by A. Evermore
The sea was somewhat warm, almost as warm as the seas surrounding the Atalanph desert continent. He had first met Bokaard there ten years or so ago. Bokaard… memory of the man’s smooth dark face, white teeth, and vivid blue eyes flashed before him. Where was Bokaard? He had been with him recently but his mind was foggy.
He tried to lift himself higher and cried out from the pain in his side. His throat burned with thirst and he ached in every place possible. He touched his side. There was a deep stab wound and it oozed something foul. Ignoring the pain as best he could he dragged himself up the beach away from the water’s edge and collapsed in exhaustion on drier sand.
Water awoke him once more, this time it was splashing on his back, his head, and dribbling into his mouth. Not salty. It took a good few moments to make the link with the strange pattering on his body. It was raining heavily. Thank the goddess! He flopped onto his back with his mouth open, letting the heavy drops fill it with the sweet life giving water.
After a while he slowly got to his knees, the effort sending him breathless as he swayed there. He managed to get to his feet, stared about him, and in staggering steps made his way to the dense woodland surrounding the cove. He leant against the smooth brown trunk of a tree with a sigh, relieved to be sheltered from the heavy rain.
He fumbled for his sword, and laughed when he found it still in its scabbard. It was covered in sand and took some wiggling to get loose, but finally it came free with that satisfying ringing sound. He held it out and let the rain rinse the sand and salt and blood off. Blood… Bokaard… we were fighting. Fighting Histanatarns…
He sheathed the sword. “Look after your sword and it will look after you,” so his sword master had told him once. He could not remember his face anymore. He looked up at the tree he rested against and did not recognise it at all. It was like no other he had seen before. Its bark was pale brown, smooth and it had huge green leaves wider than the span of his outstretched arms. He took in his surroundings. A dense forest of trees and bushes of all shapes and sizes. Some were so tall he could not see their tops. Some were no taller than he but had leaves half the height of his body.
Thick vines with long thin leaves draped themselves between the trees like ropes. They looked strong enough to climb and swing upon too. Despite the rain it was positively hot and muggy. Thick clouds of moisture rose up from the rich forest floor. Brightly coloured birds of all shapes and sizes flittered through the treetops. I don’t recognise even one of them!
His eyes came to rest on a small brown furry creature the size of a cat. A monkey? They had monkeys in southern Frayon, Atalanph and Davono. Maybe even in Venosia before Baelthrom came. He had seen one once at a fair. It had a cord about its neck and a silly toy jacket on. He remembered feeling sorry for it until it had thrown nuts at him. Here there were five monkeys, twice the size of the one he had seen at the fair, and they all stared down at him silently with big golden eyes.
‘I am a strange visitor,’ he said to them, but his voice was all croaky and weak. They probably didn’t speak Frayonesse, he thought, but then they chattered in laughter and scampered excitedly around each other. This most definitely was not Drax or Frayon or even the elven homeland, Intolana. He was in a jungle unknown to him.
He scratched his eye patch as memory returned. He had been walking in a barren land, surrounded by mist, he had no eye patch then. Before that… Yes, we were fighting. Bokaard, my soldiers, aboard our Atalanph ships, fighting against the Histanatarns. Then came the Dromoorai and the world went dark. But there had been that old man in the desert who had called him Marakazian, King Marakazian. That had happened after the fighting, he was sure of it. He shook his head unable to remember much more.
He looked back at the beach but there was no other wreckage save for that broken keg. He must have clung to it, floated here. There was no sign of any of his soldiers. He closed his eyes and leant his head against the tree; rain dripping from the tree trickled down his weary face into his beard and dripped onto his bare chest.
They were all dead. Probably even Bokaard. The whole mission had failed and more than that for they had all been killed. Nothing gained, everything lost. If the tears would come it would help, but he was denied tears, always, denied any release from the grief and guilt. The dead were dead, leaving him alone with a terrible soul destroying regret.
It was I who ordered the mission, I should have returned, they would all be alive if we had. Bokaard, Erylin, young Lanac… Thank the goddess I sent some back! And now he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with no way of knowing where to go or how to get home. Home, to Rasia.
“You’ll have a full month of leave after this excursion. More than I get you lucky bastard.” Admiral Linker’s words echoed in his mind from an eternity ago. Who’s the lucky bastard now, eh? It looked like more than a month of leave, he thought, glancing around the jungle, it looked liked forever.
He stared through a gap in the leaves back at the grey ocean, the pattering of the heavy rain drops upon its surface. Maybe the sea would be blue in the sunshine, the sand golden, instead of this grey menagerie.
Golden sand trickling. “Is that the time I have?”
The old man had had an hourglass, the golden sands slowly trickling away marking the passage of time. Time running out. He opened his eyes wide. He had to do something but what? A feeling of urgency overcame him but lacking the knowing of what it was he had to do. He shook his head, had he gone mad? He could not coherently piece together the past few days.
His wound was not helping, the one in his side hurt a lot and oozed infected dark blood. I remember how I got that though. Bastard Histanatarns, I hope they all got eaten. It was a wound that needed treatment, a wound that could kill you if it turned septic. The sea water would have done it good, but being submerged in it for so long was not good.
On Frayon he would know to look for yarrow root or comfrey leaves but, looking around him, he did not know any of the plants and without that he did not know what to use to make a poultice. He let the rain wash it and it stung like hell. He tore off the cleanest section of his ripped trousers and tied it around the wound. Well, maybe he could look deeper into the forest.
Though he wasn’t hungry yet he would need food soon and at least it seemed he would be able to find fruits and seeds. From the looks of it they were literally falling off the trees. He took a few paces and picked up a brown fruit covered in soft fur. His knife was still in his belt and he cut the fruit open. It was bruised and brown on the inside too. He let it drop.
Gingerly he headed deeper into the forest hoping to find some plant he recognised. Every step caused a shooting pain in his side. He picked up a pinkish brown fruit twice the size of his fist and cut into it to reveal soft pink watery flesh. He dabbed a bit on his tongue and waited. Nothing but a sweet taste. He took a bite and swallowed. Nothing happened, it just made him suddenly ravenous. He cut chunks out and noisily ate the whole thing. If it killed him he didn’t care.
He was about to start on another but decided against it. Best not, see how this one goes. Instead he kept it for later and carried on through the trees, immediately feeling better now his hunger had been seen to somewhat. As he walked he began to get the feeling that he was being watched. He glanced about but all there was were the same birds flittering between the trees and the monkeys. Could it be the monkeys watching him that he could feel?
Pressure came upon his ankle and then a snapping noise. He was so intent upon the monkeys above that he did not see the thin twine until his foot set off the trap. Decades of a soldier’s training immediately told him he’d been had. He almost sighed in exasperation with himself, partially smiled at his easy ending after so long struggling.
Although everything seemed to happen in slow motion, he couldn’t in fact move any faster. The rock on the rope swung towards him through the tall trees. That’s a long rope, how did they tie it so high? he thought as it smacked into him hurling him off his feet and the knocking the breath out
of his lungs. The wound in his side flared briefly into exquisite agony before he tumbled unconscious to the forest floor.
Chapter 23
Dolphins And Harpies
EDARNA the witch sat on the rocks that ran a little way into the sea, not far from where she, somewhat violently, stopped Issa from falling under Keteth’s spell. She had her warm boots on and her thick shawl, the morning was clear but cold. Autumn was on its way and she shivered in the early morning sun. The bucket of fish next to her stank and made her gag.
‘Go on, hurry up, this stuff stinks!’ she said and with a grimace picked up a fish and threw it to the dolphin. With a clicking sound and whistle that was certainly laughter the pale bluish grey dolphin caught it neatly in its pink mouth. ‘I was here at dawn getting these fish. I’ve done myself out of dinner too! You’d better be grateful,’ the dolphin only clicked and whistled again.
She had gotten up before dawn to catch the fish. Well, “catch” was a slightly loose term. Being a witch a small explosion in the water from enchanted ground rock and a very rare root was what every amateur witch knew how to do. It was simply a matter of netting the stunned or dead fish and plonking them in the bucket.
The dolphin eyed her expectantly, its mouth set in that permanent dolphin smile. There was a bloody scar across its smooth forehead and several scrapes down its side, the only testament to the vicious battle it had had at sea against the Maphraxies after Keteth had been slain. The scar made Edarna guilty, a little, and so she gave all of her fish to the dolphin, keeping none back for herself.
‘We sure showed ‘em Maphraxies hey? Ha! Bloody immortals! I knew they’d come, like vultures to a carcass. They can’t help ‘emselves.’
The dolphin whistled its laugh.
Edarna had scryed for Issa when the death of Keteth rocked the world and the souls of the enslaved were released from their prison. That heart-stopping surge of magic bolted her out of bed leaving her sprawled and shaking on the floor. As soon as she was able she’d jumped up and gone to her scrying mirror. The magic was wild then, light and sound flickering in the Flow in a fantastic display. She followed the blaring signature under the light of the dark moon to where Issa was. It was easy to find her then. Then she saw the black ships on the horizon, then did the worry start.
‘I never doubted she would get rid of Keteth,’ Edarna said to the dolphin, ‘never. But I never thought they would come so quickly. You took half an hour to answer my call!’ she waggled the smelly slimy fish at the dolphin poking his head out of the water, mouth open ready to catch the fish. He snapped his mouth shut and angled his head indignantly. ‘We could have all been doomed. That you were sleeping is not a good enough excuse when the fate of the world is at hand!’
After seeing the Maphraxie ships sped by unholy magic she had immediately sprung into action and found the dolphin. One didn’t live for decades on a remote island without making some sort of friends. Edarna was no Daluni, she couldn’t mind-speak with animals, but all witches learned a thing or two about animal communication through their familiars. Having access to an earthier natural magic, witches were able to read animals very well. And a little bit of ‘mind-opening’ potion made the task that much easier.
Unable to understand the grunts and squeaks that made up the dolphin’s name she decided it must mean “Fish Killer” which is what she called him ever since they met over a decade ago. A meeting that occurred not on the best of terms. She still hadn’t forgiven him for stealing her fish after a very special explosion of her own design. She’d had to go without supper that day, and that made her very cross.
Nevertheless, seeing Fish Killer with his pod became a regular occurrence and over time they had gotten to know each other, mostly through fish favours. She had managed to teach him how to collect and bring to her mussels and oysters and in return she shared her fish explosions with him and his pod.
Fish Killer gave an expectant moan, shaking her out of her thoughts.
‘There’s only three left,’ she said, chucking him another fish. He gave a disapproving grunt. ‘You’re getting fat,’ she added, Fish Killer snapped his jaws.
She had asked (very firmly) if he and his pod would ‘assist’ Issa and help her escape from the Maphraxies. In fact she had insisted he help the young woman. After all, she had killed Keteth, and Keteth was a threat to the dolphins and all cetaceans too. Grudgingly he had taken every dolphin in the area to find her. When next Edarna scryed she saw whales and dolphins and all manner of strange sea creatures by Issa’s side. That alone had taken Edarna by complete surprise. She also had not expected there to be any kind of battle, but events took a turning for the worst, as they always did when the Maphraxies were involved.
When the two orbs joined their magic the blast knocked her out of the Flow and sent her sprawling on the floor once more, her scrying mirror was lucky to survive as it landed on the rug. She couldn’t move for an hour after and even entering the Flow now still made her feel frazzled. Unable to scry she had to wait for Fish Killer to tell her the rest of the story several days later. Now she was paying him back for his efforts as promised. Two buckets of fish and no back chat. Well, not much.
‘Well I wish a great golden dragon would come and save us!’ she huffed. Though the fish was gone Fish Killer stayed to chat, or listen to Edarna talk at him. ‘Now she’s safe it’s us I’m worried about with those Maphraxies so near.’
She turned to stare down at the grinning blue cat sat below her on a lower rock licking his whiskers after eating his own fish. He blinked up at her with half-lidded eyes and wrapped his tail around paws.
‘So, the ships had come from Kammy, that is how they got there so quick, hmm,’ Edarna said. Fish Killer clicked in agreement. The dolphins had told her a day ago that there were Maphraxies swarming the Isles of Kammy. Looked like they were there permanently, though the dolphins couldn’t get too close. Dolphins were not spared from Sirin Derenax extraction either, nor was any living thing.
‘It is not safe here, not safe at all. Still it seems my time here has come to an end. With Keteth gone the Shadowlands have either shrunk or are no longer quite so connected to this world. It seems it was Keteth who anchored the dead to the living. Now he is gone that link appears broken. I don’t for a second doubt the Shadowlands still exist as a place where the Lost Ones and Forsaken walk, but they are no longer easily accessible to me. Hmph, what on Maioria am I supposed to do now?’
Deep in thought it was Fish Killer’s frantic train of clicks and whistles that brought her to attention.
‘What?’ she scrunched up her nose trying to understand what the dolphin was saying. ‘What? Danger? Why? Harpies? Where? Argh!’ she almost fell off her rock as she saw the big dark bird-like things flying low above the ocean. ‘Great Goddess!’
It was too late to use magic, or at least much of it. She slipped down onto the rock the cat was on and in the same motion pulled her shawl over her head.
‘Earth, conceal me!’ she commanded. ‘Mr Dubbins be scarce!’ she hissed at the cat. The cat hissed back at her and then crawled under the shallow ledge of the rock.
It was a pitiful spell and she knew it but to anything looking down the witch would look like a strange grey rock amongst the other grey rocks. A closer inspection would reveal a hazy shimmer of black boots and and green skirt seemingly sticking out of the rock.
The dolphin squeaked laughter at her, uncaring of the five harpies that were approaching.
‘I’ll talk to you later, now shoo!’ Edarna rasped.
Fish Killer snapped his jaws twice and then disappeared beneath the still waters. Edarna focused on the approaching bird-women. ‘I hate harpies, disgusting things!’ she fell silent as they drew close. They should not be anywhere near this far west, living as they did in Ostasia.
One had blonde hair and the others were black-haired. All were pale-skinned and similar looking, probably sisters out of the same nest. If you could see only their heads and torso you would think they were
just pretty women with black eyes, the soft young skin of their breasts, their smooth faces and long shiny hair. But the rest of their bodies were a sharp contrast with their razor sharp talons, greasy feathered legs, tail and stomach, and black fanged mouths. Their feathers weren’t soft but slick and shiny as if covered in oil. They smelt bad too. They were not known for washing and, unlike birds, they did not have beaks to preen themselves.
‘Filthy creatures,’ Edarna hissed. Then her heart caught in her throat as they angled right and headed straight towards her. They circle once and then landed on thick clawed feet in the cove where Issa’s boat had not so long ago departed.
‘Smells straaange,’ one bird-woman screeched, looking around her.
Edarna’s heart was pounding in her head and not in her chest where it ought to be. She ran through everything. Has she left the oven on? No. Had she left the washing out? Damn I can’t remember! Had she put the shield up? Yes, the shield would conceal the house from above but not from land. Bugger!
The bird women waddled awkwardly around the beach. They had clearly smelled something, their sense of smell was incredible, but Issa had left a while ago. Perhaps they could feel Edarna’s magic. They couldn’t possibly be smelling her, she’d had a bath only last week!
‘There is nothing here,’ the blonde harpy said, ‘no men, no nothing! Let’s go. There are richer places to search and my nest has been cold and empty for too long! The Immortal Lord does not reward us for finding nothing, fools.’
The other two harpies snarled at the blonde in response.
‘But he does punish when we miss something important. Idiot! If you got your head out your nest you might think more clearly,’ said a black one.
