All of the Gremlins were spinning about, in search for who—or what—had disrupted their gathering. As they anticipated another attack, the shape rushed in again from the shadows and, from what William could see, it looked like a man, clad all in dark colours, and he was moving at great speed. Not with abnormal haste, but with considerable pace; enough to make them doubt their eyes. Here and there he ran, taking down Gremlin after Gremlin with his heavy sword. Enemies were swarming all over the place, biting and stabbing at this stranger, though they were unable to catch him. He ducked, and dodged, and rolled, and flipped through their attacks until, soon, no more Gremlins were left alive. By the time the final blade of the slain had hit the rough stone, all of the smoke had dispersed. All that lay within were the corpses of foes and an empty post in the middle; a pile of loosened rope at its foot. Silence came back into the world again, and the stranger was nowhere to be seen.
William stood on the brink of that bluff, flabbergasted and contemplating these events, when a booming voice echoed upon every wall of that valley.
“You dare tread by my realm?” it questioned, its tone intimidating and hostile.
From inside the thicket, Icrick yelped, “What are you standing around for, William?! Get in here!”
Taking his advice, William ran back into the bushes and hid for dear life. The only comprehensible thing that came to mind here was the Pooka, and that didn’t really bode all that well for William’s newfound audacity. Nor did it fare too well with the others, for Icrick was trembling like a leaf, whereas Khrum was as stiff as a board, bar his eyes, which were zipping about to all the shadowy nooks of the valley below in search of he who spoke.
“I can hear you!” the voice hissed, booming throughout the land. “I can hear you trembling! I can hear the feeble beatings of your little hearts! And the blood trickling through your veins!”
Following this they heard a strident gust growing greater and greater until, roaring like an inferno, it tore down rapidly from above. Fearing for his life, Icrick grabbed onto William. Khrum stayed where he was; endeavouring to see what was about to happen. It bellowed to such an extreme that it felt like the entire valley was going to swallow itself up, as if from some manner of implosive blast which would only occur under the fracturing of every conceivable scientific law that had ever been accounted for. Suddenly, there was a deafening thump nearby, and the noise stole off into nothing more than the breeze which had previously wandered. As serene as the atmosphere now was, something had otherwise landed in the grass just a few feet away from the thicket. It was the figure of a man; that same stranger who’d attacked the Gremlins in the arena. He rose upright, casually cracking his neck to one side.
He wore a large brown hat with its wide brim pulled low over his face. Beneath it his lead-tinted hair was not long, nor exactly short, but was enough to waver in the breeze, as did the many layers of lengthy, olive-suede coat, under which he had on a dark tunic, studded over in brass rivets. His cheeks nurtured thick sideburns, a style he’d clearly taken pride in, and would therefore never see them shorn. His face was otherwise strong, however worn. And running from the bridge of his nose to the right-hand corner of his mouth was a failing scar which, presumably, had come from battle. Crimpled hard from wear were his heavy gloves. He wore big, black boots, caked in dry mud from endless days of trekking. Then a sack was slung over his shoulder, next to which his great falchion sword was recovering in its sheath.
Unable to resist, William dared to see what he could see, so he peeked out from between the bushes. Not a peep did he make; taking his time, and even holding his breath. Nevertheless, the man’s head jerked suspiciously. The boy froze.
Icrick had practically turned into a statue when he was asked to rescue the animal in the first place, so there was no fear of him causing a racket. It was the leprechaun whom William had to worry about. For he came to notice that the branch, whereon Khrum stood, was under a lot of stress, and was on the verge of inexorably splitting. Worse yet, beneath him, a prickly shrub with sharp, red thorns was anxiously awaiting him.
Listening, and waiting, the man remained absolutely still. As the silence played, William was watching Khrum’s branch, with the perspiration dribbling down the side of his face like he had just escaped the deepest reaches of Satan’s own perdition. Too afraid to move. Too afraid to so much as breathe. Wide was his fix upon the failing branch. It was on the very brink of collapse. It bent, it bent, it bent, and sure enough...it went! The twig snapped, sending Khrum head over heels. Immediately the man made for the sound. In defiance of all precaution, William otherwise threw out his hand and grabbed Khrum before he impaled himself on those thorns; for all the good that’d come of it, now that the stranger was onto them.
A grimy hand plunged in through the bushes, seized William by the collar and ripped him out into the open. As he did so, Icrick had been clinging onto William’s leg, and Khrum had slipped from the boy’s grasp and was now dangling from Icrick’s ankle. They came out like a string of sausages.
“Who are you?” the man demanded. “Answer!”
Being as alarmed as he was, William was unable to do little other than splutter out some jumbled noises. This put the Grogoch into a panic attack, rendering him of little use to anybody, wheezing away, strobing from invisible to visible with fear.
William could now see under the man’s hat. Wrapped around his eyes was a pair of rounded goggles with thick, tinted lenses.
“Do not have me ask again,” the man sneered.
Indeed, he was hard-hearted, as was his grip.
“Pl-Please, don’t hurt us, s-s-sir!” William wound up stuttering. “We were just on our way across the countryside when we heard screams, you see! So we came over to see if we could help. Then there was all these creatures in the pit...and then there were these other big monsters coming from the gates...and then we were going to try and help the animal in the middle...and then...”
Unavoidably he continued to babble; a result of his terrible nervousness. Yet in spite of that, the man still wondered about the boy.
“What is your name, boy?” he asked curiously, and in a milder manner.
“William! W-W-William Muldoon!” the lad answered.
The man went still and didn’t say much of anything to that. Gently, he put William down. Icrick, however, had to take a solid clout from Khrum to coax him out of his state of panic. Otherwise, with all of his hyperventilating, he would probably have inflated himself up like a balloon and floated off to the farthest shores of Lythiann, where he would never be heard from again.
They were standing there, silent in their being, when the Dullahan came huffing and puffing up from the hills behind. He’d finally found the guts to join them. The man didn’t acknowledge his arrival, funnily enough. Then again, he already knew that he was there...because he could hear him quite clearly, thumping along through the heavy grass like an elephant. No. All the man did was simply turn his head slowly about the land, like he was listening for something. Something else...
Wondering about the stranger’s abrupt change of behaviour, William then glanced up to the mountains where Wren had been of late, only she was nowhere to be seen. Then, out of some unknown inner well of brashness, he felt bold enough to ask a few questions of his own.
“Who are you, anyway? And w-w-what do you want with us?” he asked, though not too aggressively, and in remembering the poor creature from the pit, he added, “And what about that animal that was being held captive in the maze? What did you do with that?”
“The Poppum is perfectly safe,” answered the man, whose attention was still taken by his surroundings. “...And my name is Redmun.”
In awe, the lad said to himself, Redmun!
Anun’s words came flooding back to him: “A blind man, name of Redmun. He means well...as far as I know...it troubles me...I know not if he is a threat...stay clear of his company, unless you have absolutely no other choice.”
Suddenly, from the west, a piercing scre
ech carried itself across the hills. It was the kind of cry that would bring a lump to your throat and make your stomach shrink to the size of a pea. It hailed from afar, yet it was enough to snatch the man’s utmost awareness and, I think, it was precisely what he was listening out for.
“Get to your feet!” he exclaimed, wasting little time. “We must get moving! Ominix, lead!”
William didn’t know what Redmun meant by ‘Ominix, lead,’ until, from out of nowhere, he heard something frighteningly large fluttering over his head before taking wing into the night sky.
Fast and unpredictably it flew, squeaking excitedly, with Redmun following it closely in full sprint. This leather-winged creature, it seemed, were his eyes.
“William, we mustn’t!” Icrick begged, tugging him back. “Remember what Anun told us?”
Fast-paced, Redmun was bolting down through the valley with Crosco trailing close behind him after having dropped the burden of all their extra baggage. Again an even louder wail echoed. It sounded to be on the move.
“It doesn’t sound too friendly, Icrick,” William so needlessly stated, slinging his pack over his shoulder. “Actually, it sounds to me like the same thing Crosco was warning us about before. And going by the way he was on about it, I don’t think I really want to make any introductions. Let’s just hope this Redmun leads us away from it, then we’ll figure out a new plan from there. For now, let’s move.”
Grabbing Khrum, William upped and pursued. Into the night they so sped, away from he who was making that horrifying cry.
For time out of mind they ran; downhill, over rough patches of rock and in through dense, thorny bushes, ever checking behind. Every now and again quietude came, until it was stolen once more by further terrifying howls, forcing them to sprint harder every time.
Redmun led them onto a beaten pathway, just shy of the woods below. Winding all the way ‘round those trees for a half-mile or so, it was so secretly concealed that they never would have found it by themselves. Not at nighttime, at any rate. A blessed find or not, that terrible shrieking was still squeamishly close, and it closed in more upon every dying second. This urged them into a much quicker pace, whining and wheezing in such an arduous sprint.
Neither William, Khrum, nor Icrick knew what was chasing them that hour. Redmun and the Dullahan, however, knew only too well.
“What is that?!” whimpered Icrick as he ran.
Several times he’d asked this, but nobody would answer. The only voice to otherwise utter was that of Redmun’s, who was only pressing them to run harder, and nothing more. Also, by then their secret path was beginning to wind out into the openness of the plain once more, leaving Redmun with no other choice except to jump off the track, where he instead guided them through the tall grasses by the forest’s edge, in hope that it may still mask their presence should they get far enough ahead. All the while, this Ominix, this bat, was scouting the way; bouncing about in the air as he flew. Without question, both he and Redmun were far more familiar with that territory than any other who dared venture through it.
Not far northward, William recognized the waterfall from earlier, which was precisely where Redmun was taking them. Pity it wasn’t closer; for with him being unable to maintain a good pace, what with the frosty air burning into his lungs, the young lad found himself falling back to the rear of their group.
After running flat-out for such an unbearable amount of time, he was grateful to hear that, at least, the high-pitched shrieking was no longer in pursuit. What good timing, too, because the pain in his chest was getting all too much. He had to slow. Still unconvinced of their safety, even with the screams having subsided, Redmun insisted that they keep up the pace. But it couldn’t be tolerated much longer, by any of them apart from Redmun. William and his friends weren’t accustomed to running such distances at speed, and were quickly getting exhausted. Inevitably, they started to slow down more and more. The noise has stopped! So what the hell do we have we to keep sprinting for?! was all William could think, angry from fatigue.
“We...need...to...take-a-rest!” the Grogoch then panted.
“There is no time for rest!” Redmun yelled. “Now, pick up your pace!”
Astonishingly, he himself proceeded to sprint without failure, whereas William just couldn’t do it anymore. He had to stop, or else he was going to pass out.
Slowing to a trot, he halted, with his hands upon his knees, gasping with an ill wheeze as he vigorously rubbed his chest. Immediately Redmun heard one less sound of footsteps and therefore skidded and turned.
“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” he shouted, knowing instantly to whom those missing steps belonged.
At once he drew out his sword, then ran back towards William. This pulled the lad up short and sharp, and that is no mistake.
“I NEEDED TO REST!” William cried.
“I knew it!” screamed Icrick. “He’s a traitor!”
The Dullahan spun around with his huge axe held firm. At that exact instant, a great flood of wildlife flushed from the woodland to William’s right. Hares, squirrels, birds, deer, and badgers, all bolting in fear, nearly knocking him onto his back.
Suddenly, Redmun yelled, “Find cover, boy!”
“What?!” yelped the lad, baffled by the ruckus.
Just then the loudest shriek of all filled the valley, and a huge shadow tore from the darkness of the woods. It was he, the evil centaur of Meolìch Naún, and its name was Valstarius.
A hybrid of Goblin and Faun, this creature, whose grimy hair was matted and long, wore a face of pure malice, with its twisted horns, and its bloody septum bolted with a ring so heavy that it could be used as a door knocker. The flesh of its vile horse-body was lacerated to an undercoat of reddened bone; its crooked talons resembling something of a demon dog. Valstarius was a manifestation of fear like few humans could ever conceive, and he would be one of William’s greatest threats yet, had he known it then or not.
Piercingly he squealed, like the appalling whines of pigs in the slaughter, before circling the boy with thumping strides. Thinking of nothing better, William plunged face-first into the grass, and not a moment too soon, as Valstarius took a heavy swing with his massive axe. He was so close to actually striking the boy that he instead managed to shave a bit from one of William’s hair-tails. Luckily the lad had landed out of harm’s way. Khrum had otherwise rolled out of his sporran, right up to Icrick’s feet.
“Retreat, Valstarius!” Redmun ordered. “This is not your realm to tread!”
“You dare declare your risible decrees upon me, blind man?” hissed the beast, galloping into their heart with a swinging blade.
In all directions they evaded him, rearing in their midst, savagely lunging and slashing; yet they somehow evaded his reach.
Khrum didn’t run, you won’t be surprised to learn. In the stink of it all, he stood his ground, grabbed onto the centaur’s hairy ankle, and tried gnawing on it. No sooner had he bit than he got kicked sky-high before landing by Icrick again. Not too far away, Redmun had his weapon drawn and was ready for conflict. He knew this foe from times before, when he’d otherwise chosen to abscond. Only now it was his time to protect.
His great falchion sword sparkled in the moonlight, and Redmun’s stance was ready. Heeding this act of rebelliousness, Valstarius galloped to a distance before turning to face him.
William scrambled across the ground on all fours in search of safety. That’s when he felt his scabbard yanking him back. It was being hauled upon with ferocious power and it was pulling him along, despite him scrabbling at the grass. Fearing the source of this devilry, he rolled onto his side and grabbed the sheath in both hands. He was intending to rip it from the grip of whomever held it, only nobody was holding his sheath. Nobody was there; and yet some invisible force continued to tug relentlessly on the scabbard. Its grip was so powerful that it hoisted William to his feet and started dragging him toward the centaur. Digging his heels down deep, the traumatized boy ploughed through the
grass. Nor was the ground even soft, yet still he managed to turn over its petrified soil with just his heels. The power was too formidable for William. He could but presume it to be some spell of the beast that was luring him in to slay him. For fear of this, William tugged on the scabbard with all his might; so urgently that he was leaning right back, almost with his shoulders to the very ground, yet still he was being drawn.
Valstarius soon lost all interest in the blind man when he saw this. Rearing up, he broke into a terrible charge toward the boy. As luck would have it, Redmun heard all.
“Your blade has awoken! Take the grip!” the man shouted.
“HELP!” William cried. “Something’s pulling me along! It’s too strong!”
“Heed me, damn you!” Redmun roared vigorously. “Take the grip, boy! Your blade has awoken!”
Though William’s arms were straining, he nonetheless wrapped his fingers around the grip of the sword. With a glimmer of emerald steel, Thérn sprung from its scabbard and readied itself for battle. William had not expected this at all. Hoisting his arms high above his head for him, Thérn took a defensive hold. Valstarius wasn’t luring William in at all. It was the sword itself, merely trying to escape the sheath. It likewise moved independently, through some manner of enchanted life all of its own, and it was drawn to the trouble like a magnet.
The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles Page 32