by Peter Harris
The night air was cold and still as Korman and Shelley fled over bare hill and misty dale, hardly stopping for rest, pressing on into the wasteland southeast of Baldrock.
‘We will follow the Eel Hills southwards, to make for the coast, I think,’ said Korman, ‘and cross the river Baldrock at the delta where it turns to salt marshes. Our tracks will hopefully be lost in the shifting sands and marshes. Then we can turn inland again and cross the Fire-rock Peninsula, where there are hot springs and sulphurous vents. Then we must ford the Fairywater and find a pass over the Southeastern Spur (near the Fire Hills), and go down to the plains of the lake country, where the Ürxura Narábadrim still run, free and wild. We must throw ourselves at their mercy, for they are fierce, and will defend their land to the death. They have sharp hooves and terrible horns of twisted ivory, and powers of enchantment against any trespasser who does not bear the tokens of the Lady or of the Old Order.’
‘We’ve got a lot to look forward to, then,’ said Shelley.
‘Those are only the harder parts,’ replied Korman. ‘There will also be good things; very good things. I have passed this way only once, long ago, but I will never forget it. And the Ürxura keep the Aghmaath at bay – for the moment. Not only by their horns and hooves, for they walk at the same time in this world and in Faery, and there they wield the power to pierce all veils of the Dreamcasters, and to read and confuse the minds of their enemies, if they come too near. They were given their land long ago, and they defend it well. They were the original Dreamcasters, and weavers of mindwebs. We Guardians learned from them, in ages past, when the kindreds trusted one another. And so did the Aghmaath.’
‘Can they talk?’
‘Not as you or I. But their thoughts and feelings come into one’s mind. It can be frightening. They are wild, and their thoughts are alien to us, as fire is to water. For the Fire Hills go down into their land of lakes, and there it is said they talk with the Salamanders. It is said that they cross over in Faery form, as winged Ürxura, to both worlds, the Fire and the Water, where humans now cannot go, though your world was once the portal to the Fire, the Water, and the Air Worlds.’
The miles slowly slipped by as Korman talked, and Shelley questioned him more: ‘What about the unicorn that brought me across from my world? Does it live in the Land of Lakes too?’
‘Probably. It was one of those tamed – or rather, befriended – as a foal by a maiden of the Lady to help her call children across the Abyss between Worlds, finding the Paths of Beauty which lead to this world.’ Shelley wondered if it might be able to return her to Earth. She had mixed feelings at this thought. ‘I feel as though I came here for a reason, and I don’t even want to go back, not yet. Maybe I really am the Kortana!’ But then she thought of her friend Anna, and the cellphone she could never call her on again, and she even began to think fondly of mum and dad and Mark, and wonder how much they were missing her. But then she thought of the day she had gone from them, the things dad had said, and she wondered if they were still together. Part of her hoped they were, and part of her hoped that mum would have gone and found her real father again – ‘If he’s alive, and if she can find him again’ she thought gloomily, and now the universe seemed a very big, desolate place.
They were now approaching a small river, which glittered like a silver snake in the light of the Pale Moon. Away to their right, Shelley saw a round tower of shaped stone rising above broken stone walls behind the last outposts of the Eel Hills.
‘What’s that over there?’ she asked.
‘The deserted Guardian enclosure of Lakeview, in the bend of the river Baldrock where it flows into two lakes, one at either end of the enclosure. It was once very beautiful, as Elgar and Lilly will tell you.’ Korman looked sad, lost in memories as they forded the little river.
‘What is this river called? There aren’t eels in it, are there?’ asked Shelley after they had waded on in silence for a while.
‘It was called Sweetwater, because its waters are fresh, whereas the Baldrock further down becomes brackish, being tidal. The eels prefer that river, I think,’ said Korman. ‘There used to be a small eel-fishing village on its banks. But if you fear the eels, I will carry you.’ His sadness seemed to have passed. Shelley did not have the heart to ask what it had been about.
‘No, it’s all right, we’re nearly across,’ she replied.
‘Eels are really harmless creatures, you know,’ said Korman, ‘more frightened of you than you are of them. Think yourself into their place, being one of them, and imagine yourself swimming free and rejoicing in the moonlit waters in the care of the Goddess. Then your fear will disappear.’
‘I’ll try.’ She imagined herself an eel in the clear waters around where they waded, gliding past waterweed waving in the gentle currents.
‘It’s working!’ she said. ‘I did feel at one with the eels! I wasn’t scared of them at all!
‘Good, now remember for next time, have no fear; they are your little brothers and sisters.’
‘Yes. My little brothers and sisters…’
They waded on in silence, and all around they saw shoals of silvery fish, and every now and then one would leap out of the water shining in the moonlight, and plop back and disappear. But, though Shelley now almost wanted to see eels, to test her new attitude, they saw none.
‘We are making good time, brave Shelley!’ said Korman when they reached the other side. He was only wet to his knees; she was soaked to the waist. ‘From here it is less than an hour to the salt marshes of Baldrock River.’
Shelley was getting tired, but she wanted to be as brave as Korman thought she was, so she struggled on over the thick springy turf, startling the odd night-grazing rabbit, until at last they reached the dark line of tall reeds and rushes which marked the beginning of the delta. Out across the briny-smelling marshes towered a great dark outcrop of rock.
‘There is the Sentinel,’ said Korman. ‘It is the last outpost of Baldrock far upstream. Some legends call it the Runaway Child of the Giant.’
The sighing of breakers on the beach beyond the delta came to their ears, with the lonely cries of night birds.
‘Listen! The sound of the sea!’ said Shelley. ‘That brings back memories!’ The air was fresh and bracing; a steady wind came off the sea and over the marshes, ruffling their capes, drying their clothes, tangling Shelley’s hair and pressing Korman’s beard to his chest. They both breathed deep and strode forward into the refreshing wind, and soon they were making camp on a hidden islet between tall rushes, spreading dry reeds over the ground and getting blankets and sleeping bags from their packs.
They made sure their helmets were in place, and Shelley’s silver-webbed dreamcatcher – a present from Hillgard, Shelley remembered with grief. Her first one had been lost in the flight from the Canyon. ‘Where will he be right now?’ she wondered, and tried not to think about the gaping skull-shaped entrance to the Dark Labyrinth as she settled down to sleep. But fantastically grotesque faces writhed before her over-tired mind, leaping at her, and in visions she saw the captives from Baldrock being led away into the caves for endarkenment and brainwashing.
And now it seemed to her that the only cure for the restless torment of life was the simple Void that lay within the Dark Labyrinth. ‘Maybe they’re right, and we’re the ones who are deceived,’ she mused, and was immediately shocked at her own thoughts. ‘What hope is there that the captives will keep believing in life, in those dungeons?’ she thought. ‘I’m safe and free here in this beautiful land, and even so I’m slipping towards the Void… We’re all slipping away into the Void…’
The distorted images in her tired mind accelerated and merged into a vortex, sucking her down.
She gasped and sat up in her sleeping bag, gulping in air as if she had been suffocating.
‘Hel…help! Korman!’ she called in the dark.
‘What is it?’ he replied, alarmed.
‘The Dark… I don’t know… I was having horrible scary t
houghts…’ She hesitated, then went on, ‘Korman, why did the Lady or the Zagonamara or… I don’t know… God, stand by and let all those Truth-Seekers get taken away? And now Hillgard and all those brave Tímathian children? Maybe it’s all just the Void – it’ll get us all in the end, so we might as well give in to it!’
‘You walk a dark path within the Labyrinth of the Concept, Shelley. These thoughts have been called by the philosophers a “problem.” The Problem of Pain. But do not fear. Many have walked it before you, and found their way out, by the light of the Concept. Some may help you with their words. But we are all inside our perception of the Concept, and none may see beyond it to the ultimate Why. Or when they do, it is impossible to bring back what they see there and use it to answer the original question.’
‘You mean, like, the question just disappears?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you ever had that feeling, that it’s all perfect and wonderful?’
‘Yes.’
‘So have I! Up there on the mountaintop, sitting in the sphere.’
‘The Guardians seek that feeling of certainty, too. They call it “Enlightenment”. It is very wonderful. But they put most store by obedience to the Concept. We do not know why we are here, but behold! We are here, and we have been given the Concept, by which to see what we ought to do.’
‘And what is that?’
‘To love, to serve beauty, freedom and truth. Everything flows from that.’
‘You make it sound so simple and easy! But I guess it is easy for you – you’re a Guardian.’
‘If I am, it is only by long practice. A Guardian is made by training, not birth.’
‘So, do you think those prisoners will be OK?’
‘It will be a grievous trial of all that they have lived by, all they have claimed to believe. Some will go over to the enemy; some will follow the Concept and find light in the darkness, and it will shine for them all the brighter. And they may be put to death in the end, after much suffering. Or thrown into the thorns. But though we may ask why these things are, that they are remains, so we must do what we can for ourselves and our friends – and for all who suffer.’
‘So why don’t we try to rescue them when we get to the Valley of Thorns? And the Lady!’
She heard Korman sigh in the darkness near her. ‘Alas! We have a task, and that is to come to the Faery refuge of Ürak Tara for your initiation into the full wisdom of the Order. Only then…’
‘Blow Ürak Tara! I’m ready now! Anyway, they could all be dead by the time we get there! How will we rescue them then, Korman?’ she asked, accusingly.
‘You see evil, and you cannot bear to allow it to go on. But evil will go on, and suffering. That is not our concern…’
‘Not our concern! Well, what is our concern, then?’
‘To obey the Concept, and those through whom it speaks. I have been commanded to bring you safely to Ürak Tara.’
Shelley was now feeling a warring mixture of weariness, comfort from Korman’s faith, and rage at his unquestioning obedience. But she gave in to the weariness and comfort, and said, ‘Oh, have it your way, Korman! I’m exhausted. Good night!’
‘Good night, Shelley. And do not forget that in thought you may reach out and touch the minds of those who are far away in dark dungeons, and let them feel your love, and ask that they be blessed.’
She lay back in the dark and decided to try it, if only to take her mind off her own doubts and fears. She thought herself past all the mindwebs of the enemy into the very heart of darkness, the Hill of the Skull, where she imagined she saw Hillgard lying in despair, and she asked the Lady to help him, as she had said she would, in his darkest hour. It seemed to her that he looked up and smiled. Then she thought of the boy Tímathians and the girls and all the people of the Canyon, and imagined them free. ‘I will free you, I will!’ her spirit whispered into their ears. Then she fell asleep to the sound of the surf and the lonely piping of the marsh birds.
Korman sat apart a little, meditating, murmuring the words of the Concept, Arcratíne upright in the soft ground in front of him, vibrating and quivering slightly as it tuned into the subtle energies of the planet, and communicated to his mind impressions of the lie of the land and what might be walking upon it or under it. But no word came from Hillgard, and the rumour of Hithrax’s presence was very faint. He relaxed, prayed for his brother, and lay down to sleep.
But dark thoughts now assailed him, too. To counter them he called to mind some of the old proverbs of his world, some passed down through the Templars. One of his favourites was ‘Be not anxious about the morrow, for sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’
Then he remembered the heirloom entrusted to him by Hillgard. Carefully he opened the box, and there in the faint starlight gleamed a gold and amber Vapáglim . He recognised it from pictures he had seen in Barachthad’s library. He felt the beauty of the island and the amber sea surrounding it, and his heart raced at the thought of the power contained in it. He desired greatly to keep it and to use it. ‘For surely it opens the paths to all beautiful places. But I have been warned: it is perilous,’ he murmured. ‘I must wait to ask the Teacher at Ürak Tara. He will know what to do with it.’ So he closed the lid again, and soon he too was asleep, with the little box and the key hidden in an inner pocket of his robe, close to his chest.
In the early morning, Korman woke Shelley as the seagulls cried, their white feathers shining gold in the first light of the sun, wheeling about their nests in the craggy heights of the Sentinel rock. The air was cold and still and the sound of the surf was only a rhythmic sigh on the beach beyond the marshes.
They sat down on the springy grass and had a quick breakfast of cold bread and olives with dried apples and raisins, supplies from Baldrock, grown in the garden enclosures of the east.
Then they slipped away into the pearly mist that lay over the marshes. It was a beautiful crisp morning. They picked their way from clump to clump of reeds and saltwater grass, and the marsh birds flew out of the thickets as they approached. The tide was out, and the water between the clumps was shallow and the bottom sandy rather than muddy. But they saw many eels, and little silver mullet that jumped and shot away underfoot, and once when an eel squirmed against her leg Shelley had to bite her lip not to scream. ‘My little brothers and sisters,’ she repeated to herself, heart pounding.
By mid-morning they were safely across the marshes and were climbing Fire Rock Peninsula. There they saw the hot springs Korman had told her about the night before. He had promised her they would stop for a while, for her sake: as a Guardian, he bathed only in cold water, between sunset and sunrise. Shelley found a secluded hollow of the tall rocks, open only to the blue sky, with a hot pool at the bottom, and she undressed to bathe. She had been looking forward to it all the way, and she sighed with delight to feel the steaming hot water, welling up through soft sand, and to wash off the grime and mud of travel. She took out the precious cake of soap from her pack and scrubbed herself well. ‘Who knows when my next hot bath will be?’ she thought as she floated deliciously without fear under the skies of Aeden, guarded by her own faithful bodyguard, delighting in the way the water stayed hot and the air around her stayed fresh. ‘This is so much better than the bath at home!’ she smiled to the sky above her.
Korman stood on the other side of the rocks, and looked back the way they had come, scanning the horizon with practiced eyes. Baldrock was now just a distant peak behind the Eel Hills, and the Guardian mountain at the end of the Northeast Arm was just a distant blue peak above the pearly mists of the coast. There lay the Portal of the Kortana, and his home, the cave of his long vigil.
He wondered what the young Tímathians were doing, now that their leader was taken by the Aghmaath. ‘I would go to their aid, and rally them,’ he thought, ‘and we would sweep down upon our enemies like fire. This sword would cut the shackles that bind my brother, and together we would destroy the oppressors.’ He gripped the hilt of Arcr
atíne for a second, then sighed.
‘But my duty lies here. I will be content, and account this journey to be part of the Training. For there is much to learn, Lady.’ He pondered the natural way that Shelley slipped in and out of Faery, and learned new things and led without effort and, more and more, was full of bright joy. ‘And yet, as the light grows within her, so does the shadow grow deeper. She will face many perils from within before long,’ he thought. ‘And, the spell of Everchild does not seem to have taken hold yet; she may soon grow into a woman. How can I guide her? It will be hard for her, without a mother…’
Shelley finally dressed and came out, walking barefoot, holding her leather sandals. They were a gift from Goldheart, elegant but well designed for serious walking. But the tough hide soles were already looking worn.
‘I needed that! I’m ready for anything now,’ she said, smiling.
‘Good!’ replied Korman, ‘But “anything” is a big word! I hope we will get to the lake country without meeting anything in the wilds ahead. But we know Hithrax will not be far behind.’
‘Ugh! Anything but Hithrax! Let’s get going then!’
They crossed the barren Fire Rock peninsula, taking care not to trip on the sharp volcanic rocks, where frilled lizards like those on the slopes of Baldrock lived lazy lives, sunbathing on the hot stone. The climb was long and arduous for Shelley, and the cooling effect of the bath soon disappeared under the hot sun. Korman tried to keep to the less exposed gullies and crevices in the folded rock, but the loose scoria underfoot and the lack of wind began to exhaust her.
At last they came down the other side, and looked down at a blue bay under the mountains of the Southeast Arm. Shelley felt an urge to run down to its cool pebbly shores and go for a long swim. But Korman said it was too dangerous to go down to the shore. They had come too far south, and had to go back up the peninsula for some way before they could cross over, at the head of the bay, where a small river issued from a dark tangled opening in a thick forest, at a ford which was icy cold, despite the name.
‘This is the river Fairywater. That is the Great Southern Fairy Forest, where some say the Fairies of old Aeden still live, and build little ships which sometimes sail out of the forest, down the Fairywater to the sea,’ said Korman. ‘But others say they all sailed away long ago.’
‘Where to?’ asked Shelley, staring into the forest gloom where the river came out, as if to catch a glimpse of little fairy ships.
‘East, to the Islands of the Rising Sun.’
They turned south, away from the forest, making for the Fire Hills. To their left the Fairywater wound down through long tussock to the narrow harbour they had looked down on from the Peninsula. ‘In that bay the dolphins of Aeden came to give birth to their young,’ said Korman, seeing Shelley looking at it longingly.
‘So it was called Dolphin Bay. And about that island in the harbour, at the end of Fire Rock, they say the mermaids play, and sing with the fairy folk of the island. Or used to. That is why it was called Mermaid Island.’
‘I do want to go boating there one day, and look for mermaids.’
‘Perhaps you will, one day.’
They toiled on uphill through scrubby grasslands all the rest of that morning, without seeing more than the odd bird or loping rabbit, following a long shallow valley which led up into the Fire Hills, beyond which lay the land of the Unicorns. Behind them the Fairy Forest stretched to the foothills of the central Tor Enyása, blue in the distance, while closer and closer loomed the Fire Hills.
The wind began to sweep through the long grass and sigh through the scattered trees. Then Shelley heard a faint thunder which seemed to come from the ground under her feet. Korman had heard it too; he had stopped and was looking around. The sound grew, until Shelley recognised it and cried, ‘Horses!’ But Korman was already pulling her down into the shelter of a lone tree in a rocky outcrop.
‘It is a large group of riders, coming this way. I think I can guess who it is. Not the Aghmaath; they do not yet have that many horses. And they would not ride so recklessly. No, it is the Boy Raiders.’
‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ exclaimed Shelley. ‘Let’s wave out to them!’
‘Perhaps we should let them pass, Shelley,’ said Korman.
‘What?’
‘I think they seek you and will try to turn you aside from your path. They will ask you to join them for the siege at Thorngate. Elgar was expecting them to come. They are recruiting for the strike against the enemy’s encroachment into the northeast, where they live.’
But Shelley had heard all she needed. She leaped up, stepped away from the tree and began waving to the horsemen, now visible in the distance, though it was mainly their cantering horses that were visible; the boys were well camouflaged, and small for the size of their mounts.
Except for one figure, far out in front. He sat high in the saddle, looking this way and that as he rode swiftly on. Then he saw Shelley, and he kicked his horse into a gallop and sped towards her.
Shelley’s heart was beating madly as he reined in his great horse and dismounted, but she managed what she hoped was a normal enough greeting:
‘Hello. What’ve you been up to?’ (‘Too harsh,’ she thought, and bit her lip.) Quickblade! It was him, just as handsome as she remembered him, though he looked thinner.
He smiled and replied, casually, ‘I see you have learned to speak our language. The old man has his uses, it seems. But where is he? Surely he hasn’t left you to wander out here all on your own?’ His eyes twinkled mischievously.
‘Of course not! Korman’s – ’
‘Here! I am her Guardian; where else would I be?’ said Korman, appearing out of nowhere, alarming some of the boys who had now come up behind their leader’s horse. ‘But what is your business here, Quickblade?’
‘I think you know the answer, old man. We seek warriors. The war has begun. We will drive the Birdmen from Applegate and back to the accursed Plateau, where they came from. There we will slaughter them like dogs.’
‘Birds? Dogs? You seem to be forgetting, Quickblade, that these “Birdmen” do not come from Aeden, but are descendants of the Keepers, founding wizards of the Old Order, having many occult powers. How do you plan to fight them in pitched battle?’
‘That is why we seek the girl. I – we – want her to join us. We have heard her called ‘She who walks in Faery.’ We have need of such powers, if we are to pass through their magical defences. Then we will kill, kill, with our sharp diamond-edged swords and long bows of yew.’ The boys behind him cheered.
‘Well, will you come with us, Shelley?’ said Quickblade, and Korman saw that his eyes were pleading, though his face was hard. Korman went to speak, but Quickblade held up his hand imperiously.
‘Let the girl speak, old man!’
‘I’m quite capable of talking for myself!’ said Shelley. She stared at Quickblade defiantly. ‘Where did you learn your manners? Talking to Lord Korman like that!’ Quickblade looked angry for a split-second, then laughed, and the boys behind joined in.
‘Sorry, Lady Shelley,’ he grinned.
Korman saw Shelley take a deep breath to say something in reply. ‘Now the sparks are really flying between them,’ thought Korman in alarm. ‘I know how quickly those sparks can light the fire of passion.’ Aloud, he said, ‘Quickblade! I do not mind being called an old man; I am not so young any more. And it is the wisdom of age, I hope, that speaks now: Shelley has a great destiny to follow, which will unfold in the fullness of time. First she must go to be schooled in the ancient wisdom of the Order, at the Faery refuge and college of Ürak Tara. Then she can do battle, or whatever it is her destiny to do. But she must be initiated first.’
‘And what is this destiny of hers that you meddle in, Slowblade, he who will not use the mighty sword given him by his own destiny?’
‘A quick and clever answer, Quickblade. But “A blow that is hasty goes often astray,” as the poet says.’ Korman looked Quickblade ste
adily in the eye.
‘You would have us all wait until the sky turns dark with the seeds of the thorns, and the Dreamcasters come, and one by one we are all taken away in Deathwagons!’ retorted Quickblade.
‘The time for open battle will come.’
‘If not now, when? The time is now!’ said Quickblade.
‘The time is NOW! The time is NOW!’ the boys all shouted in unison, beating their hands against the necks of their horses, which reared and plunged, whinnying. Shelley thought she saw a familiar face among them: Rilke. He was brandishing a small sword, and there was a tiny monkey-like figure in front of him, clinging to his horse’s mane. It was Worriette, she was sure.
She was about to call their names, but Quickblade cried, ‘Well, will you join us? Time is very short!’ He spoke with fierce intensity, fixing his stare on Shelley, his eyes glittering with hope – and (it seemed to her) desire. A fiery thrill went through her, and she yearned to spring up onto his horse with him and gallop away to his home, to do great deeds of battle at his side. She saw herself with a great bow of yew, shooting the enemy as she led the Boy Raiders into Faery, through the Thorngate and into the stronghold of the Aghmaath, burning the hateful thorns and killing the Aghmaath who would be wandering blindly in the mists. Her own ferocity frightened her.
She looked at Korman; he was looking at her, waiting to hear her answer. She hesitated, longing to go with Quickblade, to use her powers at his side. But something told her there was a power that rested in Korman that neither she nor Quickblade was ready to use, a deeper, wiser power, and she wanted to learn it.
‘If I come with you, Quickblade,’ she said slowly, making herself say what she had to say, ‘I will never learn what I need to, if I’m to become…’
‘Become what?’ he interrupted.
‘The Kortana…’ she said, haltingly, and she felt foolish saying it.
‘So, the wizard has filled your head with that old wives’ tale about the “Chosen One”, has he? Ha! Don’t you realise, the only one who can ever choose you is you!’
‘Aren’t you trying to choose me right now?’ she shot back, and he blushed.
‘Go, then,’ he cried, to cover up his embarrassment. ‘Go with the old Guardian! But you can’t be the Chosen One, you’re just a girl!’ The minute he said this he regretted it, and bit his lip until it bled.
Shelley was furious, and shouted back, ‘Go away, do your macho thing! See if I care! And go ahead, scoff at the old Guardian! I think Korman’s a wiser man than you’ll ever be, but what would I know, I’m just a girl! Well, you can find someone else to walk in Faery for you!’
Quickblade looked crestfallen for a second, then spat in disgust, ‘Pah! Jilter! Why don’t you go and join them? They’d welcome you as a long-lost sister!’ He spat again, and all the boys spat with him – all except Rilke. Then he proudly leapt back on his horse, blowing a short blast on his horn as he galloped away, and the boys all galloped after him.
‘Wait!’ cried Korman, but it was too late. They were gone.
‘Oh, men!’ exclaimed Shelley, and stamped her foot. Then she brightened. ‘I think that went quite well, don’t you?’
‘It would have gone better if we had exchanged some information,’ said Korman dryly.
‘Oh, yes, sorry. I wonder where they’d come from, and where they’re going?’
‘I think they have been to the south-eastern lands, and picked up many recruits – I saw Rilke among them – and now they are riding to intercept the Deathwagons taking the captives from Baldrock to the Valley of Thorns. This was a detour, I think, to find you.’
‘Well, he found me all right,’ said Shelley.
Now Quickblade was gone she was missing him already, (and Rilke, though he hadn’t even spoken to her), and tears stood in her eyes. But she turned away so Korman wouldn’t see, brushed the tears away and said, ‘Well, I guess we’d better keep going, then.’
‘You have chosen wisely, Shelley, and many may thank you for it in the long run; even the Boy Raiders,’ said Korman. He smiled. ‘And, thank you for sticking up for me.’
‘It wasn’t hard. I was so mad at him!’ said Shelley, laughing. ‘But weren’t you mad too?’
‘Why should I be? I was young and impatient too, once. Not so long ago, either,’ he added, with a wry smile. ‘And besides, Quickblade reminds me of my brother, Hillgard.’
Shelley remembered the terrible fall of Baldrock and Hillgard and all the other prisoners being taken away.
‘Do you think the Boy Raiders will get to the Deathwagons in time to rescue him and all those brave Tímathian children?’
‘I do not know. I doubt it. And could the Boys overpower such a large convoy?’ said Korman sadly.