Firestone Key Read online

  Asher exchanged a look with Melith. He stared at Elaine for a long moment. “Ye magiking?” he asked, seriously.

  “Do wwhat?” Elaine stuttered, wide-eyed.

  “Magik,” he insisted. “Do magik?”

  “I can’t even hold a bowl,” Elaine replied, with a humourless laugh.

  “She not doing magik,” Gwyneth said, inexplicably leaping to Elaine’s defence.

  An incredulous Myrrdinus stared at Gwyneth. “In cart ye sayed…”

  “Who asking ye?” Gwyneth retorted.

  “Be blessing ye never speak to me,” Myrrdinus snapped. “Nor touching me neither.”

  “Well…” said Asher, breaking in, “certain she not staying here.”

  Melith shot bolt upright, forming a podgy wall with her daughter. “I not standing by for that. If Harpy want her, be our duty to protect her.”

  Melith had chosen her words carefully, knowing full well the effect ‘duty’ would have on her husband. It duly hit him right in the gut.

  “Only mean, be safer send her to Harlin, in caves,” Asher explained, eliciting enthusiastic agreement from the villagers. “Myrrdinus taking her.”

  “Wonderly,” groaned Gwyneth. “Trip to Magiker.”

  “Gwynie, nough,” Melith scolded, rubbing Elaine’s shoulder.

  Elaine stared at the hand, caresses being a rarity in her life.

  Leaning forward in his chair, Bert peered up at Asher, scepticism written across his face and dripping from his tone. “Ye really want send her there? To him? What if he give her to Queen?”

  “Bert,” Melith interjected, scolding him, “ye know in yer heart, he not follow her no more. Magiking days be over.”

  “Know nought of that,” Bert snapped. “We not lay eyes on him for ten year.”

  “Cept me,” Myrrdinus pointed out. “I seen him. Talked to him too.”

  Bert sat back in his chair and sighed. “He not helping nobone, ye’ll see.”

  “Elaine be safer away from villages,” Asher stated. “If Harlin not willing hide her, we think again.” Asher turned to Myrrdinus. “Ye take her, now.”

  “Be raining,” the man mountain whimpered.

  Gwyneth snorted. “Big girl tunic.”

  “Later. After she be rested and eated,” Melith insisted. “Lookout in place; we fine. Ye all go home. Go on. Home.”

  Knowing that there was little point in debating, the villagers neatly filed out of the cottage, including Myrrdinus.

  “Where ye going, childlin?” Melith asked him. “Ye live here and somebone need clear up spilled stew.” She moved a wet lock of hair from Elaine’s face. “Now then, be getting more stew for ye.”

  Asher left his wife to her ministrations. Gwyneth took a step towards Myrrdinus, who immediately scarpered in the opposite direction.

  * * *

  Grey Squirrel sat on a tree branch, patrolling the outskirts of the village. It was his job to stand sentry and he was nothing if not sure of his duty. A bird landed nearby, whereupon Grey Squirrel lobbed a nut at it and watched it fly away with satisfaction. He was taking no chances; Elaine was in the village.

  Inside Melith’s cottage, fear, cold, fatigue and the traumatic events of the night had all taken their toll on Elaine, who had fallen asleep next to the fire, covered in snug furs. The ever loyal Drevel lay at her feet, snoring loudly, tongue hanging limp from his open mouth.

  A stern faced Asher watched the slumbering duo. Melith came up behind, snaking her arms around him and pulling on his arm until he bent his knees.

  “Poor woman,” she whispered in his ear.

  Her words surprised him. “Know nought ‘bout her,” he reminded his wife.

  “Know she need help,” Melith insisted.

  “And if she spy?” a sceptical Asher asked. “Or something worse? Harpy comed to us like this, remember?”

  Melith yanked her husband towards her, so that she could peer into his eyes. “Seen her eyes? She scared and lone. Not getting that scar from birth, neither. Whatever Harpy wanting, not be goodly for her.”

  “Be risking selves, if helping her,” Asher pointed out.

  “Risking souls, if not,” insisted Melith.

  Asher straightened up as his legs were beginning to ache, but he wasn’t quite finished with his questions. “And Harlin?”

  Melith sighed, while her heart gazed into a past she would rather forget. “Maybes now his time. Never gived up on him, for Gawain’s sake.”

  Asher flexed his still considerable muscle and picked her up with a grunt, hugging her to his heart. “Love ye, little fat woman with big…”

  Melith pressed her lips to his, stifling both his words and giggles.

  * * *

  Elaine woke with a start, her body spasm prompting Drevel to fling himself upright and growl at some unseen attacker.

  “It’s alright, boy,” she said, placating him with a strong pat to the head. “Just a nightmare.”

  Elaine was wondering why she was bothering to explain herself to a dog, when Gwyneth wobbled up and announced, at breakneck pace, that they were having ‘midfood’ before heading into the mountains. In a matter of minutes she found herself full of fish stew and standing outside with Melith doing up a leather collar right under her chin.

  “Be safer for ye,” Melith explained. “Harlin have problems, but he help ye. Remember anything yet?”

  “No, nothing. Maybe I should meet this Harpy,” Elaine mused. In truth, she was curious as to how their hated Queen could possibly know her.

  The tiny woman’s grip on her collar tightened, nearly choking her charge. “No. She not goodly. Not for anybone,” Melith insisted, her voice laden with concern. “Listen me, now.”

  Elaine had no idea how to react. No-one had ever attempted to fulfil the role of mother in her life. “I…I…” she stammered, before settling for a safe, “Thank you.”

  Melith finished fussing over Elaine’s attire with a final straightening. She nodded her approval, took a few steps towards Asher and changed her mind. Back she came, delivering the strongest hug Elaine had ever received, whispering, “Be alright, girl. Ye seeing.”

  A stunned Elaine returned the embrace, savouring the feeling for a brief moment before pulling away. An awkward pause was shattered by the arrival of Gwyneth, staggering out of the cottage, struggling under the weight of a bulging backpack. A horrified Myrrdinus, who had been testing the weight of his own pack, immediately dropped it on his foot.

  “Ow! Ye not coming,” he announced, vehemently.

  “Am,” stated Gwyneth, clearly not in the mood for his usual moaning.

  “Asher,” whined Myrrdinus.

  Attempting to forestall any objections from her father, Gwyneth rotated to face him. Unfortunately, this action tipped her already precarious balance into freefall and she toppled backwards, sitting on Myrrdinus’s bruised foot.

  “Rack!” the unfortunate young man swore.

  “Not using that word, Myrrdinus,” scolded Melith. “Raised better than that,”

  “Sorry, Melith,” Myrrdinus responded, in the most world weary of tones, whilst levering her daughter off his throbbing foot. Taking the opportunity to sneak a scowl at Gwyneth, he tested the weight of another backpack and handed it to Elaine with a dazzling smile.

  A jealous Gwyneth rounded on Elaine. “Ye wanting him?” she demanded.

  “What? No,” Elaine blurted, caught by surprise.

  Gwyneth turned back to Myrrdinus in triumph, announcing, “Wasting yer time.”

  Myrrdinus turned purple with embarrassment. He was rescued by a loud cough from Asher.

  “Myrrdinus,” he said, gesturing for the young man to come and have a private word. Myrrdinus gratefully joined him. “Ye know Harpy’s soldiers coming,” Asher whispered. “Be best if Gwyneth and her mouth not here.”

  Myrrdinus sighed. He appreciated what was being said, only too well. “And Melith?”

  “Leave her to me,” Asher replied. “I keeping her quiet.”

&n
bsp; The two men looked into each other’s eyes and endeavoured to hold back their laughter. Myrrdinus sloped over to Gwyneth and rooted about in her heavy backpack, sighing theatrically.

  “What be this?” he asked, holding up the dented frying pan.

  “Need to eat,” Gwyneth replied, with attitude.

  “Only going up hill,” Myrrdinus pointed out. “Ye eated yer midfood and mine too.”

  Gwyneth scowled. “Without me, ye never find way there or back, like last time. Wait, maybes I not going, after all.”

  Ignoring their endless sparring, Asher hugged Gwyneth and Myrrdinus in turn. Melith followed suit, whispering in her daughter’s ear, “Take care of yeself, and her.” She glanced at the isolated figure of Elaine. “Thinking she wounded inside.” Standing back from the small band of rebels, Melith ordered, “Stay close to each other.”

  Myrrdinus’s groan was so loud that Asher laughed, receiving a gentle slap from his wife in admonition. Asher promptly lifted her off her feet and slung her over his shoulder with an impressive display of strength.

  As the rebels headed into thickening foliage, Elaine glanced back and caught Melith blowing her a goodbye kiss. The resulting surge of emotion caught her off guard. That wasn’t the only surprise. Drevel raced out of the cottage, heading straight for her, ears and muzzle flapping in the wind. He skidded to a halt beside her, swapping to a nonchalant trot as the dust settled. She was strangely glad to see him, notwithstanding the smell.

  Leaning on a wooden crutch, watching them disappear into the forest, Bert scratched his bald head and frowned.

  “What?” Asher asked, noticing his friend’s perturbed expression.

  “She remind me of… something…”

  “Old creak,” Asher quipped and ran, Bert in hobbling pursuit.

  * * *

  The undulating hills accomplished a miracle, bestowing upon Elaine’s damaged soul the closest feeling to peace that she had ever experienced, despite the effort involved in the steep ascent. Emerging into a clearing, Myrrdinus announced that they would indulge in a short rest, principally because Gwyneth was heaving for breath in an alarming volume. Releasing her backpack and stretching cramped, aching arms towards uncompromising sky, Elaine carelessly rotated and found herself a witness to glory.

  Shadowy fingers of lavender hue were creeping across the treetops, making the rain-soaked foliage sparkle. The sharp smell of a rainy day shared the breeze with birdsong and the rustle of life. Elaine had seen this forest before, when she first arrived at the Project, but where she now trod had, then, been asphalt and tarmac, laid to service distant cities. Cables, buildings and fields of crops would, one day, replace the forest carpet, lushly spread out before her.

  Enchanted, Elaine stood in silent awe, unaware of the presence of Gwyneth behind her until the young woman spoke one simple word.

  “Beautily.”

  “Yes,” Elaine replied, reluctant to break the spell with something as mundane as speech.

  “Be seeing why Magiker hiding up here, away from everybone,” Gwyneth remarked, confusing her new friend.

  “His name be Harlin,” Myrrdinus snapped, “and if ye able to talk, we moving on.”

  He swung his backpack into position and marched up the slope.

  Gwyneth sighed and raised her eyes to heaven. “Oi, stone for soul, wait for us!”

  The further the rebels ventured into the hills, the steeper became the climb, rendering conversation almost impossible. It was only when night fell that Gwyneth could indulge her favourite hobby, next to eating, to wit: storytelling. Huddled close to the campfire, Gwyneth unfolded past events to an eager Elaine.

  “Be Gawain’s son,” Gwyneth explained, on being questioned about the identity of this ‘Harlin’ person they were planning to meet.

  “As in King Arthur’s Gawain?” Elaine asked, her curiosity peaking when she recognised the name. The response was disappointing.

  “Who? Never haved no king nor queen. Gawain been our leader. Harpy maked herself Queen when she killed Gawain; rest him. She killed Morden too - Myrrdinus’s father - when I been little. He orphan then. Comed live with us. Damned Firestone.”

  “What’s a Firestone?” Elaine asked.

  Gwyneth looked utterly shocked at the question. “Really? Not knowing?”

  “No.”

  “Firestone look like rock,” Gwyneth told Elaine, her voice dropping to an ominous whisper, “but terrible evil. All magik be evil. Gawain banned all magikers, ‘til she come.” The storyteller leaned closer. “People say Firestone only stopped by ‘Key of Old’, but nobone know where it be. Mam think Harpy hided Key. Magiker, Harlin, he been tortured, badly. Not look goodly. Have trouble walking…and doing his duty.”

  “Gwyneth,” Myrrdinus interjected, his tone harsh.

  Gwyneth ignored him, sailing on with her tale. “As Gawain’s son been his duty to help us, but he hided away up here. ‘Cause of him we facing Baal - monster in castle moat – and nobone beating that.”

  “Ye stay and have nice twitter,” snarled Myrrdinus’s deep voice from across the firelight. “I be finding Harlin.”

  “Ye not finding own arnus,” quipped Gwyneth, but Myrrdinus had already slipped away into the trees. “Pilt. Even if he find Harlin, never knowing way back.”

  * * *

  A sentry fox, sitting propped up against a fallen log, spotted Sworder and a squad of mounted soldiers approaching the village. He duly rattled a branch, alerting the animal posse to the coming danger and sending the message, at breakneck speed, through the forest and into the ears of Asher.

  Inside her cottage, Melith was engaged in fitting a roughly carved wooden leg onto a squirming Bert. “Hold still,” she scolded, “wriggling like pack of fermits.”

  The door crashed open, heralding the breathless arrival of Asher.

  “Sworder. Soldiers,” he panted. “Bert, forest.”

  “Staying…” Bert began.

  “Soldiers may have seen ye on food raid,” Melith pointed out, “but not us. Go.”

  Bert saw the wisdom in his friends’ judgement, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. His concern for them was voiced in his usual manner: moaning about everything and anything. “Nother day in wet. Leg be rotting.” He struggled out of the back door into the waiting arms of younger villagers. “Need no help from childin,” he stated, face like thunder. He got the help anyway. He had just ducked into foliage when Sworder and the soldiers rode into the village.

  Asher peeked out of the cottage’s wooden shutter. Glancing back at a worried Melith, he ordered, “Stay here. Telling ye.” For once Melith simply nodded; she knew that tone. Asher squared his considerable shoulders and opened the door.

  Outside, Sworder was already busy enjoying the intimidation that his presence brought to the village. This was the tenth village he had visited and the bullying never lost its thrill.

  Asher fixed a neutral expression on his face – neither too aggressive, nor too subservient - and peered up at the mounted Sworder, asking, “What be doing for ye?” Out of the corner of his eye he watched the soldiers dismounting all around him.

  Sworder waited for a moment, making sure that the shivering villagers were duly aware of his authority, before attempting to dismount with a flourish. Unfortunately, he only succeeded in catching his foot in the stirrup and was forced to hop until he could wrench himself loose. Finally separated from his horse, the embarrassed Sworder rounded on the expectant Asher asking, “Ye village Elder?”

  “Near as,” Asher replied.

  “Give up woman,” Sworder snarled, joyfully.

  “What woman?” Asher asked, knowing that his words would probably elicit a violent response. Sure enough, Sworder punched Asher in the face, knocking him down.

  Half a second later, Melith shot out of the cottage like a cannon ball. Flying to her husband’s side, she shouted, “Leave him lone! Not knowing what ye want.”

  Even Sworder wasn’t stupid enough to entirely believe that. “Woman.
Elaine. I seen her in castle. If hiding her, ye answer to Queen.”

  Asher flung his arms around Melith, enabling him to surreptitiously whisper in her ear, “Not nother word.”

  Sworder glared down at the cowering couple, then up at villagers, venturing out of their cottages. “Search,” he ordered his soldiers.

  The villagers knew better than to intervene as the soldiers entered each home and tore apart the contents. Destruction complete, the soldiers reassembled, having found no sign of Elaine.

  Sworder smiled to himself, despite the disappointment, as he always enjoyed what followed next. “So ye know I be serious,” he told them. “Hold her.”

  The soldiers grabbed Melith’s arms, dragging her away from Asher, and flung her, face down, in the mud. They held her there, making her fight for every breath, while Sworder systematically beat Asher to a pulp in front of cringing villagers.

  Watching from the trees, a frantic Bert had to be bodily held off the ground in order to prevent him hobbling to Asher’s defence. Hands were clamped over his mouth, muffling any defiance.

  Delivering one last kick to the prone Asher, Sworder pointed at a mud coated, gasping Melith and announced, “Give up Elaine or I coming back, and next time be her.”

  Mounting with more care than he had dismounted, Sworder shouted, “Next village,” and rode away, leaving his soldiers to scramble onto their horses and gallop after him.

  Melith crawled over to the unconscious Asher and cradled his head in her lap.

  * * *

  Hours after Myrrdinus had sloped off into the forest in search of the illusive Harlin, Gwyneth and Elaine still sat beside the campfire, teeth chattering. To make matters worse, a sodden Drevel now lay across Elaine’s lap, grumbling and twitching in his sleep. A huge ripping fart was the final straw.

  “Oh, that be it,” announced Gwyneth, shooting to her feet and fanning away the noxious fumes. “Be finding Myrrdinus or we still here next year. Ye stay here with stinky.”

  Gwyneth flounced off into the trees, leaving Elaine to lever the offending dog off her lap and stretch her numb legs. Drevel’s teeth clamped shut on her sleeve with a loud snap.

  “I’m not going after her,” Elaine explained. “I need to pee.”