Story : The road to Hockstow Forest
From Ars Magica
Contents |
A fine spring morning
The company had far to travel, this much was certain. Evidently, the fastest way for them to reach Hockestow forest was to follow the old road toward Sarop, and then cut across land once the landscape between the road and the forest became less rugged.
This fine spring morning, birds are flitting about the upper story of the tavern, whose windows have been flung wide open. Maids can be heard, going about the business of removing sheets from the cots, and generally tidying after the guests. From the back of the stables, the clatter of hooves and the odd irritable cry signal that the stablehand has his hands full with some steed or other. Otherwise, the morning is quiet and peaceful.
The road is quite busy as a number of those travelling to the church are stood around greeting one another, especially those from different villages for whom the Sunday gathering is their weekly opportunity to trade news and gossip. Several groups of old women are huddled together chatting near the track to the manor, and it is evident that almost everyone you can see is either heading to the Church, or waiting for someone who is.
Everyone is dressed in smarter clothes if they have them, with their hair combed, but otherwise the local folk seem relaxed as befitted their day of rest.
The two mages and the polecat rode in a horse-drawn cart; beside them, Sandor rode alone, eyes wary as he looked around for any impending trouble. This morning, Eirlys wore a stark white feathered cloak over a robe of grey silk, and her hair was tied back with a black ribbon (which looked suspiciously like the one sported by Phaedrus the night before). Aloysius looked as though he had eaten quite too much, as his belly hung a bit larger than the previous evening.
Longinus wore his customary too-white robe with the hood pulled well forward and his hands clasped together deep within the sleeves. Llewelyn walked alongside the cart warily, watching each other traveller or party closely as they pass.
The fey girl turned to Longinus. "So do you know exactly where we're going?" she asked. "The other groups all seemed to secure guides for their sojourns."
"Did they? I hadn't noticed" Longinus replied. "Perhaps you forget my House? Though as a gifted member of our house I do not wear the red cap, I have access to much lore that is... unknown to other houses. I did spend some time researching the general area before coming here. If we travel along the Long Mynd to the north, at the end we head north west. The Hockestow forest should be in sight from the end of the Mynd. It is all but certain to contain some magical sites of significance, though what significance exactly I am not yet ready to speculate on."
"Of course I hadn't forgotten, good Mercere," she replied. "But books tend to leave out important bits like 'this section of road is buried in flowers and is untravellable' or 'rabid redcaps will eat your eyes when you pass here, if you don't give them candy.' Maps usually lack the important things."
"I'm sorry Maga," said Longinus gravely, with a short incline of his head. "You asked if I knew where we are going. Of your 'important' things, along the way, I have no knowledge at all. Just enough direction to get us to the right location is all I have to offer."
A little further along the road... "Maga Eirlys. About what I mentioned this morning at breakfast. Would now be an opportune time to start our little exchange of information?"
She nodded. "It is a long road we travel, and words can fill many leagues," she agreed. "There's not much to tell, on my end. My father is known for his many children; though only few of us are his by blood. It is certain that I am one of them, though, as our resemblance is uncanny! I was one of thousands of children he brought to Arcadia as a babe-in-arms. He sees much of himself in me (not just physically), and perhaps I was a bit spoiled as a result. Drystan came to us one Beltane, and begged my father permission to take me as apprentice. After much coaxing and wheedling, he consented. Drystan began my training in Arcadia, and eventually brought me to Crun Clach. I have lived there these past ten years, and have only left but for the sabbats. Most of them I can observe wherever I am, but on Samhain and Yule I must attend my Lady, in Arcadia." She pulled her holly staff close to her, and closed her eyes reverently. A moment later she blinked, and turned to her companion. "But what of you?"
There as silence for a while. "There is perhaps even less to tell for me. I have no family outside of my Pater, Mercantus, whose blood I do not share, and know naught of them. Somehow in my veins runs the blood of Mercere however, or seems to, as my gift is nuanced in a way that has only ever been found in direct descendents. I grew up in my Pater's covenant, always marked as a future apprentice by the adults and a crippled foundling by the few other children. I have travelled outside the covenant before only once, and then in the company of my Pater. However, House Mercere has, and is expected to maintain, closer ties to the mundane - and by that I mean non-magical rather than non-fae, world. So I have been given instruction on what is acceptable behaviour and attitudes. What is likely to cause trouble, how the ungifted think, that sort of thing."
A way up the old road
Travelling up the old road was certainly much faster and easier than hoofing it across the hills and dales. Before long, the little company had made its way up a goodly length of the old road, and soon found they had passed the the track that led off toward Caer Caradoc without encountering their sodales.
After riding a while in silence, Eirlys pulled back on the reins, bringing their horse and cart to a stop. "Since we don't know much about the area, I'd like to scout ahead, now that we're far from the village."
Sandor scowled at the maga. This is the lot I've choosen for my life, thought Sandor, to guard the unguardable, and to be silent in the process. His expression softened imperceptibly, I am your steel, Lady Eirlys.
Longinus started to say something, but appeared to think better of it and also remained silent.
Eirlys climbed clumsily from the cart, stumbling a bit before Sandor's hand whipped out to steady her. She nodded her thanks and smoothed out her clothes. With flamboyant gestures and a loud exclamation in a language probably only Aloysius understood, Eirlys disappeared, as the sound of hooves pounding the ground rang out, and the air became very chill as a light frost settled onto the ground.
Aloysius snickered towards Longinus. "Too bad she can only make herself invisible. There's been many a time I've wished a Perdo Imaginem would shut her up. Usually once she gets to drinking, not like that pithy mundane whiskey last night, but I mean REALLY drinking. The good stuff. Nothing like Arcadian ale to turn her into a wailing banshee." He laughed, then his eyes flicked to the ground, and he jumped back, cowering in Longinus' lap. "HEY! I don't know what you're planning, but don't think I can't see your shadow coming over here! You'd better not try anything, or my friend here will have words with you about... about molesting fae!"
Startled, Longinus nearly fell backwards into the bottom of the cart. As he struggled to maintain his balance his arms waved in the air and his sleeves fell back exposing two stubby growths where his hands should have been. Just barely managing to avoid an even more ungainly collapse backwards he hurriedly regained his compose and silently resumed his usual posture, albeit with his clasped 'hands' sitting slightly higher than usual to accommodate Aloysius and his hood even further forward than usual shadowing his face almost completely.
Eirlys reached out to help steady Longinus. "Aly, you should really watch what you're doing. Your stench nearly caused the good magus to faint, and me with no smelling salts." She made a *tsk*ing sound as she picked him up and placed him back onto her fur cloak, where it was folded up onto the seat. "I'd thought maybe pulling a whisker might teach you to run your mouth," she went on in Welsh. It seemed that she had not noticed Longinus' revelation-- or perhaps that nothing seemed amiss there, in her opinion. "Now, you behave yourself Aly, and try not to drive the poor man out of his mind. Sandor, will you look out for the two of them while I'm gone?" Then in Latin: "I'll let you know if I see anything of interest, sodalis."
Sandor hefted his hammer by the shaft and folded his arms as if to say, "They shall be safe as long as I draw breath." He reached out and put a hand on her diminutive shoulder, a looked of concern in his eyes. After a tight squeeze of her shoulder, he let go and watched her go.
Another loud exclamation in that same strange, foreign tongue followed, and this time the sound of hoofbeats was quite loud-- as though a pair of horses was galloping towards the group at full speed. A bit of snow fell then, settling on the horses, the cart, and their riders. There came a flapping sound, as Eirlys flexed her wings exuberantly, adjusting to the sensation of having wings instead of arms.
Aloysius groaned, and a noxious odour filled the air. "Curses, mum, you know I don't like it when you do that," he complained.
The flapping sound stopped, followed by a scuffling. Eirlys coughed. "Of course I know, Aly. Why do you think I made myself invisible first? I didn't want to scare you," came the reply.
"Whether I can see you or not, I KNOW what you were doing, and I don't like it. It makes me nervous. Those are foul beings, whether our Lady favors them or not," he retorted.
"You know very well I'm not going to eat you when I'm in that shape, nor let anything else eat you." Then, in Welsh: "Please don't be upset with me, Aloysius. I love you better than I love all my brothers combined. No harm is going to befall you so long as I have anything to say about it."
He sniffed the air, then nodded, mollified. "All right Snowdrop. Well go on, change back. You be careful up there, and kill any polecat-eaters you see."
"Thank you, my friend." The strange chanting came again, followed by the hoofbeats and the lightly falling snow. With only the barest sound of rushing wind, the invisible snowy owl launched into the sky, to scan the surrounding area with her keen vision.
Allowing enough time to pass to assume she was no longer nearby, Longinus' voice came quietly from the recesses of his hood to Aloysius, qiuetly enough to be unlikely to be overheard by either of the armsmen still accompanying the cart. "Little friend. I would be greatly obliged if you did not do that again. Such close proximity to another is... discomforting to me, not to mention the surprise." A slight pause, then he continued. "I can see already that you enjoy a familiar and friendly relationship with Maga Eirlys. In fact a more familiar and friendly and loving relationship than I have ever seen or heard of. I would not have believed it if told, as such a thing was beyond my comprehension, but 'tis writ as plain as day. I would be interested to hear of your story some time. For now though, please, I need a moment for myself to think."
The little polecat rose to his hind legs and then bowed deeply. He then resumed his travelling position: folded over in half, with the top half of his body resting lazily on top of his now-protruding belly. He went on to speak in what was little over a whisper. "I beg you accept my most humblest of apologies, illustrious scholar," he offered. "It is but the effect that foul wench has on me. She's frightful, you know. Was wanting to wrench my whiskers, to wield them for whimsical witchery, without doubt. Mercifully, magistrate Mnemosyne's meticulous method may masterfully mete monition to the malicious Merinita, manumiting myself of much malevolent malificence." He curled himself into a ball then, resting his head on his own belly, and appeared to doze off.
Eirlys could see clearly up and down a good stretch of the Vale. The summit of Caer Caradoc rose above her to the right, with the Long Mynd to her left. The road seemed to be emptying of people as the hour of the main Sunday service approaches. There seemed to be a large number of people gathering in the bailey of the manor house, outside the church, and there was almost no human activity elsewhere in the Vale. The Long Mynd turned increasingly low to the north, becoming a series of foothills that soon gave way to a plain. The road continued north; once it passed the Long Mynd, it turned toward the direction of Hockestow forest, but she could see no further.
Eirlys circled back around a few times, and then began a long and lazy descent. She truly loved taking the shape of her Lady's favored animal; she exulted in the sensation of flapping her strong wings and buffeting high on the winds, and was in no hurry to land. Eventually, though, she came to land on the edge of the cart. After dismissing the spell, she gasped as she pitched backwards out of the still-moving cart, landing on her back in the road.
She coughed a few times-- then immediately had the wind knocked out of her as Aloysius bounded onto her stomach. "AIEE!" she wheezed.
Aloysius grinned slyly. "Well, I knew where you were, I just didn't know where EXACTLY you were. I meant to land on your chest, of course. Anyway, did you see anything interesting?"
"Couldn't you wait until I dust myself off?" Eirlys stood, brushing out her clothes with her hands. Her invisible form climbed back into the cart. "I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. I'll take another look once we pass the Mynd."
"Err, Maga?" said Longinus, his hooded head turning and appearing to look almost straight at her. "Does the change of form discomfort you at all?"
She grinned. "It takes a bit of getting used to each time, as I've only just completed the spell recently and haven't had much opportunity to acclimate to the sensation," she explained. "It's just so different. I feel my arms curve about and become thinner and thinner, and there is this very frightening sensation as my fingers elongate and become primary feathers, and then I can't feel them at all, except in the way that you feel your hair on your head. My legs are the strangest, though. They're so large, normally, but they become more and more compact-- the change is so quick, I feel almost like my bones might splinter, but they're always fine in the end. There's a bit of pounding in my head while my skull reshapes. And I have to close my eyes during the change - otherwise, the way my vision warps would make me quite light-headed. The first time I tried it was terrible, but each time I cast the spell it becomes easier on me."
Longinus' form seemed to hunch in on itself under the robe. "Did you spot anything of interest on the Mynd itself?" he inquired.
"Naught of note, no," she replied. "I can't see past the turn in the road past the Mynd, and I suspect all that will be of interest to us will come into view once we've reached there."
"Well then" he said he dryly. "I guess we should continue on our way so that something of interest may appear sooner rather than later. Three days seems to me to be a very short time to explore a wood such as Hockstow is reputed to be, let alone the time we lose travelling."
After a short stretch of peaceful passage Longinus broke the quiet again. "Tell me Maga, where did you acquire this cart? It seems an ungainly way to travel for such an enthusiastically athletic fae maid? Especially one with such obvious... advantages, companion or no."
"We travelled mostly through the realm of faerie," she explained. "The cart was a gift from Magnus, a dwarf of no insignificant skill, whose regio was the last we visited before emerging into the mundane realm. It will return to its original form at the next moon, so it would be unwise to be sitting in it when that happens. As for 'athletic,' surely you jest. It's all I can do to walk without falling all over myself. Shoes make it a bit easier, but I am ever my father's 'ungainly little foal with the two left hooves.' It is good that the beauty of the dance emanates from the fire within, or I should embarrass myself every Sabbat.""
A turn in the Road
Eventually, the road turned toward Hockstow forest, as Eirlys had seen from above. It rounded the end of the Long Mynd, and it looked like they would make good time to the forest, until the road abruptly turned back toward Sarop.
The little cart stopped at the turn. Between the Hockstow forest and the turning lay a range of foothills, as the Long Mynd dwindled into a great plain. It was possible that following the road into Sarop, and then back west to the forest would be the faster route, but it was also a route strewn with soldiers, strangers, and at least two town gates. The less populous route involved journeying as the crow flies, but for such a journey, their cart would prove troublesome at best.
"Amicus Longinus, would you perhaps be willing to ride without the cart? We can proceed the direct route, avoiding the town, if we abandon the cart. I myself can circle above," Eirlys suggested. "It may save us some time."
"No offense intended Maga, but the cart is not truly my favoured method of travel" he replied. "Even a gifted Mercere must be able to travel well. More often than not, by foot is the most convenient method. My Pater always insisted on regular walks. He always said that you could practice walking the same way you could practice spellcasting. It would make you better at it, and indeed there is no reason why one cannot do both together. But I digress. The armsmen and I will cross these small hills on foot while you watch out from above."
The took the cart well off the road, and upon finding a place where it was fairly well hidden from the road, unhitched the mule, and covered the cart with a bit of foliage for good measure.
Does the mule roam free/tethered, or is it led to the forest? It is under the effects of a spell so that magi can handle it, but it can't run and is quite dozy.
The Hockstow Forest
An uneventful, though tiring slog across the hills brought Longinus, Sandor, and Eirlys to the edge of the forest. The treeline stretched as far as the landscape permitted them to see, and beyond it lay gloom as the thick forest canopy let little light down through the boughs below.
'''''I'm assuming at this point that Eirlys is still in bird form.''''' : <i>She is for now. Two things: From above, how large (estimated dimensions, in miles) does the forest appear to be; does there seem to be anything of interest (clearings, standing stones, mounds, etc)? How much animal life can she see moving around, and does this differ any from what Eirlys is used to?</i> On the map, the Hockstow forest (as much as fits on it) is large and well worthy of being called a forest. The trees go on and on. There are odd clearings here and there, but it will take time to investigate them, and scattered over the entire forest are a fair number of clearings. You are unable to see anything that doesn't lie toward the centre of a clearing, due to the forest canopy obstructing your view, unless it is a noticeably different colour from the forest, or moving, though you can fly around beneath the canopy if you like. In short, results will take time, but you have a few days. What will you do?
Within, it seemed like the trees in this part of the wood were little disturbed by axemen, which would be odd, were it not for the size of the forest. Sound seemed muffled by the dense foliage and still air. In places, tangles of briars rose well over head-height as they sought light and clung to the branches of trees.
The forest floor was thick with ferns, ivy, and the occasional fallen bough cluttered with fungi. The magi could not see any convenient paths leading in to the forest; it looked like they would have to make their own way within.
Longinus gazed thoughtfully at the seemingly impenetrable wall for some time. Turning to the armsmen he said in English "We will need to enter the forest. Can you forge us a passable way? We will wait for Maga Eirlys, but if we are going in by hand you can make a start now."
Llewelyn translated into welsh for the benefit of Sandor, who nodded and stowed his hammer on a pair of hooks on his belt. He took off his pack. From the center of his bedroll, he withdrew an old scramseax. Battered and rusty, it had clearly passed through many hands and more than a few generations. Still, the edge was bright and it held fairly well when plied against plants and their kin, which what Sandor began to wield it against. Without complaint, not that he could put voice to it if he had one, Sandor began hacking at the vegetation, watching for any sign of a game trail or other easier path.
Within the space of time it takes for the sun to move its diameter, he'd hacked in nearly six yards when the brush finally cleared away under the dense canopy of the forest trees. He paused for a moment and looked up and about for his mistress, hoping that she might rejoin them soon.
