by J Battle
‘Now, why would I do that? With you being such a fine big fellow and ready to do what you can against people misusing Magic.’
‘I...what? So, you ain’t after Magic? Seems like everyone’s after Magic these days, and that isn’t right, not when you see what it does, it ain’t.’
‘I’m not looking for Magic, Rootheart. I don’t have to look; I know where it is, and I agree with you, there’s too much hunger for it about, and not enough knowledge to go with it, if you ask me.’
She knocked back the rest of her ale, and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.
‘So, Rootheart, what do you plan to do about it?’
He stared at his ale for a moment, at a loss as to how he should answer her question.
Of course he planned to do something about the last remnants of Magic in the land, to make sure that they didn’t linger too long. But what he was actually going to do was still something of a mystery.
‘I…’ He looked up at her then, and something in her smile warmed him. ‘I don’t know.’ It didn’t seem like an admission of defeat, not before her gentle expression. It was more like the first step in getting the job done.
‘That’s fair enough, for sure. But you’re as big and strong as needs to be, and I’m as clever as I can’t rightly say, so, together we make a fine team. How does that sound?’
Rootheart stood up, because it seemed the thing to do. ’Well, little woman, you just tell me who needs hitting, and I’ll do the hitting.’
Ellaine also rose to her feet. ‘Now, lad, I reckon it will be a mite more complicated than that, but we’ll see how we go.’
‘Where to first, do you reckon?’
‘Are you much of a sailor, Rootheart?’
Chapter 19 Sleurth
He rolled his long body just because he could, and he dived through the cool rippling water, until he left the light of the sun far behind.
The air captured within his great lungs would sustain him for as long as he required, but it was fun to race back up to the light and launch his pale body half out of the water, before he fell back in a cascade of white water.
His name was Sleurth and he would be considered little more than a child by others of his kind, if there was still anyone about to cast their judgement.
But they had all gone from these waters, offended by the stench of evil that had seeped into the sea, by the whispering death of the spines in the hurried wind, by the hunger that surrounded the island in a miasma of offence.
Now there was just he, too foolish to leave with the rest, too inquisitive to go before the mystery was resolved.
He lifted his body chest-high from the waves and his enormous pale green eyes studied the land that rose from the waters like a warning.
He was young still, and it would be many years before he gained his full size, yet he was more than 30 feet in length, from his oval hairless head to his great flippered feet. His race was called Gargantua by the sailors who saw them in the moonlit nights, as they blessed themselves to appease one god and spat into the rising waters in case another god was involved.
For themselves, they were Loosis, and they knew from whence they had come. They had language, though they spoke slowly and rarely, and they did not forget.
Many thousands of years past, a tribe of Giants had left the land for the riches of the sea. A rare breed of Giants they were, for Giants don’t like the cold, and they don’t like to swim. But not these Giants. They waded out into the depths and found a world rich in food and lacking the nuisance of Humans and Elvenfolk enlivened by Magic. So they stayed and became other than they were. They swam and they ate, and they grew. Always long-lived, in the caress of the sea’s cool waters their years increased along with their size. Now, a Loosis would not think himself an adult until he’d seen 300 years and achieved 100 feet in length.
Sleurth was a long way from that, but he was of an independent mind and he’d listened to his troop of Loosis say their long slow goodbyes, with advice and warnings, and of course finishing with their lament for the loss of ale, for, with all the benefits accrued from a life at sea, they still missed their ale.
Now he was alone, and as close to the island as he cared to go, at least for now.
‘One day, and soon enough,’ he said, to himself for there was no-one else but the fish to hear him, ‘one day I will need to be closer to the evil thing, but not for now. Not at all.’
Just a few words he spoke to himself, but they took nigh on 10 minutes to say, for a Loosis will hang onto every one of the words he speaks as if worried he’ll never meet that word again, and he is never in a hurry to reach a full stop.
He rolled again, just because he could, and then he swam around the island of Fairisle, and he shivered. Whether it was with excitement or distaste, it would be hard for a mere human man to say.
*********
They’d assaulted the palace, full of anger and greed, and met little effective resistance. What the guards were doing with nothing more than glass swords and fancy outfits, he couldn’t say. They certainly hadn’t died with any sort of elegance despite their finery.
Rekk had held himself back a little, as out-in-the-open violence was never his skill; he much preferred to sneak up on a man and catch him unawares. But he’d waved his sword about with the best of them and made a good show of ferocity, and he’d even despatched a brave soldier holding off three of his comrades with little more than a steak knife and an arrogant glare.
Huldroyd had been directly behind him when they entered the palace and he’d prodded Rekk in the back with the point of his knife to get him moving nicely, which was something he’d want to have a word with him about later, if his blood was still up, he thought.
With the grand foyer of Palace Gale taken, and little prospect of resistance, Huldroyd had put away his weapons and stood full-square in the centre of the great room and laughed, with his head thrown back and his hands on his hips.
The laugh went on a little longer than Rekk thought was at all necessary, and he shared a worried glance with one or two of the other invaders.
‘You alright, Huldroyd?’ said Rekk, as their leader’s face grew redder by the moment.
Suddenly Huldroyd ceased his merriment, and he glared at Rekk with wide eyes and a sour sneer.
‘We have the palace, lad,’ he said, softly, ‘we have the palace, and we have the island. Do you see what this means? No more hiding in taverns and taking this and taking that when we can. Now, we can have everything!’ The last word was bellowed, and Rekk was close enough to feel spittle on his cheek.
‘Come, lads. Take what you will. Kill who you will. Do whatever you fancy, for we are on top of the heap, and there be no-one looking down on you now.’
The men roared, and some shook their bloodied swords.
‘Huldroyd,’ Rekk stepped closer and laid his hand on the taller man’s arm, ‘my sister is in the palace. She must not be harmed.’
Huldroyd merely stared down at his hand, and a growl began to build up slowly from deep within him.
Rekk dropped his hand. ‘She is my sister…’
‘And a pretty little thing she is, if I remember right.’ He smiled then, and Rekk decided that he much preferred his glower.
‘I…’
‘You’re right enough there, Rekk. Can’t let just anyone have her, can we?’ He lifted his head, and his voice. ‘Lads, if you see a pretty maid showing everything she has to the world in a tight dress that don’t reach high enough and flashing her legs for all to see, then bring her to me.’
He turned to Rekk and punched his shoulder. ‘Did I get her right there? The way she dresses, like?’
‘Huldroyd, she is my sister, and she must be treated with…’
‘Mayhap I’ll pay her, she’ll be fine with that, don’t you reckon?’
‘She…’ Rekk couldn’t think what to say next, with just him and Huldroyd in the foyer, if you didn’t count the dead guards.
‘Don’t worry, lad.’ Huldroyd drap
ed his arm across Rekk’s shoulders. ‘She won’t have to do anything she ain’t done a thousand times.’
Rekk stiffened, and the arm around him tightened.
‘I don’t have to worry about you, do I, lad?’
Rekk wanted to protest further, but he saw Huldroyd’s free hand on the hilt of his sword, so he swallowed the words, thinking they’d be more use later.
He shook his head and he was released.
Immediately he raced for the stairs. If he could find her before anyone else reached her, then he could save her, and woe betide anyone who made an attempt on her; even Huldroyd himself.
Chapter 20 Sam
‘He’ll be fine enough, won’t he, miss? When he wakes up, like?’
The soothnurse looked up from the still body on the bed, and she gave one of her sighs. She was always a one for a sigh, she’d say, if she was ever asked. Sighs ease the way for hard words, was her motto, and she never minded sharing her thoughts.
She was well past her middle years and her age suited her face and her temperament, along with her clothes, which surely belonged to her grandmother, they were that old.
‘Now, lad,’ she said, with another sigh, and just the slightest shake of her grey head. ‘Don’t ye be getting ahead of yourself there, and start expecting too much. You’ll only be disappointed, you will.’
‘But, he’s breathing fine now, and his colour is good, and he ain’t hot or nothing, so there’s no fever.’ Tom wanted to push her aside for all the good she was doing for his friend.
‘That’s all true enough, lad, but it don’t mean much at all. We have a name for this, we do, and you won’t like it, I know, but I have to tell you. This is the Dead Sleep, and there’s only one end that I can see. He might last a day or a week, but that’s just his body. Whatever was inside of him, it’s gone now.’
She paused then, for it was just a boy she was talking to, though he sounded quick and clever to hear his words, yet still he was a boy.
‘He’s dead, lad, and you should mourn his loss and think on his life, for it is over, and that’s the truth.’
Tom looked over at the Lady, sitting in the corner, with one hand to her mouth. Her eyes shone with tears.
‘Lady Alice…’ he sobbed, and then he rushed from the room.
‘Is there nothing you can do to save him?’ asked Alice, moving silently from her chair to Sam’s bed.
‘No, my Lady. Just as I told the lad, he’s in God’s hands now, and he’ll soon be whisked away. I can’t find anything broken or cut about him, so there’s is nothing for me to heal. Whatever is broken is deep inside and beyond the wit of mere man, or even mere woman, if you like.’ She sighed one final time and began to gather together her things.
‘Can he be fed in some way? It would be hard to see him waste away from the lack of sustenance.’
The soothnurse shook her head and sighed. ‘There is no way, my Lady, and if he don’t wake up, then he won’t miss his food.’
Alice placed a soft hand on Sam’s shoulder. ‘He did so like his food, he did,’ she whispered, as the soothnurse nodded her goodbye.
Alone with Sam, she let the tears flow freely and, not for the first time, she wished that her father was there, for he would surely know just what to do for the best.
When the tears had gone, she turned and moved towards the window. To her right, she could just spy the fields that Frenk had been working. Half the field was already harvested and the rest was bursting with life; natural life.
To her left, she could see the fields that Gorge had walked past; now rotting and fetid, and good to neither man nor beast. The foul stench of decay was carried on a breeze that had sprang up as if in defiance against the cold wind from the north.
‘What’s to be done?’ she asked, and she could not have said if she meant for the boy or for her home, for both were in need of aid, and where would that come from?
Frenk had taken his son down to Hesselton to allow them peace to do what they could for Sam, so she was left all alone; just her and the unresponsive boy.
The knock on the door came as something of a surprise and shocked her from the stupor she had sank into, perhaps in imitation of Sam.
‘Who can that be?’ she wondered, for surely Frenk wouldn’t be knocking at his own door.
Feeling like an old woman, Alice walked to the door.
‘Good day, my Lady,’ said the tall man she found there.
He was tall, but he didn’t carry his full height, as he was somewhat bent, and he supported himself with the aid of a dark wooden staff. She couldn’t have guessed at his age; he was not old, she thought, but he seemed to have lost something, like a big strong man aging and shrinking in a day.
‘Good day to you also, sir,’ she answered his greeting.
‘The soothnurse, I met her on the road, and she was surely distressed at...whatever has occurred here. I thought to comfort her, but she wouldn’t have it, no she wouldn’t. So, I have brought what comfort I have here, if that does not offend.’
Alice smiled. ‘No offence is received when none is meant, as my father would have said, if he’d been here.’
‘A wise man, indeed. You have a sick boy, she said.’
‘Ay, sir. We do, but I can’t see what you can do for him.’
The man did not respond for a moment. He seemed to look past her and not see her at all.
‘The...Dead Sleep, she called it,’ he said, at last; slowly, as if each word was being strained through his teeth.
‘Ay, sir, and terrible it was to hear her say the name.’
‘There...there was some Magic, I think, involved in...’
‘Ay, sir. In the harm, and in the...amelioration, such as it was.’
‘I have...well, I have some experience of Magic, in my own land. Perhaps...mayhap there is some aid I can give, if you have a Wellstone.’
Her eyes flashed in anger, and her words were icy cold.
‘Thank you for your interest, sir, but if you’re are looking to get your hands on a Wellstone, then you’ve come to the wrong place!’
She would have slammed the door in his face then and thought it a job well done, but the gentle, sad smile on his face stayed her hand.
‘You are wise to be careful, my dear, and your father would be proud, he would. But you have nothing to fear from me. I have left my own Wellstone far behind, and I’m a better man for it, if I only say so myself.’
Alice gripped the door, but she didn’t move. There was more to come, she thought.
He settled himself with his staff braced on the ground before him.
‘I… in all honesty, it was taken from me, but I will still claim the benefit from its loss. And my wish is to do nothing but help your young lad, and that would be enough.’
Alice opened the door, for the boy needed help and if the man ran off with an aging Stone, well, the price would be worth it.
The man stepped inside and nodded his thanks.
‘Lead me to him, please.’
He stopped at the door to the bedroom, at the sight of the boy, and for a moment seemed unable to move any closer.
‘The Stone is in the corner,’ said Alice, studying him as she spoke.
‘Oh, ay, I’ll need that.’ He seemed to catch hold of himself and walked into the room, his eyes never leaving the boy.
‘You had another lad make an attempt?’
‘Yes, Tom it was, and he did what he could to save his life, but it seems it was not enough.’
The man took the bag from her and weighed it in his hands.
‘Mayhap he lacked the experience and the knowledge to be subtle with the Magic, and this would take a fine touch, I think, to pull him back and not push him over the edge.’
‘Can you do it? Do you have the touch?’
‘Ay, my dear, though I was never a one for gentleness and subtlety.’
With a sigh, he opened the bag and placed one hand on the Wellstone without a second’s hesitation.
Alice gas
ped as the Stone sprang to life and the scent of burning flesh assailed her.
The man merely groaned softly at the agony, and there was something in that sound that made Alice wish she had slammed the door in his face.
After a moment, he cast his staff to one side, and he stood up straight, and she saw the size of the man he had once been.
The Stone released him and he turned to the boy. He began to mutter words, too quietly for her to hear, and she would not have understood them if she had been able to hear.
He bent over the boy, but he did not touch him. He mouthed the words, and he held his hands just so, and the tears fell from his eyes and splattered on the sheets.
Then he straightened and stepped back, and sadness seemed to overwhelm him.
‘Have you failed, sir? Well, it was good to make the attempt.’ She rested one had on his arm as she watched his face.
‘Failed, my dear? Take a look.’
She turned from him, confused at his words.
Then she gasped, for Sam’s eyes were open, and he was lifting his hands.
She rushed to his side, but he didn’t look at her; he only had eyes for the man behind her.
‘I…’ he croaked. ‘It weren’t…I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have…’
The man stepped to Alice’s side.
‘Shush, lad. There is no need.’
‘But…’ Sam sat upright with a jerk and pulled himself to the other side of the bed, throwing off the covers.
The man reached for him, but the boy was out of the bed and pressing himself into the corner, his broad face close to tears.
‘Don’t hurt me. I was taken. I didn’t want to go!’
The man walked slowly around the foot of the bed.
‘No need for fear, lad. I mean you no harm. I’ll never hurt you again.’
‘What is going on, sir? Who are you?’ Alice gripped his arm, as if that could stop him from getting closer to Sam.