by Gray, C. M.
The ship was getting closer now, Quint grabbed Groober’s arm. ‘Go and help your people, get them away, because we’re going to bring this ship down or die trying.’ With that he raised his bow and fired off three arrows one after another to distract the demon group then took a mighty run along an outstretched branch and leapt, half flying and half falling, towards the massive boat as it passed about three spans below. He landed with a thump, rolled into a ball, and came up slashing his sword. It sliced down the back of the closest demon which spun with a shrill scream, flinging its cloak back to show a black twisted face. It hissed at him, mouth agape with row upon row of needle-sharp teeth. Quint’s sword flashed past and went deep into its eye, its only vulnerable spot, and with a new scream, this time of pain, the demon threw its hands up, gripped the sword, and fell to its knees in a spreading pool of sticky black blood. With a wrenching twist, Quint withdrew the sword and sought his next demon. It had all happened in an instant and the rest were still ignorant of the danger in their midst, allowing Quint to dispatch another before he found himself facing three new demons, now very aware of his presence. This time, they wouldn’t be caught by surprise. Two others were hurrying their leader to the front of the boat as he continued to battle magic with Loras.
The three demons spread out around Quint, slowly drawing massive swords from their scabbards. They hissed and growled as they closed in.
Okay, Loras, this would be a really good time to throw something in this direction, thought Quint as the first of the three demons launched its attack.
****
Chapter 16
Different Paths
The path was long and winding, taking them well away from the sounds of battle.
‘I hope your friends can help my people,’ puffed Cahlrik. ‘We never expected to be attacked by anyone.’ He slowed to a trot, allowing Tarent to catch up.
‘I’m sure Loras and Quint will give them something to think about. The demons’ attack will probably be focused on them by now.’ Tarent glanced around him as he ran. ‘How much further is it?’
‘It’s just a little way up here, on the cliff…see, you can just make out the clearing.’ Cahlrik pointed up along the path and sure enough they could see the brightness of blue sky between the trees.
They emerged into an open area on the edge of a cliff and fell to the ground panting. The Tree of Truth stood before them, the sound of the sea crashing some thirty spans below on the cliffs. The tree’s great trunk was twisted with age and its heavy branches hung low to the ground casting great shadows around its base. Massive roots gripped the earth like old gnarled fingers, as if it were aware that one day, as the cliff eroded, it would drop to the sea below but would cling on to the very last moment.
‘What sort of tree is it?’ asked Pardigan staring up in awe.
The air around them calmed and the sound of the sea became much softer. ‘This is a place of tranquillity, an island within the realities of life. I am the skull you seek, named The Tree of Truth by the Hidden people. My gift to the Hidden has been to see into a soul and call forth a being's destiny; that is the sort of tree I am.’ The voice they heard was deep and dry; it was as if they were being spoken to from a distant, ancient time.
‘Oh, Source, I think I’m getting used to speaking things, ’cos that hardly shocked me at all.’ Pardigan grinned, then glanced back and saw King Cahlrik holding back, apparently unhappy to be this close to the ancient tree.
‘What truth would you know? What secret shall I call forth from your soul? You, Cahlrik, do you once more seek your destiny? A time ago we spoke at length, now you rarely come at all.’ The voice sounded sad and a feeling of great loss and remorse filled them all. The king took several steps further back.
‘You are troubled, Cahlrik, your soul reveals all to me. I know today is not a good day for your people but remember, it is only one day in many, and the pain you receive today is the price the Hidden pay in the whole scheme of things. I am aware of why these young people are here, I know what they seek and why they seek it; my own destiny has been revealed to me at the right time, as was intended. I am needed now for a greater task. The burden placed upon your people has now been lifted; you will no longer have to hide from the world of man.’
The tree gave what sounded like a giant sob. ‘Heroes, take the skull.’
At the base of the tree the ground started to swell and a blue glow lit the shadows. Little by little the crystal skull was forced to the surface until it rested on the grass, lit by a thin ray of sunlight. Leaves began to drop from the branches and tears fell from the king’s eyes. Around them, smoke from the burning city was now clouding the sky and it was becoming much darker.
Pardigan picked up the skull and wrapped it in a fold of cloth before slipping it into his bag. ‘What do we do now?’ He coughed as the smoke swirled around them.
Tarent covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve and shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, have you got the book?’ The king watched as the two heroes took out the tattered book and slipped the knife into the spine.
‘There’s a new page!’ exclaimed Pardigan excitedly. Cahlrik came over to see what they were studying.
‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘It’s The Book of Challenges, it's sort of like the guide to our Quest,’ explained Tarent. ‘Each page opens only after the last part has been completed.’ They studied the now visible page.
Cahlrik made a snorting sound. ‘Well I don’t like the sound of that! Mudlarks, guided down through hell, and I’m not sure what a flail is either but I’m glad I won’t be finding out any time soon. Seems as though I’m not the only one having a bad day, doesn’t it?’ Pardigan and Tarent both stared at the little king.
‘I thought you were in deep mourning for the loss of your tree and the devastation of your people?’ said Pardigan glancing towards the sad sight of the tree. It had already lost most of its leaves, its old, once proud branches drooping sadly to the floor.
‘Oh I am, I am, but the curse has been lifted and we Hidden can’t stay down for long.’
‘You were down for years when…ouch!’ Tarent elbowed Pardigan in the ribs and gave him a glare before studying the book again.
‘It’s fairly clear. We’re to leave in two groups, probably to keep the skulls separate. One group will fly,’ Pardigan shrugged. ‘Okay, well that’s not us, is it? But two will sail. Do you think we’re meant to go back for the Griffin?
Tarent shook his head. ‘We have the skull. I think it would be too risky to return to the port. King Cahlrik, do you know of a boat we can use?’
Cahlrik nodded. ‘Follow me.’
The king led them down a small sandy path towards the sounds of the sea, and eventually, to a small boat a little over half the size of The Griffin. It was in fair condition and would get them to Freya as long as they could work out which direction to point it in. They said their good-byes to the king and he helped them cast off.
‘Please ask Mahra to come and find us; tell her we can explain what the book is saying.’ Cahlrik agreed happily and waved them goodbye.
‘Hope you find a good name,’ called Pardigan. ‘Now that you don’t need to hide anymore I mean.’ The sails were set and the little boat glided out through the overhanging trees and away towards open sea, picking its way carefully between the reef heads.
With the wind in their hair once more, Tarent and Pardigan smiled at each other then Pardigan gave a whoop of joy.
‘Let’s just hope the others can get out of there without getting hurt and meet us somewhere.’
‘Dhurban, I’m pretty sure the book is talking about that huge city in the middle of the desert, Dhurban.’ Tarent twitched the helm past the last reef and Pardigan went to haul up the forward sail. He stopped and glanced back as the little boat carried them out and away from the Island of Minster. The smoke seemed to be lessening and he wondered how the others had got on.
****
The sword that flashed past Quint’s unpr
otected face was so close that he felt the soft breeze of its movement kiss his cheek as it passed. He was facing two demons, having finally dispatched another a few moments earlier. He was tiring now and it was taking a lot of effort to keep the sword raised and in a position to deflect the heavy blows from the demons that towered over him. Because they were so much bigger than he was, he couldn’t block their swords so was twisting and turning in a deadly dance, using their force and momentum against them whilst seeking an opening. After parrying yet another fierce strike, he glanced up and realised that he’d left his defences open. For an instant, as he braced himself to receive the blow he felt sure was coming, a flurry of feathers exploded onto the scene and a great white owl with claws outstretched, flew into the attacking demon’s face letting out a terrifying screech as she did so. The demon mis-struck its blow and Quint quickly seized the opportunity to bury his knife deep into its eye, sinking the blade to the hilt as he deflected yet another assault from its companion. With a great howl the dying demon stumbled to the side of the boat, black blood splashing over the deck and, giddy in its confusion and agony, it fell over the edge; its scream falling with it to the forest floor. One demon still remained but it was holding back, cautiously seeking a weakness in Quint’s failing defences.
The flying boat was fast approaching Loras as he continued to send bursts of magic at the figure on the fore deck. Belial’s two remaining guards were unsure from which direction to protect him. They were all too aware that four of their comrades had now fallen to Quint’s blade, and only one of their kind now stood in the way of him turning to attack them. Belial was oblivious to most of this and was still throwing everything he had at the small boy on the platform. He was infuriated that none of his powers had so far had any real effect on the young magician. He snarled and bellowed as his hands thrashed back and forth throwing lances of red power at his adversary, only to see them pushed to the side and a blue ball of hateful Order energy hurled back at him. It hurt when he reached out to deflect these blue spheres; it felt like ice creeping up his arm each time he touched one. His energy was almost drained and he was now searching desperately for escape.
The boat lurched dangerously underneath them and one of his guards stumbled. Glancing across he smiled to see the fighter was still aboard, then frowned as he saw only one of his demon guards still lived. He let go his magical grip of the boat and it dropped, falling down through the trees as gravity reclaimed its hold, crashing through the branches, battering itself to pieces in its rush to meet the forest floor. Belial watched the branches flash past and the boat disintegrate around him knowing that he and his fellow demons would survive such a fall and that the human fighter would not.
The boat hit the ground with an ear-splitting crash and a great cloud of dust and dirt filled the air. A few moments later Belial emerged from the wreckage, brushing bits of wood, rope and sail away and surveyed the scene; no human could possibly have survived that, the fighter was dead.
‘To me!’ he called and the three remaining demons pulled themselves from the mangled pile that had once been a boat and followed him into the forest, unseen amongst the confusion.
‘Quint!’ screamed Mahra as she stood on a platform glancing around.
‘He’s over there,’ said Loras pointing. ‘I saw him going down with the boat and managed to get a vine to him. Look he’s on that branch, go and see if he’s all right.’ Mahra threw herself forward and the owl silently glided over to Quint’s unmoving form.
He was still breathing, but had obviously used the last of his strength to get to the branch. Two of the Hidden were peering out of a stairway so Mahra called them over and they helped drag him to a less precarious spot. She checked him over for injuries and seeing no human blood, only the black blood of the demons, told the Hidden to leave him.
‘I think this hero has earned a sleep,’ she said, smoothing the hair away from Quint’s dirty sweat-streaked face.
It was much later when Quint finally awoke and was brought over to a crackling fire; the light was flickering on the faces of his two friends as they sat talking to King Cahlrik.
‘Quint,’ said the king, standing up to welcome his guest. ‘My people have told me of your fight on the great boat. You are truly a mighty warrior. If the three of you hadn’t done what you did, who knows what would be left of our city, you will be long remembered by the Hidden.’ Cahlrik went on to explain what had happened to Tarent and Pardigan and how he had led them to the tree.
‘They’re in a boat right now on their way to Freya,’ said Mahra. ‘I flew out to speak to them earlier, they have the skull.’ She glanced over at Loras who was awake but didn’t look like he would be for long. After fighting a demon all afternoon he was now fighting sleep and this was a battle he was losing fast.
Quint raised an eyebrow. ‘They left on their own, why didn’t they come back to find us?’
‘The book,’ said Mahra, and told him what it had said. When she’d finished, Quint still appeared confused.
‘We still have to go back for the Griffin, how are we going to fly out of here? I know Loras is getting good but that’s a pretty tall order even for him.’ He glanced over at his sleepy friend.
‘I’ll think of something,’ mumbled Loras. ‘I just wish I had my books with me.’
‘Come, sleep,’ said Cahlrik with a toothy smile. ‘My people will watch for the night-walkers tonight, you’ll do no flying until you get some of your energy back.’
Loras curled up into a ball by the fire, followed not long after by Quint and Mahra.
Cahlrik studied the three heroes. Only children, he thought with a shake of his head, big children, but still just children. He looked out at the devastated city, mostly concealed by darkness amid the many flickering lights and fires. So many fallen trees that had been homes to his people for countless generations and several lives lost, less than he had feared but still too many. He sighed and reflected that a lot had changed in such a short time. With that thought he put blankets over the three sleeping figures and headed back into the tree to find his own bed and hopefully some sort of rest.
The next morning they said their good-byes to the Hidden. It was a tearful affair; none of the Hidden came and blamed them in any way for bringing such slaughter and mayhem to their city. The crew of the Griffin received nothing but thanks and gratitude for the part they had played in the battle against the demons and their ship.
The king pinned a golden acorn onto each of their cloaks, passing over two more for Pardigan and Tarent.
‘You have started the process of reconciliation between the Hidden and the outside world and you’ve shown us there are indeed good people in the lands of man. We must now do our best to dismiss the evil stories and rejoin the rest of the world. May the Source guide your Quest and bless it with success. These golden acorns are the highest forms of honour and recognition that we can bestow upon anyone, human or Hidden, they are worn by few humans.’
They thanked him as they accepted the brooches.
‘I’m glad we could help to reunite our peoples but I’m so sorry it had to be this way.’ Quint raised his voice so as many could hear as possible. ‘Such terrible destruction, you Hidden are a very special people when you’re able to see the good amid such Chaos, and extremely special to have endured seclusion for so long. With people like you aiding the force of Order, I know we cannot fail.’ The Hidden cheered and Quint placed his hand onto the king’s shoulder then turned and Groober led them away from the large gathering of cheering Hidden and on to the path for Minster Harbour.
****
Belial and his three demon soldiers stormed onto the Esmerelda, the gangplank bouncing and swaying under their weight.
‘Where are the Hawk and his fat friend?’ hissed Belial to the two sailors in the unfortunate position of guards to the main deck of the ship.
‘Mister Hawk and Merchant Bask are in the captain’s cabin, my Lord. May I send them word that you’re here?’ The guard was tremblin
g and perspiring heavily as he desperately tried to focus on the relatively human features of Belial, rather than the visitations of horror that accompanied him. Belial treated him to an oily smile.
‘Why that would be just…’ he brought his face close to the sailor’s. ‘…perfect!’ The sailor retreated towards the hatchway as fast as he was able. His companion, now alone, came under the scrutiny of the demon king. Belial was tired of humans after the somewhat humiliating defeat in the city of the Hidden; he’d walked all night and was in no mood to be nice. The sailor stared out at the Jungle City trying not to make eye contact with any of the demons. Feeling Belial’s gaze he trembled and began to panic, unsure what to do. The clink clink clink of his armour rattling, the loudest sound on the boat.
‘Boo!’ shouted Belial pushing out at the hapless man, sending him flying up in the air and over the side of the ship where he landed in a heap on the harbour path. Several other sailors suddenly found other things they should be doing on a different part of the boat, and in only a few beats of a demon heart, the deck was clear of humans. Belial walked over and wiggled the ship’s wheel from side to side then slapped the compass cracking the casing. ‘Hawk,’ he bellowed. A sound of steady steps came from the hatchway and Matheus Hawk’s head and shoulders appeared. Matheus glanced at the demons then around at the deserted deck before cautiously stepping out.
‘And where pray tell, is our fat friend?’ growled Belial.
‘He is coming, do not fret, he moves a little slower than most men below decks. It gets somewhat cramped down there and he finds it hard to negotiate the ladder.’ The Hawk smiled. ‘And to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?’