Mark of The Nibrilsiem: Set before The Ascension of Karrak (The Karrak Trilogy Book 4)

by Robert J Marsters

  “I’m glad you think so!” shrieked his wife. “Look at us! Why would the stranger do such a thing?”

  Gelbran laughed even louder, “Oh, this is hilarious. I can’t wait to tell you about this when I wake up!”

  “Oh really?” said his wife, looking down at her stomach. “Well you tell me this then clever-clogs! Have you ever had a dream this realistic before?”

  Gelbran looked at the bump, “But you’re… even in a dream?”

  “It’s not a dream you fool, that stranger’s turned us all into forest creatures, carnivorous ones!”

  “No, no, no,” scoffed Gelbran. “You watch this then.” Closing his eyes, he whispered, “I’m a vikkery, I’m a vikkery.” Opening them he looked at his hands, yes, hands. “See, if this wasn’t a dream, how could I do that?” However, he was still looking at bears and wolves who were still growling and roaring. “It’s a dream, I turn you back into vikkery,” he shouted, but nothing happened. How strange, he thought.

  Suddenly, his wife began to transform until she was, well, his wife. She stared at Gelbran. “It’s real,” she mouthed. “We can really change shape!” She became very excited, “Gelbran, think of something else, a different beast you can change into!”

  Gelbran was confused, “Like what?”

  “Erm…a horse, turn into a horse!”

  “Calm down!” yelled Gelbran, “Think about the baby.”

  “Never mind the baby, turn into a horse!” she ordered.

  It only took a few seconds. When he looked down again, there were the long legs and hooves. He had transformed into a horse. His wife had a beaming smile on her face. “He was telling the truth, my love. He gave us something that can help us destroy those dragons.”

  Gelbran had changed back, “I’m starting to remember even more now!” he said. “We have to be careful, we’re not all the same!” He added with urgency, “If we turn into anything too big, we could all go pop!”

  ***

  Keldenar sat up as Ballorn approached, “Ah, good,” he said. “You’re ready.”

  “I’m ready?” exclaimed Ballorn. “I’ve been waiting all day because you told me to!”

  Keldenar collected his thoughts, feeling the need to expand on his statement, “I meant that you are now mentally prepared,” he said.

  “Or just mental,” mumbled Stitch. Ballorn gave him a hard look. “Well you must admit that this isn’t normal,” added the tailor. “You have no idea what he’s got in store for you, but you’re going to let him do it anyway!”

  “Surely if I meant any one of you harm, you would have known it by now?” sighed Keldenar.

  “Just ignore him,” grunted Ballorn, his eyes still fixed on Stitch. “Let’s get on with it, whatever it is.”

  Senn tugged gently at Hunter’s sleeve, “Doesn’t any of this bother you?” he whispered. “That dragon’s growling and roaring and they’re talking to it as if it’s normal!”

  “That’s because we can understand what he’s saying,” replied Hunter. “Keldenar gave us the gift before we set out for Cheadleford.”

  “Really,” said Senn slowly, intrigued by the thought. “Do you think he’d be willing to share the gift with me?”

  Hunter looked him up and down, tilting his head to one side as he considered the question, “Erm, well… no!” he said adamantly.

  “Lay the armour on the ground before me,” ordered Keldenar. Each piece was carried and arranged at his feet. “Now, Ballorn, kneel behind it facing me.” He leaned down and scrutinised the workmanship, “You’ve done well,” he said slowly. “I feared that you may be a little heavy-handed to skilfully shape so soft a metal.”

  “Now that you mention it,” admitted Ballorn. “I did have to rely on some help with the more intricate parts.”

  Stitch puffed out his chest.

  “Oh I know that,” said Keldenar, “I never said it was perfect, I can see the faults. But never mind those, you’ll never notice once I’m done. And before you start fretting, it won’t affect the strength either.”

  “FAULTS?” shouted Stitch, loudly. “FAULTS! How dare you! I’ll have you know that my skills as a…”

  Keldenar turned to face the enraged tailor and blew gently. A fine wisp of smoke shot from his left nostril and immediately disappeared up Stitch’s. The tailor instantly stopped shouting as a dreamy look swept over his face and a silly smile raised the corners of his mouth. It happened so quickly that none of them had a chance to feel alarmed by what had happened.

  Senn, once again, tugged on Hunter’s sleeve, “Do you think he’d teach me that one then?” he sniggered.

  Keldenar beckoned toward Hunter, “Stand behind Ballorn,” he instructed.

  Hunter stepped forward warily.

  “Come along,” Keldenar said gently. “There is nothing to fear.”

  Hunter took his position. Any good reason to follow the direction of the dragon seemed to be eluding him, but he had promised Ballorn that he would stand with him through thick and thin, and it was a promise he would not abandon lightly.

  “Now, both of you, close your eyes and relax,” continued Keldenar.

  “Easy for him to say,” Hunter mumbled to Ballorn. “He knows what’s going to happen.”

  Keldenar opened his jaws. An eruption of flame surrounded the two nemilar, unbeknownst to them, but they remained unharmed. Senn panicked and was about to rush forward, when Stitch grabbed his arm, smiled and pointed, “They’re alright,” he said dreamily, “look, the fire’s not so much as scorching them.”

  “Good grief!” whispered Senn with excitement, “Look at the armour!”

  Neither Ballorn nor Hunter had ever felt more alive. The warm breeze enveloping them was invigorating. They felt strong, refreshed in a way they had never felt before. It was as if they were floating, unrestricted by gravity or even the weight of their own bodies. In their minds they could see one another, surrounded by an aura that made them glow. Their thoughts were as one as they basked in the freedom of, what could only be, their shared hallucination.

  What the rest of the party was witnessing, however, was slightly different. The two guards had sought shelter behind the cart, but Senn, Stitch and Dannard watched with open mouths. They were transfixed by the sight of their two friends suspended in mid-air, whirling around like spinning tops.

  The golden aura that surrounded them illuminated the entire area, mesmerising the onlookers. The eruption of flame from Keldenar had only lasted a few seconds but had obviously been a catalyst to set the whole scene in motion. The spectator’s eyes were so wide that any onlooker would have been forgiven for believing that they would fall out of their sockets at any moment. This was the result of, not only their friends’ suspension, but that of the armour that eerily rose from the ground and hovered before Ballorn. It hissed and smoked, small arcs of energy sparking from one piece to the next as it began to re-form. Its bland appearance changed, it was as if an eminent sculptor had been allowed to work on it for months, if not years. The smooth breastplate now had the clear markings of the pectoral and abdominal muscles of a perfectly honed athlete. The bulbous helmet narrowed, the clear shape of a raptor’s wings appearing on each side and the gauntlets and greaves were now grooved instead of plain.

  As the transformation of each piece was completed there was a loud crack, like the sound of a bullwhip penetrating the silence of the night. A rune, now blatantly clear, could be seen glowing white-hot on both the breastplate and the helm.

  “The Mark of the Nibrilsiem,” whispered Keldenar, “May you wear it well.”

  ***

  “Now you will be careful won’t you, my love?”

  Gelbran smiled as he gently stoked his wife’s cheek, “Of course I will,” he assured her.

  The vikkery had spent weeks practising their new skills, each finding a particular form that came more naturally than others. Well everyone except for Gelbran. No matter what beast or monster he pictured in his mind, his replication of it was perfect. For some
strange reason his kin seemed to struggle when it came to imitating larger beasts, but Gelbran actually felt stronger the more adventurous his transformations were. A few vikkery seemed more comfortable transforming into raptors, which was most beneficial to them all. Owls and eagles regularly flew from the cave and later returned with fresh fish from a lake many miles away. Some were lucky enough to snatch a rabbit or two on occasion, but a young vikkery named Torson was the most celebrated when he returned clutching the carcase of a young deer in his talons. As they soared high above, it was also a good way of keeping watch for any danger nearby.

  The vikkery had feasted almost every night and were feeling refreshed and strong, but it was evident to Gelbran that they must leave the relative safety of their cave and make good on their promise to the wizard. His eyes grew dark as he recalled the horrors that his people had endured and thoughts of revenge clouded his mind. The wizard had bestowed them with a gift that would allow the vikkery a chance to destroy their enemy, a chance that burned deep within Gelbran as his yearning for it grew more intense as time passed.

  “Remember,” said his wife, “no charging into caves and dark places by yourself, I know how headstrong you can be.”

  “Yes, my love,” sighed Gelbran.

  “The others can have a bit of a fly around to make sure it’s safe for the rest of you before you sneak into anywhere.”

  Gelbran wrapped his arms around her, “I won’t take any chances,” he said. “You just make sure you stay wrapped up and look after our little Grubb.”

  It would have appeared as the strangest sight to anyone who had witnessed their departure from the cave. Some turned into goats and stealthily bounded from rock to rock, others resembled large apes and clambered down easily. The cleverest of them all, however, simply waited patiently and were carried down by the eagles.

  Now in their natural form, they marched forward. There was a strange determination that showed as they moved. They had no idea where they were going or what they would face, but not a single ounce of fear could be detected. Their goal was to find the dragon who had cruelly slaughtered so many of their friends and family and kill it. That single thought drove them on.

  “Where are we headed?” asked one of them.

  “We’re going back,” replied Gelbran.

  “Back where?”

  Gelbran pointed to the top of the mountain. “Up there.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s the last place we had an encounter with that beast,” growled Gelbran. “We might be able to pick up its trail and follow it.”

  “And, if we find it?”

  Gelbran turned and sneered, “Then we kill it!”

  His friend shrugged his shoulders and smiled, “Sounds like a plan,” he said winking at Gelbran as he strolled past him.

  Gelbran stared up at the cave that had been a safe haven for them, and still was for his expectant wife and the children who remained there. The longing to kill the dragon gnawed at his mind, but he could not allow his rage to consume him so much as to make him reckless. He must survive to protect his family and the families of the other vikkery should any of his comrades be lost.

  The days that followed were hard on the vikkery. The biting winds and harsh terrain took their toll, but not as much as they could have. Their new abilities allowed them to transform into fur-covered beasts, a protection from the cold that they would not have formerly had. The eagles would occasionally fly high above and scout the area ahead until, eventually, they reached the site where so many of their brethren had fallen.

  Spreading out, they studied the ground. The earth was scorched, blackened by the intense heat of dragon fire, but no clear signs of tracks had been left by their elusive prey. The results of its frenzied attack, unfortunately, lay everywhere. Incinerated corpses were strewn about, their jaws agape as testament to their agonising deaths and the heads, limbs and torsos of others were scattered amongst them. The reactions from the vikkery were mixed. Some wept openly, whilst others went into a rage and began swiping at what remained of saplings and bushes.

  Gelbran simply glared at the scene, “Let’s move on,” he said quietly. “We must not linger amongst death.”

  “Move onto where?” roared Asdor. “We have no idea where it’s gone, or do we trust to hope that we have chosen the path that will lead us to our quarry?”

  Gelbran looked sympathetically at his friend, “We shall concern ourselves with our direction later, Asdor,” he whispered, glancing at the other vikkery. “For now, we must leave this place.”

  Asdor understood what was being said to him and let out a long sigh. Approaching a sobbing vikkery, he placed his arm around her shoulders, “Come,” he said, “Gelbran is right, we can do nothing for them.” He steered her away, embracing others as he moved along, driving them on ahead of him.

  Barden watched the actions of the vikkery with interest. It seemed a little help would not go amiss. Time to set them on the right path, he thought. Lowering his head, he waved his hand. It was dark and Barden had maintained a distance so as not to be discovered by the vikkery, therefore he could not see the results of his spell. The vikkery however, would soon discover the bait and follow it blindly. The dubious actions of the wizard meant that he only had to wait a few short moments before the vikkery discovered his lure.

  “Gelbran, quickly!” called Asdor, excitedly. “Over here, I’ve found something.”

  Gelbran hurried across to his friend. No questions were necessary. Before him lay deep impressions in the ground. The size of the three-toed tracks could only have been made by one creature, a dragon!

  Gelbran spat at the tracks, “Now we can find it and kill it,” he growled.

  Asdor smiled at him, “Yes, but let’s hope that’s not too soon, I think we need a little more practice in honing our new abilities. By the way, have you any thoughts of what we could transform into that would be effective against a dragon?”

  CHAPTER 13

  Ballorn opened his eyes. Raising his hand, he rubbed his head vigorously. “What happened?” he asked aloud. A puzzled look appeared on his face. Had he actually said that? He didn’t recognise his own voice. Perhaps the question had simply been a thought. His body felt stiff and he stretched his arms out in front of him. That was when the panic began to set in. His arms were huge! Bulging biceps and triceps seemed to have torn through the sleeves of his jacket, leaving them shredded. He sat up, his jaw dropping as he saw his own legs. His trousers matched the sleeves of his jacket perfectly, for they now, were also in tatters. Glancing up, he saw Hunter lying on his side smiling at him.

  “Good morning,” he said jovially. “Sleep well?”

  Ballorn tried to climb to his feet, but as his legs were so immense and he was unused to them, he fell flat on his face. “WHAT’S GOING ON?” he bellowed. “What’s that bloody dragon done to me?”

  Hunter laughed, “He’s given you a gift, Ballorn. Trust me, it may take a little getting used to.”

  Ballorn scrambled around clumsily before managing to control his unusually large limbs. Unfortunately for him, he did it with a bit too much vigour. Instead of merely standing up, he launched himself at least fifteen feet into the air. Crashing unceremoniously into the ground, he was amazed that it didn’t hurt. Not even a twinge of pain! “He’s made me into a freak,” he yelled. “What use will this be if I can’t even stand up?!”

  Hunter was in hysterics, “Calm down, Ballorn, you’ll be fine. Just give it a little time to sink in.”

  “Easy for you to say!” snapped Ballorn. “You’re not the one who’s all puffed up like an overfilled water skin!”

  “No, I’ll give you that,” sniggered Hunter. “My gift was somewhat different to yours.”

  Ballorn decided to stay on the ground. “He did something to you as well?”

  Hunter picked up his bow. “You could say that,” he replied. “Watch.” Raising his bow, he let an arrow fly into a distant tree.

  Ballorn did not look impressed, “S
o you can shoot a tree? So what? You could do that before.”

  Hunter’s hands became a blur until, less than three seconds later, his quiver was empty. Every arrow had followed the trajectory of the first perfectly, piercing the shaft of the previous one and splaying it. Lowering his bow, he sighed, “But I couldn’t do that,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  “And what use is that!” exclaimed Ballorn. “We’re going up against a dragon! It doesn’t matter how fast you fire them, arrows will just bounce off it!”

  “Those will,” admitted Hunter. “But the special ones won’t.”

  Ballorn was intrigued, “What… special ones?” he asked slowly.

  “The ones Keldenar made for me,” grinned Hunter. “The arrowheads are made from silver, but blunt so they don’t do any permanent damage.”

  Ballorn frowned, “Let me get this straight,” he sighed. “You get special arrows to basically distract and annoy the dragon! Then what am I supposed to do, run up behind it and tie it up whilst it’s not looking?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Ballorn,” groaned Hunter. “You knock it unconscious, then you tie it up!”

  Ballorn balled up his fist, “Somehow, I don’t think, even with these,” he said, wiggling his sausage-like fingers, “I’d be capable of knocking a dragon out!”

  Hunter smiled, “Come with me,” he said, “I’ve got something for you. But take it slowly this time, we don’t want you flying into the air again.”

  Warily, Ballorn rose to his feet, cursing quietly under his breath. “Brackin’ dragon, puffing me up like a…”

  He followed Hunter, tentatively sliding his feet instead of taking normal steps. He wobbled a few times, looking around, hoping that there may be something to grab on to so that he could steady himself. “This is ridiculous!” he growled, “I can’t even walk properly, how am I supposed to face a dragon? A famper kitten could knock me over!” Then he noticed the furrows he had ploughed with his feet. “And I’ll dig up half a ton of dirt wherever I go!”