Chapter 4
Donur cautiously crept closer to the sleeping figure, the glow from the dying fire hurting his sharp eyes, “Sleep peacefully,” he chuckled, “Sleep well while you still can keeper.”
His sharp ears caught the sound of approaching feet, heavy feet, he glanced at Gondell fearing that the noise would rouse the softly snoring Gnome. “So secure, so unconcerned,” he whispered quietly as Gondell continued his slumber without even a twitch to indicate any awareness of his surroundings.
Leather creaked in the moonlight, steel rang as swords were drawn, heavy breathing panted into the night, a sure sign of a fast and driven march. Donur raced swiftly toward the sounds, it may be unaware but this noise is sure to wake it, I will not risk my reward because Lord Kangan's soldiers are clumsy and over confident, these Gnomes are sneaky creatures, easily spooked when they are aware of approaching danger.
“Softly,” he hissed as the Goblin captain came into view, “It sleeps, we must not risk waking it yet.”
“Who are you?” the captain questioned gruffly as he paused his march.
“Donur, leader of the Clan of Elowyte... at your service Oh Captain of the Great Lord.”
Donur's heart raced, the new breed of Goblins frightened him, giants to his eyes, and not to be trusted, but now I have announced myself, they cannot cheat me of my just reward, the Lord Kangan sees all. “I have found one that your master seeks... at great personal expense and discomfort I might add.”
“You will be adequately compensated if you have indeed found the Keeper,” replied the Goblin captain as he studied Donur in the strengthening moonlight not attempting to disguise his contempt, “But it will be for my Master to decide if you have found the real keeper or not, until then you will wait, we have delivered too many imposters in recent years,” a cold smile broke across the Goblins face, “Pray to your gods that he is genuine, or you and your whole clan will feel the wrath of Kangan.”
“He wears the sacred design,” replied Donur sulkily as the thoughts of quick and easy profit died in his mind, “Why else would I call you if I wasn't sure, I have delivered the true keeper.”
“We shall see,” growled the captain, “Lead me to it.”
Oh, he is the true keeper, thought Donur as he beckoned for the Goblin troops to follow, why else would cold blooded, cold hearted Cellie deliver him to safety, so contrite and apologetic, feeding him on his command... oh he is genuine, of that I have no doubt.
Gondell stirred from the most wonderful of dreams, his fears had melted away as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened during the day, and his sleeping mind filled with delicious images of future feasts and merry-making.
A sharp crack had woken him, his eyes opening wide, his ears straining. A half burned log sagged and shifted in the glowing embers of his fire sending a spark leaping forth to burst with a loud pop like a fire cracker. “Just the fire spitting,” he sighed and closed his eyes again hoping that he could fall back into the same dream.
Barely had his lids closed again when his quiet world turned into a nightmare of darkened faces, triumphant cries and grasping hands, his camp fire disturbed in the commotion flared into life casting dark shadows on the hideous faces that leered down on him, stark contrast to his vision as hooked and twisted noses became highlighted, ragged pointed ears illuminated, some notched like a farm animals ears are marked for identification, but what terrified him most were the eyes, cold and hard... merciless and uncaring. He saw no spark of compassion in those eyes, no hint of tenderness, only steely cruelty. Moments later he felt his hands bound behind his back and squealed as the tough leather bindings were pulled viciously tight, “Did it say something?” his largest captor sneered before swiping Gondell hard across the face, shocking him into stunned silence. “You speak when you're spoken too my lad,” he chuckled grabbing a handful of beard tugging and twisting painfully. “If you weren't so valuable my boys would have fun with a pretty boy like you,” the captain winked knowingly, “Lucky for you we don't have the time, they have been marching for weeks now without any pretty company.”
“Who are you?” whispered Gondell hesitantly, shrinking down against the hard earth as the tall Goblin rose to his full height.
“You have the privilege of meeting Captain Ruaq, of his Lordships Southern Scouts, and tell me, what is your name Keeper?”
“I don't know what you mean by keeper,” stuttered Gondell nervously, “But you have made a mistake, I am just a humble Gnome of no importance, you will get no ransom for me.”
“Your name?” hissed Ruaq grasping the helpless Gnome by the waistcoat and effortlessly lifting his bound body to eye level, “Tell me your name and explain the significance of the emblem on this fine vest.”
“My name is Gondell, Gondell Lenzen,” his voice little more than a frightened squeak, “And I don't know what the mark means, no-one in my family has known for generations.”
Ruaq roared with laughter and dropped Gondell heavily back to the ground. “Do you hear that lads? He has no idea who he is, either that or he is a liar... but that is not our concern, Lord Kangan wishes to interrogate all potential keepers personally,” his mirth died as he turned to his grinning band, “So no funny business or clever ideas from you lot of ruffians, we keep him whole and untouched until he has met the master, on this point I am deadly serious, the first of you to touch him,” he paused, glaring from face to face, “Touch this little morsel and I will skin you and eat your still beating hearts as you watch.” He bared his ragged and uneven fangs as a warning as his party of scouts shuffled nervously, none wanting to meet his eye.
“Now we have that small matter cleared up... take a short rest lads, fill your flasks from the lake, sleep a while if you can. We march again at dawn, and we will not rest again until we reach home.”
A quiet chorus of groans met his proclamation causing his lip to curl into a sadistic smile.
Well, this is a serious turn of events, thought Gondell attempting to defeat his growing panic with calm reasoning. Let's consider this situation rationally, he told himself averting his gaze from the Goblins that surrounded him, his guard studied him with an iniquitous grin as he stroked the edge of a curved dagger repeatedly across the flat surface of a wet-stone. An evil looking creature, it's course features disfigured further by a wavering glow from the fire that had been stoked into a blaze.
Either it's a case of mistaken identity, or there is much more to my family emblem than I first assumed... but what? Why did he call me keeper... keeper of what? he mused, if I am the keeper they talk about, it can't have been that important, my family appear to have lost whatever we're supposed to be keeping generations ago!
The leather thongs bit deep into his wrists and he shuffled uncomfortably, “Just try running,” his guard laughed and licked the curved blade in his hand, “I can carve you up nicely and still keep you alive for the Master, just think about that if you get any ideas about escape.”
Gondell shrank deeper into the course grass on the edge of the glowing pool of firelight, not doubting for a second that his guard wasn't joking, How many of them are there? He questioned silently, and what are they? They look like Goblins, only bigger, but somehow not so fearful.
He had only seen a goblin once before, and that had been a picture in a book. But that was ancient history, he wondered as he glanced at his captors again, they were similar to the illustration, but much larger, their skin paler, suddenly realisation struck him. They are planning to march during the day, no Goblin would ever march under the full sun, or my knowledge of them is very poor. What are you? He asked himself again as the guard glared at him. I wouldn't waste my breath asking that question, he shrugged inside. I'm sure there are many peoples in the world that I know nothing of, but they do look very much like the demons of the north.
Demons of the North, the term most commonly used to name the breeds of evil folk from the dark and cold lands beyond the wide Desert of Akar and over the high mountains of ice.
Places of distant legend to the peoples surrounding the lake. Few ventured much further than Scaraport or the dark forest. Why bother, stated Gondell, there is nothing of value to the north, only burning waterless desert and sheer, inhospitable mountains.
But the demons are just myth, their kind disappeared many centuries ago... to the best of my knowledge, but I think my knowledge of these things is very narrow, lets face facts, he admitted reluctantly, everything beyond the lake is a mystery to me.
Slowly his mind turned to escape as he gazed intently out onto the lake, deep in his heart hoping to see the outline of the Siren just offshore waiting to rescue him again, in hindsight, I should have ignored my suspicions and fears and demanded that she take me home, I certainly wouldn't be in this mess now.
Yes, he cautioned, but I may already be dead now, I am in danger here, but at least I'm still breathing.
Thirteen in total, he counted the Goblins carefully, more to pass the time and keep his mind occupied. Not seeing the welcome outline of Cellie in the lake he considered the forest. Full of fairies, and I don't doubt that these Goblin creatures are very fast through the trees, and excellent trackers, no, my chances of escape across country are very limited, so I must be patient, he steeled his will swallowing down his fear of the decidedly uncertain future. I must wait, and spy my opportunity when it arrives.
Under heavy guard Gondell found his bonds released for a short while, “Eat,” demanded Ruaq as he thrust a strip of cured meat into Gondell's numb hands, “Make the most of the rest, you have a long hard journey ahead of you, I will run those little legs down to stumps,” he chuckled, “You will soon regret flaunting that sign so freely.” the captain reached forward and traced the outline of the oak wreath with a yellowed and cracked claw, shuddering he turned away and spat. “When we have it, nothing can stand in our way.” he whispered, a distance in his cold eyes.
Surprisingly Gondell took comfort in the softly spoken words, They must want this thing very badly whatever it is, and I'm supposed to be its keeper... is their Master going to get a shock when he finds out we lost it many years ago.
Nothing can stand in their way? It sounds like plans for domination, the quietly spoken words began to take on new meaning as he looked at the broader picture, I have to warn someone, he paused and debated his thought, Yes, but who would I warn, the magistrate back home, what would that old fool do beside refuse to believe me? He can't raise a defending army, we have no army beyond a handful of aged militia, and they serve only ceremonially at best... we have no enemy, we have nothing to defend against!
Gondell chewed thoughtfully on the dried meat, he had presented himself with a problem that appeared to have no solution. Centuries of peace and stability had left a land unprepared for aggression. They must be from the north, he debated further, but those peoples disappeared so long ago, oh how I wish I had concentrated more on book learning, there were wars, back in the dark times, so long ago. But the enemies were all defeated. Surely if a new power had arisen we would be aware. He paused as another thought entered his mind, maybe we are simply deaf and blind, hasn't old weasel Wisherton been warning of this over and over, haven't the Hobgoblins been leaving for years, isn't it possible that they have been leaving to join their own kind, they are related to the old enemy after all?
Hobgoblins. Remnants of the ancient foe, their breed had been slaves, and as such had survived the final crushing defeat. According to history they had sued for leniency after the ultimate battle, they had been non-combatants, a case hotly argued as their fate hung in the balance. History told Gondell that they had been absolved of any guilt, and an act had been passed declaring their kind blameless and free, but conditions had also been imposed of course. Always their race would be destined to servitude, but as free beings, permitted to wander at will but never granted the right to a homeland, and never allowed to gather in significant numbers. A people fated to be always servant, never master.
And the act had been seen as fair by all, especially the Hobgoblins, they had been content under their new masters, happy to be a free people no longer under the control of dark and evil forces.
Yet they have been leaving in ever growing numbers, even old Nobbler, realised Gondell as recent events began to make more sense, where have they all been going? For hundreds of years they lived in our homes, happy to cook and clean, contented with their lot in life, they had a place in our community, they married amongst themselves, raised families... then one by one they have disappeared. His thoughts gained clarity as the pieces began to fall into place. Now I think I'm sure where they have been going... North!
Dawn began to break and birdsong heralded the arrival of a brand new day. At a barked command the troupe of Goblin scouts sprung into a flurry of action, light packs were slung over broad shoulders, and weapons strapped to heavy leather belts. Gondell was woken from a feverish dream as rough hands grasped him. In the growing daylight his initial impression of his captors proved to be accurate, in the strengthening light he noticed that although they bore an uncanny resemblance to his mental picture of Goblins, they were subtly different, their features more refined. Their cold eyes and demeanour spoke clearly of cruelty yet their faces told of a strange nobility. It's difficult to put into words, he thought, but they look almost as though they are more than they seem.
To his relief he found his hands only lightly bound, and no longer behind his back. “Now we will see how fast you can run,” chortled his guard from the dark night before as he attached a long leather thong to Gondell's bindings, “Soon you will beg for rest.”
“You might find me tougher than you imagine,” retorted Gondell with an edge of defiance in his voice, “We Gnomes are not as soft as you may imagine.” the wicked grin he received in reply made his heart sink, I hope I am as tough as I wish to believe, he thought, but somehow I guess I'm probably not, I think my nightmare has only just begun. And with that thought in his head the Goblins turned and quietly loped into the forest dragging the unfortunate Gnome behind.
Gondell had never stepped inside the forest before, not that its reputation had prevented him, the dense woodland held no dark or sinister foreboding in his mind, he had simply never had cause in the past. But he was living now in his present, and his first visit was not proving to be enjoyable.
The Goblin's pace proved to be relentless, I was right to think they can move quickly through the trees, he groaned inside as his knees turned to jelly. Stumbling heavily, tripped by an exposed tree root hidden beneath a thick covering of dead leaves Gondell felt himself dragged roughly back to his feet, the Goblin guard barely breaking his steady stride, “Not so tough now my little mouse,” the evil brute chortled, “Have courage, there are many more hours ahead of you, many more miles of this before we reach the plains, be thankful we are only running slowly now.”
Gondell let out a pained groan as he settled back into the punishing pace. If this is slow, I dread to imagine what it will be like on these plains he talks of, the thought crushed his defiant spirit, what's the use of finding an opportunity to escape if my legs are too tired to take advantage?
Several punishing hours later Ruaq called a halt.
His head swimming from exhaustion Gondell slumped trembling at the base of a tall pine. The dry needles that had fallen in deep drifts prickled and irritated, but he lay oblivious to the minor discomfort and fought to catch his breath.
“I can't keep this up.” he gasped aloud, provoking a ripple of laughter from the tree tops. Painfully he opened his eyes to the canopy above and saw the Fairies. Vile creatures, he thought as his eyes closed again tightly, spiteful evil little thugs, it doesn't surprise me that one of their kind is behind my predicament.
Gondell had never been a fan of the Fairy race, cunning craftsmen or not, he avoided their company, his contact with them kept strictly professional. True, his favourite rocking chair had been crafted by Fairy artisans, and had become one of his most prized possessions, yet he still couldn't find it in
his heart to respect the creatures themselves.
“Can that snivelling creature really be the legendary keeper?” a thin voice called scornfully from the branches.
“I expected more,” voiced another, “He looks more like a shop keeper.”
A pine cone dropped down from above striking Gondell on the arm but he barely noticed, so deep was his fatigue, another followed, better aimed and a chorus of mocking laughter followed as he raised a weary arm to protect his face.
“The mighty keeper,” the Fairies taunted, “Draw the sword of legend and vanquish us.”
“Just leave me alone,” groaned Gondell, “I have done nothing against you, and I am not the keeper, and I don't have any sword.”
Donur dropped down from the branches and squatted a short distance from Gondell's prone figure. Sharp eyes studied the Gnome, prying eyes, the mind behind working swiftly. “If you are not the keeper, why do you flaunt the design, the ancient sign?”
Gondell shifted slightly and opened his tired eyes, “I am just a Gnome, nothing more, I am no keeper, maybe in the past my ancestors were, but I am not.” He looked down at the embossed design on his waistcoat and sighed deeply, “This mark is simply family tradition, passed down to me by my father, and his father before him. We have no idea of it's significance, if it really has any.”
“You truly don't know.” the Fairy chuckled with almost a look of pity in his deep green eyes, “That is unfortunate for you, the Master will not be as easy as me to convince. Before the end you will wish that you did know more.”
“The end?” asked Gondell cautiously, not liking his guess at the meaning.
“Lord Kangan will spend many hours or days questioning you,” grinned the Fairy wickedly, “Believe me, it will be better for you to tell him everything you know quickly, then it may be possible that you can survive, if you are very lucky you can live out the rest of your years in the mines, or his foundries... but if you resist him,” he shook his head sadly before a glint entered his eye, “If you resist him, you will surely die in agony.”
“But I really don't know anything.” stammered Gondell.
“That is why I said unfortunate for you,” laughed Donur, “I believe you, but he won't.”
“Why did you do this to me?” asked Gondell quietly, his tone heavy with defeat.
“Profit of course,” the Fairy replied with a casual shrug, “Lord Kangan will pay well for you, he has been seeking you for many years, and we, his followers have been his eyes and ears. True, as the years have passed time has blunted our enthusiasm, many have forgotten his commands, many have fallen from the darkness and formed alliance with your kind, and Dwarves, and Elves. But some of us remain loyal to him.
“All the Fairies know about this mark?” involuntarily Gondell's hand reached up and touched the sword on his breast.
“Every one of us,” chortled Donur, “Yes, I see it in your eyes, you understand now. You could have been betrayed many times in your short life, but when the Master's day of victory comes, the traitors will be dealt with.”
Suddenly a profound respect swelled in his heart for the many Fairy artisans that had furnished his home, or acknowledged him as he passed along the river or quiet country lanes of his home county. They all knew, or at the very least some of them knew... and they remained silent despite the reward on offer. My feelings toward them have been completely unjustified. A sadness washed over him, all illusions of escape had deserted, to be replaced by a deep and saddening regret, those people could have been my friends, if only I had known how much I could trust them.
“What am I supposed to keep?” Gondell grasped an opportunity to learn more about his circumstances, the Fairy appeared more open and willing to talk than the tight lipped Goblins.
“The sword of legend of course,” Donur nodded as his eyes misted, “The ancient sword of Kalenzi... surely you have heard of the sword?”
Gondell shook his head, “I have never heard of it, but if I am supposed to be it's keeper then your Master is going to be very upset, if we ever had it in our possession my family lost it many years ago, for generations we have maintained this mark, but none of us knew it's significance.”
“Your line never possessed the sword, and the rulers of our world know exactly where it lies, only the location of the gate keeper was hidden... until now!”
“Rulers?” questioned Gondell encouraging the Fairy, “I only know of Kangan, are there more like him in the world?”
Pity washed across the Fairy's face as he slowly shook his head, “You really know nothing about this world. There are no others like the Master, only pretenders.”
“Pretenders?” prompted Gondell.
“The Guild,” Donur spat in disgust, “So pious, so just... so weak. An alliance. A confederacy of weak nations, weak people,” he continued holding Gondell's eye, “They have no strength, they rule by committee.”
“So why is this sword so special?” Gondell slowly began to fill in the missing pieces of his puzzle, he had learned more about his past in just minutes talking to the boastful Fairy, more than the last forty years of life, he thought as amazement bloomed in his mind that his family could have so easily forgotten their connection to something that sounded so important.
“Special!” laughed Donur, “Why because whoever wields it will be surely victorious, how do you think the first Master suffered defeat during the last war, it was not the might of the Elves or Dwarves, the Masters armies out numbered them one hundred to one, only the sword gave them victory, nothing else.”
“And I am supposed to keep this thing, this legendary sword?”
“Not keep it,” Donur shook his head, “You release it.”
Gondell began to open his mouth, his next question racing to his lips, but found himself dragged roughly back to his feet. “Rest time is over my little mouse,” sneered his now familiar guard, “Soon we will be in the open, then you will truly know our pace.”
Tree trunks, hundreds of them, some huge, twisted and ancient, crusted with mosses and lichen, others young and smooth skinned passed Gondell by as his forced march continued.
More like a forced jog, he thought bitterly as his legs and back complained. Usually partaking of little more exercise than a gentle stroll along the river bank, Gondell's body began to rebel against the sudden abuse. He glimpsed the sun through a break in the canopy of branches above and quickly judged the time. Late morning, he decided as his mind drifted to home and happier thoughts. Just about now I would be putting the kettle on and preparing my mid morning snack, he glanced down at the stick of dried meat gripped in his hand, Ruaq had obviously given it to him to sustain his energy on the trail. This is definitely not what I would choose to nibble with my tea.
The guard broke his silent imaginings, “I think the Fairy told you many things that you didn't know before.”
“It wasn't difficult for him to tell me anything new,” panted Gondell in reply, “Considering I knew nothing before.”
“It would seem that you are quite important my little mouse, very important indeed.”
Gondell glanced up and caught a strange emotion painted across the Goblin's face. Avarice, he now sees value in me, thoughts and realisation crowded his busy mind, he didn't know the full story either, he was as ignorant as I. The Goblin turned back to the trail but the glint in his eye remained in Gondell's mind. He is just a soldier following orders, he doesn't know why he does what he does, he simply reacts to commands, but I guess now his mind is working overtime, looking for a way to profit from me personally... is that something I can use to my advantage?
“How far must we run today?” he gasped.
“Far,” chuckled the guard without pausing or looking over his shoulder, “Across the dales, always north little mouse... always north.”
A development indeed. Gondell debated the change in his captor, before he would have ignored me. Think Gondell, he demanded, find some advantage before it's too late!
But think as he might
no advantage surfaced and gradually the fire in his legs and back drove all other thoughts from his mind. Abruptly the cover of trees broke, and jogging into the bright sunshine Gondell shielded his eyes against the brightness. The gloom of the forest retreated and he stood blinking in the broad light of day, the sun directly overhead he guessed that noon had arrived, or just passed. Ruaq crouched over a patch of grey white charcoal and ash, hesitantly he picked a wilted leaf from a small pile and sniffed it, cautiously he touched it with the tip of his tongue before pushing in into his mouth and slowly chewing. “I taste Elf,” he declared, “An Elf camped her last night.” He passed his hand slowly over the ashes. “Not fresh, but very recent,” he nodded slowly as he gathered his thoughts and painted a mental picture. “More than one Elf,” he declared as he scanned the ground for more signs, “Three, but not all Elves, they roasted mutton.” he shuffled around the dead fire and sniffed the ground. “Strange,” he rubbed his chin before sniffing again, “Ogre... and something else.” Ruaq's expression suddenly changed from inquisitiveness to disgust. “A Dwarf,” he hissed before dropping the tuft of long grass he had plucked, “It's foul reek is everywhere.” Wiping his hands as though covered in dirt on the grass he turned to his company.
“An Elf, Ogre and Dwarf, camping together, sharing a meal... mighty suspicious lads.” A murmur ran through the group, Gondell sensed concern, worry, maybe even fear!
“You know what this means,” Ruaq continued as he kicked the dead ashes and hefted his pack.
“The Guild,” the name whispered by all.
“Yes... the Guild,” spat Ruaq, “So now lads, at your best speed, lets put some distance between us and them.”
As Gondell jogged across the open grassland his mind raced, absorbing this new information. The Guild is weak the Fairy claimed, but if they are so weak, why are thirteen armed Goblins, and big Goblins at that so afraid of only three, surely the odds are in their favour if they came to a fight!
I wonder, he mused as he looked around, the grasslands rolled on gently, seemingly open and endless in every direction, a sea of green studded with an occasional tree. They can't hide out here, we will be obvious to anyone watching, even from miles away we can be spotted.
Gondell let out a sharp screech and instantly dropped to the ground rolling in the lush emerald grass clutching his ankle.
“Up,” shouted Ruaq with undue urgency as he glanced nervously back toward the forest, “On your feet maggot.”
“I can't,” snapped Gondell before groaning loud and long while rocking back and forth on his back gripping his ankle tight, “I felt something snap, I can't stand let alone run.” It's probably only a fools hope, he thought as he contorted his expression into his best impression of agony, but I have to try to slow them down somehow. Now they will have to move more slowly.
His plan failed, obviously. Rough hands grasped him and lifted him high, they're going to carry me, he groaned inside, of all the rotten luck. His bad luck was confirmed beyond doubt as without having to drag him along the Goblins doubled their original pace. Just perfect, I try to slow them down and delay them... all I have done is let them run faster, very foolish Gondell. As the miles passed his optimism faded a little more with each steady stride. At least I haven't had to run myself, his only consolation, but it brought little joy as he watched the dark forest fade into the distance.