A Minstrel’s Quest (The Trouble with Magic Book 4) by B. J. Beach Page B

by little, the noise of pitched battle eased, until the only sound was the industrious rustle of moving bodies. Corlin groaned as the weight of the ant’s corpse was lifted off him. With gentle pokes and prods, his body was investigated. He lifted his arm in an effort to push them away, and struck his hand against a cold hard surface.
    Soft feelers tapped his arms and face. “You’re still with us. That’s good. Thought we might have lost you in that ruckus.”
    Corlin sat up and stretched one limb at a time, checking that nothing was actually broken. “What happened?”
    He could feel Frix’s face very close to his own. “Reduia. She got impatient. We sent her scuttling off to lick her wounds. Now, are you badly hurt?”
    Corlin muttered through clenched teeth. “Not really; just a few bruises and twisted muscles.”
    Frix tapped his feelers on Corlin’s face. “No problem. I’ve got a good idea where to find what you’re looking for. It’s not far, and then we’ll see about getting you out of here.”
     

15 - Unlikely Allies
    The army of giant ants didn’t mess about. Corlin found himself hoisted onto a broad smooth back, tied securely with fine cords and through the pitch darkness the party headed into the forest. This time there was none of the clicking and high pitched noises which had accompanied them earlier, and Corlin felt the uneven but steady rhythm of the march surprisingly relaxing.
    He woke to complete silence, in a darkness so thick it was only the touch of his own hand on his face that told him that the limb was there. The bonds which had tied him to the ant’s back had been loosened. Taking care not to slide off the smooth rounded carapace, he eased himself upright, stretched and yawned. He strained his ears for any sounds that hinted of something being awake, but the silence was so deep as to be almost oppressive. The Whispering Forest was sleeping. There was nothing he could do but wait.
    Something prodded his thigh and instinctively he grabbed the curved edge of the carapace. The sudden movement shook him back to wakefulness, to see dark shadows all around him and the rippling motion of hundreds of ant bodies surging steadily between the trees. The pale light of a cold grey dawn filtered down through the canopy of half-naked branches, and he was able to see his guide and protector properly for the first time.
    The sleek red-gold head and curved mandibles didn’t seem so terrifyingly alien in natural light, and Corlin even managed a smile.
    The giant ant waved his feelers and gave Corlin’s thigh another prod with an angularly articulated and spikily clawed leg. “You and me are going off from the others, along with a couple more who know the way. This thing you’re after has been there longer than I can recall. Its story has been handed down through many generations. So, if you’re ready, let’s get going. You’re going to have to walk I’m afraid, but it’s not far.”
    Corlin slid down off the smooth reddish carapace and felt his feet sink into the leaf-litter. With one hand on Frix’s back to steady his balance, he set off into the forest’s heart to retrieve the first part of Malchevolus’s clock.
    He soon discovered that Frix had been right. Their destination was only yards away. At the centre of a circle of gnarled heavily branched trees that looked as if they had been there for centuries, stood a bark-less storm-snapped trunk pointing like an accusing finger up into the canopy.
    The ant-leader scurried up it, poked and prodded for a while, then turned and peered down into Corlin’s face. “We may need a little help.”
    The minstrel stared up at Frix then down at the tree-stump. “You mean, it’s under there?”
    Frix clicked his mandibles together as he scurried down again. “No; inside it.”
    Corlin moved slowly round the jagged timber obelisk, running his hands over the dead, dry surface. “But there’s no cut marks, no cavities. If it’s inside, how did it