“No, wait!” Jared shouted, “Xarran, last warning!”
A gargantuan shape emerged from the clouds, its leathery wings causing a tremendous gust as it hovered above them. The lightning flashes illuminated its ruby-red scales making its entrance even more terrifying. Xarran laughed manically, “Now do you see?” he bellowed, “Your attempts to thwart my father are futile, Uncle. You will bow down or be destroyed!” He turned his back and looked up, “To me,” he roared.
The dragon landed with a crash and immediately lowered its head to the ground. Xarran approached its outstretched wing and grinned wryly as he used it as a stepping stone with which to mount his steed.
Lodren was agog, “No!” he gasped, “It can’t be! Jared, that’s Fireweigh. Why is he helping Karrak?”
Now astride the dragon’s neck, Xarran took great pleasure in continuing his taunting, “It appears the tides have turned, Uncle. It is now you who are hopelessly outmatched. You seem shocked!” he laughed. “But not as shocked as those two dergon eh, Charles?”
Jared studied Hannock, a questioning expression on his face. Hannock avoided his gaze, glaring at Xarran and hoping that the subject would pass.
“Oh dear,” laughed Xarran, “Now I have let a secret slip, haven’t I, Captain? He never told you did he, Uncle? Have you never questioned what happened to them the day that Faylore left me with this little memento?” he asked, pointing to his face.
“What’s he talking about, Hannock? What happened to the dergon?”
“Take no notice of him, Jared,” Hannock growled. “He’s just trying to goad us into a fight.”
“Come now, you’re far too modest, Charles,” laughed Xarran. “Tell him… tell him how you butchered them!”
Hannock was shaking with rage.
“I’d be careful of that one,” smiled Xarran, pointing at Hannock, “He professes to be so noble and upstanding. He calls my father a psychopath and a murderer, when he is no better. At least Lord Karrak has honour enough not to hide his deeds! You see, Uncle, Charles here just couldn’t forget the past. He never forgave the dergon for what they did to the people of Borell so he exacted his revenge on the two that had so gallantly come to your aid. Now, I know that they were your sworn enemies and to face them in combat would have been an honourable way for them to die, but that wasn’t the case. This coward stabbed them in the back, waited until they had sheathed their swords and hacked them to pieces. They didn’t even see it coming.”
“One good deed could never outweigh the atrocities they were guilty of in the past!” roared Hannock. “They deserved to die! I’m just glad that I was the one fortunate enough to carry out their execution!”
Jared, although taken aback, knew that he could not allow himself to be distracted from their current situation, “What’s done is done,” he bellowed above the tempestuous wind.
Lodren could contain himself no longer, “What have you done to Fireweigh?” he roared. “He’s my friend, you let him go!”
Xarran patted the dragon’s neck, “I don’t think so,” he answered, slowly. “This beast belongs to me now, it obeys my every command.”
“Fireweigh is not an it!” snarled Lodren, “And he’s a good dragon, you must have done something for him to behave like this.”
Fireweigh arched his neck, spewing a gout of fire into the air. “It…” emphasised Xarran, “… will do as it is bid, and I am the only one who will be doing the bidding.”
“Well that’s where you’re wrong, the dragons will obey my word above yours. I’m the…”
“Yes, yes, we know,” Xarran interrupted him, “You’re the dragon rider!”
Lodren’s mouth stayed open.
“However, there is something you may not know. You see, Lord Karrak discovered something that was far more interesting. He heard a rumour of a legendary artefact that contained the soul of the most powerful dragon that ever lived.”
Faylore shook her head, “No!” she exclaimed quietly as the word stuck in her throat.
“Ah, Faylore,” said Xarran, “Was there something you wanted to say? No? Oh well, as I was saying. The artefact of legend was, in fact, a crown! I mean, of all things! Why would anyone seal the soul of a dragon in a crown?” He reached inside his robes. Drawing out the crown, he placed it on his head. “It’s a bit ugly I must say, however, I was delighted to find that it actually works! Whoever possesses the crown controls all dragons.” He leered at Faylore, “Your mother says ‘hello’… well, I’m sure she would have if she’d lived long enough.”
Faylore collapsed to the ground. To lose her father was devastating, but the news of her mother’s passing was too much for her to bear.
“Anyway…” continued Xarran, “… time is pressing and we all have better things to do. You, obviously, are taking these horrible vermin back to Borell in the vain hope of protecting them. As for any other plans you may have, I’d rethink them if I were you. Of course, we could attempt to settle our differences now and you may kill me, but how many of your tiny friends are you willing to sacrifice, Uncle? Swallow your pride, Jared, make the right decision.”
Jared glanced at his friends. Not one would hesitate to follow his lead should he choose to do battle with Xarran and the dragon. His heart sank, he had no choice. As fearless as his companions were, he knew that some would not survive such an encounter. The added concern of the Vikkery also had to be addressed. He found it hard to admit it to himself, but Xarran, the young man that he thought he knew, was right. A battle now would be catastrophic.
With hatred in his eyes, he faced Xarran, “What happens now?” he asked.
“Nothing,” replied Xarran. “Nothing at all. You take your little rats wherever you like, I watch you leave and nobody gets hurt.”
“And Karrak?” asked Jared.
“Will send for you,” replied Xarran. “When the time is right. I have to be honest, he won’t be pleased when I return. He was hoping that you would join him, today.”
“His pleasure is not in the forefront of my mind,” replied Jared. “But, as you are playing the part of the messenger, you can carry one to my brother for me. Tell him that the next time we meet, I’m going to kill him.”
Xarran lowered his head, a wry grin parting his lips, “Off you go then,” he said, mockingly.
The Gerrowliens began herding the Vikkery past Fireweigh, making sure to give him a very wide berth. Once they were clear the companions followed single file, each glaring at Xarran as they passed.
At the rear, was Lodren. The turmoil in his mind was obvious for all to see as he dragged his feet. Pausing at Fireweigh’s side, he raised his hammer, pointing it at Xarran, “If you hurt one scale of any dragon, I swear I’ll flatten you,” he whispered.
“Why would I hurt them?” Xarran laughed, “I love my new pets. I would have wasted so much time destroying that rats-nest of a village, but with the help of this beast…” he said, slapping Fireweigh’s neck, “… it took but a few minutes.”
Lodren’s grip tightened on his hammer’s handle.
“Oh, but I’m forgetting!” exclaimed Xarran. “Where are my manners? I never thanked you properly, did I?” he said, looking toward Grubb.
Grubb looked as puzzled as the rest, “Me?” he asked, “Ye ain’t got me to thank for nothin’,” he growled.
Xarran shook his head, “No, not you,” he replied, dismissively, “Your shy little friend, the one hiding behind that scrag-end of a pony you drag around with you.”
Cowering behind Buster and trying unsuccessfully to remain hidden from Xarran’s eye, was Lorzic.
Grubb knew that Lorzic was there but had paid him no mind, believing that he was simply terrified of the dragon. “Lorzic?” he asked, suspiciously, “What’s ‘e talkin’ about?”
“No idea,” replied Lorzic, far too quickly and nervously for it to be convincing.
“Oh, come now, Lorzic!” protested Xarran, “You’re far too modest! I mean, allowing me to use your trinkets as a distraction for my
uncle was a stroke of genius. You said he wouldn’t be able to resist a cry for help, and you were right. It gave us just enough time to get what we actually wanted,” he added, stroking the Thedarian crown.
Grubb transformed in an instant and grabbed Lorzic with all four hands, “Is that true?” he roared.
“I had no choice!” screamed Lorzic, struggling to breathe. “He said he’d kill everyone if I didn’t help!”
“Grubb!” bellowed Faylore, from far ahead, “Put him down… NOW!”
Lorzic babbled incoherently, his eyes fixed on Grubb’s bared fangs. Grubb knew that the fate of the snivelling wretch he longed to tear apart, was not his to decide. The traitor would be judged by another, he would be judged by the Thedarian Queen. He threw Lorzic to the ground. Shrinking, he took hold of Buster’s reins and marched away. As he reached the other Vikkery, Jared noticed the astounded looks they were giving him. There were many sounds of tutting and visible shaking of heads. Were they disappointed that Grubb hadn’t given in to his anger and torn Lorzic apart?
CHAPTER 18
“Well it scares the life out of me.”
“Why? It never even comes close to us when we camp.”
“I don’t care! I just know it’s out there somewhere watching us.”
“How? Come on, how do you know? I mean, I’ve not seen it since we managed to escape that loony and his dragon.”
“Trust me, it’s out there! Wait ‘til the wind changes, then you’ll know. Bloody thing stinks.”
The Vikkery sitting around one of many campfires were obviously discussing Bogg. The zingaard had developed an attachment to Grubb and had been following them for weeks. Grubb in turn, felt responsible for Bogg and would sneak off under cover of darkness every night to feed him. He understood that there was no way he could bring the beast amongst the companions and Vikkery, but he wasn’t prepared to abandon him and just hope that he could fend for himself either.
Jared watched him through half-closed eyes as he crept back into camp one night. He was completely unlike any of his kin. Grubb was caring, loyal and good natured, traits it seemed that were complete mysteries to the rest of the Vikkery. Jared smiled, his face hidden by the coarse blanket he had drawn tightly about him as he lay pretending to sleep. He felt no guilt at spying on his friend, he had no suspicions of ill deeds where Grubb was concerned, only a deep admiration for his most honourable convictions. But one question burned in his mind, a question that had arisen from an offhand comment made by Lorzic. His investigations would begin the following morning.
***
As dawn came a faint mist drifted through the camp, a sure sign that winter was fast approaching. The Vikkery were a total enigma to the Nibby. They never ate breakfast, and that was something that Lodren simply could not comprehend. He would scurry around before daybreak every morning, tutting and shaking his head as he prepared a veritable feast for the companions. It was his duty to ensure that they were heartily fed before they had to endure the rigours of the day, at least, that’s what he believed.
“Good morning,” he said cheerily as Jared approached, “What can I tempt you with, Your Highness?”
Jared seemed distracted, “Oh… erm, nothing, I’m fine thank you.”
Lodren was horrified. What an insult, he thought. He frowned, “You can’t go all morning without at least something, Mr Jared, you’ll make yourself ill,” he warned. His eyes widened, that was it, Jared must already be ill. Why else would anyone decline his delicious food? “Oh, Mr Jared, I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, “What are your symptoms? Stomach ache? Nausea? Maybe Mr Drake has some of Yello’s potion left, that… Abigails Mercy that he swore by.”
“Lodren, I’m fine,” Jared insisted, “I’m simply not hungry, and besides, I have something I need to do.” He patted Lodren on the shoulder, “See you later.” As he drifted between the Vikkery he would pause occasionally, lean down and make enquiries.
One of them gestured toward the woods, “Went to the stream to bathe, I think,” she said. He thanked her and headed toward the trees. He could hear the trickling of the water as he neared it, but there was no sign of his quarry.
“Tambly,” he called, “Are you out there?” There was no reply, “Tambly, I need to speak with you.” Still there was nothing.
He continued until he reached the stream. Tambly wasn’t there. Perhaps she’s gone back to the camp he thought, but as he turned he saw a tiny blanket on the ground. He picked it up, perhaps she had dropped it? Then, he saw the blood. Raising his staff, he began to call her frantically, his voice getting louder each time he called her name, “Tambly…” no response, “… Tambly!” still nothing, “… TAMBLY!”
Then, he saw Bogg. The zingaard stood, its head tilted to one side, staring at him. Cradled in one of his huge hands lay the limp figure of Tambly. Jared, fearing the worst, conjured a fireball. He desperately wanted to disintegrate the beast but, if by some miracle Tambly were still alive, he could not risk harming her.
“Put her down!” Jared called, “Gently.”
Bogg tilted his head to the opposite side, then looked down at Tambly. Jared’s heart skipped a beat as the beast suddenly clutched Tambly closer to him, but his panic turned to confusion as Bogg suddenly stretched his arm out as if to show him what he held, “Nice thing,” he grunted, “Good thing.”
“That’s it,” said Jared, trying to remain as calm as possible. He did not want to alarm the creature in any way.
Bogg began to approach him a little quicker than he would have liked, “Good thing,” he kept repeating. He stopped directly in front of Jared, handing Tambly carefully to him, “Good thing… no dead thing.”
She was alive!
Bogg backed away. Jared was unsure exactly what to make of the situation. Had the zingaard done this, by accident or intention? It was an answer that would have to come later. He turned and sprinted back to camp. Frantically he began to call for Grubb. Tambly was gravely hurt and Jared knew that Grubb was her only hope.
“What happened to her, Jared?” he asked as he rushed across to him.
Jared had placed her near to one of the dwindling campfires that remained. He held up his hand, causing it to flare up once more. “I’m not sure,” he replied, “The zingaard from Mallorkan… it… oh, never mind that! Will she be alright!?”
“Give me a second to ‘ave a proper look at ‘er,” urged Grubb. “Yeah… well, that cut’s a nasty one, don’t think there’s any bones broken or nothin’ though. She’s froze’ to the bone, must’ve been out there a good while.”
Various Vikkery were offering blankets to cover poor Tambly but Grubb, more intent on healing her wound, ignored them. Faylore swept through them, taking a blanket or two and leaning down to cover Grubb’s patient.
“She’ll be fine shortly,” announced Grubb as he rose, “Mind you, she’s going to ‘ave one cracker of a headache. Some o’ that stuff that Yello used to swig might help,” he said thoughtfully, “Drake, is there any of it left?”
Drake smiled apologetically as he shook his head.
“Well don’t none of yer know ‘ow to make some more, you are supposed to be wizards!”
“Potion making was something that never came into conversation I’m afraid, Grubb,” said Emnor, “I have no idea of its ingredients.”
“Penellerim leaves, simfax petals, pollum and gibbonite hair,” muttered the voice, “Simple process really, everything we need is in my bag.”
The companions stared at Drake. They saw his lips moving, but none of them heard his voice. Once again, they heard Yello.
Lodren shuddered, “Mr Jared, I’m begging you, please tell him to stop doing that!”
Drake glanced around at the amazed looks on the faces of his friends. His head dropped, “Did our old friend just pop in to say hello again?” he sighed. It seemed he was getting used to his situation.
“Right!” announced Hannock, “Now that we know the little one’s going to be alright you’ll have to excuse me!” he anno
unced.
Taking up his crossbow, he marched briskly toward the trees.
“Where are you going?” called Jared.
Hannock paused briefly as he answered, “I believe I may need a new rug, and I know exactly where to find a pelt that has outlived its usefulness!”
“Now you just ‘ang on a minute, Captain carve up!” yelled Grubb as he chased after him, “You don’t know that Bogg did this,” he added, grabbing Hannock by the sleeve. “We’ll wait for Tambly to come ‘round before we do anythin’, and not before! If it turns out that Bogg is guilty…” he struggled to finish his sentence, taking a deep breath before he could, “… then, I’ll do it!”
Hannock folded his arms, deliberately resting the crossbow on his shoulder, “You’ll do what exactly?” he asked.
“You know what I mean!” snapped Grubb, “I’ll…” he twitched his head to the side a few times.
“Kill it,” said Hannock, finishing the sentence.
Grubb scowled, “Yes!”
It seemed they were destined to encounter delays as it was a few hours before Tambly regained consciousness.
Grubb had not left her side, although he was diligent enough to keep an eye on Hannock as he tended to her, “’ow ye feelin’ sweetie?” he asked as she opened her eyes.
“Ooh, my head,” she answered, raising her hand to her brow but managing a weak laugh, “It feels like a tree fell on it.”
“It looked like it had, when I first saw ye, but you’re alright now,” he said smiling, “Yer as pretty as ye always were.” He blushed, realising what he’d just said.
“Are you flirting with me, Grubb, or are you like this with all your patients? I’m a married woman…”
“No ye ain’t!” laughed Grubb, “Ye just tell everyone that so they don’t give ye funny looks.”
“Oh really!” Tambly protested, “And how would you know?”
“’cause if ye had a husband he wouldn’t ‘ave let ye wander off to find water on your own, would ‘e? And he’d be ‘ere with ye now.”
The Cessation of Karrak_Ascension III Page 26