by J H G Foss
‘Maybe those dingbats in the GFC can put that on their to-do list right after discovering Hanna and defeating Old Bones.’
As the day wore on, the druids took turns scouting ahead, sometimes turning into birds and taking to the sky. After two hours of travel generally north, Ghene landed and told the others, ‘there are manhunters up there. They seem to be searching. We should hide.’
When you keep the company of three druids you will always find a good hiding place in a forest and it was not long before they were all sitting down together in one of the thickest parts of it. Ghene cast a spell that formed the bushes and brambles into a shelter and once he was done nothing bigger than a rabbit could have got near them due to their density and thickness.
The rustling of the leaves and branches creaked and groaned as they intertwined, a sound that was most eerie to the others as they crouched underneath. Ghene then motioned with one hand and made a small entranceway, just big enough for them to crawl in and out of.
‘I’m going to cover our trail and take a wee look around,’ said Roztov who then turned into a fox and trotted off into the gloomy forest.
As he did so, Ghene cocked an ear and then held a finger to his lips. Everyone was quiet. After a while Broddor started to snore. Meggelaine dug her elbow into the sleeping dwarf and hissed at him.
Above them they could hear the beating of wings and the roars of the dragons as they called to each other. Meggelaine pointed upwards and the dwarf mouthed ‘oh right’ before settling back into a more comfortable position. For about the next hour they listened in silence to the noises of the hunt. They heard roars, the crashing of dragons through trees, and sometimes the shouts of men.
Things seemed to go quiet as it got dark and eventually Roztov returned.
‘All good here?’ he asked.
‘All good. Where were you?’ asked Meggelaine.
‘Watching them,’ Roztov crept into the shelter of the hide and sat down. ‘They’ve gone, but give it half an hour I think before we set up camp.’
‘What did you see?’
‘I saw how they hunt. The dragons land and let the men off. The men then act like beaters, trying to flush things out. Sometimes the dragons dive through the trees like a fox hunting a mouse in a field of grass. They come crashing down, tree branches flying everywhere, and clutch their prey in their jaws. I don’t know if they were after us or just hunting game. The dragons ate a few vegetains and deer.’
‘If they had men with them, then they were hunting men,’ put in Floran, anxious to not cause offence at interrupting. ‘Manhunters… ahem… the clue is in the name. Dragons hunt game by themselves, or so they told me in Vine Street.’
‘Right,’ agreed Roztov. ‘That makes sense. What it looks like, well, the dragons are in charge of the hunting. It’s not like a man riding a horse. The dragon goes where the dragon wants to go. They drop off the men when they want them to chase out their prey. It’s like when men hunt with hounds.’
‘But in this case, the men are the hounds,’ said Meggelaine.
They camped where they had stopped that night. Druids can make anywhere in the forest comfortable and this area was no exception. They were kept warm by a fire and the walls of the hide and well fed by the plentiful game and winter forage that the druids brought back.
The next day went in much the same way. The druids scouted ahead and they did their best to avoid the manhunters. In the evening they made camp by a stream, on the slope of a hill. The druids used their magic to pull in the undergrowth to form a roof over them again. Above them snow was falling, but it barely got past the trees and only a little fell on their shelter. Occasionally a drop of snow fell into the fire through the chimney. The shelter was large enough to hold all of them, but some left the camp to attend to their own business after they had eaten their evening meal.
Those that remained in the camp sat quietly with their own thoughts. Salveri and Arrin looked into the fire, while Meggelaine and Ophess talked.
Initially it was quiet conversation, but without warning Ophess started crying and screaming.
‘Where is my father! Are they even looking for my father?’
Meggelaine jumped up and tried to sooth the girl.
‘Yes, yes, but please be quiet. There could be dragons about.’
‘You just said that there were no dragons for miles! You’re a liar!’
‘Please darling, have a care. It is better to be quiet. Roztov and Ghene are out looking for him now.’
‘You said he was safe! You said we would find him!’
‘Yes, yes, but shush. Please shush.’
Salveri and Arrin stood and went to the entrance of the hide. It was pitch dark, but they were nervous of being found by the manhunters.
‘If she doesn’t stop screaming someone should slit her throat,’ growled Salveri.
‘Salveri!’ gasped Arrin in genuine shock.
‘Well. Or knock her over the head at least.’
‘I can hear you!’ yelled Ophess at them. ‘Why are we moving around so much? If he was easy to find why have we travelled so much? I want to go back to the runaway’s town! We should go back there and wait.’
Two birds suddenly swooped into the camp, landed and turned into Roztov and Ghene.
‘What’s all the noise?’ hissed Roztov.
‘I hate you!’ she screamed at him.
‘What did I do?’ grumbled the druid. ‘Meg, you have to keep her quiet.’
‘I know, I know,’ said the fressle in despair. ‘What can I do though?’
‘What’s all the fuss?’
‘Where is my father!’ screamed Ophess.
‘The captain? Why, he is...’
Meggelaine held up her hands and said, ‘Roztov, a word...’
They went outside then walked carefully down to the river in the darkness. Roztov sat down at the bank so that he was at eye level with the fressle, although he could hardly see her.
‘What’s going on Meg?’
‘I’ve been telling her that her father is alive and that we are looking for him.’
‘Oh dear, Em,’ sighed Roztov. ‘He’s dead. We buried him.’
‘I know that. I didn’t know how else to keep her quiet. I know it’s my fault, all right?’
‘Well, she was pretty highly strung to begin with, as I recall.’
‘Don’t blame her,’ said Meggelaine with an angry tone. ‘It’s been me that’s been telling lies to keep her quiet. It’s holding back the inevitable meltdown. And you men are no good. You are only interested in keeping her alive, not her mental well-being.’
‘Meg...’ Roztov started, but stopped when he didn’t know how to finish the sentence without getting his head bitten off.
‘She must have been on those rocks for a full day and night, don’t you see?’ said Meggelaine. ‘A full day and night, barely alive, with her skin all burnt off and up to her neck in salt water. I don’t know how she lived through that, but she did. She must be a real fighter. Can you imagine the suffering Roz? And now all she clings on to is getting her father back. What do we do? You’re a father for Etruna’s sake! Oh you are all hopeless.’
Roztov remained silent. He knew Meggelaine well enough not to interrupt.
‘Well. You go pretend and look for him then. Fly back out and come back in an hour or so.’
Roztov rolled his eyes, changed into an owl and flew off. Meggelaine turned back to the hide and saw that Ophess was watching from the entrance.
‘Come on. Get back to bed,’ chided Meggelaine.
‘Where did he go?’
‘To look for your father.’
‘Will he find him tonight?’
Meggelaine motioned the girl inside, then got her to lie down and covered her with blankets.
‘I hate him.’
‘But why?’
‘He thinks he’s clever. Always bossing people around.’
Meggelaine tucked the girl in and patted her head. It was still bald, with a lit
tle blonde stubble beginning to grow in.
‘That’s my best friend you are talking about.’
Ophess sat up, suddenly forgetting her tears and said, ‘you are friends?’
‘Of course. We’ve known each for years. Us druids have to stick together, you know.’
Ophess settled back again. ‘How did you become a druid?’
‘Oh I don’t know. I was just a girl really, it seems like a long time ago now. I worked in a bakery, and then later a tavern. My granny, on my dad’s side had been a druid, my family made a huge thing about it. She’d gone east though, years before I was born and we all thought she was dead. Torms do things differently from humans and elves. They have their own methods, but in Tormwood the druids act as custodians of the woods and protectors of the forest folk. This is probably really boring for you...’
‘Just keep talking.’
‘Well, ahem,’ said Meggelaine, more used to addressing ageing Great Forest Council members than children. ‘Tormwood has a human border run right through it, between Styke and Tomsk, so there is a lot of work for torm druids there making sure our people’s rights are respected. It’s a lot of work.
Well anyway, everyone thought my big brother was going to be a druid, but he became a merchant instead. He has a barge on the Duchy canals. I started showing some aptitude and interest, so well, my parents sent me off to the elders and well...’
‘Is it a big secret?’
‘Some of it is secret yes. Well, anyway, if you want to know how me and Roztov met, it was like this. It’s common for all druids to wander, since I’m also a citizen of Styke I thought I’d have a travel around and see what it was like. Not all torms become citizens, even if they are born in Styke, but it is granted to all torm druids. I ended up at Kardane. I liked the dwarves there and got friendly with Broddor. When he formed his company, I joined it a few weeks later. They needed someone to help scout the forest, you see? Those goblins were really… naughty at that time.’
‘Just a bunch of dwarves?’
‘Don’t be like that. Well, after a while they took on more scouts. Dwarves are good fighters, but hopeless in the wilds. Ghene came along next. Then, I think, Tuppence came along too after that - I mean Floran. Then Roztov. When Roztov joined, more humans joined too. He’s the son of a baron you know.’
‘I don’t like him.’
‘You keep saying that. I don’t understand why.’
‘How come he is your best friend then, and not Broddor and Ghene? You knew them before him.’
‘Just by a few months.’
‘But how come?’ insisted the girl.
‘Hmm, well,’ replied Meggelaine, giving it some genuine thought. ‘Well, I think because out of all of them he likes me the most. The others like me well enough I suppose, but me and Roztov have always been very close. Maybe because we are both from Styke, but I think because he has never treated me like a lesser being. Most other people treat fressles poorly. Roztov, well, I think he prefers us to his own people to be honest.’
‘You sound like you love him.’
Meggelaine almost blushed. ‘Ha-ha, well, yes I do, but like a brother maybe. You should sleep.’
Ophess didn’t argue and moments later she was asleep.
Meggelaine sat for a while, imagining what other questions Ophess might have asked and how she would have answered them. When she and Roztov had first met it was to fight the goblins. Styke was in dire straits. From the caverns below the Askbakar and Spidertooth Mountains hordes of them had come up, from the god’s knew where. Hungry and desperate they ravaged the kingdom. Would she have told Ophess about the bloody battles? The ethnic cleansing on both sides? Initially her sympathy was for the goblins, they were, after all, another pygmy race coming into conflict with humans, just like the torms. But goblins were irredeemably horrible. Torms have their own culture, they valued peace and the good things of life that came with it. The goblins seemed to only value destruction. In the end the goblins had been beaten back, but no one had come out of it well. It had been a hard few years in Styke, before King Woad claimed the throne, and it had not got much better after that. The Company had disbanded by then. How long had it been? Meg had left Styke about ten years ago and Woad was crowned about three years after that. It felt like an age, so much had happened...
Meggelaine lay back beside the girl and let thoughts of the past drift away and was soon asleep herself.
In the morning Arrin was the first to wake. He had been having a nightmare about the sinking of the Red Maiden. He had no desire to go back to sleep so went outside to pee. Ghene was on watch, it was just before dawn.
‘Good morning,’ said the elf.
‘Good morning, my lord,’ said the young man as he stifled a yawn. ‘Is Roztov still out there?’
‘Yes, he is tracking Dreggen.’
‘You druids can go without sleep, my lord?’
‘No more than anyone else.’
‘How come you don’t have a bow?’ Arrin blurted out, still half asleep. ‘Oh, sorry my lord. That’s a stupid question.’
‘Well, racial stereotypes aside, I’ll answer the question,’ said Ghene with a slight smile. ‘You may have seen elves going about in human towns and cities, with bows on their back. Those are all half-elves though, hunters and trackers, integrated into the human kingdoms. Most elven druids fall out of practise with the bow though, spending too much time on magic probably.’
‘I see,’ said Arrin. ‘I suppose when you can just turn into a lion or something, that’s better than an arrow.’
'Maybe so,' agreed Ghene, 'but remember, most druids don't get into as many fights as us. Almost all elven druids are very peaceful.'
It wasn’t long before it was time to break camp. The leftovers from last night’s dinner was quickly eaten for breakfast then all the blankets, pots, cups, knives and spoons got packed up into bags. The fire was put out and water for the day was drawn from the stream into the water skins. Arrin joined in willingly with the work. Salveri grumbled that cleaning pots and pans was women’s work, but made sure that none of the women actually heard him.
Arrin didn’t mind, he had helped his mother in the house when he had been younger. The air was clear and crisp, but their breath hung around them like a fog, making it damp. He shouldered one of the heavier bags and joined Ghene who was getting ready to set off. Not far from them, Broddor, who had washed in the river was now strapping on the last of his plate armour. To Arrin it looked like a complicated business, but the dwarf did it with the practices ease of someone who had done it hundreds of times, like a man lacing up his boots.
Salveri was next to join those who were ready to go, his face dark with fear and anger, then Tankle came out of the hide, her hair tied back under a woollen hat. Her arm was still in a sling, but it seemed to be healing fast.
Arrin could hear Meggelaine talking to Ophess as she tried to persuade her to get dressed. Off to the left of the hide, Floran appeared from the trees, buttoning up his britches then letting his thick blue robe fall down to his calves. Finally Meggelaine and Ophess emerged from the hide, but then there was some delay over which cloak she wanted to wear, which meant that Broddor was next to join those that were ready.
Arrin wondered how long they would be in the forest, travelling like this. Days, weeks, even months? Would every morning be the same? Broddor putting on his armour, Ophess the last one to be ready? The others standing still, more or less patiently, with their bags dropped at their feet, waiting for the start of that day’s trek?
Arrin had never told anyone onboard the Red Maiden, but his family were quite well off. He had been better educated than any of the other sailors and he was sure that wasn’t just him being big headed. Salveri seemed to be full of prejudices, racism and stupidity and Arrin judged this to be pretty standard for sailors, even the younger ones. It didn’t mean he didn’t like them, it was just that he was aware of the advantages he had had in life. His parent’s house had a large garden with a sma
ll gazebo at the back and sometimes he and his brother had camped there, in beds that had been made up by the maids. They had only ever done it in the summer of course, but the last couple of nights in the relatively comfortable druidic hides had reminded him of his younger days.
It had been his decision to join the crew of the Red Maiden. Arrin was a young man of eighteen years. He had worked in the tops, where Salveri had worked too, but he had not talked to him much. On his off time he socialised with the others of his own age, some of the deck hands, one or two of the stewards and the cook’s assistant. That had been his gang. The older sailors had their own cliques, they tended to play cards or throw dice in the evenings, drink rum and sing songs. The younger ones often swapped stories about Tankle and the other women on board the Red Maiden. They had all wanted to bed her, but had no idea how to approach the subject.
All his friends were dead now, he tried not to think about it. It was sheer luck that he had been up the main mast when the fire struck and like many of the others outside on the deck or up the masts he had jumped into the sea. He couldn’t swim, neither could any of his friends. Roztov had pulled him from the water. Once more that was down to nothing but luck. Why him? He was afraid to ask, he didn’t want to talk about that day, but sometimes he wondered why the druid picked him out of the sea and not one of the others. He guessed it was because he had been the nearest. Later, when the druid had buried some of the recovered bodies using his magic and a swipe of his arms, Arrin had seen two of his friends down there in the pit and had said nothing.
He was still young, and could not put into words how he felt. He was in shock, just surviving hour by hour, following the others and hoping for the best. His emotions were so all over the place that he no longer trusted them, simply putting his faith in the druids to get them all through the forest in one piece, putting one foot in front of the other until the end.
While on the Red Maiden he had worked with Salveri, but in truth he had not liked him much. He had seen Salveri as a pretty grumpy and unapproachable fellow who was always complaining and lawyering. Always carping about some rule or regulation of the captain’s that seemed utterly trivial to Arrin.