by Clare Smith
When the three couriers had satisfied their thirst and washed the dust of the road from their throats the youngest began recounting events from Northshield whilst the other two tucked into their meal. There, the sea coast had been attacked by long-haired savages from across the sea in boats bristling with spears and powered by warriors who wore skins and not much else. He detailed the villages which had been sacked by the invader and then gave a vivid description of how King Borman had led a force of two hundred men against the invaders and pushed them back into the sea, killing many of them and setting their boats on fire.
When he’d finished and the applause had died away his two older companions nodded approvingly, pleased at the way the youngster’s developing story telling skills had delivered the news. For all their approval the real test would come later when people asked him questions about relatives and friends and he would be expected to remember who had died in which village as well as which new lives had come into the world since news last came from the north.
The crowd, which now packed every nook and cranny in the inn, waited in silence whilst the youngest of the couriers began to eat what remained of the meal and the second of the three recounted the details of a battle on the southern borders where the army of King Sarrat, aided by a group of mercenaries from the north, had fought the desert nomads; taking their ruler’s son prisoner and pushing them back into the desert. In a low conspiratorial voice he told the hushed crowd how, under torture, Prince Kremin had revealed that the treacherous King Borman had been supplying them with horses and weapons for the past four summers.
He sat back smugly and announced that King Sarrat was outraged and he was gathering an army to strike north into Northshield. The crowd let out a long sigh as if they had been holding their breath and others whispered to each other about the details of how their country had defeated the hated nomads for the final time. A few of those who listened had sons or brothers fighting for the King. They desperately wanted news of their kin and when they would return but knew better than to interrupt the courier whilst he wove his story. Long experience of telling his tales to news-hungry villagers always brought each battle vividly to life, and as usual, his tale earned him loud applause and a shower of dracs.
Silence settled in the inn once more as the crowd waited eagerly for the third courier to tell his story. He was the senior of the three, his face weather beaten from endless days travelling the roads of the six kingdoms. To him would befall the honour of telling the most outstanding piece of news. More people from the outlying farms had now arrived at the inn pressing the earlier arrivals forward and craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the senior courier as he finished the last of his cheese and washed it down with a goblet of wine.
They knew that if news of invasion and war had been told by his juniors the news that he had to tell would be incredible indeed. He began his story to a background of shuffling feet, clattering ale pots and whispered comments but by the time his tale reached its climax there was utter silence and his audience held their breath in expectation.
"And there it was before me, the most wondrous thing I or my companions or anyone in the six kingdoms have ever seen; a towering hedge of honeyvine, twice as high as a man and twenty paces deep." There was a gasp of wonder from the listeners. "But that was not the greatest wonder at all. Behind the barrier of vine and flowers was a palace with its many golden turrets reaching to touch the sky and a city nestling beneath its protective walls.
Nothing in the palace or the city moved. The people were still, the dogs didn't bark and children didn't cry, even the sky singers failed to fly overhead. Gentlemen, you may take my word on it that the city of Alewinder lies under an impenetrable enchantment and all its people sleep and will remain that way until the enchantment is broken."
In an instant there was a clamour of voices and Jonderill, his head spinning with the shock of the news, began pushing his way through the crowd to where the courier sat, besieged by people demanding to know more about the unbelievable happenings in Vinmore. Dozens of questions were shouted out all at once by the excited crowd but the courier just folded his arms and looked vaguely amused. He’d been in this situation many times and knew that if he refused to answer their questions he would be encouraged to be more forthcoming by a shower of silver gellstart. Only then would he answer questions at the price of a gellstart each.
It wasn’t what couriers were supposed to do as they were already paid by their patrons but he would retire when two more summers had passed and he planned to make his retirement as comfortable as possible. Using his trained memory he gave the details of what he’d seen, what he’d been told and the names of Alewinder's inhabitants who had been fortunate enough to be absent from the city when the enchantment struck its blow.
Jonderill listened carefully from his position three rows back from the couriers’ table, putting events together as best he could from the answered questions. When at last every question had been answered and the courier had collected together a heavy bag of coins, the three messengers stood to leave, briefly saluting the innkeeper for his hospitality and then pushing their way through the chattering crowd to reclaim their horses and continue on their way to the next inn.
He squeezed his way out of the inn, a dozen more questions ready but only two gellstart to pay for answers. He waited for the three couriers to mount and then stepped forward, bowing in respect to the eldest.
"Please, sir," Jonderill began, standing at the horse’s head and blocking the courier’s way. "I need to know more about the enchantment."
The courier looked down, annoyed at being delayed. "I’ve told you everything I know. Now let me pass."
"I can pay for answers." Jonderill pulled the last two silver coins from his belt and held them out to the courier.
"Well what is it?" The courier snatched the coins from his hand.
"Does the Princess Daun still live and where are her guardians, the two elderly magicians?"
The courier gave a derisory snort. "How should I know, I wasn't inside the city when the enchantment fell otherwise I wouldn't be here now, would I fool?"
He pushed the coins into his belt and heeled his horse forward, pushing Jonderill roughly out of the way. The other two couriers began to follow him but for a moment the youngest drew his horse to a stop and looked back.
"If it’s Plantagenet and Animus you refer to they were seen entering the palace just before sunset but nobody has seen them since. I think you can take it that whatever befell Alewinder also caught the two magicians."
"Thank you," muttered Jonderill, his mind a whirl of confused thoughts.
"Good luck," said the courier and then he was gone.
*
The honeyvine hedge twisted backwards and forwards, entangling one tendril around another until it was impossible to tell which thick trunk bore which bough and which branch which tendril. Not only was the barrier far too high to climb over but the branches dipped down to touch the ground so that even a long eared hopper couldn’t squeeze beneath it. Someone had tried to cut through the green vine but as fast as they hacked at the dense foliage new young tendrils grew to replace the damaged ones and so quickly that the attacker had been forced gently backwards before they had reached further than a hand span’s depth into the hedge.
Jonderill sat on a grassy bank and studied the barrier but like all the others who had come to see this wonder of enchantment, he’d no idea how to penetrate its entanglement to reach the city within. His journey back to Vinmore had been made at twice the speed of the outward journey, stopping only once for rest and not at all for food. Now he sat and stared at the natural barrier and the tops of the towers which could be seen beyond and wondered why he’d deprived himself of sleep and sustenance.
It was obvious the inhabitants of Alewinder and the palace were not going anywhere and wouldn’t be until the enchantment was lifted. He’d tried probing with his limited powers to see if he could reach Plantagenet or Animus but the magic
which bound the hedge was too powerful to penetrate and all that he’d managed to do was give himself a headache. He closed his tired eyes and buried his head in his hands, helpless and miserable.
"Queer do, aint it?"
Jonderill looked up questioningly at the small man with weasel like features who had approached without him hearing and now sat on the grassy bank next to him.
"I means that there 'edge suddenly popping out of the ground an' trapping all of 'em inside, 'cept those who got locked out of their own 'ome of course." He cut a chunk of dried meat off a thick length of sausage and handed it to Jonderill who, having not eaten since the dry bread and cheese in the Leersland inn, took it gratefully.
"Were you one of those who were locked out?"
"Nah. It aint my city, well no more than any other is. I've been around a bit yer see but I aint never seen owt like that, an' that's the truth."
The man took a large flat loaf of bread from beneath his jerkin and broke it in half, giving one half to Jonderill along with a wedge of reddish coloured cheese which he took from a large hidden pocket in his voluminous breeches. Jonderill accepted them thankfully and without question. He didn’t know where the man had acquired breakfast from but he was certain it hadn’t been obtained honestly. It didn’t make any difference to him; it still tasted good.
He studied his benefactor as he ate his food. The man was small, not much larger than a half grown child and was as thin as one who had been cruelly starved. His hands were long and lean and the fingers, which ended in carefully pointed nails, were extra long and always on the move. Whilst his body appeared to be that of a child, his features were those of a man well into his middle years. His eyes were dark, shrewd and constantly on the lookout and his lips thin to the point of disappearing, except when he laughed, when his grin gave him the appearance of a mischievous imp.
He delved into another hidden pocket and produced a flask of light honey wine which he passed to Jonderill. "I bets yer fed up stuck out 'ere all on yer tod or are yer waitin' fer yer magician mates?"
Jonderill hastily swallowed his last mouthful of cheese. "Do you know who I am?"
"Oh yeh, I use ta see yer around wiv the two magicians although that were some time ago. Yer don't suppose I go sharin' me 'ard won breakfast wiv anyone do yer? I aint usually as polite as this only I wanted to find out what yer goin' to do so I knows if it's safe to stick around or not."
"What I’m going to do?" asked Jonderill incredulously.
"Yeh, what yer goin' to do, 'cause there aint nobody else left to do anythin' about that."
"I don't know," said Jonderill dejectedly.
"Well you'd better do somethin', I don't fancy this ‘ere ‘edge bein’ stuck out 'ere in the middle of the 'ighway for the next 'undred years. 'Ow did it get 'ere in the first place?"
"I'm not sure, something to do with the enchantment I suppose."
"An enchantment? Well 'ows about that. What did this 'ere enchantment 'ave to say then?” He took a long swig of his wine and passed the flask back to Jonderill.
"Roughly it said that if the princess falls off a silver horse she would fall asleep and not die; only it was Animus's enchantment so anything could have happened."
"A bit uncertain was 'e?"
"Inept would be a better word but even he couldn't have got it this wrong."
"Well s'pose 'e didn't, s'pose 'e meant things to turn out like this, what else did the enchantment say?"
Jonderill thought hard for the exact words; four summers had passed since he’d last heard them spoken. "She will sleep forever until woken by true love's first kiss.""There we 'ave it then, all yer 'ave to do is find the man she's in love wiv an' persuade 'im to give 'er a kiss."
"How do I do that?" Jonderill asked despairingly. "As far as I know she's never met a man, let alone had the chance to fall in love, unless of course she did it a long time ago."
"Then we 'ave a problem don't we an' that's goin' to require some snoopin' around. When it comes to findin' fings out their aint no one better at snoopin' around than Perguine." Jonderill looked at him with a raise eyebrow. "That's me, fool, Perguine the Pocket, at yer service. Now where does we start?"
Jonderill looked at Perguine suspiciously. It had been a long time since he’d lived in the magicians’ tower but when he had he’d known most of the people of Alewinder by sight and Perguine was not amongst them. He was certain he would have remembered him; the small man was quite unforgettable. Jonderill slowly stood, fixing the axe he still carried to his belt and slinging his two small bags over his shoulder.
“I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help, it’s none of my business anyway. Thanks for the breakfast.”
Perguine packed up the remains of their breakfast and stashed them away in yet another large pocket and fell in behind Jonderill. “Well, ifs yer not goin’ ter ‘elp, what is yer goin’ ter do? I means yer can’t go ‘ome and yer aint got no coin ter spend so yer a bit stuck aint yer?”
Jonderill increased his walking speed so the little man had to almost run to keep up. “I’ve got coin, I’m just looking for somewhere to stay, that’s all.”
The little man ran to overtake him and then ran backwards waving his hands in the air until Jonderill stopped. “Now, lad, don’t yer be liein’ to me, I knows yer aint got no coin otherwise yer wouldn’t be gobblin’ up me breakfast like yer aint seen food fer a week.” He poked Jonderill in the chest with a long boney finger. “Folks like us on limited means aught ter stick tergether so I’s got a proposition fer yer. I’s got a job ter do, a little ticklin’ of a bloke who ows me an’ don’t want ter pay ‘is dues an I need someone ter watch me back. ‘ows about it? Yer do me a favour an’ I’lls buy yer dinner an’ then I’ll ‘elp yer find this ‘ere lover boy.”
Jonderill thought about it for a moment. He didn’t altogether trust Perguine but as he hadn’t a clue how he was going to rescue the princess by himself and he didn’t have a drac to his name his options were limited. He nodded his head in agreement and received a hearty slap on the back from his new employer.
Watching Perguine’s back turned out to be easier than he’d imagined. All he had to do was stand beneath an old crumbling archway in the small village a few candle lengths’ walk from Alewinder and watch the rear exit of the building opposite. Perguine was gone for less than a candle length and when he finally left the building Jonderill had to tell him who had entered and left the place. It had been simple; the only person who had entered was a well dressed woman with her head and shoulders covered by a dark shawl. She had looked vaguely familiar but Jonderill couldn’t place where he’d seen her before so he didn’t bother mentioning his feelings.
Perguine was pleased with the report which he listened to as he led Jonderill to the far end of the village, where he stopped at a dark inn with a broken sign. Jonderill looked at the door warily but Perguine walked straight in allowing the smell of roasting meat to waft out to where Jonderill was hesitating. The smell was irresistible as was the tart cider which accompanied it and the soft feather mattress and clean blankets which the two of them shared in an upstairs room.
In the morning he felt less suspicious of his new companion and had an answer ready for when Perguine again posed the question of where should they start looking for the man who would break the enchantment.
"I suppose the best place would be back at the woodsman's cottage,” said Jonderill, “That’s where she spent the last four summers."
"Nows yer talkin', I'll make a snoop out of yer yet."
For most of the day they walked in silence, occasionally meeting a traveller heading towards Alewinder to see the mysterious hedge and stopping twice to drink from a stream and eat the remains of the food stashed in Perguine’s large hidden pockets. Once they were on the forest pathways, where there were no travellers, Perguine told him hilarious tales of being a thief, pick-pocket and scoundrel in an attempt to make him laugh.
"But I aint never killed no one," he insisted vehemently
. "I don't 'old wiv killin' so’s I don't carry no weapon 'cept me knife an' that aint for 'urtin' no one. S'pose that's why I'm so light on me feet on accounts that I do more than me share of 'idin' and runnin.'"
Jonderill laughed somewhat bitterly; it was a nice idea if you could manage it.
The sun had almost set by the time they reached the cottage in the forest clearing. Long shadows speckled the ground as the last of the sun's rays filtered through the leafy canopy and house flyers swooped back and forth to their nesting place beneath the thatched roof. Both men strained their ears for the slightest unusual sound but everywhere seemed as calm and as peaceful as a deserted cottage should be. Jonderill led the way forwards towards the cottage door but when he turned around, expecting his new friend to be close behind him, Perguine was nowhere to be found. Jonderill frowned but continued on his own, pulling out his axe just in case there was someone or something in the cottage which shouldn’t be there. For a moment he hesitated at the cottage door and then threw it wide open ready to defend himself with his woodsman’s axe if someone attacked him but the cottage was deserted. He stepped over the threshold and took in the scene of shattered furniture and broken stone which looked out of place in the comfortable living room where he’d spent so many evenings in the peaceful company of Rosera and the two magicians.
"I'm assumin' yer didn't leave the place like this?" asked Perguine, suddenly appearing from behind Jonderill and making him jump. He shook his head in reply. "Then I guess there's been a barney and not too long ago by the looks of it." He walked passed Jonderill, kicking bits of broken furniture out of the way and picking his way amongst the debris. "I saw some 'orse prints outside an' lots of uver prints but I couldn'a make out what they were ‘cept they weren’t ‘uman."
Something red caught his eye and he stopped to pick up the hunting hat, decorated with long coolly bird feathers. "Yours?"