by Ben Walsh
Chapter Fifteen
Hastily, the group ascended the rope, one after the other, leaving a short gap between the climber ahead of them. The rope swayed in the wind, at times leaving the climbers clinging on for dear life. Stan and Roxie were the last two left at the bottom, and glanced at each other with hesitation. Roxie laughed, and took hold of the rope, scrambling up the first few metres with the ease of a monkey. She glanced back at Stan, and winked, giggling as she shouted, “I’m not going after you and letting you fall on me!”
This left Stan stood alone at the bottom of the rope. He watched his friends struggle with the climb, and paid particular attention to Marvin, who, predictably, was finding it more difficult than anyone else. Even from the ground, Stan could see his face, bright red from the physical effort required to stay on the rope. Stan stepped up to the rope, ready to start climbing, when he looked up and noticed Ponch, who was leaning down to the rope, with a knife in his hand. Stan’s heart froze in terror, as the worst thoughts flashed through his mind. Was that why Ponch had joined the voyage, to be led to the Emerald before he killed everyone to claim it for himself? Stan looked up desperately, with every member of the group on the rope except for him. There had to be something he could do. He tried to shout out in desperation, but his voice was lost in the wind. There was nothing Stan could do.
He watched Ernest as he neared the peak, and try as he might, Stan could not shake the image of him and the others tumbling to the ground as the rope was cut. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the screams, the terrified wails, and the inevitable thud, as his friends landed around him. He stayed that way for several moments, until the apprehension was too much for him, and he forced himself to open his eyes. Stan recoiled in surprise, as he looked up to see everyone else on top of the rock, safely off of the rope, and eating what looked like fruit, off of a nearby tree. That must have been what Ponch had been cutting, Stan realised, ashamed of himself for having such cynical thoughts.
Stan composed himself before starting the ascent, which to his surprise was not as challenging as he had anticipated, and in no time he had reached the top. As he did so, Ernest reached down and grabbed his hand, pulling Stan up and over the edge, onto the ridge behind the rock they had ascended to. Stan released an audible gasp of shock at the staggering views in front of him. Even on a cloudy, grey day such as this one the eye could see for miles and miles, out as far the smouldering remains of Oadford. Stan wandered over to Ponch, who was sat between two rocks, his back against one and his feet against the other, hanging several feet off of the ground.
“That was brilliant,” Stan said, “thank you so much! Where on earth did you learn to do that?”
Ponch chuckled, and while Stan wasn’t sure why, he sensed it was at him. “Ah, here and there boy,” he replied, as mysteriously as everything he did seemed to be.
Undeterred by Ponch’s reluctance to talk, Stan continued, “Could you teach me?”
This made Ponch choke on his apple in laughter. As he coughed and spluttered , his face turned bright red as he both choked and laughed simultaneously. “Me? Why boy, I can think of a million better to teach you than myself!”
“Well I can’t think of anyone who can climb like that!”
“True,” Ponch replied, taking a loud bite out of his apple. “I tell you what boy,” he continued, apple flying everywhere as he spoke, “if we make it off of this mountain alive, I will teach you.”
“Truly?” Stan asked, his eyes lighting up, his failed attempts to hide his excitement resulting in a high pitched squeak.
Ponch suddenly leapt down from his resting place, landing beside Stan. He knelt down to Stan’s head height, and whispered into his ear, “I am not who you think I am, little boy. This man has honour, and I truly will teach you.”
Before Stan could reply, Maximus shouted excitedly for their attention. Baffled by Ponch’s remarks, Stan made his way over along with the others, and gathered around the small rock Maximus was hunched over. The great wizard was muttering under his breathe to himself, before looking up and throwing his hands up in the air triumphantly, exclaiming, “I’ve found it!”
It was difficult to tell what Maximus had been hoping for by way of reaction, but it arguably was not confused silence and looks of bewilderment. Maximus scanned the faces, looking for some positivity, but all he received was a reluctant, “I don’t see it anywhere?” from Marvin, who turned crimson red and shrugged when Maximus glared at him.
“Follow me, you fools,” Maximus sighed, heavily.
With this, the aged wizard ascended the nearest rock, and in a not dissimilar manner to that of Ponch mere moments before, leapt across to the next rock, which he scurried up with a surprisingly youthful spring. Slowly and with much more caution, the group followed. This time, Stan stayed close to Ponch, watching and admiring his every move, as he seemed to grip onto any surface, no matter how smooth and flat it was, like a cat digging its claws into a narrow ledge.
Out in front, Maximus did not slow as they continued the ascent, pounding furiously to reach this destination he seemed so certain he knew of. He ignored the regular cries of the group to slow down, with Marvin in particular struggling with the rapid ascent. Half an hour or so later, Maximus eased to a stop, alongside a large bush and growth of trees. Stan was closely behind him, and so had time to take in the surrounding area whilst his comrades arrived and regained their breath. The line of trees on their right was thick, while to their left there was a few metres of flat, rocky terrain, beyond which was the sharpest of drops. Stan wandered to the edge and peered over. His breath was taken away by the suddenness of the slope. A loose pebble was dislodged by Stan’s presence, and gently rolled towards the edge, gradually getting closer until it tumbled over the edge. Stan watched it fall, growing smaller and smaller as it continued to drop, until it was eventually lost amongst the other rocks and boulders. He turned back, and saw Marvin hunched over, puffing on every breath to suck as much oxygen as possible in. For a change, he wasn’t the only one, with Worgan and Loose sat against rocks looking exhausted, panting heavily. Surprisingly, Maximus looked as fresh as if he had just got out of bed, and was waiting impatiently, arms folded across his chest. Stan worked his way over and wedged himself into the circle which had formed, between Roxie and Ponch.
“Gentlemen, my lady,” Maximus began, awarding a cheeky wink at Roxie, which made Stan smirk as he saw her blush, “we have reached our goal. Worgan, Loose, make yourselves useful and please help me. Come, come,” he urged, beckoning the brothers towards him.
Reluctantly, they edged forwards, until Maximus grabbed them by the arm and jerked them towards him.
“Good, right, I need you to go into the undergrowth there and bring me a pink flower, the first you see please, I’ll only need the one,” he ordered, pointing towards the dark treeline behind him.
It was only then that Stan realised how gloomy and desolate the trees looked, with a dark haze lingering throughout it. It was hard to imagine anything pink resided within the forest. The brothers evidently had similar feelings, as they glanced around, unsure as to what to do.
“Go on, go!” Maximus barked, prodding them with his staff.
They scampered cautiously over the uneven ground, and eventually entered the densely populated treeline. Within seconds they had disappeared from sight, leaving those who remained clueless as to what was happening. Stan glanced at Maximus looking for some sort of clue, but the great wizard was avoiding all eye contact, simply sitting and tapping his foot instead, like a child who was urging away the last few minutes of a long school day.
After several minutes of eerie silence, a manly, familiar scream echoed from within the trees, deep within the wood and to their left. The majority of the group had sat in a circle and were chatting idly to pass the time, and at once they leapt up to go and help their comrade.
“NO!” Maximus bellowed, also rising, to form a barrier between the group and the trees. “They must do this alon
e, if anyone else enters that wood the mission will fail, before it has truly begun.” He held his staff out aggressively, and Stan dreaded to even consider what he would do if anyone dared to try to pass him. The group all returned to their circle, although there was no idle conversation any more, only nervous silence. At one point, Ponch went to stand up, as if to challenge Maximus, but Ernest pulled him back to the ground before he could do so.
After a lengthy wait, Roxie grabbed Stan’s arm, and whispered, “Someone’s coming.”
The rest of the group had also heard, and cautiously rose, and soon after they could also hear slow, lethargic footsteps. The back of Stan’s mouth had gone dry, and his palms were sweaty. He caught eye contact with Roxie, who also looked nervous. The footsteps coming towards them didn’t sound human. There were four within quick succession of each other, similar to that of a four legged animal. Ponch and Vlad drew their swords, ready to slay any beast that emerged. The footsteps drew closer, and Stan could hear his heart pounding in his chest. The footsteps drew closer. And closer. Closer still they came, until…
“HELP HIM, QUICKLY!” Worgan wailed, as he emerged from the treeline, his brother’s arm draped around his shoulder, the two of them awkwardly stumbling. Worgan was covered in blood, but it was clear that it wasn’t his own. Loose had large claw marks engraved across his chest, which was completely revealed by his torn shirt. Loose stumbled to the ground, and Maximus rushed forwards, mumbling foreign words and running his hand over his body.
Loose screamed in pain, and writhed on the ground, until eventually he fell still. Worgan had been crouched over his brother, but recoiled in horror, turning a deathly pale of white.
“Is, he..?” Worgan tried to ask, unable to get the words out.
“No, boy, I’ve merely put him to sleep. The wounds have healed well enough but he’ll need to see a healer when we return, I am rusty to say the least.”
Sure enough, the slashes on Loose’s chest had stopped bleeding, and skin had grown over them, leaving ugly scars in their place.
“Now, the flower, I presume you got it?”
Worgan reached into his bag, and with a glare at Maximus, pulled out a single, pink rose. He sliced his hand on the thorn, but barely noticed, handing it to Maximus, whose eyes lit up at the sight of it. Worgan then slumped to the ground beside his brother, and stroked his hair, which was matted with blood.
Maximus turned and strolled towards the treeline, before tossing the rose high into the air and back into the woods. On Stan’s right, he noticed Worgan’s jaw drop in disbelief at what he saw, as the rose his brother had nearly died for was thrown back from whence it had come. Maximus withdrew a small stone from his robes, and Stan remembered seeing him pick it up earlier, when he had become excited and started to rush the group. He also hurled this into the forest, before withdrawing a small, sharp looking knife and holding it aloft.
“A TRIBUTE TO THE FIVE GODS. I GIVE YOU THE PINK ROSE OF THE DARKNESS, A SYMBOL OF THE HOPE WE BRING, WE ARE THE LIGHT IN THE DARK!” He shouted. As he did so, dark clouds suddenly appeared in the sky, blocking out any remaining sun. The wind began to swirl and howl, and Stan found himself thrown back in shock. He fell to the floor, and crawled towards Marvin, who was also struggling. He reached out his hand and Marvin grabbed it, holding on tightly. Stan grabbed hold of a nearby rock, so hard that it drew blood from his fingers, but he ignored the pain and clung on.
“I GIVE YOU THE STONE OF SIGNATURE, A SYMBOL OF THE FACT THAT WE HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE HERE – THE OWNER SAW FIT TO GIVE US THIS KEY, WE ARE JUST IN OUR QUEST.”
Upon the latest statement, a flash of lightning crashed through the sky, and rain began to pour down, soaking the group.
“FINALLY, I GIVE YOU MY BLOOD, AS PERMISSION TO SEE ME BLEED OUT SHOULD THIS QUEST HOLD FALSE, DISJUST MOTIVE!” With this, Maximus pressed the blade of the knife into his palm and drew a line of blood. He held his palms open to the sky, and stood, staff and hand up to the Gods.
For several moments, the rain and wind continued to attack the group, and Stan began to panic, fearing their journey had all been for nothing.
Suddenly, the wind stopped, the rain ceased and the clouds cleared. Before them, where previously a large bush had been, emerged a small, wooden hut.
