Misthaven: The Complete Trilogy

by J Battle

  ‘Can’t we just walk down the road a bit and then come back for our welcome? A welcome’s when they say. ‘Nice to see you and here’s some food, and some ale,’ ain’t it?’

  ‘Ay, it’s something like that, but we can’t come back for years, or at least months, or mayhap weeks, I reckon, or there’ll be no welcome.’

  ‘If we just sit here...’

  ‘She’ll come and frown at us and say hard things, so come on you big lump. I reckon you’ve got bigger since we came here, with getting fed every day.’

  ‘That’s why I don’t want to be leaving, I don’t,’ moaned Aarvarn, as he began to get up.

  ‘Which way, then, d’you reckon?’ he asked, when they reached the harbour.

  ‘Well, let’s see, shall we? If we take ourselves out of that there west gate, what do you reckon we’ll find?’

  Aarvarn took a step towards the west gate and gave it a good hard look.

  ‘We came in that way, didn’t we?’ he said, just as Raarvan was beginning to feel embarrassed for his old friend.

  ‘Yes, we did.’

  ‘So, that means we’ll find a road, and there’ll be towns and such like, like there were when we came. That’s right, ain’t it? It sounds right, to me anyways.’

  ‘And what else do you reckon we’ll find?’

  ‘Now, you’re messing with my head now, and that ain’t fair, when I’m hungry, like.’

  ‘If we go that way, then we’ll be meeting the king and all the other Giants, and they won’t be best pleased, will they?’

  ‘Won’t they?’

  ‘No, not after we sent them off with stories of free food and ale.'

  ‘We should have gone with them and got our share, we should have.’

  Raarvan sighed and gave his shoulder a bump. ‘It weren’t true, you old fool. It was just what we told ‘em to keep them from here.’

  ‘That were sneaky, I reckon.’

  ‘So, if we don’t go through the west gate, we should be going through the east gate, I reckon.’

  ‘Righto, but will they give us some food to keep us going, do you reckon?’

  Raarvan planted a big hand square in the middle of his friend’s back and gave him a good shove.

  ‘Let’s be off before you gets me all annoyed with you.’

  ‘What have I done to get you annoyed?’ moaned Aarvarn, as they made their way towards the east gate.

  Just as they were trying to work out who should go first through the gate, Raarvan noticed a figure walking along the road towards them from the east.

  ‘Hold it there, Aarvarn,’ he said, taking his arm and pulling him away from the gate.

  ‘What’s wrong with you now?’

  ‘Did you see that fellow on the road? Looked like one of them Elvenfolk to me, he did.’

  Aarvarn pulled away from the other Giant and bent to peek through the gate.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘I reckon you’re right. He’s skinny enough and ugly enough.’

  ‘What should we do?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, we were to rid the valley of them, I reckon, that’s what she said, the little Lady.’

  ‘We did, though, didn’t we?’

  ‘Yes, we did, but what if they come back?’

  Aarvarn scratched his head. ‘What did she say? My head was hurting ‘cause she poisoned me with that ale, so I weren’t rightly paying attention.’

  ‘Ho there, good Giants!’ called a voice from beyond the gate.

  ‘Shush now,’ hissed Raarvan. ‘He’s here now and I don’t know rightly what to do.’

  ‘May I be allowed entrance without hard words or threats of violence?’

  He came into view, with his tall thin figure and gaunt features; his brilliant blue eyes seeming to flash in the light of the setting sun.

  Aarvarn stepped forward and clapped his great hands together.

  ‘Be gone, little elf, before we get all annoyed with you.’

  ‘Perhaps if I introduced myself, and you did the same, then we’d find there was no need for unpleasantness and we could develop a situation to our mutual benefit?’

  Aarvarn turned to his friend. ‘Did you get that? It fair washed over me, it did, all them there words.’

  Raarvan moved closer.

  ‘Look, elf, we can’t let you in, because the Lady, she said to rid the valley of that infestation of Elvenfolk. That’s what she said.’

  ‘My name is Crawlord Elstar, and I am pleased to have the opportunity of a conversation with such creatures as yourselves. What names do you go by?’

  It took a moment for Raarvan to register that he’d been asked a question.

  ‘Oh, right then, I’m called Raarvan and this is Aarvarn, and you still can’t come in.’

  ‘The Lady asked you to rid the valley of Elvenfolk?’

  ‘Ay, she did, didn’t she, Aarvarn?’

  Aarvarn merely nodded, concerned that Elstar might start talking at him again.

  ‘I see. And is the valley on the other side of this gate?’

  ‘No, the town is on the other side…’

  ‘So, in that case, it’s fine if I enter the town, is it not? If she never told you to banish us from the town?’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘Excellent, excellent indeed. In that case, if you would be so kind as to step to one side, then I can enter and, perhaps I’ll offer to buy you a drink, for your kindness? How does that sound?’

  ‘He said something about a drink, I think, in the middle of all them words, I reckon he did.’ Aarvarn took Raarvan by the arm and pulled him back enough to make room.

  ‘Now, good friends, where would you recommend someone with a thirst should go to have that thirst quenched?’

  ‘A tavern sounds a good idea, I reckon,’ said Aarvarn, with a smile suggesting all of his worldly concerns had been lifted from his shoulders.

  Chapter 7 Lydorth

  He watched as they rushed off past him, all keen and aggressive and confident in the rightness of their actions.

  He could have slipped from his hiding place and taken Dryan’s thin neck in his strong hands and broken him before he could make a sound.

  But he was worried about the man with the sword. Out of nowhere he’d come, so swift and decisive, and he’d killed his poor brother before he was able to defend himself. Lydorth hadn’t taken a moment to think, or to arm himself; he’d rushed off full of anger and fear, muttering curses as he ran into the depths of the mountain.

  When they’d gone off on their doomed search for him, Lydorth didn’t move for the longest time. There was something comforting about crouching in the dark when no-one knows where you are and no responsibility can fall on your shoulders. Whilst he was there, lost to the world, there were no decisions that had to be made.

  At last, he moved out of the shadows, his ears pricked for the sound of his distant pursuers, in case they came back to take him by surprise.

  Slowly, he walked back to the rulehall.

  There he found the bones of his brother, Teldorn; the twice-killed Trytor.

  ‘You shall be avenged, brother,’ he whispered as he knelt before the long bundle of bones, kept together by the frail grasp of his stretched skin.

  ‘It almost worked,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It would have worked, and together, we would have restored dignity to our name, taught them true respect.’

  He knelt there for a moment longer, his head down and his red eyes hidden by his heavy lids, then he grunted as if dismissing the emotion.

  ‘Fire! I’ll have fire to burn these bones to ash once more,’ he called, as he stood up and turned away.

  But there was no rush of feet or cries of agreement. The caves were empty, the lowly humans scurried off to their homes at the sounds of violence.

  ‘They’ll be back,’ he said, with a snarl, his red eyes flashing, ‘or I’ll drag them from their homes, screaming for mercy, and let them taste the comforts of my dungeons.’

  He unslung
his belt from the back of his throne and fastened it around his waist, pushing the scabbard to one side for comfort.

  His sword was by the empty hearth, newly sharpened and gleaming in the flickering light of the wall lamps.

  It was nearly five feet in length, double-edged, with a two-handed hilt.

  He held it up with one hand to examine it closely, feeling the satisfying weight.

  ‘Ah now,’ he said, ‘he may be exceedingly fast with his quick little sword, but this will slice through his blade and his body with one fell blow.’

  With a sigh, he slipped the weapon into its scabbard.

  ‘Until we meet again, brother.’ He bowed to the remains of his brother before he set off to see how his pursuers were getting on, and what aid he could give them to find their quarry.

  Chapter 8 Gorge

  They walked together into the valley, with the boulder that had stood sentry for centuries well behind them.

  Tom walked on Gorge’s right and he couldn’t help glancing at his old friend from time to time as they walked, concern etched on his youthful features.

  Sam was on Gorge’s left, his face lit by the widest of smiles.

  Between them walked Gorge, staring ahead as if he could see so much more than a simple valley hidden between the mountains and the sea.

  ‘Gorge is gonna make everything alright, for sure, ain’t you, Gorge?’ said Sam, giving a little skip to go along with his words.

  If Gorge heard his words, he made no response.

  ’Ay, Sam,’ said Tom, so quietly that his words did not carry across to his friend.

  The mistwall surrounding the valley had thickened as they walked and the mountains beyond were no longer visible. But there were none of the fancy colours that Anders had used. The wall was simple pure and white.

  To their left, the sloping field of green grass was rich and luscious, but the fields of scraggly crops to their right looked spent.

  As they approached, the ragged plants began to move, springing to life, with renewed colour and straightening stalks, and visibly growing as the three boys passed on by.

  ‘See there, Tom? See what he’s doing?’ enthused Sam. ‘There’ll be four crops this year, and no mistake.’

  Tom couldn’t help but nod, for Sam was surely right.

  ‘What...what are your plans, Gorge?’ he asked, stepping a little closer, but being sure not to touch him.

  ‘Plans, Tom? I ain’t had the time to think up any plans. Not yet, anyway.’

  ‘What about the Wellstone? You don’t have a Wellstone; I thought you needed one.’

  Gorge stopped in his tracks and gently placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder. ‘I don’t need the Stone, Tom. The Magic is in me; inside of me, just waiting to burst on out and do good things.’

  Tom staggered to the side, gasping. Not at what Gorge had said, or from his touch. He’d been gifted a vision of some future Gorge. Tall, and with light flowing from his eyes and mouth; his hands raised to the heavens and a ghastly expression of mindless anger on his narrow face, and dead bodies piling up all around him, waist high and growing all the time. Bodies of men and women, with the bloated bodies of young children between them, and flies, so many flies, buzzing and feeding in a frenzy, blackening the faces of the dead as they crawled across their ripped and torn flesh.

  ‘No!’ gasped Tom, falling to his knees.

  ‘What’s wrong there, Tom? Have you hurt yourself?’ Sam walked around Gorge to help Tom back to his feet.

  ‘No, Sam, I’m...I’m fine. It’s just...’

  ‘Don’t worry, Tom, none of it is true,’ said Gorge, looking down at them both.

  ‘My, Gorge. Have you seen that, Tom? He‘s grown to be a man now, and he’s big enough to pick the apples from a tree, as Dan the Man would say.’

  Indeed, as Tom watched, Gorge grew even taller, a beatific smile on his face.

  ‘If you keep on like that, Gorge, you’ll soon be looking a Giant in the eye,’ said Sam, his eyes almost as wide as his mouth.

  ‘Come on, lads,’ said Gorge, his voice deep and resonant, and he began to stride down to hill at a pace they would need to run to match.

  Tom hesitated. Gorge was as tall as he’d been in his vision, so that much was true.

  ‘Come Tom, stop your dreaming. We’ll never catch him if we don’t get ourselves started,’ said Sam, tugging at his friend’s arm.

  They’d just passed Frenk’s little cottage when they saw a figure walking up the road to meet them.

  ‘It’s the lady!’ cried Sam, as he lunged forward, racing to reach her.

  ‘Look Lady Alice, it’s Gorge! He’s only gone and got himself all full of Magic, he has, and now everything’s going to be all right, I reckon. And look how big he is!’

  Alice gave him a sad smile and took his arm and pulled him to one side.

  ‘What’s wrong, Lady Alice? You look all annoyed, you do. I ain’t done nothing wrong, have I?’

  ‘No, Sam. You haven’t done anything wrong, but if you would just stand beside me and...don’t say anything for a moment, that would be for the best.’

  ‘Yes, Lady Alice, if you say so, Lady Alice.’

  Gorge stopped before her, and she was stunned. Not only was he close to 10 feet in height, he was broad to match, and his skin seemed to glow with the power of the Magic it was trying to contain.

  ‘What have you done, Gorge?’ she said, her eyes hard as she studied his face.

  ‘What have I done?’ Gorge laughed, and it was full and loud, and it seemed to go on for a little too long. ‘Is it not obvious, Lady Alice?’

  ‘Not to us all, Gorge. Perhaps if you explain?’

  ‘Explain? You want me to explain? Why should I explain when I can show?’

  ‘Don’t...’ She lifted her hand as if it might stop him.

  Gorge raised his hands and the ever-present glow of his skin intensified. His laughter rang across the valley as he began to float, his body moving slowly away from the solid surface of the road.

  ‘My, oh my!’ gasped Sam, as he stared upwards.

  ‘I’m one with the Magic, Lady Alice,’ called Gorge, as he began to descend once more. ‘I am Magic.’

  ‘Gorge, can’t you see? It is too much for you to control. You have to find a way to release it harmlessly. You have to, lest it destroy you.’

  Gorge was firmly on the ground now. ‘It won’t destroy me, my Lady. Why should it? It’s a force for good. We won’t have to worry about the Elvenfolk anymore. If they come back then I can destroy them, just like that.’ He clicked his fingers.

  ‘It’s not a force for good, Gorge. Not when your first thought is to kill. And not when it’s too powerful to control.’

  ‘You’re wrong, Lady. Even the flowers welcome me. Look at them, they spring to life just because I’m near. How can that be bad, Lady? Tell me that.’

  ‘Oh, Gorge, can you not see? You look before you and see living things rushing to please you, and you think that is good. But, Gorge, turn around and see what you leave behind.’

  ‘What...?’ Gorge turned just as he was asked. ’Oh...no!’

  He covered his face with his hands, but he couldn’t hide what he’d seen.

  All the fields of crops that he’d passed on his way, the fields that had sprung to glorious life at his very presence, were turned now to rotting, fetid decay; their lifespan used too quickly to be sustained; a stinking miasma already drifting across the road towards them.

  Gorge raised his hands, and they glowed like mini suns, and life sprang into view amongst the bent and twisted decaying stalks. A flower here, red as blood, and a growth of leaves there, so green and shiny. But they failed as soon as they appeared, falling back to rot.

  ‘I can make it right...’ sobbed Gorge, suddenly just a very tall boy. ‘I can fix it. I can fix everything.’

  ‘No, Gorge.’ Tom reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I don’t think you can. There’s a reason that the Magic is only found in a Wellstone, and it tak
es years to learn how to use it right. It needs control, and you ain’t got that. You ain’t, Gorge. You gotta see that.’

  ‘You don’t know, Tom. You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Gorge stood upright once more and threw back his shoulders. ‘It ain’t about control, that’s just for ordinary people. I ain’t ordinary, Tom. Never have been; not really.’

  He stepped back a little, making room for himself.

  ‘It ain’t about control, Tom. It’s about power. Unlimited power, bent to my will. With that, I can do whatever I want. And you can’t stop me. No-one can stop me.’ As he spoke, his words came out quicker and ever more manic.

  ‘Look at this, if you don’t believe me.’

  Sam moved forward, reaching out for his old friend. ‘You got to listen to...’

  With his eyes closed, and ignorant of Sam’s closeness, Gorge called up a drastic surge of power, so bright that Alice and Tom had to look away.

  ‘See,’ said Gorge, waving one hand out to the glorious gold and green fields, vibrant and full of life.

  Then he was gone, and the air snapped back into the place where he’d been.

  Tom was stunned, staring into nothing.

  ‘Oh, you poor boy,’ said Alice, as she fell to her knees beside the prostrate body of Sam.

  ‘He feels cold already,’ she said, softly, her hand resting on his shoulder.

  Chapter 9 Woewearer

  She sat quietly in the corner of the barroom, with her pipe and her tankard of ale.

  She’d noticed the broad Giants and the skinny Elvenfolk come in; of course she had, for they were a strange sight indeed.

  ‘There’s a story there for sure,’ she said, softly around her pipe, ‘but I have other things to consider.’

  She pulled her hood over her head and turned away a little, for she did not want the crawlord to recognise her from the road, where she’d directed him to Fairisle.

  The Giants were loud and the crawlord spoke softly when he wasn’t calling out for ale.