leaned forward. 'You? Busy?' Theodore scoffed, no longer sweetness and light. There was just something about Henry that really made Theo... impatient. 'Doing what? Counting something?' he asked nastily.
Henry sighed heavily and scratched at his jowls. Theodore always managed to make Henry feel belittled, as did all the De Villes, as a matter of fact. Alright, there was no doubt that, yes, he was the black sheep of the family but this was because, regretfully, he was innately good, a very unfortunate trait in a devil. It was undeniably true that he could be a little bit boring and, yes, his social skills needed a bit of work, but there wasn't a cruel bone in his body and he had never purposely wished any harm upon anybody. In fact, some time ago, he had found that he actually enjoyed helping people. It gave him a warm (well, warmer, he was a devil after all) feeling inside. Thus he was considered a huge liability by Theodore, but desperate times call for desperate measures...
'Yes I am counting, as a matter of fact. I'm counting to ten, and I suggest you do the same-'
'I'm sorry, Henry,' Theodore replied hurriedly as he eased himself into a seat opposite. He needed Henry's help so couldn't afford to show his contempt. He fought down his annoyance in an attempt to placate his cousin. 'I didn't mean to mock.'
Henry merely nodded before bending his head back to his work.
'The thing is, Henry, I have a job for you.'
Henry lifted his chin. 'I'm sorry, Theo. I really am very busy.
These reports-'
Bloody hells, thought Theodore, Henry could try the patience of a saint. He slammed his hand onto Henry's desk. 'Reports!' he roared, his eyes suddenly blazing. Really blazing. 'This is more important than some insignificant little reports.' He paused a moment, once again concentrating on controlling his anger. 'This is damned typical of you, Henry,' he said eventually.
Henry didn't move. He'd witnessed Theodore's rage many times before and knew that the best course of action would be to merely wait for the devil's wrath to blow itself out.
Theodore shook his head sadly. 'Let me at least tell you what I want you to do.'
Henry regarded his cousin closely. He knew that Theodore was devious and manipulative and that if he allowed Theodore to talk it would only be a matter of time before he agreed to do whatever it was his cousin wanted him to do. And yet...
'Go on then, Theo.'
'Firstly I need to tell you that it involves returning to the mines-'
Henry jumped to his feet. 'You can't be serious,' he replied incredulously. 'How many years did I waste in those mines, and all thanks to you? And now you have the audacity to ask me to go back?'
Theodore smiled reassuringly. 'Think of it as closure, Henry.'
'Theo, you're unbelievable. I know you're evil but this is just plain... bad.'
'Henry, I need somebody who knows the mines, someone I can trust. Who better than my own cousin?'
'I really can't believe that you'd even ask-'
'Look, sit down and let me explain.'
Henry remained standing for a few seconds before wearily resuming his seat. 'Go on then.'
'There's this bunch of religious freaks who, rather ridiculously, are on a quest to resurrect a certain god and they simply mustn't succeed. It could open the floodgates and that would obviously be very bad for business. Wouldn't you agree?'
Henry merely grunted non-committedly.
'These... Merrie Men, as they call themselves,' Theo went on 'have split into two groups but both are heading for Tri Via. We can't afford to let them get there.'
'We?'
Theo continued, choosing to ignore the underlying derision in Henry's voice. 'One group has headed east, but, fortunately for us, there's a relentless and resourceful troll called Grantt on their trail and I'm confident we can rely on him to ensure that that particular party don't make it.' He placed the tips of his fingers together and smiled. 'No, it's the others I think we need to worry about.'
Henry immediately saw what was coming. 'Don't tell me,' he said, 'they're heading through the mines.'
'They will do,' Theodore agreed. 'With a little help.'
'You're not going to ask me to kill these people, surely?'
'Kill! Of course not. That wouldn't be allowed, mores the pity. No, I just want you to slow them down. They're on a bit of a tight schedule, you see.'
'I don't think so, Theo.'
Theodore wasn't surprised at his cousin's refusal but, right now, Henry was his only option. Okay, he thought to himself, time to play dirty. He shrugged. 'I'd prefer it if you would do this for me by your own volition, Henry, but if not, well, you do work for me, remember, and, well, should you refuse I could make you return to the mines.
'Actually, as a matter of fact, these days I-'
'Permanently.'
Henry stared at Theo's impassive countenance. 'You'd really banish me a second time?' he asked in disbelief.
'If necessary,' Theo replied unemotionally.
Henry slumped low into his seat. 'You really are a bastard, Theo,' he muttered resignedly.
'I've just got a job to do. As have you.'
Henry hesitated. He could still refuse to help if he really wanted to but somehow he knew he simply couldn't. And, anyway, it might just provide him with some ammunition...
'Okay,' he said, 'tell me exactly what you want me to do.'
81
The messenger was despatched to Marasmus immediately and thereafter Lieutenant Shard, accompanied by Sergeant Scrape, took a seat atop the ramparts, and, staring westwards, waited for the first glimpse of the reinforcements, despite the fact that it would be at least a day and a half before they arrived. It was only an hour or so later, however, when Scrape spotted a cloud of dust which soon resolved itself into a pack of wolves.
'They mustn't have picked up anything southwards,' Shard said to his sergeant. 'Let's go and have a talk with them.'
In front of the forts, with the false dawn doing its best to illuminate the scene, More-Grim made his report, his brisk, efficient manner successfully hiding his disdain for the trolls. 'We took up the pursuit southwards with all speed and the trail was strong,' he began. 'Then the spoor was cut across by a herd of red deer and-'
'You decided to stop for lunch?' muttered Scrape, unaware of the wolf's exceptional hearing. 'Sergeant!' Shard admonished. He turned to More-Grim. 'I'm sorry. My sergeant here has a peculiar sense of humour insomuch as no-troll finds it funny. Please carry on.'
More-Grim continued to conceal his contempt as he resumed his tale. 'The scent of the outlaws crossed that of the deer, but didn't come out of the other side.'
'You lost the trail?' asked the lieutenant.
The wolf had to admit that they had. Shard merely nodded, before a sudden thought occurred to him. 'Your name is More-Grim, is it not?'
More-Grim nodded.
'And your brother is Grim,' Shard continued, 'who is the pack leader, I believe. Yet you seem to be in command here?'
More-Grim didn't miss a beat. 'Grim is dead, Lieutenant. He fell whilst running at speed,' the wolf explained, staying as close to the truth as possible. Shard looked at the rest of the pack but they were inscrutable, neither confirming nor denying the story. It didn't matter to them how Grim had died, or, for that matter, what More-Grim now told the troll, for he was now the pack leader and his authority was absolute. They just waited for More-Grim to tell them what to do next.
Shard had a sudden notion that something was amiss, that perhaps the wolf wasn't telling the truth. 'So, he died from a fall?' he asked.
Grim nodded. 'His neck was broken,' the wolf confirmed.
'He must have been travelling at some pace,' the lieutenant commented drily.
'He was,' the wolf agreed, with more than a hint of a snarl in his voice. 'At about 60 miles an hour. Downwards.'
'Downwards?'
'He fell into a bear pit.' That was as much explanation as More-Grim was prepared to give so he changed the subject. 'Following Grim's death I assumed command and thought it my duty to
report to Captain Grantt. Permission to do so, sir?'
Shard regarded the wolf with basalt eyes. The creature didn't seem to be too distraught at the death of his brother, the lieutenant thought. For a moment he considered refusing permission, but then thrust the thought aside. The pack could only assist the captain in tracking down the fugitives, and that was the priority right now. He made his decision. 'Very well,' he said. 'You may make your report to the captain. But he is not here. He continued the pursuit of the outlaws.'
More-Grim nodded. 'Thank you, Lieutenant,' he replied with a low growl. 'I'm sure we'll pick up his trail.' And with that the wolf set off, leading his pack eastwards.
82
The land beyond the forts became more arid and barren as they continued eastwards and, it seemed to Anyx, totally devoid of life. Dawn was fast approaching yet no birds sang, no insects chirruped, no animals scuffled around in the sparse undergrowth and the plant-life had diminished into nothing more than dry, colourless scrub. It's totally empty, thought the dwarf. I wonder why.
'My people used to farm the lands hereabouts but they pulled back from the area soon after the trolls built the forts,' said Azif, seemingly reading Anyx's thoughts. 'Despite the reputation that somehow precedes us, we are not a war-like nation and we do not court conflict. We feared further incursion by the trolls and our leaders thought the best policy would be to retreat.' The Moor swept his gaze over the terrain. 'And the land was always difficult to cultivate. It needed constant attention for very little reward. So, as you can see, as soon as my people left, the crops died, taking all the animal life with them.'
'That's tragic,' said the Maid sadly. 'And such a waste.'
'It is just one of the reasons why the trolls should have stayed where they belonged - in the cold lands of the north,' replied Azif. He turned his dark eyes towards the Maid and she noticed the steeliness in them. 'It is my dream that one day we may send them back from where they came.'
Anyx was surprised by Azif's comments. It was the first time since they had met that the generally inscrutable Moor had shown anything approaching emotion. 'Is that why you joined the Merrie Men?' he asked.
'As I said, my people cherish peace, and do not seek war.' Azif heaved a sigh of infinite sadness, it seemed to the dwarf. 'Yet, for some reason, deep within me I began to grow a warrior's heart. And so it was that a few of the other youngsters of my village and I decided to take action.' He shook his head. 'We were young and naïve and shamefully we were also contemptuous of our fathers' timidity, May I one day be forgiven. Under the cover of darkness, and without our fathers' knowledge, we left our village and headed west, towards Marasmus.'
'And happened then?' asked A'Veil. She had never known Azif to speak so openly about himself. He had always been something of an enigma.
'My friends proved to have less of a warrior's heart than I did. The city corrupted them, they forgot our purpose and we parted company. What happened to them after that, well, I do not know. As for me, without the company and urging of my companions, my warrior's heart also shrivelled, and I took to travelling. I have seen as much of these lands as any man alive, I am sure.' He gently shook his head. 'Eventually I grew weary of travel and returned to Marasmus. I couldn't return to my village, you see, for I had shamed myself in the eyes of my people. It was then that I met Robin. I was being attacked and he saved me,' he explained simply. 'I owe him my life and therefore I am his man and his protector until such time I am no longer needed, or am unable to be of service to him.'
'That's quite a story,' said Anyx quietly. 'Will you return to your village?'
'I had promised myself that I would return only when the trolls are safely behind the Ragged Ridge Mountains,' Azif replied. 'Then I would have fulfilled my dream and I would be able to return to my family with my head held high. You see, I had wished to beg their forgiveness for my youthful conceit.'
'You
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