Determination seized Zoe and as the sensation of her divine magic began coursing through her arm; she rushed forwards with her silver hair streaming behind her. Both warriors moved with speed beyond human perception. As their blades were about to clash Zoe’s body erupted in blinding light; Akella was unable to see and was struck down by an angelic power that tore the hatred from her causing her aura to explode in dazzling colour.
Zoe held such pity for Akella; she empathised with her anger and even shared it. Valomere needed to be destroyed but it was a task she was never able to complete.
“You accomplished an amazing feat little phoenix.” She took Akella’s hand and helped her to her feet. “You are wounded and your heart is heavy with sorrow, come, let me help you.”
The world was a haze; Akella felt a weariness in her limbs that she had not known for many years. The anger had spent her; she needed rest and followed willingly behind Zoe.
Her armour was partially destroyed, body covered in countless wounds. Zoe led her to a secret place; the healing springs. A refuge of heroes from eons ago now hidden and forgotten. Naked she entered the water, its warm embrace soothing her ails. Akella sat in thought wondering if Zoe’s appearance had been coincidence or fate. One thing she did know, Zoe was going to be a very valuable ally, and possibly, an even greater friend.
Chapter 16
Defeating the banshee had been a treacherous yet prosperous errand. Ravage did not regret her decision to lie to the merchant Mrs Faymen about her daughter; telling the devastated woman that she had indeed found the poor girls body and laid it to rest with the golden pendant. Ravage could see that grieving for her daughter was already extracting a heavy toll on her psyche. In no way did she have the heart to tell the woman that her daughter had been mutilated and transformed into the undead slave of a hideous monster for it would have destroyed the forlorn woman. The lie at least allowed her peace.
With Sigwood behind them Ravage and Patsy began their journey across Adderock pass, menacing storm clouds loomed amongst the high peaks of the colossal mountain ranges.
The path was narrow, imminent death awaited below should they lose their footing. They rode the horses slow and cautiously along the hazardous trail as they absorbed the beautiful yet terrifying views of the cliffs, ravines and desolate ranges.
In a rocky clearing ahead was an unexpected sight. A group of adventurers had established a temporary camp of ragged tents and sat talking around a low burning fire. They rose to greet the pair as they approached.
“Come friends! Sit and talk with us, we have plenty of food to share if you’re hungry.”
It was a nice change to encounter such a friendly and cheerful group. Five men, each handsome in a rugged way and adorned in intriguing rogue armour; the type worn by avid explorers.
“Under better circumstances we would join you but we’re hoping to make it to the first respite cave before the rains begin,” the smell of roasted meat did temp Ravage but she wanted to press on and they had their own meat packed and ready for their evening meal.
“Oh come now,” the man stroked Musk’s neck then rested his hand on the reins, “just stay for a moment, tell us of your journeys, is the pass ahead clear for us?”
An immediate suspicion was aroused within Ravage when he placed his hands on the reins. Their smiles showed a charm that was not mirrored in their eyes. She then realised that the men had not risen to greet them as much as they had formed a blockade to prevent their passage and she was experienced enough to recognise a bandit ambush when she saw one.
With a single command Musk reared forcing the rouge to back away. Ravage thrust her spear forwards holding it against his neck; he raised his hands in submission. Patsy was fast to react; notching an arrow in her bow she took aim at one of the rouges.
“Move and die.” she growled.
“What’s all this then? Are you robbing us?” his innocent act was not going to get him anywhere.
“Cut the bullshit,” Ravage pressed the spear blade against his skin, “give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right where you stand.”
“kill me- what makes you think I’d allow you to do that?” his hands were deft, skilfully he manipulated the spear shaft so as to remove himself from harm and drew his own weapon to attack her. Having underestimated Ravage’s skill the rouge made a fatal blunder, his eyes wide with astonishment as his armour was shattered by the spear; blood spewing from a mortal wound.
Patsy had made a threat and she stayed true to it loosing the arrow at the rogue’s companion. It penetrated his armour burying itself deep within his chest and to the dismay of his comrades he fell dead. Cursing they unsheathed their swords to charge her down. With masterful speed she smote each in turn with deadly precision. The sound of combat resonated amongst the stone peaks and echoed briefly down the mountain side then all fell quiet once more save for the lonely cry of a passing falcon.
“For a moment there I actually thought we’d met some normal people, someone who for a change wasn’t going to try and kill us,” slowly Patsy slid down from Jayden’s saddle, “I miss the days when we could drink and talk with strangers.”
“Everyone’s an opportunist these days, most men probably think that the two of us look like an easy target.”
“I wish it wasn’t so,”
“So do I,” men had always harassed Ravage even when she was a young girl before coming into her womanhood. Born a larrosan descendant she suffered the cruel sting of prejudice countless times. She harboured a distrust of men for too few of them possessed a sense of honour or chivalry.
After pilfering the camp they had a nice cache of coins and rare treasures to show for their troubles. The rouges swords were forged of high quality steel, Ravage bundled them up, they would fetch a handsome price. The corpses they pushed over the cliffs so the birds of prey could feast upon the carrion.
The day grew darker as storm clouds continued to converge on the mountain. Thunder cracked and echoed amongst the high places. After hours of trekking across the treacherous paths they finally arrived at the traveller’s respite, a large cavern naturally formed in the mountainside that had been hewn and sculptured by stone masons to create a comfortable and inspiring sanctuary. As the girls led the horses inside they were met by a great ruckus.
“What do you think you’re doing! You can’t bring those beasts in here!” Storming over and waving his arms with such fluster was a well groomed noble dressed in fine silk garments. “I will not share this hovel with dirty animals.”
Ravage’s face twisted into a scowl. Nobles; a noxious breed of wealthy egocentric narcissists. Her retort was going to be harsh but before she could speak another piped in, his voice strong with authority.
“Lord Wilson this cavern is for all to share, their steeds as well as yours,” scars blemished his face as though he had been clawed by some hideous beast yet he was still dashing to look upon. His armour was age worn but well tended, strong and reliable.
“My steeds are thoroughbred, I will not have them mixing with these commoners flea ridden field beasts.” his tone was rife with disdain.
“That wasn’t a very polite thing to say, we treat all travellers as equals on the mountain pass be them peasant or highborn lord. You should be kindly to them, show them the civility befitting a lord of Loxenbury manor.”
Wilson was indeed a highborn lord. Having his politeness and grace questioned had an instant and dramatic transformation to his demeanour.
“You’re quite right Ajaxon,” he bowed politely to Ravage, “Apologies my lady, travelling has fatigued me, my behaviour was uncouth, your animals may share our… accommodations.”
It was nothing more than a polite façade; a typical masquerade for a highborn to display respect and kinship when truly they held none. Ravage could sense the falseness of his words but she didn’t want to belittle herself with petty bickering after Ajaxon had addressed the situation with dignified gallantry. It was rare to see a man of such thoughtful intel
ligence and she respected him for it.
“No apology needed my lord,” Ravage bowed respectfully, she could act just as falsely as he, “these mountain passes definitely take their toll, we are quite famished from our journey and humbly accept your gracious offer to share the accommodations of the cavern.”
“Ah yes, very good then, uh, as you were.” Lord Wilson took his leave of them, elegantly strutting away.
“Thank you for that, his lordship well,” Ajaxon peered over his shoulder at Wilson who was making a fuss and chastising his servants over the bedding they were preparing for him, “he’s a pain in the arse.”
“I take it he commissioned you as his escort?”
“No, he has his own guards, but mind you with their polished armour and lavish lifestyle I think they’re more for show than for defence, having spoken to them I don’t truly believe any of them to be warriors. Bandits will rarely attack a nobleman surrounded by guards so I guess they serve their purpose.”
“So you’re a warden then?”
“I am,” he nodded and his face grew grave, “did you come from Sigwood? We haven’t seen or heard word from the village for many weeks.”
“There’s a reason for that. The village was being plagued by a banshee, she was snatching villagers and travellers alike and dragging them to her lair within the mountain.”
“A banshee?” It had been long years since Ajaxon had heard stories of a banshee and they had always been tales of a village or town far away, never on his mountain. “What happened to it? Was it slain?”
“We tracked it through the caves within the mountain and killed it. I’ll tell you what it was one hell of a fight.”
Ajaxon regarded Ravage and Patsy with great admiration. “That’s quite a feat! How were you able to track it?”
“We had the help of a neshural, but it was-“
He raised his hand to silence her. “I’ve been listening to and regaling old stories of monsters and battle for a long time, it’s been quite awhile since I’ve heard a new tale let alone one as interesting as yours. This is not a story I want you to rush, so for now get yourself settled and rested, tonight by the fire you can tell me all about it.”
“I can,” she smiled and as he returned the smile she blushed, smitten by his charm and the depth of his blue eyes. A light rain began to fall on them.
“Looks like the storms finally begun, best we move inside.”
Torrential rain and howling winds bore down upon the mountain ranges. Water coursed down age worn grooves forming streams that cascaded down merging together to create a monstrous deluge in the canyons below.
The group had become quite acquainted with each other, talking and sharing jests while they set up their camps and prepared the evening meal. Lord Wilson’s servants were friendlier than Ravage was expecting and she enjoyed their company.
The group was silent now as they sat around the fire together listening to the sounds of the mighty storm raging outside, each pondering their own thoughts while feasting upon an arrangement of meat skewers with bowls of broth and bread. The horses stood huddled together, silent and anxious.
“It’s high time for that story Ravage,” Ajaxon dipped a chunk of bread in his broth to soak up the delicious flavours.
They sat enthralled as Ravage spoke. She was no bard but the tale held them in suspense as she painted a rich tapestry with her words describing in great depth the banshee and her undead horde. As she was regaling the emergence of the hydra a bolt of lightning struck the mountainside. The thunderous roar and terrible shaking of the cavern spooked the thoroughbreds, panicked they bolted from the cavern out into the storm; Musk and Jayden with them.
Ravage screamed in terror after Musk and ran for the entrance, Patsy in toe behind her. Another bolt of lightning struck the mountain and the trembling brought masses of rocks and debris crashing down from the roof of the cavern. Assaulted by the horrendous downfall Ravage couldn’t see the horses anywhere, the rain soaking her to the bone. Ajaxon seized her with his strong arms and dragged her kicking and screaming back into the cavern.
“Let me go!” she fought frantically against him.
“Don’t be a fool you’ll die out there!”
“I have to save her! Let me go!”
“No! You’ll never catch them!” Ravage was stronger than she looked; Ajaxon was barely able to keep a hold on her.
“I have to try!”
It was as if the gods themselves decided the cavern needed to be destroyed. An unnatural and violent outburst of continuous lightning disfigured the mountainside and the cavern began collapsing around the terrified group. Two of Lord Wilson’s guards were crushed by falling stone, their bodies mangled beyond recognition. Ajaxon rallied the others together leading them to shelter in a cave at the very back of the cavern. The cave stretched deep into the very heart of the mountain where they were safe from any more collapsing debris.
Patsy remained resolute through the mayhem, helping Ajaxon rescue Lord Wilson and his servants while consoling Ravage through the hardship. Wet and cold they huddled together in the darkness. Ravage refused to let herself believe that Musk had met her end; there was hope yet in her that the strong mare would find her way to safety.
Chapter 17
With great strides the gekhorn surged along the road at an incredible pace. Matearla perched upon its back kept a vigilant eye ahead, soon she would be upon Belderra stronghold, monastery of Cleric Osrown. Matearla abhorred the cleric with his constant witch burnings, long had her thoughts been festering on his demise. Their paths had never crossed but the hour was now at hand.
An outpost of tents and barracks had been erected on the road side. It was Captain Dogridge’s answer to the bandit insurgence. From the commanders tent he unleashed his scouting parties, scouring the country side for the hidden bandit camps. Horns were blown as the lookouts gave word of Matearla’s approach. The appearance of a gekhorn struck fear into the hearts of the men but the captain rallied them, and from his unyielding courage they found their strength. They formed a shield wall blocking Matearla’s passage as Dogridge came forward to confront her.
“Be you witch or mage you have no business here, disembark your mount and surrender peacefully,” he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, “once I have ascertained your identity and purpose you will be free to go on your way.”
The captain was steadfast but Matearla could sense the frailty in the quavering hearts of his soldiers.
“You’re a captain of Belderra?”
“Captain Dogridge, now step down from your mount.”
“I don’t think so,” the tenseness of the soldiers increased, “I’ll have you escort me while your men die,”
The gekhorn sprang forwards seizing Dogridge in its powerful jaws. Matearla raised her staff, a wicked implement infused with dark magic. She cast a frightening spell and the soldiers screamed in pain as their armour began melting; scorching and liquefying their skin. With a ball of fire the outpost became a raging inferno, a torrent of smoke bellowed into the sky.
Ensnared by countless teeth that penetrated his body Dogridge was helpless to escape. Such woe was upon him as he suffered the torment of being Matearla’s trophy. Intense agony was all he knew as the gekhorn continued its way along the road to Belderra.
From their high watchtowers the sentinels of Belderra spotted the plumes of smoke rising from Dogridge’s outpost. A rescue team was assembled in the courtyard, soldiers were mounted and ready to depart when the bells began ringing, an enemy was upon them.
There were no guards at the gates when Matearla entered the stronghold, for they had all amassed in the yard in ambush. The steel gates slammed shut behind her trapping her inside. A heavily armoured force confronted her. Archers lined the parapets; reinforced by clerics ready to unleash their holy magics. A divine light bathed down upon the stronghold as powerful defensive enchantments were activated. All the preparations for the battle were complete.
Brazenly Cleric Ashmer
e approached her. “Throw down your staff and surrender!”
“Surrender, that’s exactly what this fool said to me,” the gekhorn tightened its grip on Dogridge. The captain groaned as blood spurted from the wounds.
“The strongholds enchantments will block your ability to use magic! Release the captain and surrender!”
“Is that so,” Raising her staff Matearla summoned forth a blinding and terrible light. The cleric raised his hands to shield his face as he stumbled back. The effects were temporary; regaining his senses he steadied himself before her.
The archers were in shock and awe; all the soldiers on the ground had been turned to glass, sunlight dancing upon their crystalline surfaces. Matearla held the cleric’s gaze as she slowly raised her hand. She clicked her fingers; all the glass figures shattered. The soldiers, once living men were reduced to nothing but shards of splintered glass. Dropping to his knees the cleric’s body trembled with disbelief, and he mumbled to himself about the enchantments and how they were supposed to block her magical abilities. He did not realise that the nature of the spells was not to block magic, but to fortify the strongholds walls from being destroyed by powerful magic.
A rain of arrows showered down upon her. With a coy smile she transformed the deadly bolts into beautiful flower blossoms that fell with elegant grace. She laughed, and as she did her wraiths materialised from the shadows on the parapets and in a fray of blood and chaos brought ruin to her enemies above.
Matearla urged her gekhorn forwards stopping beside the trembling cleric.
“It’s cruel don’t you think, for my gekhorn to carry the captain in her jaws,”
The cleric looked up at her but mouthed no answer for his mind was dazed.
“She can taste the sweetness of his blood in her mouth but she isn’t allowed to eat, my poor Musala,” she rubbed the reptilians neck, “you can eat this one though, go on, enjoy him.”
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