by Thomas Rath
Jack’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Trees in a forest, eh? Did you say that was right before he died?”
Teek looked up at Jack as if startled by his voice and then smiled weakly. “No, they were different from the others. They were set apart and beautiful. He said they felt like they were alive.”
Jack opened his mouth as if preparing to point out the obvious but Teek put his hand up to stop him.
“I know what you are going to say, I said the same thing. But he explained it like they were alive like you or me. So much so that he thought if they had the mind to, they might just uproot and move on.” Teek stopped for a moment, his face suddenly showing some concern. “Do you think he was just telling a story that wasn’t really true to amuse a young boy?”
Jack’s expression became more serious. Something was scratching at his mind, a memory stored deep long ago that was trying to find its way through the corridors of his brain and into his remembrance but it wouldn’t come. “I never knew Twee to speak other than the exact truth no matter what the consequences. No, Teek, if he told it to you, you can be certain it was not made up.”
Teek smiled and then nodded.
He wanted to question him more, hoping to regain whatever it was that was agitating his memory, but was interrupted when he caught site of a small group of men carefully picking their way through the camp. They moved toward the tent in a deliberate manner yet careful not to soil themselves by inadvertently coming too close to one of the exhausted, filthy refugees.
Their were five of them total. Two were obviously sent as bodyguards of sorts, their physical size and display of battle gear marking them so, yet anyone accustomed to war would instantly recognize their equipment as showpieces and not extremely functional in a real fight. The other three were dressed in gaudy silks and furs giving them an air of aristocracy but painting them more as those who try too hard to appear as more than they really are.
The leader was gaunt and frail looking, the wisps of his receding hair hanging tenuously to the great bald spot on top of his head that he tried unsuccessfully to cover by combing what little he had over from one side to the other. His nose was large and hawkish protruding from his small head and guarded on either side by tiny black eyes that seemed to never stop darting about. A laced handkerchief was held by a boyish hand under his nostrils as if the smell of the camp were too offensive for his delicate beak. His strut was like that of a peacock, prancing about in a show of superiority, gracing the common folk with the mere blessing of his presence.
Jack spat on the ground, the anger and disgust rising like acid in his belly. “So,” he growled barely under his breath, “the ambassadors have finally arrived.”
Teek looked at him quizzically. “Ambassadors?”
“Yes,” he replied, eyeing the approaching figures with disgust. “Calandra’s answer to the slaughter of its people.”
Teek stared at the men incredulously. This was what they sent to save them from complete annihilation? He turned to Jack as if to put voice to the questions in his mind when the men finally passed their last obstacle and quickly covered the ground between them. The one in the lead stepped up to Jack while the other two stood back leaving the two guards at their backs. Jack could see now that they were more like pets than protection.
“Who is the one in charge here?” the one in front asked, the thin, whiney voice emitting from his frail frame. Just the greasy sound of it made Jack want to go and bathe.
“Who’s askin’?” Jack replied unable to completely disguise the disgust from his voice.
The man’s eyes played slowly over him as if trying to determine if he was even worthy of addressing, a small sneer of loathing playing across his thin lips. Finally, as if coming to the conclusion that Jack may in fact be leader of such a dirty infestation of filth as he saw around him, he spoke. “I am Ambassador Prissley of the House of Maggest, Chief Ambassador to his royal majesty and protector of the land, his grace, King Dagan. And who might you be?”
Jack’s anger was just at the surface now and he wasn’t sure he would be able to hold it in check much longer. He knew all too well the House of Maggest. A more apt name would have been House of Maggots for that was what the truly were. Maggest was a mid-level House of opportunists with their noses constantly to the wind sniffing out any chance to prey on the misfortunes feeding on the financial corpses of their rivals or anyone else that might give them a boost in status. In what he now considered another life, he had had to deal with the Maggest House for a time and the foul stench it left in his nostrils was rediscovered in the form of Prissley Maggest.
“You can call me Jack,” he replied, his face getting red with the exertion it required to hold from simply pounding the king’s men into the mud.
Although seemingly impossible, Prissley puffed himself even more, his handkerchief covered nose rising still higher in the air. “And from what House do you hale?”
Jack’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “No House,” he hissed, “just Jack.”
The ambassador’s demeanor instantly turned from one of self-importance to a frozen wall of disdain. It was all too obvious that one without the significance of a landed House was not worth the air such a person wasted in breathing. As far as Prissley was concerned, their interview had ended and Jack was nothing but a ball of waste rolled about in the mud by a dung beetle.
He couldn’t mistaken the instant change and opened his mouth for a verbal onslaught, but just at that moment, the tent flapped open and out pressed Jace followed immediately by Prince Ranse. Both kept to their ranger garb still not giving over to the royal dress deemed appropriate for a prince or that of the king’s elite royal guard. Anyone catching a glimpse of the rune markings that had been carved into Jace’s hands would mark him for the weapon’s master he was. Ranse, on the other hand, would have not appeared to be anything other than a common traveler with his doe skinned pants and hanging green tunic. It had been decided to keep his royalty a secret so as not to cause undo alarm or fuss from the refugees or the meager band of men that were now left of Haykon’s armed force.
Prissley, though, was not fooled, recognizing the prince almost immediately. His reaction, however, was not what Jack would have expected from one involved with the royal household. He merely turned away as if Jack were no more than a common piece of manure to be left smoldering in the street and then only nodded slightly to the prince. Being the third son of the king did not afford Ranse much, if any, power but respect still should have been shown to one of his station, especially from the ambassador. Ranse seemed unfazed though and simply nodded back before addressing him. At least Prissley followed that much protocol to allow the prince to speak first. A courtesy he had not afforded Jack.
“Prissley, what brings you here? I’m fairly certain my father has not sent you to welcome us with open arms into the city.”
The ambassador smirked at the suggestion as if the prince had said something funny. “Of course not, we were sent to deal with Haykon’s embarrassment.”
Jack opened his mouth, no longer able to contain his rage but was quickly cut off by the prince. “By embarrassment, I presume you mean the fact that we are here with Haykon’s sole surviving refugees and that the thousands of trolls, goblins, and orcs that chase after us should have been dealt with more efficiently.”
Prissley smiled sweetly. Jack thought he might throw up. “Never fear, Ranse,” he said the prince’s name—eliminating the royal title and courtesy he should have given—with weakly masked disdain. “We will take care of the mess that has become of your father’s northern fortress. In the meantime, you honestly don’t think to bring such dregs,” he motioned to the refugees, “to the grand city of Calandra.” It was not a question but a statement.
Ranse’s eyes flashed for a brief moment but his features remained calm. “That is precisely what I mean to do.”
The ambassador laughed out loud this time. “You know that will never do.”
It was obvious that Ranse had had enough. “I
s that all? I wouldn’t want to keep you from your errand, after all.”
Maggest smiled at the prince, his lips turning up in a sickly fashion. “We are through here.” Turning to the four behind him he motioned them to follow. “Come, let us be gone from such filth before I lose my breakfast from the scent of it.” Then looking back at the prince purposefully he added, “We have another mess to deal with.” And then he turned about and picked his way back through the crowds.
The four of them watched the ambassador and his entourage retreat, the incredulity clear on their faces, except for Jace’s whose face never altered from the stern look he seemed to hold constantly. “Can they really stop those that follow us?” Teek asked in wonder.
Jack and the prince regarded him. Ranse smiled and then shook his head. “They go to their doom my young friend.”
“At least there’s some good to all of this,” Jack added half under his breath before adding, “and that is where we will all end if we don’t get this group moving.”
* * *
Checking the dragon’s position, Thane pressed harder gathering the wind to race him back toward his body. It wasn’t long before he passed over the refugees who had taken their leisure in their race for Calandra and his stomach tightened. Looking back, he could not see the dragon any longer. Where had it gone? He was certain it had been sent after him when Zadok’s rage made him unable to fight on the winds. But then where was it? Had it returned to Haykon? He paused in his flight, checking the sky in all directions. He didn’t see it. He looked back at the people of Haykon and it was then he realized what a fool he’d been. The dragon was not sent for him. No matter how fast it flew, it was no longer a match for the speed he could call forth. No, the dragon was after the unsuspecting townspeople. Zadok was chipping away at the HuMan population. The centuries of waiting gave him the patience to slowly and methodically destroy them a little bit at a time. The helpless refugees from Haykon would supply his army with fodder for the last press against Calandra.
Dropping down near the long file of people he tried to find someone who might be able to see him so he could warn them but he knew when he started it was in vain. Only one having the ArVen Tane would be able to see him as he rode the winds. It was no use and he knew it. Even if they could see him and start the line running, they would be no match for the speed of the dragon. They were lost unless he could somehow turn it away. Regaining altitude he turned back the way he came as he continued to climb finally catching sight of a distant black dot gradually growing in size as the dragon ate up the distance between them. Gathering about him all the wind he could hold, he kept going higher as he followed the dragon’s path, all the while appearing larger as it came. Then its speed suddenly increase as it caught sight of the unsuspecting travelers below.
He readied himself, knowing he had only one shot at this, his spirit straining to hold the tremendous amount of wind that now swirled about him in a seeming vortex of power. It had to be enough. The dragon was almost directly under him when suddenly, its body shot forward in a dive heading straight for the people below. Thane followed, the vortex of air rushing with him as he arrowed toward the dragon’s back.
Gaining speed, he quickly closed the distance and prepared to release the gathered wind. He prayed it would be enough to force the dragon into the ground kill it or, at least, wound it enough to save the line of people still slowly moving along the road and unaware of the danger falling upon them. Holding for a brief moment longer he inched closer and then released the wind, holding back only enough to keep himself from spiraling into the dragon’s back.
What had appeared to him as a raging torrent hit the dragon dead on but to his dismay its affects were minor at best. The dragon did drop some but was quickly able to right itself as it passed over the people and rushed toward the front line eliciting panicked shrieks of terror as the people finally understood their fate.
He watched in horror as it swooped down over the front and then turned about to face them. It paused, as if enjoying the moment, before drawing in a great breath and then releasing its foul blood red liquid over the front lines of people and reducing them almost instantly into puddles. Those escaping the initial blast turned back in a frenzy of terror at seeing their friends and loved ones dissolved to nothing before their eyes while the dragon fear wrapped a vice grip around their hearts.
Thane thought he was going to be sick. He needed to help them but what more could he do? It was obvious that his wind powers were useless against the corporeal world while he remained in spirit form. He needed his body but it was still far away, and without it he knew he could not affectively attack the dragon. He watched as it turned about and then dropped in closer maneuvering to make sure none of the chaotic mass got away but instead reversed their direction.
“It’s herding them back to the army. They’ll all be massacred.” He could not save them. The thought was a lead ball in his gut. With all the powers he possessed, he was powerless to save these people. The only thing left was to get back to camp and warn the others. At least he could help the remaining people of Haykon escape. At least that is what he wrapped his mind and emotions around so as not to give into despair. Turning away he raced back to Jne with as much speed as he could gather.
Jne didn’t flinch in the least as his head suddenly lifted; she’d become accustomed to his popping in and out of his body in the past few days. “What news?” she asked, catching the look on his face as he quickly rose and turned for his horse. “They come, don’t they?”
“Yes,” he replied, grabbing Chtey’s mane and jumping onto his back. “The dragon has moved out ahead of the people escaping on the road and is now herding them back to the army that has just left Haykon on its way to overtake them.”
Jne jumped onto her own horse and turned it south toward their camp. She knew just as well that there was no hope for the others.
“We must make speed if we are to help the rest,” he shouted and then pushed his horse into a dead run. Jne didn’t answer but urged her mount after him.
Chapter Two
Thane and Jne entered the camp amidst chaos. At first glance it might appear that everyone had gone mad as they seemed to run about without purpose, but they knew better. The camp was preparing to move. At Jack’s command, everyone was picking up what tents, bedding, and cooking utensils they had and were preparing for a final push towards Calandra and the relative safety it provided—for the moment.
The pace had been slow and wearisome even in the face of the danger that lurked behind them as a constant threat to their existence. Still, moving such numbers of untrained and disorganized people unaccustomed to such exertions was a challenge in the best of circumstances. The people were tired and hungry and many had let the icy hand of despair find place around their hearts where it slowly robbed them of hope. All that most of them had known was left behind in ruin to the enemy that had destroyed their city and killed so many of their friends and family members. The feeling of despair was a thick cloud over the camp that fell as a choking mist snuffing out on any spark of optimism.
Dismounting so as not to trample any in the crowded mass, Thane and Jne lead their horses as quickly as possible through the throng seeking any who would know Jack’s or Ranse’s whereabouts. Their going was slow and hampered due to the masses having huddled together like frightened chicks who were now trying to gather their few belongings and move out. Gone was the stigma and fear that was generally associated with the Tjal-Dihn and would have normally opened a large swath before them. That fear had been replaced with the apathy of those who have given themselves over to the inevitability of death.
Thane tried to avoid the eyes of the people on every side as he passed them, feeling stifled by their looks of defeat. He would not give up and he knew Jne would not either. As long as he had one breath still within him he would fight to protect as many of these people as he possibly could. The irony of it all was lost on him now. The very people who had tried to annihilate his own
race years ago were now left at his mercy and protection. But that didn’t matter to him. Saving them from their enemy was all that occupied his mind now. That and the twinge of guilt that, though unwarranted, was nevertheless always present and pressing that he could have done more. But there was so much that was out of his immediate control. He did not rule or lead except for that that had been given him by those in authority. Still, the disease of failure and doubt was a constant threat to his own strength of will; one he knew could easily consume him if given enough place in his heart and mind.
He caught the blank stare of a small child hoisted onto its mother’s back as she busied herself with the task of packing what little they had. It held him briefly in place as he searched for the light that seemed to shine in every child’s eyes but found none. Snuffed out by seeing too much that no one in a lifetime should have to witness. He felt despair’s cold sickness coming to life within him hungrily feeding on his emotions and trying to gain sway over his heart. Unbidden thoughts raged within his mind gaining strength as his eyes remained locked on the child’s empty, blank stare. You can’t beat them. You will never win. You are all doomed. All of these people will die. That child is fodder to feed the belly of a hungry young troll. He felt his eyes blur as the hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him.
“Why do you wait, Ghar of the Chufa?” Jne asked, touching his arm and suddenly pulling him back from the brink of despair.
He looked at her as if he didn’t know her, his thoughts still slightly clouded.
“Thane!” another voiced called drawing their attention. It was Tam pushing her way through the crowd. Thane’s look of loss quickly melted into a half smile as he raised his hand in recognition. Jne scowled slightly. “What news?” she asked when she reached them.
Thane glanced back to where the child had been but its mother had already gathered their things and had moved on and disappeared into the crowd. “They move,” he finally said, keeping his voice low so that only Tam could hear. “They have left Calandra and are pushing on toward us.”