“They don’t seem to like us,” Damselfly commented.
“The Scorj don’t make a habit of associating with foreigners,” Delridden explained.
“The descendants of the Scorpion,” the princess realised.
“You know the stories.”
“Most of them,” Damselfly admitted.
“I would like to hear your story,” he added, gathering a small pile of flat stones.
Damselfly knew that revealing too much information could be dangerous; they had only just met this man, and despite saving them from Sprites, he might have his own agenda for doing so. Unfortunately, they were also alone in the largest and oldest garden in Fable, and without help they would never be able to finish their mission. Damselfly also remembered her promise to Buttons that if they failed here, they would return home, no matter the consequences. There seemed little choice but to trust this man. Delridden pulled a flask from his saddlebag and handed it to Damselfly who found it half-full of delicious water.
“Go easy, there is not another watering hole for miles,” he warned as Buttons threatened to drain the skin dry.
“Do you have anything to eat?” the scolded rabbit probed.
Delridden returned to his saddlebag where he uncovered several long strips of dried meat. Buttons immediately accepted the treat and began nibbling away quite happily.
“They are better with some fresh herbs and warm bread,” Delridden offered. “The meat is very tough and can be hard on your jaw and teeth.”
Buttons was oblivious to any hardship, enjoying the meal heartily before curling up next to Damselfly and falling instantly asleep. Delridden produced a pouch of herbs which he mixed with some wheat and placed on the warm rocks to cook. Winter was given free rein to scour the rocky landscape for any patches of grass that might lurk this high up, leaving Damselfly alone with her rescuer.
“Have you always been a soldier?” she ventured.
Delridden looked momentarily guarded before opening up about his past.
“I was a carpenter many years ago in a small town,” he revealed.
“What happened?”
“The town was very small, and I was not particularly skilled. I travelled around for a while before I kind of fell into being a soldier; people need protecting and I needed to eat.”
Delridden’s humility seemed a little false considering his prized steed and well-made armour, although Damselfly detected no deliberate evasion.
“How did you come to be in the Shadowgarden?” the princess asked.
“I was looking for someone,” Delridden replied vaguely. “Then I discovered a secret war was being waged in the east and I decided to stay and do what I could to help. The natives have not truly accepted me, though they welcome my blade in battle readily enough. What is a young princess doing here alone?”
Damselfly told her story from the beginning with her surprise birthday party, to her mother’s sudden illness and Death’s deal to delay his part if they retrieved his stolen timepiece.
“You wish to enter the Evergarden?” Delridden appeared amazed.
“I have to save my mother,” Damselfly insisted.
“You may be the bravest person I have ever met.”
Damselfly tried to hide her embarrassment at the soldier’s praise although she could feel her cheeks burning. They ate a simple meal and shared a mouthful of water before waking Buttons to continue their journey. Winter continued to climb the rocky incline without protest. The other men’s ponies seemed equally hardy and traversed the difficult terrain with practiced ease. The Shadowgarden was the oldest of all Fable’s gardens. The mountain range they were scaling was the highest that could be found and was crowned by Mount Duskenside, the sanctuary of the Scorj.
With the stifling heat the travelers soon found themselves uncomfortably hot. Damselfly’s fair skin was beginning to burn, and she could understand why the natives wore loose tunics that covered almost every part of them.
“How far is it?” Buttontail asked, not for the first time.
“Please be quiet, Buttons. I am too hot to have to strangle you,” Damselfly declared.
“There is a small stream up ahead where we can rest,” Delridden offered.
The stream turned out to be a slow trickle of tepid water although Buttons for once did not complain. Damselfly found some relief from the sun in a patch of shade, and Delridden went to speak with his comrades about their ascent.
“How far do we have to go?” Buttons whined.
“I know I promised to return home if we failed to find what we’re looking for here, but you have to give me a chance,” Damselfly reasoned.
“My problem is not giving you a chance to find what we’re looking for, but believing you will be true to your word if we don’t,” Buttons remarked.
The princess was stung by her friend’s words although she knew they held a grain of truth, for she could not imagine giving up on her mother. When Delridden returned he did not seem to notice the tense silence that existed; his mind was occupied by what was to come, something that Damselfly and Buttons could not have imagined in their strangest dreams.
They travelled higher into the mountains, desperately short of water. The summit of Mount Duskenside never appeared to come any closer, and each of them was lost in their own thoughts as the horses plodded along. Delridden attempted to start a conversation several times though he soon gave up after Damselfly’s monosyllabic answers and Buttons’ pretense at being asleep. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, one of the Scorj riders returned from his scouting mission to advise them that they were close and there was danger ahead. Damselfly could not understand the messenger’s words though his body language spoke of clear unease and his audience seemed to amplify his concerns. Delridden returned to them after listening to the scout with a frown on his handsome face.
“There is an army laying siege to the mountain,” the soldier relayed.
“Is it the Shades?” Damselfly posed.
“No, this is no civil war but an invasion,” Delridden replied. “I will show you.”
Against the countless warnings of his peers, Delridden led them both to a high ridge a few hundred metres up the beaten track where they could gain a view of the plateau. They moved forward at the end on hands and knees to avoid being spotted. At first Damselfly did not believe her eyes and wondered if she was seeing a mirage. Unfortunately, as her brain slowly deciphered the scene before them, she felt her hair stand on end despite the heat. Every available space upon the wide plateau was taken by a vast army of Sprites, Baywolves, jackals, ogres, goblins and even a Giant who stood out even amongst the masses.
“I have never seen an army so large,” Damselfly stated incredulously.
“It appears that the Fairy King’s followers were not all captured and banished to the Evergarden as we thought,” Delridden reasoned.
“How can this be possible?” the princess questioned.
“My uncle and father defeated the Fairy King’s scourge and made sure they would not return.”
“It gets worse,” Delridden explained. “Another smaller army is currently surrounding the remaining Shade settlements and they do not have the same defenses as the Scorj.”
“Why don’t they ask for help?” Buttons asked.
“The Scorj are too proud to seek help from outsiders; even I am barely tolerated. The Shades would never fight alongside the Scorj, an enemy they have been warring with for generations.”
“Without aid they surely cannot survive,” Damselfly questioned.
“Perhaps though they will not go down without a fight,” Delridden promised.
“Have we come all this way for nothing?” Buttons sighed.
“No, we can still enter using secret tunnels known only to the Scorj. They will take us deep inside the mountain and safely navigate the enemy forces,” Delridden apprised.
“Why are they here?” Damselfly spoke aloud.
“No one is sure although it appears that they are loo
king for something or someone,” Delridden responded.
“Maybe they’re here for the same reason we are,” the princess considered.
If they were seeking an object powerful enough to gain them access to the Evergarden, perhaps the Fairy King’s army had the same idea and their mission had just become even harder. Leaving the army behind, they returned to the camp. A Scorj soldier took the lead with Delridden bringing up the rear. They were led to what appeared to be a dead end until two men moved a mountain. Clearly a clever trick, the rock, which looked identical to every other part of the mountain, was easily moved, revealing a dark, narrow tunnel. Buttons hardly had time to complain before the line was moving and their small party disappeared inside.
It was much cooler travelling the subterranean tunnels of Mount Duskenside. Any sound the party made was amplified by the rock on all sides, and Buttons was immediately terrified of the echo. Damselfly felt a slight twinge of guilt at enjoying Buttontail’s discomfort, which cleared his mind of their earlier argument. After a series of turns through the labyrinthine hive, Damselfly was completely lost and very glad their Scorj leader appeared to know his way. Few people outside the Scorj family had ever walked these secret passages and even fewer returned to the world afterwards. The princess could understand why anyone trying to escape the mountain would die of thirst or hunger long before they discovered an exit. Surprisingly, a few of the rocks showed signs of damp and were cool to the touch.
“Underground pools of water.” Delridden seemed to read her thoughts. “That is how the Scorj survive in this remote place.”
Buttontail stiffened in Damselfly’s arms, warning her of their imminent arrival. The rabbit’s senses were better than even the Scorj whose familiarity with their home made them prefer life underground. The tunnel ahead appeared lighter by degrees as they climbed. The unmistakable scent of smoke greeted them and the feeling of claustrophobia that had accompanied their journey dropped away. They stepped out onto a high perch overlooking a great cavern that could have held Castle Thrane within its vast walls. A small town seemed to be nestled in the mountain’s heart, with multiple campfires scattered across the vista where women were cooking with stone ovens. Natural rings of stalagmites created areas where families lived. No stalactites hung from the ceiling as above them rested only dry ground. Few alive today could remember rain falling on the mountain even before time stopped. Damselfly was surprised to witness children running around the trodden paths, wearing the same concealing tunic that their guides adorned.
“Welcome to the Seat of the Scorpion,” Delridden introduced.
Decades ago, the Scorpion and his fleeing followers had sought sanctuary in this domed theatre from their pursuers. Even now it kept them safe from the violent army camped at their door. Their presence was beginning to be noticed by those below as a few alert Scorj pointed them out to those around them. They stood perhaps twenty feet above the rocky floor where the Scorj sought refuge. Damselfly wondered how they were to get down when the leading soldier shinned down a rope at breakneck speed before stopping with practiced ease as his feet hit the ground.
“They make it look easy, you will be all right as long as you hang on to the rope,” Delridden instructed.
Buttons watched with growing trepidation as one after another the Scorj threw themselves from the perch and scrabbled down the rock using ropes that blended into the natural mineral. Without thinking, Damselfly lifted them from the ground using her wings and began a slow descent that had the onlookers staring in awe. A scatter of voices and upturned faces greeted Damselfly as she approached safety. The dignified entrance was ruined as the princess tried to slow their fall. Remembering that her wing had been damaged earlier by a Sprite’s spear, Damselfly fought to keep them from crashing. She attempted to zig zag in an effort to slow them down.
“We’re going to die,” Buttons cried, closing his eyes tight.
Damselfly noticed a blur pass them, although she was too busy trying to halt their progress to note that Delridden had rushed past them down a rope and gathered them safely to his side.
The three of them landed in a heap, surprisingly unharmed. Buttons was extremely grateful until he noticed that every person in the cavern was staring at them. The party they had accompanied began to force their way through the crowd unceremoniously, and Damselfly followed, drawing many open stares.
“They do not like magic,” Delridden whispered.
Feeling foolish for endangering herself and Buttons along with upsetting their hosts, the princess tried to keep her eyes focused on the floor though soon her curiosity got the better of her. In tales of the Scorj told by Old Nana, there had been many interesting legends, though none of them had been told by people who had actually been inside the stronghold. The people interested Damselfly the most. They had burnished skin with dark eyes, long hair often tied back in a simple knot; the children all appeared to be bare foot, and, surprisingly, there was barely a weapon in sight. For the Scorj, this place was clearly a sanctuary from the tough landscape outside and their many enemies.
This was home.
After weaving an indirect path through the mass of onlookers, they were halted at a large ring of rocks that appeared like giant teeth in a monster’s jaw. Two guards with spears, dressed in red tunics, guarded the narrow opening; it appeared to be the only entrance and exit, meaning that any attempt at forced entry would have to go through these armed men. After a swift conversation, they were allowed through by the guards. Delridden remained protectively close as they filed into a secluded section of the cave lit by flaming torches ensconced in the bare rock. All the men they passed in this area wore red tunics unlike the common black clothing that everyone else was adorned in. They were also all armed with a variety of weapons from daggers to halberds. Long shadows marked their progress along the rock wall, mimicking the sun’s effect on the surface despite no natural light reaching this place.
Suddenly, the Scorj all prostrated themselves, leaving Damselfly a clear view of a raised dais where a large seat in the form of a scorpion was occupied by a young woman. The throne was made of sandstone, carved into the form of a scorpion, with the head acting as a seat, the claws making arm rests, the body became a back support and for decoration the scorpion’s tail hung precariously over the seated. Immediately, there was a harsh conversation between the woman and those that had brought them here. Damselfly could not understand a single word, although she knew that the discussion was about her, and could only wait silently until she was addressed. The woman sitting in the scorpion chair wore black scale armour. She looked about sixteen years old with unusually fair hair compared to her comrades, a blossom of red stained her lips and she had a pair of piercing blue eyes. A sword was housed in a scabbard at her hip ceremoniously, Damselfly thought the weapon would drag along the ground if she was to begin walking.
“May I introduce the Princess Damselfly of Thronegarden,” Delridden announced.
Damselfly did her best to look regal although with all those eyes staring at her she felt a fraud.
“Welcome to the Seat of the Scorpion. I am Maiden Fayre,” the young woman replied.
“It has been many years since a delegation from Thronegarden visited us.”
This last sentence sounded equally reprimanding, as it did, welcoming.
“We are grateful for your hospitality,” Damselfly smiled.
An elderly man wearing an elaborate head scarf appeared beside the throne. His eyes were cloudy although he appeared to be studying them carefully.
“What brings you to our remote lands?” Maiden Fayre enquired.
“I am searching for a bell which was stolen from my family,” Damselfly responded.
“Are you suggesting one of us stole this bell?” Maiden Fayre raised an eyebrow.
“No, Your Highness,” Damselfly clarified. “I was hoping you would be willing to assist us in recovering the item.”
At this request many of the prostrated guards began muttering between
themselves. Maiden Fayre ignored them and appeared disinterested.
“I believe the Sprite army outside is also looking for the bell,” Damselfly stated.
The atmosphere changed instantly as the ‘soldiers’ whisperings were silenced and Maiden Fayre’s attention seemed to pique.
“What makes you say that?” the old man questioned.
“I came across them before in the Wintergarden; they are attempting to free the Fairy King from his exile.”
“That is impossible,” Maiden Fayre dismissed.
“Perhaps not,” the old man interrupted. “No one alive knows the true magic of bells; it is conceivable one could hold the power to bridge the gap between us and the Evergarden. My question is, why are you looking for it?”
Princess Damselfly felt exposed as the conversation built in tension; it would take only one word from the maiden and her soldiers would strike them down.
“I wish to recover Death’s timepiece.”
The guards seemed to mock her statement before the Maiden Fayre silenced them.
“Such a purpose deserves respect,” she ordered.
“Will you help me?” Damselfly asked.
“I cannot while an army waits outside my door,” the Scorj leader replied.
“Could you not join with the Shades to defeat them?” Damselfly proposed.
“The Scorj and the Shades are feudal enemies, nothing can change that.”
“You could,” Damselfly spoke up. “Neither of you can stand against the Sprites alone; together you may stand a chance.”
“What do you think to the girl’s proposal, my Sting,” Maiden Fayre spoke to the old man.
“Her words carry the naiveté of youth,” the Scorpion’s Sting pronounced.
“Your ancestors tried to unite your people once before.” Damselfly referred to the Legend of the Lady.
“Look how that turned out,” Maiden Fayre scoffed. “Scorj and Shades will always remain enemies, no matter the circumstances.”
Thronegarden Page 18