“Evil sometimes lingers on even though the source has long gone. He has caused many deaths throughout his long life, and will I am sure keep on killing and manipulating until he finally obtains what he desires, or gets what is coming to him.”
They left the now darkened area to go back through the engine room and then on to the anteroom where Nemeila had been born. “You were born on that table,” said Ilanthia, smiling. “I had but a few fleeting moments to hold you before you were sent to the forest where the wolf found you. You do not know the heartache I went through hoping that you would be found and well cared for. But I saw, via the monitors, that your adoptive parents were kind loving people, and that they loved you.” She turned and looked at the twisted metal framing the hatchway. “Tobyn and the six that follow him entered through that doorway, your father gave his life to protect me as Tobyn drew down upon us. He stood no chance against the magician’s powers, not having the art of conjury at his grasp. But that didn’t stop him trying. I wish you could have known him, you would have liked him.”
Nemeila looked at Ilanthia and saw the hint of tears welling in her eyes, and knew just how painful the memories were. “Will you show me his grave?” she asked. “I would like to say a prayer over him.”
They went outside the ship where the muddy banks that had saved the ship from destruction when it crash-landed were now full of flowers, just like the images she had seen in the bowl of water in the old woman’s cottage. Adjacent to the outer hatch was a willow tree, whose branches drooped over the place where Timius was buried. Nemeila knelt under the branches and laid a posy of flowers next to the headstone. “Thank you, father, for saving my mother’s life. Also for sending me away so that one day I might be able to avenge your death and help save the people in this land from the terrible fate that Tobyn has in store for them.” She looked up and saw Ilanthia standing alongside her, tears freely running down her cheeks. Nemeila stood and embraced her true mother, and together they stood for a moment looking down at the ground. “On my home world, you would be a princess,” Ilanthia said, placing her arm round Nemeila’s shoulder. “All the young men would be chasing after you, each vying for your hand in marriage. Your grandfather, the king, would I know, be putty in your hands.” Nemeila smiled, wondering what it would be like to travel the galaxy visiting alien worlds. But she realised that the ship that allowed her mother to stay alive would never again take to the skies. With one final prayer, they both went back to the control room. While Ilanthia and Nemeila had been outside, Eona had readied the equipment that would enable the sending of this newly born, in a sense, girl, back to Ikasar. Saddened that she could not accompany her, Ilanthia calculated the dials and initiated the equipment to life. The machinery on board would enable her to chart her daughter’s progress, if necessary she could perhaps provide help with a telepathic link. The amulet would protect her, as it had all those who had worn it before her. The stones, now having bonded with her thoughts, would react to safeguard its present wearer. Nemeila hugged her birth mother, as she prepared herself for the now familiar but weird sensation of being transported to her destination. She hugged Eona also, noting that she too was sad at her imminent departure. “It’s for the best that I leave,” said Nemeila, trying to comfort the two women, “should the sorcerer return here, there will be no place to hide. If he and his followers turn their powers against you, you will die. He has said it is me he wants but he’ll have to find me first. If he does manage to kill me, I hope you know that I love you.”
“Never remove the amulet,” said Ilanthia, “its powers are finely tuned to your senses; that much was proved when it blinded those boys who were about to harm you. Tobyn knows nothing about it or what it can do; it might be the very thing that will help you defeat him.”
With a final loving look, trying to hide the despair she felt, Ilanthia threw the levers and her daughter and the wolf vanished before her eyes.
Nemeila arrived back at the place where she had landed as a new born in the escape pod, where Amber had found and carried her to the woodsman’s cottage.
“Well, my faithful wolf, shall we visit my mother and father? I think they will be surprised when they see me.” ‘I think they’ll be more surprised to see me with you,’ thought Amber, allowing his tongue to hang from his muzzle, his way of smiling.
They set off, Amber keeping pace at her side. Her stomach was full of nervous butterflies that for no reason kept asking the nagging question: Would her parents be pleased to see her again? Her fears were allayed when her mother opened the door to her knock.
“Hello, mama,” she said to the shocked woman before her.
“Nemeila… Is that really you?” But there could be no mistaking her daughter, even though she had aged. Her long dark lustrous hair and those golden brown eyes could only belong to one person.
They hugged each other, as though countless years had passed since the last time they were together. Finally, they stepped apart, examining each other through tear filled eyes.
“My, how you have grown,” said Taliena, in admiration of the changes brought in her daughter. “I wish your father were here, he would be so proud of you. You look absolutely beautiful, come inside and tell me all that has happened to you, and why you have grown so much in such a short time.”
Nemeila followed her mother into the cottage, nothing much had changed there. The table and chairs were in the same spot, so too was the armchair her father liked to sit in. “Where is father?” asked Nemeila.
“He has been commissioned to supply pelts for the Royal Household and has gone hunting in the distant hills, he should be home in the next few weeks. Will you be able to stay until he returns?”
“Of course, if you don’t mind my unannounced arrival. Would you object if Amber shares our home?”
Taliena studied the wolf sitting obediently at her Nemeila’s heels. “No, as long as he doesn’t cock his leg against the furniture,” she laughed. “It was the wolf that brought you to us, so how could I refuse him a place in our home.”
Nemeila told her mother about the place where Ilanthia lived, and that her friend was of reptilian descent. She left out a great deal about the ship, thinking that she and her father would never fully understand exactly where her birth mother had come from. She began to practice what Ilanthia had taught her, and tried to stay away from the children she used to play with. Carla knocked on her door one day and was shocked at Nemeila’s appearance. “How have you grown so?” she asked, looking in disbelief at her friend. “It’s a long story,” said Nemeila, “but you remember when that bear chased us and we hid in the barn, and I managed to move the bin across the doorway, it has something to do with that.”
“Does that mean that every time you move something, you will age? You’ll be an old woman long before your time and die before I’m old enough to be married.”
Nemi laughed. “No I won’t. I promise that when you are to be wed, that I will look no different than I do now. Only don’t wait another fifty summers to find the love of your life.”
“Do you want to come and play?” asked Carla.
Nemi was about to rush off with her friend and suddenly realised that Carla was nearly twelve years of age, and she was not… any more.
“It would look a bit odd, me doing all the things we did. Look at me, I have grown so it would not look right if I climbed the trees and swung about on the ropes hanging from the tree branches.”
“You are right,” said Carla, looking closely at her friend. “Let’s just go and hang about with the other girls. Let the boys climb the trees.”
They both laughed, and Nemeila was pleased that she had at least one friend who knew about her gift of sorcery.
Arm in arm they entered the village, and laughed out loud at the wolf-whistles given by the boys they passed. In full length thigh laced boots, they both looked lovely, but it was Nemi the boys stared at.
“We could both get dates from any one of those boys,” Carla said, turning and look
ing back over her shoulder. “Do you fancy any one in particular?”
“I have got to come to terms in looking older than I am in actual years,” Nemi said. “I am not ready to start dating just yet, let’s just pretend to ignore them.”
“I remember what happened when those five boys held you down and were going to beat you up,” said Carla. “Did you use some kind of magic on them to make them temporarily blind?”
“Actually, I didn’t do anything. It was the gold amulet on my arm that saved me. Before I could even think, it began glowing and then a blinding light shone out. I was OK so I ran home, it was not until their fathers knocked at our house that I realised how badly they were hurt. It serves them right, really. Had it been you they were going to beat up, break your arm and cut off your hair, you would have stood no chance of escape. I just wish I had actually hit the one who sat on my stomach that would have given me a great deal of pleasure.”
Nemi examined the amulet on her arm, still in awe of its beauty. There were twelve large gemstones spaced equally around it, each a varying shade of blue. Smaller stones were set between them: Diamond, agate, topaz, onyx, ruby, emerald, beryl, amethyst, jasper, sapphire and chalcedony, which looked as though they were on fire as the light caught their facets. When touched, each stone sang with a unique note, which sounding in harmony produced a ward that would protect the girl in their charge. Ilanthia had shown her how to harmonise these sounds, and as she fingered the gold band, she wondered how they would work. But she had not yet had reason to call upon their services, since those boys had tried to harm her, and even then, the amulet had acted on its own accord.
She tried looking into pools of water, to see if she could spot anything other than her reflection. Most times she could not, but on rare occasions she saw outlines of places unknown to her. One morning, as she was about to leave the pool, she saw the shadow of a man lying trapped under what looked like a fallen tree. She tried to see more clearly but the image misted over. Suddenly, without warning, her father’s voice rang out in her mind. She stood, cupping her ears, trying to get a sense of direction. In a panic now, she hastened back home. Bursting into the cottage, she sought her mother.
“I have just heard father calling out for help,” she said, almost in tears, “I saw a vision of where he was, but I don’t recognise the place.”
“Are you sure it was not your imagination,” said her mother, trying to calm her. “Maybe it’s because you miss him?”
“No, it wasn’t a dream. The pod I was placed in has given me the ability to see events that could be in the future, or are happening right now. This was too real to be a dream.”
“There is nothing either of us can do,” said her mother, “your father never says where he is going and the hills are vast, he could be anywhere. We couldn’t ask the villagers to form a rescue party. We’ll just have to pray that he comes home safely.”
“I can still hear his voice in my head,” insisted Nemeila, “I know he is hurt and needs help.”
She flung open the door and stood for a moment on the sill. Behind closed eyes, she desperately tried to picture again the vision she had seen in the pool of water, but no matter how hard she concentrated, no images came to mind. Opening her eyes, she saw her faithful wolf standing quietly no more than an arm’s length from her. Kneeling down, she dragged her fingers through his thick coat, before running her hand over his head to stroke his ear. The wolf in turn rubbed its muzzle on her arm.
“It’s no good,” she whispered, “I have to try and find my father, I know he is hurt somewhere.”
Amber spun and jogged a few feet before coming to a halt. He whined deep in his throat, ran a few paces further and stopped again.
“What do you want?” she asked, almost as though she expected an answer.
The wolf trotted back, took the material of her dress between his teeth, and pulled.
“You want me to follow, is that it?” she asked.
Again Amber trotted away then stopped. Nemeila walked towards him, but as she closed the gap he was off, leading her along the pathway between the trees. Time passed quickly, and before she knew it, it was getting dark. She wrapped her arms round her body, wishing now that she had stopped to grab a shawl to keep out the cold. She studied her surroundings, but nothing seemed familiar. They had travelled a great distance from her home, and it was now too dark to think of returning. Even with the wolf as a guide, the pathways would be dangerous underfoot.
“I don’t know where you’re leading me,” she said, resting against a large oak, “but it seems we’ll have to spend the night out here in the cold. It’s all right for you; you’ve got a thick coat to keep you warm.”
Only a few hours had passed, long before dawn broke, Amber raked at the sleeping body on the ground. Nemeila blinked open bleary eyes and shivered in the early morning chill. Continuing their journey, she realised the wolf was leading her towards the distant hills. By the end of the day, she felt completely worn out and wanted to rest, but the wolf would not let her. She trudged onward, following a seemingly never-ending trail. Then on the third day of her journey, she breached a rise and saw before her a clearing where a stream wound its way through the trees.
The vision returned and she realised this was the place that she had seen reflected in the pool.
Amber’s eyes gleamed as he tossed his head and backed away. A groan was heard, followed by someone calling out, the crash of a heavy body blundering through the undergrowth startled her. The wolf threw his head back and howled, in the distance came eerie answers. Nemeila shivered. Snapping and snarling, the pack of wolves circled the fallen tree, which Nemeila realised it was identical to the one in her vision. “Father,” she shouted. “Where are you?” A juvenile bear rushed out of the thicket, its growls and roars loud and threatening. Four grown wolves surrounded it and began baiting it. The bear rose onto its hind legs, standing tall against its tormentors. But the wolves would not back off and as the rest of the pack teamed with their four comrades the bear realised it was beaten and lumbered off into the forest; there would be no easy meal to be had today. Amber seemed to smile, and whined his approval as he reached his mistress. Nemeila followed the wolf as it backed away again, finally spotting her father trapped under the fallen tree. “Save yourself, child,” he called out. “The wolves will attack, and there is a bear close by.” The pack had retreated, only her wolf remained. “They are on our side, father, and have seen the bear off. With Amber alongside me, the other wolves will not harm us.”
Chapter 7
The Meeting
Parlan had already tried to raise an army to stand against his brother, but although he had many supporters, none of the men he needed could fight without weapons. Now he was a fugitive he had no coin to purchase any, although the vaults of the castle were full of gold and silver. His brother would, he was sure, have used some of it to pay for the extra guards that now rode at his side at all times.
They were lying low in an old cottage hidden in a thick wood. The men who had helped rescue him had gone back to their families and duties to allay any suspicions of their involvement in his escape. A large reward had been posted, and Parlan knew that sooner or later someone would try to claim it by revealing his hiding place. He and Tyler sat on the floor trying to make plans to clear his name and regain the title due to him by birth. It was cold, damp and dark, with just a small virtually useless fire burning in the grate; for fear that too much smoke would show that the cottage was inhabited. The snap of a twig alerted Tyler to listen more closely. As he crossed to a window, he noticed that the crickets had stopped chirping. He and Parlan both drew their weapons, preparing to face either a group of bounty hunters or soldiers should they force their way in. But nothing happened. Having stood, arms at the ready, for what seemed an age, Tyler slowly and quietly opened the door and edged out onto the porch. At first he saw nothing but the blackness of the surrounding forest. Then turning he made out the shadow of a figure standing at the side of th
e cottage.
“Show yourself!” Tyler called out, “or be prepared to die.”
“Put away your weapon, boy,” came back the reply, “I have not come here to harm you.”
The figure stepped closer and Tyler noticed it wore a hooded robe. “Do not make me take that sword away from you,” it said. “Had I wanted you dead, then you would not be standing against me.”
Tyler hesitated then re-sheathed his sword, but his trust wasn’t wholly given, his hand remained resting upon the hilt as he stood looking at the being before him.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I think perhaps we might talk inside, the atmosphere is cold and damp and I have travelled many leagues to be here.”
Stepping aside, Tyler indicated the visitor should precede him into the cottage. Parlan also sheathed his sword, when he saw no evidence of any weapons.
“Which one of you is the prince?” enquired the stranger.
“I am,” said Parlan, instantly alert for any sudden movement this man might make towards him.
“Then you must be Tyler Marten, the stableman’s son,” he said, turning.
“How would you know that?” Tyler asked, suspiciously.
The Wolf and the Sorceress Page 10