“Tomkin will believe—for now.”
Brand thought for a moment. “What is the best course for us to rejoin our companions?”
Tomkin spread out his tiny hands in surprise. “First, find them. Then hail them as friends, and perhaps walk together out of this marsh.”
“That’s no answer!” barked Brand. “Look, if we are going to trade information, it must be done in a way that helps one another. If you want more from us, you must give me more than that. Remember, with all our party collected, the Jewel is doubtless safer from the Huntsman than it is now.”
Tomkin produced a tiny bright blade and set to work carving a frog bone. “Very well, thy friends are holding court, if such a thing it can be called, with the merling king. That is where to find them.”
“But which direction? How do we find them?”
Tomkin trimmed off the ends of the frog bone to form a hollow tube. He made an off-handed gesture. “Too much for one question.”
“I asked what course we should take,” argued Brand stubbornly. Again he felt a red heat rising up his neck. The creature was being almost as difficult as before.
“Follow the river upstream until it is but a trickle. It lies to the east.”
Brand sat back, taking a deep breath. Now all he needed was a night clear enough to see the stars and he could navigate his way back to his companions. Later, he might even be able to get out of this miserable swamp.
“Tomkin’s turn,” said the manling as he drilled a tiny hole into the white bone. “How many hast thou slain with the axe?”
Brand eyed him in surprise. Again, the question was not what he was expecting. The manling was busy with his flute, or whatever it was he was making, but Brand sensed his tension underneath. He really wanted to know the answer.
“I’ve killed two merlings, but no men.”
At his words Tomkin bared his teeth. They were as white and wet as the tiny bone he worked. “Two times. Two slain,” he said aloud. He shook his head as if in disbelief, but this time he didn’t call Brand a liar.
“My turn,” said Brand. “Is Myrrdin a prisoner, or is he free to go from the merling king’s court?”
Tomkin grinned. “A little of both, child of man. A little of both.”
“What do you mean?”
“He is not in a cage, but neither would he dare to leave right now from the king’s nightly feast table.”
“Is Dando with him?”
“Ah, ah, ah!” said Tomkin, shaking his head and tsking. “Mine question first.”
Brand sighed, but said nothing.
“Twice thou hast wielded Ambros, and twice thou hast slain with it. Clearly, thy will is great enough not to wield it now, though the urge is plain to see in thy gross hands. Hast thou ever put it aside, once wielded, by thy own will?”
Brand had to think again. “Yes, the first time I did. The first time, the axe urged me to kill Telyn, but I managed to let it fall from my grasp. The second time, Telyn aided me again by knocking it from my grasp.”
Tomkin tossed a curious look at Telyn, then slid his eyes back to Brand. “I see. Thou hast a second—as it must be.”
“A second? Oh, yes, Myrrdin did speak of that,” said Brand, rubbing his stubbly chin. “Since you seem to be so interested in the axe, I will ask about Lavatis. Had Dando already stolen the Jewel from Oberon when we met him in the hayloft?”
Tomkin’s demeanor changed as Brand spoke. Instead of casual interest, he now seemed intent on delivering his answer. He hugged his odd, knobby knees up to his body and stared at Brand. “Stolen is a tricksy word. The Wee Folk are ever accused on account of it.”
“But did he have it at that time?” repeated Brand.
“Of course.”
Brand nodded and smiled at Telyn. “That’s why he was there, then. He was on some kind of mission for the Wee Folk, he had the Blue Jewel, and even then was scouting out the Amber Jewel.”
“Do you think he meant to steal it, too?” she asked.
Brand shrugged. “Possibly, although I’m hard put to envision such ambition. The axe is dangerous and twice the size of any weapon the Wee Folk could hope to weild. Maybe he was just spying, or trying to aid us so that Herla didn’t have too easy of a time.”
“Perhaps we should just ask our friend here,” said Telyn, nodding to Tomkin.
“Turn and turn-about,” replied Tomkin to their questioning glances. “This turn is mine, river-boy. What odd tricks has the axe performed thus far?”
“Ever back to the axe,” sighed Brand. “Let’s see. It has tempted me to slay my friends—make that anyone I meet, if they seem unfriendly in the slightest.”
“And…?”
“And it flashes occasionally. It gives off a great flash of light that blinds everyone around but me.”
Tomkin nodded slowly. “The wink of Ambros’ Golden Eye,” he said. He gestured for Brand to continue.
“Well, that’s about it.”
Tomkin’s face wrinkled. “The crime of omission is as grave as any other!”
Brand shrugged, liking the creature less by the minute. He felt an urge to smash the manling, but contained himself. “It does seem to affect my emotions, if that’s what you mean. Right now I feel like cutting you in two.”
Telyn made a tsking sound, but Tomkin only chuckled. His next question he asked in a hushed whisper. “Does it ever speak to thee?”
Brand shuffled his feet and stirred the fire with a blackened stick he’d been using as a poker. “Not exactly.”
“Evasion!” accused Tomkin. He bounded up from the rock and flourished the flute he had fashioned from the frog bone. The tip of it he held leveled at Brand’s frowning eyes.
“Okay, yes,” said Brand. “I’d hoped not to mention it, but yes, it does communicate words to me, now and then. I’m not sure how.”
Tomkin nodded, calm again. He returned to his perch upon his rock and began to play his bone flute. While they listened to the odd, beautiful music, Brand and Telyn ate the rest of the toasted frog meat. The tiny notes warbled and thrilled, playing one lonely tune after another. None of them were known to the River Folk, but yet each seemed somehow familiar. It was as if wind, rain, sun and stones played the songs of their lives. Brand felt as though he had heard the music on every first fresh day of spring in this life, but always before with his heart rather than his ears.
Brand gave a start when the fire popped and sizzled while consuming a wet pocket in the peat. It had burned down low somehow, and looked like it was close to going out. Had he dozed off? He looked around in surprise. At first, he couldn’t see Tomkin at all, but then he spotted him, rummaging through Telyn’s gamebag. Then he thought of the axe. Had the little thief somehow made off with it? He looked down and was surprised to see that the straps of the knapsack were wrapped around his ankle. The axehandle was still there, sticking out of the cut flaps and resting on his shins like a sleeping pet. Brand couldn’t recall having put it there.
At his attention, the axe twitched—just a fraction of an inch—but it was enough to set Brand’s skin to crawling.
“Tomkin!” Brand shouted with great volume. He was gratified to see the manling give a startled hop. “What are you doing, man? You have another question to answer!”
Telyn, almost as startled as the manling, slipped and almost fell forward into the fire. She had been dozing with her chin on her hands. She shook her head and spotted Tomkin as well, making a sound of disgust. “That little trickster! He charmed us and now makes free with our meager supplies!”
Tomkin glared at them. “Tomkin had accepted thy invitation to dine,” he said sternly. “If that invitation is now withdrawn, then this meeting is now done.” So saying, he gathered up his flute and headed for the thickets.
“Not so fast!” shouted Brand. “You owe us a question yet!”
Tomkin made a dismissive gesture. “Not so. The first question was a gift. The game is at an end.”
“So! You have all the answers you care
for,” said Brand slowly, putting it together as he thought Corbin might have. “Now you wish to skip out without honoring the last of the bargain. You seek to break your word.”
Tomkin reacted as if stung. “Have a care, river-boy,” the manling growled, showing his teeth.
“Will you answer our last question?” demanded Brand.
With poor grace, the manling returned to his perch. Glumly, he tossed the frog bone flute into the fire. To Brand’s surprise, it caught and flared up into a tiny blue eye of flame that soon burned away to nothing.
“Has Dando yet dared to touch the Jewel Lavatis, to wield it?”
Tomkin studied him intently for a time, cocking his head as if listening for something. He grinned then, showing those teeth that had tasted of both Corbin’s flesh and Myrrdin’s. “In truth, I can’t be sure. But I fear that he has. Lavatis is no less seductive than Ambros…perhaps it is even more so.”
Stunned by the detail and honesty of Tomkin’s reply, Brand was quiet for a moment, mulling it over. “Is the game at an end then, or do you wish to pose another question?”
Tomkin sighed. “The game is at an end.”
“Before you go, however,” spoke up Telyn, “I have another proposal.”
Tomkin eyed her curiously. It seemed that the offer of a bargain always intrigued the Wee Folk. Brand filed that fact away for future use.
“Speak, witch,” said Tomkin.
“I propose that you lead us to Myrrdin and Dando, that we travel together.”
Tomkin hooted with laughter. His whole demeanor changed in an instant. He bounded about the camp, laughing derisively.
“Now hold!” Telyn shouted at the bounding form. “We have something to offer! Your freedom!”
Tomkin halted his bounding and sprang to alight before her. He crouched there, wiry knees bent as if to leap away again. “Speak!”
“I propose that if we reach Myrrdin, you will be freed of your geas.”
“Thou hast not the craft, witch!” screeched the manling, suddenly enraged. “Promise not that which thee cannot deliver!”
“Ah, but I think I can!” Telyn shouted back. “Brand here is the Axe-Bearer, the Champion of Ambros the Golden! You know this to be true.”
Tomkin whirled to eye Brand speculatively, then whirled back to face Telyn.
“We aren’t powerless. We will both swear to honor the bargain. I propose that we do all we can to break this spell, with Myrrdin’s help or without. I’m sure he will honor our agreement, in any case.”
Tomkin’s eyes slid back and forth. His hands moved up to his chest, but didn’t touch the bag that hung around his neck. It was plain that the thing pained him, that wearing it hurt his pride greatly.
“Well?” asked Brand. “Will you be a slave for the next year or a free creature of the fields?”
“Thou must try to free Tomkin first!” he said.
Brand shook his head. “That would be risky. I’d suggest we try to find Myrrdin first.”
There was a long moment of silence between them as Tomkin considered the bargain. “Tomkin agrees…” he said at length, “but, since my freedom is not certain, a boon shall I claim.”
Brand glared at the manling. “You will not taste of my blood as well, you wretched creature.”
Tomkin chuckled. “No, the frog meat was enough. My wish is to see the axe…to gaze into the depths of Ambros.”
“But why?” Brand asked suspiciously. The axe twitched at his feet, roused like a growling dog.
Tomkin saw the twitch and seemed fascinated by it. Taking slow, cautious steps, he approached the knapsack. “Tomkin has reasons.”
“No,” said Brand. Suddenly, he hated the vile creature more than ever and the urge to pull out the axe and strike it dead was almost overwhelming.
“Brand,” said Telyn. “We need his help. It is a small thing. There is no danger.”
Brand blinked several times and bared his teeth. “Yes,” he growled finally. “I’ll allow it.”
Tomkin’s face split wide with a savage grin then, and the yellow light of inhuman desire shown in his black, glass-like eyes.
Not daring to touch the haft of the axe, Brand moved with great care to ease the weapon partly from the knapsack. The axe remained quiet until the Jewel at the heart of it was revealed in the gray morning light. Then it flared into heatless incandescence. Amber light glared into their faces and lit up the swamp around them. Each of them cast giant shadows upon the encircling trees. Brand squinted and gritted his teeth, but didn’t take his eyes from Tomkin lest the creature choose this moment to attempt some deception.
Tomkin was clearly not in the mood for deception. He halted his approach and took two short, blind hops backward. He hissed as if the light burned his skin. The leather sleeves of his tunic covered his eyes and only his white teeth showed, grimacing. “Stop the light!” he cried.
“I can’t control it,” said Brand. “Wait, it will die down in a moment.”
Even as he spoke, the flaring light weakened and died down to a dull, amber glimmering. Tomkin resumed his approach. He took even greater care than before. His hands worked and rubbed at one another nervously as he came close to the axe.
Brand was almost amused by Tomkin’s trepidation. “If it frightens you so, why bother with it?” he asked.
Tomkin only snarled at him and continued his terrified approach. He stood before the axe finally, or rather crouched there. The amber light of the Jewel reflected in lusty yellow glints from his eyes. A thread of saliva slipped from his sharp white teeth as he gazed into the depths of the Jewel.
Brand felt tension take hold of him. He realized now that Tomkin was a demon, an imp, a creature of darkness daring to creep forth to touch the forbidden light of day. When Tomkin’s trembling hand extended a long thin finger and snaked forward slowly to touch the Jewel, Brand made an involuntary sound of disgust and rage. Tomkin seemed to hear nothing.
“No Brand!” shouted Telyn, standing and taking a step forward. Brand looked down to see that his hand had reached down of its own accord, and now held itself poised above the haft of the axe. Right then he knew, with crystal cold clarity, that if the little devil defiled the Amber Jewel with its unwelcome touch, he would wield the axe and strike it dead for its gross presumption.
Just then the axe shifted. It was not so much of a twitch this time, but more of a lurch. Like a wounded creature trying to regain its feet, the axe heaved up its haft and left it wavering, close to Brand’s waiting palm.
Whatever spell Tomkin had been under broke then, and he leapt back from the axe like a cat springing away from a striking snake. Landing a dozen feet off, he hissed and sputtered, speechless.
Brand stared down at his hand and the haft of the axe, just bare inches apart. Sweat sprouted upon his brow.
“Brand,” came a soft whisper in his ear. “Kiss me instead.”
Brand turned his head slightly, and there was Telyn, at his side. Her hand now gently clasped his wrist. He let his arm relax and the axe dropped back to the ground in defeat. Then he turned and he did kiss his beloved, deeply.
Tomkin’s snide chuckle brought them back to themselves. “Now Tomkin sees how your second operates!” he declared, hooting with laughter. “What a novel way to distract him from the bloodthirsty spell of the axe! Impressive, it is!”
Ignoring him, Brand bent down and gently nudged the axe back into the knapsack. He unwound the straps of it from his ankle and slung it on his back. Again, it was heavy, a dead weight that pulled at his shoulders.
“Saved your life I did, Wee One,” commented Telyn.
“That might be, witch,” agreed Tomkin. “Let’s be off, the sooner to remove this accursed millstone from my neck.”
The others agreed. They gathered what gear they had and broke camp, setting off across a steaming bog. Soon they were lost in the gray morning mists.
Chapter Seventeen
The Redcap
With a curse, Brand stomped on yet another hissi
ng snake, jumping over its writhing coils. It escaped his boot and splashed away into a bubbling pool of steamy water that showed the location of one of the numerous hot springs in the area.
“Another snake! May the River drown them all!” Brand complained.
“At least that one wasn’t so large that it chased us off!” said Telyn brightly as she sloshed by him.
Eyeing her, rather than the treacherous muck, Brand stepped upon an orange, fleshy, bulb-shaped pod. It popped beneath his heavy tread. A vile gray discharge sprayed his boots. The stench was overwhelming.
“Aggh!” he cried aloud. “I crushed another of those disgusting pods!”
“Human skulls, they were once,” commented Tomkin from up ahead. He stood lightly upon another of the large pods and tapped at it with his walking stick. His weight wasn’t enough to break one open. “Legend says that these growths are the final remains of thy ancestors. ‘Twas here they fought the Faerie upon this last of battlefields before being driven from their strongholds to the north.”
“Driven?” asked Brand. “So the Dead Kingdoms to the north are conquered ground, taken by the Faerie?”
Tomkin made an airy gesture with his walking stick. Brand wished that the pod beneath him would suddenly give way and coat him with the clinging goop inside. “That’s one view. But only the darkest of the Faerie dwell there now. Only Wraiths, ghosts, bogies and worse things….”
“As I understand it—” interjected Telyn, “—war and magic destroyed the land and so ravaged all life there that wheat won’t grow, nor can sheep graze. People moved to the Haven and settled it as a matter of choice.”
Brand grunted in reply. He was busy making sure that he stepped on nothing even more vile in these northern reaches of Old Hob’s Marsh. The Dead Kingdoms. That would explain why the land seemed more sickened with each step they slogged forward into the Marsh. The mud was past ankle deep and felt like cold porridge. If it was all like this, no wonder his ancestors had left their ancient homes and fled to the Haven.
“How can even the merlings like it here?” he asked aloud. “With each step the land grows worse. Wetland it is, but everything here rots and withers.”
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