Feynard

by Marc Secchia

  “It probably won’t heal the Blight,” he cautioned at once.

  “No?”

  “No, because the robot–automaton–will still be pouring filth at a terrible rate into the waters, good Queen,” he said. “For that we need the Magisoul. Or we need to find a way through that barrier, or we need to slay the Dark Apprentice.”

  “So,” Two Hoots hooted, “you want the Dryad Queen to find out how such a seedling might be planted at the Sacred Grove?”

  “Exactly. The right seedling, of course.”

  She gave a thin little laugh. “The Elliarana are unique, good outlander, and to our knowledge neither flower nor bear fruit.”

  “Perhaps you will find clues in the histories of your people,” Kevin offered, encouraged by Zephyr’s nod. “Do the legends not claim that Elliadora was Mother of all Dryads? You, her children, are best placed to undertake this investigation. We must all work together for the good of the Forest.”

  These were just the right words. Kevin had begun to grasp how important the forms and formalities were to Driadorn’s creatures. The Witch might scornfully dismiss such ‘platitudes’ as endless chin-wagging, but a well-turned phrase oiled the wheels of co-operation as far as the Council was concerned.

  Two Hoots scratched vigorously beneath his wing. “Well spoken, good outlander. Your insights are welcomed by the Council of War.”

  “There is a further matter which I wish to raise,” he replied, eager now to impress. “It concerns the manner in which you intend to conduct this war.”

  “I defer to the Jasper Cat.”

  Blink yawned widely. “Please elucidate our shortcomings, noble outlander.”

  “The Jasper Cat is co-ordinating the war effort,” said Two Hoots. “He is a leader of vast experience and undoubted courage.”

  “Well, it’s just that I don’t really understand why you are doing things the way you’ve always done them,” Kevin rushed on, simultaneously missing the subtleties of the exchange and inserting his foot firmly into his mouth. “If we are to defeat the Dark Apprentice’s armies, then the one thing we need is time. Amberthurn showed us a vision of the Human armies and they have armoured vehicles and flamethrowers and–”

  “Amberthurn showed you a vision?”

  The Jasper Cat’s dry interjection cut off Kevin’s flow like a landslide dumped into a river. “Why … yes. Yes, he did.”

  “And you would trust the word of a Dragon-Magus?”

  Cries of ‘Aye!’ ‘By the Hills!’ ‘Fie!’ and ‘Never!’ rose from the assembled Council.

  The Human regarded them open-mouthed. “But you don’t understand–this is a type of warfare you have never seen–”

  “My poor boy,” hissed the Cat, “with your vast and detailed experience of the Hills–how long was it, did you say, you had sojourned in the Hills?” Kevin’s mouth closed with a snap. “Was it as much as a single season? No? And you claim to know our ways?”

  “Just a moment!” said Zephyr.

  “No, you take just a moment to consider the outlander’s words!” snarled the Jasper Cat, losing his temper. “How dare this Human saunter about as if he’s lord of the Hills and order us to listen to some crackpot ideas about warfare when he clearly doesn’t even know which end of a spear is which? We have lived all our lives in the Forest! We know our home! We know its ways, its traditions, and its values! We have fought this menace before and defeated it!”

  “At what cost?”

  “At the cost of our lives!” he roared, spitting directly at Kevin’s image in the mirror. The Human flinched. “What do you know of suffering and cost, good outlander? By the black pits of Shäyol, how dare you! You little puppy dog of the Dark Apprentice–you are doing his foul work by trying to divide this Council against itself! I will not stand for words that twist back on themselves like a worm caught above ground at the time of Thäunïon-Farätha!”

  There was a ringing silence into which Kevin wished he might sink and never be found again.

  “Well,” Zephyr said softly, “I’m glad you’ve cleared the air. I’ll be the first to admit that the outlander strains the limits of tolerance and patience, but he is no sending of the Dark One. He was Seen and summoned by the Dryads to be Driadorn’s champion. And we all know what that means, don’t we, Jasper Cat? Or do you deny a Seeing?”

  Kevin did not know what this meant, but Alliathiune’s gasp nearby told him this was a serious accusation.

  Blink’s expression suggested that perhaps the Dryads had been taken in, or worse, that they were weak-willed women susceptible to masculine charms, but he was too wise to voice these objections. “Very well,” he purred in a tone like smooth cream, “why don’t we listen to the outlander’s words of wisdom? I would very much enjoy learning how he proposes to correct our strategy.”

  “It is more in the nature of an addition than a correction,” said Zephyr, having decided by Kevin’s stricken expression to lay some of the groundwork. “We are well agreed that the basics have been addressed.”

  “In your professional opinion?”

  Two Hoots twizzled his head about to fix the Jasper Cat with the twin tawny platters of his eyes. “You spoke of cost, noble Cat. For the Forest and its peoples that cost was horrendous; neither lightly borne nor easily forgotten. There is war on the Hills, noble friends and allies. Remember what it meant for your kind. Remember those who marched to war but never came home. Remember the many sacrifices made that we might be free from the Dark Wizard’s tyranny. If even a small measure of that cost could be avoided, then I for one would be grateful to hear whatever contribution the good outlander has to make.”

  The Jasper Cat went stiff with outrage, but he would not speak against the Owl. “I bow to your wisdom, Two Hoots. But we will measure and weigh these things and not act rashly.”

  “In whatever we do,” sighed the Owl, “we will act with the agreement of the Council. Speak on, noble Tomalia.”

  “Our greatest need is time,” Zephyr said. “Recovering the Magisoul and returning to Driadorn may be a lengthy affair, even with the aid of our magic. In our current estimation the armies of Men will enter Driadorn within thirty to forty lighttimes–would you concur, good Cat?”

  “I would.”

  “We estimate we will require double that time to complete our quest and return.” There were further exclamations around the Council that Two Hoots quelled with a loud hunting shriek. “So in order to defeat the Blight, given our best efforts, we would require you keep the Men, and perhaps the Drakes, Fauns, and Blind Trolls occupied well into Budding season.”

  With the problem baldly stated, even the Jasper Cat began to look uncomfortable and suddenly discovered a rough patch on his immaculate fur which required grooming. Perceptive eyes noted this reaction, and so returned to the still mirror with greater attention than before.

  Zephyr pointed his horn at Kevin. “Which is why, fellow creatures of the great Forest, I found myself listening to the outlander’s ideas. Noble Kevin?”

  Kevin very nearly panicked, but the Lurk’s paw on his shoulder steadied him. “I–uh, I guess you haven’t heard of guerrilla warfare?” he stuttered.

  “It was a new term to me,” said the Unicorn, showing his teeth in a smile. “Is it an Earth term?”

  “It is.” Kevin tried to keep his gratitude from being plastered across his face. “It refers to a form of warfare employed by small, mobile groups of, uh, creatures against a more powerful and often better equipped enemy. You might call it sabotage.”

  “So you mean it’s a dishonourable practice?”

  “Not at all,” Kevin replied, catching Alliathiune’s frown as she twigged that this presentation had been rehearsed. “We still want to bring our enemies to a final battle where the courage of our heroes will be tested.”

  “So what’s your point?”

  “Well, good Unicorn, at the simplest level, larger battles tend to be more damaging to both sides. Once the Men reach Driadorn they will be free to wreak
havoc as they wish and our great Mother Forest will be unprotected until we choose to bring them to account. What I propose is to make them bleed all the way to Driadorn, by which time they’ll have lost their stomach for the fight.”

  Zephyr nodded. “I can understand that. But why are you majoring on the Men when we are potentially facing a battle on three fronts, not just one?”

  “The Men are just an example. My ideas could be applied to the Fauns and Goblins, too. In fact, as I understand it the strategy isn’t to fight all three battles at once, but to take on one at a time. I would consider that not only wise, but essential given the size and disposition of our forces. This way, by applying more of our resources to one area or another, we might be able to influence how quickly a situation develops and fight battles at a time and place of our choosing.”

  “I thought of the Men first. They’re cutting a road through a wilderness. So it crossed my mind, what if the wilderness became even wilder?” His chuckle was low and mirthless. “What could we do to slow the progress of their road? Of course Driadorn’s situation is unique, but in my opinion that gives us more options rather than less. Say, for example, we were able to station Mancat archers in the brush alongside the road? They could pick off the engineers, and when the soldiers arrive, simply melt away, and reappear elsewhere. I imagine that might slow the building work.”

  “But when they station soldiers on the road?”

  “Then we might cut off and poison their water supplies, or spread pestilence in the Human encampment.”

  “But this wilderness is moons of travel away. How do you propose to carry out these tasks?”

  Kevin grinned, starting to enjoy himself. “I originally considered airdropping Dryads into the jungle ahead of the road to encourage it to grow thicker and wilder. I thought an Eagle the size of Glimmering of Dawn might carry a little Dryad in his talons and land her in the right place, or pick her up again afterwards.”

  Zephyr frowned sternly. Alliathiune, out of sight of the still mirror, stuffed her fist into her mouth to stop up her giggles, which threatened to destroy Kevin’s concentration. “That’s highly unconventional. The Eagles are a proud race, no creature’s beasts of burden.”

  “Well, good Zephyr, if you as a fiercely proud Unicorn, one of a race who regards themselves as no creature’s inferior, were not too proud to bear a barbarian outlander on your back, then I would hope that even the Eagles could eschew their pride to perform such a task for the good of the Forest.”

  The Jasper Cat sniffed at this. “Pride is hardly at issue here.”

  Kevin nodded. “And then I thought, what about the digging creatures? A road is useless if it has a large hole in the middle of it.”

  Two Hoots chuckled at this. “The Human supply carts might struggle in such circumstances.”

  “And the longer the road, the more they would have to protect. Thinly spread out, they would be more vulnerable to a sudden attack. Once you start on this train of thought you are limited only by your imagination. Imagine the havoc a tribe of monkeys could cause, stealing supplies, tearing up the road, and pinching tools and weapons? Or imagine swarms of grimflies released in the Faun encampment in Fourfire Valley? A team of Druids stirring up bad weather to drown their digging to the Trolls in waterfalls from the skies? Earthquakes on demand? Barriers of thorns and briars and earthworks to cut off the approach routes to the Well? A small stone dropped from a great height could seriously damage someone on the ground.”

  Zephyr chuckled at the expression of mingled horror and admiration on Two Hoot’s face. “Good Kevin, have I ever told you what a perfectly wicked imagination you have?”

  “Thank you, noble Zephyr. I believe the Jasper Cat did rightly point out an outlander’s ignorance of the Seventy-Seven Hills and the ancient ways of the Forest, a rebuke doubtless well deserved.”

  Kevin kept his eyes fixed on the still mirror, aware in the back of his mind that his companions, particularly Zephyr, still mistrusted his motives. But he did not care. This outlander was tired of meekly accepting the inevitable. This time he would fight, and it showed in the brilliant chrysoprase eyes reflected in the mirror’s surface.

  Wizardly eyes. A Dragon said so.

  Kevin said softly, “I am grateful we have leaders as great and wise as those represented here by Driadorn’s Council of War, who love the Forest with a fierce and protective love, who would die to defend her. The Jasper Cat is right–you know the Forest best. You will think of avenues I haven’t even begun to consider, a hundred stratagems to hold these evil despoilers at bay. You hold the Forest’s fate in your hands.”

  There was a deep and thoughtful silence at the end of his speech.

  And then he spoiled it all by adding, “Uh … hands, and paws, and claws, and whatever else …”

  Laughter rippled around the Council.

  “Well, I’m sure you have given the Council much to debate,” said the Unicorn. “No doubt their combined wisdom will ensure that we have enough time to complete our quest, saying which, this lighttime grows no younger and the road before us is long.”

  Two Hoots said, “May the Mother our Forest speed you on your journey, noble companions, and the fatal coils of Shäyol ensnare her enemies.”

  Kevin could have sworn the venerable Owl winked at him.

  * * * *

  The companions pressed on with all haste, eating the miles at a pace that had Kevin’s legs fairly trotting along in order to keep up. As usual, he was the one lagging behind. Alliathiune was her usual indefatigable self, Akê-Akê had enough energy to spare on hunting parallel to their path, and the Witch’s long legs made one stride of his two. Glimmering of Dawn, of course, was a rotten cheat who flapped his wings once in a blue moon as he drifted overhead, keeping an eagle eye–pun intended, Kevin muttered crossly to himself–on their progress.

  By gum, he was grateful to settle by the campfire that evening, after collecting sticks with Akê-Akê in the semidarkness. He tried not to imagine what snakes, bugs, and assorted crawling horrors might lie in wait. He was battered and bruised after a humiliating episode involving a wasp, a roadside ditch, and an inconveniently placed log. Alliathiune and Zephyr had cried with laughter when the Faun, the heartless, conniving blighter, had unexpectedly imitated Kevin’s flapping panic later that afternoon–even managing to extract a hearty guffaw from the Witch, whose habitual expression was that thin-lipped disapproval his nurses had invariably managed to convey.

  That said, he was starting to enjoy campfires. Now there was a turnout for the books! He caught Zephyr’s eye.

  “Is Shadowmoon Keep really so dangerous?”

  The Unicorn wrinkled his nose. “What is that disgusting concoction you’re smearing on your feet, good outlander?”

  “This delightful balm–” he jerked his head to indicate Alliathiune, deep in conversation with the Druid “–is for my blisters, of which I have many more than my fair share. In fact, my left foot is more blister than sole.”

  “There’s something to be said for hooves, not so?”

  “You have the occasional stone or thorn too, Zephyr. I’ve dug out a few in the short time I’ve known you.”

  “Hrr-ibrrali!” he snorted. “Your attentions would usually be performed by a Honeybear. In response to your question, I might describe Shadowmoon Keep as a snare. Large, full of foul and evil creatures, the kind of place one wouldn’t willingly stick one’s nose without a compelling rationale. It once belonged to Ozark the Dark.”

  “Hence the imaginative name?”

  “It has many names,” the Unicorn said darkly. “It’s a place best avoided.”

  Kevin examined his other foot with tender care. “My dear old sprout, these new boots are tearing my feet to shreds! What did you make of our conversation with the Council this morning, Zephyr? Do you think they’ll act on my suggestions?”

  “Good outlander, they will ho-hum and debate mostly because you presented them in such a disastrous fashion–but I believe they’ll c
ome round to our point of view. The Jasper Cat looked mad enough to spit.”

  “He did indeed.”

  Zephyr cropped a tuft of grass and chewed it meditatively. “I hope the Dark Apprentice has no further tricks to play.”

  “We hurt him at the Well. Snatcher said so. I drove him off, didn’t I? He won’t be back in a hurry!”

  The Unicorn’s ears twitched noncommittally at this boast. “Good Kevin, I have a question for you.”

  “Fire away, old boy.”

  “Why do I feel that you are hiding something from me–from us all? Why do I feel that you have been less than honest with us?”

  Kevin was surprised and offended that Zephyr still insisted on asking this particular question. And why, if he had anticipated it, did he still feel hurt? He looked away, trying to hide the tears that had sprung unexpectedly to his eyes.

  “Allow me to elucidate,” said the Unicorn. “When the Dark Apprentice attacked the Council at Elliadora’s Well, you were drunk, lying beneath one of the feasting-tables. At the vital instant you stood upright and disarmed him with the power of your magic. You remember that moment, don’t you?”

  “It’s the one thing I do remember.”

  “Good, then, because you’ll know what I mean when I say this next thing.” Zephyr drew a deep breath. “Good Kevin, the reason I know you are hiding something, is because that was the instant when the Dark Apprentice recognised you.”

  Kevin pretended to gasp. “He … what?”

  “He knew you. You were the last person he expected to see there, at the Well–so tell me, who is this Dark Apprentice and what is your connection with him? What do you know that you aren’t telling us?”

  From the corner of his eye, Kevin saw Alliathiune and Amadorn glance up at the Unicorn’s confrontational tone. Akê-Akê was easily within earshot, as was the Lurk with his exceptional hearing. For him, those listening ears raised the stakes a hundredfold.

  He said, “How the heck would he recognise me?”