Misthaven: The Complete Trilogy

by J Battle

  As with everything she said, Elstar found it hard to gauge how many of her words held the truth, and how many were infused with mockery.

  **********

  He lay still on the bed, with his eyes closed and his mind raging. He had no idea how long Aavtaar had been gone, but he knew that his search would prove futile; that he would return empty-handed and distressed, his head bowed as he confronted his failure.

  As long as he could remember he’d wished for Magic, and he’d worked hard to achieve his wish. For a year now, he'd been bonded to the Wellstone, from the moment he’d found it in the depths of the mountains and returned in triumph and glory to the valley, to make Misthaven as it once had been; looking for a future of years of comfort and pleasure for himself, and plenty for his people.

  Every moment of that year, he'd felt the connection to the Stone; it was always there at the back of his mind, even as the moon waned and its strength declined.

  But not now. Now he could feel it moving away from him, and soon, so soon, it would be lost to him completely.

  He groaned, still unmoving, as he tried to reach out to it, to claim the last remnant of Magic that it might still allow him.

  With a jerk, he sat up and threw his feet to the ground. He'd never considered visions of the future as worthy of his time and effort. Why need predictions of what is to come when you make the future with your own will? That had been his view.

  But now? When his future was slipping away, he accepted a gift from the Stone; a vision of what was to come, and his blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

  He walked to the window and looked out at the clear early morning scene, at the rich luscious fields, the gentle wooded slopes, the fat sheep standing guard on the higher hills, at the multi-colored wall of mist that surrounded the valley.

  'I did all this,' he whispered to himself.

  He spent a long moment just standing there, unwilling or unable to take any action. He should be calling his men to him, creating a battle-plan to protect the valley from the attack that could only be days, or even hours away.

  But all he could do was stand at the window and wait for his doom to approach.

  The message from the Stone had been simple, clear and unambiguous.

  Today was the day he would die.

  Chapter 40 Turgon

  Turgon stepped from the mind befuddling mist into the clear light of day.

  He spun around to look at the wall that had hidden the sun for what seemed so long. It towered above him, glowing with pinkness.

  ‘Elstar, Elstar, Elstar,’ he gasped as he turned and planted a thin veined hand on the other crawlord’s shoulders, ’what have you done? Is it really true? Is this all Magic? I did not believe your tale before, but now?’

  ‘Well, now you can believe, Turgon. And you must hope that I forget your mockery and harsh words over the decades. I told you all that I would find Magic and end our centuries of humiliation and diminishment.’

  He looked past Turgon, as the other crawlords joined them, milling around and gasping in excitement and hunger.

  ‘My friends,’ Elstar spoke loud enough so that they would all hear his words, and remember this day, ’the years of loss and dismay are nearing their end, and they will not be missed. Today we lay our hands once again on Magic, and we will be glorious once more, and there will be young amongst us, and we will be beautiful, and we will be worshipped as the demi-gods we are. This is my gift to you, my brethren.’

  He paused and settled his eyes on each face in turn; waiting until he was sure before he moved on to the next.

  ‘I chose you all carefully, for we will be the leaders of our race for millennia to come, and we shall cast aside those who ruled over our demise.’

  With a swagger, he threw his cloak over his shoulder and held out one hand.

  ‘Come, bow and kiss my hand, and show due allegiance to your new Elflord; to Elflord Elstar Alleenall; He who carries the Sun in his hand.’

  Turgon snorted.

  ‘A little premature, my Elflord Elstar Alleenall, don’t you think? You’ve only led us through an area of low-lying cloud and into a nice little valley. It’s hardly cause to drop to our knees and kiss your bony hand.’

  And yet, all around the crawlords were doing just that. One by one they came and knelt, and kissed and pledged themselves to Elstar.

  Soon the there was only Turgon; tall and arrogant, with his beautiful blue eyes blazing.

  ‘Well Turgon? Will you join us, or rush back to Ephlindon to warn him of his coming fall?’

  Turgon looked at all the crawlords watching him in anticipation. He wanted so much to turn and leave them to their folly as he marched away.

  Two things stopped him from doing just that. Firstly, there was a good chance that Elstar was right about the Magic, and he wanted to be part of that future.

  Secondly, he was fearful that he would lose himself in the mist and never again be found.

  ‘My Elflord Elstar Alleenal,’ he said as he sank awkwardly to his knees, ‘I pledge my allegiance to you and the glorious future of which you speak.’

  He hesitated for a second before he briefly laid his thin lips against the almost fleshless fingers.

  Elstar smiled and had the effrontery to put his hand on Turgon’s head, as if to say ‘there, there my child, all will be well.’

  Turgon stood up abruptly, the anger rushing into his face, his great fists clenched and his teeth bared.

  Elstar smiled again at his reaction. ‘If you have nothing more to say, we should be on our way. We have a battle to fight, and it will not be easy, for he is most potent, but we will prevail.’

  He turned and began to march down into the valley, followed by his band of crawlords and men.

  Turgon held back for a moment or two. He pulled out his blade and tested its sharpness against his finger.

  ‘Who knows,’ he whispered to himself, although he was now alone, ‘what might happen to our glorious new leader in the furnace of battle, when a blade might slip here, or an axe fall there? Such a shame it would be, if I had to sacrifice myself and take up the weight of responsibility for the Stone and lead my people in victory and glory. Such a shame.’

  He replaced his sword and set off after the others, fighting a sudden urge to skip.

  **********

  Tedward had watched as the Elvenfolk emerged from the mist-wall that was no longer the barrier it once had been.

  He counted them on his fingers, and added a few as he didn’t have enough digits. Then he saw the men, and counting changed to guessing.

  With a counted figure for the Elvenfolk and an estimate of the men, he set off to warn his Pa once again.

  ‘What shall we do, Pa?’ he gasped as he reached his house. ‘There be too many of them this time.’

  Frenk sighed and paused, halfway to pulling down his sword.

  ‘There’ll be no hanging around this time. We’ll be off on our legs and down to see the Mage, and he can blast them all back where they came from with his Magic, and we can all get some rest.’

  ‘But Pa, ain’t you heard? There ain’t no Wellstone no more; it’s gone and been pinched by them strangers, and they’re off on their toes with it.’

  ‘But, that can’t be…the Mage would never have allowed it!'

  'I heard that he was fighting the monster, and blasting away at it with his hands, when it was pinched; that's what I heard.'

  Frenk dropped his heavy sword onto his shoulder and shook his head.

  'Bad times are coming, sure as the sky is up and the ground is down. Let's be off now, Tedward and…no, without his Magic, the Mage is no use to us. We'll pass his palace and be off to find the Lady; ay, that'd be for the best. She'll know what's best to be done.'

  'But, what about the Mage? Has his Magic all gone?'

  As they left the cottage, Frenk shrugged.

  'He gets his Magic from the Wellstone, and if he ain't got it any longer, I can't see as how he'd still have Magic.'

&nb
sp; As they made their way down the hill towards the bottom of the valley, they fell into silence; each of them fearful in their own way of the future that was about to engulf Misthaven.

  As they passed the Mage’s palace, they saw a still figure in a window on the top floor.

  'Is that the Mage?' whispered Tedward.

  'Ay, I think it is, and there's no need to whisper, as he can't hear us here.'

  'But, he's just standing there; doing nothing.'

  'Don't know what else he could be doing, ‘ceptin standing and watching and waiting.'

  'What's he waiting for?'

  Frenk stopped to catch his breath and check the road behind them.

  'Well son, I can't tell the future at all, but I think them Elvenfolk you saw, well their first stop will be here, to visit the Mage, and not to say 'how do you do?' They'll be here for the Wellstone, and when they see it isn't there, they'll turn a bit nasty, I reckon.'

  'They're already nasty, Pa. I seen 'em.'

  When they reached the Lady's cottage, they found the door closed and no-one home.

  'Right, son, she must be in town. Mayhap she already knows they're coming and she's making preparations, like.'

  'Don't see how she could be, Pa. I saw 'em first, and nobody passed me, and we ain't seen no-one on the road, have we?'

  'Well we'll find out soon enough. I hope there's a boat this side of the reservoir; these boots are new on, and I'd like to finish the day with them nice and dry.'

  Chapter 41 Esmere

  'How's that, my lady?'

  Esmere looked up at him, and leaned back a little. He was standing so close that his rank breath was making her stomach heave.

  'Well, it's better than the dungeons, I suppose; if only a little.'

  'Those sheets are finest satin. The curtains were imported from as far as Elrada, in the far east. They have travelled thousands of miles just to ease your sleep. Surely a little gratitude is in order.'

  She glared up at him. 'Gratitude? Gratitude? You expect gratitude from your prisoners now, do you? When I am free to walk the land as I please, well, mayhap then I'll be grateful. When I can dine with my beloved Pa and Ma, then I'll be grateful. But not to you, Trytor, not to you at all, for you have taken them from me. I'll be giving thanks to God when I am free.'

  'Your God? And your father, I suppose.'

  'Of course to my Pa as well. He'll be banging on your door soon enough and demanding that you free me, and you best do as he says, 'cause he's an important man.'

  Lydorth laughed; a loud hoarse sound than made her want to cringe.

  'He is indeed important, at least as far as a man can be. And he is your hero, is he not? I can see it in the way you speak of him.'

  'Of course he is my hero; he protects the land from your excesses.'

  'My excesses? Well, we should all be grateful that he is here to keep me in hand. Who knows what I would do without his firm and honorable words.'

  'You would do well to listen to his words.'

  'Do you know what he does for me? At a whim of mine? All I have to say is this and that, and he's off to do this and that; full of eagerness to please. That's what your father does for me.'

  'No! He takes your whims and he guides them, and he takes the harm from them.'

  'He takes the harm from my whims? Can you really believe that, child?'

  'Of course I can! He is my father, and he is honourable.'

  'Ay, and when I said, kill them all for me, did he say, 'My Lord, that is wrong and must not be done', or did he simply say 'Yes my lord, just the town, or the whole land?''

  'You can't make me disbelieve my father. He told me what you wanted, and he told me that he would find a way to thwart your evil plan, and he spoke the truth.'

  Lydorth smiled.

  'So my dear, when he laid a bag of baby heads before me, dripping baby blood and getting my floor all messy with baby gore, that was him thwarting my evil plans, was it? Or was it just him doing his job; the same job he has been doing all these years for me?'

  'No; my father would never…he would never do such a thing. Never!'

  She turned away and walked into her new bedroom, her mind spinning in confusion. Her father would never do such a thing; never. But the Trytor seemed so sure. Or was he lying? But why would he lie to her? What would he gain from such deception? But if he spoke the truth, what did that say of her father? Unless, unless her father was deceiving the Trytor in some way.

  Yes, that made some sort of sense. But, if that was the case, she must be careful not to raise doubt in Lydorth's mind.

  'Leave me now, for I would sleep,' she fought hard to keep her voice imperious and dismissive, ‘but send up some food first. Proper, human food, fit for a lady; not that rancid muck you eat.’

  Lydorth smiled as he turned away, but his mind was also racing.

  Was it true, what the girl had said? Could her father have found a way to retain his honour and deceive his master? How could that be? Dryan was clever and wily; he knew this from long experience, but could he have tricked him in some way?

  As he marched through the twisting corridors to his rulehall, he made a decision.

  As he settled down on his throne, he called out, his voice reverberating along the length of the hall.

  ‘Orther and Harld! Come at once!’ he cried. He didn’t know if they were near, or off on his business somewhere, but someone would hear his call and rush to find them, with panic in their hearts.

  He smiled as he wriggled his backside into a comfortable position. He liked a little panic in his servants, he thought, and that’s the truth.

  He didn’t have to wait for long; Orther and Harld were soon rushing in to his rulehall, with their heads down and their chests heaving as they fought for breath.

  ‘You speak first,’ muttered Orther.

  ‘No, it must be you. He likes you best.’

  ‘I don’t reckon he likes anyone.’

  ‘Come closer; I won’t eat you; not the both of you anyway.’

  Harld slowed to allow Orther to get ahead, but Orther also slowed; he was too wily to fall for that old trick.

  Soon the pair were standing still, 20 yards from their master.

  ‘Well,’ sighed Lydorth, ’the first one to stand before me gets eaten last.’

  It was a dead heat.

  ‘Now, my good helpers, I have a task for you; an important task, and it must be done immediately. You have nothing else more urgent you have to be doing, do you?’

  ‘No, my Lord Lydorth. Whatever you want from us, we will…we are ready to do for…you, ain’t we Harld?’

  ‘Y-yes, my Lord, and that be the honest truth.’

  ‘Good; I was hoping that that would be your response. Now, listen carefully. A suggestion has been made that a certain person has attempted to deceive your master.’

  The pair shook their heads in unison, as if that could not possibly be the case.

  ‘And if this is the case, then trouble will fall on his head and crush the life from his body.’

  They’d looked at each other, but neither dared respond.

  ‘So, now, I want you to go out into the town and seek out the first born of as many families as you can, and, if they can still be found, bring them to me. A dozen or so should suffice to show that it wasn’t a mistake and that he missed one. I am reasonable, am I not? A man might miss one or two, but a dozen speaks of choice, of decision. Am I right?’

  ‘Yes, Master Lydorth, sir. That be treachery indeed,’ said Orther.

  ‘And it must be punished,’ piped up Harld, hoping that he was saying the right thing.

  ‘Go now, and bring me proof.’

  ‘My Lord, if there be first-born, and we find them, then we can bring them to you. But, beg your pardon for my cheek, but what happens if there be no first-born, and nothing we can bring to prove?’ Orther kept his eyes down as he spoke, in case he might see anger in the Trytor’s eyes.

  ‘Well, in that case, you can just bring yourselve
s, can’t you?’

  ‘Yes, my Lord. I hadn’t thought of that, my Lord.’

  ‘Now, go; your constant fear raises a stink that offends my nose.’

  ‘Yes, my Lord.’

  They turned on their heels and rushed along the rulehall.

  ‘What did he mean with that last thing?’ asked Harld, as he tugged at Orther’s sleeve.

  ‘What d’you think he meant? If we can’t prove they’re still alive, then we can’t prove they’re dead. And if we can’t prove that, I reckons he will want to see someone dead. Either me, or thee, or maybe both.’

  ‘We better find ourselves some first-born, then.’

  ‘Ay, Harld, you don’t often talk sense but I think this time you’ve fallen over a lump of it and that’s the truth.’

  Chapter 42 Alice

  ‘My Lady, we have urgent news. Can we speak in private?’

  ‘Take a seat here at the table, Frenk and rest your legs. You also, young Tedward, sit beside Gorge there, between him and Tom. You both look as tired as can be. And if anyone overhears your words, I fear they won’t hear anything they won’t know soon enough anyway.’

  Frenk sighed as he sat, and waited for Tedward to squeeze between the other two boys.

  He noticed Cavour sitting alone at a nearby table, nursing a tankard of flat ale.

  He gave him a quick nod and turned his attention to the occupants of the table.

  Facing Frenk and Tedward were Alice and young Sam, looking a little uncomfortable sitting so close to Loren.

  ‘My Lady, the news is bad. My boy Tedward here, he saw them, and he counted them. Now, he don’t know all his figures yet, but he can count past 10, and he knows what he sees.’

  ‘Tell me Tedward, what did you see?’ asked Alice, her eyes all gentle.

  ‘Miss, I saw them, a dozen or more of them Elvenfolk; big and ugly they were, and they had twice as many men with them, and they weren’t pretty neither.’