by Tim Flanagan
They turned and looked to where her finger pointed and could all see a flickering ball of light. To the left of the original light two more suddenly sprang to life as if a group of people where searching for something or someone.
‘Do you think it’s another group of donestre?’ Edgar asked Ralphina with his hand on the hilt of his sword ready to defend them once again.
‘I don’t think so,’ she replied shaking her head. ‘The light is too low to the ground to be carried by a donestre, and besides, to their keen sense of smell, the foul stench of the Feculent Marshes would prevent them coming here. They are probably Pixy-Lights carried by small goblins call Pucks, although no one has even seen them and lived to tell the tale, but everyone is warned of them when they are children. I remember my father telling me the story of a fisherman who was coming home from a night's work and noticed the strange lights across the shallow marshland. Thinking that someone was in danger he moored his boat and decided to investigate. As he approached the light, it would mysteriously continue to move further away until the Puck had led him to a deep pool of water before extinguishing the light and leaving the poor fisherman to his fate, standing in the darkness at the edge of the water with nothing but marshland around him. Whatever we do, we should not follow the lights. We stay together and only tread where the others have trod before them.’
‘Well, whatever they are I think we should move out of the open before the sun rises. We will be spotted too easily in the daylight if we stay here,’ Edgar said. ‘I suggest we form a line, myself and Ralphina at the front and back, taking it in turns to make our way across the marsh.’
They all nodded and moved in behind Edgar.
‘Joe, I need to borrow your stick.’ Edgar indicated to the thick wooden stick that he had cut from the branch of a Redwood tree when they had begun their journey the previous morning.
Edgar started to move forward taking one step at a time, pushing the stick into the ground in front of him to make sure it was solid enough to support his weight as he passed over it. Moving ahead was a slow and frustrating process. No one spoke; they all concentrated on placing their sodden boots in the same place that the person in front had done. The Pixy-Lights continued to flicker all around them and Scarlet, enchanted by the dancing flame, forgot on a couple of occasions to move forward and had to be prodded in the back by Joe. There were no animals that lived in the marshlands that they could see, but there seemed to be plenty of insects that erupted into the air as their feet disturbed grasses. Raelyn obediently walked alongside Ralphina, flicking his head and tail to remove the insects from his face. As he was lighter on his feet than the humans, he could spread his weight across larger clumps of grass and move quicker, occasionally leaping forward in front of them to scan the horizon with his intense eyes.
There were times when the way ahead was barred by a larger pool of water and the choice of grass clumps was limited. On these occasions they had no other option but to wade through the water. Fortunately it only ever came up to their knees and as they were all still wet from their journey through the Redwash it made little difference to the discomfort and cold they were already experiencing. Each step forward seemed to be heavier than the last, their legs, weighed down by tiredness and water, took all their strength to lift and move forward, but they knew that they had to keep going to avoid being left in the open as the day light burnt away the grey clouds of night.
As tiredness began to overcome Joe, he struggled to keep the lids of his eyes open. They too became heavier and the comfort he felt when they were closed was too tempting not to allow them to remain so. Every time he opened them, all he could see was the inviting glow of the Pixy-Lights and he began to drift away to a happy memory of himself lying in a field with the warm sun on his face. The peaceful rustling of a gentle breeze blowing across the field was only broken by the sweet song of a blackbird in the distance. He was lying upon a red chequered blanket with his mum beside him tidying up the plates from the picnic they had just eaten. His mum seemed to be saying his name as if to wake him from sleep.
‘Joe!’ shouted Scarlet as she watched him step off the path towards the nearest Pixy-Light and plunge head first into a deep pool of thick moss filled water. The green moss was so quick to envelope his body that apart from the ripples in the water, Scarlet couldn’t see where he had disappeared to.
Edgar had instinctively turned round at Scarlet’s shout and noticed there was a gap in the line where Joe should have been. He dropped the stick where he was standing and unhooked his cloak and sword belt, then jumped into the water himself. The algae and moss was so thick he couldn’t see further than the surface so he took a deep breath and dived down beneath the layer of water-moss. In the silence of the water, where only echoes reached his ears, he pushed his way deeper. The moss formed a crust of green that hovered just below the surface but beneath it the water, although murky and cloudy, was free of algae. He could see the black silt of the bottom and resting as if asleep lay Joe. Edgar kicked over towards him, grabbed him by the back of his cloak and pulled him up to the surface. As his head came through the layer of moss, Ralphina thrust one of the thick sticks towards him to give him something to grab hold of and, careful not to move away from the path, Ralphina, Scarlet and Raelyn all pulled Edgar and Joe back onto a solid clump of grass. Edgar lay Joe on the grass and wiped the green slime from his face.
The Pixy-Lights seemed to be dancing all around them in an erratic fashion and if Scarlet carefully listened she would swear she could hear an excited noise like that of a new born kitten that she assumed was coming from the Pucks.
Joe released a wet throaty cough and some marsh water erupted from his mouth followed by frantic panting to get air back into his body. He continued to lie on the grass, too weak to lift himself up and continue on their journey. The trees were not far away now and it wouldn’t be long before daylight would be upon them.
‘We need to move before the daylight arrives, but Joe must have swallowed some of the decayed water,’ Edgar whispered to Ralphina.
‘I agree, his skin has turned a very pale colour. It will not be ideal, but we will have to carry him the rest of the way.’ Ralphina then turned towards Raelyn who was obviously talking privately with her.
Edgar had also noticed the colour of Joe’s skin and the blueness of his lips and began to lift him off the ground ready to carry him.
‘Wait,’ said Ralphina to Edgar. ‘Raelyn has made an offer to your small friend that is a rare gift. He has offered to carry him on his back, at least until we can get into the safety of the trees. You do not realise what an honour this is; wolves are not donkeys and do not carry loads. Even their young are carried by the scruff of their neck and not on the parents back.’
Edgar looked down to Raelyn. ‘Thank you,’ he said respectfully to the wolf not knowing if he understood how grateful he was.
Ralphina and Edgar lifted the body of Joe onto the back of Raelyn and the line of progress continued towards the edge of the marshland.
Joe drifted back into sleep, but this time it was tormented by dreams of Moon Stealers and donestres. He could feel the fever beginning to burn inside his body and every shallow breath he took stung the lining of his throat. The last thing he remembered was the soft fur that felt like a thick blanket against his skin after which he plummeted into darkness.
9. A Hostage for the Queen
Although Max knew he was asleep, he was still aware of the cold water lapping around his waist, but below that he could feel nothing at all, his feet were numb. He remembered standing beside Joe and Scarlet as they had made their way across to the other side of the Redwash while Edgar and Ralphina were fighting the donestre.
He slowly opened his eyes, blinked the droplets of moisture from his eyelids and took a good look around him, there was no sign of any of the others and he didn’t appear to be in the river. The darkness of the night was still in the air, but he couldn’t be sure if it had been only a matter of moments when he ha
d slipped away from the others or whether he had been asleep for some time. Max pushed himself up. His back and neck were stiff and painful to move but he twisted and turned them slightly to loosen them up before he could think about attempting to stand up. He could see that his legs and feet were still in the cold water, which would explain the numbness he was feeling. He dragged himself out of the water by his hands and sat further up the shingle beach away from the cold water. He massaged his legs trying to get the blood back into them as he took a good look at his surroundings.
He had been taken down the Redwash by the strong flow of the water, but as the river came to meet the sea it appeared to widen and the force of the water flow had reduced allowing Max’s body to be washed up on a shallow shingle area along with some driftwood and discarded tree branches. The sea lapped at the beach, hissing every time the water receded away.
Max thought back to the time when he had slipped into the water. The three children had all been holding onto one another’s hands as they had made their way across the river. Joe had let go of Max’s hand so that he could pull himself out of the water and onto the bank. As Max followed, the water on the moss covered rocks had made them slippery causing him to lose his footing and disappear into the water. Max felt cold and alone. He had been abandoned in a strange world and he desperately wanted to find his way home. If he couldn’t find the others, then maybe he could find Peter, if he truly was someone who had The Sight and could go through portals, he may still be able to get back home, with or without the others.
Max tried to think about something more positive but he couldn’t do much whilst his legs felt strange. Although the blood was making its way back into them, there was a strange and uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles in them, like a million maggots crawling just beneath the skin. He pulled himself back to a tree and slowly began to lift himself up onto his feet. After a while they began to feel more normal so he carefully stood up and began pacing up and down the shoreline wondering what to do.
He took the camouflage cloak from his shoulders and began squeezing some of the water from it. It had become heavy and sodden from the water so it felt good to remove the extra weight from his shoulders. It was at that point that he noticed the tall figure that stood silently watching from further along the shingle beach.
For a moment Max had forgotten the dangerous world he was in and wished he hadn’t taken his cloak off. He stood as still as possible not even daring to breathe in the hope that the figure hadn’t noticed him. A crackle of lightening from the volcano in the distance lit the features of the figure. It was the same species of creature to the one Edgar had been fighting before he slipped into the water. The tall muscular figure of a donestre was approaching him, its hair hanging down below its shoulders and the sad eyes focused intensely on Max. Max knew that he could not outrun this creature especially as his legs were still not quite back to normal, so he raised his hands in submission trying to show that he was no threat. The donestre towered over Max and muttered some words he didn’t understand whilst pointing at the sword he had taken from the Golden Hall that was tucked beneath his belt. Not knowing what the donestre had said, Max began to move his hand towards the hilt of the sword so that he could throw it on the ground to show that he did not want to fight. As soon as his fingers had just started to touch the cold metal handle of his sword, the donestre had slid his own hooked blade from its back holster and swung it until the blade was touching the soft skin of Max’s neck. He could feel a small warm trickle of blood as it made its way down his neck from the thin cut the donestre's blade had opened.
'Please,' begged Max raising his hands back into the air, shivering from fear as well as cold.
'Leave weapon,' said the donestre in a broken language that Max could understand. Holding the cold blade against Max's throat the donestre reached down and pulled the sword from Max’s belt. It looked like a small dagger in the donestre's large hands. He threw it into the sea then wrapped a muscular hand around Max's wrists that was tighter than any string Max could imagine. Holding them above his head he marched Max down the shingle and around the side of the Cove to where another two donestres sat sharpening their swords against stones. As soon as they saw Max, they both stood and started talking to each other in a foreign language. His captor then removed his sword from his neck and pushed him down onto the shingle beach.
'Taste good,' he laughed whilst licking Max’s blood from his blade with a thick purple tongue. Max sat on the shingle expecting to be killed and eaten by these monsters and tried desperately not to show any fear as he fought back the tears that were welling in his eyes. Max watched the donestres continue to talk in their own language, occasionally pointing in his direction. He noticed that one of them had a gold seal on the sword belt strapped across his chest - Max assumed that this was the leader of the group. He looked carefully at the golden seal and could see a serpent winding itself into a circle around a seven pointed star and where the serpent met itself it clung to its own tail with its jaws. Max didn’t have much time to think about the meaning of the symbol before a donestre came over and started binding his wrists together so tightly that the blood struggling to reach his fingers.
He then found himself being lifted off the ground by his bound hands and dragged along the beach towards three shallow rafts that were tied to a large wooden stake driven deeply into the shingle. The only way that Max could keep up with the donestre was to run, but as there was still some numbness in his legs he tripped over his feet and landed face first in the sharp shingle. He felt the twine bite deeper into his wrists making him squeal with pain. He could also feel a stinging graze across one of his cheeks that the shingle had marked.
'Don’t play with your food,' grunted the leader as he cruelly teased Max, resulting in more grunts of laughter. Max was effortlessly lifted off the ground like a rag doll and pushed in front of them and onto one of the shallow rafts. Looped around some of the wooden poles that made up the floor of the raft were thick leather straps that were large enough to tie and secure things to. Max’s wrists remained tightly bound but were also now tied to a leather strap so he was sitting on the raft with his hands between his legs. It looked like the donestre were taking him across the sea towards the land on the other side. They pushed their rafts off from the beach and all three glided effortlessly onto the water. Each raft was manned by a single donestre who crouched at the front of their craft pushing it across the water by a thick and very long pole.
As they passed over the water, Max’s hands became less painful as the numbness in them took over. He could see the twine had cut deep in his skin, made worse by the red swelling around it. His neck stung every time he moved, especially when he looked upwards and opened the knife wound the donestre had given him. Although Max still felt scared, at least he hadn’t been eaten yet. He tried to remember what Ralphina had said about the donestre and wondered if he was being taken to the faerie queen as a prisoner, and if so he assumed he was going to be kept alive for now at least. But after that, he had no way of knowing what would happen. If he was going to the queen's twisted black tower, he might be able to make contact with Peter and attempt an escape back to their own world.
For now he sat and waited, trying desperately to ignore the taunts and jokes of the donestre as they looked at him and licked their lips.
10. Ralphina’s Reflection
When they reached the line of trees that marked the edge of the marshland, the sunlight had begun to shine across the pools of water and the Pixy-Lights disappeared from sight. Raelyn had carried Joe with the care and gentleness of a parent across the rest of the marsh, but now they had arrived on firmer ground Edgar and Ralphina lifted Joe off the back of the wolf and placed him carefully inside a cave cut into the rock wall. Ralphina lit a small fire and used the invisibility cloaks to cover Joe up and keep him warm. She then left Scarlet and Edgar and took Raelyn outside with her.
She knew that she had to find a certain plant to help heal Joe from his
sickness, but she also needed to be alone to mourn the loss of Raelyn’s wolf brothers. She was certain that they had fallen prey to the donestre that came in search of them at the Redwash and would not be seen again.
They walked amongst the trees, thinner and shorter than those in Firewood Forest, allowing more sunlight to reach the ground so that a variety of plants could grow other than just ferns. She looked out across the marshes towards the sea and the dark green land beyond it that rose gently up towards the sky. The forest had been her home since she was a little girl. The forest had been all that she had known and turning her back on it to take these travellers across to the land of the faerie queen had been a huge risk, but the words of her father had reminded her that she had a role to play in the survival of her world.
As she sat on a rock with nothing but silence around her and Raelyn at her feet, she closed her eyes and thought back to the time when the Golden Hall had been under attack.
The strong frame of King Ulfric had sat on his throne, hands clenched tightly around the carved wolf heads at the end of each arm rest as he listened to the reports of his Sentries and Guards. Ralphina and her sister Lupa were seated alongside the throne on thick skins and furs with their wolf companions beside them.
‘There are vast armies moving through the forest,’ said the firm voice of Lyall, Captain of the Sentries. ‘The queen has recruited the services of orcs with hyenas, as well as teams of donestres. My scouts also tell me that large Trebuchets are being pulled along the Redwash by giant armoured Trolls on either side. My lord, they are not coming to take prisoners or steal our wealth, they are coming to destroy us.’
King Ulfric stroked his thick beard as he thought.
‘Could we sink the Trebuchets before they get within firing range?' he asked another man standing before him who was dressed in black furs. Ralphina knew that this was one of the black wolf Caniards that lived wild in some of the outlying territories to the north. She had never seen him before but had been told that he was called Wolfram, leader of the black wolves. She noticed that his eyes were as dark as his furs and they twitched suspiciously across the faces of everyone in front of him.