Time wore on as Walt stumbled along the trackway, miserable and tired, stopping frequently to mop his head and neck. To him the short journey seemed a lifetime, but in reality it had only been two or three hours since he sneaked away from the camp. He wondered whether he was missed at all, or if in fact, they even noticed that he had gone; and if they did, had they sent a search party to find him? But the more he thought about it, it became obvious: that if they were looking for him, they would have found him by now. However, he was grateful in one way that they hadn’t: the last thing he wanted now was to be dragged back to the camp and treated like a prisoner again.
On the other hand, it also meant that they didn’t care what happened to him. Walt had never understood why others took a dislike to him and could only see the deceitful, selfish side of him. Nobody, including his lady Sophia, had ever tried to get to know him. Sophia treated him like a slave and dismissed him in the same manner. Bert and that damn dog couldn’t stand the sight of him or being anywhere near him… And as for the others…Well, they just didn’t seem to acknowledge that he existed, let alone care what happened to him.
Walt would be the first to admit that he had always put his own interests above those of others, but that was only because, in his mind at least, nobody ever cared. He had to be selfish and sometimes deceitful just to survive, but that didn’t mean that being looked upon as a waste of time didn’t hurt him – far from it. He yearned to be liked and involved with others around him, but the more they pushed him away, the more withdrawn he became. He blamed others for what he was, simply by the way he had been treated.
“Who’s there!?” he shouted out suddenly, as a movement in the bushes caught the corner of his eye. “Who’s there?” but with no reply. Walt stood rooted to the spot, physically shaking with fear, staring into the shadows, trying to make out what was responsible for the movement. The night was closing in and the light poor, making it all but impossible to see anything in the shadow of the trees. Seconds ticked by: still nothing emerged.
Walt was on the brink of making a run for it when a familiar voice sounded from the undergrowth. “What in Oden’s name are you doing out here, man…? Don’t you know… that the woodlands are not safe and you shouldn’t be out here alone?” Walt stayed frozen to the spot in fear, but was relieved to hear a familiar voice. A second later, out popped a tall, strange-looking individual. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is for you to be out here alone,” Kreedy continued. Walt, still physically shaken, didn’t reply; instead he just stood staring. “What’s the matter with you, man?” Kreedy blasted, making poor Walt jump, helping to bring him back to his senses.
“Kreedy,” he just managed to mutter. “Who else?” Kreedy replied with a firm tone in his voice. “Kreedy,” Walter said again, grabbing Kreedy by the shoulders. “Am I pleased to see you?” he continued with a beaming, toothless smile. Kreedy pulled back from Walt’s grip and rubbed his shoulders as if someone had hurt him. “So,” he said, looking around, “what are you doing out here?” Without giving Walt the chance to answer, he continued. “Have you any idea what’s out there…? I’m surprised you’re still alive.”
Walt stepped a little closer and whispered, “I’m hoping to find Alfwald.” Kreedy stood back as if he had been struck. “Are you mad, man…? Do you know what he’ll do to you if …?” Kreedy didn’t have to finish his sentence: they both had a good idea of what the outcome could be. “I need to find him,” Walt insisted. Kreedy stepped away and then back again. “Are you completely mad?!” he shouted. “Alfwald would rip out your life… limb from limb… in a heartbeat… Besides, what are you doing siding with such a dark shade?” After a moment’s consideration, Walt continued, trying not to answer Kreedy’s question in full, for many reasons. He couldn’t tell anyone of his plans to deceive Alfwald, especially Kreedy, not because he wasn’t trustworthy but because he had the biggest mouth around and could never keep a secret unless it suited him to do so.
“You know most things, Kreedy… Tell me this. To your knowledge, has Alfwald ever hurt anyone?” he said, turning the question around. Kreedy’s mouth opened to say something, but for once he was lost for words. “Have you ever heard of Alfwald attacking anybody…? Let alone kill anyone,” Walt continued. Kreedy looked outraged and, for the first time in years, totally lost for what to say. “But… he…” he stuttered. Walt looked around again. “I was hoping that you could put me up for the night.” Kreedy still didn’t respond: instead he just stood looking dumbfounded, and for a few awkward seconds said nothing. Then Kreedy cleared his throat.
“What… stay at my place?” he managed to stutter. “Might as well.” Kreedy then huffed, sounding resigned to the fact that he couldn’t really refuse him, “Everybody else does… Might as well put up a large sign,” he ranted, waving his hands in the air. “Come, all… come, all!” he shouted. Walt beckoned Kreedy to be quiet but he seemed to take no notice. “Shouldn’t we get moving before it gets too dark?” he said, unsuccessfully trying to calm Kreedy down. “And why should you be afraid of the dark…? Your friend should see you safe,” he said loudly, referring to Alfwald.
Walt had no idea what he was going on about, or what to do in order to calm Kreedy down. The man seemed completely off his head. “Are you alright?” Walt asked as he looked around him, worried that Kreedy would attract the wrong kind of attention. “Alright… alright… of course I’m alright… why shouldn’t I be?” Walt felt panic well up inside him. Anything within half a mile would be able to hear him. With sweat pouring off his head and down his neck, he bellowed in sheer desperation, “BE QUIET, MAN!”
Kreedy stopped immediately. He had never known Walt to raise his voice before: he always came across as a cowardly, self-centred man who would do anything to save his own neck, and to his knowledge had never stood up to anyone: so why was there such a change in him? “And who do you think you are ordering me around?!” Kreedy bellowed back. For a second or two nothing was said: total silence between them. It was then that they noticed something move in the shadows.
Kreedy was no longer interested in Walt: instead he had frozen and was staring over Walt’s shoulder. Noticing the look on Kreedy’s face, Walt shot a quick look behind him, but could see nothing. “What is it?” he whispered as fear rushed through his whole body again, but Kreedy didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on something within the confines of the trees. “What…?” Walt said, and at that moment two dark shapes gradually materialised from the shadows. At first they were nothing more than shadows on the ground, but then slowly they took shape to a more solid form. Tall, twisted and deformed, at first the two tortured forms stood motionless, but then ever so slowly they started to make their way towards Kreedy and Walt. Neither moved, both too frightened. “Darklings,” Kreedy gasped.
Slowly the two dark beings lumbered towards them, dragging their legs along the ground, as if they didn’t have the strength to lift them. Both Kreedy and Walt watched in horror as they got closer. Even in this poor light they could see that neither of the two creatures seemed to have eyes or a mouth: in fact, their faces had no features at all, they were just blank and as dark as night itself. Seconds ticked by. The creatures were only feet away, but still Walt and Kreedy didn’t move, resigned to the fact that their time was now up. Then suddenly a large, dark form flew over their heads, bringing them both back to their senses. The dark figure circled above them once and then swooped directly towards the darklings, talons facing forward. It ripped into one of the darklings’ faces, tearing out lumps of flesh. It circled and attacked the second creature, again tearing out lumps of flesh. The first darkling that had been attacked was already on the ground, holding its face and rolling around in agony, but could not call out in pain. The second fell backwards: it, too, was holding its blank but bloody face. Walt and Kreedy watched in horror as the flying shadow attacked the darklings again and again until they both lay motionless on the blood-soaked ground.
The creature flew off into the night, then t
urned and returned, landing on one of the darklings. It was only then that both Walt and Kreedy could make out what, or who, it was that had saved them. “Breeze,” Walt said out loud. Kreedy braved a quick look at Walt. “Who?” Neither moved, both still taken aback by the carnage they had just witnessed. Then Walt carefully edged forward a little. “Breeze,” he called out nervously. The light had gone and he could only just make out its silhouette. “Breeze,” he called again, and this time it flew off the darkling carcass and, to Kreedy’s surprise, a large, grey owl landed just feet away from them.
“Why…? What?” Kreedy stuttered. Walt took one step towards it. “Thank you,” he said softly. However, Breeze just sat on a low branch looking down at its blood-soaked talons for a moment and then flew off into the night. “Who… what was that bird?” Walt didn’t answer right away, he just stood staring in the direction the owl went. “Well, man… what was that bird…? And how do you know its name?!” Kreedy shouted. Walt turned to face him. “We can thank lady Hazel for saving us from those… those things,” Walt answered. “Breeze is very loyal to lady Hazel… she must have sent him to watch out for me,” he continued, pleased to know that he had in fact been missed when he left the camp and that, at least, Hazel cared what happened to him. “I won’t forget it,” he whispered to himself, looking back to where Breeze had flown. “Forget what?” Kreedy said, sounding annoyed. Walt looked back at Kreedy. “Oh nothing.” He took his dirty hanky out of his shirt pocket and mopped his head again.
“Shouldn’t we be going?” Walt said, looking around nervously. “Before anything else has the chance to find us.” Kreedy studied him for a second and then said, “Only if you tell me everything you know about what’s happening?” Walt nodded. “Everything, mind… leave nothing out.” Walt gave Kreedy a toothless smile. “Everything,” he replied, knowing only too well that he would tell Kreedy only what he wanted him to know. Kreedy studied him a moment longer. He hated being left out of the loop and had done for most of his life. Even when he was young he was a strange child and had always been left out of group activities and often stood on his own watching. No one ever wanted to play with him in break times or include him in after-school games: they just mocked and scorned him.
So at an early age he had decided to ignore others and put all of his time and effort into studying. History was always his favourite subject, and still is to this day, but he also had a burning need to know everything about everyone, hoping that it would help give him the upper hand and that way he’d know who to keep clear off and who he could blackmail, should the need arise. Now his self-appointed position of librarian, in his mind at least, gave him the right to know all there was to know about everything and everybody, and he would do anything in his power to get what he craved for the most – and that was knowledge. Like most who met him, he had never liked Walt and viewed him as being inferior to himself and hated the fact that this man… this lowlife … knew something he didn’t.
Now satisfied that Walt would give him what he wanted, he turned towards the trees. “This way,” he said and walked off without waiting. Walt gave one last look at the dead darklings. He knew that if it were not for Breeze they would be lying there instead; however, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the way they had died. It all seemed so surreal to him. Everything happened in such silence and almost in slow motion: Breeze made no sound at all, not in her flight, nor when she attacked the darklings. And even more bizarre, the darklings couldn’t call out in pain, having no mouth to do so. He watched as their lives bled away as they lay motionless on the ground. The whole night now seemed to be totally silent. He put away his hanky and looked around him one more time, sighed, and then turned to follow Kreedy.
It took a little under an hour to reach Kreedy’s cottage, but to Walt it seemed much longer. The night was as dark as ink, which made it impossible for him to see where he was going. Kreedy, however, knew exactly where they were, and with his slim, tall form found it easy to skip over rocks and fallen trees at a surprising pace. To Walt’s embarrassment, Kreedy had to stop several times to wait for him to catch up. Not having ever been to Kreedy’s home before, he had no idea where he was or how far it was.
He would never be here if it were not for the circumstances he found himself in – but needs must. “How do I get myself drawn into all this?” he thought to himself. He needed to rest but more importantly to find a safe haven for the night. It was lucky that Kreedy found him: if he hadn’t Walt would probably never have survived the night. But accepting Kreedy’s hospitality didn’t mean that he liked the man, or in fact trusted him any more than Kreedy trusted him. Walt knew from the outset that Kreedy would be continuously asking him personal questions and would never take no for an answer. If you ever asked Kreedy the reason why he was so interested, his answer was always the same: “he needed to know everything so that he could record all events and happenings for posterity.” But anyone who knew him felt the same as Walt did, and that was that he had ulterior motives for asking, motives unknown to anyone else but him.
Standing at the door to his cottage, Kreedy fumbled in a large pocket of his poor-fitting, multicoloured coat for the key to his house. Firstly, he pulled out a compass and then a notepad, followed by a small telescope. “It’s in here somewhere,” he mumbled to himself, shifting through a handful of screwed-up bits of paper. “Ah… got it,” he said as he put the paper and the other two items back into his pockets. He inserted the key into the lock, then after moments of muttering to himself and several clicks and clunks of the lock, he managed to open the door. “Welcome to my humble abode!” he bellowed, allowing Walt to enter first. Walt stopped just inside the doorway but didn’t go any further. It was just as black inside the house as it was outside. “Just a tick… I’ll light us a lamp…That way we can see what’s what,” Kreedy said as he pushed past Walt.
Walt remained by the door waiting patiently for Kreedy to find a lamp, who by now was banging and bumping around somewhere in the dark. “Why’s nothing ever where I put it…? where… where… where…?” he muttered to himself. “Ah… there you are.” Walt watched Kreedy light a match and then the oil lamp. “There,” he said, satisfied. “Don’t stand around in the doorway, man… Come in and close the door.” Walt did as he was instructed but remained by the door. He had a strange feeling that he may have just stepped into a spider’s lair. “Sit down, man… sit,” Kreedy instructed. “Don’t stand on ceremony… find yourself a chair… I’ll light the fire and make us a nice, hot cuppa… What do you say to that?” he continued, and without waiting for a reply went about stocking up the Aga. Again Walt did as he was instructed, but had to take a little time for his eyes to adjust to the light. He looked around Kreedy’s cluttered kitchen: he had never seen so much stuff crammed into such a small room. He was almost mesmerised by the sheer assortment of things, ranging from the usual kitchen utensils to large engines and engineering items, all mixed within hundreds, if not thousands, of books.
“Right,” Kreedy said, rubbing his hands together, “while that’s heating up we take some time to get to know each other a little.” But Walt knew better: Kreedy had no intention other than to bleed him of everything he knew about Henry, Alfwald and the others. Kreedy walked around to the other side of the cluttered table, moved a few books to one side, and leant forward. “Now, what are you doing out here… alone?” he asked menacingly. “And what’s this nonsense about meeting Alfwald?” Walt swallowed hard. “Here we go,” he thought to himself. Although he was preparing himself for the interrogation, he still had no idea where to begin or how much he wanted Kreedy to know. “Well, man?” Kreedy said insistently.
It was sometime in the early hours of the morning. The night had been dry but misty. Henry sat on the damp ground and leant back against a large tree. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of thunder echoing somewhere in the distance. Grog and Nog also sat down to rest some yards away: they had left the camp that morning, having said their goodbyes. Bree was bes
ide herself knowing that her love was leaving without her again, and kept insisting that she should be with him. Strangely, Alk felt that he should also accompany Henry. Over the past few days he had grown to respect the boy, although he would deny it if he was asked. He had become quite fond of him.
However, it was finally agreed by all that Henry would need all his wits about him if he was going to survive the next twenty-four hours or so, and couldn’t afford to be distracted by worrying for the safety of others. Having become friends with Grog and Nog, Henry wasn’t that happy that they were with him. But he understood their reasons for staying by his side. They and their two lost brothers were created solely to serve and protect the host master, and their place was with him regardless of the circumstances. He, at least, had the protection of the Wyvern, but what protection did they have? They were always saying that they had skills… but what skills? One thing he did know and that was that he would be devastated if anything should happen to them, and he promised himself that he would do anything in his power to keep them both from harm.
Pulling off his shoulder bag, Henry lazily rummaged through it and pulled out a lump of dried bread and a chunk of cheese. He held them out in his hands and studied them both for a moment. Although his meal was unappetising, he hadn’t eaten anything since he left the camp that morning, but still didn’t feel that hungry. In fact, he felt quite sick, sick to the stomach with the mere thought of what might lie ahead of him. Grog sat watching him, understanding how his master must feel, having seen it in other hosts of the past.
But Grog had something important to tell him, something that he knew his master wouldn’t like to hear. Nevertheless, he had to tell him and felt that he should wait for the right moment before doing so. Feeling that now was as good a time as any, he looked over to Nog for reassurance, somehow understanding what is brother was about to say, and nodded. Grog reluctantly shuffled a little closer to Henry, building up his courage to speak. “Master,” he said softly. Henry sighed, rather disinterested in anything he had to say. “The dark one,” Grog continued. The sheer mention of the dark one got Henry’s attention straightaway. He stared up at Grog and then looked over to where Nog was sitting. Although it was completely dark, strangely, due to the fire serpent inside him, his night vision was incredible. He not only could see things just as clearly as he could in daylight, but had developed senses beyond those of mere humans. He could now sense everything that was around him, every tree, every little living creature. He could even feel the sadness of the sick woodland itself.
Between Darkness and the Light Page 45