“I am dreaming. I know it now.” whispered Paul but Flip pulled at his arm. Obviously the cook was near enough to hear.
“Dragon.” whispered Paul as looking up he saw what could only be two wide saddles strapped to the beast, in one of which was strapped a small figure that turned to face him, the small silver lights of its eyes instantly giving it away to be Groblette-Ru.
“What’s a dragon?” asked Flip besides him, and Paul shot him a glance, realising the cook look confused,
“That.” said Paul, pointing to the huge creature that filled the road outside the inn. Obviously this was the transport that Othaug had referred to.
“Dragon?” asked Flip, his tone of voice seeming to suggest that Paul was suffering from a mistake of some kind, “that’s not a dragon. That’s a serpent, Paul.” he said patiently, “Most definitely a serpent. Dragons are much bigger. The giants of Dragon’s Maw would be most offended if you think that is a dragon!” Flip chuckled loudly, Paul blushing in the darkness.
Beside him, Paul saw Trip raise the arrow again, this time aiming for a different target. Paul tried to see where the trajectory of the arrow was pointing but he could not quite make it out. He tried again but as he watched the bow suddenly shook and shooting through the night the arrow hit the triangle upon the serpent’s head and the night was suddenly filled with a bright blue light that Paul had to look away from as it was so painful to watch.
The serpent twitched as the light from the triangle was extinguished and then it flexed itself, almost as if waking from a dream. It suddenly bucked and the figure of the small silver Groblette shot over the great beast’ head and into the road, rolling across the dirt and now lying directly in front of the serpent.
The Groblette twitched and tried to get to its feet but the beast was much quicker and Paul had to look away but still he could hear the screams and then the slow crushing and swallowing sounds. As it quickly stopped Paul turned back to face the serpent which was now staring at both the inn and the Groblettes now standing in the courtyard outside it .
The beast roared and then made a strange low scraping motion with its impossibly long neck which may have just been a bow. The Groblettes stood open-mouthed, staring at the creature as it humbled itself before them. Paul felt that there was simply too much going on all around him.
The creature raised its head then and gave a deep booming cry that seemed to shake the ground and instinctively he placed his hands over his ears. Then there was a gale of wind as the serpent spread its wings and flapping slowly it rose into the air, turning as it banked to the west and then flew away up into the dark black night.
“What the hell?” shouted Paul incredulously. With the departure of the serpent he felt at a loss as to what to do next, and the Groblettes all around him seemed confused and unsure also. Yet he knew that they had to do something. He looked across the darkened courtyard and shaking his head returned into the inn to see what it was that was happening inside. The Groblettes he noticed however did not follow him, their eyes staring into the dark night sky in the direction that the serpent had flown away in.,
He returned inside to find that apart from the three bodies lying on the floor that the inn was deserted. The other occupants of the inn had obviously decided to leave through the back door for there were none waiting outside where but moments before a giant serpent had flown down from the sky and then rather oddly left just as soon as it had arrived. In the road all the remained of the Groblette that had been riding the beast was scattered about the road and the unconscious creature and the body of the other lay nearby, just visible in the darkness of the night.
Exiting The Last Oak Paul saw that the Groblettes were already forming a line and getting ready to leave, though he did notice with a pang of regret that the line was now two members shorter.
“Go!” shouted Beezle from the front of line and off they set at a fast pace, and as they crossed the courtyard and joined the road they began to head west, increasing speed as they broke into a trot and began to jog away from the inn and into the night.
Chapter Thirteen
Flight from the Inn
Paul realised as they broke into a run that he was tired and was moving only on adrenalin, for it must be somewhere round about midnight and just over an hour ago he was readying himself for bed. Still, he knew that there was no choice, for they had to put some distance between themselves and the inn before the Groblette-Ru woke. They ran through the night, heading west into the darkness. The recent rain had made the road wet and slippery, deep puddles of mud having to be avoided almost as soon as they came upon them, but they did not let it hinder them.
Paul managed to maintain his pace, keeping up with the Groblettes but after what he reckoned to be no more than a few miles he felt himself begin to flag. Still on they raced, the backpacks fixed tightly upon their backs bobbing into the darkness as they ran. Paul had taken a pack from one of the fallen Groblettes, the straps of which were currently cutting into his shoulders, the pack not being designed for his build. Yet he ignored it. Their need to put distance between themselves and Othaug’s group was pressing. Once the Groblette-Ru came to they would be angry and keen to find them. Paul wondered what Othaug had meant about the lord of the Steel Keep being interested in him. He could not think why. He didn’t even know where the place was, never mind being of interest to someone there who waited for him. If this was a dream, then it seemed to be beset with complications and strange events.
The pace continued into the night. The road flew beneath their feet as they ran through the darkness, dark trees suddenly appearing and then disappearing in the darkness as they raced past them. Paul stumbled along, Flip was behind him in the line. Paul tried to look occasionally over his shoulder but the cook had a faraway look about him, his head down, his lips a straight line that seemed almost to define determination. On they went and Paul found his mind wandering as he tried to ignore the screams of his leg muscles and the sharpness of his breath. He was fit, yes, but this was something else altogether. Yet he knew it was also a flight from danger and potential capture and so on he went.
A dirty grey line began to appear on the horizon a few hours later and Paul realised that dawn was imminent. Already fields and patches of tall trees began to creep towards them from the night, the distance they could see ahead of them slowly increasing as it became lighter.
They rose across a hill as morning began to break and looked down into a steep valley, the road slowly meandering into the vale, rolling green hills following the path as it ran down into the dawn. The copses of trees that studded the hill where they were currently running along the road seemed to grow much more abundant to the south, and then just out of sight to the southwest and west the trees seemed to gather together. From behind him, obviously looking in the same direction as he was Flip suddenly gasped.
“The entrance of Black Root Forest lies that way. Many miles yet, Paul. But near. We hold south though then southwest. We avoid the forest and go around it.”
“Surely the forest is the better option if we want to escape Othaug.” panted Paul.
“It is best to arrive late than not at all.” said Flip ominously.
Would Othaug dare to enter Anchor Bay though?” shouted Paul over his shoulder. If anything with the approaching dawn Beezle seemed to pressing the company even harder! To his surprise though, Flip laughed.
“Of course not.” he said.
“Well then. Surely the shorter route gives Othaug less chance to overtake us?”
“If Black Root Forest was not the quicker route then I would be forced to agree.” said then cook, “And not so many years ago it would have been the obvious route. Yet over the years something dark stirs in the forest. There is a shadow upon the trees there and we are helpless to discover its source. Or its purpose. Scouting trips of our people fail to return. Merchant trains that enter those wood never come out of the other end.”
“I see.” sighed Paul.
“Yes. Even m
erchants go around now. To all intents and purposes Black Root Forest is closed to the realm of Groblettes and largers. We dare not go that way.”
“So we go around.” said Paul and the cook’s lack of a reply was a silent assent.
Dawn continued to rise around them like a mantle lifting from the land. Slowly colour began to seep back into the world through the haze of morning, colouring the valley before them, the sky beginning to colour a deep blue. Paul looked at the valley before them, He knew it should make his heart sing yet even now, in what may or may not be a dream he could not force himself to love it. He felt detached, as if somehow this was not meant for the like of him, it’s quiet omniscient essence failing to lift his spirits. This was his common malaise, and not a symptom of the tiredness that seemed to seep from every bone and every weary muscle of his body. He knew soon he would stumble and fall to the road and yet from somewhere deep within himself he found the strength to keep moving.
What seemed like an age later he saw Beezle began to slow, the company slowing their pace to match her. The captain led them from the road and into a thick copse of trees, then headed east beneath the bows of the trees a short way, a chorus of birds bursting from the branches as they noisily threw themselves into the cool shade. They wandered at walking pace a little further so that the road was now out of view and then they came to a stop.
“Place the stones.” gasped Beezle, “we rest during the hours of daylight here. Cold food only. No fires. We move out again at dusk.”
Paul unhooked the pack from his shoulders and dropped it to the floor, the loss of the rucksack making him feel almost as if he would float away high into the clouds. He felt suddenly dizzy and realising that food was of less importance to him than rest he as good as fell to the ground and was instantly asleep.
It seemed like mere moments before he suddenly focused on the face of Flip mere inches from him imploring him to wake and when he stirred the cook moved back and thrust a small piece of bread into one hand and a wedge of dark yellow cheese into the other. Forgoing speech he ate both greedily and shortly after the stones were lifted from the camp and they were off again.
Despite the lack of sleep over the last twenty-four hours Paul felt refreshed after the short meal and as they ran back to the road leaving the cover of the trees behind them he could now see that night had already fallen. Tonight was clearer than the night before, or perhaps he had was more refreshed, as now as he ran he glanced up at the unfamiliar stars blinking above him. As they ran Paul quizzed Flip about the events of the day he had slept through, only to find that it had been largely uneventful. A few stray travellers had passed by without even noticing them, Beezle having set an all-day watch on the camp that Paul seemed to have been excluded from, though this was understandable as he was after all still a prisoner of the Groblettes awaiting justice at the hands of The Keel.
There had been no sign of pursuit from the inn yet either. Paul reasoned that there had been just one of the silver eyed Groblette-Ru that had been unaffected by the drug in the ale and that the creature had still been unconscious when they had left, though he would obviously not be forever. He thought that their ability to pursue them was more dependent upon their ability to recover from the drugged ale, and judging by the look on Sousain’s face when she had handed the beer around she may well have put more than a small amount of whatever it was that she had drugged the ale with into the pitcher.
Satisfied with the lack of any signs of danger Beezle set them on to the road and set an even fiercer pace than before. On they raced as the moon rose above them, lighting the road in swathes of white and blue, the stars lighting the occasional copses of trees besides the road. On they ran through the night, the pace slowly beginning to wear at Paul. They did not stop for food, but as they descended further into the valley Beezle relaxed the pace a little, allowing the downhill camber to ease them on their way. The moon rose as high as it would in the sky and began slowly to wane.
Still on they went in the darkness, coming across no other fellow travellers as they went. Before dawn they were down almost to a march, crossing a small hill that slowed their weary pace and as they reached the zenith of the hill Flip suddenly gave a shout to stop.
The Groblettes gathered on the summit of the hill looking north forming a circle, almost holding on to each other to remain upright. From the north a thin needle of blue light shot from the ground high into the night sky, like a lance of pure energy, tearing into the darkness. It glowed for but a minute and then as rapidly as it appeared it disappeared.
“They are coming.” Sighed Beezle and Paul saw several of the Groblettes nodding.
“They are.” said Wavebrite wearily, “They are.”
“Onward!” yelled Beezle and they set off again, the captain calling over her shoulder as they left the hill behind, “A few more miles before we stop for the day!” Panting madly as he tried to match the pace they fled on into the dawn, cautiously looking over their shoulders for the sign of any pursuit following them on the road.
***
It was not long after the sighting of the beam of light in the dark that they drew themselves off the road and made camp. As before a copse of trees provided them with adequate cover and they ate cold food as the white stones were set about the camp in the usual circle. Paul thought that perhaps he was becoming accustomed to the forced march as he did not feel as tired as the day before and so he watched the other Groblettes as they went about their duties, setting up camp; distributing food. Eventually he found himself standing beside Flip as he passed some food to Beezle. They were both gazing down the valley from their hiding place as if desperate to spot some sort of movement. None came from there however.
“The forest begins to the west as the road forks west then moves further off to the northwest and then eventually off to the coast and Anchor Bay.” said Beezle, pointing as she did so.
“Yet we go south west and around the cursed forest.” said Flip, pointing further south.
Paul watched them but could not help but interrupt.
“You seem to know the way.” said Paul and both Groblettes looked up at him as if he were stupid.
“Of course we do.” sighed Beezle.
“Yet you are sailors are you not?” asked Paul, “Your ship - the Axe - was your method of transport. So how come you know the way along these roads? The sea is many a mile away from here isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is.” said Flip, “yet we are no strangers to these roads. All sailors are taught the rudiments of travelling. Indeed, we are not journeymen. Yet we have travelled extensively just to become sailors.”
“And not all of that sailing is on the sea.” smiled Flip, “if you are to navigate by the stars then it is just as easy to do it from an empty road as much as it to learn from a ship’s deck.”
“I see.” said Paul, nestling down onto the cool damp leaves beneath his feet. Very soon after he slept.
When he awoke it was still light. Paul was startled to see that the sun still shone brightly down upon the valley and it was still high in the sky, though now past its zenith. He was no expert but he was slowly learning to approximate the time and thought that perhaps it was mid-afternoon. He wondered what it was that had woken him and as he began to rise a rough hand suddenly grabbed him and forced him back to the ground. He twisted where he lay and saw Wavebrite holding his fingers to his lips hushing him to keep quiet.
He nodded to the Groblette and turned again, watching the creatures who seemed to have crawled to the perimeter of the camp and were looking down to the road that was at the bottom of a small slope below them. He crawled slowly forward, several of the other Groblettes looking over their shoulders at him as approached. The road was perfectly visible now and as he came to a stop he heard the droning of insects and the song of birds from the branches overhead. Then slowly another sound began to be heard from nearby. He recognised the rhythmic clash of spears on shields instantly and cowered down onto the leaves that lay about him as a
group of Groblette-Ru came into view from the road to the north.
Paul counted twenty of the silver eyed creatures marching quickly down the lane, a large Groblette at their head. This was not Othaug though. The leader of the Groblettes was much smaller than the First Steel though no less fierce looking. They marched relentlessly towards the trees where they were hiding and Paul held his breath as the Groblettes filed past, the banging of the shields never ceasing as they ran past. They followed the road as it went around a small bend and then disappeared from view.
It was several minutes before any of them dared to speak, but it was Brith who eventually broke the silence.
“They are ahead of us now too.” he said and Paul could see Beezle frowning.
“We may need to travel off the road.” said the captain and several of the Groblettes groaned out loud. “For now however try to get more sleep. If we are to travel off the road our pace will be more arduous and much slower.” Slowly the camp returned to where they had been lying before the enemy had filed past, but as Paul lay desperately trying to sleep again he could not help but notice that the guard about the camp had now been doubled, white stones or no.
Eventually sleep took him, his dreams troubled. He saw green eyes watching him, a spectral arm in the dark and he woke with a start, breathing heavily. Now it was dark and food was being handed around the camp. As he watched he saw Ybarro and Sparr lifting the white stones and as usual stowing them in their packs. Paul moved forward a little, following Ybarro as he moved in one direction, Sparr the other. As usual he knew both of them were whispering something very softly as the lifted each stone, and so he crept nearer and tried to make out what it was.
“Sea and star, wave and moon.” he heard Ybarro mutter before stowing one white rock in the pack on his back and then moving on to the next stone where he chanted the same thing again before moving on to the next rock. Paul withdrew a little and waited until the pair of Groblettes had completed their task. He stood watching the night, listening from any movement from outside the camp but he heard nothing.
Into the Light- Lost in Translation Page 15
