The Moonchild Page 4

  Peter was finding his hands were becoming sore from the rough treatment they were experiencing and he knew he couldn't continue for much longer without rest. Just as he was about to tell them he needed to stop, they broke through the tree canopy. A view across the top of the forest opened out before them. The smiling moon was still there amongst a multitude of stars, in constellations that Peter didn't recognise.

  "Not much further" whispered Ravenscort, "but we must still hurry. We are more vulnerable now we are in the open."

  As they gazed across the forest top towards mountains in the distance, a dark silhouette rose from the forest depths. It was distant, but Peter clearly recognised the shape of the Arnn with its rider straddled across its back. It rose on its great leathery wings and seemed to hang on the horns of the moon before turning and flying in a direct course towards them. Peter stifled a cry, but Ravenscort had already noticed and urged them on at an increased pace. Almost running up the slope on hands and knees, they climbed and the distance between the three grew as Peter struggled to keep up.

  Ravenscort was higher up the slope. He turned, looked out into the distance and then vanished. A moment later Nightjar reached the same point and disappeared. 'Where had they gone?' Peter was kworried that he was lost. He turned back to see the dark shape, still a long way off but approaching at a great speed. This gave him renewed energy and he raced up the slope to the last place he had seen his companions. As he reached it, he could not see what had happened to them. He began to panic when suddenly a hand grabbed him and pulled him not too gently into a narrow crevice between two large rounded boulders.

  "Shh! We'll speak in a moment. Just watch the Arnn and rider."

  "Are they after us? Do they know where we are?"

  "Watch!" whispered Ravenscort.

  The dark winged silhouette continued to fly directly towards them at a tremendous speed, but without warning, it changed course, circled and then dropped into the forest depth.

  "That spot is where the Fell attacked Nightjar's captors." said Ravenscort.

  A cry arose from the forest. A cry of anger and evil intent. The Arnn and rider appeared above the trees once more and this time it began to spiral from the camp in ever increasing circles.

  "It does not know where we are." said Nightjar.

  "No, it is trying to find the trail. If fortune is on our side it may not discover our trace for a while. Either way, we must move on. If we stay here it will eventually find us."

  "Where are we going?" asked Nightjar.

  " I suppose that you have a right to know. We head for The Gill. We will find sanctuary there and also we may get direction and advice. If we reach it, we will be safe from the Arnn rider, at least whilst we remain within its borders."

  "The Gill," said Nightjar, "I have heard of it, but I have heard nothing good about it."

  "Yes, well you have heard right. It is a dangerous place, but dangerous times call for dangerous measures. If we can get there, it will give us time to decide our next moves. Even the Arnn and rider will not enter his domain, so we will be safe from them for a while."

  Peter could only listen. The Gill did not sound too enticing, particularly considering the reaction from Nightjar when the name was mentioned. As he wasn't being consulted and he had no idea where to go or what to do, he could only rely on the others to make the best decision.

  The narrow cleft they were in led through into a giant boulder field that seemed an endless labyrinth. Narrow pathways led in all directions and Peter knew he had to keep up with the others, as he would become lost in a moment without their direction. Ravenscort led the way, followed by Nightjar, and Peter made up the rear. Ravenscort seemed to somehow know the course, even in the gloom. He did not hesitate which way to take and this gave Peter a sense of confidence. He was growing in admiration of the trekker's skills. The boulder field had a clean sandy base and the rounded rocks were the height of four to six men. They had an slightly polished surface that gleamed white, marble like, as if washed clean by years of rainwater. The rounded shapes provided a relatively clear course to follow, with the boulders almost meeting above their heads and then opening out again to the night sky. This morphology would make them very difficult to find from the air and almost impossible to track from the ground. All the trails seemed the same to Peter and he totally lost his sense of direction. An unknowing traveller would become hopelessly lost in minutes and would be fated to wander the boulder field until dying of thirst.

  The trek began to seem endless and Peter began to tire of the same view. There was little variation and weariness crept up on him. He began to doze as he trotted behind the others and he became unaware of sounds. His legs caught in the sword fastened to his waist and he tripped, staggered and fell.

  The fall jolted him awake and it took a moment or two to get his bearings back. Sitting on the soft sand, he cradled his legs in his arms. He was tired, frightened and wanted to be home. Awareness suddenly hit him. He didn't have a home any longer. With his grandmother gone, there was no place that was home. He was to be taken to a family in Birmingham, and that certainly wasn't home. At fifteen, he was alone in a strange land, full of dangers and death. He had already seen more death and horror than a young man should see. He just felt like crying. As he sat feeling forlorn, he realised that it had become dark and that he was on his own. Misery was suddenly replaced with fear.

  Where were the others? Would they return to find him? Should he just wait for them to return? Should he try and find them?

  For the second time, he knew he was lost. This time though, it didn't seem that they would suddenly pop out to pull him to safety. What a mess he was in.

  He listened to see if he could hear them. Not a sound. The night was becoming as black as only fear can create. Even the white boulders were fading from sight and it was only by touch that he knew they were there. As he sat on the sand, his mind began to play tricks on him. He thought he heard a whisper. He tried to gather his thoughts and fight back the panic that threatened to take him over. Once again he heard a whisper. It was a voice. He couldn't discern what was being said, but he became more convinced that someone or something was there.

  "Hello! Is there anybody there?"

  Immediately there was a whispering in response, but this time it wasn't a single voice, but many voices. He struggled to make sense of what was being said, but it seemed too distant and indistinct. Then, as if his ears were suddenly attuned, he found he could distinguish meaning.

  "Look! Look! Look! It is the light bearer."

  "What is it doing here? Why would it sit here? Danger and madness await any who remain here! Everyone knows that."

  "He doesn't know. He knows nothing."

  "He will learn. He will learn if he has time."

  "Does he have time? Do any of us have time?"

  "Let's take him. Let's show him."

  "He is not alone. What of the others?"

  "They search. He is ours for a time."

  ****

  Nightjar wasn't sure what alerted her to Peter's disappearance. At one moment he was trotting on behind her and then the next his footsteps stopped and he was gone, or at least that was how it seemed to her. If she were honest with herself, she had been concentrating on keeping up with Ravenscort and her mind had begun to drift. She had shaken herself alert and it was then, after a few moments, that she became aware that she couldn't hear him following behind. She turned to look and he was gone.

  "Ravenscort!" she hissed, "Peter's gone!"

  Ravenscort came to an abrupt halt and he turned as she almost ran into him.

  "Gone? What do you mean gone?"

  "He's not behind anymore. That's what I mean by gone."

  There was an edge of annoyance in her voice and also one of fear. The two stood and listened, but the boulder field was silent. Even if Peter was a reasonable distance behind, they should still be able to hear him, but only silence answered.

  "How can we have lost him? He only had to fol
low us!"

  "Maybe we have expected too much from him." replied Nightjar. "He is a stranger here and he has no idea what is happening. I haven't had any time to explain anything about Demeter and what the dangers are. Since he arrived he has been pursued by an Arnn Rider, has rescued me and been forced to flee."

  "You are right. I should have spoken with him, but it's too late now. Where could he be? The boulder field is not somewhere to get lost. He'll never find his way out alone and I am not sure how we will find him. We must retrace our steps and hope that we stumble on him before something else does."

  "We have to find him! He is too important." said Nightjar.

  "We can only hope. He has shown himself to be more resilient than I ever imagined. Come!" Ravenscort said, as he set off back along the trail. His pace was now much slower and he, and Nightjar, seemed to have no difficulty in seeing in the dark as they retraced their steps. Nightjar's pale eyes appeared to glow with an inner light, but Ravenscort just seemed to sense what was there in the darkness, as if by instinct. They could discern their two sets of footprints leading back the way they had come and they hoped to find the place where Peter had left the trail. Nightjar thought that it couldn't be too far back and so carefully they retraced their steps. After several minutes, they came to the place where Peter had fallen. The sand was disturbed, there was the imprint of him sitting and then there was a set of footprints leading away from the pathway they had returned along.

  "Well at least we know where he has gone," said Nightjar.

  "We must quickly catch up with him. The boulder field is not as empty as it appears. We must find him before he gets himself into more mischief," Ravenscort said, as he followed the single set of tracks.

  They could tell from the footprints that Peter was tiring. His gait was more of a stagger than a walk, but somehow the boy had continued his trek and the pair followed his steps for over an hour before they caught a glimpse of a pale glow in the distance.

  Slowing, they approached the light with caution. As they stared around the boulder to take a glimpse of what was happening, they both caught their breath. Peter was seated on the sand in a small clearing between the boulders. Circling him was a group of trailing lights, that twinkled and danced. The pair watched, transfixed by the sight in front of them. Spellbound, all they could do was stare. Peter's arms stretched and waved and the dancing lights seemed in harmony. Music filled their minds, that neither Ravenscort, nor Nightjar, was sure was real. Peter's eyes were wide with delight and his mouth moved, but no sound was made. He sat cross-legged in the clearing. The sky above was lit by stars and the moon hung. He had an ethereal, god-like look as the horned moon, stars and lights played around him. Ravenscort and Nightjar just held their breath and looked on in wonder.

  Not knowing how long they stood gazing, the pair watched as finally the dancing lights began to slow and formed a line that spiralled down around Peter. In a whispering giggle, the lights shot off down one of the trails between the boulders, leaving a shimmering echo in the night. Peter seemed to come awake and he smiled at Ravenscort and Nightjar.

  "There you are! I lost you, but I found something magical.' he said. "Oh, if you could have heard what the stars and the dancers had to tell me. The funny thing is, I am not sure I can remember all that they had to say. It is like a dream. I can almost remember and I know it is important. It just seems out of reach."

  "I'm so glad we found you, Moonchild. I thought we had lost you for good." said Nightjar.

  "We must be off!" said Ravenscort, "The Arnn Rider is still after us and it will be dawn soon. Come, let's go!"

  Nightjar helped Peter to his feet, straightened his cloak, sword, quiver and bow, and then turned to follow Ravenscort, as once again they set off through the boulder field.

  The path was easier to follow as they retraced their steps, took the turn that Peter had missed the first time, and continued on their way. Peter seemed to have renewed stamina and he had no trouble keeping up with his companions. The time seemed to pass quickly and without warning they left the boulder field and started descending a rocky slope towards a vast expanse of fen land.

  Chapter 6 - The Gill

  Reeds covered the landscape as far as the eye could see. Reeds as high as the tallest man and then some. Green and rattling in the breeze that had begun to stir, the area had a strong odour of decomposing plant material and walking into the sedge gave Peter a feeling of intruding into someone's realm. He wasn't sure how he felt it, but there was another presence and it wasn't sure it wanted company. The tall grasses enveloped them like the ocean and they disappeared from sight into this green sea.

  Progress was difficult as the reed-beds were dense and firm. They gave way with great reluctance and both Peter and Nightjar could not see how Ravenscort was following any trail. There was no sign that anyone had passed that way before and they had to use their physical strength to force their way into the fens. Progress, though slow, continued on for the next couple of hours and then there was a subtle change. The ground became firmer and the reeds less dense and then gave way. The three climbed up onto a green turf island amidst the constantly shifting ocean of sedge grasses. The hillock was only slightly higher than the surrounding wetlands, but provided a view across the tops of the fen land. They could see the breeze stir the reeds and ripples flowed through them like waves on the ocean. There was a gentle rattling sound and the fens extended to the horizon in all directions.

  The verdant island was covered in coarse grass that was knee high and it rose egg-like. At the highest point was a low dwelling. The top of the hut was barely above the surface of the grass heads and the roof was turfed. From a distance it would be almost invisible, it was so well camouflaged. As the group approached it was clear that the cottage was built partially into the ground and there was a set of stone steps that led down to a strong wooden door. There was no evidence that it was occupied and the grass was untrodden. Ravenscort advanced, went down the steps and confidently pushed the door open. He didn't knock, and he seemed to know that the building was empty. Lowering his head, he entered and the others followed.

  Peter and Nightjar found themselves in a dry, low ceilinged room with the basic furniture and equipment to provide for a small party. There were two bunk beds in opposite corners, a small hearth, a source of water through a drain that could be controlled with a small sluice, and well supplied provisions were stored on rough shelving. Coarse blankets were plenty and kept in a wooden chest and there was a pile of dry peat blocks near a small fireplace. Clearly, this place was a sanctuary for travellers who knew of its existence, but well hidden from all others.

  Ravenscort, turned to them and said,

  "We will be safe here for a while. Nightjar, you light the hearth and I will prepare a meal. Peter can you sort out the beds. We need to spend some time recovering and there is much to talk about before we can decide what we do next."

  Without any chatter, they busied themselves with their tasks and within an hour they were seated around the hearth, eating a broth of cooked, dry vegetables and dried meat that Peter didn't recognise. It was not the most appetising meal that Peter had ever eaten, but they all wolfed it down and refilled their bowls. Ravenscort had also managed to find a barrel of ale that was stored and after a couple of drinks with the meal they began to relax.

  "Where are we?" asked Peter, "How did you know how to find it?"

  "Ah well! This is Mukel Fen Hide. There are hides all over this area if you know where to look. The Trekkers set these up and Trekkers maintain them, so that there is always a nearby sanctuary, hidden away from prying eyes. They are regularly checked and re-provisioned, but if you are not a Trekker you will never find them."

  "So you must be a Trekker, then!" said Peter.

  "Well, not quite. I have an understanding with the Trekkers. Trekkers have a long history. They were here long before Fell Craven ever came to the land. They have been guardians of the land, but in recent years they have been a thorn in th
e side of Fell Craven. Whenever they can, they sabotage his control, help any residents, and assist in any counter strikes against him and his forces. He has not taken too kindly to their actions and he has taken swift and savage revenge whenever any fall into his hands."

  "I thought they had been wiped out!" said Nightjar.

  "No, but they have had to go underground more than they would like and the hides have been their only real weapon against him. If Craven can't find them, then he can't destroy them. The Trekkers work in small bands and they are independent of each other. When they fall into Craven's hands, they can't tell what they don't know, no matter what the pressure."

  "Pressure?" asked Peter

  Nightjar replied for Ravenscort, "Torture! No one who falls into the hands of Fell Craven ever returns, or at least not in the same way as they were."

  "Some have returned, but they are non-men," said Ravenscort, "less human than they were, more evil than you can imagine. The group that were slaughtered, where you got your sword, were Trekkers. I knew them well, and had been with them only a few days ago. The sword you have belonged to my brother, Broderick!"

  "Your brother? Then he's..."

  "Yes. He is dead! His passing will be a sad loss for the Trekkers. His group had been successful in thwarting Craven on many occasions. I will also grieve for him, when there is time, but first I will have my revenge!"

  Ravenscort's face turned black. Peter and Nightjar did not for a moment doubt that his revenge would be severe and total. The group went silent as deep thoughts filled their minds and words were not shared. Each was lost in their personal reverie. Peter had so many questions unanswered. Where was he? How had he got there? What was happening in this strange land? What was the Moonstone? Who were Nightjar and Ravenscort? What were they going to do? It seemed somehow that Nightjar believed he was the one to free the land from Fell Craven, but how was he supposed to do that? Ravenscort was powerful and clever, if anyone could destroy Craven, then surely it would be him. Peter was just a teenager, not a hero; neither strong nor clever. As he was thinking to himself, he became aware that the others were looking at him.