“This isn’t Shaleford,” replied Poom, obviously offended. “Shaleford is a day’s walk back the way we came. We crossed its border before we reached here, and of course, I mean a day’s walk at your pace. This is Gamlawn. Honestly, Borellians! As if we’d live somewhere like this!
Hannock looked around him. Trees, bushes, it’s the same, he thought.
“Right, here we go,” said Grubb, and, after transforming into his four-armed alter-ego, he began to climb the side of the inn.
“What’s he up to now!?” exclaimed Hannock as Grubb reached the roof.
“Not a clue, but I like it. He obviously has something up his sleeve,” said Lawton.
Poom began to laugh as he elbowed Lawton in the ribs. “Or all four of them, eh? All four of them? No? Oh, forget it, I don’t know why I bother.”
Grubb had now morphed back into his normal state and peered as hard as he could, trying to catch a glimpse of Faylore. “No. No good, I can’t see her,” he said tetchily.
“She’ll be fine, Grubb, come down before you fall down,” said Jared.
“In your dreams,” replied Grubb and immediately changed shape again, this time into the raptor that they had seen before.
“Grubb, Faylore won’t like it if you…” Jared’s words were wasted as Grubb took flight.
Soaring high above the trees, Grubb’s eyesight was keener than ever in this form. He scanned the forest, but strangely, he could not locate Faylore. She must have come this way, he thought. He circled lower and lower until, eventually, he saw a faint shimmering. It was no reflection nor heat haze, it was moving. There you are, he thought. Swooping down, Grubb landed in a tree ahead of Faylore and watched intently as she reached the small lea just a few yards ahead.
She paused and became visible, then began to speak quietly, “Jendilomin, I know you’re here. Will you not speak to me?”
At the farthest edge of the lea, a strange, pale green vapour could be seen. It crept across the ground towards Faylore but she did not seem alarmed by it. On the contrary, she smiled at its appearance, for as it drifted closer and dissipated, it revealed the graceful approach of her sister, Jendilomin. “It gladdens my heart to see you, Sister,” she said, smiling. “It has been far too long since last we met.”
“Forgive me, Jendilomin, but the affairs of Thedar are now my responsibility and they have taken much of my time.”
“Such a burden it must be? It is no surprise to me that you now seek my counsel.”
“Why do you believe I seek your counsel, sister of mine?” asked Faylore.
“You have no need to fret. It is obvious to me that your existence is mundane, Faylore. It was simply a matter of time before you understood that I was correct,” replied Jendilomin.
“Correct?” asked Faylore, cautiously. “About what, exactly?”
“Why, that we should achieve peace across this world.”
“I do admit that it would please me greatly to witness a harmonious existence between all races, Jendilomin. You have a kind heart, Sister, and your intentions are guided by it, but your methods must cease. Transforming living beings into trees is wrong, it is not for you to decide the fate of all.”
Jendilomin laughed gently. “Look around you. Is this not the most peaceful of places? Many of these trees were once the most horrid of beasts, cruel and violent. Bear witness to their serenity. They are grateful to me, Faylore, they no longer have to suffer the cruel emotions that were once theirs. Avarice, jealousy, anger, sorrow and fear, all have been eradicated.”
“Did you give them the choice, Sister?” asked Faylore, sharply. “Did you ask them if this was their desire, or was it yours?”
“Corporeal beings are flawed, Faylore, they cannot be trusted to make enlightened decisions. They must be made for them, for their own good. If I were to leave them to follow their own base instincts, they would render themselves extinct.”
“That is not for you to decide, Jendilomin,” exclaimed Faylore. “You should not interfere with nature.”
Grubb continued to watch the Thedarian sisters during their debate. He was so enamoured with their beauty that he failed to notice what was happening around them, or himself for that matter. The edges of the lea had darkened and the strange green mist was now thick and impenetrable by the naked eye. Within the mist lay the real threat, the forest nymphs. They were not evil, what they did could not even be classed as cruel. Jendilomin had convinced them that if the trees were to survive, their number must be increased. The nymphs knew no greater love than that of trees and nurtured them as a parent would their child. To have more, to them, seemed idyllic.
A look of horror appeared on Grubb’s face as he suddenly noticed the ethereal form directly behind Faylore. It tilted its head to one side and then the other as it studied her. Still deep in conversation with Jendilomin, she was oblivious to its presence. The nymph floated behind her. Although transparent, its features could still be seen, it looked like a young girl. She had piercing blue eyes and a tiny button nose, but the similarity to a normal child ended there, as she had long green hair and a flowing gown that appeared to be made from living leaves. Grubb opened his mouth to warn Faylore, but no words came out. A hawk cannot speak. The screech caused Faylore to look to the trees, unaware that it was actually an alarm call. The nymph stretched out its arm and gently stroked Faylore’s platinum blonde hair. Her reaction was instantaneous.
Placing her hand against her chest and struggling to breathe, she stood upright as if she were suddenly being stretched by unseen restraints. Her skin began to darken and appeared scaly momentarily before thickening to resemble the bark of a tree. She stretched out her arms and held them aloft to witness the horror of her predicament. Her fingers grew thinner and seemed to lose all moisture, stretching, now looking more like twigs. Her fingernails sprouting like tiny leaf-like shoots. Her legs grew heavy as, with great effort and difficulty, she looked down to see that they were now a split tree trunk, her feet splayed roots. Her eyes remained clear throughout as she attempted to plead with Jendilomin to remove the heinous curse, but Jendilomin continued to smile back at her, believing that what she was giving her sister was, in fact, a gift. The final part of Faylore’s metamorphosis was her hair, her beautiful platinum hair. It stood upright, the sound of crackling heard as it stiffened and turned dark brown, the ends sprouting leaves.
Grubb swooped into the centre of the lea, transforming into his four-armed creature as he landed. He charged toward Jendilomin, one of his four clawed hands raised, ready to tear her apart. A nymph appeared directly in front of him and in the blink of an eye, stroked Grubb’s claws.
***
“Hope you don’t mind me saying, Jared,” said Lawton, “but, you’re looking a bit nervous.”
“It’s bad enough that Faylore went off to face her sister, but with Grubb gone as well… you’ve seen what his temper’s like,” replied Jared.
“Want me to go and have another poke around?” asked Poom.
“No. Thank you anyway, Poom. I think we should give them a bit more time. If they’re not back soon, we’ll all go.”
“What if something’s gone wrong, Mr Jared?” asked Lodren. “Waiting in here will just give them more of a chance to surround us.”
“What do you mean, them?” asked Hannock.
“Well, Faylore’s sister can’t be on her own, can she?” asked Lodren. “There were loads of them hissy things, she can’t have attacked them all by herself.”
“We don’t know that she attacked anyone, Lodren. Like I said, we’ll give them a bit more time.”
Hannock strolled across the room and slung his crossbow on his back. “Do what you like, Your Highness, but I’ve had enough of sitting around, I’m off to find them. Poom, fancy stretching your legs?”
“Thought you’d never ask,” replied Poom. “Come on, Lawton, or are you comfortable where you are, your fatness.”
Lawton rolled his eyes. “Oh no, you’re not in one of those moods again, are you
, baldy? You do my head in when you’re like this.”
“Come on, you know you love me really,” replied Poom, nudging his friend.
“Is everything a joke to you two?” asked Hannock.
The Gerrowliens looked at one another nodding. “Yeah… pretty much,” said Poom.
“Hannock, I order you not to go, now sit down,” said Jared.
“I don’t want to appear disrespectful in any way, Your Highness, but it’s doubtful that I’m going to survive this little adventure of ours anyway. If what’s out there doesn’t kill me, the butchering brother of Borell probably will, so I might as well get it over and done with. Now if there’s the slightest chance that Faylore is in danger and I can help in her rescue before I get sliced, diced, mangled or murdered, I’m going to take it, alright?”
Jared sighed as he stood nose to nose with Hannock. He looked his friend up and down before he spoke. “I’ll get my stuff,” he replied quietly.
***
Poom and Lawton crept through the trees. Occasionally, they would pause and signal the all-clear to the three remaining companions, allowing them to progress in relative safety. Poom suddenly held up his hand for them to halt and made his way across to Lawton. “That big tree wasn’t there before,” he whispered.
“Which one?” asked Lawton.
“The one with the four branches, the huge one in the middle,” replied Poom.
“Have you noticed that a lot of these trees have only two branches? How very odd,” said Lawton, looking puzzled.
“And it’s not odd for a tree to have only four branches?” asked Poom.
“That’s a good point. So, do you think…?” asked Lawton, pointing at the numerous saplings by which they were surrounded. Poom nodded his head exaggeratedly. “My word…” he added, “… she has been busy.” Poom’s nodding continued throughout Lawton’s deduction.
The lea was quiet. The birds were singing and there appeared to be no danger. The Gerrowliens beckoned the companions to come forward. “Does that ring any bells with you?” Lawton asked Jared.
“It looks a bit like that thing that Grubb turns into,” replied Jared.
“A lot like it, to be honest,” added Hannock.
As before, the vapour had appeared gradually, unnoticed by the group until Jendilomin emerged from it and spoke, “Do not worry, they are at peace now. We shall keep them safe and take care of them.”
Startled, they turned to face her. “We want our friends back. Make them better and give them back!” yelled Lodren, nursing his hammer and scowling at Jendilomin.
“But I have made them better, can you not see?” she replied.
“All I see is trees,” bawled Lodren. “You’ve got plenty, you don’t need them. So, give them back!” he growled.
“Please, my dear friend, there is no need for concern. They are content as they are,” she cooed.
“I don’t want them as they are, I want them as they were,” bellowed Lodren, raising his hammer. But it never struck a blow, the nymph reached him first. In turn, the others suffered the same fate; Jared touched by a nymph from behind; Lawton, by one from above; and Poom, by one in mid-air as he attempted to leap into the trees.
Hannock grabbed his crossbow, but realising he was too late, lowered it again, resigned to his fate. A nymph appeared before him and reached out with its hand when unexpectedly Jendilomin spoke, “Not that one,” she instructed.
The nymph turned and gently floated away.
Hannock was shocked. He watched his friends as they reached various stages of transformation, wracked with guilt at his inability to save them. But he had been spared. Why? He took a deep breath to compose himself. “What do you want, why spare me? Or is it just a stay of execution?” he asked sternly.
“I like the way you look. I like your jewellery, you wear it well,” she replied.
“Jewellery? What jewellery?”
“Your golden mask. I like it very much. Why do you wear it? Is it vanity?” she asked. “Perhaps something similar may suit me?”
Hannock tried not to think of his reason for wearing the eye-patch. Tried his best to shut out the memory of the pain that Karrak had caused him with the fire spell that struck him in the face, and most of all, the terrible things he wanted to do to Jendilomin that would cause her to wear one the same. “I’m sure something could be arranged,” he replied coldly.
“When I lived in Thedar, there were many pretty baubles, but nothing as impressive as that. Who would give you such a gift? Or did you steal it?” she asked.
Hannock understood that he was temporarily powerless and could bring no harm to Jendilomin, but something about him had peaked her interest. Maybe this was the only weapon that he needed, her curiosity. “I am no thief, my Lady. This was a gift, presented to me by the King of Borell.”
“Why would a king give away such a treasure?” she asked, more intrigued than before.
Hannock had to think fast, had to invent a story to make him appear more saint than soldier. “His youngest son was sick, my Lady,” he replied. “The only healers that could save his life were a great distance away, and I, along with his older brother Jared, undertook a pilgrimage to bring him to them.”
“A very honourable mission indeed,” said Jendilomin, seemingly impressed. “Tell me, how are you called?”
“Beg pardon, my Lady?”
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Hannock, my Lady,” he replied bowing. “Captain Charles Hannock.”
“Have you eaten today, Captain Charles Hannock?” she asked. “My friends supply me with the most succulent fruits, given freely of course.”
Well, you have to give it to her, thought Hannock. She’s the most polite lunatic you’ve ever met!
He followed Jendilomin as she led him from the lea into the forest. The trees were much denser here and Hannock shuddered as he looked at the faces of them; faces whose wooden, knot-like eyes appeared to watch them as they passed. How many had she changed, dozens, hundreds, thousands? He had no idea of the answer, the only number in his head was six, the six that he intended to save from an eternity of solidified torment.
CHAPTER 4
“How’s the leg, Yello?” asked Emnor. “Feeling any better?”
“Much better, thank you. Running a bit low on Abigail’s Mercy though. I think I’ll go and have a rummage through some of the storerooms. You never know, I may get lucky and find some of the more simple ingredients needed to brew some more,” he smiled.
“Very well,” replied Emnor. “We’re almost finished here anyway. Take Harley with you though, just in case,” he suggested.
“In case of what?” asked Yello.
“We may not be alone. What if an enemy is hiding somewhere we have not yet thought to look?” asked Emnor.
“I don’t need an apprentice to hold my hand! I’m quite capable of taking care of myself!” exclaimed Yello, feeling a little insulted.
“I know that, Yello, but two pairs of eyes are better than one. Harley can help you look for the things you need. Don’t underestimate him, Yello, I didn’t. That’s why I made him my apprentice.”
“Alright then…” sighed Yello, “… if you insist.” He hobbled from the room, followed closely by his chaperon.
“So when we reach the storeroom, what exactly are we looking for?” asked Harley.
“The ingredients of Abigail’s Mercy,” replied Yello.
“Which are…?” asked Harley, inquisitively.
“I’ll tell you when we get there,” mumbled Yello, rather reluctant to share his secret recipe. They reached one of the storerooms and Yello was delighted to find that it was undisturbed. “Right, Harley, you start searching on that side,” he instructed, “I’ll start on this side.”
“Searching for what?” asked Harley.
“Oh yes, that would help, wouldn’t it?” laughed Yello. “Erm, let’s see. See if you can find some Penellerim leaves and some Simfax petals, and I’ll look for some Pollum, it’s a
very rare fungus. The key ingredient of course is Gibbonite hair.”
“Gibbonite hair!” exclaimed Harley. “What’s Gibbonite hair?”
“The Gibbonite is a wonderful creature that lives in the south, very friendly, provided that you don’t spook them. Unfortunately, that’s why they’re almost extinct. Fascinating to watch. They sing in order to attract a mate, you know, but as there are so few, they’re usually unsuccessful.”
“So how do you get the hair then? Sneak up and trim a bit off while they’re not looking?” asked Harley with a laugh.
“Of course not. They have so much hair that when they travel through bushes and undergrowth, tufts of it get caught on the smaller branches. You can just follow them around and pick it off.”
“Who thinks of these potions, Master Yello?” asked Harley. “They must have had far too much time on their hands.”
“Keep searching, Harley,” urged Yello, “I’m feeling lucky.” They checked cupboards, opened drawers and even checked behind desks as they sought the ingredients. Suddenly, Yello let out an exasperated gasp. “Bolinium root! What’s Bolinium root doing in here? It’s been forbidden for decades!” he exclaimed.
Harley ceased his search and turned to face him. “What’s Bolinium root?” he asked innocently.
“Something that shouldn’t be here. It should have been destroyed. Bloody alchemists, they should all be roasted!”
Harley was a little unnerved by Yello’s sudden outburst. “What does it do?” he asked, tentatively.
Yello took a deep breath. “Apparently, if you boil it in water, the resulting potion, if ingested, can make one feel extreme elation.”
“What’s so bad about that?” asked Harley. “I could do with something like that to cheer me up occasionally.”
“It can become terribly addictive; you can’t survive a day without it. You become depressed and paranoid. Many attacks and suicides have been the result of an addiction to Bolinium root.”
“Nasty stuff then?” asked Harley, grimacing.
The Bane of Karrak_Ascension II of III Page 4
