by Tim Flanagan
‘Have I told you I’ve been there before?' Littleskink’s interest suddenly peaked again. ‘My nurse said the Twisted Tower was caused when the devil jumped onto the tower after standing on a Blackheart Thorn bush. That’s why there are no bushes left. Although I’m sure someone tried t' sell one to me at Crimpton market the other day, nearly cut my hand on it as I picked his pocket.’
Their conversation was interrupted but the sound of a door suddenly opening. The large figure of a donestre ducked under a wooden internal door frame and approached the unicorn’s cell. He was fatter than the donestre that Max had seen at the Redwash as well as those that had captured him. Instead of the back mounted sword, this donestre had an oily black leather belt around his waist with iron keys hanging from it, together with a short bladed dagger, some clasps and chains. The unicorn was unable to stand as the donestre entered her cell due to the twine holding her legs together, but let out a distressing mewing sound hoping that one of her parents would come to protect her. The donestre attached a worn metal clasp around the unicorn’s neck, fixed it with a pin then lifted her effortlessly off the straw covered ground and through the wooden door he had come from.
After a very short time he returned, put a smaller clasp around Littleskink’s neck then did exactly the same to Max. Once through the wooden door Max was pulled by the throat into a large courtyard area. The floor was cobbled and there were two large doors at one end. In front of him was a wooden cage balanced on two large wheels with a seat for the driver to sit on at the front behind the horses. Above the driver's seat was a stretched piece of fabric like a boat’s sail on its side to provide some shelter. Around the courtyard many donestre were preparing themselves and their weapons for the journey, sharpening their blades with stones, playing cards on the top of a wooden crate or eating the raw leg meat of a goat and tossing the unwanted bones into a corner for the Muskrats to feed on. Each donestre bore the sign of the queen as did a flag that flew above the cage.
Max stepped into the back of the cage. Littleskink was already seated with the unicorn, their neck clasps chained to the sides of the cage so they couldn't move. Max took the last seat opposite Littleskink, rocking the carriage like a boat on water. He felt his neck being pulled back slightly as the clasp was fastened onto the cage, but was relieved not to have the twine back on his wrists. He looked around the cage and noticed one other occupant that he didn’t recognise, a man covered by a grey coat pulled down to reveal his neck and the dull metal clasp that bound him too. His face appeared the same as Max's in so much as he appeared human. He seemed to be asleep, but Max was sure that he wasn’t - he kept catching a faint chanting sound coming from beneath the thick grey beard that covered half his face then thinned to a twisted point at his knees. He had high cheek bones which stretched his pale skin tightly. On the top of his head an equally thick mane of hair as grey as his beard was pulled back and held in an ornate twisted metal hair clasp. A few stray curly grey strands hung over his closed eyes and quivered gently as they were blown by the slow breath coming out of his nose.
The cage abruptly jerked forward out of the courtyard and into the daylight with an escort of donestre at the front and rear. A further two carriages made up the rest of the convoy but neither of them appeared to contain any other prisoners. The driver steered the carriage through some of the narrow roads between the port buildings, the sounds of the busy market becoming fainter the further away they went. Eventually the cobbled streets changed into soft earth as they left Morgan's Landing and headed along the
Shadow Road towards the Twisted Tower.
14. Along the Shadow Road
It was a hot journey along the
Shadow Road towards the Twisted Tower of the faerie queen. The carriage continued at a steady pace away from Morgan's Landing and into an area of open fields where the view was clear for some distance across the tops of the maize to the woodland beyond. The cloud of dust kicked up by the wheels of the carriage drifted around them betraying their presence. Heads of the field workers popped up at random places within the field, hidden from view by the height of the crop, watching the convoy as it passed along the borders of the fields. Those nearest to the road turned and stood, watching the progress as it passed. Their scythes and blades began to look like menacing weapons rather than normal farming equipment. As they were passing, one of the donestre pushed a field worker in the chest causing her to fall backwards amongst the tall stalks. One of the other workers, maybe her husband, stepped forward with both hands clasped tightly around his scythe holding it in an aggressive way, but then thought better of it and dropped his head avoiding the donestre’s gaze. ‘Clear the queen’s field peasant,’ spat the donestre as he continued to walk alongside one of the carriages.
For a while no one in the cage said anything. They moved with the rocking motion of the carriage pulled by two horses along an unmade road that had deep grooves cut in it from the volume of wheels that had travelled along it. The driver, who Max recognised as the fat jailer they had seen at the bastille, sat lazily hunched over the reins shielded from the overhead sun by the stretched canvas, occasionally cracking the leather straps together to spur the horses on. The sun shone through the sides of the cage and onto the prisoners, heating the metal clasp around their necks. In the corner the grey figure that Littleskink, Max and the unicorn shared the cage with didn’t speak or even look at any of them, he just continued to chant under his breath.
At the border of the fields they continued into a wooded area where the road became more uneven and their progress made even more difficult by the exposed roots that cut across the road. As the convoy was more vulnerable within the woodland, the donestre spread out to scout around and make sure their progress was not interrupted. At times the carriages were left on their own to continue forward without their escort, but Max knew that the donestre would not be far away and he pitied anyone or anything that might happen to get in their way. Within the woodland the shade protected them from the sun and the temperature began to drop.
Along the roadside they passed an occasional house; simple wood built structures with straw roofs that the people shared with farm animals. Joe noticed that everyone they saw just stood and stared with a look of hatred on their faces, but no one dared challenge the donestre or say anything in public.
‘Everyone looks so unhappy,’ said Max in a quiet voice to Littleskink.
‘Well, what do you expect? The queen’s amassing a huge army within the walls of the Twisted Tower and everyone needs feedin' and some of the mercenaries from the east need payin' with gold. Every occupant of the queen's land has to pay more gold and food than ever, leaving them with very little for themselves. It is the responsibility of each Mayor and Sheriff to collect the taxes on behalf of the queen. Shortfalls have to be made up where possible.’
‘But that doesn’t seem fair,’ said Max.
‘Is everything fair in your world?' replied Littleskink. At the mention of another world the chanting from the lips of the grey cloaked man stopped briefly as if he was listening to their conversation.
Littleskink continued. ‘One of the villagers from the walled town of Kettershire decided t' complain to the Mayor that he didn’t have enough food to feed his family. The Sheriff helped by choppin' off the man’s head so his family’s food had one less mouth to fill. Everyone’s unhappy but too afraid t' speak out.’
The main road continued through the woodland then began to wind into a rocky area. Max noticed that one side of the road had a sheer drop down into the tree tops below them and gave a clear view of the lands to the east of the woodland. He hadn’t noticed but the road had climbed slightly before coming back down again and into a wooded area once more. By now Max was beginning to feel dirty, his mouth was getting so dry it hurt to swallow as he continued to breathe in the dust kicked up by the large wooden wheels of the carriage.
Until then they had met no resistance to their journey, but as soon as they returned to the woodland one of the don
estre scouting groups failed to return when they should. For a short time the convoy stopped and waited by the side of the road with a handful of donestre guards. Another scouting party went out but when they returned there were fewer than had left. A donestre body was carried back to the convoy, his chest studded with so many distinctive green oak arrows with green feather fletchings that Max was unable to count them. From the short amount of information that Max could hear, it seemed that the scouting group had been ambushed by some people called the Green Huntsmen. Two other donestre had received arrow injuries and spent the remainder of the journey sitting amongst the crates of food within one of the other carriages.
By noon the convoy stopped beside a small tavern positioned on a corner where the
Shadow Road crossed another narrower road as well as a small river. The building was old and bent with the top floor overhanging the bottom one. It appeared to lean to the side nearest to the river as if it was slowly slipping into the water. The flow of the stream had washed away some of the river bank beneath the tavern which was supported on the rocks beneath by additional wooden struts to prevent it from collapsing. The donestre collected tankards of ale from the frightened Innkeeper, the horses drank from an open trough of water and the prisoners were each given a cup of water. Max helped tip some water slowly into the mouth of the unicorn that lay on the floor at their feet. It was only then that the grey cloaked man stopped chanting and opened his eyes. Max could feel him watching everything that he did and it made him uncomfortable. From one of the other carriages a box was removed and prized open, splintering the wooden lid away from the rest of the box and the contents were distributed amongst the donestre. Some wafer like biscuits were thrown into the cage for the prisoners which were dry and tasteless but Max knew that the donestre were not likely to be over generous with their food so ate them regardless.
Although there were several horses tied up outside when they arrived at the tavern, the other patrons seemed to leave rather quickly, abandoning the Innkeeper with the donestres and their cargo.
Max had noticed that on the road there seemed to be a general movement of people walking or riding in the opposite direction to themselves and the further north they went the greater the number of people there seemed.
From the inside of the cage Max saw another carriage ride towards the tavern at a faster pace than they had been travelling. The cloud of dust that was kicked up by the wheels of the carriage and the hooves of the horses obscured his view slightly, but he noticed that the carriage was painted black and bore the sign of the faerie queen on the side. There were no prisoners that he could see. The donestres that escorted the black carriage were more heavily armoured than the ones that moved with theirs, their chests and thighs covered with roughly beaten steel tied on by leather straps. Even the horses had a certain amount of metal plating covering exposed and vulnerable flesh.
‘That will be a weapons carriage for the queen's army. Every forge and blacksmith in Morgan's Landing has been ordered t' make swords and armour,’ said Littleskink as he looked in the same direction as Max. ‘The
Shadow Road is the main route for weapons and food going t' the Twisted Tower. Each convoy must be protected from raiders who are brave enough to steal from the queen and each day the raiders grow in number as more and more people get desperate for food.’ The wheels of the weapons carriage made a loud noise as they passed over the stone bridge beyond the tavern and once the dust cloud had settled they had completely disappeared from view.
After the donestre had drunk their ale and wiped the froth from their hairy mouths, they approached the cage. The metal clasp around Max's neck was released from the bars and he was given time to walk around and relieve himself against a tree. All the time a donestre stood close-by with a hooked sword drawn and ready to use, but Max was not about to attempt to escape; he wanted to get to the Twisted Tower and find Peter and his way home. After a few minutes he was escorted back whilst the others were individually released.
Max watched with interest as the grey cloaked man was taken from the cage. He was a normal looking man, no different to his father and he was sure that he was a human like himself. When Max had listened to him chanting inside the cage, he recognised the words as being similar to the small amount of Latin that he had leaned at school. Max’s thoughts were interrupted by shouting coming from the woodland around the side of the tavern and he wondered what was happening. The cloaked man was dragged back to the cage with a thick red gash across his cheek; he had obviously tried to escape, unsuccessfully.
Once everything was packed, the convoy began to pull away from the tavern leaving it empty and deserted before crossing the narrow stone bridge to continue into the woodland once more. It was quiet in the cage. Max noticed that even the cloaked man had stopped chanting now and all he could hear was the repetitive squeak of the wheels. Max was intrigued by the grey cloaked man; there was something familiar about him. He looked over to him but he seemed to be asleep, his eye had begun to swell and close up and he rested his chin upon his chest. Littleskink also appeared to have nodded off to sleep, hypnotised by the rocking motion of the carriage. Despite his best efforts to stay awake, Max found his head dropping forward, as far as the neck clasp would allow and he slept too.
15. A Difficult Climb
On the third evening inside the cave Joe began to murmur a one-sided conversation, which sounded like an argument, before waking up with a sharp intake of breath. The others turned around to the confused looking child that was looking around the cave, not fully understanding where he was. Slowly he began to recognise the people around him.
‘Hello again, Joe,’ said Scarlet with a smile on her face. Seeing him awake again made her feel like she wasn’t alone in this strange world anymore.
‘Do you remember falling into the marsh pool?' asked Edgar sitting down on the cold cave floor next to him. Joe tried hard to think back to when they were crossing the marshland but all he could remember was the warm, inviting lights of the Pucks. His throat felt so dry that all he could do was cough when he wanted to talk. Ralphina approached him with a small leather bag and brought it up to his lips. The water that flowed into his mouth seemed to be the best water he had every tasted and it soothed his throat like ice on a scald. He drank greedily from the leather canteen until it was completely empty and he could feel the cold water inside his empty stomach.
‘Where are we?' he slowly croaked.
‘In a cave beyond the marshland,’ replied Scarlet. ‘Edgar pulled you out from a pool of decaying water then Raelyn carried you here on his back. You must have drunk some of the bad water which made you sick but Ralphina's medicine has helped you through it. We couldn’t move on to meet with the Council of War until you were stronger.’
‘Thank you,’ Joe said to all of them before laying his head back down onto a roll of fabric that acted like a pillow as another wave of tiredness passed over him. He pulled one of the camouflage cloaks up over his chest to keep himself warm but found his hand unconsciously searching for the Silver Bough that he kept tucked inside his belt. He held his hand over it, giving himself a reassuring feeling that it was still there and not lost or taken, before pulling the cloak higher up to tuck beneath his chin.
That night Joe ate small amounts of mountain pika meat as well as honeycomb that Ralphina had discovered on one of her hunting trips with Edgar.
By the early morning light the following day he was feeling strong enough to stand and walk slowly, so the decision was made to start the journey towards the Rocks of Goran where the Council of War was being held. Because of the delay in waiting for Joe to recover, they were already late and the Council would have started without them. Ralphina hadn’t forgotten seeing the donestres crossing the cove. Although she was certain that they wouldn’t have noticed the cave from that distance, the loss of one of the donestre in the Redwash that Edgar had killed may have sparked some sort of surveying of the lands close by and they could be in danger. If they discover
ed the ground dweller that brought them over the sea, she was sure he would quickly give their location away to save himself.
Since her first thought conversation with Raelyn, Scarlet had been practising throughout the following day and could now hold a complete conversation with him without uttering a single word. At first it had been difficult: she had tried to visualise the words she wanted to say as if she was writing them down on a piece of paper, but that hadn’t worked. She had been far more successful by simply saying the words in her head and imagining them streaming into the mind of the wolf. It appeared that although Ralphina could also talk to Raelyn, their connection was slightly different to her own, and they could not listen in on each other's conversations. At first Scarlet felt guilty using something of Ralphina’s without her permission, like she was intruding on part of her life that was private and personal and she wasn’t sure if Raelyn had told Ralphina of the connection they had developed. Then, whilst Scarlet was helping to prepare some of Joe's medicine, Ralphina had said something that made her think that she knew.
‘You are already one of us, little one,’ she had said. ‘Your gift with nature is as strong as my own.’
After that Scarlet felt more comfortable talking to Raelyn in their own private conversations and found that the more she relaxed and visualised the thought-paths to the wolf’s brain, the easier the connection became. She even found that she could talk to him over increasing distances. When he was out hunting, she managed to connect to him by simply closing her eyes and letting herself drift into his head. He had not been happy to be disturbed whilst hunting but was pleasantly surprised at how strong her connection had become.
The future for Scarlet now seemed a little bit clearer. She had a skill, or gift, that she would be able to put to use when it was needed, but overall she felt that she had a connection not just with Raelyn but with this unfamiliar world where animals she could never have imagined were equal with humans.
