by C. M. Gray
Tarent had lashed himself to the wheel so he could use both hands to guide the boat while Loras wove his magic next to him, bracing himself, holding on with one hand, his legs wide set against the movements of the deck. The Magician was protecting the sails as best he could and guiding them through the near invisibility of the howling storm; neither of which was an easy task in these conditions.
'We're almost there,' he shouted, his face as close to Tarent's as he could get it. 'I can sense the city… it's not too far away now.'
'Are we going to smash into it? I can't see a thing in all this Loras; I'm sailing blind. This is madness.' Tarent reached up and tucked his headscarf in a little tighter where the wind had been tugging it loose in a vain attempt to protect his eyes.
'Don't worry, I'll tell you when to haul in sail,' shouted Loras,' it will be soon. Just keep on this course; we'll have to do it together. I don't think we're going to get any help from those two.' He nodded towards the closed hatch and then moved forward, riding the rise and fall of the deck beneath his feet as he staggered from one handhold to the next. After a few steps he could just make out Nhasic standing on the bowsprit at the very front of the boat. The little demon seemed to be delighting in the whole experience, grasping firm to his perch with his little hairy feet even when the boat dived down into the desert sands, burying him completely, only to erupt upwards moments later, hands held high in celebration with the desert washing around the boat, dust and sand clouding back from the demon's fur in a dirty plume.
Loras braced as the boat rose up the next wave and then projected his senses forward. It was a confused picture that filled his mind as the storm drew upon each and every element of nature from all around, summoning everything towards it. The city of Dhurban was set ahead like a rock protruding from the sea; he could almost taste the presence of people there and more, in front much closer. This must be the battle, the last stand of Dhurban and the Realm against the might and magic of the Soul Eater Emperor and his people; it was still happening, they weren't too late. Turning, he made his way back, retracing his earlier erratic journey along the moving deck.
'Be ready Tarent, we're not going to stop when we get there, get ready to jump… I have an idea.'
'What about the Princess and Bartholomew?' asked Tarent, his voice muffled by the cloth wrap and only just perceptible through the noise.
'They'll be fine, The Griffin will look after them, gotta trust me again, Tarent.'
Tarent looked into Loras's eyes and nodded.
* * *
The Emperor was no more than ten paces away, surrounded by the elite of his guards, each of them huge, battle trained warriors. The fighting was brutal this close, coupled with the fact that it was now impossible to move without treading upon the fallen, making fighting difficult and going forward treacherous. Quint pushed on, trusting that Pardigan and the Dhurbar were following, which they were, until quite abruptly he found himself alone and surrounded by six of the Emperor's guards. They had seen him break through and were moving quickly towards him, blades rising with the obvious intent of removing him as a threat. At that brief moment, he realised he was ahead of the others and felt the first wave of uncertainty flow through him. Was he destined to die here upon this battlefield in the middle of this crazy storm?
Much changes quickly on a field of battle. From despair can come victory and from certain defeat can emerge triumph, sometimes it just happens like that and the flow of the battle just switches. The man in front of Quint moved forward, a grin hidden by his headscarf making its way to his eyes, his blade rising almost to the top of its arc, but before it could fall a knife struck him. Quint watched incredulously as the blade appeared to sprout from the man's neck. The grin dropped, a look of panic took over and then he dropped away out of sight, the last Quint saw of him were his blood covered hands clawing ineffectually at the blade. It was over in the blink of an eye, Quint shuddered and moved on. To his left one of the other guards was struck from the side by one of the Dhurbar warrior's and Quint's moment of doubt passed as Pardigan and the Dhurbars caught up with him, and he was no longer alone. The Emperor's men surged forward, trying to regain some ground, pushing the Dhurbars back and, for a few moments, all around this part of the battlefield was a confusing mass of grunting, heaving warriors, all bigger and taller than Quint and Pardigan, shoving, fighting and cursing as they fought for ground. Caught between the two groups, the boys struggled to stay standing.
The battle was at an impasse until a large shape flowed over their heads and flame seared the ground sending men from both sides screaming in terror and agony. The cries of 'Drac' sounded from all around, but it was quickly past and the battle resumed. Quint was now free of the crush and was able to raise his blade. He was about to run a man through when something large and moving fast from behind narrowly missed him and thumped hard into the warrior, knocking him off his feet and back several paces. Glancing down to where the man had fallen, Quint saw he was unmoving and wondered what had happened, and then the pile of cloth and rope next to the man moved and he saw Magician Falk rising from the ground. The old Magician looked very unsteady. He stood for a moment, held his arms out to steady himself as if he were dizzy, and then covering his head from the sandy blast, staggered off through the battle in the direction of the city.
Quint had no time to ask where the Magician had come from, he was already gone, the moment had passed, and the enemy was surging forward once again and he was trying not to trip over fallen bodies. Jolted back to the reality of the battle, he glanced about for support, saw the Dhurbar and Realm troops struggling and cried, 'Hold them!' He struck out again, parrying a savage cut from a warrior who now blocked his way, the cut missed him, but the impact almost knocked the spear from his hand. He noticed the man was already wounded, an open slash, bleeding freely, stretching across his face. The blade that had struck him had taken away most of his cheek and nearly all his cloth head-wrap which had been his only protection from the stinging sand of the storm. The warrior, his robes awash with blood, his teeth bared in a grimace of anger and agony from the wound and sand that beat against his damaged face, came on, almost blind but still fighting. He raised his sword ready to strike again, but Quint brought his spear around and felt it connect heavily against the man's temple, snapping it in two with the force of the impact. He threw the two pieces aside as he watched the warrior collapse. It left a gap in the enemy's defences, and he took the opportunity to dash forward, jumped over the fallen man and through the protective ring of guards.
The Emperor stood alone before him, oblivious to the battle and all that was going on, swinging his arms in a blur, eyes glowing manically, intent upon his spell, still trusting in his personal guards to keep him safe and for the moment, unaware that anyone had broken through. The huge black crystal stood by his side, pulsing red, the faces of captured souls pressing against the side of their prison, mouths wide in silent screams.
With no weapons, Quint could do little other than throw himself at the Emperor. Arms outstretched he launched himself at the little man, flew into the centre of the Chaos storm, unable to see much through the stinging sand he felt his fingers wrapping about the Emperor's neck, the whirling arms banging into him, then he snapped his head forward in a butt that connected with a crunch and the arms stopped moving.
Quint felt the impact on his forehead and knew he had crushed the Emperor's nose as they both fell to the ground. The magic may have stopped for a moment, but the storm stilled seethed, spinning about them. They rolled apart, both trying to regain their feet. Dazed from the impact, Quint managed to pull himself up and stand. He blinked, then turned and saw the Emperor was also up, regarding him with cool eyes.
'You are too late,' shouted the Emperor. 'My storm is complete, and the city is dead.' His high lilting words reached through the howl of the wind and Quint felt his anger flare, ready to take the little man down again and this time to finish him for good. He had taken just one step forward, when a huge sha
dow erupted over them causing them both to crouch down. Glancing up, Quint saw two shadowed figures jump free as it passed. It wasn't the blue and yellow dragon again, but wooden planking sliding past overhead, and then it was gone. It was the weirdest thing, but regardless, it gave him the chance he needed to close with the Emperor again. The two met, and Quint's blows were deflected and pushed effortlessly aside by the little man who was now grinning, slapping Quint's fists aside before slapping him, once…twice…. three times, dazing Quint as the little man laughed in his face.
'You cannot hurt me, pathetic creature, be gone and stop bothering me.' But before the Emperor could raise his hands again, Quint lunged forward and caught him in a hug that pinned his arms to his sides and set him screaming, vainly struggling in Quint's grasp.
'Here, Quint… push him in here.' The thin voice reached Quint through the hissing roar of the storm and he spun around, saw Loras standing close to a shimmering rift, a doorway between worlds, the dimension on the other side dark and forbidding. He wondered briefly at the appearance of Loras, then stepped towards it, dragging the Emperor with him. The man was struggling, trying desperately to break free. The crystal pulsed a heavy red as power was drawn and the Emperor's teeth clamped down on Quint's neck - the fighter screamed, but held on, managing to make another two steps.
'I can't hold it for long Quint, hurry… push him through.' The Emperor's guard had seen what was happening, and several broke through, but Loras put his hand up, and for a few blessed moments a wall of air protected them, both from the warriors and also the storm, making it a little easier to move. Quint took another step and then dragged his feet closer still as the Emperor thrashed in his grip, legs kicking. He could feel sticky blood running down his neck and pain flaring as the Emperor continued to bite, tearing at his flesh, but he wasn't about to let go. Casting the pain aside, he saw Tarent and Pardigan locked in battle alongside the Dhurbar, glanced back to Loras and saw the look of strain and worry on his friend's face as he fought to hold open the tear between worlds and then he lunged forward, dragging the little man with him to stand on the very edge of the rift. He swayed. He could feel the wind and sand being sucked past him into the hole. The Emperor had seen the rift as well now and was thrashing about in his arms with even greater resolve, desperate to remain in the realm of man. Opening his arms, Quint tried to separate and push the Emperor past the entrance, but it was no good, he refused to be pushed away, his teeth were clamping down harder and his arms now holding tight to Quint in an iron grip of his own.
'I can't hold it Quint… it's closing… slipping away,' Loras shouted, struggling as his hands moved trying to hold the rift open. Figures could be seen now, moving inside, too far back to see any details of them, but they were there, drawn towards the light and sounds from the realm of man – the demons were coming. 'It's going Quint…'
A frantic screech sounded close by and Nhasic leapt at the pair, landing firstly on the crystal, knocking it so that it rocked precariously on its stand, and then on to their joined heads as the little demon franticly sought to return to its home. Behind them, the crystal fell, smashing into countless tiny shards and a new sound joined that of the battle and storm. A wailing, screeching that filled the air as soul after soul was released from the confines of the crystal, looping and soaring all around them leaving sparkling red trails of Chaos magic behind as they fled.
Startled, the Emperor raised his head; anguish clouding his features as he followed the souls' departure. Blood was dripping from his mouth as he let out a wail of despair, 'Nooooooooo…' he glanced about and appeared dumbfounded, and then Nhasic began pounding the Emperor's forehead with his little fists, and they began to tip forward towards the rift, struggling, the three of them still firmly attached together.
The rift was still open; claws and hideous demon faces close to the entrance of their realm. The look on the Emperor's face turned to panic as he realised they were falling and he tried to push away, but they were too unbalanced. With Nhasic's momentum and Quint's weight they all collapsed, tipping through the rift together, and as they did, the doorway closed.
'Noooo, it isn't meant to happen like this, Quint.' Loras panicked. Pushing the weight of gathering warrior's back with a wall of air, he quickly conjured another rift, the large gap opening, yawning black amid the dirty brown of the storm, but there was no sign of Quint or the Emperor. 'Quint! Quint don't do this!' The rift closed.
Without the Emperor weaving his spell the storm was already beginning to slow, spreading out beyond the confines that the Emperor had set, sand rained down upon the city, the battlefield and beyond. Loras opened another rift, this time with both Tarent and Pardigan beside him.
'Quint went in, I saw him,' shouted Pardigan. 'Quint, get out of there Quint. Quiiiiiiiinnnnnt!' …But… Quint really was gone.
* * *
The storm blew itself out and what was left of the Emperor's army melted away with it, going out into the desert or after throwing aside their weapons they slipped into the city to take their chances on the streets of Dhurban.
Bartholomew Bask and the Princess were found unharmed and eating lunch below decks in The Griffin quite unaware the boat had stopped, and a battle fought around them. When told they had arrived, they had happily returned to the city with Bartholomew walking as fast as his chubby legs would take him in search of, 'Finally finding a proper meal to break me fast upon!'
Once Bartholomew and the Princess had gone, Loras transformed The Griffin to its animal form, and it reared up, shook itself as if awakening from a bad dream, and then flew up and far away as if fleeing the whole terrible experience of being blown apart and reassembled. Loras explained that he was sure she would come when summoned, but it would be best to let her heal on her own for some days – there was only so much that magic could do.
A day after the battle, back inside their chambers in the Royal palace, the crew debated their options. Pardigan was the most agitated, pacing to and fro, desperate for his friend.
'We have to go after Quint. He would come and find us we all know that. Send me in there Loras, I'm not scared of demons, I'll find him.' Loras tried to ignore him. They were all concerned for Quint, each intent upon his rescue, yet all looking to Loras to locate him. Even Elisop was quiet; the little spy was sitting playing with a piece of string watching Pardigan out of the corner of his eye. Magician Falk was the only one still asleep. So far the old Magician had refused to talk about where he had been and how he had come to fly into the battle behind the blue and yellow dragon. Elisop had shouted at him for a while, accusing him of throwing one of the King's finest intelligence officers out of the balloon and had then got into a verbal fight with Pardigan when the young thief had questioned his claim to intelligence.
'How dare you speak of the King's personal Spymaster in such a derogatory manner, I shall have you know I was educated in the finest…'
'Oh, please, go chew on a camel, Mr intelligent Spymaster,' sneered Pardigan. We need to find my friend and you're not helping.' He turned back to Loras. 'Please send me in there Loras; I can do it. Just open one of those door things'
'But Pardigan, I don't know where to start.' Loras glanced up from where he had been sitting with his head cupped in his hands. 'Think about it seriously, just for one moment. I just chose a place at random and opened the rift for Quint to throw the Emperor in, I certainly didn't expect Quint to go in with him and then for us to need to find him, he could be anywhere, the demon realm is huge.' He slumped back. 'Right now I can't do anything; I'm too tired to think. We all are. I do know that if anyone can survive down there it's going to be Quint. I will find him Pardigan, I promise I'll find him, I'll find him as fast as I can, it isn't easy, but I won't stop, I'll keep looking no matter how long it takes.'
'Oh Source, poor Quint.' Mahra sobbed and leant into Tarent's shoulder. They sat in silence, none of them knowing what to do next.
* * *
The return to Sterling Port didn't get underway for almost
a week. Loras spent most of the time huddled with Magician Falk trying different spells to locate Quint. They opened countless rifts but found nothing but bad smells, darkness and demons. It was dangerous and futile at best. Despite pleading with them, Pardigan was continually refused permission to enter a rift and go in search of him. Until they could fix Quint's position, there was no point.
'I don't want to lose two of my friends into the Demon realm,' said Loras crossly when Pardigan asked for the umpteenth time. 'Listen, let me try and explain, so maybe even you can understand our problem. Imagine Quint was on Minster Island, and I set you down here in the desert to look for him, you wouldn't have much chance of finding him, would you? Well the Demon realm is as big as this realm, but it's darker, full of caverns and tunnels and we think there is some kind of sea down there, as well. We have no maps, and at the moment we have no way of knowing where is, it could be anywhere down there, so stop bothering me until we locate him, then you can go get him, we all will.' Pardigan sulked for the best part of a day.
The crew had excused themselves from all the celebrations in Dhurban, it just didn't seem right to dance in the street and celebrate while Quint was missing, their battle wasn't yet over. It wasn't spoken about, but each was imagining what he could be going through, what it must be like and how he was surviving. The thought that he may have been killed and eaten by demons didn't enter anyone's head, he was Quint, and he would be alive and trying to get back.
When it came time to leave, the crew travelled back on The Griffin while Bartholomew, Elisop and Magician Falk joined the first desert caravan to leave the city since before the battle. They were accompanying King Hugo and the remnants of his army and had to resign themselves to riding several days in the swinging palanquin platforms. The crew were delighted to pass on the palanquin experience. Loras called The Griffin, and she flew in, seemingly none the worse for being blown to bits, reassembled and sailed through a hostile desert.