The Kingdom of Tamarack (Book One in The Tamarack Series)

by Ross Turner

  Looking across to the twins asleep by the fire he was glad to be in such brave and trustworthy company. They were so young, Isabel too. None of them should be caught up in this. But at least for now they were ok. He knew tomorrow would bring more challenges, and this wouldn’t be over anytime soon. The road was going to be long, and dangerous. But the four of them would be in it together, soon to be five. Though he had a hidden suspicion that much more would be asked of Isabel than of the others, even in years still to come.

  His eyelids drooped as he thought. He hadn’t been here before. He was just as blind as them, and as always it made him more than a little uneasy, but there was nothing for it. They had no choice other than to continue. He only hoped they weren’t too late, and that he could do enough to prepare them, for he knew all too well that they would need to prepare. The short amount of time they would have to be ready in didn’t seem like anywhere near long enough.

  He slowly drifted into a comfortable sleep, his arm rested lightly around Isabel’s front and his head laid gently against hers, the soothing heat from the fire warming them both together as one.

  14

  At the dawn of morning three lay still, sleeping soundly by the now flickering orange fire. The two young boys had found their way into a small hollow barely two feet from the warmth of the flames. The girl of a mere seventeen laid peacefully, her head supported gently by a soft rise of moss. Around them hung an air of tranquillity that moved tenderly between them, supporting the three as they slept, their breathing steady and serene. That same gentle breeze whispered between the trees and carried a soft warm air through the camp.

  On the far horizon the sun rose boldly, bright and glorious. Zanriath stood at the edge of their encampment, just inside the treeline. From there he watched the sunrise creep slowly up from the ground, filling the sky all around it with red, orange and golden streaks of light. The night had passed swiftly and they had stayed safe. He had even slept for a period, dreaming intermittently of the past and of his expectations for the future, and of the hope he held for their success.

  He had spoken little to his companions of how he felt, and now in this briefest of moments while they still slept, he somehow wished he had done. He wished he’d shared more with Isabel, so that he could help her to understand the task that had been laid down for him. For years he’d prepared himself for the challenges that waited in his path. But sometimes even he did not fully understand how he perceived them, and so many times had he reassured himself that it would all become clear. And now, days, months, even years later, he often still struggled to fully grasp his own emotion. He only hoped that the others saw his calm reserve as confidence rather than insecurity.

  ‘Zanriath.’ Through the refreshing morning air a comforting voice called to him on the breeze, though he knew only too well that it wasn’t carried on the breeze at all. He smiled, the pit of his doubt beginning to somehow lessen.

  ‘It’s been too long.’ He didn’t speak, but instead constructed the words within his mind.

  ‘There is still far to go Timeless Zanriath.’

  ‘Indeed we are but on the shores of Hinaktor.’ Again he felt the sudden weight of his task bearing down upon him. How much further they still had to go. How little they knew.

  ‘Do not despair my son. Move northeast to Kilkaw, take the Great Road to the south. Warrior’s Plain is where you shall find your fourth and final companion.’ The voice spoke kindly through his thoughts.

  ‘Are the demons on every Island Ormath? Have they spread so quickly?’

  ‘Indeed they have, my son. They are few in number as of yet, but that will not last. Move quickly and your steps shall be protected; in haste the boy shall not find you, at least not immediately, and those of Hinaktor are not welcoming to such evil. My dear brother Koack has more than one thing to say for their intrusion, though I fear He is just as bound by rules as I am. As we all are.’

  ‘I understand. Who do we seek on Warrior’s Plain?’

  ‘You shall know your ally when the time comes Zanriath my son. Now wake your companions and watch over Isabella. You are right, indeed she grows stronger, but as of yet she is unsure of her potential, perhaps even unaware. You saw but a mere morsel of that potential in Compii Tower.’

  ‘I shall Ormath.’

  ‘Be swift my son.’ And with that the voice of his master sounded no longer. The silent conversation had bettered Zanriath’s worry vastly. At least kind eyes would be on their path through Hinaktor. He was sure Depozi would be cursing His brothers’ people for such interference.

  He was hasty waking his three companions, spurred on by Ormath’s encouraging words. They ate a less than hearty breakfast with sleep-filled eyes, saving from their meagre rations as much as they could for their journey to Kilkaw, the capital of Hinaktor. There they would attempt to re-stock with food and supplies.

  “How do we know where we’re going Zan?” Ben asked as they were finishing their hasty meal.

  “How do we know who we’re looking for?” Zhack added.

  “Fear not.” Zanriath replied. “I spoke with Ormath. We are headed northeast for Kilkaw, and then south on the Great Road.”

  “The one we’re looking for is on Warrior’s Plain.” Isabel finished for him. He looked across at her quizzically.

  “I dreamt it. I think maybe Ormath was trying to tell me.” Zanriath’s hand came to his lips for a moment in thought and his brow furrowed.

  “No, I don’t think so. I don’t think He’s allowed.”

  “Then how did I dream it? I even saw her.”

  “Her?”

  “Yes. I don’t know her name, but I know who we’re looking for. She is blonde with blue eyes and she’s a warrior. She fights on the Plain.”

  “I think your abilities may be improving faster than you realise Isabel.” She said nothing but looked between him and the twins, both looking equally as perplexed. “That isn’t Ormath in your dreams, or any of the Gods for that matter. It’s something more…”

  And then, in the distance across the other side of the plain they’d crossed only the night before they heard a terrible screech. Isabel clutched the sides of her head in agony as the noise penetrated her senses.

  “It’s a demon!” She hissed, trying to quiet the ringing in her thoughts.

  “We’ve got to go!” Ben and Zhack cried together.

  “Wait!” Isabel said sharply, cutting them off. Zanriath stood ready. She was in control.

  “It’s fighting. It’s in pain. People are attacking it.” Her words came short and sharp as she probed her thoughts across the open field. Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “It doesn’t know we’re here.”

  “Ok.” Zanriath said a little more coolly, though still on edge. “Are we safe to move?”

  “Yes. Let’s go.”

  They moved hurriedly, on Zanriath’s suggestion choosing speed over stealth. They relied heavily on Isabel’s senses to detect any demons around them and moved northeast as they had been instructed, Zanriath’s keen sense of direction proving invaluable once more.

  The twins scouted ahead, quickly and more stealthily, checking and watching for anyone, or anything, that might slow them down. On several occasions the twins directed them around watches set up around small campsites dotted throughout the eerily open landscape. Though there were women and children amongst them, the makeshift houses were run amuck with burly men wielding large swords and axes. But then, quite often, most of the women carried weapons too, some even bigger than the men. It seemed their expeditions in Hinaktor were going to prove to be interesting.

  Moving so much more swiftly than they had done the previous night, they covered much ground on that first day, pausing only briefly to rest for food at around midday, though they could afford to eat only very little, their scanty rations having been largely depleted thanks to the attack in the Great Forest and having picked up two unexpected companions. However, they had little choice in the matter, and so they pressed on and ignored thei
r hunger.

  On the second day the weather remained clear, as did their path, and Kilkaw was soon in sight, a massive cloud of dust far out on the horizon, at that distance just a spec.

  They still had some way to go and, after another exhausting day, they found a large depression to rest in for the night - another surprising convenience to hide them amidst the flat landscape. It would keep them well out of view on the plains, but since they were in such open country there was no chance of the boys hunting them down any dinner, so they went without anything even remotely satisfying, sharing the remaining morsels out evenly, leaving at least a little for the following day. Still Zanriath’s fire remained black.

  The open plains of Hinakor had proved to be safe and uneventful for their first two days, but Isabel had an uncanny feeling that their luck would not last as she felt the strength leaving her, unable to recover properly from her ordeal in Compii Tower without a substantial meal.

  The grassy expanses were nonetheless quite uplifting and in the fine weather their spirits were all greatly improved as they travelled easily and quickly, their biggest problem being their vastly diminished supplies and their waning strength because of it.

  Finally, Ben and Zhack struck luck in the form of deer whilst scouting a small water source and Isabel began to think that they may not be alone in their struggles after all. Surely soon they would reach Kilkaw.

  That milestone in their journey for some reason worried Isabel and she was anxious, wondering constantly whether the people of this vast island would welcome them or not.

  They all slept soundly on that third night. Isabel, having now fully regained her strength, cast a demonic barrier as she had done in Land, fusing her will with that of the amulet. She tested it rigorously for almost a half hour until she was finally satisfied – she definitely did not want a repeat of the previous time she’d tried it. But finally she was confident it was strong enough to hold until she awoke and settled for the night, wrapping herself warm to keep the cold of the empty plains at bay.

  Soon Zanriath lay beside her once more, the same way he always did. His presence still comforted her even on the darkest of days. She leant back onto his chest and was soon feeling very tired. The boys already were sound asleep.

  “We’ll make it won’t we Zan?”

  “Of course we will. Why wouldn’t we?”

  “It feels like everything is against us. And we still have so far to go.”

  “Kilkaw is close now. We’ll be there in no time tomorrow. Don’t you worry.”

  “Hmmm.” His words reassured her, but there was no way to shake the worry set so deeply in her heart.

  In the distance the capital of Hinaktor awaited them. A large gathering of huts and over-sized sheds where people bought and sold weapons, shields and armour, bartering over prices, duelling for money and pride. Weaponry was the craft here, but not just buying and selling. Everyone was trained. Everyone could fight.

  They didn’t fight wars for money or religion. They fought for sport. And now, as demons crossed into their home, they fought also for survival, for the rights to live in their homes without fear, using the skills developed over many generations to fend off their unwanted assailants. For the moment there was at least some sort of balance, but soon the demons would overrun Hinaktor, as they had overrun Land, to be shortly followed by Rilako and Vak’Istor, and by then, there would be little hope for humankind.

  Everyone was fighting for survival, and it seemed Isabel was this pitiful race’s only chance. But she couldn’t do it alone. And even with the brave help of her companions, her task wouldn’t be a simple one.

  15

  The noise of the capital was almost deafening - it was more a market than a town. People raced around wildly, rushing back and forth, no one seeming to notice the four travellers as they entered via the south-western gate. As people dashed between huts and tents they kicked up dust and dirt in choking clouds from where there had once been lush grass, now worn down to nothing, making the air thick and suffocating.

  Tall wooden fences, gates and barricades had been erected around the city, encircling it and creating a dusty wooden fortress. It was clear that the people here had not taken much time building them, nor their houses and carts for that matter Isabel noted. Everything was practically falling to pieces.

  The houses, or shacks as they could more accurately be described, were hastily and flimsily nailed together with tall, uneven planks of wood and had more often than not straw roofs. Some had had a little more care taken over them and the roofs were nailed on also and at least looked a little more permanent, though they numbered minutely.

  It seemed apparent that far more effort was being put into making weapons and armour, though Isabel struggled to decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

  She reached out lightly to a passer-by and stopped him with a worried look.

  “Excuse me good sir, we’ve been away from town. What’s going on?”

  “My dear girl it’s the demons!” He exclaimed. “They’re not all here yet, but they will be! Oh and when they arrive we shall be ready don’t you worry. Now I have to speak to Finch…and collect my shield…and…oh yes…” He carried on muttering to himself and wandered off into the crowd. Isabel started after him but Zanriath caught her hand.

  “They’re getting ready for war.” he observed. “Except this is a war they can’t win.” He added sullenly. “We can’t help here. We have to keep moving.” They pushed on through the bustling town.

  There were no streets as such, not like in Aproklis. Random huts were dotted around everywhere and the four of them simply weaved their way through the tents and shacks aimlessly, looking for any kind of store that dealt in anything but metalwork.

  The banging of hammer upon anvil rang shrilly through the air accompanied by a fast and grinding whirr from every sword smith’s workshop. The people here were certainly making preparations.

  Continuing on, still looking for somewhere to buy supplies that didn’t include swords and spears, they passed an open square with a large tent erected in the centre. As they passed they saw inside dozens of tall, muscular and intimidating figures, fully suited and armed, ready for conflict it seemed, all with equally stern looks painted across their faces.

  Their weapons and armour were all individually crafted and exquisite. Though each was unique, they all prominently bore a Gryphon on their chest plates, shields and weapons. Koack, Isabel presumed. Some carried giant axes and others enormous two-handed swords. After seeing the Gryphon so proudly worn by those in the main tent she began to notice the symbol everywhere: on armour, canvas tents, weapons, and even small wooden and stone statues sitting outside hut entrances.

  The four pressed on to the east, still going unnoticed. Though hastily built, the town stretched for miles; clear all the way to the horizon in the distance. It seemed that everything on this island was oversized. Finally they found somewhere to buy supplies and the shopkeeper introduced himself as a man named Thomis. He seemed not the least concerned by the fact that the rest of the town was mobilising for war.

  “They be worryin’ too much. Flappin’ all about ‘cause of this nonsense.” His accent was different to any Isabel had ever heard and he had a deep gruff voice.

  Zanriath introduced himself and his companions before getting down to business, looking for supplies and information.

  “Kind sir, are you not also worried about the demons?”

  “Ah, m’dear boy.” Thomis began. Like many others they had seen he was a very large man with broad muscular shoulders and legs like tree trunks. Isabel was certain he could have picked her up at arm’s reach with little trouble. “I’m not so worried as it’s all in the prep m’lad. I tell you this only ‘cause you have an honest face.” His voice was kind, strangely so for such an intimidating man. He had long, thick brown hair and a beard to match. “My family has a secret hold beneath this very house here, built with our own bare hands, with our own sweat an’ tears. An’ of course
I have m’beauty here…” He said, reaching into a wooden cabinet off to the side of the room, the only furnishings in the shack save a large table and chair. From the cabinet he pulled a terrifying axe. The hilt was as thick as Isabel’s leg and the head longer than her arm. It was altogether possible that the four of them combined could not have lifted it. “I call her Lucy. Isn’t she just gorgeous?” He asked the four of them turning it upside down, though it wasn’t really a question. Placing the axe head on the floor he rested his arm on the hilt, which came up to just above Isabel’s eye level. Zanriath let out a low whistle before replying.

  “I must admit that is quite something.” He replied cautiously. “Is everyone as equally prepared?”

  “Yes m’lad, in fairness, most are quite ready. An’, just between you and me, I heard them folk from the Southern Armouries are headin’ north too, comin’ up the Great Road they are, in not but two days they’ll be here.”

  “Southern Armouries? Coming for what? The demons?”

  “They be the greatest metalworkers and swordsmen and women you may ever come across, and you have it there in one me boy.” Thomis replied beaming at Zanriath. “They’re comin’ for a piece of ‘em.” By now Isabel was growing quite fond of this fellow Thomis. For such a big brute he was quite lovely. Even his accent was strangely charming. She’d spent so long in one place that she’d just assumed the whole Kingdom spoke exactly the same way.

  “Oh, and I must ask Goodman Thomis…could we trouble you for some supplies? We’ve travelled very far and can’t carry much as we lost out horses.” Isabel piped in.

  “Oh my. How did you manage such a thing?” The giant asked, concern crossing his kind face.

  Zanriath told him briefly of how they had been ambushed and their horses had been killed, though he skipped over a few minor details, and that they were headed for Warroir’s Plain. Thomis’ outburst of curses that followed turned Isabel white and before long the kind fellow was handing them any supplies he could lay his hands on. Food, water, clothes, he even tried to give them each an axe. Zanriath politely refused the axes and paid him fairly for everything else he’d given them, despite his protests against taking their money.