouette against the skyline, he continued on his way.

This confounded countryside is out to un-navigate me, he said to himself, managing to make up another new word and smiling to himself at his inventiveness. It probably hasn't slipped the attention of the reader that the very nature of this particular elf is one of great self-importance. In fact, if most elves tend to be very conceited, Lemmy was more so.

Unlike most elves though, Lemmy chose to live in a tree house. This was not as peculiar now as it was when he first built it. The other elves tended to regard him as a rather eccentric character but, as anyone knowledgeable in these matters will verify, all elves are eccentric characters. Lemmy just liked to be different in some things. Today, despite his excellent navigational skills, he seemed to be having more than a little difficulty finding his way. Even though he was on his way home it didn't seem a good day to Lemmy. His instinct told him that something was not quite right and he started to grow impatient.

By the stars of Leofen, if I walk past this tree again I'll become as old as the moon and turn to dust in my boots, and he kicked a stone down into the river below for effect.

I must have been walking ten leagues as the horse flies, he thought chuckling to himself.

Presently, he came to a gap in the hedge. As he walked by, paying no attention to anything in particular, a hand grabbed his ankle and pulled him down to the floor.

Great goblins! He cried, Even the bushes are trying to un-nimble me.

It wasn't the bushes. Instantly, a look of recognition came to Lemmys' face and, whilst still on his knees, he gave a mock bow.

"Well, if it isn't Pogwell Stumpweed of the Field, Joker Pog himself. I didn't realise that I, the great Map'a'Hand was anywhere near your house on this day of strange days.

Facing him was a small, rotund creature with a gnarled, rusty coloured face and a huge bushy beard. It was dressed in a suit of grey patchwork, which fitted very tightly around its ample measurements, and a pair of stout boots. Around its neck was a red and white spotted handkerchief tied neatly at the front. The gnome, for that's what it was, broke into a grin and beckoning the elf with his finger, said,

Follow me Lemmy Map'a'Hand if you know what's good for you, I have someone you must meet.

Lemmys first reaction was to spin around and run, turning it into a game of chase with his old acquaintance and bringing some fun to the day, but remembering that Pogs’ seemingly cumbersome form was no indication at all of his agility, he was extremely fast and nimble, he followed obediently. Through a gap between two rocks, round a corner, down a hole, through another gap, through a small tunnel that he thought would never end Lemmy found himself in Pogs warm underground cave. Lemmy was sure that the last time he came to Pogs' cave he had come in a different way but he made no more of it. Lemmy turned to find Pog had disappeared into an adjoining room, a sort of ante-cave. Despite his annoyance at being instructed to follow Pog he was overcome with curiosity at this masterpiece of tunnelling and that it could feel so homely. Just then, Pog reappeared with a small man who looked older than time itself. He was dressed in a brown cloak tied at the waist with a gold braid. He had white hair and was clean shaven. Although he looked friendly enough, Lemmy immediately felt uneasy about him. Even though the elf and human nations were now at peace, Lemmy had been raised to be cautious of human beings and, how was he to know that this particular one was any more trustworthy than the rest. Pog beckoned Lemmy to sit with them on some type of seats ingeniously fashioned from tree trunks.

I wonder if Pog made these? Thought Lemmy, letting his imagination run away with him and completely forgetting his fear and mistrust of the man.

The old man started to unroll a dilapidated piece of parchment. Lemmy couldn't help staring at the old mans’ wrinkled hands that reminded him of the texture of a frog and it made him smile. When he caught the old man looking back at him, he turned away embarrassed and pretended to think of something important but, all he could think of was Pog struggling to make a seat out of a tree trunk. Smirking to himself, he sat quietly. He was pulled back from his imaginative thoughts by the sudden announcement.

Lemmy Map'a'Hand, elf of Caspin Wood, Tracker of the West Meadows, Son of Teofen, you have been invited here today to take part in a task that will save the whole of the Kingdom of Geobi and bring honour to you and your people for many years to come.

The old man's been reading too many scrolls, thought Lemmy, and he's probably lost his mind as well.

This task is vital to the survival of the races of the Southern Lands and it will test your powers of endurance, patience and bravery to the limit. Your tracking skills particularly, will be severely put to the test.

The old man gasped, showing some of his gold teeth, then caught his breath.

Map'a'Hand wasn't ask-vited, he was un-nimbled, said Lemmy.

You were ask-vited, invited, said Pog.

I was wander-stumbling and lost.

What is he talking about? Said the old man, I thought you said he was intelligent? He talks in riddles

He's an elf, said Pog.

I know he's an elf, I've not lost my mind!

Lemmy smirked and nodded his head in mock agreement.

You were invited here and you can listen to what we have to say, said Pog.

I can go home, thank you, said Lemmy rising, I have more important things to do and have no time for any of your practical jokes, good day mister Stumpweed and good day mister Ancient.

Sit down! Said the old man in such a harsh tone that it made Lemmy drop back into his seat.

You will both stop falling out with each other and listen to the reason we are all here today in this most uncomfortable of hot caves.

Sorry, we were just.. well the fire.. yes it is, babbled Pog.

Sorry sir, said Lemmy immediately wondering to himself why he felt the need to address this stranger, this old stranger, as sir, and why Pog seemed so nervous. There was something about him that made Lemmy think he was a man of great importance, some kind of leader perhaps. His elfish instinct told him that this person was different from other men and besides, he didn't wish to offend him further. The day had been strange enough already and he wanted to get home quickly. He decided that the least he could do was to listen to the insane old man and then go home.

I will tell you, without further delay, of the purpose of my visit and you will both listen very carefully.

He cleared his throat and with another flash of gold teeth, he began.

There has been a chain of events in the Kingdom of Geobi recently that have caused much concern to the Great Council of Ancient Masters. Firstly, King Markan has gone missing. He'd gone on a hunting trip but he hasn't been seen at any of his regular hunting haunts and hasn't returned for the celebration of Queen Bellas' birthday. Obviously, the Queen is furious! Ahem, obviously she is very concerned for his safety also.

It's been reported from the border lands that small parties of, let's call them outsiders, have been seen snooping about, said Pog.

And it's quite possible that these outsiders could be responsible for the disappearance of the King, added the old man seriously.

That could explain why I've been sensing bad feelings in the land, said Lemmy.

Precisely, said the old man, tell me young elf, have you noticed also that the coming of the floods in the West Meadows doesn't seem to have been caused by continuous rain?

Yes, I did notice that, what of it?

The coming of the flood wasn't preceded by rain storms of any kind either here in this Kingdom, or elsewhere in the Known Lands. This cannot be a natural state of affairs. I've just returned from a meeting of the Ancient Masters and it's believed by some that the disappearance of Markan, sorry King Markan, and the floods could be connected. In short, it's quite possible that the evil powers in the Great North Lands could be using their wicked sorcery to disrupt the natural order of things prior to an attack on the Southern Lands.

So you see Lemmy, we're faced with a serious problem, said Pog

You are faced with a serious problem, said Lemmy, I'm faced with finding my way to Caspin Forest and returning home for the oncoming winter. My tree house is awaiting an autumn clean and some new bedding. Besides, what you say is ridiculous, it's pure spectaculation.

Speculation, he means, said Pog.

Caspin Forest is flooded, said the old man wearily, I passed through it in my boat on the way here. The water level is rising by about three hands every week. A tree house did you say? How strange, by the spring you'll be able to swim to your front door then.

I wouldn't swim if my life depended on it old man, snapped Lemmy, and how do I know you don't lie to me?

You'll see I'm not lying to you, young elf, when we call at your tree house to pick up some of your belongings on our way to the Great North Lands, and your life may yet depend on your ability to swim, or your willingness to learn.

Lemmy looked at the old man and then at Pog. He realised that they both expected him, Lemmy Map'a'Hand, to help look for King Markan. Why him? Oh dear! At least it hadn't been instructed by the Ancient Masters of Terrar, so he wouldn't have to go if he didn't want. He was worried about his house though, where would he live if his house was lost underwater. He felt a knot in his stomach as he remembered all the stories his Father had told him about the Great North Lands and all the nasty creatures that supposedly lived there.

I don't think I'll be able to help you in your quest Gentleman and Gentle gnome, he said, bowing facetiously at them both, besides, I have no knowledge of the North Lands, I have no desire to interfere in the matters of Kings and, I would only be a burden. Anyway, shouldn't we seek expert advice first before we foolishly rush into this?

Lemmy immediately regretted the use of the word 'we'. It made it sound to the others that he'd already agreed to be party to this folly.

My dear elf, the old man shouted loudly.

My dear elf, he said, regaining his composure, I've been in discussion with the Ancient Masters of Terrar. They've instructed me to get King Markan back for the safety of all our peoples. My counsel with the Masters is the most expert advice we are likely to get. It's my belief that the King of Geobi has been captured under the direct instructions of the Dark One and may even have been taken to the Bare Lands of the North.

Pog and Lemmy glared at each other with a look of dread. Pog's head thumped as he remembered The Rhyme of Soul's Past'

Elves alike, stand gnomes alike

Fear the Dark and fear it well

Be sure to value what is life

For The Dark One takes your soul to Hell.

Let me tell you what the possible reasons are, for the capture of King Markan. You are aware that the King, and the King alone, is the Keeper of the Keys, the guardian of the Enchanted Weapons of the south. If the secret of the stronghold is forced out of Markan, then all manner of wicked creatures could get their evil hands on the magical weapons of Geobi; the enchanted elf weapons would no longer be at rest.

You don't deny that your duty is always to the King of the Near Lands? He said to Lemmy.

Well of course not; I'm as loyal as the next elf but I'd be a poor helper, as it passes I have a cousin who is renowned for his tracking experience.

My dear elf, said the old man, your cousin Delfert couldn't follow his own nose without getting lost behind it! Be assured it's you who's been chosen and you'll perform admirably.

Lemmy was amazed that the old man should know about Delfert N'erebefound as he was known to Lemmys' family. Lemmy could remember the time, many summers ago, when Delfert had become lost and Lemmys' Father, Teofen had to take him home. (It so happened that in the process of taking Delfert home, Teofen had himself become disorientated and Lemmy had to find them and take them both home. (Such is the folly of allowing elves to roam unaccompanied in lands they're unfamiliar with or even ones they are familiar with.)

Why is Pog involved then? Asked Lemmy.

Because Pog is one of the oldest gnomes in the Kingdom and he knows the whereabouts of nearly all of his fellow gnomes around here and some of their ancient tongues, this will serve a very useful purpose.

Very useful, said Lemmy, I suppose you think a gnome is holding the King captive, how ridiculous!

Of course not, said the old man patiently, Pogs' knowledge will allow us to take safe shelter in gnome dwellings while we look for the King.

Lemmys' heart sank as he realised he was being trusted to help in this truly dangerous mission. He had no desire to become involved in matters that had any element of risk in them, but he did have a responsibility to his Elven folk at least, and it had been instructed by the Ancient Masters so now it was the law. Lemmy spent the remainder of the discussion, with Pog and the old man, solemnly listening to what each of them had to say, nodding his head from time to time to show he was still paying attention.

Eventually, Pog rose from his stool and gestured towards the pot on the fire. Lemmy, his attention now switched to the appetising aromas coming from the cooking pot, suddenly felt hungry.

I suggest we all move to the table and eat, said Pog, afterwards I shall organise sleeping arrangements. It'll be much safer and more comfortable if you stay here tonight Lemmy, we must leave here tomorrow quite early.

Lemmy could only grumble to himself. Pog handed out servings of a strange mixture of meat and potatoes that, despite the wonderful smell, tasted quite disgusting. Lemmy was uneasy at not quite being able to place the origin of the meat and he remembered what a terrible cook Pog had always been. Lemmys' hunger overcame all his apprehensions about the meat, the old man, the talk of the Dark One and the journey ahead however, and soon he was forcing himself to have seconds from the bubbling cook pot. After the meal, the three of them made themselves comfortable around the fire, which was very welcoming, as the temperature had already dropped in the cave with the late hour. Pog handed out wooden goblets of his home made ale and thirstily gulped his down. Lemmy and the old man cautiously sniffed at their goblets and then gingerly sipped the contents. Lemmy was less sure about the ale than the meat but, had now settled himself on some bedding given to him by Pog and was feeling quite relaxed and sleepy. He decided to start up a conversation with the old man.

As we'll no doubt be companions on the trail sir, by what name am I to call you?

He was sure that this display of politeness wouldn't irk this somewhat grumpy old man, particularly as he'd been rather rude to him, but he was more than surprised at the response.

Please accept my humblest apologies good elf but, in my haste to talk of our immediate problems, I forgot my manners completely. My name is Tonnalee Barnfather, Grand Member of The Ancient Masters (Western Lands), he announced proudly. I've been an Ancient Master for many years now. You might have heard of my family, I'm descended from the famous Barnfathers of the south hmm?

He looked at Lemmy who just stared blankly.

No? Well perhaps not. My grandfather was the soothsayer in the reign of King Markan the first.

Are you with second sight also? Asked Lemmy.

Yes, I am.

And he's a wizard, added Pog.

The old man scowled at Pog who immediately realised what a foolish thing he'd said in front of Lemmy.

Wizard? Asked Lemmy.

You can call me Tonn

Wizard? Asked Lemmy.

Er yes, said Tonn.

Wow! A real wizard, said Lemmy in wonderment, do you know any tricks?

I think we should be getting some sleep now, said Tonn, we must make an early start tomorrow, there's no time to lose in our mission, we have to see the Queen at midday and it's a three hour journey to the Castle.

Pog went to the sconces and snuffed out the candles until the only light in the cave was the intermittent flicker from the fire.

A real wizard, repeated Lemmy.

Have you any important questions on anything you've come across today before we get some sleep, Lemmy? Asked Pog, hoping to make up for his earlier slip.

Yes that's a good point, said Tonn.

Well, I do have one actually, said Lemmy, sleepily looking up from where he was half sitting, half lying and beginning to glow, either from the heat of the fire or from the strange effect of the home made ale.

Yes? Said Pog and Tonn together.

I was wondering, did you wood-craft those stools yourself Pog?

Oh dear, Pog said to Tonn, I've a strange feeling this is going to be hard work!

Yes, said Tonn, hard work indeed!

* * * * * * *

Chapter 2 - The Queen’s Story

A terrifying ride, a terrifying elf, crystals, maps

and weapons

Lemmy woke to find he'd fallen asleep with one arm behind his back and one leg trapped under the other one. Pog had covered him with a moleskin blanket but had left him in this position. Lemmy ached all over but his neck and arm was particularly painful. He'd slipped into sleep hearing the words 'Hard work indeed' and he shuddered as he remembered his dream. He was wading waist deep in stagnant water pulling a boat with his entire family in it, surrounded by a collection of the foulest goblins imaginable who were chanting Hard work! Hard work! Hard work!

By the Stars, I feel as if I've been hedge-scraggled, I'd have thought Pog could have laid me down in a more comfortable position than this.

He looked over and saw Pog laying face down on the table snoring for the County with his smoking pipe sticking out of his mouth.

Well, it looks as if Pog wasn't in much of a fit state to do anything last night, he thought sympathetically.

He looked around the cave. The walls were lined with shelves filled with pots, pans, books, tools, in fact, anything and everything.

It's funny how gnomes are such collectors, he thought, I bet Pog must have one of everything in this cave of his.

Just then, he spotted that Tonn was nowhere to be seen. He got up and half limped, half shuffled to the end of the cave trying to move the parts of his body with pins and needles, but it felt as if his leg was made of stone. He wondered how much of this incapacity was due to the way he'd slept and how much to Pogs’ home made ale. As he approached the entrance to the side cave he caught sight of an orange glow pulsing from an adjoining room. Quietly, but clumsily, making his way inside he saw Tonn kneeling on the floor bathed in a cone of orange light. Not wanting to be spotted by Tonn, Lemmy quickly turned and collided with Pog who had now woken and decided to find out where the others were. Tonn strode in giving Lemmy a steely stare.

Good, I'm glad you're both awake, we must make haste to the Castle. We've preparations to make. I, er, took the liberty of preparing food to eat on the way Pog; it saves you the trouble of making it. I'm sure you don't mind, it's there on the side.

No, said Pog, quite all right.

Lemmy was grateful that Tonn had prepared the food. At least he was going to his death with a kindred spirit who had the same dread of Pogs' cooking. Lemmy decided to say nothing about what he saw a few moments earlier.

A considerable time was taken up collecting items needed for their journey. Tonn directed operations as they found rucksacks, waterproof clothing, fire making equipment and all manner of sundry items. Pog collected a small canvas bag that he carefully packed into a rucksack along with his strange smoking pipe. Tonn quickly checked that all the items collected were according to a list he'd prepared the previous evening and, after unsuccessfully trying to persuade Pog to leave the pipe behind, ushered them outside.

My boat's tied up about fifty paces downstream, let's get started.

Tonn strode nimbly down the slope to the valley bottom with Pog and Lemmy at his heels. At the riverbank, Tonn turned and followed the river downstream. Presently he came to a group of trees with branches overhanging the river.

Give me a hand with the boat, said Tonn as he pulled away some of the branches and revealed a small craft fashioned from wood and animal skins.

He and Pog manoeuvred it to the bank, clear of the trees, and started to put all their belongings into it. Lemmy stood a way back from the river with his hands held up in front of him.

What's the matter Lemmy? Said Pog.

I can't go in that floating birds-nest, he cried, if it turns over I'll surely drown!

Perhaps you'd rather swim behind us? Said Tonn, I can understand that, as you wish.

Making what he thought to be an incredibly brave effort, Lemmy reluctantly joined the others in the boat, sitting at the back, speechless. Pog and Tonn paddled the boat upstream as Lemmy sat staring forwards, terrified of moving a single muscle, in fear that the boat might tip. The going was easier than Pog imagined, the currents being light although the river was swollen. The river here flowed down past Pogs' Bank as it was known locally. The old name for it was Field Mounds but it seemed that Pog had lived there for so long it wouldn't be right to call it anything else. On the other side of the river was a ridge of high land known as Meadow Ridge and beyond that the endless fields of the Southern Plains. The source of the Geobi river was somewhere in the Mountains of Bethdorn, many leagues to the north, and it made its way south east over Tepidest waterfall and over the Rapids of Destruction until it entered the Near Lands and flowed down past Geobi Castle. Further south, before it reached Pogs' Bank, it was joined by the river Caspin whose source was in the Hills of Narr.

A short while after setting off they reached the branch in the river where the Geobi and the Caspin met. Lemmy looked north and wondered how it could be that Caspin Forest was flooded, admittedly the forest was in low land but apart from the swollen river there didn't seem to be any sign of floods to the north. The trio set off on the left-hand fork hardly talking to one another. Tonn and Pog were too busy paddling to talk, whilst Lemmy was concentrating all his energies on mentally keeping the boat balanced.

It was almost noon when they came out of the trees and rounded a bend in the river and the great towers of Geobi Castle came into view. It was much bigger than Lemmy had ever imagined it to be, he'd seen it before in his travels across the West Meadows, but only from a distance, close up it was very imposing. Built from hewn stone, it stood on flat ground next to the Geobi River. It wasn't in a defensive position; it hadn't been built for that purpose. It was more of a garrisoned home for the succession of Kings created since the Truce of the Tobas. The Castle was built something like three hundred summers previously just after peace had come to the land. It was more a monument to peace than a structure of war but no one was sure who built it. Some said that it was built by the Tobas, others that it was built by the elves. Legend