A Change In The Weather

Chapter 62: Unquiet slumbers

20 June, 2008 – 12:14 pm

‘… and so the same can be said for the Fay on our side of the world.’ continued Hillary, elaborating. ‘So, when the land separated, they were left there marooned with no way back.’

Tobias stared at him for a moment through the smoky haze of the inn, as if trying to suss him out.

‘Come on Hillary.’ he said eventually, rubbing his chin. ‘When was the last time you were here? I mean, you don’t seriously expect us to believe that you’ve never stepped foot here before do you?’

As he spoke, he attempted to get the attention of the barman by waving an empty tankard at him and turned back to Hillary with a shake of the head.

‘I find that very hard to believe.’ he added.

Hillary glanced down at Wendle, who was asleep by his feet, and thought for a moment.

‘Yes, I have been here before,’ he admitted, ‘but it was a long, long time ago.’

Tobias looked puzzled.

‘Then why be so coy about it? Why tell us you hadn’t?’

‘It was a year after the Ketton Cockatrice had been defeated. Something strange happened; a friend of mine disappeared. It would have been the year 1363, over six centuries ago. I was still young, and had only just returned from Palestine where I had chased the Fiery Brand. Fox Tufford had been a friend of mine since the very first day I arrived in Blakeby, and when he vanished, I was determined to find out what had happened and bring him back.’

‘And so you found your way here didn’t you?’

Hillary nodded.

‘Yes. You see I searched for an answer in the ancient books I had brought back from Persia and Europe, and eventually I found it, but it wasn’t easy; it required study and meditation. But the magic that I used was old and powerful and I had never cast anything like that before. It took so much of my strength away that I had to rest for several days.’

Tobias listened intently.

‘After I had rested I went to work fashioning a compass, and this I used together with the flying carpet which had been given to me by Badr-al-Din.

‘Eventually I found the island, and the entrance.’

‘And so you passed over the threshold?’

‘I calculated that I crossed over into Faerie a couple of months after Fox did, emerging on the outskirts of a curious city made of gleaming spires and domes in the far reaches of the southern desert.’

Tobias looked confused.

‘You passed over but didn’t emerge here?’

Hillary shook his head.

‘I don’t know why. I can only assume that the portals swap and change with the passage of time. Maybe the connections are not as fixed as we assume, or the movement of the two worlds affect the positions of the portals somehow. Of-course, I am only guessing, but it seems like a logical explanation.’

‘Carry on…’

* * * *

The children skulked past the bar where Tobias and Hillary sat, making sure that they were unseen, creeping through the crowds and out through the open door and into the empty street.

It was cold, but Scarlet had draped a blanket over herself and Thomas. She’d managed to steal some money from another room across the corridor. A few pieces of silver was all that she could find, but at least it was better than nothing. She felt bad just taking them, but realised that their predicament was far greater than the guilt she was experiencing.

‘But we don’t know where we’re going.’ moaned Thomas, sniffing miserably.

She shushed her brother, and looked around carefully.

The moon hung directly overhead, inverted left to right in the sky - a mirror image of the one she was used to at home. It was only then that she realised that since she’d crossed over into Faerie, she had become left-handed. How strange. With a frown, she picked up the clockwork box of the guardian with her left hand and shook it. It made a whirring and clicking sound as its gears and springs sprung to life once more.

‘Bzzz… yes?’ it said, as if anticipating a question.

‘What is your name?’ she whispered. ‘And do please try to keep your voice down…’

‘Bzzz… I have forgotten. It was on the tip of my tongue… Bzzz… It has been so long… centuries even, maybe longer.’

‘You were guarding a doorway to Faerie. Why?’

‘Bzzz… why, to stop people coming of-course…’ it answered, matter-of-factly.

‘Who?’

‘Bzzz… to stop thieves from coming and thieves from leaving…’

‘Thieves?’

‘Bzzz… yesss. Thieves who would steal the stones… bzzz.’

‘What would anyone want with stones?’ she asked, with a frown.

‘Bzzz… mine is not to reason. Mine is to obey…’

Scarlet looked at Thomas.

‘I don’t think we’ll get anything useful from the guardian…’ she sighed.

With a shrug she placed the clockwork guardian back in her pocket, and looked around once more into the depths of the night.

‘Come on, let’s get moving.’ she said. ‘We’ve got a long way to go.’

Scarlet and Thomas walked off into the night in the direction of the great village gates.

I remember now. My name is… Artus, recalled the guardian. Yes, that is my name. I remember now…

* * * *

On the edge of the forest of Tannith on a hillock overlooking Greater Winding, something was fast approaching. The birds felt it for they stopped their song, and the trees felt it in their trunks. It was plainly obvious from the dead silence in the air.

And then there was a great explosion of soil and stone as something burst forth from the ground, like some blasphemous birth of an earth spirit.

Even as the dirt continued to rain down, it seemed to waste no time.

It collected itself as quick as could be and sprinted towards the village, lolloping and snarling and spitting as it went. In the moonlight it looked to be no more than a fleeting shadow - a darkness flitting in and out of the trees - its form changing with every stride.

And then it stopped.

Great gobs of saliva dripped to the floor from its sick twisted mouth as it stared through the wrought iron gates.

Not a light was on and not a soul stirred.

But this confused it. This wasn’t like the Windings that it knew, and it frowned. Were the humans attempting to play a trick?

And then it noticed the lights. They came from a faraway inn in the distance, and so it started to make its way towards them, as if it were a guiding beacon in the dark of the night.

* * * *

The terrible howl flooded through the still of the night.

Wendle was jolted from his sleep and lept up on to the bar, teeth snarling and hair on end.

Tobias almost choked on his ale, as he let his tankard slip to the floor.

In an instant the inn became silent, and then a panic set in and everyone started rushing about crying and wailing as if a terrible fate had suddenly descended upon them all.

‘Dear God.’ he gasped. ‘Not again…’

Sigbert and Raedwald hurriedly slammed their beers onto the bar and took up their swords and armour.

‘Ready yourself.’ hissed Sigbert, placing his helmet on and flipping down the face guard.

‘What in the name of Heaven was that?’ asked Tobias.

‘Something that doesn’t sound very nice.’ barked Wendle, baring his teeth.

‘It comes.’ said Sigbert, handing Tobias a sword from behind the bar. ‘The demon comes. Prepare yourself.’

Raedwald offered a sword to Hillary too, which he accepted.

‘It is time to join the fight.’ he said, banging the flat of his sword against his shield with a mighty clap.

‘The demon must die.’

* * * *

On the brow of the ancient hill that overlooked both Lesser and Greater Winding, a great hall made of wood and stone stood. It commanded a view of the surrounding village. Here Grualdir Llundrir, Lord protector and Thane of Winding, lazed half-asleep, on the verge of dreams, drowsy from too much mead.

The howl jolted him to his senses.

Instantly he became sober once more, his eyes wide-open, his expression stern.

‘To arms!’ he cried, gruffly. ‘My armour! My sword!’

This time, he had decided, no quarter would be given in the slaying of the beast. The demon must be stopped, at any cost, or else the town would be lost.

Men at arms rushed to his side, carrying armour and weapons, desperately trying to strap his large frame into leather and chainmail.

‘Ready my horse. See to it that the men are ready.’ he commanded.

When he was at last ready, he rode out with his company of warriors, across the lanes, towards the Inn of the Waylaid Traveller.

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