‘Like a prisoner exchange,’ Sam thought to herself, but didn’t speak out loud. Hurst seemed to have made up his mind and it was, after all, his decision and his alone.
They made their way back to the central square, where Hurst was taken away by some of the men who had been present for Sam’s testing. While they lectured him on his rights and responsibilities as a citizen of Yallend, he was given a complete tour and was permitted to select any empty house as his own. Sam, meanwhile, was led back to the fountain. Hanbert sat on the edge, just out of reach of the splashing water, indicating that Sam should do the same.
“I presume you plan to depart this evening, when it is cool enough to travel without being too uncomfortable.” Sam informed him that Salabine would prefer to leave first thing the next morning, but did not explain why. The dragons’ travelling abilities was their secret, not Sam’s, so she was not prepared to share it. “Then I had better give you the next clue. Please drink some of the water from the fountain as I speak, it will enable you to remember.”
Sam was taken by surprise by this; she had been expecting to be Tor’s courier not his messenger. Hanbert repeated the phrase three times then made Sam repeat it back to him, word perfect. Once he was happy that she could repeat it correctly they went in search of Brin, with instructions that he should pack his belongings and be ready to depart at dawn.
Dinner that evening was a very subdued affair. They would be leaving before breakfast, so it would be Sam and Brin’s last meal with the shaten, who were unhappy about their departure, especially Brin’s. He had not been with them long, but they had all come to regard him as one of their own and he would be greatly missed.
It was early in the morning, the sun just beginning to rise, when a small group met down by the lake to say their goodbyes. Brin had all of his belongings packed into a small bag and had a quiver of arrows thrown over his shoulder. In his hand was the largest bow Sam had ever seen, bigger than those in the movies. Hurst approached. “If you are able, please go and see Mrs Hubert for me. She deserves to be told I will not be returning for a while. I know she will understand.”
“Of course,” Sam assured him, hugging him tight. “I will miss you.”
“And I you, my dear.” He looked at Brin. “Take care of her.”
“I will,” the Elf promised. Then he approached Salabine. “I cannot put into words the honour you do me by allowing me to ride you.” With that, the dragon lay down as low as she could, allowing him to climb onto her. Sam quickly scrambled up after him. As soon as Sam gave her the go ahead, Salabine closed her eyes and all three of them vanished.
——————————-∞——————————-
“I think I see something,” Dal called out, spying a small dot in the skyline. As he watched it, it grew bigger until he could make out the beating movement of the wings. “I think it is them,” he shouted. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked into the distance.
“I wish Hawk was still awake,” Tor said. “He would be able to tell exactly who is approaching a lot sooner that we can.” Morning had just broken, so Hawk was already in his coffin, avoiding the upcoming sun. They all returned to what they were doing, leaving Dal to relay any updates to them. Whatever the approaching creature was, it seemed to be moving so slowly that Dal got bored and watched some birds building a nest in the tree above him for a while. When he returned his gaze to the sky, it was empty.
“Damn,” he exclaimed. “Tor is going to kill me.” Something tickled the back of his neck, causing him to slap it. He looked down at his hand, disappointed there were no remains of a squashed insect on it. “Cut it out,” he yelled when the feeling returned. He spun around in anger, expecting to see Ria with a feather in her hand. Instead his eyes met Sam’s, which were glinting mischievously. She quickly hid the feather behind her back.
“It is good to see you,” he yelled, throwing his arms around her and hugging her tight.
“It’s good to see you too, but I would like to be able to breathe sometime.” Dal quickly released her. “Why were you watching that large bird on the horizon so closely?” she asked. “Did you forget what Salabine said about the return journey?”
“Yes,” Dal admitted, a little embarrassed. “Hey, everyone,” he shouted. “They are back.”
Sam suddenly found herself surrounded by her acquaintances, all of them talking at once, welcoming her back and asking what had happened. There were lots of hugs and Sam barely had chance to say hello to one person before they were pushed aside by the next. Then she spotted Bellak strolling angrily toward her and she smiled slyly.
“What are you doing here?” he barked at her. “Where is Hurst?”
“How nice to see you,” she said sweetly. “Hurst wished to remain behind so I decided to return with the next clue. Of course, I can always take it back again.”
Bellak snarled at her then stomped away. “His temper has improved I see,” she commented. “Now, what do you guys want first, tales of my adventures over the last few days, the next clue, or an introduction to my new travelling companion?”
Nobody had noticed the elf, who was still atop Salabine’s back. Sam called him down and he reluctantly complied, politely thanking the dragon for the smooth and fast journey. Sam did the formal introductions, leaving Brin to fill in details about himself and how he ended up joining Sam on Salabine’s back, if he felt inclined to do so. He didn’t. Samson sniffed the elf’s outstretched hands carefully before giving them a quick lick and settling down on the ground by his feet, showing his acceptance. Only River and Oak did not welcome him. The bad feeling between sprites and elves obviously went deeper than Sam realised.
“Has everyone already had breakfast?” Sam asked, suddenly realising how hungry she was.
“Not yet,” Ellen informed her. “We were just preparing it when you arrived.”
They returned to the camp site and, while they ate, Sam filled them all in on what she had been doing. It took a lot longer than necessary as she was constantly interrupted with questions. Brin remained quiet during the meal, answering questions about Yallend when asked, but offering nothing more. Tor had only one question for him; which of his brothers had he travelled with. He was pleased to hear that Cirren was alive and well the last time Brin had seen him.
Everyone sitting around the cooking fire was sad that Hurst had agreed to remain behind, but understood his reasons. Sam tried to miss out the part where she thought she was drinking poison by just saying that she was tested, but they insisted on hearing full details. This invoked a round of swearing, especially from Modo, until he was reminded that there were ladies present. They were still eating and talking when Bellak rejoined them.
“Nobody bothered to ask about the clue I take it?”
“We were just getting to it,” Tor sighed. “You really need to learn to relax and take things easy.”
“That is not a winning attitude.”
“Is winning all that really matters?"
“Yes,” Bellak snarled. “So where is the clue then missy?”
“Right here,” she replied, tapping her head. “They would not let me write it down and I had to keep repeating it until I could recite it back to them verbatim.”
“Then say it.”
“Say please,” she said smugly.
“Please,” he spat, though the word almost choked him.
“Very well, seeing as you asked so nicely.” Sam closed her eyes, making sure she repeated the clue word perfect.
The short and tall you will need
For the next part of the puzzle
But first depart to places near
To seek the help of Fuzzle
Blood must be given willingly
And spilt on Kaylin’s altar
Follow all instructions there
Lest your quest will falter
“I was told that this is not actually a clue; it’s just the first part and gives hints to the location of the second part. Once you have that yo
u will need to put them together to work out where the next clue really is.”
Everyone was frowning, except for Patrick, who had gone pale. “Did you just say Fuzzle? Are you sure you pronounced that right?”
“I’m positive. Why?”
“Damn it,” he exclaimed. “We have to go to Janton.”
Chapter 22
“Why Janton?” Tor asked, knowing it was one place that Patrick would avoid at all costs.
“Two reasons,” he replied. “Firstly, Fuzzle is Queen Helen’s advisor and secondly, Kaylin was the first Jantonian Queen. If there is an altar to her somewhere, Linket is the first place I would try.”
Tor took Patrick aside. “You do not have to come with us.”
“Yes I do,” Patrick sighed. “You cannot know where you will need to go from there. You may not have time to come back and collect me. Besides, it is about time I faced her again. I cannot keep hiding forever. After all, what is the worst she can do to me? Kill me?”
Tor could think of many things that were worse, but decided to keep them to himself. “Janton it is,” he announced, striding back to the others. “Break camp.” Immediately everyone sprang up to do their assigned jobs, leaving Sam and Brin alone by the fire. She regarded the elf thoughtfully.
“Can I ask you a question?” Brin nodded, so she continued. “How did you cross the desert?”
He smiled, much to Sam’s pleasure. His whole face seemed to light up, making her stomach flip and her heartbeat quicken. It had been a long time, too long, since anyone had had that effect on her and she found it was a feeling she missed.
“Kriven was the name of the ‘guide from another world’ for the team I was on. She genuinely was from another world, though I have no idea how she got here. Cirren already knew her from before the quest started. I have never seen a creature like her; tall, green, slimy and immensely strong. She has no need of food, water, or even air. Heat does not affect her, nor does cold. I was given a potion to drink which knocked me unconscious. Kriven then walked across the desert with me flung over her shoulder. We had been in Yallend two days before I woke up. She already had the clue and could have left me there, but she waited for me to regain consciousness and make the decision to remain for myself.”
When Brin stopped talking, Sam found she was staring at him, almost mesmerised. It had been the most she had ever heard him speak and the strange flow of his speech was beginning to grow on her, becoming endearing rather than annoying. She quickly looked away, colour rising in her cheeks.
“What will you do? Will you come with us?”
“For now,” he replied. “If I am permitted to. Linket is in the same direction as my homeland and it is always safer not to travel alone.” Sam found herself unable to keep the smile from her face.
As soon as everything was clean and back on the wagon, Tor approached Brin, closely followed by one of the spare horses. Slapping the horse’s flanks in a friendly fashion he said, “She is not the fastest horse I have ever met, but she is mild mannered and has endurance. You are welcome to join us, but if you prefer to go your own way, all I ask is that you send her back to my family home once you have no further need of her.”
“You are most gracious,” Brin replied, bowing slightly. “I will accompany you to Linket, but I may not stay.”
Further conversation was interrupted by shouts of joy from above them. Salabine was just coming in to land, a highly excited Dal clinging to her neck. The dragon had not forgotten her promise of a ride and had obliged the young man as soon as his breakfast chores were complete.
“I must leave you now,” Salabine informed them once Dal had dismounted. “If you need me again, all you have to do is call.”
“Thank you for everything,” Sam said, giving her a quick hug. “Remember, you don’t have to wait for a call to come and see us. You will always be welcome.”
Salabine turned to Brin. “Kloten juku navak,” she said solemnly.
“Kloten juku navak,” he replied. With her goodbyes completed, the dragon took to the skies and was soon no more than a dot on the horizon. Brin remained watching her until she was out of sight, then smoothly leapt onto his horse’s back.
“He’s done that before,” Sam muttered to herself, oblivious of how well an elf can hear.
“Of course,” he replied. “Who do you think taught humans how to ride?”
He galloped off, leaving Sam staring after him in amazement. Seth, who was just riding past, had overheard the conversation. “I think I am going to get on well with him,” he commented, then galloped off after the elf.
After lunch, Brin steered his horse close to Sam’s. “You seemed very surprised when you first saw me. What did you imagine elves to be like?”
“Where I come from, or should I say when, elves appear in many books. Let’s start with the ridiculous shall we. There is a children’s book called ‘the elves and the shoemaker’ about a poor old shoemaker who lives all on his own and struggles to get all of the shoes made. Some tiny elves, probably no bigger than your hand, move in and complete all of his work for him during the night. This goes on for a while, with the old shoemaker confused as to what is happening, until he stays up one night and sees them. He spends all the next day making smart new clothes for them and they all live happily ever after. Or something like that.”
Brin was staring at her in disbelief. Suddenly he started laughing, and continued for a long while, tears streaming down his face. “I agree,” he finally managed to say. “Totally ridiculous. Please, continue.”
Sam went on to tell him about all of the different descriptions she had read in books and seen in films, from those like pixies to the nearly human. He found everything very entertaining. “At least you have one thing right,” he informed her. “We are unbeatable when it comes to archery.”
Tor was close enough to overhear this remark. “Brin, my friend, I am afraid that is a fallacy. While it is undeniable that elves are excellent archers, there are humans who can beat them.” Brin raised an eyebrow. “Patrick, for example,” Tor continued. Brin asked his horse to halt and dismounted. He then looked at Tor questioningly. Tor nodded then shouted to Patrick. “Patrick, how do you fancy showing our young elven friend here how to shoot a bow?”
Patrick turned his horse around and rode back to meet the challenge. Taking his bow and quiver of arrows out of the wagon, he gave the elf the choice of target. A tree in the distance had a knot in the bark, according to the two competitors; Sam was unable to make it out. Brin’s first shot hit the mark with Patrick’s embedding itself in the trunk just above Brin’s.
“Too easy,” Patrick announced. By now everyone had dismounted to watch. He signalled Ellen to approach, taking a chain from around her neck when she was close enough. “Tie this to a branch a few trees back,” he instructed. When she had completed her task, she waved and moved out of range. This time Patrick went first, making the chain move as the arrow touched it. Patrick looked at Brin, smiling smugly. “Your turn.”
Brin looked carefully at the chain, which Sam could not make out no matter how much she stared. Without averting his eyes, he smoothly drew his bowstring and let the arrow fly. It met its mark, neatly slicing through the chain, causing it to fall to the ground. Ellen could be heard cursing as she picked it up and headed back toward them.
“Yours I believe,” she sneered at Patrick, throwing him his arrow, before rounding on Brin. “As for you, you owe me a new necklace.” She threw the broken chain at him then snapped his arrow in two, dropping the broken pieces at his feet.
Brin looked crestfallen. “Please forgive me. I did not mean to break your chain.”
Sam stepped in to defend him. “It’s not really his fault you know,” she pointed out. “This challenge was Tor’s idea and Patrick was the one who chose your chain as the target.”
“Good point. You are forgiven,” she informed Brin before turning back to Patrick. “You will be cleaning your own clothes until I have gold around my neck again.” She
spotted Tor slowly stepping backward out of her line of fire. “It might be wise to provide a matching bracelet,” she informed him. “It is not a good idea to have a witch mad at you.”
He gave her a mock bow. “Your wish is my command dear lady.”
“Is the contest over?” Brin asked. Tor was about to say yes when Patrick interrupted.
“Not yet. One more challenge. Speed. Choose a target. On a given signal, we both shoot and see who hits the target first.”
Brin nodded his acceptance. Seth chose a target and both men stood in front of it, calm and relaxed. Though his arms were down, Patrick had his arrow in his bow so all he had to do on the signal was draw back the string, aim and fire, whereas Brin’s arrow remained in his quiver on his back. Sam pointed out how unfair this was, but the elf was happy to give the human the advantage. When both archers had indicated they were ready, Seth gave the signal. In one smooth movement Brin selected his arrow, loaded his bow, took aim and fired, hitting the target before Patrick’s arrow had left his hand. It was so quick that Sam almost missed it by blinking at the wrong moment.
They all stared at the arrow quivering in the tree in stunned silence. Even River and Oak seemed impressed.
“That was brilliant,” Sam gasped.
“Thank you,” Brin replied. “Have I now shown you that the elves are the superior race as far as archery is concerned?” he asked Tor.
“You have indeed Brin. You have indeed.” The Prince was still too amazed to comment further.
“If I had not seen that with my own eyes, I would not have believed it,” Seth said quietly.
“I do have one small confession to make,” Brin said apologetically. “It was an unfair contest from the start. Among my people, I am the current archery champion. We hold a contest every 10 years and I have won the last three. Should I have mentioned this earlier?”
“Do not worry about it. I, too, have a confession,” Patrick informed him. “I am a lot older than I appear and have been practicing with a bow since before you were born, despite the fact that you are from one of the long lived races. I will explain it all to you as we ride.”
The Guide Page 28
