Eventually Sparr wandered past him, his task with the stones completed.
“When you lift the stones is it a prayer you say?” asked Paul. He had been trying to decide whether to ask the Groblette or not but he had decided to stick his neck out. To his relief Sparr did not look offended at all.
“It is indeed.” said Sparr, “Neptune.” he winked, and seeing the blank expression on Paul’s face leaned in closer to him. “Goddess of the sea and sailors.” he smiled, “We are all sailors so it is to him we pray even though we are not at sea.” Paul nodded in the darkness.
“So Neptune is Goddess of the sea.” said Paul, surprised to find the name the same as where he was from, if not the sex.
“She is. Bless her for a swift and certain wind we do. Just as Cerene is the god of the woods and growth.” Paul nodded and as Sparr, seeing Paul’s increasing confusion did not seem to be deterred in the slightest. “As is Murn the god of war and Rauf the god of animals and creatures.”
“I see.” said Paul, now confused at the sudden proliferation of gods.
“There are many more.” smiled Sparr, though we do not rank one god above another. Sparr smiled. “That would be asking for trouble I would suggest.”
“I imagine so.” he smiled, and Sparr tapped him on his arm and went on his way, the heavy stone filled pack swinging on his bent back as he passed.
“We move out!” called Beezle from the edge of the camp and quickly they lined up and began to move out from the trees, across the road and then into the fields beyond. The roads were far too dangerous now. The rest of their journey would have to be taken across land rather than by the road. As thick green grass began to lick at his heels and the moon begin to rise to its height, Paul sighed as slowly but surely the Groblettes began to make their way across the fields.
Progress was slow. Paul had learned to trust the road as they had run along. Now it was difficult to get used to, his entire attention was placed on just putting one foot or the next after each other without even looking to see where he was going. Travelling across country was a whole different proposition. There were plant, bushes, ditches and streams to navigate or throw him off his stride. If the road trip was easy then the fields were a nightmare.
Yet they had no choice. On they walked through the night, the moon lighting their way as they went. Paul shouldered the small pack he had taken from the dead Groblette and although he was getting used to it now, his shoulders most definitely were not. Yet it was useful, holding several provisions required by the travellers, as well as the long hooded cloak that the tinker had given him. So far he had used it only as a sleeping blanket as the cloth it was made from was thick and almost woolly. He wondered how it would fare in the rain, though thankfully he had not had need to find out yet. Crossing the countryside from field to field in a downpour would be his worst nightmare.
On they went, and during the darkest hours of the night they stopped in the middle of a long plain of grass that came up to the Groblettes heads and Paul’s chest and stopped for food. They did not rest for long though and they continued their way south through the valley after but the slightest of breaks. The fields sloped even more steeply down to the valley floor now and trees began to fill the grass plains, becoming much denser as the valley levelled out. Paul knew that soon there would be the road that continued south then west which they would follow as it would back to the north and eventually Anchor Bay by way of the coast path. Here also they would miss the road that led through Black Root Forest to the west, the Groblettes having deemed it far too dangerous.
Yet he did not know how far he was from those junctions as this place was all new to him. On the second night of crossing the fields Paul’s leg muscles cramped and they had been forced to lose twenty minutes travelling time while Wavebrite massaged the feeling back into his sore muscles. Beezle had stood glaring beside him, nostrils flared and foot tapping, Wahid uttering low curses nearby. It was but a short while however before they were under way yet again and daybreak found them making camp amongst the trees and settling down for a long sought after rest. They slept through the day, the only moment of concern being the sounds of clashing spears on shields from somewhere far away enough to not cause great concern but at the same time to remind them of their pursuit.
“Sounds like a larger force than before.” murmured Flip dreamily as they all lay hidden amongst the trees, their dreams disturbed.
“A good forty spears.” sighed Beezle, and there were murmurs of agreement from the other Groblettes lying amongst the trees. Paul found himself wondering why he was so important; why he had been singled out at the inn. He hastily put it out of his mind again though. If it wasn’t real - and surely it could not be - then it simply didn’t matter. With this paradox spinning around his head he settled into an uneasy sleep again.
Two more days and nights passed as they avoided the road, crossing the countryside by night. They spotted a light beacon; the usual pillar of blue light rising high into the night sky to the west on the first night, and the following night two separate beams at the same time; one from the west and another to the south. The mushroom had begun to work off at this point too, and Paul hastily took one from Flip, munching it quickly in a vain attempt to avoid the strangely cheesy taste. After swallowing it their speech returned to normal. He could understand the Groblettes again, though the gaps between mushrooms seemed to be getting much longer now.
“The forking of the road around and through the forest draws near.” said Brith on the next night as they stumbled on through the dark.
“Five miles I would say.” murmured Trevlik, his voice harsh and sounding as if he was being pushed to the limit of his endurance.
They stumbled on until dawn began to break, the horizon slowly forming a band of light birds beginning to call to each other as the day returned to the world; another night over. Paul saw Beezle searching for somewhere to camp and then she suddenly veered off to a thick band of trees to the west, a suitable spot now located. They fell into the camp and began laying stones; passing food around. The usual activities that they undertook upon stopping to wait the day out. Paul waited for some hard cheese and stale bread, leaning on the trunk of a small tree to steady himself; panting harshly in the early morning light. He looked up to the sky to see how long it would take for the sun to rise and he thought he saw something moving high above.
He stopped, squinting up into the steel grey dawn sky. Nothing. Then he caught another movement off to the north, though not too far away. He frowned, concentrating his sight as hard as he could in the direction of the movement.
There.
He squinted again. A bird flying high above. Yet it was so high. It must be a big bird, he gulped. A very big bird.
“Beezle!” he shouted and he saw the captain drop the food she was eating and run across the campsite towards him.
“What?” she demanded, gripping him by the arm. Paul shook her free and pointed up to the sky.
“There.” he said, pointing at the bird to the north. Beezle followed here he was pointing, then stopped suddenly, standing perfectly still as in the morning air a low loud squeal like that of a giant serpent rang out about the sky. There were murmurs and worried looks from all the Groblettes standing about eating.
“That’s not a bird, is it?” asked Paul, trembling as the shape high above moved further south and east, as if searching for something.
“No.” said Beezle, and Paul could not help but feel the fear in her voice.
“No.” she repeated, following the shape high above in the dawn sky, “That’s not a bird at all.”
Chapter Fourteen
Two Paths Turning
They slept uneasily, the squeals from the serpents crisscrossing the land high above frequently sounding out at apparently random intervals. At first they were distant, hardly audible at all, yet as the day drew on they became louder and nearer, and though not yet near enough to give them a problem with their nearness. They were still drawing ne
arer. The net seemed to be tightening about them. As night fell they were off again until a bright blue beam suddenly erupted into the night sky less than a mile south of them. The serpent's cries had vanished as night had fallen, but Paul knew they could travel in the night. The dragon had arrived in the night they were attacked at the inn after all.
They had the choice of veering west or east around the beacon. The route to the west would take them directly towards the entrance to Black Root Forest, while the road to the east would drive them back towards the mountains and from there they would have to take a sharp turn south to circumnavigate the forest altogether. This was the route that Beezle chose, yet they had been heading in that direction for no more than an hour when a beam of bright blue light shot into the sky ahead of them, less than half an hour’s travel away. Simultaneously there rose the loud high pitched squeal of a giant serpent roaring from that direction. Beezle veered them away southwest, a route that Paul thought may be to avoid the road itself but at the same time to keep apace with it.
They strode on but less than thirty minutes later another beam shot into the sky, nearer than the last one before vanishing into the night again, leaving the travellers shielding their eyes. Paul listened carefully. From the west rose a harsh sound and concentrating on it he could soon make out the rhythmic banging of spears on shields.
“Groblette-Ru west!” shouted Paul and Beezle spun in that direction, straining her ears and then nodding.
“They know we are here somewhere.” said Beezle as they drew to a halt, the group of Groblettes gathering about her to see what she had to say. “Just not sure quite where. They are attempting to drive us from both the west and the north.”
“Why are they so keen to keep us from heading west?” asked Paul.
“I don’t know.” Sighed Beezle in the darkness. What lies that way Brith?”
Brith seemed almost to taste the air, sniffing loudly before answering.
“The road into Black Root Forest is slightly to the south and west. It would appear they are trying to herd us away from that direction.”
“Well we don’t want to go that way.” mused Flip, rubbing his chin, “We want to head southwest around the forest and then head west from there. So why do they attempt to drive us away from the direction in which we don’t want to go?”
“I am not sure.” mumbled Beezle, “but they are definitely trying to herd us either west or south”
The captain stood stroking her bruised chin in the darkness, the moonlight falling across her face as she stood moving the cigar butt around the corner of her mouth.
“Away from the forest.” she mumbled and then shaking herself they set off again, Paul trying to work out which way they were heading. Southwest seemed likely.
The sound of the clashing shields was much louder in this direction and they crept slowly forward, wary of the darkness. The night wore on as they criss-crossed themselves several times. Each time they set out in a new direction there would be an eruption of a beam of light, the sound of a serpent high above, or the clashing of spears on shields.
“They are waiting for dawn.” hissed Flip as they drew to a halt once again being thwarted by the encroaching enemy.
“I think so.” said Beezle. “Yet the one consistent thing they are doing is keeping us away from the west. I have tested them a few times and each time we have moved that way the response has been much quicker than the response if we headed in any other direction.”
The Groblettes gathered about their captain as Paul noticed a thin slash of grey begin to cut across the horizon, heralding the arrival of a new day.
“The forest is west.” said the captain with certainty and Sparr nodded in agreement. “They do not under any circumstances want us to go that way.”
Mused the captain, “but why?”
“Perhaps they are as wary of the forest as us? Nobody enters Black Root these days unless by madness or folly. None ever return.”
“Indeed.” said the captain as Flip slumped to the ground. Brith spoke up.
“Yet we cannot out-run them if we head any other way. There are at least two serpents up there.” he said, pointing to the sky, “possibly three, and if I would be forced to guess I would say that there are at least a hundred Groblette-Ru scouring these hillsides for us at this very moment.”
“The green council will hear of this.” snarled Beezle, “What is so important to risk a political incident over such a show of arms? It does not make any sense!”
Paul stood at the back of the group of Groblettes, staring at his feet. He wondered. Did it really matter? It was not real anyway. Sink or swim. Be captured or not captured. It was all the same to him. His dream would take him where it wanted to, regardless of what he did. Sighing he pushed in amongst the Groblettes and approached Beezle.
“It is me they are after.” he sighed, “You know that. Even if you don’t want to admit it. They said as much at the inn.”
“The First Sword.” mumbled Wavebrite.
“Indeed. The First Sword.” smiled Paul, “So just give me up to them and I am sure they will let you be on your way.” He smiled again. “No harm done.”
Beezle positively bristled, as did most of the other members of the group gathered there. Wahid however looked sullenly at Paul as if considering his offer.
“The larger makes sense.” said Wahid darkly, “Hand him to the Groblette-Ru and be done with it! He sank the Axe and destroyed the lighthouse I feel I have to constantly remind you all!”
Loud protests rose from the other Groblettes and Wahid sneered as they heckled him, Flip however approached and stood next to Paul.
“Master Paul.” said Beezle gently, “You are our prisoner, and therefore our property.” Paul shrugged. He had tried. But Beezle was not yet done. “Yet your strength of character and tenacity has surprised every Groblette here. We do not give up our friends so easily, Master Paul. Not so easily at all.” Paul felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
“Groblettes! We have no choice!” roared Beezle, drawing his long black metal sword, “It is into the forest we must go! Who is with me?”
“Aye!” Paul found himself shouting along with all of the other Groblettes. Even Wahid’s face showed a mixture of weary acceptance though Paul could also see doubt there too.
“We fight!” roared Beezle as the other Groblettes drew their weapons. They gave a mighty roar as the company formed a V shaped line and with another shout they ran towards the dawn and the Groblette-Ru waiting there for them in ambush.
“Kill all who resist!” yelled Beezle as they gathered speed, racing across the grass plains now. Paul found himself carried along, a slim black metal sword in one hand, a shield in the other that Flip had passed him. The cook, he noticed, was brandishing his war frying pan, dark evil looking spikes rising all around the cooking implements edges. Amongst all the shouting Paul could not help but wonder where the Groblette had been keeping it!
“Kill!” screamed Beezle and ahead of them a thin line of silver eyed Groblettes on the road turned their attention to the party bearing down on them and turned to face them. Paul had never seen the Groblettes in a fair fight before, and the ferocity of their attack astounded him. The line of silver eyed Groblette-Ru broke as Beezle led them into the fray, her sword swinging in wide circles, several of the Groblette-Ru falling as her weapon sliced into them. Flip swung the frying pan with a zeal that made Paul stand back as he waved his long sword about him uselessly. The sounds of fighting filled his ears as the two sets of Groblettes set about each other. Yet Beezle and his comrades had the advantage of surprise and the silver eyed Groblettes were falling like flies around them.
“Press west to the road into the forest!” Shouted Beezle as the sheer numbers of the enemy began to push down upon them and realising that he was of no use in a fight he began to sprint in the direction that the captain had pointed with her sword. The rest of the party were doing the same, pushing the black armoured Groblettes back as they raced t
owards the forest. Paul saw that the road here was surrounded by trees, but forked both west and then southwest.
To the west a forest rose high above them, trees gathering about the road as it entered the Black Root Forest. The path was wide but as it entered the trees it looked almost like a tunnel, the foliage surrounding it both dense and rising high into the air. It was there that the Groblettes now broke and headed for, sprinting as fast as they could. From behind him Paul heard a scream and still running as fast as he could he turned his head to see that they were being pursued by at least thirty of the enemy Groblettes, and the scream had risen from Trevlik who had fallen to the ground, a small knife sticking from his side. Paul ran on as he saw the silver eyed Groblettes fall upon his wounded colleague, slashing wildly. The numbers were too great, thought Paul. They could not turn and face them. Grimacing he knew that it was too late anyway and he turned his face forward just in time to collide with a small bush that he had not seen as the path into the forest veered off in a straight line, and struggling to stand he fell to the ground winded.
He rolled as fast as he could, oblivious to the other Groblettes racing past him. He picked up the sword that had fallen on the ground and was about to race off again as the silver eyed Groblettes caught up with him. One barked a loud command as the body of the creatures raced past, but one peeled off and faced Paul, a short sword held in its hand. Paul gulped, raising his long sword before him. He had no idea what to do! He had never held a sword before for a start! Trying desperately to control his panic he took stock of his foe. The eyes of the Groblette before him burned silver, a wide smile spreading across its face as it faced him. It seemed to almost instinctively realise his ineptitude with the weapon and threw its own sword from one hand to the next, almost dancing on the spot as it glared at him.
Into the Light- Lost in Translation Page 16
