Chapter 2

Giyorn gazed down the grassy embankment towards Bouder, perhaps in better
times he may have appreciated its quaint setting, the little stream which
wound its way around the outskirts of the small village, the wooded areas,
with trees of green and red, but now was not the time. 'Where the devil is
she,' he grunted.

'Patience my friend,' said Jorm. 'The call of nature comes to us all.'

'Especially women,' snapped Giyorn.   'Do you realise how many times we
have had to stop already, every time we pass a clump of blessed trees.'

'The men have to stop as often as Miowni.'

'If we were all men we would not have to worry about the trees. Look behind
us Jorm.'

Both Giyorn and Jorm turned their mounts.

'See those trees five hundred paces, a little to the east.'

'Yes.'

'See those trees a thousand paces, a little to the west.'

'Yes.'

'See those trees in the distance.'

'What are you getting at Giyorn?'

'We have wound our way around them all, a snake could set a straighter
course.'

'Ah.'

'When nature calls we all have to find a clump of trees because a lady is
present.'

Jorm shrugged his shoulders.

'What on earth is she doing,' said Giyorn in a rather loud irritable voice.

The rest of the party heard Giyorns remarks.  They meant little to Cretin,
but Gwidian and Morgain the sons of Baron Dromar could not resist adding
their own comments.

'Perhaps its that funny time of the month,' smiled Morgain.

'Oh you mean its the night of the full moon,' sneered Gwidian.

'At this rate, probably a crescent,' laughed Morgain.

The laughter slowly died.

'You do not think she is having trouble with that belt of hers again, do
you Gwidian?' Morgain was still smiling.

'Could be.  She has probably misplaced the key.'

They both erupted into laughter.

'Silence,' cried Giyorn.  Then he turned to Jorm.  'Are we surrounded by
fools... Two jokers, a lady with a weak bladder and a... a... ,' he pointed
at Cretin.

'A strong brave loyal servant,' helped Cretin.

'Give me strength,' growled Giyorn.

'Calm yourself my friend,' said Jorm in a soft voice.  'We should not enter
Bouder before nightfall.'

'Why nightfall?'

'We will be less conspicuous,' replied Jorm.

Giyorn looked at Cretin. 'You jest, of course.'

'Not at all.  I have an old hooded cloak he can wear.  If he keeps the hood
closed we can pass him off as Miownis grandmother.'

Giggles came from Morgain and Gwidian who had been eavesdropping.

Giyorn gave them a look of disgust then turned back to Jorm.  'It may make
a good fairy tale, but would not an old hag look a little out of place
walking with five riders?'

'She... He can ride with Miowni.'

'NOT ON YOUR LIFE.'

Jorm turned to see Miowni approaching.  His cheeks flushed a little. 'Is
there a problem?' he said meekly.

'I would sooner ride with... with Morgain.' Miowni walked towards Jorm to
retrieve the reins of her horse.

Gwidian chuckled and said, 'I thought that was the last thing that you
would ever do.'

Miowni glared at him. 'What difference does it make anyway. There is not a
horse in the land that would tolerate a creature of the darkworld on its
back.'

They all looked at one another.

Cretin walked over to Miownis horse.  The horse bowed its head and Cretin
stroked it behind its left ear, using the back of his hand.  The horse
neighed softly.

'Most strange,' said Giyorn.

Miowni did not know what to say.

'See, there is nothing to fear,' said Jorm.

'No, I will not,' stated Miowni.

'We must all play our parts, my dear.  We are trying to save our
lands...our people from a fate worse than death.  Soon we will face true
evil.  Do we falter so easily.' Jorms eyes locked onto Miowni'

And if I do not agree, you will send me back to...'

'No,' interrupted Jorm, 'it is your choice.'

                                   *

Jorm and Giyorn rode at the head of the small procession.  Though they were
not dressed in their finery or battle armour, they still looked impressive;
Jorm wearing a tunic of deepest green and Giyorn clad in black, his cloak
rustling gently in the breeze.  They were two very different characters;
Jorm with his long golden hair held in place by a head band and his
youthful blue eyes; Giyorn with his short dark hair and beard, reflecting
a more mature and hardened character.  Behind Jorm and Giyorn rode
the brothers Dromar; both were dark and young, with a certain amount of
flair.  They were around ten paces in front of Miowni, who sat like a
statue.  She dared not look down to her waist where clawed fingers held
her gently.

'You are keeping your little secrets well, Jorm,' said Giyorn, 'but pray
tell me, what do you expect to find in Bouder?'

'Information, my friend.  The weapons of my father are spread far and wide,
some paths may be more inviting than others.  Many travellers pass through
Bouder, it is a good place to find out what lies before us.'

'What options do we have when we leave Bouder?'

'North, East or West - all directions except from whence we came.'

'You seem very matter of fact.  Where is the fire that accompanied you on
that fateful day, when Raimar fell ?'

For just an instant a shadow crossed Jorms face, then it was gone. 'I do
not intend to fail in my task.  I need cunning; I need stealth and most of
all, I need my wits.  Hatred blinds all.'

Giyorn turned to look at Gwidian and Morgain, then he looked at Jorm. 'You
certainly have the wit.' Giyorn could not help a smug smile.

'They have their purpose.  They are young and well skilled with a blade,
and who would believe they had a serious aim in life!'

'Who indeed!'

Gwidian and Morgain were too far adrift from Jorm and Giyorn to overhear
their conversation.  They chatted idly to one another.

'How is Miowni faring with Cretin?' queried Morgain.

Gwidian looked over his shoulder. 'Well... Er... So-so, I suppose.  She
looks a little frigid.'

'Did she ever look any different.  Perhaps I should have asked how Cretin
was faring, poor little man.'

'Man, did you say?'

'Well, he is male, is he not?'

Gwidian scratched his head. 'To be quite honest I do not really know.  How
do you tell the difference?'

'Easy.  All you have to do is shake them.'

'Shake them?' said Gwidian inquisitively.

'Yes, shake them.  If it is male it will rattle.'

Gwidian laughed. 'You fool, Morgain.'

Miowni sat taut in the saddle, she could feel Cretins spikey fingers
holding her waist gently.  They gave a sort of tickling sensation and her
skin tried to crawl away from its source.

'You are sitting very stiff, my dear,' chortled Cretin.

'I... I normally ride this way,' whispered Miowni.

'There is plenty of time to be stiff when you are dead,' continued Cretin.

Goose pimples began to break out on Miownis arms. 'I am... er practising,'
said Miowni in a very uncertain voice.

'Practising to be dead!' said Cretin.

'No,' said Miowni, 'not that.'

Cretin looked puzzled. 'I know plenty of people who are dead.'

'You knew plenty of people,' corrected Miowni.

'I have not forgotten them,' said Cretin in a strange tone, which hinted of
a dreamy sadness.

Miowni turned her head until she could see Cretin out of the corner of her
right eye.  His hood had fallen back onto his shoulders in the riding
breeze.  There was a strange look on his face and a dampness beneath the
eyes.  Although this may have been no more than a reaction to the cool
evening air, it gave his face a look of humanity.

                                    *

They entered Bouder as the last embers of light drifted beyond the
horizon.  They had donned their cloaks to ward off the chill of the night.

At the first cross roads they halted. 'Where to now, my lord?' enquired
Giyorn.

Jorm looked about himself. 'There is a tavern here somewhere, though its
exact location and name elude me.  The roadways look much the same.'

'Is it not the Dwarf and Dragon,' prompted Gwidian.

'No, that does not seem familiar - it seems such a long time since I passed
this way.'

'We passed this way on our journey to join you,' commented Morgain, 'I can
remember the hanging sign.' Morgain looked at Gwidian and Gwidian returned
the look.

'I have it,' stated Gwidian. 'The Butchered Lamb.'

'The Slaughtered Lamb,' corrected Morgain.

'The Slaughtered Lamb,' reaffirmed Jorm.  He pointed to the north. 'That is
the way we should go.'

They cantered down the narrow twisting roadway which lead north, passing
buildings, both quaint and old, until they came to a clearing.  The
Slaughtered Lamb was set back from the road, being surrounded by a
reasonably sized area of grass, where tables and chairs stood; though at
this time of day they were unoccupied. To the rear of the tavern stood what
used to be a barn, but was now used to stable the horses of overnight
guests.

They dismounted their horses silently and began to walk towards the nearest
rail where they could tether them.

A small boy appeared, seemingly from nowhere. 'Water and feed for your
faithful servant, Sir?' said the boy to Jorm.

'I doubt whether Cretin would appreciate oats and water,' muttered Morgain.

'Gwidian kicked Morgains left shin.'

'Can you also bed the animals down for the night?' asked Jorm thoughtfully.

'I trust you have rooms to spare at the tavern?'

'I am sure my father can find a place where you may rest your heads.'

'Thank you, young man.' Jorm began to walk towards the tavern entrance.
Miowni walked by his side with Cretin tucked in close behind; his hood
cloaking his face in total darkness.  Giyorn brought up the rear of the
group close behind Morgain and Gwidian.

The tavern was quite large, wood beams supported the ceiling and a log fire
burned in a large fireplace on the eastern wall.  A few guests turned their
heads as the group entered, one or two raised their eyebrows at the sight
of Miowni; it was unusual to see a lady in a tavern, although there was no
concensus against it.  They sat themselves around a table at the opposite
side of the room to the fire, it was the only one totally unoccupied. They
sat and talked for a while before a short plumpish man approached.

'Food, wine, what may I get you good sirs and madam and... ?'

'Wine certainly and food...' Jorm looked around the table at his
companions, expecting them to give their order.

One by one they suggested what they would like, although sometimes their
tastes could not be precisely satisfied.  Finally there was only Cretin
left to speak, still hidden behind his hooded cloak.  All eyes fell in his
direction.

'Come on now, grandma.  What would you like to eat?' said Miowni, in a
sort of over emphatic manner.

'Him,' croaked Cretin, turning towards the tubby little man.

Morgain sniggered.

The little mans face dropped, then he smiled and chuckled nervously.

'Grandmother certainly has a sense of humour, has she not?'

'I doubt it,' said Gwidian looking rather amused.

The little man looked from one face to another.

Giyorn looked puzzled by the conversation, he had not heard what Cretin
had said.

'She is a funny old sort, a nice piece of meat should be fine,' said Miowni
with a warm smile.

The little man returned the smile, 'How would grandmother like the meat?'

'Raw,' grunted Cretin.

'Rare,' said Miowni.

The little man looked at Miowni, then said, 'Rare it is.'  He shook his
head and walked away.

It was not long before the table was laid with dishes and the food served.
The meal was marred only by Cretin, bending his head over the table and
placing it squarely in his dish to the accompaniment of the most revolting
slurping sounds which emanated from his hood, but this did not last long.

After they had all eaten, the brothers Dromar and Giyorn began to move
around the Tavern, joining in with the conversation of others; slipping in
questions about their surroundings when possible and listening to the tales
of others.  The rest remained seated at the table.

Cretin sat motionless.Jorm gazed at Miowni.  It had been a difficult
decision bringing Miowni, but he had given an oath to her stepfather that
he would not let her out of his sight.  Now her stepfather was no more, it
did not seem right to leave her behind, although it would have been safer
for her - for the time being.

'Why do you stare, Jorm?'

'Just thinking.'

Miowni looked at the table for a while then faced Jorm again. 'Do you think
you will be recognised here?  It must seem a little strange to these
people, six travellers such as we, carrying swords and the like.'

'In more rational times, yes, but if you look around most people are armed
and I doubt whether anyone would recognise me personally.  They are not the
sort of people you find at court.'

Miowni looked straight into Jorms eyes. 'Tell me, do you know where we are
heading?'

Jorm laughed. 'Now that is what I call a blunt question, if a little
unexpected and faithless.  I do believe I know where the weapons are which
will put an end to the desecration of our lands, in time you will learn
their locations.'

'They did not help your father.'

Jorms mood darkened. 'My father took too much upon himself.  This time it
will be different.'  Then as quickly as the darkness came it lifted and
Jorms face became tranquil.

'But even if you find the weapons, how will you find Nomarn?'

'If I do not find him, he will find me and besides there are more than we
to contend with.  Nomarn tried to put his curse on Miriel and his hands on
that priceless gem - the helvstone.'

'I thought they were only legend.'

'Many legends are indeed the truth,' said Jorm softly.

'I cannot see why he needed the elden Queen; in fact I cannot see why he
does not simply walk all over our lands; how could we stop him?  We have
not even the power to touch him, he is... it is a shade.'

Jorm smiled. 'You miss the point.' He studied Miownis face - it was pretty,
in fact most things about her were sort of...

'You were saying?'

'Oh yes, I was saying - what was I saying?'

'It is your turn to buy,' boomed Giyorn, approaching the table.

'He bought the last ones,' croaked Cretin, although no one saw his lips move.

'I was merely jesting,' said Giyorn.

'He ha yuk yuk,' said Cretin.

Giyorn clenched his fist and looked about to use it.

'You require something,' said Jorm intervening.

Giyorn thought twice about his actions, then he lifted his eyes to the
neighbouring table. 'Be careful what you say,' he whispered.  Then he
turned and returned from whence he came.

Jorm glanced at the neighbouring table, then back to Miowni. 'The
inquisition is over.'

Miowni scowled.

                                    *

It was a considerable time before they all sat again together.

'Well,' said Jorm. 'What information have you?'

'Rumours and more rumours,' said Giyorn.

'Stories of demons and weird happenings,' said Gwidian.

'There are trees that eat people on Darkwood Wold,' said Morgain.

Gwidian chuckled.

'Alright,' said Jorm. 'Any useful information?'

'I doubt if anything we heard was useful,' mused Giyorn, 'although I do
believe there are strange happenings, there are just too many worried
people.'

Both Morgain and Gwidian nodded.

'Why did you warn me about those people who were sat at the next table?'

'Only a precaution, did you note how they vanished after I came back to you?'

'Does that signify something?' queried Jorm.

'Maybe, maybe not.  They appeared to be straining their ears to me.'

Jorm looked thoughtful. 'If we have no real information then we will head
north in the morning.  There seems to be no safe roads.'

'Only the way we came,' commented Gwidian.

                                     *

It was not long before they left for their rooms, Jorm rose first, he
glanced around the room at the few remaining people then he beckoned Miowni
to rise.  She did as she was bid and they both bade their companions
goodnight.

Gwidian watched them leave the room. 'I am sure it will be,' he said, 'for
some.'

The others followed shortly.  They had no idea where Jorm and Miowni had
gone, they simply followed the young boy who lead them to their room.

Cretin tagged along at the end of the line.  He entered the room with the
others but when the boy left, Cretin followed soon afterwards.

'No sleepies for Cretin,' he said. 'He will ensure tonight is peaceful for
all.'

                                    *

Morning came and the small party rode northward, that is all but Cretin.
He had resumed a more natural form of transport - his legs.  He seemed more
at ease carrying his own weight and none would argue that his staying power
was less than that of a horse. If he did tire, it did not show.
The trail they followed was clearly defined.  The ground on which they rode
was hard and nothing grew, but to either side of them there was tall grass
in which many wild flowers and weeds flourished. The lands in these parts
had not been changed by the hands of evil.

Ahead lay the forest Finglis.  It would be midday, all going well, before
they arrived at its outer reaches, but already trees were springing into
view.

'Do you think the forest is safe?' queried Miowni.

Jorm shrugged his shoulders. 'I think we are on the border of the dark
domain.  If what was said in the tavern is true, Nomarns hand now touches
it and none are safe.'

'Then should we not try to avoid it?' queried Miowni.

'The forest is our cloak,' stated Jorm.

'Cloaks hide many things,' commented Giyorn.

The conversation died.

                                   *

At midday they paused to rest.  It was a brief respite but well
appreciated.  Miowni glanced skyward through the thickening leaves where
streams of sunlight gave her comfort. 'It does not seem evil,'said Miowni.
'It seems... sort of enchanting.'

'What does not?' queried Jorm.

'The forest,' replied Miowni.

'We are not in it yet,' said Morgain.

Miowni looked puzzled.

'When we are truly in the forest there will be very little sky to see,'
said Jorm. 'This is one of the densest forests I know.'

'You know the forest.'

'No, Miowni, not really.  Following a trail is one thing; to try and find
your way through the forest with nothing to guide you is quite another.'

They rode into the thickening woodland as the sun began to float downward,
Cretin following silently.  The deeper they penetrated the darker it became.

Jorm motioned to halt as they entered a small glade, 'We travel no further
today, we may stray from our path.'

They all dismounted, and began unhitching their saddles.

'Do we light a fire?' queried Miowni to no one in particular.

'Yes,' replied Morgain.

'No,' replied Giyorn. 'What say you, Jorm?'

'A good question.'

'It is going to get cold,' stated Morgain.

'Are we afraid of a little cold?' said Giyorn.

'We seem to be afraid of a little something,' said Gwidian.

'Caution,' growled Giyorn.

'You should not be afraid of caution,' chortled Cretin.

Giyorn opened his mouth with a nasty look on his face, but he did not get
time to speak.

Morgain noticed the look on Giyorns face, he turned his back on everyone,
wrapped his arms around his side and began making a funny sort of
suppressed snorting noise.

'How about a vote?' said Miowni hurriedly.

'Good idea,' said Jorm. 'Let us have a vote.'

'I vote nay,' said Giyorn forcefully.

'I vote yea,' said Gwidian adamantly.

'Yea,' said Morgain with an artificial seriousness.

'I also think caution is the better part of valour,' said Jorm. 'It is a
free vote but I think nay.'

Miowni looked at them all and they all looked at Miowni. 'Well... er... I
think...'

'This is a creepy sort of place,' said Morgain.

'Cretin creepies,' said Cretin mischieviously.

'And Cretins friends,' added Gwidian.

Miowni looked around; the leaves rustled a little; faint shadows rippled on
the ground. 'A fire would be cosy.'

Giyorn glared at Gwidian.

Gwidian shrugged his shoulders.

'Get the wood,' said Giyorn, pointing a finger at Gwidian. 'You wish for a
fire - then make one.'

Gwidian raised one of his own fingers, but Morgain clasped his shoulder and
said, 'I will help you, we will not have to look far.'

Those who remained cleared the leaves of the previous fall from where they
wished the fire to be and then settled down to wait for the brothers return.

Morgain and Gwidian travelled no more than thirty paces from the camp.
There was wood to be had but most of it was still growing in the ground and
that would not do at all.

'Giyorn has a sharp tongue and short temper,' stated Gwidian.

'He is a hard man, I often wonder why he follows Jorm.  He has his own men
at arms.  I feel sure he revels in command.  Why does he not go and wage
his own war?' Morgain picked a good, if somewhat weighty, log up.

Gwidian shook his head then he bent down to grab a dead branch. As he
clasped the branch he lifted his head a little; something caught his eye.
'Am I imagining it or is that a figure over there?' he said quietly.

Morgain turned slowly and followed the eyeline of Gwidian.  The light was
not good but it looked as though there was a cloaked figure standing among
the trees not fifteen paces from them.

'Do you see, Morgain?'

'Yes.  I see.'

Gwidian took a pace foreward, then another.

A squawk came from the trees behind them.  They both turned their heads.
'Only a bird,' stated Morgain.

They turned back towards the figure, but saw only trees.

Gwidian dropped what he was holding and drew his sword, then he set off at
a gallop towards where he had seen the figure.  He arrived in moments.

'DO YOU SEE ANYONE?' called Morgain who had been left standing.

Gwidian turned through three hundred and sixty degrees, then back to face
Morgain. 'No one,' he replied.  He looked around again, then began to walk
back towards Morgain.  He covered five paces then stopped.  The hairs on
the back of his neck were standing on end.  He slowly turned his head to
look behind - nothing had changed.

'Is there something wrong?' queried Morgain.

Gwidian turned to face Morgain, he thought for a moment then said, 'No,
nothing is wrong.'

'Perhaps we were imagining.'

'Yes,' agreed Gwidian, 'only shadows.'

Gwidian sheathed his sword and they picked up their gatherings and began
the short walk back to their companions.

Jorm and Giyorn sat facing one another chatting softly while Cretin picked
his feet.  Miowni sat alone resting her back against a tree watching the
leaves rustle.  She should have been relaxing but she appeared uneasy.  A
twig snapped somewhere nearby.  Miownis eyes widened but no one else seemed
to notice. The grass rustled behind the tree on which she was leaning.

People did not scare Miowni but now her face looked apprehensive;
fearful. Long moments passed - the grass rustled again.  For a short
while she appeared frozen, then she quickly turned her head to the right.
A hand clutched her left shoulder.  She jumped - her heart skipped a beat.

Cretin lifted his head and looked towards her. 'Morgains back,' he said.

Storm clouds passed over Miownis face.

'We are back,' said Morgain, taking his hand off Miownis shoulder.

'Do you want to help us make the fire, Miowni?'

Anger quickly changed to embarrassment, then in a matter of fact voice, as
if everything was fine, she said, 'Why not?'

They stacked the wood where the dead leaves had been cleared then Gwidian
said, 'Who has the flints?'

No one answered.

'Someone must have them,' he insisted.

They all shook their heads.

'Rub two sticks together,' suggested Giyorn, with a somewhat smug tone to
his voice.

Both Jorm and Giyorn stood, then walked over to Gwidian.  They all looked
at the woodpile.

'How about bashing two stones together,' suggested Miowni.

'Be serious,' said Morgain, with a smile, 'there must be a more reasonable
way of kindling a flame.'

'Problems making fires,' chortled Cretin.

Everybody ignored him.

He made his way towards them, then nuzzled his way to the wood. All but
Jorm looked at him with distaste. 'A few dead twigs would help,' said
Cretin.

'What good are twigs without a flame?' said Gwidian.

Giyorn stared at Cretin with a thoughtful if somewhat angered look. 'I
doubt he needs a flame.  In fact I doubt if he needs the twigs either.  He
looks to me like the demons of the circle.'

Once more all eyes fell on Cretin.

'Cretin cannot help his looks, besides it is you who are all ugly.  Cretins
handsome.'

Jorm had a stony look on his face. 'Light the fire Cretin.'

Cretin returned the look with one eye, then he rubbed his thumb and
forefinger together... a single dancing flame appeared on his curled finger
nail.

'Fire demon,' stated Giyorn grimly.

'Twigs,' said Cretin firmly.

'I will get them,' said Miowni, with a half smile.

'Now that is a clever trick,' said Gwidian. 'Where did you learn it?'

'In the pits of hell,' snorted Giyorn before Cretin had time to open his
mouth.

'We should call him Flint,' said Morgain with a prankish look on his face.

Miowni returned almost immediately.  The forest floor was strewn with small
dead twigs and she did not have to travel far to gather an adequate
quantity.  She placed the twigs under the heavier wood and Cretin set it
alight.

They all settled down around the fire; unbuckled their swords for comfort
and took a little food from their packs. The last light of day disappeared
unnoticed. There was little sound in the air, except for the familiar noise
of crickets. One or two flying insects ventured near the flames but the
heat dissuaded them from too close an approach.

They ate their food then sat and talked idly for quite a while. It must
have been close to midnight before they all fell silent, but when they did,
another sound came to their ears; the beating of wings.

'Is that an owl I can hear?' queried Miowni.

'It sounds more like a bat to me,' answered Gwidian.

They all looked around.  Whatever it was fell to the earth around ten paces
from them.

Morgain looked at the others, then set off towards it.  The light was poor,
only the flickering flames burnt a hole in the total darkness.  He slowed
as he neared the creature.  He could see something moving in the grass but
he was not sure what.  Holding his right hand before him he rubbed his
fingers together and made a funny tutting sound as if he was beckoning to a
stray dog. The thing sat bolt upright and a screech left its teeth.

Morgain jerked erect with a strange look on his face. 'What on earth is that?'

The thing glowered at him, deep red eyes set above large jagged canines.

'Looks like a little Cretin,' commented Gwidian.

Cretin gave him a sombre look.

Another flap of wings was heard and a second creature dropped to the ground
around five paces behind the first.  It too stood upright, though it
measured less than four hand spans.

Morgain drew his knife and poked it at the first creature.  With a clash of
teeth against metal Morgain was left with little more than the knife handle
in his hand.

'Vicious little monster,' he remarked, then he began walking backwards.
'Someone hand me my sword.'

'Perhaps he has had enough to eat already,' joked Gwidian.

'Just pass me the sword.'

Gwidian joined Morgain.  He gave him his sword and held his own at the
ready.

Giyorn turned to Jorm and said, 'No doubt attracted to the fire, like moths
to a lantern.'

'Perhaps so,' replied Jorm.

Morgain eyed the nearest creature for a few moments as it advanced, then
let swing with his sword.  The creature hopped to one side and hissed at
him.

'Careful, careful,' chortled Cretin. 'Little wood sprites.'

Morgain was not sure who Cretin was warning - himself or the creatures.
By now the second sprite had almost caught up with the first, it did not
exhibit caution.

'Look out,' snapped Jorm, as if an extra sense had warned him of impending
danger.

The sprite leapt at Gwidians face.

Gwidian dodged to one side not a moment too soon.  The sprite went hurtling
by to land head first at Giyorns feet.  A heavy boot crushed its skull into
the ground.

'Oh dear,' croaked Cretin.

The first sprite leapt forward, opening its wings to soar upwards.  They
all ducked for safety.  A receding screech reached their ears as it
vanished into the night.

'Well,' said Giyorn, 'the evil truly spreads southward.'

They all nodded their heads in silent agreement.

Cretin walked over to the dormant little sprite; he bent and picked it up
by its pointed little tail. 'Cute little thing,' he said in a sombre
voice. 'Only a youngster.'

They all cast their eyes at Cretin.  Despite their abhorrence of the sprite
they felt a pang of sympathy for Cretin, though Giyorns face was
unreadable.

They watched Cretin staring sympathetically, as though the creature was to
him as a child would be to themselves.  He held the creature just above eye
level, then with a sickening crunch of bone he bit off its head.  A bluey
red substance dribbled down his mouth as he began to chew.

'Oh my...' said Miowni turning her head away in disgust. 'I feel sick.'

They all turned away, none looked in the best of health.

                                    *

Morning came with no further incident.  At the first rays of light they
mounted up and began their ride.  They travelled slowly as the trail became
harder to follow.  It was mid-morning when they first came to a halt -
Miowni had spotted something.

'Look over there,' she said pointing into the dense woodland. 'It looks
like a cabin.'

One by one they turned their heads in the direction indicated.

'You could be right,' said Morgain.

'I will ride over and have a look,' said Gwidian turning towards Jorm.

Jorm motioned him on.

Gwidian cantered toward the small building, it was only a short distance
but the going was less than easy.  He brought his horse to a halt less than
a dozen paces from the building eyeing the logs and old timbers from which
the cabin had been built.  It was not a large place, perhaps only six paces
each wall.

'Greetings,' called Gwidian, 'is there anyone here?' He sat back in his
saddle and glanced at the clear sky above the building, awaiting a reply.

He did not get one. 'Is there anyone here?' he called again.

Rustling came from the trees to his left.  He turned his head, but saw
nothing. 'Playing games are we?' he said in a low voice.

He dismounted and walked towards the trees, the half light of the forest
did not help his vision and still he saw nothing.  Gwidian tapped the hilt
of his sword apprehensively.

'You are searching for something?' boomed a deep voice.

Gwidian had turned on his heels before the question was finished. He stared
for a moment at a rather large figure of a man; pale of skin; unkempt by
nature.  He was leaning on a rather large, vicious looking axe.

'Speak up man.'

'Well... er... I presume I was looking for you.'

'You presume.'

'You are the owner of this cabin?'

'Yes.'

'Then it is you I was seeking.'

'Why?'

'Yes... well... another tricky question... We were following yonder trail
and we spotted your cabin.  We thought we would...'

'We,' interrupted the man.  'Why do you keep saying we, are you not alone?'

'Well, you are stood next to me,' said Gwidian with a smugness which came
with the realisation that his inquisitor was no more than a man of the
woodlands.

The man scowled and stood erect, lifting his axe from the ground. 'You
think to mock me.'

'Of course not,' replied Gwidian in a hurried and if somewhat feigned
apologetic voice.

'Who are 'we'?' demanded the man.

'I am Gwidian and you are...?'

The man stared directly into Gwidians eyes from beneath thick bushy brows.

'My friends are still on the trail,' said Gwidian, 'would you like to meet
them?'

'Could it be a trap?' said the man curiously.

Gwidian met his eyes and said in a very genuine voice. 'Why in this world
would anyone want to trap a wild man with a nasty looking axe, whose only
possession is an old broken down wood cabin?'

The man boomed with laughter. 'You are a brave young lad, if a little
cheeky.  Take me to your friends.'

Gwidian did not walk far.  He simply hitched his horse near the cabin and
walked a few paces towards the trail. 'I HAVE FOUND A FRIEND,' he yelled.

His companions joined him - with the exception of Cretin. Gwidian
introduced them and himself in name only, however he still did not know to
whom he was making the introductions.

'I am Balmar the woodcutter,' said the man without being prompted. 'Some
folk in Bouder call me Treebark.' He indicated towards the cabin.  The door
opened slowly and a slender dark haired woman appeared. 'And that is my
companion in life, Meralin, flower of the forest, come and meet her.' The
woodcutter began to walk towards the cabin.

'Now that is what I call a pretty petal,' said Morgain with a lusty look.

'Keep a hold of yourself,' replied Gwidian.

'I am not that way inclined,' said Morgain grinning.

Gwidian shook his head. 'I am not jesting brother.  Have you seen the size
of his chopper, you would not have a chance.'

'I have told you once, I am not that way inclined and besides its not the
size that counts, its the way you use it.'

Gwidian pointed a finger at Morgain as if to say something, then he smiled,
had a change of heart and followed the woodcutter.

They all greeted Meralin as they would a lady of the court.

Meralin who was little older than Miowni, a good score of years younger
than Balmar returned the greetings in a soft pleasant voice.

'Would you care to join us for lunch?' queried Balmar.

Jorm looked around. 'Perhaps a little refreshment, good sir, we appreciate
your good intent but we are many mouths to feed and we must press on with
our journey shortly.'

Balmar indicated that they should wait at the door.  He entered the cabin.
Deep growls emanated from inside the log walls which raised a few eyebrows,
then the woodcutter emerged clutching the restraining leads of two fierce
looking dogs.  The group moved away to give them a wide berth.

'Not to worry,' said Balmar. 'Go inside, I will let the dogs run. They will
see that we are not disturbed.'

It appeared reasonably large inside the cabin.  There were only two rooms;
the sleeping room and the main living quaters which had a central table
with four fashioned chairs.  At the north side of the cabin was a bench,
which had seating room for another three persons.  Gwidian and Morgain
seated themselves there.

Gwidian heard Balmar send the dogs on their way with a chorus of barking.
With an inquisitive voice he asked Morgain, 'Where is Cretin?'

'He is waiting in the forest.'

'I thought so.  It looks like he is going to have company.'

'He could do with some playmates.'

'Playmates.'

'Well, they probably have a lot in common; they are all so sweet and
gentle.'

Gwidian heard distant snarling and barking.  He leaned back against the
wall and folded his arms.  He smiled at the woodcutter as he entered the
cabin.

                                   *

'Nice doggies,' said Cretin walking backwards.  He had tried to calm them
but he could only hold the attention of one at a time. He picked up a stick
and threw it behind the dogs.'Go fetch sticky.'

They were not interested.

'Look at all the lovely trees and what are trees for,' he smiled at the
dogs, though it looked more like a horrible grin.

The dogs still were not interested.

'Cretins getting into troubles.'

The dogs drew closer, baring their teeth.

'Nasty doggies going to pounce; tail between his legs Cretin flaps his
wings and soars into the air.'

Cretin beat his wings against the air.  They were excellent for gliding but
flying was another thing.  Even with all his might he could barely lift
himself two paces from the ground.

'Flap, flap, flap, this is not easy,' gasped Cretin in a very serious
voice.

The dogs sprang upward snapping viciously at his feet.  He could
hear their teeth clashing as he lifted one foot at a time, just out of
their reach.

'Cretins not going to stay airborne much longer.  His wingsies
are getting so tired.'

                                    *

After giving a few hints on how to make good time through the forest and
after his guests had received their refreshments, Balmar bid his new
friends farewell.  Gwidian was the last to depart and to him Balmar said,
'The next time you visit you should come straight to the door, instead of
sneaking around the trees.'

'I called out, but I received no reply,' said Gwidian. 'Then I heard you in
the trees.'

'I was not in the trees,' said Balmar. 'I was in the cabin.  I saw you
dismounting and followed.  Probably a beast of the wood you heard.'

Gwidian reflected a moment then said, 'You are probably right.'

It did not take long for the group to rejoin the trail and when they did,
they saw Cretin waiting for them.

'He is a wily one,' said Morgain. 'The dogs do not seem to have bothered
him.'

They rode up beside Cretin and Gwidian looked down at him. 'Did you enjoy
the dogs company,' he queried with a large smile on his face.

'I enjoyed them very much,' replied Cretin, licking a trickle of blood from
his lips.

Gwidian noticed the blood and turned to Morgain. 'You do not suppose he
has...?'

'The barking did stop a while ago.  Honestly, I dread to think.'

They rode on.
