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

by Ross Turner

  The sky was still clear and light blue, dusted with wisps of white cloud that tumbled gently off each other. “Just before noon, they’re not too far ahead.” Ayva mumbled, more to herself whilst making mental calculations than to the others. Then she turned on her heel and remounted with Isabel. “They’re probably still a day’s march or more from the border. We’ll easily catch them on horseback before today is out.” And with that she kicked Isabel’s horse’s flanks hard and led her companions north along the Great Road, moving quickly along the flat landscape, evermore wary of the demonic eyes that would soon be upon them, if they weren’t already.

  It was soon afternoon and Isabel was becoming tired and sore from riding. Their horses seemed never to tire and maintained their thunderous pace with ease. Ayva too was relentless and didn’t let her focus slip even once. Isabel quickly came to admire her for it. Zanriath kept up easily, even with most of their supplies on his horse, and the boys just behind him, letting their powerful stallion follow the others, their knuckles white from just holding on.

  Ahead on them in the far distance they saw a black sea moving slowly on the horizon, leaving a huge dust cloud trailing behind it. Ayva allowed herself a triumphant smile and even Isabel and Zanriath were pleasantly surprised to have made it so far still without being intercepted by any demons.

  Clearly someone, or something, was on their side.

  Mile by mile they closed in behind the marching troops. And sure enough, just as Ayva had predicted, they saw horse-drawn carts carrying supplies of food, water, weapons and medicine, obvious even from a distance. Isabel thought they were hopeful to still be alive to need medicine, but then nothing seemed to stifle Ayva’s optimism, and so she imagined a gathered army of Hinaktor’s best would bear a similar resemblance.

  As they approached the heaving mass three riders emerged from the dust cloud to meet them.

  “Scouts.” Ayva informed the others as she slowed Isabel’s horse. It whinnied and snorted to what seemed to be a disappointed halt. The others followed suit. “They’ll have them on the flanks and out in front too. They’re probably the only troops on horseback.” As they drew closer she raised her hand and called to the head rider. “Southern Armouries!”

  “Indeed!” He called back, stopping a few paces in front of their party. He and his companions sat tall and proud on their horses. His escorts wore armour polished to perfection and each bore the Gryphon as an emblem. They shouldered large shields and had broadswords at their sides. They looked much more professional and decidedly less arrogant than Argon and his escort had been.

  The leader had a large bow at his back and his armour was leather rather than metal - lighter and much more manoeuvrable. “My name is Garan, son of Master Smith Heldvik. Come you to join the march against the foul demons that now plague our lands?”

  The rider’s introduction surprised Isabel, his enunciation more polished than his companion’s breastplates. Ayva’s response was just as elegant, surprising Isabel even more.

  “That we do kind Master Garan. I am Ayva, last descendant of the late Penworth clan.”

  “Ayva Penworth?” Garan replied with apparent surprise. “Forgive me.” He bowed his head slightly in admiration. “It is my honour My Lady. Grieve I did for your family. Might I ask whom you hold in your company?”

  “Thank you noble sir, it is much appreciated, and but of course.” At this point Isabel, Zanriath and the boys were at a loss. Clearly there was much more to Ayva than she had let on. “They are close companions of mine, weighed down by heavy burdens of the utmost importance.” The three riders seemed intrigued and soon were listening even more closely as she introduced each of them in turn. “May I fondly introduce my dearest friends: Isabella Ta’Quedara of Land of the Demon-Lord, wielder of the demonic. Master Zanriath of Rilako Island, disciple of Ormath himself and master of flames. And Masters Ben and Zhack, also of Land of the Demon-Lord. Twins of birth with entwined thoughts and unparalleled fighting skill.”

  Garan said nothing for a moment, his mouth hanging slightly agape as he absorbed everything Ayva had just told him.

  “Am I to presume kind Garan that your father leads the troops?” Ayva continued. He nodded dumbly still unable to find his tongue. “Might I humbly request an audience with him?” She pressed, urging the stunned man to speak. Finally he managed to recover.

  “But of course Lady Penworth.” He swallowed quite hard and breathed deeply. “Allow us to escort you. The hour grows later and soon we shall have to stop to rest.”

  “Of course - one of the many troubles of marching troops.”

  “Indeed.” He agreed somewhat glumly.

  “I think you may have to stop immediately once we see your father. This is very important.” Garan nodded sharply and with that he and his scouts turned their horses and quickly moved to rejoin the march, leading Lady Penworth, and her companions, close behind them.

  20

  “Lady Penworth.” Master Smith Heldvick greeted Ayva, politely bowing his head. “It is an honour and, I must admit, a pleasant surprise to see you. I feared the worst when I heard the news.” Isabel cast the twins and Zanriath a confused look only to have it returned. There was definitely something of Ayva’s past they weren’t aware of. Clearly she wasn’t just a lone ranger.

  “You are most kind Master Smith. I compliment you on your son’s dutiful manner. He is a most worthy and noble gentleman.” The old man’s beam filled the room with pride and Garan coughed lightly before quickly excusing himself to return to his duties. Ayva made the same introductions of her companions as she had done to Garan, and received the same response.

  “You travel in inspiring company my Lady.” Heldvik said, finally finding his tongue. “But then that makes little change.” He added.

  “Please Master Smith, call me Ayva.”

  “And Heldvik for you also.” He replied inclining his head once more.

  “Ok.” Ayva said, her voice returning from her strangely formal tone to the normal one Isabel recognised. “Now that’s all done shall we drop the formalities?” She suggested, grinning impishly.

  “Agreed.” Heldvik replied grinning back. “They do get tiresome after a while. So you’ve come to join us?”

  “Temporarily.” She said turning to Zanriath. “Care to fill Heldvik in Zan?”

  “Sure.” He replied approaching the Master Smith and grasping his hand firmly. The man was older than many others they had seen as they’d moved through to the centre of the mass of troops, though he was still broad and clearly in good health. He was tall and muscular and stood with his shoulders pushed back. The same pride and even posture Isabel had seen in his son Garan’s stance.

  Zanriath explained briefly their quest to the old man, giving him more of a quick run down rather than every detail. But even so, Heldvik’s eyes grew wider and wider with each passing minute as Zanriath told him of their travels, their encounters, their abilities, and finally, of Depozi. Isabel then took her turn, telling Heldvik of what she suspected the boy’s next move would be.

  “Since one of his underlings spotted us he will probably have sent demons to intercept us, and by now he’s probably realised that we’ve joined the march, or at the very least he thinks that we’re using you as a distraction and are hoping to slip past him. Either way, you can be certain that as soon as he knows we’re with you there are going to be demons all over us.” A chill crawled up Heldvik’s spine and he cursed Depozi under his breath.

  “How many demons are there on the island Isabel?” He asked, his aged face clearly showing his concern, but also his deep thought as plans formulated themselves in his tactical mind. “I have a good five hundred men and women, all brave and ready, but we need to know what kind of force we’re up against.”

  “Give me a moment.” She replied closing her eyes and raising her head.

  Everything went suddenly very quiet as she focused. Even the gentle whistling breeze outside seemed to quieten.

  Carefully casting ou
t a light thought across Hinaktor, not enough to alert the boy, Isabel scanned for demons. For a few seconds her mind searched the island, and with a sharp intake of breath she snapped back to reality, giving her eyes a second to focus.

  “The boy must be gambling that we’re with you, all of his demons are to the north. There are hundreds Heldvik.” A horrible dread washed over everybody in Heldvik’s tent as Isabel’s words registered. “Not as many as you have men, but some will be very powerful.” The old man’s face had gone quite pale now. “They’re waiting for you where the Great Road crosses Hinaktor’s northern-southern boundary. Some of them are very fast and could probably make it here by tonight, but the boy will want his whole force together. They may even begin to move south tonight and we’ll meet them halfway as we go north tomorrow. I imagine he’s getting impatient waiting for us.”

  Heldivk’s concerned face grew more anxious and he sat down at the table in the centre of his tent, rubbing his chin firmly with his hand. A map of the island was spread across the table, tracing their route north and beyond, highlighting all possible ambush points, not that there were too many places to hide an army of demons on the open plains of Hinaktor.

  Glancing around the inside of the tent for a moment Isabel noted the homely touches that had been applied here and there to make the canvas seem less bleak. Strips of brightly decorated and patterned sheets were set at regular intervals. Small chimes hung from the ceiling and every so often the tent would rustle in the wind and they would sound out a quiet chorus, calming the mood. Even the mounted candles and oil lamps that lighted the room seemed placed at specific intervals to ensure they were both out of the way and gave off the most useable light possible.

  Isabel felt for the old man sat at the table. She could see he was troubled. Not by fear, but by the burden he carried, and the responsibility of all those lives. And those lives he was accountable for were also gripped, and in turn they felt not fear, but uncertainty. They didn’t know their enemy, size, strength, weaknesses, fears. Did demons feel fear? Surely not. Her mind worked quickly and somehow processed and understood the old man’s thoughts and those of all his men.

  Isabel knew better. It was her duty now to ready these men and women. Prepare them for what lay ahead. To tell them that demons do feel fear, she had felt it every time she had entered their thoughts to destroy them - and they would certainly fear the Southern Armouries’ march against them. So she did what was necessary, almost without thought. She had her own suspicions about that, but again she kept those stranger thoughts to herself.

  She proceeded to dish out firm instructions, spending the following two hours making clear to the Master Smith exactly what his troops were up against - demons of all shapes and sizes, all abilities and strengths, all fears and weaknesses. She called in his generals, issuing the command herself, and they listened to Isabel in awe before returning to spread her words, and to tell every one of the new additions to their troop.

  Isabel did not exaggerate, nor make false claims that their victory was certain. She was bold, honest and blunt, but she felt there was no better way to make what she was saying clear. Zanriath and the other three listened also, taking in the precision and brute honesty of her words with admiration.

  She commanded, telling Heldvik how she wanted his army positioned, what she would do, what Zanriath would do, what absolutely had to happen to ensure their survival, and with any luck, their success.

  “They will attack you physically.” She said now rolling the map on the table flat again. “I’m the only one they can attack using their demonic power, so I’ll need to distract them so your men stand a chance.”

  “Is there any chance we can surprise them? Send some troops around to sneak up on them? You’ve got ambush points on here but they’re few and far between.” Ayva suggested to Heldvik, her finger tracing on the map their route and the boy’s position. But it was Isabel who replied, taken over in her flow.

  “With everything so flat it’s not likely. Their senses are sharper than yours, and the boy will probably be thinking the same thing, so whoever you send will in all likelihood be killed.” That harsh reality struck Heldvik at the heart, as he comprehended how difficult this was going to be. But he felt no regret. Isabel felt his pain sharply and her eyes were soft and sympathetic.

  “Do we stand a chance Isabel? Can we win?” He asked honestly. “My men are not afraid. At the break of dawn they will be ready to lay down their lives for Enthel.” His words poured with emotion; clearly this march had not been taken lightly by any involved. Perhaps that was why they had only brought the best, as opposed to a thousand amateurs. Isabel respected him even more for that and considered his words for a moment before laying a gentle hand on his broad shoulder.

  “Yes Heldvik, we can win. But even if we do, that won’t be the end of it. More will come. At the moment their numbers are low enough for us to stand a chance. But that won’t last long. We have to get to Vak’Istor. If we don’t, the next attack, you definitely won’t survive.” Isabel stressed her words quite deliberately.

  “I understand. My men will make the necessary preparations. Garan will show you to a suitable place to rest tonight. If you need any weapons or armour speak with him. We still have a little light left to make preparations.”

  “Thank you.” Isabel replied politely, though she knew weapons would probably be of little use, they could do with fresh clothes, and it’s always better to be safe rather than sorry. Then Ayva spoke up again.

  “Ok, so we need to get ready. While there’s still daylight I want to get you four properly dressed and armed.” Isabel didn’t argue. It could only help. They bade Heldvik a fond farewell for the evening and left his tent, knowing that he had important preparations of his own to make.

  Isabel’s thoughts slowed a little as they left Heldvik’s tent, the energy that had come over her dissipating slightly and she found herself somewhat drained from her few hours in strict command. The hustle and bustle outside reminded her of Kilkaw. It seemed it wasn’t the makeshift market town that kicked up such commotion, it was the fast-paced people. As men and women armed themselves heavily with weapons and steel they passed in a blur, casting quick glances at the five companions, having already heard the stories and rumours about Isabel and Zanriath’s power, and all of them seeming to already know of Ayva.

  Garan joined them and directed them through the crowds. Small fires had been lit and everyone was making last minute preparations, checking armour and weapons. Most people were sitting in small groups. Some played cards or dice; others enjoyed a hot meal, and some simply talked, seeming, at least at a glance, to be quite happy and contented. Isabel admired their bravery in the situation. Clearly the word had been spread quickly.

  After exchanging brief words with Ayva, Garan climbed aboard a wagon and passed down a bow and something small wrapped in brown cloth. Then Garan led them once more through the hurrying crowds across to the other side of their camp, which was beginning to settle down for the evening. They were all anticipating an early start the next day and Isabel too suddenly began to feel the effects of her weariness, though she doubted she would sleep well. Extra sentries were posted as groups sitting round small fires ate heartily and discussed the news of the boy’s movements.

  They found a small clearing where several targets had been set up and some rangers were practicing, sending arrow after arrow soaring across the clearing in the blink of an eye. Isabel felt a little nervous as Garan handed Ayva the bow he had retrieved from the wagon and smiled. She thanked him and he politely withdrew and returned to his other duties.

  “Ok Isabel. Ever used a bow before?”

  “I can’t say I have Ayva.” She replied grasping the bow gingerly as Ayva thrust it into her hands. It was much lighter than she’d expected.

  “I know you’ve got your demonic power, but if you get caught off guard you’ll need something to cover your back.” She explained light-heartedly with a smile, reaching over her shoulder for
her bow also.

  And so for the next hour Ayva instructed Isabel in the basic technique of archery. Isabel learned quickly, growing more and more accurate with each shot. Each time she drew back her arm she was a little more confident and it showed in the speed of her shots. Still, her newly acquired skill nowhere near matched Ayva’s ability, but it may just be enough for her to get by.

  “Keep it level…that’s it.” Ayva instructed almost absentmindedly. Isabel loosed yet another arrow and it sailed cleanly, hitting just to the right of bull’s-eye with a heavy wooden thud. “Good.” Ayva seemed pleased and Isabel felt a swelling of pride at her accomplishment.

  Then, satisfied with Isabel’s at least basic competency, Ayva turned to Ben and Zhack, pulling out the small bundle Garan had handed her earlier.

  “Here you go.” She unwrapped the brown cloth and revealed an array of small but lethal looking throwing knives. Each was beautifully crafted and bore a different set of initials at the base of the blades. Some were curved and like nothing Isabel had ever seen, others were straight and very short with needle-like tips.

  Ben and Zhack’s eyes were wide as they examined each blade, comparing them to their own old and now slightly rusting knives. The swaps they made were quick and easy, both receiving a completely new set that they were immediately desperate to try.

  “These ones are strange…” Ben said to Ayva pointedly, picking up an almost completely circular blade with no handle.

  “They’re called moons.” Ayva explained. “Throw it right and you’ll find a way through a man’s chain mail easily.” Zhack looked to Isabel.

  “Do demons wear chain mail?” He asked excitedly.

  “No, but let’s not encourage the idea.” She replied smiling wryly.

  They began with a few easy throws at the targets Isabel had used, hitting bull’s-eye every time without fail. That was until Ayva set her bow aside with a sly smile and Isabel sensed that something was afoot.