by Chris Ward
Unseen above the fallen beast there suddenly appeared two writhing wraiths which entwined about each other in an almost ecstatic show of understanding. They darted about but did not come close for they saw all, and were astounded. They remained but a few moments and then disappeared to another realm leaving Andes and Rema unaware of their strange visit.
When the two victors had finished piling fuel upon the fire and were sure the creature would no longer trouble them, Rema spoke.
‘How did you know about burning the beast’s head in the fire?’
Andes smiled and held aloft his sword Elwand.
‘You have your book Rema, I have this sword. I told you. Elwand speaks to me.’
To which Rema had no reply, although moment later he had cause to marvel once more.
‘Andes you will not believe this,’ he called. Andes looked up.
‘I fired four arrows,’ Rema continued holding his quiver. ‘I started with fourteen. The beast destroyed each of those I fired.’
‘Which means you have ten remaining,’ said Andes, solving this simple sum quite quickly.
‘No,’ said Rema, ‘I still have fourteen.’
Suddenly the significance of what was being said dawned upon them both.
‘El-Arathor said I would have need of no more arrows, and of course he was right. I missed his meaning. The arrows he gave me do not run out. I have as many as I need. Andes the quiver will never empty.’ They looked at each other in amazement.
‘Wait till I tell Fryn,’ said Andes with a chuckle.
‘That might be a while,’ whispered Rema, and then breathed a quiet thank you to the one who had given them such mighty gifts. A sword of renown for Andes and such amazing arrows for his bow.
‘We tread in the footsteps of the mighty, Andes,’ he said boldly surveying the fallen beast, ‘but we are not ill equipped.’
‘No,’ murmured the giant in agreement as he cleaned his remarkable weapon, ‘indeed it would appear that we are not.’
Dawn brought fine weather with no wind and a growing warmth. At first light Rema and Andes departed south once more following the Swifft River. They left the dead horses as they had fallen, horribly mangled and with Andes’ steed part eaten. It was a gruesome sight but there was nothing they could do but leave them there for the wolves and eagles and a host of other creatures which would no doubt feast well for several days. The going was easy now, with a gentle forest of oaks and elders spread all through the gorge and right to the riverside. Small streams joined the main water course from other cascades which tumbled down the escarpment, and due to the fall of the land the river ran true to name; swift and clean, and building all the time as each new stream added to its flow.
‘What is the plan Rema?’ asked Andes as they sat and cooled their feet after several hours walking. Rema had tended his back wound with a strip of Fernwood bark and it was already healing, for whilst extensive it was only superficial. ‘We carry some burdens now that the horses are gone. Do we find a road, buy new horses? We can’t carry all this to Ramos, and the going is sure to get harder in places.’
‘I know there is a road to the east which will take us to Sheldon. It passes through the lands of Hendon North, but my map has no great detail. My plan was to travel that way and then south from Sheldon to Ramos. That road is well travelled and we might seek advice from others we meet.’ Rema paused. ‘That is my plan Andes. I have not thought deeply upon it. It is Ramos where the Wisden are, and they know the land and all the history, and any prophecy which might illuminate what is happening all about. If I can talk with them then perhaps they can reveal answers which I cannot myself discover.’
‘I have a feeling,’ said Andes deep in contemplation, ‘that more questions are arriving each day.’ He smiled warmly and Rema nodded in agreement.
‘With what we have encountered these past few days, I am more confused than ever.’
‘Well we are committed to visit Ramos,’ said Andes throwing a rock far out into the river, ‘and I suppose things can get no worse.’
But Rema knew he spoke too casually for the evil which had befallen them was surely deep and with a purpose which sought to claim all Revelyn in some manner. I just do not understand our role in this, he thought. Still we travel one step at a time.
‘We go to Ramos,’ he said, ‘and we shall see what befalls us then.’
Andes nodded and thought of Fryn. And Rema knew he did. She is your weakness in resolve, he thought, and who can blame you.
‘Let us move on Andes,’ he said, and the rest of that day passed without event. They found a good campsite by the river under the boughs of an old oak. There, they washed away the dirt and ash of their travels in the cold fast waters of the Swifft River and having eaten well from their meagre supplies, slept peacefully and undisturbed till the dawn.
The Beast screamed. The Wrythers moved before it in a blur, ecstatic with vile emotion for they were sensitive to any distress, which only heightened their evil pleasures.
‘The Shadow Hunter is destroyed!’ The Beast was in a rage fuelled by the inconceivable. ‘This creature is beyond this world. How can it be?’ The beast spoke to the air; it did not ask the Wrythers for it loathed to consult them beyond the simple relaying of information. To ask for a deeper knowledge was humiliating.
‘There is another evil on the move,’ chorused the wraiths. ‘We saw it. A sword. It worked with the bow. The head was severed and burnt to ash.’
The Beast sat upon his throne and stared ahead in disbelief. How could they know this?
‘This cannot be, there is one sword only which can deal death to our kind. It is close by. I watch it.’
‘There is another,’ came the twin reply from deep within a blur of writhing. ‘And he who wields it is Edenwhood.’
The Beast became still and quiet. It sat considering this new knowledge. ‘Then they did not die you fools,’ it whispered malevolently. ‘They did not die.’
The Wrythers seemed to sense a change in the Beast but they were too late.
‘You have lost your reason to serve me,’ it hissed, ‘and with a move beyond any which they could prevent, it took them from the air together for that was how they existed...as one, yet two; and with a curse of desiccation, they were shredded into nonexistence.
The Beast sat upon his plain throne, and allowed the anger within to consume his evil senses.
Rema and Andes came upon a modest village right by the River a little before the noon. They had encountered signs of tillage and other farming for some leagues before this and so were not surprised to find themselves walking down the short main street which held some simple shops and other business typical of the rural lands. They stood for a short time before an alehouse wondering whether they would be welcome in Wydewaters, for this was the name they had read upon a sign, two hundred paces behind.
‘We are Highlanders Rema, and the Lowlanders are suspicious of our ways,’ said Andes.
‘And we of them,’ came the reply; a pause, ‘and yet they buy my bows readily enough.’
Andes shrugged and chuckled. ‘What are we afraid of... after our recent encounter, surely these humble folk cannot compare?’ Rema smiled and nodded his head in agreement.
‘I think we deserve an ale or three after that. But we must not speak of it.’ And so they entered.
The alehouse was not unusual. The large and florid man behind the long thick timber counter gave a smile and a warm, ‘How can I be of service?’ as they stood before him. Several other men sat in groups, or singly, drinking and talking. Rema felt the conversation and the mood was all that could be expected in a drinking house on a warm day when perhaps the morning jobs had been completed.
‘Two ales, the biggest that you serve,’ said Andes and his size and voice caused all to look upon him, at least for a moment before resuming their private conversations. The man behind the counter filled two large mugs, and enquired from whence they came.
‘We are travellers my friends,�
� was Rema’s somewhat guarded reply but no offence seemed to be taken. They took their drinks to a quiet corner and sat and enjoyed them in silence. Both noticed that there was an interest in them and one man in particular who sat alone looked over and nodded, smiling and raising his mug in warm acceptance of their presence.
‘One at least sees us as no threat,’ said Rema.
They remained for a time; enough to share several ales each and eat a simple meal which the owner, who was the tender of the counter, swore to be the best for many leagues. Rema inquired of him as to the road east to Sheldon, and was informed in a friendly manner that it lay almost a score of leagues to the south.
‘A quick walk for such fit men as yourselves will see you there before the sunset,’ he said, but then added some advice in a whisper. ‘Stay clear of the river.’ At this juncture he looked about a little sheepishly as if he did not want it known that he was discussing superstitions with his guests. ‘We have had trouble in recent time with a water sprite on this river, that is greatly mischievous.’ The seriousness with which this was delivered made Andes smile and he could not help but chuckle.
‘And what danger does such a creature hold for us if we should dare to ignore your good advice sira,’ he asked, and Rema knew his friend was thinking then of their defeat of the Shadow Hunter, and so could not possibly imagine that such a thing as a sprite and a superstition at that, could be of threat to them. The friendly customer must have overheard the conversation for he laughed politely and shook his head in friendly dismissal of the proposition.
‘Never mind then,’ the owner said, obviously realising that his personal fears would not be understood, ‘but you have been warned.’ He took their empty mugs and payment for their fare and returned behind his counter.
Outside the sun was at its zenith and yet the day was pleasant enough as Rema and Andes prepared to continue their journey, having purchased a few items and inquired of horses, of which there was none for hire or sale. But just as the two were about to head south along the riverside as before, they were accosted by the man who had seemed so warm to them in the alehouse.
‘Friends,’ he said, ‘forgive me, and allow me to introduce myself.’
Rema and Andes stood silently. Before them was a small man with a wizened appearance dressed in the bucolic garb of one who might work in the fields or undertake simple labouring. He seemed not out of place in a small village and was in no manner threatening, in fact quite the opposite. He seemed quite genuine in his approach.
‘I am Jonas, and I could not help but overhear your conversation in the alehouse.’
He offered a hand which each took in turn and felt the grasp to be firm and true. I believe you are travelling south to meet the road east to Sheldon?’ He spoke in a questioning manner, and Rema was immediately wary that another knew their plan but Andes was cheerful in his reply.
‘Well that seems to be the plan right enough, but each day brings new things. Who knows what tomorrow...’ But Rema cut across him.
‘What interest do you have my friend in just where we travel?’
Jonas stopped and looked perplexed as though mystified by the sudden change in tone.
‘Only wanting to help, sira,’ he said almost obsequiously, ‘I see you have no horses and it is a long walk despite what Tomas the innkeeper said.
‘You have horses?’ Rema asked quickly, not wanting to discuss matters with the man no matter how friendly he seemed.
‘Horses! No, no horses; better than that. I have a boat.’ Jonas stood as tall as he could, which was not great when standing near to one such as Andes, but he smiled the smile of the triumphantly simple-minded. Andes and Rema exchanged a knowing look.
‘We have no need of a boat Jonas,’ said Rema a little more gently.
‘But of course you do,’ said Jonas, unable to be put off. ‘The river is swift and true. The boat will take you to Wyseman’s Crossing where you will find the east road to Sheldon. Think on it. You walk or you let the water take you. It is an easy thing.’ He stood looking from Rema to Andes as though they had been offered a bag of gold, and their acceptance would be the most predictable of outcomes.
‘A boat,’ said Andes.
‘A lovely boat,’ replied Jonas.
‘How big is this boat?’ said Rema as the idea of travelling so easily grew upon him.
‘Not big, but then it does not need to be big, but perfect to take two weary travellers like your good selves to the crossing. By sunset you will be there, and the Inn at Wyseman’s Crossing is renowned for hospitably and good fare.’ He stood smiling and waited patiently, as one who knows they cannot be refused.
‘Show us you boat,’ said Rema as Andes raised his eyebrows at his friend’s capitulation.
The water took the rowboat easily and more quickly than either had thought. They drifted with the current and it seemed to go as Jonas has promised.
‘Have no fear my friends this boat will take you without mishap, the river is smooth between here and the Crossing,’ he had said, pocketing the sum agreed. They had thought him strange but likeable enough, and now his predications seemed true enough. Rema lay in the bow trying to get comfortable whilst Andes found the perfect position in the stern.
‘Have we been taken as fools or is this a good thing?’ Rema asked. ‘I cannot see how Jonas benefits from this. The price was too low, and the boat is sound...’
‘...And my feet are not complaining,’ said Andes quickly. He paused. ‘He was a strange fellow that Jonas, but we do not seem to have suffered from the deal.’
No thought Rema but that is what makes me suspicious. He sighed. Perhaps I am becoming too anxious after recent events, and this is indeed easy travelling.
The water was clear and they could see the bottom in many places for it was mostly not much deeper than a man and often far less. Fish abounded and wild ducks and geese took flight continually as they passed. But travelling with them, unseen and unsuspected, and in wonderful union with their course was a water sprite, a creature which could take what form or shape it desired, a mischievous creature, a remnant of a time when great magic filled the land; but it had lasted, remaining in the river, almost the last of its kind. It was a creature which would not harm a human, not by desire or any intent, but it had a love of misleading and taking those within its grasp to places they might not otherwise have dreamt of.
It was Rema who realised what had happened. He had been lying in the sun and trying to doze, brushing dragon flies and other flying things away in a randomly haphazard manner. Andes had taken to sleeping sitting up, one great hand drifting in the cool water behind the sleepy boat. The sprite enjoyed this hand and magically surrounded it with strange sensations and a sleepiness which lulled the giant into dreams full of colour and wonderful sounds and Fryn was there and they were so happy, and there was no talk of leaving or being apart...the great giant was in a wonderful place and had no sense at all that he was dreaming for it was as real as anything he had ever experienced...
‘I know what it was,’ said Rema suddenly sitting up. He kicked Andes playfully. ‘Wake up you big lump. I know what Jonas did.’
Andes was lost in a far world into which some awful creature reached for him and drew him away...and now Fryn was crying and he tried to hold her but somehow she was lost from his grasp, and then there he was, transported to a boat on a river and he wondered how this could be.
‘Andes do you hear me?’ Rema asked almost shouting for he could see that Andes was greatly disoriented.
‘What did you do that for?’ Andes said grumpily trying to focus his eyes and make sense of what had come to pass, ‘I was having such a good rest.’ He did not mention how real it had seemed, and indeed Rema was not interested.
‘Jonas tricked us so easily,’ said Rema, ‘I guess we must have seemed so stupid. Two travellers, needing transport, and he is there to help out!’
‘What is the problem Rema?’ Andes asked completely puzzled.
‘Jonas sold
us a boat,’ came the reply.
‘Yes I have worked that out...I was there,’ Andes said sarcastically. ‘What is the problem with that?’
‘It wasn’t his boat to begin with.’
They both looked at each other, and knew it was the truth.
‘We just believed him,’ said Andes.
‘We did.’
They said nothing for a while.
‘What do they do to boat thieves in these parts?’ Andes chuckled finally, ‘you have to admire the man, he was so confident and believable. What a nerve he has.’
Rema shook his head. ‘Life has not been dull these past few days.’
Andes was about to agree when he gasped. There sitting on the bank just a stone’s throw from where they drifted, was Fryn. His heart suddenly thumped in his chest.
‘Fryn!’ he cried and stood in the boat not thinking about what his size might do to the small craft.
‘Andes what are you doing?’ Rema protested hanging on desperately in the rocking craft, ‘Are you mad, what is happening to you man?’
The boat was almost capsized but Andes sat quickly just in time and looked for Fryn but she was gone, the sprite which had manifested her had disappeared in a flash back into the water leaving the poor giant confused and muddled.
‘I saw Fryn sitting on the bank back there, she was so real,’ he whispered.
‘But that’s impossible,’ said Rema. Andes shook his head.
‘It‘s as if this here is the dream and where I was with Fryn was real,’ he whispered to himself.
‘Perhaps it is the sun and all we have been through,’ said Rema at a loss to understand. ‘I am sorry for your distress but the boat travels well, and we have food and warmth and each other. I know I am a poor replacement for your Fryn, but that is as it is.’ Andes looked longingly back up the river but they had long passed the point where it seemed that Fryn had sat, and were now round a bend and travelling swiftly on. Rema took out his book and read as Andes sat and moodily tried to regain some composure. The sprite however was not finished with its mischief and after a span it once more had Fryn appear to Andes and wave most temptingly.
