ISOF

by Pete Townsend

  Ben grimaced. ‘What are you on about?’ he asked testily. ‘It sounds like you’ve still got some apple pie in your mouth.’

  Noj smiled and smacked Ben jokingly on the shoulder. ‘Serpent hazel,’ he explained. ‘Normally a very well behaved tree that is a pleasure to have around unless …’

  ‘Unless what?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Unless you’re a threat to the forest,’ replied Noj. He looked quizzically at Ben. ‘Are you who you say you are?’

  ‘I didn’t say I was anything,’ moaned Ben. ‘And I’m certainly not a threat to the forest or anything else for that matter,’ he added.

  Noj nodded. ‘Agreed,’ he smiled. ‘But that still doesn’t explain why the hazel acted so maliciously towards you.’ He looked towards the forest, his eyes seemingly able to penetrate its depths. After a few moments, Noj shook his head. ‘Something’s wrong,’ he mused. ‘The whole forest is twitching.’

  Ben sat up and looked directly at Noj. ‘And you think I’m strange,’ he scoffed. ‘You ought to listen to yourself someday.’ He stood up and began to brush various bits of plant debris from his clothes. Ben swallowed. His throat felt dry and sore. He spat a couple of bits of grass from his mouth and looked around at the others. ‘Barking, the lot of you,’ he spat again.

  Seeing his unease, Pinchkin calmly walked forward, took Ben’s hand and gently led him towards what looked like the beginnings of a sheep track meandering through the grass. Directing his gaze with a brief nod of her head, Ben saw how the spindly track casually wound its way around the clumps of grass, gradually getting wider as it neared the edge of the forest. Behind them, Noj, Mak and Trep huddled together and cast the occasional glance in Ben’s direction.

  ‘What’s with them,’ asked Ben with a jerk of his head towards the boys, while nervously looking at the ground for any sign of Corylus Serpenta.

  Pinchkin smiled and gently brushed a strand of hair from Ben’s forehead. ‘Never mind them,’ she soothed. ‘They’re as perplexed about things as you are.’ She sighed quietly to herself. ‘There are so many things ahead of you that I wonder whether it’s too much for you all to bear?’

  ‘If we knew the future,’ replied Ben, looking ahead at the forest. ‘Then we’d only try to change it to suit ourselves.’ He smiled at Pinchkin. ‘Perhaps we’re better knowing less and learning more as events unfold.’

  With a smiling sigh, Pinchkin brushed Ben’s forehead once again. ‘Almost wise before his time,’ she murmured. ‘It’s such a pity you’ll need to recognise your worth, young man, sooner than you would choose.’

  Ben, only hearing part of Pinchkin’s comment, shrugged his shoulders and smiled. ‘Out of the mouths of babes and infants,’ he replied, as if he’d understood everything she had said.

  ‘I think you’ll find that the complete quote should be: “Out of the mouth of babes and infants, you have established strength because of your enemies, to still the enemy and the avenger,” corrected Pinchkin.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Ben, his eyes wandering over to Noj, Trep and Mak. The three boys returned Ben’s look with a cold stare. Ben shivered. ‘I don’t think they are too pleased to have me around,’ he said, as Pinchkin noticed the les than friendly looks being directed toward Ben. She touched Ben’s cheek softly.

  ‘You each have a vital role to play before this land is free from oppression and truth is restored.’

  ‘And then I get to go home?’

  ‘Oh you’ll be home and back again before you know it,’ grinned Pinchkin.

  ‘What?’

  Pinchkin tapped her nose.

  ‘Ask Briel,’ was all she said. Without commenting further, she tugged Ben’s sleeve and nodded to the other three to follow.

  Pinchkin strode across the grass before coming to a halt next to the rough dirt track, which wound its way around the first trees, and soon disappeared out of sight. Running alongside the track, a stream rippled its way into the forest. Nobody spoke. The sound of their breath seemed deafening in the quietness. Even the rippled chimes of the stream seemed subdued, almost uncomfortable at the sound of its journey.

  Pinchkin, staring into the forest, allowed her eyes to slowly digest every shadow. Turning to the group, her eyes moist, she held out her hand towards Ben.

  ‘Let me have the book for a moment,’ she asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

  ‘I thought that I was the only one who…’

  Pinchkin shook her head slowly. ‘For a moment,’ she said softly, ‘the book recognises my need.’

  She took the offered book and knelt quietly by the stream. After flicking through a few pages she seemed to find the place she wanted. Without looking at the group, she began to read from the book, her voice a melodious sound against the chiming waters of the stream.

  Ben’s mouth fell open at the sound emanating from Pinchkin. Although she appeared to be reading from the book, her voice was a series of musical notes, which combined to make a harmony that swirled around them, rising ever higher until becoming a distant refrain with the wind.

  Pinchkin, holding the book carefully with one hand, leaned forward and cupped her hand in the stream. Her voice continued to soar towards the clouds as she slowly allowed the water to trickle through her fingers onto the ground in front of her.

  With Pinchkin’s choir-like voice still sounding in their ears, the boys began to feel a tremor beneath their feet. Gradually, the gently vibrating ground began to resonate with the melody surrounding them.

  Suddenly everything went quiet. Pinchkin, her mouth now closed, looked intently at the ground before her. Slowly kneeling down, she began patting a small area of soil. In response, the soil started to shift, slowly rising up to form a small mound. From the top of the mound emerged two delicate leaves, which began to grow until within seconds a bush of vibrant green grew before them.

  Ben, swiftly followed by the other three, took a few steps back, unsure what was going to happen next. The bush, resplendent in the few shafts of sunlight breaking through the clouds, appeared to shimmer for a moment and then several leaves unfurled to reveal a small round red fruit. Calmly, Pinchkin reached forward, placed two fingers either side of the fruit and plucked it from the bush. Immediately the bush, now relieved of its one fruit, withered and within a blink of an eye all that remained was a few strands of wooden stubble.

  Pinchkin knelt quietly for a while, cradling the fruit in the palm of her hand. She didn’t look at the fruit or make a comment about what had just happened. Ben, part out of impatience and part curiosity, made an enquiring cough. Without looking at him, Pinchkin nodded.

  ‘Just a moment, Ben,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘Some things cannot be rushed.’ The boys shrugged at each other, unsure what to do or say. After a few moments of shuffling their feet, Noj nudged Ben.

  ‘Go on,’ he said under his breath. ‘Cough again.’

  Ben raised his eyebrows and, with a quick glance at Pinchkin, shook his head.

  ‘It’s OK, Ben,’ she said smiling. ‘It’s time we began.’

  She cupped the fruit in both hands and raised them towards the sky. The fruit, unlike the bush it had so quickly grown on, looked vibrant in its deep red shell. Pinchkin stared into the forest.

  ‘From the sole fruit of the earth, guarded by the young lives,’ she began as Trep held his head in his hands. ‘Good grief,’ he groaned angrily. ‘You’re not going to go off on some long-winded speech about the perils that are before us, the future of all resting on the shoulders of innocent lives and such garbage?’

  Pinchkin smiled. ‘Well,’ she grinned. ‘I was thinking something along those lines, something eloquent and meaningful.’

  ‘Spare us the monologue,’ spat Trep, his eyes blazing. He nodded at the fruit clutched in Pinchkin’s hand. ‘You think giving us some fancy fruit will make us feel important.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘What’s the point?’

  The point is,’ snapped Ben, quickly looking at Pinchkin who just stood watching the proceedings with a d
etached air. ‘That somewhere, along our journey, there are clues to follow, puzzles to solve and hazards to avoid. That’s the only way I’ll be able to finish cleaning the fish tank.’

  Trep turned and jabbed Ben hard on the shoulder. ‘When are you going to stop that continuous stream of drivel?’ he growled. ‘You’re as crazy as a newt!’

  Ben took a step back. ‘Well,’ he began, finding it impossible to say anymore with the tip of Trep’s wooden staff jammed hard against his chin.

  ‘Make one more stupid sound,’ threatened Trep. ‘And I’ll crack your skull open like a hazelnut at festival time.’

  Ben pushed the staff angrily away from his face. ‘You lard-brained idiot,’ he yelled, taking a step forward. ‘Do you think I give a flea’s rear about you or what you think of me,’ he fumed. Trep raised the staff above his head. ‘I warned you,’ he roared, starting to bring the wooden pole down violently towards Ben’s head.

  Ben dived to his left just as a shower of bright green sparks exploded immediately above his head. Glancing upwards he saw Trep’s staff being held skywards by Noj’s staff. Where they made contact, the wooden poles burned with a green fluorescence that hissed with such intensity that Ben instantly covered his ears. The two figures circled each other, their poles virtually welded together.

  ‘Wow,’ murmured Ben, ‘light sabres!’

  Pinchkin waved a warning finger at Ben, her eyes cold and stern in the green glow.

  Another burst of sparks erupted as the poles momentarily parted before forcibly coming together again. ‘Back off,’ shouted Noj, as Trep considered another strike with his staff.

  ‘Are you man enough to enforce your words?’ goaded Trep, carefully trying to anticipate any move Noj might make.

  Noj slowly shook his head. ‘I’m simply trying to stop you spending the rest of the day feeling guilty for your thoughtless actions,’ he replied coolly.

  ‘Guilty?’ snorted Trep. ‘What’s to feel guilty about? Except not braining the useless oaf much earlier!’ His last words were accompanied by a lunge forward as he attempted to catch Noj unawares. Not in the least surprised, Noj simply stepped sideways and allowed Trep’s momentum to propel him forwards. As Trep’s body hurtled towards him, Noj brought his staff down sharply across Trep’s back, sending him sprawling onto the grass.

  For a few moments, Trep lay where he’d fallen, panting and trying hard not to gasp at the pain that clawed at his back. Standing above him, Noj looked down at the dishevelled figure lying on the grass. A mixture of guilt and triumph filled his emotions. He allowed his wooden staff to hand idly by his side.

  ‘I’m sorry, Trep,’ began Noj. ‘But you really shouldn’t try to attack a defenceless outsider.’

  Trep groaned slightly as he struggled to raise himself onto one knee. Keeping a firm grip on his staff, Trep slowly turned his face towards Noj. ‘Perhaps not,’ he admitted. ‘But you’re not defenceless …’

  Trep’s sentence culminated in his wooden staff swinging across the grass until it hit Noj sharply below his left knee. Ben winced at the sound of wood making violent contact with skin and bone. Gritting his teeth, Noj slid his free hand down towards the injured knee. He swallowed hard as his fingers felt the rapidly forming welt. Trep stood above Noj, his staff held ready to parry any blow aimed at him.

  ‘Not so high and mighty now then?’ sneered Trep, his feet lightly planted on the grounds to give him maximum mobility should Noj try to attack him. Carefully, Noj rose to his full height, his face flushed with anger. Without warning, he swung the top half of his wooden staff towards Trep’s head. Trep, smiling at the apparent simplicity of the stroke quickly stepped forward under the blow. In a split second he saw the look of satisfaction on Noj’s face and knew that he’d made a mistake. Noj’s staff suddenly stopped in mid-air and then, with a swift twist of his wrists, he reversed the staff and brought it up sharply between Trep’s legs.

  Breath and spittle flew out of Trep’s mouth as he collapsed in a heap on the grass, his hands clasped firmly over the excruciating pain that raged in his groin. Noj dropped his staff and started to kneel down at Trep’s side.

  ‘No!’ said Pinchkin sharply. ‘Leave him to me.’ Swiftly she knelt beside Trep and began to stroke his hair, whispering soothing words into his ear. Mak looked down at his fallen friend and then turned angrily towards Ben.

  ‘Are you happy now?’ he spat.

  ‘What?’ gasped Ben pointing at Trep. ‘I did nothing, he started it.’

  ‘Without you,’ replied Mak fiercely. ‘None of this stupidity would be happening. None of this scurrying around in the dark, hiding from goodness knows what, being asked to …’

  ‘Enough,’ barked Pinchkin. She stood up as Trep managed to cajole his injured body into a sitting position, his head resting wearily on his knees. ‘It’s enough that this journey should begin and end as it must without causing each other unnecessary pain.’ Pinchkin’s eyes blazed as she addressed the lads. ‘On your own you will not be able to achieve that which is intended for you. Together you give each other the hope and support which will allow you to realise your destiny.’

  Mak snorted.

  ‘You really believe that nonsense? Our destiny is in our own hands?’ he questioned, looking at everyone in turn. ‘It’s a load of hogwash.’

  Pinchkin swung her arm forward, causing a breeze that made the grass ripple in an agitated manner. She pointed into the distance.

  ‘You’re head betrays what your heart conceals. You only imagine what you see where darkness reigns.’

  ‘Stop with the nonsense riddles,’ growled Ben. ‘I’m fed-up with all this supposed mystical, airy-fairy, mumbo-jumbo. It’s driving me mad.’ He pulled his cloak tight around his body as a shiver ran along his spine. ‘Why don’t you just fight the Jaresh,’ he mumbled, ‘rather than all this clandestine rubbish?’

  Pinchkin slowly allowed her arm fall limply to her side. With an effort that seemed to drain the life from her features, she inhaled deeply and shook her head.

  ‘These are forces beyond mortal combat,’ replied Pinchkin. ‘We are dealing with unseen powers that are attempting to destroy everything we have known. Our fight is more than mere flesh and blood.’

  Ben shrugged. ‘I know they look mean, but surely the Jaresh aren’t invincible?’

  ‘The Jaresh,’ replied Pinchkin with a slight shake of her head,’ have their vulnerabilities. But it is not the Jaresh we are trying to defeat but the unseen, insidious forces that desire to subjugate and dominate our world.’

  Pinchkin gave an involuntary shudder. ‘I think it’s time you began your journey,’ she said, briefly looking at the four boys and then the forest. ‘From here you must follow the track that enters the forest and continue until you reach a clearing overlooking a series of small hills. Once there, you must cross those hills until you stand at the edge of a gorge. What happens then and where you go from there is up to you. Perhaps it is better that way.’

  She motioned Mak to come closer. As he did Pinchkin placed an arm around his shoulder and whispered into his ear. Mak’s body froze as her words entered his consciousness. He took a step backwards only for Pinchkin to pull him closer once again. Her eyes became moist as she continued to speak quietly. Mak’s head slumped forward and Pinchkin kissed the top of his head. Again he took a step back but this time Pinchkin did nothing but stare sadly at him. Taking the fruit she had earlier cradled in her hands, she pressed it into Mak’s hand. Nodding his acceptance, Mak placed the fruit into his cloak.

  Without another word, Pinchkin wrapped her cloak around her and began the journey back to the town. After a few moments of silence, Ben looked towards Noj.

  ‘That’s it?’ he asked, pulling a face of disgust. ‘No more riddles, rhymes or words of wisdom?’ he asked sarcastically.

  ‘Leave it be,’ said Mak angrily. ‘We have no choice but to follow Pinchkin’s brief words of direction.’

  ‘But Pinchkin seemed to have quite a bit to say to you,’ com
mented Ben with a raised eyebrow.

  Before Mak could reply, Noj intervened.

  ‘Anything that might help us with the journey could be useful,’ he said quietly to Mak.

  For a few moments Mak stood perfectly still. His eyes betrayed his emotions as they began to moisten with knowledge of what was yet to come. He looked directly at Noj.

  ‘Whatever I say will have little bearing on our journey other than, at some stage, I have a fruit and a tree to reunite.’

  ‘Sounds like the least of our worries,’ said Ben with a shrug.

  Trep, who had cautiously began to get to his feet, let out a long, low groan of pain, clutched his injury and immediately slumped back onto his knees. Ben, who was beginning to feel a little guilty about the fight between Noj and Trep, sucked at his bottom lip.

  ‘I think we might need a handcart,’ he suggested, nodding at Trep.

  ‘I think a poultice may be of more comfort,’ commented Mak with a smirk.

  Ben turned his face away, struggling to suppress the laughter that formed in his throat. Noj, eager to avoid further embarrassment for Trep, coughed loudly and then offered a helping hand to his stricken friend.

  ‘A hand?’ he enquired of Trep.

  Trep, feeling equal amounts of injury to his body and his pride, pushed Noj’s hand away brusquely.

  ‘I can manage,’ he said hoarsely, getting to his feet and swaying like a newly born foal.

  A silence enveloped the group for a few moments, with nobody able to think of a suitable comment or word of encouragement. Eventually, Noj shrugged his shoulders and nodded ahead at the track that wound its way into the depths of the forest.

  ‘Look lively, lads,’ he said with a hint of bravado. It was only when Ben finally succumbed to a burst of laughter that Noj realised his mistake. ‘Well, er, sorry,’ he mumbled at Trep. ‘I just meant that we’d better get on and such.’

  With a barely disguised gasp of pain, Trep began to shuffle slowly forward. He managed three steps before his foot hit an unyielding clump of grass. The hiss of escaping breath caused the other three to pause in their stride. Feeling equally annoyed and embarrassed, Trep looked coldly at his audience.