Misthaven: The Complete Trilogy

by J Battle

  ‘No!’ She cried, reaching for him. He evaded her grasp easily as he passed her.

  ‘It is he!’ he yelled. ‘Can you not feel the Magic washing off him?’

  ‘No, Torn. You cannot do this!’

  But it was too late. Torn was already half way to the child. He tore the bindings from Lord Richard’s sword as he ran, and he hardly reacted to the pain that ate at his hand.

  ‘Per did nestrom!’ he roared, as he reached the child and drove his sword into the little monster’s stomach.

  Chapter 83 Cavour

  With the wooded valley far behind him, and no sign of pursuit from an angry crawlord, Cavour decided that the time was right for a bit of a rest and mayhap a chance to make some decisions.

  He found a place just off the road on a little rise, with large boulders scattered about as if a Giant’s game of Toss the Rock was stopped half way through and they’d all rushed off for supper.

  As he settled down beside a rock, he rummaged in his bag for his favourite pipe and his last pinch of pipeweed.

  ‘Ay now, that’s fine, that is,’ he murmured, after his first draw.

  Wriggling his behind for extra comfort, he set his mind to consider his situation.

  For as many years as he could remember, he’d been at the Trytor’s beck and call, and now here he was, his own master. But what should he do?

  It was too late to go back to Hesselton. Ellaine and the rest would be long gone and there would be nothing for him to do, unless he wanted to aid young Alice and her father in the management of a world without Magic.

  Then again, there were many places yet to be visited. He’d never seen the Towers of Torort, or the great Falls of Narron. He’d always hankered for a sight of Nesseralls, running free and wild in their native savannahs. There was still time, if he was quick about it, to see the last of the Puzzle birds, or attempt the Bridge of Quazier, if he had the stomach for such heights.

  ‘No,’ he sighed, shaking his head. ‘A man gets tired of the road when he’s seen enough of it. And all roads lead home, as someone who was too clever for his welly-boots once said.’

  ‘Ay, home. Now there’s a thought. Home to Verdant. Mayhap have a drink in my old local, though I’d be a stranger to them now. I could try Lord Richard’s place; served fine ale if I remember right.’

  He drew on his pipe for a while longer, in no hurry to move.

  ‘And then there’s Garraldi. He’ll be there for sure by now, and he won’t be a stranger to Lord Richard’s tavern. It’s high time I settled things with the lad. I don’t know if I’ll be hugging him when I see him, or if I’ll strike him down again. But he’s my brother, and he’s the only one I have, and mayhap I’ll let that count in his favour.’

  With the decision made, he finished off the last of his weed before he packed his bag.

  As he set off on the road once again, there was a half-smile on his lean face and there was a new spring in his step on the road that would take him home.

  Chapter 84 Woewearer

  The sharp blade of Lord Richard’s sword pierced the child’s stomach with ease, and it carried on right through his narrow body and out of his back, spraying red blood behind him.

  The child convulsed as the sword ripped into him, bending low over Torn’s hand.

  ‘And so it is finished,’ sighed Torn, as he prepared to withdraw his sword.

  But the child gripped the guard in his hands and he would not let it go.

  He lifted his face to Torn and he smiled.

  ‘So, this is pain? It is…different. But nothing to be feared.’

  Torn tugged on the sword again, but it wouldn’t budge.

  He struck the boy, sending him staggering backwards, but somehow, he kept the sword, breaking Torn’s hold on it with ease.

  The boy regained himself and wiped away the blood that leaked from his mouth.

  He laughed and pulled the sword from his body as if it meant nothing to him. He held it for a moment as if he intended to run Torn through with his own weapon, but then he laughed once more and tossed the sword away.

  It sailed ridiculously far through the sky, splashing down somewhere far out to sea.

  ‘This pain is wonderful. Truly wonderful. Not at all like the pain my mother passed to me. I should thank you for introducing me to the experience.’ The child stepped forward, an impossible amount of blood pouring from his wounded belly.

  ‘Mayhap I should share it with you, by way of thanks. How does that sound?’

  ‘No!’ The voice was hoarse and quiet, but they both turned towards the bloodied figure on the ground.

  ‘Still with us, Mother? That’s a surprise. I thought fire would have finished you off. Mayhap you are stronger than I thought?’

  Fleur gasped for air, but she said no more. Instead she glared at the abomination to which she had given birth, with disgust in her eyes.

  ‘You see that, human?’ The child turned his back on what remained of his mother. ‘This is how I am treated. Not even given a name by my dear mother.’

  Torn looked from one to the other, his hand within his cloak, seeking out his knife.

  ‘Mayhap it is hardly worth naming a child who will not survive the hour?’

  ‘Oh now, that is very droll. Humour in such desperate circumstances. Mayhap I’ll keep you alive. You can be my fool.’

  ‘I have always been my own fool, foul child.’ As he said the last word, he lunged, knife in hand for the killing blow.

  He didn’t reach the child.

  Everything seemed to slow down for him, as if he was moving through a sea of treacle, and the world became a silent place, darkening by the moment.

  If he’d had retained the ability, he would have screamed as his feet left the ground and he fell as if the world was turned upside down.

  His barely conscious body was flung by an unseen hand, and it flew through the air until it landed with a splash in the centre of the harbour.

  The child laughed once more and looked around for his next challenge.

  She was already close.

  Ellaine stopped just a few feet from him, her hands clasped before her as she studied the boy.

  His wounded belly seemed healed and there was no longer evidence of the blood he had lost so extravagantly. He even seemed a little taller.

  ‘So, it is you. You are…not quite human, I’d say.’ The child nodded his head as he spoke. ‘Mayhap, more than human. But, alas, less than me.’ He took a half step before the smile fled from his mouth, and a look of wonder replaced it.

  ‘What do I see? Oh, it is…it is Magic, for sure. But it is not the same. It tastes…it tastes ancient. Ancient, but weak. Yet still, it is Magic, and I’ll have it from you before you die.’

  Ellaine smiled. ‘It is beyond you, child. You cannot comprehend the difference to you.’

  If her company had been close enough to hear, they would not have sensed her fear.

  Yet, it was there, filling her to bursting, for only she knew what was to come.

  This is not my place, she thought, as she watched the child move ever so slowly towards her. My place is to watch and mourn, and sing my little songs. That is how I survive the eons. Not by putting myself at risk before a creature such as this.

  There was a movement to the side, and a quiet groan.

  ‘Child. Do you wonder how I survived the fire? Do wonder how I survived your birth?’ For a woman at death’s door, her voice sounded strong.

  ‘I ignore you woman, until I have dealt with this…creature.’ The child was closer now, and had grown as tall as her shoulder.

  ‘This is how!’ Fleur grunted and tossed the Wellstone across the ground towards Ellaine.

  But she was weaker than she thought and the Stone landed between the boy and the woman, mayhap a hand’s width closer to the boy.

  For a moment, neither moved. The boy didn’t need the Magic; he was full to bursting with it already, but he didn’t want the stranger to have it. He could have called the Sto
ne to him, or sent it flying through the air, far out of her reach.

  But it was close, and he’d surely get his hands on it before her, so he moved.

  She watched, waiting half a beat before she also moved, for she didn’t want to touch it first. That would not do at all.

  ‘Yes!’ cried the child, as his hand landed full-square on the already glowing Stone. ‘I have…’

  Then her hand joined his, just to the side, barely three fingers touching the Stone.

  The Stone felt her and the glow faded in an instant, an instinctive self-defense reaction.

  The ancient Magic within her felt the new, flexible Magic within the Stone. There was a half-second when nothing happened, as the barely conscious forces sought some other outcome. But, like opposing particles in the convoluted science of another world, the intransigent, absolute and ancient Magic could not be where the qualifiable, living Magic of the Wellstone pertained. The ancient Magic was either/or; the new Magic was everything else.

  Together, they were nothing.

  With one hand on the Stone, and the other hand on his shoulder, she met his eyes for the last time.

  ‘Wha…’ He never finished the word. He never finished the breath. He never finished the heartbeat.

  In an instant, the Magic collapsed, taking Stone, woman and child along with it, leaving nothing behind but a whisper of scattered dust.

  Lancer was kneeling by the side of the road, next to the prostrate body of the half-giant.

  He had been witness to the whole brief event, and he nodded his head at the actions of his old friend.

  He stood up slowly and he glanced around.

  Rootheart was not with them yet, but the fire had gone and he seemed to be breathing normally. Just by the dock, Tom and Sam were wrestling Torn’s limp body onto the side.

  For a moment, he just lay there, with the boys looking down, unsure what to do next, then he coughed and his body convulsed, spewing out water from his soggy lungs.

  Lancer turned away.

  None had seen what happened here by the side of the road.

  There was a woman lying just beyond where Ellaine had been standing, somehow untouched by the roaring flame that must have passed over her.

  Lancer walked over, beginning to rush when he saw her move.

  He knelt beside her, averting his eyes from the bloody mess of her lower belly.

  Her eyes opened, and they were beautiful eyes, he’d give her that, he thought.

  ‘Is he…?’

  ‘Quiet now, my dear. Don’t fuss yourself.’

  ‘No…tell me, is he…’

  ‘He’s gone, my dear. He’ll hurt you no more.’

  ‘Truly?’ Her eyes held his, beseeching.

  ‘Ay, my dear. You can rest now. He has truly gone.’

  She studied his face for a moment, for a suggestion of a lie, before she sighed and closed her eyes.

  ‘My dear, let us help you…’

  Her body shuddered all of a sudden, and then she was still. The absolute immobility of death.

  He touched her face for a moment, and he wondered what trials she had endured.

  ‘If there truly is a better place, then she is there now.’

  He stood and turned to the boys.

  ‘Come,’ he said, ‘let us leave this foul place behind us, and never think to return.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Tom, looking past him at the dead body. ‘We missed it. Saving Prince…Mr Torn. Sam was going to try it on his own, but he can’t swim better than a bucket full of holes, so I followed him in, and I reckon I saved them both, and got a nice hot bath for my trouble.’

  ‘Come, lads. If Mr Torn can walk, and Rootheart can stop his snoring, then we must be gone. I’ll tell you about everything you missed during your heroics when we are nice and safe on Captain Harrb’s ship, and this place is far behind us.’

  Chapter 85 Boys

  Harrb was pleasantly surprised to find that there were some survivors, when he saw them rowing towards him, though describing what they were doing as rowing was more than generous.

  The two lads had one oar, and seemed to be working against each other, and that Lancer fellow had the other, but the way he was waving it at the sea would get him nowhere very fast.

  The little boat meandered its way across the water as if they had all the time in the world.

  In truth, they were lucky he was still waiting for them.

  When the crowd of Loosis had come racing out of the harbour, all angry and distraught, he’d thought it was high time he found himself a better place to be, and he would have been long gone, but one of the creatures swam up to his ship. Sleurth he called himself, though it sounded more like Sle…..uuuuuu…..rrrrrr…..ttttttthhhhh, the way he spoke. When he finally finished his speech, Harrb was assured, both that his ship was safe with the Loosis if he remained at anchor, and that his ship was somewhat less safe if he thought to do anything else.

  When the little boat finally reached his ship, he sent some of his men down to give them a hand, and he instructed others to pull up his anchor.

  The journey back to the mainland passed without incident, apart from the occasional sight of a pale bobbing head trailing them through the waves.

  **********

  Gorge was sitting on the harbour wall, with his eyes on the gentle waves, but his mind was far away across the water.

  He’d been there for hours when Alice slipped into place beside him.

  ‘You’ve been here a while,’ she said, lightly.

  ‘Have I?’ he responded, his tone as glum as hers was bright.

  ‘Yes, I’ve been watching from the reservoir wall, I have, and there’s not been much to see. Just you, with your lowered head. Not doing anything but sit and watch.’

  ‘I’m allowed, I reckon. Don’t see any law against sitting and doing nothing else.’

  ‘Dan the Man might have something to say about that.’

  ‘I ain’t see him, I reckon he’s out of town on one of his ‘business trips,’ as he calls them.’

  ‘I did see something else, when I got too bored looking at you.’

  ‘Did you?’ He couldn’t have been less interested.

  ‘You’re supposed to ask me what I saw.’

  He sighed and shook his head.

  ‘What did you see, then?’

  ‘Oh, I saw a ship, and it looked very much like the ship they set sail in the other day.’

  ‘What! Why didn’t you say? Where were they?’ Gorge jumped up as if the added height would help him see further.

  ‘Just over there, to the west. You’ll see it soon enough.’

  ‘Do you think...do you think they’ll all be fine?’

  Alice stood up beside him and linked her arm in his.

  ‘We can only hope, Gorge. We can only hope.’

  The ship came into view, all sails displayed and riding high in the calm sea.

  ‘It looks alright,’ said Gorge.

  ‘Ay, it does indeed.’

  The ship pulled close to the dock and Gorge raced over and jumped the narrow gap.

  ‘Where are they?’ he yelled to the sailors about their business on deck.

  ‘Who?’ said one grizzled fellow, as he did something complicated with a trio of ropes.

  ‘The...’

  ‘I reckon he means us,’ said Rootheart as he limped onto the deck. ‘Did you mean me?’ He asked, with a tight smile on his broad face.

  Before Gorge could respond, Tom had rushed past the half-giant, coming to a full stop before Gorge.

  ‘Gorge! We thought...you were dead. We saw you, in the water, like.’

  ‘I’ve never felt better, seeing you back safe and sound. Is Sam there?’

  Sam almost knocked Tom overboard as he charged to greet his old friend.

  ‘You’re not dead?’ He said, and then he smiled and shook his head at the stupid question.

  ‘The last of my Magic kept me alive,’ explained Gorge.

  Sam grabbed hi
m then and gave him the biggest of hugs. At one stage Gorge thought he might well need a touch of Magic to survive the experience.

  At last Sam relented and let him go.

  ‘Come on, lads, let’s get back on dry land, and have we got a story to tell?’ said Tom, as he put an arm around each of them and guided them to the gangplank one of the sailors had placed for their convenience.

  **********

  A couple of days later, the boys were in their treehouse, whiling away the afternoon, smoking their pipes and telling tall stories.

  ‘This is the life,’ said Tom, when it seemed they had run out of nonsense to speak. ‘I reckoned we’d never do this again.’

  ‘Ay,’ said Sam, with a frown on this face.

  ‘What is it, Sam. You look like you’re about to say something really clever, or you’re going to break wind. Which is it? Because, if it’s the second, I want to get out of the treehouse before it’s too late.’

  ‘No, Tom. It ain’t nothing like that. And I reckon it won’t be anything clever, neither. I was just thinking.’

  ‘What were you thinking? Was it about food, or girls? Were you thinking about girls?’

  ‘No, no. It’s nothing like that. I was just thinking. We threw away the mage’s Stone, and that Ellaine woman, she destroyed the...the creature’s Stone. And the sword with a bit of Wellstone in it, that got thrown out to sea.’

  ‘We know all that.’

  ‘Yes, but...and Gorge, he used the last of his Magic to save himself in the water, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, Sam, tell us something we don’t know.’

  ‘Well, it’s this. If...’

  Just then there was a noisy rustle at the foot of their tree, and Sam fell silent, looking from Gorge to Tom.

  The three sat in silence as they listened to a heavy body climbing the tree, with plentiful grunts, and one or two curses mixed along with them.

  Then a broad dark-haired head appeared through the hatch, moving as if there was all the time in the world. The face appeared, with a long slow, slightly twisted smile.