It took all of Ishula’s skill to render the boy unconscious without doing him any harm. He caught Gryph as his limp body collapsed groundwards, then carried him over to the tent. Inside, Ishula wrapped him in a blanket and made sure he was breathing and comfortable. The boy would probably be out for a while, depending on his mental condition.

Never before had he seen such fear in a person’s face, nor such anger in the set of his mouth, his teeth had almost been grinding. Not for the first time he wondered what had happened to the boy, what they had done to him to make him like this.

Satisfied Gryph was well enough for the moment, he went over to the spring to collect water, picking a few herbs on the way back. He soon had a fire going and a pot of mixed herbs, some local, some from his own supply, simmering within. The brew was carefully balanced to invigorate the mind but calm the body. He doubted it would work, but it was worth a try. Finally, he sat by the tent, tending the fire and listening out for Gryph.

Thoughtfully, he rubbed the spot on his cheek bone where Gryph had struck him. For the first time in many years he would have a bruise on his face. Ishula thought this over in his mind for several minutes; did it mean something, was it a portent of things to come? Or was he getting older and slower? Then he took a leaf out of his own tome. Last man standing, that’s what mattered. And he was certainly that. Not that he was proud of himself, he had done what was necessary, and no more. The boy was obviously in great physical anguish. Ishula had feared for his sanity. Hopefully, when Gryph awoke he would be more able to deal with the memories that had come back so forcefully.

The gloom of twilight was fading to darkness when Ishula heard a noise from the tent. He carefully lifted the flap, being sure to make a noise as he did so. The light from the fire glinted off a pair of wide eyes. The boy was cowering in the corner of the tent, the blanket held tightly up to his face with both hands. He whimpered slightly on seeing Ishula, then relaxed a fraction with recognition.

“Gryph, it’s only me, Ishula. Are you hungry? I’ve made soup for you. “

Gryph nodded, lowering the blanket slightly.

“Are you going to come out, or shall I fetch it for you?”

Gryph nodded again.

Ishula was wondering which he had agreed to when Gryph began to move slowly towards the entrance. Ishula moved back to allow the boy out. Gryph sat on the ground opposite Ishula, the fire directly between then.

“There, in the pot.” Ishula directed. “Help yourself, I’ve already eaten.”

Barely taking his eyes off Ishula, Gryph filled a wooden bowl with soup from the pot, then sat back, eating slowly. Ishula was relieved. The boy was up and about and had an appetite, all he needed to do now was speak.

“What happened, out there.” Gryph said, nodding towards the meadow.

“What do you remember?”

“I was facing you, we were in the centre of the circle. You were showing me something. That’s all.” He took another mouthful of soup.

“Do you still have your memory’s”

Gryph paused, the spoon halfway to his mouth. The spoon returned to the bowl. “Yes, I have my memories, every one.”

His tone wasn’t as bitter as Ishula suspected it could have been, which suggested either he was coping with them, or that there were some happy ones in there too. Gryph had stopped eating, so he tried to change the subject. “Look, can you see in this light?” He pointed to his face and turned his cheek towards Gryph.

“What is it?” Gryph, asked, glancing over but quickly returning to his meal.

“It’s a bruise. You did it. The first person for many years to do so I may add.”

Gryph was silent for a while, but at least he finished his soup, Ishula was pleased to see. They both looked up at the stars and the few drifting clouds. A few night birds flew by on silent wings. Their tiny nocturnal prey rustled in the undergrowth. When Gryph spoke again, it was little more than a whisper. “Ishula, what do you do when you’re scared?”

Ishula thought for a moment. He sensed this was a key question, the boy’s life would pivot around the answer. “So,” he began tentatively. ”It would depend on the fear, I think. Some things you have need to be scared of, other things are just irrational fears.” He stopped. This wasn’t going well. Now he’d confused the boy, he wondered if he even knew what ‘irrational’ meant.

“So, let me give some examples.” Gryph was looking across the embers of the fire, staring intently. The orange glow leant their colour to the boy’s eyes. For a moment, Ishula thought he was looking into the face of an amber-eyed predator. More omens. No, concentrate you old fool. He grabbed a few sticks and placed them into the fire, giving himself time to think. The fire took and the light brightened to yellow.

Ishula took a deep breath and began again. “So, there is a hole in the ground, a dark hole that may or may not have a poisonous snake or spider in it. Do you put your hand in the hole? No. Not because you are scared, but because it is good sense. Then, a man in a tavern says your mother was a female dog. You walk away. Are you scared? No. The man has never met your mother, he is just trying to get you angry, for purposes of his own. Now, another person attacks you, comes at you with a sword. Are you scared? Maybe you are, but you stand, you look him in the eye and defend yourself. It depends on the threat and of course the motivation.”

Oh dear, now I’ve done it. Thought Ishula, the poor lad looks bewildered now. Why did I mention motivation.

“What does that mean?” Gryph asked.

The boy was still playing close attention to what he said, so Ishula ploughed on.

“Motivation? So, the hole we mentioned earlier. If someone had locked your family in a house and set it on fire, then thrown the key down the hole, then you would put your hand in and get it. See?”

“Yes. Or crawl into it, if you were being chased.”

“Yes, exactly.” Ishula stopped. This was something that had happened to the boy, one of his memories, he was sure of it. He waited, studying the boy, giving him the opportunity to continue. But Gryph stayed silent. Ishula supposed he was lucky to get that much. He carried on, hoping to shake more memories loose. “Fear is like fire, a good thing if kept under control. Left to itself it runs wild and destroys everything.”

“How can it be good, how can being afraid all the time be good?” Gryph demanded.

“Because it keeps you alert, it reminds you that you are not immortal or invincible. You can’t live forever, nor are you unbeatable. No matter who you are there is always somebody better.”

“Even you?”

“Even I. You remember how I told you about my sect? Well, we meet together occasionally, we swap knowledge, teach each other the things we have learned. We also practise together, empty handed fighting, among other things. I can assure you there are better than me at the bo sticks, and the fighting.”

“Bow sticks?”

“Yes, these are bo sticks.” He touched the handles of his sticks, as always very close to hand. “Not bow, as bow and arrow. But Bee O. In my language it means two together, a couple, like a pair of shoes. “

“But how many? Surely it’s easier for you not to be scared than me.”

Ishula thought for a moment. It was true, it wasn’t often he felt fear. But he still did. “Yes, I agree. My training gives me confidence, but then I have travelled widely, I have studied people and their moods. This too gives me an advantage. It isn’t all fighting. But I have said already, if you are afraid, you must control it. Let it give you speed to run, but not to dash blindly. Let it give you alertness, but not sleepless terror. The bravest of people are those who are afraid but still stand tall, facing their fear.”

Gryph was silent for a while, his head was nodding and he seemed to be thinking over what Ishula had said. Ishula let the silence continue. He wasn’t sure he’d said the right things, but the boy wasn’t a shivering wreck, nor planning a frontal attack on his enemies, at least not tonight.

When Gryph did speak again, it was in the same quite voice. “Are you still going to teach me to fight like you?

“Yes, of course. As much as I can in the short time we have. Then I will pass you on to a friend, who will teach you more.”

“Who, and where are we going?” Gryph asked, a little more like the boy Ishula had first met.

“Time will reveal all, it is said. Meanwhile, I think it best we sleep.”

“Yes, we can start early tomorrow, at first light.”

“Indeed. I do like a keen pupil.”

Gryph stood and walked over to the tent. He disappeared inside, pulling the flaps down and tying them tightly.

“I’ll sleep here then shall I?” Ishula mumbled, pulling out his blanket and using his pack for a pillow.

The next morning Gryph was as good as his word, and was up with the songbirds. He pushed himself hard running around the meadow, lifted all the heavy logs Ishula instructed him to, and never once complained when he put him through the stretching and bending exercises. They began the training proper mid morning, going through a few kicks and punches slowly then faster. Everything was going well until Ishula tried to move one of Gryph’s arms that was out of position. Even though he moved slowly and explained what he was going to do, Gryph still pulled away and refused to let Ishula touch him.

“It is going to be tricky to teach you this if you pull away. There are throws and holds I must teach you also. But I cannot if you won’t let me near you.” Ishula explained gently. Gryph shrugged, but said nothing.

“So.” Ishula sighed. “So, then, perhaps I can teach you the bo sticks. There is little contact except with the sticks.”

Gryph brightened. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“All we need then, are two more sticks.” Ishula looked around the meadow at the surrounding trees. None of them would be perfect of course, the wood his bo sticks were made from was a special hard wood that had been treated to make it even harder. But something would suit he felt sure, as long as it was straight. Oak would be the best he thought, even green oak. After wandering around for a while, he found an ash tree and managed to get two fairly straight branches, which he broke off to the right length. Then he gave them to Gryph and had him remove the bark and all the sharp bits by rubbing it on a stone.

When they were ready, the pair faced off in the circle and began to spar. Gryph again threw himself into the training, his enthusiasm making up for his lack of strength. By the end of the day his sticks were ruined, Ishula’s merely covered in tree sap. Gryph wandered over to the tent and crawled in. Without even eating, and not even closing up the flaps, he dropped onto his blanket and fell asleep.

The next morning he was up as early again. If anything he put more effort into the training, quickly found two more sticks and had soon ruined those in the practice circle.

Ishula decided it was time to move on. Perfect though the meadow was, they were still too close to where he had found Gryph than he liked. They were also making more noise, with the sticks cracking together, so it wasn’t as well hidden as it appeared. He assured Gryph they would still practise every night. And they would spend some of the day running, which would increase Gryph’s stamina and get them to where they were going quicker.

Before they left, Ishula got Gryph to find a couple of sticks, good straight ones they could dry out better and therefore make them last longer. The boy would still pull away from him if he got too close, and didn’t really speak unless spoken to. But he would watch everything Ishula did as he explained about bo stick fighting. And when they walked he listened like the best of pupils to everything the master said. Whether he was taking any of it in only time would tell.

The further east they went, the less villages they had to avoid. The woods thinned until they emerged onto a grassy plain, the occasional hill rippling its smooth surface. Ishula angled more to the south here, heading towards a river he knew about. As they walked, they would occasionally come across wagon tracks and camp sites, some old, some relatively new.

“This is where many of the horses come from, and much of the meat you have eaten. I know you can’t see them, but great herds of horse and cattle and deer are kept out here. The grass is supposed to be the best in the kingdom.” Ishula explained.

“A bit exposed.” Gryph said.

Ishula laughed. “So, you do listen, good.”

They continued on, stopping at the old camp sites they found, coaxing a small fire out of what little wood the herdsmen had left. The only game they came across either flew over or disappeared into burrows as they approached. Ishula managed to get a few rabbits and once a goose, but the pickings were slim and they were both glad to reach the river and find it contained ample fish, as well as reeds and a few other greens.

Ishula then led them east again and a little north, following the river upstream. As they travelled, and began to weary of the taste of fish, the river narrowed. As the flow slowed and became shallower, the vegetation thickened until finally the open water disappeared all together. The water then seemed to spread out, as the soil under their feet became soft. At this point, the taciturn Gryph began to ask questions.

“Where are we going anyway? Looks like into a marsh to me.”

“Not into the marsh, just around it, and then beyond it.” He smiled as if he had just given Gryph a clue.

“Why, what’s beyond it?”

“You’ll see young man. Soon. And of course we can’t camp here, the ground’s too wet, and will only get wetter. So, we’ll have to keep walking, through the night.”

“And who is this friend of yours?”

“My friend is a fine warrior. Quick and adaptable. Can use almost anything as a weapon. But more importantly, my friend is a good teacher.“

“Who teaches warrior skills?”

“Yes, young person. And well done, you did not assume that a fighter would teach fighting.

“Good.”

Gryph said little more as they travelled on. They stopped briefly at dusk for a drink and a quick meal of cold fish and reed hearts, then set off again. Ishula led the way through the deepening darkness, Gryph followed behind, occasionally groaning when he stepped into a particularly soft patch. The edge of the marsh was marked by the change in vegetation. The marsh itself was lush with a wide variety of plants, many which flowered and added a subtle, slightly sweet odour to the night. In contrast the grassland that bordered it seemed to contain only grass. Ishula wondered how the grass decided where to grow, why this far into the marsh and no further? There was certainly no gap between the two, marsh plants growing right against the grass. Then he had another thought. He was assuming there was only one type of grass here. Perhaps there were many. After all he had seen grass higher than a mounted man, and grass in all different colours. He needed more time to study. Perhaps on the way back he would have a chance.

Through the night, Ishula kept himself alert with thoughts like this, kept them on the right track until he found the small open stream, one of many that fed the marsh from the north east. He turned and began to follow this, wondering how anyone had found their way to Beyond by accident.

It was beginning to get light when Ishula found the crossing place. As far as he knew, this was the only way into Beyond, but was almost certain there were others, given the nature of the settlement.

“So, we are here, almost. I think it better we wait for full light. The crossing has to be just right.”

“As long as I can dry my feet, I don’t care,” Gryph mumbled.

“Tolerance my young friend, tolerance. They are only wet, and slightly muddy. You will soon be dry. Think what a pleasure that would be. Besides, it could be worse, it could be up to your knees, or even your neck. There are worse places to be.”

Gryph’s expression changed instantly, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed, and he stared at nothing. But his mouth was almost snarling and his teeth were clamped together. Again Ishula witnessed the fear and anger he had seen before. Once more he had provoked a reaction from the young man. If only he could get him to talk about it. “So, you have been in worse places?” he asked as casually as he could manage.

Gryph nodded, but didn’t speak.

“Was this recently, was that why you were in such a state when we met?”

Again, Gryph just nodded. Ishula thought he saw the snarl relax slightly and the fear begin to gain the upper hand. He looked around for something to change the subject. “We should be able to cross soon. It’s not the stream, was can just wade through that. But past that, see, there is a strip of marsh and then the land rises. That is our destination.” He pointed, and held the position until Gryph responded.

“How do we cross the marsh?” He said quietly, and with little emotion.

“So, that is the secret. But look.” Ishula crouched down and lowered his head even further. Gryph stood looking puzzled.

“No, see. You have to get down low.”

Gryph moved slowly as of weary of a trick, but eventually he was in the same position as Ishula. “Now, see.”

Gryph looked, but didn’t see.

“The plants, look at the plants.” Ishula enthused.

Ishula saw the dawning of realisation as Gryph suddenly noticed. There seemed to be a path through the plants, a thin strip where they didn’t grow as high as their neighbours. But it wasn’t straight, it curved in an arc towards the low hill.

“Rock.” Ishula explained as they straightened.

“To walk on, so we don’t sink.”

“Yes, but why is the vegetation lower there?”

Gryph thought for a moment. “Because the roots hit the rock instead of the marsh, so they have less room to grow. “

“Good, very good. But also, the wind. In winter, the winds howl around out here, those plants with shallower roots get knocked over. Hence smaller plants and less of them. Giving us the chance to cross. But as you saw, the path is curved, and we must walk in the right places or sink into the mud. I will go first. You must stay on the bank, low down as before, and shout out if I stray.” Ishula studied the route for a few moments, then set off, across the shallow stream and into the marsh. He had always imagined the land underneath as a rocky basin, holding the water and mud. Here, at the rim, the rock came right to the surface, exposed by the shallow stream. As he walked now, he thought himself to be walking along an outcrop of rock, should the mud suddenly be removed.

He was soon back on grass, wiping mud from his feet and the hems of his robes. Then he crouched and signalled for Gryph to cross. The young boy moved straight away, as though eager to be off. With Ishula’s foot prints to follow, he had soon joined him on the bank. When they had both removed as much mud as possible, they set off up the hill.

At the top, Ishula paused to let Gryph take in the site. The landscape was in total contrast to what they had just crossed. Rolling hills faded into the distance. They were grass covered of course, remarkably even and very picturesque. Trees grew here, small and thin trunked, but trees nonetheless. And other plants, bushes and a good variety of wild flowers.

“Come on, two more hills and we’re there.” Ishula said.

At the top of the third hill, Ishula stopped again and scanned the scene. Everything looked normal, but it was as well to be cautious when entering this kind of place. A few buildings were visible at the bottom of the hill, a few others further back. Smoke rose gently from holes in the roofs. It was quiet as always, but not suspiciously so. When nothing seemed out of place, he proceeded, one hand resting on a bo stick.

“Gryph, stay near.” Ishula cautioned.

“Why, is it dangerous?”

“Only for those not welcome. But they tend to act first, then see who you are.”

They descended the hill onto a trail that led towards the houses. This they followed, past the houses and toward the next ones. They hadn’t gone far when a sound behind them caused Ishula to whip around, his sticks appearing in his hands as if by magic. There followed quickly after the sounds of a crossbow releasing and a sharp crack as Ishula swatted the bolt out of the air.

Looking back the way they had come, Ishula saw a tall man, grey haired but still sprightly. “Good morning Sentry, how are you today?”

“Is that you Ishula? My you haven’t changed. Who’s the filly with you?”

“This is Gryph, a friend. Gryph, this is Sentry.”

The old man had reached them now, but stood a few paces away. He reloaded the crossbow, and stood with it ready. “Ah, a young boy, no trouble are you young boy?”

“No, not to those who are no trouble to me.”

“Oh, he’s a lively one ay? Picked a good one there Ishula.” The man grinned widely showing glossy white teeth.

“We will see you later, Sentry, Come on Gryph, just a bit further.”

Sentry waved them off and returned to his house.

“That old man was the first one here. Doesn’t know how he got here or what his real name is. All he remembers is being told to be on look out, he doesn’t know who by or when. And so that’s what he does, that’s all he’s ever done. But, he is getting old now, and he’s often asleep when people enter. But you mustn’t wake him, because he gets very upset. He thinks he is constantly awake, as a good sentry should be of course.”

“Is everybody like him around here?”

“Oh no, some of them are quite dangerous.” He walked off, leaving an open mouthed Gryph to catch up.

The trail led over and between more hills until they arrived outside a small timber built cottage that backed onto the hill behind it. The timbers were thin trunked, crudely assembled, but seemed solid enough. Ishula knocked loudly with his fist, setting the door rattling and dust flying. “I hope someone’s home.” Ishula said, trying to peer between the shutters of a small window.

“Do you mean we’ve come all this way for nothing?”

“Patience, my young friend, patience. Do you have somewhere else to be at the moment?”

“No.” Gryph mumbled looking away.

Ishula knocked again. Still no answer. “My friend is an early riser. We should wait. Here, sit.” He motioned Gryph to sit on a chopping log beside the door. He himself sat cross legged on the ground.

“Can’t we wait inside? I’m thirsty and hungry and it’s getting hot.”

“What have I told you about tolerance? You aren’t dying of thirst, or hunger or heat. Be grateful you aren’t. Besides, it isn’t a good idea to walk uninvited into a warriors house, nor anyone else’s for that matter.” Ishula passed his water skin and a piece of fish wrapped in a leaf to Gryph. The boy took a deep swig of water and ate the fish, leaf and all.

The day moved on, the shadows swung around and still with no sign of his friend. Gryph was getting restless now, pacing up and down, peering through the shutters and generally annoying Ishula. “Why don’t you practise? Run up that hill and back, then work through a few punches. And see if you can find a couple of sticks for later.”

Gryph stopped mid pace, turned and set off up the hill. Gryph certainly wasn’t the easiest pupil Ishula had had, but he was keen. Something inside drove him, but was it something negative? Ishula didn’t know, but he hoped to find out before he left. A bird fluttered suddenly out of a bush on the hill opposite. Without moving or showing any outward signs, he moved just his eyes and scanned the hill. It can’t have been Gryph, he had gone the other way and would probably have startled the whole hillside.

There was a slight movement from the hill, a brief flicker of shadow, but enough to reveal the position of whoever was there. He wasn’t unduly concerned, but as he had warned Gryph, the residents here were sometimes a little edgy. Giving most of his concentration to the hillside, he spared a little to check the rest of his surroundings. His back was to the cabin, and behind that was a hill. So that left only his flanks, which were wide open. Being around the side of the cabin would give him some extra cover. Casually he stood, stretched himself and walked slowly over to the corner of the cabin, all without taking his eyes of the hill.

There was a slight movement and then the song of a bow string. An arrow a yard long thudded into the cabin wall where Ishula had been sitting and buried itself a good hands width into the wood. The small man studied the arrow, then relaxed slightly. There was only one person who fletched their arrows with dove feathers.

A figure emerged from the hill and walked quickly over to Ishula.

“When did you see me, it was the bird wasn’t it? Damn thing. Should have shot it.”

“So, it was the bird that first alerted me to a presence. Then you let your shadow fall across a patch of sunlight, and then I knew.”

“Black bloody essence! I knew you’d spotted me as soon as you moved. Stretching and moving like an old tom cat. I already had the arrow ready of course, pity to waste it. She put down her quiver and leant her bow against the cabin. “Good to see you again, it’s been too long.” She walked over and embraced Ishula, lifting the man from his feet. “You don’t change do you? Timeless as ever.”

“You’re looking well. Very well. You have been doing the practising?”

“Of course, can’t you tell?”

“Indeed. And where have you been, all day we have been waiting.”

“Well you should have sent a message, I can’t wait in everyday for you to call. And who’s we?”

“Ah, now, I have a friend, he needs help and I thought you were perfect for the job.”

“You did, did you? It won’t be a lanky youth with black hair and pale skin, who runs like a baby horse and frightens the game away?”

“Yes, it would. He is young, but keen.”

“So who is he?”

“I don’t know a lot about him, he had lost his memory when I found him. He didn’t even know his own name…”

“Oh no, not one your little orphans again. The last thing I need is some mewling babe hanging on to me. Not this time Ishula, take him somewhere else.”

She turned to storm off into her cabin, and there stood Gryph, a look of total disappointment on his face.

“Ah, Gryph.” Ishula said. “We where just talking about you. This is the friend I was telling you about. She is a fine warrior and a better teacher. Gryph meet Skyrae, Skyrae, this is Gryph.”

There was an awkward silence, then Skyrae said, “Good to meet you Gryph, any friend of Ishula’s is welcome here. I must say you look older close up. I saw you briefly in the woods. Ishula got you running has he?”

Gryph nodded, then said softly, “Yes.”

There was another long silence.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up Gryph, get all that mud off and get that dye out of your hair, let Skyrae see you as you should be? There’s a small spring just over there, in the hill, you can’t miss it.”

Gryph turned in the direction Ishula had indicated and wandered off, his head hung low.

“Now look what you’ve done, that’s all he needed. Can we go inside?”

“Yes, of course, sorry.” Skyrae opened the door a span and reached inside. She moved something with her hand, then opened the door fully.

Skyrae moved aside and allowed Ishula to enter, then followed him in, closing the door firmly behind her.

Next Chapter: Chapter Six - Skyrae