“Windfell Woods,” said Sister Hulda who overheard their conversation. “One can get lost in Windfell Woods, or at least hide out there if you want to be lost.”
“We can use the convent as a front,” Sumnar nodded.
“It’s not a bad idea. It is pretty central in Terramis and could be used as a base of operations for any resistance or simply to take in any refugees. There is also a secret entrance to Ampheus which may be useful.” He paused, “If we can dodge past the dragon.”
“Dragon?” said Aron.
“Don’t ask,” said Sumnar.
The Prince paused in thought. “The woods will still feel like home. A place to start again. It makes sense. We should make our way there, regroup and come up with a new plan.”
“Your Highness forgive me,” said Raisa, “but I must return to the forest and find Aksel. If I know him he’ll likely do the unexpected. If he is on foot he’ll likely head east, at least initially. He may need my help. I will head south to avoid the Janshai, then north east to search for him. There is a possibility that he is with other survivors.”
Halle tapped Ailin on her shoulder and signed and nodded. Ailin glanced at Aland, “We will come with you, Leo and Daylon were our companions. They could still be out there.”
“Then I will come too,” said Aland.
Ailin shook her head, “No,” she shrugged. “Aron needs you more than ever. It is right that you stay with him.” She paused, “If you can keep both of you alive, I may even deign to marry you on my return!”
Aland frowned at her, “Don’t go disappointing me, make sure you find your way home!”
Raisa smiled, “The company will be most welcome. I suggest we leave in the morning.”
“Good,” agreed the Prince. “The rest of us will head back to Windfell Woods. Let us bow our heads. This moment reminds me of a story my father once read to me as a child.
“It is of the firebird. The firebird was born from the sun its very self. A beautiful bird the size and shape of an eagle. With golden feathers made of sunlight and a cry to give joy to men’s hearts.
“The firebird could live for thousands of years and was a talisman of peace and well-being in the world. However, in time, man would forget and the world would veer from its path of goodness.
“Hatred, jealousy, loathing and spite would creep back into the world. Dulling the lustre of the firebird’s beautiful plumage.
“In sadness and despair the firebird’s life would wane. It would be aware of its approaching death and lift itself from its golden nest and fly back to the sun. There it would revive itself and flare into a new life, returning to the world to bring peace and happiness once more.
“The firebird reminds us that whatever the difficulties you face, you can overcome them and emerge triumphant. We must become the firebird and overcome Vane and bring a new hope to this world.”
Chapter 14
On the Run
Leo and Aksel kept low and ran hunched through the bracken that covered their backs. Leo relied on Aksel to lead the way and simply followed him blindly. If he slowed, Leo slowed. If he stopped Leo tried not to run into the back of him. Aksel did not need to tell him to be quiet.
Leo had nothing to say. And besides he was too out of breath to do anything but pant. The sounds of battle cries and fighting had long diminished, and eventually Aksel drew to a halt and squatted. He put his forefinger to his lips, and turned his head around listening for any indication that they were being followed. They both strained their ears for what seemed an eternity. Then Aksel visibly relaxed a little. Well he relaxed from a place of deep concern to wary with heightened state of vigilance. On the bright side they now felt a long way from blind panic.
Aksel did his best to put on a reassuring smile, “We are not out of the woods by a long shot yet. I am sure the Janshai will expand their search of the area around Dryw Henge and will pick up our trail. Janshai are expert trackers and they should not have too much trouble following us.”
“We have a saying,” said Leo. “It takes a thief to catch a thief. Can we not outfox them?”
Aksel nodded, “It is not easy, at least through the woods. The ground underfoot is soft leaving imprints of our tracks, and it’s almost impossible to find a path through the foliage without disturbing smaller leaves and twigs. Frankly, the more elaborate the disguise the longer it will take to plan and execute. If they are on our tails they will be upon us before we are finished. I think at this point we hope for the best. The Janshai are still in pursuit of the knights. To give us any advantage the best option is to make as much ground as quickly as possible. If we come across an opportunity to use the environment to cover our tracks, we’ll do that. Hopefully we’ll stumble across a couple of grazing horses.”
“Can’t you just whistle and your horse will come running?” asked Leo.
Aksel stopped, looked at him in surprise, and then chuckled under his breath, “Don’t be fooled by that old trick. It may seem the knights have a mastery of their steeds, but it’s not the case. Next time you see a knight whistle for his stallion, I guarantee he’ll also call its name and wave his arms around. It’s an odd thing, most miss that, because they are still thinking wow he whistled and the horse came.” He laughed again.
“Frankly the horse’s sense of smell is more acute, they are much more likely to sense the odour of his master from a hundred yards than hear him. I remember you saying the other day that Flint took a while to get used to you. It’s probably due to your odour, even now you probably still carry the smell from the village on you, it is likely to unsettle Flint. He’s used to the smell of riders from Ampheus. Horses have a seemingly irrational fear of some smells, such as the strong odours of a pig sty.”
“Charming!” said Leo. “Are you saying I smell like a pig?”
“Well to Flint anyway. On the bright side if he cares, he may come and find you.”
There were several evasive actions they took over the next day or so to eliminate their tracks and slow down any pursuers. Where the ground was a little harder or was a well-trodden path, they attached bracken to their feet to widen the imprint of their weight. If they came across patches of fallen trees or rocks, they would create decoy footprints, then clamber across these features. At one point they came across a stream. They followed it for a mile or so before finding an exit where they left as few marks on the ground as possible.
Occasionally, Aksel would have Leo walk on the sides of his feet, so as not to leave a footprint. He’d then stop and brush their tracks, before they headed off in another direction. Else he’d sharpen a wooden spike and bury its end into the soil, the stake hidden by knots of bracken on the path they took. Each time he would look up to the treetops above and listen for the sounds of any pursuers. Leo looked at him suspiciously. “Is what we are doing making any difference?”
Aksel paused as if weighing up his response, “No, the Janshai are expert trackers. They will find us eventually.”
“So why are we doing all this?”
“I thought it would make you feel better,” said Aksel.
“Feel better?”
“Yes, that we may have a fair chance to escape, and live to fight another day.”
“And we don’t?”
“It’s not likely!”
“Oh,” said Leo, “I thought we were doing a great job. Well what’s the best we can hope for, other than say a quick death?”
“I was hoping we’d run into some horses or friendly troops. Or find a good spot to ambush them.”
“Ambush them? You know that there are only two of us. And I assume you’ve noticed my limited fighting skills.”
“Well you never know, it may give us a fighting chance if there are not too many of them. And they don’t have dogs. If they have tracking hounds we are screwed as they’ll sniff you out and blow your cover long before you’re able to shou
t ‘boo’. Let’s keep going, needless to say we can’t be far from the edge of the forest now. I’d rather like to see the sun again.”
It was only then they heard the noises in the background, faint but certain. The keen bark of the hounds sensing the scent of their quarry getting fresh, and the whinny of horses being forced to follow their path through the undergrowth. Aksel’s eyes widened, and he cursed under his breath. At one point there was an anguished squeal and howl of a dog that must have run into one of the buried spikes. Another hound took its place and continued their pursuit.
Aksel and Leo ran, brushing through the trees with their pursuers getting closer. Ahead of them was a rocky outcrop that rose out of the dense undergrowth of the woods. Aksel pointed, “Let’s make a stand there, we can’t outrun them.” They leapt left and right footed up the lower boulders, then scrambled to the top on their hands and knees; wet, slippery clay caked their skin and clothes. Just short of the ledge they turned and looked behind them to see the shadows of dogs and horses crashing through the woods not a hundred yards away. Aksel adjusted his sword and stood facing the oncoming Janshai.
“That stick of yours, any use?”
“I don’t think so,” said Leo. “At Dryw Henge it was more about the totems than any power within me.”
“So be it!” said Aksel. “I sort of expected this to all end a little differently! My people deserve better than this.”
It was at this point a pile of the rocks turned to them and said, “Fate is fate, things that happen have to happen, no matter what. And there was no way to avoid this. No way of avoiding being here on this mound of rocks right now. No way of avoiding what will happen next. Which in this case, for both of you anyways, appears most likely to be certain death.”
Aksel and Leo stood aghast, as the pile of rocks shifted from one buttock to another, clearly making himself more comfortable. As Leo squinted his eyes, he could just make out the lines of a man, seated on a boulder leaning forward. His elbow rested on his knee, his chin circled by the thumb and forefinger of his hand in a pose of contemplation. This was no finely sculptured salt white marble statue with bulging biceps and a six-pack. No, this was a jumbled collection of rocks and stones, seemingly cobbled together with casual abandon.
“Depressing right? Mind you, do you know what’s more soul destroying? I was a young man once. People would say I was a brilliant thinker or philosopher. They would travel from far away lands to listen to my teachings. I’ve been sitting here on a philosophical journey for eternity. My luscious blond locks thinned, my youthful looks faded in the elements, and my young limbs petrified. My mind kept turning constantly looking for answers to questions about existence or what makes someone happy. I have been down more rabbit holes and faced more dead ends than anyone could imagine. It is so disheartening.”
Leo paused, not sure what to say, but settled on a little empathy for the pile of rubble. “Well I’m sure there are no easy answers. If it’s any consolation I am sure there are plenty of other people with the same burning questions.”
“Yes, but just a moment ago I had an epiphany. It related to art, literature, health and philosophy. Striving to lessen the pain and suffering of man to attain a state of tranquillity. Free from insatiable desires of the world and of the fear of death. Frankly, with you two scrabbling up here, I quite lost my line of thought. It is most distressing.”
“Well, I’m sorry about that,” said Leo. “I try not to think too hard about things myself. It makes my brain ache. I’ll leave the big thinking to everyone else. Plenty of others out there asking the big questions. No need for me to add my musings on why bacon is tastier than cabbage and yet cabbage is far healthier for you.”
The stone blinked. “Perhaps that is wise advice indeed. I tend to easily lose touch with reality and prefer being lost in a world of theoretical realms. It takes a lot of emotional effort to question and analyse everything when day-to-day life seems so meaningless. It’s most dispiriting.”
“All well and good,” said Aksel, “but while you consider the meaning of life and the small part you play in the cosmos, could you chuck a few boulders at those riders down there? I feel fate, in fact, may have a slightly sunnier outlook for us today, after all.”
“Just one thing?” asked the rubble despondently. “You both seem like perfectly nice people, but important to ask I think. Just to bring it out in the open to avoid any misunderstandings and recriminations in the future. Are you the good guys or the bad guys?”
“Oh, we are definitely the good guys,” replied Aksel.
“Jolly good,” said the rubble gloomily. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’ve spent so much time here on my own. I’m really not sure whether I’d be a good judge of character anymore.”
With that the rubble picked up a boulder the size of a canon ball and pitched it at the first advancing Janshai. He was knocked clear off his horse and broke one hundred and fifty-two of the two hundred and six bones in his body. The first hound reached the top of the mound. Its lips curled as it snarled and snapped at the three of them. The rubble kicked it, spinning in the air over the nearest tree.
As the rubble batted away a couple of arrows that fizzed their way, he considered his freedom of action and the inherent perils of his choices. At least this saved him from wandering through life purely on impulse. The fact he truly thought about his life gave it meaning and made it worth living. That said, everyone has an innate reaction to threats or stress. In this instance fight or flight.
The rubble considered this as he strode manfully down the hill towards the astonished Janshai. He trampled over the first, swung the second against a tree, and shook his fist at the remnants of the party as they skedaddled back the way they came.
The rubble made his way back up to the top of the mound. “I feel ashamed of myself. I am a thinker not fighter. Not sure what overcame me,” he said sorrowfully.
“Not to worry,” said Leo. “We appreciate your help, even as it appears you don’t yourself.
“We are travelling to the Grand Library of Celestina in search of answers ourselves. Would you consider joining us, you may find the answers you seek there.”
The rubble considered this, “Perhaps it is time I stretched my legs and travelled to some new horizons. The company of woodland animals can be limited at best,” he said despondently.
“Can I ask your name?” said Leo.
“Ahhh,” glumly said the rubble. “I don’t have a name. I felt it inappropriate to have a name, solely for the purpose of people to identify me and my reference to the world around me. A name says more about people looking to feel comfortable about compartmentalising you. My philosophies are mindful and fluid, there are no two days that my beliefs are the same and I am the same person. So why should I carry a name that brings limits to my being and how people would relate to me?” The rubble shrugged dolefully.
“Right,” said Leo. “That’s all fine but saying that it would be useful if you have a name. After all ‘Oi’ or ‘you there’ may just cause offence.”
“Well if you really insist you can call me Sirion. I seem to remember a friend had a pet rabbit with that name. It always appealed to me.” And so it was, one of the greatest philosophers ‘of a point in time’ was named after a rabbit. If he minded he did not say so.
“Uhumm,” coughed a small voice from behind them. Leo spun round with his mouth wide open surprised by the voice that he recognised. Striding up the other side of the hill towards them was Princess Fayette. She was clearly still in pain and had fashioned a temporary sling for herself.
“How did you get here? You covered the ground quickly.”
“Well I did not spend my time dallying around like you two.”
“How is the arm?”
“It needs some attention,” said the Princess, who paused and considered Sirion.
“And who is this walking rock garden?” Sirion h
arrumphed in mock indignation.
“His name is Sirion,” said Leo.
The Princess paused, “Well anyway, let’s get out of here and make some distance in case the Janshai return with reinforcements.”
Leo turned to Sirion, “Don’t worry, she is perfectly nice when you get to know her a little.”
Chapter 15
The Bridge Over the Symbel
Queen Laila peered through Captain Blade’s scope at the large military force crossing the River Symbel perhaps a league or so up river from them. They had seen the dark mass ahead of them, seemingly a mirage cutting across the river a few hours back. Only as they got nearer could they make out the unbroken stream of Horde. The flicker of sunlight on the thousands of weapons contrasting to the dull black uniforms of the army. They had steered into the bank and moored shy of the bridge. Out of range of the army crossing.
“There is an ode to the River Symbel,” said the Queen.
“Dwelling under the moon bright and sun light,
Wandering on, the river journeys from mountain to sea,
As on it strolls, it meanders before our eyes fair,
Among the trees, hewn a path between the rocks,
At once both tumbling, gleaming with white peaks,
But too roaming in shining bright beams,
For days it meanders across the lands,
The life it giveth to those who embrace its abundance.”
“It seems misplaced when you hear its verses, and in the same vein see the passage of the Horde polluting the Symbel. The bridge allowing man to tame its waters and cross at will. In years gone by the river would have created a barrier and boundaries, protecting peoples, enforcing peace. No longer.”
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