by J Battle
‘Where will he be in a few weeks, sir?’ Alice held Brawn’s arm to still him.
Cavour looked from one to the other, wondering how much he could tell them.
After a moment’s hesitation, he sighed, as the strength to prevaricate left him.
‘If you walk across the shoulder of God’s Saddle, and keep on going for weeks on end, one day you will come to a land darkened by the shadow of the Trytor. A creature of legend everywhere else; in that place he is real. But he is the last of that line, and he seeks the Magic of Wellstones to remedy that fact. Which is where I am involved. I have scoured the lands, seeking here and there for bits and pieces of gossip and whispers, for hidden knowledge and secret wisdoms.’
He sighed again and settled himself down on the bed.
‘And all that information has brought us here, to your home, for which I am terribly sorry.’
He bowed his head as if he could say no more.
‘The last Trytor you say? There were others, were there not? What do you know of them?’
Cavour frowned. ‘They are dead, My Lady. All three of them; one to a Giant and the others to a man, if the storys are true, though it be hard to believe.’
‘And…’ she looked away for a momentm, unable to continue. ‘And, do you have knowledge of what became of the man?’
Cavour shook his head. ‘No, my Lady, but I expect he survived. I would have heard his name otherwise, I should think.’
Her legs suddenly weak, she sat on the bed beside him. Her father, still alive? Waiting, perhaps to complete the task and dispatch the last of the abominable creatures?
‘And this creature you brought with you; is it true what he protests, that he is the son of this Trytor?’
‘Of that, you know as much as I. I thought my companion no more than an eager boy, with a limp and a hunger for female company, but we all saw how wrong I was.’
‘Leave us alone for a short while, my Lady, and I will shake these lies from his mouth and leave nothing but the truth behind.’ Brawn leaned forward as if it was a struggle to hold back.
‘No, Brawn, there will be no need for that. I believe I recognize the truth when I hear it. Will your brothers catch him, do you think?’
‘Now, my Lady, they are good boys, and willing enough, but they are not quick on their feet, or in their heads, and I think he’ll slip away from them easy enough, in the dark like.’
‘Well, if we can’t follow behind, then we must find a way to get ahead of him and lay a trap for him along the way.’
She placed her hand on Cavour’s shoulder.
‘For that, we’ll need this man’s aid, given freely, and without much in the way of shaking. What do you say, Mr Cavour? Your own plans have gone astray; will you help us in ours? And perhaps, along the way, you might find yourself bumping into a little redemption. How does that sound to you? Will you help us?’
Cavour looked into her deep eyes and nodded.
Then a thought leapt into his head, all of its own accord.
‘Please, my Lady, can I have my bag?’
She nodded and Brawn left them alone for a moment.
'This will be for the best,' said Alice, with a gentle smile.
Cavour made no response, lost in his fear.
Brawn returned and dropped the bag in his lap.
He held his hands up, and waited as Brawn released his bonds.
For a moment, he simply stared at the well-worn leather. Then he gritted his jaws and quickly undid the bindings. When the flap was flipped, he looked inside.
He rummaged around with both hands for a hurried second. Then he stopped; his fear confirmed.
'He has taken my notes,' he said, quietly.
'Notes? What notes?' Brawn glanced at the Lady.
'Why, the notes I have gathered together all these weeks and months and years.'
'Concerning what?' asked the Lady.
He looked up and met her eyes.
'Concerning the locations of the other Wellstones.'
'There are others?'
'Yes, my Lady, and the Trytor wants them all.'
**********
As he'd raced from the Mage's Palace, Aavtaar's mind had run even faster than his legs.
They had a start on him; he knew that, but not how long. They might be delayed at the reservoir, or held up as they tried to pass through Hesselton, for its inhabitants were wary of strangers. The old fellow might be a bit slow on his feet, and the youngster had a limp. How much difference would that make?
When he reached the low wall of the reservoir, he did not stop to seek out a boat; he didn't have the time to waste. Instead he leapt the wall, landing squarely on the hidden path, just a few inches below the water's still surface. As he rushed across the reservoir, an observer would have thought he was walking on water, or, more accurately, running.
Panting for breath, he climbed the steps at the other end, with his trusty axe over one shoulder.
He didn't stop to search the town; if they were still there, he might lose them as he searched. Instead, he kept right on down to the harbor.
There he had a problem. Which gate would they chose? East, towards the valley of the Elvenfolk, and the gaunt lands beyond. Or west, along the coast, with plenty of towns and villages in which to hide themselves, along with forests and mountains.
It had to be west; it was the way he would choose.
At the west gate, he found a single guard, resting against the wall, wrapped in his cloak against the cold.
'All alone tonight?' Aavtaar asked, as he drew close.
'Ay, Mr Aavtaar. Old Bern, he was on his own here yesterday, and he got tossed about by a Giant, if you believe.'
'A Giant? No.'
'Yes, indeed, and two of them I hear. They're down near Main Street, sitting outside Sea Legs tavern, and eating and drinking for all they're worth.'
Aavtaar shook his head. Strange times indeed, he thought.
'Now, tell me, Jakk, have you seen any strangers pass this way, tonight?'
Jakk thought for a moment, as if he'd had such a busy night. 'No, Mr Aavtaar, I don't believe I have. And I've hardly slept at all.'
'Good, now, take yourself over to the east gate, and you ask the very same question. And when you have your answer, you come rushing back here to tell me. How does that sound?'
'Righto Mr Aavtaar, I'll do just that. Shall I run?'
'Ay, that'd be best.'
Alone, Aavtaar stepped through the open gate and slipped into the shadows beyond.
After a wait of 10 minutes he heard panting breath and shuffling feet.
'Mr Aavtaar? You there Mr Aavtaar?'
He emerged back in into the light.
'Yes Jakk. What news?'
'They ain't seen nothing neither.'
'Good, that's very good. Now, take yourself back to the east gate and you guard it with them, and make plenty of noise about it, so they know you're there.'
'But, what about my gate? I'm supposed to look after it and make sure no-one passes, without I say they can.'
'No worry about that Jakk. I'll stand guard for you, and you don't think anyone will get past me, do you?'
'Ay, Mr Aavtaar, I don't reckon an army would get past you, less you say they can.'
'Off you go, now Jakk, about your business.'
When he'd gone, Aavtaar studied the empty harbor area, and the streets leading down to it.
'Ay,' he said to himself, as he moved back to his hiding place, 'it's going to be a long cold night.'
He was right about the cold, but not about the length of the night.
Jakk could barely have reached the east gate when Aavtaar heard the slap of feet on the damp pavements. It was more of a slap, followed by a cushioned thud, followed by a slap.
Then a pale figure slipped through the gate and set off without pause along the coast road.
Surprisingly quiet for a man of his size, Aavtaar moved behind him. With hardly a sound at all, he struck with his axe, catching him
across the back of the neck with the blunt end.
With a grunt BobbyJ fell, rolling as he hit the ground. In a split second, he was back on his feet, facing his assailant.
'That was uncalled for, and that's the truth,' he said, with a smile.
Aavtaar took half a step closer, to be in range for his next blow. 'You've a hard head, young sir.'
'Ay, it's been said before.'
'You'll need it when the Mage gets hold of you again. He's more than a little mad at you, for stealing his Stone.'
'Ah well, give him my apologies, if that'll make a difference, and bid him farewell.'
'Now, don't you be moving now, 'cause we've got business together. And where's your pants anyway?'
'A lady had the overwhelming urge to see me naked. And how could I refuse?' As he spoke, he moved a little closer.
'Now lad, don't get yourself too close, if you want this to end well.'
'Oh, it will end well, I'm sure, Mister Round and Fat.'
The axe in Aavtaar's hand jerked, as if of its own accord, and his face darkened. 'Don't you…'
The blow should have separated BobbyJ's head from his neck, it was so quick and accurate.
But BobbyJ ducked just in time, and charged forward, ramming his head into Aavtaar's stomach.
They dropped to the ground together, with the axe slipping from Aavtaar's hand.
In a second, BobbyJ was on top, his dark seven-fingered hand grasping his opponent's throat in an unbreakable grip.
Aavtaar jerked and twisted as he tried to dislodge his slight attacker, but he was heavier than he looked, and immensely strong. As his vision began to dim, he threw a last desperate blow, with all of his remaining strength.
The last thing he heard was BobbyJ's laugh at the futility of his effort.
When the job was finished, BobbyJ eased himself upright and looked down at the body. He flexed his fingers and held them up. His seven- fingered hand looked larger, and felt stronger. His normal, human hand was beginning to darken, and there were two little nubs visible. He would not long pass as human.
He looked down past his pale hairless torso at his legs; the one slender and lightly muscled, the other curved and powerful.
He'd always thought the legacy he'd received from his father was nothing but an abomination; something to be hidden from sight, lest he be mocked.
But, as he stood there on that empty road, above the body of his enemy, something flipped in his mind. It was no longer the seven-fingered hand, or the curved dark leg that appalled him. It was the weak human flesh that seemed to glow in the light; it was the flimsy arms; the puny leg; the fragile torso. All these things disgusted him now.
With a sob, he bent to Aavtaar's body and began to strip him, desperate to cover his shame.
When his weakness was hidden, and all he could feel was his growing strength, he bent again to Aavtaar, and did the most natural thing in the world, for him. He began to feed.
Chapter 38 Fleur
It was the day after Rekk had removed the thorn from her flesh that Meldon had become, and it was time for her to act. Already rumours were seeping through the palace at his absence, on top of the stories about how he killed Courtney with a look, and left him sitting unmarked in his chair with a cigar in one hand and a flagon of ale in the other.
But it wouldn’t be long before the rumours turned to concern, and concern to action, and she couldn’t have his body found, not before she was ready.
Rekk was hovering around her, anxious and agitated, walking from here to there and back again.
‘It ain’t right, sis,’ he said, running a hand through his long hair. ‘Not with the child in your belly, it ain’t.’
‘It’s got to be done, Rekk, before they find his body.’
‘Ay, I know that, but… I reckoned he’d have gold coin enough to see us right, and we could leave and not have to do this.’
‘Leave!’ she snapped. ‘We were never going to leave. Not for coin; not for nothing. When I get my Magic, we’ll have everything we could ever want, and more besides.’
‘But…’
‘Will you do it then, brother? Will you say the words and lay your hands on the Stone?’
‘You know I can’t read them words.’
‘I could read them for you?’
‘Still.’
She stared into his eyes for a moment; a silent challenge.
When he turned away, she snorted and turned to the door.
‘Follow me then, and stand at the door and make sure no-one comes in.’
With his head down and his shoulders slumped, he followed her.
In the room at the back of Meldon’s chambers, she knelt by the bed and pulled the chest out from beneath it without hesitation.
She flipped the lid and her eyes fell on the dull brown Stone. As she watched, its colour changed to a muted red, then brighter, then orange.
‘It hungers for me,‘ she said, with a gasp. She dropped her hands to her belly and she practiced the words from the paper Rekk had obtained for her. Three times she thought the words, and three times she spoke them, softly, as if she was speaking to the child inside her.
The colour of the Stone was a steady orange, with flickers of red and yellow, and she could feel the heat from it.
‘This is for you, child,’ she said, as she leaned forward, ‘this is for you. You’ll be the first child in the land, and I’ll protect you. I’ll protect you now, and I’ll protect you forever.’
Without allowing herself a moment for second thoughts, she pressed both hands down on the fiery surface.
‘Per id nestum….’ The rest was lost in her scream as the Stone fed on her. On her flesh and on her life-force.
It continued to feed and would not have stopped, but some part of her mind still held itself together, an island in the sea of pain. She gasped the words of release, the words almost unintelligible and barely different from scream.
But the Stone ignored her pleas and continued to feed, and her screams became louder, with hardly a break between them.
Then, without warning, she was released and she collapsed onto her side, and unconsciousness washed over her.
When she awoke, she was still on her side, with a foul taste in her mouth and her cheeks wet with drool.
‘Wha…?’ She lifted one hand, expecting to be burnt to the bone, but it was whole and unmarked.
‘It worked,‘ she gasped, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. With a grunt and a groan, she heaved herself to her feet and stood for a moment, looking down at the dull brown Stone in the chest.
She smiled then, and turned to the door.
‘Brother!’ she called.
Immediately the door swung opened and Rekk peeped his head through.
‘Sis…’ His eyes were wide open and his jaw dropped.
‘What is it?’
‘Your hair…’
She reached up and pulled a thick handful of her hair and pulled it around to examine it.
‘Hah!’ she said, as she threw her hair back. ‘Don’t you think white is a good colour for me?’
‘I… well. Are you alright, sis?’
‘Alright? I’m wonderful!’
‘Can you… can you do things? Like he could?’
She lifted her hands. ‘I thought I’d be able to feel it… the Magic. In my fingertips, like.’
Rekk kicked over a wooden chair. ‘Here, turn that to dust.’
Fleur pointed at the chair and tried to force the Magic through her finger.
‘I need the Magic words, that’s what I need,’ she said, at last. ‘Go and fetch that Grosvenor. I need the right words I do. Get him now, and don’t hang about now. Don’t you go near the tavern, unless that’s where he is. Now, go.’
‘No please or thank you for darling brother?’
‘Go, or I’ll be turning you to dust!’
Alone again, she searched again for the Magic within her. It must be there, she thought, so why can’t I feel it? ‘I need the words,
I do,’ she said, after an age.
‘The words will not aid you.’
She spun around, but she was alone in the room.
She rushed to the door, but there was no-one there.
‘The words will not aid you, for you have no access to Magic.’
‘But…?’ She rushed to the window, but it was fixed closed. She turned again, and spun in a full circle. ‘Who is there?’ she whispered.
‘It is only I.’
‘Who are you? What is your name?’ Was she going mad, talking to herself?
‘I have no name. You have not yet given one to me, mother.’
Chapter 39 Elvenswarm
Crawlord Elstar stopped before the large solitary rock and tried to see the great wall of mist that he knew was before him.
His eyes slipped to the left, and then to the right, from the boulder, to the pole, and back again. Nowhere could he rest them on the mist.
'Well then, Elstar, our glorious leader, what do we have here?' Turgon spoke directly into his left ear, he was standing so close.
'Now, my dear friend,' said Elstar softly, 'we have come to the time when trust is required. You do trust me, don't you, Crawlord Turgon?'
'Trust, Elstar? With my life, of course.' He seemed to edge even closer.
'Then close your eyes, and take my hand.'
'Elstar, I thought your taste was for softer flesh, for human flesh. But, if you are prepared to be flexible, as it were, I can be open-minded about your desires, but perhaps when we are alone.'
'Just do as I say, and take the hand of the one behind you. I will guide you into the darkness and through to the other side.'
Turgon grunted and grasped his hand in his own. With a sneer, he closed his eyes.
'Lead on, dear Elstar; lead on.'
Elstar sighed and looked back along the line of Elvenfolk. 12 of them, there were; crawlords all, but less than he would have hoped for. Behind them were gathered a band of humans, weak and ill-favored, but mayhap of use in the coming strife.
Blodnes had chosen not to come.
'Blood and gore are not to my taste. Elstar,' she had said, ' so I will await your return, by the Talking Stone, in breathless anticipation of your return and your ascent.'