Yarg stepped around them, only to have the butterflies flow in front of him. They darted forward, returned, darted forward again.
“I’d say they want us to follow them,” said Folgoo drily.
The two adventurers gave in to the silent demand and set off after their fluttering guides. Yarg stared around him as they walked, having lost none of his fascination with the shining gossamer adorning the foliage.
The butterflies eventually stopped and hovered in the air at the edge of a clearing. Yarg and Folgoo came to a halt as well, and stared before them in wonder. In the centre of the clearing was an enclosure made of shining glass. Puzzled, Yarg moved closer. He could see himself clearly reflected in the glass, and yet the wall in front of him was transparent—he could see through and beyond it, into the valley.
Yarg’s gaze was drawn to the centre of the glass enclosure where a unicorn was standing in front of a large orb, silently watching the images it held of young children laughing and playing.
“These are the innocents of the mortal world,” Litchen said without looking at them. “Their hearts are filled with the ability to love unconditionally. It’s my job to protect them, to ensure that mortal children keep that special innocence for as long as possible.”
The group remained silent as images continued to flicker across the orb. Finally, Litchen spoke again, although he had yet to look at them.
“I know what brings you here, Yarg. For me to give you The Essence of Innocence, you must have innocence. And I must tell you that I have reason to doubt that I would find any left in one such as you.”
“Uhm, I don’t know what to say Litchen,” whispered Yarg, because in his heart he also had doubt.
Folgoo shook his head in disagreement. “I’ve only known Yarg for a short time, but I know that he has good in him.”
“I don’t doubt the good, just the innocence,” said Litchen, his voice oddly flat as he finally turned to face them.
Yarg and Folgoo stared at him. The unicorn was the most dazzling magical creature they had ever seen. His body was large, but graceful. Yarg could see the rippling of well-developed muscles beneath the dazzling white coat. His hooves weren’t the same as Folgoo’s—they were cloven, like two large toes that were almost joined, and he had a long sleek tail that flicked rhythmically from side to side.
The pure beauty of his face was enhanced by the hint of a white goatee beard on his chin and the slender spiral horn that arched from his forehead. His eyes were swirling silver, so captivating that Yarg found he wanted nothing more than just to look into them.
Folgoo shook his head and lowered his eyes to the floor, trying to break the hold that Litchen’s eyes seemed to be having on him. He nudged Yarg. “Look at the ground, Yarg,” he said.
Litchen laughed at Folgoo’s words. “Afraid, centaur?” he taunted in a soft voice.
Folgoo shook his head in denial.
Yarg didn’t know what Folgoo had felt, but he’d come to trust the centaur. He dropped his gaze and stared at the floor. Litchen laughed anew at his small act of obedience.
“I will bring you no harm. Our work here is to protect, remember.”
Folgoo sent a quick glance at him. “There are others here?”
“Mr. Twilight, the Sandman, the Book Babies, a few more,” he said in an offhand manner. “But come, you must be in need of some food and drink.”
They walked with Litchen until they came to an area where huge comfy couches were arranged in a horse-shoe pattern around a massive stone plinth that bore a large piece of wood across it. Yarg sank into one of the couches with a sigh. This is nice, he thought, reaching for one of the fat cushions that littered the couches and placing it on his lap.
Litchen lowered himself onto a huge cushion on the floor, and motioned to Folgoo to follow suit. He had just stretched out and was looking very relaxed when the butterflies appeared again, leading a man clothed from head to foot in a black coat that sparkled with a shimmering glittering glimmer.
Before he could think better of it, Yarg blurted out, “Are you a wizard?”
The man laughed. “No, I’m Mr Twilight” he said, seating himself across from Yarg. “It’s my job to pull down the twilight at the end of each day, giving children something to wonder about in the evening’s dusk. Have you heard that the hour of twilight is bewitching? Well, that’s my work.”
Fancy living all this time in the immortal realm and not knowing that twilight arrived every day because there was actually a magical being making it happen, Yarg thought.
Litchen grinned as if Yarg had spoken aloud.
“Where are the others?” asked Yarg, looking around.
“They will be doing what they do,” said Litchen.
“And what is it that the Book Babies do?” asked Folgoo curiously.
“Ah,” said Litchen, “the Book Babies carefully cultivate the love of reading in children. They attract children to particular books and lead them on a magical adventure through the words written on the pages. They are the ones who allow the different characters to become alive to children.”
Yarg looked at Litchen, respect in his eyes. Lichen pointed his horn at the table, and a feast of nuts, berries and pieces of fruit appeared on it. Another nod and water appeared in two stone cups. There was silence for a while as Folgoo and Yarg gratefully refreshed themselves, then Litchen called to Yarg: “Come Yarg, we have work to do, you and I.”
Folgoo started to stand, but Litchen waved him down again. Folgoo stood nevertheless once they moved out of sight. He followed as Litchen led Yarg back to the orb, then he hid behind a large tree at the edge of the clearing where he could watch without being seen. Yarg came to stand before Litchen. He lowered his eyes again.
“No,” said Litchen as he moved closer to Yarg. “If I am to determine your innocence, then I must look deep into your eyes. After all, the eyes are the windows to one’s soul. Children’s eyes show innocence because their hearts know no malice. If a mortal child is harmed to the extent that they lose that innocence before they reach adulthood, then the one that hurt them will one day be brought to regret it deeply. No child can be harmed without serious repercussions. A judgment day awaits the mortal realm.”
Litchen locked his gaze with Yarg’s, and Yarg had the strange sensation that the unicorn was inside his mind. He was held captive by those swirling eyes as flashes of memories chased through his head.
“Do you know the difference between good and innocence, Yarg? No? Well, let me tell you. Innocence is freedom. Children are innocent because they are free from the knowledge of real badness. Their lack of worldliness and sophistication ensures their innocence. Now good is another thing altogether.”
He paused and Yarg felt the hold on his mind released a little.
“You have much mischief in you,” Litchen said in a musing tone, “but you have courage. Even though you are a troll, you have strong convictions about right and wrong, and you have honour, even more of a rarity in your kind. I can see that your past actions have been well meaning,” he paused again and then added drily, “for the most part.”
The unicorn’s tone became serious again.
“You have often been selfish, but those acts were made through ignorance. Despite your many mischievous troll pranks, you have only sought to hurt one living being. The fairy Kaylin. Tell me, Yarg, why would you hurt her so?”
Yarg offered no answer, so Litchen continued, “She opposed you, where none had dared before, so you turned your anger upon her. That was not your best hour, Yarg.”
Litchen stopped talking as he again concentrated on Yarg’s memories. Then Litchen withdrew his mind from Yarg’s. The moment he did, Yarg fell to the ground.
Concerned, Folgoo hurried to Yarg. He stretched out his hand intending to help Yarg stand, but Litchen stopped him. “Don’t touch him for a few m
oments or his memories will become yours.”
Folgoo pulled his hand back.
“It’s the effects from my mind sieving through his. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine in a few moments.”
Litchen turned away from them and stared at the orb again as he waited for Yarg to recover. After a few moments, Yarg stood up. He swayed, but Folgoo put his hand out and steadied him.
“I have reached a decision, Yarg. I think that in your heart of hearts you are good, and although you don’t have a lot of innocence left, there is still enough for me to give you your token.”
Yarg sighed deeply. He felt drained.
Litchen pointed his horn towards the orb and a small vial filled with a mixture of swirling silver appeared in Yarg’s hand.
“That is The Essence of Innocence. Guard it well, for it is very valuable. There are those who wouldn’t think twice about taking something so precious away from you.”
Yarg stared at the vial in his hand. “So you really believe that I am good?” he asked hoarsely.
“I know your heart, Yarg. Go in peace, brother.”
Yarg inclined his head in a gesture of respect. “Thanks,” he whispered as he turned away from Litchen and started out of the unicorn’s domain.
Folgoo followed, but they didn’t stop until they had reached the border of Litchen’s land.
“I think that we should rest somewhere,” said Folgoo, looking around him, but Yarg shook his head.
“I have to save Kaylin, now more than ever.”
“Sure, Yarg,” Folgoo said with resignation. “Which token is next?”
“Mystical Music.”
“Uhm, Sik the Satyr and his wood nymphs have the ability to create and play mystical music. I think we need to go to Ashtree Woodlands.”
Yarg smiled at Folgoo. “His name is Sik?” he teased as he put his hand on Folgoo’s back.
Yarg closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was standing before a gentle waterfall that was flowing from a tree trunk.
“I’ve never seen water flow from a tree before,” he said.
9
Sik and His Nymphs
The Ashtree Woodlands were really beautiful, thought Yarg, as he stepped closer to the waterfall that flowed into a pool at the base of the tree before him. The water was enticing, so Yarg sat down and put his hand in it. Coolness trickled through his fingers as he moved them lazily through the gentle pool. Soothed, he closed his eyes. As he began to drift gently off to sleep, he was distantly aware of Folgoo’s faint snores.
Someone sleeps the sleep of dreams
Someone seeks the dream of dreams
Someone knows what I do not
Someone knows what he cannot
The soft tune woke Yarg up. It niggled until he opened his eyes. All he could make out in his half-asleep stage was a head—a beautiful young face, small pointy ears. She—for that delicate beauty must surely belong to a female—was staring down at him. Yarg blinked, but she was still there when his eyes opened again. She smiled at him and then ran off, disappearing into a group of trees. He could hear her giggling, but he could no longer see her. He sat up and shook Folgoo until the centaur opened his eyes.
“We’re not alone.”
Folgoo yawned. “Who?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Yarg replied.
Folgoo scanned the scene around them. “Where?” he continued.
“She ran off—in that direction,” Yarg said, waving a hand in the general direction of the trees.
As Yarg and Folgoo started to stand up, a tall satyr strode out from the trees.
“Visitors. How odd,” he drawled, stopping in front of them, a little too close for Yarg’s comfort.
Yarg had never seen a satyr before—they jealously guarded their privacy, hardly allowing others close for fear they might try to steal their nymphs. This one stood proudly. His upper body was quite muscular, with broad shoulders that slouched, creating a slight bulge across his stomach. He stood on two equally muscular legs, the hair on them thick enough to be called fur. High on either side of his forehead were short black horns that looked as if they’d been plucked off a goat and glued on. His hair was long, dark and curly, and he had two pointed ears that drooped down towards his shoulders. His lean face was dominated by expressive hazel eyes that were now staring hard at the two travellers.
Yarg said the first thing that popped into his mind. “Is she one of your nymphs?” he asked, pointing towards the spot he’d seen her last.
“She is none of your business!” snapped the satyr. “I am Sik. Who are you, and what do you want in my woodlands?”
“Oh, sorry, my name is Yarg, and this is Folgoo,” he said gesturing to Folgoo, who now stood beside him.
“Well, that answers one of my questions,” he said demandingly. “What do you want here?” he repeated.
“You don’t know?” asked Yarg, surprised. “I thought that the grapevine would have spread my story through all the realms by now.”
“Famous, are you?” sneered the satyr.
“Never mind Yarg, he just thought that you’d perhaps heard of a troll on a special quest,” offered Folgoo in a diplomatic tone.
“I’m on a quest to save a fairy named Kaylin,” explained Yarg. “Nemesis bid me retrieve some tokens so that I might save her and redeem myself.”
The satyr relaxed visibly at the mention of the great dragon.
“Oh were you a naughty troll, then?” said Sik over his shoulder as he walked back towards the grove of trees. Yarg and Folgoo glanced at each other, then set off after him.
“Tell me what you know of satyrs, Folgoo,” whispered Yarg as they walked.
“They are fascinating creatures, full of contradictions. Be careful what you say to a satyr, Yarg, they have strong tempers. Their sense of humour is something of an acquired taste—they tease and insult, and can be very sarcastic. They love the unconventional and revel in the unique. They defy logic on purpose. They are extremely passionate about anything that interests them, and although they can be blunt, with no thought to another’s feelings, they also have an inexplicable charm, which is why their nymphs stay with them. They’re very good with animals and they love to have them around. They never lie. They have the ability to create the most beautiful or the most haunting melodies ever known, depending on their mood. And they have one great philosophy—if you believe that all will be well with your world, then it shall be.”
“Whispering about me, then?” queried Sik as he stopped in the centre of a clearing.
Without waiting for an answer, he lifted a set of panpipes to his lips and let out a quick, light tune. From out of the trees appeared six beautiful nymphs. They wore floating long dresses of purest white. Garlands of flowers were woven through hair that flowed down their backs to their knees. They had delicate faces and tiny pointy ears.
Tiny dragonflies flew out behind the nymphs to hover around them.
The nymphs ran towards Sik, joining hands and dancing around him, softly humming melodies. He let out another short trill on the pipes and the nymphs stopped dancing.
“Ah, my pretties, meet Yarg the troll and Folgoo the centaur,” he said.
“Let’s dance,” said one reaching for Sik’s arm.
“No, let’s make music,” another said.
“I want to go swimming,” from a third.
“I want to play Hide and Seek.”
Sik laughed with delight, then said, “First we must help our friends.”
The nymphs looked enquiringly at Yarg and Folgoo.
“I need something from you, a token of mystical music,” Yarg explained.
“Ooohh, that’s a big one,” said the nymph closest to Sik.
Sik smiled a small, roguish smile. “I can grant you a piece of mystical
music, although I don’t have the ingredients for it—only you can provide those,” he said, giving Yarg a long look.
“What ingredients do you need?” Yarg asked.
“Music is an expression of life. Your emotions are tied into the mixture. For example, if you were feeling happy, then your music would be light and fun and uplifting. But if you were in a bad mood, your music might be darker with more boom, boom, boom at the end of it. Understand what I mean?”
“But what ingredients do you need?” Yarg asked, a hint of frustration leaking into his voice.
“I just told you. Didn’t you hear me?”
Yarg growled, his frustration now very obvious.
Controlling his urge to lash out at the satyr, he asked, “Tell me again, please.”
“Let’s go s-l-o-w-l-y, for the b-i-g t-r-o-l-l, shall we,” he said, laughing. “If you want a piece of music, you must decide what should go into it. Your heart has the answer.”
Yarg growled again, and sent a look of exasperation to Folgoo.
Folgoo’s mouth twitched, but his voice was steady as he explained.
“You want something to set Kaylin free, so maybe you need to put something light and fun into your mystical melody. Something inspiring … stirring. Something that will reassure and draw her, make her want to live again.”
Yarg looked at Folgoo as if the centaur had lost his mind. “And just how would I do that?”
Folgoo rolled his eyes. “Bring it out from inside you. Just think something light, something to bring Kaylin back.”
Yarg turned to Sik. “Did you understand that? Something light.”
“Okay, that sounds good. Now give it to me and my nymphs will help you.”
“What is he talking about now?” he said to Folgoo. “What must I give him?”
Sik laughed aloud. “How does one get lightness?” he prompted.
“If I knew I wouldn’t have asked!” snarled Yarg.
Nemesis and the Troll King Page 10
