by J Battle
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘We must be on our way and find someone to tell us where they are keeping the Wellstone.’
‘They’ll likely not want to tell us, my Lord, if we just ask nicely.’
‘Well, we will have to ask…can you say un-nicely? You can say unpleasantly. Yes, we’ll have to ask unpleasantly and see what we achieve that way, or shall we go straight to asking horribly? What do you say, Henray?’
‘I say your lordship seems in an uncommonly good frame of mind, my Lord, if I may.’
‘Of course, Henray, and why should I not be happy? Can you not smell the Magic in the air? Can you not taste its presence on your tongue? Can you not feel it in your bones? We are close, Henray, and we will not be withstood.’
‘Yes, My Lord.’
‘Come on, then, for glory awaits.’
**********
Frenk told the full story to the small audience, his words plain and straightforward, and filled with doom.
'Just the one Elvenfolk?' asked Anders.
'Ay, Mage, that's all we saw, and 10 men with him.'
'We may have some fortune here, then. Mayhap he's alone and no others of his race know that he is here, in which case, we have to stop him and prevent his return.'
'You are hoping for a great deal there, Mage,' said Alice, standing with one hand on Teddy's shoulder.
'Let us use what hope we can find, until it be dashed on the rocks of misfortune. Aavtaar, take as many men as you can lay your hands on, and march north. You must delay them until I reach you.'
'There are no legends of men standing against Elvenfolk, Mage,' grunted Aavtaar.
'Then it time to create such a legend, Aavtaar, and I know of no-one better to play the hero's part.'
'What will you be doing, Anders, whilst your men are marching to their doom?' Teddy shivered at the ice in the Lady's voice.
'There is no need for such dark tones, Lady, for I shall be not far behind. But I need some time to prepare, and solitude. So, leave me now, and do not lose hope.'
As Aavtaar, Alice, Frenk and Teddy left him to himself, Anders walked into his private quarters.
Clara was lounging in a great pile of cushions, her luscious form hardly covered by the filmy gown she wore; her dark hair draped across her shoulders.
Anders smiled at her and stretched out one hand. 'Come, my dear,' he said, softly.
Moments later they were walking through the top floors of the palace, the shadows of the wall lamps leaping as they passed.
Anders kept a tight grip on Clara’s wrist as he led her at last into the cold room that housed the Wellstone.
‘But it ain’t anywhere near the new moon, Mage. It’s days away yet, and I thought you’d pick Loren first. I thought you liked me best.’ She was pulling against him and, though her head was dipped just as he required, he could see from the way she clenched her fist that she was getting ready to fight him.
‘Shush, girl, of course I like you best. That’s why I chose you to go first. I’ll leave Loren whimpering in the corner until the next time. When this is all over, you can leave, if you wish, or you can stay and be my…what would you be? My consort? My companion?’
‘But…I thought the Stone would…will I truly be unharmed afterwards?’ She lifted her head for a second, but dropped her gaze again at the sight of his frown.
‘Would I tell you an untruth there, Clara? I’ll tell you, it will hurt, and you will suffer mightily, which is why I have been so hard on you, and used you so vigorously. To prepare you for this ordeal. But you are strong, and you will flourish afterwards, for, though the Wellstone will drink deeply of your vitality, you will be left unharmed, and, when rested, you will receive a gift from the Stone.’
‘But it is not yet the new moon. I heard you renew the Wellstone at the new moon.’
‘We have a time of danger approaching, my dear, and it is wise to be sure that the Wellstone’s Magic is at full strength, so we will renew early. Now come, dear. Do not hesitate, for the Stone will sense your fear, and it will be harder on you.’
‘But Anders, I am frightened. Don’t make me do this.’
Saying that, she jerked her arm from his grasp and tried to spin past him and back out through the doorway.
Anders allowed her to reach the door before he reacted.
With a simple raising of his hand, and his fingers held just so, and a few ancient words quietly spoken, consciousness escaped her, and she fell back into his arms.
'Come now, my dear,' he whispered as he lifted her, 'I'll be sure to look after you, and you can trust me on that.'
He carried her across the room to the simple table that supported the weight of the Wellstone.
He paused then, to allow her to awaken, and he took a moment to study the Wellstone.
Was it really only a single year since he first laid eyes on it, and came into his power? He smiled then, at the sudden memory that came to him, of Rootheart's face as he bound him to the sword and stone; stunned, amazed, angry; all replaced by agony as he was caused to burst into eternal flame by the power of the Wellstone and the will of Anders the Terrible.
And still he burned; holding back the creeping onslaught of God's Saddle, and protecting the valley from the fierce winds of the North.
Clara stirred in his arms, and muttered something unintelligible.
'There now, lass. All is well. Just stand upright there, and lean forward. Yes, support yourself on the table.'
'Anders…don't…'
'Shush now, girl. It will pass, and you shall be free.'
'No…' She struggled in his arms and tried to push herself away from the table.
'Oh, this is getting to be too much trouble!' snapped Anders, his voice suddenly harsh. 'Do as I say, or you shall rue the consequences.'
'But…'
'For damnation's sake!' Anders hissed a word of power and stilled her struggle. Then he caused her to move forwards, bending as the edge of the table touched her waist.
The Wellstone leapt from its usual dull brown color to glowing red as it anticipated what was to come, as Clara's hands reached out for it.
When her hands clasped the Stone, its color changed to orange red, and her flesh began to darken.
Anders took half a step back, and freed her will.
She began to scream as the Stone sucked the life from her, and gave her back only pain; twisting and jerking in a desperate attempt to free herself.
But the Stone would not release her; it just went on feeding; taking all that she could give, and more.
She turned her head towards Anders; her eyes pleading with him for help. But it was in vain.
When he judged that the time was right; that the Stone was fed, and she had only seconds left, Anders leapt forward and laid his hands on her naked back; skin to skin.
He could feel the urgent need of the Stone beginning to subside, and the strength flowing from her.
He had only scant seconds to say the eldritch words of power that would give him absolute control of the renewed Wellstone's Magic, but it was enough.
As Clara was finally released from her pain, he pulled his hands away from her, and she fell to the ground, a lifeless bundle of wasted flesh and bones.
Anders could feel the Wellstone's power running through him; almost, but not quite painful, and so satisfying.
Whatever was coming to the valley, be it strangers, or Giants, or Elvenfolk; he was ready for them. And woe betide the creature that thought itself capable of withstanding the power that was once again in his hands.
Chapter 25 Elstar
As they continued, the path became a road, well-kept and clear as it wandered through cultivated fields.
Then Henray stopped.
'Look yonder there, M'lord. The way is blocked.'
Not more than 100 yards from them was a gathering of men, standing firm behind a solid individual with an axe and a shield.
'What shall we do, M'lord? They will not let us pass easily, I should t
hink.'
'Ay, Henray, you are far from wrong. But what is there that is worthwhile that is easy to achieve? You can handle their leader, no matter how he waves his axe at us.'
'M'lord, I am not a fighter; I am a mere gardener, if you please.' He bowed again, and then he took a step to one side, as if to allow the crawlord to pass.
Elstar laughed and dropped a weighty hand on his shoulder.
'You're more than a gardener, Henray, you are a hunter. And what use is a hunter who is not there for the kill? He has five men with him, so take six with you and remove the obstacle from our path.'
'But, M'Lord, we are not armed; you do not allow us to carry weapons in your presence.'
Elstar sighed and pushed him roughly from the road. 'Then I will have to soil my own hands with their blood; is that what you wish?'
Henray leapt to his feet. 'No, my Lord,' he held up a hand, 'I did not mean to suggest that. Have no worry on this matter now, M'lord, for we shall do what must be done, whatever the cost to us poor men.' As he spoke, it struck Henray that he was pleading with the crawlord to be allowed to die on his behalf.
'Off you go then man, and don't leave me waiting here too long.'
Henray studied the resources available to him. There were 10 men, or rather, eight men and two youths.
He left the boys to the stern gaze of their master and led the rest down the road.
'If we kill the leader, the rest will run,' he said, in an encouraging tone, to those nearest him, 'but we must be quick, or risk failure.'
There were grunts and nods from those with him, for they knew well that they would rather fall at the hands of men, than stand before the crawlord with the stench of failure on them.
The defenders didn't wait for them to arrive; they began marching towards them, swinging sticks and knives, and shouting and shaking fists, and being sure to keep behind their powerful-looking leader.
With only a dozen yards between them, he stopped suddenly and raised his great axe.
'Halt there, strangers and turn thee around, for I am Aavtaar and I speak for the Great Mage, Anders the Terrible, and none shall pass.'
He nodded then, as if pleased with his words.
Henray coughed and took a deep breath.
'Stand aside, Aavtaar, for we speak for Crawlord Elstar, of Sun and Moon and Seven Stars, and we will not be stayed.'
Aavtaar smiled, and it was a sight to behold.
'Then there will be blood,' he snarled, as he leapt forward.
His axe caught the first before he could move, and his shield bludgeoned the second to the ground as he thought about moving.
Then he was amongst Henray's men, swinging and pushing, battering and slicing. He ignored the feeble punches and half-hearted blows with rocks and, far too soon for Henray to believe his eyes, there was just the pair of them left standing, with Aavtaar's redundant men watching from a safe distance.
'Wait, man!' gasped Henray, with one hand raised to block the coming blow from the axe. 'If you kill me, he'll come.'
Aavtaar pushed him over with his shield, almost gently, and then he raised his bloodied axe.
But the axe did not fall.
With surprising speed for such a large creature, Elstar rushed down the road and plucked the weapon from his hand.
He tossed the axe towards the watchers, just as Aavtaar struck him a powerful blow with the edge of his shield. A blow that would have surely split a man in two or, at least left him down on the ground with his lifeblood rushing from him.
The Crawlord hardly registered that he'd been struck at all, as he turned and took hold of Aavtaar's thick neck in one hand. With a grunt he lifted him from his feet and threw him after his axe.
‘There, Henray. I thought you’d do better than you have done. I profess to a little disappointment.’
Henray stood up and glanced over at the three enemy bodies draped across the ground. One man had obviously not seen where the axe was heading, and the other had proved too slow to avoid the falling body of Aavtaar. In the distance, he could see the rest of the gang making haste towards safety.
‘No need for disappointment, my Lord, when we are so close to the source of the Magic you crave.’
‘You are right, Henray. Let us proceed along this road, with these two worthy youths to protect us, and brush aside what barriers are placed in our way, and take in our own hands the weight of a Wellstone; not seen in all these years.’
‘Indeed, M’Lord, for who can withstand you?’
Henray gestured for the two boys to come closer. With hushed words, he sent them to examine the bodies of the two men resting in the dirt.
‘Two bodies, Henray?’ interrupted Elstar, ‘surely there were three, unless my counting is awry.’
‘I think the leader has slipped away into those trees whilst our attention was elsewhere.’
‘Never mind; if he is running back to his master, we will be hard on his heels, though I feel a little undermanned for such an occasion.’
He glanced at the unconscious bodies of his own men.
‘These poor creatures will be no use at all in the coming action, I think. Even if they retain what senses they had when they awaken.’
‘What need do you have of any men, when alone you are more than a match for whatever force they can raise?’
‘It’s simply the way these things should be done, Henray. With a fanfare; with a show; with a display of strength. I hardly think these fine young fellows standing here will raise fear in anyone, less they be no more than a child.’
Elstar stood upright and threw his dark cloak back across his shoulders.
‘Come Henray, and try not to lose the children.’
The mismatched foursome set off down the road, leaving the two dead bodies and 10 gradually awakening bodies behind them.
In the trees, Aavtaar sat back in the shadows, fearing that the anger in his eyes would be a beacon the crawlord would spot with his sharp eyes.
When they had passed, he crept out after them, keeping off the road as he followed, hardly limping at all. He had indeed been fortunate to have his fall softened by the body of one of his men.
Only a few minutes later, he was forced to halt, lest he get too close to the crawlord and his men, who had suddenly found their way blocked.
He watched as the great beast ushered its three human consorts forward, much against their will.
Before them stood Anders the Terrible, in all his glory; his arms outstretched and his long hair flowing behind him, and the light of the sun seeming to burst from his very skin.
He moved one hand, just a little, and the three men fell senseless to the ground.
The crawlord leapt forward, a long gleaming sword suddenly in his hand. The blow was so quick and deadly, but it was deflected, sending the crawlord off balance.
Struck by the glowing fist of the Mage, he was knocked to his knees, where he was at the mercy of the power of the Wellstone. Anders made a mighty double-fist and lifted it above his head, ready to bring utter destruction down on his foe.
But, even stunned, the crawlord was too quick. He rolled to one side and kicked out with one clawed foot, sending the Mage sprawling in the dirt.
Then he was on his feet and turning to flee the power of the Magic being raised against him.
He ran straight into the sharp blade of Aavtaar's axe.
As the heavy iron bit into his chest, he knocked the man to one side and began to run along the road. The blood poured from the wound, and the curses poured from his mouth as he ran.
So close, he'd been; so close to the life changing, world changing Magic of the Stone. But defeat was ash in his mouth, and the anger threatened to undo his mind as he reached the pale pink barrier of mist.
The only thought that saved his sanity was the sure and certain knowledge that he would be back, and that next time, he would be leading a War Party of Elvenfolk.
Chapter 26 Cavour
‘Quite a bruise you have there, developing on your
chin. Was it Aavtaar who did that to you?’
‘No, it was not him. It was a…it was someone else; and he packs a punch, he does, and that’s no mistake. I should like to meet him again when my hands are free, I’ll tell you.’
‘What now, then, BobbyJ? How did you plan the next step?’
‘Well now, it seems to me that the very best thing for clever men in our position is to simply wait here until the opportunity presents itself to us, and to be sure to be ready to make the most of it when it shows up and doffs its cap and says howdo.’
‘Strange as it may sound, that was exactly what I was doing, until you came along and interrupted me.’
‘Help us up, Mr Cavour, and make some room on that there bed for two.’
‘I’ll help you up, lad, but there is no room on the bed for you; it is strictly a one-person bed, if you like.’
‘I don’t like that much, if I’m honest about it Mr Cavour, but I suspect your old bones need it more than mine, so I’ll stand over there in the corner by the door, and I’ll be ready for opportunity when it arrives.’
Cavour bent and grabbed his bound wrists and pulled him to his feet in one smooth movement.
‘If you’d be kind enough to untie me, that would suit me best, I should think,’ said BobbyJ, holding up his wrists.
‘Is that your belt there, BobbyJ? It certainly looks like your belt you are bound by. Now, how did such a thing happen, I should like to know.’
BobbyJ just grunted and shook his wrists.
Shaking his head, Cavour went to work and soon enough, BobbyJ’s wrists were free.
‘So, Mr Cavour, I thought you might want to start shouting, and maybe banging about a bit, and cause a bit of a ruckus, if you will, to see if we can give opportunity a bit of a tug, as it’s taking its own precious time.’
‘What should I shout? I’m not sure I’m very good at shouting.’
‘What about something like, ‘he’s escaping through the roof!’ as loud as you like, and banging the bed against the wall?’
‘You think he’ll fall for that ruse?’
‘Well, they don’t make the clever people stand guard, do they?’