The Darkfern Lexicon Book 2 - Sanctorium Page 6

  Chapter 5

  Sanctorium

  The Great Lion was surprisingly nimble for such a large and ancient creature. He strafed and wove through the muddle of trees, dodging and turning with the agility of a kitten. His stride was long, several times greater than the howler’s tread. Coupled with his tremendous speed, this made the lion near uncatchable.

  Harmony watched the seven monsters giving chase. Despite the lion’s head-start the howlers were constantly gaining ground. Smaller than the lion, the wolves used the terrain to their advantage. They slipped through narrow gaps as they drew ever closer. Before long she could hear them panting and growling to one another; perhaps communicating a plan of attack?

  The wolves increased their speed and as a unit encircled their prey. Leoracle roared as they ran next to him and began their assault. The pack snapped and tore at his flanks. One wolf bit his heels, whilst another leapt upwards in an attempt to reach his long, broad back.

  Leoracle charged toward a narrow passage through the trees. He deliberately grazed his side against the trunks as he passed. The climbing howler yelped as he was crushed in the collision. His mangled remains tumbled to the ground and the pack ran on, unfazed by his sudden demise.

  No sooner had Harmony breathed a sigh of relief than the next howler made his move. The red-eyed mound of rancid nightmare sprinted up a steep bank of dirt. He reached the crest and, without slowing, leapt into the air. Time appeared to slow as she watched the pitch-black monster land on Leoracle’s hindquarters.

  Thorn-claws anchored into the wooden flesh as the wolf slunk toward her. The wolf growled fiercely; lips retracting to bare a spoiled grin. Tainted-saliva, with an odour and hue of puss, descended from his exposed fangs in think, viscous globs.

  Harmony glanced around for a weapon. However, unless she snapped a branch from Leoracle’s body, there was nothing to hand. The howler crept closer…

  Leoracle ran on. He was unable to shake the beast from his back without dislodging the girl along with it. To make matters worse the remaining wolves around him continued their violence. Large patches of his bark were missing and sap gushed from his wounds. His legs were injured too and many of his ribs were exposed and splintered.

  Seizing the opportunity he grabbed a stray wolf in his mouth. His sword-like teeth shredded the snarling whelp in a single, powerful bite. Now only four remained at his feet, but it was the one on his back which raised concern.

  The wolf was almost upon her now, only a few feet away. The stench was unbearable. The acrid pong of decaying meat stung her eyes and forced her to hold her breath.

  Save for leaping down to face the others, there was no escape. The wolf leapt forward, splaying its jaws to brandish a thousand splintered-teeth. Harmony cowered and closed her eyes. This really was the end, her time was up.

  Suddenly the forest was punctured by a whistling sound. She opened her eyes as an arrow, tipped with purple feathers, flew alarmingly-close to her head. The bolt passed by and pierced the beast through the side of its head with deadly force. The lion ran on leaving the wolf pinned to one of the silver trees.

  Harmony turned to look in the direction the arrow had come from. Through the vertical ribbons of silver she saw huge flashes of purple fabric. In the near distance she saw a settlement built high-up on the fungal shelves.

  Multiple arrows whistled through the air, forcing the four surviving howlers to retreat. They barked and snarled their displeasure. Leoracle responded with a booming roar. His call was empowered enough to shake the ground and send the birds, perched safely in the tree tops, into a squawking frenzy.

  The lion slowed to a walk again, his laboured breathing exemplified just how much the chase had taken out of him.

  “Are you ok?” she asked.

  “I am fine, little wit... Harmony,” he corrected himself. “Just not as young as I used to be.”

  “Are they after me or you?” she asked, peering behind them to see if the wolves were still following.

  “Both I fear,” he responded. “But we will be safe here, for now at least.”

  “What is this place?” she asked. She turned toward the approaching town and her excitement became as lofty as the buildings.

  “This is, Sanctorium, home of The Rag Witch, Belladonna.” He stopped for a moment. “Do you have the cloak?”

  “Well, yes but...”

  “Put it on. You must keep the hood up,” he ordered.

  “But…”

  “Do as I say. Not all those we meet here will be friendly. And less than half of those who are can be trusted.”

  Harmony fastened the cloak around her neck and lifted the hood over her head. It was far too hot to wear such a heavy garment but she was not really in a position to argue with him. He had, after all, just saved her life.

  Unsurprisingly their approach had caused quite a stir. The edges of the balconies and rope-bridge walkways, linking the tented platforms, were packed with peering faces. A raucous din arose from their mass. Harmony clearly heard the words lion and howlers mentioned many times. Surprisingly no one seemed to notice her. Not one pair of eyes looked her way. Not one whisper spoke of the girl atop the lion’s head.

  Leoracle walked forward into the central clearing. High up on the walkways cheering ushered in a jovial atmosphere. The gaiety spread quickly as more denizens joined in to watch the spectacle. They waved their arms and chanted in a language Harmony had never heard before.

  “What are they saying?” Harmony asked. She closed her eyes and listened to the song.

  “They are singing an ancient prayer in the old tongue. The words beckon home those feared lost,” Leoracle whispered. “Do not remove your hood,” he warned again.

  Harmony did not understand why she had to remain hidden from the gathered crowd. Neither did she understand how, in keeping her hood up, she would be undetected. But she obeyed his command and remained inside the sweltering heat beneath the cape.

  Leoracle came to a stop in front of a massive fungal plateau. The shelf housed the largest tent in the town. Easily the height of a cathedral, the structure was peaked with majestic gold-capped spires. Golden runes emblazoned the purple fabric which hung in heavy swags and cascaded over the edge of the fungal lip.

  An army of archers emerged from quickly hoisted flaps in the tall, slender spires. Their silver-headed arrows, glinting in the sunlight, instantly trained on the lion. Harmony had seen the devastation one of those arrows could cause; there was a wolf pinned to a tree that could also vouch for their effectiveness. So the sight of a hundred pointed at her and the lion set an alarm bell ringing in her mind.

  A loud trumpet sounded. The cheering and chanting subsided as the crowd hushed. The silence gave way to a discernible-degree of tension. The change made Harmony feel very uneasy. Perhaps the lion had been correct when he forewarned not all would be friendly.

  “State your business, beast of burden,” an unseen-man's voice called out from the large tent.

  “I demand an audience with, The Rag Witch,” Leoracle responded.

  There was a brief pause before a second trumpet-call rang out. The entire facade of the tent began to retract. Two enormous curtains, which formed the exterior, parted enough to reveal a platform housing a throne. The regal-seat was formed from a gargantuan cluster of amethyst.

  The dark-purple crystals shone in the sunshine. To Harmony they seemed to pulse. A corona of rainbow encircled the gemstone throne and the old woman sitting cross-legged upon it.

  The female, though old and wrinkled, did not look frail. She was strong and alert. Her electric-blue eyes stared at the lion with a gaze so intense Harmony was convinced she could have stopped water from flowing downstream.

  “Too long has it been since a creature such as this walked our forest,” the woman called out to the crowd. Her voice sounded timeworn and wise. “Yet with him he brings the dogs of war. The tidings are soiled. Such a pity.
What has happened to the once-proud lion? Has time robbed him of his courage? Has the old cat become afraid of dogs?”

  “I fear nothing,” he snarled. “I have returned because fate has deemed it so. In my time of need I came to you, Belladonna. I seek my old ally.”

  “Have you taken leave of your senses? Has it been so long you have forgotten that you abandoned us in our time of need?”

  “I have not lost my memory, witch,” Leoracle bellowed. “Nor do I have to explain my actions to you. Perhaps it is you who has forgotten? Shall I remind you of your place? Has the comfort of that throne tricked your mind to believe it belongs to you?”

  The woman shifted uncomfortably. Clearly she was a shaken by his aggressive response. Harmony watched as more archers appeared all around the town; in every direction and on every platform and walkway the silver arrows glinted.

  “Try being nice,” she whispered into his ear.

  “There is no time for nice,” he mumbled back.

  “Just say, please,” she encouraged. She looked up at the quivering arrowheads; evermore plentiful with each glance.

  Leoracle murmured his displeasure under his breath at this suggestion. Nevertheless he relented, raised his head and then spoke through gritted teeth. “Please, Belladonna. I have an urgent matter to discuss. Privacy is paramount to success.”

  “Well, well, well, manners from The Tree Lion. This must be important!” she said, with a wry smiling. “Very well, remnant from a dead age, you may have your audience. But if your tongue does not remain civil I shall cut it out.”

  The curtains relaxed once more and the witch on the crystal throne was hidden from view. Sounds of excited chatter started up again as life in Sanctorium returned to normal.

  “That was intense, wasn't it?” Harmony laughed. Relieved, she watched the archers retreat.

  “You should not have made me beg,” he growled at her. “I am the escort and protector to the rightful ruler of Darkfern. Respect is mine to command.”

  “I wonder…” she began, doing her best to impersonate his low, grumbling voice. “Do you treat others as you yourself wish to be treated?”

  “You dare to mock me, little witch!” he replied in disbelief. Then he laughed and shook his mane. Harmony screamed and clung onto the throne as her threatened to topple her.

  Leoracle continued to laugh softly as he lowered his head to the ground and instructed Harmony to dismount. At first she thought he was going to swallow her again. Nevertheless rather than devour her for a second time he began to purr loudly and shake his mane.

  The almighty sound of rustling leaves drowned out the din from above. Most of the inhabitants had returned to their daily routines; most likely deciding the show was over.

  Harmony watched from under her cloak as the lion began to shrink. The massive tree trunks, forming his legs and chest, slid against each other. Trunk and bark became tighter and smaller until, with a final stretch of his back, a lion of average size stood before her. He licked his lips and smiled.

  “That was incredible,” she gasped, scrutinising his miniaturised form.

  “Thank you, but that was simple magic. Nothing compared to what you are capable of,” he uttered. He narrowed his large, amber eyes as she responded with a doubtful shake of her head. “You still doubt who you are?”

  “No. I know who I am.” She matched his gaze. “I'm just not who you think I am.”

  “You are, Harmony Ryder,” he stated. “You are the first Ryder to set foot in this world in countless years. You have flame-red hair, a sign of your lineage. You arrived in this world chased by a howler, a fulfilment of The Prophecy. Furthermore, the howler sought items once owned by your ancestors. The cloak you wear is once such article. There is little doubt of who you are.”

  “It could just be a coincidence,” she suggested, ever hopeful.

  “Not happenstance, little witch. It was fate which brought you to us.”

  “Well destiny or fate, they’re both the same thing. I don’t care what anyone says, I choose my own path. Life isn’t written in stone, Leoracle. Our journey is fluid. It’s why we call it a life-stream.”

  Ahead of them a set of doors, carved into the tree’s base, began to open. Harmony moved toward them. She could see a dark interior visible through the rapidly widening gap. Leoracle walked by her side without saying a word. His head was bowed, apparently deep in thought. Before they breached the entrance he stopped and spoke once more.

  “You are The One, Harmony. In my heart I know this to be the truth.” He looked at her with a deep sadness etched into his eyes. “You doubt yourself, but understand that I do not. Your denial of reality does not make your belief true. You are simply living a lie, blindly adhering to a self-imposed falsehood. Sadly, you don't even know you’re telling yourself stories.”

  Harmony watched him as he walked past her into the tree's interior. She rolled her eyes. His speech was quite compelling. The words and tone reminded her of something Rose would have said.

  She turned and followed the lion into the darkness, not sure what she would find inside the hollowed tree. However, judging by her experience in this world thus far, whatever lay in wait would probably attempt to kill her.