The Stones of Earth and Air (Elemental Worlds Book 1)

by V. M. Sang

  'My sister and I are coming with you,' she told them. 'We're rather bored and want to go hunting. We don't want the groundling killed, either. We need to know how he got up into the city in the first place so he must be brought back here alive.'

  The princesses went into a nearby hut and came out equipped with hunting bows. Once all were ready, the six hunters and two princesses leaped off the edge of the city and glided down to the ground. They landed close to a lake a few miles away from Smithtown.

  'This was where the last signals came from, Your Highnesses,' said the chief hunter.

  She was a tall woman and dwarfed all but one of the male hunters. She carried a bow and iron-tipped arrows as well as a nasty-looking spear. The other hunters, one more woman and four men, were similarly equipped, but one had a sword in a scabbard at his waist. This was for giving the final coup de grace if the groundling were not dead when they reached it.

  The hunters searched round the lake for tracks. They found nothing.

  'Are you sure the signals came from here?' asked Sprinkla.

  'The magicians were certain. They said the signals followed the line of the river from the moat round Smithtown. It was last seen here.'

  'Let's go to Smithtown,' said Eloraine. 'We'll perhaps be able to pick up the trail from there, or perhaps the smiths saw the direction it went in.

  It was a long walk back to the village. They passed over several low hills and once at the top the aerials glided down the other side to rest their legs a bit. They were not used to walking long distances. By the time they saw the smoke from the many forges in the village they were very tired.

  The smith Pettic first talked to saw them coming. He ran to the tavern to warn the others. Pettic's story swiftly travelled round the village and the villagers decided they would say nothing of the visit to the hunters. They felt sorry for him. Most believed his story and wanted him to succeed in his quest.

  The smith ran back to his forge, and by the time the little band arrived he was hard at work.

  'Ho, smith,' called the chief hunter. 'Have you seen a stranger around here? A groundling with a large grey animal with him.'

  The smith gave a surly look. 'No, ma'am,' he said. 'I've been busy at my forge all day. No time to look for strangers, ma'am.'

  Princess Eloraine stepped forward. The smith kept the same surly look on his face.

  The princess spoke to him. 'Perhaps someone else in the village saw someone. Or perhaps something else unusual happened. Your boy goes out on errands, doesn't he? Perhaps he saw someone?'

  The smith scowled even deeper.

  'I told ye I saw no one. My boy would say if he saw someone. We've seen no one.'

  One of the hunters stepped forward and slapped the smith hard across his face. In spite of his size, the smith staggered backwards.

  'No need to speak to the princess like that. You groundlings need to understand just who you are. Nobodies.'

  Eloraine looked at the smith, then she turned to the hunters. 'Give him a last reminder of his position in the world then we'll go and see if anyone else has noticed anything unusual.'

  All the hunters converged on the hapless smith and his apprentice. One held the smith and another the boy while the rest began to beat them mercilessly.

  After a few minutes, the princess, who watched with a slight smile on her face, said, 'Enough. I think they've learned how to speak to their betters. Animals have to be taught harsh lessons, don't they? A pity, but that's life.'

  The group left the forge in search of someone else to ask.

  After they had rounded the village and asked everyone, some getting beatings, others not, depending on how they answered, the hunters and princesses arrived back at the tavern. Here they demanded ale and also beds as darkness began to fall.

  'But, Your Highnesses, Your Graces, we're only a tavern. We don't have beds.'

  'Do you and your family sleep on the floor then?' asked Sprinkla, sweetly.

  'N-no. We have beds. We all have beds,' stammered the tavern keeper,

  'Then you'll let us have those beds, won't you?'

  'But, Your Highness, where will we sleep? There's my wife and myself as well as our five children.'

  'Six beds then. I can sleep with my sister in your bed. The others can decide how to arrange their sleeping. Where you and your family sleep is of no concern of ours.'

  The poor tavern keeper and his family managed to get some sleep on the floor of the tavern, although the children were restless and the little one, a three year old boy, cried most of the night.

  Next morning, before the sun was up, the hunting party came into the tavern room demanding breakfast. The tavern keeper's wife struggled to her feet and went out into the back to try to find something suitable for the visitors.

  She came back in with a wheel of cheese and several loaves of bread. This she gave to the hunters and they ate every last scrap, washed down with more of the precious ale. The tavern keeper looked into his barrels. They were getting empty and there was no scheduled delivery from Brewertown for weeks yet. What would happen if he ran out? His regulars would be far from pleased. He only hoped they would understand.

  Soon the 'guests' left and made their way to where the river left the moat after flowing round the town. The hunters searched along the river and after some distance they thought they could see some footprints, but they were unclear. There also seemed to be the prints of a wolf or similar animal amongst them. Was this evidence that Pettic had indeed come this way, or were the prints those of some of the villagers who had been here and the prints wolf prints.

  They searched further on and found nothing more. The young man called Pettic seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

  They walked on, following the river until they had nearly reached the lake where they gave up the previous day. As they gathered on its banks, Eloraine looked down into the water.

  'What's that?' she asked.

  'Only a dagger fish,' replied one of the hunters, turning his attention towards the trees at the bank.

  'This one seems to have something on its back.'

  They all looked to where Eloraine pointed. Sure enough, a dagger fish swam in the shallows with something clearly tied to it.

  One of the hunters hefted his spear and threw accurately. The spear flew unerringly to its target, then the hunter reached in and pulled it out with the fish attached.

  The princess looked at the dagger, for dagger it was, attached to the fish's body.

  'This is the dagger we gave Pettic so we could track him. He's very clever for a groundling. We still don't know how he got to Smithtown so quickly.

  'Indeed he is, your highness,' replied the chief hunter. 'It's almost as if he flew here. I'd not have expected anyone to be able to make that distance so quickly. He must have had help.'

  'But where could he have got help?' queried Sprinkla 'None of the groundlings have the means of flying. Only the beasts.'

  'One of the magicians said that, as he tracked the fugitive, he was moving very quickly and he thought it seemed almost as if he were flying, but that's not possible.'

  They decided to leave that problem for another day and concentrate on the job in hand, which was finding where Pettic had gone.

  Chapter 13

  Pettic hid in the forest for a full day. While he was there, he looked around to find out more about where he was. Creatures lived there, but they disappeared at his approach.

  Then he noticed a large nest in a tree. He approached it and found it had one large egg in it. This was not the season for birds to lay their eggs. His observations had indicated autumn rather than spring. He thought this one would likely not hatch, or if it did it would not survive through the winter.

  He slipped back into the undergrowth when he spotted a beautiful bird flying down to the nest. It had feathers of blue, red and yellow with plumes of green coming from its head. It settled onto the nest to incubate its egg.

  Suddenly, Pettic smelt burning. He looked u
p and saw smoke coming from the nest. The beautiful bird seemed not to notice. Pettic thought he must help. He climbed the tree expecting the bird to fly away, but instead she pecked at him. He took off his jacket and beat at the nest, which was now beginning to show flames. The mother bird showed no signs of flying away, and eventually Pettic had to climb down as the flames became too hot.

  He felt sad such a beautiful creature should die and that its chick would not have a chance to live. He sat down below the tree and Cledo licked his face in sympathy.

  Suddenly, he heard a beautiful song. He raised his head. The nest and bird were gone, but the egg was cracking. He stood up in wonder as from the ruins of the nest rose another beautiful bird, this time young.

  After this wonder he sat and contemplated for some time. The old bird had sacrificed herself so her youngster could live. It obviously needed fire to hatch the egg and the older bird had spontaneously combusted to provide that fire.

  When it started to get dark he crept back to look at the village again. Perhaps it would be safe to go back and trade for some food, although what he had to trade he had no idea.

  Then he saw them. The aerials. They stood looking at the banks of the river. What were they looking for? Then it dawned on Pettic. They'd not been able to find him wherever the dagger fish had gone and so had come back to Smithtown to try to pick up his tracks from there.

  As he watched he recognised Eloraine amongst the hunters. Why had she come down? The villagers had not given him any idea that some of the aristocracy might come down to hunt, although, come to think of it, hunting was mainly an aristocratic pursuit in his world.

  The hunters moved further up the river and soon disappeared round a bend. Pettic took his chance and ran swiftly towards the village. He crossed the bridge and entered Main Street.

  He heard sounds coming from the forge on his right, where he had first spoken to the smith on entering the village for the first time, but they were not sounds of smithing.

  He entered the forge and saw the blacksmith lying on the floor with blood spattered about. His apprentice crawled towards him, moaning and crying. Pettic knelt by the lad.

  'What happened here?' he said as he reached for a cloth and dipped it into a bucket of water. He listened to the mumbled words of the boy as he gently wiped the blood from his face.

  The boy's face had swollen and his eyes were half closed and beginning to show black bruises. Pettic looked round. A bench stood at the back of the forge. He looked for some sacks to soften it a bit and then gently led the boy and laid him down on top of the sacks.

  He then went to look at the still unconscious blacksmith. Pettic decided not to move him. He cleaned him up as best he could and went to the tavern to see if he could get some help.

  Most villages in his world had a healer of some kind. Some were only herbalists, but others had some real healing skills. With all the trades being together in one village, he wondered if that were true of the healers. If so, he would have to go looking for another village. A village of healers. Still, that would not make any sense. To have a healer in each village would be more logical.

  Once he reached the tavern, he entered and saw the tavern keeper and his wife peering into the barrels. He walked up to them.

  'Is something wrong?' he asked.

  'Something wrong? I'll say there's something wrong,' snapped the tavern keeper's wife. 'Those blasted aerials. Came in here last night, turned us out of our beds so they could sleep in them, including our little one, then drank nearly all our ale. We're not due another delivery for weeks. Nearly ruined us, they have.'

  Pettic felt his anger rising. How dare these aerials treat these hard-working folk in this way? Beating the smith and his apprentice, then turning the tavern keeper and his family out of their beds–one of them only three years old.

  He told them what had happened to the smith near the gate and they sent their daughter, an eleven year old, to the smith's house to tell his wife, and then to the old herbalist to go to tend to him.

  The tavern keeper turned to Pettic when the arrangements had been made. 'They'll see to him and his apprentice now,' he said. 'Get someone to carry them home and see to their injuries.'

  'You shouldn't let them treat you like this,' he told them. 'They treat you worse than animals.'

  'What can we do?' said the tavern keeper, spreading his hands. 'We rely on them for our livelihood. Most of our goods go up to them.'

  'You could try not sending the goods up. From the little I saw when I was up there, they've nothing there either to grow stuff or to make stuff.'

  The tavern keeper's wife raised her brows. 'You might have an idea there,' she said. Then she looked crestfallen. 'But they'd send soldiers down and make us trade. We can't stand against all their soldiers and their weapons.'

  Pettic thought for a few moments. It was true that the aerial soldiers could crush a simple village like this, but what if all the villages joined forces? There were far more villagers than city folk altogether, he estimated.

  Then he had another thought. The way the aerials had been talking, there was more than one city. How many were there, he wondered.

  He asked the tavern keeper's wife. She seemed to have taken charge since the tavern keeper himself was too upset about his ale, and she was just angry, especially at their little boy having to sleep on the floor.

  'There are five,' she told him. 'Abrion, Kellor, Hrondir, Sellop and the one you came from, Faoor.'

  'Why do they need weapons? They hunt, yes, but there seem to be too many smiths here producing weapons just for hunting.'

  'Oh, the cities fight amongst themselves,' replied the wife. 'They all want to be the top city, you see. They're all independent with their own rulers, but that's not good enough. Each city wants to rule the others.'

  'I see.'

  Pettic walked away to the other end of the tavern to think. He sat down on a bench and absently petted Cledo, who revelled in the attention. Was there a way he could use this animosity of the cities for one another? Somehow he must help the groundlings gain some sort of freedom. They were slaves but did not actually realise it.

  Eventually, Pettic had an idea. He went and put it to the tavern keeper. Their eleven year old daughter had just entered. She heard what was being said.

  'Yes!' she exclaimed. 'I don't want to be taken away next year. I could be sent anywhere, or married to a horrid man. I want to stay here. Perhaps be a tavern-keeper and help Papa, or maybe a silversmith.'

  'I'll talk to Natas, see what he thinks. He'll need to know anyway, and put it to the council.'

  The wife turned to Pettic. 'Natas is the headman,' she explained.

  Natas agreed to put Pettic's plan to the council. The smith was a well-liked man in the village and his beating had angered everyone. Anything that would help to get back at the aerials would have been welcome, but Pettic did not want to start a war between the aerials and the groundlings.

  He sat down and worked out just how many aerials there were likely to be. The tavern keeper's wife told him all the cities were about the same size. That would mean that each of the five cities had a population, he estimated from what he had seen, of around 10,000. If one quarter were children, that left seven thousand five hundred adults.

  Now, there seemed to be six different castes of aerials, red, brown, black, bronze, silver and gold. Only the blacks were guards and soldiers and so that meant that on each city, assuming an even split between the castes, of just under seven hundred fighters. That is assuming an equal split, which of course was not necessarily true. In his world, there were fewer of the aristocracy than the ordinary men and women. If this were the case here, there may be as many as one thousand five hundred soldiers in each city. Nine thousand soldiers altogether. Nine thousand trained fighters.

  Pettic was not going to let it come to a fight, though. Not if he could help it, but he had to do something to help these people. He also felt, on some instinctive level, that it would help the aerials to
o.

  As soon as night began to fall, Pettic fled the village and returned to the forest. He knew the aerials would return since they would not have found him. Just before dark, as he peered from the bushes, he saw the hunters returning. They were carrying something. Something long and thin. He peered but could not tell what it was from this distance.

  The next day, as he saw the aerials leaving Smithtown, he crept slowly towards the village. He had to see if the villagers had agreed to his plan. Then he had to carry it out.

  He arrived at the tavern and entered. The room was buzzing. Pettic raised his eyebrows as it was a bit early to be drinking, but then he noticed that no one had any ale in front of them. There were men and women and even some children there.

  As he entered, a cheer rang out, quickly hushed by a tall, grey-haired man standing by the barrels.

  'Quiet,' he said, 'The aerials won't have got far. We don't want them to hear and wonder what's going on.'

  The company quickly quieted. The man, who turned out to be Natas, told Pettic the council agreed to his plan. It was about time the groundlings stood up for themselves.

  Later that day, Pettic left the village. He was without his faithful companion, Cledo. He told the dog he was to stay with the tavern keeper until he returned. He had no idea if his plan would work. It relied on his relationship with the flying horse. Was she anywhere near? Would she respond if he called? He was about to find out.

  He stood in the open land about half a mile from Smithtown. He whistled then turned round and whistled again. No response. Perhaps she and the foal had gone back to where he first encountered her.

  He tried one more time, and was just going to return to Smithtown to tell them this thing was going to take longer than he thought when he saw a dot in the sky. The dot grew bigger and resolved itself into two dots. Eventually he recognised the mare and her foal.

  They landed just before him and the mare knelt down to indicate he could mount. This he did and she took off. He guided her with his knees towards Brewerstown, a full thirty miles west of Smithtown.