“Diagus!” she bellowed. Her voice echoing around the trees and bouncing about them. It was the ivy curtains that did something with the sound. Her voice still resonated when the little man snatched his hand out and seemed to grasp an echo in his fist.
He tipped his narrow head back and hawked up phlegm from the back of his throat and spat it into his other hand before clapping them together. He rubbed them, whispering something she didn’t understand then opened his hands. A small yellow sphere appeared, made from the spit. The grumpkin threw it out of the clearing.
As it bounced off a tree she heard her own voice shouting Diagus, and with every tree the sphere struck after, the name echoed again and again as it ricocheted further and further away.
It would lead the Shadojak away.
“Stupid girl. This grumpkins cleverer than you are,” said the creature, a wicked grin forming on his overly large mouth, revealing sharp pointy teeth.
He drew a jagged knife from his belt. It was rusty with age but still carried a sharp edge. Elora pulled Danny behind her and drew her own dagger from the smuggler’s pocket.
“See, little girl wants to play with grumpkins,” he laughed, waving his knife around as if it was a playful game, taking light steps as he came closer.
Danny was sniffling now, whispering for his mother, clutching onto her jeans. He must he frightened out of his wits, thought Elora, narrowing her eyes at the advancing grumpkin. It wasn’t fear that pulsed through her heart, it was anger.
Waiting for the grumpkin’s hand to swing to the right she sprang into him, driving her dagger into his chest, mimicking the move Diagus used on the dying pilot. Quick in – out.
The blade disappeared to the hilt before she jumped back, expecting blood to flow freely from the wound. Yet as she gazed upon the small cut that parted the creature’s ribs, none came.
The grumpkin chuckled. “You can’t ends this grumpkins so easily. This skin I borrowed.” He pushed one of his fingers into the hole she cut and wiggled it around, so she could see it was baggy. “Will need a new one now. This grumpkins will take little Danny’s once I’ve eaten him up. Nice and fresh, will fit this grumpkins with no baggies.”
Elora backed away, dagger still held in front, Danny crying by her side. How do you kill a grumpkin when stabbing it in the heart doesn’t work?
“Will you play some more little girl? Come now, play with this grumpkins,” he said. The monster that was half in, half out of the black space was laughing too, a big deep rumble that shook the ground.
Then a figure stepped into the clearing and the laughter died.
“I will play with this grumpkin,” said Otholo, striding before it.
Elora used the opportunity to scoop Danny into her arms, thankful for Otholo’s timely arrival. But as she watched the Bard advance on the grumpkin, she thought something wasn’t right about him. He didn’t move right. Gone was the camp swagger, replaced by a purposeful no- nonsense stride, and even his voice had lost its sing-song quality, now sounding deeper and edgy.
The grumpkin backed away, hands rising and warding him off. “No, not you. Not you!” he pleaded, sounding petrified. “I didn’t know, this grumpkins is sorry. Take her. Take them both, this grumpkins is sorry, he didn’t know.”
Otholo strode into him, bowling him over with his shoulder, then picked him up by the ankles, heaving him upside down.
“No, no, no,” the grumpkin protested, as Otholo swung him around and around, lank hair flying out horizontal with his saggy body. Then his head connected with the oak, making a sickening crunch.
Otholo let the body drop and advanced on the other monster. Snarling menacingly, his eyes dark, appearing a polar opposite of the Otholo Elora had ridden with for the last few days.
At the last moment before Otholo could grab him, the monster pulled back into the darkness and disappeared. Otholo screamed in rage, spit flying from his mouth and in his anger, he threw his arm into the triangle and pulled the boar’s head back out, a fist grasping it by a tusk.
The creature struggled to pull itself back but Otholo dug his heels into the soft earth, - yanked hard and kicked the branch that created the edge of the triangle. The blackness suddenly vanished.
Otholo fell back, the monster’s head in his hands, mouth silently working as dark green blood oozed from its stump of neck. The rest of it vanishing with the blackness.
“Otholo, are you alright?” asked Elora, letting out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.
The bard snapped his head around and seemed to notice them for the first time. He hurled the severed head against a tree, spreading green gore as it spun in the air before thudding to the ground.
Otholo’s menacing grin returned, his eyes alight with violence; hands clenching and flexing.
“Otholo, it’s me. Elora,” she said, but the words fell on deaf ears as the bard stalked towards them, thick veins pulsing in his neck - he meant to kill them. Elora backed into a tree, Danny squealed and buried his head into her neck.
“Stop,” she shouted, bringing her dagger up in front of them. His gaze found hers and there was no recognition in them, only hatred.
Beside her face, a grey blade appeared, pointing at the bard. It lengthened passed her, a long sharp-edged sword, then a hand, aged fingers wrapped around the hilt.
“Take the boy back to his mother and wait for us by the horses,” Diagus whispered into her ear, as he stepped cautiously on; the point of his sword pressing into Otholo’s chest. “Now,” he growled when he realised that she hadn’t moved. With his free hand he lifted a bottle of cognac. “Time for a drink, Otholo.” The bard’s eyes shifted to the Shadojak, then to the bottle, confusion creasing his brow.
Elora pushed through the ivy curtain and ran as fast as she dared whilst carrying Danny. Before long the trees grew less thick and she broke from the woods. Her lungs screaming for her to stop - heart pounding inside her chest but she didn’t slow until she reached the farmhouse.
Danny’s mother was sobbing anew, eyes red-raw from all the tears. She took her boy in her arms, trying to speak but losing the words with the emotion.
“It’s ok, he’s safe now, just don’t let him go back into the woods,” Elora warned. The mother nodded, choking back the tears. “It might be best that you take him inside, he’s seen some nasty things.” She ruffled Danny’s hair. “Take care” she said and left them there, hoping they’d be gone before the Shadojak came back.
Daisy nudged Elora with her nose, snickering as she untied the reins, the first sign of affection her horse had given her. She stroked her slender neck, leaning against her body as Diagus paced out of the woods – alone.
“Where’s Otholo?” she asked, when he came to untie his cob.
The Shadojak glanced back to the woods. “He’ll be out soon. Now mount up.”
She climbed on her horse, aware that Diagus was still staring.
“Do not disobey me again girl,” he growled through clenched teeth. “If you’d have died, Earth would have fallen into Solarius’s lap and there’d be more than one boy dead.”
“He would have died if I didn’t intervene. Don’t you care about that? He was a little boy,” she argued, struggling to keep her temper at bay.
“Is one boy worth risking the entire world for?”
