The River Ghasts of Lid and Other Stories

Ancient and Dangerous - 5

They found the remnants of the building soon enough. The forest had conquered it long ago, and it had succumbed to vines and trees. Most of its walls had collapsed into piles of mossy blocks, and generations of birds had stained the stone white.

'I reckon this was the entrance,' said Pigeon. 'Look, those were probably pillars on either side.'

'More runes, too,' said the elf. 'We must be humble in the presence of the king of the realm.'

They picked their way across the rubble. A flock of birds burst out of a tree, making them all jump. It was impossible to tell one thing from another, the once proud palace now just fragments in the rich soil. The elf picked up a lump of something, and started cleaning the dirt off: it quickly became apparent that it was a short, curved knife, long dulled by age. He threw it back on the ground.

'Orc stuff,' he muttered.

'Sarge, I've found something.'

Pigeon made his way as quickly as he could over to Jonit. For some reason, more magic perhaps, the forest had left a perfectly circular clearing, and in the centre was a throne.

Although untouched by the trees and bushes, it was filthy, coated in layers of grime. It looked fairly low, although the ground around was earth, so presumably the original floor was some way below their feet, and it would have been more imposing.

Pigeon ran his hand over it, felt a charge of what – age? Magic? Hard to tell. He swept some of the dirt off, and saw that it was made of dark marble, covered in yet more runes.

'Well, I guess this was where the old guy sat, Jonit.'

'Yep. Not a bad chair, is it, sarge?'

The elf hurried towards them, shouting.

'How dare you? You profane this throne with your filthy animal hands? Stop touching it, right now! I will... Arrgh...!'

He screamed because as soon as he set foot in the circle, he was propelled out of it, thrown by some unseen force into the forest. He landed with a dull thud in the undergrowth.

After a while, the two orcs stopped laughing.

'I wish we could take this home,' sighed Jonit, wiping the tears from his eyes. 'We could use it instead of cannon and launch elves instead of cannon balls.'

'You'd better go and see where the silly bugger ended up.'

'Yes boss. Can we bring him back and have another go?'

'This is, technically, still a diplomatic mission. I don't know much about diplomacy, but I don't think it involves firing the other side from magic chairs. So, no, corporal.'

Smirking, Jonit started making his way in the direction the elf had been thrown.

I wonder, thought Pigeon.

Gingerly, he sat on the throne.

There were no fireworks for him. Instead, he felt a sort of tired, gentle sigh, as the throne connected with him. He sat there for a while, feeling the strange sensations and drinking the knowledge that the ancient magic fed to him. He could see Jonit picking the elf up, checking him, slinging him over his wolf.

After a while, he stood up, looking thoughtful. He walked over to Jonit.

'He knocked himself out sarge. I reckon he'll wake with a nasty lump.'

'Great. Come on, Jonit. We're going home.'

When the elf came to, they were back on the forest road, riding leisurely towards the orc border. Senna had returned with two squads of wolf riders, spare wolves, food, water, and enough muskets to blow up half the forest.

'Wish we'd had these when those elves attacked us,' said Jonit, holding his lovingly.

'No you don't. It wouldn't have made any difference. And they'd have ended up getting their hands on one, and that would have made everything worse,' replied Pigeon. 'Anyway, here we are. Mr Elf Who Never Told Us His Name, we propose to look after you for a few days, get you back on your feet, and then you can go back to your people. And you can tell them we still want a treaty. If orcs and elves were able to live in peace in the forest back then, maybe we can too.'

The elf looked at him groggily.

'What happened? How did we get out?'

'Never you mind. Now, you, get this elf some water, and let's get going.'

'Yes Sarge.'

Jonit rode up alongside Pigeon.

'How did we get out, sarge? Is it because you sat on that chair?'

But Sergeant Horen 'Pigeon' Woodglum just smiled.

'Ancient and dangerous, Jonit. Ancient and dangerous.'