ponds of mud and quicksand. He could see geysers spouting out bursts of steam and thick, gooey substances he couldn’t identify bubbling in the pits on either side of the path, forming dangerous traps for any soul who dared to stray from the narrow strip of solid ground. He was amazed at how quickly the landscape had altered. At one point, he thought he saw some huge, snake-like crtures swimming about in the pits searching for prey, surfacing for only split seconds, before disappearing into the darkness of the murky liquid. He understood perfectly now why the rebels had chosen this place for a sanctuary, and why the Northern Army feared to enter. He was sure that, for as long as they chose to stay, they would be safe within its boundaries, and he allowed himself to relax a little.
“Wow, this place is amazing!” he said to Artrex, speaking over the King’s shoulder. “It’s like something out of a ghost story. Or a film from back home.” he added.
“Film?” asked a puzzled Artrex. “I am sorry, Ben, I am afraid you speak of things that I do not comprehend.”
“Err… Yeah, sorry. I keep forgetting where I am. Maybe I’ll get the chance to explain it to ya one day?” Ben replied, feeling far too weary to enter into such a probably long and awkward conversation.
They continued to ride for some distance until the narrow path began to widen again. The heavy mist lightened and it began to clear a little. Ben could just make out a large open area ahead of them. All around the clearing were little makeshift camps and fires, improvised shelters and hovels. It looked as though a large island existed right in the middle of the T’Nesc Moorlands, a secret hideout which was surrounded on all sides by nature’s natural defences - the perfect hideaway for a rebel army being hunted and trying to survive against all the odds.
As they reached the clearing the horsemen in front of them dispersed and headed for their own particular areas of the camp. Artrex rode slowly to an area which was clearly prepared for the King, he stopped his horse and dismounted, extending a helping hand to Ben and graciously supporting the young boy as he climbed down. Ben gave a huge stretch of his arms and then shook his legs a few times to relieve the stiffness he felt from being in the saddle for so long. This was much to the amusement of the soldiers in the nearby camps who were obviously used to such rides and themselves feeling no ill effects. Ben ignored their laughter and looked around the camp. Lots of people were beginning to emerge from every conceivable hideaway to greet the soldiers, women and children, the old and frail.
“Ay ay, who are they?” asked Ben, surprised by their sudden appearance.
“Kuh? Srrr... Families of my soldiers, runaways in need of protection from my brother, relatives of those who have aided me, and been made to pay the price for doing so. They all come here for their own safety, it is a hard and meagre existence, but at least here they are alive, and free.” stated the King sadly, as he placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder and invited him to sit down.
Over the next hour or so Artrex and Ben were waited upon by the women of the camp. A hot bowl of some kind of stew was produced as if by magic and Ben devoured it gratefully. The women of the camp watched him as he ate. The youngest amongst them began to snigger and laugh at his appearance, until finally the King had had enough and he sent them all away with a gentle flick of his hand.
“I am sorry for that, Ben. Few of my people have ever seen your like before. Those who did not meet Harry will find you strange to look at, if you will forgive me for saying so?” said Artrex.
“Huh?” answered Ben, as he chewed on the last piece of meat from the stew. He’d scarcely noticed the crowd that had developed, there was food in the vicinity and, as usual, that had grabbed his full attention. “Err… Yeah, of course. Whateve. But, you’re a King, you don’t have to apologise to me. Though, please try to remember, I’m just a boy. I may be from another world, but your people are just as strange to me you know.”