Pilgrimage (13 page)

“What was behind it?”

“I don't know.” Roland shook his head. “I got jumped before I could check.”

Griffith stopped. “Roland,” he said. Roland paused and looked over his shoulder at his companion.

“Yeah?”

“Magic feeds off emotion. Sorcerers tap into their emotions to cast spells. It gives our will the fuel it needs to become magic.”

Roland waited.

“But magic doesn't have a mind of its own. A Weird – a place of pure magic – only does its thing when there are people with strong emotions inside it. What haunts a Weird is what haunts us.”

Roland narrowed his eyes. “You see anything in the Weird? Other than me, I mean.”

Griffith hesitated. Roland kept his eyes locked on the sorcerer. “No,” Griffith said. “Nothing. I was looking for you.”

Roland kept walking. “I guess we can't all be perfect.”

Griffith sighed and rushed to catch up.

“How'd you figure it out, anyway?”

“My magic was working too well. I'm not good enough to cast spells that quickly. Once I realised something was wrong, I started feeling for magic.”

“You can feel magic?”

“If I try. When there's magic around you, you can feel it pressing against your mind like two magnets pushing each other away.”

“Are we out of it now?”

“Yeah. We're safe now.”

“Good.”

Roland and Griffith reached the end of the forest after several more hours of slow, exhausted walking. They emerged into the late afternoon sun and saw, sparkling in the light, a lake of clear, fresh water. Only a stone's throw away, they could see tall light posts lining cracked asphalt and the road forward became clear.

Chapter 9

Griffith and Roland took time to drink from the lake. The water felt ice cold going down their throats and they left the lake feeling invigorated, in spite of a lingering, unsatisfied hunger. Around the enormous lake they could see lagoons dotting the landscape. As they walked, they could hear a mix of birds singing, rustling grass and things jumping in and out of water. The whole area teemed and hummed with wildlife, undisturbed by the presence of Roland and Griffith trekking through their home. Back towards the road, Griffith saw a sign he felt sure would point them in the right direction. Roland wasn't convinced Griffith could see anything at all. When they eventually reached the road and climbed over the barrier that marked the edge of the road, Roland was forced to admit he was wrong. A tall green sign stood beside the road. Painted in large, white letters, the sign read:
Ben Lomond
and
Glencoe
. Both had large white arrows next to them, one pointing straight along the road and the other pointing left. Roland and Griffith stared at the sign, trying to believe their good fortune.

“It says Glencoe.” Griffith said.

“I know.”

“That's where we wanted to go.”

“I know.”

“We're still on the right path.” Griffith turned his head back and forth between Roland and the sign, grinning. He couldn't stand still.

“I know.”

“We're free and all this time we've been moving forwards!”

“I know.”

“Roland, this is great! We've hardly lost any time at all.” Griffith very nearly jumped for joy. “Salem, here we come! There's no stopping us now.” Griffith looked down the highway and then started running.

Roland sighed. “I'm not going.”

“What?” Griffith stopped in his tracks, almost throwing himself head first onto the road. When he had found his balance, he faced Roland. “What do you mean?”

“I'm done, Griffith. This isn't worth it. Keep your money. Keep your magic. I'm going home.”

“Why? I don't understand.” Griffith started back towards Roland.

“Griffith, we were nearly executed. We had to jump out of a flying house and then we got lost in a Weird where my younger self tried to kill me. What next, Griffith? I don't want to know. I'm going home.”

“You can't!” Griffith pleaded. Roland started walking away.

“Watch me.”

“No, Roland, wait. Look, what if I pay you more?”

“So long, Griffith.”

“Roland, really, stop. You can't go.”

“I'm gone.” Roland didn't stop.

“But Roland, if you go then...” Griffith thought desperately. He kept pace with Roland until he could think of something, anything to keep him to stay.

“Then what?”

“If you turn around and go back, Pentdragon will find you and kill you.”

Roland kept going, undeterred. “If he comes knocking, I'll say I'm sorry and I'm going to drink until I've forgotten all about him and you and magic.”

“And you think that will be enough?”

Roland stopped. “I guess we'll see.”

“He'll kill you, Roland. He'll kill us both if he finds us.”

“Then what?” Roland turned back to Griffith. “What do we do? Run from him forever? Thanks for another great idea, kid. But you know what? I think I'll try and tackle this without you.”

“We can do that. Or we can find a stronger sorcerer to protect us. A legendary master who can teach us to be stronger than Pentdragon.”

Roland stood and said nothing, struggling to find an argument.

“So you see, you can't go back. We'll have to keep going, together.”

Roland ran his hands over his face as if he could somehow just brush away the mounting frustration. If he'd had the energy, he could have throttled the bastard.

“We don't have a choice now, Roland. Pentdragon has changed everything.”

“Fuck!” Roland shouted. “I should never have gone with you. I knew you'd get yourself killed. Now you're taking me with you.”

Griffith took a deep, calming breath. “It's all right, Roland. We just have to get to Salem.”

“And your
legendary master
will protect us?” Roland's voice dripped scorn.

“We just have to assume he will.”

Roland gritted his teeth and took a long look south along the road.

“Trust me, Roland. This is the safest thing you can do.”

“Fuck!” Roland turned back to Griffith and the road forward. Resigned, he said: “Okay. Let's go.”

Roland and Griffith started walking again. Every so often Griffith cast a glance over his shoulder. He never saw anybody but that didn't stop him from checking. Roland walked beside him, focused on the way forward. Two hours passed and the cars indifferently passing them and disappearing into the distance, they still hadn't seen any signs of life in the area. As the third hour ticked by they had their first view of a town in the distance. Then they spotted something else new. They weren't sure what it was at first but as they came closer they were sure it was a car they could see on the side of the road. Wisps of smoke rose from the engine. The front of the car had crumbled inwards, every window in the car was broken and it sagged to one side on burst tires. Roland and Griffith took slow steps as they approached it. Griffith was the first to speak. He called out to the car:

“Hello! Anybody there? Is anybody hurt?” No response. They couldn't see anybody around the vehicle. “What do you think?” he asked Roland.

“I wonder what happened to the car it hit.”

“You think it hit another car?”

“Well, it didn't do that to itself.” But Roland wasn't so sure it was a car. When he thought about it, he could still feel the invisible force that knocked him across the motel room and pinned him to the ground. While blankets and bed sheets coiled around him, it felt like an elephant was sitting on his back. Roland looked down at his ring. No glow.

“We should see if anybody is hurt and then keep going.”

“Be my guest.” Roland stayed put, a few metres back from the car and scanned the landscape around them. He strained his eyes to see even the slightest movement between them and the horizon.

Griffith walked slowly up to the car and peered inside. “It's all right!” Griffith turned and called to Roland. “The inside is ruined. Somebody decided to make Swiss cheese out of it, but there's nobody...” he stopped mid-sentence.

His eyes moved off Roland and onto the road behind him. Roland spun to look, instinctively clenching his hands into fists. Back down the highway, the way they had walked, a sole shape moved towards them. The sight of the creature struck Roland with a frightened, unbelieving awe. A large, grey and brown-furred, wild dog walking along the highway towards them. The animal seemed fixed on them.

“Roland, is that what I think it is?” Griffith asked, suddenly beside him.

“It can't be,” Roland answered.

“It looks exactly the same. Did it follow us?”

“How could it follow us? It went running ahead of us.”

“Well, it's behind us now.”

Shock kept Roland locked in place. The idea that a wild dog had followed them from Thomas' farm was crazy and yet the evidence seemed undeniable. The few minutes it took for the dog to reach them went by at a sloth's pace and they didn't speak another word. Then the dog was upon them. The animal paused and look from one man to the other, then sat down.

Griffith scratched the back of his head. “Uh … hello.” The dog looked at him and stood up again. It circled around them and the car wreck and then sat down in front of them, once more. The wild creature seemed to be studying them. And why not? Crazier things had happened.

“Griffith, you're talking to a— you know what? Never mind.” Even as Roland said it, the idea didn't sound as insane as it might have done a couple of days ago.

“I'm only being polite. I think.”

The dog stood up again after its moment of contemplation. Roland and Griffith watched it with no notion of how to respond to the animal. Then the animal's body began to spasm. They heard its bones crack and break. The hair all over its body began to recede, revealing pink flesh. Meanwhile, its paws enlarged and its muzzle shrunk back into its head. The dog became a monstrosity that lifted itself up onto hind legs. Those legs stretched out long, the knee bones snapped forward. The matted, patchy fur turned shades of green and blue and on its head it grew a long, auburn mane. Its eyes enlarged and changed colour and a prominent jaw formed in place of the elongated muzzle. In less than a minute the dog was gone and the unnatural horror that reshaped itself had become a slender woman with long, straight auburn hair. She had no shoes on but wore pale, faded jeans and a dark green tank top. Her clothes and hair were splattered with dried dirt; her flesh was noticeably scarred everywhere it could be seen. She was wearing a mismatched assortment of wooden necklaces and bangles. There was a wild, untamed look in her brown eyes and the slightest hint of a smirk on her lips. Constant sun had given her skin a dark tan. The woman took a piece of white string from her pocket and tied her hair back. Finally she spoke:

“Close your mouth, Griffith. You're beginning to drool.”

Griffith swallowed. “You know my name.”

“Yes. Both of you. The last time we met, one of you shot me.” The woman shot a glare at Roland. “We've been crossing paths ever since I followed Pentdragon's men to your motel.”

“There was a dog when they dragged us out. That was you?” Roland asked.

“That's right. I tried to get there first and warn you.”

“Big help. So now why the hell are you following us?”

“I'm not. Listen, I'm sure you have questions and I'll answer them, just not here. Come with me. We'll talk at the Red Lion.”

“Sure.” Griffith said.

The woman pushed past them, stopping to smirk at Roland and say:

“Don't worry. No hard feelings.”

Roland had no answer.

The woman walked with Griffith and Roland along the highway until they reached Glencoe. She introduced herself as Caia and described herself as native to the region, although what exactly that meant, she didn't say. Griffith was the first to mention her unique abilities and, with distinct pride, Caia explained that she'd perfected the magic of self-transformation and that the wild dog was just one animal form she could take. Then she added that she had yet to meet another sorcerer or sorceress who could match her shape-shifting abilities. Griffith paused and examined her. After a minute of scrutiny, his eyes lit up.

“It's the jewellery, isn't it?”

“You're half right. Now keep walking, the Red Lion Tavern is close and we can talk safely there.” Griffith moved his jaw as if to say more but decided to keep his mouth closed and walk.

The town of Glencoe sat almost entirely on the eastern side of the highway. On the western side of the highway was a short row of buildings, punctuated by the Red Lion Tavern at the northern end. Roland and Griffith had only just realised that they were seeing all that Glencoe had to offer when the town suddenly stopped and more grassy fields and distant woodlands filled the world ahead of them. Caia led them into the tavern and Roland followed eagerly behind her.

Griffith stopped to look at the tavern a little more. Griffith was always fascinated by the old, colonial buildings that sat almost completely unknown in small towns across the country. The Red Lion Tavern was built of red bricks and had a high pointed roof with three windows on the front side. The doors were made from wooden slats painted bright red. Every window had similar bright red shutters on either side. Under the exterior and street lights, the building glowed in the night. Griffith couldn't tell if the building was old or just built in that old, English style. If it was old, it was kept in excellent condition. A lit sign out the front of the tavern advertised
Food. Ale. Rest.
All of those sounded good. Griffith followed his companions through the doors. A flyer stuck to the wall inside advertised
The Blair Hill Beast Nature Walk
.