Chapter 12
Fragile Peace
Nothing he tried had worked, and Presto was getting desperate.
He’d lost track of time; six, seven eight days in the wilds and now they were virtually at the gates of the Fortress. But all he had done was delay them. It wasn’t enough. Venger was going to kill them all. It wasn’t enough.
He’d tried everything he could think of.
It wasn’t as if he needed to fake illness, everybody knew that something was wrong, anyway. But when he’d suggested he was too sick to travel, all Hank had said was that he could stay, perhaps with Sheila. Knowing the fury of his Master if he let Hank continue, especially alone, Presto had been forced to go with them.
He was slow, and tried to slow them down further, but the Ranger was a in an uncompromising mood. Dungeonmaster had told him what to do and nothing was going to stop him. He forced them on, regardless of Presto, and regardless of anything else.
Late one evening a few days after they had gone into the mountains, and after the two siblings were asleep, Hank had come over to him and asked his forgiveness. Presto felt sick at the memory. The Ranger had sat beside him, his voice choked full of emotion and apologised for driving them on, in spite of Presto’s obvious weakness. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Presto had accepted the apology as if it was the Ranger that was in the wrong. Hank had spoken of Eric, and how they had to keep looking, and how they had to find him before Venger did. Hank wouldn’t stop until they found him.
But Presto knew. He remembered the Mirror; that bitter and painful day he had stood before the Mirror, shouting Eric’s name. And he’d seen nothing. Eric was gone.
That night was the closest he had come to confessing the whole truth, no matter what the consequences were. Hank had looked so earnest, and so desperately unhappy, that Presto could hardly stand it. The sickness inside him was nothing compared to the crushing guilt he felt every time he looked in Hank’s eyes.
The Magician had sensed the implacable resolve in Hank. He was not going to abandon one of his friends, under any circumstances. They had lost Diana already, and Eric was not going to be left behind.
As Hank had put his hand on his shoulder, one last time, Presto had hesitated, and the creature inside fought to keep him quiet. It had lasted for only a moment. Then the chance was gone; Hank left him to sleep. He’d said nothing; the creature had won.
The Magician had not dreamt of Venger during their trip at all, and that was the only thing he was glad about. It was doubtful that he could have stood seeing the Arch-Mage again so soon, in his current condition. Besides, the creature inside knew what it had to do without further interference from its Master. But still, every night, he anticipated a dream, and now not having one started to worry him. He didn’t know what Venger was planning, and the not-knowing left him feeling helpless, and impossibly alone. There was a Dark Army, massing somewhere close by. And Hank and the others were being led towards a trap.
He could feel it; perhaps thanks to the influence of the creature, he understood that they were all in very great danger from Venger. Though he didn’t know how, or when, he could make a shrewd guess. He had betrayed them all once before, the Arch-Mage knew exactly what they were doing and where they were going. And when the time was ripe, Venger would make him do it again. When that happened, it was going to tear Hank apart.
Knowing that, and knowing he had no way to stop it, with every passing moment he grew weaker and the creature grew stronger for it.
Now, as in the days before, the closer they came to the Seer’s Fortress, the more acute the pain became. It was harder to breathe. Every time he filled his lungs, it felt as through great steel bands were crushing him. He couldn’t eat; he could barely stomach a small cup of water.
Every day, every hour, every minute they had come closer to her Fortress, and he couldn’t stop them. Sheila was by his side, to help him walk against the buffeting winds. Everything was blurred.
He had failed.
Then, suddenly, and unexpectedly, they were outside the large, black gates of the Fortress, and the pounding pain was gone. The creature didn’t move, and neither did Presto.
Hank knocked. They waited.
After only a few seconds, the door swung open. A tall, dark-haired man was standing there, watching them with a sad, regretful expression on his face. It was the expression that made Presto stare. It was almost as it he knew them…
The creature squirmed and kicked suddenly inside him. I’m going to throw up, oh God. But the man didn’t move forward, merely stepped back to let them enter.
The Fortress was smaller than it looked from the outside, and had a very hollow, unlived in feel to it. They were in a tiny courtyard that had long grasses poking through the paving stones, with mud caked over the edges. The surrounding buildings were mostly boarded up, except the middle one, where there was a tiny light visible through the open door. A thin line of smoke came from the chimney at the top, filling the air with an acrid smell that made him want to cough, and there was a low on the wailing wind, as if someone was crying. To his left was a narrow tower, with a few tiny, thin windows. Presto stared at it for a few seconds, feeling uneasy again. There was something about the tower that the creature didn’t like.
But for all the austerity of the buildings, there was something else about this place that the Magician didn’t like. It made him feel extraordinarily uncomfortable. It wasn’t anything to do with the creature inside him; perhaps it was magic, perhaps it was something else, he didn’t know. But something here was Evil.
The courtyard was empty, but for the man who had opened the gate. From before, Presto knew that the Seer didn’t stand on ceremony, she had few servants or retainers, and liked the simple life. Thinking of that made Presto frown. It seemed odd now, but he couldn’t decide why.
Movement from the open doorway made him start, and he heard Hank’s quiet sigh of relief. The Seer was at the Fortress after all.
Inside him, the creature stirred cautiously, not causing him pain, but it moved warily as if it was afraid of the woman standing before them.
She addressed her servant first.
‘Ranyar, you may leave us.’
He bowed, and turned away, that same, troubled look on his face as before.
‘Greetings, young Adventurers,’ said the Seer. She looked keenly at Hank, and only at Hank. Now they were here, the Ranger suddenly didn’t seem very pleased about it.
‘Dungeonmaster said to visit you once again and…’
The Seer held up her hand.
‘I know what you search for, Ranger, I can see sorrow etched over your faces.’
‘Can you help us?’ His voice wobbled slightly as he spoke. Presto had no idea Hank was so close to breaking down; and it made him feel all the worse.
Presto didn’t like the smile she gave them in reply, and neither did the creature inside him, it didn’t move at all and was like a lump of lead in him stomach. He had to get out of there as quickly as possible.
‘I can give you little information, young Adventurers,’ she said. ‘For weeks, since we last met, my Sight has been failing. It all becomes dark.’
The anguish from Hank and Sheila was almost overwhelming. Bobby had tears in his eyes, not all for Eric, but also for his beloved unicorn.
For a moment, Presto’s attention was draw to the dark tower behind her, the feeling of danger and fear all the more powerful. He had to get out of there!
The smile of the Seer widened, her top lip curling upwards. She looked at him, directly at him, and the creature inside went still and cold. Presto had to suppress a shudder.
‘I know you are in pain,’ she said. ‘I know why you suffer.’
It seemed as though she was talking to him directly. She couldn’t know. She couldn’t see what Venger had done, and what he had had to do for the others? She couldn’t know his secret. Could she?
‘I can make no promises,’ she said at last. ‘Go north, high into the mountains. They you may find that which you seek.’
She started to turn away.
‘We have travelled for days,’ started Hank, even though he hated having to beg for food, they didn’t have much of a choice this time. ‘Is there any chance that you could…’
‘No,’ she said abruptly.
This surprised Hank, and Presto too. Before, they had barely been able to get away from her!
‘I’m sorry, but I have nothing here for you. This Fortress is all but abandoned, and I cannot not stay more than one more night.’
The conversation was over. The Seer walked away, back through the door.
That was it? They had walked for days to speak to her, and it was all over in a few minutes? Her servant, Ranyar, stepped out of the shadows and ushered them towards the gate. Sheila put her arm round her brother, and led him onwards. Hank had his eyes closed, perhaps trying to pull himself together enough to go on. It was almost impossible. They’d used almost all of their food and water. They had little chance of going anywhere but back to the village they came from. It would take another two weeks at least before they could get back here, to start looking further. It was hopeless, and Hank, Sheila and Bobby all knew it too.
As they walked out of the gate, he thought he heard a low, pained cry from somewhere close by, and he almost turned. But the creature squirmed, sending a wave a nausea through him that made him stagger. It was all he could do to get to the Gate without being sick.
None of them looked back.
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