“I hope so,” murmured Tyler, worry etched into every line of his young face. “If anything happens to her, it will be my fault and I will never forgive myself.”
“Stay with her. If you need anything, just call out. There will be a man posted outside the door. If… when she awakens, send word to the galley, cook will prepare some broth.” “Thank you,” said Tyler, clasping the captain’s hand in gratitude.
The captain returned to the deck, to help his crew repair the sails and mast, leaving the three travellers to take care of each other.
It was four days before Nemeila began to stir from the trance-like state occasioned by her battle against Tobyn. The first sight she fixed on was the worried frown on Tyler and Parlan’s faces, in contrast to the eager look on Amber’s. Placing his front paws on the mattress, he slurped wetly at her ear to reassure her he was still there. She stroked the side of his face, happy in the realisation that the ship was still afloat. The crew on board the merchant ship had sewn the torn sails, and although the ship was under-canvassed, the captain was pleased with their progress.
“Is the ship safe?” she asked Tyler, who knelt at her side against the bunk.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to calm the storm that ravaged us.”
“It wasn’t just me; my birth mother came to my aid. Tobyn’s power was too much for me, if she hadn’t helped us when she did, we would have all drowned.”
“I don’t understand,” Parlan frowned, puzzled by her words. “How could your mother help you?” Nemeila opened her mouth to reply, but thought better of it. “Does it matter that much. That we were saved is enough, surely?”
Tyler smiled at Parlan, as he helped her to her feet. From what little her father had told him as they helped him into the cottage after his accident, he realised this girl was not the meek girl he had first thought her to be. The creature, who had urged them to seek her out, was not human and there were many things he did not understand about her, but to be a threat to the old king’s sorcerer, she would have to possess powers that matched his own. He silently signalled to Parlan to ask no more questions. Parlan nodded and said no more about it. They made their way to the galley, where the ruddy-faced, rotund cook gave her a big toothless grin. “I’d almost given up on you,” he chortled. “Drag up a stool and I’ll heat you some broth, you look as though you need it.” The captain, unaware that the storm had been conjured up through the wrath of an alien being and aimed at his young passengers, was full of praise and gratitude as Nemeila emerged onto the deck.
“I’m relieved to see that you are recovered,” he said, “you had us all worried when you passed out. You saved my ship and her cargo. Had your armband not deflected the lightning bolt, I don’t think we’d have survived. For your part in the saving of my ship, I will take no fare for your passage, and though we will have to undertake repairs when we reach Kallopia, it’s better than losing her to the ocean. We are a few days behind schedule owing to the loss of canvas, but given a fair wind, we should reach Kallopian shores in about four days. I can only repeat my thanks for what you did, if there is anything you want, you have only to ask any of the crew on board.”
He bowed his head as he departed, leaving Nemeila feeling like a fraud for her part in the battle. Tyler picked up on her discomfort and placed his arm round her shoulders, reassuring her that her actions had shown far more courage than he thought he might have had.
It was actually five days before they sighted land, then they had to wait for the tide before they could berth. They took their leave of the captain, and with Amber close to heel they departed down the gangplank onto the cobbled streets of the harbour, slippery with fish guts and stranded seaweed.
“It’s a fair distance to the farm where we left our horses,” Tyler said, “I think we should eat before we set out; we have enough money to buy a meal. Then if we are lucky, perhaps we can hire a ride to save our feet.”
Chapter 9
Demons
Tyler spotted Sox at the far side of the field, when they arrived at the farm. He put his fingers into his mouth and blew. The shrill whistle caught the stallion’s attention, and he pounded the turf towards the sound. Tyler made a fuss of him and Sox in return nuzzled his master, expressing his pleasure at the reunion. Standing at five feet eight inches, Sox dwarfed Nemeila, but she stretched up and patting the side of his neck, communicated her friendship to the animal. Amber stood with his front paws on the crossbar to the fence, and waited patiently for his turn. He and Sox touched noses, smelling each other, so that both would know the other’s scent.
‘What part do you play?’ Amber asked the huge animal standing before him.
‘The boy, Tyler, belongs to me,’ said Sox, ‘and has done since I was a foal. Who are you with?’
‘The young girl is my charge,’ Amber said, proudly. ‘I found her when she was but a babe and allowed two of her kind to rear her. Since she has grown I have been at her side, should she have need of my services.’
The farmer greeted Tyler and said he would be sorry to see the ‘Big Fellow’ go. “If you want to leave him here, I’ll give you two horses, one for you and the girl and money to make up his worth,” he said, with a hopeful expression. “He’s been no trouble since you’ve been gone; on the contrary, the work he’s done has saved me no end of time in preparation for the coming spring.”
“I can see that,” said Tyler, “but he is not for sale. To tell the truth, I don’t think I would care to own an ordinary horse since riding him. Besides, I am a farmer by trade and he will be needed when I get home.”
Tyler boosted Nemeila onto Sox’s back, before climbing up behind her. They headed east towards his home, but Tyler knew that to reach the castle they would eventually have to turn north. He wondered if they should go straight to the castle to confront the sorcerer, or perhaps go to his father’s house and seek his advice on defeating their enemy.
Three days of riding brought them to a small hamlet, where they secured lodging for the night. The following morning when they had breakfasted, they discovered a fair had arrived in the village. Multi-coloured tents now covered the greensward as far as the eye could see. Jugglers, tightrope walkers and acrobats were all vying for the attention of the crowd. Men dressed in garish baggy clothing, with painted faces, depicting manic happiness or gloomy despair, chased shrieking children over the grass.
“Can we look round the stalls?” asked Nemeila eagerly. “I have never seen anything like this before.”
“I don’t see why not,” Tyler replied, glancing at Parlan to see if he minded, “it’s the first time I’ve seen a fair of such magnitude.”
As they strolled between the stalls, they found it hard not to succumb to the many delicious looking and smelling wares on offer. Nemeila bought a sweetbread and as she was about to bite into it, she saw two boys, one atop the other’s shoulders, creeping up to a man balancing a tray of steaming pies on his head. The boy on top grabbed a pie with each hand, slid down his accomplice’s back to land nimbly on his feet, whereupon they both raced away to enjoy their booty. She smiled to herself as the man strode on, unaware that he would be short on his delivery. A crowd had gathered round a group of acrobats who were climbing onto the anchor-man’s shoulders; he was built like an ox and looked as though it would take an ox to knock him over. He was already bearing the weight of six men, and a further six were waiting their turn to join the human pyramid. As they mingled with the crowd, a cold shaft of fear suddenly halted Nemeila.
“Tyler,” she said, pulling on his sleeve, “over there, close by the yellow tent. What do you see?”
Tyler and Parlan followed her pointing finger, but saw nothing to cause alarm. “Only four men talking,” they said, puzzled. “Why?”
But the outward appearance of the men that Tyler and Parlan saw was not what her own eyes had revealed to her. Beneath the illusion of the masks they wore, she could see them for the demons they were. Their grotesquely distort
ed faces and misshapen bodies were as clear to her, as if ordinary humans stood before her.
“I’m sure they’re, demons,” she said, quietly. “Let us collect the horses from the stables and get out of here. I have a feeling they’re Tobyn’s envoys, sent to seek us out.”
Nemeila signalled Amber to heel, as they started back to the lodging house. The four who had been huddled together dispersed into the crowd, closely followed by a further two demons, whom to all but Nemeila were ordinary villagers attracted by the fair. As Nemeila rounded a stall, immediately before her was one of the hunters, she stopped so abruptly that Tyler cannoned into her. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him with her as she darted away, the demon close behind them. As they ducked and weaved through the crowd, occasionally crashing into stalls and knocking over small children, the other demons started to converge on them. Tables were sent flying and tents were demolished as their pursuers tried to cut them off; as one of the creatures careered through a tent, there was a splash and a loud curse.
Tyler chanced a look behind him, and spotted one of the demons neck deep in a hole that had been dug for a latrine. He emerged covered in the brown stuff, the stench from the waste-pit was so strong, that even as he ran, the odour drifted along with him. Everyone moved out of his way lest he touched them, the smell was unbearable.
“You little witch,” the demon screamed after the fleeing figures, “just you wait until I catch you.”
Tyler was still chuckling as they raced into the stables.
Parlan slipped the stable boy a coin, as Tyler helped Nemeila onto Sox’s back, before climbing onto an upturned cask and mounting up behind her.
Parlan mounted his own horse and they emerged from the shadows of the stables, to find the six creatures standing before them, two holding ropes, two more clutching daggers. The demon that had fallen into the latrine reeked. The stench could be smelt emanating from his clothing, there was fury etched into every line of his face, and he looked as though he would kill them with his bare hands. “Run, Amber,” Nemeila shouted, as Tyler kicked Sox forward.
The demons raced forward to head them off. A thrown lasso barely missed Nemeila’s head as she ducked down, hugging Sox’s neck. Although Amber had started to run at Nemeila’s command, he skidded to a halt before turning to launch himself at a demon preparing to hurl a dagger at Tyler’s back. His fangs sank deep into the demon’s arm, which immediately oozed of a thick reeking purple blood, and the weapon fell to the ground. There was no time for him to do more damage; as the other demons ran to their own horses, Amber sped to catch up with Sox. “You were right,” gasped Tyler, glancing back over his shoulder, “for a moment they must have lost control over their appearance, and I saw their puckered scabby faces and twisted limbs.” The fairground fell behind, as Tyler urged Sox on towards the distant shimmering hills. Tyler’s pulse began to race as he chanced a look behind him. “They have horses,” he groaned in Nemeila’s ear. “We must try and find somewhere to hide; Sox will never be able to outrun them.” Sox was not a thoroughbred racer he was a working horse, and although he stretched every muscle to capacity, their pursuers were slowly closing the distance between them. In desperation, as they breached a hill, Tyler followed Parlan’s lead and guided Sox into a narrow crevice in the rock face hoping they might find somewhere up ahead where they could at least make a stand and hold off the demons. The path curved in front of them, but the rock walls seemed solid; there was nowhere to hide and nowhere to stand and fight. Sox had started to breathe quite heavily, clouds of breath pumping from his nostrils. Tyler knew he would have to slow down, or kill him through exhaustion. Then, just when they believed things couldn’t get any worse, the path came to an abrupt end. Reining Sox to a halt, Tyler jumped down. “Stay on his back,” he ordered Nemeila, “Parlan and I will try to hold them off, while you and Amber slip back the way we came.” Nemeila dismounted. “I will not leave the two of you here,” she said stubbornly. “The fight may have been yours to start with, but now it belongs to all of us.” In the quiet of the crevice, they heard the pounding of hoof beats as their pursuers bore down on them. Tyler unsheathed his sword and handed Nemeila a dagger, their only hope lying in their pursuers being poor swordsmen. High above them, the rock face shifted, a slab of rock creaked upwards to reveal a glittering eye. Unseen by the three people below, it surveyed the path before blinking shut again. A deep grinding rumble brought a whinny from Sox and a growl from Amber as the ground beneath their feet cracked and crumbled. In the base of the rock face a hole appeared. At first small, it grew steadily in size until there was a gaping hollow, large enough for the two horses to stand in. Tyler hastily examined the newly formed cave, before urging Nemeila inside. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” he said, “but check the depth of the cave. Is it deep enough for us and the horses?” Nemeila hurried inside the eerily glowing cavern, the luminescence seeming to emanate from striations in the stone.
“There’s easily enough room for us all, it goes back further than I can see,” her voice echoed back to Tyler and Parlan. “Summon Amber inside the cave,” Parlan called back, “Tyler and I will bring the horses.” Sox at first refused to be led towards the shadowed entrance, but with gentle coaxing he finally followed his master inside. The thundering hoof-beats from the demon’s horses grew louder; in a matter of moments they would gallop into sight.
“Take the horses further into the cavern,” ordered Tyler, passing the reins to Nemeila. “We’ll stand guard here, at the entrance.”
As they turned to face their adversaries, the rock face crunched shut in front of them. Parlan stretched his arm out, his fingers tracing uneven grooves in the rough surface of the wall, but inexplicably the rock face was transparent, and he could clearly see the six demons as they rode into sight and reined to a halt in bewilderment. Parlan instinctively pulled back, afraid of being seen, but it was clear from the puzzled expressions on their faces as they dismounted, that the demons had no idea where their quarry had gone.
Tyler grinned as the demons searched the dusty rock faces for hidden crevices or clues. It was obvious now that whoever or whatever had opened the cave had done it to protect them. But when the demons finally and with bad grace, abandoned their search and returned along the winding path, he began to worry whether the entrance would be recreated to allow them to leave.
With this concern in mind, he and Parlan turned their backs on the ‘window’ in the rock and joined Nemeila, where she stood holding the reins of the two horses. The cavern leading away from the narrow entrance was vast, stalactites and stalagmites reflected the greenish glow from the moss stippling the walls and the weirdly glowing light from the rock itself, turning the vault into a shifting kaleidoscope of colour.
“We’re safe for the present,” Tyler said, wiping the back of his hand across his sweaty brow, “the demons have ridden away, wondering, no doubt, where we were hiding. I don’t imagine Tobyn will be impressed, when they return empty-handed. Have you seen another way out of here, the cave entrance doesn’t appear to be going to open again?”
“I’ve just had a quick look round,” said Nemeila, “but there doesn’t seem to be another way out. Are you sure the entrance is solid wall now?” “I pressed all over it,” said Parlan, “I couldn’t find any cracks or levers.” They spent a great deal of time closely investigating the cavern, but found no means to escape. Then, as though the very rock had metamorphosed to shape itself into a living sculpture, a troll lumbered into the cavern. It stood around four feet high; its slime-coated skin glistened in bruised shades of green and puce, like spoiled meat left too long in the sun. Its limbs were coated with thick grizzled hair and contributing to the simian appearance were overlong arms, its enlarged knuckles almost scraping the floor as it lumbered towards them. Its misshapen fingers and toes were too large for its hands and feet, tipped with gnarled outcroppings of curved, yellow cartilage that resembled claws. In contrast to its body hair, the hair on its head was sparse, but what it lacked in
volume, it made up for in colour, and beneath the flaming red swathes strung across its scalp, were small ears, which ended in pendulous flaps of skin forming the lobes. Beneath its lowering brow, two green eyes burned feverishly with an emotion they could only guess at, but imagined fearfully was not affection. A squashed nose and fleshy drooling lips were set in cheeks pitted with oozing pustules. It wore only a filthy stained loincloth, but clutched in one callused hand, and held protectively against its body, was a shimmering glass orb, obviously of great value to the creature. “I see you like my home,” he growled. “I trust your pursuers have gone?” “Yes,” said Tyler, “and we would like to thank you for your assistance.” “As you should,” agreed the troll, “I think I deserve a large reward for saving your lives; how about the grey horse? Give me the horse and you can go free.” “What would you want with a horse?” asked Nemeila uncertainly. “I find getting up on his back difficult, but without wishing to sound unkind, your size would make it almost impossible.”
“I do not wish to ride the creature,” the troll spluttered indignantly, “I intend to eat him.”
“Is that some kind of a joke?” Tyler erupted angrily. “You’ll eat him over my dead body! He’s my friend and besides, without him we’d be stranded, with no way to continue our journey except on foot.”
“Then, perhaps I could settle for this small female; wouldn’t last as long as the horse and there is very little meat on her bones, but as you are so fond of the horse I might consider her.” Nemeila didn’t know whether to be frightened or outraged, so merely gaped at the troll, totally lost for words.
The Wolf and the Sorceress Page 14