The Sorcerer's Tome

Chapter 13: Lucky Shot

The trip back across the river was uneventful, despite Charon standing at the rear of the boat, mumbling about people making up their minds. Even Betty, the river spirit failed to put in an appearance. Dan flew alongside the little vessel to save the fare, which only served to annoy the Ferryman even more.

On the other side, the little old man tied up the boat and helped Lyca out, before stomping back through the snow to his shack. There was the sound of things being thrown about inside before a large puff of white smoke came out of the chimney.

"Well, I guess that's goodbye then," said Lyca to the human Dan.

"Miserable old codger," Dan replied, and they started to walk off in the direction the marching army had gone.

"Oi!" shouted the old man from his doorway.

They stopped and waited as he scurried over to them.

"I know you young-uns think that I'm a senile old beggar, but I's bin around a bit an' knows a thing or two," he said. "I know you and your friends are going to take on that nutter in the monastery, and it's 'bout time someone found the bottle to 'ave a go.

"If 'e does what 'e intends to do evil will reign in every world in existence, an' I bin to most on 'em. Once the darkness takes an 'old, we'll never be rid of it. Death, suffering, slavery will be the norm and that dopy beggar, Balfour thinks 'e'll be in charge, but 'e won't. 'E'll be in chains with the rest." The old man opened his grubby hand to reveal a silver coin.

"If ye find ye need the services of the old Ferryman to help ye in yer quest, give this obol a rub an' call me. I might look a bit feeble, but Balfour sent a lot of men after me what 'e never saw again."

Lyca took the silver coin from the old man and looking into his watery grey eyes, she thanked him.

"Go on," he said. "Ye won't do no good hangin' round 'ere yarnin', sling yer 'ook." He turned and shuffled back to his shack.

They waited till he went in, but he did not look back. He never looked back; he didn't hold with it. He knew a feller once who looked back on his way out of the underworld, and it didn't do him much good.

"What did you make of that?" Lyca asked.

"I don't suppose you can live as long as he has without picking up a thing or two along the way," Dan replied.

"What about this plan of Balfour's?" she said. "Do you think it's about him getting hold of Tom's key and unlocking the secrets in the Tome?"

"It's probably got something to do with it," Dan said. "But a book can't take over and enslave everyone, including Balfour himself. No, there's more to it than that. I reckon it has something to do with where Cox and his men are off to."

"Well, we'd better catch up then, before we lose them. Come on!" Lyca broke into a brisk jog, while Dan, unable to sustain the pace, reverted to his fairy form, unfolded his transparent wings and flew off after her.

There was no hiding the direction the horde from the monastery had taken. In their wake lay a river of brown, slushy mud where the snow had been trampled by so many feet. Pathways had been widened to make way for the gig drawn by the mighty gryphon. Bushes were uprooted and cast aside and overhanging branches torn away, either by the powerful beak of the beast or by the gord, the strong but not too bright yellow-skinned creatures. Balfour had convinced them that he was their god, which to their small and underused minds, was a step up from the Giant Thorny Phalenopsis, a plant that grew to seven feet high and had yellow flowers with a red stigma. The simple-minded creatures worshipped the plant because they thought that they had been created in its image. However, it did provide very little in the way of spiritual guidance, hence their willingness to adopt Balfour as their god as he could do many miraculous things, such as speak and move.