by Joffre White
‘Only one way to find out,’ said Frog, standing up.
Lady Dawnstar felt his movement. ‘What are you doing?’ she said.
‘I’m untying my rope and getting ready to trust Fixer and step out. If we don’t do this together, then everything else has been a waste of time. We will fail.’
In that moment, they all knew that he was right.
When they had checked that they were all free of the ropes, they held hands and felt for the edge of the hole with their feet. Standing there, some of them had tears in their eyes, some were trembling, but all of them felt their hearts in their mouths.
They listened to Frog, his voice growing from a whisper.
‘Faith. Faith. Faith. Faith.’
They joined him, the chant growing stronger. ‘Faith. Faith. Faith. Faith,’ more determined until as one they stepped out into the void as a wind rushed upwards, billowing their hair and clothes around them.
Frog closed his eyes, squeezing them until a couple of tears escaped. Blood pumped through his temples, he waited for the falling sensation, his stomach ready to turn somersaults.
But the fall never came. Instead, a light started to penetrate his eyelids and he cautiously opened them. He looked around the circle to see the others, their eyes wide open in awe. They were all holding hands, the rushing air suspending them in the air above a beam of light, flaring up and out of the hole. Below them, from out of the light, a stone circle was rising, a platform that eventually met their feet and took their weight until they were standing on it. The platform continued to rise, lifting them towards the domed ceiling which gradually peeled open, allowing them to pass through it and into another chamber. A floor sealed around the circular stone base and the light went out. The billowing wind dropped away to stillness. They stood there in silence, each catching their thoughts, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Above them, the night sky was clear and bright. Stars and constellations twinkled and glinted against a deep-blue backdrop of infinity. A comet streaked overhead, majestic in its silence.
‘Look,’ said Frog, letting go of the others’ hands and pointing to the heavens. ‘Right there, it’s Orion’s Belt!’
All eyes followed the direction of his finger. The row of three blue-white stars seemed to magnify themselves in the sky.
‘Orion – the Hunter. He exists in many worlds, many dimensions,’ came a voice from the shadows.
Instinct took over. Lady Dawnstar and Sir Peacealot drew their swords. Logan uncoiled his whip and weighed a throwing knife in his hand as they formed a barrier in front of Frog, Fixer and Ginger.
‘Your bravery is admirable,’ said the voice, its form still hidden. ‘But your weapons have no use in this place.’
Their eyes widened in disbelief as their weapons turned into harmless leaf-covered branches which they dropped to the ground.
‘Then we will fight with flesh and bone,’ said Sir Peacealot, stepping forward in defiance.
‘I see your sleep in the earth has not dulled your wits, Sir Peacealot,’ said the voice.
‘How do you know my name? Who are you? Show yourself or so help me, I’ll come and get you,’ he replied.
‘There’s a thin line between bravery and foolishness, Sir Knight. If you approach me before invited, you wouldn’t like what you see.’
‘Just a minute,’ said Frog, as he pushed his way through and stood beside Sir Peacealot. ‘I know that voice.’ He walked forward to the shadow, crouched down and put his hand out.
The mouse scuttled onto Frog’s palm and looked up at him. ‘Greetings young Frog, we meet again.’
Frog turned to the others and presented his outstretched hand. The white mouse sat comfortably on its haunches, staring back at them.
‘I would like to present,’ said Frog, smiling at the others, ‘the Earth Sage.’
‘But he really is a mouse!’ blurted out Ginger.
‘My true image, or any other that you might imagine, is hidden from you for this moment. In my domain, all is not what it seems.’
‘Now, where have I heard that before?’ said Frog, knowingly.
‘Put away your armaments, they will be needed soon enough, but not here,’ said the mouse.
They looked at where the branches had fallen and there lay their weapons, restored. Logan retrieved his whip, inspected it suspiciously and coiled it over his shoulder. Sir Peacealot and Lady Dawnstar tested the weight of their swords before sheathing them.
‘I will adopt a form more reasonable to you all,’ said the mouse. ‘Put me down please, Frog.’
No sooner had Frog placed the mouse on to the ground than the little form began to shimmer, its shape billowing like a ball of fine, white cotton wool, growing in size until it reached human form. Details began to appear and as they watched a sky-blue robe enveloped the figure of a slender woman, her face dark, her black hair cascading over her shoulders. She reminded Frog of a mysterious, beautiful Egyptian queen.
Her voice came as a surprise to them all. In contrast with the mouse’s high-pitched tones hers was soft and clear.
‘Now you may take counsel with me and rest a while,’ she said, waving her arm. Suddenly they were bathed in clear, bright moonlight, revealing a woodland clearing, a small brook gently flowing to their left. She indicated to a burning log fire with two rabbits cooking over it on a spit.
‘Come, rest yourselves. Eat, drink and prepare for the journey ahead,’ she said.
‘This magic will only fill our heads, not our stomachs,’ said Logan.
‘This is no magic, my Ranger friend. Everything is real. You are back on the surface of Castellion. These are my woods, my domain, and I share their goodness with you willingly.’
The Earth Sage seated herself on a fallen tree trunk, her gaze, when it fell upon each of them, chased away their fears and suspicions.
They took their places around the fire, gradually relaxing. Each took it in turns to wash their faces and drink the stream’s cool water. As they ate the Earth Sage explained the reason for their journey through the Labyrinth. It was simple (she said). They had to prove that they cared about others more than themselves, to show that they needed each other and would leave no one behind. In the end, the final test was for them to show that they would choose to either live, or die, together. The Labyrinth was created by the elements, the earth itself, not man. In conquering its riddles and passages they had earned the right to summon help from the earth in their moment of need. The earth’s gift would be the release of the Blackwater.
The Earth Sage addressed Frog. ‘When it comes, you will be the one to let loose its fury, only you can bring the catalyst that ignites its final destructive power.’
They all wanted to know much more, but the Earth Sage told them that she would give them nothing other than the knowledge that they had one mission, and that was to join Sir Dragonslayer and the army of the north. She would leave a guide to help them on their journey, but now they must sleep and replenish their energy and strength.
‘How can we sleep knowing that we’re needed?’ asked Logan.
‘I’m too excited,’ said Fixer.
‘Me too,’ added Ginger and Frog.
‘All we need is a short rest,’ said Lady Dawnstar.
‘I agree. Just a little longer and then we depart,’ said Sir Peacealot.
‘As you wish,’ said the Earth Sage, smiling. ‘I’ll say my goodbyes. You have proved your worth to each other, now save this world from the evils that would cross the Dimensions. Be brave, young Chris.’
To their amazement, she stepped forward and dissolved into the flames of the camp fire. Red embers and blue sparks rose and disappeared into the night. As they sat there transfixed, their eyelids growing heavy, each one of them succumbing to a peaceful slumber, Frog realised one thing as the warmth of sleep took him. ‘She called me Chris.’
15
Let the Light Free us from Evil
The land was scorched, blackened and dry. Smoke
leaked from withered and burning stumps that at one time had stood as a green and leafy forest. King Hector and Gizmo surveyed the endless scene of destruction. They had been travelling through the same terrain for a number of days now, their army picking their way through the desolation which grew worse each day. Now there weren’t even patches of grass or an odd tree or piece of shrubbery that had escaped the wicked torching by Fangmaster’s wolves. Nothing had been spared. The closer their journey had taken them to their confrontation with Lord Maelstrom the more complete the devastation had become.
A mood had settled over the army. Not one of despair, but one of determined revenge, and it was that revenge that they exacted on any of Fangmaster’s wolves or Lord Maelstrom’s wicked creatures that they came across as they advanced into the growing darkness and burning skyline. They moved forwards in a great V-shaped swathe, spreading out across the territory for many miles, outriders ensuring all the while that not one of the enemy escaped or passed through their ranks. At the head of this great throng rode King Hector and the wizard, and alongside them padded the dark and silent shape of Storm.
‘Your pet appears to have doubled his size of late,’ observed King Hector.
‘He’s been starving himself in eagerness of the coming battle, he knows that most of the meat from his kills will be foul and inedible, so it will make the tough and bitter taste of wolf flesh all the more satisfying,’ explained Gizmo.
‘When do we draw the line of battle, my friend?’ asked King Hector.
‘Soon,’ replied Gizmo. ‘Lord Maelstrom’s bravado will get the better of him and he will send an envoy to mock us and to give us the opportunity to surrender. That is where we will make our stand. I’ll ensure that his envoy takes a message back to him that will draw his legions to us, on our terms.’
‘You sound so confident, my friend, but I cannot forget that we are dealing with a force that could spell the end of this world for all free and good peoples,’ said King Hector.
The sky in the distance flared up and from the orange glow came burning suns of flame, soaring through the sky towards their position.
‘And so it begins,’ said Gizmo.
The first ball of flame arced its way down towards the king and Gizmo and a shout went out from the king’s commanders.
‘To shields! To shields!’ echoed along the ranks.
With a well-rehearsed swiftness, the king and Gizmo were surrounded by horse guards, bringing up their steel shields and creating a barrier over their heads. The same practice was carried out along the line, with foot soldiers taking shelter between their comrades’ horses, sheltered by the canopies of shields.
The first missile struck above the king and Gizmo. It bounced off into any poor, unprotected souls further back in the throng. Then came a dozen or so more, each one hitting the protective shields and ricocheting away, only to find other unfortunate victims. Then, as quickly as the attack had started, it stopped.
‘We have visitors approaching, tell your commanders to take their positions,’ said Gizmo. ‘No one is to charge or fire a weapon, at least not yet.’
The shields were withdrawn and the soldiers stood in their lines, waiting for the moment of command as they felt the ground begin to tremble. A storm cloud was gathering in the distance, but this storm cloud was at ground level and moving towards them at great speed.
‘What now?’ asked the king.
‘As I predicted,’ said Gizmo. ‘Lord Maelstrom sends his messengers to taunt us. Let’s hear what they have to say, shall we?’
The cloud thundered towards them, showing no sign of stopping, and above the roar came Gizmo’s voice. ‘Hold firm and steady, do not break ranks! Hold firm!’
With less than a few metres left, the cloud abruptly stopped and evaporated to reveal an enormous creature nearly eight metres high. Its image was grotesque, the long snout resembling a sickly grey tentacle which reached out menacingly, searching for prey. At the centre of its broad forehead a single red eye stared out, its pupil as black as coal; from the slash of a mouth, sickly drool spilled over rows of pointed teeth as it breathed the stench of decay upon the wizard and the king. Its body was reptilian, almost dinosaur-like and covered in sharp metallic scales, the tips of which curved outwards from its body, ready to cut anything to shreds that came in contact with it. It crouched on stout legs which ended in clawed feet, and these dug viciously into the charred ground as its long tail, a spearhead end to it, swished to and fro in the air behind it.
‘I have heard of these creatures,’ whispered the king. ‘But never thought that I would have the misfortune to come face to face with one.’
‘Steel yourself, My Lord, I fear that Lord Maelstrom will have enlisted even worse creations than Madbaggers to fight his evil cause,’ said Gizmo.
In a harness, strapped to the Madbagger’s long neck, sat a lank-haired wolf, a dirty white streak running across its otherwise grey chest. In its clawed paw it held a long, studded whip. It raised itself on its hind legs.
‘Lord Maelstrom sends a message to all those puny and insignificant beings who dare oppose him,’ it announced. ‘Join his mighty legions now and be spared a torturous end. Now is the time to save yourselves, your leaders are weak, their powers are useless against the forces that will soon be loosed upon you. Join us in the new age of Castellion, fight with us and you shall be rewarded. Refuse and you will die feeling your bones being crushed to dust.’
Storm padded forward and growled.
Gizmo dismounted and patted the panther on the shoulders. ‘Plenty of time for wolf flesh, my friend, all in good time.’ He looked up at the wolf. ‘Why does Lord Maelstrom send Fangmaster’s second in command to be his messenger boy? You are nothing but a coward that hides behind the strength of others, you are only capable of attacking the weak, the small and the defenceless. I have heard of your spineless activities and your day of reckoning is at hand.’
‘Ha! And I shall enjoy gnawing on your flesh, this day, old man,’ spat the wolf, raising his whip.
In the following moments, the wizard’s response was an awesome display of vengeance to all who witnessed it. They had never before seen the wrath of a Guardian wizard unleashed and stood in fear and wonder as he brought down the Magik and despatched it through his hands in the direction of the open-mouthed wolf. Before the Madbagger had time to react, the wizard had, with unseen strength, grabbed its tentacle and pulled the creature to its knees. As its tail had scythed around towards the wizard he had reached inside his cloak and produced his silver cane which he used as a sword. It cut through the end of the tail and then sliced into the base of the tentacle, separating if from the creature’s head. He held the tip of the cane in front of the Maddbagger’s unblinking eye and it collapsed to its knees, powerless.
King Hector and his commanders now watched the seared and smoking remains of the wolf, strapped to the side of the Madbagger, as it receded into the distance. Satisfied, Gizmo mounted his horse and now faced the king and his commanders.
‘Prepare your men, ready your weapons, for this day will be the time of decision. We will be faced with similar and greater foes than you have just seen but they can be defeated, both by Magik and by mortal hand. Our friends and kindred face their ordeal in the north, we must together end this threat to Castellion and our freedom. For Castellion. Let the Light free us from evil.’
The arrow, when it came, was without warning, indeed its coming was even unforeseen by Gizmo who could only raise his arm in an attempt to stop it. The twisted arrowhead and its blackened shaft struck his hand and passed straight through his palm before embedding itself in the shoulder of the surprised and stunned king whose eyes gazed skyward at the giant bird that had silently descended from its cover in the storm clouds overhead. Its grinning rider was already loading a second arrow onto his bow.
Gizmo turned and followed the king’s gaze. ‘Archers, to the sky, to the sky!’
As a thousand steel-shafted arrows found their target and brought both
rider and bird crashing to the ground, Gizmo touched the head of his cane to the arrow in the king’s shoulder. It disintegrated with a puff of sickly smoke, but King Hector’s face was as white as death.
‘Prepare a pavilion for the king. Quickly!’ ordered Gizmo as he brought the king’s cloak over the wound. He escorted him to where a clearing had been made and men at arms were already busy, erecting the king’s marquee. Gizmo could see worried looks on some of the men’s faces and words were being exchanged in hushed voices. He had to stop any negative message of the king’s injury being spread as this was something that would affect the army’s morale and courage.
‘Spread the word,’ he announced as he helped the king from his horse. ‘That the king has received an injury, but I will administer the healing Magik needed to revive him.’ He saw the expression on their faces change and relax, the exchange of words becoming more positive.
‘Let’s get you inside and inspect the damage, shall we, old friend?’ He helped the king into the tent and onto the soft bedding that had been strewn on the floor.
‘Bring me only pure water and nothing else,’ he ordered the servants. ‘Now, my friend, let’s see what poison has been inflicted on you.’
When he had helped the king off with his armour, tunic and vest, at first sight the wound seemed nothing more than a small cut; the force of the arrow had been slowed down by the king’s chain mail and layers of clothing but, as Gizmo watched, the wound began to blister and bubble, the red gash turning dark green and black. A servant boy arrived with a jug of water and a bowl and the wizard covered the wound as the boy set the objects down. Gizmo dismissed him from duty with a smile, telling him that the king needed to rest for a while.
He turned back to the king who was looking worriedly at him.
‘How is your hand?’ he said.
‘My hand has never been better,’ said Gizmo, holding it up for the king to see. ‘It will take more than a poisonous piece of wood and metal to affect me, however, I didn’t think for one moment that a passing spell would have been placed upon it. It would seem that the spell was put on it so that it would pass through any object to get to you. You were its target and only you. Lord Maelstrom has excelled in his deviousness.’