Tor headed up the road towards the man who had hailed them, signalling to Patrick and Brin that they should stay behind and protect the cart. Dal and Cirren took up positions a few paces behind Tor, looking around them for any signs of ambush. As soon as the stranger was close enough to clearly see his features, Tor held up his hand in greeting.
“Hello Captain,” he called out, loud enough for those who had remained behind to hear. Hearing the friendly greeting, they relaxed their stance, but remained vigilant.
“I am surprised to see you here Prince Tor,” Captain Kelly said to him, bowing. “Prince Cirren, Dal,” he continued, dipping his head in greeting. “This area is still being cleared of rebel soldiers who are loyal to their Lords rather than to the crown, so it is not yet safe for travellers.”
Tor dismounted and instructed Dal to return to the others to let them know with whom he was speaking. Cirren too dismounted and strode to his brother’s side. Kelly proceeded to explain his own presence in the area. As a supporter of Duke Gravelle’s attempt to hand the running of Auxland over to the men, the local Lord had persuaded the soldiers billeted nearby to join with him in overthrowing his sister and taking control of the area from her. The local villagers were very unhappy with this development and had informed Kelly and his men of the situation as they rode into view. The Lady had been rescued from inside the manor house, where she was being held captive, and her brother was now dead, though a number of his guards had escaped.
Word of the Duke’s fall from grace had spread like wildfire and people were approaching Kelly and his men everywhere they travelled with tales of men taking over from women by force. This was the first situation involving anyone titled that Kelly had been involved in; up until then it had mainly been small businesses that were being handed back to the rightful owners and the usurpers arrested. Some women had been emboldened upon hearing of the Queen’s move against the Duke, taking matters into their own hands, sometimes with deadly consequences. There were also stories circulating that some of the men who had taken over the running, and therefore the profits, of businesses were willingly standing down before any of the guards or soldiers arrived.
Kelly was happy to inform the Princes that he and his guards were frequently being approached by men who had only pushed their women aside for fear of reprisals if they did not. They thanked the guards openly in the streets, happy to resume the more submissive role as far as business was concerned. Kelly was not alone in fearing that it would take many years to undo the harm the Duke had done to the country, but hearing how much the people stood behind the Queen and the old ways and how much they were prepared to help restore everything to how it was, made him begin to think it would not take very long after all.
“Be careful out there. Many of the guards who were happy to work for their male employer have escaped into the countryside and are probably living as bandits,” Kelly warned them when they had explained to him why they were out in the countryside without an armed escort. “There are other groups of guards and soldiers restoring order, but do not rely on the uniforms to identify who can be trusted.”
“Thank you for the advice. We will be careful,” Tor assured him. “I hope you get peace restored soon.”
“Me too. Good luck in your quest.” The three men said their farewells and Kelly returned to the manor house while Tor and Cirren made their way back to where their friends were waiting for them. They passed on Captain Kelly’s advice and the group headed off in the direction of the old maid’s village once more.
The rest of the journey was uneventful and they eventually arrived, unmolested, at their destination. They were regarded warily as they rode into the village. Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched them pass, but no-one attempted to delay them. The old maid was heading towards the cottage where her family lived, not bothering to stop at the inn or village hall as they rode past them. She had been a young woman when she had left her village in search of adventure, eventually ending up in Tennel where she served as a barmaid for a while before accepting the marriage proposal of a handsome young soldier. He fathered two healthy children, a boy and a girl, before dying of a fever, forcing the young mother to seek work at the palace in order to feed her family. Tibia’s mother was Queen at the time and provided her with not only employment, but rooms at the palace for her and the children, both of whom were sent to school as soon as they reached the correct age. The daughter was now married to a baker and lived in old Tennel while the son had joined the army and was stationed on the northern border. The old maid still had many relatives in this village, cousins, brothers, nieces and nephews, but she did not expect any of them to recognise her.
She was taken completely by surprise when she heard her name called out from across the street. “Ebby? Is that you?” She turned round and saw an elderly man limping across the road towards her. She starred at him, a frown forming on her face, then suddenly she broke into a beaming smile.
“Cousin Egben,” she exclaimed, signalling to Seth to halt the cart. Patrick jumped off his horse and helped her down. As soon as her feet touched the ground she ran towards her cousin and the two were soon embracing. When they parted she took his face in her hands and inspected him closely. “You have not changed much,” she told him. “Except for the grey streaks in the hair and the worry lines on your face.”
“And the size of his belly,” a female voice called out from the doorway of a nearby house.
“Now you know why my hair is going grey,” Egben whispered to his cousin, turning his head to smile slyly at the woman who had called out.
Ebby regarded her over Egben’s shoulder, her jaw dropping when she recognised the face. “You married Jenin?” she asked in surprise. Egben grimaced as he wife walked over to them, greeting Ebby with a hug.
Ebby introduced her relatives to her travelling companions, neglecting to mention that some of them were royalty for fear of making her relatives uneasy, and Egben explained that their son and his family ran the only inn in the village. He escorted them to the establishment while Jenin took Ebby into her house. They had a spare room and would not hear of a relative staying at the inn. The others agreed to all meet up for an evening meal, giving Ebby time to catch up with her family.
While they ate, Tor explained the reason for their visit to the village, enquiring if Egben could recommend someone to guide them to the ruins of the watch-tower. They had been joined by the innkeeper and his wife, who both flinched at Tor’s request. Egben looked down at the food on his plate, but did not eat. “We do not go there anymore,” he said, without looking up. “Nobody heads into the mountains now, not even during the day.”
“Why ever not?” Ebby asked. “We used to spend all our spare time there when we were kids and many a young man shot his first deer near the old ruins.”
“It it no longer safe,” Egben insisted. “There are things living out there now.”
“What could possibly be living there that is so terrifying that not even your bravest men are prepared to venture into the area in search of game?” Patrick asked.
Jenin looked at him as if she pitied his lack of understanding, then uttered just one word.
“Skelks.”
Chapter 29
“Skelks,” Seth almost shouted, choking on his ale. “You are joking?” The look on Jenin’s face told him she was not. “But they are just old wives’ tales used to scare children into behaving. They do not really exist.”
“Apparently they do.” Egben felt all eyes turn towards him and realised he would have to explain. “The mountain is home to herds of wild goats. A few months ago, some of our young men went hunting but they found no wild animals, goat or otherwise. They found many tracks, but nothing living. They had enough provisions with them to last for a number of days so they decided to head further up the mountain. After three days of travelling, they realised they were close to the ruins of the old watch-tower and decided it would be a good place to camp for the night, before heading back down
to the village in the morning. It was growing dark by the time they drew close to the ruins. They spotted the orange glow of a fire and cautiously approached it. Nothing could have prepared them for what they saw. They were creatures from hell; completely black bodies with arms so long they almost reached the ground. The hair on their heads was as black as night and covered them down the complete length of their back. What else could they be, except skelks?”
Patrick looked sceptical. “A few young men spend a few days in the mountain and fail to bring anything back from their hunting expedition. The reason they give is that a tribe of mythical creatures have moved into the old watch-tower and you all believed them?”
“Of course we did not,” Egben snapped. “We ridiculed their story, but something had obviously shaken them. They were exhausted and ashen by the time they returned to the village, having run all of the way back without stopping to eat and only grabbing a few hours sleep when their bodies forced them to.”
His wife took over the story. “The next day, a number of the young men’s friends set out to prove the story false.” She paused, looking down at her fingers as she clenched and unclenched her fists. She continued in a soft voice. “Not all made it back.”
Egben placed his hand over his wife’s and continued with the tale. “Upon hearing that the group had been attacked by vicious creatures, all of the men of the village armed themselves and set off into the mountains in search of the missing men. We found their bodies laying in the open, covered in deep gashes the likes of which I have only ever seen be made by long sharp claws.” He looked towards Patrick. “I ask again. If not skelks, what else could these creatures be?” Patrick did not answer. The old man’s words were making him uneasy.
“Nobody has dared to venture into the mountains since,” Egben’s son said, when he realised his father would say no more. “We have not seen any sign of the creatures near the village, but we sometimes hear them screaming in high pitched voices. Just that sound is enough to strike terror into the heart of the bravest man alive.”
“What will you do now Tor?” Ebby asked, her eyes wide and filled with worry.
Tor was not insulted that she had left off his title; he understood her reasons. He finished his ale before replying. “Tomorrow Cirren and I head into the mountains in search of the secret entrance to the keep.”
Cirren gulped, but did not speak. If he wished to continue with the quest, he would have to accompany Tor, and continuing with the quest was the only way of staying alive.
Tor looked around the table, his eyes asking the question he did not wish to voice. Each person nodded that they would venture onto the mountain with him in the morning.
“Sam is remaining behind,” Brin said before she had chance to nod her agreement. She was about to protest, but Tor got there ahead of her.
“Sorry Brin, but she is the one person we really need to take with us.” He started to challenge the statement, but Tor held up his hand. “I understand how you feel and if I had a choice I would not take any of the ladies with us, but if there really are dangerous creatures out there, Sam may be able to talk to them and convince them that we mean them no harm.”
Brin reluctantly accepted this statement, though he looked far from happy.
“You are all mad,” Egben’s son stated as he rose from the table to help his wife clear away the empty plates.
“I wish I could disagree with you,” Tor replied ruefully.
Everyone went to bed early that night, though none of them slept well. They had faced many dangerous situations before but, for some reason, heading into mountains inhabited by beasts that mothers told stories about to frighten their children into behaving seemed worst than anything they had faced so far on their journey. Breakfast was served early the next morning, but nobody felt much like eating. The terrain would be difficult for horses to traverse so they opted to go on foot. The innkeeper and his wife prepared food for them to take with them; enough for a few days if they ate it sparingly. Water would not be a problem as they would be following the route of a river that ran past the watch-tower. Word had spread during the night and most of the village turned out to watch the strangers venture out onto the mountain. A number of them wished them luck, but the majority either remained silent or called out warnings.
“Why do I feel like they are not expecting to see us again?” Ellen asked as they left the outskirts of the village.
“Do not worry,” Ria replied. “Samson will look after us,” she said, glancing down at the wolf as he trotted beside them. He lifted his head and howled in response. A loud screeching sounded from somewhere far in front of them and they all froze.
“Please do not do that again,” Ellen said to Samson. “There is definitely something out there and I fear it may have just taken your howling as a challenge.”
If wolves could speak he would have said ‘good’. Instead he stuck his nose in the air and ran to the front of the walkers, taking up the leading position. Sam looked up at the mountain they were approaching. There were many trees at the base, obscuring her view of the river, but when she lifted her eye line, she could see it clearly as it twisted its way upwards. Raising her hand to her eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun, she followed the path of the river higher still until she could just make out the ruins of what appeared to be a huge building.
“It looks so close,” she said. “Why will it take us so long to get there?”
Seth answered her. “Sometimes distances can be deceiving. It is a lot further away than it appears and, according to Ebby, the mountain is steep in some places. This is going to be a very tiring journey.”
The trip up the mountain started off pleasantly. Even in the shade of the trees it was warm and a slight breeze kept washing over them, carrying with it the sweet aromas from the blossoms above them. It had taken them longer to reach the base of the mountain than they had expected, making Sam wonder if they should have ridden to it from the village. Once in the trees, the way up sloped so gently they were not even aware that they were climbing. They headed to the right until they found the river, then began to climbing upwards, close to its bank. As they increased their altitude, the trees started to thin. Despite what she had been told, Sam was still expecting the air to become cooler as they ascended, but it was definitely becoming warmer. It was not long before she had to strip down to just her short sleeved blouse and she began wishing she had shorts with her, though she doubted any of the men present would have permitted her to wear them if she had. Samson began to suffer as the morning wore on. He stopped running from one end of the group to the other and ended up walking slowly beside Bellak, his tongue hanging out and panting loudly. Sam pointed out to him that they were walking next to a source of water and if he wanted to cool down, all he had to do was jump in and go for a swim. He looked up at her sheepishly before sliding off the bank and into the refreshingly cool water.
“It brings new meaning to the phrase a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” she commented when she saw the expression on the animals face.
“What?” Brin asked, having never heard the phrase before.
“Never mind. It’s just a phrase from where I come from. There is no point in me trying to explain it.”
Brin shrugged his shoulders and they continued to climb. “You really are a very strange person,” he told her. As the mountain became steeper, climbing became harder and leg muscles began to protest. Eventually the enormous rocks next to the river bank became almost impassable and Tor led the group away from the river in the hope of finding an easier path to follow. When he called a break for lunch, he was met with choruses of ‘at last’ and ‘about time’, which made him grin broadly.
“I thought you were all supposed to be fit,” he called out, then had to duck to avoid the rock that Cirren threw at him. While they ate, they commented on the lack of fresh game trails. There was lots of evidence that wild animals used the river as a watering hole, but none of the tracks were recent.
“There a
re still some wild animals about,” Seth said, pointing towards the base of a tree. A stoat-like creature had just emerged from under its roots and had its head held high, its whiskers twitching as it sniffed the air. It did not detect Samson behind it and screamed in terror as the wolf pounced.
“Samson,” Bellak and Ellen shouted in unison. “Drop it,” the wizard continued. Samson completely disobeyed him. Instead of releasing it, he picked up the inert body and gently carried it in its mouth over to Sam. He dropped it in her lap and whined at her.
She picked it up and examined it. It began to wiggle so she tightened her grip enough to prevent it escaping without hurting it. “It’s not hurt,” she assured the rest of the group. “He wants me to question it about the lack of wildlife in the area.”
She turned the animal around in her hands so that it was facing her and squeaked at it, causing Seth to roll about the ground laughing.
“What is so funny?” Brin asked, springing to Sam’s defence, as she was too preoccupied with the stoat to do it herself.
“Sorry,” the young man said, wiping tears from his eyes. “But she sounds so cute when she squeaks. I just got a mental image of her covered in fur and whiskers.” Brin was not impressed and turned his back on Seth.
“Well,” he asked when Sam released the creature and watched it run back to its burrow.
“‘Big black monsters’ is all I could get out of it. Whatever it saw terrified it more than Samson did.” Nobody commented. There was nothing to say. It was becoming obvious that something was now living in the mountains and whatever it was, it was highly dangerous. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.
When they resumed walking, they started to head away from the water. The hard rocks gave way to areas covered in soft grass and moss and a game trail was spotted. It led away from the water, but it made the climb a lot more manageable, so a vote was called for and the majority decided to follow it. When it changed course and began to head downwards, Brin led the group in the opposite direction, back towards the river once more. He alone could still hear the faint gurgling as the water ran over rocks and stones, so he agreed to act as guide for the next leg of their expedition.
The Maze Page 34
