‘Too many plants to get trapped in, and besides, it’s not deep enough. We would not get far,’ she answered and peered around to find the best way. ‘But look, there is not much water over there anymore, not many sods either, but I do see some grass-like plants, those with the white plumes. But they can stand in mud all the same, so I don’t know that it’s safe to go to.’ She gazed doubtfully at Artride.
‘To be honest, My Lady, it does not appear to be safe at all to go on. We could drown in here.’
Artride’s face showed a flicker of fear, but she was persistent. ‘There is no other way is there?’
‘No, but – ’
‘So let’s try it further shall we?’ Tirsa bit her lower lip and nodded, content with her answer.
She tried to walk fast and light-footed despite the heavy backpack, followed closely by the queen, who more then once almost fell and sank to her knees, because the sods Tirsa had stood on sank before Artride could step on them.
At one time she sank to her waist, so deep that she could only get one leg loose. Tirsa tried to pull her out and after some time her foot came free with a sucking sound, but without a boot. She fell forward and with help she got up on a steady piece of soil; tired, desperate and covered with smelly mud and with tear-stung eyes. ‘I hate this stinking place!’ and she scratched some mud from her tunic and threw it back with force.
‘Don’t give up, Artride. We’re almost there,’ she tried to encourage her. And she gave her a steady hand before they went on and held on to her. Tirsa had her eyes focused on the other side where the trees were, and had her hopes there while Artride; looking around at the discouraging smelly place with its buzzing flies and mosquitoes, and its many sinking spots, felt heavy and drawn to the mud beneath her; pulling her legs and feeling down. She tried not to think about it, but looked at Tirsa and saw how full of hope she was; but she kept thinking, What if there is no way out of here?
Tirsa felt her arm stretching and dropping and the hand of Artride tightening. When she looked down she saw her sinking in the mud again; already to her hips, struggling to get loose. Tirsa was up to her knees in the mud, but with steady soil underneath her.
‘It is pulling at me, Tirsa. I cannot get loose!’
‘Hold on, I will pull you out again.’ And she leaned backwards and pulled. Artride fell forward, but her legs did not loosen a bit. Instead her entire body was under and she tried to keep her head above the closing dark mud. ‘Tirsa, it’s a swamp!’
She could not fathom that. A swamp? If so, why for one did she not sink? She did not understand why this happened to Artride while she only sank as far as her knees, and only realized the seriousness of the situation when she could not drag Artride out, not one inch. ‘My legs are stuck, I cannot move!’ she breathed heavily. Tirsa did not let go of her hand and grabbed the other as well, pulling with all her strength. She fell backwards and panicked when she saw it did not do any good. Tirsa stood up, covered with the dark mud and looked at Artride whose face was set in scorn and fear. What if she drowns here? What if we lose her?
At that moment Tirsa lost her own hope and she began to sink and felt the sucking mud pulling at her legs, like a wide fishlike mouth.
She understood.
Artride saw her face getting brighter and happy. ‘No, we are in a magical land, Artride! This might be a swamp, but it can’t be a normal swamp, because I’m not sinking, not until I lost my hope!’
She thought about that and felt ashamed when she saw Tirsa struggling to get her out, while she had lost her hope so soon.
‘Come on, help me,’ Tirsa commanded. ‘Have faith in yourself!’
But the queen felt something hard sticking into her thigh and pulled it out of the mud to look at it. She screamed with fear when she recognized it; it was a hand, half-rotten away, greasy and muddy, a human hand. Quickly she threw it away.
‘No, do not be afraid, Artride! Just see it as a token, not as something to scare you! This will only happen when you make it so! Fight it!’
After a fleeting moment Artride regained composure and realized she was right.
She felt a new feeling rushing through her body, faith and trust, not only in her bodyguard, but mainly in herself and their aim. We will succeed. We will find our way through this! she thought, even with her chin up to mud, but her eyes were sharp and focused again.
Instead she visualized herself being in water and that she had the power to swim and rise if she wanted to. Slowly she felt the mud-mouth losing its grip.
Tirsa was still pulling and when Artride screamed, ‘Now, Tirsa, pull harder!’ she slid out of the mud towards her companion who caught her and pulled her onto more solid ground. There they waded quickly through the thick mud, no longer sinking, to the side where the trees stood. Exhausted, they dragged themselves onto the roots and up.
There, on the solid grassy ground they rested and came to their senses. Breathing fast Artride laughed and cried at the same time. Both were soaked, covered in chocolate brown mud and smelly. Artride’s face was full of mud stains and drops of sweat, and her dark braid was fluffy and moist and clutched to her skull, while her clothes, once colourful and clean were now stained with dark mud. Tirsa was not much better off; half sitting, leaning, panting, using the rucksack as a cushion.
They just sat, panting, trying to calm down and looking at one another. Artride fell silent and glanced numbly at the swamp, but Tirsa had a triumphal expression on her face. ‘We have crossed a swamp – probably magical – and still are able to tell it!’ she said. Artride did not respond, just sighed and was near to tears.
‘Isn’t that a reason to be pleased about? I mean we have crossed a magical swamp; most likely another protected area, but we have outwitted it.’
‘I guess so.’
‘I guess so? Artride, we are alive!’ she said incredulously. ‘I have a feeling not every traveller here in Dochas can say the same. I bet if they would dry this swamp and start digging we would find a lot more bodies than just that one hand.’
Tirsa saw a tear rolling down the queen’s dirty cheek when she looked at her, which left a small clear stream among the dark stains. ‘I almost gave up. You found out it was magical in spite of all the warnings Roalda gave us. It did not cross my mind anymore until you mentioned it.’
Tirsa had an urge to touch her to give her consolation, but instead smiled at her with an encouraging twinkle in her eyes, looking bright green as young saplings in the sun.
‘But you did not. Almost is not quite.’
She smiled faintly with gleaming grateful eyes. You are not my bodyguard, Tirsa. You are my saviour.
‘We smell!’ the blonde woman suddenly called out and stood, checking the backpack which was soaked. The food, which was packed in paper was even drenched with mud as was the map, their two blankets and the extra clothes. They decided to throw it all away accept for their blankets and the water bag, for even the clothes were so dirty and they had no soap to wash them with. They would just attract a lot of unwanted insects. The clothes they wore were no better; their once colourful outfit had an overall dark brown colour now and they looked like peasants.
‘We are really going undercover now!’ Tirsa tried to cheer her up.
They decided to find a place to try to wash both the clothes and themselves. And the nights were still chilly, so they were better off with a smelly blanket than with none.
Artride took off her one left knee boot and threw it into the swamp as well. Almost immediately the mud closed in the boot and devoured it. ‘It is like we are feeding it,’ she said with a swallowed breath and stared at Tirsa, who was pulling her own boots off and extended them to her. She stared away and silently remarked. ‘No, Tirsa you will need them just the same.’
‘My feet are used to walking barefoot, please take them.’
‘Tirsa, I cannot.’
‘I insist.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive. The soles on my feet are rock hard; like ol
d leather.’ And she laughed.
She sighed and reached for them.
‘Only because my feet are not and to end a discussion. I hate arguing.’
Tirsa nodded while Artride put on her boots, which fitted her perfectly. She decided to throw her helmet away as well.
‘We seem to lose more and more on our way,’ The queen concluded, shivering against the cold, walking fast through the thin birch wood.
‘Our horses, our weapons, our clothes, our … food. How will we find food in here while we cannot trust anything?’
Tirsa tried to sound strong when she remarked, ‘Like the animals here do; we follow our instinct.’
CHAPTER 10
CLOSER
A guiding star leads the way, past clouds of secrecy
Where to? Closer.
Only those that dare can. And time will tell.
If time is patient enough …
Dashim drew a deep breath to let in the little fresh air that was to be found in the damp, hot kitchen. There was a small round opening in the stone ceiling, just enough for the vapour to escape to who knows where. In the beginning, some four autumns ago, the thought of escaping had been with him day and night, despite the strong magic getting a grip of his very being. However, soon he found out it was impossible to flee; if he still had wanted to. His freewill was taken from him; somewhere in a light corner of his shadowed mind he understood that, but fighting for regaining his true self was not worth the effort anymore.
As he watched the white smoke plumes going up, in a far end of his thinning memories he knew there had been a spell he’d once known to become one with the essence of the smoke, containing water and air elements, and let himself rise. But why would he want to remember?
Slowly he placed a deep ceramic plate on the stove, and looked up at Branco, the greenish, well trained Woodchild, cutting strange vegetables. Outside, perhaps they would have been friends, but not here. Here they endured each other, like the rest did. In his dream state Dashim still felt lonely, because he was the only one of his race. He was a grown Windchild; a carrier of messages of the many voices of the wind. Ancient and once untouchable – until she came along.
A beautiful maiden easily tricked the fair-haired, tall, handsome lad; a woman of human origin, and when he awoke he found himself trapped within an enormous cave; one of the most horrible places to be for a Windchild. There, where there is no wild wind, no appealing memories and tales to be brought to him and carried further. There, where there is silence, boredom sets in. Moreover his magic abilities were taken from him. There were others like him here; slaves to the enchanting queen of Dochas. But many got sick and died of Windhunger and misery. He was the last Windchild still alive in here, but a few Woodchildren were brought in to replace his dead relatives.
He did not hate her – if only a Windchild could hate. It was impossible to think clearly these days without the wind; there had been a thick heavy cloud inside his head ever since and the memories of his family and friends grew thinner with the years, as with his memories of clouds and freedom. The most important person and goal in his life was the queen now. She was the wind and the clouds now filling his mind. She was in his mind constantly and when she called for him, he felt his aching hunger stilled if only for a moment.
Like the others he made her life easier; he had different chores, practical and very earthbound – washing dishes, cleaning the floor, changing the beds and sometimes she wanted him in her bed beside her, lusting for his mysterious, enchanting beauty and craving his yearning for her, their bodies like a storm together. She was careful with him though, since the other Windchildren died of pure misery. For she liked him too well to lose him, so she did not seem to make it too hard on him and only gave him light chores, and treated him like a rare collectors’ item. He did not have to cook dinner, for she knew it would sicken him. Windchildren did not eat, just drank pure water, preferable rain, which she served during his special visits. The wind and rain contained all for them.
He just brought her food and kept her company on her request while she ate her light meals of strange fruits and vegetables to keep her body fit to help her spell work. She loved to have him around her, as she loved to be surrounded by beauty. Sometimes, she would want to hear him sing, his voice was rich and could reach notes high and low. He guessed she was mild to him partly because he was rare here in the cave, and perhaps she felt proud of having him – once a free spirit – now captured and all for herself. One thing was certain; she adored and cherished him and often called him ‘my darling’. In a way she did care for him. Perhaps that kept him going too; to be wanted.
Despite the admiration of the powerful woman who worked in mysterious ways and her spell she held on him, Dashim was still strong enough to miss the wind and his freedom. Only when he was with her, did he forget all about his former life. She was the air and wind for him now, even if she was demanding and sometimes a little bizarre.
~ ~ ~
The evening was cold in the harsh open mountainous terrain, and it was hard to find a suitable place to make camp. The rough wind was blowing constantly now and made their heads heavy and their ears ring. The two women had only found a small stream of water; barely enough to wash themselves in, but enough to satisfy their thirst with. The muck on their clothes had dried and movement proved difficult with every step they took.
They ate some leaves from a plant Tirsa knew was edible. It barely filled their stomachs, though. Tired, hungry and dirty they lay down beside a huge rock to hide from the ever-present wind.
Artride shivered underneath her moist blanket and tried to ignore the annoying itch she felt all over her skin, and stared at the cloudy dark sky; occasionally she could see stars in the distance. The wind was rustling along the tall grass and felt cold and unwelcome. She was very silent and Tirsa felt she had to do something to lighten up her mood. But how?
‘Did you know I have a sister?’ Tirsa started with chattering teeth close beside her, still gazing at the passing clouds and stars. They hadn’t been able to find wood to make a campfire, so instead they lay quite close to each other with their moist blankets wrapped around them tightly.
‘I remember you mentioned her, yes,’ The queen remarked with a tiny dull voice; obviously she was tired, but didn’t want to be rough with her bodyguard.
‘We always camped together until she left the house to start her own travels. She used to tell me amazing stories in the evening. She was very much like a mother to me, my mother always being a bit locked up in her own world.’ And grief.
‘Is she much older than you?’
‘Four years, and she was the best and dearest friend I had during my childhood. She taught me a great deal and we shared our secrets.’ She could feel Artride smiling, although she could only see her pale face dimly in the little light the stars gave; her midnight blue eyes sparkling like stars themselves.
After a short silence the queen said, ‘Please go on Tirsa.’
‘Well, I just sort of miss her, now more than ever, perhaps because you remind me a little of her. I somehow feel she is close; silly huh?’
So she sees me as a sister? Well, that is certainly an improvement.
‘I feel honoured, Tirsa,’ she said gravely. ‘I never had any sister or brother, so I value friendships even more. I was a very lonely child; even though there where always people surrounding me. Mostly servants, nannies, teachers; but no one I could feel at ease with or relate to, but my father.’ And as she suddenly realised she did not want to talk about herself, she added, ‘So tell me, where does your sister live these days?’
‘Last time I saw her was about three years ago when my mother turned ‘half a century’, and at that time she was heading for Oecandria in the north, so I assume she has settled down there.’
‘Three years? That is a long time.’
Tirsa sighed and agreed.
‘She doesn’t even know what happened to me in the meantime and what is happening right now, and to he
r brother.’ She realised she was no part of her life anymore. That saddened her.
It was like Artride read her mind when she asked, ‘Maybe she will head for Ceartas when she finds out about Elimar.’
‘Oh, I am sure she will, if she hears the news, but that’s hardly likely.’ And she shrugged and pulled the fabric closer to her body. Artride felt her shivering and wanted desperately to put her arms around her.
‘Did she not have the ambition to become a knight herself?’
‘No, she is very much a free spirit and doesn’t want to belong to any organisation or have any strings attached, and besides, she didn’t see our father get killed. She could always distance herself more than I could and she had already left home when those knights from Ceartas came along to fill my head with all those adventures.’ She paused and laughed silently. ‘My mother would surely have had a heart attack if both of her daughters had become warriors.’
It felt good to hear the light, pleasant laugh of Artride close to her ears. It warmed her all over.
‘Well, I can imagine the fear of your mother. Her husband, after all, had been a warrior and was slain, and I am sure he didn’t choose to live his life far away from civilisation for nothing?’
‘Hmm, he did not tell much about his warrior past ... well I was just a small child then, but my mother told me about the nightmares he had the first years they spent together when he just left the army. He just wanted to forget.’
‘Do you think he would have warned you not to join?’
That was a hard question for her and she had to think about it for a while.
Quietly she responded, ‘I think he would have, but I doubt I would have listened at the time. I didn’t listen to my mother either.’
A short silence followed.
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