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 efreshed and laden with provisions, and now expertly outfitted as well, the company headed northeast into the woods. They traveled past the sandstone walls of Trinsic and headed for the thickness of the forest that surrounded the main road called The King’s Way, beyond the swampland that bordered Trinsic. There were nine of them, all with their own mounts now. Markee was generous in his gifts of sturdy desert ponies that would move as swiftly through the winding forest paths as they did over the burning sands.
Gladstone led the way, for he knew it well; his friends at Shillelagh welcomed him often enough. Although, he had not been visiting for more than a year. But then again, a year was as nothing in the eyes of the couple that owned the hidden forest retreat. Through thick pines that scattered their needles on the forest floor he led them, and it seemed that the path wound around and around in a spiral that brought them closer to their destination at every circle.
A soft mist filled the wood so that they seemed to be walking in a fog, but still the ponies moved on steadily, and the travelers formed a single file line. It soon became difficult to see the round rump of the pony in front as the fog grew thicker, but there was no worry amongst them, for Gladstone knew the way blindfolded. Gradually, the travelers began to smile as delightful smells wafted their way, augmented perhaps by the mist that limited their vision. Pine permeated the air around them, fragrant and fresh; the flowers bloomed with an intensity that reminded one of a florist's shop or a perfumery. Spicy, smoky woodland smells filled their nostrils. The horses and ponies walked with a brighter step as they caught the scent of sweet grasses. Shahrressa’s palomino warmare raised its head sharply and whinnied shrilly with excitement. But they were stopped as a large shape materialized before them.
A white hart with shining silver antlers was standing in the path, regarding them with coal black eyes. It dipped its head respectfully as it recognized Gladstone, but looked upon the others with much interest. The stag let its eyes rest on all of them, and they felt scrutinized beneath its steady gaze. Each of them felt slightly uncomfortable, as if the stag was somehow seeing right through them, judging their inner self.
It cocked its head curiously more than once, but nodded acceptance to a relieved Gladstone and turned regally, gracefully picking its way through the maze of pines that sprang up all around them. Gladstone motioned for everyone to follow the guide through the wood. The hart’s silver antlers shone like a beacon through the mist and no one had trouble following in its footsteps.
Like a heavy velvet curtain that graced a theater stage, the mist lifted skywards, revealing a vast estate that seemed impossibly larger than the area of forest that contained it. Magic permeated the air around them. A sparkling stream cut across their path, and the stag darted lightly over an arched wooden bridge that spanned the water.
A man, dressed in farmer’s clothes, was tending a bright vegetable garden on the other side of the stream. The hart walked up to him and put its mouth to the farmer’s ear, as if speaking to him. The man looked up at the adventurers waiting respectfully at the bridge and smiled at seeing Gladstone. He waved a greeting, and Gladstone waved back. The man walked up to the heavy oaken doors of the home and went inside.
The others regarded Gladstone curiously. “Ee’s gone t’ fetch our hosts,” he explained. He dismounted and loosened the cinch on his horses’ saddle, and the others followed his lead. Presently the doors opened and two figures stepped lightly through it.
The first, a slight male, smiled broadly upon seeing his warrior friend. He raised his hand high in greeting and he crossed the wooden bridge with soft, deerskin boots. He wore the colors of the forest, dark browns and greens, capped with a brilliant cape of russet hue.
The second could be described only as immensely feminine. She also was dressed in the colors of the wood around them, and her skirt billowed in the gentle breeze that rippled through the magical place. She was slightly shorter than her male counterpart, and her radiant smile was matched evenly by the sparkle in her eyes of sea green. Her hair was the shade of the soft spring grasses, braided into two long ropes that hung down past her shoulders.
They both had pale complexions that highlighted their otherworldly presence, glittering green eyes and delicate, pointed ears.
“Elves!” blurted Keith softly, and in an instant, they were among the crowd, clasping arms with Gladstone and greeting them all warmly.
Gladstone turned to the group and smiled. “Me friends,” he said, “I would like ye t’ meet Lord Butbut an’ ‘is Ladywife, Joyimui. All that ye see is their woodland home, called Shillelagh.”
“But sit ye not on my blessed doorstep, friends,” Butbut addressed them in a lilting, musical voice. “Come, come inside and we shall share lunch while we talk.” He whispered something softly in the ear of Gladstone’s horse, and pointed in the direction of a large, open stable. The horse chuffed softly in reply and whinnied to the other horses in the group, and they all followed Gladstone’s mount to the stable.
“My apprentices will make your horses comfortable, friends,” Butbut explained to the astonished group. “Follow us inside, where you will find much to eat and drink, and then we will talk.”
As they stepped through the wide oaken doors of the timber dwelling, delicious smells filled the air. Fresh fruits and vegetables steamed on the table, which was laden with breads, butter and honey. The travelers enjoyed a delicious wine, not Elven wine of course which would make them drunk for weeks on end, but a fine wine fermented from the purest grapes, and even from other sources such as dandelion and pears. Each of them found they could eat as much as they liked; there was plenty and enough for all.
When they were finished they all leaned back in their chairs contented and warm. The Elven lord finally asked about what had brought them to Shillelagh.
“Aye, well I will tell ye,” said Gladstone. “An’ I would ask ye for help, me good friend.”
He told of how the Ankh was found and lost again. Upon hearing of the daemon and the dark-cloaked man, Butbut grew very grave.
“I can work a small spell upon the pouch,” he said. “Hand it to me, please.”
They gave him the pouch and he spoke softly, casting his spell upon it. It began to shimmer with golden flecks of sparkle, which turned blood red and dissolved into the table. Butbut frowned.
“It will not give me an exact location,” he sighed. “But I can tell you, its whereabouts are deep below the Fire Mountain.”
“Then that is where we will go, Butbut,” Gladstone said. “For find this Ankh we must!”
“One thing, my friends,” Butbut warned. “The Ankh may be in evil hands… indeed I felt it even through my simple search. It must be powerful evil indeed.”
Arana nodded. “That is why we need to find it good friend Elf,” he said grimly. “Who knows the damage that will be done?”
Joyimui frowned. “It is an event that hangs ill with omens,” she stated in her silvery voice. And that was all that needed be said. “Come friends,” she said, raising gracefully from her seat. “Let us retire and think upon it again in the morning. The night is friend to shadows and I would not wish to invite them to our table. The day is better for such talk.”
They all agreed, and she led them to a common room where they made their rest for the night.
During the night, Arana dreamed of fighting orcs beneath a mountain. Gladstone’s dreams were filled with thoughts of battle to come. Shahrressa had visions of red daemons floating through her mind, and Keith could not forget the eyes of a water nymph. Kedra pictured a mage powerful enough to send daemons wherever he chose in a flash of fire, and M’Ladyhawke saw men turned into stone. Peacefrog dreamt of showers of gold floating through his fingers only to disappear into a cavernous pit of lava, and Raggot did not dream at all.
But Mobius….
Mobius lay awake with his eyes closed, and only pretended to sleep. After the others were asleep, he slipped out quietly through a window, saddled his pony and departed. There were none who could see him, if he did not wish it, and right now, he did not.
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