“Whoa!” said the man again.
It was he who drove the chariot who spoke, and his name was Greaves. A sweaty, grimy man with an enormous, fat belly and a face of thick stubble. Also, he was chewing on the end of a cigar, and on his head was a black top hat. Outside of that, he simply wore a patched-up waistcoat, a pair of raggedy brown trousers with braces, and no boots at all.
“Aye-aye there, folks!” he spoke stoutly.
Holding the brim of his hat to Anun, he then said, “Ma’lady,” and Anun bowed in response.
“Well now, what have we here? Is this him then?” he asked, and William waved with a kind hello.
In seeing the boy’s coy gesture, Greaves smirked rather haughtily. The boy appeared far too timid to uphold such an intrepid reputation, Greaves thought. But he knew quite well that he was just there to drive and not to judge, so he kept his opinions to himself. Meanwhile, Icrick was too preoccupied to wave at anyone, as he was double-checking all of his belongings, convinced that he’d left something behind. But, of course, he hadn’t. It was just the initiations of that nervous scourge which would truly define our dear Icrick Tum.
“Well, well, well! Bit of a skinny young fella, aren’t ya?” Greaves grinned, with his hairy nostrils aiming down at William.
The wolf closest to William then glimpsed back briefly to study him. Once satisfied, he extended his massive wings, as though somehow testing the lad. Shaking his mane with a snort, he then folded them again and went back about his business.
“Take no notice of Brùn! He’s a cranky aul’ mess!” Greaves told him.
“Amazing-looking creature though,” said the boy.
He wanted to reach out and pat one of the wolves, but they didn’t really seem all that friendly towards William, so he refrained.
“Two of the few remaining wolves of Isk. A dying breed, unfortunately!” answered Greaves, leaning over the rim of the chariot. “Anyways, right ye are then! Can’t stand ‘round here chattin’ all day long. I’ve some bits that need doin’.”
William and Icrick thus stepped aboard the chariot...but Anun stayed where she was.
“Are you not coming?” William asked.
“No, I cannot,” said she. “This will be as far as I go with you, William, for Greaves has much important work to do with the Trenchins in the lower caves, and tending to my return would only delay him.”
She then took his hand in hers, and spoke. “I can only hope that, the next time we meet, the conflict will have ended, and our situation will be much different.”
Impatiently, the wolves reared, but Greaves calmed them with a snap of the reins.
“Looks like you’ve got a fine send-off, lad,” he then said, and William peered down to that long window beside the main hall.
They were all there, all of the Dwelvin-Mites, each holding a small candle and watching him as he was about to embark upon his mission. Prayers were being said for him and his wellbeing, in the hope that he would one day return to them with tidings of his safety, the safety of his companion, and news of Drevol’s downfall.
“Their thoughts will always be with you,” Anun uttered gently.
So much was racing through the boy’s mind then that he couldn’t focus on what to say. Instead, he ended up smiling at Anun as best he could, to show her that he could be strong. But he was also rather conscious of it not appearing natural, because it wasn’t...and fear had made it so.
“You need not be scared, William. You’ve been very brave to come even this far. And someone very special to us once said: ‘though life is a quest for all souls, courage remains a mission of precious few. An incessant trail, often of weakness and of pain, the first steps of which only the strong are said to dare...’ And never a truer word was spoken. Remember that, and you shall remember hope,” she said, and seeing him dwelling upon it, she asked, “This philosophy heartens you?”
“Yeah. It’s...It’s kind of uplifting, actually!” He nodded, looking at his situation from a slightly more optimistic angle. “Who said it?”
“Theoretically...you did...” she replied.
At a cracking of their reins, the wolves suddenly howled into a charging sprint. The searing wind blew through William’s hair as he peered back at Anun. She was waving at him with those same friendly eyes. He hoped that this would not be the last he would ever see of her.
“Now, both of ye’ll have to hang on to your hats!” Greaves shouted through the noise of the fleeting wind. “Take these and wrap them ‘round your waists.”
Within the interior of the chariot was a hidden compartment into which he reached. He then pulled out two leather belts that were locked onto the frame. Taking a harness each, Icrick and William secured themselves as best they could.
“What about you?” shouted William.
“Doin’ this for centuries, lad,” Greaves said, laughing. “Don’t need ‘em!”
They raced and raced, faster and faster, and the wolves growled and salivated as their wings got set for flight. The molten river was starting to widen before their path, and that meant the falls were not long after. William shut his eyes as tightly as he could, and held on with all of his strength. Icrick was in a state of shock now too. He was so distracted when he first stepped on board that he only just realised what was actually going on.
“Oh, crikey!” he squeaked, when both wolves leapt marvellously over the fiery falls.
They stretched out their enormous wings and away they flew, through a great wall of heat, like two kites.
Greaves held on with little effort, chewing on his cigar and snapping the reins. He navigated flawlessly throughout the mighty stacks of rock whilst the wolves appeared to be gliding on their wings, using only an occasional thrust to gain some altitude. In and out they went, dodging all that obstructed their way. Eventually, William plucked up the courage to peek over the side. As soon as he did, though, he had to yank his head back from the heat. Icrick, otherwise, sat secured by the belt with his head shaking from side to side in his hands. He was mumbling things, but William couldn’t hear him through the sounds of blowing steam.
Over to the right, amongst the stalactites, where the shadow began to flow into the deep, William saw a gigantic shelf extending from the wall. There was a small, arched door leading onto it, and directly across from the shelf, over the chasm, were two viridian flames burning upon the precipice. They were not burning as if ignited by hand; they were smouldering naturally, from vents in the rock. For some reason, when William saw these flames, his mother came to mind, and an overwhelming feeling of devotion grew within his heart. He then grasped onto his medallion and tried to get through the rest of this flight without a hitch.
“Not long now!” yelled Greaves, and motioning to the other side of the cave, he said, “See that narrow gap, just up ahead, on that cliff? That’s the Witches Window, and ya know where that leads, don’t ya?!”
“The Witches Window? Where?” Icrick asked, snapping out of his huddle.
Up ahead, through the fingers of hanging rock, he could see a black sheen sparkling through the gloom. Nobody had ever seen that window since it had been created, and the adjoining path destroyed. Nobody but Greaves and his wolves. And even though he seemed like a decent chap, there was no chance he’d go out of his way to bring tourists up to look at it. He had far too many important errands to run as it was. Besides, even if he wanted to he probably couldn’t, because wild Iskian Wolves are known to be as stubborn as dragons...if not worse, caring for no troubles outside of their own. But Greaves knew how to respect them, and so they did the same in return, mostly.
“Why is at all black?” the Grogoch asked disappointedly.
He really couldn’t wait to see Lythiann again. It had been so long. Then to find this blacked-out window, it totally flushed the Grogoch’s hopes down the drain altogether.
“Sorry, Icrick lad!” yelled Greaves. “Looks to be night time out there.”
When he heard Greaves saying ‘night time’ the Grogo
ch went into a mood, like a five-year-old who didn’t get the right train set for his birthday.
“Ya see, once you walk through it, it only brings ya to the Nether Realm...the place between the Grollo and Lythiann! Part of the spell it was, lest some messer should find a way in somehow. It is there that ya’ll find the Lythiann gate! But, don’t ya know, nighttime in the Nether means nighttime on Lythiann as well. So, sorry...you’re all out of luck, Icrick!”
“Did you know about this Nether Realm?” William asked the Grogoch.
“Nope,” replied a sulking Icrick.
William was then beginning to wonder, quite worriedly, about what kind of guide this Icrick was supposed to be at all, and if he had any clue as to what was going on here. What else could he do though, only give the creature the benefit of the doubt?
“Oh, bother this nighttime business anyways,” moaned the Grogoch. “Sure I’m only out of bed a few hours.”
“Time differences, lad,” replied Greaves.
“Well, mind, would you keep us posted on what time it is in the real world?” huffed the Grogoch.
“Pay me enough and I’d be happy to,” Greaves said, laughing and slapping the reins.
“Pfff! Payment!” The Grogoch moped to himself in disapproval. “You should know better!”
Watching the window, William asked, “Well, how do we go about finding Lythiann then?”
“Don’t worry about it!” said Greaves. “Just walk through the second gate and you’re there. Easy as pie!”
Greaves spoke about the Witches Window like it was nothing special, whereas any other Dwelvin-Mite would have given their left kidney to get a glimpse of it. He’d seen it many times before, however, so it was nothing new to him.
“Now, here we are. Whoooah!” he said, drawing back the reins.
The wolves howled and threw out their wings for landing. Ahead, that tall, oval window reflected their embarkment.
“Whoooa!” said Greaves again, and his passengers hopped off. “Well now, that’s the end of the trip. My blessin’s to ya, lad! You too, Icrickeen. Hope your own journey goes as smoothly as that landing.”
“Thanks, Greaves. I hope so too.” William smiled, and Greaves gave a consoling salute before taking off again.
Before he dwindled into the rippling air, he called back, “When ya see Briggun, be sure to give him a good slap across the teeth from me! All the best now!”
Resting his hands on his sides, the Grogoch gazed up at the window and said, “Well, here we are! The Witches Window!”
Peering back down at them, as high as a mast and as wide as an average doorway, the window sparkled hypnotically, as though the pane was fashioned from precious black stones. It really did intimidate poor William a tad, making the reality of his situation become all the more traumatic. But there was no room for doubt just then. He had to do what he had to do.
“Right!” he said, sticking his thumbs behind his shoulder straps. “I suppose this is it then!”
“Indeed it is, my dear boy!” exclaimed a smiling Icrick, who was only too delighted to be seeing Lythiann again. “After you.”
“Um...well, you can go in first,” William offered, still somewhat nervous about making the first step. “I know how much you want to see this place again and all.”
“I wouldn’t hear of it, William,” said the Grogoch, holding out his hand. “I insist! Besides, I prefer doing things last. It adds to the excitement. You know, the way you might keep the best bit of rasher till last on your plate?”
“Well...you sure?” William asked crookedly.
“Positive!” replied the Grogoch, still smiling.
“Hmmm...positive...great!” the lad muttered. “Right. Here I go then.”
Expelling a sigh, William stole in through the window. What a peculiar sensation it turned out to be; freezing cold and harsh on the skin, like the blustery colds of winter’s wind was pulling his lips back over his gums. Thankfully it didn’t last long, for as soon as William put his foot down, he was on the other side, and he stumbled forth into this new ‘middle’ realm.
It was dark there; dark and starless, with the aroma of solitude floating upon the feeble wind. William found himself upon a platform of smooth rock and, behind him, the reverse side of the window. It was a large, rectangular slab of dark marble, standing upright. Not half as high as the other side, mind you, while the impression of William’s transition was imprinted upon its surface like an effigy. Suddenly out squeezed the Grogoch with a nasally squeal, and that too left a stamp of his character. There they were, two stony sculptures of William and Icrick, pulling disgracefully ugly faces as they passed through into the Nether Realm. How delightful.
Surrounding them now were lowlands and wide-open spaces, though it wasn’t very charming. It was lonely and miserable; a barren land with no story to tell, and with little sentiment whatsoever. William then took a quick glimpse over the edge of the platform, only to see that they were on the top of a monstrous rocky column. Steadily it rocked in the breeze. Even the occasional piece of debris would trot down the sides before vanishing out of sight. The very bottom was too shrouded for William to judge, on account of which his stomach started turning, alongside a dizzy head, so he stepped back to where it felt safer.
“There it is,” Icrick gasped suddenly.
Thus, waiting before them, was a gate. A pallid, double gate, which was intricately crafted with the designs of creeping ivy, through which the stems of living ivy roiled. On either side were stone pillars to which the gates were hinged. Sprouting up from the base of each were some toadstools and curling grasses. But these pillars just eroded before they could run into any sort of adjoining walls. It was unusual to both William and Icrick, because all that they could see through the rails was the horizon of the Nether Realm. William went over to one of the pillars and stuck his head ‘round to investigate, but there was only a treacherous drop into shadow, and nothing more.
“I’m not so sure about this, Icrick,” he muttered shakily. “Where’s this Lythiann place supposed to be?”
“No need to worry. You can go last this time if you’d like...fair is fair!” replied the Grogoch.
This sounded reasonable enough to William. He knew the Grogoch was used to all this stuff anyway, so he let him go on ahead.
Icrick opened the gate, with William glancing over his shoulder. To his amazement, he saw fresh grass by the Grogoch’s feet, and it was blowing in a calm breeze. With the gate fully open, he noticed a cloister of branches, hills, stars, forests, and a moon. Having not a moment to waste, he followed Icrick through the gateway, and felt the soft touch of grass beneath his own feet. It was a greatly missed sensation for William, the sensation of grass. Any more of those stony paths or stuffy tunnels and he would have gone berserk.
Whispering a gentle squeak, the gate shut as William’s curiosity brought him to examine the rear of it again. All he saw this time was a dark elm forest native to Lythiann, and that was all.
“Ah, home at long last!” said Icrick, with a refreshing breath. “But it would have been so much nicer to have arrived during the day! Oh well, it will be just as nice to see her properly by morning light!”
“Her?” William asked.
“Yes...’Lythiann’!” replied the Grogoch, and after scouting about for a moment, he said, “You know, I think it would be a decent enough idea for us to rest here for a bit. We are fairly sheltered from the breeze, and considering it’s night and all, we may as well try to adapt; get our sleeping clocks in order. We will be doing much of our travels during the day, I expect. And map reading at night isn’t as easy as you might think.”
“I presume we’re walking this then?” William frowned, staring anxiously into the east.
“Well, initially we had some ponies that were to bring us on our journey,” replied Icrick, picking a leaf from a tree and giving it a fond sniff.
Curiously, William asked, “And what happened to them?”
“Time below ground
took its toll on them, you see. They became slaves to what we call the ‘Sadness’ disease; something you need not know about, nor do I wish to discuss. Poor fellows just couldn’t last,” the Grogoch said pitifully. “We’re going to have to make do with our legs, I’m afraid. But, never mind all that dreary talk. What do you think we should do tonight? Get a fire going, eat some food, then rest up for a bit? Up to you!”
What Icrick said made a lot of sense, and the idea of setting straight out on the journey had been a weight on William’s mind also. He’d already done much that day, between meeting the Glog and doing his few bits in the Grollo, that it seemed only fair to have some rest. So, in laying down, he removed his cloak and wrapped himself up in it like a blanket.
But that night his sleep was troubled. The moon had stolen his undivided attention, and stories came back to plague him. Stories of the Pooka and of the curse back home; together with visions of his mother within the blaze, and the marching armies of kindle. Hours he gazed upon the eyes of the moon, within the dim silence which kept them; hoping, pleading. Eventually he drifted off, unknown to himself.
- Chapter Seven -
Exploring the West
Early the next morning, William was still sound asleep, having been able to relax a far sight better than he could the previous night because there was less stuffiness and more of a soothing breeze.
In his dreams he heard the swaying of trees and the rustling of grass, and eventually it dawned on him that he was slumbering, and that it was the noises of the outside world that were creeping into his sleep. Gradually his eyes opened to see the brink of dawn and, before the retiring of night, the sky was awash with an assortment of different colours, all of which were caught up gorgeously within the soft clouds as the bronzing vista set its gleam down upon the landscape below.
The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles Page 14