by J H G Foss
‘They think you are some sort of fairy, Meg. They think you are a silly little pixie.’
‘Don’t be rude, some of my best friends are pixies.’
Meggelaine picked up the saucer and sniffed the milk.
‘Hmm, fresh. Goat’s milk,’ she then drank it all and smacker her lips then smiled. ‘Delicious!’
Ophess looked around, ‘I wonder where they keep it?’
Mrs Ball ducked back in to her meagre dwelling then returned with a stoppered jug of milk. Meggelaine tried to refuse it, but in the end Ophess offered to carry it back. In return Meggelaine fumbled about in her pocket and pulled out an acorn.
‘This is an acorn from the Great Forest. Do you understand? It has magical properties, ahhhh!’
The Balls smiled and nodded.
‘If you feel sick. Sick. Sick, do you see? If you feel sick, sleep with it in your hand. See? In your hand? Sleeping, sleeping,’ said Meggelaine, reinforcing her words with mime. ‘You wake up feeling better. Do you see? Oh that will have to do. Also, plant it if you like. In a hundred years you’ll have a magic acorn tree of your very own.’
After more smiles, nods and farewells they left the Balls. Turning to wave one last time, Ophess asked, ‘is the acorn truly magical?’
‘Yes,’ confirmed Meggelaine. ‘It won’t cure a disease like the blue death, but it will help them fight it off, if they are strong enough. It’s better for stopping infections and healing wounds.’
‘How many do you have?’
Meggelaine checked her pockets.
‘Ah, nine.’
‘Can I have one?’
‘Well, oh, very well,’ Meggelaine grumbled as she handed one over. ‘Don’t lose it though. And if you feel sick come and see me first. An acorn is not a substitute for a druid.’
‘I won’t. I will.’
They followed the path back to the others, all the while Ophess looking over her acorn from all angles.
Once they were back with the others, the whole group set off again. Roztov left Broddor to bring up the rear for a while so he could talk to Meggelaine.
‘How were they set for winter?’
‘I don’t know,’ shrugged the fressle. ‘I didn’t ask.’
‘But did you look?’ continued Roztov. ‘Did they have food, cured meat, preserves?’
‘I think I saw a ham hanging up. Come to think of it no, I smelt it. I smelt cured meat.’
‘Any pots? Jars? Jugs? More like the one the milk came in?’
‘Um, some clay pots,’ said Meggelaine, biting her top lip.
‘No jars?’
‘Look, I'm sorry Roz,’ said Meggelaine getting impatient. ‘I was concentrating on making his wife better.’
Roztov continued pestering his friend for a while longer, and as the group strung out a bit, Salveri asked Floran, ‘why is he so interested in pots and pans?’
The wizard glanced over at the sailor as they walked along, then smiled and said, ‘well, if I know my friend, he is already thinking about his next paper to the Royal Society of Timu. If they had pots then they have access to clay, or trade for it. If jars, then they either made their own glass, or indeed trade for it. Either way, Roztov is trying to work out the scale of the runaway society, its economics, and things like that. He has done it every other time we have been far from home like this.’
‘Huh. He must be confident we’ll make it back. The other druids don't write?’
‘No, it's a human thing. I too write, I mean, we ugari. If I survive this I will probably write a book about it. My people are greatly interested in dragons and suchlike.’
‘You are not human, my lord?’ asked Arrin who was listening in to the conversation.
‘Well. No. We ugari are different from your kind in many ways, not just the colour of our skin.’
‘Oh?’ said Salveri and winked at Arrin behind the wizard’s back.
‘Well,’ Floran seemed rather embarrassed. ‘We live longer, ahem, are more in tune with magic. Well, perhaps you should get Roztov to tell you what he thinks and get a human perspective on this.’
By the time it was dark and the druids were setting up camp Floran was relieved to see that the sailors had forgotten they had talked to him or at least had decided not to ask Roztov about what made ugari different from other men.
The sacks that they all carried were dumped in the centre of the camp site, then a fire was lit and water was boiled for tea. As this was done, Meggelaine began to prepare the dinner while the others carried out such chores as gathering firewood, unpacking the cooking gear and other mundane tasks. Floran sat with a book open on his knees, only half taking in what was going on around him. Everyone left him alone to his studies, it was part of the life of a Hyadnian Vizard to spend a lot of your day deep in study, spells had a habit of trying to escape your mind if you didn’t keep constantly trying to chain them down.
He barely noticed as Roztov told the other druids that he was going to scout about for a while, just to be sure there were no dangers nearby. If Floran had bothered to pay attention he might have noticed a slight note of tension between the druids, as if they were not quite sure of their safety.
There was a flutter of feathers as Roztov turned into an owl, then took to the sky.
The campsite had settled in for the evening when Roztov returned. This time he was on foot, running as fast as he could. As he arrived at the camp he yelled. ‘Run! Run! Run for it!’
Everyone froze for a split second, then reacted in various ways. Meggelaine went to start packing up the equipment, Ghene turned to find his pack, the others picked up weapons or readied themselves for action.
‘No time to save anything, just run!’ repeated Roztov as the sound of hunting horns were heard echoing through the forest.
He then turned into a griffin, took Ophess, who was standing stock still in confusion, into his claws and flew up into the sky.
Ophess screamed as they gained altitude. The griffin tossed her into the frigid air and caught her on its back. She scrambled desperately, but then managed to grab handfuls of feathers and clamp her legs around its ribs. The griffin screeched, shrugged its burden into a more comfortable position then flapping furiously headed almost directly upwards.
Ophess screamed again as gouts of dragon-fire lit the sky. They were below them though, shooting upwards, and the flames fell short. Higher and higher they went and Ophess lost her breath. She could no longer scream, she just held on to the griffin as firmly as she could. The higher they went, the colder the air got and she felt her hands and face going numb. Just when she thought she was about to lose her grip and fall the griffin screeched again then plunged into an angled dive. Ophess could hear dragons around them, roaring and breathing fire, but she buried her face into the griffin’s feathers, not wanting to look and expecting to be burnt to a crisp at any second.
The griffin screeched and cried in pain and she smelt burnt feathers. They swooped upwards again, in a steep angled glide. She felt herself pressed into the griffin’s back for several seconds, then it was climbing again, once more leaving the dragons below, breathing fire and angrily trying to keep up.
Ophess chanced to look down over her leg and saw dozens of dark winged shapes silhouetted in the flames of their breath. The griffin climbed ever higher, seemingly heading for the stars. Ophess wondered if they could fly to the moon, she had no idea if that was possible, but it certainly seemed as if they could not go down to the forest again, what with all the dragons between them and the ground.
Suddenly she was holding nothing.
She screamed hoarsely as her arms and legs frantically waved around in the air. Then Roztov, the man, grabbed her, and she just about clawed the skin off his neck as she took hold of him.
‘Yes that’s right,’ gasped Roztov as he tried to stop her from choking him. ‘Hold on tight. When I change back I will hold you in my claws.’
She had no breath left to scream with as they plunged back down to the forest. She look
ed down over the druid’s shoulder as the dragons below got closer and closer. One moment the dragons were all around them, and then in an instant they were above them. They breathed their flames, but were far too late, just lighting up the sky harmlessly.
At the last moment Roztov turned back into a griffin and braked hard with his wings for the remaining fifty yards. As they crashed through the trees he shielded Ophess with his wings.
They landed in a heap of feathers that rolled along the forest floor before crashing into a tree and coming to a halt. Nothing moved for a few seconds, until finally the griffin let out a long low groan. It then delicately unfurled its wings and using its claws lifted up Ophess and placed her on her feet.
She was hugging herself, shaking violently and hiccuping.
The griffon rolled onto its legs, stood and shook its wings. It then lifted its head up, reared and called out in a deep rumbling screech.
In the next heartbeat there were lights in the forest, flickering for a second or two then disappearing. Wolves began to arrive, skulking through the trees, one, then two, then two more, then three and more, until there were dozens of them. They were huge, the size of horses, with thick shaggy black pelts and teeth as long as a man’s finger. Ophess pressed up against the griffin in fear. It sat down and motioned with its beak for her to get on its back and she did so.
It then reared up and called again. This time bears appeared in bright lights, with feint popping sounds, all around them. They glowed for a moment or two, and then did not. They were massive brown creatures, like nothing Ophess had ever seen before, with claws the size of steak knives.
Dragons began to crash through the trees, and were immediately set upon by the wolves and bears. Ophess watched as a dragon was pulled down by a gang of the druid’s creatures. It breathed fire and immolated a bear, but the bear kept coming and with its fur on fire it raked at the dragon’s wings, ripping them to shreds. The griffin she was mounted on shuddered and changed, the feathers turning to fur and she ascended about three feet as it turned into a bear. It then loped off into the forest, flanked by wolves and other bears. Ophess kept low on its back to avoid branches, holding onto the thick fur as tightly as she could and digging her feet into its broad back. She chanced a look over her shoulder and saw wolves, bears and dragons locked in battle in a burning forest behind her. She heard the distant sound of hunting horns, but could see no men.
More dragons landed and tried to pursue them, but then several wolves and bears would peel off from the main group and meet the attack. A dragon could kill a wolf or a bear, or maybe more, but was always overcome by the weight of animals that hurled themselves against them. Trees were thrown aside in the brutal battles, shaking snow down onto the forest floor. The bear she was riding kept going though, seeming to be able to find its way through the forest with ease, despite its size.
They kept going for some time, until the sounds of fighting was left behind and all she heard was the sweep of the trees going past and the panting of the bear.
Her arms and legs were stiff now, but she dared not let go. Eventually the bear stopped and sat down and she slid off its back and lay down on the cold forest floor.
The bear turned back into a man and sat down beside her, crossing his legs.
‘That was a close one,’ he said. ‘I expect you are terrified after all that, but look at it this way, you are still alive. Well, anyway, once we’ve got our breath back we’ll go look for the others, right?’
Ophess found that she could not move or speak.
Chapter 5
The Reserve
Salveri and Arrin had watched with slack jaws as Roztov swooped up into the air with Ophess. Moments later they heard the sound of dragon wings and the roar of flames hitting the upper branches of the forest. Salveri was first to run, into the darkness of the trees and coming to his senses a moment later, Arrin went after him.
Without the druids to guide them and in the darkness they found the forest fought against them at every step. Thorns ripped at their clothes, branches got in their way and the ground underfoot was either soft earth or roots that tripped them.
Sometimes on their hands and knees they crawled and scrambled as fast as they could from the camp as the whole site behind them was lit up with fire.
After a few hundred yards they arrived at an area that had previously been burnt back by dragon fire. Saplings no taller than a man and tall grass was all that grew here, dusted in snow, so they could run across it much faster than the dense forest behind them.
As they ran, they saw men come from out of the tree line to their left, dressed in black armour that shined with reflected light from the torches they carried. As the hunting horns sounded out, those that were carrying spears threw them at the sailors. Arrin ducked, but Salveri was hit squarely in the stomach, and crumpled to the ground.
Arrin cried out and went to him, but had to duck down again as more spears flew. For a second he wondered if he should leave Salveri or attempt to carry him. He realised it would mean his own death if he didn’t immediately start running again, but even so, despite this thought his hands reached down to lift his companion almost by their own volition.
‘Leave me, you idiot,’ Salveri grunted through clenched teeth.
‘I...’ was all Arrin managed. He knelt beside his friend and looked up, just in time to see Floran light up the entire clearing with a massive fireball, ten feet wide. If flew from where he stood, about fifty yards away from the sailors, towards the manhunters and exploded in their midst. They were all knocked from their feet, silencing the trilling notes of the hunting horns instantly, and those that lived crawled back into the forest.
Arrin lifted Salveri by the shoulders and dragged him back into the cover of the tree line.
Hours later, they were still there, at the edge of the clearing, Salveri slowly dying. Arrin could see the spear was thin and the tip was barbed. If he tried to pull it out he would kill Salveri instantly, so he waited in hope of one of the druids finding them.
Salveri muttered quietly. ‘This is it for me. In a way, I’m glad. I won’t have to explain to my sister what happened to her son.’
‘It looks bad Sal, but the druids will heal you.’
‘Where are they though? I can’t feel anything...’ Salveri said with a groan.
They waited a while longer. An hour passed, although Arrin was barely conscious of it. Salveri shut his eyes and stopped responding to the younger man’s pleas to stay awake. Arrin listen at his chest and could hear his breath, weak and fluttering as it was.
All Arrin could do was wait, holding his friend while he died.
With no advanced warning, though, from the darkness they heard a gentle voice greet him.
‘Hello Arrin. It is Ghene.’
Arrin looked up and said, ‘he has a spear in the gut, my lord.’
‘I can see that. Right in the intestines, poor fellow. I can help him though.’
The elf looked over the wound carefully and tugged gently on the spear.
‘Very well,’ he said rubbing his hands together, making them glow with the blue light of druid magic. ‘Put your foot on his chest and pull out the spear in one quick tug would you please? I’ll then put my hands on the wound.’
Arrin stood up to find his legs had gone numb from sitting for so long with Salveri on his knees. He stretched his legs and then wiped the sweat from his palms on his sides. Eventually he worked up the courage and grasped the shaft of the spear. ‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Do it,’ said Ghene.
The spear came out of Salveri with a wet ripping sound. Arrin staggered back then threw it away as Ghene knelt down and put his hands on the injured man’s stomach.
‘Keep an eye out, this will take a few minutes. Well, less than an hour hopefully, to get him on his feet.’
Arrin did as he was bid and kept a careful eye on the forest. He couldn’t see much, but did see a light moving around some way off, through the trees.
�
��Who is there?’ someone said from the direction of the light. Arrin realised that it was Floran.
‘Over here!’ he hissed.
Floran had a ball of light in his hand and was using it to find his way. He walked slowly over to join them.
‘Oh hello,’ he said. ‘Have you seen any of the others?’
‘No, my lord.’
Floran considered this, then said, ‘well, all the others can look after themselves. Tankle may be in trouble though. I shall go find her.’
With that the wizard moved off, muttering another spell under his breath, the ball of light still held in his hand.
A short while later, Roztov and Ophess found them.
‘I’m not sure it is safe to stay here,’ Roztov said to Ghene, looking down at him and Salveri.
‘I can’t move him.’
‘Right. I’ll do a land womb. It’ll be the safest option.’
Roztov closed his eyes and started chanting quietly, his hands making sweeping gestures, palms down towards the ground.
When Salveri awoke he thought he was dead and buried. Above him he could see nothing but earth and roots. Gradually he realised that if he could see, then there must be light coming from somewhere. Turning his head stiffly to the side he saw that several pebbles were scattered around nearby that gave off about as much light as a candle. Arrin and Ghene were nearby. He then saw Ophess lying down, asleep, at the other end of the burrow.
‘I’m not dead?’ he asked as he sat up.
‘No,’ replied Ghene.
‘Where am I?’
‘Roztov has put us in a land womb. We are several yards underground.’
‘It was really weird Sal,’ said Arrin in a rush. ‘He parted his hands and we were just swallowed up by the ground.’