Misthaven: The Complete Trilogy

by J Battle

  ‘Come now, we shall be off.’ Elstar stood up abruptly and almost banged his head on the low ceiling.

  ‘Morning would be best, after a night’s sleep, I’d say.’

  ‘No, we’ll go now, and I’ll assure you that you are safe with me, if I obtain the Stone. If you fail me, then, well, mayhap we won’t speak of that just yet.’

  Cavour packed his pipe away. He’d wanted to accompany Ellaine and the rest on their voyage to Fairisle, and he was sure that he could have been of use. But keeping Elstar away might be even more important, if only he could find some way to survive the experience.

  Chapter 63 Aarvarn

  With his right hand, he held the chain. With his left, he scratched his head, for there was little else for him to do, sitting as he was by the wall in an empty harbour.

  ‘She’ll send me food, I reckon, the Lady. She won’t leave me sat here, all starvating away to nothing. No, she understands Giants, does that little Lady, and there’ll be a tray along here soon enough all loaded with hams, and chickens and pies, and there’ll be big thick sandwiches, yes there will, full of all nice things. And there’ll be a hogshead of good cool ale to wash it all down; that’s as sure as the sea is wet and the land ain’t.’

  His mouth was watering at the delicious prospect.

  ‘But it better come soon.’

  He turned, swapping the chain from one hand to the other, and he looked out to sea past the ship he was guarding.

  He thought of all those Giants who had just walked into the water and drowned themselves. Even Raarvan, clever as he was, was about to join them.

  ‘Ain’t right,’ he said. ‘Ain’t right at all. That little Ellaine woman, she’s going to make it all right, I reckon. Humans are clever little mites, but she’s got something else.’

  He nodded and sighed with satisfaction at the prospect.

  ‘Talking to yourself, there, you big lump?’

  Aarvarn half turned.

  ‘What you say there, little man?’

  The little man didn’t quite reach the Giant’s waist, and the sour look on his face would have turned the finest of wines to vinegar.

  ‘D’you hear that Brandon? He can’t hardly speak at all, he can’t.’

  ‘Yeah, Cleppy,’ said his companion, ‘and that big head must be as empty as a church when the taverns open.’

  ‘Just you don’t be going near the water now, or I’ll have to stop you.’ Aarvarn spoke as slowly and clearly as possible, to be sure that he was understood.

  ‘And who’s going to stop us?’ said Cleppy, with a quick glance to be sure that his friend could see how brave he was being.

  Aarvarn gave the question the full consideration that it deserved before answering.

  ‘That will be me, I reckon.’

  Brandon charged towards the Giant with a long blade suddenly in his hand.

  Aarvarn saw him coming, but he was too slow to defend himself from the attack, so he grabbed Cleppy by the waist instead with his free hand.

  Brandon’s blade snapped cleanly in two when it came into contact with the Giant’s tough skin, and he was so surprised that he forgot to keep moving.

  He was even more surprised when he got hit over the head with his friend and they both ended up in a pile of limbs by the harbour wall.

  ‘What you little men doing, attacking a Giant?’

  Cleppy lifted his head from Brandon’s crotch. ‘We don’t like you Giants, coming here and eating all our food and drinking all our ale.’

  Aarvarn nodded along with his words. ‘We do do that, don’t we, with us being Giants.’

  ‘Well, we don’t like it, and we’ll stab you when you ain’t looking.’

  ‘But...we saved you from the Elvenfolk, we did. You should thank us and be pleased to feed us.’ Aarvarn couldn’t see any flaw in his own logic.

  ‘Still going to stab you.’ He rolled away after a push from Brandon.

  With surprising speed, he was up on his feet.

  ‘You damned fool, Brandon! You should have had him. I had him distracted and all you had to do...’

  Brandon sprang to his feet and pushed him backwards.

  ‘Don’t you start, Cleppy. I’s fed up to me back teeth with you and your...’

  ‘I’ll show you how it should be done...’ yelled Cleppy as he lunged for Brandon and sank his knife into his shoulder.

  ‘Aargh! Why did you go and do that? I’ll show you...’

  The half a blade that he was still holding was buried six inches deep in Cleppy’s thigh before he knew what was happening.

  Cleppy fell to the floor, his hands clamped on his injured thigh.

  Brandon stood over him, gripping his bleeding shoulder.

  ‘You’ve never liked me, you haven’t,’ he spat. ‘Not since I went with your sister that night.’

  ‘Was that the night I went with your mother? And your wife joined in?’

  Brandon gave him a kick to show that he wasn’t amused.

  Three new men appeared, all of a sudden, brandishing clubs and blades.

  ‘Look!’ said the one furthest back. ‘He’s attacked Cleppy and Brandon. Let’s get him.’

  Aarvarn groaned as they approached. The little woman had said he wasn’t to let anyone get into the water. Those had been her words, more or less. But he was pretty sure that she didn’t want him to hurt anyone in the process.

  He stood as tall as he could, and that was tall enough, for he was a Giant, and he put the meanest look he could on his face, and he fairly glowered at the newcomers.

  ‘I’s a Giant,’ he bellowed, ‘in case you can’t see, and you can’t hurt me with your little pointy things. If you try, I’ll break you in half, and I’ll…I’ll throw the bottom half into the sea, I will. See if I don’t.’

  Brandon couldn’t help himself, he had to ask.

  ‘What will you be doing with the other half?’

  Aarvarn smiled down at him, and it was a frightful sight to see.

  ‘Well, I ain’t eaten since breakfast, have I?’

  The three newcomers suddenly realised that they were needed elsewhere, and Brandon and Cleppy, with one supporting the other, hobbled off to join them.

  ‘I weren’t joking neither,’ said Aarvarn, as he watched them go.

  Chapter 64 Ellaine

  She looked across the barroom and shook her head at the heated argument that was developing over a chair, for goodness sake.

  ‘I was sat there, before I went for a leak, so it’s my chair, it is.’ He was a tall man, with little meat on him, and a hurt expression on his face.

  ’There’s a spare seat just there, Birt,’ said the current occupier of Birt’s chair, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  ‘I know that! I ain’t blind. But it ain’t my chair. You shift your arse and go and sit there.’ As he spoke, his left hand settled on the handle of his knife.

  ‘No, I like it here, I do, and my ma, she always said, ‘on your feet, lose your seat,’ she did, so put that in your pipe and smoke ‘till teatime.’

  ‘I…’ The blade of his knife was half exposed and his hurt expression was replaced by burning hot anger.

  ‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ said Ellaine, with one hand resting on Bert’s knife arm. ‘But, well my friends haven’t yet arrived, and, of course, a lady doesn’t like to order her own drink, not where I came from. Would one of you kind gentlemen care to oblige? Of course, I will pay, and I’d stand you both a round for the pleasure of your company.’

  ‘Well…yes, that would be fine,’ said Birt, slipping his knife back where it belonged.

  ‘I’ll get you that drink,’ said the obsessive chair occupier, and he even stood up. ‘There you go, Birt. You can have your chair back, and I’ll be seeing to this young lady.’

  ‘No, you stay where you are, and I’ll get the drink,’ snapped Birt, and his gleaming blade was once more exposed.

  ‘Gentlemen, please,’ scolded Ellaine. ‘Enough of this aggression. You are friends, at least
you came in together, and you were laughing and joking. So, come and sit with me, and we’ll call over the barman and there will be pleasant conversation.’

  Both men bowed their head at the severity of her tone.

  ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ they said, in unison, and then they followed her meekly to her table.

  ‘That’s better. Now, Birt, you call the barman over,’ she held up her hand at look of consternation on the other man’s face, ‘and you, kind sir, you can order the drinks. How does that sound?’

  Birt and his friend, who was later revealed as being the proud possessor of the name Trugon, glared at each other for a moment longer as they tried to gauge which of them had come out on top in the situation.

  With no advantage or insult to be found, Birt called over the barman over.

  He took his own sweet time coming, because he wasn’t a servant and who were they to call him over like a serving wench? His mood lightened when his eyes fell on Ellaine’s face, and he even made a good effort at a smile.

  ‘Yes?’ he said, and for some reason gave a little bow.

  Ellaine nodded to Trugon.

  ‘We’ll have two tankards of ale, and a half-tankard of ladyale if…’ He stopped at the sudden frown on Ellaine’s face. ‘No, a tankard of lady…’ Her frown became darker, and she shook her head.

  ‘A tankard of good strong ale for the lady,’ Birt offered, and he fairly glowed when she smiled at him.

  ‘I was going to say that,’ snapped Trugon, ‘if you’d give a man half a chance.’

  ‘You had two go’s at it and you still weren’t near, and the lady must have a thirst by now.’

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ said Ellaine, before any more heat could develop. ‘Now, are you from Hesselton?’

  ‘Born and bred,’ said Birt, with obvious pride. ‘But Trugon there, he only moved here, what five years ago, I reckon.’

  ‘It’s still my home, now anyway.’ There was a sullenness to his tone that Birt found objectionable.

  ‘Not really, it ain’t. You even talk funny.’

  ‘Ah now, here’s the ale,’ said Ellaine, with relief.

  There was a blessed few minutes of supping and slurping, and no talking, for which she was grateful.

  Then Rootheart burst in with a dark expression his face.

  ‘What you doing there, making a nuisance of yourselves? Get ye gone before I make you sorry!’

  Before he could take another step, the pair were up and away to a table across the room, with not a drop of ale spilled.

  ‘What was that about?’ asked Ellaine, as he sat beside her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That rudeness. It was not at all necessary. They were just keeping me company.’

  ‘I could hear them arguing from outside.’

  She put her hand under his chin and lifted his face a little to catch the light.

  ‘You’re angry, but you don’t know why,’ she said, thoughtfully.

  ‘I’ve reason enough to be angry, I reckon.’

  ‘No. I’ve seen enough righteous anger, in my time. This is something different.’

  She looked across to the far wall of the tavern. Beyond it was the sea, and, going even further, there was Fairisle.

  ‘It’s him, I’d say,’ she spoke ever so softly, ‘he’s not calling us to him. Not yet, anyway. He’ll have us at each other’s throats instead; doing his work for him. What can we do? What defence is there against such…influence? No-one will be safe. Not the mightiest warrior, not the most charming princess.’

  ‘What can we do? Now you say it, I am filled with a terrible anger. I want to…I want to hurt someone, I do.’

  She touched his arm. ‘You must fight it, my dear. For one such as you, the harm you could do? When you feel the anger, think of my kiss. When you feel your fists clenching, think of my body. When you want to strike out, think of my pleasure in your arms. Whatever you do, you must stay your fists, and replace anger with love.’

  ‘What will happen on the ship, when we are all so close together?’

  She sighed. ‘Do you think that has not occurred to me?’ There was a sharpness to her tone that turned his head.

  She saw his look and sighed.

  ‘See, my dear. Even I am not immune.’

  She wrapped her arm around his. ‘We shall fight it together. But we must get everyone here now, lest they get caught in an argument that could turn into violence and death. Will you go, my dear and bring them safely to me?’

  Rootheart felt a flare inside his chest and he ground his teeth together at being expected to leave the tavern without a drink to wet his tongue.

  Then he thought of her kiss, and her soft eager body beneath him, and the anger failed.

  ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ He stood up.

  ‘Rootheart,’ she said, ‘be careful not to hurt anyone.’

  ‘Hurt?’ He turned and stomped towards the door, with the anger surging once more.

  Chapter 65 Cavour

  They walked through the night, and he felt the fatigue dragging his body down.

  ‘Mayhap I’ve got old all of a sudden,’ he mused, as he walked, with the sound of the crawlord’s heavy feet filling the darkness with menace.

  ‘It is too dark,’ he’d offered, as they had walked through the east gate.

  ‘I see well in the dark, so have no fear.’

  ‘If I stumble and fall, how will that aid your cause?’

  ‘Then take care.’

  ‘Not very helpful,’ he’d muttered, as they set off along the coast road.

  It wasn’t the walking that was tiring him so, he thought. And it wasn’t the presence of the unpredictable creature beside him, either. He’d served the Trytor for long enough to know how to behave.

  No, it was something else. The fear washed over him, mixed with anger and frustration. And there was hate; wild, unfocussed hate, like nothing he’d ever before experienced.

  He looked up at the crawlord and he wanted to grab his sword and stab him a thousand times, or leap high and tear out his throat with his teeth. Even the sound of the creature’s breathing was enough to infuriate him.

  But I can’t act on such reckless urges, he thought, for that is hardly the way to survive their little journey.

  It requires clever deceit, not foolhardiness, he decided, as they came to the swamp land on their left.

  ‘The sun will rise soon,’ said Elstar, as he studied the dark sky.

  ‘Then we’ll see where we’re going and make better speed.’

  ‘No. No, I‘d say we find some place to shelter and rest for the day. I prefer not to walk in the full light of the day.’

  ‘My judgements of how long this will take were based on travelling quickly by day.’

  ‘Then it will take longer. I will not judge you too harshly.’

  There was little in the way of shelter to be found, so they walked on into the morning, with Elstar growing ever more fractious and irritated, and Cavour keeping an iron grip on his own anger.

  ‘This will do,’ said Elstar, when they neared a pair of large rocks sitting side by side on the edge of the wetlands.

  Cavour watched as he squeezed his long body into the narrow gap.

  ‘There is only room for one, so you will sit outside within my view.’

  Cavour sighed and lowered himself to the ground.

  ‘We’ll need food and water soon,’ he said, when he was settled.

  There was no response.

  Cavour looked around for some suggestion of a means of escaping his predicament. For he had lied to the Crawlord, and more than once. There was no other Stone, or if there was, he had no knowledge of its whereabouts, and he had heard little in the way of rumours, despite what he may have said to Elstar, or Lydorth before him. So, this was something of a wild goose-chase, with no goose to be found, and he had to find some manner of escape.

  There was the swamp, of course. But there would be noise as he waded through the waist deep water, and he might
find himself sucked to his death.

  There was the sea. He could run across the road and dive into the cool water before the crawlord could extricate himself from his narrow boudoir. But how good a swimmer was Elstar? Would he merely stroll across the beech and swim effortlessly after him and catch him within a few easy strokes?

  Then there was the road, between the other two choices.

  He couldn’t outrun the monster, so that choice was closed to him.

  ‘There’s nothing else for it,’ he whispered, as he opened his bag and began to search for his pipe. ‘He may well be the last of the Evenfolk, yet still he will have to die.’

  Chapter 66 Ellaine

  Ellaine cast her eyes from one to another, and sometimes she nodded and others she didn’t, as she confirmed her choice within her own mind.

  Rootheart, of course he would come; she had, after all sought him out, and that brought her to a smile.

  Alice? She shook her head. There were things to be done here, she thought, and little value she could bring to the expedition. The same with her father. He seemed well recovered from his injury, but Misthaven, and his daughter would need him.

  The boys? Well, they had both been touched by Magic, and so they would come, along with Sam’s father. There was tension there, of course, but no-one else had his experience of Magic.

  Garraldi was gone, back home to his ale she suspected, but he would hardly be missed, she judged.

  Cavour was not here, and nowhere else to be found it seemed, and she would have liked him to have joined them. Not for any knowledge of Magic he might have, but for his calm wisdom, for there was little enough of that within the company.

  One of the Giants would have been useful, but they were not sailors, and they had other demands on their time and energy.

  So, is that it? She wondered. A man, two boys, a half-giant and a woman who has surely seen too many years.

  Is it enough?

  She sighed and sipped her ale. It would have to be enough, for there was no-one else.

  ‘What about Gorge?’ asked Sam, when Ellaine had told them of her choices.