“I am Kiral,” said the figure, raising his arms to lower the hood of his robe. “Do not be alarmed by my appearance, I was sent here to help you.”
Both Tyler and Parlan gasped as the hood dropped onto Kiral’s shoulders. The creature had a human body, but the head, devoid of hair, had shining white pointed horns above ears that were no more than small holes at each side of a face the colour and texture of granite. Huge protruding eyes the colour of darkness above a mouth that looked as if tentacles were growing from it, stared at each of them in turn.
As the shock diminished, Parlan relaxed a little, but ventured no comment on the stranger’s appearance. “You say you were sent to help us. How can you do that?”
“We have a mutual enemy, the one who has caused you to be an outcast and who will one day want both your race and mine exterminated. You know him as Tobyn, the man who murdered the reigning king and arranged for you to take the blame.”
“That is correct,” said Parlan, cautiously, “but all you say is common knowledge. How do we know we can trust you? If you can get us into the castle, perhaps I might clear my name? Or maybe you can tell me how to deal with a man who uses magic to safeguard his well-being.”
“I cannot gain you entrance to the castle, but as for trust, I stand here unarmed, placing my safety in your hands. I do not have the power to stand against our enemy, but there is someone who might be able to help you in your crusade. It would mean travelling across the sea to find her.” “A woman,” Tyler sneered, disgustingly. “A mere woman would not be able to stand in battle, especially against such a man as Tobyn. Besides, many cannot even hold a dagger, let alone a sword.”
“You will find, as you get older, that strength alone is not always the answer. This female, although still young, is the only person who might help you fight your adversary. If you wish, I will tell you how to find her.”
The following morning, Tyler and Parlan left the safety of their hiding place to start the long journey towards the coast. It would not be easy; and their horses would have to be found a temporary home until they returned. There was not enough money in either of their purses to pay any stabling fees or the passage, and it seemed they would have to work their way across the stretch of ocean to the girl’s home. The days were bright and warm, but after dark there was a distinct chill in the air, and on the occasions they could find no shelter, they woke the following morning covered in dew and shivering. Each new day followed the last with little to differentiate between them. The plains were quiet and empty of people, and as they rode in companionable silence, they wondered if what Kiral had said about the girl was true.
Cold and hungry, they began to detect ozone in the air, and soon in the distance, they could see the beginnings of the coastal town, where they hoped to get passage on a ship. It was growing dusk; too late to enquire about work or the various ships’ destinations. Spotting a farm, Tyler nudged Parlan, who was dozing in the saddle, and they decided to ask for lodgings for the night. The farmer and his wife were both jolly people, rotund and red-cheeked with health, and they couldn’t help but like them. Tyler explained that he and his brother had to visit a friend across the sea, without giving a reason for the voyage. There was still a reward for information leading to the capture of traitors, and although on the surface his two hosts seemed trustworthy, it was better to be safe than sorry. The farmer offered to stable their horses while they were away. He was especially keen to give Sox a home, saying that an animal of his strength could help plough the land ready for next season’s planting.
At first, Tyler worried about leaving Sox behind, but he realised that if he was to find this girl, he had no choice. They agreed terms, stabling and food, in return for Sox’s work in the field, but Tyler warned that should he return to find his horse had been mistreated, there would be repercussions that the farmer would not care to dream about.
Two days later, Tyler and Parlan set out with the farmer, with a cart full of produce already booked into the docks for destinations unknown. Knowing Sox would be in kind and capable hands, having seen the way the farmer treated the other animals in his care, settled Tyler’s mind to the journey ahead. When they reached the narrow streets leading to the quayside, the overwhelming stench of gutted fish made Tyler feel queasy. But he quickly got used to the smell, knowing that if all went according to plan, he and Parlan would soon be on a boat sailing to meet the girl Kiral had told them about. In a distant land, they felt they might be safe from the bounty hunters, but word of mouth travels quickly, especially when gold is mentioned. They would still need to be on their guard against such predators.
There were a number of ships lining the docks, their cargoes being either taken aboard or unloaded. Beside of each ship, a man sat at a table ready to take the names of potential crew members wanting to sign on. Standing in line for a merchant ship, having already ascertained its destination, Tyler and Parlan waited their turn. The vessel’s second port of call was their intended destination, Ikasar. Tyler had not heard of the country, but having never travelled far from home, there were many places of which he had never heard. They made their mark then went aboard, neither giving their true names for entry into the Ships’ Log, nor leaving behind a sample of their writing. The threat of execution was never closer than now and should Tobyn learn they were about to leave the country, he would undoubtedly send word for them to be taken into custody upon docking at their first port of call. It took seven weeks before they reached land again, and both Tyler and Parlan found the unaccustomed work tiring, hard and dangerous, but exhilarating. It was an experience that, under normal circumstances neither would have undertaken. At their first port of call they put their backs into the work of unloading the crates and bales of fodder then joined in with the rest of the crew, singing shanties as they took on a fresh cargo. Once the merchandise had been lashed in place and the hold filled, the captain ordered them to set sail. Their next port of call was Ikasar, and Tyler found himself wondering what the girl would be like. Would she be pretty or ugly, an enchanting creature or a boring crone whose company he would find annoying? Whatever she was like, if she could help his friend, he knew he would endure anything she might throw his way. Tyler relaxed during this second leg of the journey and began to enjoy life as a sailor, although the workload never diminished. The men they bunked down with had, during the periods of rest, become good friends. Although he knew he would not give up his life as a farmer’s son, this was an experience he would never forget. By the time they reached Ikasar, both Tyler and Parlan’s bodies had become well-muscled and tanned, they felt strong and fit, more than prepared for the task ahead of them. Having retrieved their swords from the captain, they collected the coin owed for their work and stepped ashore. The payment was enough to enable them to hire horses to take them inland in search of the girl Kiral had described, but Tyler felt apprehensive about a mere girl being able to do what he could not. He knew they had no hope of fighting the dead king’s sorcerer alone and winning. If his friend was to be crowned as the rightful king and this girl was their only chance, he thought he would not feel so inadequate. There were Inns along the way, where they stopped for refreshment and to acquire information and directions. After six days on the road, the smoke from several fires in the distance heralded a large village, where their journey would come to an end. It hadn’t occurred to either of them that this girl might not wish to leave her home, to fight a battle many leagues across the sea; a battle which, from her point of view, might seem to be none of her business. They found the villagers to be friendly folk and, although some regarded them with suspicion, they were directed to a cottage at the far side of the village, where the woodsman’s daughter could be found.
They drew their horses to a halt outside the cottage door. As they dismounted, a woman opened the door and gazed at them in surprise.
“Oh!” she gasped, “I thought perhaps you were my husband returning.”
“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” Tyler bowed, “but we wer
e looking for your daughter, Nemeila. That is, if you are the woodsman’s wife.”
“My daughter?” she asked in alarm. Her mind skipped immediately to the men Ilanthia had warned her about. “What do you want with my daughter? She has done nothing wrong that warrants you coming here.”
Tyler saw the sudden fear in the woman’s face, and realised too late the distress that two strangers arriving unannounced at her door would cause. “We were told that she and she alone might be able to help the true king of my land; he has been outlawed for a crime he didn’t commit. I can see that we have badly frightened you, but rest assured, we mean her no harm.”
Taliena studied the two boys standing before her. She was usually a good judge of character and she saw truth in their eyes, but even so, looks could be deceiving.
“She is not here,” she declared, “my daughter had a dream that her father lay injured, and has gone to try and find him. But his trapping takes him many leagues from here, up into those distant hills.” She pointed towards the horizon, and Tyler guessed it would take more than a few days travel to reach them. “His work is dangerous,” she continued, “and many a time I’ve worried about him, but he has always come home none the worse for his travels.” “We cannot leave without at least speaking with your daughter. It seems futile to try searching for her, is there anything that we might do to help while we await her return?” Tyler asked. The woodsman’s wife began to feel uneasy about two strangers waiting for her daughter to return, still anxious that perhaps they were envoys of Ilanthia’s enemy. “There seems little point in your waiting here; it could be days or weeks before either my husband or daughter return. I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey. If you leave an address, I’ll tell her that you called, maybe she might send you a message.” “I’m afraid we have no address where she might send word,” said Tyler, thinking the woman might trust them more, if he trusted her with their lives. He met Parlan’s eyes and saw he shared the same worried frown. Parlan came to a decision and spoke up. “I am Prince Parlan of Kallopia, and this is my friend, Tyler Marten. I was accused and tried for my father’s murder, but I am innocent of the crime. My younger brother now sits upon the throne, and will be crowned king in a few months’ time on his sixteenth birthday, aided by the sorcerer who is also a threat to your daughter. I place both our lives in your hands, for should the sheriff know of our whereabouts, we will be taken and hanged.
“Please madam; we honestly have not come here to kill her, or to deliver her to the castle. We would, if you have no objection, still like to wait for her. Is there a place where we might find lodging?” “The village has a small tavern, but you’ll draw undue attention to yourselves by staying there. You could, if you wish, sleep in our barn and in return for help with a few chores I’ll provide you with food.” “Sounds a reasonable solution,” Tyler smiled. “If neither of them has returned in a few days, and you ask the men in the village to mount a search party, we’d be more than willing to go with them.”
The woodsman’s legs were pinned beneath the tree; his leggings were covered in dried blood where he had tried to wrench himself free. How long he had laid there in agony, Nemeila didn’t know, but she realised that if she didn’t help him soon he would die from loss of blood and exposure. She knelt by the stream, and then removing the scarf from around her neck, soaked it in the clear water. Returning to her father, she squeezed the cloth against his parched lips so that he could drink. Pondering the size of the fallen tree, she wondered how she was ever going to free her father’s legs. There was no way to raise the branch that held him trapped, a block and tackle would be needed, and rope, none of which were available to her. She saw on the rise the overturned sledge, the pelts still bound in place, but they would be of no use for the task at hand. The wolf padded to her side, and she saw her father’s eyes roll in their sockets to take him in.
“It was he who guided me here,” she said. “You owe your life to him.” “Then we both owe our lives to him,” groaned her father through lips tight with pain, “I was at first going to set a trap for him, but I’m glad now that I didn’t.”
Her father’s accident had occurred at a place isolated from any other farmsteads, there were no villages or towns close enough for her to get help, quickly, and she feared that to leave him to venture further afield would mean he would die where he lay. She sat down on the damp grass, close to her father, taking his hand into her own, stroking it soothingly to reassure him that all would be well. Thoughts drifted through her mind recalling how as an old woman, Ilanthia had taught her to make healing potions, and as her mother, describing how the amulet could create wards to help her. She settled the fingers of her right hand round the amulet on her left arm, touching each stone in turn, feeling and hearing the resonant tones as they vibrated beneath her fingertips. As her concentration deepened, the threads of the wards began to form before her eyes. As they grew in size, she began the delicate process of weaving them together, to form a binding that she might use to help her father. The day turned into night and as darkness fell, the suddenly chilled air ate into her bones. Her father began to shiver due to the cold night and the shock of his accident lowering his temperature. Amber looked from the young girl to the man lying trapped on the ground. He clambered to his feet and laid his heavy fur-clad body across the man’s chest to help keep him warm. Nemeila seemed not to notice; it was as though she was in a trance, her body as unmoving as a statue, as the spell she wove grew in size around her. She finally blinked open her eyes, concentrating all her thoughts into raising the tree. At first nothing happened; then, slowly inch by inch it began to levitate from the ground, as though invisible giant hands were lifting it. Amber scrambled to his paws, and then bit into her father’s jerkin dragging him clear of the branch. As he did so, her concentration lapsed and the tree fell back to the ground; the spell, having completed its task, dissipated like early morning mist at sunrise into the air around them. It was obvious, by the angle at which it lay that his leg was broken. The problem now was how to get him back to their cottage?
Without the mule that had been used to pull it, the sledge would be useless, even supposing it could be turned back onto its runners.
“Father,” she said, softly, wiping the sweat-soaked hair from his brow, “I’m going to try and right the sledge; the problem is, the mule has run away but I might be able to find him. I’m sorry that I took so long in being able to free you, but it was the first time that I tried such a feat.”
Her father opened his eyes and, through clenched teeth, told her to leave him and go for help.
“You will die, if you don’t get proper treatment. I can’t reset your leg and if it turns gangrenous, you’ll lose it.”
As she started up the rise towards the sledge, she realised that Amber had disappeared. At first she took no notice, her only concern to get her father onto the sledge, and then find the mule. She found that with the pelts still tied in place, it was too heavy for her to lift. Concentrating her thoughts, she finally turned the sledge back onto its runners using her unique gift.
Back at her father’s side, Nemeila tied two sturdy saplings either side of his broken leg; finally tying his two legs together for added support. As she began to drag him up the slope towards the sledge, she had no idea how she was going to move it if the mule wasn’t found. Not only was her father heavy to drag, every jolt on the uneven ground caused him to cry out in agony. Finally, using a levitation spell she reached the sledge and lowered her father onto a cushion of pelts. She then covered him with some of the heavy musty-smelling skins to keep him warm. The wolf hadn’t returned and she wondered if he would re-join his pack now that she had found her father. With a groan of despair, she settled herself next to her father, who looked lovingly and proudly at the girl he and his wife had raised as their daughter. He saw that she had grown older, but there was more, something about her that set her apart from the other village children. From the day he had found her, guarded by the wolf that had now saved h
is own life, he knew in his heart that she was no ordinary child. Although he had been in great pain from the crushing weight on his legs, drifting in and out of consciousness, he had seen the spell she had woven. It occurred to him that the woman, Ilanthia, might be a witch and, if so, would his daughter use the powers she had inherited for good or evil. But right now none of that mattered, she and the wolf had rescued him, and witch or not, he would always love her. A branch snapped behind Nemeila, who jumped to her feet in alarm, grabbing her father’s axe in readiness should the bear return. But her fears were unfounded; it was her wolf that trotted out from the trees, behind him, led by one of its reins was the mule. Nemeila knelt down, hugging Amber to her with relief, whereupon a wet slobbering tongue caressed her ear and cheek.
‘Thought you might need his services,’ Amber mused, ‘it looks as though my instincts were right.’
Having hitched the mule to the sledge, Nemeila began the arduous task of driving the sledge home. By the time nightfall came, she was hungry, her stomach growling in protest at its emptiness. She realised her father must also be hungry, for there had been no food nearby. When she was too exhausted to continue, she made camp near a riverbank. With her back to her father, she pointed a finger at the steeped dry twigs and a flame spurting from its tip set them alight. It would help keep them warm throughout the night, even though there was no food to cook over it. Amber had run off again, but in trying to guide the sledge and keep it upright on the rutted earth, she hadn’t given much thought to his second disappearance. As she tucked the pelts round her father’s body and made him comfortable, Amber strutted into view. In his jaws he held the still warm body of a plump hare, which he dropped at Nemeila’s feet. Their meal was washed down with fresh water from the river, with Amber scoffing his share of the food a lot quicker than either his new mistress or her father. It took nearly five days to reach their home, by which time she felt as though she could sleep for a week. Every muscle and bone in her body cried out for rest, she was filthy from the sweat of the hard work and grime of the forest, and almost fell through the doorway as she called to her mother for help to get her father inside. She was surprised to see two young men emerge from their cottage, joining her mother as they hastened to the sledge. Without saying a word, they lifted Jakob gently in their strong young arms and carried him into the cottage. “Who are you?” Nemeila asked, after they had settled her father comfortably on his bed and a healer had been sent for. “My name is Tyler Marten, and this is my friend Prince Parlan. We have travelled from Kallopia in the hope that you might help us reinstate my friend, the true king to the throne.” “You have travelled a great distance to seek help from someone you know nothing about. Why should I want to leave the safety of my home for someone who means nothing to me?” Perched on stools offered by Taliena, Tyler and Parlan outlined to Nemeila all the events of the past few months.
The Wolf and the Sorceress Page 11