Between Darkness and the Light

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Between Darkness and the Light Page 31

by Paul T. H. Mitchener


  “Until now,” Mylon continued, “every host has had to fight to host the Wyvern… It had taken all their willpower just to keep hold of it…The Wyvern was as much a threat to the host as it was to anything else…” He paused as if he was trying to find the right words. “It has never protected previous hosts the way it protects you… they needed to call upon the power of the Wyvern in order to fight or to stay safe.” He paused again, gently squeezing Henry’s shoulders. “But you, my friend,” he smiled again, “you are the true host.” He paused once more, allowing Henry to take in the importance of what he had said.

  “The true host,” he repeated, again giving Henry time to process what he was saying. “Bert… Ben and I all agree that you are the host the Wyvern has been waiting for… for centuries… and until now it’s had to make do with what it could find… But in you” – he paused again – “in you, Henry… it’s found its true home.”

  Henry looked dumbstruck. He had no idea that the Wyvern was looking for a home. He always thought that it would leave him once all this mess was over, just like it had throughout history, and everything would go back to normal. “A home,” he repeated and Mylon nodded.

  “Why me?” Henry said, almost to himself. Mylon shook his head but didn’t speak. “How do you know…? I mean, what makes you all so sure that it’s chosen me… It could still leave once it’s finished what it came here to do.” Mylon removed his hands from Henry’s shoulders and turned to look at Grog and Nog who were now listening to their conversation, and then turned back to Henry. “Can I look at your hands?” Henry looked puzzled, but did as he was asked. Mylon took hold of his wrists and turned the palms of his hands upwards. His left hand, which was his prominent, was only slightly blackened by carrying the spear. Mylon examined it a moment. “If the Wyvern wasn’t protecting you, my friend… your whole arm would be infected by now… But it isn’t,” he said, letting go of Henry’s hands. “If you need further proof… just think back to when you and I were attacked by the ground wromp… Did you call upon its powers, or was it just the mere thought of danger that helped you to shield us?”

  Henry turned away from Mylon and the two fluff balls for a moment, a little disturbed by their large, staring eyes. He hadn’t giving it much thought but what Mylon was saying was right: he hadn’t called upon the power, it just came when he needed it. He also hadn’t noticed until now that he no longer had to fight to hold the creature in: in fact, at times he hardly noticed it was there at all, except when he was losing his temper; then he could feel it react to his emotions. The more Henry thought about it, the more sense Mylon made: the spear of Aelfgar hadn’t changed him… Not that he had noticed, anyway. So, the Wyvern must be protecting him. Mylon smiled when Henry turned back to face him. “You are the true host master, my friend… and you’re going to have to learn to live with it.” He now sounded more understanding.

  “Where’s Bree?” Mylon blurted out after realising that she wasn’t there. Henry had no idea where she was. She had said earlier that she was going to get them something to eat and drink before they set off, but hadn’t returned yet. “I’ve no idea where she is,” Henry replied with a hint of concern in his voice. Earlier that day and without saying anything to anyone, Bree had decided that she was not going to put her Henry in any more danger than was necessary. Alfwald was waiting somewhere on the other side of the crossing and was expecting her to return, bringing him with her. She couldn’t think of any other way of protecting him than to try and lead Alfwald in a different direction and lure him away from her Henry, which would hopefully give him and the others a better chance of survival. However necessary it was for her to leave Henry again, she hated the fact that she had lied to him. It burned deep inside her to think that the last words she said to him were lies; but she could see no other way around it. She had to keep him safe and if that meant her losing her life, then so be it. After telling Henry that she was going for food and drinks, she made her way through the trees, looking back with tears in her eyes. She stood for a moment just studying her beloved Henry, trying to take in every detail of his face. It broke her heart knowing that it was likely to be the last time that she would see him. “Be safe, my darling,” she whispered with tears still in her eyes. She hesitated, turned and then disappeared into the trees.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hazel was left feeling exhilarated by the pure beauty of the music of the flute and was spinning around in circles, dancing. Sophia, however, was not: she’d never had to use the flute before, and it left her feeling drained. The power the flute needed to be able to seal off the woodland came from both her and the elements around her – earth, air and water. To call upon such power took a great deal out of the user: in this case, Sophia. She remained sitting on the rock for some time, exhausted, listening to her sister rant on about how beautiful it all was and how she wished she could play it again.

  “Be quiet, sister, and sit down,” she demanded. She’d had just about enough of her sister’s constant ranting. Sophia had never seen her so happy and excited before, and she wasn’t at all sure whether she liked her like this. “Why…? Why should I?” Hazel replied, still spinning about. “I feel wonderful… don’t you?” Sophia got up from the rock tiredly and brushed the moss off her trousers. “Stand still, woman!” she shouted. “You look like an idiot.” This time, Hazel stopped in her tracks. “What on earth has got into you?” Sophia continued in a kind of school ma’am’s voice.

  “Can’t you feel it?” Hazel said whilst spinning around on the spot with her arms stretched up to the sky and eyes closed. “The energy… the pure energy… Can’t you feel it?” Sophia could feel the beauty of the music, but it wasn’t played for entertainment: the flute was used as a tool to help stop the spread of the darkness and his minions. “Stop dancing around and get ready… if we are to have any hope of finding anybody, we have a lot of ground to cover … Messing about like a fool won’t help us find your boy!” Sophia snapped, with her back to her whilst wrapping the flute in a soft cloth and then placing it into a shoulder bag.

  Hazel stopped dancing and walked over to her sister. She placed a hand on her shoulder, and Sophia spun to face her. “Where has all your joy gone?” Hazel asked sadly. “You were always the jolly, happy-go-lucky one… but I sense nothing other than anger and bitterness in you.” She paused, and stood back a little. “Where have you gone, my sister?” For a brief second Sophia showed a saddened expression on her face, a little taken aback by her sister’s sincerity. Brief memories of her younger days and happier times flashed through her mind: she caught herself, realising that she was allowing herself to be drawn into self-pity. It was a weakness that she would not tolerate in others, let alone herself, so she dismissed them in a heartbeat.

  “Well, sister,” she hissed, “a lot of time has passed… and as of late feel I have nothing to celebrate… The world needs our help… so I strongly suggest that our minds stay focused … If not… we may not survive the next few days.” She turned back to her bag. “Get yourself ready… we need to get going!” she snapped. Hazel just stood there a moment whilst watching her sister reorganise her bag. She felt so sorry for her.

  Although she wasn’t completely happy with her own lot, she had always tried to be optimistic in life. Even though she was partly responsible for the terrible situation they were now in, she knew that with time and with help from her son… the host master… one day things could get better. But Sophia seemed to be so full of hatred, and was so angry with the world, it didn’t matter what she said to her sister, it would make no difference to how Sophia felt about the world.

  Sophia was far too gone, and Hazel knew that mere words would make no difference to her now. She would have to find her own way back, but Hazel feared that with everything that was going on around them, could in fact make her sister even more bitter… And that was something she wasn’t going to allow to happen. She would help her sister find her way back, no matter what it took. However, this wasn’t the time or the
place. Her sister was right: if they wished to stay alive, they would have to keep their wits about them and to stay focused, and now that the weather had eased up, it would make it a little easier for them in tracking the elf scouts. She sighed and then started to make herself ready. Once finished, she shouldered her bag and waited for her sister to finish rummaging through hers.

  Now satisfied that Sophia was ready, Hazel took a few steps in the direction of the crossing then waited. Sophia was by far the better tracker of the two, so it would make sense that she took the lead. Without another word, Sophia walked past her; Hazel hesitated, wanting to say something but still couldn’t find the right words. She’d felt the distance between them when she met up with her at her home, and had hoped that with a little time she would come around; but nothing had changed. Sophia was still as bitter and angry with the world, and was taking it out on everyone around her, including her… and it hurt.

  Henry senior was now at the edge of the woodland. He could just see the lights of the town through the trees and sighed with relief. “Home soon,” he thought to himself. “Home, a hot bath and hot food.” He hesitated a moment before stepping out into the open. He wanted to be sure that nothing was following him. He was quite sure that there was nothing to worry about: the only thing he had sensed all morning was the barrier going up around the woodland.

  Another thing he didn’t really understand: he had often wondered how his sister became such a strong user of magic, much stronger than him… Then it suddenly dawned on him… “The barrier” – could he pass through it? Was he also trapped in the woodland along with everything else? Sheer panic rushed through his entire body. He couldn’t be caught without the spearhead, not now. He’d already had a brush with death and had no intention of repeating the experience.

  He gingerly stepped out onto the well-trodden woodland track, no longer concealed by the trees and undergrowth, and feeling more than a little exposed, but if he wanted to get home, he would need to follow the track for nearly a quarter of a mile. The undergrowth here was far too dense to walk through. Then without hesitation, he headed towards the edge of the woodland, walking as fast as he could. Tiny tingles of fear ran down his spine as he imagined he was being watched or followed by any number of nasty things, but he resisted his irrational feeling and didn’t look around, partly because he knew that nothing was there, and partly because he didn’t want to know if there was.

  He continued his pace until he was nearly at the gate that separated the woodland from the town. He slowed now, hesitating, not sure whether or not to walk up to the gate and just walk right through. He stopped just as he got to the gate, doubt replacing his determination. He could sense that the barrier his sisters had put up was a strong one, and it would take a powerful magic indeed to pass through it, or, he thought, “the right kind of magic”. Should he just go for it? “Surely,” he thought, “his sisters’ powers wouldn’t harm him… He was born with the same kind of magic as they had but, unfortunately, was not as strong.” He hesitated a second longer and looked around, still concerned for his safety. “Oh… bugger it,” he said out loud as he grabbed the latch of the gate and with new determination opened it.

  To his surprise and joy, the gate opened and he walked right through without any repercussions. He closed the gate quickly behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. After shutting the gate, he just stood holding it, looking back into the darkness he had left behind. He had made it home safely and for the first time in days, he felt a sense of relief knowing that Alfwald and his followers were now trapped within the woodland, and unlike him, had no way to escape its confines. Looking back into the darkness of the dense trees, he was still unsure whether or not he had been followed. He didn’t trust his senses, having neglected them for far too long, but now was quite satisfied that he was in the clear. He turned and headed up the short, steep slope to the pathway that led him to his home.

  Once back in the town, it took Henry senior only a few minutes to get to his house. He was now feeling a lot more comfortable in the built-up urban environment and smiled to himself as he walked past neatly trimmed hedges and mowed lawns. To his surprise and for the first time, he realised how controlling people were, himself included. Not content in just finding new ways to control the environment in general, they mowed their lawns, cut their hedges and potted their plants; they all looked nice and neat but in reality they were controlling nature. His own house was quite a large, grand affair and was also well groomed and maintained. The large, double iron gates led up a wide gravel driveway to a double garage which had more than enough room to house his Mercedes, which he used as his everyday car, and which was now lying in a ditch alongside the road somewhere, and his favourite classic Aston Martin.

  The house itself was far too large for just one person to live in, but Henry had learned early on that in the human world it was almost expected for the wealthy to show how wealthy they were by the cars they drove and the size of their houses. Henry was no exception. However, in his case, it really did show off his wealth; in fact some would say that he showed it off a little too much by his fully landscaped garden, indoor swimming pool and new expensive cars every year, which, not surprisingly, didn’t make him that popular among his peers. However, it didn’t seem to bother him: to him, they were just passing phases and had no real importance in his life. If it proved useful in knowing someone, then he would be courteous to them, but he had never held social events or even gone to any. He had a few invites when he first moved in, but didn’t bother to reply – not because he didn’t want to, but more due to the fact that he wasn’t human and was not brought up the same way they were, and his social skills, to say the least, were very poor.

  But his home said it all: it had seven bedrooms and numerous en suites, a poolroom and a large indoor heated swimming pool, all of which he never used, except the pool. In fact, he lived in one of the smaller downstairs rooms, the kitchen and one of the smaller bedrooms: the rest were simply for show.

  He made his way tiredly up the gravel driveway to his large front door and fumbled around in his pocket for his keys for a second before realising that they were on the same key ring as his car keys and he had left them in his car. “Bugger,” he said out loud. “Bugger… bugger and bugger again,” he cursed but luckily Henry had employed a handyman, aptly named James, who lived in a small lodge at the back of his property. He sighed and made his way around the back of his home and was pleased to see that the lodge lights were on, indicating that James was in.

  He walked up to the window and glanced in. James was perched on the edge of his sofa, his nose only inches from the TV screen playing a game on his Xbox with the volume turned up loud. Henry gave a hard tap on the window; however, James didn’t seem to hear so Henry tapped harder and called out. This time, James heard him and put up his hand in acknowledgement before stopping the game. He got up and disappeared into the hallway, and moments later he opened the door. James was a young, slightly built lad somewhere in his mid-twenties, with short, cropped hair and tattoos on both arms.

  “Mr H,” he said, sounding a little concerned. “Where on earth ave you been…? I mean, are you alright…? I was worried when I heard they found ya car banged up and all… I mean, it must have been terrible with all them dead bodies.” James had a rather strong London accent and was always very loud with it. Henry didn’t seem to be listening to what James was saying: he was tired and had no time for idle chit-chat. They had never been close. James was the handyman and Henry was the boss, and luckily James liked to keep himself to himself, which suited Henry well.

  “The police have been looking for ya… been back a couple of times, they ave… and told me to call them if and when ya got back.” It then dawned on Henry: the “accident”.

  He hadn’t given it much thought, of course the police are `going to be looking for him: his car must have been found by another motorist and then the accident reported to the police, and once on the scene they would have found the remains
of the two men who tried to help him. He knew only too well that it didn’t look like any normal accident, and it would be only too obvious to anyone that the two men were murdered. His car being found at the scene and his disappearance put him firmly in the frame.

  “I’m fine, thanks… but I haven’t any keys to get in… left them in my car…Would you get the spares for me?” James frowned. “Are you sure you’re alright, Mr H…? I mean, you look dreadful,” he said, looking at the cut on Henry’s head. “Has anyone looked at that cut of yours…? Someone should, ya know.” Henry touched the cut and flinched: it still hurt and James was right, it was a bad knock and it needed attention, but until now he hadn’t the time, and now it seemed as if he wanted to avoid awkward and difficult questions by the police it would have to wait. His plans for a bath and a night in had all gone up in flames. He had to avoid the police at all costs. How could anyone possibly even try to explain what really happened? So, he quickly decided that he would shower, grab a fresh change of clothes, retrieve the spearhead and disappear… That is, until he could find an explanation for the police.

  James reappeared at the door, holding a bunch of keys. “Are ya sure ya don’t need help?” he enquired. Henry smiled. “No thanks… but you could do me a big favour,” he asked. “Anything, Mr H,” James replied joyfully. “Don’t phone the police… and as far as you’re concerned… I was never here.” James smiled. “No worries, Mr H… just leave them to me.” Henry studied him a moment and was convinced that he meant it; he didn’t know James’s background but he knew that he had no love for the police. Henry patted him on the shoulder. “There’s a bonus coming your way this Christmas, my lad.”

 

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