It came as a shock then, when Sawwse awoke one morning to find Marius gone. She jumped down from the desk and wandered into Garmish. Sawwse climbed to the top of the tallest tree she could find, but there was no sign of the ogre anywhere. Slinking back into the house she walked over to his straw bed and saw the Gnomeopedia open about a quarter of the way through. Her eyes widened as she read the entry:
Ogres: generally dim-witted creatures that spend much of their time clubbing each other over the head. There are worse ways to spend an evening than sojourning to a village tavern and informing the nearest ogre that someone has called them a ‘kradak adahr’ - a moth eater. This really sets their ear flaps itching. Take pleasure in the ensuing chaos - preferably with a cold beer to hand.
The text was accompanied by a particularly insulting depiction of an ogre, with the initials ‘RS’ jotted underneath.
‘Oh crimp.’
Sawwse grabbed the offending book, swept her things into her bag and ran out through the crack in the stone door. Bursting out into the woodland surrounding the hut, she began to shout after her friend.
‘Marius! Marius! I didn’t write that, you have to believe me.’
She inhaled deeply, readying herself to project a louder shout throughout the woods, until she considered where she was: an unfamiliar wood with no knowledge of anything beyond the path she’d already travelled. Deflated, Sawwse slumped onto the ground. It was cushioned with old, soft pine needles. She took out the Gnomeopedia once more and placed it in front of her. Sawwse thought back to the kindly face of her ogre companion and the care with which he had looked after her and his garden. Frowning, she violently scribbled out the entry on ogres and in the space below wrote: ‘Ogres: kind and generous lovers of seeds, mushrooms, music and people.’
‘That doesn’t really do him justice at all,’ she thought glumly.
Packing the book away, she climbed the nearest tree, scaring a pair of robins in the process. Up top she could see that there was a well-travelled road nearby.
‘This is probably the road that Marius would have taken if not for the wraith.’
Sawwse shuddered at the memory. From her vantage point she could see that the road led to a small village, not too far away.
She slid back down the tree, took a deep breath and spoke with quiet determination.
‘Okay, let’s go,’ she told herself.
‘Are you sure you want to?’ a tiny voice replied near Sawwse’s head.
Sawwse spun around.
‘Who’s there?’
There was no reply.
‘Friend or foe?’ she asked, in her best non-worried voice.
‘I don’t have any friends.’
A pause. And then the voice added, ‘But I don’t really have foes either.’
‘Perhaps we could become friends? I’ve never met anyone invisible before,’ Sawwse replied.
A white butterfly fluttered in front of Sawwse, settling on her nose.
‘Hello. My name is Ruby Schap. It’s pleasurable to greet you.’
Always one to respect manners, Sawwse replied quickly.
‘And it’s a privilege to greet you too. The name’s Sawwse, rhymes with mouse.’
She pondered the best way to bow to a butterfly. As she did so, Ruby floated over to Sawwse’s hand and the gnome gently raised it up and down.
‘So Ruby, if I was a famous musical conservatoire, where would I be?’
‘What? Oh! In, uh, a rainbow trout’s belly? No, that’s not it. Sorry, I haven’t spent much time around bipeds for a long while, I forget how the jokes go,’ the meek butterfly responded.
‘Oh, it’s not a… That’s okay.’
Sawwse smiled, slightly bemused.
‘Have you ever been over there?’ she said, pointing in the direction of the village.
Sawwse felt her hand growing heavier. The butterfly’s wings began to thicken and grow, morphing into arms and legs. The white silkiness of the body changed into a clothed humanoid figure. A hood-wearing head popped out from the body.
The weight of this new form forced the gnome to drop her hand to the floor, leaving Ruby heels-over-head.
‘Sorry, sorry, I knew I’d get that wrong,’ she squeaked, apologetically.
Standing up, she removed her hood and stood very close to Sawwse. They were of a similar size and stature, but Ruby had the features of a human.
Chuckling, Sawwse replied that it wasn’t a problem.
She stepped back in order to get a better look at Ruby: an older woman with short, unkempt sandy grey hair down to her shoulders. She wore a long druidic robe. Around her arms were red, blue and orange bangles, and a multicoloured pendant hung from her neck. Ruby stepped forward once more, just ever so slightly too close. A nervous look was cast on her face. She looked like an anxious dog tossed aside countless times, yet desperate to be accepted. Ruby held out her human hand and Sawwse gripped it firmly.
‘Sorry about that,’ Ruby said.
‘Don’t worry. We have a saying in the Blue Forest: shake a hand twice, and… save your lice,’ Sawwse said, cheerily. There was no such saying, but she smiled playfully at the confused expression spreading over Ruby’s face.
‘Anyway, I think I’m going to head that way,’ she said, nodding in the direction of the road. ‘Would you like to join me?’
It had taken Ruby a lot to strike up the conversation in the first place. She’d lived as a hermit for many years up until this point, but there was something about this gnome that put her at ease. She smiled cautiously.
‘Why are you going over there?’
‘Well,’ Sawwse replied, pausing for dramatic effect. ‘I guess it’s because I’m going to be the greatest musician in the world and that’s as good a place to start as any.’
The sandy-haired changeling smiled, and her eyes widened in wonder at the confidence of this little gnome.
‘So, are you coming with?’ Sawwse offered again.
Ruby’s anxious mind fired off a million reasons not to go, so she amazed herself when her mouth opened and she said, ‘I think my legs could do with a stretch.’
Sawwse clapped Ruby on her shoulder.
‘That’s the spirit,’ she laughed.
The new friends strode off toward the open road.
--
Having walked through forests, plains, villages and towns, Eugenie arrived in Doriana, capital of the Dorienne Kingdom. It had taken three days and three nights on her feet without stopping, but she was home. Grief and shock paralysed her mind, while exhaustion wracked her body. She stumbled through the outskirts of the city and collapsed.
‘‘Scuse me. Are you feeling alright?’
The young turnip seller, Cribbins, parted from his cart and crouched over the woman who seemed to have tripped nearby.
‘You seemed unsteady, you see. If you ask me, a good crunchy turnip is what you need.’
The woman’s feet were calloused and filthy, and her cloth blouse was tattered.
‘I don’t need to be wasting my time helping other peasants out,’ Cribbins thought. He knew how easy it was to catch the sickness around this part of the city and he didn’t want to take any chances. However, when the dark-haired woman turned around and he saw her face, all those thoughts vanished instantly. Without wasting a second he tipped out the turnips from his cart, placed her into it and covered her in a blanket. With his makeshift rickshaw ready to roll, he set off.
Bursting from the market street, he ran as if his life depended on it. He drew the ire of fellow hawkers as he knocked into this stall and that, cabbages and potatoes cascading to the ground. Cribbins already knew that the tricky part would be moving past the guard tower that acted as an entryway to Palace Approach. Those guards were so far down the pecking order that they’d likely take the glory for themselves, spelling the end of his reward.
Two guards stepped forward as he approached the tower.
‘Halt. I’m gues
sing even someone like you knows of the current crisis. What are you doing here?’
‘Sorry ma’am, it’s just that the chef sent for some turnips. They said to bring them right away.’
‘Why on earth do you think you’d be personally permitted to the palace? Leave the cart. We’ll have someone more respectable bring it through.’ The guard who had spoken began to turn away.
‘Actually, it’s just that they wanted me because I’ve brought a particularly rare crop of turnips,’ Cribbins said, sheepishly.
The guard stopped and gave an incredulous look. She strode back towards Cribbins until the other guard said,
‘Leave it. We’re not paid enough. Just let them deal with him.’ He gestured to the palace.
With some reluctance the guards waved Cribbins through. He forced himself to walk ten paces before breaking once more into a sprint. The huge stone dome sat atop the Palace and the large imposing spire rose high into the sky above.
‘Beyond the guard tower,’ he thought. ‘If only Mum could see me now. And stuff you Mister Forster, you said I’d never amount to anything.’
When he got nearer to the palace gates, he whipped off the sheet and lifted Eugenie gently out of the carriage. His arm supporting her frail body, they walked the last few yards together. Cribbins knocked on the large doors protecting the palace. After a pause, a guard appeared. He looked them both up and down before it dawned on him who the woman was. He dropped to one knee.
‘Your Majesty.’
‘Take me to the Council. At once.’
Eugenie spoke with a quiet resilience.
‘And have someone escort this man back to the market. Reward him, of course.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
The guard quickly ran inside the gate and called for someone. Meanwhile, that beautiful six-letter word was still ringing around Cribbins’ head. He practically skipped alongside his escort, who arrived with a small coin purse.
--
Eugenie turned to the turnip-seller and thanked him, before gathering her strength and walking steadily beyond the gates and into the palace. The guard had to shuffle quickly to catch up with her.
As she arrived back in the palace, the Council were aghast at her appearance, and overjoyed to see her. Their scouts had seen the results of the massacre and assumed that Eugenie had been amongst the dead.
‘Please, Your Majesty. You should-’
‘No one is to call me majesty, highness, queen, any of those things,’ Eugenie said. ‘Those titles belong to my father. We can use them again when he returns.’
This caused a hubbub among the Council. The poor woman was clearly in denial. Or perhaps she had not been present when King Poht had been killed. One of the councillors spoke to her in a gentle voice.
‘I’m sorry, Your Maj-. I’m sorry Eugenie, but your father was-’
Eugenie’s voice silenced the Council, firm as it was.
‘I am going to bathe now. When I return you will have two tasks to complete. I have described a gnome to the guard outside the door. This monster is responsible for my father’s death. You will do everything you can to find that gnome and bring them here. Secondly, you shall present a full report on the Ancient Device.’
She turned to leave the room.
The naming of the relic left the Council floundering. The Device was no more than a rumour. Surely, the princess had lost her mind.
‘My father is dead,’ Eugenie continued to face away from the Council, ‘and for the good of the kingdom I intend to bring him back to us. The Ancient Device will do that. Ready the report.’
She stormed through the double doors of the Council chamber, showing none of the weariness she had accrued on her three day walk back to Doriana.
The council was left stunned in her wake.
Chapter 5: Through the Through-Village of Pettibeck
Elra had hidden itself behind a set of clouds, and the light turned blue as dusk approached. Sawwse and Ruby walked along the open road. It was wide enough for carriages to pass by each other, though it was empty at that time. After the forests, the landscape opened out onto a grassy plain which was neatly bisected by the dusty road. The wind blew the lightly coloured grasses backwards and forwards. Sawwse thought it looked like a semi-synchronised dance piece. The plain was so large that different sections of grass were dancing in different ways. Further ahead, the grasses leant back and lunged forward as they carpeted smooth curved hills. On top of the hill directly in front of them, they saw a large, lonely tree. Its bark was a shock of white in the landscape, its bushy green leaves seemingly ablaze as they caught Elra’s rays. Sawwse began walking towards it, but after no more than three steps she felt a tug on her sleeve.
‘I’m really not sure about this,’ whispered Ruby, watching the tree with caution. ‘That could be a prime hiding spot for monsters.’
‘Monsters?’ asked Sawwse, excitedly.
‘Haven’t you heard the rumours? They’re saying monsters and beasts have returned to Esh’areth. In fact, maybe we should turn around and head back to the forest-’ Ruby whispered quickly.
‘And you think that tree has monsters in it?’
‘Well, it has an eerie look to it. A bit creepy. Don’t you think?’
‘Nonsense, it’s just missing its friends,’ Sawwse replied, pointing back at the woodland. ‘Let’s break up the journey by keeping it company for a while. It’ll be fine,’ she added, patting Ruby on the back.
Sitting underneath the tree, Ruby retrieved a little ceramic pot from her bag. She used her little finger to spoon out a sticky honey-like substance into her mouth, rubbing it on her gums. Sawwse politely declined a portion when offered.
‘Oh! I almost forgot,’ said Ruby, jumping up. ‘Here.’
The little changeling pulled out a small piece of torn parchment from her pocket. Sawwse turned it over in her hand, and read it aloud.
‘“Ruby Schap: An apothecary for all.”’
Ruby gestured to her sack-like bag, the contents of which looked haphazardly assembled. She forced a nervy smile.
‘It’s a stupid dream, but-’
As Ruby was talking, an arrow fell limply out of the tree and landed in her bag. Sawwse heard a gasp and a strangled cry, but before she could turn around to comfort her friend, the shapeshifter had leaped from her cloak, sprouted snowy wings and hurtled to safety in the form of a barn owl.
The twinkly-eyed gnome jumped up and grabbed the lowest hanging branch. From there it didn’t take her very long to swing and bounce her way up the tree. This was, of course, second nature to gnomes of the Blue Forest.
Sawwse looked up above her and could see a tangle of branches that had grown together into a kind of makeshift platform near the trunk. Keeping her eyes on the platform, she climbed higher around the outside where the branches thinned out, and peeked in.
Two human soldiers sat with their backs against the trunk. Lying next to them were a rusty short sword and a quiver with arrows spilling out onto the branches below.
Slowly making her way down to their level, Sawwse paused briefly before dropping onto their platform. All was not well. They both sat with their eyes closed, quivering.
‘How peculiar,’ thought the gnome.
She reached up and gently plucked a leaf from the nearest branch. Slowly walking forward, she placed the leaf on the archer’s foot and watched as it was shaken off by the vibrations. Sawwse cleared her throat and both soldiers opened their eyes, bewilderment passing over their faces.
‘Good morrow on this fair morn,’ Sawwse bowed and added a flourish with her hand, she wasn’t sure why.
Both soldiers quickly reached forward for their weapons, but as they did so, they began shaking more intensely. The archer had managed to pick up their bow and an arrow, but couldn’t draw back the string of the bow without shaking violently. The weapons fell limp from their hands and pained expressions took the place of bewilderment. They leant back agains
t the tree once again and waited for the shaking to ease.
Sawwse thought their lurch for weapons was somewhat impolite, but she also grasped the seriousness of their predicament.
‘Are you in need of some help?’
She assumed the answer was yes, but whether they could or would accept her aid she wasn’t sure.
‘Can’t... be... helped.’
As the archer spoke, they paused between each word.
‘It… is… pointless.’
It was clear that there was a cost for each syllable. The longer the word, the more painful.
‘My friend has an apothecary, why don’t I go and see what I can find?’
‘No… use.’
Sawwse already had her suspicions, but the next words confirmed them.
‘We… were… magicked.’
This was bad, and not what she wanted to hear. She knew that it could be incredibly dangerous to mishandle magic, but had assumed she wouldn’t come across its misuse this soon. Magic also meant that it was less likely Ruby’s supplies would help. They needed someone to undo the spell, and quickly.
‘Can’t… sleep. Can’t… move. Can’t… think.’
Sawwse paused. She desperately wanted to help, but this was beyond her knowledge. Perhaps there was someone else nearby that could help them: a cleric or healer of some kind.
‘I’ll go and find someone to help.’
‘No… one… can… help.’
‘You won't know until you-’
The swordsperson held up a hand. It was obvious that it was taking a tremendous amount of effort to stop the aggressive shaking. She hadn't noticed at first, but Sawwse now saw that this soldier had caught the affliction worse than their colleague. Their eyes were bloodshot and their brow was slimy with sweat. Slowly they began to speak. Sawwse had to concentrate in order to understand them, as each word was forced through gritted teeth.
In the Grip of Time Page 4