“Adam, have you got the Key?”
A gate opened in the fence.
While they hungrily devoured a roasted wood pigeon that Palustric had prepared, they exchanged tales of what they had seen in the forest in the past three days. Adam particularly liked Lar’s account of deer with antlers that glowed in the dark. But it was Palustric who explained what had happened to them.
“It's the Key,” he said, “it attracted the mist. I had forgotten about the legend. You see, that was the Mist of Distraction. In the Old Days, when things were going particularly well, our forefathers had to be especially careful. The mist would come from nowhere. It has the power to make you lose your concentration and causes hallucinations. As its name suggests, it distracts…”
“Ay, but it was very warm and pleasant and we found lots of interes—”
“But, Lar,” interrupted Palustric impatiently, “we didn’t get on with our real task of getting the Key back to the Council of Dwarves. We were lucky the mist didn’t last any longer, probably because we hadn’t used the Key much. Also, none of us knows how to fight distraction.”
“It’s not difficult,” Adam said. “We’ll be ready for it next time.” He’d rather face the mist a thousand times than the Hag even once; but he kept this thought to himself—no point in worrying his companions over a shade.
14
Towards the end of the next day, the tired travellers began to meet with dwarves. The news of Adam's success spread quickly, faster even than the mist of Distraction. When they arrived, just before sunset, the streets were lined with cheering dwarves, who showered them with celandine and primrose petals, the traditional Dwarfish Heroes Welcome.
The three travellers were taken before the Council, where they had to listen to long speeches about what heroes they were. The Key lay on a specially prepared velvet-covered oak table and none of the councillors took his eye off it for a minute, not even when making his speech. Palustric seemed to enjoy all this, but Adam and Lar were impatient.
To the collective horror of the Most Serene Council of Dwarves, Adam interrupted Balom the Black, mid-speech: “Look, sorry to butt in, but I'm very tired and I haven't seen my sister yet.”
Balom looked sternly at Adam in bleak and offended silence. The swarthy dwarf cleared his throat importantly and declared: “You are part of Dwarfish history now, and I name you 'The Dragonteaser'.” His fierce eyebrows seemed to leap out at Adam, and his severe eyes left no room for argument. Adam shrugged. “We haven't heard the complete and detailed tale of how you outwitted Lentor the Dragon. There are still twenty-four councillors to make their praising speeches. Then there is Palustric – my nephew’s – tale…and the little fellow’s, not to mention meals in between…and I wouldn’t be surprised if there are popular ballads to be heard and processions to be made…presentations…awards…”
Adam groaned. It wasn't much fun being a hero. Balom’s ferocious stare swept slowly around the Most Serene gathering, collecting solemn nods and claps of approval. There was no escape.
Ten days of fulsome praise passed agonisingly slowly for Adam. Ten days were only a start, but Adam brought it all to a premature end in a fit of rage. When, by chance, he learnt of his sister’s disappearance, he was furious and refused to co-operate in the celebrations any more.
Even so, the dwarves would not discuss what had happened to Emily until they had taken a decision about the Key of Ingenuity. Adam was helpless, prisoner of this decision. He couldn't move until he had some facts. Since the dwarves were all agreed in principle, the discussion was brief (by dwarfish standards): just twenty-four weeks passed. In the end, Torobin accepted that a special stronghold, of construction inspired by the Key itself, should be built to house and protect the sacred object.
At last, the subject of Emily's disappearance could be dealt with.
“You see,” Balom the Black explained, “Success led her off. Bella and I warned her that it might happen. I just hope that Emily was prepared for Success when she came.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Success often leads the unwary or unwise astray. You know, many people would like to go with her, but in truth, not many know how to cope with her. She's a real beauty, you see. An enchanting elfin maiden, one of the kind that makes you lose your head. The trouble is, she's got a hidden elfin side to her nature. You know what elves are like…”
“No, not really…”
“Mmmm.” Balom nodded wisely, tugging at his thick, black beard. “Elves are very charming creatures, they're good-looking, whatever you like…but…but…”
“Yes?”
“What I mean is, take Success for example, she leads you to believe goodness knows what, then just when you're feeling at your most confident…she lets you down. And that's it, you're in a right mess!”
Adam nodded his understanding, thinking about Inertia. Then he had a worrying thought. “In danger?” he asked.
“Possibly that too,” Balom nodded. “Mind you, some know how to handle her. Those who keep their feet on the ground and their eyes open. For those whom she befriends, there can be wealth and happiness ahead. You see, no-one can resist sweet Success, and her friends are always favoured. Let's hope Emily knows how to deal with Success…or else…”
“Or else what?” Adam was anxious now.
But Balom didn't answer; he just shook his great head.
Adam looked around the Council Chamber at the dwarves' serious faces.
“I must go after her,” he said firmly.
“You, of all people, have a chance of finding her,” Balom smiled encouragingly. “There are different ways of finding Success.” Balom raised his voice and boomed: “Good luck, Adam, Hero of the Dwarfish People, Restorer of the Key and Dragonteaser!”
“Adam the Dragonteaser!” the councillors cheered and clapped. When the cheering died away, Balom vowed: “You shall not leave without a gift from the Dwarfish People.”
Two weeks later, Balom found Adam chatting with his nephew. The dark dwarf had worked tirelessly, with the Key in his workshop, under heavy guard all the time. Now he beamed at Adam. He was holding a magnificent horn in his hand. Made of dull blue metal, the horn was inlaid with white and red gold. Adam smiled as Balom turned it in his hand to let him read the word 'Dragonteaser' worked in golden letters.
Balom looked at Adam with a stare so severe that the boy's smile vanished. “Listen carefully, Adam,” Balom said. “This is no ordinary horn, and you must promise never to blow it, or to let anyone blow it. This horn must not be sounded by anyone but yourself. And only then if you are in the gravest peril and there is no other solution. Do you understand?”
“Well…er…yes, but what does the horn do?”
“Better not to know,” Balom said gently. “Indeed, I sincerely hope you never have to blow it. But guard the horn with your life, for it may do the same for you!” He passed the horn to Adam, who turned it admiringly in his hands.
“It's beautiful, Balom, tha…”
“No!” Balom boomed, startling the boy. “The Dragonteaser must never thank a dwarf. Dwarves are eternally in his debt. Now,” he frowned fiercely and growled: “Promise!”
“I promise,” Adam said, and he knew that he would keep his word. He turned the horn again in his hands, admiring his workmanship. Its rim was not the usual smooth band of metal but was broken by the sharp, pointed ears of six owls, whose flat, disk-like faces stared out from the body of the horn. The masterpiece was suspended from a tooled leather belt, and the tooling told the story of a boy who outwitted a dragon on a mountainside.
“What lovely owls,” Adam traced a finger over their feathers which seemed almost real.
“They are the symbol of wisdom,” Balom smiled, “but for we dwarves, they also symbolise friendship and fortune. We have lots of legends about them…but anyway, we'd be here for another few days if I told them all. The important thing is that eagle owls are the dwarves' oldest allies. They fought alongside us long ago in
the First and Second Goblin Wars.”
“What were the wars fought about?” Adam wondered.
Balom the Black nodded, pleased at the boy's interest. “Because goblins are wicked by nature and in the Old Days, when the world was young, the wise old eagle owls were always there to chastise them. Tormented by their hooting, the goblins began their great owl hunts, determined to rid their lands of the tiresome birds that continually pricked what little conscience they had. But in their lust to kill, they chased a fleeing flock of owls into our lands and innocent dwarves fell to goblin swords. The First Goblin War soon followed, and that's how the alliance began.” Balom's large, hairy hand took Adam's arm. “Anyway, back to the present, you'd better begin the preparations for your departure.”
In the days before his departure, from the hard-working dwarves, no dwarf could tell Adam how to find Success. In fact, they looked at him as if he hadn't understood something obvious. Adam was puzzled and a little annoyed by their attitude. He decided, therefore, to take whichever road he fancied away from the Dwarfish lands. Both Lar and Palustric insisted on coming with him, and this time, Balom encouraged his nephew, whose place in Dwarfish history was already assured.
Adam chose the rocky mountain road away from the dwarves because it looked the most discouraging. Even if he didn't know how to find Success, he had learned one important thing in the land of the dwarves. He turned to Lar just outside the town and, looking up at the mountain track, uttered the first wise saying of his life: “Little effort little gains, is it not so, Lar?”
“Ay, Master, 'tis so!” the little pixy nodded slowly, unhurriedly considering the wisdom of these words and determined to add the saying to his extensive collection.
III
The Quest For Success
15
Just visible in the distance, sheltered in the lee of a hill, was a roof. This meant that there was life in the moorlands, which Palustric had likened to the top of the world, stretching as barren as anywhere in the Hag’s land. The only company for the three travellers had been the occasional hunting hawk, a bird which Adam and Lar no longer trusted. However, so far, nothing had hindered their progress. All they needed was a rest and a break from the wind that chapped their hands and faces. They slept wherever they could huddle in hollows and crannies, and their packs contained, apart from honey, meats, cheeses and fruit (thanks to Adam). The sight of that distant roof brought thoughts of hot food, a welcome fire and a warm bed and a quickening of their step.
As they drew near to the building, they could see a sign over the door. It read: THE TRAVELLER’S REST. The T had slipped and was resting vertically on a narrow ledge at a slightly lower level. “We’re in luck! It’s an inn.” Adam cried. Even as he shouted, a portly figure in a leather apron detached himself from the door-frame where he was leaning and began to wipe his hands on a cloth. Goblins have a special ugliness all of their own. Even if this one was friendly, judging by his smile, Adam and Lar were uneasy.
“The host at the door is a sign of poor fare, is it not so, Master?” whispered Lar.
“It's a goblin, isn't it?” Adam’s tone was worried.
“It’s all right,” Palustric encouraged them. “Highland Goblins are friendly enough: always have been.”
As if to prove Palustric’s words, the goblin bowed low although such elegant behaviour seemed oddly out of keeping with the goblin’s ugliness. His bow gave the travellers a close-up of his head. Tufts of spiky, black hair sprouted from his scalp, giving the effect of a worn brush which had lost more than half its bristles. When he straightened up, Adam noticed that similar spiky tufts also sprouted from the goblin’s nostrils and pointed ears. His over-wide mouth spread in a broad smile; he spoke politely, “Welcome, welcome to The Traveller’s Rest. It’s not often we have visitors these days, especially not from the Dwarfish race.”
“I’m not a dwarf,” Adam said coldly.
“Quite so, sir,” the goblin was still bowing. “I’m sure we haven’t had a fine gentleman such as your lordship, for many a year. Mind you, we had a young lady not so long ago, ay, indeed!”
Adam raised an eyebrow and asked, “Was she slim, with silver hair and silver eyes?”
At last, the innkeeper came out of his bow and looked meekly at Adam. “Ay, now you mention it, she was, sir. But why don’t you come inside where it’s warm? You must need a rest.”
The inn was old-fashioned, with a large fireplace and a chimney-nook, where people could sit on benches next to a log fire. There, Adam and Palustric warmed themselves, hungrily eating the hot soup and fresh bread rolls that the goblin had prepared for them. Adam asked the landlord for more information about Emily. It seemed that she had passed that way a few weeks before. She was with the most beautiful elf their host had ever seen. What’s more, they had paid handsomely for their stay, way above the normal price: such generosity!
The goblin reached up to the mantelpiece over the fire. He carefully took down a small brass key and hurried off. A few moments later, he was back, holding something in the palms of his hairy, cupped hands, which he held out before opening them suddenly. The three friends gasped, as the firelight cast flashes of colour from the sparkling jewel. “They paid me with this!” he beamed. “It’s Aeshna, you see, the Fairy Queen, riding her dragonfly. Isn’t it beautiful? Must be worth a fortune! Oh, ay, those two are welcome whenever they like!” No, he didn’t know where they had gone, they hadn’t said.
The three friends felt happier that night as they slipped into warm, comfortable beds. Even Adam went straight to sleep, despite his feet sticking out through the bars of the bed frame. They had taken the correct road out of the Dwarfish lands, so they could relax. Each of them felt that their luck would hold and that they would soon find Emily, so they slept well, long into the morning.
After a hearty midday breakfast, they took their leave of the friendly innkeeper.
“Goblins are not as bad as they’re made out to be,” Adam said in a low voice as they waved farewell. “Quite ugly, but friendly and kind.”
“The Highland ones may be,” Palustric sounded doubtful, “but then, there’s goblins and goblins…and then again, there’re hobgoblins.” His voice trailed away as if he were unwilling to talk any more. “Anyway,” he resumed in a more cheerful voice, “we’re heading into Elven lands; so, we won’t meet any hobgoblins.”
They trudged across the moors all day, stopping only for a brief, late lunch, but owing to their late start, the evening was soon upon them. Even in the twilight, Adam thought the scenery looked familiar. As the weak sun began to set and the evening wind to strengthen, he spotted a roof in the distance. “There!” he said to Palustric. “What luck! Another building! The first we’ve seen all day. Just at the right time, too!”
His satisfaction died as they drew nearer. He saw the sign above the door: THE TRAVELLER’S REST. Out came the portly figure in his leather apron. “Well, well, I never! I wasn’t expecting you back, sirs! Come in, do!”
“Blow my leg off!” Adam exclaimed. “We’ve come back in a complete circle, but I don’t remember doubling back.”
Lar made his raisin face, trying to come to terms with his Master’s strange exclamation.
Confused and tired, the travellers ate and slept well once more before rising early and saying their farewells again. They travelled all day, this time being careful to mark their route from time to time with small wayside cairns of stones. Since they didn’t pass any of these, it was safe to assume that they hadn’t retrodden their path. Since it was well on into the long day’s march, Adam pointed out that if they were going to circle back to The Traveller’s Rest, they would have done so by now.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the well-known scene presented itself. First, the shape of the hillside, then the curve of the track, then the all-too-familiar rooftop. Palustric groaned while Adam put his head in his hands. As they drew nearer, their disbelieving eyes read: THE TRAVELLER’S REST.
“We are dr
awing water with a sieve, are we not, Master?” Lar sighed.
Out came the landlord, as usual, wiping his hands on a cloth. “My, my,” he said, “if you were to ask me, I’d say, you three gentlemen were lost.” He shook his ugly head solemnly. “Well, come in, do!”
Inside, Adam politely turned down the offer of food. He was much more interested in discovering why they were lost.
“Well, I could give you a map and a compass,” the landlord’s whiskery eyebrows knitted together, “but there’d be no point. The compass would just keep spinning round and round. Those are Elven lands and, what’s more, you’re after Success, an’ those as are meant to find her do so, and the rest, well—”
“I’m not giving in!” Adam said hotly. “Hand me the map! We’ll find her, you’ll see.”
Despite the comfortable beds, the companions didn’t sleep well that night. Restless thoughts kept disturbing Adam. He wouldn’t be happy till he found Emily.
On the doorstep next morning, their goblin host cheerily said: “Well, I won’t say goodbye, because I’ll be seeing you again soon!”
“You might as well say goodbye to me, I’m going to find Success and my sister,” the boy said through gritted teeth.
The goblin smiled smugly as he handed Adam a compass and a map. There was no doubt that he expected the three travellers back before nightfall.
“If at first, you don’t succeed…” Adam said to Palustric when they were out of earshot, finished the saying with a weary sigh, and continued, “Now, let’s look at this map!” A few minutes with the map were enough to tell Adam that they needed to move in a south-easterly direction if they wanted to come to the nearest town in the Elven lands. He took the compass in his hand and held it steady so that the needle could settle. He waited patiently for a minute, but the needle swung wildly as if it had no idea where North was.
“Just as the goblin warned!” Lar squeaked.
Whirligig Page 11