Chapter 2

When finally they emerged onto the grassy plains of Telesse there were perhaps two hours of sunlight remaining, and they made wise use of that precious time. Their first objectives were to find fresh water and shelter. The first of these soon was located, for there were many fresh springs in Telesse, but a suitable shelter proved much more difficult to find and took rather more time. The land itself was relatively flat and was alternately covered with small bushes and saplings and rather tall grasses that hid many of the smaller features of the landscape.
      In time they found a natural grotto formed by a thick slab of rock jutting out from the earth on a rocky knoll. Beneath this stone roof was carved a modest chamber that extended a short way into the hill. The walls and floor of this chamber were fairly smooth and there was some evidence that the place had been used as a shelter by many creatures over the years, including humans. They quickly swept the place clean of detritus and then set about performing the various chores which had to be completed in the half hour of sunlight that remained.
      Raavan set about searching among the grassy area for the various medicinal herbs which he would need for treating Dannadar’s wound. Alatar aided him briefly, then joined Burak in gathering firewood and building a large fire at the opening of the grotto. Meanwhile, Talen and Falco harvested as many straight saplings as they could find to be crafted into arrows. When they returned to the shelter Burak had a roaring fire going and Dannadar was laid next to this. He was very weak, and cold, and he wished only to sleep by the fire. Within moments he had fallen into fitful slumber.
      Alatar then fashioned a pair of spears while Talen and Falco industriously worked to carve and fletch a veritable heap of arrows, though they had with them only enough spare arrowheads to finish half of them. When Alatar had the spears completed he and Burak went out to hunt for antelopes in the near darkness, though they did not encounter any and were lucky to bring back two rabbits and a marmot. These they cooked over the fire and then shared equally with the others, who ate them most gratefully though it was no feast.
      Raavan then prepared several potions for Dannadar: one to be used in preparing a poultice for his shoulder, and the others to be quaffed by the feeble Elfling when they had roused him from his uneasy slumber. Once his medicine had been administered he lay down again and fell into troubled sleep, now and again calling out and struggling with unseen assailants that haunted his delirious dreams.
      The remainder of the company sat round the fire speaking softly, mostly of their gladness at having finally escaped Druadaneth, and also of their hopes that Dannadar soon would achieve a full recovery from his evil wound.
      ‘He suffers from a form of Ghoul sickness,’ Raavan confided as he leant back and puffed his pipe for the first time in many days. ‘The weapons of those damned creatures often bear a curse to make the wounds they cause even more grievous than they normally would be. What’s more, when a Ghoul strikes a mortal with any sort of weapon, it is able to drain the very life force directly from him. Ghouls must feed on the vital essence of the living in order to remain animate themselves, for they are in fact the undead remains of deceased men, doomed to roam the world long past their proper time. There is a special branch of sorcery devoted to their resurrection and induction into servitude. It actually requires quite a lot of skill and effort to raise such monsters from the dead, but once they have been freed from the grave they perpetuate their own existence by feeding on the living, both figuratively and literally.’
      ‘Then I wonder just who it is we have to thank for that encounter in the Dark Wood,’ mused Burak.
      ‘Who knows?’ replied Raavan. ‘The monsters we encountered may owe their unnatural quickening to some local sorcerer who tarried in that place in recent years, or they may date to the time of Omenaton during the Fourth Age. Omenaton resided long years at Hélethrôn and was responsible for many abominations throughout the lands of his dominion. Even now the lingering traces of his power can be felt in Tath, over three thousand years since his defeat. Alas, but the damaging effects of the black arts do not always die out when their malignant practitioners are vanquished. Of course, this has never been more obvious than now, owing especially to the recent revelations concerning the Thread. And I am afraid that none of the inhabitants of Entira are free from the danger that sorcerers and necromancers impose upon us all. Indeed, even the dead are not safe lying in their graves.’
      This talk of graves and Ghouls and the raising of spirits reminded Talen of his encounter with the goat-man of the previous night. ‘Raavan, what was the nature of the creature I saw last night? It was only half man—was it also a product of sorcery?’
      ‘What creature did you see last night?’ asked Burak.
      ‘During my watch we were visited by a man who was half goat, and perhaps part something else, too,’ replied Talen. ‘Or at least I think it was no dream.’
      ‘It was no dream,’ Raavan assured him. ‘It was a Satyr: a woodland creature known to practise quite a variety of perversions. They take an uncommon interest in the ill luck of strangers, and have been known to offer all manner of shady pacts and bargains in exchange for dubious forms of aide. They generally want the world in exchange for their equivocal favours. What did this one ask for?’
      ‘My soul,’ replied Talen, ‘for the King of Anûfyn.’
      ‘Who is the King of Anûfyn?’ asked Falco.
      ‘Anûfyn is the land of the dead,’ answered the wizard, ‘though sometimes it is translated as Helh, or what Burak’s people call Amgamman. It is said to be ruled by a demon who torments the resident souls without end, and without mercy. In Anûfyn, damned souls are regularly disemboweled by the demon king’s pitchfork, or burned by the eternal flames, but though they die every day, always they are resurrected again at midnight to endure another day of torture.’
      ‘Pah! Stories to make children behave,’ spat Falco.
      ‘Quite,’ said Raavan.
      ‘Yes, perhaps,’ said Burak, ‘yet, this I say, that there are demons in this world for certain, and that there may very well be entire worlds beyond this one that are ruled by them. For myself, I do not expect ever to find out, for I hope instead to dine with the gods in Valinon, but we will have to see.’
      ‘Yes,’ agreed Raavan, ‘we will have to see about that. In the meantime, we needn’t place too much credulity in the words of a lascivious Satyr. I think your soul is safe for now, Talen.’
      ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ replied the Elfling. ‘But what of Dannadar? Will he recover?’
      With this, all eyes fell on Raavan.
      The wizard replied: ‘It is too early to tell for certain. I have hopes that he will achieve a full recovery. Certainly, if anyone can treat him, it is I, for I have treated such wounds as these before—quite a number of times, in fact. Yet, never have I treated an Elfling for such a malady. He does have the vigour of youth on his side. I think he will pull through, but I cannot venture a guess as to the continued use of his arm. I am afraid he may lose it.’
      ‘No!’ said Talen, wincing painfully. A tear escaped from the corner of one eye as he looked away. ‘Not after the loss of Fifin...even an arm is too much.’
      ‘We will just have to remain hopeful,’ Raavan reassured him. ‘That is all we can do for now.’
      The conversation paused for a brief time, then was resumed by a question from Falco: ‘Raavan, what was the meaning of the hilltop altar? Can you hazard a guess as to who or what was responsible for that profanity?’
      ‘I do not know,’ replied the wizard. ‘I have encountered similar scenes at the holy sites of the Druids. I was even unlucky enough to witness one of their abominable rituals once, though not willingly, as you can imagine. Who has been using that particular place, and for the worship of what deity, I cannot say. It is tempting to implicate the passing company of Goblyns that we subsequently encountered, but Goblyns alone would not congregate solely for the worship of any god without the provocation of a priest of some sort. I’ve never known them to be that pious.’
       
       
      In the morning they awoke refreshed and went about various chores which they set for themselves. Raavan checked on Dannadar and found his condition to be already improving. He now had some feeling in his left arm once again and his wound was starting to close. After this the wizard went out to search for a few more herbs which had eluded him the previous day. Airi accompanied him, alternately soaring low over the grasslands and at other times perching near the wizard on the odd sapling or high rock outcropping.
      Alatar and Burak fashioned several more spears and then went in search of the herds of antelopes that were known to graze throughout Telesse. Talen and Falco continued fletching arrows, for it was a tedious task and they were constantly going out to find more materials, especially feathers. In early afternoon Airi aided them by bringing in a grouse. After he had finished with the carcass the Elflings with the help of Raavan convinced the bird to donate the remains to their task.
      After that they made considerable progress, and by nightfall they had more arrows than they would be able to bring along with them when their trek resumed. The next day they would join Alatar and Burak on their hunt, for they had been unsuccessful in bringing back any of the fleet-footed antelopes and had to resort again to chasing rabbits and other small game.
      On the third day their hunt was more successful: the party returned to the grotto bearing an antelope and a brace of coney. Their spirits had recovered quite a bit from their dark trek through Druadaneth, in part due to the bright sunlight and their escape from the oppressing forest, but also due in large part to the encouraging recovery of Dannadar’s health, for he now was able to move his left arm and grasp weakly with his hand, and he sat up in the evenings with the others and took part in their storytelling and fellowship. His wound was healing rapidly, Raavan told them, though he still would need several more days of rest before any travel was advisable.
      During the next several days the hunting party went out during the day to collect game, and in the evening they cleaned the carcasses and smoked the meat so that it could be taken along as provisions for their journey. Soon they had a supply that would last them for several weeks. The hides they allowed to dry out and some of the skins were used to patch holes in their garments.
      Finally it was decided that on the morrow they would resume their quest, for Dannadar was now well enough to travel and they all were well rested and provisioned for the trip. In the morning they would set out due south for the river Aglathrin some hundred and forty miles away, which they would then follow through Arnedia hitting several key cities along the way.  
      That night they sat round the fire and traded tales while Airi was out terrorizing the local mouse population. Burak told of Baaragh’s fabled hundred year sleep, and of Gwathuil’s nightly transformation into the likeness of a bear. Falco related the humorous exploits of Talen’s nephew, Acorn. This in turn led Dannadar to describe Dringorn and his magical tankard of ale, which could be sipped for hours without ever needing a refill. Alatar topped this off with the truly side splitting story of Egli the rutabaga farmer, who upon growing the most enormous rutabaga ever seen presented it to the king as a gift and was richly rewarded for his offering. It was some time before they were able to control their mirth following this.
      ‘Raavan, it is your turn,’ urged Dannadar. ‘Share with us something from your endless repertory of legend and lore!’
      ‘What would you like to hear?’ asked the wizard.
      ‘Know you anything of the history of Telesse?’ asked Falco.
      ‘A bit,’ replied Raavan. ‘I do know that somewhat west of here in ancient times was the domain of a certain King Cinniúil.’
      ‘Then tell us of him,’ said Talen.
      ‘Very well,’ continued the wizard, lighting his pipe as he searched his memory for the details of the story. ‘I believe it was during the Fourth Age that King Cinniúil had his kingdom here in eastern Telesse, for it was his great grandson Tyelimar who led the Telessians during the Hélethrônium War. But that is a tale for another time.
      ‘Cinniúil’s reign was relatively peaceful until the depredations of a certain band of witches—the Three Witches of Lantasa, to be precise—started to take their toll on the good people of that kingdom. People would go missing in the night only to turn up days later, dead or nearly so, with the brand of Lantasa burned prominently into their flesh and bearing various other telling indications of the brutal tortures they had endured at the hands of the evil hags.
      ‘Cinniúil sent his men in search of the sorceresses, but without success. Finally the king himself went forth with his boldest warriors and they sought in vain the secret lair of the witches for many months, till at last they captured the hags and had them burned at the stake. So ended the terror of Lantasa. But Cinniúil’s own troubles were far from over.
      ‘When he returned to his castle the king found that his brother Celaf had during the king’s absence seduced the queen and usurped the throne, telling the people that his brother the king had been killed by the very witches which he had abandoned his throne to hunt. When the king unexpectedly returned, Celaf and the queen accused Cinniúil of being no more than an apparition sent by the witches to deceive the people. So much doubt were Celaf and the queen able to weave that Cinniúil was forced to submit to a trial by arms—that is, a duel between himself and his disloyal brother.
      ‘But Cinniúil had by this time discovered the true cause of his brother’s disloyalty, and that of his queen, for into their midst had come an infiltrator: a man who secretly was a warlock of similar persuasion to the Lantasans. This Cinniúil knew because it had been beaten out of the hags before they were burned.
      ‘And so when the brothers commenced their duel Cinniúil fought hard and pressed his brother back toward the latter’s retinue where stood the evil mage. When the combatants neared the infiltrator Cinniúil rushed the warlock and ran him through with his sword before the foe could react. The infiltrator was thus dispatched and the warlock’s spells over the brother and the queen were broken, but not before Celaf thrust his own sword into his brother’s back.
      ‘Once the spell was broken Celaf and the queen realised with horror that they had been deceived, charmed by the warlock into betraying their benevolent king who now lay dying before them. Ere he passed away they renewed their pledges of loyalty to the king and had his forgiveness. But Cinniúil died within moments, and in a fit of shame and despair Celaf threw himself upon his own sword. The queen lived on for several years more, but so deep was her grief and so unforgiving her shame that at length she succumbed to illness and left the throne to Cinniúil’s eldest son of twelve years.’
      ‘That wasn’t a very happy story,’ observed Dannadar when it was clear that Raavan had finished.
      ‘I never said it would be,’ objected the wizard. ‘And indeed, history rarely is.’
      ‘Yes, but it does not do to dwell on the negative,’ insisted Dannadar.
      ‘No, it does not,’ agreed the wizard. ‘Shall I tell you a story with a happy ending, then?’
      ‘Yes, please do,’ said the Elfling.
      Raavan replied, ‘Very well, but it shall have to be our last for tonight, for we’ve many miles to travel tomorrow, and I want to get an early start.’ To this all agreed.
      Raavan continued, ‘I will tell you briefly of Malamar the Cunning, who is also known as Malamar Little. Malamar was walking over the cool grass one day with a friend, a single bottle of spirits between them, which they soon had entirely consumed. Along came a demon from the underworld, and as he was rather a hungry demon he indicated matter-of-factly to the twain that he would presently be eating them both.
      ‘This, of course, did not please the companions, so Malamar quickly replied: Were you a demon, I have no doubt that you would eat us both, but I do not in fact believe you are a demon, for you do not appear in the slightest demonic. To this the demon was of course incredulous, but before he could issue his retort, Malamar continued: For example, I have heard it told that a real demon can roar louder than thunder. Can you roar so loud that it would shake the very earth?
      ‘At this the demon opened its mouth impossibly wide and issued forth a roar so deafening that several of Malamar’s teeth were shook loose and his hair stood on top of his head. When he had recovered the man went on: Very well. So you can roar, can you? But I have heard it told that a real demon can swell fully to the size of a house. How about it, then? Can you grow your body so huge that it would totally eclipse yon barn from my view?
      ‘Again the demon took up the challenge by swelling to the size of a barn, and then he kept on swelling, till he was truly vast indeed. Malamar applauded him: That is truly impressive. But I still do not believe you are a demon, for I have heard it told that a demon can shrink himself so small that he could fit inside the smallest of vessels, even a bottle for spirits, such as I have here. Yet, I am certain you cannot do this, for you are truly vast, and would never be able to fit inside this tiny flask.
      ‘Yet once again the demon proved that his abilities were fully up to par, for in a jiffy the demon had shrunk back down to the size of a man, and he kept on shrinking, till he was so small that it was no great effort for him to slip right into the open bottle Malamar held in his hand. This, of course, was a mistake, for just as soon as the demon was inside Malamar corked the flask, trapping the fiend within.
      ‘The demon was of course furious at having been beguiled so. He cursed and he raged and he gnashed his teeth, yet no escape for himself could he procure, for as everyone knows, a demon in a bottle is a fool’s prisoner.
      ‘Malamar then demanded of the demon that he grant him three wishes, and he would set him free. To this the demon agreed, but he asked that all three wishes be made at once, for the granting of wishes was a highly taxing activity, especially within the confines of such a small bottle.
      ‘Malamar agreed to these terms and then without delay enumerated his demands. He would have the demon summon for him three things: a beautiful maiden, the likes of no other; a fast horse, uncatchable by any living beast; and a sword capable of slaying any monster, even a demon.
      ‘The diminutive devil acknowledged that these wishes were within his power to grant, and so he then squatted on his toes and folded his arms, and with eyes closed fast he concentrated on the fulfilment of his task. Suddenly there came a shimmering from within the bottle, and then there appeared there next to the demon three things: a beautiful maiden, a fast horse, and a powerful sword—all within the corked flask.
      ‘Malamar had of course been tricked himself, for the demon now threatened to promptly eat the maiden unless he was immediately released from the bottle, and Malamar, having seen her beauty and the terror in her eyes, could not consign her to death so easily. So he conferred in private with his friend, and then he came back to the demon and agreed to release him, but under one condition: that he first must shrink Malamar down to the size of the maiden, that he and she might the better enjoy one another’s company.
      ‘To this the demon agreed, and forthwith he waved his hands and Malamar was shrunk to the required size. After this the demon busied himself with snickering at the man’s folly, for he knew that as soon as he was free of the bottle he would eat the knave, no matter what his size, and there was nothing that could be done about it.
      ‘But Malamar’s friend grasped quickly at the bottle, and pulling out the cork he nimbly dropped Malamar into it before deftly stopping it up again. The demon was of course taken aback at this rash behaviour, for the man must surely know that he could eat Malamar as easily within the bottle as without. But as he was wondering at the man’s profound folly Malamar took up the sword and with a mighty stroke he slew the fiend.
      ‘Then the beautiful maiden fell amorously into the arms of her rescuer and rewarded him with the most glorious kiss ever exchanged between mortals. Malamar’s conspirator set the flask on its side and removed the cork. Malamar and the maiden mounted the horse and rode out of the bottle onto the sunlit grass. They bid the other man good-bye and rode off happily together into a much larger world.
      ‘There now,’ concluded Raavan, ‘I daresay that was as happy an ending as one could ask.’
      ‘Hear, hear!’ was the sound reply.
       
       
      In the morning they left the grotto behind. Their stay had provided a much-needed rest and also a chance to recover their spirits somewhat, for just as Dannadar’s shoulder wound required healing, so did they all benefit from the chance to vent their sorrow and anguish over the recent loss of Fifin—this was especially true for the three Elflings—and thereby undergo some much-needed inner healing as well.
      Before they left they filled their waterskins from the nearby spring and Alatar and Raavan replenished their supplies of several plants and herbs that had medicinal or culinary uses, such as the ethras root which helps the body to conserve water and confers endurance, and the leaf and stem of calenas , which could hasten the healing process after serious injury. Later in the day Raavan would also come upon a somewhat rare and highly valuable plant known as falthaes , which when dried and combined with whortleberry could be used as a potent antidote for many poisons and venoms.
      As they rode south through the tall grasses the summer sun shone warmly upon them. As they were not following an established trail they often flushed animals that were scurrying about in the grass: foxes, rabbits, and marmots in the main, but also the occasional snake or lizard. They began to see herds not only of antelopes, but also of wild horses and ponies. These latter grazed lazily over the endless fields, looking up with only mild concern as the company rode by, but always returning then without undue agitation to their unhurried business.
      In the early afternoon Alatar called Raavan’s attention toward a greyish-brown object on the horizon. Raavan squinted in that direction with shaded eyes.
      ‘Tsaurek?’ asked the wizard.
      ‘I think so,’ replied Alatar.
      ‘What is a Tsaurek?’ asked Falco as the others tried to resolve the distant object that could now be seen to be moving as with a slow walking motion.
      ‘A rather large reptile,’ answered Raavan. ‘They can be quite dangerous if they see you, but they do not have very good eyesight. I will keep an eye on this one, but I think it is far enough away from our path that we needn’t alter our course any. At least not yet, at any rate.’
      On they went and soon the beast faded into the distance. Raavan explained to the Elflings and the Dwarf as they rode over the grassy plains that the Tsaureks were the main predators of the larger game in Telesse, including both the antelopes and the wild horses and ponies, but that they were not adverse to eating travellers when the latter were available. He explained also that the reptilian beasts tended to be more numerous in western Telesse, but that it was not inconceivable that they might encounter one or two others before passing into Arnedia.
      His words soon would be borne out, for another of the beasts appeared ahead of them as they topped a low rise. This one was much closer than the previous, so that they now were able to get a much better view of this very imposing animal.
      Much larger than a horse it was, and it moved very differently from any animal the Elflings had seen before, for it ran about on two powerfully muscled legs, a long, thick tail helping to maintain its balance. Its arms were much smaller than its legs and ended in long hands which were endowed with sharp, grasping claws. But it was the mouth of the beast that constituted the real danger, for the monstrous reptile had enormously strong jaws lined with robust, dagger-like teeth. It was not difficult to imagine those teeth rending flesh with terrifying efficacy.
      The companions obviously were very eager to avoid this dangerous beast, and as it lay directly in their path they decided to turn sharply to the west and trace a circular path around the predator till they were clear of it. This was a laudable plan, and as they soon were most of the way around the huge reptile and had not yet attracted its attention they began to breathe a sigh of relief.
      Their relief was premature, however, for as they directed their attention to the Tsaurek wandering oblivious toward the north another suddenly appeared from around a grassy knoll to their south, this one far too close to avoid seeing them. It immediately charged. The party were so stunned by the unexpected appearance of the beast and by its thunderous, brazen roar, that for an instant they all froze, wide eyed and panic stricken. Then they all bolted helter-skelter away from the menacing creature and in nearly as many directions as there were riders.
      The beast at first chased Raavan, then Burak, then finally decided that the Elflings would be the easiest game. Their ponies were little faster than the enormous reptile, for its stride was fully as long as a horse’s length. Several times the massive jaws of the hungry pursuer snapped shut on empty air just inches from a pony’s haunches, only to fall quickly behind as the fleeing animal frantically increased its pace or its rider steered it quickly to the left or to the right in desperate attempts to outmaneuver the lumbering beast.
      Now it was Talen and his pony Fenfoot who drew the monster’s attention. The terrified pony ran for all it was worth, yet neither its speed nor its maneuverability were enough to throw off the pursuer. Twice the crushing jaws slammed shut just inches from Talen’s head as the pony swerved off to the side just in the nick of time. Now as they ran uphill the beast fell ever so slightly behind. As Talen threw a hurried glance behind he saw that his lead grew, even if slowly, so that there was at least a glimmering of a chance that his flesh would not be violently rent from his body by this raptorial reptile.
      All hope left him however when he neared the top of the rise, for just ahead now loomed a terrifying sight: another Tsaurek headed directly for him! This was obviously the beast which the party had only minutes before successfully evaded, but now the monster saw him plainly and it rushed forward to snatch its prey. The pony veered off to the left, yet escape now seemed all but impossible as this new foe closed the distance with dreadful rapidity. In mere seconds it would all be over.
      Talen leant far forward on the pony, closed his eyes, and waited for death. He heard a roar, louder than loud, and he could smell the predator’s foul breath. He knew that the next sound he would hear would be that of his own skull being crushed. Yet the rapid thud of Fenfoot’s galloping hooves continued to fill his ears and shock his frame. For interminable moments the race continued. Fenfoot’s strength was near to expiring completely.
      Again roaring came to Talen’s ears, yet it was not so immediately behind him as before. He became aware that his pony had worked up a lather. Their pace slowed considerably as Fenfoot neared total exhaustion. Finally his courage threw off the icy grips of despair and he opened his eyes to look back. The Tsaureks now were some distance behind, and to Talen’s relief he saw that they were fully engaged in menacing one another with all manner of bodily intimidation, apparently oblivious to all else.
      As the beasts continued their heated dispute the contested prey slipped wearily away.