He continued in a downward descent. The pungent aroma of damp rot hung heavy in the warm, moist air. He pressed on, unchallenged, until reaching a large cavern. A huge empty chasm stretched off above his head in an endless void of darkness. The grunts from a group of trolls echoed from a pit several hundred feet below. He paused to listen, calculating how many he would be up against before he began his climb into the gloom. A thick putrid smell forced him to take shallow breaths. By the time he reached the bottom of the pit, it had become almost unbearable. He crouched behind the protection of a boulder to survey the area. He could see nothing that posed any major threat to him. Camouflaged beneath his cloak, he walked among the beasts for several minutes, only starting his attack when one of them raised the alarm.
The chamber erupted into mayhem as he began his merciless assault. A dozen fell almost at once, their spine chilling cries causing panic throughout the company. With a short sword in one hand, and a mace in the other, he leapt from side to side, hacking through flesh and bone with ease and controlled grace. Most died even before they realised what was happening. Any trolls out of reach, he dropped in a flurry of crossbow fire, screaming contempt at his victims as he continued his advance. Dagan's savagery only ceased when the cavern fell silent. With a pounding heart, he wiped the blood from his face, admiring the carnage before him. A harsh voice rumbled throughout the cavern and brought him spinning around.
"You dare to enter my kingdom without permission."
The druid's eyes darted around the ledges above his head, coming to rest on a single cloaked figure draped in shadow. Dagan reached for the crossbow strapped to his back.
"If you care to stay alive, do not be foolish." The dark figure raised a staff. The tip shone bright crimson, illuminating the fury in his scaled, grotesquely deformed face.
Dagan lowered his hand. "We meet again, Siren. I see you are still enjoying your banishment."
"You have obviously been away for a long time, assassin. Elven magic no longer holds me. The races do not even believe in magic anymore." His voice held an air of contempt. "Why have you come here? What is it you want?"
Dagan paused before answering. "I came here by chance, and to teach these disgusting savages a lesson in manners." He prodded the body of a troll with his sword.
Siren made no reply. He turned and disappeared into the shadows from where he came.
Dagan grinned, pleased with his performance. He was eager to get close to Siren, impatient to take his life. He could sense the end of years of yearning.
Siren reappeared in the pit moments later. He studied Dagan from beneath the cowl of his black cloak, keeping his distance. "You may be able to do a service for me."
"I work for nobody. Those days have long passed ... and certainly not for the likes of you."
"But you have not heard what I have to offer."
"You have nothing that interests me, except your blood." He spat.
Siren let out an unexpected laugh. "No?" He drifted closer, floating just above the tangle of bodies.
Dagan stepped backwards despite himself.
"I can offer you magic, and all I ask in return is a small favour. A simple task for someone of your abilities."
This was a prospect he had not anticipated. With magic, they would be equal. He knew any attempt to kill Siren with conventional weapons would be a foolish idea now he had seen the power he commanded. A sly grin spread across his face. "Very well, let us talk."
He followed the Dark Druid through a honeycomb of tunnels. All the time he kept his distance, checking carefully for any sign of a trap. Their journey ended in an elaborate room, dominated by a large throne formed from the bones of many creatures. It stood mounted high on stone slabs, surrounded by red and black drapes that hung all around the oversized structure, trailing to the floor. Carvings of hideous beasts sprouted from the walls, created with meticulous care from the rocks of the mountain itself. Dagan took a moment to take in the spectacle before stepping inside.
Siren sat, leaving Dagan standing before him. "All I ask of you is a simple assassination. Something you should enjoy. In return, I will show you the way of the magic. This is a fair exchange, is it not?" A long silence hung in the air.
"Who is it you wish me to kill?" he asked, his interest growing.
"An elf by the name of Goffer."
"Where will I find this ... elf?"
"If I were you, I would start my search in Rivertown, south of Thistlemoor. I have a feeling he may be paying Chapel Forest a visit at some point."
Dagan stepped forward. "How do I know I can trust you? Your foolishness in the Great Wars almost destroyed our entire race."
Siren shot to his feet. "Since when have you cared for any race?" His menacing figure drifted closer. "I have given you my word. You just have to bring me his head." He raised his staff. The tip began to spit and crackle with crimson fire.
Dagan held his ground. It was a tempting offer, but Siren could not be trusted. He would have to kill him and claim the magic for himself. "If you are no longer being held against your will, then go and kill him yourself."
"You are a fool to come into my domain and question my authority. You will regret your decision." Siren held the staff in both hands and walked boldly toward him.
Dagan knew he would have to make this a quick attack. He went to reach for a throwing knife, but found himself unable to move. Siren held him fast with magic. He fought to resist it, but his attempt was futile.
Siren drew close and thrust the end of the staff against Dagan's forehead.
An explosion of blood-red light filled his mind. It ripped through his head and brought him crashing to his knees. He opened his mouth, wanting to scream, his face contorting in pain. No words could describe the horrors that confronted him. His whole body convulsed as the red fire burned the length of his spine, tearing at every nerve ending.
When released, he crumpled to the floor gasping for air, clawing at the dirt. He was left empty, without being, his very soul twisted and shattered. "What have you done to me?"
Siren threw back his head with laughter. "I have left you with no choice. Do as I ask or remain like this forever." He bent down and lifted the druid to his feet, staring into his face. "I have given you my word and I will stick to it. Bring me Goffer's head and I will teach you the ways of the dark magic." He narrowed his eyes and dropped the assassin back to the floor. "Now go."
Dagan left the mountains, furious at how easily Siren had tricked him. He roamed the landscape, struggling with the strange sensations coursing through his body, lost in a world of dark magic. Whenever he attempted to reach for this alien power, it slipped from his grasp, useless, and yet so tempting. He tried to fight the compulsion to find this elf, Goffer, but the Dark Druid had placed a spell of urgent need over him. He could not deny the influence of such strong magic. With no purpose to his existence apart from the task ahead, he headed south with one thing in mind: to find Goffer and rid himself of this curse. Then I will return to destroy you, Siren.
Dagan woke with a start. All around him was quiet, apart from a warm breeze that rustled the treetops of Chapel Forest. Sleep plagued with nightmares left him unfulfilled. He found a stream to cool his sweat streaked body and drank deeply. Gritting his teeth, he wheeled away from his own reflection and the sight of his pure white hair, a consequence of his curse. Gazing through the canopy of leaves, he estimated that night would soon be upon the elven land. He ate a quick meal and prepared himself for another of the many return visits he spent in Rivertown, listening outside taverns, unseen, gathering information from drunken conversations. One more unsuccessful night and he would have to resort to torture in order to gather the information he required.
A bright flash of light caught his attention. He crept through the forest like a stalking animal until he reached a small clearing. Peering through the undergrowth, he saw a young girl standing alone. She was wearing the most unusual clothing he had ever seen. He watched with vague interest as she m
et a young elf riding through the trees. From what he could see, they did not appear to know each other. He remained hidden, watching and listening until they rode off together. There was something strange about this meeting. What it was eluded him. He walked into the clearing, curious by this bizarre happening. A glimmer on the ground caught his eye and he crept toward the spot, wary, but inquisitive. Half buried in the thick vegetation where the girl had appeared, he discovered a crystal orb. It gave off a strange glow without the aid of fire. He picked it up and stared at it for a moment.
"Elven magic," he muttered into the night.
He needed to know more. He slipped the sphere into a leather pouch hanging from his waist and followed their trail. There was only one place they could be in this remote area, a nearby farmhouse that rested at the bottom of a hill. As he had done so many nights before, he stood outside the window, watching and listening, careful not to be discovered. The conversation he overheard brought a smile to his face. Whoever these people were, they planned a journey, one that would take them north in search of the very person he desired—Goffer.
Chapter Four
Making Plans
Charlotte awoke and lay in bed snug and warm. She peered from under the blanket to see why the alarm clock hadn’t gone off. She saw the beams in the whitewashed ceiling and ducked back beneath the covers. The reality of what happened the night before came crashing back into her mind.
She squeezed her eyes shut hoping to fall back to sleep, then maybe, just maybe, when she opened them again, her world would be back to normal. She knew in her heart it wouldn’t. No matter how hard she clenched her fists or gritted her teeth, she would have to get up at some point and face whatever was out there. Charlotte took a long, slow breath and pulled back the covers. She slipped into the clothes left hanging on the back of a spindled chair, and opened the bedroom door to peek into the corridor. The smell of fresh bread drew her towards the kitchen. She poked her head around the corner to see Swallow pottering around and humming to herself. Charlotte watched for a moment before inching into the room. “Good morning.”
“Ah! Hello, Charlotte.” Swallow’s green eyes sparkled with her smile. She walked to the table and patted a chair, gesturing for Charlotte to sit down. In no time, she served a breakfast of fresh baked bread and warm fruit muffins. “Did you sleep well?” she asked, sitting next to her and stroking Charlotte’s hair with her palm.
“Yes, thanks, but when I first woke up, I didn’t know where I was.”
“You poor thing. Well, Middleton left for Rivertown early this morning. He went to see if he could find out where this Goffer fellow might be.” She poured Charlotte a cup of fruit juice. “He is a good person and he knows a lot of people. I am sure he will find out something useful.” She sounded confident and gave a reassuring smile.
“What about Elderfield? Has he gone with him?” Charlotte asked through a mouthful of food.
“No. Elder has gone back to the forest to search the place where he found you.”
What good would that do her now, any of it? She said nothing as her thoughts turned to her family. “My mum will be going spare by now.”
Swallow crossed her arms and cocked her head. “Going spare?”
“Yeah, you know. Going mad and running around, shouting at everyone.” She looked down and poked her muffin before devouring it in a few bites. She wiped the crumbs from her face with the back of her hand. “When she finds out I’m not there, she’ll probably think I’ve been kidnapped or something.”
“Your family must be so worried. If it was my Elderfield, I think I would be going spare as well.” She shook her head and frowned.
“The worst thing is, nobody’s going to believe me when I tell them where I’ve been. I don’t even know myself! I’m gonna get in proper trouble.” She passed her empty bowl to Swallow. “Thanks. That was lovely.”
A broad smile spread across the older woman’s face as she ruffled Charlotte’s hair. “Do not be downhearted. I am sure we shall get you home one way or another.”
The sound of a horse galloping towards the farmhouse brought Charlotte to her feet. She rushed to the window. “Is it Elderfield?” She jumped to see over the window ledge. “I wonder if he found anything?” She waited, pacing around the table while Swallow explained he would stable and unsaddle his horse before coming inside. As soon as he stepped through the door, Charlotte ran up to him. “Did you find anything? Did you find my dome thing?”
He gazed into her eyes. “Sorry, Charlotte.” His face dropped with hers. “If anything was there, I would have found it. I searched everywhere.”
She walked back to the table and sat down heavily on the chair. She laid her head across her arms. “I didn’t think it would be.”
“Come on, now. We are not going to give up that easily.” Elder handed her a pair of leather moccasin boots and a cloak. “I will show you around the farm while we wait for my father to return.”
She didn’t feel like doing much of anything, but Elderfield had a way of raising her spirit. With a sigh, she tried on the sheepskin-lined boots and found them far more comfortable than they first appeared, even though they were a little too big for her. She tied the leather laces tight to help them stay on. “Thanks! I bet I look well funny in these.” She giggled, wrapping the cloak around her. It was not at all heavy like the one she borrowed from Elder, and the material had a pretty, floral pattern woven around the bottom edge.
“I never throw anything away,” Swallow declared, looking pleased. “I just made a few adjustments to that old thing this morning before you woke up.”
Charlotte smiled and followed Elder outside. “See you later,” she called back.
The outside of the farm looked very different in the light of day. A large cornfield stretched out before them, and in the distance, the treetops of Chapel Forest peeked over the top of the hill. With a broad grin, Elder beckoned Charlotte to follow him as he led her through the field to a small crop of trees gathering in solitude near the top of the knoll.
When they reached the small cluster of oaks, he took a deep breath and exhaled, scanning the horizon in all directions. “You can see everything from up here.” His tone held pride and a touch of awe.
She gazed at the splendour of the countryside. The wind blew in warm gusts, and the sun streaked through the broken clouds, lighting sections of the landscape.
Elder sat down on a patch of ground and leaned against the rough bark of a tree. “I love it up here. I come here all the time. It is a great place to gather your thoughts.”
She joined him, noticing the sweet scent in the air, a far contrast from the pollution she was accustomed to. “Is this your special place, then?”
“Yes, I suppose it is.” He chuckled. “Do you have a special place where you come from?”
She shook her head. “No, not really. I just go to my room if I’m upset or want to be alone.”
“Well, this can be your special place too ... If you want.”
She smiled, but said nothing.
They sat in silence, wrapped up in their own thoughts, admiring the scene. A river wound with a gentle flow around the farm and disappeared through a gap in the trees. Beside the water, a well-worn track wove parallel, disappearing into the forest.
They talked about their friends and family. Elderfield looked amazed at all the strange and wonderful things she spoke of. She fidgeted and waved her arms with joyful enthusiasm as she explained about her home.
As they played hide-and-seek amongst the corn, Charlotte noticed Middleton returning. “Look!” she called out, pointing down the hill.
Elderfield remained hidden at first, for she had caught him before using this ploy, but after a time, he poked his head out above the corn. “We are being summoned,” he said, watching his father beckon from a distance.
“Do you think he found out anything?” she asked, wide-eyed with hope.
“Well, there is only one way to find out.”
She giggled
and sprinted ahead of him.
They entered the farmhouse to find Middleton and Swallow chatting at the table. “Come and sit down,” Middleton offered. “We have some things to discuss.”
Charlotte sensed her face beginning to flush, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She felt like she was about to receive a scolding, but Middleton’s kind smile put her at ease.
“I have spoken to Blyth, the inn keeper,” Middleton began, sitting sideways on his seat to face her. “He is a trustworthy fellow, and one of the few people in Rivertown whom I rely on. He told me he has heard talk of a visitor asking questions about the goings-on around our farm.”
“Does he know where Goffer is?” Elder interrupted, standing over them.
Middleton kept his eyes focused on Charlotte. “He did not mention Goffer by name, but apparently, someone has been trying to get a message to me.”
“A message?” Elder stared at his father. “From whom?”
“I do not know.” The older man shrugged. “I have not been in town for a while, but the last time the Entertainers visited Rivertown, one of them told Blyth he needed to speak with me. Blyth asked if he could pass the message on, but this fellow refused to give it to anyone but myself.”
Elder folded his arms across his chest. “If it was that important, why did he not just come to the farm himself? We do not live far from town.”
Charlotte stared at Elder and his father in turn, wondering what they were talking about. She didn’t care about some stupid message; all she wanted to know was if they could help her or not.
“He was too afraid, by all accounts,” Middleton continued with a deep frown. “You see, people in town are saying a dark stranger has been seen lurking in Chapel Forest. The Entertainers only stayed for a day or so, before suddenly leaving. I questioned Blyth about the messenger, but all he could tell me was this dwarf kept waffling on with a lot of talk about druids from the north.” The lines on his face deepened with worry. “Blyth also overheard a conversation one night when the name, Dagan, was mentioned.” He glanced up at his son.
“Dagan? Dagan, the assassin? Why are people talking about him? He is just a character from a story.” Elder put his hand to his forehead and began pacing.
Truth Teller Page 4