Return of the Darkness Page 3

  Having travelled for just a few minutes, Finley had the feeling he was being followed. After stopping suddenly, he turned around and despaired of seeing the old man just a few dozen paces further back. He waited a few moments while he caught up, “Why are you following me?” He asked.

  “Who me? I’m not following you, I’m just going to Felham the same as you.”

  Finley glared at the man a little dubiously, before turning around and setting off at a much quicker pace, quite sure the old man would never keep up. After another twenty minutes, he paused briefly, glancing back over his shoulder, glad to see the track behind was clear. With a smug grin and feeling pleased with himself, he moved onwards again.

  Satisfied with his progress, the track he walked curved this way and that, dissecting through the trees. The sky above was clear, and the morning sun felt quite warm, much more so than it had of late. The next village would soon be upon him, and due to his good pace, he thought it might be a good idea to restock on a few supplies, just in case he did not make it to Felham by nightfall.

  Marlingham was a strange little place, being as it had three inns and yet was smaller than Whitebridge in size. Here, several roads crossed, north and south, as well as further west towards Carison, the capital city of the human king. A popular stopping off point for travellers, Finley found himself having to queue at the small village stores. Had the old man not eaten most of his food he would not have had to bother, but being as he was unsure as to where he would be stopping tonight, he thought it essential he bought something.

  After waiting patiently in line for much longer than he thought anybody should have to, he paid what he considered an extortionate price for two bread rolls and a sliver of cheese. On the main street, he was forced to stand aside as a dozen uniformed soldiers, all on horseback trotted by, taking the road back towards the capital. Finley was actually quite impressed by their grandeur. Riding along in pairs, the front and rear rider held aloft short lances that had small banners at their tips. These blue and gold, triangular flags fluttered in the breeze as they rode, while the sound of the horse’s hooves moving in unison, seemed almost rhythmic as they passed him by.

  “Quite impressive are they not?” He heard a man’s voice say from behind him. Finley turned quickly to see a tall, middle-aged man, wearing the same uniform as those he had just been watching ride by. He just nodded his agreement, thinking it was probably not wise to loiter here too long. However, the man placed a hand on his shoulder, “Now, you look like a young man who might like to join such an establishment.”

  “I’m just passing through. Just bought me a few supplies. In fact, I should be moving on,” Finley replied trying to wriggle himself free.

  The man stared down at him. “I have just heard about some kid in a nearby village, who had run away after his parents had taken payment for his services.” Finley felt panic taking hold of him. Quite how word had travelled so fast, he did not know. “They are not my parents,” he said, before quickly realising just how stupid that reply had been. “I think you better come with me lad,” the man said, tightening his grip on his shoulder, and also grabbing his arm so he could not escape.

  Despite trying to resist, the man was far too strong despite his best efforts at putting up a struggle. Hence, he could do nothing as he was forcibly marched towards a small building on the outskirts of the village. ”Now then, you can stay here and wait, while the recruiter and his team get here. Shouldn’t be long,” the man said, shoving him forward into what essentially was a prison cell.

  Chapter 4.

  Finley sat in the small, cramped space awaiting the inevitable, repeatedly cursing at his own stupidity. Had he said nothing and merely walked away, the man would have probably had little option but to let him go. Now here he was, about to be forced into military service, and there was no way out. Trapped behind a thick wooden door that had metal bars in place of glass, in a room bereft of any furniture. The only light came through a small grill that was positioned high up on the wall, but even if he could reach it, it would have been far too narrow for him to squeeze through.

  The wait was not even a long one, as his captor soon returned with a big smug grin on his face. “Good news lad. Your ride is nearly here,” the man said, unlocking the door. “Can I have my things back?” Finley asked dryly, “So I can escape.” The man chuckled, “Ah good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humour, you’ll need it after your flogging.”

  “Flogging?” Finley gasped.

  “Well, you have to be punished for running away now don’t you? Don’t worry, it’ll probably be just six lashes. Unless you try to do something else stupid of course, then it could be more.”

  After having his hands clasped together by a pair of iron cuffs, Finley felt defeated, and merely let the man escort him out of the building without further struggle. Even trying to run would be folly as he would have no way of escaping the very tight bonds, which held his arms together in front of him. “They are just picking up some supplies in the village, then they’ll be here for you lad.”

  “Thanks for nothing,” Finley replied, still holding out hope for a miracle.

  He looked up the track, waiting for the waggon and riders to head his way, but only saw a cloaked old man striding his way. Only when the old man was close did Finley realise who it was, “Galdrac?” He uttered.

  “What?” The soldier replied tartly, also looking up the track for the same thing.

  Finley was surprised as Galdrac stopped in front of him, revealing his identity to the soldier. “Move along old man,” the soldier snapped. However, Galdrac merely stood his ground, holding his stave in one hand while scratching himself with the other. “Where are you taking the boy?” The old man asked the soldier.

  “None of your business, now move along before I have you arrested.”

  “Perhaps you should move on Galdrac. You don’t want to get in trouble too,” Finley found himself saying, wishing now he had stayed with the elderly gent. If he had, there was a good chance he would not have been in his current predicament.

  Galdrac smiled, revealing his yellowing teeth. The soldier was clearly getting irritated by his presence and shouted for him to move aside, thrusting a hand out to shove him out of the way. Finley watched in amazement as the old man stood his ground, causing the soldier to go for his sword. “Don’t be silly,” Galdrac said, thrusting his staff forward. With the slightest of touches from the stave, the soldier merely slumped to the ground. Finley looked at the fallen man, then at Galdrac, as the old man just smiled again.

  “Now let’s get you out of those cuffs,” he said, tapping them with the tip of his staff. Finley stood, mouth gaping open, as the iron clasps grew hotter and then very cold, before dropping to the ground, meaning his hands were once more free. “How? What the?” He said stuttering his words, shocked at what he had just seen.

  “Well, don’t just stand there, go get your things. We need to be moving on before this chap wakes up and his friends get here.” Finley merely nodded; who was he to argue.

  Without further delay, he darted back inside the small building and grabbed his pack, his sword and dagger, which he tied back to his belt, before finally gathering his bow and quiver of arrows. As he emerged, he knelt down to where the soldier was still lying in a heap on the ground and removing the coin purse tied at his waist. “I’ll have that back,” he said reattaching it back to his own belt, giving the unconscious soldier a small kick as he stood, something not missed by Galdrac.

  The old man just frowned, clearly not impressed by Finley’s little piece of revenge, but said nothing on the matter. Instead, Galdrac suggested they move on before those the soldier was waiting for decided to show up. They had walked several hundred yards before Finley looked down at his hands, still trying to figure out how the cuffs had changed temperature so quickly and just opened up. They had left a slight mark around his wrists, and he was not sure whether that was due to them being too tight or them burning him slightly when t
he old man had set him free. Noticing his puzzled look, Galdrac just grinned, “You have much to learn,” he chuckled.

  Finley thought he better not run off this time but stay with the old man. There was surely much more to Galdrac than meets the eye, and perhaps remaining close by might be beneficial should he encounter any more problems. Both were going to Felham, and although Finley preferred to travel alone, he was sure that keeping his company on this occasion was probably for the best.

  For a man of his age, Galdrac certainly moved much quicker than Finley had expected, after all, he had caught him up in no time at all, despite him having run far ahead. “Who is it you are looking for Galdrac?” Finley asked, trying to engage in conversation.

  “None of your business? Why is it you’re going to Felham?” The man asked once more throwing a question straight back at him. Finley wasn’t sure whether he should say or not, after all, in all honesty, he wasn’t even sure himself.

  However, being as the man had saved him, he thought he could explain the reasons for him being in his current situation. He started telling Galdrac about his father dying, and the farm being run by his uncle and aunt, and not wanting him there. The old man had the look of disgust on his face as Finley explained that his own relatives had tried to sell him to the military. “And you ran away I assume?”

  “Well yes, eventually. I was forewarned by the blacksmith, a friend of mine.”

  “Terrence?” Galdrac replied, catching Finley by surprise that he knew the man’s name.

  He was going to ask how he knew Terrence but thought he would carry on with his own story for the time being. He explained how the blacksmith had given him the sword he carried along with some supplies, and to head to Felham. Galdrac nodded, “And what are you going to do when you get there?”

  “No idea. I’ve got to go to an inn called The Wolf, and ask for some bloke called Ramon,” he replied, realising he had explained everything to his new companion.

  Finley waited for some kind of response, but all he got were a few mumbles and grumbles, none of which were comprehensible. He was about to ask the old man to tell his story when he heard the pounding of horse’s hooves approaching behind them. He turned to see four soldiers riding at speed, one of whom pointed their direction. “This can’t be good,” Finley said as much to himself as Galdrac. “We should run,” he added.

  Galdrac though appeared unfazed by what approached them, confusing Finley even more. He did consider making a break for it, confident he could take cover amongst the trees, a place the horses could not go. However, something niggled away at him, and rightly or wrongly, he decided to stand beside Galdrac. Although there was every chance the soldiers would ride on by, Finley somehow knew that would not be the case, and that they were there for him.

  Just as he thought would happen, the first of the riders pulled up, stopping a few paces away from them and drawing his sword. “You are both to be placed under arrest and escorted to Carison for trial. If you resist, you will not be taken back alive,” the first man shouted over to them. Galdrac appeared quite calm about it all, “No you will leave us be, and allow us to continue on our journey,” the old man said. He spoke in a tone that was both clear and with authority, as if he somehow held rank over the soldiers who were now shuffling their horses, effectively surrounding them.

  The soldier who had requested their arrest merely scoffed at the mark, before ordering Finley to remove his weapons and place them slowly on the ground at his feet. He started to do just that when Galdrac placed a hand on his arm to stop him, “No need lad, we’ll be on our way shortly.” Finley, feeling more confused by the minute just shrugged, keeping all his weapons just where they were, after all, Galdracs suggestion sounded far better than that of the soldier.

  Galdrac stepped forward, his staff still in hand, “I assume you are in charge?” He asked the soldier who had been doing all the talking. The man nodded to the affirmative, probably as unsure as to what was happening as much as Finley was. The old man, placed his free hand inside his shabby looking cloak, before pulling out a small medallion. “You know what this is?” He asked, holding it up to the soldier.

  Finley watched on carefully as the soldier in question drained of confidence, although appearing to be unsure as what he should do. After all, the man had probably been given strict orders to return with two prisoners, dead or alive. “Now put your little swords away, turn about, and leave my friend and me, to continue with our journey.” Although Finley had no idea what was going on, nor did he have a clue as to what power Galdrac held over the soldiers, but whatever it was, he was glad he had for once made the right decision in not running.

  None of the soldiers seemed sure as to their next course of action, so Galdrac made their minds up for them. Finley watched on, with some amazement, as the old man tapped his staff on the ground. A small ball of light appeared just above it. Pulsating, it glowed a strange blue colour for several seconds, as the old man looked for a response from the soldiers. Realising none had done as he requested, he tapped his staff on the ground once more, making the globe of light expand out slightly before exploding, making a thunderous bang that echoed around them.

  The sound had the effect of making Finley’s ears ring, making him cover them quickly with his hands, although it was far too late for that. More importantly, the horses started panicking, as they all tried to unseat their riders. While Finley thought they should probably take advantage of the scenario, Galdrac seemed intent on remaining to finish this off. Only when the soldiers eventually regained control of their horses, did he approach the soldier in charge, “Now you have been warned. Go!” Galdrac snapped waving his staff slightly. Finley wondered what it was going to do next, and felt almost disappointed when nothing happened this time. The soldier looked sternly straight at Finley as if to say it was entirely his fault and they would find him again, before ordering his men to turn about and ride back the way they came.

  “Come on,” Galdrac said calmly suggesting they continue their own journey. “Whoa! Is that stick magic then?” Finley found himself asking.

  “No!”

  “It looked magic to me. Can I have a go?”

  “No!”

  Before he could ask the third question, Galdrac cast him a look that persuaded him otherwise. “Okay, I’ll keep quiet,” he said, holding his hands out defensively.

  Despite having a multitude of questions to ask, Finley kept to his word, remaining silent as they walked. He had always thought magic was something of a myth. As a child, his father had always read him stories of people who could do the most amazing things, all by using magic. In those stories, there were men and women, not just human, but sometimes elves or dwarfs who would battle some evil being or some kind of monstrous beast. Sometimes these magical people used fire, others the power of the sun and moon, others could move things without touching them, some could even control certain animals to do their bidding.

  With his mind running away with all kinds of wondrous things, something suddenly dawned on him. If indeed magic was real, as Galdrac had already demonstrated, did that mean there was also dark beings and monstrous creatures as well? A very sobering thought indeed, and one that Finley hoped was not the case. He wondered whether perhaps those stories he had been told as a child had more truth to them than he had thought. Having not travelled far from Whitebridge, the world was already surprising him. While he had tried to stay out of trouble, as per usual, it seemed trouble seemed intent on finding him. Perhaps if he remained close to Galdrac for the time being at least, he might encounter less.

  Chapter 5.

  By Mid-afternoon, their destination town of Felham came into view. Finley had never been this far from the small village of Whitebridge before and was somewhat surprised at just how big the place actually was. The roads leading up to it were much wider and consequently carried far more traffic than he was used to. The most impressive things, however, were the massive grey stone walls that surrounded the town, and even more so, the
four large towers from somewhere within, that stood higher than any building he had ever seen.

  He noticed guards at the large wooden gates and hesitated slightly about proceeding any further. Galdrac though held no such inhibitions, and duly lined up with the others waiting to enter. The line had to shuffle over slightly as a host of soldiers, all on horseback, escorting a black, closed carriage, hastily exited the town.

  The guards on duty paid them little heed, as one of them just waved them by, permitting them entry. If Finley had been impressed by the outside of the town, the inside left him even more so. With so many people bustling about the cobbled stone streets, he felt rather intimidated about going further. “Come on! I assume you’re not used to all this,” Galdrac said, having to speak loudly to make himself heard over the noise. Finley just shook his head, glad that the old man was with him.

  “I need to find the inn called The wolf,” he said before gingerly following the old man up the main thoroughfare. He looked left and right, almost bumping into an elderly lady as he did. After the woman had glared his way, he thought it best to keep his eyes on where he was going, rather than gawp at the tall narrow houses that lined the street. The noise was not the only difference, the town smelled differently as well, whether that was a good thing or a bad one, he was as yet, undecided, as a mixture of odours passed through his nostrils.