ISOF (11 page)

Without another word, Pinchkin wrapped her cloak around her and began the journey back to the town. After a few moments of silence, Ben looked towards Noj.

‘That's it?' he asked, pulling a face of disgust. ‘No more riddles, rhymes or words of wisdom?' he asked sarcastically.

‘Leave it be,' said Mak angrily. ‘We have no choice but to follow Pinchkin's brief words of direction.'

‘But Pinchkin seemed to have quite a bit to say to you,' commented Ben with a raised eyebrow.

Before Mak could reply, Noj intervened.

‘Anything that might help us with the journey could be useful,' he said quietly to Mak.

For a few moments Mak stood perfectly still. His eyes betrayed his emotions as they began to moisten with knowledge of what was yet to come. He looked directly at Noj.

‘Whatever I say will have little bearing on our journey other than, at some stage, I have a fruit and a tree to reunite.'

‘Sounds like the least of our worries,' said Ben with a shrug.

Trep, who had cautiously began to get to his feet, let out a long, low groan of pain, clutched his injury and immediately slumped back onto his knees. Ben, who was beginning to feel a little guilty about the fight between Noj and Trep, sucked at his bottom lip.

‘I think we might need a handcart,' he suggested, nodding at Trep.

‘I think a poultice may be of more comfort,' commented Mak with a smirk.

Ben turned his face away, struggling to suppress the laughter that formed in his throat. Noj, eager to avoid further embarrassment for Trep, coughed loudly and then offered a helping hand to his stricken friend.

‘A hand?' he enquired of Trep.

Trep, feeling equal amounts of injury to his body and his pride, pushed Noj's hand away brusquely.

‘I can manage,' he said hoarsely, getting to his feet and swaying like a newly born foal.

A silence enveloped the group for a few moments, with nobody able to think of a suitable comment or word of encouragement. Eventually, Noj shrugged his shoulders and nodded ahead at the track that wound its way into the depths of the forest.

‘Look lively, lads,' he said with a hint of bravado. It was only when Ben finally succumbed to a burst of laughter that Noj realised his mistake. ‘Well, er, sorry,' he mumbled at Trep. ‘I just meant that we'd better get on and such.'

With a barely disguised gasp of pain, Trep began to shuffle slowly forward. He managed three steps before his foot hit an unyielding clump of grass. The hiss of escaping breath caused the other three to pause in their stride. Feeling equally annoyed and embarrassed, Trep looked coldly at his audience.

‘Don't mind me,' he grunted. ‘One day I might be able to walk normally again. Until then…'

‘We could all walk the same way,' grinned Ben in reply. ‘Just a sort of male solidarity thing, you know.'

‘Right then,' interrupted Noj before Trep could respond. He looked after the fast disappearing figure of Pinchkin and then at the forest. ‘We can either shuffle back the we've come or face the forest and whatever lies beyond.'

‘Pah!' exclaimed Mak. ‘Call that a choice? I think I'd rather confront whatever the forest holds.'

Trying to keep to a similar shuffling pace as Trep, the boys began to follow the track that led into the forest and the unknown.

The group followed the track as it meandered monotonously between roughly barked trees and inquisitive branches. The coolness of the stream nearby and the shade provided by the dense, overhanging canopy cast a chilly shroud around the little group. After a while, as the ground began to slowly tilt upwards and the stream turned its back on them, the group began to feel the heat of the day gradually penetrate the leafy shelter.

As the journey stretched out to fill the hours of the day, the small procession began to tire of the same, unrelenting path and the persistent complaints from muscles unused to working so repetitively. Noj, the only one of the group to be experienced at walking for long periods in the forest, was constantly encouraging the other three to keep going.

‘Come on, everyone,' said Noj with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Can't be much further now.'

Nobody made a comment, not even a disgruntled moan, nothing. Ben, breathing hard as the heat and terrain joined together, making the journey seem relentless, cast furtive glances at the dense undergrowth that lurked on either side of the path.

At first, the strange sounds that emanated from the depths of the forest intrigued him. Some sounds he could identify as birds skimming through the branches or small mammals foraging amongst the undergrowth. Other sounds, almost indistinct, too far away for the eye to see disturbed him. There was something altogether different about these sounds. It was as if they themselves didn't make a sound but their passage through the forest agitated leaves and twigs sufficiently enough to cause a tremble of noise. Whatever it was, Ben was convinced that their journey wasn't going unnoticed.

Several times, he made to call out a warning or comment, but each time he swallowed the words, unsure of what he'd heard or hadn't seen. Walking as close to the others as he dare, Ben watched the forest as shadows, half-formed by light filtering through the canopy of leaves, seemed to mimic whatever imagined fear gripped each of his senses. The occasional flurry of wings from a bird, startled in its slumber from the passing of human feet, caused his heart to flutter long after the air had stilled.

Watching his feet closely as the path delved further into the forest, Ben's head bobbed to the steady rhythm of his tread. He thought that by concentrating on where he was putting his feet would prevent him from looking for shadows or anything else that would cause his imagination to run riot. With grim determination, he pushed each foot forward. Several times something tugged at his senses, a half glimpse of something that seemed to taunt him, daring Ben to look. Gradually, with an almost imperceptible slowing of his walking rhythm, the distance between Ben and the rest of the group increased. Unaware of the widening gap, he continued to maintain a balance between watching his feet and not looking at the shadows that played with his mind.

A sudden rustle of brittle leaves startled Ben. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he stopped and looked up at the branches. A cry froze in his throat. Hanging above him was a dark grey, sinuous cloud. Fingers appeared to be forming from the cloud, reaching out for his face. No sooner had he noticed the one cloud than several others began to emerge from the forest. Within moments he was surrounded by a dense cloud formation, with long, vaporous fingers swirling around him. The disjointed fingers looped and twisted, coming within touching distance of his body but not actually making contact. As if given a command by some unseen force, the clouds quickly became one huge cloying mist and surged upwards, hovering directly above his head. Ben stood transfixed, his body unable to react in any way. His eyes moved rapidly, scanning the voluminous cloud that threatened to engulf him.

Without warning a scorching thread of light shot through the cloud creating a swirling mass of mist particles. Ben watched in horror, unable to comprehend what was happening around him. He could feel the cold wind whipping at his face as the mist spun furiously, circling his static form. Suddenly, a second thread of light hit the mist. ‘Run!' shouted a seemingly distant voice as the mist started to dissolve into a myriad droplets of moisture. Ben stood immobile, unable to coerce his muscles into action.

‘For goodness sake, run,' raged the voice.

Ben urged his body into action. His legs felt as if they were made of granite, heavy and unyielding. Gradually his muscles regained a semblance of movement and he stumbled forwards. After a few, faltering steps Ben felt someone grab his arm and his whole body was wrenched forcibly along the path.

Sounds and sights hurtled passed Ben in a blur. Indistinct voices assailed his ears, their tone urgent and demanding. By now, both of Ben's arms appeared to be in the grip of force that he could do nothing about. Just as his legs felt as if they would burn with exhaustion, he felt his body slowing to a walking pace. After another few moments, the grip on his arms disappeared and he collapsed to the ground, his chest heaving as his lungs fought to regain oxygen.

Noj's face materialised in front of Ben.

‘Come on, Ben,' he urged. ‘The threads of light only disorientate the Whispers for a few seconds. Already they've reformed and are busily following our trail.'

‘Whispers?' gasped Ben. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘No time for explanations,' shouted Mak. ‘Look out! They're almost upon us again.'

Ben looked back along the path and saw what he could only describe as a huge storm cloud looming towards him. The dark mass swirled and looped high amongst the uppermost branches. Momentarily, the cloud would separate into dark, almost serpentine filaments as it made its way around the trees, only to reform once more into a threatening mass.

‘Stop gawping,' yelled Trep. ‘Move!'

Once more Ben felt his body propelled forward, his legs forced to go through the motions of running. Leafy branches whipped his face while small roots and brambles grabbed at his feet. Fortunately, each time Ben faltered or tried to protect his face from the forest, he felt himself tugged and jerked along without a pause in his stride. He wanted to look back at the raging cloud, feeling almost mesmerised by its ability to form such intricate patterns in the air yet be so threatening too. He ran on, his feet pounding the uneven ground. Ben could hear the cloud getting closer, the noise like an approaching storm terrorising the senses.

‘Keep running,' shouted Noj, his face contorted with worry. ‘We've got to get clear of the forest.'

Ahead, Ben could see a patch of bright sunlight filtering through the fringes of the forest. He urged his legs on and hoped his lungs wouldn't burst. Glancing over his shoulder, Ben saw the cloud virtually on top of him. He turned again towards the emerging sunlight only for a hazel sapling to whip across his face as he ran. His legs lost their rhythm and he tripped headfirst over a tangle of briars. Grass and untold bits of plant detritus filled his mouth as his face hit the forest floor. Spitting and spluttering, He tried to scream as an intense burning sensation spread along his legs and his whole body began to be pulled back into the depths of the forest.

Ben felt more than saw the bright thread of light hit the cloud above him. Instantly his body lay still as the force dragging him into forest dissipated into fragments of mist. Trying to sit upright, he felt another force take him by the shoulders and dragged him towards the sunlight.

Various divots and tree roots delighted in making an impression on Ben's body as it was dragged along the ground. Every few seconds his head made contact with some ground-hugging obstacle making him wince as the pain reverberated around his skull.

‘Stop,' he croaked loudly. ‘Let me up.'

Mak and Trep let go of their hold on Ben. His head hit the floor hard. Rubbing every part of his skull to stop it hurting, he watched Noj fire another thread of light from his wooden staff.

‘Now get up and run,' urged Noj.

Ben stumbled to his feet and instantly the burning sensation made him wince once more.

‘Forget it,' yelled Noj, as he grabbed Ben's arm and jerked him forwards. ‘That pain is nothing compared to what you will get if you insist on hanging around here any longer.'

Without waiting for any response, Noj surged forward almost dragging Ben along the ground again. ‘Pick your feet up,' he commanded.

Ben allowed his instincts to take over, willing his legs to do what they least wanted. Just as he thought he'd lost of sense of feeling in his limbs, and his chest burned with exertion, the forest relinquished its hold on the sunlight. The branches withdrew sufficiently to allow the group of now breathless runners to sink to their knees and feel the warmth of the sun on their backs.

‘I think,' hiccupped Trep. ‘That we've managed to lose the Whispers, for now anyway.'

Noj inhaled deeply, allowing the warm air to fill his lungs. He shook his head. ‘We haven't lost them,' he said slowly. ‘They are still there, hovering in the shade of the forest.'

The group looked back towards the forest. The clouds lurked at the edge of the tree line, brooding and shifting about as if ready to pounce the moment any of the group strayed within striking distance.

‘So why aren't they still chasing us?' asked Ben, wiping the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead.

‘Usually,' began Noj, ‘they don't like sunlight. They prefer to exist within the shadows, sometimes, like now, you can see them lurking between the light and the dark. Other times you can't see them but you can sense them.' He looked at the brooding clusters hovering at the edge of the forest. ‘I've never known them give up the chase though,' he said, a puzzled expression forming. ‘It's as if they are waiting for something else to happen.' He shook his head. ‘It's odd.'

Taking a deep breath, Trep stood up, looking anxiously at the Whispers waiting menacingly amongst the trees.

‘Hadn't we better put some distance between us and the forest anyway?' he suggested, nervously rubbing his hands together. ‘

Both Noj and Mak nodded their heads in agreement and stood alongside Trep. With a sigh, Ben began to lift his weary legs and then suddenly fell back to the ground with a cry.

‘Ow!'

‘What's up?' chorused three voices, as their eyes quickly scanned the clearing for danger.

‘It's my ankle,' groaned Ben. ‘I must have twisted it when I fell in the forest.'

‘There's always something,' moaned Trep. ‘Haven't we got enough trouble without you tweaking a tootsie!'

‘It's not my
tootsie
, as you put it,' snapped Ben, mimicking Trep's voice. He massaged his swollen ankle. ‘And it's definitely more than a tweak.'

‘Tweak or twist,' replied Noj. ‘We can't stay here and that's a fact.' He knelt down looking at the discolouration that had begun to decorate Ben's ankle. ‘Not a pretty sight,' he grinned. ‘Even with the bruising.'

Ben ignored the jibe and continued gently massaging his ankle. Close by, Mak and Trep appeared agitated, hopping from foot to foot as they stared at the edge of the forest. Noj nudged Ben's shoulder.

‘We do need to get a move on,' he said quietly. He nodded at Ben's ankle. ‘Perhaps a bandage would help?'

‘I haven't got…' began Ben when he remembered Telu's scarf. He rummaged inside of his cloak and brought out the scarf.

‘Just the thing,' smiled Noj. He took the scarf and began to wrap it around Ben's ankle. As he did so, Ben felt an intense heat spread from his ankle to the rest of his body. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment as images of Telu laughing and smiling flitted across his mind.

‘Hey!' called Noj's voice. ‘You haven't time to sleep. Up you get.'

Ben stood up with Noj supporting him. Gingerly, he placed his ankle to the ground. Nothing. No pain or discomfort, just a feeling of his ankle being wrapped in warmth. He smiled at Noj.

‘I think I can manage from here,' he grinned.

By this time, Trep and Mak had edged over to Ben and, with Noj, looked at Ben's ankle wrapped in the pearlescent cloth that gave the appearance of a gap between Ben's ankle and the rest of his leg.

‘That's different for a start,' muttered Mak, his voice flecked with annoyance. ‘I suppose…'

Before he could finish his sentence, a fifth voice sounded in the clearing.

‘Hey up, then lads. Having a spot of bother are we?'