“The larger is but a man who the Keel requires redress for an accident with one of his ships. Nothing more.” said Beezle urgently.
“And a lighthouse too.” laughed the dragon and Paul nodded.
“Both accidents.” Sighed Paul, knowing how weak it sounded, no matter how true it was.
“You stand out.” said the dragon quietly, “Some search for you and some soon will find you. You are like a babe lost in the wilderness. Yet to my eye you are like something not of this world.” the creature blinked slowly, closing its great eyes, “Born in lightning and rain. Far away you are and yet here you stand before me just as these other creatures do. I do not understand it. For now, I must endure my ignorance too.”
“I thought this was all a dream.” Sighed Paul, almost to himself, but he watched the dragon staring at him, blinking slowly. “Yet if it is it is a very real one.”
“Some say we are all a dream and that when we die we awake.” said Nahuatl, smiling. “I think that is fanciful myself, but some amongst the wise say it is so. Yet in my long dreams in the deep and dark places of the world I have seen a stranger such as you, and I am compelled to deliver you a message for all who would listen to it to pay it great heed.”
“A message?” asked Paul and the dragon nodded its great head slowly but forcefully. “For me?” he asked and the dragon nodded again.
“It is you that is the stranger here, and my dreams spoke of one who was lost but whole, untethered yet born of man and woman.” Paul just stood gazing at the great creature as it stood before him, watching. “I can find no other.” it finally said and sighed deeply, small rivulets of flame gathering at its snout and nostrils.
“What is the message?” asked Paul and the creature straightened itself.
“It is this.” said the dragon and Paul almost felt the party of Groblettes leaning in closer to listen. “There are forces of the north that even now move against the peoples of this land. I said that I found only you, but I feel that power is masked. There gathers in Sulodien those who would be able to tell you more, I feel. Let them know there that the great powers of the world will not allow them to proceed as they are doing. A time of strife approaches, and at its heart I see you, stranger.”
Paul stared at the dragon. He did not understand a word of what it was saying!
“There is one further thing.” said Nahuatl, leaning in closer.
“What is that?” Paul almost whispered as the huge head of the dragon settled almost on the ground before him.
“Free my kin.” it whispered, though its whisper was still loud enough to almost shake the ground. “Free my kin.” said Nahuatl “for their plight is an atrocity to me, a bane for me and my kind to bear. The giants of my domain in the Maw strive to make war against those who injure my kind but so far I have not permitted them. Their patience though is short, and my indecision falters.” The dragon blinked once, slowly, as if concentrating all of its attention upon him. “Promise me that, stranger. Free my kin.”
Paul felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. he did not know what the dragon was talking about. Yet how could he say no? He had no choice at all.
“I will.” said Paul solemnly and the dragons huge mouth opened in what could only be a smile.
“Well met.” said Nahuatl and straightening its neck peered up into the sky. “Till we meet again.” said the dragon and almost effortlessly it rose from the ground and thrusting forward it flew into the air, rapidly gaining height as it went, leaving only the scorched ground and the flapping sound of its great wings as it flew quickly away high into the sky.
“I will.” whispered Paul once again as the dragon flew away, and he thought then that he did not know what he had just promised. But he knew one other thing too.
He always kept his promises.
Chapter Twenty One
Storm Blowing In
The Groblettes maintained an almost strict silence until the dragon was but a dot on the horizon, their silence making them fidgety and almost nervous. Finally, Beezle spoke.
“The Keel must hear of Nahuatl’s message.” she said almost reverentially.
“I will be the one to deliver it.” said Paul sternly, “it was given to me to relate.”
“Indeed.” said the captain and Paul saw several of the other Groblettes nod their heads.
“Even though I do not understand it.” Paul finished as they began to shoulder their packs again, ready to move further towards Anchor Bay before nightfall.
“You must be made to see, Paul” said the cook, “we Groblette-Ra have become isolated over the years. We are a sea-faring nation and although Anchor Bay is our home, we care little for and have little involvement with the greater plans and schemes of others in the wider world.”
“Nahuatl’s message seems to indicate that may be about to change.” muttered Paul darkly, and several of the Groblettes looked at him uneasily. “Still. First we have to get to Anchor Bay, and we won’t achieve that by standing here all day talking.”
The company formed a line and Beezle set a regular but slow pace along the road. Their pace increased a little once they were under way, Paul putting this down to their proximity to their home, but he also knew that they would not make it to the city before late on the next day, and so he was not surprised at all when evening fell and Beezle pulled them to the side of the road to make camp again.
As before, several small rabbits were caught and cooked, the talk around the camp being mostly of being home and what they would do when they got there; who they would see and what they would do. Paul kept himself to himself, and the Groblettes seemed to be comfortable with that. His head was spinning. He felt his right arm throb slightly, and then his right, and he wondered what it was that now coursed through his body and what it meant. He also pored over the dragon’s message. “A time of strife approaches, and at its heart I see you, stranger.” it had said, and he felt panic rising in him, for he did not know what that meant, nor how it could possibly be true. He had been here just a little over a few weeks, and it was all moving far too fast for him, and he did not understand most of it. Sighing to himself he wished he was back struggling to accept the truth of where he found himself, when his only concern was whether everything that surrounded him was real or not. As night fell and he lay on his back staring at the stars it all felt very real indeed. Very real.
“I will be glad to be home on the morrow.” said Flip, appearing from nowhere and sitting down beside him.
“Family?” enquired Paul.
“No.” smiled the cook, looking at Paul oddly as if he had asked the Groblette something ridiculous and could not quite understand it. “I feel it is always a good thing to be home.”
“Yes.” Said Paul, wondering exactly where home was these days. It was certainly not anywhere that he would recognise, that was for sure! “Yes, it is.” he concluded sadly, almost feeling the cook beside him smiling.
Slowly he found himself drifting off to sleep, and then as the stars continued to shine down from above on him, he slept, the sound of owls hooting nearby filling his mind as his dreams took him.
***
Morning broke to the sound of the Groblettes making breakfast from the remnants of the hunt the night before, Paul eating the thin slices of cold fatty meat eagerly. He knew that this would be their last day on the road together and he felt sure that he was going to miss it. The mood in the camp seemed happy and they all looked eager to be off on their way, and so they ate quickly, grabbed their packs and soon they were on their way again, the thin morning light seeming to bring with it a promise of a hasty return to home.
The road wound around the fields which were now starting to appear to be much better cultivated. After a few hours journey along the road a low stone wall appeared at the edge of one of the fields, and as they proceeded further towards the city it became a regular occurrence. Paul began to notice animals in the fields, and once or twice in the distance what may have been small farmhouses.
&nb
sp; “The land here is ideal for sheep and the like.” said Flip, noticing Paul staring at the farm animals.
“Goats.” said Paul, and Flip nodded.
“When shall we see the city?” asked Paul and Flip gazed off into the air.
“A few hours yet.” he said, coming to a decision. “The cliffs tend to meander a little here.” He smiled at him. “You will see it soon master Paul. Very soon.”
They continued into the morning, bright sunlight now illuminating the farm fields the road took them along. Once or twice they passed a farmer working in his fields and the Groblettes called and waved eagerly to them, their greetings being returned by them. Paul waved too, though he could not help but feel that the Groblettes working in the fields stares stayed on him a little longer than all of the others. He shrugged it off however and continued walking.
They stopped just before what Paul reckoned would be mid-day and Brith and Flip were despatched to a farmhouse that was much nearer to the road along which they marched than any they had passed before.
A short time later they returned carrying a small wheel of cheese and several still warm loaves of freshly baked bread, which were divided equally and eaten ravenously by every one of them.
“That was something to be glad of.” Sighed Wahid, leaning back on the grass.
“Aye.” Said Beezle, “and something a little more substantial for supper if we continue at this pace.”
“Beer?” asked Flip, cocking an eyebrow.
“Undoubtedly.” smiled Wavebrite, and as if encouraged by the thought of beer they hastily got to their feet and set off again.
Soon after Paul noticed that some of the farm fields began to be turned over to vegetable crops, and he was amused to see in several of the fields hay made scarecrows standing guard over the birds that were obviously eying the crops greedily.
“They guard the vegetables.” said Flip, seeing Paul smiling at the straw and stick made mannequins in the fields.
“I know.” said Paul, “We have them too.”
“We?” asked Flip, raising an eyebrow.
“Never mind.” laughed Paul. “Suffice to say I have seen them before.” The cook nodded and they marched onwards.
Paul looked back over his shoulder at the field and he was surprised to see that the scarecrow was now a little nearer. He looked at it intently, but it was definitely not moving. He laughed and turned away, wondering if the sun was getting to him, for it was now at its zenith and the day was turning out to be pleasantly warm, if not a little on the hot side. He glanced again at the scarecrow over his shoulder and stopped in the road, Flip almost banging into him. It was definitely much nearer this time!
“What in Neptune’s name is the matter, Paul?” asked the cook, “you are as pale as a new ship’s top sail.”
“The scarecrow has moved.” said Paul, pointing to the scarecrow in the field. “Twice now.”
Flip laughed and clapped Paul on the back. “That’s silly talk. They are just scarecrows, are they not?”
“Yes.” muttered Paul, noticing another scarecrow in the fields on the other side of the road, and as he stood staring, two more in the fields ahead of them.
Paul, shook himself and carried on walking, the rest of the group ahead of them now, and so they both had to pick up the pace a little to catch them up.
Paul looked at the road ahead. The farm fields had a gap here, the road entering a large clearing, across which he could see more farms further west. From somewhere nearby yet still out of sight there came the sound of wind chimes echoing on the breeze and slowly becoming louder as if something was approaching them.
“Farmer’s market field.” said Flip from behind him, seeing Paul staring ahead, ignoring him now.
“Wind chimes!” shouted Paul in a panic. “Draw weapons and be ready! We are under attack!”
They marched into the fields, all looking madly about as if trying to discern what it was that causing Paul such distress, but they could not see anything. The Groblettes were all looking at him as if he had lost his mind and as they did so a small blue orb shot from their right, veered across the road and then hovered in the road directly ahead of them, almost as if blocking their way. Paul felt his right arm suddenly throb uncontrollably, and he resisted the urge to fade, his left arm clenched to maintain the balance.
“What in the name of Neptune is that?” growled Beezle as they came to a sudden stop. From where the sphere hovered, casting tendrils of malevolent blue light across the ground a low mocking sound of laughter could be heard. Paul spun around, looking behind him and as he did so he saw four of the scarecrows shambling along the road towards them, thick vines and thorns flexing around their stick and hay bodies, spiralling about them as if animated by a power that meant them nothing but harm.
“Weapons!” cried Beezle, unsheathing her sword and the Groblettes dropped their packs, drawing their weapons. Paul felt useless as he had no weapon to draw, but he was not sure if he would have even if he had one. He had sworn never to again, and it was a vow he meant to keep.
Rapidly the scarecrows advanced along the road towards them, the blue orb hovering ahead of them not moving at all, just watching them.
“Ambush.” said Flip behind him, and Paul watched as he drew the small spoon from his pack and twisting the handle it expanded in size, sharp looking spikes jutting from all around the pan’s edge.
Brith strode forward, sword drawn and launched himself at the first scarecrow. The animated creature lashed out at him as he struck, thick thorn covered vines wrapping around his arms and then his body, drawing him into the heart of the straw and hay of the scarecrow. Brith had barely time to scream as the vines constricted around him, drawing into him tightly. There was a splash of blood and worse and the creature tore him apart, thick blood spurting onto the ground as the ruined body of the sailor was crushed and torn to shreds.
“Back.” gasped Beezle, seeing his comrade slain so easily, “There are fell arts at work here! Fall back!” The scarecrow that had torn Brith asunder merely dropped what was left of him on the ground and continued its advance.
Paul felt sick. The ground was littered with what was left of Brith, and the scarecrows simply brushed past it, advancing towards them.
From ahead of them Paul heard the laughter increasing in volume as the blue orb bobbed about the road, blocking their way in that direction. The four scarecrows continued to advance, lurching towards them, the road behind them now smeared with blood and what remained of Brith. From somewhere nearby Paul heard crows squawking and his stomach turned.
Beezle turned to face the orb, sword drawn and she raised it as if to swipe at the small blue sphere, yet as she did so a blue flash of light shot from the sphere and smashed into the ground at the captain’s feet, shattering the earth with its power and ferocity. Beezle backed away, the warning shot forcing her backwards. From somewhere far away the laughter increased and the scarecrows on the other side lurched ever nearer.
“Fire may work against them.” said Paul suddenly, but he knew it was in vain. Brith had merely got within arm’s reach of the scarecrow and the vines had clutched him effortlessly. All they had with them was a tinderbox, which was as good as useless.
Paul fought with his now numb left arm, so fiercely was it aching. He controlled the urge to disappear and flee by flexing his right fist and fading into the shadows. he knew it would be easy to escape to leave the Groblettes to their fate, but he did not consider it an option.
As he watched them gather into a circle, weapons extended before them, the orb ahead, the scarecrows behind he knew he had to make a choice. He could flee or he could stay with his friends. Everything seemed to slow down in his mind, all coming to a stop, and the familiar questions appeared in his mind.
Was this real? Did it make any difference what he did if he took either course of action? Yet he expanded his reasoning. If he died here would he wake up back where he should be? If so, then why not just let it happen? Either way he would be f
ree of the place, and if this place was not real, then neither were his friends or the terrible fate that was about to befall them.
He looked across the fields, the sea beyond, the sun in the sky. It looked real enough, and yet it could not be. He could not be somewhere else just like that. It was impossible!
The sun shone through the field, crows crying out from somewhere near, and he turned to face the blue orb. He examined it closely. The coca cola shirt was not visible, and he did not understand what that was about at all; and yet when he looked upon it the blue fire and the evil sparking tendrils just seemed wrong somehow. They felt like an open wound on the face of the world.
The serpents had been real enough, but there was a place for them. They fitted in some bizarre yet logical way. The Groblette-Ru were without doubt a force to be reckoned with, yet they had a place in this world too. Even the enigmatic Green Man and the shades in the long abandoned mine. They all had something of this world about him.
Yet this blue orb did not. It was as alien as he was. It simply spoke of corruption and evil; but it was not part of everything that was around him. Everything that slowly was becoming part of who he was; part of what he was growing to love. The sphere though was not part of this world at all. It was as if it could not be real as it felt so wrong where everything else felt so right. It was the thing that was not real. He followed his train of thought through to its eventual conclusion, and as he stopped fighting the power faded from both of his arms almost instantly.
It was real. This place was real. It had to be, for the orb was most definitely not as real as the rest of it. By its very presence it proved that this was not a dream.
It was real. Felastia existed.
“Finally.” said a voice in his head, and Paul reeled because it did not come from any of the Groblettes about him, nor the orb either. It was a familiar voice, though he had not heard it for what seemed now like an age. “And about time too.” said the voice and suddenly the clearing was flooded with a brilliant white light that shone like a beacon, blinding all of them instantly, the brightness of the light forcing them to place their hands across their eyes, the light effectively rendering them unable to fight and thus leaving them at the mercy of the orb and the scarecrows that had ambushed them.
Into the Light- Lost in Translation Page 24
