by Adam Collins
Balzimar walked over and gently moved Brinn’s arm down by his side. ‘It seems, my boy, you have more than a little ability after all,’ he smiled.
Brinn looked shocked.
Rat ran to Lom's side. The giant man was unconscious but alive.
‘What part of hell did that thing come from?’ Brinn finally managed to ask. ‘And how did he get so close? I didn’t even know he was there, he crept right up and I didn’t hear a damn thing.’
‘Moorg are a construct of the Dark; twisted mindless creatures, bred to kill by Karesh Warlocks.’ Balzimar looked out towards the darkness, ‘He was a long way from home. And not alone.’
Further up the slope Alsheer was making good his escape. The outcome of the fight had come as a shock. These are most unusual men, he thought. Especially the one dressed in black. Such power! And he can mask it! There had been no hint of his abilities until he unleashed, and then for the merest instant it was like an erupting volcano. But when he stopped it was as if he had no power at all. He was confused. Magic, or the ability to wield, could be sensed by those familiar with the Arts. He had sensed the wizard easily, but did not fear him. Yet this other had power equal to, or perhaps greater, than that of the Master. This was indeed troubling. Fear gripped him. It was time to be prudent. He quickened his pace away. He had been taken unawares this time. Next time, he would not.
As the ash finally settled there came an eerie silence. Brinn looked around at his friends. There were unspoken questions on those faces; questions for which he had no answers. But he knew who did. He looked at Balzimar. ‘Old man...we need to talk!’
10. Hidden Dangers
They seemed to be heading in a northerly direction, as far as Megan could figure. The land was getting wetter, and there were more streams and rivers to cross every day. On the third day they entered the lowlands. The terrain became swampy and the air was filled with insects of every description. Evenings were the worst. Black-fly and Mosquitoes drove them to despair. The girls took to hiding under their blankets until nightfall when there was, at least, some respite.
Karem did his best to make the journey comfortable but there was nothing that he could do about the insects. Everyone was suffering. There had been no sign of Alsheer since their first encounter. Megan was glad of it. He was more creature than man, and of dark intent. The journey was arduous but bearable. Grik had kept his distance since his humiliating dunking, and that was welcome. Megan caught him sneaking a look from time to time, but generally he stayed at arm’s length, through fear of what Karem might do to him, she suspected.
A desperate resignation had come over the two young women. There really was no realistic chance of escape now. Even if they did manage to get away from their captors, where would they go? They were hundreds of miles from the nearest help, and surrounded by miles of snake and croc filled swamp. Not to mention the myriad of other hellish biting, sucking, crushing, and stinging things that lurked there. At one point, early on, it had crossed their minds to try. Karem seemed to sense it and gently pointed out that their guard’s duty now was to protect rather than confine. That put a completely new perspective on the situation. It was soon after, just past sunset as the camp settled in for the night, that Anabel noticed those awful red eyes on the outskirts just beyond the furthest campfire glow. The girls were sitting with Karem chatting about his homeland when Anabel let out a scream. They all saw those ghastly things. Karem seemed unusually unperturbed. Sleep was hard to find that night. Imagination can be a bad thing at times. In reality, their worst imaginings were probably not far from the truth.
***
Red-Eyes was watching the camp again tonight, as he did every night. These creatures were getting much too close to his nest. Fear was slowly giving way to anger. His mate would roost and watch over the hatchlings while he hunted. He was wary of these creatures. He tried to keep away from the taller ones with the sharp pointy sticks. They looked vigilant and dangerous. No, he was looking for something that would not pose too much of a risk. One of the mules or horses would do, or perhaps one of the fatter Two-Legs, the ones that did not carry those long sharp sticks. He had encountered those sticks before and they had caused him much pain. Two-Legs hunted in packs and would attack if they knew that he was close. It was important to have a silent kill. His life depended upon it. Red-Eyes silently slid through the murky water, quietly watching the camp. These creatures were stupid. They had strayed far too close to the water’s edge. Red-Eyes saw others hungrily watching them too. Big crocs moved away when they saw his approach. They knew better than to cross him. They retreated and left him to reap the spoils.
Ahead two of the smaller Two-Legs were washing by the shore. Red-Eyes slipped closer. They were unaware of his presence. They were small and thin. Not much meat. He deduced that they were probably the females of this species because they were so much smaller than the ones with the sharp sticks. He stopped to survey. They looked weak. There would be little fight in them, he thought. If he could get them both they might provide a meal. He slid even closer. He could smell them now. His stomach juices gurgled. Hunger drove him on. Red-Eyes had eaten Two-Legs before. They tasted good. Their flesh was tender and sweet. He slid closer still. It was worth the gamble. He hesitated, checking for the Stick Carriers; there were none. He moved into a position to attack. The females were still washing. He tensed ready to strike. But just before he did, they moved away. He could follow, but feared the light from the fires that hurt his eyes.
Disappointed he moved on. Further along he came across another Two-Legs. It had come close to the water’s edge and was ejecting fluid from its lower body into the swamp. Red- Eyes slid up to the bank, the Two-Legs swayed backwards and forwards. In one quick grab Red-Eyes made his kill without too much noise. The ones with the sticks had not heard. He was glad, and swam to deeper darker waters, away from prying eyes, to better enjoy his meal. It had been a successful night. Now his young would feast.
***
As the morning dawned the camp became a hive of activity. There was cooking and washing and all manner of preparation for the day's travel. When all was ready Karem escorted the girls to the wagon. As they settled down on their blankets, Anabel noticed three rider-less horses being tethered to the back. Karem was sitting beside the wagon driver again.
Anabel tugged on the back of his jacket, ‘Karem?’
‘Yes, my Lady?’ he turned.
‘I’ve noticed that you seem to be missing some men today,’ she glanced towards the empty horses.
‘Ah yes. We have lost three since entering the swamp.’
‘Deserters?’ Anabel asked hopefully.
‘No,’ he nonchalantly answered then turned back to face the road.
Both women looked at each other in horror, drew their legs up until knees touched chins, and sat there hugging them tight. They had truly entered hell.
The road had become a twisting half-submerged trail through the mangrove. One could quite easy become irretrievably lost, in the miasmic thickets, with one misplaced step. Truculent green encroaching on all sides like an ever shifting maze, underpinned by a mixture of slow moving rivers and stagnant bogs. The air reverberated with the incessant buzz of swarming, invasive, insects. Arms and faces were in constant peril from the ravenous little blood-suckers. Karem gave the women a salve to ease the itch, which helped a little.
Hour after torturous hour they travelled on, twisting and turning, left then right, forward then backwards. It was unending. After a few hours the girls had lost all sense of bearing and direction. The heat was draining. Sweat dropped from every pore as the humidity soared. Overhead the Sun blazed. The sparse, puffball, clouds that occasionally crossed its molten face provided little in the way of respite. The slavers, under the added weight of weapons and armour, slouched, with dejected resignation, in their saddles. While all around, hungry eyes watched them pass and waited patiently for an opportunity to strike. All it would take was one slip, or even perhaps something as trivial as ca
relessly straying too close to the water’s edge. Then powerful jaws would lunge and grab, twisting, tearing, pulling, beneath the murky water in a frenzy of splashing and blood.
Foliage covered the surface of the swamp. Water lilies and cress formed a perfect green blanket obscuring all that lay beneath. There were splashing noises, but it was impossible to see what had caused them. Little ripples on the surface giving hint to a direction. Low hanging branches were another worry. They had already lost one man to snake bite earlier that morning. It looked like a thin green branch sticking from the side of a low hanging limb. But by the time the man realised his mistake it was too late. He died quickly but painfully with foam bubbling from his, blue-lipped, mouth. His slithering assassin quickly decapitated with a well aimed sword-swipe.
By late evening they came to a patch of raised ground. It was an oasis in an ocean of slime. It had been cleared of much of its vegetation in times past. A small stone perimeter-wall encircled a dilapidated stone house. The roof was gone but the walls were strong. Outside the perimeter-wall a moss covered jetty had a half submerged canoe moored to its side. Inside, of which, there lived all manner of swimming insects and tadpoles.
The inside of the house was clean but empty. In one corner an iron cook-pot sat, leaning against the wall rusted through, a gaping hole where its legs had once protruded.
‘We will camp here tonight ladies. Why don't you pick a side,’ said Karem.
‘Very funny,’ huffed Anabel.
Karem smiled and clapped his hands. Two of his personal guards entered and immediately set about making the room more hospitable. A fire soon blazed in the hearth, the addition of blankets and pillows helped to make the stone-slabbed floor a little more comfortable. Outside, the sky was quickly darkening as night approached. Megan felt somewhat reassured at having solid walls all around. She lay down and casually stretched. Anabel lay beside her and snuggled against her back. For the first time since entering the swamp, the girls felt a little safer. Grik’s men cooked and drank in the courtyard outside. The worst was over for them. They would soon be back home, and with a pocket full of gold to boot. Spirits were high and the mood was relaxed.
As darkness fell, watching eyes reflected the campfires light. Yellow spheres winked on and off as curious heads popped up out of the slime to look at the newcomers, then down again, curiosity sated, out of sight. But one pair of eyes did not hide. They stared with unblinking intensity at the gathering on the island. Coldly analysing. Seeking to exploit any advantage offered. Filled with anger and hate for these arrogant interlopers. These eyes, were the deepest red.
11. Ruby Red Wine
The two generals sat in the foyer of the onetime council chambers of Mabak-Var, and now Sulan AL–Imri’s throne room. They had ridden for days to get back to the capital. It was not wise to dither when summoned by the Great One. General Gambri was overlord and supreme commander of the army. His second in command General Imrit sat beside him. Both men were nervous. They were bearers of bad news and were unsure how their master would take it.
Gambri was sweating profusely, though not from the heat. It was taking all of his willpower to stop from shaking. It was hard to hide even the slightest tremor while wearing full body armour, as the steady rattle of clanking metal betrayed, even, the most stoic countenance. The double doors of the throne room opened and both men stood with helmets tucked under arm.
Aalil Dulva walked through and beckoned them to his side. ‘The Great One, Sulan AL-Imri, Bringer of Peace, Protector of the Weak, will see you now. Be ever contrite in his almighty presence,’ sang Aalil.
The two men bowed as they entered, their eyes remaining fixed on floor, in reverence, as they approached the throne. It was only allowed to look upon the Great One when spoken to directly.
Aalil walked slightly ahead with languid, precisely measured, steps. His purple, crimped velvet, gown swishing left and right across the polished black-granite floor-tiles with pendulous rhythm. At the base of the dais he stopped and bowed in one fluid sweep and announced the two generals. ‘Begging your indulgence, Great One. Overlord Gambri and General Imrit request an audience. They come as instructed by your Divine Magnificence,’ his soft undulating voice sang the words with dispassionate tone.
Sulan was wearing his customary black habit, a sign of his vow of modesty. The hood was up hiding his face in its gloomy interior. ‘General Gambri, it is good to see you. It has been some time since we have spoken in person,’ AL-Imri nodded.
‘Thank you, Great One. As ever it is a wondrous pleasure to be in thy presence.’ The general gave a quick look up as he spoke, and then down.
‘And of course you too, General Imrit.’
‘Thank you, Great One. I am humbled in thy presence.’ Imrit briefly looked up, and when he had finished, back down again, as Gambri had done.
‘And how is your family Overlord? We see far too little of them at court since beginning the purification of the West.’
‘They are in good health, Great One, thank you,’ answered Gambri.
‘That is good to hear, yes indeed. Family are so important, don’t you agree Overlord.’
‘Yes I do, Great One. They are the foundations upon which all is achieved.’
‘Yes, well put. Our foundations. Sound foundations are essential for every endeavour, I feel. I believe you have a daughter, if memory serves?’
‘Yes, Great One. Her name is Emir.’
‘Do I know her husband?’ asked AL-Imri.
‘She is unwed, Great One. Though well sought after according to my wife,’ Gambri allowed a small nervous smile to cross his lips.
‘Still a maiden then? Good...they are the best years of youth, before responsibility burdens the shoulders and lines the face. A time of freedom that all too quickly recedes, I’m afraid.’
‘Truly, Great One. Your wisdom lights the dark.’
‘Indeed.’ There was a silence for a few moments as AL-Imri contemplated. ‘How goes the war? We have heard...disquieting…stories of late.’
‘It goes well, Great One. The enemy are weakening. We have advanced on all fronts. It will only be a matter of months before we finally crush them.’
‘Oh! That's so good to hear, and very reassuring, Overlord. You see Prolat it is obvious now that the stories we have been hearing of great losses are all untrue!’ AL-Imri turned toward Aalil Dulva as he spoke.
Gambri’s face went sickly white and drops of sweat ran freely down his brow.
‘Is that not so, Overlord?’ AL-Imri’s voice was cold. It was a leading question. The answer already known.
‘Great One--’ Imrit interrupted in a pleading voice.
‘Hold your tongue before I make you wish you had!’ hissed AL-Imri, dropping his mask of serenity.
Imrit immediately looked down to his feet wishing a hole would open and end his terror.
‘Well...Overlord, is that not so?’ Sulan’s tone had lowered to a menacing purr.
‘No...Great One,’ the Overlord wrung his hands nervously.
‘No, they are not true, Gambri?’ said AL-Imri.
‘They are true, Great One.’ the general swallowed hard his face awash with sweat and fear.
‘Explain!’
‘The last attack was most...costly, Great One. They used pitch and other flammables. It was...unexpected. The ramparts were made of wood. It was an act of insanity! We were caught unawares. It’s simply unheard of. Our troops could not escape in the crush. It was a disaster.’
‘How many did we lose?’ asked AL-Imri in a flat tone.
Gambri looked at his feet. ‘Over twenty five thousand, Great One.’
‘Twenty five thousand!’ The Lord of the East was staggered, ‘Why so many?’
‘It was a coordinated strategy along the entire front line.’
Sulan shook his head disconsolately.
‘No-one could have predicted this, Great One.’ Gambri pleaded.
‘And the enemy?’
‘They have retreated to
a new defense line.’
AL-Imri sat rigid upon his throne and stared at the two men.
‘You must understand--’ Gambri stopped mid-sentence.
‘Silence!’ hissed AL-Imri. He stood and extended his arm towards the general.
Gambri’s eyes started to bulge as he struggled for air. Sweat ran out of every opening in his armour and his face was a picture of agony. General Imrit jumped back in horror as Gambri suddenly burst into flames and fell to his knees. He did not cry out. In a matter of seconds his body had disintegrated into blackened cinders. When finished AL-Imri sat down heavily.
‘Congratulations, Imrit, you are promoted to Overlord. Gambri's lands and possessions are yours. Now get out of my sight!’
The shocked general quickly backed his way down the aisle, bowing as he went, out the double doors at the end and was gone.