Tegalie wrote:

It is the evening of the third day since we began our journey down river.  This morning we finally entered Thelna Moor.  

I have heard many tales of this place all my short life, but although they described the fens and the bogs and swamps in great detail, they never conveyed the wretchedness and sad desolation.  I have seen but one tree in the last few hours.  The air is thick with biting insects and reeks of  miasma, a stench so vile that I must clamp my  jaw tightly lest I purge. 

Yet, that is nothing compared to the tension that has persisted amongst our group.  It is as though a knife has been thrust into each of our hearts. A weapon of my making, and driven by my own hand.

My mother died of consumption when I was in my sixth year.  My persistent memory is of her struggling for every breath, as she tried to teach me a lifetime of protocol instruction in her last remaining days.  

Then within a week of my mother’s passing (perhaps it was weeks, that time is understandably a blur), Fahesha was introduced to me by my father.

“This is Fahesha,” he told me. “She is to be your personal handmaiden.  She will care for you, and instruct you.  You will listen and obey her as if she speaks with my voice, for she does.”

It was the first time my father had ever spoken to me thus, so formal and distant.  Already grieving the lost of one parent, I felt as though I had lost another in that moment.  

That is why, despite her harshness and queer manner, I clung to Fahesha.  She became more than a handmaiden, or teacher, or carer.  She became my  closest confidant and friend.  This despite me having never seen her face before three days ago.

Yet I have long known that she was a goblin, or Shäylönginlep (as she calls herself).  I had suspected the truth since my earliest days.  A word here.  A reaction there. In particular she always quailed whenever news of goblin raids reached the castle, especially when they were harshly dealt with.

 However, it was the response by the castle guards after the destruction of the fort at Kenedorf, that confirmed my suspicions.  They tried to arrest her.  At the very least they would have cast her into the dungeons (or executed her), had I not exercised my authority and demanded my father intercede.

My father was already too busy making war by then, and did little to ease my disquiet, beyond speaking with the Captain of the Guards.  While Fahesha would be allowed to remain free, she would be always escorted by two men-at-arms.  For the next few months, Fahesha and I had loads of fun taunting, playing pranks, and eluding them. Ultimately, after complaints from the guards’ captain, my father called off his hounds.

We have been especially close ever since.  Almost like how I imagine sisters feel.

While she may be a goblin, she is no traitor.  At every turn on this farcical escapade she has been the font of wisdom.  Warning me about the Seer, Lady Frista and Sem.  And when I got it into my head that I was a soldier of prophecy, Fahesha tried to convince me otherwise.  Yet, I ignored her wisdom, and despite my intransigent stupidity Fahesha escorted me up to the mines, and remained with me there.

My defence of her three days ago was just a small remit for all her years of love and care.  So, while I understand Ifonsa’s grief and need for revenge, I will not allow any harm to come to my own sister.

“Highness,” Ifonsa interrupted, stiffly.  She held out the wooden bowl containing stew made from a  giant catfish she had caught.

“Thank you,” Tegalie said, as she handed her quill and scroll to Fahesha, and took the bowl. 

Unlike the last time, Ifonsa didn’t wait after delivering the meal.  She had watched Fahesha from the corner of her eye with barely concealed hate.  Instead, she twisted and returned to the fire.

They camped on a mound of grass, about a hundred or so paces from the free-flowing waterway, that cut through the fens.  It was almost dark when they finally discovered the small dry patch of white grassland, poking out of the weed-clustered mud and festering pools,  It saved them a journey of half-a-league to the rolling hills to the south.  And another tomorrow morning, when they planned to continue their boating journey toward Frileah .

They had tents, provided by Ifonsa’s people, which they had trudged through the mire along with the rest of their gear until it was all arranged on the mound.  Even the boats they carried to the base, turning them upside down so that snakes and other slithering things could not curl up inside, remaining hidden.  

During their journey downriver (before reaching the moor) they had collected firewood, which enabled them to build a fire for both cooking and light.  There was nothing nearby that could serve as long-lasting fuel, even if it was dry enough.

Heric had warned them they needed to keep the fire lit throughout the night.  “That was Sir Helmund’s mistake,” he’d said, his gaze absent as though he was remembering.  Then it snapped back to regard the group as he added, “He though it better to camp in the darkness, but that just allowed the goblins to sneak in and massacre them.”

Yet there were other creatures worse than goblins lurking in Thelna Moor, Ifonsa cautioned. 

“There are fae that will lure you into their lairs with glowing lights and fair voices,” she told them. “There are rats, some the size of a small dog, and snakes, their venom lethal within minutes.  Although I have never seen them, there are rumours of a troll gang that roams the moor hunting for fun and food.”

“And nearer Frileah,” Ifonsa continued, “Within the The Ardúnfær, there are foul gases and waters that can catch a spark, often burning for days afterwards.  So, this will be our last campfire.  Enjoy it.”

The campfire itself had been propped up on a foundation of stones, they had dug from the mud.  The higher the better, Ifonsa had told them.  The purpose was to protect them in case the tide rose and flooded the mound. They’d get wet, but at least they’d still have fire.    

Fahesha took out her wooden spoon to taste the food, but Tegalie pulled the bowl away.

“I am your taster now,” Tegalie insisted.

While Tegalie wasn’t overly concerned that Ifonsa might have poisoned the food, she felt it important to prove herself to Fahesha. 

Fahesha cackled, “You want gobble all.”

Tegalie said, “Let me taste it first, yes?”

Fahesha grinned and nodded her approval.

Tegalie took her own spoon and tasted the stew.  It was surprisingly good.  Then she placed it on the ground between them and they shared it.

Tegalie found herself watching Fahesha.  Always before whenever she ate, she would lift the coverings so as to not reveal her face.  Sometimes, she would turn away so that none could see her eat.  

Tegalie always found it amusing, and she used to tease Fahesha constantly.  Then one day her father caught her trying to peek under the coverings.  He punished her harshly for her actions, telling her that Fahesha was deeply religious, and that she should be allowed to eat in peace.

Fahesha had not repaired the coverings that had been ripped away. Her face was now visible to all, her heritage revealed.  Tegalie wondered if it came as something of a blessing.  She no longer had to hide who she really was.

“How old are you?” Tegalie asked suddenly.  She had no idea.  If forced to guess, Tegalie would have said middle-aged, but she didn’t know how goblins looked as they matured.

“Not polite asking lady age,” Fahesha cackled. “Me beautiful lady now.”  She waved her hand over her own face. “Watch out.  I steal your boy.”  She cackled again and resumed eating the stew.

Tegalie’s gaze was drawn towards Heric and the others.  Heric sat with Lera, on her blanket.  Meanwhile Falduin, Ganthe and Ifonsa all perched on some of the left-over rocks they had dug up.  Each group sat away from the others as they chatted and sometimes laughed quietly amongst themselves.

The relationships and dynamics had changed.  Before Ifonsa had been close to Heric and Lera, and disdained Falduin.  Now she was acting as if she and the wizard were old friends.  

It was more than just Falduin (and Ganthe) not choosing a side during argument over Fahesha.  It was as though Falduin had passed a test, and that he was now worthy in her eyes. 

 

“What are those lights?” Lera suddenly asked, loud enough for them all to hear.  She pointed.

In the distance, across the stagnant ponds and dank heath, a line of lights moved from right to their left hovering just above the water.  They looked liked torches, but the glow was too bluish and the flickering too steady.  Everybody, with the exceptions of Ifonsa and Fahesha, rose to gain a better view.

“Do not look at the lights,” Ifonsa shouted.

Tegalie turned to Ifonsa, “Why?”

“You will draw them to us.  Those fae are far away now, but they will sense your curiosity.  They will come to investigate.  To play.  Ignore them, and they will eventually become bored and disappear.”

“Should we put out the fire?” Ganthe asked.

Ifonsa considered the question for a moment, then shook her head. “It might attract their notice.  Best to just avert our eyes”

Yet Tegalie noticed that Ifonsa kept a close watch upon the fae.  Not constantly, but her gaze kept darting in that direction whenever she had a mind.  

The others returned to their groups, chatting as they finished their meal.  Tegalie and Fahesha  did too, continuing the conversation they had been having since early morning. In fact many days now, even before Heric and the others had arrived to save them.

“Must get bad idea far away,” Fahesha admonished her. “Free of head.”

“I don’t understand,” Tegalie said.

“Don’t be special.  You princess already.  Special enough.  Just be you be.”

“In my heart I feel I have a destiny.  Even before the seer, I sensed it.”

“Fahesha snorted. “Destiny. You listen Fahesha now.  Not head in cloud.” Fahesha mimicked Tegalie’s voice, “Me special.  Me Arbarek enesti.” Fahesha resumed her own voice. “ Every mother sacred.  You big surprise when big boy lay with you.  Even bigger when head poking out legs. Much paining.”

“It’s just a joke between us.”

“Bad joke.  Too much joke. He bored. You not funny, little girl.  You annoying.  Wise up. You want?”

“I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“I do!”

“What do I want?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Tegalie saw Falduin tending the fire, moving the wood around so that the air continued being funnelled into the middle.  It was something that all had done at one time or another.  However, one of the logs tumbled free,  For a brief moment, a white shoot of grass caught alight, quickly followed by a sharp hiss, as the flames died.

“Good husband,” Fahesha explained. “Many baby. Too busy to thinking. You-”

The mound shook, suddenly rising upwards.  There were shouts, and screams, as the world tilted and everything slid to one side.  Tegalie scrabbled for a hand hold, but just then ten writhing tentacles, like thick vines, burst forth from the beneath the ground.  They flayed around recklessly.

Tegalie gathered her sword and staggered to her feet.  However, as soon as she was upright it attracted the attention of the tentacles.  One of them uncoiled itself straight at her.  She ducked aside, but the tentacle’s tip flicked to one side, slapping her on the side of the head, just below the temple.  

And everything went black.