by Caroline Noe
“Not if you work on the Project,” Elaine muttered.
“Ye talking of that ‘fore,” Melith ventured. “What be ‘projek’?”
Elaine glanced at the straining faces of her friends. They continued to fight their way through the undergrowth, but she could tell that everyone was listening. Even Harlin, his back resolutely turned towards her, stiffened a little.
“If I tell you the truth, Melith,” she said, returning her gaze to the little woman, “will you hear me out and not burn me at the stake or feed me to a render?”
“Not making ye watch Drevel dance, neither,” Melith laughed.
“Hey!” intoned a strong baritone voice from behind them. The sooner they affected a change of clothing, the happier he would be.
“I don’t come from here…” Elaine began.
“That much we knowing,” Bert chimed in.
“Hush,” Melith scolded. “Use yer wind for walking.” Bert grumbled beneath his breath and limped faster. “Talk,” Melith urged Elaine.
“I don’t come from the Farlands, or any other lands,” Elaine continued.
“Where ye from then?” asked Asher, ignoring Melith’s scowl.
“Here.”
“But ye just sayed…”
“I come from this place,” Elaine tried to explain, “but not this time.”
The silence that followed her revelation was broken by snorts of laughter.
“Quiet!” hissed Harlin, without turning around.
“I’m telling the truth,” Elaine insisted. “Leila and I, we went to school together, with her brother, Neil.” A pain shot through her heart like the slicing of a knife. God forgive me, I killed him. “Hundreds of years from now we set up a Project to travel in time.”
“Magiking?” asked Bert, his narrowing eyes peering at Harlin’s back, not at her.
“No, Bert,” was Elaine’s fervent reply. “Not magic. Science. Like building a castle or learning to ride. We learnt how to play with time.”
“Why?” Melith asked. “Why be doing that?”
“There’s a problem in our time. Something we did to the food that we can’t change. Most will die if we can’t go back and fix it.” Too late whispered a shard in her mind.
“That what ye doing here?” Melith asked. “Looking for this thing?”
“No. My…our coming was an accident,” Elaine told her. How could I ever explain what has occurred? “But Leila believes the Firestone can take her back home to Caleb.”
“Caleb?” asked Drevel.
“Her lover.” Feeling awkward, Elaine peered at Harlin, but he was still facing away from her.
“Be liking men, don’t she?” muttered Bert.
“Tell me about it,” Elaine sighed, remembering a smiling Major. I killed him too.
There was a short silence, filled only with the exertions of the trek through the forest.
“Be it able?” Asher finally ventured. “Firestone. Be it able take her back?”
“Maybe. I don’t know,” Elaine responded. “It’s only worked for me when I’ve been back at the Project. Here, on its own, without the vortex already open and fixed? I don’t know.”
“Do ye feel its power?” Bert pitched in.
Elaine saw Harlin’s back stiffen, again. “No, nothing,” she admitted. “Feels like a pebble to me. That’s why I didn’t understand. Nothing like this ever happens where, when, I come from. I didn’t know Leila was your Harpy. Not then.” She glanced back at Harlin. He was hearing every word, but, still, he didn’t turn. “I’m sorry for everything,” she confessed. “I think Leila only came here because she was following me. She wasn’t like this, back then. She was my friend…”
She faltered as all of her burdens, past and present, fell hard upon her shoulders. Fear, pain, rejection, loneliness and guilt flooded her wounded heart as though they were laden with salt. She grasped the edges of her torn shirt and fought to keep misery at bay. A low moan escaped her lips, like the death cry of a hunted animal, but there were no tears. A wave of nausea swept over her as the creeping disease within her cells conquered a little more battleground.
“Harlin, stop,” Melith ordered. “Need rest. Now.”
All of her companions immediately paused, deciding that it would be unwise to question that tone. Harlin took three more paces before Elaine’s barely audible, primal moans wrapped themselves around his heart and squeezed tight. He spun on his heel and finally faced them. If he had wanted to stay angry and alienated from her, he had just made a grave error. One look at Elaine’s distress shattered almost all of his resolve – not that anyone would have known from his demeanour.
Melith wrapped her arms around Elaine’s bony frame and half grasped, half rocked the distraught woman, until the aching groans faded into the night. “Ye leaved us. Projek and Firestone take ye back to yer home?” Melith asked, her embrace remaining intact.
“I had no choice,” Elaine whispered. “It just pulled me back.”
“Ye greening?” Melith gently touched the bruises on her face and wrists and ran her fingers over Elaine’s hands, which were still gripping the torn shirt. “And this?” Elaine’s eyes flicked up to meet Melith’s, full of pain and fear. “Who doed this?”
“Neil,” Elaine told her. “He was experimenting on the Firestone and I think it did something to him. He tried to… I ran…”
Harlin shuffled on the spot. This was getting harder and harder to hear.
“Why ye come here?”
The voice of Grain surprised everyone. He was so often silent that people tended to forget he was present.
“I told you, it was an accident,” Elaine replied.
“No, be meaning second time.”
Elaine’s surreptitious glance at Harlin gave the group her answer. She had returned to be with a lover who seemed determined to reject her.
“I came back to give you the Firestone,” Elaine told him. “So you can destroy it.”
Harlin shuffled, side stepped, opened his mouth and closed it again. Strangely, he glanced over at Bert, apparently still feeling the childhood pull of his surrogate father. For the first time in more than a decade he experienced something wonderful: he caught Bert smiling at him.
“Rightly, best be moving,” Bert announced, annoyed that he had been rumbled. “Lead on, boy,” he insisted.
“Aye, Bert, I will,” Harlin replied; a wealth of meaning in a few simple words.
“Elaine…” ventured Melith, leaving one arm around her charge as they resumed walking. “What be future like?”
Elaine briefly described the technological delights of the modern world from flying to the computer age. “Tell me about your past,” she asked, curious as to what they knew of ancient history. “What was this land like, long ago?”
Melith’s colourful description of the history of her land proceeded much as Elaine had expected, until she reached the legend of ‘Oritels and Ricans’. Intrigued, Elaine listened, in growing confusion, while her friend told the story of how, many centuries ago, these diverse folk had passed into the Farlands – a paradise of sunlight and fertile soil. None ever returned.
“They be living in Edynn, land of Isels.”
“Be thinking all died in Darklands, ‘fore they getted there,” was Bert’s depressing assessment. “Edynn be story only.”
“Hoping they be in Farlands,” Melith commented, after sticking her tongue out at Bert.
“What were they like?” Elaine prompted.
“Looked different to us, so story goed,” Melith answered. “Hair, skin, face, all different.”
“In colour?” ventured Elaine.
“Not knowing,” Melith admitted. “Be too longly passed.”
“Nobone seen one,” offered Asher.
“I believing,” Melith said, dreamily.
“Ye believing in food, mostly,” quipped Asher, receiving a sharp rap on the back of his head for his effort. “Ow, not needing more hurt.”
“Nearly in clearing,” Harlin annou
nced, pointing at the distant castle battlements.
He suddenly spun on his heel and marched up to Elaine. She was greeted with no great passion in his gaze, but at least he wasn’t scowling at her.
“Bury Firestone,” was his shocking command.
Stunned, Elaine glanced at Melith, who just shrugged.
“Be too dangerly take further,” Harlin explained. “If too close, me mother may be able to call it to her. Be safe if nobone see where ye bury.” With that, he turned his back on her, again.
“Going with her,” Drevel offered.
“No!” insisted Harlin, already moving through the trees. “She joining us, when doed.”
One by one the others followed after Harlin, glancing at Elaine with varying degrees of sympathy. Melith was the last to leave her side.
“Follow straightly, when doed,” Melith told her. “Not able miss clearing from here, even darkly… unless be Myrrdinus.”
Soon Elaine was left alone in the forest, dark shadows lurking at every turn. Scanning the vicinity, fixing the landmarks of castle, mountain, tree and river in her mind, Elaine dropped to her knees and began digging in the soft mud with her fingers, whilst trying to keep one eye on the retreating forms of her friends.
Her fingernails suddenly scraped over something hard; something that didn’t feel like rock or earth. She peered into the hole, but in deep darkness couldn’t see what was below. Courage failing, she deposited the Firestone into its new home and filled the hole with earth. Pausing only to scatter leaves and branches over the burial site, she scurried in the direction of her friends. Had it been daylight, she might have discovered the truth sooner.
She caught up with Harlin on the outskirts of the clearing. He didn’t acknowledge her return. Assuming that her perceived betrayal of him, coupled to his return to glorious beauty, had ended his attraction to her, Elaine endeavoured to stifle her misery. She had survived years of parental abuse and disinterest; this was no different.
Drevel leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Be not giving up. Not know what future hold.”
A shard sliced another gash in her mind. I have no future.
* * *
A dumpy little priest, trailing too-long robes, was doing her best not to appear suspicious. Hidden beneath the hood, Gwyneth fought the urge to skip from one shadow to another, reasoning that zigzagging through the castle was more likely to attract attention. Boldly walking down the corridors, hiding in plain sight, was a successful, if nerve-racking, tactic, particularly as she had to keep the guarded Myrrdinus in view.
Having traversed a flight of stone steps, Gwyneth shuffled around a corner to witness her beloved being roughly escorted into another suite of rooms. The door closed behind him. Whilst gathering the courage to follow, a hesitant Gwyneth was passed by a pair of chatting priests. When they opened the door, she simply passed through behind them.
Strolling down another of the castle’s many corridors, Gwyneth slowly sauntered past each room, popping up and down, peering through doorjambs and keyholes, trying to locate Myrrdinus. She had reached the end of the corridor, heartsick with the possibility that she had lost him, when the very last room came into view. Being the only room with a floor completely covered with fur and walls decorated with precious metals and silks, this had to be where the Harpy was residing.
Sure enough, Gwyneth caught a brief glimpse of a hideously ugly figure lying on a fur-laden bed. The accompanying grotesque snoring indicated that the ailing Queen was asleep. Unwilling to wake the slumbering witch, the priests had forced Myrrdinus to sit, pressed up against the wall, awaiting her eventual awakening. Unfortunately, the room was still crawling with priests, tiptoeing in and out. Any rescue attempt would be suicidal.
Gwyneth was faced with a wretched dilemma. She could not stand outside the room, for fear that someone would eventually notice her. Nor could she walk away and leave him. Cursing her situation, the brave little woman sidled into the room and stood at the back of a group of priests. There were a large number of magikers in the domain. Hopefully, they didn’t all know each other by sight. That was her prayer, anyway. Labouring to keep her breathing steady, she waited.
* * *
The people of Gawain’s former domain assembled in the clearing, sceptical of the reason for the gathering and nervous at their proximity to the castle. They were, however, overwhelmingly curious as to what their deceased leader’s son had to say, not to mention wanting to gawk at his supposedly healed body. With the tragic memory of past failure burned into their minds, they were cynical of any proposed rebellion and had not come to take part in, or even sanction, such action. They had agreed to listen and that was all.
Whilst awaiting the arrival of the villagers, Harlin had climbed a tree. He was still there, arms crossed, expression stony, avoiding all conversation and food. He wasn’t the only one not eating. Grain had busied himself preparing fish stew and was thoroughly insulted when Elaine heaved at the mere smell of it. He had taken his precious culinary creation to more appreciative recipients, leaving the observant Melith harbouring a worrying suspicion.
Thankfully, for the partially naked element of the group, Clipper and his father had returned, prior to the great gathering, laden down with old, worn, but wonderfully warm clothes and shoes. None were a tremendous fit, but it was better than shivering from exposure.
Having gratefully donned a slightly short pair of trousers, Drevel was in a much better mood. Seeing Elaine staring up at her belligerent love, still perched in his tree, he gave her a swift hug. “Wait,” he advised. “Time be coming.”
Time running out, hissed a floating shard.
A shrill whistle pierced the night air. Asher touched his fingers to his ears, expecting them to be bleeding. “Melith, I telled ye, not do that,” he scolded.
She responded with another whistle of even longer duration and higher pitch, focussing the attention of the heir-apparent on her ample form.
“Harlin! We all waiting for ye! Get down, childlin!”
Harlin almost let slip a smile. Melith never change, he thought, whilst clambering down the tree and swinging from a branch. Entering the clearing, he had to fight the urge to turn around and walk out again. Hundreds of people were assembled there, murmuring and arguing, waiting to hear what he had to say. None of them looked predisposed in his favour. Harlin took a deep breath, willing his fears to subside.
“Be now or never!” he began. All eyes turned to him. “If we be taking back this land from Har…” He checked himself and took another deep breath. “… from me mother, this be time!”
The statement had scarcely left his mouth when there was uproar. Angry words were thrown at Harlin and amongst each other as the people vented their frustrations.
“Spended six year as fox. Ye not fighting then!”
“What bout me childlin? Who feeding them?”
“Ye hided for ten year. Why caring for us now?”
“Harpy killing us all!”
On and on it went, until no individual voice could be heard above the melee - though an eardrum-shattering whistle could. Having attracted their attention, Melith bellowed, “SHUT UP!!!!!” With shocked silence reigning, she continued, “Next one talking, I sit on!” A snicker travelled through the crowd, but no-one challenged her dare. “Oh, not meaning ye,” she told an equally reticent Harlin. “Ye carry on ‘til ye finished.”
“Me mother not holding Firestone!” Harlin shouted. “We have it!” A murmur, bordering on a ripple of hope, went through the crowd, but no-one interrupted. “We put somewhere safely, where she not finding. She very sickly; more weak than for years. Not able conjuring more renders or like. All her priests be in castle, surely, but her soldiers all searching villages. Be best chance we ever have, but we must be moving now, ‘fore soldiers finish search.”
“Why we following YE?” a villager shouted, keeping one eye on Melith’s current location. A chorus of agreement arose.
For the first time since her return, Harlin
truly looked at Elaine, instinctively needing to draw on her strength. When she smiled encouragingly, he looked away, angry that he had revealed his raw feelings.
“Ten year ago,” Harlin began, his voice a quiet whisper in the clear night air, “I knowed that me mother returned and I haved Firestone within me hands. I not telled me father and, for that sin, he payed with his life and ye with yer freedom. Me body breaked, I been too ashamed and cowardly to telling ye truly. Hided in mountain, when me duty been here… Not able take back me action, nor change time. Only able do now, what I not doed then. If ye not wishing to follow, be understanding, but I must go… lone if I have to.”
“Not lone,” said Asher, pointedly.
“Be going too,” Bert stated. “If ye make me.”
Drevel had no need for words. He simply stood beside Harlin and crossed his arms. Melith bounced over to join them. The taller men stared down at their dumpy compatriot. Asher was about to forbid her, when she cut him off with, “Be not even thinking to stop me!”
“Or me.”
As Elaine slowly moved towards him, Harlin glanced at her and looked away. He didn’t try to stop her though.
“Erm, one thing…” Melith ventured. “What bout Baal?”
“Have plan,” Harlin repeated. “Small group be scaling wall of castle, tother side to Baal. Open drawbridge from inside.”
“Still likely be fried,” Bert pointed out. “Wall high. Taking longly to climb.”
“I have another plan,” interjected Elaine. She smiled. “Anyone want to fly?”
* * *
A sudden snort signalled the Harpy’s awakening. In the farthest corner of the room, Gwyneth lurked behind a group of priests, hidden by her lack of height. Although this kept her from the beady eye of the Harpy, it also necessitated peculiar manoeuvres in order to catch a glimpse of Myrrdinus. After peering through a sea of legs failed to yield any visual fruit, Gwyneth settled for straining her ears.
“Ah, Myrrdinus, I believe,” croaked the Harpy, obviously having noticed the bound and guarded young man.
“And ye be Harpy, surely,” Myrrdinus responded, his voice strong and unwavering.
A murmur passed through the Priesthood of Magikers. Their Queen hated that name and would, no doubt, react with her usual venom. They all leaned forward, en masse, in anticipation. Strangely, the Queen didn’t respond as expected. Emitting an involuntary groan, she hobbled over to the young man and stared into his eyes. He looked straight back at her without flinching. He was brave, if foolhardy.