I finished scrambling up the steps and dove outwards into the welcome light. Hhaak emerged from the stairwell beside me. In the darkness, I had forgotten the troll and was surprised at her appearance now.
I groaned in dismay. “Why did you come?”
Hhaak patted my leg and pointed behind me. I turned to look.
We were back in Ragg’s lair and in the center of the cave stood Jink, arms folded across his chest. He was tapping one foot and scowling.
12
Escape from Skur
“You should have stayed below,” Ragg spoke in Jink’s form. “But you chose to return.” He glanced at the troll and grinned. “And I see you’ve brought yourself back a friend. How nice. Is she your mate, or is she your dinner?”
Hhaak edged beside me and clutched onto my leg.
“You sent me there, hoping to lose me down there,” I shouted.
Ragg waved his finger and shook his head. “No,” he spoke softly. “I seem to remember telling you not to go down there. The choice not to heed my warning was only your own.”
The likeness of Jink before me wavered and changed and I stared at the new figure in wonderment. Hhaak’s eyes grew wide as she stared up at me, then back at the figure that stood before us.
I did not know who this was. He was familiar, but unfamiliar. It was a man, tall and skeletal, and his gaunt face, though somehow youthful, was hard-lined with age. His eyes were dark hollows and long, gray, limp and crusty hair clung to his head. Beneath a scratched and tarnished breastplate, his clothes clung in filthy tatters upon gray flesh.
“Do you like what you see?” Ragg asked.
I could not speak. I knew this man, yet did not.
“Look at what you’ve become,” Ragg said, his voice intensifying. “Take a good long look at yourself, Fane.”
And I knew then that he had become me, and I stared at my likeness in dumbstruck horror. I was barely seventeen. This figure before me was a frail, beaten old man!
“No,” I gasped, rocking backwards.
Ragg shook his head and strode to the entrance of the cave. “I’ve grown tired of you, Fane.” He stared outside. “You no longer amuse me.”
My anger returned and I spoke evenly. “It was never my intention to amuse you.”
Ragg turned and glared at me. “That’s right. You only sought to steal my treasure.” He stepped closer and the eyes in my likeness changed to solid white. “Have you not yet come to realize that there is no treasure? Have you not yet come to realize that the treasure is but an invention of men? I can slip unnoticed into any of your villages and take whatever I may want—be it a loaf of bread, a stein of ale, or a newborn child. There is no wealth of mankind that gives me my power, for my power is solely mine. But men, with their feeble little minds, cannot understand power absolute. They associate power with wealth and so deem that I must have a great treasure here on Skur that grants me so much power. But my power is naught of anything of this world, let alone anything as paltry as diamonds or gold.”
Could I believe him? Was the treasure truly a myth?
Ragg paced before the entrance of the cave. “There is only one thing of value to me on this land, and that is the crystal you wear. I cannot kill you, Fane. Because of that stone you wear, I cannot. But that is all you know about it. You are ignorant of its true power, yet you have returned it to my keeping, such as it is. Even Makor did not know its true power, and the blighted little toad stole it away. But you, who cannot even yet qualify as a wizard, have brought it back.”
Ragg waved his hand and the clouds parted to reveal the landscape below. “Come look at this.”
I hobbled over to stand at the cave entrance. Across the valley far below I could see the miniature houses and fields that made up Avar.
“I have no problem with the existence of that town you call home. If I had, you can be certain that it’d no longer be.” His voice grew hard. “But this is the only way you’ll ever see it again.”
What was he saying? I reeled backwards and clutched at the wall for support.
Ragg continued to speak. “If you ever step one foot out of this cave again, rest assured that that one single action on your part has wrought the annihilation of Avar and everyone in it.”
No! He couldn’t possibly do that, could he? Could he?
“Do not doubt me, boy.”
I struggled with my voice. “I cannot destroy you, Ragg. And I cannot take a treasure that does not exist. What harm would it do to let me leave?”
“Give me the crystal and I will set you free.”
I couldn’t give him the talisman. He would kill me, most certainly. I couldn’t trust him.
Ragg laughed, a deep, bold belly-laugh. “You’re right, of course. I would kill you. Since this has become my domain, only Makor has managed to escape. Why should I allow you to? What good could come of it? It would only encourage others to come trespassing—snooping about and fouling my realm.” He pointed to the blue crystal. “You have returned my most treasured possession to my keeping, and I will not let it slip away again. I will keep the stone by keeping you. And believe me when I say that if you ever leave this cave, I will destroy Avar. I do not make empty threats.”
In the pit of my heart I knew he was speaking the truth.
“You asked me once to show you my true face. Would you care to see my true face now? Would you like to see me as I truly am? To see the face of my creation? Allow me to introduce myself.”
Ragg began to transform. His head stretched, elongating in an equine fashion. White eyes glittered like frosted snow. Glistening black scales eased upwards from red nostrils in a long line to cover his head and spine. Through the scales upon the spine, sprouted hundreds of pointed spikes. Three goatish black horns popped out of his forehead as his entire body swelled and lengthened while the spiked tail trailed on nearly one hundred spans, whipping though the air with a hiss. Silver talons sprang from the fingers at the end of powerful arms. Tremendous fleshy wings, as black as night, protruded from his shoulders.
His head was nearly as large as the mouth of the cave and I shrank back against the wall before this awesome sight. Hhaak screeched and raced for the doorway to Shadowland.
The dragon roared and the sound deafened me. Flames shot from his nostrils, whipping over me like a hot, white wind. The talisman glowed so that I was shielded in a bright blue aura, and while I could feel the heat, the flames and burning intensity did not touch me, skewing aside instead as if I were a stone in a brook.
Ragg’s voice resounded. “Do not underestimate me, Fane.” He flapped his dragon wings. The wind they caused blew me across the cave, and the creature flew off through the sky.
Though the trembling of my hands nearly made the task impossible, I managed to pull myself back to feet of jelly. Clutching the wall for support, I brushed the dust from my tattered clothes. There was absolutely no doubt left in my mind as to Ragg’s ability to carry out his threat.
What could I do? If I left, he would surely destroy Avar. But what would happen to me if I stayed?
“Damn you, Ragg,” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Damn you!” I stomped about the cave, kicking at the dirt, the firewood, the stones. I was ready to leave! I wanted to go home. I tore at my hair and pounded my fists against the walls. “Damn you Fith! Damn your bloody gold!” Collapsing into a heap against the wall, I began to sob.
Hhaak, who had been whimpering and cowering at the rear of the cave during my ravings, stood then and came beside me, wringing her hands.
Hollowly, I stared up at her. Ragg had called her my mate. Was Hhaak my mate? Is this what I was destined to? To spend the rest of my life in this stinking cave with a bloody little troll as my mate?
“I am truly damned,” I wailed, clutching the crystal. It could stop Ragg from killing me, but not from destroying me. It could not keep him from stripping me of every shred of hope and humanity I might have left.
What power did this stone hold? What bloody power did it ho
ld and why did Ragg want it so badly? He had said even Makor had not known its true power, and Makor had been a great wizard. What hope had I of ever knowing the truth about this accursed stone?
Hhaak knelt beside me, patting my hand in reassurance and I sat like a stone myself, staring blankly in despair as the troll petted and snuggled against me. Daylight slowly melted into darkness but I did not sleep.
The following day Ragg returned in the form of my wretched self. He laid a cadaver at my feet. I recognized the body immediately and my gut wrenched.
I fell to my knees. “Selma?”
“For every doubt you hold, another will die.”
I stared dumbly at the corpse. My doubts had killed her. I remembered her laughter and her sweet touch and how it excited me so. How she had taken my crokers and led me into her snuggery to let me experience the joys of a woman in reality instead of through the lusty tales of men and the secret strokes of my own hands.
“Waesucks, Selma. Forgive me.”
“I imagine she’s a lot tastier than troll. Eat hearty.” With that, Ragg became an eagle and soared away.
Hhaak came beside me, looking Selma’s body over then sniffed at the body excitedly.
I lashed out and slapped the troll away. “Keep away from her you bloody little scab.”
Hhaak lay sprawled on the ground, staring at me in bewilderment.
Jink had been left in her care. Yet she had knowingly submitted him to Rook’s repeated abuse. What kind of woman had she truly been? Could I ever forgive her for what she had done to my friend? Yet Jink had loved her, and I had loved Jink. And because I had loved Jink, I knew I could hate her. She should have cared.
Hhaak had crawled back, investigating the body, and I shuffled to the mouth of the cave, staring through the mists in the direction of Avar. Behind me, the sound of Hhaak’s grunts stripped all the strength from my legs and I dropped to the ground and clutched my head in my hands.
I would not eat Selma’s flesh. Instead, I gave what Hhaak had left of her a proper burial. Not for her sake, but for Jink’s.
There were days when I would pace the cave, from one end to the other, relentlessly, the path worn into the floor growing deeper. Other days I would scream and rage, throwing sticks and stones at the walls. At times I was despondent and spent days on end just sitting at the mouth of the cave, staring out at the mist and snow. Loneliness gnawed at the edge of my soul like a rat, eating away its very foundation.
Hhaak tried to comfort me, but our communication was limited and the dirty little beast was ceaseless in her carnal desires. Sometimes I had the strength to resist, sometimes I did not. Most of the time I had ceased to care.
I had come to the conclusion that Fith was wrong about eternal life. No oneness of the body and spirit was worth losing one’s humanity. And it was better that men perished from the earth. Knowing that death was imminent is what made life worth living. But still, a man needed hope and honor in that life, and if he couldn’t achieve it in life, perhaps he could achieve it in death. Jink had done that. Truly he had died with honor and thus gave his life purpose.
For me there was nothing. No honor. No hope. No death. No life. Ragg was keeping me alive, yet killing me slowly, draining the life from my soul.
Is this how he’d destroyed Makor? I could picture that mighty wizard, held a helpless captive under Ragg’s endless torments, just as I was now. Makor had escaped, yet died a blithering, broken man. And Ragg had claimed Makor’s treasure as his own.
Oh yes, I knew the treasure existed, despite Ragg’s lies. I could look upon it anytime I wanted. I could stand at the mouth of the cave and look to the bottom of the talus slope at the gateway to Ragg’s lair. There stood the two giant manhirs—those mighty white pinnacles that reached into the sky. Sometimes the frost that cloaked them melted enough for me to glimpse the gold they were made of, and the ice-encased emeralds, sapphires, diamonds, and rubies that lay at their bases would sparkle fire in the fleeting sunshine. I had once stood in the midst of the treasure I had sought and had been too blind to see it. Now it was within my reach, but I was helpless to claim it.
But some things in life are more precious than gold and jewels. Things I once had as my own. Things I would never have again. Things I had taken for granted. My home, my family, my friends. All the wealth in the world could not replace them. It could not replace my freedom. It could not replace hope.
Time passed. How much, I do not know, for I had long since stopped counting the days. Sometimes Ragg would come, bringing me the body of some unfortunate soul for sustenance, and such is a man’s will to survive that I ate the wretched things.
I had tried countless ways to use the crystal I wore, using all the words from all the spells I knew, but it stubbornly remained impotent, serving only to keep me alive. Serving only to perpetuate my imprisonment.
Then one day I noticed how round Hhaak’s belly had grown. I placed my hands upon that roundness, caressing it lightly. A shiver ran down my spine. This creature was going to bear a child. My child!
“What have I done?” I wailed. Hhaak stared at me curiously and I glared back down at her swollen belly.
“Wae,” I cried, pacing about the cave, tearing at my hair. “What shame have I brought upon myself? What damnation have I wrought? Oh Fane, Fane, you’ve done a bang up job now!” I turned and railed at the troll. “You took advantage of my senses. Forcing your lust upon me, and now look what you’ve bloody gone and done. Look what you’ve done!”
Hhaak watched me, wringing her hands in consternation. “Fane,” she squeaked.
I stared coldly at the beast. I could kill it. I could bludgeon it with one of my few remaining fire logs, or perhaps break its scrawny neck with my hands, putting the miserable wretch and its unwanted child out of my life for good. Yes, I would rid myself of this blight forever.
I knelt beside the troll and placed my hands upon her shoulders. It would be so easy. My hands closed in on Hhaak’s neck and she looked up at me and smiled, her large, dark eyes as innocent as a child’s. She trusted me. Implicitly.
I yanked my hands away, leapt to my feet, and stormed across the cavern. It wasn’t easy. Hhaak had done nothing to deserve death. She had saved my life. I couldn’t kill her. She had been a faithful companion to me, such as her companionship was. How easily she could escape this prison and return to the depths from which she’d come, yet she chose to stay and endure this lonely hell.
“It’s not all your fault,” I grumbled. “And I promise I won’t hurt you.”
Whatever monstrous mongrel this troll would give birth to was my responsibility. I would not forsake that duty. I had just never dreamed that my progeny would spring from the womb of a troll.
With her hooked nose, round eyes, and bristly hair, Hhaak always reminds me of an owl in a pricker bush. Her lips smack as she devours the last shreds of meat from the bones of the latest corpse, by now those remains foul and rotten. Aged to perfection for Hhaak’s tastes. Too far gone for my own.
A deep shudder reassures me that I’ve not yet lost all of my humanity. Shuffling to the edge of the invisible line I cannot cross, my blank stare is drawn into the gray beyond. Sometimes there is a break in the icy mist and far below, in the unreachable distance, I can glimpse the gold-thatched roofs mingling with the green fields of Avar. If I close my eyes, I can almost smell the aroma of the rye and hear it rustling and swishing in the breeze. I can almost imagine the pungent horse sweat, their grunts and whinnies, and the tickle in my nose from dust kicked up beneath their hooves. At times I think I can actually hear the smithy hammer’s metallic clangs, the incessant marketplace chatter, the laughter and songs from the pub.
My thoughts return to Father. To Kael. And Jink. Always to Jink. How foolish we were. How foolish—how asininely foolish I was.
And I curse that execrable dragon and that contriving wizard, but mostly, I only curse myself. I had been warned but would I listen? Damn my stubborn pride! Now I am held prisoner above the cl
ouds with no hope of ever returning home. No hope of ever reclaiming the life forever lost to me. A man without a future, I have only the past and the present to haunt me, and I am far too weary to cry (at least not in the tearful way of girls, for that stage passed long ago), but my heart—my heart is dying.
There is movement in the snow below. I can see Kael trudging through the dirty drifts near the base of the icy turrets, but I know it’s not really Kael. It is only Ragg. He looks up at me and waves and shouts, but I refuse to respond. Why should I? I’ve grown weary of his heartless games. Perhaps he is trying to transform me into one of his minions by forcing me to feed upon human flesh and encouraging my relationship with Hhaak. But I refuse to give him the satisfaction of playing whatever sick, twisted game he is up to right now. A weak attempt on my part to retain some pride, but still, an attempt.
He looks ridiculous, wrapped in a white fur cloak, stumbling up the hillside in the snow, trying to sound excited to see me, and I scoff and snort, turning my head away. If I didn’t know how deceptive he could be, I might actually be able to believe it truly is my brother, but he cannot fool me anymore.
“Fane,” he calls. The sound cuts like a wolfock talon. He has matched the voice precisely to my memory. “Fane, I have found you at last!”
He draws closer and my heart is torn further. I have missed Kael more than I had known and my anger begins to boil inside. Why does he have to continually torment me this way?
As he nears, there is astonished horror in his eyes. “Fane?” he shouts again. “In the name of the king, what has happened to you?”
I still refuse to respond. I can only glare, knowing he can read my angry thoughts. There is no need to speak.
“Fane.” He is right before me now. “Do you not know me?”
The Legacy of Skur: Volume One Page 15