by Sarah Coley
He ran straight at one Goblins, striking him across the neck before kicking another to the ground and finishing him. Just as he was getting the upper ground, he felt a searing pain across his back. He knew he'd been struck but turned and quickly stabbed his attacker in the chest killing him instantly. Seeing the Goblins was down, he ran towards Ethan who was quickly getting surrounded.
It was at that point the world started to spin, and sound became slurred. It must have been the sword he was wounded with. It was laced with poison. In the distance he heard a cruel voice as a hunched creature seemingly slithered towards him.
“Look boys. We've bagged ourselves a Prince. The king will be pleased.” The voice began to laugh cruelly.
Elian took one last swing of his sword but was too dazed to hit anything. As he blacked out, he could hear hundreds of smarmy laughs filling his darkening mind.
Chapter 7
Eleanor emerged from Astel's quaint little cottage just after dawn the next morning. She'd had an uneasy night sleeping on nothing more than a small pile of blankets on the floor, trying to get her head around what had happened to her and Owen the night before. She was still in a state of disbelief at the situation she now found herself in, but the more she tried to rationalise all that she'd seen, the more she began to realise that they really had gone through a portal, and they really where in a completely different world. She had hoped that maybe it was all some horrendous dream that her brain had concocted up from drinking coffee so late on in the day, but after 2 hours of pinching herself with various degrees of severity had destroyed that idea.
The clothes she now had on were even stranger to her. Astel had decided to give both her and Owen clothes she'd found stashed in her cottage, as she didn't want them to stand out to any passers by.
Eleanor was now sporting a long green woolen dress with a rope tie around the middle and some surprisingly comfortable leather boots. She also had a thick woolen cloak to keep out the February morning chill. Eleanor had spent sometime explaining to Astel what glasses were and why Eleanor needed them to see. In the end, Astel had waved her magic wand, restoring Eleanor’s eye sight instantly. Eleanor was so astonished that she decided if Owen and her ever got back to their England, she would sell Astel's magic and make a fortune.
Owen had had to settle for some farmers clothing that Astel had conjured up from scratch. As a result, they'd ended up a little on the large side. Nevertheless, his brown leather tunic, woolen trousers and leather boots seemed to suit him just fine.
Eleanor breathed into her hands as Astel emerged from the cottage carrying two heavy looking packs. Owen ever the gentleman, immediately went over to help her carry them.
“As we have but one horse between us, we will travel on foot and use the horse to carry our supplies,” Astel announced as she took the two packs back off Owen and secured them on the horse.
“Exactly how far is it to Rogard Astel?” Eleanor asked.
“A week. Possibly longer depending how much we stop. There's a small village just on the edge of the Elven woods along side the great road. It's about four days walk away. They should sell horses there, in which case it should speed up our journey considerably.”
Eleanor suddenly had a sinking feeling. She wasn't a particularly unhealthy person, but the most she'd ever walked for was about five hours. The thought of walking none stop for over a week made her want to break down and cry.
“That's great,” Eleanor replied with her perfectly fake smile.
Astel ignored Eleanor and continued, “if we are stopped by anyone on the road, let me do the talking. As far as anyone is concerned, we are just pilgrims on our way back from the Elven shrine of Ljosalfar.”
“Why such a great effort to conceal our identity?” Owen asked. “Surely no one would believe our story anyway, and what is the shrine of Ljosalfar?”
“Astel is a leading figure in Rogardium Owen,” Eleanor answered in a matter-of -fact way. “If we run into any locals, Astel's going to be able to create a cover story much quicker and more accurately than we ever could. That's not to mention the difference in accents.”
“Very right dear Eleanor,” Astel approved, “and the Shrine of Ljosalfar is the Shrine of light created by the elves themselves. It's believed to have magical healing powers.”
“Won't most people know what you look like though?” Owen interjected.
“This isn't modern day England Owen. I doubt very much they have TV's here showing leading officials. It's more likely appearance is spread through word of mouth. You don't have TV's do you?” Eleanor added.
“What is a TV?”
“As I thought. Owen, welcome to the dark ages,” Eleanor joked.
They set off just after the sun had reached the top of Astel's cottage, although Eleanor wasn't sure what time that would be exactly. Astel lead the way whilst holding the horse, and Owen walked along side her asking questions about Rogardium with a genuine enthusiasm. Whether this stemmed from his love of anything Arthurian based or the chance to talk to someone that he could have literally plucked straight out of a fantasy novel Eleanor wasn't entirely sure. She hung back a little listening to the conversation, taking everything in.
The scenery was unchanging. Eleanor figured they must be in the middle of a very large forest because as the day drew on, the denseness of the woodland never changed, occasionally letting small seeping shafts of light in from the canopy above. There was also a constant bird song and the occasional groaning, thumping noise as though the trees where shifting about in agitation. If Goblins existed here, then it would be no surprise that trees could move about on their own.
After an hour or so of walking down a small dirt track that lead from Astel's cottage, the road suddenly grew in width to be able to allow three people to walk side by side down it. This road looked as though it was a main route, judging how well it was treaded in, and the distance the trees where from the road itself. As night began to fall, Astel lead them away from the main path and through a small thicket of trees to a clearing. It wasn't particularly large, although Eleanor spotted a small stream running not too far away. It was also a good place to shelter, as the main road could not be seen from where they now stood.
Astel went about setting up a tent from the packs she'd brought and some branches she'd found, whilst Owen used his boy scout skills to start a fire. Eleanor, having no camping skill whatsoever decided to take a small pan from the pack, and fill it with water from the stream ready to boil. When she returned the fire was roaring, and the tent nearly up. She placed the water on the fire before Astel came over and dropped some herbs into the brew.
“Astel, I've been meaning to ask you a few questions about this place,” Eleanor announced whilst sitting down next to Owen around the now welcoming fire.
“Ask away?”
“You mention that Merlin came her from Albion. How long ago was that for you?” Eleanor wondered if time worked the same in different dimensions.
“It was 1479 years ago exactly,” Astel replied.
“That was precise,” Eleanor exclaimed.
“I am a direct magical descendant of Merlin. It is my job to know the histories of our people as well as the spells Merlin left behind.”
“If Merlin left all his spells to you, and he's capable of that portal, why not just magic away your enemies?” Eleanor asked trying desperately to make sense of her new realisation that magic is in fact a reality.
“It's not that simple. The magic I used to open the portal to Albion was the most complex spell I have ever undertaken. It required an immense amount of power to achieve. Killing an entire army with magic would require a greater amount of magic than I poses. That's not even comprehending the magic held by the dread Lord Balor or the Dearg.”
“Balor being the big bad guy with one eye right?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes. He is more powerful than any of the other dark races of this land and as a result has a greater hold over them.”
“And what are Dear
gs? Owen asked.
“Deargs are creatures of the night. Human once. They made a deal with Balor a long time ago that in exchange for their souls, they would receive immortality and strength. It comes at a price though, for once a deal is struck, the Dearg must feed off the living and never again see the dawning of the day,” Astel answered whilst she took a fruit cake from a tied up cloth and handed Owen and Eleanor a slab.
“Oh, you mean vampires,” Owen said.
“I'm not used to that word,” Astel answered.
“They suck blood, sleep in the day etc etc. We call them vampires,” Owen responded.
“There is so much I wish to learn of your world. Such as how do you live without magic, what's it like to not have to worry about Goblins or Dearg, and what is a telephone?” Astel asked showing an increasing enthusiasm as she spoke.
Just as Eleanor was about to begin explaining the theory of the telephone, she heard the distinctive sound of a twig cracking in the tree line.
She stood up, as though suddenly aware they might be in danger. Astel had done the same and was quickly walking over to her horse to retrieve something. As soon as the first twig had cracked, there was a second and third crack. This time from all round them. Whatever was in those woods there were lots of them and they were surrounded. Having heard about the wolves that lived in this forest and came out at night, Eleanor began to panic.
Looking over at Astel, she had grabbed a short thick sword from her backpack, that reminded Eleanor of the medieval swords you see in films. Eleanor was kicking herself for not bringing some form of weapon with her when she went through the portal, as she now stood unarmed to face whatever evil lurked just out of sight.
Just as the trees began to rustle around them, a man walked out into the clearing. He was the nastiest man Eleanor had ever seen and then some which said a lot in her line of work.
He had a tunic and trousers on similar to Owen's, but his face was scared by many deep cuts. This was made worse by the sneer he had on his face and the dirt that clung to him all over. His hair hung limply from his head, as though he'd not yet discovered the wonders of a bath and the smell he gave off made Eleanor want to gag. In his hand was a large sword, similar to Astels, but looked as though it could do more damage. As he walked closer, a dozen men appeared behind him in a circle around them. Some carrying swords, some carrying bows that were drawn, but all with their hoods up.
“Great, bandits,” thought Eleanor, as she moved closer to Owen and Astel, putting her pathetic fists up ready for a fight.
Chapter 8
“Well well lads, what do we 'ave 'ere?” The scarred, sneering man said with an evil grin, “I was just saying to me boys that we hadn't come across travelers for days and then 'ere you are.” He opened his arms wide in a mocking embrace.
“Please sir; we are just pilgrims returning from the shrine of Ljosalfar. We have little of value on our person. I beg you leave us be,” Astel pleaded.
The sneering monstrosity smiled even deeper, revealing several blackened teeth. He turned his head briefly behind him and another hooded figure appeared through the trees. This one didn't stop with the other men, but walked through to be in line to the scarred man.
“Look at this Brennus my good friend. This 'ere beauty claims they have nothing of value. What do yeh say to that?”
Brennus drew down his hood and looked quickly at Eleanor before scanning the camp and lingering his stare at Astel. He clearly already had his answer but was deliberately stalling for effect.
Eleanor had the betraying thought that if this wasn't such a horrendous situation, and Brennus wasn't such a risk to her life and an arrogant dick, Eleanor may have found the man attractive.
He was about 5ft 11 with mousy brown straight hair that was parted in the middle and ran to his cheek bones. He was tall and confident, and although he was delicate in appearance, Eleanor could see muscles beneath his woolen hood. This guy was clearly good with a bow. His eyes are what really stood out for her. They were piercing blue, like the ocean, and complemented his features beautifully.
“Well, there's the horse for one,” answered, “We could get a one hundred gold coin for that, and there may be something of worth in those packs.”
He spoke with what could almost be described as an Irish accent.
“Aye and these women could keep us company for a while,” the sneering, scarred man said with a chesty laugh whilst eyeing Astel up and down.
Owen stepped forwards with rage etched on his face. “You leave her alone!” He shouted.
Eleanor could have rolled her eyes. There were times to be gallant and when you had 12 men twice the size of you armed up to the teeth and pointing various manner of weapons at you, it was not one of those times. Eleanor again reminded herself that when they got home, Owen was fired.
“What you whimpering about whelp? You think you can threaten me. I'd like to see you take a swipe,” the sneering man laughed and raised his hand as if beckoning Owen to come over.
Owen lunged forward, missed completely, and was kicked to the ground whilst the rest of the men cheered.
Eleanor had seen enough. 12 men she couldn't handle, but one lout was no problem. All her kick boxing and combat training came to the front of her mind. She could take this guy. He looked slow enough.
“Hey, you big ugly lout, leave the boy alone. You want a fight, then go through me. This is our stuff and you are not welcome to it,” Eleanor piped up. What the hell was she thinking. Her inner monologue clearly wasn't connected to her mouth but it was too late to take the jest back now.
“You reckon you can take me. You’re naught but a woman and a skinny one at that, but fine. A fight yous want, a fight yous will get,” the scarred man sneered in returning. Eleanor stepped forwards as an air of calm came over her.
“Don't do this,” Astel whispered to her.
“Don't worry, I've got this big ogre covered. Just check Owen's all right,” She stepped forwards, removing her cloak as she did.
Brennus' eyes widened in surprise at the brashness of her in such an impossible situation.
“Maybe you should listen to your friend,” He suggested.
“A thief with a conscience. That's new,” Eleanor remarked. Brennus grinned quickly before standing to one side as though half protecting Astel, and half making way for the scarred man.
Eleanor looked back at her opponent. “How about you lose the sword?”
"Fine,” he replied before throwing the sword to the ground.
“Do yeh have a name little missy before I show you the back of me hand. Only an idiot would take me on when they're surrounded by armed men that answer to me.”
Eleanor edged slowly forwards. “Yes thank you and you're not going to find out.” She pointed at the men around them.
Without warning the scarred man lunged at Eleanor and his men began to cheer, but his weight made him slow, and Eleanor quickly moved to one side, striking him in the face as she did.
The impact didn't seem to cause the man any pain, but Eleanor's knuckles were throbbing. The man smirked as he realized the pain in Eleanor's features, and slapped her hard across the face with the back of his hand. Eleanor flew to the ground catching herself with her hands.
Astel and Brennus moved forwards as if to check she was OK but stopped as if remembering the situation. Owen was still recovering on the floor.
As the man loomed over her, he whispered in her ear. “I like you on your knees,” he leaned back ready to take another swipe but Eleanor in a fit of uncontrollable rage at this disgusting slime of a man, forgot all her training and rolled out the way, jumped to her feet and ran behind him leaping on his back. She began punching him repeatedly in the head.
“Damn it, geroff me,” he stumbled a bit still struggling with Eleanor before shouting “Kill them all.”
Astel, realizing they were all in mortal peril, muttered an incantation that turned her sword into her staff and she began to zap the archers with what appeared to be li
ghtning from the end of the stone mounted in the top. She moved with such speed and precision that four men were down in the blink of the eye. Owen regained his composure before lunging at the fifth man with a bow, knocking him to the ground before grabbing his sword and stabbing him with it. He then turned and began attacking another bandit.
Eleanor started to feel she was about to lose her grip on her enemy and clung on, drawing blood in the man's neck. He screamed wildly, clawing Eleanor's face to get her off him.
Brennus took his opportunity and lunged forwards towards her with his sword. Eleanor panicked. She couldn't take on two at once and daren't let go of this one to attack Brennus.
Brennus slowed and casually walked towards them.
“Let him go,” he shouted over the commotion.
“Not likely,” She answered.
“Just trust me,” He looked at her square in the eyes.
Not seeing a choice, she let go of her enemy and jumped to the ground rolling away from a stomp to the head. The scarred man turned to face her and smiled evilly.
“What do you say Brennus. Should we finish 'er together?” He sneered.
Eleanor knew she'd made a mistake. Brennus was always the real threat here. Brennus began to walk towards her but turned at the last moment facing his companion.
“I don't think so,” he said as he thrust his sword straight through the scarred man's belly. The man looked shocked for a moment by the betrayal of his trusted comrade before falling to the ground in a heap. Eleanor looked up at Brennus. Fearing she was next.
“We never did like each other did we,” he said to the newly deceased scum bag, before looking back at Eleanor. He smiled his sideways smile at her before turning and attacking another thug. Before Eleanor knew what had hit her, the fight was over and they were victorious. She couldn't believe it. The odds were stacked against them, and yet here they all were unscathed. She pulled herself up out of the dirt she'd fallen in and began to walk towards Astel and Owen who were on the other side of the clearing Astel wiping her swords and Owen checking the dead. She'd managed to get halfway across when she was blocked by Brennus.
