CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Ygor’s growing preoccupation with a fury directed at
himself and his companions for letting Michal escape under their very noses
was, perhaps inevitable, to prove his undoing.
The mystery perplexed him and Ygor was not one to be easily perplexed. He must have had help, but whose? The
druid asked himself over and over. Not Astor for he would have sensed Astor’s
presence, surely? Yet how can I be sure
of anything anymore? Ragund…? he mused briefly, but rejected the notion out
of hand. Ragund was a great mage, yes. Even he, Ygor, would not deny that, but
great enough to overcome druid magic?
“No!” Ygor exclaimed aloud, and not for the first time the mountain rang
with the force of his denial. Then who or
what had come to the aid of young Michal, and how…?
Thus it was that, deep
in thought, Ygor and his acolytes rounded the next corner to find themselves
confronted - and outnumbered - by Radik and his company of krill’s; a small
company it may well have been, but one that was armed and ready to greet their
new guests with as much hostility as necessary.
Krills and druids had
been sworn enemies for more lifetimes than Ygor cared to count. This thought
flashed into his mind just as the first arrow flew past his left ear.
Instantly, his innermost druid self took over and attempted an ages-old magic
that would temporarily blind the enemy and allow them to escape.
To Ygor’s utter
consternation and horror, his attempt failed.
He strained with all his senses to achieve what should have been
relatively easy for a druid of his rank… but it proved impossible. This cannot be! Who…what…? But the
mountain supplied no answer and a blow to the head rendered him instantly
unconscious.
……………………………..
“Kill the druids except their leader. They will
serve for several suppers, but he may well prove useful, Radik snarled.” He did
not wait to see his orders carried out but retreated into his makeshift tent to
discuss the situation with Arissa. He
was well pleased with himself. It had been a Krill bringing up the rear, not
least because of an old injury, that had alerted him to the druids’ approach.
Instantly, he had resolved to lay a trap rather than avoid them. Would the
druids not sense their presence? The thought had crossed his mind, of course,
but he decided to chance his luck anyway.
Radik’s recklessness
had both surprised and exhilarated him. What
chance Krills against druid magic? Yet, it was if some inner voice urged
him, with increasing passion, to attempt the elimination of an ages-old enemy.
Besides, his conscious self wasted no time reminding him that Arissa would
approve, and while that in itself hardly mattered, it could only better the
chances of their engaging in a very pleasurable time later. Arissa, he had
discovered long since, never engaged in intimacy lightly. She was the most
highly sexed female it had ever been his good fortune to encounter.
While Radik did not
hold females in high esteem except for sexual pleasure, he had good sense
enough to appreciate that Arissa was no ordinary female. She often had ideas
worth listening to. All but oblivious to the piercing screams of Ygor’s small
company as they were butchered, he thus sought out she whom he had come to
think of as his consort. He was less than pleased to find her in the company of
the imbecile elf who doted on her regardless of the fact that he, Radik, had
raged at Pers’ blind infatuation on more than one occasion. Moreover, the Krill
leader blamed Pers for releasing his prisoners despite the elf’s cries of
protest. Who else would dare set them
free? At the same time, even Radik
had to concede it was unlikely Pers would have found the nerve if only for fear
of arousing Arisa’s displeasure. Why does
she tolerate him?
Why,
indeed? Arissa found herself wondering much the same thing
although she had been flattered by the way the elf had leapt to defend her
against a druid who had made the mistake of attacking her. She had no need of
his help, of course, but appreciated it all the same, especially with Tol
having disappeared shortly before the unsuspecting druids fell into the trap
awaiting them.
It disturbed Arissa
that the gentle giant had left the camp without her knowledge, but she did not
doubt he would return soon enough, he always did. Even so, it was a constant
source of concern to her that, devoted slave as he was, Tol clearly had a mind
of his own, one which she had never succeeded in fully accessing if not for
want of trying. Invariably, she would probe and come up against a wall; a not
an entirely blank wall, but one she could not pass. Ordinarily, this would have rung loud and
clear alarm bells in her head, but she put it down to Tol being something of a
simple soul, persuaded that any suspect wardings were neither calculated nor
even intentional but simply the effects of a naïve consciousness. Radik had
once challenged her assessment of Tol as being too crude to be true. His choice
of words, however, more so even than the fact that he had dared challenge her
at all, so enraged her that they did not speak for some time. Once reconciled, the Krill leader had wisely
kept his own counsel regarding Tol and avoided the subject thereafter.
“I don’t care what
Radik says or thinks,” Pers was saying for the umpteenth time as Radik entered,
I did not release the prisoners.” Arissa merely shrugged. He hated it when she
did that as it invariably meant she was displeased with him. “Why does no one
suspect Tol? It’s not as if anyone even knows where he has gone…”
True,
Radik
was inclined to agree, but said nothing. “We have their leader, and…” he flung
the elf an accusing glare, “…Ygor had better stay our prisoner or heads will
roll.”
Pers visibly flinched.
“My clever Radik,”
Arissa purred, wondering at the same time how a bunch of Krills had managed to
snare a company of druids, however small. Something
is wrong, very wrong. For now, though, she kept her suspicions to herself.
“Who is a clever Radik then?” she exclaimed, embracing the Krill leader and
showering him with kisses, much to his obvious delight and Pers’ ill-concealed
jealousy.
“Never underestimate
druids,” said Pers, “Ygor will only be of any use to you as far as he is
prepared to be so.”
“Perhaps,” growled
Radik, “you would prefer I set him free, ye who set such store by the freedom
of others while content to remain enthralled by foolish puppy love?”
Pers winced at the jibe
and looked directly at Arissa as if half expecting a show of support, but not
surprised to find none, only profoundly disappointed as always. Will I never learn? She cares nothing for me. I know this, and
yet I cannot leave her. Why? Do I truly love her? How can I even ask myself
that, and where is Tol?
“Nevertheless, the elf
has a point,” conceded Arissa,
addressing Radik without sparing Pers so much as a glance.
Radik shrugged. “We can
dispose of him any time. Meanwhile, he may prove useful. There are forces at
work that I do not understand. A master druid has to be a useful insurance
against whatever power is working against us in this damn mountain.”
“Don’t count on it,”
hissed Arissa. “For once, the elf has a point. Never underestimate a druid. If
you are not careful, very careful, Ygor will see you dead long before you can
spit on his grave. Better he die now along with his comrades than remain the
slightest threat, surely?”
“I fear no druid scum,”
Radik snarled, “and you may well be right, my sweet, but alive he may yet be
useful to us. We will interrogate him later. For now, I have an appetite for
making love to the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Arissa’s smile struck
Pers as being more smug than pleased. She
has the krill just where she wants him, but she does not care for him any more
than she cares for me. The notion that the likes of Arissa only used others
for their own selfish ends came as no surprise to Pers. So why do I stay? Why do I care for her so? Or perhaps I am meant to
stay for some other purpose and my love has only ever been an illusion? The
elf left the tent less so because he clearly was not wanted there than gravely
disquieted by thoughts that had not surfaced his mind before although…Can they really have been there all the
time? If so, why do they visit me now..?
Pers had the faintest sense of an unknown
presence that vanished almost as soon as he became aware of it. Before he could
quite collect his thoughts, he heard his name called and found himself
approaching the druid, Ygor, even as he struggled to summon a show of
self-confidence. Why do I get the feeling
I am being undermined, and not by any presence with which I am familiar?
Even as he thought it, though, he sensed ‘undermined’ was incorrect. Yet, he
dismissed any notion of ‘support’ as fanciful. Whatever, it was disconcerting
to say the least that he should even begin to question his pledged allegiance
to Arissa. There is something curiously
potent in the air, but what? Magic, perhaps? But when had he ever felt
uncomfortable with magic? The elf shook his head, more confused than
considerably less concerned than he felt was appropriate.
“Don’t shake your head
at me, elf,” hissed Ygor. “You may not know it, but you are as much a prisoner
here as I am if not more so,” he scoffed, “At least I know I am a prisoner
while, you…you are but wet clay in the hands of evil doers.”
Pers confronted the
druid leader with a semblance of composure he was far from feeling. Ygor had
been bound to a rock, his physical appearance badly mauled while continuing to
emanate a powerful presence. How, the elf wondered, had the druids been caught
off guard by a company of Krills that barely outnumbered their own and would
never, in normal times, been a match for them.
“Ah, but these are not
normal times, elf, as well we all know,” said Ygor as if reading other’s
thoughts..
“Have you come across
my sister?” It was not the question Pers meant to ask, but the first that came
to his lips.
“Irina is here beneath
the mountain? Interesting,” murmured the druid, “She will be with Heron, of
course, and who else, I wonder…?” Why is
this news to me? Why have I not been aware of this? Something or someone is
playing with me. Well, they will live to regret it. I am sure your sister
is in good hands, which is more than I can say for you, my good elf. He treated Pers to a patronizing smile that
made Pers cringe. “Tell me. Surely, you cannot trust these Krill mercenaries or
the witch whore, Arissa, who travels with them? Can it be that your elven
senses play you so false that you are immune to all else but her beauty? He
laughed as the elf’s bemused expression. “Oh, yes, I cannot deny her that although I suspect it goes but skin
deep. As for what evil lies
beneath…” He spat.
There was a time not so
long ago that Pers would have struck out at anyone defiling Arissa’s name. On
this occasion, though, he remained curiously unmoved. Nor did he feel in the
least inclined to leap to his beloved’s defence.
“It is appropriate that
you, a druid, should speak of evil,” Pers retorted, “It is all you know.” Yet,
there was something about the druid, a ‘presence’ that, for all the elf could
not help but find it very disturbing, was also oddly reassuring, as if the
piercing eyes were able to penetrate a
deeper elven consciousness that has been suppressed and was starting to
reawaken. Confused and upset, Pers began to move away.
“You are right to feel
as you do, elf, for nothing is at it seems in this place. Only fools cannot
trust their own judgement, but here…trust and judgement, I am thinking they are
much as rock and hard place here.” But
why, why, and what am I not seeing?
“Only a fool would
trust a druid, that’s for sure,” Pers responded in much the same mocking tone
as Ygor had used, “Trust is a precious thing, neither easily earned or
given, even to the inner self, and then
only selectively and unreservedly or not at all.
“Wise words, elf.
Unreservedly, yes. Selectively, yes. You speak of the inner self. And do you
trust yours, elf? I suspect not. Nor I mine, I find, if the truth be told. So where does that leave us, elf? In a fine mess, I’d say, wouldn’t you?”
“You know nothing,
druid,”
“And you know less than
nothing, elf. Perhaps, between us, we can learn something?”
“Are you asking for my
help?” Pers could not believe his ears.
“The day a druid asks
aid of an elf has to be a dark day indeed,” was Ygor’s oblique reply.
“A dark day for you,
yes,” Pers said quietly. “Whatever Radik’s plans for you, you can be sure it
will involve torture.”
“And for you, elf,”
murmured Ygor icily, “Do you honestly believe he and Arissa have anything less
unpleasant in store for you once you have served their purpose?”
“Oh, and what purpose
would that be?”
“You tell me.” Ygor
fixed the elf with a searching look that forced Pers to turn and walk away,
feeling sick, as if he had been violated.
Ygor watched him go
with a self-satisfied smile. That he would make an ally of the elf yet, he was
in no doubt.
For his part, Pers
wandered to the edge of the camp and just beyond, sat on a shelf of rock and
put his head in his hands. The druid is
right. I can trust no one, including myself. So what should I do…nothing or
something? Nothing would be safer,
for now. Something, has to be better,
though, but what…?”
Someone came and sat
beside him. Startled, Pers took his hands from his face and looked up. “Tol…! Where in Ri’s name have you been?” he
asked before remembering the giant was dumb.
Tol’s colourless lips
and grey eyes smiled. Instantly, Pers felt reassured and uplifted, which was a
new experience as he had never felt at ease with the giant in the past. He
turned slightly, all the better to follow Tol’s steady gaze to where Ygor, too,
was watching him carefully, as if assessing his worth…
Pers felt a growing
unease merge with a weird sense of nameless purpose. His chest began to tighten
as if giant and druid had him in a vice-like grip. “What do you want of me?” he asked mutely of both.
By way of a riposte
their silence spoke volumes.
Aware and not aware or
what he was doing or why he was doing it, Pers went to Ygor and cut the druid’s
his bonds free with the elven blade he always carried.
Some drunken krills
nearby were celebrating an easy victory over the druids, but no one saw or
heard a thing as giant, elf and the only druid left alive snuck off into the
gloom.
……………………………
“It is Ygor and his companions.” Mulac murmured
unnecessarily. Beth nodded as they lay low and heard rather than saw the druid
company pass overhead where the track began to slope until she guessed it would
reach their level just ahead.
Presumably, they had covered the distance by way of another of the
mountain’s higher paths. More to the point, she mused, how had Tol known they
were in such danger? Instantly, she corrected herself. By now, she should know
better than to be surprised by anything the gentle giant said or did.
“You sensed their
presence or do you have magic that told you of it?” the disquieted Nu-Gen
demanded in a harsh whisper.
As
simply and briefly as possible Beth explained how Tol had warned her. Mulac’s
response took her by surprise. He did not, as she had expected, question her
ability to make contact with Tol via mind-talk but appeared to take it in his stride.
Instead, he commented, “To whom, I wonder, does he answer, this Tol? I suspect it not to Arissa. Clearly, he has a
part to play in what brings you to Mamelon and places us on the back of a sea
monster,” he chuckled humorlessly. “So who can he be, this Tol, and what his
purpose?” he murmured, more to himself than to Beth.
Beth
could only shrug off the question she had put to herself time and again, the
answer to which she could not begin to imagine. Mulac seemed to accept this
and, much to her relief, seemed content to drop the subject; for now at least
as they continued to lie low, watch and listen. The druids had barely turned
the next bend when all at once the very walls of the mountain seemed to be
screaming. Surprise, rage, fear, all these were let loose among echoes that
assaulted their eardrums and made their blood run cold.
“Krills…!” Mulac
murmured and put a finger to his lips as Beth started to speak. “Hush, Bethan,
for walls have ears,” he mouthed. Beth fell silent although she doubted if any
sound either of them made would be heard by either walls or living things for
the sheer fury of blood curdling yells and frantic cries.
Beth-Bethan clung to
Mulac. Ri knows, I have no love for
druids, but even they do not deserve that Krills should feast upon their
remains, possibly even while they are still alive. Ri, save them from that, at
least. A ghastly picture of what was
almost certainly being played out not far ahead crossed her mind’s eye and
caused her to shiver violently.
Glad of Mulac’s arms
around her, Beth still found time to wonder how it was that calling upon the
god came so naturally to her. I am more
Bethan than Beth. The more she tried to resist this truth, the stronger her
conviction that it could not, should not be resisted. Or
reversed…? For the first time, she
confronted the possibility that she may not return to Earth.
Mulac’s comforting
embrace tightened perceptibly. Had he read her thoughts, she wondered? Did she really want to return to a life
without him? But that question, she resolved to put aside until such a time as
she might be forced to choose. Assuming,
I still have a choice, Bethan of Mamelon pondered ruefully. Yet, I cannot, must not let go of Bethany
Martin completely or…Mulac nuzzled her neck and the unfinished thought
became lost as she raised eager lips to his and the shrieking walls fell
momentarily silent.
