to Sodden Edge,' Robin explained. 'Do you think you can help?'
The boggart didn't hesitate. 'No problem. But we will have to wait. This is a tidal swamp and we'll have to wait for the tide to go out.'
'For how long?'
'About four hours,' Boggy advised.
'We don't have that much time,' Robin pondered. 'Listen, it's highly likely that very soon some trolls will be on our trail. We need to be on the move now.'
Boggy shook his head, creating an iridescent fan of green swamp water. 'Trolls never come out here. They tend to sink.'
'Nevertheless, they'll be after us, I'm pretty sure.'
'Well... whilst the tide is high we could always take the boat.'
'You have a boat?' asked Robin. 'How many can it take?'
With a flourish Boggy produced a rather damp piece of paper. 'We're licensed for four seated and one standing,' he declared proudly.
'Perfect. Then come with me.'
Robin hurriedly returned to the rest of the group, Ron and the boggart trailing behind him, and very quickly explained the situation. As he neared the group Boggy couldn't help but stare at Annabel. 'Um, I don't think the boat-'
For once it was the doctor who seemed to be able to read minds. 'Don't worry, she can swim,' he informed the boggart. He turned to Robin. 'And I can ride upon her back.'
45
Grantt wasted no time in taking up the pursuit. As soon as the outlaws rode out of view the troll turned upon his heel and quickly headed back towards the city. As he marched he gathered his thoughts. Whilst it was indeed true that trolls could not ride horses, they could travel at a pace which would eat up the miles, and whilst they were on the trail they were indefatigable. Furthermore, they had the wolves.
Whether through prescience or suspicion, Grantt had stationed his men halfway between the meeting place and the city, just out of view over the brow of a small hill with orders to be ready to march immediately. It was therefore only minutes before he came up to them. As he approached he formed his strategy. The outlaws - and he now included his daughter amongst their number - had ridden south and it was likely, therefore, that they would be heading towards Elmswood Forest. However, it would be a foolish officer who acted only upon the one possibility; the fugitives could easily circle back towards the city, or even head to the west towards Sodden Marsh - although he thought that the least likely option.
And now, of course, they had the Moor with them, who came from the Eastern Lands. Grantt pondered this fact. The Eastern Lands remained unknown to him for, apart from the early days of the occupation, the trolls had rarely ventured far from their stronghold of Marasmus. In those early days scouting parties had been sent out - many of whom, it had to be admitted, had never returned. At the time it had been necessary to concentrate their forces in the city to make certain the occupation, so a series of small forts were built several leagues to the east of the city as a first defence against any attack from the Moors. But the attack never came and the Eastern Lands were forgotten. Indeed a posting to the Eastern Forts was now used as punishment duty, such was the tedium and loneliness such a posting entailed. Grantt himself had only visited the Forts once or twice; after all, the city was where the action was and that's where Grantt wanted to be - smack bang in the thick of it.
The troll made some quick calculations. Although it would be dark within a few hours this did not come into his reckoning. Both trolls and wolves possessed excellent night vision, and so they could take up the pursuit without interruption. But, of course, the question remained; take up the pursuit in which direction?
By the time he addressed his troops he had made up his mind. He would send the wolves southwards to immediately take up the scent. He had considered sending a small contingent of trolls with them, but he'd quickly dismissed the idea. The faithful wolves needed no supervision, especially as he had decided to send Grim's pack, and he trusted Grim as he trusted himself. Besides, the pack would travel quicker if they were unencumbered by a troop of trolls, however indefatigable the trolls may be.
To the north, back towards the city, he would send just a single messenger to ensure a double watch at the gates and on the walls. That would be sufficient, he thought.
To the west he would send a pair of trolls. It would probably prove to be a waste of resources, he suspected, as he had a hunch that the outlaws would eventually head eastwards but, as he would be concentrating his forces in that direction, he felt that he could spare two trolls. He himself would lead his men east towards the Forts and with luck - no, with purpose - he might just intercept the fugitives. That is, of course, if the wolves didn't get them first.
46
Sergeant Lias remained impassive as he received his orders from Grantt. Remaining impassive is something trolls are naturally adapted to do but even so Lias was a master. Stony-faced could have been named after him...
As soon as the captain had completed his instructions the sergeant saluted sharply and turned to find a volunteer. 'Private Feldspar, you're coming with me. Grab whatever needs grabbing and look lively!'
'Where're we going, Sarge?'
Lias glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were out of Grantt's hearing. 'We're going on a bloody wild goose chase, son. And, likely as not, we're going to get our feet wet.'
They set out westwards on the double. Grantt had explained his reasoning to Lias with regards to the fugitives' flight and the sergeant had, albeit with a sinking feeling, silently agreed with his captain's assumptions. Grantt's conclusions, however, meant that he and Feldspar were unlikely to see any action today. Lias considered this unfortunate for, just like his captain, the sergeant was a troll of action. He was disappointed but he would, of course, do his duty; he was a career soldier and to do anything other than his duty was utterly unthinkable. Apart from on those rare occasions when you could get away with it, obviously. Duty notwithstanding, he would have liked to have been part of Grantt's party, for a successful capture could mean a promotion and Lias yearned for a captaincy.
Still, there had been rumours that a boggart was haunting the marshes, and capturing a boggart would also be a feather in his cap - had he possessed a cap, that is. He consoled himself with this thought and, turning to take a look at the private, decided to push on a little harder. Let's see what Feldspar's made of, he mused.[23]
47
They galloped for half a league before Anyx's outraged yelling finally brought them to a halt. As he dropped to the floor his ruddy face resembled a red mask of fury. 'What in Wacchus' name were you thinking of?' he shouted up at A'Veil.
The Maid looked back at him calmly, her excitement only betrayed by a slight flush upon her cheeks and a hint of a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.
'Grantt'll bloody kill us now.' Anyx went on. 'And having a woman with us is, well, a damn liability!'
A'Veil's smile suddenly turned cold, and now it wasn't mischief in her eyes but a sharp steeliness that quickly brought the dwarf up short. Well, even shorter. She leaned down towards him. 'Two things, dwarf,' she said in a low, almost menacing voice, 'firstly, you heard my father. He has already decided that there is a death sentence upon your head. You are 'Wanted - Dead'. Note, not 'Dead and Alive'. Simply Dead. And you can't be any more 'Wanted' than 'Wanted - Dead'. Being 'Wanted - Dead' is about as 'Wanted' as 'Wanted' can get.'
Anyx gulped. 'But-'
'And secondly, you can't ride a horse and I can - pretty well, actually, as you have seen. Furthermore, you can't use a bow, and I can. And I'm strong-'
Anyx thought about the way she had lifted him one-handed onto the horse, and, despite him being a dwarf, he realised what a feat of strength that was.
'-probably stronger than you,' A'Veil continued. 'So who, of the two of us, is the liability, I wonder?'
Anyx looked up at the Maid's determined face. 'Okay,' he replied sheepishly. 'You may have a point-'
'Thinking about it, I make it four points, actually!'
'-four points,' agreed the dwarf smoothl
y. 'But this time can I actually sit on the horse? Rather than, you know, lie across him like a sack of week old cabbages?'
A'Veil suddenly smiled the sweetest smile, all hint of steeliness evaporated. 'Okay,' she said. 'I suppose you'd better hop on.'
'Just one thing though,' said Anyx, holding his hand out towards the Maid. 'How the bloody hell did you get to be so strong?'
'My father's a troll,' she replied simply, as if that was a sufficient answer.
Anyx froze. 'Let me get this straight - are you saying it must be in the genes?'
A'Veil shrugged.
'But... you're adopted.'
'Yes, but my father, what with him being a troll and all, well, his games tended to be a bit rough.' She grinned. 'You soon develop muscles play-fighting with a seven foot, four hundred pound slab of rock!'
Anyx grinned back. He was very quickly beginning to like this girl. All of a sudden, gone was the quiet, shy maiden. Here was a girl with spirit, bravery and, it would seem, a sense of humour. As had been the case with Robin, he had suspected that A'Veil was much more than the prim and rather insipid young lass that she'd appeared to be, but even so he was more than pleasantly surprised. With the Maid's assistance he jumped back up onto the horse and put his hands around her waist. 'So you haven't really got any troll in you?' he asked.
'No,' agreed A'Veil.
'Maybe you've got a little dwarf in you?'
'No,' the Maid replied, 'and before you say it, no, I wouldn't like some either.'
'Shame,' said Anyx, the grin still upon his face. 'Then you'd better introduce me to the Moor instead.'
'I didn't think he'd be your type.'
'That's not what I meant-'
'Are you sure?'
'I just meant that that particular conversation was over and now could we move onto something else. Like asking Azif over there how the bloody hell we get to Tri Via.'
48
Lias set a cruel pace yet Private Feldspar, much to the sergeant's surprise, kept up easily. Must be getting old, Lias thought. As they ran, he let his mind return to his days as a scout, when he and his troop had roamed far and wide in the weeks and months following the occupation. Back then, along with his fellow scouts, he'd been able to run continuously from dawn 'til dusk, for days upon end, and, he recalled with a jolt, it had been during that glorious time that Lias had first experienced Sodden Marsh. Surprisingly, he had grown to enjoy the marshes and had relished those rare moments when he could explore the terrain alone. It had been whilst camping on a small islet which, even at high tide, still stood a couple of feet above the level of the bog, that he had first encountered Wake. The sergeant smiled. He hadn't thought of Wake in a very long time and he wondered if his friend was still alive. He'd discovered Wake entangled in the rotting remnants of an ancient underwater forest, and had spent many tired hours in a struggle to release Wake from the deadly trap. Eventually, close to exhaustion, he had managed to succeed, and he and Wake had struck up an unusual and bizarre friendship; unusual and bizarre given that Wake was a gigantic electric eel.
49
With a subtle tug upon the reins A'Veil guided her mount so that she and the dwarf were riding alongside the Moor, leaving Will to bring up the rear.
'Azif, this is Anyx. He is a friend,' said the Maid.
'Peace be with you, friend,' greeted Azif.
'Um... thanks,' replied Anyx. 'And, well, with you also, I guess.'
Azif touched his forehead and bowed in acknowledgment.
'It was the dwarf's idea to swap you for me,' explained A'Veil. 'Although it wasn't necessarily part of his plan that I come along with you,' she smiled.
'So what is your plan now, little one?' Azif asked, slowing his horse to allow Will to catch up and follow the conversation.
For some strange reason if anyone else had called the
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