Firestone Key Page 9

  Harlin’s eyes filled with tears, but he grabbed Elaine’s hand and dragged her out the door, with Drevel pulling her other sleeve.

  “If ye here when Harpy come,” Harlin told her, “they dying. Maybes ye dying as well. They giving us time to get away. Far nough away her magik not seeing us.”

  Elaine, the logical scientist, had heard more than enough superstitious gibberish. “Shut up about your damned magic. Are you all stupid?” she shouted, continuing to struggle against her supposed saviours.

  The ominous rumble of carriage wheels and accompanying hooves grew much louder, leaving Harlin with little choice. He reluctantly resorted to delivering a stinging slap to Elaine’s face. “Ye want kill us?” he snarled. Her hand cradled her stinging cheek. It didn’t escape her notice that, for once, Drevel had made no move to protect her.

  Even with Elaine ceasing to struggle, the trio had only just reached the trees when the Queen’s carriage rolled into view. A mounted Sworder was leading the party, surrounded by soldiers. Realising that there was no time to catch up to Myrrdinus, Harlin yanked Elaine down into the undergrowth and put a finger to his lips. Drevel dropped low on his haunches and peered through the foliage at the besieged village.

  It didn’t take long for the soldiers to ransack empty cottages and drag Asher and Melith into the square, where they stood, hand in hand. Melith’s presence made Asher extremely nervous, given the proximity of the Queen’s carriage. His wife’s loathing of the Harpy was legendary; a hatred that could lose her her life.

  An ominous CREEEAAAK announced the opening of the carriage door, causing all heads to turn in that direction, terrified at the imminent arrival of the dreaded Harpy. Bird claw fingers gripped the sides of the carriage as the heavily robed Queen slithered down the steps. Soldiers shuddered and shuffled backwards. Sworder stood as close as he dared, but well outside of arms’ reach; the touch of this Queen was a touch of death.

  Squeezing each other’s hands even more tightly, Asher and Melith faced the Harpy. She approached, dragging her robe behind her like a creeping disease. Not having seen their Queen for many years, Asher and Melith were stunned by her deterioration. This once beautiful woman had become a nightmare vision of blood and rotting darkness. Using the Firestone had clearly exacted a terrible price, but why wasn’t she using it to reverse the degradation?

  “Me God,” muttered Melith.

  Asher squeezed her hand again, willing her to stay silent.

  “So, Asher, this is where you hide now,” croaked the Harpy. “Where did you send Elaine?”

  “Majesty, not knowing where she be,” he lied, with little hope of a much longer life. All he needed was a few more minutes for his children to escape. “Be no new woman in village.”

  “There’s no-one here at all,” the Queen remarked. “What have you done with everyone?”

  “They be scared,” Asher replied. “With goodly reason.”

  “I’ll find her, Asher. When I do, will your daughter be with her?”

  Asher sent a mental plea to Myrrdinus. Take care of me Gwyneth. She soon be orphan, like ye. “Me Gwyneth be with friends in tother village,” he said, keeping his voice free from emotion. Keep her busy long as ye can.

  The Harpy leaned towards Asher, filling his nostrils with her foul stench. He fought the desire to gag. Her red eyes, rivulets of blood caking the sockets, bore into his mind, searching…

  “Are you trying to keep me occupied, Asher?” she asked. “Is she still close?”

  “What happened to yer face?” asked Melith, goading the Queen. If she was about to die, she might as well speak her mind. “Doing ye goodly, yer precious Firestone?”

  “It made me Queen and left you in the mud,” the Harpy snapped.

  “Maked ye childlin-killer,” Melith retorted.

  That be it, thought Asher. We die. “Let Melith go,” he pleaded. “Ye owing her that.”

  “Not wanting favour from murdering witch!” Melith exclaimed, sealing her fate.

  In a flash, the Harpy’s fingers snapped shut around Melith’s throat. Sworder struck out at the already wounded Asher, ordering his soldiers to hold him down. Harpy’s other clawed hand rose, allowing her arm to sweep across the forest in a slow arc, using a foul art to search for her nemesis. But magic costs; her ailing body shuddered with the effort.

  Watching through the foliage, Elaine whispered to Harlin, “What’s she doing?”

  The young man knew only too well what power the Queen was using, having experienced it himself, but he remained silent. Many years ago, at the worst moment of his life, he had renounced such skills, but, as the Harpy’s hand rotated in their direction, he found himself left with little choice, other than to break that vow. Unseen by Elaine, Harlin lifted his shattered right hand and concentrated his mind on counteracting the Queen.

  It had been almost a decade since he had allowed the power to build within his soul, but its flow returned immediately, magnifying his senses and flooding his body with a sensual euphoria. He could almost feel the mania creeping through his veins as he fought to mask the trio from the Queen’s magic. He was surprised, and a little disappointed, when the Harpy released a long, shuddering breath and dropped her hand. When they last met, her powers had seemed infinitely stronger than his. As he allowed the power to fade from his mind, he almost moaned from the ache of its loss. Wiping away sweat from his brow, Harlin caught sight of Drevel staring at him. He turned away, ashamed and angry to have been witnessed magiking, so soon after the demise of the nickname.

  Disappointed and exhausted, the Harpy still managed to maintain her vice-like grip on Melith as she leaned close to Asher. “I can’t find them. You did well, Asher. But I’ll have her. I always win. You, of all people, know that. You will bring her to me, if you want your wife back.”

  She released her grip on the choking Melith, but the damage had already been wrought. Beneath the impression left by the Harpy’s talons, the skin was already turning an ominous shade of green. Dropping to her knees, Melith clawed at her throat whilst shiny scales developed and spread to the rest of her body. Melith’s desperate gaze locked with Asher’s.

  “Asshhhhhh,” she began, but her voice was already becoming a hiss.

  Melith’s empty clothes floated to the ground. A chubby green snake emerged from the folds, desperately trying to slither away. Sworder grabbed it by the tail and swung it around his head for sheer vicious fun, whilst Asher begged for him to stop.

  In the undergrowth, the watching Elaine was a light year beyond stunned.

  “Now ye see,” whispered Harlin, devastated by Melith’s fate. She had always cared for him.

  When Sworder drew a knife, Elaine jerked, as though about to intervene, forcing Harlin to hold her down. The Harpy was not, however, disposed towards killing Melith Snake on that day.

  “Cage, fool,” she snarled at the quaking Sworder. “I need her.”

  Sworder sprinted to the rear of the carriage and swiftly retrieved a small iron cage. The Harpy kept a selection of sizes for all occasions and manner of victim. As he dumped Melith Snake inside, she hissed and struck out at him, but only succeeded in bruising her fangs on the bars. Asher stared into the snake’s eyes and shook his head. Melith coiled quietly within the cage.

  “Bring Elaine to me, Asher,” the Harpy told him. “If I find her first, Melith will make a fat sacrifice for my old wounds.”

  She snapped her fingers. The crack echoed across the village, igniting a flame in every cottage’s thatched roof. Watching the flames spread, she glanced at Sworder.

  “Send out trackers.”

  Every soldier took an immediate step away from a cringing Sworder.

  “Er, be leaved back in castle, Majesty.”

  The Queen did not want those present to know how shatteringly tired she was, so she refrained from turning him into a worm.

  “Best get them, quickly.”

  Desperate not to display the terrible price that magiking was exacting on her body, the Quee
n tried to glide back to the carriage, but a limp intruded and grew rapidly worse, leaving her barely able to drag herself inside. Slumping into the padded seat, the Queen slowly drew the curtain into place, knowing that she must return to the temple and rest. Only a sacrifice would ease her pain, until the Firestone was restored to her grasp.

  From the meagre safety of covering foliage, Elaine watched Sworder place the cage, containing Melith Snake, inside the carriage with the Queen.

  “I have to give myself up. Melith…”

  Elaine was rising out of concealment when Drevel knocked her flat and clamped his jaws on her throat, cutting off her windpipe. Her body bucked and kicked, her hands pummelling the dog’s head and heaving on his jaws, to no avail. Matters took an even worse turn when Harlin grabbed Elaine’s arms and squatted on her legs. The struggle continued whilst the restraining duo waited for the carriage to roll away.

  Receiving a squeak of ‘all clear’ from Grey Squirrel, Drevel finally released his grip on Elaine’s throat. She choked and heaved in breath, glaring at Harlin.

  “Get… off… me,” she coughed.

  Harlin rolled off her legs and released her arms. She immediately punched him full in the face, rattling his teeth.

  “Don’t ever touch me again,” Elaine snarled. “I hate you both.”

  Springing to her feet, she sprinted back to the burning village and threw herself down on her knees beside the devastated Asher.

  “I’ll give myself up. Get Melith back…”

  Asher covered her hand with his. “Harpy not let Melith go, even if ye give yeself up. Not be her way. Not now.”

  Staring at the flaming cottages and swirling smoke, the arriving Harlin helped Asher to his feet. “Not staying here. Village gone. Come with us, ‘fore trackers get here. Find tothers and doing… something.”

  They limped away from the flames as the miserable village was consumed behind them. Moving through the trees, Elaine and Harlin engaged in a whispered row over the head of a miserable Drevel and around the suffering Asher.

  “Be only way making ye quiet,” Harlin insisted.

  Elaine was hardly in a mood to be placated. “You hit me. Stop justifying yourself.”

  Recent events had hardly given Harlin a great thrill, either. “Ye punched me.”

  “You started it.”

  Harlin was already suffering from shame and guilt at the resurgence of magiking and violence in his life. His temper flared. “Ye not know what she can do to ye. I seen it. I lived it. Look well at me face. Maybes I trying do what best for ye.”

  Elaine had heard that argument before and wasn’t impressed. “So you thump me and Drevel rips out my throat.”

  Drevel grumbled his annoyance and trotted on ahead, tail in the air.

  “Don’t you give me attitude,” Elaine growled at him. “How would you like it if I strangled you? Slobbering all over my neck… You scared me.”

  Drevel’s tailed drooped as he whined. Shuffling back to her side, he pressed his head against her thigh, eyes pleading.

  “No,” was all Elaine said, but she was already weakening

  A leafy rustle heralded the sudden arrival of Clipper, flying out of foliage. He flung his arms around Elaine’s legs and Drevel’s neck, crushing the life out of both, shouting “Elaine!”

  He was soon followed by his father, leading Evening. “Hush boy, not know who be hearing.”

  Clipper, still clinging to Elaine, grinned at Harlin and announced. “Twassock be rightly too.”

  * * *

  Gwyneth and a limping Bert flagged behind the striding Myrrdinus, who was blasting through foliage, keeping despair at bay. Recognising that all three were exhausted, emotionally and physically, Gwyneth called to him, “Need rest. Myrrdinus. Stop.” Myrrdinus didn’t even glance back, let alone break stride.

  Bert leaned against a tree and asked, “Myrrdinus, lad. Where be going?”

  Myrrdinus forged on for a few paces, slowed and finally halted, his shoulders slumping. “Be so tired,” he whispered, breaking Gwyneth’s heart for the hundredth time.

  “I know, son,” Bert muttered. He feared the worst for the best friend he had left behind. No matter how much time had passed and no matter how much he had tried to forget, his memory always returned to the traumatic loss of another best friend, so many years ago.

  “See, telled ye they here.”

  That statement preceded the appearance of Clipper, riding Evening, his father at his side.

  “Goodly ears, boy.”

  Next to emerge from the foliage was the limping Harlin, followed by Drevel. Elaine, supporting the ailing Asher, brought up the rear.

  Gwyneth rushed to her father’s arms, crying, “Dad. Where’s Mam? Dad?”

  Myrrdinus read Asher’s face and the expressions of the others and turned away.

  Despite his strength, born of past horrors, Bert couldn’t prevent a stagger. He was rescued from toppling by the arm of another cripple. Bert ungratefully yanked himself free of Harlin.

  “Melith not died,” Harlin told him. “She be snake...with Queen.”

  Gwyneth wailed.

  Asher gripped her tightly. “Stop now. Yer Mam not wanting ye give up.”

  Still with his back turned to them, Myrrdinus drew his sword.

  “Who ye fighting?” an incredulous Harlin asked. “Ye be Baal ash ‘fore taking two steps.”

  “Least he wants to do something,” Elaine snapped, beating Gwyneth to it.

  “What ye want me do? How be I killing Baal?” Harlin shouted back.

  “You could bore it to death.”

  “Fine. Be going. Ye do what ye like.” A furious Harlin limped away.

  “Twassock!” Clipper cried.

  “Too right,” muttered Elaine, regretting having opened her mouth. I know better than that.

  “Wait. Rest in our cabin tonight,” said Clipper’s father. “Deep in forest. Soldiers not find it. We cross over stream on way, losing any trackers.”

  “Harlin.” Asher’s voice carried something that made the furious young man glance back at him. “Please. Tonight. For me.”

  Harlin limped to a halt and sighed.

  * * *

  The log cabin barely bore that description in that the wood was rotting and falling to pieces. It was, however, almost impossible to find, if you didn’t know exactly where to look, being hidden beneath a hilly outcrop. With the entire company packed into one mouldy room, the silence could be cut with a knife.

  Finally, Myrrdinus said what they were all thinking, “Now what? No village. No Melith. Nought.”

  “All be rightly, Myrrdinus,” insisted Asher, injecting more certainty into his voice than he actually felt.

  “No, Asher. Not,” replied Myrrdinus. “Think not rightly til finding Key of Old and ending Firestone and Harpy.”

  “Key be longly gone,” insisted Bert.

  A curious Elaine dragged herself out of silent contemplation to ask, “What would this Key of Old do?”

  Strangely, everyone glanced at Harlin and then looked away in embarrassed unison.

  “Placed next to Firestone, Key be crushing it,” he told her. “Not know how, but seen it work, years ago. Could have used it back then…”

  “Nought good come from thinking on past,” said Asher.

  “Would breaking the Firestone get Melith back?” Elaine asked.

  “Aye,” Harlin replied. “All Harpy magik born of it, so likely Melith turn back to woman.”

  “What if you just killed her, this Queen? Would she turn back then?”

  Goodly question, thought Bert, but said nothing.

  “Not knowing,” muttered Harlin. “But not able do that while she hold Firestone.” He leaned back against the wall, groaning from the pain in his tortured limbs.

  “We need think on this in morning. Sleep now,” Myrrdinus stated, to everyone’s surprise. “Be too tired.” He pointedly lay flat and closed his eyes.

  An hour later, amidst the rumbling snores of Drevel
and the fitful turning of the others, Elaine silently rose and tiptoed outside. Shivering from the damp and cold, she fought to wrap her understanding around recently witnessed events.

  Melith turned into a snake…I saw it...a snake. How could that be?...An illusion, it had to be. A magic trick in the dark, nothing more. Melith must be a prisoner of the Queen.

  She was racking her considerable brain for a plan that didn’t involve giving herself up to a homicidal queen, when the crack of a snapping twig interrupted her thoughts. Leaning back into shadow, she watched as Myrrdinus sneaked out of the cottage and headed into the forest. A moment later, Gwyneth followed, hot on his trail. Elaine set off in pursuit, sure that some plan was afoot to rescue Melith.

  Myrrdinus, certain that he had succeeding in making his escape alone, thrust through foliage, only to find Gwyneth standing in his path. “Not leaving me lone for one night?” he moaned, striding forth, regardless.

  “Planning fight Harpy lone?” asked Gwyneth, although it was more of a statement. She knew him rather too well. “Ye going temple, making Harpy change Mam back...Or trying kill Harpy. She be changing ye to dog and skinning ye…Wait, ye looking for Key of Old. That be it! No-one finded that in ten year. How be ye…? Not thinking Harpy tell ye where be? Myrrdinus, talk to me. Myrrdinus, going wrongly way for temple. Myrrdinus.”

  * * *

  Drevel grumbled, farted, sneezed and awoke to an upside down view of the mouldy cabin and its occupants. Realising that the space that Elaine was formerly occupying was now empty, his legs flailed and scraped as he scrambled to turn over. Once the right way up, he could also see that Myrrdinus and Gwyneth had gone. Bolting out the door, he ran this way and that, scanning the forest for any sign of them. Understanding that he needed help, Drevel raced back to the cabin and peered at the remaining rebels, searching for a likely candidate.

  Asher – wounded; Bert – one leg; Father, with Clipper asleep in his arms – no.

  Drevel stared at Harlin, scowled, pondered, recalled the recent magiking, came to an unpalatable decision and stuck his wet snout in the young man’s ear.

  Harlin woke with a start, grabbing for his bow. “Drevel?” he asked, stretching out his crushed leg for relief from the ever present pain.