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III
The Pieces Are Moving
If Pousin was the idea Rol had of pirate scum and a cutthroat he was dead wrong. Pousin had most definitely not forgiven him for what he had done but he had been obliged to dine with Rol every evening. Pousin had a manor, which was similar to the magistrates Rol had met and seen within Nala-Kahn’s court. He was a commoner who wanted to be refined or at least regarded as such. His crew of apparent warriors were below even cutthroats. The lower decks of this once fine vessel were in utter chaos and pandemonium. They were full of servile putrid scum, which no one could even hope to control and yet somehow this Pousin did. Rol hated them all. They chose their role in life and that is why he hated them so. Rol had not chosen his, but he knew even now if it were his choice, he would not choose this existence. It was a dire waste of a life. He considered it was because he had a want of a normal life a life they had chosen to throw away. Their first meal together was a very frosty affair. Iruc and Pousin obviously wanted revenge on Rol but his standing and their orders prevented such an act. Iruc had declined any further interactions with him, something Rol was grateful for. Pousin had found it somewhat amusing but Rol knew that this Iruc did not have a great deal of control over the magic within him. He wondered why this was as he was as powerful as the experienced Wielder in Ne-aan who Rol assumed was one of the surviving Knights of the Round Table. Iruc obviously had a similar power, which told Rol that he had been trained in the same way as the Knights, within the Emerald Skull.
Rol was more than glad when after the initial landing was over and the residents of Stone Bay were rounded up, he disembarked. A slight hope sprang into his thoughts that these men would die a rather sudden and hopefully painful death, Pousin chief amongst them though Nala-Kahn would not be best pleased. It did not take long for Rol to be far enough away from the coastal village for him to relax. Winter had consumed this land and though the neighbouring villages were not far away Rol knew that there would be no travellers on the road he now walked. He had decided not to use magic to shield himself from the bitter sting of the winter’s wind. However, after barely two miles he could not continue as such. He decided to use magic to raise his core temperature, more difficult than shielding but an easier form of magic to conceal. He in fact had no idea where he was heading but he did know that in one of the villages Jul had been murdered, he had to be patient. Though the road was quiet, pirates mooring at Stone Bay somehow always got the attention of the neighbouring villages regardless of the winter and no one escaping them. A small wood skirted south of the road he walked, it proved a good place to camp receiving shelter from the fir trees. Thankfully he was welled equipped this time. He lit a fire easily using magic however erecting his tent proved to be a struggle. Eventually Rol sat at the mouth of the tent where his fire burned. He had caught a rabbit with a snare he had set up on arrival which he ate, choosing to save his provisions until he would be unable to light a fire, after which he covered the fire with a thick layer of dirt, which was enough to snuff out the flames, and climbed into the tent fastening it tightly behind him, Rol was confident it could not be seen as it had been dyed an earth green, and fell asleep.
Two days had passed since Rol had made his way from Stone Bay. He was slowly skirting the road towards the central village. Still he did not know where Jul had been murdered.
It was night when eventually Rol had made his way into the village which he now knew was called Four Points. It was dark and cold and yet he noticed a great deal of activity. Many riders waited on the main road outside a large Inn. There were some on their feet one of whom was trying and failing to organise the riders. He made his way around two buildings to study the group. It was now obvious the inhabitants knew that the Strem were in Stone Bay. Rol snapped his head to the east, he could feel it. It was strong, extremely strong and he was shocked that he had not felt it before then. Fear gripped him as the magic was strong, stronger than even Lancelot and heading this way. Rol quickly shielded himself enough so these wielders could not find him. He was done just in time as two riders came up from the eastern road galloping hard. Rol sank into his sight something he had done very seldom as he rarely got this close to his targets. Both blazed with magic, one the younger dark skinned Man raged with oranges and reds, the other older and paler skinned Man was bellowing oranges and purples. Rol’s heart skipped. As the thought formed within his mind part of him did not want to believe it but he also knew with almost no shadow of a doubt that this was he, the wielder, the warrior that Lancelot feared. The impossibility of the thought did not prevent it from forming. He was Galahad. Trained within the Emerald Skull by Merlin, surviving ruler of the Knights of the Round Table and wielder of the legendary sword Excalibur. Rol could imagine the hunger Nala-Kahn would feel when Rol divulged this information. The fear had evaporated though Rol was certain that this Wielder was the one who had murdered Jul. The other who was equally as powerful was the wielder that Tod and his company had been following. Part of Rol wanted to break from his magical cover and confront these wielders but it would be pointless. They would brush him aside as easily as scraping dirt from their boots. He turned to leave when another thought powered into his warring mind. These two wielders had secured the young healer. He had no doubt that he could not warn the Strem in time nor did he have any want to do so. He stalked away not knowing what to do. He had not solved Jul’s murder but his reasoning was understandable.
Forgetting the wielders Rol walked to the south wanting to distance himself from the village. As he descended a south facing hill towards a farm building he froze. He felt something, something new. Every time Rol went to grab for it, it would slip through his fingers. He pooled his thoughts allowing the feeling to trickle into him, slowly filling his mind. It was incomplete. Rol became still, ignoring the world around him. Allowing the stiff sea wind to sway him as the trees. The suns rays started to soak over him before he realised what this feeling was. It was memory, a memory extracted from another, someone young, someone willing. Rol took a step forward into a small field of long saturated grass. He allowed the memory to guide him. He stumbled but knew if he opened his eyes the memory would evaporate. He took slow controlled steps not willing to risk losing what he was seeking. As his left foot planted itself onto the grass the memory flashed to life before his eyes but still within the confines of the walls of his mind. He stood next to a small boy who was hidden crouched in the long, now seemingly dry grass. Towards the joy strolled Jul, with a delicate but still somewhat impatient purpose, Jul appeared well, sharp and eager. A sense of recollection came over the boy and Rol. The Wielder Galahad walked behind Jul strolling. Rol wanted to shout but again it was pointless. As Galahad neared Jul the air between them and Rol with the boy started to ripple and as if one had simply washed a stone they had disappeared leaving the world around them. Rol shook himself out of the memory and bolted forwards to where Jul had been standing. Rol stared at the ground searching for any sign of his kin. There was nothing, not even an echo of the Elemamtel he had called friend. He searched for the sword but assumed that this Galahad must have destroyed it or sold it. This Galahad had not only killed Jul he must have destroyed his body by means that Rol did not know. The initial grief and guilt he had felt when the news of Jul’s death were uttered to him by his master came flowing back in droves. Jul was dead, his body gone and it was his fault. So consumed in anger he had disregarded his discretion. It took a while for Rol to gather his thoughts. When he eventually did a wave of fear swept over him and he immediately shielded himself. A measure of shock was building within him. Not only the shock that he had not been discovered but also the fact that the Wielder Galahad was returning to Four Points and his companion wielder was within the Inn close by with another. This was the first time he had felt the young healer, assuming that was the other wielder within the Inn. The young one was powerful. The shock enveloped him. Galahad was equal to Lancelot as was Galahad’s darker companion. But the young one,
the healer surpassed them. She surpassed Merlin the teacher of the Knights. But more disturbing was the fact she surpassed Nala-Kahn.
He quickly gathered himself, forgetting Jul and the grief that went with the memory of him, for the moment at least he was dead and could not affect the living, he was free. Rol made his way closer to the Inn where there was a great deal of activity. Far more than the night previously and almost all were arriving from the west, from Stone Bay. Rol could only guess that Galahad and the other wielder freed them and he could only hope that the Strem had all been killed. He felt nothing for them, they were valued assets of Nala-Kahn but Rol had hated them and he still did. Pousin and the Wielder Iruc were dead and thankfully so in Rol’s mind. This meant not only were these wielders strong, they were skilled. Rol despaired slightly not knowing what to do. These wielders would locate him eventually unless he left but he was trapped. The marshes to the north prevented him travelling that road to these villages. A sibling of Crimson dwelled within the Harana Mountains and even if he could navigate them he would have to navigate the Paladin Fields. The Strem had been destroyed and even if they were not there was nothing in their agreement with his master to return for him. A slight grin pulled at his lips as he thought of the perfect place to go where he could find shelter and be further away from these wielders so he could contact his master. Rol started south until Four Points could not be seen and then headed west towards what Rol hoped would be an abandoned village of Stone Bay.
Rol’s hopes were realised as he walked into the ghost village. There were three people that had decided to stay, Rol perhaps should have discreetly entered the village but no one with any sense would have remained. The three innocent as they were, challenged him, they were of no consequence. Rol dug graves for all of them allowing them a measure of respect that Jul had been denied. The Strem or at least what was left of them smouldered on the cobbled stones of the now destroyed harbour. Rol chuckled at the sight of them and part of him hoped that they had been alive when the fire had been lit but he doubted it. After eating some of the spoiled fish in the many cold stores within the homes of the village, Rol decided to sleep. Using magic he had cleaned the fish of the poison the Strem must have used on the salted fish. He slept well within one of the beds of the many houses that skirted the harbour. The following morning Rol contacted his master. He told him everything, every detail of his visit. Darz had taken a great amount of pleasure when he learned of the fate of Pousin, Iruc and the Strem. He ordered Rol to rest as Crimson was not in Heeden and would not return for a number of days. Rol took up residence in the largest of the houses of Stone Bay. He assumed it must have been the home of the marshal as there was a weapon store just within the door most of which had been taken. There was a large amount of unspoilt but poisoned fish in almost every home. Cleaning it was again a gift he was grateful for. Rol welcomed the reprieve that he had been given by his master. Rol enjoyed his solitude.
On the fifth night Rol sat at the door of the home he had taken as his own. The moon was completely obscured by black clouds that somehow had not broken into rain. The only light came from the large fire Rol had lit in the centre of the clearing between the homes and the remnants of the harbour. Not long after he had lit the fire the great gold frame of Kraco circled in the black sky. Kraco landed softly Crimson climbing down from his back, dressed in his black battle armour.
‘Young Rol!’ Crimson called.
‘My Lord,’ Rol answered walking out from under the cover of the home he was now leaving to the wilderness.
‘Is the young Wielder really as powerful as Nala-Kahn?’ Crimson asked bewildered.
‘I believe so, but there is more, something I have not told my master, not yet at least.’ Crimson’s curiosity had been shattered and now Rol had his complete attention.
‘Very naughty of you young Rol, keeping such information from your master.’ Crimson muttered grinning broadly. Rol understood sarcasm when he heard it though he had not mastered it himself.
‘Not at all, I know my master and if he knew what I knew, he would act. That act would kill him, I am certain of it.’
Crimson looked at Rol with a curious expression. Crimson had no love for Darz, in fact they despised each other but even though Rol was Darz’s servant there was a measure of fear within Rol for his master. The other Elemamtels Crimson had dealings with all served their master because they had no choice but there was only servitude within them not loyalty.
‘What information would lead Darz to act and lose his life?’ Crimson asked slowly. Rol held Crimson’s gaze for a few moments wondering whether Crimson was similar to Darz. If Darz would act on the information, would Crimson, Rol could not tell. He mulled the question over for a few more moments.
‘One of the wielders that protect the young one…’ Rol started trying to gauge Crimson’s hungry expression, ‘… is Galahad.’ Rol finished.
The words seemed to hit Crimson in waves sparking different emotions with each one. Soon the shocked expression turned to greed and it was obvious that Crimson was exactly like his master. Another power hungry monster that was only in the service of Nala-Kahn for his own gain. Rol had never doubted his master’s actions were not all for his own gain. Had they not Rol and the rest of the Elemamtels would not have had to swear loyalty to Darz but to Nala-Kahn. Crimson’s motives were similar which made Crimson and Darz more alike than they realised.
‘Galahad, which means, Excalibur.’ Crimson muttered more to himself then to Rol.
‘The other wielder is just as strong as Galahad.’ Rol mentioned.
‘Another surviving Knight?’ Crimson asked wearily.
‘No, I believe he is Galahad’s son, my master told me he had taken a son with darker skin a number of years ago, I can only assume that is he.’ Rol realised. Crimson glanced at Kraco then to the sky and nodded his head obviously deciding something.
‘Your master wishes me to fly you to a company of your kin who are tracking our latest friend, but this information our master must know, we fly to Mielach.’ Crimson said boldly. As Rol followed Crimson to the waiting Dragon a slightly satisfied grin pulled at his lips, so far his master’s plan was working.
The Legend of Alundi - Journey to the Emerald Skull Page 28