Chapter Fourteen: Where on Old Earth
His breathing was steady, the cuts had all healed well except for the one around his tusk, but Elstein had patched it up as best he could and spoken a number of basic healing weaves over it. If he'd been back at the Lair he would have summoned old Brascils, a jackal talented in the arts of healing. It was rumoured that he could bring the dead back to life, preposterous of course but Elstein had seen him work first-hand following the Battle of Kaymar Bridge. Limbs were reattached, eyes that were blind could see, Brascils was nothing short of miraculous.
Elstein’s talents lay elsewhere, but he had done what he could. The rest was down to Ilich's own healing ability which, judging from what he had seen so far, was also nothing short of miraculous.
Elstein got up from where Ilich lay in the cave and moved to check on the body of Anthony Hallow. He slept peacefully, oblivious still to his surrounds. A small blue fire crackled nearby, the smoke funnelling up through a natural chimney at the rear of the cave. It had been days since the jackal had seen any mortals and even then they were on the horizon, walking with sticks and dogs and thick jackets to ward off the wind.
It was cold despite the sun and the clear blue sky. Elstein could tell they'd come north, how far he was not sure. Truth be told, it mattered little to him. They were a long way from the home of Anthony Hallow and there was no way for the forces of Fenngaard to track them. Though his part in the process was vital it had led to long periods of inactivity. Ilich had started to grate on his nerves due to his ambling around Anthony Hallow’s house yet in truth the jackal was equally frustrated with the monotony.
Though his mission through the Brazen Gate had never been considered a one-way trip he had always known that it would be a long time before he could return. He'd gone over the plans with Rostrom many times before leaving the Lair. He would locate the home of the Sad Father, secure the body and cast the spell of awakening. He was then to stay with the body for as long as was necessary until Rostrom was able to secure the gate from the other side, come through and bring him back. Easier said than done, much hinged on their interpretation of the Ayalla prophecy. Much depended on Rostrom’s ability to convince the dreamer of their cause, or barter with him for exclusive gain. Much depended on chance and there was little that Elstein could do for now but wait and guard his charge.
Upon analysis, the battle against the silver claws who had come to Hawksdell Road had been positive, though Ilich was unlikely to agree when he eventually awoke with one less tusk. The presence of Corul Geddon’s minions on this side of the gate meant that things must have gone well for the jackals back on Avalen. Had the dreamer been captured or Eredyss fallen then there would have been no need to try and get to the dreamer on this side of the gate. They would likely have just sealed it at the other side and left the jackal and the troll to their own devices.
Elstein glanced at where Ilich lay breathing deeply and not for the first time he was grateful that Kannis had changed his mind about bringing the troll. It had been Elstein’s plan to come alone but Kannis knew, he knew that despite the risks Corul would be reckless enough to come through the gate after them.
The two jackals had gone north-east together to Trellem, the range of mountains between Eredyss and Torabane. Some said that the trolls and their mountains lived in the shadows of the giants, their larger cousins. This is something that you would never actually say to a ten-ton-troll, however. They were fiercely independent, in fact generally fierce about everything. They did not consider themselves to be small giants, and to look at them it was a fair point, their tusks and general shape marked them out as an entirely different kind of dream to the giants.
Ilich was famous and had not been difficult to find. They asked directions from the odd troll that they met here and there in Trellelm, after convincing said trolls that they were not particularly edible of course. It seemed to be the case that any opening conversation with a troll consisted first of explaining to them why they wouldn't want to devour you with “some rocks and a nice mug of pumpkin juice” and after that they were generally quite civil.
Ilich was different, however as he hadn't even tried to eat them. Elstein had quickly discovered that there was an intellect to this legendary warrior troll, an intelligence not possessed by his brethren. Had the jackals attempted to explain the nuances of political history and rebellion to most trolls they would have either laughed or continued scratching themselves with a broken tree branch, but not Ilich. That is not to say that he was likely to invent a time machine any time soon, but he understood their point. This troll had seen war and he knew the price of such things.
He'd also known the price that he demanded from the jackals in return for their help. Elstein and Kannis had both been surprised at the speed with which he'd agreed and named his price. This was not something plucked from the air, this was something the troll had had on his mind long before the two jackals sat in his mossy cave drinking spring water from bark cups.
They'd agreed of course, they had no choice, though in the long run that which Ilich had demanded for helping them might end up costing more than they won from this venture. Now, with hindsight, Elstein knew it had been the right decision. He had been at the end of his abilities against the Sentinels and there was no way that he could have dealt with the silver claws or the fire drakes.
The pieces of Anthony Hallow’s bedroom which had been transported with them had gone on the fire even though it required no fuel for it was born of his chalk. Elstein opened his pack and took an inventory; he still had eight full lengths of the chalk left, enough to last for now. The wards around the dreamer and the weave to move the room had used up almost two whole pieces. The remainder had gone on the fresh wards on the cave floor surrounding the dreamer.
The question now was whether or not to stay put. The cave was secluded, high up in a series of craggy hills and unlikely to be disturbed. Neither he nor Ilich required sustenance and the dreamer was sustained by the dream weaves under which he had been manipulated. There was still a nagging feeling of exposure, though he supposed he would feel like that anywhere on Old Earth.
As he pondered he heard a noise. Ilich’s eyes opened and he sat up rubbing his head. “Good evening”, said the jackal to the troll.
“How long?” asked Ilich.
“Some days. You have healed well, apart from the tusk”, Ilich’s stumpy hand went to his face and he felt tenderly at the bandaged area where his left tusk had been.
“It will grow back”, he said but there was sadness still. A troll’s tusk took decades to come to maturity, until then he would feel limited, weak, less-than-troll.
“Did we win then?” Ilich asked.
“We are alive and the dreamer is still ours so yes, I would class that as a win.”
“Well, you're the details man so I'll go with that”, said the troll. Ilich looked over at the dreamer. “He okay?” he asked.
“Fine this side, in Avalen, who can say?”
“Would we know if he perished beyond the gate?” asked the troll.
Elstein shook his head. “I think not, though I cannot be certain I think he would probably just stay asleep until his body decayed away.”
“We might be here a while then”, commented the troll.
“We may well”, said Elstein. They sat in silence for a while. Ilich warmed his hands on the fire. Since coming to his colour had improved and after a time he got to his feet and started to swell. At about nine feet he'd hit the roof of the cave so stopped and instead took to flexing his arms and legs and punching one fist into his other hand.
“Is everything well?” Elstein asked him. Some form of troll exercise perhaps, he thought.
“You cannot see him?” Ilich asked.
Elstein’s eyes swept across the empty landscape, sunset was still an hour or so away. “No”, he said “See who?”
Ilich nodded to a rocky hill similar to their own some distance away. “High up in the rocks, been there for a w
hile I think. Possibly time for me to go and say hello.”
Elstein stood up and stared long and hard at the hillside which Ilich had motioned to, still he could not see anything. Perhaps the troll had taken a blow to head more severe than he realised. “Ilich, are you certain?” he asked again.
“A cloak like rock and still as stone, up there someone sits and watches us from afar.”
Elstein looked again, straining his eyes and then he saw it. Just as Ilich said the figure did not move, indeed it might not even be a figure. But there was a humanoid shape up there on the hill. A person or a rock shaped like one, its leaden grey cloak blending in almost perfectly to the stone around it. Elstein had never known that trolls possessed such keen eyesight. “I will go”, said Elstein, still watching the watcher.
“I am recovered”, said Ilich in protest.
“It's nothing to do with that. This is a situation where stealth may prevail over brute force.”
“Well, I've always found brute force to work well for most situations and unless you've figured out a way to turn invisible...” the troll’s protest faded as Elstein stepped back into the cave, shimmered and then vanished from sight.
“Watch the dreamer”, he whispered as the troll felt him move past to start climbing down from the cave.
Elstein moved quickly down the rocks across the grassy valley which ran between the hills. The light was just beginning to fade and he knew he would never be able to spot the watcher in the dark. Though he was nervous at leaving the dreamer in the cave at least Ilich was awake, and not foolish enough to jeopardise their enterprise by leaving them in a vulnerable position.
It did not take long for Elstein to reach the foot of the hill, always keeping one close eye on the target. One of the only drawbacks of invisibility is the lack of sound; perception is greatly lessened, therefore to move soundlessly whilst invisible takes a great deal of care and precision over how one is moving. Therefore Elstein did not rush up the rocky hill but rather picked his way carefully over the rocks. Such was the speed of his ascent that darkness was almost upon them by the time he got close to the watcher.
At one point he looked opposite at their distant cave, which he could spot easily from the blue flame burning at the back of it. Our isolation has made me complacent, thought the jackal as he crept inch by inch upwards until he reached the ledge where the watcher lurked. Elstein slowly lifted his head over the ledge. There he was, only a few feet away, his eyes focused unmoving on their cave.
Those eyes were pale blue and set inside skin which even in this light Elstein could tell was incredibly fair. The fact that he had remained still for so long was remarkable and had it not been for the faint veins which the jackal could see Elstein could have considered him a statue. Whoever he was he obviously wasn't mortal, the jackal could sense the supernatural about him.
Just as Elstein was deciding what action to take his foot slipped where he clung to the rocks sending a shower of smaller stones tumbling down the hillside. The being turned and his eyes locked on Elstein. How it was possible the jackal did not know, but before he could blink the watcher leapt at him, his arms encircling the jackal, his weight coming down on him forcing them both to roll down the hillside until they reached flat ground.
The watcher was phenomenally fast and almost before Elstein had regained his feet a short thin blade had been drawn and was slashing at him with deadly precision. Many other foes would have fallen there on the hillside, but the jackals were not called talented without reason. A whispered dream weave created a wall of hard air in front of Elstein and when the blade hit it snapped in half. More whispers followed and the attacker suddenly found his arm locked in a vice like grip that came out of the air, his arm wrenched back causing the remaining half of the blade in his hand to clatter to the floor.
The watcher’s left hand pulled a dagger from beneath his cloak which he threw in the same movement towards Elstein. There was no time to cast another dream weave so Elstein ducked, breaking his concentration on the arm lock and freeing the watcher, who threw himself at the jackal with a series of high flying kicks which Elstein blocked. The jackal then hit back with a dream weave, a pulse of light cloaking his hand as it struck out at incredible speed to strike his opponent in the middle of the chest. The watcher flew several metres through the air hitting the rocky floor with a painful thud.
Despite his slender form the watcher rose instantly and made as if to attack again. Elstein decided to bring the brawl to a dignified end, dignified for himself anyway. He cast the dream weave and felt the air around him come alive, feeling it form into two thick channels which lunged through the air, pinned his opponent’s arms to his sides and then lifted him from the ground rendering him harmless.
“Who are you?” growled Elstein, slightly out of breath and bruised from the tumble down the hillside. The watcher did not answer, squirming ineffectually against his invisible bonds for a moment or two before relaxing, accepting his entrapment. Elstein walked forward and pulled back the hood of the watcher’s light grey cloak. The blue eyes and pale skin were framed by hair just as fair through which two pointed ears could be seen.
“An elf?” said Elstein incredulously. “How is an elf here?” he asked not expecting a response. “There are no elves in Avalen”, he said still bewildered by the elf’s presence.
“You are not in Avalen any more, jackal”, said the elf in the light but strong voice which was a trademark for his people. As he said it his eyes flicked, just momentarily, but enough for Elstein to catch it. He turned towards the cave where Ilich guarded the dreamer. The night had fallen proper, but even in the dark light Elstein’s eyes could not fail to spot the shadowy forms climbing up towards the cave where the blue fire burned.
“Your friends will get more than they bargained for up there elf”, growled the jackal. The elf smiled a thin-lipped smile and said nothing, watching as Elstein scrambled back up the rock face back from whence he'd come.