Tall Tales: The Nymphs' Symphony (Scott T Beith's Tall Tales Saga Book 1)

by Scott Beith

  Farmers and merchants dragging wagons and carts were also stopping to wave and salute us too as we passed them on the road, seeing us as saviours: righteous and holy crusaders heading off to darker lands to repel an unstoppable evil currently plaguing our society. Or that’s at least how it felt to me when we had the two most revered and talented royal guards travelling along with us. The silver and gold laces woven into Radament’s huge brown cloak and inscribed padded steel plates, obvious to all thrilled observers as they watched him casually stare and inspect each side of the road, watching for stray mantises and mites in the immediate wilderness whilst he flaunted those metallic streaks imbued upon his armour by our ex-king as something that once distinguished a high military ranking.

  I started to understand the cockiness they must feel each time they embarked outwards, even when it was just for routine training exercises. Every villager we passed seemed to look at us as though they were honoured just by us seeing them, idolizing their inspirational gladiators who defended their land from the monsters of the darkness.

  The prince, in particular, turning eyes and bowing heads as this was his first official role in safeguarding his land.

  He was dressed in plate armour that, despite looking trendy, could in no way whatsoever be practical. His armour diagonally missing its entire bottom half of its chest area. Other than protecting his sword arm and right shoulder line, his custom made armour didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. Nothing but a plain white shirt concealing a naked skin layer from vulnerable areas of attack – some bold statement that he must have told his blacksmith tailor in order to imply that he never intends to have his front facing away from an adversary.

  I couldn’t stop staring at it with amusement, all the way up till the point he eventually noticed and started smiling back at me, pulling another one of his typical dumb faces as he drew his giant sword from his back holster, holding it the wrong way around in jest. Making me think to myself: with all the wealth he had in his kingdom, how is it I could be happier with a cracked and worn old chest plate than with his lavish stylized silver set. Exposing the ripples of a tanned bruised ribcage while boldly serving as my own personal reminder that, despite our apparent numbers, I really had only two soldiers here capable of protecting me.

  We rode for ages, eventually reaching the crossroads that branched out into the exit passage of the well-guarded King’s Trail forest roadway. We travelled through changing scenery, moving through flattened grasses of open jungle landscapes, and alongside waterfalls under dirt tracks, where the rain of falling buds and leaves blew out as debris from the tree tops covering the thickening skyline above us. Sir Radament dropping back to ride beside me and help take my mind off the current twilight by chatting mindlessly about all the hilarious festival failures that had happened to him in the past.

  The man’s medium stature, boisterous attitude and rounded belly was not something you could typically expect out of a royal knight, nor was he somebody that could be easily forgotten or missed in a crowd. What was most amazing about him, however, was how silly and down to earth he was ordinarily, despite how quickly he could then become valiant and serious when it was needed. Someone capable of channelling a whole new heroic persona at the flick of a switch, much like a cocooned caterpillar turning into a bright butterfly whenever the time called for it.

  For the first time ever, I got to see him in his own prestigious battle gear. How absurd it was to see in his right hand a long wooden staff that had a gold lantern chained loosely, like a mace and flail, on the top of it. And tucked snuggly under the rolling muscles of his left arm was a large keg barrel of wine reinforced by glorious gold frames. King Midas had clearly made these two items for Radament as a reward for his courage and valour.

  It sounds silly to think these two everyday objects were such a volatile mix together in his arms. He was a man who could take a swig of ale and spit it at his lantern, igniting a forest with an inferno of flames. Or perhaps simply pour the barrel’s liquor on the floor and watch with a laughable hysteria as the dizzying fumes affected all but him.

  And I actually couldn’t stop laughing as this bold fat man imitated Delphi’s high class walk by jiggling his bum in strut while still on top of his spider. No hand free to hold on to his steed’s leashes when I fell into hysterics upon his clumsy facial dismount from eight legged beast he rode on. All laughing but Ebony, who was the least impressed by her mother’s mockery. She chose to steer her spider ahead of the pack so she and her prince were nowhere near the ongoing demeaning behaviour.

  To be honest and fair to her, Ebony was the most professional looking out of all of us. Her battle vest the most fierce, with it being hand tailored and made to suit her own unique gifts. All segmented and laced in bands that were strapped across her limbs and chest separately, protecting her main areas but still providing her with some stretching space to pounce, climb and flex whenever she needed to.

  They were made from spider silk and were just as tough as any chain-mail, with the added bonus of having sharp steel tusks weaved into the braces of her arms like scaly dragon skin; she looked impervious to sword and claw swipes. Only her joints were exposed – a necessarily trade off that allowed her to turn ‘primal’ without her clothes ripping off. Carrying with her nothing but a spear that she kept tucked between her back and feline tail.

  After a few hours, we were so deep in the rainforest that our spiders had to climb up and over trees just to cross huge canyons, using their webs to decline over these drops with ease. Once we’d passed the canyons, we came to the first series of small riverside lakes that led to the entrance of the farming swamps of the Ambervale Meadows. The spiders covering their feet in web and gliding gracefully across the water’s surface like ice-skaters.

  “So what do you think they are?” Ebony asked, directing her question to Radament and our squad leader Lord Ariss.

  Moving myself closer to listen, while the sand king and his winged termite flew down from over the lake to return to their spot at the back of the pack.

  Radament looking back at Ariss with caution, the two of them grinning sarcastically before Radament finally answered. “The only thing I know about it, is that nothing good ever comes from asking that question.”

  “I get that, but what do you believe?” Arlo pressed. “Is it true what everyone else has been whispering about them?”

  “And what are those whispers?” Ariss then cut in, still keeping to the back of the pack.

  “Well, you both have seen them and fought them face to face,” the prince said. “Do you think Midas is leading the gnolls? Are they the result of some dark pact he made for retribution against the crown, or are they just the newest breed of nocturnal predator, because good old mother nature thinks we don’t have enough?” he quipped, but asking sincerely as he did seem quite puzzled by it all.

  “Maybe they were the very thing in the spire he tried to warn us about all those years ago?” I mused.

  “Boy, we would owe him such an apology if that’s the case,” Arlo replied in joke, him and Ebony giggling in amusement.

  “I heard it was another race of nymphs – a long lost tribe buried so far down we’ve never come across them before,” Kya said.

  “Yeah, your people, Kya,” Ebony then sniped to me. “More beady-eyed dorks making puppets so that they can scare away the fruit from children,” she then added, trying to get a rise out of me. Even though I had no obvious interest in responding, not wishing to take another bashing.

  “I doubt that,” Arlo said in my defence. “The only thing Kya could ever scare away is a boyfriend,” he then teased, making another smirking face at me before laughing and slapping hands with Ebony.

  Naturally, I ignored them like a pacifist, making things quiet as we all began to notice how quickly the tree canopies were becoming thicker, casting the rainforest into more and more of a darkening shade. I could smell swamp fog and air as our spiders walked along a narrowing damp grassy road. Swamps surrounding us
in all directions, signifying we’d be in Ambarvale Village very soon.

  “Well, what is it you believe they are?” Arlo asked again, once he eventually finished laughing at his own joke. Asking Ariss this time, unwilling to let the topic rest.

  Ariss was starting to seem rudely offended by the whole conversation, but, even so, he didn’t say a word, simply ushered his termite to move ahead of everyone, completely ignoring the prince. A true testament of his bravery, considering he was openly ignoring a question from his future king and not even trying to disguise it.

  Radament quickly tried to cover for his friend, saying, “We honestly don’t have a clue. Personally I think you’re right, I believe the gnolls are here because of something Midas did, but I still don’t think it’s him behind it all,” he then said, searching through the puzzled looks on all of our faces before realising he needed to elaborate. “Look, this is going to sound crazy, but I don’t even think they belong to this world... I believe Midas was speaking the truth all along, and his warnings were genuine,” he dared to speculate.

  Radament’s pure honesty made us all sit back on our spiders in wild thought. The prince remained quiet, but still appreciative of the man’s honesty. Only then did it ever occur to me that the divide between House Helios and House Midas was still alive, even after all of these years. Sir Radament probably being one of the very first to protest the banishment of our former king. It would make sense for Radament to have a certain loyalty for Midas, considering how much Midas had done for him. Midas was the only person who’d believed in Radament’s worth when no one else was willing to. Brought him out of the slums and turned him into a man of impeccable talent and integrity.

  “What makes you say that?” I asked from the back of the pack as we strolled down a lush green old farming road.

  “Well, the gnolls are barbaric, savage and hungry creatures – there’s nothing special about that – but there is something strange about them… something about the way they move and hunt. I can’t really describe it… it just seems more desperate than it is mindless?” he said to our joint bewilderment. All of us, including a cranky Lord Ariss, peering curiously back towards Radament as he continued. “I dunno, sometimes I just get the feeling they don’t even know where they are, that they’re just as scared and scattered as the rest of us.”

  I’d never heard anyone speak so sympathetically about the devilish creatures before, and us teens began to question everything we thought we knew about those monsters, based upon his very vague interpretation of his own personal experiences.

  Although Radament quickly then went on to say, “Don’t be fooled, though, gnolls are incredibly hostile, attacking like haunting spirits, lunging at whatever moves and is closest to them.”

  Vallah and the other spiders jerked to a stop as Ariss raised a closed fist, issuing an instant halt and silence. He looked out into the absence of the open road ahead. Glancing upon the dissipating black void of a black spot and its thick heavy storm clouds smothering the sky much more than the canopy we’d travelled under earlier had.

  We all remained still and silent, anxiously waiting for Ariss to talk.

  “Well, let’s head back,” I initiated, wishing someone else with actual authority had said it instead of me.

  “How far away is Ambarvale Village?” Arlo asked Radament as we all stared blankly into the nocturnal abyss descending upon our eyes. A skyline darkening as clouds built and began to block out the twilight just ahead.

  “Just one more meadow away,” Ariss then answered.

  I could almost smell the beach air of the town’s ocean cove, we were that close. But now we had to return back home, or risk going through the dark.

  “We could go around it,” Ebony enthusiastically suggested.

  “What’s the point? My sister might be trapped in there. If she left on foot, she wouldn’t have been that far ahead of us,” Arlo then remarked, shooting down Ebony’s idea and reminded everyone of the reason we were here.

  “No one wants to find her more than me,” I said, “but Camilla specifically stated we were to run at the first sign of any danger – and this is some pretty serious danger.” I tried to recite, recalling Camilla’s orders in an attempt to take command, since everyone else was looking around indecisively.

  “It’s just a small distance, and there’s just as much danger to return – we’d risk the darkness catching us on our way back,” Ebony said, rejecting the idea of abandoning the quest and heading home empty handed.

  Despite all of our suggestions, none of us actually had any influence over what to do. Ariss was the leading authority on this mission. He was sitting calmly on his six-legged flying steed, evaluating our current predicament. “She could be in there, and by the time we make it back it might be too late to return and rescue her,” he deliberated.

  “She could have made it through unharmed – if anyone could, it would be her,” Radament added, supporting my claim to head back. “But it’s your call, man,” he then stated.

  “We could split up. Kya can’t fight, so we should send her home with Radament,” Arlo then said, forcing me to give him a look that said I was unimpressed with the stupidity of his suggestion.

  “We’re not splitting up, Arlo,” I pouted.

  “No, we’re definitely not,” Ariss then interjected. “I’m sorry, Kya, but we’re going in,” he then proclaimed before steering his termite towards the dark swamp without delay.

  Everyone else followed, leaving me to inhale the biggest breath of my life as I had no choice but to kick my heels ever so slightly and let Vallah march me into that eclipsing darkness.

  5

  Eclipse

  I felt my nerves tingle as we slowly migrated across the dark blue fog of this cold damp wetlands. My heated breath frosted in the air as we continued to cautiously ride along the rocky forest road. I felt afraid of the very shadows I could control, which swayed freely in the gentle wind rustling the trees. Generally, there was safety to such a deathly calm, but this eerie swamp just felt more alive and carnivorous because of it.

  We continued to move through the swamp in close formation and came upon a candle-lit glass shrine – a bright beacon of hope in this dangerous darkness. We dismounted our rides to investigate it. It had a moth-shaped head, with two burning candles resembling eyes, and flaming glass pillars to represent glowing antennae. It was beautifully decorated with flowers and thorn-less swamp vines.

  Priceless ruby rings, silver necklaces with emerald and aquamarine pendants, and numerous other precious gemstones dangled inside the statue’s glass stomach like a bandit’s bounty.

  An incredible spectrum of light was being emitted because of these translucent stones, reflecting the contrast off the candle lights flame across both glass eyes as the overhanging antlers trailed a mild but mesmerising iridescence that dispersed out of the moth’s head. The inviting tiny wax fire illuminating like a magical aura as each subtle breeze altered its colour, continuously changing the unique flavours of that fire as it quietly whistled, enclosed and protected from any harsher kind of breeze.

  We all knew what the statue was and what it meant to our situation right now. It was a Nyx statue, and it marked the close proximity of a recent gnoll invasion. There were shrines like this in every village – even our great castle has one – although it was rare to see one lit up, as most are ancient relics of a long forgotten past.

  They were created as an offering to the wisp gods of old worship: ancient guardian nymphs who were said to have evolved wings, which they’d used to fly away from our cursed land. They were depicted as ascended beings who had evolved in ways so extreme that their wings could feed them with nothing but the light of the sun and the moisture in the air, which is why it’s said they live in the heavens above.

  Most rural villagers were still quite devout to the belief of these magical deities, comforted by the thought of angels watching over them. They imagined the angels as remorseful, looking down from their paradise on t
op of the clouds and taking pity on the plight of those lost, stranded and suffering. The villagers believed if they created these Nyx shrines, the angels would see the sparkles of rainbow light during the darkness of dreaded nightfall and rescue those they deemed worthy of salvation.

  Ariss was the first to approach the statue, completely unfazed by all the old stories. Shrugging at the very concept of them as he put his hand on the shrine’s head. It wasn’t hard to see why he was a non-believer, given the life he has had to endure, and the lack of divine intervention that had happened when the gnolls stole his homeland and abducted many of his people. It was clear he had no faith in such religious ideology after all that.

  He shoved his hand into the cavity and grabbed all the jewellery inside, cramming them into his pocket before smothering the shrine’s flame with his hand. “They don’t exist,” he announced. “All these things do is attract the gnolls. Now let’s get out of this place.” He stepped back down.

  The rest of us hesitated, shocked by his actions, but eventually the prince, Ebony and Radament accepted his orders and moved away to remount their spiders. But I couldn’t let it go; I couldn’t allow him to get away with desecrating another nymph’s beliefs. Forest nymphs would donate their most valuable possessions into those shrines, lighting the candles as a plea to the wisps to rescue a child or a loved one who the gnolls had taken. They acted as memorials to those lost but not forgotten, and Ariss had just defiled one.

  “Put it back!” I protested, failing to mask my absolute disgust in him.

  “Are you giving me orders?” he said, with a softened hatred in his voice.

  My heart raced at the first thought of conflict, although I was doing my best to appear determined and unthreatened by him, matching his serious stare with my own.