“He did sink our ship captain.” said one of the warriors sheepishly.
“And destroy the lighthouse too.” said the other.
“Been there for thousands of years has that lighthouse.” said another voice from the crowd.
“Wahid.” said the captain almost quietly, giving the impression that the creature’s patience was rapidly running out, “and Ybarro. You too. Drop your weapons.” There was a slight pause. “NOW.” glared the captain and the night was suddenly filled with the sound of two weapons being very quickly sheathed. The captain sighed and turned to face Paul again, then held the small piece of paper up to his face., reading it carefully.
“Stranger.” began the captain solemnly. The camp was very quiet now. “Known now as Master Pool. You are hereby charged with wanton destruction of the property of his most revered honour, the Keel; namely his ship the Axe, and the lighthouse at Smuggler's run by fire and destruction.”
“It was just an accident.” Sighed Paul, but the captain continued.
“In your defence we mitigate the sentence with regards the rescue of our esteemed shipmate and cook, Flip. A most brave and foolhardy act which nevertheless secured the revival of said cook and his subsequent miraculous recovery by you breathing your air in him.”
“It was nothing.” smiled Paul, feeling that finally things were beginning to go his way. He rubbed at his sore arm subconsciously, the flesh feeling warm to the touch. Yet he felt chilled too.
“I shall take counsel from my two officers, Throg and Grun as to your sentence.” Two of the creatures stood up and were led away by the captain to the far side of the camp where they sat down in a circle, heads almost pressed together, muttering loudly. Paul noticed however that they were still on the camp side of the small white stones laid out in a circle around them.
“Sentence?” gasped Paul sitting down again. Flip clapped him on his back, smiling broadly.
“It is a custom we have here Master Pool.” he said, “The Keel demands retribution for the loss of his property. Even by sending a bird with a note to Anchor Bay we would not be able to reach there for at least ninety day’s swift march at best.” The cook frowned slightly. “That is to say if we had a bird.” He smiled again. “A bird that we have not yet eaten that is to say.”
“Anchor bay.” said Paul, desperately trying to place the name in his head but drawing a blank. “Where is that?” his head reeling, his primary question became too much for him to hold in at all. “In fact., where are we at all? What is this place?” desperation seemed to creep into his voice. “Where am I, Flip? I have no idea where any of this place is at all!”
“Where are you?” smiled Flip innocently. “Don’t you know?”
“As far as I am concerned this is all some sort of weird dream.” sighed Paul, “From which hopefully I wake up before that lot over there…” he pointed at the commander and his officers huddled together, “decide to do something unsavoury.”
Flip looked at him in complete confusion and then shook his head.
“We are on the south road.” he said finally, and seeing no recognition on Paul’s face continued, “Heading south on a road that would eventually lead us to Sulodien.”
“Sulodien?” repeated Paul.
“Yes.” said Flip, nodding his head firmly, “The Steel Keep. Not that we are headed that way though. May be trouble if we did, and that’s no mistake. Before we get that far we will head west and then north by northwest through the Black Root forest then on to Anchor bay, the home of the Keel.”
“Your king.” said Paul simply. His head was reeling. He did not recognise any of these names at all!
“Not a king, remember? We have a council. The Green Council we name it.” smiled Flip. “Before that I imagine we will head for the Inn named by the largers as The Last Oak Inn at Five Roads Crossing to top up on supplies.
Paul could not help but look confused.
“We did leave the ship in rather a hurry.” smiled Flip, “And the biscuits do get a little… well… boring if it's all you eat day after day.”
“Yes mumbled Paul, “What about Ambleside?”
“Ambleside?” asked Flip, his ears twitching in confusion.
“Buttermere?” Seeing no recognition on Flip’s face he continued, “Windermere. Hawkshead.” Flip just sat shaking his head.
“Never heard of them master Pool.” he said.
“Then where the hell am I?” he asked, and Flip still sat still, confusion on his face.
“Well overall you are in the continent of Felastia.” he said finally and Paul sighed. Flip pulled a stick from beside him and began poking at the fire.
“You are lost.” he said finally.
“Damned right I am.” spat Paul, a little more bitterly than he meant to. “All I remember is walking on the fells in The Lake District and the rain. A storm too. Then a bright blue flash.” Paul looked into the fire, his attention drawn to the flames.
“Sometimes you just have to get on with it. Go with the flow.” said a familiar voice in his ears, and in the fire danced for a moment the bright red tresses of the impossible woman, fading back into flame and embers just as quick as it had appeared.
“Perhaps I was struck by lightning.” he mumbled and Flip suddenly looked quite animated.
“Lightning did hit the lighthouse a little while before it exploded.” said Flip simply, “We observed it from the ship. Quite a strong fork of lightning it was too. It was a wonder that it did not ignite the tower itself.”
“I don’t know.” mumbled Paul, but he did think that for now he would just have to get on with it, dream or not. Living from day to day had worked so far and he set his teeth with a grim determination to carry on letting that be the case on an ongoing basis.
As if by summons at this point the captain and his two officers stood and walked back towards them, grim looks on their faces, their strides full of purpose.
“This doesn’t look as if it’s going too well for me.” said Paul, and even Flip managed to look worried.
Once again the piece of paper was held up by the captain.
“Stranger.” said the captain. The camp was even quieter than before. “Known now as Master Pool. You are hereby charged with wanton destruction of the property of his most revered honour, the Keel; namely his ship the Axe, and the lighthouse at Smuggler's run by fire and destruction. As captain of this crew of Groblettes-Ra I am invested with the justice of the Keel to carry out his wishes as I see fit, referring of course to the sinking of the Axe and the destruction of the Keel’s property of the lighthouse. The Keel is a fair man, though he regards any wilful destruction of what is his as a slight to not just his authority but also his rule.
The sentence for this crime is therefore deemed to be that of being hung, drawn and quartered, with your body parts being cast to the four winds, both north and south and east and west.
“What?” gasped Paul incredulously, and besides him he felt Trip gasp too.
“Yet he saved me from dying at the falls.” said the small cook and Paul nodded furiously.
“Yes I did.” stammered Paul. He considered running, but he knew he would not get far. The Groblettes seemed to be capable of a great turn of speed when the urge took them.
“Indeed.” smiled the captain. “we have taken these mitigating circumstances into consideration of course and so therefore have decided to commute the sentence.
“Good.” said Flip besides Paul, who felt that he was actually incapable of speech at all.
“Yes.” continued the captain, “We have decided to commute the sentence and according to the justice of the Keel we have decided to carry out a much more lenient sentence.
Paul was still convinced that it was highly likely that he was dreaming all of this, but his dream was rapidly coming to be more like a nightmare.
“Yes. We have decided that being hung drawn and quartered is a little extreme given the fact that you did save the cook here from drowning in the falls.” The captai
n slapped Paul on the back heartily. “Well done.”
“Therefore we have commuted the sentence to a much lighter one.”
“Excellent.” smiled Paul, steadying himself on his feet, “So what is it to be then?”
“The lighter sentence is we feel given with good grace for the assistance you have given to our comrade.” Paul found himself wishing that the captain would just get on with it.
“We therefore sentence you to death by beheading.”
Paul gasped as the captain rolled up the paper and replaced it in the its belt. From behind it somebody passed the captains large axe which the creature wielded easily, the dark metal blade glinting evilly in the starlight.
“Sentence to be carried out immediately.” smiled the captain and the two officers grabbed Paul by each arm and dragged him to a large tree stump just inside the circle of white stones.
“Hang on!” screamed Paul, “Flip! Do something!”
In the darkness the captain raised the axe high above its head and prepared to strike.
Chapter Nine
Miscellaneous goods
Paul screamed as his head was forced down onto the tree stump. There were raised voices from all around the camp but he was too busy panicking to be able to focus on any of them. Wahid held him by his left arm, Ybarro by the right, his lower arm stinging brightly as he was held firm. Wahid he noticed finally seemed to be smiling as if he was going to enjoy what was about to happen.
“Thus falls the Keel’s justice.” he heard the captain say, and he held his breath. Paul wondered if you could you die in a dream? He thought quite possibly you could.
“Are there any last words?” shouted the captain, and Paul gurgled, incapable of speech, his tongue stuck tight to the roof of his mouth.
“Just one thing.” said Flip from somewhere behind him, and he tried to turn his head to see the cook but he could not move. “I feel that the Keel would be at best displeased at this turn of events, and at worst possibly looking for a scapegoat to take it out on.”
“Why’s that then?” greeted the captain, the weight of the axe no doubt beginning to weigh heavily in the creature’s hands.
“Well you know the Keel.” smiled Flip glibly, “he does like to be kept informed, and it seems to me that there are all sorts of reasons why we should present Master Pool to him rather than just offer him a gift of a head in a sack.
“Me too!” shouted Paul from where he was being held, his neck nestled on the tree stump snugly. Paul was not surprised to find that despite being a good two feet taller than either of the Groblettes holding him, he could not struggle free or indeed move at all. The small creatures were remarkably strong for their size! Paul thought it was like being held by two well-oiled vices.
“So you would rather we present the intruder Paul to the Keel personally rather than just sort the problem out ourselves?”
“Indeed.” said the small cook.”
“Denied.” said the captain and turning away from the cook began once again to ready the axe for the killing blow.
“Noooooo!” screamed Paul just as Flip moved to stand between the captain and Paul’s trembling neck.
“What now?” growled the captain, a look of sheer annoyance appearing on the creature’s face.
“I also have saver’s rights.” smiled Flip and the captain reluctantly lowered the axe.
The captain looked at Flip in confusion. “Saver’s rights only applies to small sailing craft and animals.” he sniffed haughtily. “It doesn’t apply to Master Pool here.” he growled fiercely.
“Just look at him,” said Flip, an edge of pity in the cook’s voice.
“I am.” said the captain, “and he ain’t either a rowing boat or a cow.” The axe began to rise once again. Flip did not move.
“Yes but what is he?”” said the cook, “he is definitely not from around here. In fact, he professes that he has no idea where he is at all.”
“True enough.” grumbled the captain, “he does keep asking anyone who will listen where he is,
“Miscellaneous goods.” said Flip, pushing the axe down again. “That’s what he is. Stands to reason. He ain’t a boat and he ain’t a cow either. Seems perfectly plain to me. Miscellaneous goods is what he is. Nice and simple, is that. So I demand saver’s rights on the unclassified goods that are Master Pool. As he saved me you know the tradition, Beezle.”
The captain smiled at being outwitted, and lowered the axe.
“Very well.” sighed Beezle. “I don’t think we need to keep Master Pool shackled either.” The captain lifted the shaking Paul from the tree stump with one hand and stared into Paul’s wide eyes, “Not thinking of running away, are we Master Pool?”
“Absolutely not.” quivered Paul and with a loud snort Beezle dropped Paul to the ground and muttering, made off around the campfire.
“There we are Master Pool.” said Flip, rubbing the trembling back of the intruder in a show of sympathy, “I knew that declaring saver’s rights would do the trick.”
“Well why didn’t you mention it before then?” gasped Paul, “The captain nearly beheaded me then!”
“Oh she’s not too bad,” smiled Flip, “quite reasonable in fact when it comes to the crunch.”
“She?” stuttered Paul, and Flip nodded.
“Of course.” said the cook, “Beezle is of the female persuasion. I am amazed you did not notice, quite frankly.”
Paul managed to give a low moan as Flip led him back to the campfire where he sat hurriedly down rubbing first at his aching neck and then his right arm. He noticed that several of the Groblettes sat around the fire were smiling, though not all were.
“Thank you Flip.” smiled Paul, touching the cook on his arm, “I thought I was done for then.”
“Not a problem.” smiled the Groblette. “Not a problem at all.
***
After the food was eaten the Groblettes began to settle down for the night and Paul found himself lying beside Flip, the cook fussily making up a bed roll for himself beside him. Eventually after much mumbling and shuffling about the Groblette finally settled down.
“What were those things in the mine?” asked Paul dreamily, yet another question bubbling up into his mind.
“Shades.” said Flip quietly, “though it is best not to talk of such things once night has fallen.”
“Did you know they would be there when we went in to get the mushrooms?” he asked and the Groblette nodded.
“Long has it been since that mine was a working concern.”
Paul frowned. It was not an answer to his question, but Flip did not look as if he was going to be any more forthcoming.
Paul found himself shivering at the memory of being captured by the shade, and he subconsciously rubbed his arm. It was still warm to the touch even though it felt cold, though the dull throb was fading somewhat.
“I see.” whispered Paul, “was I really saved by an owl?”
“An owl?” laughed Flip, “I don’t think owls do much saving really, do they now?”
“You didn’t see it?” said Paul, “it flew into the cave and hooted at them. The minute the shades saw it they backed off.”
“We didn’t see any owl.” said Flip in confusion. “When we entered the cave I think our torches made the creatures flee.”
“No owl?” queried Paul.
“No owl.” smiled Flip, and Paul turned on his back to look at the moon and the stars again. He found himself fading off to sleep.
A little time passed.
“Is Beezle really a woman?” asked Paul and he heard Flip chuckle from close by.
“Really is a woman, Master Pool.” said the cook and Paul smiled.
“My name is Paul you know. Not Pool.”
Paul felt silence descend and for a moment he thought that the cook was asleep.
“Pore - el.” said Flip quietly from the darkness, “I am sorry master Pore-el that I mispronounced your name.”
“Paul.” said Paul.
&nb
sp; “Paul.” repeated the Groblette and both chuckled. Soon after Paul felt his eyes begin to close against the night. Shortly after he heard the cook snoring gently beside him.
He dreamed of the stars high above; the moon. Then in his dreams he was running through the caves once again, the murmuring of the shades from behind him growing nearer and nearer as he dodged outstretched hands clutching at him that shot from the cave walls like spring loaded traps. Then he was calm and out in the air again. He looked around and he was obviously in a large forest in the night. The canopy of leaves and tree branches obscured the sky and stars above, so dense was the foliage.
Underfoot, long dark roots jutted at all angles across the forest floor, making any passage through the undergrowth almost impossible. The dark, tangled roots were almost arterial, the gurgle of the wind through the trees soft and whispering. At that point he realised that he was being watched, and he stopped in a small gap in the roots, looking around, peering into the darkness. The wood was dark to the point of gloom and Paul wondered if sunlight ever reached there. At night however it seemed to take on a life of its own.
It was then that he saw a tall shrouded figure in amongst the trees watching him. He stepped forward almost instinctively and as he did so caught his foot in one of the roots and fell sprawling to the ground. He startled and looked up. The campfire was a little way behind him, and a few paces further where the line of white stones scattered about the camp.
He looked around in confusion. Had he been sleep walking? He patted himself down. Finding no damage, he shuffled to his feet. The camp was in silence, and so he approached the stones laid out encircling the camp, each a small distance from each other. The gap seemed to be uniform but it was difficult to tell in the starlit darkness.
Paul wondered what they were and he moved forward a few paces so that he was still inside the circle, but much nearer to the small fist sized stones. He knelt down and examined one of the rocks. It was perfectly smooth and appeared to be made of a white stone that had no veins or cracks. It looked in fact like a small white ball, yet it was definitely made of stone. He reached out to touch the rock and as his hand approached it he felt a small, deep tremble in the air as he did so. He drew his hand back and the sensation faded. He reached out again. There was definitely a humming, bass-like feeling resonating from the rock. He pulled his hand back and stood up. Perhaps he would leave the stones alone for now.
Into the Light- Lost in Translation Page 10