by J Battle
‘And what?’
‘And, I don’t know. I reckon I must have passed out, or something. When I woke up again, the tunnel had all caved in, and I was trapped.’
‘How did you get yourself out, Gorge?’ asked Sam, his eyes as wide as they could be.
‘I…I reckon the rocks and the stones moved out of my way, they did, and I didn’t have to do nothing. I just walked right through, I did.’
‘Well, ain’t that something to whistle a tune for?’ Sam clapped his hands together. ‘Wait until we tell Lady Alice. She’ll be that pleased, because I know she’s been right worried about the valley, she has.’
‘Come on, Gorge. You don’t look like you feel the cold, but I can’t feel my toes, and I reckon Sam’s brains are half-frozen because he sounds like he’s making sense. Let’s get down into the valley, away from this freezing wind, and…’
Tom smiled at Sam, and he turned back to Gorge.
‘You’ve stopped the wind, you have, haven’t you?’
‘Gorge can do whatever he likes, now he’s got the Magic,’ said Sam. ‘Can’t you, Gorge?’
Gorge smiled. ‘Yes, Sam, I can do whatever I like.’
The three turned and began to make their way along the narrow strip of stone towards the valley of Misthaven.
As they drew near to the great boulder that stood sentry by the entrance to the valley, the first wisps of mist began to form.
Chapter 3 Blodnes
The ship was made for men; made for men who knew their way about a ship and didn’t mind being squashed close together.
It wasn’t designed to hold Elvenfolk, who are more than a little larger and require much more in the way of private space.
Blodnes was on deck, because there were far too many of her folk down below, and the ceiling was too low for her to stand up straight. She gripped the gunwale with both hands as the ship rocked and rolled in the squally sea.
She was not a natural sailor and the constant tossing was making her nauseous, but she refused to give in to the impulse to hurl her breakfast overboard.
They were only hours out from the mainland and she had no idea how long the journey to Fairisle would take, but she had decided to hate every minute of the voyage, and anyone who might dare to approach her.
‘Having fun there, Crawlady?’
She would have clawed out his eyes if he’d been closer, and if she’d felt able to let go of the ship.
‘What do you want?’ she spat.
‘Ah now, my dear Crawlady,’ said Crawlord Turgon, moving to the gunwale, some yards beyond her reach. ‘Are you perhaps missing your beloved crawlord?’
‘No crawlord is a beloved of mine,’ she replied, with a snarl.
‘Not the Crawlord Fool? Not the Idiot Crawlord? Not the Crawlord Clown?’
‘You may mock Elstar all you like, Turgon. It means little to me. But you should know that he holds true to the purpose of the Elvenfolk, and for that he should be honoured.’
‘Honour Elstar? Now there’s a thought. I never knew you were such a wit, my Crawlady.’
She turned away from him and began to make her way towards the bow.
Turgon watched her go, with a sardonic smile on his face.
‘Honour Elstar indeed,’ he said, as he moved back to the stairs that would take him below.
**********
Crawlord Elstar was not feeling very honoured; he was mostly feeling lonely.
The fellhall was not a pleasant place to linger when it was empty. Every sound he made seemed to echo right back at him, and he had the eery feeling that there was someone standing directly behind him, mocking him.
His dignity would not allow him to spin on his heel and catch them in the act.
‘Time to leave, I think,’ he muttered, as he stepped down from the Talking Stone.
It was early evening and the sun was no longer about to expose his withered face to view, when he stepped on to the coast road.
‘Mayhap he’ll still be there, lay in his pain and discomfort, clutching at his poor broken limb.’ He sighed, for he knew that the idea was both hopeful and hopeless, but what else did he have to drive him on? The rest of his people were well on their way to Fairisle and, if there was a Wellstone somewhere on the island, then they would surely secure it for themselves.
He would arrive on the island wizened and creaking, and they would gloat with their wonderful young, unlined faces, and their hale bodies upright and strong, and say, ‘Turn away Elstar, for we are affronted by your form, dismayed by your thin hair and disgusted by your withered skin.’
They would make him beg for access to the Stone, and they would be cruel, and delay his renewal for as long as it pleased them.
He would not have that; not at all. Though it meant he’d stay in his ancient flesh longer, he would not stand before them, bereft and powerless.
So, he was determined to seek out this Cavour and find out what he knew of other Wellstones, and the poor man would hope to be telling the truth or woe would betide him.
Chapter 4 Alice
Lady Alice was standing in her garden, turning as she studied the brilliant white wall of mist that had just returned to Misthaven.
‘What does this mean? Is there a new Stone in the valley, or has Anders’s Stone been returned?’
She should make her way to Hesselton, she thought, to discover the answer, but first she must speak to Loren.
She found her in her bedroom, under her covers, with her head hidden.
‘Loren?’ she whispered, softly.
‘It’s back, ain’t it?’ Her words were muffled by the bedclothes, but clear enough for all that.
‘Yes, my dear. But…but there is no need to fear. It is not evil in itself.’
‘Evil is done, M’lady. Evil is done, and it ain’t right.’
‘Let us not leap to unwarranted conclusions, Loren. Anders has gone, and if his Stone has been regained, then that would be good for the valley.’
‘Till a man takes it in his hand and feels the power to do whatever he wishes.’
‘That need not be, Loren. There are good men about.’
Loren threw the blankets back, her hair messed and her face flushed.
‘They may be good men, Lady Alice, but the Stone will turn them, it will. And all the good that is done won’t amount to nothing when you stand it up against the bad, and that’s the truth. I feel it in my heart, I do, and I should know.’
Alice sat beside her on the edge of the bed and touched her cheek gently.
‘Trust me, Loren, for nothing like that will happen again in this valley, to you or to anyone else.’
‘Forgive me, M’lady, for my blunt words, but, if it comes to the valley, you’ll close your eyes and look away and let what needs to be done be done, for the good of the valley, and you’ll shed tears of sorrow, for you have a kind soul, but that won’t stop you, it won’t.’
Alice watched her speak, and her face hardened. ‘Never again, Loren, you have my sworn word. If the valley be washed away or scoured with flame, I’ll not let another girl pay the price to stop that. I’ll stand full-square myself and bear what needs bearing rather than allow another to endure what you have endured.’
Loren knelt up in the bed and nodded her head. ‘Fine words, M’lady, but words are easy. It’s the doing that’s hard.’
Alice wrapped her arms around Loren and pulled her to her. ‘Ay, my dear, you are right about that.’
They were disturbed then by a loud banging at the door.
‘Someone sounds impatient,’ said Alice, as she released Loren and slipped from the bed.
When she opened the door, she found a young woman in a simple brown dress and moccasins to match, with long straight hair and clear blue eyes.
‘Good day to you,’ she said, by way of welcome.
‘Are you Lady Alice? Of course you are, standing all tall and regal at the door. I have need of words with you my Lady, and we have less time than I’d hope for, if I’m being ent
irely honest.’
‘In that case, you should come inside. Perhaps I can offer you a drink?’
‘Ay, that’s fair enough. But none of that tealeaf or lemonale nonsense, if you don’t mind. I’ll take a glass of ale, or rumm; ay, rumm would do nicely.’
Alice led her into the drawing room and poured her a small glass of cold ale.
‘Now, you didn’t know my face, Lady Alice, and you were polite enough not to ask, but my name is Ellaine, the Woewearer, and I dare say we’ve both changed somewhat since we last met.’
‘But…’
‘Ah, you’re right, I was an old dear then, I was, and she’s still here inside, if you could look close enough, just as the young woman I am now was always there inside the old hag, but who would have eyes to see such?’
‘I…’
‘Let us move on to the crux of the matter, my dear, and mayhap we can have a drink and a relaxed chat of this and that some other time when all this is behind us.’
‘Getting to the crux sounds like a good idea.’
‘You’ve seen the mist?’
‘I have.’
‘And you reckon there’s a Wellstone back in the valley?’
‘It would seem to be the case. I was just on my way to Hesselton to discover what I could about it.’
‘No point in going to Hesselton. It’s coming down from the north. He’s coming down from the north, and it’s…well, I reckon it’s too much for him. And he ain’t got the strength or the will to control it, and he’s going to need some help, he is.’
‘Who are you talking about?’
‘I don’t rightly know his name, but I seen his face all aglow with Magic, and his eyes are bright with hunger and excitement, and he’ll do bad things, less he’s stopped.’
‘How can he be stopped? Can you stop him? You seem to know so much.’
‘Ay, I know things, I do, but I can’t stand before him, not the way he is now. It would be too dangerous for everyone, and it is not to be risked. And, in any case, that ain’t my place. I’m Ellaine Woewearer, and I am a witness to the sorrow of man, and that’s a full-time job for a woman on her own, it is. And…no, I’m not going to be near to him, and that’s the final word to be said on the matter, and that’s for sure.’
Though her form and face were youthful, there was something ancient in her eyes.
‘But, if you can’t stand before him, what can I do?’
There were tears suddenly in Ellaine’s eyes. ‘You are your father’s daughter, dearie, and, well, I set him on a course, and it were hard, hard for him and hard for me. It saddens me to do the same to his only kin, but it must be done, and, mayhap, there is something in your line, in father and daughter, that makes me think, believe even, that it can be done.’
Alice poured herself a drink.
With her back to Ellaine, and her shaking hands hidden from view, she asked, ’What would you have me do?’
Chapter 5 Lord Richard
He slipped the sword into his scabbard and steadied himself with one hand against the rough rock wall, gasping for breath.
‘This is a young man’s work, for sure,’ he said, when he had the wind to speak, as he stared down at the headless, fleshless corpse of the twice-killed Trytor before him.
A noise rang down the corridor to his left, and he stood upright for a moment, feeling the need to follow; to finish the task he’d started.
But he remained still, lacking the strength to follow the Trytor just yet. He would need time before he could call up the Magic from the sword, and he wouldn’t want to meet the Trytor with just the strength of his right arm to protect himself.
There was another opening to his right, and steps visible to him.
‘I reckon I can manage steps going down,’ he said as he moved forwards, ‘and I can worry about getting back up them later.’
At the bottom of the worn stone steps, he found a small room lit by a spluttering lamp. The room opened onto three dimly-lit cells.
‘What has happened, stranger?’ said the man occupying the cell to his left. He was of somewhat less than average height, with fine clothes that had seen better days.
‘You are Dryan? The Trytor’s man? I’ve seen you about town on his business.’ As he spoke, Richard wrapped the protective strips of cloth around the hilt of his sword.
‘Ay, we all have our burdens to bear, I think. What has happened up there? I heard noise, and I heard a scream. I heard a thousand screams, here in my head. Is she dead? Have you seen my poor child?’
Richard released his sword and moved closer. ‘She suffers no more, friend,’ was all he could say.
Dryan slumped against the bars, his head seemingly trying to force its way between the obdurate metal obstructions.
‘I… I hoped…,’ he muttered.
‘The Trytor has gone, for now. Let me free you, if I can. I can surely do that much for you.’
Dryan made no response, lost in his distress.
‘I believe you’ll find the key in the Trytor’s bedchamber, on a hook, I should think.’
Richard turned to the man who had just appeared at the bars of the cell to his right.
‘Right enough,’ he said, taking in the man’s thin frame and ragged dirty clothes. ‘That will be upstairs, I expect?’
Garraldi nodded.
He watched as the stranger mounted the steps once more.
‘Is this what it seems?’ he said, to himself as much as to Dryan, ‘or is it just more folly?’
Before Dryan offered a response, the man was back, brandishing a heavy metal ring laden with keys.
‘I suppose I’ll just start at the first and work my way through.’
‘If you try one of those thick, blocky keys first, you might save yourself some time.’ Garraldi was standing upright with his hands on the bars, looking like a man with a decision made.
When the cell door opened, he hesitated for a second, and then he stepped out, with his hand outstretched.
‘Thank you, stranger. My name is Garraldi.’
Richard took his hand, ‘Richard,’ he said, simply.
‘Have you seen my brother? Cavour is his name, and he favours me somewhat, though he’s is a little taller and may well have eaten better than I have recently.’
‘Nay, sir, I can’t say I have,’ said Richard, as he freed Dryan.
Moments later, they were standing in the rulehall, by the remains of the dead Trytor.
‘Did you do this?’ asked Dryan, in a voice that seemed strained between his teeth.
‘Ay,’ said Richard, his eyes on the doorway through which the last of the Trytors had made his escape. ‘But I had to do it twice, because he wouldn’t stay dead. That’s what Lydorth was up to, bringing him back to life, and I reckon your poor daughter paid the price.’
‘Wha…what will you do now?’ Dryan’s eyes hadn’t left the bundle of bones since they entered the rulehall.
Richard sighed. ‘The task is not yet done. Not whilst one still survives. Now that I’ve recovered, got my second wind, if you like, I’ll be off after him.’
‘You’ll never find him. There are tunnels and caves and caverns and more tunnels between here and the other side of the mountain. You won’t find him until he’s ready to be found, and that’s for sure.’
‘In that case, I‘d better get started.’
‘Wait a second there, before you go off all huffing and a puffing. I know Lydorth like no other, and I would surely love to see you strike him dead with your sword.’
There was a brightness in Dryan’s eyes that Richard found unsettling.
’I’ll come with you. If anyone can find him, it is I.’
‘And you, sir,’ asked Richard, of Garraldi, ‘what will you do?’
Garraldi smiled, and it felt like an age since the last time he’d had cause to smile.
‘Well now, Richard, I don’t know what help I could be to you in your quest, for Dryan will guide you, and you must be some legendary heroic warrior to stand
before a Trytor with naught but a sword in your hand.’
Richard smiled at the idea. ‘Any legend is purely in my head, I would say.’
‘In any case, I’ve been locked up for a year or more, and there’s a tankard of cool ale waiting to welcome me back to life, with more to follow, and if there’s a pleasant serving maid to stop my thirst, then that would be only for the best.’
‘That’s no more than you are due, I reckon,’ said Richard. ‘When this job is done, we may very well join you.’
With that, he turned and walked through the doorway into the rough-cut tunnel that would take him into the heart of the mountain.
Without a word, Dryan followed him.
Chapter 6 Giants
‘What do you reckon?’
‘I reckon it’s high time we took ourselves off for a walk, like the little Lady said we should.’
‘But I like it here,’ moaned Aarvarn. ‘They feed us and give us ale and, I don’t know, they’re nice to us, I reckon. Ain’t never had no humans be nice to us before. They mostly just run away screaming, they do.’
Raarvan smiled at his old friend, and he gave him a quick bump with his shoulder.
‘But the little Lady, she says they can’t afford to keep on feeding us no more, not with all the Magic gone from the valley, like.’
‘But I reckon they could still feed us today, and mayhap tomorrow as well.’
‘Might as well go now as hang around and get her all annoyed.’
‘You been around humans too long, you old fool. If we don’t want to go, she can’t make us go, no matter how angry her little face gets.’
‘You saw how she set us against the Elvenfolk.’
‘That were cheating. She must have poisoned that ale, she must have.’
‘And how she sent us off to lie to our king.’
‘Ay, she has a frown on her when she wants, and she can say words I don’t want to hear, she can.’
‘So,’ said Raarvan, tossing his empty hogshead to one side and beginning the slow process of getting to his feet, ‘I reckon we go now, while we still have a welcome if we return one day.’