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

by Ross Turner

  First sight of the city took the breath from them all. Just as they topped the final crest before descending to civilisation a small break in the clouds allowed a few golden rays of sun to illuminate the town, as if Koack himself was welcoming them to his home. The beams were bright and streaked through the otherwise murky sky with a definite purpose.

  Tall stone towers rose up high into the sky and overlooked the city with large glass windows, a mixture of stained and clear. It was enormous, much larger than Aproklis or Kilkaw; the towers hugged the shoreline and followed it further south than Isabel could see, every building almost identical to the last, a vast sea of strange castles beckoning them in out of the rain. All the buildings were made from stone and from their vantage point looked very symmetrically laid out between the trees and the mist-covered water off the sandy coast.

  There was a sizeable clearing from the edge of the woods leading all the way down to the city and that looked to be the same to the west of the city too, as if the trees had allowed the grey mass plenty of room to expand and grow in the same identical pattern and style as it always had done.

  They rode down away from the trees, quickening their pace as the raindrops fell faster and heavier. As they crossed the clearing Isabel sensed a profound air of respect between the trees and the stone, as if they understood that they could never live as one, but even so, with a little co-operation, living alongside one another wasn’t so bad. The idea of the possibility of feelings and emotions occurring between supposedly inanimate object set Isabel’s mind firing.

  Approaching the town she realised also that there weren’t any surrounding defences here like she had seen in Hinaktor, as hashed as they had been. The lush meadow simply faded into neatly paved streets and squared stones set beautifully together, though tarnished a little by time and the elements.

  Isabel expected to feel claustrophobic walking narrowly between the looming towers, as she sometimes had done even in Aproklis, but the streets were wide and well lit and neat. The corners of building all ended perfectly in line and the corners of the roads were rounded and looped round the tall blocks of stone, with plenty of room for at least two carts to travel the same direction at once and still have room to pass another. There was even set stone paving either side of the road for those on foot. It seemed the idea had never occurred to anyone in Aproklis and the practicality and simplicity of it intrigued her.

  Dismounting and leading their horses they quickly donned their thicker robes to keep the rain at bay and pressed on, their horses’ hooves clattering loudly on the stone beneath their feet. They saw surprisingly few people as they walked and those they did cross were moving hurriedly with their hoods drawn far over their faces in a futile attempt to shield themselves from the increasingly heavy rainfall.

  “Where is everybody?” Ayva asked, not aiming her question at any one of her friends in particular.

  “They probably have the good sense to stay in out of the rain.” Isabel observed, looking up at the still darkening sky and remembering all too well her and Zanriath’s uncomfortable ride out from Aproklis.

  “Good point, I live outside remember?” Ayva replied pointedly with a laugh, nothing stifling her good humour.

  “Maybe we should follow their lead?” Ben suggested nodding towards a small huddle of people who had just scurried past them and through a large archway. Zhack quickly followed suit.

  “Yes, it’s starting to get very wet out here, and they seem to know where they’re going.” Ayva laughed again and gave the twins a playful shove.

  Zanriath intercepted a gentleman passing hurriedly across the courtyard ahead of them and struck up a hasty conversation.

  “Excuse me sir, sorry to bother you, but where is everybody?”

  “Not at all my friend.” The old man replied. His voice was aged and croaked as he spoke, but he proved to be a kind and sincere gentleman. Isabel hoped that everyone in Vak’Istor was as helpful as he turned out to be. Though, a little later on as she considered her thoughts, she surmised that his helpfulness probably hadn’t been derived from conscious choice. “It can’t be…” The stranger began. Isabel and Zanriath exchanged a quick glance.

  “Can’t be what sorry?” Zanriath asked.

  “Why, everyone is already in attendance in the town chambers, the session is soon to begin.” He responded, ignoring Zanriath’s question. “In fact, I do believe they’re waiting on me. By chance I was delayed.”

  “Oh, don’t let us keep you.” Zanriath replied quickly.

  “Not at all my boy, I take it you and your friends are on your way there?” Zanriath shot another quick glance over his shoulder at Isabel, raising one eyebrow slightly. They both had the same thought and he turned back to the odd gentleman.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact we were. I’m afraid we were delayed also.”

  “Not to fear my friends!” The old gentleman exclaimed, his croaking voice suddenly brimming with new life. “I shall accompany you to the townhouse stables and you shall be in session in plenty of time. Right this way!”

  And with that he turned enthusiastically and briskly led them from the courtyard.

  Isabel and Zanriath exchanged another, now very familiar glance, shrugged and took off after the friendly old gentleman, leaving the twins and Ayva looking between one another with equally perplexed expressions.

  “What was that all about?” Ayva asked them.

  “We don’t know.” Ben supplied, still looking confused.

  “I guess we’ll find out later?” Zhack said.

  “Hmm…” Ayva said looking after Isabel and Zanriath walking away through the heaving sheet of falling raindrops. “Maybe. Come on. Let’s go.”

  So with their puzzling questions left unanswered, they followed their friends and the strange old man and were, to say the least, unsure what to expect.

  25

  Their strange escort led them deeper into the very heart of the city, where buildings towered even higher above them and everything was pristine and perfect, squared and smooth and highly polished. Soon they entered what was clearly the most central part of the city; a large square of important-looking towers. But even so, they still looked almost identical to all the others. Isabel guessed it was probably just a custom the people had developed.

  In the centre of the square stood an enormous statue of a phoenix, presumably a representation of Koack, Isabel thought, which reached around twenty foot and was carved rather exquisitely from marble. Clearly Koack was thought of in very high regard. It made her think of the people of Hinaktor and she glanced over to Ayva’s armour, bearing the crest of Enthel. It was all about pride and respect. She sighed sorrowfully, wishing that somehow, the terrible tragedy that had once been her own loving creator, had not come to be quite so heartbreaking.

  It wasn’t long before their helpful guide had stabled their horses and led them into an adjacent building with a heavy wooden door that creaked slowly open on age-old hinges. They passed through and entered a well lit corridor with hundreds of oil lamps lining the walls in three neat rows, each at differing heights, from the first only a few feet off the floor, to the third far above head-height, illuminating a long stretch of even heavier looking wooden doors stretching down the long hallway.

  Between each of the doors the empty stone was decorated with paintings and tapestries, many of which seemed to try to capture the artist’s impression of Koack. There were a few paintings however that depicted the large expanses of forestry that seemed stretched across the entire island. Isabel examined one such painting in awed detail as they passed. The artist’s woods swayed and rippled in the flickering light and the figure of a white ghostly man dressed in furs was whispering up from the leaves and branches and soared over the vast woodland.

  “Come, come my friends.” The old gentleman ushered, beckoning them to another large wooden door, much more decorated than any of the others, with strips of spiralling gold twisting their way from top to bottom that looked strangely like vines.
“This leads to our main chamber. It’s where the most important matters are presented to council and decisions can be made.”

  “And what is your role?” Isabel asked curiously.

  “I’m a more senior member of the council. More specifically, my role is focused around the welfare of the people, which is dubious at best in times like these.” His smile weakened slightly as he spoke but he soon regained his composure. “But fear not, very recent events have restored any hope I had lost.” And with that he turned and pushed the large door open with obvious effort, and strolled into the large chamber with his head held high and his chest puffed out.

  Isabel and Zanriath follow him in, side-by-side, and Ayva and Ben and Zhack trailed just behind. The chamber was enormous and hundreds of people were seated all around the room on benches rising up gradually on stands so that everyone could see. Some were not seated in the stands but much closer on chairs on the floor. Isabel presumed they were again more senior members of the council. All heads were turned to them.

  “All rise.” A deep voice boomed from somewhere at the back of the chamber and everyone came to their feet, accompanied by the dull scraping of wooden chair legs against stone.

  The ceiling was high and decorated in a similar pattern to that on the door. Here the walls were unadorned besides the still continuous rows of lanterns, and glass windows were set high and close to each other. Large chandeliers hung evenly spaced from the ceiling on thick chains, each holding hundreds of small candles in complex and intricate patterns.

  The roar of the heavy rain outside could still be heard, even through the thick stone walls, and the thick droplets smashed angrily against the cold rock and glass.

  “Councilman King returns from his consult with the High Western Priest.” That same voice echoed through the long room. Their escort smiled and nodded his head to the audience in acknowledgement.

  “Indeed I do.” He said calmly. “Please be seated.” He smiled. “I did seek counsel with the High Western Priest, and as he is kind, I was granted my wish of a rushed meeting in the Western Tower.” Quiet murmurs rippled through the audience but King raised his hand to silence them. “Our High Priest’s words did bring me both worry and comfort, but now upon my return journey, all our prayers have been answered.” He beckoned briefly to Isabel and her companions whilst strolling across to the very centre of everyone’s gaze.

  All the chairs faced the central dais and he moved directly to it. Isabel and Zanriath stopped short, just to the side, all too aware of the hundreds of keen eyes trained on them in burning curiosity.

  “What news does he bring?” One voice asked from the crowd, who clearly thought King was holding out on them bringing strangers to the front of the chamber unannounced. “Surely he knows that we’ve lost almost all our trade from the Southern Mills? We need rid of these demons!” Shouts of agreement and uproar followed for a few moments until King snapped a hand up to silence them, glaring at the man who had spoken first. He was short, fat and slightly balding, and under King’s intense stare he shrunk back into his seat, sealing his lips and wishing fervently he could melt away into the rigid wood and unforgiving stone.

  “Our High Priest…” King began strictly and louder than necessary, still staring down the fat man who has attempted to usurp his hold on the floor, “told me that these demons are indeed at work with Demon-Lord Depozi…” A more urgent murmur swept through the crowd now, followed by looks of both concern and confusion. A lump formed at the back of Isabel’s throat. Whoever this High Western Priest was, it seemed he was somehow confirming her suspicions. “And, he told me that, even as we speak, these demons are roaming free in our lands.” He half-raised a commanding hand, silencing anyone before they could even begin to speak. This was clearly his audience. “I was informed of a number of tasks, tasks that, if performed correctly, and with the required haste, may give us the chance to bring an end to this demonic threat.” His audience was completely engaged - he certainly knew how to keep these people’s tongues.

  Even through the immense walls and high thick glass windows Isabel could still hear the storm intensifying outside. Looking up she saw the raindrops lashing against the windows in an elemental battle of light against dark, with the sun periodically breaking through, if only very briefly. The sun fought valiantly but, at least for now, the murky shadows of rainclouds prevailed and ice cold water thundered down to the ground and stone with an electric intensity.

  “These tasks have been placed upon the shoulders of my young friends here.” King continued, as he held his hand out gesturing to Isabel and her companions. “May I present to you, councilmen and women, Timeless Zanriath, sorcerer of Rilako, disciple to the great Ormath Himself.” The wide-eyed looks of the audience amused Isabel slightly.

  To Isabel, Zanriath was now her closest friend, and possibly more, but his introduction was definitely something people reckoned with, even feared slightly. She wondered how this High Western Priest knew who they were. She shot yet another look of query across at Zanriath but he showed not even a flicker of surprise. The tasks, the Priest - there was definitely something at work here. She found his hand and held it tightly. All eyes now turned to her, King’s included.

  “And may I also present…” He swallowed quite hard before continuing. “Isabella Ta’Quedara, of Land of the Demon-Lord, Mistress of the Demonic.” What could only be described as a sharp and tense silence followed Isabel’s introduction, her onlookers paralysed by a mixture of awe and fear.

  King continued quickly, gesturing to Ayva and the boys. “Ayva Penworth, last descendant of the Penworth Clan, warrior of Hinaktor, Saviour.” The room remained hushed, taking a while to process, as Isabel had come to realise most seemed to in these situations, exactly what they were being told. “And finally, twins Ben and Zhack, Warriors of The Land of the Demon-Lord, Providers of Hope.”

  The silence felt edgy; all eyes were trained on Isabel and her friends, who all shared the same quizzical stare directed at King. His introductions had been powerful, and unusual, and strangely informed. He continued.

  “Our High Western Priest informed me of my companions here, and that they would soon cross to our island from Hinaktor. It appears he was not mistaken. They are here on very important matters, and it is absolutely critical that they seek counsel with him immediately, as he possesses information that they require.”

  “But what did he say about us?” A stranger shouted from further back in the crowd, not a member of the council Isabel presumed. “What of his people!?” Others cried out too, clearly angry with their so called High Priest. King raised a stern hand again and they soon silenced their cries.

  “He must speak with my friends immediately. To say that this situation is of dire importance would be an unforgivable understatement. It is their fate to pit their wills against that of Demon-Lord Depozi.” If his words then had failed to silence any dispute at that point, his tone certainly would not have. “They will be accompanied to meet the High Priest so that they may continue on their quest. Only if they are successful will our people live to see more than another month. That is what our High Priest said of his people.” The brutal honesty in his words shocked his audience and the truth finally seeped through to them. “They already have Depozi’s army of demons in their path; we will not hinder them further.” And that firm statement ended council, concluding his steadfast and loyal defence of his High Western Priest. King turned on his heel and directed Isabel and her companions out the way they had come, leaving the steadfast emphasis he placed on his words still hanging in the uneasy air.

  People flooded slowly out from various doors connecting the chamber and the long, eerie corridor, seeming to fill the large building almost instantly. King spoke sternly with a small group of his council members, who clearly took careful note of his every word, before beckoning to Isabel and the others and leading them through another wooden door off to the side of the main corridor. They were all very glad to get away from the hundreds of invest
igating eyes that they felt upon them so keenly.

  Isabel followed King up a stone spiral staircase that must have been set in a turret, and Zanriath and the others were close behind. As they climbed the building grew gradually quieter and the voices more hushed. Soon it was almost silent besides the sound of the wind howling outside and the patter of rain against stone and glass. Numerous rounded and clear windows were set equal distances apart as they ascended the stairs to let in periodic bursts of light, though with the looming cloud cover it seemed to make little or no difference.

  Turning off the staircase and through a series of corridors King finally stopped and gestured towards three smaller and lighter-looking doors. Up here everything looked much more homely, Isabel noted, compared to the stately feel of the rooms downstairs.

  “There are three rooms here that you may make use of my friends. I presume three rooms will be suitable?” His questioning was indirect yet obvious. He had clearly noticed Isabel and Zanriath’s closeness.

  Ayva looked across to Isabel with one eyebrow raised. That surprised Isabel somewhat. Ayva had always been so direct, not submissive, even flirting with Zanriath before now. But then, Isabel supposed that outside of Hinaktor, things might be a little different. It was a flimsy explanation she reasoned, and probably not the whole truth behind the action, but it was the best she could surmise on the spot. Zanriath too looked across at her.

  Taking the chance she was so freely being given, she confirmed her stance clearly, both to herself and to everyone else. Not that she had anything to be embarrassed of.

  “Three will be fine thank you King. You are too kind.” Where this new confidence had emerged from Isabel did not know, but she didn’t question it. As a matter of fact, she rather liked it.