by Ross Turner
Exhaling deeply and feeling considerably weaker than she had done before, Isabel’s confidence plummeted. Why was she so tired? She felt drained - as she had done in the river in her nightmare. Could he have weakened her so much in just a dream? Without her even realising?
He directed his will at her once more, even stronger this time. Garbling an incantation almost at the last moment, she felt her brain almost explode as the force smashed into her, sending her spiralling backwards. She tumbled across the surface of the lake and sank an inch or so into the water. The sudden cold took her breath away. She was weakening more quickly than she’d first thought. On all fours now she put out a hand to steady herself, but it sank right through the surface, shattering the eerie stillness of the lake. Something was weighing her down, making her weak.
Gasping at the icy chill of the water up to her shoulder now, remembering all too well the cold from her nightmare, she felt her hand grasp something, something slimy: another hand. She screamed and recoiled back, snatching her hand from the lake. Almost instantly the water returned to its placid stillness and she poured over it like she was searching her own soul. The horror of her peril dawned upon her and she began to shake violently, her heart thudding against her chest.
Hundreds upon thousands of pairs of green eyes stared longingly up at her from beneath the smooth façade of the lake. Struggling for breath, once again the icy flow of the river washed over her mind as the demons gazed up at her from their depths. They wanted her. They had been promised her, and they were all waiting so patiently. The boy also looked down through the glassy surface, down at his demons, down at her demons, as they slowly dragged her soul into the freezing abyss.
“Hadn’t you got that my dear Isabella?” He taunted snidely. Zanriath and Ayva looked on hopelessly as their Isabel faded away, unable to help her. The boy attacked again, and again, and again. Isabel clutched the throbbing amulet at her neck, desperately trying to gather her will enough to defend herself, each time only just managing, rapidly draining every ounce of energy from her very soul.
This was it, he was ready, and she was not, his big finale, his final glorious victory over his now-unworthy adversary.
He focused every last morsel of his will, carefully building it inside himself, ready to obliterate Isabel, now lying exhausted on her side, slowly sinking, inch by inch deeper into her watery grave. He was set, and it would be magnificent. He could already taste his triumph. All his thoughts were narrowed on her. Gathering the strength of his mind and soul, if his blackened heart could be said to harbour a soul, he was totally bent on her destruction, focused on nothing else.
He unleashed his will, so powerful that as it charged towards the helpless Isabel it built a wave from the glassy tomb she lay on, unable to muster even the strength to use the amulet. She had lost. She had given in. She would die. She couldn’t fight anymore.
A shrill scream rang out, echoing across the water. Isabel’s heart was in her mouth and her lungs were on fire, expecting death, but the agonising cry had not escaped her lips. The surging wave dissipated just as quickly as it had built, and the boy’s attack faltering to nothing.
The points of two blades protruded from his front, the first through his heart, and the second through his stomach. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide as he gawped down at his chest, his hands coming up to stop the black blood oozing from his own body as if he could command it to return.
He turned his head awkwardly and saw Ben and Zhack, stood but a few feet from where the vile liquid now dripped onto the surface of the lake, making perfect dots that stayed fixed and immobile on the unmoving water. He had been too focused on Isabel. Even the demons below them had been transfixed by that final moment, and they had neither seen nor heard the twins approach.
“Run Isabel.” Ben said calmly, yet still with a dreadful urgency.
“Go now.” Zhack instructed in the same chilling tone.
Revitalised, she splashed from where she had been sinking and fled without a second thought, trusting their word implicitly, certain they would follow. The demons below her roared in anguish and flooded up to the surface, but not to her, to the twins.
She reached the shore and the safety of Zanriath’s arms just as the horde of fiends surged from the glistening water, shattering the stillness of the lake and engulfing the twins, still stood calmly in the centre of what was now to be their icy tomb, completely surrounded, unable to escape.
“NO!” Isabel shrieked across the disturbed mirror of water, her agonised cries sounding for miles across the gentle hills and steep mountains of Rilako. Her eyes streamed freely and her chest burned as if she’d driven a scalding blade through her own heart. She had given up, the one thing she knew she couldn’t do, and it had cost Ben and Zhack their lives. Task or no task, pre-determined or not, her weakness had murdered two of her companions, two of her closest friends.
Her throbbing heart steeled painfully against Depozi’s will. Her confidence was obliterated and her weak emotions were locked deep inside the catacombs of her own failure.
31
The continuous dull thudding of hooves once again hammered away without remorse battering Isabel’s senses. Riding between Zanriath and Ayva she sat slightly stooped, saying nothing. Her clothes were still damp and she felt a chill beneath the thick grey cloak she wore. She could do nothing but wait powerlessly for her self-hating emotion to run its course as she replayed the deaths of Ben and Zhack over and over in her mind. The explosion of demons from the water, the way they had surrounded the twins. How they had seemed so calm and yet were in absolute peril. It haunted her thoughts wholly. It only added insult to injury that she now rode their horse.
She was reminded of the shame she had felt when Zanriath had saved her life in the Great Forest in Land because she hadn’t been quick enough, only now her disgrace was a thousand times worse.
They followed the River Avrik north from Still Waters, making a hasty departure as the demons wallowed in confusion. The boy had been slain, so now once again they roamed freely, no longer bound to their fearful pursuit of the eternal one, though she imagined their lust for her remained, as she was their greatest threat.
But for now they would continue to poison the four islands and kill everyone they could find, and more were still pouring through from their realm. Even in her miserable state she could sense their threat growing and ever worsening, oppressing her thoughts. There was no way Depozi would stop them now, though, Isabel doubted He would ever stop them, if He even could. He wanted as many demons between them as possible.
The tormented God had always known that He wouldn’t be able to avert her arrival, but He had falsely convinced Himself that He was in control of not only Tamarack’s fate, but also His own.
Ever so slowly, as they rode still north, Isabel began to recover her composure. They rode fast and it took them until only mid-afternoon to have Akten on Avrik in sight. Looking up from her slumped position Isabel stretched her aching shoulders and back and took in the landscape around them. The river was still to their left and had narrowed considerably since she had last looked at it.
Behind her and far to the left were the Kalaren Peaks, overlooking the burned village of Kalaris to their south. The high peaks were tipped with snow and looking ahead she saw, beyond Akten on Avrik, far in the distance, that the peaks were the same in Inferno Range. Still there were no tracks or boundaries to be seen and she wondered if there were actually any roads on this island at all.
Her wandering thoughts didn’t clear as they rode and she tried to sift through them in her mind. The shock of the twins’ deaths had by now settled and she was slowly enduring the painful stage of comprehension. She felt as if she’d gone right the way back to the beginning of their journey. It had all begun with grief, and now it seemed to her that the sorrow would be unending. She rode on miserably, barely seeing the fast flowing water glimmering under the sun, cutting a sparkling wound through the centre of the barren common.
All around
the rippling hills were lush and in the afternoon sunlight a slight breeze topped each rise with a flurry of excitement and contentment, rustling trees amongst the undulations.
“Isabel?” Zanriath said worriedly. Ayva too looked across from where she had been examining the land rolling across to the east, where it eventually merged into a particularly large forest.
“I’m ok.” She replied meekly, having to consciously swallow and clear her throat to use her voice for the first time since dawn.
“Do you want to talk?” Ayva offered gently. Their pace slowed.
“No not yet.”
“You can’t keep those kinds of feelings bottled up for long Isabel.” She advised truthfully.
“I know. Just…not yet.” Ayva didn’t reply, having at least a little understanding of the pain her friend felt - losing people that you love and being able to do absolutely nothing to change it. It was just something Isabel would have to come to terms with. It seemed their entire lives were pre-determined by unbearable loss.
But hard as she tried, and even though he was gone, Isabel couldn’t shake the demon boy’s words from ringing in her ears - ‘and it is through you that they shall fall.’
Zanriath broke the silence, artfully changing the subject.
“We’ll be in Akten soon.” He began. “We can’t stay too long; I don’t think we have much time before there are too many demons for us to get back south…”
“How do you know?” Ayva asked.
“Just a feeling. And I’m starting to put serious consideration to the thought that feelings are neither random nor coincidental. I get the impression they’re more like subtle clues to give us hints along the way. It’s a strange way to get someone to do what you want them to do, but effective I suppose.”
“So what does me feeling tired and hungry mean?” Ayva said jokily throwing Isabel a wink. Isabel knew she was trying to lighten the mood and, even as deep as her sorrow ran, Ayva was still very good at it. She found it difficult not to be lifted by the girl so full of life.
“That means that if we don’t find somewhere to stop and eat soon we’re going to be way ahead of schedule.” He replied with a laugh. They approached Akten and Isabel could see the buildings more clearly.
They were made from stone and were very tall, many taller than the sanctuary at Still Waters, but none of them were the same, or even remotely similar. Some were more like towers with enormous cascading turrets, others were castles with high walls and large arched doors, and some just looked like enormous barns.
“Why are they all so…random?” Isabel asked Zanriath as they neared the town. She had half-expected the city to look like Kazra with lines and lines of matching stone fortresses.
“Everyone here designs their own homes and shops.” He replied looking around comfortably, obviously glad to be home. “Stone is less of a firetrap than wood…” He continued as they rounded a corner. The streets were cobbled and began from nowhere, winding continuously between the large structures, creating wide and arcing streets, not the straight lines of Vak’Istor. “We’re not all that fond of roads. Just open space.” He said with a smile. “It’s an organised chaos, but it doesn’t easily get crowded, and everyone hates an overcrowded street…”
Doesn’t easily get crowded was an understatement, Isabel thought, the vast spaces between buildings widened further still as they moved steadily north through town following the river, which seemed to cut almost right through the centre. Several bridges had been erected over the top and even one much more elaborate building extended over from one side to the other in an impressive archway sided with large windows.
Strangely, Isabel made a quick connection between the architecture and design of the town, and the mind-set of the people themselves. It represented the mountains - wide-open and random spaces, huge and erratic structures, towering above the people scurrying below. Above all, the buildings loomed protective and immovable.
People moved calmly back and forth wearing plain clothes and thick cloaks to keep the chill at bay; often blue or grey, and they seemed in no immediate hurry. The whole atmosphere was calm and serene and set Isabel’s mind at least at some ease, though some eyed the three of them with clear interest.
“Do they know about the demons?” Ayva leant over and asked Zanriath.
“Oh yes of course.” He replied. “And they also know about Isabel’s upcoming confrontation with Depozi.”
“Do they?” Isabel asked surprised, stirring a little. “How?”
“There was no point trying to keep it all a secret when I left. My house burned to the ground and I strolled off into the mountains, only to return over a decade later to collect supplies and leave the island. People were bound to ask questions. Ormath thought it better that the people knew the truth rather than let rumours circulate. So, before I left, if people asked honest questions, I gave them honest answers. Rumours can be so much more harmful than the simple truth sometimes.”
“And isn’t that just the most sincere truth you’ve ever heard?” A strange voice called from the side of clearing they were crossing. The gentleman who greeted Zanriath with a timely smile was quite tall with broad shoulders, but also very thin, wearing a long grey robe that matched the colour of his ageing cropped hair almost perfectly. His thin features made him look slightly ill and his skin was papery white. Zanriath dismounted and shook the fellow’s hand firmly. Though he looked weak, the man’s handshake was firm and full of character.
“Kambeth!” Zanriath exclaimed boldly matching the man’s smile.
“Zanriath my boy, how good it is to see you again. I presume you’re going to Dragon’s Peak to see Ormath?”
“Indeed we are, where else my old friend?”
“And these, I also presume, are the companions you left us so hurriedly to seek? All those months ago…” The man asked looking to Isabel and Ayva. “You could have asked for worse.” He added with a sly smile and wink, making them both blush.
“Yes they are.” Zanriath replied brushing off his quirk. “Allow me to introduce you.” He led Kambeth over to where Isabel and Ayva now dismounted. May I present Ayva of Hinaktor and Isabel of Land.”
“It is my pleasure ladies.” Kambeth greeted them with an extravagant bow. “I’m sure young Zanriath has told you all about me.” He said eyeing him shrewdly. Zanriath coughed lightly. “Alas! I have been forgotten.” Kambeth said, theatrically feigning insult. “I am Zanriath’s named guardian, ever since…well since he disappeared into the mountains! Some guardian I turned out to be!” Isabel liked this light-hearted gentleman, and she could tell Ayva was fond of him. “So tell me, how long before you must leave? Surely you’re not going anywhere this evening?”
“No.” Zanriath replied casually. “We were looking for a place to stay. It’ll start getting dark soon and we have to leave tomorrow.”
“But not at the crack of dawn surely!” The gleeful Kambeth exclaimed, getting himself quite worked up now. “You must come to my father’s birthday celebration tonight. He’s made himself one of the wealthiest men on the island, and we’re throwing a ball for his sixty-fifth birthday. It’ll take your mind off things! Come on!”
“You were always one to stir up some kind of trouble.” Zanriath teased and his guardian feigned a hurt look once again, but failed to totally hide his smirk. Zanriath looked to Isabel and Ayva. “What do you think?” Ayva spoke first.
“I think that might be just what we need Kambeth. Thank you.” She said smiling and turning to look expectantly at Isabel, whose truthful thoughts were much less optimistic than her actual words.
“That’s a wonderful idea. I think we could do with some good company before we go into the mountains tomorrow.” - ‘This might be the last chance we have to celebrate anything before Depozi kills us…’
“It’s settled then.” Kambeth said clapping his hands together energetically. For some reason he reminded Isabel pleasantly of King, except without his unquestionable authority, and there was something
strange about that, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “Come on! We haven’t a moment to waste!”
Very soon their three horses were stabled and six busybody women were bustling round Isabel and Ayva in a fitting room. Zanriath had vanished with Kambeth, who apparently had something that would fit him perfectly, and the two girls were left at the relentless mercy of Kambeth’s tailors.
Isabel soon began to think they’d underestimated the seemingly gratuitous wealth of Kambeth’s father. Though she and Ayva both had to admit that it was nice to bathe in luxury and be waited on at the drop of a hat, it would probably have become a nuisance very quickly, so it was probably a good thing that the experience was short-lived.
It wasn’t long before they were suitably dressed, in exquisite and flattering ball gowns, and ready to join the party, which was already well underway. The building that their ladies led them to was long and rectangular; it looked much more recently built than most of the other buildings and large groups of people were crowded outside slowly trying to make their way in. The windows had been decorated for the occasion and loud music could be heard clearly from inside.
It was dark and Isabel felt slightly apprehensive, even guilty for accepting the invitation whilst, only just more than twelve hours ago, she had watched two of her friends being massacred by an army of demons. The cold bite in the air kept her from turning drowsy and she knew that, as before, her body would soon be feeling the effects of her considerable lack of sleep. Though they might all need it, Kambeth was not one to let things go easily, and, it would appear, he wasn’t above spending his father’s money quite extravagantly to ensure his guests had no reason to leave.
“There you are ladies! We thought you’d got lost, my you do clean up nicely don’t you!” Kambeth wore a suit tailored perfectly to his thin frame, which otherwise would have hung baggily off his shoulders.
“Thank you dear Kambeth.” Ayva replied patting his arm gently. He looked her up and down for a moment quite intentionally before snapping his attention away, with some difficulty, and addressing Zanriath.