A Change in the Weather

Chapter 71: News spreads fast

27 August, 2008 – 7:35 am

Stagecoach

Cyrus whipped the horses with another bout of frenzied lashes, driving the exhausted wretches until they were fit to drop, back in the direction of Solace, in the direction of the spice town of Tarragon and the port of Tankard far beyond that - itself reachable only through the great pass of Ysbrida.

On the cusp of dawn, amber light started to flood the horizon, lighting the sky with vast dashes of red and pink as the sun grew gradually in the west.

Thankfully, the rain was relenting and the dense trees had started to thin out, a sure sign that they were nearing the forest’s edge; an edge that was itself scattered with dense pockets of Fernbane; horribly crooked devil trees that swayed about with leathery tendrils, ready to whip and pluck and snap hungrily at any sign of movement.

All the while the stagecoach continued to cut a swathe through the fog-enshrouded devil trees, leaving little vortices of mist that twirled and curled in its wake. The morning birdsong and the exhausted snorts of horses - even the incessant rocking of the stagecoach - had little effect on the feeling of unearthly calm that had settled over the area.

Eventually, the coach burst out of the mist and onto the flat plains beyond, wheels whirling like dervishes past a steep plateau of red weathered rock to the left that rose majestically into the clouds and the distance - home to a town called Solace and the ancient stones that stood atop it.

The rattling coach swayed first this way and then that. Inside, Remus was deep in conversation with Titus and Ursus.

‘Cyrus seems certain that the little brats from Blakeby are here.’

‘Then Hillary must be here with them also,’ said Titus, ‘for they could never have made it here without him. I find that hard to believe though, because for that to be true it would mean that they all survived the Cockatrice.’

‘So it would seem,’ replied Remus with a half yawn. ‘It’s all rather unfortunate.’

Remus, who was by now becoming bored by the constant reference to Hillary and the children, didn’t mind displaying his boredom to everyone.

‘Unfortunate?’ remarked Titus. ‘Understatement perhaps?’

Remus snorted. ‘Ha! You think so?’ he sneered. ‘You think that two insignificant children are going to alter our plans at all? I think you overestimate their chances, and their motives somewhat.’

Remus looked up and narrowed his eyes.

‘Is that what you think?’ he said.

And then he paused for a moment and sighed. ‘Hillary and his friends have no doubt been a thorn in our side since the beginning, but that’s all they’ve been. Nothing more. Never forget that he actually failed in preventing us from breaking the curse.’

‘No - I agree. That much is true. But he’s here nonetheless,’ observed Titus. ‘Doesn’t anyone find that just a touch ironic? I mean, that after all this time, we can’t shake him off!’

‘Irony has nothing to do with it,’ said Remus, dismissively. ‘Fate maybe. But not irony. You risk our downfall just by uttering such words.’

‘Pah!’ said Titus, throwing his hands in the air, through frustration more than anything else. ‘What are we talking about? We don’t know for sure it was them. We’re jumping to conclusions.’

Remus raised an eyebrow, and leant forward. ‘Come Titus,’ he said, quietly, ‘you of all people should know that fate has a wonderful ability to turn events on their head.’

Titus nodded. ‘Of-course I do, but what could they possibly want in coming here?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? They’re trying to reverse the breaking of the curse.’

‘But that isn’t possible. Is it?’

‘You are correct.’ said Remus, sitting back. ‘At least theoretically.’ Remus placed a hand over his coat pocket. ‘At least judging by the passages in the grimoire.’

Titus seemed relieved, but not entirely so.

‘Surely they must know that it isn’t possible?’

‘Evidently not. I suggest we put as much distance between him and us as we can.’ he said, gesturing out of the window at the blurred landscape shooting past outside. ‘Obviously that is, until we find what we’re looking for.’

‘You mean the stone…’ said Titus.

‘Then, and only then, when we have the power shall we confront him, and put him down, once and for all.’

The stagecoach bolted over a rut in the road, forcing it to sway violently from side to side for a moment. Remus gripped the side of the chair to steady himself, and as he did so, a little wooden box that had remained hidden below the seat slipped out coming to rest beside his feet.

‘What’s this?’ he mused, picking the box up and turning it over in his hands.

Ursus grinned. ‘I thought it was rather strange that the stagecoach appeared empty.’

‘Indeed.’ said Remus, taking out a long knife from his coat.

He inserted the blade into the lock and joggled it around roughly. Eventually, the box made a tiny clicking sound and the lid flipped up to reveal its contents; a solitary paper which had been carefully rolled and sealed with wax.

Remus took it out and inspected it carefully. It bore the great seal of the Duchy of Tankard. The appearance of the scroll was rather impressive, but Remus broke it nonetheless and unravelled the parchment and started reading with interest.

When he had finished, he rolled the paper up and replaced it in the box.

‘My, that is disturbing news.’ he muttered, eventually.

‘Well?’ said Ursus, impatiently.

Remus gave a little chuckle, and looked up at them both with eyes that reflected no trace of humour.

‘Well, my friends, it would seem that we have returned just in time to see this land tear itself apart.’ he said grimly. ‘It would seem that forces threaten the peace here in Faerie. Forces that are, as we speak, massing at Talistay.’

Ursus looked confused. ‘Talistay? But why? The last time we were here it was all but a ruin.’ he said.

‘What forces are we speaking of here, though?’ asked Titus, with a frown.

‘Apparently, there is a witch at the centre of it all.’

Ursus gave a short snort of disgust. ‘Never trust a witch.’ he growled.

‘Especially one from Erebor,’ replied Remus, ‘and especially one who has amassed an army of thousands, and who threatens war with everyone; from the Duchy of Tankard, to the Principality of Tarragon, to the Caliphate of Cinnabar and the Kingdom of Winding.’

‘Let us not forget the other places such as Aldspell, Murkwater, Illepuschia, Frithia and who knows where else. Judging by the letter it would appear that they are ready to wage war, having fortified their position at Talistay. The letter also speaks of this witch sending dream demons out into towns to strike fear into the local population. Why though, or for what reason, remains unclear.’

‘So Talistay is now overrun?’ growled Ursus.

Remus nodded. ‘It certainly sounds like it.’

‘So, it would be difficult to gain entrance then… What else did the letter say? Who is this witch that the letter refers to?’

Remus’ hand twirled the air with a gesture of disinterest.

‘Regarding that, the letter says relatively little. But what it suggests is that without the combined assistance of all the great houses of Faerie, the whole security of the land could be in grave danger.’

Remus rubbed his hands together and grinned.

‘It seems that we have arrived here at a time of great change. Powers that have existed side by side for centuries are now re-evaluating their position and the peace of the whole land now hangs in the balance. From order to chaos and back again, full circle. For us it is rather interesting, for times such as these have a habit of providing means to an end. At least for enterprising souls such as us.’

Titus frowned.

‘My, that sounds a touch melodramatic don’t you think?’

‘Indeed.’

‘I seem to remember we put our trust in a witch before…’ recalled Ursus, with disgust.

‘We shall suffer no more witches, my friend.’ said Remus. ‘Of that there can be no doubt.’

‘So, what do we do?’

‘We turn the negative into a positive. We use whatever we can to achieve our aims. We still need to gain entrance to Talistay, just that we’ll now need to get there incognito. Whether we swap sides a few times remains to be seen. The only question is whether we reach it either through the town of Tarragon and the swamp of Murkwater and chance the goblin warrens and the Stayngate, or go via Tankard and north past Erebor and Tinderwood Grove. We’ll need to decide soon. Either way has its own drawbacks…’

Ursus looked suspiciously at Remus.

‘And how, pray, shall we do what you say without bringing undue attention to ourselves?’ he said. ‘Explain that.’

Remus delved into his pocket and pulled out something, but decided for whatever reason not to reveal it. Instead he just sat there with his fist clenched. He held it there for a moment trying to gauge his comrades’ reactions. Titus and Ursus looked on with mild puzzlement, and then he finally unfurled his grip and revealed what was hiding there.

‘Oh ye of little faith…’ declared Remus finally.

For there, sitting in the palm of his hand, were four perfect gold rings. Rings that looked as new as the day they were forged.

Titus looked at them with baited breath and watched as they glittered and reflected the light of the early morning.

‘Our rings of change.’ swallowed Titus. ‘You kept them?’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘I thought I’d seen the last of them.’

Remus nodded. ‘It would have been a shame to discard them.’ he said. ‘We paid for these many years ago. In more ways than one.’

He banged the ceiling with his fist, and Cyrus acknowledged it with a crack of the whip, and the stagecoach lurched forward again with another surge of speed.

‘Damn this stagecoach.’ he said, shaking his head. ‘We’re not making much headway. We need to go faster.’

Remus leant out of the window against the rush of wind and bellowed at the top of his voice.

‘Can’t you make this thing go faster?’

Cyrus looked down at him and squinted. ‘What? You must be joking!’ he shouted, and cracked the whip again. ‘I’m killing these horses as it is.’

‘The quicker we get there the better…’ said Remus.

Cyrus shrugged. ‘Any ideas?’

‘Maybe.’ said Remus, and popped back inside.

He took the ancient grimoire out that he’d been looking after carefully and began flicking through its pages indescriminately.

Titus watched, and then sat forward and proffered his hand to Remus. ‘Mind if I have a look?’ he asked, licking his lips.

‘No, of-course not.’ replied Remus with a smile, and offered the book to him. ‘Why, be my guest.’

Titus carefully accepted the book and eagerly started scanning the text page by page, before finally lingering on a section.

‘Ah, this looks interesting.’ he said.