by J Battle
He seemed to have a blanket strapped across his massive chest, and his middle parts were also wrapped in a blanket, tied with some rope into a form of a skirt, or kilt.
‘What did you give me to numb the pain?’
‘Give you? I gave you nothing, and you can have some more if you wish, for it will never run out.’
‘But, how did you set my leg without something to stop the pain?’
‘Oh, I flipped you across the head once or twice with this here finger; that seemed to do the trick.’
Cavour eyed the meaty index finger. In truth, his head was a little sore.
He found that he could sit up in the bed, even though it entailed moving his leg a little.
He winced as he moved, but the pain was nothing like what he’d expected.
‘So, Rootheart…’ he began; then he stopped, as Rootheart bent to adjust the rope sandals he was wearing.
He was struck all of a sudden that he knew this man; or had seen his like before, although the possibility that there could be another to match him was something of a mystery in itself.
‘I know you, sir,’ he said slowly, ‘but I’m not entirely sure from where.’
‘Well now, I’ve always been somewhere, but mayhap not the where you’ve been to, ‘less you been to lots of wheres, in which case I can’t say.’
‘No, I can see it now. It was you, wasn’t it, in that burning column to the north of this valley? There can’t be two like you here.’
‘You have me there right enough, and you were lucky I was passing on my way to see that Anders fellow. I suppose he’s a Mage now, but I don’t know how long it’s been. I mean to rip his arms off and hit him about the head with the soggy ends, until he understands what he did to me. Then I’ll take his blasted Wellstone and shove it up his back entrance, if you pardon my coarse words, and if that don’t kill him, then I’ll just pull off his head and see if that don’t do the trick.’
‘You’ll find the Wellstone is gone.’
‘Gone? How did that happen then? I’d be sure he wouldn’t have let it out of his sight; not of his own will, like.’
‘It must have been…terrible for you.’
The jovial bumbling expression fell from Rootheart’s face, leaving behind a visage of granite severity.
‘Ay, ye be right enough. Though I mean not to talk about it. It…I don’t know the words to explain it. If ye put your hand in a fire, after a moment, ye’ll be burnt. But ye don’t pull out the hand, though the pain be terrible. You just keep it there, for I don’t know how long. It felt like years, but I don’t feel any older, so, mayhap it was only a few weeks. What do you say, Cavour? What do you know about it?’
Cavour sighed. ‘If it was the same time that Anders found the Wellstone, and I think it was, then you’ve been locked away in absolute agony for a full year, give or take a handful of this and a peckful of that.’
Rootheart nodded, and his eyes seemed to turn inwards.
‘It’s a wonder for sure that you were not driven to madness by it all.’
‘Ay, madness. Ah, it is a wonder, but who knows if I’m not mad indeed, and you’re not really there, and I’m just making you up? Mayhap, if I rip off one of your arms, there, and hit myself over the head, then that’ll be the proof?’
‘No…how would that prove you’re not mad?’
‘Well, it seems simple to me. If I hit my head with your arms, and they’re made up, then I won’t feel nothing, and all will be fine. But, if my head hurts and there be blood all over this here blanket, then I won’t be mad, and I’ll reckon I’ll be saying I’m sorry to you.’
‘I think we should take your coherent and logical explanation of the situation as adequate and complete proof that you are indeed not mad.’
‘Well now, I would make you say that, wouldn’t I? If I were mad, like.’
‘But…you’re only making a fool of me, Rootheart, and me in my sick-bed.’
‘Ay, but I’m not saying there ain’t something pressing at the back of my mind and trying to get out, but for now, you can be safe. Would you eat something, if I made it like?’
‘That would be mighty fine. This home, it’s not yours, is it?’
‘No, but it was empty, and I was naked and cold, and there’s enough of the Giant in me to know I don’t like the cold.’
‘So, you are a half-Giant then, if I can be bold enough to ask?’
‘Ay, that’s about right. My Mother was a full Giant, and my Pa was a lucky man, while he still survived, for they say a Giant woman in her passion is something to behold.’
‘Rootheart, can I ask you what you did to my leg? It doesn’t seem to hurt at all, which can’t be right.’
‘Can you feel the leg at all?’
‘Ay, I can feel the blanket and the splints, but it just doesn’t hurt that much.’
‘Well, I just pushed the bones back together, and pressed them with my thumb where they didn’t rightly want to fit. Then I washed you clean, and covered you with sooth-moss, and then I wrapped you all up.’
’Sooth-moss?’
‘It’s just grass, but I heard it helps.’
‘Give me your hand here, Rootheart, will you?’
Rootheart held out one massive hand. Cavour placed his hand in the centre; feeling like a child.
He held his hand there for a moment, and then he looked up into the half-Giant’s eyes.
‘Can’t you feel it man?’
‘Feel what?’
‘The Magic is coursing through your body; you are living Magic, man!’
Chapter 60 Esmere
‘My Lord Lydorth. May I make a suggestion, if it does not offend?’
The Trytor looked down on the young woman beside him. She was something of a mystery to him. Her voice could be soft as eiderdown, and her eyes as warm as a summer sunrise, then, in a flash, her voice could turn as sharp as a blade and her eyes as cold as deepest winter.
‘What would that be, my dear?’
‘Well, my father, he always worried about the way people saw you now. He would say ‘the Lord Lydorth, he deserves due respect as the very last of the Trytor, and he don’t get it; not enough, as I see it,’ he would say that and his face would be worried.’
‘I dare say he is a little more worried now.’
‘Worried? Mayhap he is, but I am not worried, my Lord, for I know you will treat him in justice and mercy, and I trust you, my Lord.’
‘And if justice and mercy are a contradiction of each other, then what?’
‘My Lord, you will choose the correct way.’
‘You never mentioned your suggestion.’
‘I think, if you go out amongst your people, if you show them that you are still here, as their Lord and Guardian, then they will be reassured and bow and speak of nothing but their respect for you.’
‘You believe it would be as simple as that?’ he huffed.
‘Oh, my Lord, do you not know your people? We are simple enough creatures, if you ask me. We need food, and somewhere to sleep, and someone to love; we need to feel safe. But our memories are so short. If we don’t see our Lord for a year, or for a decade, then we forget that we are still being protected, and we worry about the future, and it chews at us so we forget you, my Lord.
‘We forget who you are. We forget that you are not just an ogre who lives hidden in the mountains. We forget that you are truly our Master, and that we are your cherished children.’
Lydorth closed his eyes for a moment. Her voice was so sweet it was as though honey was being poured into his ears.
‘So, I go amongst the people and they see me, and what? They bow down and their hearts are filled with respect for me?’
‘I doubt that it will be as easy as that, my Lord. But, by the time you have appeared amongst them just a few times, you will see.’
‘I have to go out more than once?’
‘I reckon it will take more than once, but less than ten, my Lord.’
‘Will you accompany me?’
‘No, my lord. You should walk out alone, without companion or guard, and you should stride your elegant way through the town, to show all that you have no fear.’
‘Fear, my dear? You think a Trytor knows fear?’
‘No, my Lord, of course not. But you need to show this to your people.’
‘When should this perambulation take place?’
‘You should have a festival day called in your honour. And when all the people have attended, then you should join them.’
‘And what will you do, whilst I am gone?’
‘My Lord, I shall await your return; your triumphant return.’
She paused then, just for a moment as she gauged his reaction.
‘Know this, my Lord, that when you do return, you’ll see no fierce expressions from me, no scowls or harsh arrogant words. You’ll return to a warm welcome from a poor maid whose only wish is to do whatever her Master wishes.’ She looked down, demurely. ‘Please do not require a lady to speak more plainly, my Lord.’
‘Oh, my dear, you are a one, and of that there’s no doubt. But, mayhap you’re right and I should walk amongst my people. At least then, I won’t have to kill so many of them.’
**********
‘What…What’s happening?’
‘Oh, it’s just the morning, boy. It happens every day, to those who are awake enough to see.’
BobbyJ stretched, surprised to find that he was naked on the bed.
‘Who…? You look different.’
‘I should expect so.’ She turned and he saw her long black hair, and smooth white skin. There was a light in her eyes, and her old clothes seemed to hide a form that was considerably more enticing that it had once been.
‘Are you still Ellaine?’
She laughed, and he felt his body responding.
‘What did you give me? It weren’t pipeweed, was it?’
‘Oh, there was a little pipeweed there, to soften the effects, but it was mostly harroweed.’
‘But…why? Do you miss company so much that you must force passersby to stay?’
‘It was more than your company I wanted, boy. You have the Stone, and I needed to make use of its powers just a little longer.’
‘To make you young and beautiful?’
‘I was always beautiful, BobbyJ, to those who could see. There is so much death in the world; so much evil. One lifetime is hardly sufficient to witness it all, so the Woewearer seeks out the Stone when she needs to, to become young again so that she can continue to mourn the lost.’
‘And what happens now? Will you keep me here forever?’
‘No. You may leave as soon as you are ready, but be aware that you are changing; you have changed even as you lay on my bed, lost to the world. The Stone is causing the changes to accelerate. In a few days you will become what it might have taken you years to achieve otherwise, and you will not easily pass unnoticed through the world of men.’
BobbyJ could see it all for himself. His left leg was now a slimmer imitation of his right, and his left hand now sported seven full fingers, and the skin was darkening even as he watched.
‘Do not fear, BobbyJ. This was how it was meant to be, just a little sooner. If you leave the Stone behind, it will not reverse the changes, but you may delay whatever other changes are due.’
‘I’ll not leave the Stone, my old…young lady, and I’ll be on my way with it.’
‘Fair enough, BobbyJ, that’s as right as it needs to be, but, before you go¸ there is one thing you can do for me.’
‘Ay, my beautiful girl, what would that be then?’
Ellaine smiled as she moved a little closer.
‘My dearie, I’ve been old so long.’
Her hands went to the fastenings of her clothes. Faster than it seemed possible to BobbyJ, she was naked and her luscious body was revealed to his eager eyes.
She moved lithely and straddled him.
‘Take it easy now; it has been such a long time. Not since your mother was a child have I lain with a man, and he lacked much in the way of vigour, if my memory serves me well.’
‘Do whatever you wish, my love, but be quick, lest I throw you down and rut like the animal I am.’
Her skin was cool to the touch, and then it wasn’t.
Chapter 61 Sam
Sam walked along Main Street, his spear in his hand. His steps were slow and he was paying little attention to the bustle around him.
Yesterday, he’d left Gorge behind him with the books at the old Mage’s home and returned to his own home. Dan the Man had not spoken when he’d opened the door; he’d merely given him one of his looks.
Alone on his bed, in the room he shared with Tom and Gorge, he’d tried to sleep, but tired as he was, it eluded him.
He had thinking to do this morning, which was why he was going fishing. He balanced the spear in his hand. It was a good spear, and he’d made it himself.
Tom always said he wasn’t a proper fisherman if he didn’t use a rod and line, but he didn’t see that. The way he looked at it, with a spear you could choose just what fish you’d be having for supper.
He hadn’t spoken to the others about the Stone; how it felt to touch it and use its power. He flexed his fingers. The feeling was beginning to come back now, but, yesterday, he couldn’t feel a thing with his numb fingers, and he’d been so tired, as if the life had been drained from him by the Stone.
He’d reached the top of Main Street when he stopped. Above him stretched the wall of the reservoir, and above that he expected to see the great white barrier of mist; it was always white from the outside.
But it was there no longer. Just a hint of a haze remained. From the top of the stone wall holding back the reservoir, he’d be able to see right into the valley.
He turned then, looking for someone to tell, because surely the important people of the town and valley needed to know about this.
But he stopped; his eye caught by a glistening on the wall.
He stepped across the narrow road and stood before the great blocks of stone that made up the wall. They were as tall as he, and three times as wide. They were cut from dark grey granite and they’d been there all of his life, and many lives before. And now they were wet.
He put his hand flat against the wall’s cold hard surface, then he removed it. Even his barely sensate fingers could feel the water.
He took a couple of steps to the side and checked once more. Here he could see a narrow rivulet of liquid running between the blocks.
He took a couple of paces backwards to get a better view. Then he looked down. He hadn’t noticed before, but the road was wet. Water was flowing into the side gutters.
He looked back up at the wall. It had never struck him before that he’d never seen anyone working on the wall; maintaining it to ensure its integrity.
The wall was sustained by Magic; of course it was. Without Magic, there was only stone and mortar to hold back the tremendous weight of millions of tons of water.
He turned his back to the wall and looked down into the town. If the wall failed, there was only one way all that water would choose to go.
He began to run then, because someone really did need to be told.
He raced down Main Street to the harbour.
He stopped then, undecided.
He wanted to tell Gorge, because he’d know just what to do. Even Tom would say something like, ’leave it to me old Sam, I’ll have a word with the right people, and we’ll put it all right,’ with a smile and a playful shove.
But the Mage’s cottage was out of town, and Tom was off somewhere, probably talking to someone.
Sam knew he couldn’t wait. He could have gone back across the reservoir and sought out the Lady, but he didn’t want to stand on that wall again. His weight might be enough to send it collapsing in a white torrent of water into the town.
Just along the harbour was the town hall.
Sam never went in there. There were too many important people with quick words
and sharp eyes, and there was a guard usually there who would stand on your head as soon as he’d give you the time of the day.
But they were the people who needed to know so that they could fix it, so Sam marched along the road towards the tall grey building.
‘Mister?’ he said, as he reached the entrance.
The large round man who blocked the doorway slowly turned his head to look at Sam. There was a scowl on his face, and it looked like it might have been there for quite some time.
‘Move along sharpish,’ he hissed.
‘But, mister, I have to see the…what’s his name now? He needs to know something.’
‘If you mean the Mayor, I think you’ll find he knows lots of things.’
‘But he don’t know this.’
‘I think you’ll find that, if you know it, pretty well everyone else knows it.’
‘So, that’s good, then, I think. What are they going to do? I don’t know any stonemasons about here, do you?’
‘What are you talking about boy? Be off now before I give you a clip behind the ear for your cheek.’
Sam looked up at the round, red-faced man, with his wide belt struggling to restrain the expanse of his mighty stomach.
‘You don’t know, do you? About the dam? And the mayor don’t know neither.’
‘I’ll count to five and, if you be gone, I’ll say no more about this.’
Sam looked at the doorway behind the guard, but there was no room to squeeze past him.
‘One.’
‘Please, Mister.’
‘Two.’
‘I…’
‘Three.’
There was nothing else he could do, although he knew Dan the Man would have some hard words for him. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he dropped his spear and grabbed the belt before him and gave it a tug.
With a yell that could have been ‘Four!!!’ the guard came flying off the step and staggered across the road, only to end up in a decidedly un-guardsman-like heap on the ground.