According to Vindaluvian legend, Isadora would be the one to introduce great
wickedness into their world. The man-god, Hastos, had created Isadora from nothing more than dry mud and had given her life, while Loden had blessed her with great beauty. However, it was said that Koki, who hated all of the blue-bloods was so angry that he became Hastos and Loden's sworn enemy, introducing Isadora amongst them to plague their world with ills and evils. Is this the actual jar filled with great malevolence, she thought?
And then without any warning, the lid of the jar began unscrewing as if by unseen hands. It creaked and groaned. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her eyes widened. Her whole body shook and stiffened. Hypnotised and paralysed she stared at the jar, suddenly chilled again. It was opening by itself. Terror gripped her. She gasped wanting to run, but stood with hands clenched so tightly that her knuckles hurt. Her whole body trembled. ‘Oh, the man-gods help me.’ she whispered between lips stiff with fear. And a cruel soundless laughter echoed and swirled inside her head. ‘Now what do I do?’ she gasped. She lunged at the jar to try and stop the lid from turning.
However, the lid did turn. And it didn’t matter how much pressure she exerted with both hands, because it kept on turning. ‘Oh, this is not good. I have a very bad feeling about this,’ she whimpered, trying with all her strength to keep the jar from opening. But the lid continued to turn just the same. Then the jar suddenly exploded like a water barrel with too much pressure inside, blowing the lid into the air. And the force was such that it flung her violently across the room, slamming her hard against a wall. She slid to the floor, gasping for air.
Now an eerie haunting sound disturbed the graveyard silence. And there was a rustling sound like that of a breeze passing over pine needles and dried leaves. Then unseen fingers touched her. She tried desperately to hold her flagging courage. Unseen fingers touched her again and a hollow evil laughter filled her head, making her feel dizzy. And she was perspiring heavily, even though her hands were clammy and cold. ‘What have I done? What have I let out of that jar?’ she whispered into the silence as a delicate, yet spicy perfume filled her nose and throat.
Lying there between heavy heartbeats she watched many tiny angel-like beings flutter toward her from out of the cracked jar. Their faces were those of loving children. And their hands were outstretched to her. Instantly, she was awash with relief as the beguiling creatures surrounded her, chanting her name. ‘Thank you Kira! Bless you Kira! Love you Kira!’ they sang in unison, buzzing round the tomb on tiny wings, pointing at her.
Then, more tiny beings that were otherworldly too, came as before when the jar exploded for a second time. This time however, their faces were like the haunting dead. Deathly white. Horribly scarred. With blackened, jagged teeth. And they hissed her name and began attacking her. She protected her face with her arms and prayed to the man-gods. But her words were lost in a terrible, silent, soulless laughter. ‘Help me! Help me!’ she screamed, trying to ward off the evil things.
‘I am hunger!’ shrieked one.
‘I am thirst!’ screeched another.
‘I am rage!’ wailed a third.
‘I am death!' announced a forth.
They all began stinging her with bony, razor-sharp fingertips. They felt like hot needles. The pain was excruciating. And each time she screamed, they attacked her more viciously. Now, one by one, they announced their reason for being.
‘I am insanity!'
'I am lust! '
'I am hopelessness!'
'I am gluttony!’
Until the moment when one of the angels announced, ‘I am hope! We are hope!’ Then a fierce battle began before her eyes. She screamed and nearly fainted. Terrified of the dreadful things. They stung each other and her. And their mouths opened like canyons and tore off each other's heads. Tiny wings flittered and buzzed round the tomb, and every once in a while, one of the evil beings stung her and cursed her.
‘Die! Die!’ they chanted, poking her, causing her to trip. She fell, knocking the jar over, smashing it to pieces with a great crash. Two plum-sized reddish-purple Firestars rolled towards her and she couldn’t believe her luck. I was right after all, she thought.
Taking advantage of the chaos and confusion, she snatched up the Firestars, sprang to her feet and ran from the tomb by the way she had entered, closing it behind her by stepping on the same root that had opened it in the first place. She breathed a sigh of relief, watching the hole close behind her. Luckily Salen was awake and ready for action. So she thrust the Firestars into her knapsack, climbed up onto his shoulders, and ordered him skyward. Then as they took to the air, climbing higher and higher into the sky she looked back, watching a plague of evil silhouettes seeping out of the ground, heading in every direction over their world.
Now she knew the horrifying truth. Isadora hadn’t opened the jar as was written in ancient Vindaluvian legend. She had. What have I done, she thought. Will my world ever be the same again after this day.
Well, there was certainly good and evil in the world before this day so, there probably wouldn’t be that much of a change, she hoped, trying to make herself feel better. Anyway, the man-gods had obviously planned what was to happen, she thought, or the Firestars wouldn’t have been in Isadora’s jar in the first place. And at least I’ve released the Angels of Hope into the world too.
Chapter 17
Along shafts of bright sunlight, Dopiaza swooped down to the City of Eeney Odd
precariously balanced on the Mage Majiker's shoulders. He was now in possession of
one of the ancient jewels and had been guided towards the great city by the Oracle
in the hope of discovering more. The city was vast. And famous for being the
crash site of Golden Starpiece asteroid, once sought after by the infamous Udsun and
his Gunauts – mighty blue-blood warriors – years earlier.
Thousands were milling around on the ground beneath him, going about their daily
business, unaware of his presence overhead. He found that quite amusing and smiled,
filling his lungs with the morning air, which carried the taste of sea salt from the
Negean Sea. He scratched his beard and waved. No one noticed. Who would
think to look skyward anyway to see a hero-warrior flying across the city, he thought?
‘Take me down! Over there!’ he ordered finally, pointing to a secluded garden
circled by tall trees. It was an ideal landing site, out of harm’s way and the view of
prying eyes. Instantly the Mage obeyed, swooping lower and lower until he hovered
inches above the ground. Dopiaza slid down from his shoulders as soon as the Mage's
bare feet touched the grass. Then he ordered him to hide within the trees and
await his return. Luckily, the owner of the garden wasn’t there to witness the
event.
After making sure the Mage was well hidden and wouldn’t be discovered, he left
via a small iron gate, hopping over it when it wouldn’t open. Whistling gaily, he
marched off down the adjoining alleyway in search of the crash site, in the hope of
finding more Firestars.
Briskly, he made his way toward the centre of the city. Now there was more than
a flicker of genuine interest in his glittering eyes. He glanced back over his shoulder
to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Then he remembered the fabled stories
surrounding the Golden Starpiece asteroid. Many centuries ago, an unknown warrior
had discovered it in the Grove of Ares. No one could say who the warrior was, but
after his discovery, it brought everlasting peace and prosperity to Eeney Odd. There
had been no more wars, pestilence or famine. The man-gods even placed the hero-
warriors outline in the heavens as a constellation – a permanent reminder of the
event.
As
a child, Dopiaza had listened to many of the stories surrounding the legendary
crash-site. It was said that the dreaded, seven headed Leviathan protects it. In which
case, it would be the ideal hiding place for something of great value. Daydreaming,
he marched on passing a group of strangers. Then he stopped and turned, coming back
from his reverie. ‘Excuse me kind sirs,’ he said. 'Where can I find the Grove of Ares?
Is it somewhere hereabouts?'
‘What–?’ said one stranger with clear-cut, hawk-like features. ‘Are you addressing
me sir?’
‘The Grove of Ares, where is it? That’s all I need to know. I'm a dwarf on a
mission and it’s the one place I must go,' said Dopiaza
‘Straight ahead, you can’t miss it. But be careful, a dreadful creature protects the
Golden Starpiece asteroid,' said the stranger, disappearing around a corner with his
friends.
Dopiaza's heart sank. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. It was now mid-day and
the giant suns rays were punishing. He walked on ponderously through a maze of
noisy alleyways and crowded bazaars buzzing with conversation, until he arrived at
an open glade on the far side of the city, surrounded on all sides by steep rocky walls.
He immediately noticed the asteroids impact crater, and for some little time his
eyes rested thoughtfully upon it. It was rainbow-coloured and seemed magical some-
how. Smiling, he put his fingertips together, thinking for a while. I abhor the dull
routine of existence and crave mental exultation, and that is why I have chosen this
particularly dangerous path. But it is the craziest thing I've ever gotten myself into, he
thought ruefully.
Whistling quietly he approached the crater warily. His eyes darted from side
to side searching for any impending danger, and he edged forward, closer and
closer. Until he could all but touch the rim. This is too easy, he thought. However,
the instant he rested his hand upon it, he became aware of a hissing sound from
behind him. He turned quickly, catching sight of the Leviathan out of the corner of
his eye.
His eyes widened in terror and shone with fear as seven fearsome heads sprouted
from its horn-crusted body. It was a monstrous, ugly thing, all scales and spines
like a dragon, but with seven snapping heads. Terror streaked through him and
he sucked in his breath slowly, drawing his sword. It slithered closer with its
long necks thrashing the air. He jerked his face upward, his eyes fixed firmly on the
head in front of him. But he stood there like a lump of clay, rooted to the ground. He
pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming this nightmare. He wasn't.
It was all too real. Nausea now washed over him.
The Leviathan pressed its attack, snapping at him. It snapped again. And again. Each head going for a neck bite. One head would jerk to the left and snap. One would jerk to the right. And Dopiaza danced awkwardly between them, trying to stay out of harm's way.
He cursed the beast colourfully and loudly hoping to startle it. It stopped and glared at him murderously. Flicking out a long thin tongue, it snapped at his face. He backed away from the hideous creature, hacking and slashing with his sword over and over. But head after head shot forward, snapping at him with needle sharp teeth. It slithered closer, pressing its attack. He jabbed with his sword and thrashed air wildly. It slithered back briefly, hissing and screeching.
Then it moved in for the kill, hissing and snapping – one animal acting like a pack of wild hunters with all seven heads in motion.
‘Oh, the man-gods no! I don’t want to die here! No… not here… please... not now!’ he whimpered, through lips stiff with fear. He closed his eyes. The breath of the thing burned against his face fetid and raw. Terror struck him again. This is it, he thought. He knew there was nothing he could do to save himself.
Suddenly, he heard the distinctive twang of a bowstring. A grey goose-shaft sang through the air, striking the Leviathan with the force of a thunderbolt, pinning it to a tree. He opened his eyes. Then, in the space of mere heartbeats, six more deadly arrows whistled past him, striking each head down. Dopiaza found it hard to believe what he’d witnessed. The speed and accuracy of the arrows left him speechless.
‘Saved your sorry soul this time.’ said a husky voice from behind him.
Dopiaza wheeled around. Rogan was leaning on his bow smiling, looking rather pleased with himself.
‘I should have known!' said Dopiaza.
Rogan was holding the reins of a white stallion in his hands. His smile broadened further. And his eyes twinkled with a hint of menace. He strode over to Dopiaza casually, but with purpose. Drawing the dagger from his boot he pricked it into the skin under his nose. ‘If you don’t want to lose this,’ he snarled pricking the skin a little more, ‘give me the Firestar you have in your possession.'
Dopiaza felt a trickle of blood drip into his mouth. He blinked nervously and stared into Rogan’s eyes. They were hard, glazed and focused. ‘You… you…’ His voice suddenly sounded hoarse as if his throat had tightened and dried up. ‘You wouldn’t really cut my nose off... would you?’
Rogan nodded, pricking him again. Dopiaza could taste the blood on his lips and his head climbed a little higher, trying to avoid the needle sharp blade.
‘Where is it?’ hissed Rogan. ‘I’ll take it – now!’
‘I assume then that the Leviathan was guarding a Firestar, and you now have it,' said the other.
‘Aye, and a second one coming, so give it up,’ snarled Rogan impatiently.
‘You… you wouldn’t really spoil such a perfect little nose, would you?' said Dopiaza, clutching his knapsack to his chest.
Rogan’s eyes narrowed. The twinkle had gone, but the threat remained. ‘Aye, so give me what I want and make it quick,’ he said. ‘Or someone else will be wearing that perfect little nose tomorrow, and no mistake.’
Dopiaza’s heart sank. He opened the knapsack, placing his trembling fingers inside and pulled out the Firestar. ‘Can’t we settle this like warriors?’ he said dropping the knapsack to the floor.
Rogan stared icily into his tired red eyes. ‘You saved me from a painful death in the cavern below the city Kolosso and claimed the Firestar. I’ve saved you from a similar fate and claim it back. So, hand it over.’
Dopiaza shook his head stubbornly. ‘No, not a chance,’ he said clutching it tighter.
Rogan’s fingers twitched, tightening around the leather bound hilt of the dagger.
‘No?’ he snarled, looking down at the narrow face, seeing anxiety in Dopiaza's rabbit
eyes. ‘Are you sure?’
Dopiaza swallowed hard. He wanted to lash out, but knew nothing would prevent the bowman from taking the Firestar. He huffed, puffed and cursed under his breath, caressing it.
‘Last chance! The Firestar if you please!’ ordered Rogan impatiently.
Dopiaza held out the plum-sized jewel and Rogan snatched it from his trembling fingers.
Removing the dagger from under the other’s nose, he smiled, patting him on the head. ‘That wasn’t too unpleasant, now was it?’ he said putting the dagger back in his boot and the Firestar in his quiver. ‘The knife marks should heal in a day or so.’
Dopiaza prodded his nose gently; thanking the man-gods that it was the jewel Rogan had removed from his person. He knew in the fullness of time his features would return to normal. He smiled and shook his head sadly. ‘We’re still friends aren’t we bowman?’ he said bridge-building. He had always admired Rogan because of his great skill with the longbow. His grey goose-shafts always hit their mark with incredible accuracy, and he envied his tall athletic frame and dark smouldering eyes. They always sparkled. If Dopiaza had eve
r wished for anything in his three hundred years of life, it would have been to be Rogan’s twin brother.
‘You’re a strange little fellow. But the years of intense warrior training have served you well,’ said Rogan, his lips half curled in a smile. ‘You should rest now and heal. You’re an enigmatic male, besides being a Blackhawk.’
‘Is that a compliment?’ asked Dopiaza, not understanding the meaning of the word enigmatic.
‘It’s more than a compliment,’ said the other nodding. ‘It’s a great compliment. I’ve never met anyone with your attitude to life. Even Ofash, as big as he is, is tested by your wit and bravery. That speaks volumes.’
‘Thank you for your kindness friend,’ said Dopiaza.
Both warriors locked hands and hugged each other in an embrace of friendship. ‘We will always be friends,’ Rogan whispered.
‘Always?’ said Dopiaza.
‘Always!’ smiled Rogan.
Dopiaza released his grip on the bowman’s hand and reached inside his dark muslin vest. ‘I want you to have this as a token of our friendship,’ he said producing a piece of carved ivory. There was a hole in the top and a leather braid looping through it.
Rogan glanced down at the carving and his eyes widened to encompass it. He was stunned. The detail was in miniature but incredibly life-like. ‘You did this?’ he said, his breath caught in his throat.
‘Aye, bowman. Dwarfs don’t sleep too often in their lives, so I pass the long hours of night engraving wood or ivory. I usually throw them away, but this one is special.’
Rogan hung it about his neck. It was a tiny carving of all six hero-warriors, standing together, perfect in every detail. Dopiaza had even sculpted Ofash’s extremely intricate braided hair too. Being the smallest, he was in the foreground. Rogan and Kira were standing behind him. Vinn, being the tallest was at the back, alongside the other two mightily muscled warriors, Baltar and Ofash. All were smiling with their arms folded across their chests, and there was a tiny message which read – The Six Blackhawks. The Best of the Best.
The Blackhawks Impossible Quest Page 18