A Change in the Weather

Chapter 68: The barrow of the last king

Interlude

Fox walked around the barrow, and came across the cracked remains of a great granite wheel, which lay split in two on the ground, tangled with weeds and covered in moss and lichen. He ran his hand over it, in an effort to clear away the foliage and discovered some mason’s marks engraved on it, but they were too far weathered to begin to figure out what they were, much less work out the meaning of them.

The wheel had no doubt been used to seal the entrance with, he thought, and it didn’t take him long to find it - although it had collapsed, and there didn’t seem to be a way inside anymore. Whoever’s final resting place it was would no doubt have been a great warrior, he thought, and he couldn’t help but feel a little sad at the state of dereliction. It looked like the grave had been robbed, but not recently though by the look of the deterioration and the weathered stone.

And then his eye was drawn to something on the ground just to the right of the collapsed entrance. Someone had left a small bouquet of dried flowers. When he looked again, there were others hidden about the place here and there. Obviously the place was still considered sacred by the local people, whoever they were.

He gave a stretch and started to yawn again.

‘Hey you.’

He froze mid-yawn as the words drifted past his ears.

‘Over here.’

The words seemed to come from nowhere. Fox wheeled around, unsheathing the Wolf-king’s sword and throwing the scabbard to the ground. He looked around suspiciously. His body was aching, and the last thing he wanted was another fight to the death.

‘What?’ he growled, suspecting a trap.

There was a sound like a sigh, which made him wheel around again. Where were the words coming from?

‘I said, I’m over here.’ said the voice.

Fox couldn’t be sure if the words were more within his head than without, and so he swung his sword around in an arc, clearly frustrated at the turn of events.

‘Who are you?’ he said. ‘More to the point: where are you?’

‘Never mind that now.’ the voice said, dismissively. ‘Put that sword away and come here, you great lummox.’

Now he was angry. No-one had ever called him a lummox before. At least no-one had and gotten away with it.

‘Come where?’ he said.

‘Here you fool! Here!‘ the voice said, impatiently. ‘Look, I can’t see you, you see. Even though I can hear your great lumbering steps and what you’re doing with your sword - which no doubt is all very impressive I’m sure. The fact is I don’t know where I am. So try to follow my voice instead.

‘Fox, at a loss as to know what to do, hesitated for a moment, and then sheathed his sword. The day was definitely getting stranger by the second. From the sound of the voice, at least it wasn’t reminiscent of any of the dark tongues of the borderlands. In his travels, he’d heard most of them.

‘I’m here… somewhere.”Yes, yes, that’s really helpful.’ said Fox, trying to judge the direction. ‘Just keep talking.’

After some time following the words, his attention was drawn to a tree. It bore no leaves, and it looked to have been lightning struck or burnt at some point. At any rate, the tree was dead, and probably had been for centuries. As he drew nearer, it became apparent that the tree was hollow, and so he peered carefully inside.

‘Hello?’ he said, tentatively.

‘Thank the gods!’ the voice cried. ‘You’ve found me. After all this time, someone has found me!’

Fox squinted.

‘But I can’t see you.’

‘Well I can assure you I’m here.’ said the voice, the words now echoing around the interior of the tree.

‘Here, grab my hand.’ said Fox.

‘I can’t.’

‘Why?’ said Fox, bewildered. ‘Are you stuck?’

‘You’ll see.’

Fox leant over and rummaged around in the dark. Even though the bottom of the tree was filled with earth, rotten leaves, fungus and other detritus, there didn’t seem to be much space for someone to get trapped. In fact, there didn’t seem to be anyone in there at all.

And then, he felt something and grasped at it. It was heavy and solid. But with a single effort, he heaved it out into the golden sunshine and held it up to examine it. He was surprised to find he was holding a broadsword. The closer he looked, the more magnificent it seemed to be. Along its edge, meticulous symbols were etched into it and in the pommel was set a large green stone.

‘I can see!’ cried the sword gleefully.

Fox looked back into the tree.

‘So, that’s where I’ve spent the last two thousand years.’ the sword said, with disgust. ‘Yeuch.’

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