He put his arm around her to comfort her. To calm her. For her nerve’s sake. Taking a couple of long breaths, she ventured on, however cautiously.
Over those strangely ossified hills, beneath an old elm forest they strode, and after spotting some fish in its shallows, they lingered briefly by a black mere for a quick bite. Swift indeed, this break needed to be. Time was of the utmost importance. But they made the most of it while they could.
It proved tediously difficult to land fish from that lake initially. The banks were overrun with ravels of knifelike thorns, more or less resembling some natural form of barbwire. Rich from the dirt it grew, tangled and thick, but Stell hacked through it with reasonable ease in the end.
The fish within the mere were rather odd too, having been long-time residents of the darklands. Thick-scaled, these molar-toothed creatures were as pink as flesh; with blinking, bulging, white eyes and wriggly tendrils which flowed from their heads as a mechanism for snagging a bite. Hideously ugly, I’m sure you would agree. And far more distasteful to look at, than say, a cricket, or perhaps a beetle from a cursed windmill.
Their appearance notwithstanding, they were actually very tasty and, more importantly, filling. Had Redmun not been there, they might have bypassed the notion and done without. But he was adamant in this case, for, like the Elves, he knew much about what was poisonous and what was wholesome.
He and the Elf conversed over dinner, and were swapping histories so as to get better acquainted. Already somewhat familiar with Redmun’s background through vast Elfish archives, Stell was asking more of the Erethaoí’s birth onto Lythiann; if Redmun could recall much of it, and how wandering the lands in isolation had affected him. Disinclined to divulge any particulars about his other existences, Redmun simply told him that he couldn’t recollect much from his birth. Not being aware of his Lythial roots seemed to sadden him. But it grieved him no worse than before, as he was accustomed to his lack of enlightenment by then. That’s not to say he didn’t wish to know.
He and Stell had gotten well acquainted during that short stop, and when it came to the understandings of Lythiann’s past, they both had very much in common, making it a very healthy foundation of friendship.
As for Redmun’s pet, Pew, he didn’t do much at all in those hours. Nor was he his usual playful little self. Ever since he found out about Crosco, he fell distant. Yes, he was still sniffing about and rapping on things, as Poppums do, but there was a loneliness to him. He cared a lot about Crosco, you see. For heedless of the horseman’s grumpiness and notorious boorishness, Pew could somehow see past it, into an underlying kindliness which Crosco never chose to reveal, nor many others could see.
The little critter was slouched by the lakeside, and because they hadn’t much chance to speak since the Barren City, Icrick and Khrum decided to sit with him. Icrick was very overcome to see Pew so upset, but he got a grip on himself for the Poppum’s sake. He tried to, at least.
“Miss your chum, do ya?” Khrum asked considerately.
Producing one soft squeak, yet looking oh so blue, Pew merely nodded, while displaying a puppyish glance from those big, innocent eyes of his.
“You’re not the only one,” Icrick moped, struggling to stay composed.
Gazing into a dream, he then went, “You know, apart from all his ranting and raving, he really wasn’t a bad old chap, was he? Him and Ifcus…and his armoured torso, too. It really isn’t the same without them.”
Knowing painfully well where this was going, Khrum shrank down into his collar and pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyelids. He knew well what was coming. It was Icrick, after all. The biggest emotional wreck to have ever resided in the Grollo Halls.
Then, as his sniffles took hold, Icrick’s eyes ballooned to the inexorable discharge of his grief.
Bursting into tears, he bawled out, “Oh! OH! WHY DID THEY HAVE TO LEAVE? WHY? AAAGH! MY GOD! THE PAIN OF IT! LIFE CAN BE SO CRUEL AT TIMES! IT’S SO UNFAIR!”
“Control yourself, man.” Khrum tutted, more embarrassed than anything. “We’re here ta comfort the yoke…not make him worse than he already flippin’ is!”
To Khrum’s wonder, however, when the Poppum saw Icrick’s pain, he clambered up onto his shoulder and hugged him sweetly. ‘Twas like he wanted to cure both of their sorrows with one precious gesture…that of a promise to maintain this new bond of friendship. Wouldn’t you know, this set the leprechaun off, too. More sooner than not, they were bawling all over one another. It was nearly humorous, the way they rocked to and fro, weeping on one another’s shoulders like three age-old friends who’d had a bit too much rum in their pudding. Nevertheless, it did them the world of good to let it all out like that.
Once the tears had subsided, they made a silent pact to make do with what friendships they had, and to try and get through the end of this horrible mission together, no matter what.
Leaving the mere behind, they followed whatever sunlight was glimmering through those drab clouds. Sunlight was the most trusted way of travelling through the east, Redmun said. In a way, it was the will of heaven, burning through the darkness in a wish to assist those who exist with light in their lives. This was how he explained it. Khrum thought it sounded like more of an old wives’ tale, at best. But it turned out Redmun was right. For the scant beams of light practically led them straight up to those old church ruins before disappearing altogether. Little Khrum could hardly believe it, and so was all the more glad that he didn’t try to pull Redmun up on it, lest he made a right twit of himself.
They wandered onto higher ground where, ahead of them, to the northeast, wound a serpentine bluff pass. Beneath this pass, crashing against the steep cliffs as if striving to penetrate the cold, hard rock, were the violent foaming waters of a deep cove. Creepers Cove. Those waters were always cruel in those dark times. Always cruel, and always awaiting some foolish soul to challenge them, to then become swallowed by its white foaming murkiness, and be heard from no more. Then there were the serpents. Those waters were alive with them; at night mostly. Famous voyagers and old seadogs were often known to spin yarns about how their long necks and mountainous humps could be spotted undulating atop the wild oceans on stormy dusks. Few sailed those waters in later years. It was just too dangerous.
Through the dark of the eve, night soon dawned, and standing ahead of a rounded hill crowned with ancient alders were the ruins. Midnight-blue the brickwork shone, by the rays of a budding moon.
Reminding them for the umpteenth time, Redmun said, “Keep your eyes open now! I would even suggest you draw what weapons you have, for we know not what evil could be at work here!”
He and Stell were carrying torches that shimmered low in the even wind. They stepped cautiously onto the grounds of the churchyard, then into the heart of the ruin. They prowled, watchfully. Wren waited out in the courtyard, after all the stories she’d heard.
Not much of the old church was left intact. Most of its walls were eroded by weather, time, or battle; they did not know which. Dismembered statues cluttered the grounds; lying in tatters amongst throngs of winding weeds and wicked nettles. A weasel scuttled into hiding when they entered, and bats fluttered unexpectedly past their faces. More chilling yet were the many shadows surrounding them. Potential hiding places for those who preferred to sneak about in secret.
After rummaging about for a spell, they could catch neither sight nor sound of those whom they sought, just the talk of the insects and the slight drumming of waves crashing upon rocks outside.
“What now?” William asked. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone here.”
Redmun did not budge.
William presumed he was listening out for something, so he went quiet to observe. When nothing caught his ear, he came to notice that Redmun wasn’t even blinking.
“R-R-Redmun?” he asked.
He did not answer. William then realised that the others were stuck in the exact same catatonic trance; frozen in their steps, with their minds cast far, far a
way from the present.
“What’s going on?” he asked, starting to feel very scared and alone. “Say something. One o’ ye!”
He tried frantically to get them to come ‘round, but nothing was working. Surrendering a vigilant whisper for a more precarious cry, he marched up and down, calling out their names, in the hope that someone would answer him. Just then, a spell of shadow consumed them. Blackness seeped down their bodies like living tar, leaving nothing behind of their normal beings but bland silhouettes. He then glimpsed outside to find the shadow of a girl, curled up in a trance, beneath the windowsill. Had a spell been cast?
Their torches burnt out, by a mild invoking gust. Darkness seemed to permeate as, little by little, William felt it closing over him. Terror enshrouded his skin, like a devil was wrapping a frost-cold blanket of purebred horror over his flesh with disturbing tenderness. He urged himself to stay strong, and so, he readied his weapon.
“None can hear you…” an ominous voice whispered from the shadows. “…just I!”
It preached from the hideouts of darkness; addressing him in such a way that it was hard to distinguish its line. Female, or was it beast? For, between its heaving breaths, it purred softly, just as a dozing cat would do; at times emitting a wet snort, as of a wolf licking its lips.
“Wh-Who’s there?” the boy challenged, just then grasping, who else could it be?
“So. You are the one who has come to purge these lands of its evil,” muttered the voice, in a manner that intended to ridicule young William.
“I’ve come here for my own reasons!” stated the lad, trying to get a fix on the voice.
A low, repulsive cackle coasted eerily from the shadows before subsiding.
“Then what is it you seek from me, my hero?” hissed the voice.
Suddenly an owl screeched from the dilapidated rafters, swooping just shy of the boy’s ear. He jolted to see what was there, when, at that exact same second, a shape quickly slipped from one shadow to the next in front of him. Unsure if he even saw it at all, William secured his grip on Thérn. Everything went still. However, this time, things became a little clearer to him. He could distinguish a shape, a black outline of a person, crouched high up in the darkness of the balcony, its shoulders hunched over, and its oily head weeded with seldom strands.
“I have questions I need to ask you. Can you help me?” William inquired, politely, but still with an air of mistrust.
“I would be only too happy to aid such magnificence, in whatever way you would wish, my liege,” it answered smarmily, bowing its head.
William was terrified now. So scared that he didn’t know whether to run or stay. But he needed to know.
“In my vision…I saw death,” he explained. “Was it my own? Or was it the death o’ somebody else?”
“Ah, your vision! Death, you say? Indeed it was!” whispered the voice, adding nothing more.
Not at all satisfied by this, William asked, “It was? Was what?”
Only for the chilling sounds of Webble’s breathing, there sounded no explanation. Instead they waited there, in hiding, watching William squirm. Studying him, even.
“Is that it?” he exclaimed, discouraged by their lack of detail. “That’s no answer! Are you telling me that I saw my own death or not?”
“I have answered you as best as I know how,” the creature finally said. “And the best for me is the best for you too, my mighty king.”
Flummoxed by this, William snapped, “But it doesn’t make any sense!”
Bored of this; thinking that this conversation had gone on long enough, the dark scoundrel commenced with their twisted little games.
In a faint blur, the shape bolted for the shadows just feet away from William, and yet it remained as masked as ever. It just sat there, staring up at him; that same shadowy profile as before. William could just about discern a long tail slithering about its head, and the gargling of its breathing remained utterly grotesque to bear; all dry and bestial.
“Let me tell you a tale,” it began.
Upon this counsel, William spied one of its hands in the dim light before him. It was terribly scarred, with grilled flesh, heavy knuckles, and three skinny fingers bearing long black nails, sharpened to jagged points.
The boy, retreating somewhat, held Thérn out in a trembling grip. Danger was not impending, however. Otherwise his weapon would have primed itself for action.
“Why? What’s it got to do with me?” he asked defensively.
“If you hearken, my lord, then you may learn a thing or two about, what it is you think you know about the ways of these lands.”
The beast strayed into the deeper darkness again, where it began circling the boy. This was the tale that they told.
“Not very long ago at all, I myself bore a child. A girl. A human girl. A great believer, was she. A believer in all things. To others, she appeared normal, though she possessed a rare beauty. Raven black was her hair. So dark and flowing that I shan’t forget it. Just the colour to suit her rotten mind. I can even smell her foul stench as we speak. She draws near.
“You see, foulness overcame her at an unusually young age. Dark desires to surpass even his in the east. Who could think that an infant could retain so much hatred? She even detested me, her own mother, in ways which even I could not foresee. Alas, I chose to abandon her. To…discard her. After seeing this through, I never heard from her again. I was at peace. I could sleep with both eyes closed again.
“But word of the nomads later reached my ear. Tidings of a young girl who roamed to the ends of the land, using her gifts to manipulate the weak and utilizing her beauty to make others do her will. She was gravely feared. She longed to get her way. For that reason, and going by the extents she was willing to stretch, she was accused of becoming one who would bring our world to its knees, given half the chance.
“When word of this child got out, the good people of the world chased her out; branding her a liar! A conspirator! An infant charlatan who cared for nobody bar herself! One who would eventually follow in Belenathor’s footsteps! And they weren’t wrong.
“Fleeing into territories where none knew of her, she started over again with her schemes. Yet those territories were not as friendly as the last. And once they discovered her for what she was, they thrashed her, almost to the point of death; inflicting injuries which would never heal…yet she got away again, unkilled.
“Oh, yes, in her time she deceived many people by convincing them she was something she was not. Using her charm, she made them do things they did not wish to do. This didn’t bode well for her when she was found out.
“By then, so many knew what to watch out for. So, in secluding herself for a time, she refurbished a false guise—that of virtue and innocence—and blended back into the populace, where she continues to plot her ultimate uprising…to this very day! One by one…person by person… this young girl would try to take over our world again. Befriending the powerful and deceiving the weak. A powerful weapon, is innocence.”
Again, the creature started to chuckle.
“You know of whom I speak, my lord. For you yourself have fallen for her charms of late, yet you have not the mind to see it. And she has already betrayed you. You will learn how before the end. Although, perhaps she will learn the errors of her ways before the final curtain is drawn. Then again…perhaps she will not. Who can really say for certain? Such a shame that those who we trust most are often the ones to feed us our own tired hearts. Which is to say, whether we like it or not, my king, the devil is in all of us.”
Once more the creature tittered dryly, like it was pleased to convey such awful news.
Having already drawn some painful conclusions of his own, William turned to his denial and asked, “Wh-Wh-Who are you talking about? What girl?”
“Hush, hush, my liege,” Vahna whispered patronizingly, ever sneaking. “That is all I can foresee. Now you must also be aware that, if you tell a single soul of what you have learnt here this night, befor
e quest’s end, it shall mean absolute doom for everyone you care about…and the end of Lythiann as we know it!”
Poor young William was so taken down by this. Enslaved by his inner damnation. His entire world deteriorated within those few seconds, squeezing all of trust and devotion into dust.
How could it be—for him to receive even more austere tidings, more reports he didn’t understand. News to banish the crust from beneath his feet, plunging him into a pit of torment like which he had never known before. He could not fathom the inequity of it all.
“I will leave you now,” hissed Vahna. “Leave you to ponder what I have told you.”
Backing up to the blackest of the shadows, they vanished out of sight.
“Don’t go!” William begged. “You can’t! You have to tell me more! Who’s this girl? Do you hear me? I said, who’s the girl? Please!”
Of a sudden, combined with a sneering smile, one departing whisper bled from the darkness.
“Malevolence too sought my counsel, this very night. I fear your presence to him is no longer hidden. ‘Til we meet again…hero!”
Webble’s flagrant cackle shredded William’s fortitude into a hundred little bits, before bawling to such hellish heights that he could not stand to hear it. It then withered into the night, to where it was no more.
“Wait! Drevol knows I’m here?” he cried out, feeling like everything he’d accomplished was all for nothing.
Lost to his disbelief, he muttered, “…Wren?!”
“Whoa! What just happened?! What did you say, William?” Icrick asked, back to normal and scratching his head.
The rest of them had awoken from their spells, too, and were glancing about, puzzled by the blankness which had befallen them.
“Did you find the answers you were looking for?” Redmun inquired, somewhat suspiciously.
The Other of One: Book Two Page 32