“So magic is quite common then?” he asked thinking there must be lots of people capable of achieving these wondrous things.
“Not really. Our numbers are not great, and the battle against the darkness is a continuous one that we cannot afford to lose.” Finley nodded, pretending he knew what his mother was talking about, and realised he did not even know what this darkness was, and so made it his next question.
However, it was clear that he was not the only one who was tired, and after promising she would explain things further tomorrow, suggested they all settle for the night. With his mind buzzing, filled with notions of magic and sorcery, Finley reluctantly agreed and headed for the small tent. Settling down on the unusual sheet that covered the ground inside, he rested his head down and looked up, trying to picture his father with these abilities. If the man had ever had powers, in the years he had lived in Whitebridge he had never seen such a thing being used. Not once had he ever witnessed his father manipulating the air or causing the ground to shake, and yet despite all these doubts, he was certain his mother was telling him the truth.
Sleep came far easier than he thought it would, and it was again not long before the nightly ritual of his nightmarish dreams took hold. As usual, Finley found himself amongst the trees of some unknown forest, with the now familiar lingering mist hovering just off the ground. He looked around expecting to see the mass of darkness, only to see dozens of dark shapes, just as he had done when forced awake the previous evening. Fortunately, whatever was holding the singular dark mass at bay, similarly did likewise for the new arrivals. These were different, as they had both shape and form, yet resembled no creature known to Finley. Upright, with clawed hands and a head that resembled that of a wolf, these new beasts snarled and snapped, as if wanting to leap down upon him and rip him to pieces.
Yet despite the feel of fear almost overwhelming him, Finley also felt something else new. A calming, serene glow just to his right, and immediately headed that direction. He looked over his shoulder at the dark, almost rabid looking beasts that were clawing at the invisible barrier that seemed to be keeping them at a safe distance. This time a single voice called out, and one that he thought sounded like his mothers, female anyway, he couldn’t be sure, calling him towards the light. He hurried towards her, yet no matter how many steps he took, he never seemed to get any closer. The noise from behind him grew louder, and he turned to see, not just dozens of these beasts, but hundreds, all clawing and snapping away, eating up the space between him and them.
Finley ran harder, as the voice called out again and again, but not matter what, he just could not get to where he wanted. He turned again as a dark shadowy face moved to within a few inches of his own, before waking up with a scream. The sweat dripped down his brow, and his shirt felt as if it was sticking to his body. With his breathing heavy, he was startled once more as his mother popped her head in through the flap of his tent, “Is everything okay?” she asked sounding concerned.
In the half-light of the tent, Leyna could see how distressed her son was looking and immediately stepped inside to comfort him. “Bad dreams?” she asked softly, putting a motherly arm around him. Finley merely nodded, “They are getting worse,” he mumbled.
“We can talk more about them tomorrow. Do you have the necklace I left with your father?”
Finley put his hand into his shirt and lifted it out for her to see. “Good. Make sure you keep that on, it should help keep you safe in the dream world. I may be able to help you further when we arrive home, but until then you are on your own.”
Finley calmed quite quickly, and hoped this night was like all the others, in that once he had been awakened by the nightmare, any subsequent sleep went without incident. His mother did offer to sit with him, but he assured her he was fine, knowing she needed to sleep as much as he did. She did, however, insist on sitting and watching over him, at least until he returned to sleep, and although Finley felt it all a little unnecessary, allowed her to do just that.
Chapter 11.
Finley awoke to the sound of voices outside. As he had hoped it would, sleep had been a little more normal and far less traumatic than it had initially been. After stretching out his arms, he sat up and thought it probably best to get up and join the others. He felt a little embarrassed at being the last one up, and apologised to his mother for being so; something she immediately dismissed.
As Finley ate breakfast, he sat and watched with some admiration, as the elves busied themselves, taking down the two tents and breaking camp with the utmost efficiency. Unsurprisingly, breakfast was the same as every other meal and just another type of fruit. He had only been with the elves a couple of days, and already he was finding the diet somewhat lacking in variation.
Swiftwind, acknowledged his approach, bobbing his head up and down as if glad to see him. Finley patted the horse on the neck, and rubbed his hand across the animal’s bright white coat, before holding an apple in the other hand as a welcome treat. Swiftwind gave a sound as if trying to say thanks, before happily munching the piece of fruit, while Finley checked the tautness of the straps. After re-attaching the pole given to him the previous day, he decided he would also keep his bow and sword close at hand, just in case it was needed.
The group was once more on their way, travelling at a steady trot. Once more, scouts were sent forward to check for any signs of trouble ahead, although Finley thought they couldn’t be moving too far away from the group, as they always returned soon afterwards. Having barely travelled for fifteen minutes, his mother once more trotted her own horse beside his. “Tell me about your dreams?” she said looking over towards him.
Finley thought a moment or two thinking of how best to explain. After all, he didn’t want to make out he was some kind mad-man, having dreams of monsters and trees that watched him pass by. He decided to start by saying that each night they began from where he had left off previously, but after being the same for so long, they had only recently started changing. The setting was always the same, which he described to her as best he could, even down to the trunks having eyes and watching him. The voices which called his name had also changed, “I heard another voice calling me last night,” he said, “But no matter how hard I run I could not reach it.”
He paused and looked over to his mother, trying to judge what she was thinking, but couldn’t tell so thought it best to move on. He had only realised when waking that morning, that since he had worn the necklace, changes had started happening. The dark shape giving chase to him had remained a safe distance, although, since that time, the other creatures had arrived to join it. “Describe these ‘other creatures’ please,” his mother asked interrupting him. Finley shrugged, closing his eyes trying to picture one of the beasts in his mind, “Tall, with claws…oh and a head like a wolf’s, with big teeth, snarling and snapping,” he replied gesticulating a hand to simulate one.
He opened his eyes again and waited not sure if he was to continue on with his dream description or wait for another question to answer. “They sound like Balgraf,” she uttered.
“I don’t even know what that is,” Finley replied.
“The creatures you describe are Balgraf. Yet you have never seen one, so I do not understand how they haunt your dreams,” his mother replied, looking as puzzled as he was. However, she did not dwell on her uncertainty and asked him to continue describing his dream world. In truth, there was not much else to tell, other than he always woke before the dark shape got close, as it had done the previous evening. Something he said however apparently gave his mother some cause for concern, as the look on her face suddenly changed. “The creatures neared you, despite wearing the necklace last night?” she asked just checking she had heard correctly.
Finley nodded, “Yes, the strange dark shape that is usually there, got right up close to me before I awoke. I thought…” he let the sentence hang, not sure he should continue, but his mother clearly wanted to know what he was going to add. “You thought what?” she asked s
ounding quite concerned.
“Well I thought I saw a face in the dark shape, but it was only for a brief second, so I’m not sure,” he added.
“Abalyon” she uttered under her breath. Once more Finley had no idea who that was, but this time did not have time to ask, as his mother kicked her heels into her horse and galloped forward to the head of the group.
Finley was not sure what the significance of his dreams was, but whatever he had described had caused some panic. The group now moved much quicker than before, pushing the horses to their very limits of endurance. Fortunately, Swiftwind seemed to be enjoying the quicker pace, and Finley felt the horse could go faster still if allowed to do so. With his riding skills clearly not as proficient as the elves, Finley found himself being bounced up and down far more, although thankfully, Swiftwind didn’t seem to care he was a complete novice in the saddle.
After just two very short stops, more to give the horses some respite, rather than to allow themselves to take a break, progress was much quicker. Finley wanted to ask his mother as to why the sudden change in urgency, but for now at least she seemed preoccupied with other matters. Having just a few minutes during each stop, it was spent taking on board a little food and drink, and therefore no time to talk. While travelling at speed, making conversation was more difficult as Finley especially, had to concentrate on riding; hence he had eventually given up trying. Whatever the reason for the sudden panic, he was certain he would find out soon enough.
By early afternoon, with the horses nearing exhaustion, they arrived at a large clearing in the forest. Before them was a lake, larger than any Finley had ever seen, and with waters bluer than a summer sky. In the centre was an island, upon which was a walled town, built of similar white stone used in the construction of the bridge back home. He was about to ask how they were supposed to get to the middle of the lake, when he looked left, noticing the largest bridge he had ever seen. Built from a darker stone than the walls of the town, it consisted of seven arched spans, that led from the shore of the lake right up to the gates of the town on the island. Standing tall at the shore side of the bridge were two towers and a large fortified gatehouse.
The group had to wait a few moments for the portcullis to be lifted, permitting them entrance onto the bridge beyond. Finley felt a little strange as he trotted Swiftwind over the lake, looking out across the waters and wondering how such a thing could have been built. As if sensing what he was thinking, his mother, trotting her horse alongside his, answered that very question. “Built by the dwarfs, two centuries ago,” she told him, “Don’t ask me how they managed it, but even after all these years it never fails to impress me,” she added.
Swiftwind was clearly tired from their trip, trotting in line as they passed through another set of gates, allowing them entry into the town. The place had not only been built by the dwarfs but named by them as well; hence it having the unusual name of Lochgorm. The town was a stronghold, and home to many different kinds of sorcerers and magicians, as well as a large number of soldiers. Built by the dwarfs over two hundred years ago as a safe haven for the elves in their fight against the darkness.
Finley turned sharply as a loud bang echoed behind him, only to realise the gates of the town had been slammed shut. Whatever beings were out in the wilderness, the elves who now resided in Lochgorm certainly took every precaution to keep them out. The town inside the walls was very different from the other elven places he had visited. Here, there was very little sign of the trees, flowers and plush lawns that appeared so prominent in other places. Lochgorm was a place of iron and stone, clearly not built or designed by elves, yet they had made it home nonetheless and did have a few small secluded areas where Finley spotted their influence.
The houses were tall and built closely together, probably making better use of the space than a normal elven town did, and the streets were all cobbled stone and built straight, crisscrossing every now and then with others. The main thoroughfare was wide and led straight up to another walled building at the centre; this was apparently called the keep, which had its own fortifications. Finley was somewhat surprised that his mother resided within the thick stone walls of the keep. He had just assumed her home would be one closer to nature, especially with her being a druid and someone who was supposedly at one with it. Finley though, realised he was no expert on these matters, and so kept the thought to himself.
After passing through the gated archway leading into the keep yard, Finley dismounted from his horse. After adjusting his bow and the long pole gifted to him by his grandmother, he led Swiftwind to a building built against the keep’s outer wall, which he assumed to be the stables. Several elven children appeared, and despite a little hesitation he eventually handed the reins over to one of them, but not before patting his horse on the neck thanking him for his efforts.
His mother stood waiting for him, and when ready, led him towards the main doors, which were accessible up three wide stone steps. Even these doors looked very different from anything he had seen before. Painted a dull black with large hinges, they were covered in metal studs, clearly another sign of the dwarf builders. Inside, the now familiar sight of the strange glowing balls of light illuminated what was a rather dreary looking foyer. A wide stone staircase dominated the area, with steps leading both up and down to lower levels. Passageways led left and right, but it was the stairs his mother headed for, and after a quick call for him to keep close, he stepped up alongside her.
Despite feeling both tired and hungry, Finley was ushered up several flights of steps before being led to a large room. Once more the lighting was supplied by the now familiar balls of energy produced by arcanists, added to by the more natural form through two arched topped windows built into the far wall. The furniture within was clearly elven and very similar to that which he had seen in Neylarin. A circle of high-backed chairs placed around a large highly polished table sat at the centre of the room, while several large plants in clay pots stood in line along one wall as if the elves were trying to bring at least some sort of nature into the building.
Finley was asked to take a seat, while his mother turned about and left, reassuring him she would return in a few minutes. After removing his bow and quiver, and placing them on the floor against the wall, he decided to keep his sword and knife in place, for now at least. He took the pole that was strapped to his back and decided to inspect it a little more carefully.
He stood the pole upright, judging it to be a little taller than himself and about an inch or so in thickness. After stepping a little closer to one of the strange glowing orbs of light, he could see strange markings running down the length, although what they meant or for what purpose they were there, he had no idea. He thought perhaps it was magical just like the one Galdrac used, but after thrusting it forward a few times, nothing happened. “Watch it, you’ll have someone’s eye out with that,” came a strange husky kind of voice from the open doorway.
Finley turned quickly, and froze, unsure what to do. Stood just ten paces away was an orc. With a strange bluish pallor to its skin, it must have been about six feet in height. The hair on its large head was dark and wiry looking, and yet somehow, not at all what Finley thought an orc would look like. “You’re an orc!” he mumbled under his breath. The creature looked at him a little strangely, “Not as big as I thought you’d be,” he uttered holding the pole out in case the beast attacked him.
The two stared at each other for several moments before the orc finally decided to step a little closer, causing Finley to take two steps further back. “Get back, you hideous beast. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said trying to make his voice sound menacing and thrusting the pole forward a few times in a stabbing motion. He glanced over his shoulder, trying to judge his position to that of his bow. If he could manoeuvre around a little and grab that, he might have a chance to kill the ugly creature.
Finley suddenly stopped as he noticed the orc had remained stationary and not attempting to get any closer, although it was
now making some kind of terrible noise. He wasn’t sure if it was laughing or crying, but whichever it was, it was certainly not pleasant on the ears. No matter what the intention of the orc, he decided he would head towards his bow nonetheless, and thought to take advantage of the window of opportunity given to him. While the creature was still making that terrible noise, he quickly darted over to where he had left his bow. After neglecting the pole in his hands, merely tossing it to the floor, he grabbed the bow before hurriedly picking an arrow from the quiver.
Finley was just about to nock the arrow onto the bowstring when he noticed his mother appearing at the open doorway. “Look out mother, there’s a hideous orc. I’ll kill it!” he shouted over thinking she might be walking inadvertently into danger. He was somewhat stunned, when his mother replied, and not in a kind or thankful way. “Put that bow down!” she snapped, seeing a side to her he had not yet seen before.
He watched, a little confused, as his mother walked right up to the orc and placed an arm around the beast. “Are you okay my dear?” he heard her say. The orc nodded, as it finally stopped making that awful noise. Finley was not sure why his mother gave him such a glare, but it was evident she was not happy with him. “I don’t understand!” he mumbled.
Feeling somewhat deflated and confused he finally lowered his bow before replacing it against the wall, and returning the arrow to the quiver. He collected the pole that he had so nonchalantly discarded and went to take a seat, once more feeling unsure he belonged in this strange, foreign place. He looked up to where his mother and the orc were stood, wishing they would both just turn around and leave him alone.
Return of the Darkness Page 7
