The Statue Maker

by Oliver Kennedy

  Chapter 8

  At first he thought he was drowning when he woke, then he realised after a few disorientating moments that his captures had doused him in water in order to wake him, he still wore the hood, a thick dark material that did not betray its purpose. Falk could smell burning lamp and and heard several sets of shuffling footsteps in the vicinity. Whispers came to Falks ears, a chorus of them babbling, he could make out the odd phrase, 'he wakes' 'he wakes' 'beware the walker'. Then he heard a voice that was most definitely not a whisper, a deep throaty growling voice which made him jump in his shackles on the hard wooden chair to which he was bound.

  “Not the brightest thing are you worm, what did you think was going to happen to that lightning when you brought it across the threshold?”. Falk remembered the searing pain in his side, the stranger was right, it hadn't occurred to him that the broken shard would come back to life. Falks throat was dry and he could barely croak out a few words. “My hand, you broke my hand” he could still feel the numb pain of the broken bones. This drew a derisory snort from the growling voice.

  “WHAT? Do you think we are torturers eh worm, believe me were that our way your body would be a sea of pain right now”.

  Another voice cut in. It was a womans voice, soft and lilting, an accent that Falk could not place. Its softness concealed a steel, Falk could hear both strength and also a hint of suspicion as it spoke “Your hand was broken ere you entered my house stranger, as my surly friend says to torture is not our way, even with those who deserve it” the implication was not lost on Falk.

  “I have never met you before, what possible cause could I have given you to believe that I would be worthy of such methods?” said Falk, slowly beginning to gather his senses. There were a few moments of silent conferring before the hood was pulled from his head.

  After a few seconds of light blindness Falk started to focus on his surroundings. It was a round room, low ceilinged and built from incredibly even brickwork. The walls were adorned with a startling array of wicked looking implements, though they might have been surgical there was a part of Falk which tasted fear at their sight, particularly given the talk of torture which had come up in the last couple of minutes. Looking closer though it was obvious that the sharp and pointed instruments on the walls were rusted and old, they'd not seen use for a long long time. Falk looked to those to whom he'd been speaking.

  Falk was not sure which of them was more shocking. The figure to his right who was undoubtedly the owner of the growling voice was an immense figure. Up to the waste he resembled a man, though with legs like tree trunks, from his torso however came four arms, two sets where they would have been expected and two more below them. The being did not seem to have a neck, from his shoulders a ball of muscle surrounded a brutish face, humanoid in many aspects but the humanity faded in the wake of the two enormous tusks which pointed out from below his ears. “Take a good look worm” he growled and Falk looked away quickly to the other visible person in the room.

  This was a woman of incredible beauty, but Falk was not sure whether or not this beauty was enhanced or blemished by the fact that her skin seemed to be completely silver. The perfect mercury complexion instantly reminded Falk of other silver figures that he'd seen in recent memory. This was not statue however for her skin was alive with liquid beauty, her hair was of a similar hue and her apparel also, which was a regal looking robe of overlapping layers of silver. Falk lowered his eyes for he did not wish to provoke insult.

  “How is it that you came to be here?” she asked. Falk looked up at her. This was undoubtedly the Silver Queen of whom the statue maker had spoken, even as he thought it Falk could see a fiery glint at the top of her robe around her neck, the amulet which the lord of the western wood desired so much.

  “I walked” said Falk, a little more petulantly then he intended, the four arm beast grabbed the back of the chair and hoisted it up into the air without effort bringing Falk fearfully close to those razor sharp tusks. Falk noted that the being had to stoop considerably to fit into this low room.

  “You would do well to show some respect worm, when the lady of this house asks you a question, you answer it in a manner that does not invite me to introduce to you to the end of one of these here tusks” he said menacingly.

  “Taalg, be calm” spoke the silver lady. Taalg deposited Falk gruffly to the floor. “I understand you may feel reluctant to speak to me young man, but rest assured you are in a house of power, it is not a cruel power but it is not a power which maintains itself through yielding unwittingly to its enemies, I will ask you questions and you will submit honest answers” as she spoke Falk looked deep into the silver orbs of her eyes and felt suddenly compelled to be as helpful as possible to his captors.

  “What is your name?”

  “Falk, Falk of Aleseven”

  “Falk, Falk of Alesven” she repeated his words, rolling them round searching for some other meaning to them other than a name. Then Falk heard a whispering, the same whispering as before but he could not see the source of it.

  “A village of the Northfold, close, oh so close to the realm of the Sordienoth” came the sibilant sound.

  “And how is it that you can move through the timeless world that stands around my house?” asked the queen, Falk felt strange and drowsy, his own voice seemed to come from a great distance away. “I am immune from the effects of the wish for it was me who spoke it”. Falk shrank back from the looks on Taalgs and the silver ladys faces. Frosty did not do them justice.

  “It is as I said my lady, he is an agent of the Sordienoth, lets us put an end to him now”. Before the silver lady had a chance to agree Falk cried out, “No, please, I am or rather but was a helpless sheep-herder, I lost a member of my flock and followed it into the western wood, there I was beguiled by a foul being who lives there, he thrust this 'unwanted gift' upon me, I had no idea, I swear it I did not know what would happen when I spoke the wish and did so only in a moment of utter desperation”.

  “Falk, tell us of what happened and leave out nothing”. Falk proceeded to tell his captors of his encounter with the statue maker, the granting of the wish and his subsequent return to find his flock butchered by red wolves. At this Taalg murmured “They were ever his loyal servants” to which the silver lady nodded. Falk continued outlining the downfall of his family, the tainted crops and the thefts which eventually led to his punishment, his fathers death and the speaking of the wish.

  There was a silence following the conclusion of his sorry tale until the silver lady finally spoke “There is something you are missing?”

  “No” said Falk, “That is the sum of my tale”. The silver lady came over and knelt next to him, staring deep into his eyes “He always sets a price for his gifts Falk, the loyalty he expects in return for the curse, what did he ask of you Falk” she said softly but firmly. Falk wanted to tell her, he gazed at the fiery amulet around his neck and yearned to tell her, but he could not, try as he might the words would not come, he just stared helplessly back at her. The silver lady stood and nodded to Taalg, the hood descended and the darkness returned to Falk.

  When he awoke this time he was not shackled, indeed he felt comfortable and realised that he lay down on a soft bed. The walls of the room were adorned with many pictures depicting battles and glories from long ago. Aside from the large bed on which he lay the room held a crackling fireplace, a table below the east facing windows which was bare and several comfy looking arm chairs. On one of these chairs the silver lady sat looking at him. The only light came from the fireplace, darkness streamed through the windows, the room was lit by the low orange glow of the fire.

  Falks hand felt better and the burning in his side had cooled. “How long have I slept?”.

  “Three days, if you can really discern between day and night as things stand” she said wryly.

  “I'd wager that you did not sleep for some time before coming here”. Falk nodded.

  “I felt not fatigue, nor hunger n
or thirst”.

  “Well you did not age, as such your body did not require sustenance or rest, that all changed the moment you crossed the threshold into my home”. Falk felt the sleep fade away and his mind becoming alert, and curious.

  “Did you bewitch me? In the room where you questioned me, I felt far away, as my body, my mind was not my own?”.

  “You had answers we needed Falk, it was necessary but do not worry, the effects are short-lived, your mind is now your own.” She was quiet for several seconds, studying him. It was strange but when she sat so still in the low light her resemblance to the statues of the western wood was even more startling. “Do you remember the question you could not answer?” Falk nodded. “Can you answer it now?”. Falk searched his mind, he tried to speak the words again but they would not come, just as before something was blocking him from telling the silver queen that what he sought lay wrapped around her neck at this very moment. Falk shook his head.

  The silver queen stood, her many layered robe rustling as she did so, she walked over and lay something next to him on the bed, it was a piece of parchment and a writing implement of some kind. “Try writing it down”. Falk took the paper and pen and tried to bring them together to jot down the price that the statue maker had placed upon his wish, but he could not, though he tried with all his strength, until his muscles bulged and sweat stood upon his forehead Falk cold not put pen to paper . He dropped his head in submission. “He has been thorough” came Taalgs voice from the corner of the room, Falk jumped for he'd not even noticed the figure in the room, which seemed ridiculous given Taalgs dimensions. Now he stood at full height Falk saw truly he was a towering giant, Falk estimated that the huge tusked figure must have stood to almost nine feet in height.

  “He has indeed” replied the silver lady “Falk, it is obvious that he who granted you this wish has gone to great lengths to ensure that you do not speak of the mission he laid upon you, that you have journeyed here indicates that your mission has pointed you in this direction, I wonder Falk, it appears that you may not tell us of what he requires of you, but are you able to speak of whether or not your task in some way involves me?”.

  Falk looked up at her, then he nodded, it was painful, and he felt like he was moving his head through cement but slowly he nodded to her, as he so he fell back and felt a great weariness come over him. “Thank you Falk, that looked as if it caused you some difficulty.” She looked up at Taalg and then back at Falk. “Falk, I am Evelendra, called the Silver Queen, welcome to my house. You will be safe here for the power of the Sordienoth cannot penetrate these walls, Rannulf will see that you are comfortable and answer any questions you might have”. With that she swept her robe around and walked from the room with Taalg following closely.

  There was a shimmering in the air near the fireplace and a figure stepped as if from a cloud of invisibility. The figure was a man, plain and ordinary, of no particular background that Falk could discern. He was old but still moved with a sprightly step, after the angry glares of Taalg and the emotionless metallic gaze of the queen this man, who Falk assumed must be Rannulf was a welcome sight with his wispy white hair and quizzical friendly eyes.

  “They say all this is your doing, quite a weight to bear eh young man” said Rannulf in a friendly voice, Falk looked downcast at being reminded of the chaos, or rather lack of chaos, that existed outside the walls of the house of the silver queen.

  Rannulf pulled up a chair next to the bed and laid a comforting hand on Falks arm. “Do not worry lad, it is his way, to use innocents to cause troubles not of their own making, she knows that, she has seen the good in you and that is why you live, the fault of your fault is not entirely yours. Difficult as it might be you should not dwell upon it lest it consume you”.

  “Who is he?” Said Falk to which Rannulf responded with a confused look.

  “This being, the one they called the Sordienoth, is that the stranger of the western wood?”. Rannulf considered Falks words for a moment.

  “Yes Falk, he who you know simply as the stranger, the lord of the western wood is the one called the Sordienoth, as for the origins of his name it is more of a title. The Sordienoth were a race of people of whom he is the last, hence we refer to him singularly as, 'the' Sordienoth. Though truth be told he has had many names in many lands, that is simply his calling in this one”.

  “What happened to them, the Sordienoth?” asked Falk.

  “Your curious mind does you merit boy, let us take a look eh”. Rannulf reached into the air and plucked a large tome from nothing. Falk gasped, “you're a wizard?”. Rannulf gave Falk a bemused look. “I am a librarian, now let us see” he said thumbing through the book, “Ah here we are, S for Sordienoth”, the old man read aloud.

  “And there were a people called the Sordienoth, and they resided in the realm of Claudian, here did they seek and find great power and privilege for their peoples for they were skilled in the high magic and in their craftsmanship. It was the Sordienoth who built the first of the Claudian skyships, these vessels gave them hegemony over their realm. However the ambitions of the Sordienoth did not end with the Claudian realm and assuch they came to forge their alliance with the realm of Azarak which endured unto the last days of the War of the Nine Gates. Sordienoth engineers are known to have...”

  Falk interrupted him, “What was the War of the Nine Gates?” he asked curiously. Rannulf glared at him though his spectacles. “Are you jesting with me Falk” asked the librarian.

  “No sir, truly that of which you speak of as history to me is but a mystery”. Rannulf lifted the book and put it back in the nothing air from which he'd lifted it down. He sighed and removed his reading glasses. “When they said you were from a backwater village I knew that there might be a few holes in your knowledge, but honestly, was there no schoolhouse in Alesven?”.

  “Of course there was, just because we're a backwater it doesn't make us idiots”.

  “And did they teach you nothing of history, of your heritage, of the land you live in?”.

  “They taught us first that there was a High King called Eldellin who lived in a fancy castle in the clouds somewhere or some nonsense. Then they taught us practicality. Welding, baking, basic arithmetic, sewing, the basic skills that we would need in the lives before us”. Falk sighed wistfully, “They taught me nothing of strange beings in the woods though, aside from steering clear of them, and that's one lesson I ignored”.

  Rannulf leaned another comforting hand on Falks arm. “As I have said boy do not blame yourself, it is his way, to use innocents to further his malign ends”.

  “But why?” asked Falk “I mean if he is so powerful as to put a halt to time, then why use me to do it, why not stop it himself and then come here and do his work?”.

  “Oh he can't do that, he can't leave the forest, I'm sure you noticed the barrier when you entered the western wood, much like the one around this house?” Falk nodded. “Well those barriers have many purposes, but the one you saw, that one runs from Ravensholm on the far north coast right the way down to Hawks Point which is but a few leagues from here, he cannot cross that line nor can his power reach out from his own hand, but through others, he is able to defeat the manner of his imprisonment.”

  Falk looked around sullenly at the room and its furnishings. The drawer on the empty brown desk bore the letters DG embossed on either side of a brass handle. The floor was not carpeted but was covered in enough rugs to make it seem so, the patch work made the floor seem multicoloured. There was a mirror on the western wall, opposite the frosted glass windows. All in all this was a homely place, with all that had happened Falk had paid little attention to the small things in his now strange life, his worn and faded home-town garb lay on the back of a cushioned red chair, he now wore a simple white chemise and troos. Falk looked at Rannulf who sat studying him intently over the top of his reading spectacles. “None of that explains why Rannulf, why me, why any of this, I am truly lost in this moment”. Rannulf smiled, a sm
ile of understanding.

  “Falk, you have my sympathy. You have, by dint only of your compassion for a wounded animal been drawn into a conflict which stretches back father than you can count. You have become embroiled in a war without end which has claimed lives and souls and all that comes with them. Kings, emperors and wizards are counted in great numbers on the scrolls of the dead. Beasts so foul and numerous that names have not yet been found to define them have done deeds so wicked, that no civilised mind has yet been able to comprehend their reason. Insects and serpents have swarmed and slithered and warred in the shadows of giants who have battled giants and angels. And now into this mix has been thrown a sheep-herder, believe me Falk, within the scope of this conflict the 'why' was lost long ago, now a weariness seems to have come over you again for your eyes do close and open in protest at this wakefulness, take your rest and I will be here when you awaken.”