“I will give you until the morning to decide,” the troll scratched at his pocked cheek with one yellow claw, “if you cannot make up your mind, I will make it up for you. I will then turn you all to stone, to preserve you until I am hungry, like I have those other creatures who intruded into my home.”
Flinging the last threat at them, the troll turned on his heel, scrabbled at a crack in the wall that briefly opened into a narrow passageway and disappeared into it.
They returned forlornly to the entrance, only to find the wall had solidified no longer allowing them a view onto the path. Tyler felt like kicking himself for not at least trying to overpower the troll and gain their freedom.
“What on earth are we going to do?” Nemeila asked hopelessly. “His appearance is scary enough, without the thought of being his breakfast.”
“We could rush him the next time he appears. The three of us, four if you include Amber, should be able to subdue him and force from him how we get out of here.”
Resting their backs against large boulders scattered round the cave, all were deep in their own thoughts. Tyler knew for a fact there must be a way out, but he realised that if the troll refused to reveal it, they would be trapped here forever, to slowly starve to death. With Amber nestled against her legs, Nemeila closed her eyes, wondering if the amulet might save them, but as she fingered the stones, they felt cold and lifeless and there was no response when she concentrated her thoughts. Her concentration was broken as something bumped into her boot. At first she took no notice, believing it was probably her wolf stretching out a paw. But when she was prodded a second time, she opened her eyes and found a small round pebble a few inches away. It rolled back to her boot, and she realised it had a tiny inquisitive face on one side; the mouth opened and a tinny voice spoke quietly to her. “He won’t let you go, you know, no matter what you decide to do. The glass orb he clutches in his ugly hand is the source of his power. It once belonged to me and I used it to manipulate the shape of the land. When the troll came into my home, I welcomed him as a valued guest, as I did all that ventured in here, but I was a trusting fool and he tricked me into letting him examine the orb. Once in his hands, he turned the creatures you see into the boulders you are resting against, and tried to do the same to me.” Nemeila stared at the angry pebble in amazement, and thought if anyone had told her that stones were able to speak, she would have directed them to an insane asylum. “If these boulders were once living creatures, how come you are able to move and speak?” she asked sceptically. “Because, I was already stone, flint to be exact,” the tiny mouth sighed. “When the troll used my orb against me, it turned me into what you see now, but luckily it left me a brain and a voice. You must get the orb away from him, but if you break it in your struggles, the cavern will remain sealed forever, you will all die and I will cease to exist.”
They drifted into a troubled sleep, and finally awoke to the stomach-rumbling aroma of roast pig, but under the circumstances, no one wanted to eat. A partition in the wall suddenly opened to reveal the troll, clasping the glass orb tightly against his matted chest.
“So, you tasty morsels, have you made up your minds? Or must the decision be mine?” he chortled, carefully standing too far away for them to successfully rush him.
But Amber calculated the distance to be within the power of his swift legs. He started to snarl, saliva dripping from his bared teeth, gleaming dangerously through his wrinkled back muzzle. Creeping forward three paces he gathered himself to launch his full weight at the troll. But before Amber could spring into action the fiend flashed the orb in his face and a stone wolf joined the other unfortunate creatures in the cave.
“I will eat him later,” said the troll.
Nemeila screamed and dropped beside her beloved friend. She traced her hand over his noble head, feeling only cold rock where there should have been warm living fur. “Give him back to me,” she whispered coldly, “or I will personally tear your vile body apart.”
“Take one step towards me, and you will join him in my stone gallery,” hissed the troll.
Tyler held Nemeila’s arm to hold her back, knowing the troll would not hesitate to make good his threat.
In the melee, Sox had inched closer to the troll, until he stood directly behind him. He swung his powerful head sideways and caught the troll squarely in his back. The totally unexpected blow was forceful enough to knock the troll off balance, in his stumble he threw the orb up in the air and across the cavern. Nemeila watched its flight path, remembering what the little pebble had said would happen, should it break. She leapt to her feet and dived full-length across the cave to catch it before it fell to the ground. The striated rock lacerated her flesh as she slid along its rough surface, but her outstretched hands plucked the orb from the air and she clutched it tightly against her chest, as she and it came to rest, relief evident in her smiling sigh. Aghast, the troll made to attack her, but Tyler grabbed a fistful of his filthy loincloth, stopping him in his tracks. “I should run you through with my blade,” he snarled, holding the untidy smelly bundle away from his nose. The little pebble rolled up to Nemeila and asked her to place the orb beside him. The pebble rolled forward to clink faintly against the orb, whereupon it immediately began to change shape. It grew in size until it reached the height of Nemeila’s waist; its smooth surface becoming rougher as the body of the Rock Being reclaimed its proper stature. “You certainly look different as your true self,” Nemeila smiled, as she examined their ally. “My race has been here for eons,” said the Rock Being, “our only purpose is to shape the land. I have lived in this cave for over two centuries, and been very happy here. During that time I have given shelter to many life forms and all have been welcome. Even that thing was welcome, but he abused my trust and generosity. I will open the entrance now so you may leave, then I will restore those poor creatures to life so they may also have their freedom again.” “What about this nasty piece of work?” said Tyler, still holding the troll fast to prevent it escaping.
“I think I will teach him a lesson, it’s his turn to decorate my cave, he will make a fine statue and it will allow these animals to go on their way untroubled. Don’t worry I will set him free once my cave is empty – eventually!”
Chapter 10
Dermot Masters
Each new morning echoed that of the previous day, but they had decided to bypass the villages, in case the demons were lying in wait for them. At least out in the open the demons could not launch a surprise attack and they might have a chance of escape. On the morning of their sixth day on the road, they reached the point where they had to choose which direction to take. They could either ride directly to the castle to confront the sorcerer, or they could be more circumspect and gather a little more information about the threat he posed to them.
“I think,” mused Tyler, “it might be best if we go to my village. My father will be able to tell us what has happened during these last few months. A few more days will surely make no difference. What do you think, Parlan?”
“You might be right,” Parlan agreed, “if Tobyn has sent demons to capture us, then who knows what other surprises he’s arranged for us.”
The countryside was just beginning to burgeon with the early signs of spring. Trees were coming into bud and fresh new blades of grass were a deep lush green. A further two days passed before they saw the telltale signs that a village lay ahead, animals grazing in the fields, smoke drifting lazily on the horizon and trees cut down for firewood. Tyler smiled to himself at a sudden twinge of homesickness and reassuringly curled his arm round Nemeila’s waist, giving her a little squeeze.
“Not long now,” he breathed in her ear.
As they rode through the village main street, he realised everyone he knew was turning their backs on him; not one of them returned his greeting.
“By the grace of the gods,” Elkin muttered to himself, as he saw them riding towards his barn. He ran to greet his son, but it was with a worried frown that he welcomed h
im.
“Word has it that you have betrayed the Crown, that you have threatened the life of the future king by aiding Parlan to escape the axe. Come inside the house, quickly, there’s a reward posted for your capture.”
Tyler’s father had not noticed Amber, lurking in the shadows, but as the wolf stepped into the sunlight he drew breath but the warning cry stuck in his throat. He spun and grabbed the first thing to hand, a pitchfork, to face the danger that now threatened their lives.
“Wait,” Nemeila shouted, “he will not harm you. We have travelled from Ikasar with your son.”
Lowering the fork, reluctantly, Elkin kept a watchful eye on the wolf unsure that a predator born in the wild could be tamed or trusted.
Tyler and Parlan stabled their horses, replenishing the mangers with oats and hay, then followed Tyler’s father into the house.
“That explains the villagers’ hostile attitude as we rode through,” Tyler said, as they all sat at the dining table.
Hearing Tyler’s voice, his mother, Gleda, rushed into the room, and after exchanging hugs, he introduced Nemeila and Amber. Parlan was, of course already known to her. “The wolf belongs to Nemeila,” Tyler reassured his mother, “he is her protector and stands ready should she have need of him.”
Amber curled himself at his mistress’ feet, his snout resting upon his front paws. Bright glistening eyes missed nothing as he watched the people in the room.
“Kaleb has ordered your arrest,” said Elkin, “engineered no doubt by Tobyn. I know you wouldn’t have threatened Kaleb, but the villagers don’t know you that well. The reward is dead or alive; alive you fetch more money, but some would kill you to save them the trouble of dragging you in chains to the castle. I don’t know how to help you. If you stay here, word will surely reach the castle and soldiers will come for you. If you ride away, then you will be hunted and your lives will be in danger.”
“It is really only Tobyn who threatens our lives,” said Nemeila, “he has already attempted to kill us while we were at sea.”
“How did you get involved?” asked Gleda, puzzled as to the girl’s part in this.
Before Nemeila could reply, Tyler answered for her. “After we rescued Parlan, we decided to split up, hoping not to draw attention to ourselves. The other men and women who helped me have gone about their normal lives, but should we have need of their help again, I only have to send word. Parlan and I were resting in an old deserted woodland cottage, when a creature came to our door. He told us we should travel to Ikasar and seek out Nemeila. Parlan and I worked our passage by signing on as deckhands on a merchant ship. The wages we earned enabled us to reach her home.”
“What is your role in the downfall of the next king?” asked Tyler’s father. “Your country isn’t part of his kingdom, and isn’t subject to our rules and laws.”
“The sorcerer, Tobyn, who controls the royal household, killed my father when I was born. My mother, fearing for my life placed me in the care of a woodsman. He and his wife raised me as their own child. It seems that now Tobyn has learned of my existence, he wants me dead too, but not for any crime or wrongdoing on my part. I cannot tell you everything, but the real fight is between him and my birth mother. I am a pawn he will use to hurt her and your son is but a thorn in his side. For a man of his power and strength, Tyler would be of little consequence to him, should they confront each other.”
“Nevertheless, Tobyn has powerful allies and his words to the new king to be, carry much weight. I think, Parlan, it might be better if you return to Ikasar and forget about regaining the crown.”
“I can’t do that,” said Parlan firmly. “Although I have many loyal friends they are not going to risk their own lives by rebelling against Kaleb. Even though they know it is the magician who’s pulling the puppets strings. Kaleb seems to find pleasure in his actions and will, I am sure, find a way to have us all massacred, wherever we hide.”
They ate half-heartedly and conversed little during the meal; as Tyler forked food into his mouth, his mind raced with how they might enter the castle to confront their enemy without facing arrest or death at the hands of the guards. By the time Nemeila went to bed, a storm had blown up, which disrupted any attempt at sleep. She tried to imagine what might lie ahead, to picture her future, but nothing came to mind. Weariness greyed her thoughts with fog and her head throbbed with images, obscure and unrelated. Indistinct phantoms galloped in the distance through dismal swirling mists. Then she was falling. Sleep. And more dreams…
Imprisoned in her subconscious, she fought dusky formless shapes, trapped in endless corridors with no doors or windows. The sorcerer drifted into view, his hooded robe hiding his gaunt pale face from her eyes, but even in her dream she could sense the malicious grin that creased his lips. She felt as though she were being suffocated, drowning. She tried to scream for the last time before the sucking slime finally enveloped her.
A clap of thunder muffled her cry as she shot upright, beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, and she shivered as she pulled the coverlet around her. Trembling, she slid beneath the covers, trying to hide from the horrors she knew lay ahead. Although she had the two boys to help her, she knew, in her heart she stood alone. The sorcerer had killed her father on board their ship when he had tried to protect her mother. It seemed the only reason Tobyn had to go on living now, was revenge. And what sweeter revenge could he have than to murder the daughter of his captor, the Princess Ilanthia who had captained the prison ship.
In a dark smoky corner of a taproom in the inn at the centre of Tyler’s village, a man leant over the table, beckoning closer the men seated opposite him. He was a stocky man, who looked and smelled as though he could do with a good wash. He was unshaven with more than a week’s stubble covering his face, but he was in the chair paying for the ale, so the men drinking with him sat and listened to what he had to say. His usually loud voice was lowered as he whispered to his companions, his speech slurred by the large quantities of ale he’d consumed.
“If you wants to earn some easy money, listen to me. The future king has outlawed the brat whose family live at the end of this village. There’s a large reward for his capture, alive. There’s mention that a girl travels with him and she’s valuable ’an all, wanted by none other than Lord Tobyn himself. Before I came in here, I saw this boy and the girl stabling their horses, and if I saw rightly, the traitorous prince who escaped the axe was with them. Whadd’ya say we ambush them when they leave the safety of their home?”
“When?” asked one of the men, rubbing his hands at the prospects of the money he would get for so little effort and just a few days ride.
“They won’t be staying long. No doubt the boy’s father has told him there’s a price on his head. He’s not stupid; he’ll know that word of his whereabouts will eventually reach the castle. If we take it in turns to keep watch, when they set out, we can be informed, meet up and follow them.”
It was agreed and one of the men, Curly, so nicknamed due to his hair being long and dead straight, volunteered for the first watch while the others rested.
The fog hung in gauzy tatters the following morning and the rain’s clammy dampness clung to their clothes and skin as they prepared to leave. Tyler’s mother and father hugged their son goodbye, and wished his companions well and all of them a safe journey. Tyler once more helped Nemeila to mount Sox, and as he climbed up behind her, wondered if he would ever see his parents or home again.
Following the path from the cottage, the trees winding along its edge gave them shelter from the rain. But when they left the protective canopy of leaves, the cold, damp swirling fog penetrated their clothes and it wasn’t long before they were all shivering.
“Not the most encouraging weather to start our journey,” Nemeila grimaced, twisting to look at her saddle companion.
“No! But at least the fog will shield us from the eyes of Kaleb’s patrols.”
“It worries me that your younger brother got off scot-free,” Nemeila a
ddressed Parlan. “Was there no evidence against him?”
“None,” he replied angrily. “Kaleb has held favour with the magician since he came to the castle. Whenever he was sick, Tobyn would mix him a potion to ease his suffering and he was always visiting the lower reaches of the castle where Tobyn set up his quarters. I don’t really believe he had anything to do with our father’s death, but Kaleb is the only one with the power to exile Tobyn, and Tobyn will take every precaution to ensure that no harm comes to him. After all the trouble the sorcerer took to murder the king and blame me, he will make doubly sure that he is indispensable to his new king.”
“What happens if we confront your brother and he orders our execution? Suppose he took up a weapon against you, could you find it in your heart to fight and perhaps kill him?” “I’m hoping that won’t happen,” Parlan confessed, “but if he forces me into a fight, I don’t think I could actually kill him. I would do my best to disarm him and make him yield, I don’t believe all this is Kaleb’s doing, he’s being jerked around like a puppet, with the sorcerer working the strings.”
“Have you thought any more about how we’re going to get into the castle?” Nemeila asked.
“If we wait until market day, we might be able to sneak in amongst the other villagers,” suggested Tyler, “many of whom travel a fair distance to sell their produce and wares. If I cover my head, the guards wouldn’t recognise me, and they have never seen you. Now that Parlan sports that straggly excuse for a beard, and dressed as he is, even I wouldn’t know him. Unless Tobyn himself is standing guard at the gates, I think we might succeed.”
They spent an unhappy morning and a completely miserable afternoon riding through the relentless icy fog, until in mid-afternoon Tyler reined Sox to a halt in a sheltered clearing. Earlier in the day Amber had taken off when a howl from another wolf had caught his attention and, being the leader of a pack before meeting his mistress, he had decided to investigate the competition. Nemeila wasn’t concerned about his disappearance; he had followed them faithfully to Kallopia and had stayed by their side in Tyler’s village, and she knew he would be back when he had satisfied his curiosity.
The Wolf and the Sorceress Page 15