ISOF

by Pete Townsend

  Trep, becoming increasingly agitated at all the attention Ben seemed to be getting, screwed his nose up and tapped the table angrily.

  ‘So,’ he scowled. ‘It’s a book, get over it.’

  ‘It’s a book that reveals the past, the future and,’ replied Pinchkin with a smile, ‘can influence the present!’ She nodded at the book. ‘Here you are, Trep. You can smell the history.’

  With his hands pushed out in front of him and his head turned to one side, Trep swallowed noisily. ‘Get it away from me, it’s disgusting.’

  Pinchkin smiled and pointed towards the book’s surface. ‘This book was already old when stars were nothing more than a twinkle in the creator’s eye.’

  Cedric growled his annoyance. ‘Rubbish,’ he snarled. ‘Just a load of gibberish concocted to keep feeble minds from dealing with the truth.’

  ‘Truth?’ replied Pinchkin with an arch of her eyebrows. ‘And what do you know of the truth, Cedric?’

  ‘The truth,’ growled Cedric, his fingertips pressed hard into the palms of each hand. ‘Is simply that we all must accept who we are, what we are and not what some sponge-brained mystic says what we ought to be.’

  Pinchkin smiled coldly. ‘I agree,’ she said. ‘But this,’ she indicated the book with a nod of her head, ‘is a reminder of a time when we were much more than we are now. We have lost more than we ever found,’ she added quietly.

  Cedric leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. ‘What’s the point of placing such trust in an old book and fireside dreams,’ he hissed. ‘We’re far better off accepting what we’ve become and not placing our hopes in some forlorn notion of being something different.’

  Pinchkin’s eyes glowed as little veins of vibrant colours shone with an intensity that shimmered on the faces watching. Cedric covered his own eyes with the back of his hand.

  ‘Enough,’ he said in a whisper. ‘Don’t forget we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves,’ he reminded her nervously.

  ‘And don’t you forget,’ said Pinchkin sternly, ‘that I will not allow a devious tongue to cloud our judgement.’ Her iridescent eyes slowly subsided into glowing gems. She continued to stare menacingly at Cedric. ‘And never,’ she warned, ‘refer to anything I say as of being inconsequential.’

  Cedric, his eyes averted, held a hand up in submission. ‘I never,’ he stumbled, ‘intended to imply anything of the sort.’ Cedric swallowed nervously. ‘I have no desire to appear discourteous or judgemental.’ He indicated the other occupants of the eating-house. ‘Shouldn’t we be on our way? I fear we’ve drawn too much attention to ourselves.’

  Cedric’s last words seemed to be aimed towards Ben, who appeared to be just about to protect when Telu laid a warning on his arm. Her eyes smiled at him. With the warmth of a blush spreading rapidly across his face, Ben gave her an embarrassed smile in return. With a little giggle, Telu pulled the scarf that had been curled lazily around her neck and handed it to him. Gazing at the pearlescent scarf, he saw that it changed colour as it moved, reflecting any background it was held against. Telu watched Ben’s face as it appeared baffled by both the gift of a scarf and its ability to change colour.

  ‘Something to remember me by,’ she smiled, by way of distraction. ‘You never know, it might provide a touch of comfort when you least expect it,’ she added cryptically.

  Ben smiled weakly and was just stuffing the scarf into his cloak when a commotion at the door of the eating-house caused him to look up. Across the room, Ben saw two Jaresh guards roughly push past bushy greybeard. Grabbing the nearest person from their seated position, one of the guards lifted the wriggling body towards the ceiling. Making a series of guttural noises, the guard looked intently at his captive and then dropped the terrified creature onto the floor. Everyone within reach of the guard’s arms cowered as low as they could in their seats. The two Jaresh guards strode forward, carefully scanning the room.

  ‘Ben, quick,’ whispered Pinchkin urgently. ‘Open the book.’

  ‘There isn’t time,’ urged Cedric, as he began to rise from his seat. Pinchkin pushed Ben’s arm roughly.

  ‘Just do as I say,’ she said sternly.

  Ben tugged the book from under his cloak and let the book fall open. He stared at the pages. Glaring back at him was a picture of a steaming apple pie with what appeared to be the recipe underneath. As he looked at the picture, small wisps of steam rose from the page.

  ‘I don’t see what good…’ began Ben.

  ‘Can’t explain now,’ said Pinchkin tersely. ‘Hold the book up, boy.’

  Doing as he was told, Ben held the book at arms length. As he did so, steam poured from the pages and quickly began to envelop him.

  ‘Quickly now,’ urged Pinchkin. ‘All of you walk into the steam.’

  The rising steam hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Jaresh guards. With a loud series of grunts, the guards began to push their way through the crowd of eaters.

  Without any further complaint, Ben and his companions huddled together in the steam. Now holding the book close, Ben felt himself pushed away from the table. Suddenly hands grasped his face and he saw Telu’s eyes looking into his. She quickly leaned forward and kissed his nose.

  ‘For the journey,’ she whispered, her words becoming lost in the voluminous wraps of the steam.

  Ben felt himself blush once again but the speed at which his body was propelled by unknown hands didn’t allow him time to dwell on his embarrassment. Within seconds he felt a cold draught of air on his face.

  ‘Now,’ hissed Pinchkin, ‘follow me.’

  Chapter 14

  After what seemed like an age of chasing the outline of the dark cloak in front of him, Ben at last felt the pace slowing. Snatches of early morning sky began to reveal dark, brooding houses that glowered down at the passing group. Still holding the steaming book in front of him, Ben, his lungs burning, gradually came to a halt in a doorway. Instantly, Pinchkin was at his side, her hands closing the book.

  ‘I don’t think we need the steam now,’ she smiled.

  Ben, his eyes partially glazed and his mind preoccupied with getting oxygen into his lungs, burbled a response.

  ‘I fully understand,’ grinned Pinchkin. ‘The book took me by surprise the first time I held it too.’

  By this time, the rest of the group were congregated around the doorway. Each snuggling into their cloaks as protection from the cold that seemed to ignore their clothing and cling directly to the skin. Cedric pulled the collar of his cloak as high as it would go, partly to shield his face from the biting wind and partly not to be recognised.

  ‘It’s best that we don’t loiter,’ he said tersely, his words partly muffled by his collar. ‘I have no intention of being a guest of the Jaresh nor,’ he added as his tongue traced the outline of his teeth, ‘do I have any intention of allowing those scaly creatures the luxury of adding to their jewellery collection.’

  As one, the rest of the group pursed their lips. Ben couldn’t help smiling.

  ‘You lot look daft,’ he said.

  ‘You’re a fine one to talk,’ snapped Mak, his lips contorting in anger. ‘Nothing about you fits, nothing fits you and you’re fit for nothing!’

  Ben lurched forward angrily, his progress suddenly impeded by the intervention of Telu’s hand. ‘No,’ she said quietly, ‘that’s the last thing we need.’

  Ben allowed himself to be held, finding comfort in Telu’s touch.

  ‘I think,’ said Pinchkin, taking a deep breath, ‘we’d better move and move quickly.’ She nodded at Cedric who, without further comment, bent himself into the wind and began to stride away. After a few steps he stopped, looked around and waved an arm at the rest of the group. ‘The rest of you follow Pinchkin,’ he said, almost as an after-thought. After a short pause, where he seemed to be pondering on some thought or other, he nodded to the group. ‘I won’t say goodbye, nor will I wish you luck. As far as I’m concerned this is not goodbye and luck will not help you succeed.’ He pulled his cloak clo
ser to his throat. ‘May the hand of the Great Designer be with you,’ he intoned, and with that Cedric walked briskly into the alleyway and within moments was nothing more than a recent memory.

  Pinchkin remained silent. Without a word she walked in the opposite direction without looking around to see if the others would follow. Telu nudged Ben.

  ‘You need to follow,’ she whispered encouragingly.

  ‘But?’ stammered Ben.

  Telu smiled.

  ‘Soon,’ she grinned and brushed her lips against his cheek. A moment later Telu disappeared with a swirl of her dark cloak.

  Small streams of tears began to trickle down Ben’s face. He tried to convince himself that it was the biting wind that was the cause of the tears, but he knew better. Apart from Pinchkin, Telu was the only person that had shown him any kindness that, coupled with the fact that he thought her extremely attractive, made him feel the loss of her presence keenly.

  The group moved quickly as windows and doorways scurried by in a blur. Vague figures went about their business with hardly a glance or acknowledgement of the passing group. Every few moments Ben would rub his eyes and try to focus on the path below his feet. With each step forward the cold wind would whip across his damp face, scratching at his skin, making walking a battle with pain. To make matters worse, the smells from the dustbin overspill, which hung like a garland around each bin, would reach out and attempt to embrace each passing traveller in its awful stench.

  Ben couldn’t help tugging his collar over his nose. It was a futile gesture, which neither filtered out the stench nor biting wind, but it made him feel as if he were doing something rather than being a victim of the odorous chill.

  Pinchkin, apparently impervious or ignorant of the cold and smells, took a moment to check that the lads had followed her. Raising her eyebrows, she gave a shrug of her shoulders.

  ‘It does niff a bit,’ she said with a look of regret. ‘It’s always the same. We never know for sure which day the bin lifters will come and empty the dustbins. The Jaresh don’t mind the smell, they seem to like it.’

  Noj wrinkled his nose. ‘If you ask me, they only add to the stench.’

  The group laughed nervously. Although nobody actually said how they felt, the laughter helped disguise the fear that lurked in the pit of their stomachs, which rose into their throats like bile at the slightest sound or noise. Hoping not to be seen, Ben surreptitiously pulled the scarf that Telu had given him and held it against his nose. He was immediately enveloped in a warming glow with indistinct images of Telu seemingly floating in front of his eyes. Ben tried to blink the images away and concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other.

  As time passed, so the buildings became gradually smaller and shorter, until all that remained of the town were a few decrepit wooden huts, that had long since given up standing against the wind and now allowed each gust to pass through unhindered. With bent backs and heads bowed, the group had barely noticed the dark sky slip smoothly into daylight.

  Time and structures built by hand now passed into memory as the group trudged on. With the cold wind being the only thing that remained constant, nobody commented on the changing landscape that appeared more wild and foreboding with each step. At first, when they’d emerged from the confines of the city, the group had been able to see for a short distance with shadows concealing what lay ahead and to either side. Now, as the sky had yielded to the rising sun, the shadows had slowly evaporated leaving a landscape clothed in pale gold.

  After a while, although the sun still ruled the sky, the fields and hedgerows seemed to resent the intrusion of figures alien to the terrain by poking and prodding at them as they passed. Eventually, the hedgerows gave way to trees whose branches stretched out inquisitively at the group of strangers. Disregarding the curiosity of the trees, Ben eased Telu’s scarf from his nose, allowing it to fall idly around his neck.

  Pausing for a moment, Pinchkin turned to beckon the group to her. As she did so, she noticed something odd about Ben. As he stood there, with his cloak wide open, his head appeared to be floating above his shoulders. Placing a finger against her lips, she lowered her head towards him.

  ‘What’s happened to your neck?’ she enquired quietly.

  Ben patted his neck in reassurance.

  ‘Nothing,’ he whispered looking curiously at Pinchkin.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked with a smile. Before Ben could answer Pinchkin stroked the gap between Ben’s head and his shoulders. ‘I think it advisable to remove Telu’s scarf for now.’ Pinchkin laughed under her breath. ‘She didn’t mention the scarf’s special properties then?’ enquired Pinchkin.

  ‘What properties?’ asked Ben unwrapping the scarf from around his neck. As he did so the gap between his shoulders and head reappeared as quickly as it had disappeared. Pinchkin gently removed the scarf from Ben’s hand and wrapped it, turban-like, around her head. Immediately the top half of Pinchkin’s head disappeared, as if someone had sliced the top of her head off.

  ‘Strewth!’ exclaimed Ben. ‘What have you done?’

  Pinchkin removed the scarf and tucked it inside Ben’s cloak.

  ‘The scarf has the ability to reflect its surroundings and make whatever it is wrapped around appear to have disappeared.’ Pinchkin patted Ben on the shoulder. ‘A useful party trick and you never know,’ she added with a wink, ‘it might have other uses.’

  Ben shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘What next?’ he asked looking skywards.

  Pinchkin’s face suddenly looked very sad. Her eyes appeared to fade, losing their usual, intense vibrancy. She looked at the four boys and sighed.

  ‘It’s here my journey ends and yours begins,’ she said, unable to disguise the anxiety in her voice. ‘It is time for us to part.’

  “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” quoted Ben, trying to lighten the darkening mood. He forced a smile despite the bitter wind, which still blew ferociously.

  ‘What?’ exclaimed the three youths. Noj sighed. ‘What are you on about?’ he asked, shaking his head at Ben.

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Ben quickly. ‘Just something an old bloke wrote.’

  Pinchkin smiled knowingly. ‘Such a strange child,’ she said softly. ‘Seemingly so flippant to the eye, yet such a weight on his shoulders.’

  ‘Too right,’ grumbled Mak. ‘A proper big head.’

  Noj, anticipating an angry reaction, stepped in front of Ben. ‘You need to get out more,’ he said, patting him on the shoulder. Ben scuffed his foot along the floor, causing a mini avalanche of gravel to slide into the ditch etched into the side of the path. Pinchkin placed her arm around Ben’s shoulders and briefly hugged him.

  It’s often the case,’ she said soothingly. ‘That the mouth, being closer to the brain, speaks louder than the heart.’

  Ben kicked out at more loose gravel. ‘I’m wasting my time listening to you lot. Let’s get on with whatever it is we’re supposed to be getting on with, the sooner I can find out how to get home.’ Turning his back on the rest of the group, Ben stared at the large swathe of tall, wild grass, which stretched out in front of him. Gazing at the patterns the gusting wind made as it toyed with the grass, he felt a chill drift through his body. Gripping his cloak tightly around his throat, Ben looked towards where the grass eventually merged into the dense mass of forest a couple of hundred metres away. He felt lost, his head was full of questions and nobody seemed to want to give him an answer to any of them. Ignoring the rest of the group a few metres away, Ben wandered into the swaying grass, his eyes half closed and wishing he was anywhere but where he was.

  After a couple of steps his feet struggled to make any progress. It seemed that the harder he pushed against the grass the more it gathered around his feet. Ben looked anxiously towards Pinchkin and the others, but any words he had to say were lost in a strangled yelp as his legs were suddenly pulled violently from under him. The impact of the fall stole his breath. No sooner had Ben forced his mouth open in search
of air, than he was jerked violently along the ground, his head bouncing against every divot and stone.

  Pinchkin and the others, on hearing Ben’s surprised yelp, rushed after his rapidly disappearing body. Noj, who was far more used to moving quickly across rough ground, ran past Ben and stood in front of the seemingly impenetrable wall of trees. With his feet braced against the earth, Noj held both of his hands up towards the trees.

  ‘Cease!’ he yelled as loudly as he could. Ben’s body slowed momentarily. Noj held his hands further towards the sky. ‘I repeat,’ he shouted. ‘Let go of the boy, he travels with me.’

  A shudder ran through the trees and Ben’s body came to a stop. Pinchkin was the first to reach Ben and, as she bent down to rest a hand against his head, thin, reedy tendrils slowly unwound themselves from Ben’s legs and shrivelled into the woody gloom.

  Ben allowed his head to sink into the embrace of Pinchkin’s hands. His chest heaved with the effort of drawing breath. As he lay there, a mixture of pain and exhaustion flowed through his body. He sighed and his eyes flickered open to see Pinchkin’s concerned features staring down at him. An apologetic voice, which didn’t belong to PInchkin, reached his ear.

  ‘I’m sorry about that, Ben,’ said Noj, crouching beside him. He looked thoughtfully at the brooding forest. ‘I can’t explain what happened there,’ he said, with a slight shrug of the shoulders.

  Ben raised himself up on one elbow. ‘Very helpful, I’m sure,’ he replied sarcastically. ‘You could have warned me that something strange lurked in the tall grass.’

  ‘There was only one strange thing lurking in the tall grass that I could see,’ muttered Mak angrily.

  ‘Sssh, sssh,’ interrupted Pinchkin soothingly. ‘None of you know what strange is, yet,’ she sighed.

  The four boys exchanged a brief glance with each other before Pinchkin coughed for attention.

  ‘Thoughts? She asked enquiringly of Noj.

  Noj shook his head slowly from side to side. ‘Corylus Serpenta,’ he murmured.