by J Battle
She froze in the doorway, suddenly unable to move.
It wasn’t a vision of the future that held her there, for her taking action made her blind to what was to come. It was the sure and absolute knowledge that she would not return from Fairisle.
Chapter 72 Alice
It was cold up at the top of the valley, though she was wrapped in her warmest cloak and wore a warm velvet hat that covered her ears.
She stood before the wall, with two men from Tlur and Frenk standing guard to be sure the strangers behaved themselves.
‘It will need a lot of work, and it won’t come cheap, I’d say, if you asked,’ said the lead engineer; a stout fellow who’d waved goodbye to his fringe many years past. He had a red complexion that suggested he liked his ale, and a heavy belly that testified to his love of food. If he had been 12 feet tall, he could have been a Giant.
‘Can you make it safe, Mr Slosh?’ asked Alice, with her arms around herself.
He pursed his lips and shook his head. Then he sighed and nodded his head.
‘There’s a lot of water on the other side, I’d say. And that wall ain’t sealed or mortared, and it won’t hold.’
‘But, can you make it safe?’
‘What do you reckon, son?’ His son was a slimmer, paler, hairier version of his father, and he found it hard to keep his eyes off Alice.
‘I reckon we could, pa, but it won’t come cheap, and it won’t be easy.’
‘There you go, miss. The lad knows his business.’
‘Can you start now?’
‘Now? You want us to start now? Can we start now, son?’ The man seemed affronted at the very idea.
The young man pursed his lips and shook his head. Then he sighed and nodded his head.
‘That’s a question, pa, it is for sure.’
‘That’s why I asked it, son.’
The lad pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket and studied it for a moment, for all the world as if he could read.
‘Well, there’s that job in town. They’ve been waiting. And that farmer, he’s getting right riled with us, ‘cause we’re two weeks late, and he said…’
‘Excuse me, sir, for interrupting, but I believe lives are at stake here, so I need you to put this task first, before all others…’
Mr Slosh’s eyebrows raised as if he was just waiting for her to say the desired words.
‘…and we’ll pay whatever it costs.’
Mr Slosh was an expert at this sort of thing, so he kept her waiting for a few moments longer as he pantomimed hesitation and concern, ably supported by his son, but, after those special words had been spoken, there was really no other outcome possible.
‘Right, we’ll do it, young lady, but we’ll need the money up front like, if it don’t offend.’
‘Of course, we’ll go to see my father when we’ve finished here.’
‘Finished here? We’ve not started yet, and it will be days before we’re finished.’
‘No, you misunderstand me. Frenk, I see you have the rope I asked you to bring.’
Frenk nodded and held up the rope.
‘Now, if your son can help Frenk, this won’t take more than a few moments.’
‘Help? What is it you want him to do?’ Slosh shuddered at the suggestion of free, unpaid assistance.
Alice touched his arm. ‘Just to help Frenk do something that needs doing; nothing more.’
‘Don’t worry, pa,’ said the son, with a nod to Alice, ‘I don’t mind.’
‘Well, if you’re sure. There you go, miss. He’s ready for anything,’ said Slosh, thinking that he’d have to have a word with the lad.
‘Right,’ said Frenk, ‘let’s climb this wall and have a look.’
Without waiting for a reply, he began to climb. He took his time, for he was a big man, and not as young as he was the last time he climbed.
The lad watched him for a moment before he shrugged, glanced at Alice, and began to follow him.
Moments later, they were sitting on top of the wall, looking down at the ice-laden grey water.
‘Looks cold,’ said the lad, with a worried look on his face.
‘Ay, that’d be right,’ replied Frenk. ‘Now, take a good grip on this here rope, and don’t be letting it go.’
The lad took one end of the rope and watched as Frenk tied the other end around his waist.
‘You’re not going into the water. You’ll freeze, man.’
‘Not if I’m quick, I won’t,’ replied Frenk, deliberately not looking at the water. ‘So, take care, and pull me back when I have him.’
‘Who?’
Frenk pointed down into the depths below them.
‘There, you can see him.’
The lad peered past the floating sheets of ice and spied the dark form trapped below.
‘But…he’ll be dead, won’t he?’
‘Ay, lad, but it don’t mean he should stay there. He wants a proper burial with respectful words and the like, and that’s what he’s having. Even if I have to get a bit wet and a bit cold to get him.’
With that, he slipped into the water, gasping as the cold took him.
Without hesitation, he dived, kicking his big feet as he fought his way down.
Seconds later, he took hold of Gorge’s sodden icy body. Using all of his great strength, he tore the boy free and struggled upwards.
Gasping and almost blue with the cold, he waved at the young man with the rope.
‘Pull, man! Pull!’ he called, as he began to swim with one hand around Gorge and the other pawing at the water.
The lad pulled as hard as he could, and before anyone knew what was happening, his father was there beside him, and they both pulled the man and the boy free of the water.
Between the three of them they came close to falling from the wall as they worked to lower Gorge’s dripping body.
With sighs of relief they laid him on the ground by the rough wall and stood back to give Alice room.
She hesitated for a moment, as if she wished someone else would take this task from her, but there was no-one else, so she walked forward and fell to her knees beside him.
Light as a feather, her hand touched his icy pale cheek, and then she brushed his soaking fringe from his face.
‘My father would have had fine words to say for you, Gorge, if he was here, but, for now at least, I’ll just say thank you, Gorge. For whatever it was that caused your death, I know you were trying to save us, and that your heart was true.’ She sat back on her haunches, with her head down for a long moment.
‘Mayhap I’ll send the lad for something to carry him in?’ offered Slosh, bowing a little as he spoke, to show due respect.
‘Thank you, Mr Slosh, for your kind offer,’ said Alice, as she began to stand up, ‘but it will not be necessary. The lad liked this part of the valley, and he spent a lot of time up here, on his own and with his friends, so I’d say it would suit him to be buried up here. Do you have the spade, Frenk?’
Frenk held up his spade to show that he was indeed in possession of the tool.
‘Good. Then all we need to do is find a suitable place to bury him. Where do you think would be best?’
‘Excuse me, miss, and begging your pardon for interrupting,’ said Slosh the Younger, from just to one side of Gorge, ‘but while you’re thinking on the best place to bury the lad, I reckon you should give some thought on the best time, because, if you ask me, and even if you don’t ask I still tell you, because I don’t see that now is the best time.’
Alice turned to him, frowning. ‘What do you mean?’
He looked away, suddenly abashed at her attention.
‘Well, I don’t know much about nothing, and my pa will tell you that for nothing, but I reckon dead boys don’t have rosy cheeks like this young fellow has, and they don’t shiver none either.’
Alice sobbed as she fell to her knees beside Gorge. ‘It can’t be!’ she gasped as she reached to touch his damp pink cheek.
‘Oh my,’ she whis
pered, and she pulled his wet inert body to her.
After a moment, she looked up. ‘I can feel him breathing,’ she said, ever so softly, a look of wonder on her face.
‘Lad, rush off and get a soothnurse, and be quick about it if you will,’ said Frenk, with awe in his voice. ‘If he ain’t dead, he must be sorely ill, so quick as you can.’
‘Yes, mister, I’ll fetch one and get back before you know I’m gone.’ With that said, he rushed off down to Hesselton.
‘He’ll want dry clothes,’ said Frenk, as he leaned over Alice.
‘Here, just move aside, Lady Alice, if you don’t mind, and I’ll pick him up and carry him to my bed, and we’ll get him nice and dry.’ He picked Gorge up with hardly a grunt and began to walk down the valley, with Alice walking beside him, one hand on the boy’s arm.
Slosh watched them go, shaking his head.
‘Not right, it ain’t. Not right at all. The boy was dead as dead could be, when we fished him out of the water. And now he ain’t. That’s some Magic, that is, and it ain’t natural. What sort of world would it be if the dead don’t stay dead like they’re supposed to?’
Chapter 73 Cavour
The coast was far behind them now, and they were high in the foothills of the mountains. What vegetation they could find wouldn’t sustain a rabbit who was off his food, but still they went on.
‘Do you feel the cold, Cavour?’ asked Elstar, with something of a gloat in his voice.
Cavour walked with his head down and gave no more than a surly grunt in response.
‘I find it bracing. It makes the mind clear and my sinews easy.’
Again, he got no words from the man.
‘Not much in the way of entertainment, if you ask me.’
They’d crested a snowbound hill and paused for a moment to study the way ahead. There was a narrow, barely used path that would lead them down into a deep, narrow valley, almost glowing with life.
‘Is this where it is?’ asked Elstar, suddenly eager.
Cavour shrugged. ‘You see the life-force, do you not?’
‘I do, and I can almost feel the vitality in the place. Mayhap you will fulfil your commitment to me and be allowed to walk off into a yearned-for sunset.’
Cavour had no words. He’d found the hidden valley quite by chance, after days of aimless wandering. It was pure luck that there seemed to be something special about the place.
‘You could leave me here and rush off to lay your hands on the new Stone.’
Elstar laughed and draped his arm over Cavour’s shoulder.
‘I think you are too eager to see my back, my friend. Let us walk hand in hand down to this blessed place.’
Cavour scowled. He wanted to be off and away before the crawlord discovered that there was no Magic to be found here, or anywhere else in the land.
But Elstar’s arm was heavy and would not be moved, so he nodded. ‘No need for holding hands, I’d say,’ he said, with a sigh.
Together, they began their descent.
It took them near an hour to reach the first edges of the forest, and Cavour was sweating with the sudden unexpected heat.
‘Strange, don’t you think, that it is so warm, when we are still well above sea level, and have travelled mostly north for days.’
The trees towered over them, and the thick undergrowth scrambled for their feet, and the heady smell of verdant life assailed them as they walked.
‘Where is the Stone kept?’
‘Time enough for that,’ replied Cavour, to delay the moment when his lies would be revealed.
‘Now you tease me, Cavour,’ Elstar chuckled as he took hold of Cavour’s arm. ‘Just in case you decide to rush off into the shadows.’
They came to a clear path that wandered through the trees, free of the least leaf or twig.
Elstar smiled at the sight. ‘See Cavour, such a well-tended forest speaks of care and attention and Magic, don’t you think?’
‘I’ve heard of this place, but never yet been here,’ said Cavour, slowly, as he built his fiction for the last of the Elvenfolk.
‘Well, it will be a wonderful experience for us both then,’ replied Elstar, and there was surely a sudden eager spring in his step as they continued.
The path turned a corner and they came into a small clearing, mayhap 30 feet across, with a disc of neat grass in the centre.
‘What is this?’ asked Elstar, walking forward and turning to take in the view.
‘The last place you will ever see,’ came a reedy, creepy voice from high in the trees.
Cavour stopped on the edge of the clearing, ready to run at the least sign of peril.
‘Ah, the tree-tenders. At last, I’d say. Step out and let us have a look at you. Are you human? You sound human.’ Elstar was smiling as if he was having so much fun.
A figure dropped from the trees, landing lightly just before the crawlord.
Another dropped behind him, and then two landed beside Cavour.
Elstar turned and laughed. ‘I believe I am going to enjoy this.’
The tree-tenders were short, none of them as tall as five feet, and they were solidly built, as wide as they were tall.
The first stood with his hands on his hips and he studied Elstar.
‘We don’t know your sort,’ he said, when his considerations were complete. ‘Too tall for a man; too short for a Giant. We’ve heard talk of a creature, a Trytor. Are you a Trytor?’
Elstar smiled once more. ‘I am Crawlord Elstar of the Elvenfolk, and you may bow to your superior.’
The tree-tender nodded his head. ‘Elvenfolk. Heard of them. Thought they’d all passed from the land.’
‘I don’t like Elvenfolk, Buntt,’ called one of the tree-tenders standing by Cavour. ‘Nasty things.’
Buntt turned a little, keeping one eye on Elstar.
‘But you have never seen one before, Crott, so how do you know you don’t like them?’
‘I just know,’ replied Crott, with unimpeachable logic.
‘Mayhap I could play with him,’ came a voice from the trees; the first voice they’d heard.
‘You stay where you are, Splatt, and I don’t want to see your face this side of summer,’ snarled Buntt.
‘I was only saying, as no-one else seems to want him. What about the human? I could have some fun with the human.’
‘If I hear another word from you, Splatt, I’ll come and split your head open with my sword.’
‘Violence isn’t always the best way, Buntt.’
‘It is when you stick your long, pointy nose into things that don’t concern you.’
‘So, I can’t have the human?’
Buntt roared, and there was a sudden flurry in the tree tops.
‘He’s gone now,’ said Buntt, turning back to the crawlord.
‘I am First Thud Buntt, son of Dantt, grandson of Hantt, Forest-dwarf and guardian of Glyndon woods.’ He bowed as far as his short thick body would allow.
‘First Thud Buntt, it is a pleasure, I’m sure, to make your acquaintance, and if I had the time, we could spend an afternoon in fascinating conversation, but alas we must put aside that delight. So, if you will just tell me where you keep your Wellstone, I’ll take it from you and be on my way.’ He smiled then, as if to say, ‘there’s no problem here, is there?’
Buntt dropped one thin hand to the hilt of his sword. ‘Don’t know anything about a Wellstone, Crawlord, but you wouldn’t be taking it with you if I had. You have trespassed in Glyndon woods, and none shall leave without the say so of the forest-dwarves.’
Elstar drew himself up as tall as he could and his sword was in his hand.
‘I suggest that I may go where I care to, and take what I will, and there is no-one here to stop me.’
The attention of all of the forest-dwarves was on the crawlord, as he stood there tall, arrogant and contentious.
Cavour decided that the moment was perfect for him to slip away unseen, as no-one seemed at all interested in him.
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There was a ripple of grunts as the dwarves closed their circle around Elstar, each with a short stabbing sword in one hand, and an axe in the other.
‘Lay down your sword, Elf, before we seed the ground with your blood,’ said Buntt, calmly.
That was the last Cavour heard, as he was soon rushing along the path that would take him from the forest.
He was very close to the edge when there came a sudden rushing, tumbling sound to his right and a small figure landed right before him.
The dwarf was up on his feet and glaring at Cavour, before the man could take a step.
‘Halt there, trespasser, lest I gut you from belly to throat and wear your innards as a bracelet.’
Cavour looked down at the diminutive figure. He was as tall as the other dwarves, but he was so narrow in the chest and the shoulders, he could have been a boy of no more than eight summers, and he did indeed have a thin, pointy nose.
‘You don’t have a knife,’ said Cavour.
‘First Thud won’t let me,’ concurred Splatt, sticking out his bottom lip. ‘But I have a stick. That’ll hurt you some, I reckon, if I hit you right.’
Cavour held out his hand.
‘My name is Cavour, and I thank you for freeing me from that monster. No threats are needed; we should be friends.’
‘Friends? You want to be friends? No-one wants to be friends; they say I make them feel uncomfortable. Do I make you feel uncomfortable, Cavour?’
In truth, his eyes were too big and starey, and his breath could have been sweeter, and his thin voice was already close to causing some irritation.
‘You saved me from the Elvenfolk; that’s all the comfort I need.’
‘So, we are friends?’
There was an eagerness to the creature that made Cavour’s flesh crawl.
‘Yes, of course we are friends.’
‘So, what do friends do? I’ve never had a friend.’
‘A friendly thing would be for you to lead me from the forest, in case the crawlord comes looking for me.’
‘The crawlord? Looking for you? That won’t happen.’
‘Why not?’
‘He’s probably dead by now, and they’ll be chewing on his bones, I expect, before too long.’