‘I am not powerful enough to defeat a witch on my own’ said Taegan. The hounds all lay dead but at the cost of two of Taegan’s rangers who had died at the jaws of the savage Rottweil brawlers. The wall of yelling red goblins came nearer. Jericho and the surviving rangers fell back to where the others stood. The witch seemed to stay behind and could be heard yelling and urging the goblins forward. The party went to run but realised it was hopeless. The goblins soon surrounded them in a full wary circle and yelled obscenities, waving clubs and swords threateningly. The rangers formed a defensive formation around Saniel, their shields forming a kind of low wall as they hummed a quiet tune together. Jericho stared up at the witch who flew closer and looked confidently down at the captured group. Saniel gasped, as he was unaccustomed to seeing a flying person in the sky riding a sweep. The witch laughed and then yelled in loud booming voice ‘I know you Taegan of the Elvene!’
The sky lit up as a lightning strike some distance behind her made the moment seem all the more terrifying. She landed on the ground behind the goblins and strode confidently forward holding her sweep beside her. The goblins parted and allowed her to walk between them and face the group. The green ‘Stench of Death’ witch mist hugged her outline tightly. She looked them over for a few moments while Jericho growled loudly. Taegan, who had been reciting a striking curse under his breath, moved forward in a blur as his staff glowed and produced a white spectral shadow of a giant swine in front of him. It threw its head, snorted and galloped forward towards the circle of goblins.
A squat wide-shouldered glamour of a champion boar. It chomped long full tusks against a massive set of grinders in its top jaw. The closest goblins raised their weapons, but the boar had already reached them, ploughing through them, knocking several off their feet and impaling two of them on its foot-long tusks. It lowered its head and charged at Salum. Salum tapped the brush of her sweep on the ground and the green witch mist surrounding her body thickened and elongated her shape to a great green serpent twelve feet high. It towered over the boar and struck quickly as a snake would, to sink long green fangs into the spectral boar. A loud grunt came from the boar as it fell to the ground to fade and disappear. The green mist thinned out, and Salum returned to her standard form. Taegan fell back, drained from casting the Porcus enchantment which had summoned the spectral beast. A large number of the goblins shrieked with laughter, ignoring their fallen comrades and eagerly waiting for the command to cut these elves to pieces.
‘Enough’ she yelled. ‘I am tired of these games.’ Saniel had never seen a witch before. He didn’t even know what they were until he had embarked on this journey with the wolf and the fox. She looked like a normal woman he supposed except that she seemed to have a longer nose than usual and a very warty face. She wore strange long black clothes, had Raven black hair and bright green eyes. White runes were covering her black cloak evenly that moved about as if they were alive. She stepped forward and turned her attention to the elf rangers. ‘Tut Tut.’ She exclaimed. ‘I thought the elves to wise to be caught out in the open moors like this. Now, first of all, let’s dispel with this filth.’ The whites in her eyes showed, and she raised her sweep into the air. She muttered a word Saniel had never heard before. The ten surviving elf rangers cried in dismay. Several of them leapt forward in one last effort. They all fell to the ground in frozen poses. The grass and shrubs around their bodies immediately grew and curled over their torsos and dragged them into the earth.
All that remained were a few shields, swords and bows scattered about the grass. Saniel felt the Moonstone warming in his closed hand. It had been resting but was now waking up as it had sensed the presence of the witch. Taegan let out a cry of horror. Salum laughed and looked at Taegan. ‘I have been hoping to see you Taegan, for I have other plans for you.’ She giggled again, which finished in a snort. ‘So, this is the mancub that my lady wants so badly. What do you carry mancub? Why are you so important?’ The witch stared hard at Saniel’s clenched fist. ‘Six fingers huh, I wonder what that means.’ She paused as if trying to recall a memory. Then she continued. ‘First, you must give me that bauble you carry and then I will decide whether to take you back alive or in tiny pieces.’ The goblins howled in laughter, their foul breath filling the air. Salum had sighted a silver chain around Saniel’s neck with something fixed to the end of it that was clutched tightly in the mancub’s left hand. Red whiskers huddled tightly against the Saniel’s legs. The boy was terrified, the witches’ voice deepened to that of a man, and her face grew black as she seemed to grow tall and loomed over the top of him.
‘Open your hand!’ her voice boomed at him. Scared almost to death, he tried to open his hand but could not. All six fingers were clasped tightly around the Moonstone, and he appeared to have no control over them. As if suddenly realizing something, Salum looked again at Saniel’s left hand. The Moonstone was getting very warm to the stage that it was almost burning him. Jericho waiting for this moment had cowered down to the side of the witch in a submissive gesture hoping she would ignore him. She did, and now he suddenly leapt at her from the side with his jaws open wide. Without turning, Salum twisted her sweep slightly. Jericho was struck in midair by an invisible punch that threw him hard to the ground. He yelped loudly and tried to stand but fell on his side, whimpering in pain.
The witch sighed and turned away from Saniel to face the wolf ‘you have given my lady considerable trouble wolf. I should have done this straight away; no matter I’ll do it now.’ She raised her sweep and in a loud raspy voice yelled ‘Temp...’ She did not finish the Tempestas curse. Saniel beside himself with grief thought the witch had killed Jericho. He felt very close to Jericho who had saved his life many times, and in a split second, a flood of memories came to him inflaming the burning image in his mind’s eye of his mother’s body in the cottage. His left hand opened exposing the Moonstone, his six fingers outstretched. He said simply, ‘No.’ The same sensation he felt when the Draugen had grabbed his leg in Saltwood came to him. Saniel’s normal hazel eyes changed colour to the glow of the Great Southern ice. A bright blue arc of jagged light erupted from his outstretched fingers and reached out to the nearest goblin. The goblin screamed, and his eyes began to glow a brilliant blue. The arc of blue light then passed quickly from goblin to goblin through their eyes, until the entire company of goblins stood shaking uncontrollably with smoking black holes where their eyes used to be. They all fell simultaneously to the ground as their bodies burned with the bright blue arcane flame.
Taegan gasped in disbelief at what the boy had just done and backed away with Red Whiskers more frightened of him then the witch for the time being. Salum mounted her sweep and kicked off the ground in a panic. ‘Impossible!’ she screamed, ‘What are you.’ Saniel stared blankly at her and said, ‘You hurt my friends.’ Insane with rage, Salum yelled an incomprehensible word as she started to rise, the white runes on her cloak moving erratically about the surface of the black cloth. She pointed a long bony finger at Saniel as a sudden wind gust blew open the front of her cloak to reveal a dense concentration of green witch mist. The mist formed into a dozen smoke serpents that darted through the air towards the boy with mouths open, revealing cruel fangs.
Saniel pointed the Moonstone in the direction of the witch. It glowed a bright white and blue in his open hand. Salum seeing this was alarmed, she could now sense the full power of the waking Talisman. How could a mankind cub wield such arcane power? The smoke serpents slowed and hung in the air frozen for a time only a foot away from the boy. They turned forcefully around in the air and then shot back towards the witch almost too fast to see with the naked eye. Salum squealed loudly as the serpents ran her through like arrows, the green smoke dissipated into the air and vanished. She jerked to a stop as she felt her sweep; made from the iron-strong Dwarf Jujube tree and the source of her power bend beneath her and crack.
The jewel in the handle was black and dead, and she fell to the earth from a great height. As powerful as she was, h
er body broke as it struck the ground. She lay on her side, looking at Saniel and spoke with a strained whisper through a great deal of coughing and wheezing. ‘Mercy, mercy...’ Salum had no desire for her soul to travel to the Dread-Realm and serve her patron Daemon just yet. The Talisman had its own will though, and it was pleased to teach this upstart enchantress a lesson. Salum’s gasped as if being choked and as her life faded the essence of her soul was drawn into the Moonstone. She sensed this as she died and was horrified, powerless to change anything.
The Moonstone tingled and warmed again in Saniel’s hand. Salum’s body seemed to melt into a black foul-smelling muck into the ground. Saniel released the Talisman from his hand and ran towards Jericho. He cried in despair as he reached him and collapsed unconscious to lie next to him on the ground. Taegan having witnessed all of this stood back in awe. He had never seen or sensed the magic power this mancub wielded, and he was afraid. The surviving Ravens had departed towards the south and the skies immediately cleared, the shadow enchantment disappeared without Salum’s influence. Scoo covered in Raven blood landed and spoke quietly with Taegan and Red Whiskers as they looked on at Saniel and Jericho, unsure of what to do next. Finally, Scoo took to the wing and flew on ahead to the north with the news. This was the first time a mankind animal had killed a witch in living memory.
46.
THE ISLE OF HAERGUS
He opened his eyes slowly and looked directly upwards into a cloudless teal sky. The vision in one eye was slightly burry, and he had trouble focusing until he rubbed it vigorously to remove the overnight sleep and sand. Bewildered for a moment, he searched his memories trying to recollect where he was and how he got here. A cry of a seabird jolted him from his slumber, and the warm salt smell of the ocean came strongly to his senses. He sat up and felt the ground with his hands, remembering that his bed for the night had been a blend of beach sand and shingle mixed with a bit of brown seaweed. However, it had been comfortable enough, and he did feel moderately refreshed. His short sword lay on the sand next to him, as he sat up and looked around. Directly behind him were the steep black cliffs that he imagined the village of Brineburg was perched upon. Several white and grey seabirds circled above him crying audibly while darting in and out of small crevices in the cliffs where they fed their young. The sea was calm with only a few small waves rolling noisily up the sand in an almost hypnotic rhythm.
Shalia stood a short distance away, her back to him as she faced the sea. Her tresses now flowed loosely down her back and almost reached her waist. Strands of red hair wafted about gently as if being toyed with by the warm morning breeze. Shalia held her grey marble staff by her right side, which glinted randomly along its shiny length catching the early dawn light. The sun was not yet visible as it was still rising above and beyond the black cliffs. Apart from three small wooden skiffs, a few washed-up logs and rolls of seaweed, nothing else of interest was in the cove. Barney politely coughed and cleared his throat to draw her attention.
Without turning, Shalia spoke. ‘We must get to the Crimson Isle, for deep within its heart lies our goal, the Arch.’ Barney looked confused. He peered past the elf and saw that a reasonable distance out to sea a long rocky isle jutted out of the water in a blurry haze, that he couldn’t quite focus on. He guessed this was the intended destination the elf was talking about. However, he knew not of a single thing of the names and terms she referred to. Barney even started doubting all the events from the previous day, imagining them to be part of some horrible dream and that his mind had tricked him into believing it was a reality. Yet here in front of him stood an elf. Well he thought, it didn’t sound that bad, if they could just secure one of these skiffs and row to this island. What other horrors could he encounter that was any worse than what he had altercated with on the mainland? Shalia interrupted his thoughts, ‘Can you operate one of these wood contraptions to travel across the water?’ She said with a hint of hope in her voice as she studied the wooden skiffs lying just above the reach of the high tide.
No elves from the Grelen Clan had ever had experience with watercraft and this mode of travel. Barney replied trying to sound cheerful. ‘That should be no problem. I imagine they are all still grieving up there.’ He nodded his head towards the cliffs and continued, ‘these skiffs here look seaworthy enough, and any one of them will do I think. Then it should be a simple task of rowing to the isle, and you can do whatever it is you do.’ Shalia’s face took on a grim look at Barney’s stupidity. ‘Not quite.’ She answered, ‘Getting to the isle is the least of my concerns. The Arch lies at the end of the Trench of Raging Tides, and we must get past the keeper of the isle to enter that trench.’ Barney did not like the sound of where this conversation was going. ‘Arch? Trench? Keeper? What?’ queried Barney rubbing the sand vigorously out of his hair. Shalia went on to explain the magical properties of the stone relic she called the Arch and its purpose. Barney nodded politely, not knowing at all what she was talking about and wishing he could instead go back up to the village and see what was happening up there.
Their conversation was short-lived as they were interrupted by some angry shouts behind them. Five fierce-looking fishermen were coming down the last of the rocky steps in the cliffs down into the cove and towards the beach, they were standing on. They wore oilskin trousers, boots and gaudy coloured shirts with sleeves rolled up to the elbow. They had spent the night in the village trying to console the grieving survivors of the witch raid and find their own missing family members. They had been told the bizarre story of witches’, grey ape-like things that carried people into the great forest and then the visitors from Saltwood and the elves. With naught else to do, they had riled themselves up into a frenzied mood, some armed with watchman’s swords and others with skiffing pikes and various garden implements. They had searched everywhere and at last found this unknown man and an elf they were squarely blaming the entire incident on, and cornered nicely on the beach.
Barney held up his hands, his palms showing in a peaceful gesture. ‘I am an elder from the Saltwood council, please let me explain what I have seen.’ He shouted desperately. His pleas fell on deaf ears. The men coming closer did not care what he said. They were puffing hard, had very red faces and a murderous look in their eyes. They clearly meant him and the elf great harm. Whether this stranger and elf were responsible or not, killing them would make them feel a bit better. Barney reached down and fumbled around in the sand for his short sword as the fisherman closed the distance towards them, the sound of their feet running in the sand getting louder as they drew nearer. Barney looked around desperately. A low hum reached his ears as the first of the fisherman loomed over him with a rake held high in the air in a gesture to swing it down towards Barney’s head. Barney jumped back to the edge of the water where Shalia stood, his sword up in front of him. At first, he thought he had stepped into the shade from the cliffs as everything went twilight. Then he realised that he had been engulfed by a great shadow. The fisherman stopped and looked confused. From their view, the man and elf had simply disappeared into thin air. Barney heard Shalia’s voice whisper in his ear. ‘Do not move. I cannot hold the shroud veil in place for very long.’ Barney saw the source of the shadow was coming from Shalia’s staff as a black flowing stream imitating water poured from it and spread out like a blanket up and over them into the shape of a small dome. ‘I can see them through a haze, how is it they cannot see us? '
Shalia replied with a look of concentration on her face. ‘We are still here, but in a slightly altered time. The properties of this spell are that it gives the illusion we have gone.’ The humming noise increased, and a warm wind blew steadily around them. Black veins in Shalia’s staff at first glowed blue, but then darkened to a shade of black. Then blacker still than the shadow they were in and the assortment of small jewels at each end of her staff were gleaming like embers from a fire pit. Small waves washed up inside the dome that was strangely rolling on a different angle to the waves outside the dome.
&nbs
p; Barney held his breath as the fisherman grunted to one another and looked threateningly about. The glanced through the thin air, where Barney and Shalia hid within the dome to the seas beyond, thinking they had made their escape into the ocean. One of them yelled suddenly and pointed back towards the rocky path leading up the cliff. Seeing that their intended prey was not in sight on the beach, they believed they had slipped around them somehow and were escaping up the cliffside path. In a few moments they were gone, the last fisherman, puffing hard and complaining loudly, disappeared up the steps in the narrow cleft of the cliff leading upwards to the village. Shalia muttered a short string of words and the shadow that had engulfed them seemed to break apart and dissipate like smoke. The fresh morning air now became apparent as they walked quickly through the crunching sand to a bright little skiff pulled up high on the beach some distance away. It appeared to be the closest boat to the water. This one had wooden oars and was painted blue and yellow. The name ‘Jolly Mug’ was painted across the stern. It was full of rag fishing net, which Barney dragged out onto the sand. Both puffed and panted as they dragged and jerked the skiff inch by inch until small waves began breaking under its keel.
They kept a watchful eye on the path in the cliffs, but no danger returned. Barney had limited belongings, just his sword and a leather water canteen hooked onto his belt. He indicated to Shalia to sit on the small wooden bench seat at the back as he turned the skiff to face the bow into the small waves. He fixed the oars into the rollicks and pulled hard into the waves. Soon they had reached a short distance offshore into the deeper calmer water, and Barney felt relieved. Shalia looked over the side and exclaimed in astonishment, ‘the water is clear, but still with a beautiful blue colour. We seem to be going fast. How deep is it do you think?’ Barney wondering how he seemed to know something the elf didn’t, replied breathing in rhythm while he rowed, ‘I don’t really know, as I have never been in these waters. Back at home, we all grew up doing our time on the sea. I had spent a fair bit of time in skiffs like this when I was younger.’
Realm of Druids Page 30