“An’ that’d beee…?” Khrum asked, twirling his hand about, looking for her to elaborate.
Out of the blue, the Dwarvettes initiated a chant that proved near unsettling to the ear. And, by degree, it amplified into progressive harmonies.
“Come out, come out, ye leggity-Scrimps! Get us on home for our dillisk ‘n’ shrimps! So carry us readily-steadily Scrimps! And be gone, MOVE ON, our friendity-Scrimps…”
It appeared that they were summoning something, but what?
The chanting grew louder by the note, incorporating flowing alterations in both tone and harmony as their knees bobbed up and down to the rhythm. Then, from out of the unknown, William apprehended a strange shuffling. It came from all around, echoing from hidden places. Forming a defensive circle, they scanned their whereabouts, while the Jaggiwans carried on with their mantra.
“Come out, come out, ye leggity-Scrimps! Get us on home for our dillisk ‘n’ shrimps!”
All of a sudden, a mob of crawly things came streaming down from the precipice from above; similar to spiders, only they weren’t. These beasts were as big as ponies, and as you probably already know, that is preposterously gigantic for a spider.
With sixteen clever legs to a Scrimp, each as hideous and as hairy as the next, they also had huge, bulbous backs, burnished and tough. Odd though it seemed, they looked more like half a spider than a whole one, for they had no heads.
They spun their sticky webs, up and about, whilst descending that forbidden face with prodigious skill and fabulous alacrity.
William and his companions found them ever more bizarre, the closer they got. There were a good many of them, too. Maybe fifteen, sixteen, or even twenty. They all stood around, leaning this way and that, studying the visitors in their midst. By the time the last Scrimp had touched ground, Icrick was wheezing again. Spiders were his least favourite of the insects.
“Meet the Scrimps!” Estáz proudly introduced. “These will be your ticket to the summit! So! Whenever you’re ready.”
Approaching our William, one of the creatures crouched down. A slimy slit opened wide on its back, and it smelt absolutely atrocious inside. Wren almost gagged.
“Come on! We don’t have all day! We have two dozen wine barrels abroad that are in need of our services! Get in then!” said Estáz, appearing to be in a bit of a rush.
“You can’t be serious. Get in there?” frowned William, looking a bit ill himself.
“It’s the only way you’re going to get up there, laddy-loo-la! Unless you want to walk straight on, in that direction, for a few hundred miles through Goblin-infested territories? But, have it your own way!” said the Dwarvette, stepping foot inside one of the crawly things.
“No! Wait! We’ll go!” said the Elf, speaking for all.
“Says who?” Khrum objected, when Stell motioned for a quiet word.
“This is our best chance,” said he, “and these…um…ladies don’t seem like the worst people in the world. So, what say you?”
“That flippin’ shnake inside in the windmill didn’t seem like the worsht idea in the world either. Look at what happened there.” Khrum protested. “No wonder aul’ Paddy had it in for them!”
“I see your point,” Stell said. “What say we put it to a vote? All in favour, say aye.”
Outnumbering Khrum, four to one, they decided to take their chances. A Scrimp stepped up to each of them, and they all climbed inside, granted they squirmed at the feel of it.
The Scrimp’s innards were wet, warm, and mushy. The stink could not be adapted to. That aside, they actually appeared rather threatening, all settled inside of their Scrimps. They looked like fierce creatures with spider bodies, like arachnid centaurs of some new species. Estáz and her band of merry Dwarvettes crawled into Scrimps of their own and, soon enough, they were all right for off.
“Lead on, me lanky friend!” she ordered, and her spider spun a web up to the highest peak and bounded onto that steep wall.
It scurried fast along its thread, using super agility and magnificent skill, as Estáz herself wobbled left to right on its back. William zipped up the precipice after her; then Wren; Stell was next; and finally Icrick and Khrum.
The once-daunting cliff was now passing by with humorous ease. Testing their footing, the Scrimps felt their path as they progressed, swinging about like conkers, then darting skyward with unrivalled haste. It turned out to be a thrilling spin for all…pardon the pun.
Having reached the peak in no time at all, the Scrimps freed their passengers before returning to the comfort of their cleverly concealed nests within the woods, Bruíl Bán, just aside the cliff shelf.
Shaking Estáz’s hand, Stell wished them a very fond farewell, and the little Dwarvettes teetered off into the shadowy woodland, whistling and dancing. Charming beings. And that was the last they ever saw of them. Still, it remained a wonder how they managed to find such hospitality in the east when they didn’t expect it. But they were glad of it all the same.
From there, they peered across that starlit countryside, revising it bleakly as it roamed into insipid and dreary surfaces of afar. There was more of bog there than they would have liked. Humps of rock protruded and sank into the tundra as the wind bit sharply at their skin. Sweeping out on either side of their position were two woodlands, acting like some inescapable funnel which bored in deep to that heartless place before tapering from sight. Then, into the east, past the Great Mountain, and so far into the night that they could not see, was their next stop and, ultimately, their final destination.
Not all was hopeless and bitter, I’m glad to say. For they saw a man emerging from the woodland of Night’s Close, just north of there. And that man was Redmun, alive and well. His face had been badly bruised, and his clothes, stained with blood, but he was there now and that’s all that mattered. Pew was with him. He was having a bit of a rustle in the bushes, happy as ever.
“You’re alive!” William said happily. “We waited on the step for you but you never found us. What happened?”
“I was wondering the same thing about you.” Redmun replied. “I thought you would have made it topside sooner. Before arriving at the city, I sighted you from the skies. Deciphering your upcoming road, I made haste for Rockstone, where I found a gathering of Scrimp-riders. Informing them of your arrival at the step, I requested they aid you with your climb, and they cordially accepted. Did they not find you?”
“You sent those Dwarves?!” Icrick stated.
“Indeed!”
“Hmmm! Funny…they never said.” Wren tutted, not in the least surprised, for they were impish little things; secretive when it came to some harmless trickery. “So, what happened after we left you?”
“Yes!” Stell donated. “Did you destroy Sidell?! Are her bones burrowing to the catacombs?”
‘Are her bones burrowing to the catacombs’? That’s a very sudden and weird thing to ask, William pondered. But eager to find out if she’d indeed been destroyed, he didn’t bother to ask and, instead, they all gathered ‘round to hear what Redmun had to say.
“The beast of Gùran is no more,” he answered, while doing a brief check of his weaponry. “But Sidell still lingers. Nevertheless, she is no longer a threat to anyone.” And in a sort of private whisper to himself he said, “For now she knows the true feeling of deprivation.”
Leaving them to ponder this, he added, “I will say no more! Quickly now, Andin’s Shield is another day’s work, and we must defeat that mountain as soon as possible. It will not do to get lost in its wilderness when the eclipse comes.”
Just then, the Poppum scampered over to Stell so as to knock upon his leg armour for a bit.
“Oh! What a funny little animal,” smiled the Elf.
At the insult of being called an animal, Pew stuck his tongue out at him and blew a spitting rasp.
“Ah, let me introduce you to our little friend, Pew,” Icrick said, lifting the Poppum into his arms. “Kept us company while we stayed with Redmun, he di
d. He truly is a joy to have around.”
“Hmmm, never heard of a Poppum before.” the Elf replied, scratching Pew’s fluffy head. “Most remarkable!”
Counting their numbers, Redmun paused and said, “Just a moment. We are a Head short. Where’s the horseman?”
Pew jumped to alert and found that Redmun was right. Where was the horseman?
Nobody wished to explain the Dullahan’s whereabouts, as they were still very down about him leaving, so eventually, William answered, “We had a little disagreement—myself and himself. We both said some terrible things, and…well…he left. Went home I think.”
“It’s true, Redmun,” said Icrick sadly. “Crosco let fly some awful insults at William. That’s what kicked it all off. And when the argument was over, he left! Wasn’t for him, this quest. Not made for the road. Not like the rest of us.”
“Indeed! Sure we can’t all poop spears ‘n’ ate hot coal like yourself, Icrick; ya fearless swashbuckler ya!” Khrum said to that.
“We were both to blame,” the lad differed. “We both said some things. So no one is any less guilty than the other.”
“Some insults can be tough to swallow,” Redmun told him, seemingly from experience, “particularly if they’re dispensed by a friend. But best take nothing of insult to heart, as you cannot gain from it. We must only remember the things which give us strength. Those are the opinions that really matter…and, very often, are the truest. Insults are only spoken through spite and jealousy. Jealousy of the virtues that one truly retains. As concerns your friend, have faith. The Dullahan will be fine. And he knows his way well enough,” and with an encouraging smile, he whispered, “besides, you have other friends here that you need to watch out for.”
William grinned boyishly at that. Redmun was a good man. Like Wren, he always spoke with sincerity. But then something distracted William. Redmun’s face had vacated again, like he was suspicious of the boy, for some reason; be it interest or concern.
“Something the matter?” William asked, recalling that look from before.
Cocking his head to one side, Redmun returned, “…I’m not sure,” and shaking it off, he otherwise uttered, “Time is wasting here. We’d better get a move on.”
“Won’t you tell us what happened in the city first?” the boy asked.
“No time! Keep your eyes open at all times…all of you. Now keep up!”
Disinclined to squander more time with storytelling, he set due course for Andin’s Shield. He cared not that they were at a loss for his untold tale. William felt the most let down. It was a battle so long in the making, that he was almost expecting Redmun to spill every little detail, only he didn’t. He wanted, I suppose, to forget about it now, Sidell and that portion of his life. Because it was done. Over.
But somewhere back in the west, sprawled out within the lonely shadows of the Barren City, beside a beast in its demise, was a witch. Armless, legless, eyeless, powerless. Wounds cauterized to prevent haemorrhaging, and any faint pleas she may have embraced for ensuing death. In silence she lay there, sobbing bitterly for her new deformities and how they would be hers to suffer for the remainder of her immortal existence.
Revenge of a thousand lives had been seized that day, and now she was deserted. For once, the victim. Weak and petty. Left there to suffer an eternity of pain for every single life she took no mercy upon.
- Chapter Ten -
Ruins of Núra
That same savage galloping tore furiously through William’s dreams like searing shrapnel; together with that grimacing skull of death who chuckled in the boy’s face like some inextinguishable force derived from a bombardment of terrible ideals. The terrifying squeal of Valstarius rang out and, once more, William woke up in a bitter sweat. This sent him into more mutterings of, “Why am I doing this? Think, William! Think! What am I supposed to be fighting for? What does that even mean?” hoping that it would settle his nerve some. Counterproductive as this behaviour was to everything he’d learnt in the jungle, this ritual remained a crutch of his. An unavailing compulsion upon which he could lean when anxious. He just couldn’t help it.
He tried desperately to compose himself, long enough to understand this premonition. Could it have been his own death that he saw? If so, when would it occur? And could it be prevented?
Countless unnerving questions sank deep into his psyche, like a vessel of plague after meeting with an indomitable collision. So many questions. Alarming questions. Inescapable questions. But they were questions which needed answering, nonetheless. Soon his fears quieted and the boy remained; drawn to a cloudy armada overhead as they glided before the corona of that broad moon.
William kicked down his blanket, then tip-toed over their slumbering bodies to Redmun, who was laying against a nearby boulder with his arm perched on one knee. He was resting his eyes only, and the Poppum was curled up snugly by his foot.
They were camping below the walls of Gylbalbùn, more high cliffs just south of the old Hivìn Hùi barrows; a place of infamous betrayal.
“Redmun. Redmun, are you awake?” William asked, being careful not to disturb the others.
Merely dozing, the man asked, “What is it, boy?”
Unable to find an easy way to ask what he so wanted, William simply threw caution to the wind and blurted it out.
“I need to go and see…them!” he stated, so very adamantly. “I’m sorry. I know you warned me against it, but it’s just something I have to do!”
An unsettling request indeed, but Redmun did not stir, nor open his eyes.
In surprisingly calm tone, he simply asked, “Another dream?”
“Yeah! How did—”
“I told you before, such things should not be considered! Neither you nor I know how to read them.”
“I know that.” William disputed, shaking his head like he didn’t have to be told again and again.
He was so wound up at this point that he just wanted Redmun to allow him this one little favour while sparing him the lecture. And although obliged by his tutor’s concern, he had simply reached the point where he needed to find out exactly what was going on.
“Look,” he said sharply, “I used the truffle o’ foresight, and I didn’t like what I saw! I need more answers. And you told me that their ruins are on our road, remember? ‘Near the old barrows,’ you said. So please, will you take me there? Will you help me? I need this.”
Redmun did not speak. Resting his weary eyes, he reflected.
Then, “So be it,” he eventually answered, noting the worry in William’s voice. “We shall go in the morrow. But beware, boy, this prophet is often treacherous…even more so than poorly interpreted visions. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
This came as a shock to our young William, to have Redmun consenting so freely.
So cagily he asked, “And I have your word, do I? You’re not going to try to talk me out of it in the morning or anything?”
“Decisions in our own lives are our own decisions to make, not anybody else’s,” the man sighed, accepting that his night’s rest had been spoilt. “And it is not their duty to make you choose otherwise. Your own judgments construct your own courses and, so far, your choices do not seem to have led you off-track.”
Highly indebted, but also highly surprised, William said, “Thank you. It’s just…I have to know. I have to understand. You know?”
He felt guilty for going against the man’s guidance. However, his aggravation had taken priority; goading him to bare the meaning behind these awful nightmares.
“I-I’m just going to have a quick word, then I’ll leave…I promise.” nodded he, to gain not a word.
Regardless of the man’s true opinions, William grew more at ease. Frightening, as in all likelihood this visit may be, it remained a chance to gain deeper insight into his prevision. At the very least, perhaps he might even reveal just enough for him to piece it together himself.
William got what he wanted so he let Redmun be, and returned to his b
edspread to get some sleep. He needed it now, he felt, for the task ahead. Redmun, on the other hand, opened his eyes and pondered long into the early hours. It was he who remained awake.
At the presence of dawn, they set off on their journey towards the old church ruin of Nùra. Redmun was warning William of the things he should expect from Webble; how they tend to stray into topics of their own, and how they sometimes use flattery and exaggeration to manipulate. Also, he insisted that they all keep their guards and to expect the unexpected. Offering no protest, they agreed.
During that hike, William decided it was a good a time as any to ask Redmun if he could elaborate on what he’d told him about freeing the Banádh. But he just gave him the same old spiel, time and again, ‘When you realise what you’re fighting for, then it will happen.’ He would include nothing more than that, for he firmly believed that the secret should be discovered, as opposed to it being imparted by another. Furthermore, any contribution on his part would only be speculation, and it wasn’t worth the risk confusing the lad, particularly if he was wrong.
Had this counsel not been so indefinite, William might not have refrained from asking his opinion on his recent prevision. He wanted to ask. Very much so. And he knew that Redmun would do his best to shed some light on it. But in the event of his guidance being just as vague, William decided to keep it to himself. He had enough puzzles to deal with. Following that, they talked no more, and proceeded on their journey to Vahna’s ruin.
None of them were partial to this visit. Stell, for one, had heard all of the bad things and none of the good, which stood to reason, given how there was very little good to hear about this creature at all. Wren, too, was dreadfully jittery at the notion of visiting them. All the while, she travelled last, eternally dreading this eerie encounter.
Previously that morning, after William had included them on his plans to visit the mystic, Wren went on to tell him about how her aunt used to tell stories about Vahna. She was so nervous talking about it. He could see it in her. She never slept properly afterwards, she said. Those tales were always so scary and cruel; comprising of curses and haunting, of tragedy and ruin. Her head would be shivering away beneath the covers before long…’like a scared Grogoch’ was how she put it. William had never seen her so edgy.
The Other of One: Book Two Page 31