Deelind and The Icefire

by Lance Dempster

In a short while she felt the ground below her starting to move and her body begin to drop. She tried to fight it, but it was just like her dream. The more she moved, the quicker she sank. Her heart pounded in her chest.

  ‘Don’t panic,’ said Grimbell, his hand resting on her good arm. ‘Go with it and hold your breath. It will be quick.’ Pinning her eyes with his own hazel gaze, she saw an array of emotions flit by as he said, ‘Thank you, you saved my life.’ Deelind swallowed and nodded.

  The ground gave way and she fell, holding her breath and closing her eyes. As soon as the sand covered her head, she felt herself fall gently onto a hard surface and the sand was gone from her face.

  ‘You can breathe now,’ said a new voice.

  She slowly let out her breath and opened her eyes to the dull light of a lamp strapped to a moler’s head. The jacket covering her body was removed and a soft blanket was draped over her. She felt her legs being strapped to the thick fabric stretcher. In alarm, she started to struggle.

  ‘Easy now, I am just strapping you onto a stretcher so that you don’t get jostled too much when we start moving. I’m taking you to the sickroom.’

  ‘Wait,’ she said, ‘I need my arms above the blanket so that I can hold my left arm in a position that doesn’t hurt too much.’

  The light from the headlamp bobbed up and down as the moler nodded. ‘Agreed, I’ll slip the blanket under your injured arm while you pull out your right arm.’

  With her left arm now cradled to her chest above the blanket, the pain reduced to a throbbing, persistent ache. The moler fastened one last strap over her lap, leaving the top half of her body free. Suddenly aware that the transformation had left her naked, she was glad for both the blanket and the darkness.

  Molers couldn’t see well in the dark, could they? Soon she felt someone pick up the stretcher at her head end and start dragging it. Each jarring step felt like lightning in her body. She moaned.

  ‘As soon as I get you out of this burrow and into a tunnel, I will find someone to carry the other end. For now, I must get you to safety and medical care,’ said the moler.

  She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as the stretcher was dragged over uneven ground. Even through all the pain she could smell the freshly dug earth of the burrow. Nagging at the edge of her mind was the suspicion that the blackened body Grimbell had stood over was her gran. Grief and denial struck her in quick succession.

  Suddenly the ground under the stretcher smoothed out and she heard the sound of footsteps hurrying towards them as the moler said, ‘Take the other end of the stretcher.’

  She opened her eyes when the foot of the stretcher was picked up. The tight curve of the tunnel ceiling implied that the tunnel was small, but it looked neatly dug and there was no smell of freshly dug earth. It was too painful to look up or down to see who was carrying the stretcher. Time blurred and for a moment she was not sure where she was and what was happening. She tried to say something, but the pain and a persistent gnawing hunger were overwhelming, and she just closed her eyes.

  Waking sometime later, she immediately recognised the large cave they were in and she could see the guardhouse. She was still strapped to the stretcher and lying by the castle gate portcullis.

  ‘Derik, she is awake. Give her food while I try to do a manual override on the portcullis,’ said the moler who had put the blanket over her.

  The smell of hot food wafted over her and her hunger roared up inside her. She was starving! The guard who had knocked Mug to the ground came out of the guardhouse with a bowl of soup.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Jack, this is all I have. There have been no food deliveries since the castle gate sealed,’ said the guard as he walked cautiously up to her.

  She stirred. Her new instincts did not like this. She was strapped down and injured.

  ‘We are vulnerable but not helpless,’ said Zara her voice charged with tiny ice particles sparkling in the crisp, clean air.

  Happiness filled her on hearing Zara’s voice.

  ‘I was just sleeping. You should have tried doing that and maybe you wouldn’t be in this mess. The melding was tough on you, too, you know.’

  Deelind rolled her eyes.

  ‘You will have to help her eat,’ said Jack when the guard hesitated near Deelind. ‘She won’t bite,’ and mirth danced in his eyes.

  ‘We might!’ Zara said to her and Deelind felt a strong urge to lick her lips.

  ‘Deelind, this is Derik. You can trust him,’ Jack reassured her with a nod of his head when Derik sat down next to her. ‘You need the food. By the way, I am Jack. Ivan, Mug and Tom’s dad.’

  She relaxed as much as the pain and hunger allowed her to. Derik took a spoon and started shovelling the soup into her mouth. She could not help herself, she was so hungry. She gulped and snapped at the soup, making Derik nervous but before she knew it the food was finished.

  ‘Sorry, ma’am, that is all the food I have,’ said Derik as he stood up to move back to the guardhouse.

  ‘Stop!’ she said and to her surprise, Derik stopped immediately.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Derik nodded. ‘It is a pleasure, ma’am.’

  ‘Please call me Deelind.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, I mean Deelind,’ stammered Derik. He moved swiftly back to the guardhouse, as if in a hurry to get away from her as quickly as possible.

  * * *

  The food had not made a dent on her hunger pains. She turned her head to Jack who still seemed to be trying to open the portcullis. He looked just like Mug and Ivan did, with much of his skin covered in fur and strong, broad hands. Although Jack was older and nearly completely grey, age clearly didn’t hold him back. If anything, his arm muscles bulging through his clothing would have won him the Mr Universe title. Instead of wearing dungarees like Ivan and Mug he was wearing a dark green overall which had the same badge as the guard’s sewn onto his short sleeves, displaying his rank.

  ‘Okay, Derik, try it now,’ said Jack.

  Grabbing hold of the portcullis at the bottom, Derik gave it a shove upwards. It rolled up silently.

  Deelind recognised the passage that split into two on the other side. One gently ramped upwards while the other flowed downwards. Appearing at the top of the first ramp were the two guards who had confronted her earlier.

  ‘That’s her!’ shouted one of the guards, rushing down towards her.

  ‘Stop!’ bellowed Jack as she shrank back into her stretcher. The guard stopped in his tracks. ‘She is with me. This is a featherlite you are trying to apprehend.’

  The guard blinked in surprise, his eyes full of questions. Stepping back, he bobbed his head slightly and said, ‘As you say, sir.’

  ‘Now, Derik. Help me pick her up and let’s get her to the sickroom,’ commanded Jack.

  Derik quickly rushed to the bottom of the stretcher. She got the sense that Derik felt that her feet were the safest place to be.

  ‘I can still eat him if you want? I saw his rough treatment of Mug in your memories,’ said Zara. A tree branch cracked under the weight of heavy snowfall. Zara was close to the surface, and she tracked Derik’s every move. Derik swallowed hard and went to pick up the stretcher by Deelind’s head instead, clearly thinking it was better to be behind her than in front of her. Standing near her feet, Jack pulled a set of the stretcher straps over his shoulders. His hands rested on the stretcher handholds. They lifted the stretcher with Jack leading them through the castle gate.

  ‘You take over Derik’s post outside,’ said Jack to the first guard. ‘While you,’ Jack pointed at the guard who had not run at her, ‘tell Sergeant Roberts to meet me in the Middle house as soon as he gets back.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ they both replied.

  CHAPTER 5

  OAKMAN

  Once again, Deelind found herself on the inside of the castle gate entrance. She felt the stretcher tilt as they walked up a gentle incline and she knew Jack had taken the path going towards the surface.

  ‘What is down there?�
�� she asked, looking towards the other tunnel.

  ‘Mug said that he has told you about the pit,’ said Jack, glancing back at her. ‘Well, that way leads down to the pit, where I work and live.’

  As they climbed upwards the air became fresher and the sides of the walls turned from stone to plaster. It felt like they had now entered a brick house. Sensing her thoughts, Jack said, ‘We are nearly back in the manor house. I am taking you to Nurse Amy to get looked over and cleaned up.’

  She frowned. She did not recognise this part of the house and had never heard of a Nurse Amy before. They were still in the stairwell when they came to a door. Deelind saw now that the shoulder straps meant that Jack’s hands were free to unlock and open doors without them having to put the stretcher down at every door. They entered a room that looked like the basement. There were no windows and lots of goods were stored here. Deelind recognised it as the room accessed from the stairwell behind the grand staircase. Geoff came to collect supplies from this room, but she had never noticed the hidden door at the back. She was never allowed down here on her own, but she would, on occasion, help Geoff carry supplies up to the kitchen. He always locked the basement door afterwards.

  Jack and Derik quickly moved across the room, through the door on the far side and up the stairs into the ground floor of the house. They seemed to be heading to the kitchens and she wasn’t all that sure about facing Miss Tibi after all the trouble she had caused.

  ‘This way,’ Jack said to Derik.

  Deelind relaxed, releasing the breath she had been holding, as Jack steered them away from the kitchen towards the large inner hall. The inner hall was positioned in the centre of the house and had large, concrete columns on the ground floor extending up past the first floor to a glass roof. One of the most charming features of the inner hall was the grand staircase. Made of beautiful, red, polished oak with wooden balustrades on each side, the grand stairs led the small party up to the large landing on the first floor. A passageway peeled away from the landing and looped all the way around the hall, allowing access to the bedrooms. Jack cut straight across the landing and through the back door, taking them out onto the terrace.

  The terrace was located at the back of the house and partly cut into the Tor, providing a private and secure area. It was a wide, paved area that ran the full width of the house to each side of Deelind and sprawled out into the Tor in front of her. Sturdy, comfortable garden furniture was dotted around, and she had always felt the pull to snuggle up with a good book. The terrace was Deelind’s favourite spot but when she had helped Geoff deliver food up here, she had never been allowed to linger long.

  ‘You need to lie still. We are nearly there, and I do not want Miss Tibi shouting at me because you fell out of the stretcher,’ Jack softly cautioned.

  It wasn’t likely, the way she was strapped in but even so, hearing Miss Tibi’s name made her lie still.

  Jack led the party towards the section of terrace where the Tor loomed high above them and headed to a waterfall flowing down the hill. The water tumbled over a rocky edge onto the rocks below. A sheen of water droplets hung in the air and a profusion of mosses and ferns on either side dripped water from the tips of their leaves. On seeing the waterfall, her eyes widened in pleasure and surprise. She had seen the waterfall many times when visiting the terrace, but never like this. The water flowing now was multi-coloured. Jack walked straight through the waterfall, pulling her and Derik behind him. Startled, she quickly covered her face with her right arm, closed her eyes and held her breath, anticipating getting thoroughly soaked. To her shock not one drop of water landed on her. Wishing she had kept her eyes open, she promised herself that next time she would.

  From her limited view she could see they had entered a long passageway which disappeared into the Tor. On reaching the first door on the left, Jack opened it and went inside.

  ‘This is the royal stateroom,’ said Jack, looking around the room as if seeing it through new eyes. ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’

  She pushed herself up with her good arm and looked around. Her mouth fell open in wonder. It was the fanciest room she had ever seen and certainly one of the biggest. It was completely built of marble, with flags hanging on the walls, and a huge oak table with ten large, wooden chairs around it was set in the middle of the room. The chair at one end of the table looked more like a throne than a normal chair. On the table in front of it was a white crown that appeared to be made of bone, and on the wall behind the chair was a larger version of the crest that she had been seeing everywhere. There were two immense doors to the left of the crest. Unable to hold herself up any longer, she fell back onto the stretcher.

  When Jack arrived at the two doors, she watched him lay his hand on a small crest embedded into the wall next to them. The doors opened and they walked through. To her amazement they walked into another massive space – a huge, grassed courtyard, easily the size of a large football stadium. Was this part of the old castle Mug had talked about?

  ‘Welcome to the Middle house and the Great Hall where, Oakman, our ancient tree lives,’ announced Jack with a broad smile. ‘I thought it fitting to use the formal entrance rather than the backstairs. As you can see, it’s market day today.’

  Deelind pushed herself up again for another look. People of all types were coming and going through different doors along the hall walls. Each door had a suit of medieval armour on either side of it and a green and yellow flag above it. Vines weaved their way between the flags, shields, swords and spears that were hanging on the walls.

  A group of children were busy climbing thick, long vines hanging down from high up near the door Deelind had just come through. As her eyes swept across the bustling market, it was easy to spot the molers in their dungarees and fur covered bodies. The humans, or as Mug called them, the Mole People were dressed in the typical modern attire of jeans, T-shirts, shorts, skirts or dresses, all with a focus towards earthy tones.

  Hearing laughter, she followed the sound to a group of ladies in long, flowing sleeveless dresses chatting to some molers. The ladies had pointy ears, bare feet, long hair down to their waists and piercing blue or green eyes. Elves, Deelind gasped disbelievingly. She loved their beautiful, thin-veined leaf tattoos on their arms, and for the first time in her life she really wanted a tattoo just like that. Following the gait of a moler with a limp, Deelind’s eyes landed on what could only be described as a witch wearing her pointy hat walking from vendor table to vendor table. Seeming to sense Deelind’s stare, the witch turned to her, eyes narrowing. Hissing, the witch pulled out a small stick from a pocket in the side of her dress. She snapped it open into a full-size broom, hopped on and flew off into the hall.

  ‘Lady Tegalad! You know you are not allowed to fly in the Great Hall. Land or I will call the guards to have you removed!’ bellowed Jack. Lady Tegalad landed and stalked off to some merchants selling goods at the edge of the hall.

  ‘Oh dear. I think I have upset her,’ Deelind groaned while collapsing back onto the stretcher.

  ‘Just ignore her. She is like that with anyone who is not a witch,’ said Jack. ‘The Great Hall used to be the courtyard of the castle and is a popular meeting point for many of us who live in Brakenhill.’ Deelind had noticed on arrival the old arrowslit windows in the thick castle walls which formed the shape of the Great Hall.

  The noise in the hall increased and she realised everyone was looking at her. Picking up on her discomfort, Jack moved briskly towards the back of the hall. In the middle was a pond with an island in the centre. There on the island was a tree. Deelind squinted at it, trying to believe what she saw. The tree’s leaves appeared to be on fire and were being blown around in a wind she could not feel. It looked just like the emblem she had seen on the moler’s uniform.

  The pond water was like the waterfall she had just come through. It had all the colours of the rainbow flowing in it. It was mesmerising and looked to be the same kind of water she had seen and drunk in the cave where she had me
lded with Zara. Rather startling to watch were individuals popping out of the pond, completely dry, just as she had been when she passed through the waterfall.

  As her party passed the tree and the rainbow pond, she felt her pain ease and a sense of calm soothe her. She wanted Jack to stop and felt the urge to run to the tree, but Jack was moving her quickly towards the back of the hall. The tree appeared to agree with her because it stuck out a branch to stop Jack. It swished a branch back and forth over her, the leaves changing from fiery red to orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and stopping at violet. The branch came to a stop and hovered directly over Deelind. Carefully, Jack and Derik placed her stretcher on the floor. Jack removed his shoulder straps and, along with Derik, he took a few steps back. Deelind could feel the eyes and hear the whispers of the hall occupants as they turned to watch events unfold.

  A voice entered her mind, filled with the whisper of leaves and sunshine of the ages, ‘You lie in balance, which way will you fall? Zara has chosen.’

  The leaves of the branch, which were still hovering over her body, now changed from their vivid violet to a warm, golden yellow. ‘Yes, a touch of summer to help you heal.’ The branch dipped its leaves into the water. When the branch pulled the leaves out of the water, they had turned beautiful, blushed orange. It then brushed these leaves over her burnt arm. She felt immediate relief and the pain in her arm seemed to have diminished.

  ‘That healed the burns but not the broken bone,’ came the telepathic voice now filled with the thrum of tree sap, as the branch hovered above her. ‘Next, a seed of spring to help you grow.’ Now shrouded in brilliant green leaves the branched revealed at its tip an acorn patterned with pulsing veins of green and yellow. Oddly, the acorn was gone when the branch of the tree touched her good arm. Swallowing, she felt a lump in her chest but that disappeared when the tree dropped a crystal into her good hand. Everyone watching burst into conversation.

  The tree’s leaves changed back to the original fiery red and the branch returned to its former position.