Chapter 69: Following in footsteps
6 August, 2008 – 11:18 pmThe rain was torrential, sleeting down in sheets so hard that it was almost impossible for Scarlet and Thomas to hear anything else above the persistent drumming of the raindrops as they battered and stung their faces.
Using the Levitonite rings, they hovered above the ground like two oversized dragonflies, flitting between the trees, following the four figures whilst at the same time trying their best to remain undetected.
They were drenched and soaked, but they knew that the only thing to do was to keep following the strangers who, it seemed, had appeared from nowhere in their modern-looking clothes.
Scarlet squinted down below at them, trying to make them out in the half light, but it was difficult to be totally sure, as not even the moon provided any extra light below the canopy of the trees. Something wasn’t right though. Something was niggling her, and she remembered the words of Eliza who’d told Scarlet to be more trustful of her own feelings more, and deep down she knew that something was amiss.
The people they were following seemed to know where they were going, and even though it was miserable weather, they continued on through the downpour, as if driven by some irresistible force.
* * * *
Remus wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked up suddenly, thinking he’d heard something in the trees above.
‘What the hell was that?’ he said.
Cyrus caught his gaze and gestured with his eyes upwards. ‘We have friends.’ he whispered, his lips curling into a smile. ‘They’ve been following us for a couple of miles now.’
‘What are they? Aelfs?’
‘No.’ said Cyrus. ‘Something far more sinister: children.’
Remus caught Cyrus’ gaze and held it.
‘The ones from Blakeby?’
Cyrus nodded.
‘Well, they’re flying, and there’s two of them. Coincidence? They must be using Levitonite.’
Remus understood.
‘My, that is interesting news.’
‘But if that is true, it would mean that our old friend Hillary made it to Faerie also.’
‘If that is true,’ said Titus, ‘he has been very lucky. All the portals are now sealed. Indeed, we were very lucky also.’
‘Where are they going I wonder?’ pondered Cyrus.
Remus reached for his pistol. He took the gun out and weighed it in his hand, but relaxed when Cyrus shot him a warning look.
‘Put it away - I can hear something approaching…’
* * * *
Up ahead, a stagecoach was being driven hard against the driving rain.
The driver took another swig of rum from his flask and bent forwards, cracking his whip loudly. The nostrils of the exhausted horses flared in defiance as he drove them onwards. Tonight was hell, he thought, and to top it off he was almost out of drink. He silently cursed. He’d never known a night like it.
‘Har!‘ he shouted, and gripped the reins, snapping them down with a loud crack, urging the poor horses on faster still.
The coach surged forwards towards The Windings.
The driver had decided that it was going to be his last ever trip. After tonight there would be no more runs, no more deliveries. The forest was dangerous enough, nevermind the news that the stagecoach carried. The thought that he’d never have to go through this again was a comfort to him, and he allowed himself to relax a little.
And then he saw something.
He squinted. He could swear there was something up ahead in the road. And, if he didn’t know better, he’d swear that it looked remarkably like a body too.
Cautiously, he brought the horses to a stop, and jumped down with a splash onto the muddy path. The forest was a dangerous place to stop, but curiosity had got the better of him, and anyway - who knew what goodies remained?
Licking his lips, he knelt down, and looked around. If it was a trap, he’d be completely defenceless. He was prepared to take the chance - he always needed money. He reached into a pocket and produced a pen knife which he unfolded.
The horses seemed uncomfortable though. Their eyes were wide open and they were stamping the ground with their hooves. He turned to look at them with disdain.
‘Shut up!’ he shouted, and with a sniff wiped his nose on his coat sleeve.
He looked back and started to roll the body over, but froze with fright at the sight of a grinning face leering back up at him.
But before the coachman had chance to register his surprise, the cold steel of a sword was thrust into his body. All he could manage was a sharp intake of breath before he collapsed on the ground, his life blood spreading out slowly in the muddy water as he writhed about in agony clutching his stomach.
* * * *
‘No!’ hissed Scarlet as she watched from the branches of the trees above.
‘Oh my god!’ cried Thomas, almost falling out of the tree. The colour drained from his face as he stared in disbelief at the scene below. ‘Did they do what I thought they just did?’
Scarlet watched the four figures roll the body of the coachman into the forest, and then they turned the coach around and climbed aboard, driving it back the way it came - east - towards Tankard and the remains of Talistay far beyond.
‘They murdered that poor man.’ she said, remorsefully.
She clutched the knife that she’d taken from the room of the inn before, and held it in her hands. She wanted to stop them, but knew that it would be a useless gesture, and so she glared with anger as the stagecoach disappeared into the distance. More importantly though, there was no question now in her mind as to the identities of the four strangers.
‘I know who they are now!’ she shouted.
She felt a tear roll down her cheek as her thoughts drifted to Eliza and Torfang and the rest of her friends and family left behind on the other side. ‘One thing’s for certain: I’ll not let you ruin this world like you did ours.’
