by M J Webb
‘I’ve done it! I have done what was asked of me,’ he thought, ‘I have the stones!’
The servant began to crawl silently backwards and he quickly reached the safety of the long grass, barely able to believe that he’d succeeded in his mission. His breathing was now so rapid that he thought the whole world must surely hear him. And yet, the camp remained quiet and undisturbed.
‘I am going to make it!’ he thought, as he pictured Vantrax’ expression in his mind when he reported to him with the stones.
He raised himself up to make good his escape into the thick mist of the swamp behind him, his heart pounding viciously in his chest.
‘Crack!’
Nytig had stepped on a small piece of twig that had dropped from one of the bundles of wood which were fetched by the camp inhabitants to light the camp fires. It had snapped under his weight with a noise that seemed thunderous to him and he raced immediately, as quickly as his deformed frame would allow, into the mists of the swamp and away from the camp.
Ben and Artrex heard the snap of the twig and turned around instantly to look in the direction of the noise. Ben turned just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of a dark figure disappearing into the mist. Artrex automatically reached for his sword, but Ben’s instant reaction was to look for his bag.
It was gone! He began to panic.
“It’s gone! The bag! It’s gone!” he screamed wildly at Artrex. “Quick, come on!” he added, as he drew his own sword and sprinted after the fugitive.
Artrex followed him immediately, shouting loudly at his men to do likewise. But most of the rebels were waking themselves from a deep sleep and only a few of them actually heard him. They entered the Moorlands following the direction that the unknown figure had taken. Ben had a head start on the King and he was a little way ahead of him. Being a good deal faster than Nytig, the teenager soon caught sight of the runner and he recognised the wizard’s servant. He screamed several times in vain at him to stop.
Nytig continued to run as fast as he could, but he knew it was no use trying to outrun Ben, his disfigured leg hampered him and the youngster was gaining too fast. He looked around desperately at the landscape. On either side of the narrow path he was running on were large pools of thick quicksand. He decided quickly that he only had one option open to him if he was going to escape.
‘Uuuygh... They will kill me this time for sure!’ he thought, and he threw the bag as far as he could into the quicksand as he ran.
He didn’t stop to see it land. He kept on running and disappeared into the mist, as the bag and the stones began sinking into the sand!
Ben was running flat out. He was only about ten yards away from Nytig when he threw the bag, the youngster knew he could easily catch up with the crippled servant, but the sight of it hitting the wet sand and beginning to sink beneath the surface, altered his priorites. He had an immediate decision to make and he didn’t hesitate. If there was one thing he was good at it was making up his mind quickly, even if he did take the wrong option from time to time.
Without breaking his stride, he veered for the swamp and launched himself into the air, landing in the thick, gooey liquid not six feet away from the bag, and just in time to grab the strap before it disappeared for good.
The force of his landing plunged Ben deep into the sand up to his shoulders. He knew that he needed to keep still to avoid sinking even further, but he could feel the strap of the bag, and the weight was getting heavier as the box was being dragged down into the recesses of the bog.
“Ben! Ben! Keep still! Do not move!” shouted Artrex, as he arrived on the bank just before the first of his soldiers. “Kraar! You... We will get you! Hold on!” he cried, looking around frantically for anything that may help to reach the young boy.
Ben smiled as he remembered Knesh’ sacrifice. To his amazement he was completely calm now, and totally in control of his feelings.
“Ahh well,” he said quietly, as the quicksand reached his chin, “in for a penny, in for a pound, eh Jake?”
He pulled on the strap with all his might. The bag rose slowly from the swamp and it surfaced, just as Ben’s head was disappearing below the quagmire, leaving only his arms above the sand. He used them to throw the bag with all the energy he could muster and it landed on the bank not far from the King.
Ben had almost disappeared from sight altogether now, only his two hands could be seen. King Artrex raged at the thought of losing the young boy who was willing to sacrifice so much for him and he waded into the swamp without hesitation, ordering his soldiers to form a chain and link arms as he walked. The swamp engulfed him and in seconds it had risen up to his neck.
Ben had gone. He’d been taken by the bog. But the King kept feeling around desperately for him, refusing to give up and praying to the skies above for help and guidance in his search.
“Knesh! Knesh!” he shouted aloud. “Hear me now! Guide my hands to this boy. Help me one last time my old friend, and I...”
Artrex fingers suddenly met Ben’s deep below the surface!
“Pull! Pull you Felaks! Heave!” he yelled at his warriors.
They all responded swiftly and first the King, and then Ben, reappeared, the young boy gasping for air as he resurfaced and spitting violently to expel the sand he’d swallowed. They trudged wearily up the bank and collapsed on the ground next to the heavily soiled bag, trying hard to catch their breath.
A few minutes later, the King had recovered a little and he stared at Ben with a look of complete astonishment.
“Why? Why would you do such a thing? I have come to expect such bravery from my people, it still amazes and humbles me every time. I can understand their reasons though, because I share in their pain. But you... You are not of this world. Ours is not your fight. You are passing through, you will leave when you can, and you have everything to live for! Why Ben, why?”
Ben shrugged his shoulders as any teenager might.
“Dunno.” he replied honestly. “I s’pose it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. But do me a favour, will ya? For God’s sake, don’t tell Jake?”
Chapter 31
Early Evening 15th August – Astelli Plains - Rhuaddan
Sawdon’s comment about Knesh’ ‘parting gift’ was not received well by the evil King. “Yes, thank you, Sawdon!” snapped Vantrax angrily, as they stood staring disbelievingly at the rising cloud of black smoke in the distant eastern sky. “It is Heron Getracht, there can be no doubt. My fortress is in flames. Raaarrrrr!!! How??? Artrex does not possess the soldiers required to take a fortress, not in quality or numbers. How has this happened?” he asked, with a mixture of bewilderment and fury. The two warriors remained silent for a while as they both thought hard to come up with an explanation.
“Srrr, could it be that we have an enemy we were previously unaware of?” asked Strymos. “Renegades from the south perhaps?” he ventured, thinking aloud.
“No, I do not believe so. The enemy in the south is too weak, they are close to defeat. And they would not get past Obreth’s forces. They would not be capable of taking a fortress such as Heron Getracht.” answered Sawdon confidently.
“Then who? Who, Sawdon, who???” demanded a furious King Vantrax, in an increasingly loud and aggressive voice. Sawdon looked at him calmly as he considered his response carefully.
“I do not know for sure, my King. A small force of King Artrex’ maybe? It is unheard of, but they did know of our presence on the battlefield, your own servant gave them that information, I believe they would have correctly assumed that your Guard had accompanied you. They may have seen an opportunity in that; a great fortress, emptied of all its best soldiers? If that is the case, then it is a work of genius.” added Sawdon, unable to restrain his honesty and impressed by the probable tactics employed by his enemy.
King Vantrax glared at him angrily. “You know, Sawdon, at times, your perpetual insistence on telling the truth as you see it is... Annoying!!!” he screamed, as he flew into a wild
rage and moved to stand nose to nose with the Thargw warrior. Sawdon didn’t flinch, he’d seen Vantrax’ fits of temper many times before and had come to accept them as a part of his nature.
“I offer my apologies sire for my choice of words, it is my way. But, what happens now? With Heron Getracht in flames, what is your command? Do we pursue whoever has done this? Assuming that they are not long gone and disappeared, and if we can pick up their trail?”
Vantrax thought hard about Sawdon’s question, trying to plan his next move. He had a very difficult decision to make and his mind was being clouded with anger. After a while, he shook his head and replied.
“No! We cannot waste time chasing shadows. We have to wait for news of my brother and his army. If we defeat them, all will be well and we will be able to reinforce the Southern Army with soldiers from the north. And we have to try to get those stones! With them, I will be invincible. I will build an army and a fortress the like of which has never been seen. This world will tremble at the very thought of them, I swear it!” he cried.
“Yes, sire. But what of the prisoners at Heron Getracht?” asked Sawdon, realising that any force attacking the fortress would have found the dungeons full. “If they have managed to release...”
“Krarr, a few hundred miserable wretches are of no consequence to us now, Sawdon. Bressial is the only concern I have there. I knew I should have killed her when I had the chance. But, without my brother and an army behind her, she is no danger to us. No, we continue pursuit of my brother’s army, and when we find them, we destroy them!” Vantrax shouted firmly.
The conversation then halted as each of those present tried to think of the best plan of attack for locating and dealing with the rebels. Vantrax sat quietly with a look of fury on his face. Sawdon and Strymos maintained their uneasy silence, the animosity between the two was growing and their intense dislike of each other could no longer be disguised.
The Northern Army camp on the plains beside Erriard forest was one of complete contrasts as the darkness closed in. Most of the Thargws and Falorians were still singing songs and making merry, celebrating their hard fought victory and honouring the memories of their fallen comrades. A few were more melancholy as they mourned their losses. The Taskan Warriors, Petrosyans, Nadjans and the rest of the army, were still angry and upset at the way in which the battle had been fought, particularly the obvious bias and favour shown by their commanders toward the Thargws. Most were painfully aware that they could have completely destroyed the Rebel Army at Erriard forest if they’d been thrown into battle earlier. They were now huddled in small, disgruntled groups stewing on this thought, and looking enviously over at the partying Thargws and Falorians. The Dzorag hunters had still not returned from their pursuit of the rebels. Strymos began walking among the soldiers of his former command, listening with mixed feelings to all their gripes and agreeing completely with their assessments of what had happened, whilst exonerating himself from any blame.
After a while, Vantrax eventually grew bored of the perpetual silence, to break the monotony, he started a conversation with the Thargw warrior beside him. “Do you know, Sawdon, in all the years I have known you, I was never truly disappointed by you, until today.” he said, speaking almost as a father would to his son.
Sawdon, the mightiest warrior in the Northern Army, with the hardest of well-earned reputations, was visibly shocked and upset by the unexpected statement from his King, and he hung his head in shame. It was an insult and a call to arms for the proud warrior that demanded satisfaction. But King Vantrax had taken him in when he was at his lowest ebb, he’d personally raised him from nothing to become a commander of armies. The evil King was the closest thing he had to family and his harsh word’s hurt. They hurt Sawdon as the warrior had never been hurt before! He looked back at his master with eyes brimming with ferocious determination.
“My King! I make these solemn promises to you here and now; I will kill this Keeper. I will recover those stones for you. You shall have the victory you seek over your brother, I swear it! I will not stop until the whole Ruddite Rebellion is crushed. Until I see Artrex’ corpse lying before my very eyes. All of this I swear to you now, my King. May I be refused entry to Kalvanaar if I do not make so!” roared Sawdon loudly, his deep, growling voice rising in pitch as he became more and more emotional.
King Vantrax nodded arrogantly at the Thargw. He was impressed by the sincerity in Sawdon’s voice, though he did not show it. To be banished from Kalvanaar for a Thargw warrior was to suffer eternal hell. Their soul would never rest, it would be left to wander through the afterlife alone in search of the gates, separated for all time from his comrades in arms. Only by gaining entry to the sacred place could a Thargw truly be at peace, his journey through life and death, finally at an end.
Vantrax looked the warrior straight in the eye. He’d already forgiven Sawdon several times for failures he would never have tolerated in others. The evil King had no friends or family, he had alienated all those he once loved long ago, he didn’t like this compassionate side to his character and it embarrassed him. Still, he responded kindly to the warrior’s vow.
“Very well, Sawdon. We will say no more on the subject.” he stated in a hushed voice.
They continued to stare at the forest in silence for some time. Until, just before sunset, the first of the Dzorag hunters suddenly appeared out of the darkness, two riders ahead of the main force, who galloped swiftly up to the ridge to report. The first rider dismounted quickly, whilst the second took his horse’s reigns and then galloped away to their part of the camp. It was the Dzorag leader himself who reported to the King. He was a huge warrior with thick, matted, black hair which was strewn awkwardly across his head and face, and a tangled mess of a beard which hid his features, except for his huge nose and his two piercing dark black eyes. He was clad in a variety of foul-smelling animal skins and he carried a giant battleaxe in his right hand which he wielded effortlessly, despite its immense weight, as if it were a child’s toy. He wore no helmet, unlike the rest of his men, and he walked with an air of complete arrogance. His name was Zaknar.
“King Vantrax,” he began, purposely ignoring Sawdon who was standing beside the King, “the enemy has escaped into the T’Nesc Moorlands. They were too far ahead of my riders. We rode hard, but we could not close the distance in time to catch them. They have destroyed the bridge at Eartal. We rode up and down the river for some distance, but we could not find a safe place to cross, the river is too fast and too deep. I thought it best to report back to you immediately. I would not lead my men into such a place without knowing the safe pathway through the swamp.” Zaknar stated, in his deep, lazy-sounding voice.
“No, Zaknar, you were right not to follow them into the Moorlands. I have already lost too many soldiers in that place and it would have been futile. And you were right to report back to me.” answered a disappointed Vantrax.
“They destroyed the bridge?” asked Sawdon, surprised by such tactics.
Zaknar eyed Sawdon up and down with a disapproving gaze. The Dzorag leader was one of the very few warriors who were not scared of the mighty Thargw, though this probably had more to do with his own ego and distinct lack of intelligence, rather than confidence in his own fighting abilities or prowess.
“Yes. As I have said, they destroyed the bridge. A clever move, we would have caught them before they reached T’Nesc if they had not done so. The King and the boy with him stayed until last, they could be seen on the far side of the river.” he stated.
“You do well to remember who it is you address! And to show me more respect, Dzorag! If you value your life.” growled Sawdon viciously, clearly angered by Zaknar’s looks and tone of voice.
Zaknar jumped back a little, startled by the sudden fury in Sawdon’s voice. He glanced questioningly toward Vantrax as the Thargw started moving toward him, the Dzorag raising his battleaxe in the same moment.
The wizard King lifted his hand instantly, stopping Sawdon in his tracks.
“Say what you will, Zaknar!” ordered Vantrax firmly. “I will hear the truth. Speak your mind now, or hold your tongue forever.”
Zaknar lowered his axe and looked at each of them in turn. “I think you already know what I am going to say, King Vantrax.” he said insolently. “We missed a great opportunity today to end this war. It was not the enemy who defeated us here. We should have been sent into battle before we were. We are hunters, we could have taken that forest and we could have captured that brother of yours, if you had let us. You pay us well King, so we will accept your decisions, but my soldiers are not happy! And neither am I. That is all I have to say, it needed to be said.” he stated angrily.
Then he turned away and stormed off in the direction of his camp, before Vantrax or Sawdon could reply. Sawdon made to go after him, he was absolutely livid at the insolence and lack of respect shown by the hired warrior, but Vantrax halted him again.