A Change in the Weather

Chapter 73: Into Talistay

18 September, 2008 – 8:54 am

Interlude - part 1

He hadn’t seen anywhere like this before.

The heavily fortified stone gateway stood thirty feet high and richly carved with tantalising images now sadly worn away to obscurity by the passage of time and weather.

Fox stood before it and peered past into the courtyard suspiciously.

‘I don’t think there’s anyone at home. It’s too quiet.’

And so he listened once more, trying to identify anything that would reveal its true nature to him. But as it was there was nothing but the odd chirp and the distant wash of the sea against Talistay’s ancient bedrock far below.

It was midday, the sky was blue, and a breeze blew softly inland from the direction of the Broken Coast to the north and the Sea of Storms to the west. Further out, like a pillar rising from the waves, stood the gutted remains of the lighthouse of Ulfric, itself just a tiny spec about a mile out to sea.

Fox drew his sword and strolled over the threshold, pausing momentarily to look up at the vaulted arch above, scattered with its murder holes that were too numerous to count. He imagined some foul boiling pitch raining down on him, killing him where he stood.

When he reached the other side he couldn’t help but notice the scarred face of the stonework – caused by battles now long forgotten and lost to history. Curiously some of the marks on the stones looked surprisingly new, whilst others were no doubt ancient.

Grass grew up between the gaps in the blasted rubble that lay all around. Ivy ran up the walls and around windows. Weeds and nettles had forced their way up between the cobbles and moss clung to the damp stones. Even though it was strange and still, the whole place oozed an unearthly charm somehow.

‘Someone once said that the undead roam here,’ he pointed out quietly.

‘Really?‘ replied the sword. ‘Who told you that?’

‘It doesn’t matter now,’ said Fox with a sigh.

‘Surely you don’t think this place is haunted do you?’

Fox turned his attention away from the cobbled street ahead.

‘Who knows?’ said Fox. ‘If I bump into any ghosts, you’ll be the first to know.’

The sword snorted.

‘I remember this courtyard being full of people,’ said the sword, wistfully. ‘My memory is full of ghosts too, but they’re ghosts from the past. Even now I can almost feel the hustle and bustle of things happening all around; the aroma of spice from the market, the constant noise of hooves and cartwheels on cobblestones. It’s amazing how much has changed.’

‘Sounded like a happy place.’

‘Oh, it was… once. Only that the last time I stood here it was different; everyone was preparing for war. There was apprehension and dread in the air. I wonder what happened?’

‘I’m sorry, but you’re asking the wrong person.’

‘But why is this place so deserted?’ the sword said. ‘What happened to the world?’

‘You said yourself you were preparing for war; with who?’

‘It pains me to relive it. We were fighting our own people in a civil war. I seem to recall Dark Aelfs and the old races of the world had become involved though. Half the factions that were once loyal to Talistay broke away and took up arms against us. And all masterminded by the King’s bastard son Remus, no less, of the Knights of the Fiery Brand. It turned out that he had enlisted the help of an Ereborian witch. The war that ensued was terrible and many people died.
‘The king and what remained of his knights took to the air in an attempt to wipe out Remus and the witch. But in the midst of it all, the king’s dragon was brought down by magical fire, and Artus was struck by an arrow. He was forced to retreat into Tinderwood Grove where he was taken prisoner.
‘But before he was taken, he took me and hid me in the trunk of a dead tree. After that I know very little. Every once in a while I would hear footsteps or branches breaking underfoot, or the rustle of leaves, and I’d feel the passing of the seasons, or some animal would find me and make a home in the tree with me.
‘And then you came along with your great clodhopping feet and your impressive show of swordsmanship…’

With a smile, Fox shrugged and looked around.

‘Well, even so, you know more than I. Maybe the answer to all our questions lie with the battle scars on the stones here?’ he said, indicating the marks on the wall. ‘Or maybe it lies with the stories of the spirits of the dead that they say haunt the grounds?’

‘Ah,’ nodded the sword. ‘Maybe the people who died here were held in such high esteem that the whole area became a sort of living cemetery, or monument to the past perhaps.’

‘Maybe.’ said Fox. ‘Or maybe something happened here so terrible, so awful that people turned away from it until it became just a home for myths, or nightmares, or worse…’

He felt the sword shiver slightly in his hand.

‘I do hope it’s not the latter.’ it said.

‘Me too.’ said Fox, glancing around nervously.

From where he stood, the elaborate windows of the uppermost turrets were like forbidding doorways into the dark places of the city; where shades would glare down on the unsuspecting below with baleful stares. He couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling he was experiencing. It was a strange sensation.

And then, just as he was beginning to reassure himself, something scythed silently through the air high above, and he crouched down and quickly craned his neck up to follow its path through the air. Dazzled by the sun, he tried to shield his eyes as best he could, and squinted as its shadow passed over him. But it couldn’t have been a bird, he thought, it was far too big for that. And then, in a matter of seconds, it was gone, obscured by the tall spires of Talistay.

Fox was completely confounded. His heart was beating like a drum and his mouth was agape.

‘What the hell was that?’ he said, staring into the sky. ‘Did you see that?’

‘Calm down, calm down! And hold me properly damn you!’ shouted the sword. ‘See what? I didn’t see a thing…’

Fox snapped his gawping mouth shut.

‘There was something in the sky…’ he muttered.

‘What? Like a bird you mean?’

‘I don’t know. I only saw it for a fraction of a second, and then it was gone. No. It wasn’t a bird. It was too big for that.’

‘Too big was it? Listen to me - there are lots of very large birds around here. Hugh they are.’ said the sword. ‘I’ve seen them. The king kept them all; The Hawks of Erebor, Nightspurs, Gyrfalcons, even Tuscan Owls. You don’t mess with them.’

Fox shook his head impatiently.

‘No. I said it wasn’t a bird.’

‘Ok then.’ said the sword, calmly. ‘What about a dragon then perhaps? Maybe it was a dragon.’

‘No. Definitely not.’ said Fox, and then he scowled at the sword. ‘Now you’re just being stupid.’

‘Then what?’

‘I don’t know. It’s just that… If I didn’t know any better… I could have sworn that it looked like…’

‘Like what?’ asked the sword, a little testily.

The sword glared at him.

‘A carpet.’ said Fox, eventually.

The sword continued to glare at him.

‘And how many flying carpets have you seen?’ it said.

Fox shrugged. Indeed, now that he came to think about it, it did sound very, very silly.

* * * *

The first that Hillary had learned of Fox’s disappearance was from the farmer’s hysterical wife Mary.

He’d listened intently with growing interest as she described with a trembling voice how she had watched him vanish into thin air. Needless to say, the incident had deeply affected her and initially she had sought consolation from Eliza who in turn had sent her to confide in the hermit who lived in the windmill by Ketton Marsh.

Hillary, being close to Fox - having helped him defeat the Ketton Cockatrice the previous year - felt obliged to look for an answer, and so he decided to try to research the problem by burying his head in his vast collection of books and esoterica.

After several days of tireless study it had become apparent that the clues led to somewhere called Faerie, and a city called Talistay. But the real difficulty arose when he attempted to find a bridge between the two worlds – a crossing point.

After a few weeks of chasing leads that led nowhere, he discovered an obscure reference that, if followed up, would lead him halfway around the world.

He calculated it would take him half a year or more to reach it. But the length of time to get there wasn’t really acceptable. What he needed was a more elegant solution.

And so, with that thought in mind, he reverently unfurled the carpet that had once belonged to King Solomon and which Badr-al-Din had entrusted to him, and flew there instead.

* * * *

Fox pushed the creaky door open.

Even though all of the rooms that they’d discovered so far had been abandoned, most of their contents were - rather bizarrely - still intact, including scrolls, manuscripts, books and other such volumes of knowledge.

Cautiously he picked a scroll up, but it disintegrated in his hand, crumbling away to dust. He threw the remains at the wall in disgust.

‘Everything is ruined!’ he growled. ‘There’s nothing of any worth here!’

‘But I could’ve given you that piece of advice for free.’ the sword groaned. ‘What are we doing here anyway?’

Fox walked over to one of the traceried windows and stared out to the courtyard below.

‘I’m looking for a stone. A half-stone that looks like some plain old rock apparently. Do you have any idea what I’m talking about? Because I sure as hell don’t.’ he said. ‘I know it sounds stupid,  but that stone has the power to send me home.’

He threw his hands in the air and slumped down on the dusty floor.

‘Wherever home is…’

The sword was clearly affected by Fox’s constant moaning.

‘Oh shut up and let me think will you?’ it said, and pondered for a moment.

‘A half-stone you say?’

‘Yes.’ nodded Fox. ‘Why, do you know what I’m talking about?’

‘Maybe. If you’re looking for what I think you’re looking for then we’re going in the wrong direction to find it. You don’t know how lucky you are… If I remember correctly, over by the main gate, there should be some stairs that will eventually lead us down into the bowels of this place…’

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