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

by Robert J Marsters

  “Well, of course he’s dangerous, he’s a dragon!” exclaimed Gelbran. “But he’s no threat to us. He’s our friend.”

  “He was no friend of mine before, why would he be one now?” Lappet argued.

  Gelbran took a deep breath, “Because you are a vikkery and he cares more for us than he does for dragons!” he sighed.

  “Mind you,” said Asdor, “I could be persuaded to make an exception in your case and bite your head off, you smelly little sh…”

  “I think we’re getting a little side-tracked!” Fellis suddenly called out. “Asdor, just talk to the rest of our people and prove to them that you are the person they have always known and respected.” She shuffled forward quickly and beckoned him to lower his head, “And there’ll be no more talk of biting people’s heads off!” she hissed.

  Asdor lay down and lowered his head, “Look,” he said, “I’m as gentle as a spring lamb. Come on, I won’t bite, I promise.” His nostrils flared, “Not you, Lappet.”

  ***

  Ballorn felt an unusual sense of unease. The light in the swamp was beginning to fail and the familiar mist was starting to form on the surface of the water. But somehow, it looked different. The normal pale grey was now tinged with green, and it swirled as the water bubbled gently beneath it.

  “Why’s it changed colour?” Stitch asked nervously.

  Apparently Ballorn was not the only one who had noticed the change.

  “Probably just a build-up of algae in the water,” said Hunter. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Stitch.”

  Stitch stared hard at him, “Don’t you lie to me,” he said slowly as he pointed at the mist, “There’s nothing normal about that!”

  “Well at least there’ll be nothing hiding in the water,” Ballorn assured him. “It’s not even deep enough to hide a woodle.”

  “Maybe not, but it might be deep enough to hide something else,” suggested Stitch, “Something we haven’t seen yet, or giant snakes and things!”

  “Look, you’ve got Hunter right above you, me right beside you and two wizards to protect you! How safe do you need to feel?”

  “Back in my own village, in my own bed with all the doors and windows bolted. That’s when I’ll feel safe, Ballorn!”

  “Well that’s not going to be for quite a while yet! So why don’t you just have a lie down and I’ll call you later when supper’s ready?”

  As Stitch snuggled down between the two campfires, Hunter dropped his cloak to him from above, “Put that over you,” he called. “It’ll keep the damp chill out.” Moving along the branches, he dropped down silently next to Ballorn.

  “I fear he has good reason to worry,” whispered the Nibrilsiem. “There’s definitely something wrong here.”

  “I wish I could be of more help, Ballorn, but I’ve never seen a mist this colour before. We should be on our guard.”

  “It reeks of magic to me, Hunter. Perhaps our wizard friends might have a little more knowledge of such things. Do you think we should consult them?”

  Hunter shook his head, “I’m not entirely sure that they are not to blame for this. And listen, have you heard the swamp this quiet in all the time we have travelled through it?”

  Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, Ballorn reached down and picked up his hammer. “Keep your bow close to you, Hunter,” he advised, “I think it’s only a matter of time before the fun begins.”

  ***

  Darkness fell, making the mist more eerie than ever as it reflected the light from the campfires. Ballorn had cooked their supper and Stitch chewed slowly, mesmerised as he stared at the mist. He had surprised them all before they had settled, fervently searching the ground before reaching down and grasping a sturdy branch that lay there. At first, they thought he was simply going to place it on the fire, but as he sat down, he placed it beside him, patting it as if it were a faithful pet. It seemed that, he too, was preparing himself for the worst.

  “You’ll have to decide what you’re going to do after all this dragon business is done with, Ballorn,” chuckled Porflax. “You could resume your trade as a blacksmith if you wanted, but I’m sure you could make a damned fine living as a cook.”

  “I’m a blacksmith, Porflax. Always have been, always will be. But you’re forgetting something.”

  Porflax smiled at him, “Which is?”

  “I might not have to make the choice if I don’t live through this,” replied Ballorn.

  “Oh, don’t be so pessimistic, Ballorn. One day you’ll look back…”

  “Please! Please help us,” came the weak voice from the mist, “We’ve been lost in the swamp for days without food. Melly can barely walk. Please help us!”

  They all grabbed their weapons as three slender figures emerged slowly from the mist. They appeared to be nemilar girls. Their clothing had seen better days. Long elegant dresses that had been lovingly tailored, were now soiled and ragged and their faces were smeared with mud.

  Hunter raised his bow, “Keep your distance!” he warned.

  “What are you doing!” screeched Stitch. “Look at the poor things, we need to help them!” He rushed forward, only to be stopped abruptly as Porflax grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the old wizard suggested. “Not if you value your life, that is.”

  “They’re just three harmless girls!” protested Stitch. “Are you telling me you’re not willing to help them?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” sighed Porflax.

  “You should be ashamed. What if it was someone you cared about and they needed help?”

  “Tell me, Stitch, what do you see?”

  “It’s obvious what I can see, the same as you do! Three nemilar girls who need our aid, and I’m going to give it to them!”

  “Now, there’s the problem,” Porflax said quietly. “The girls I am looking at are not nemilar!”

  “Don’t be stupid!” exclaimed Stitch. “How could you be seeing something different to me?”

  “Simple, my dear Stitch,” replied Porflax. “We’re seeing what they want us to see.”

  The three figures inched closer.

  “Take another step and I let this arrow fly,” growled Hunter.

  Barden backed away slightly, “Are they what I think they are?” he asked.

  Porflax nodded his head slowly, “Grezzlers,” he replied, curling his lip. “Filthy, lying, devious grezzlers.”

  “No, we’re not what you think,” said one of the girls, sweetly. But its voice changed as it continued, “We need your ‘elp,” it rasped. “Ain’t you gonna be nice and ‘elp us?”

  Ballorn marched forward and stood next to Porflax, “This won’t go well for you, whatever you are. Go back where you came from and you can live through this.”

  “Aw, that’s nice innit?” hissed the grezzler. “We comes for ‘elp and you freaten us! We’re just ‘elpless little girls is all!”

  “You’re the slime that chokes the life out of places like this,” growled Porflax. “Now begone whilst you still have the chance.”

  The grezzler sneered at him and began to quiver. Its anger was getting the better of it and it was finding it hard to keep the illusion of being something other than what it was. The smooth skin on its cheeks began to wrinkle and its slender nose became bulbous and covered in warts. It shrivelled and its fingers grew longer, sprouting razor-sharp claws from the tips. The cracking of bones could be heard as its spine became crooked and the pale blue eyes that had looked so soft moments before, were now as black as pitch. “’elp us, ‘elp us,” it screeched. “Let us come and sit wiv ya. We won’t do ya no ‘arm!” All three suddenly charged forward.

  Hunter released his arrow and it struck one of them between the eyes, killing it instantly. Ballorn swung his hammer, splattering another as if it were made of jelly. Porflax raised his hand but was far slower than Barden, who blasted the talkative one to the other side of the camp. It was badly wounded
and writhed on the ground, cursing them.

  Porflax glared at Barden, he seemed enraged that the younger wizard had reacted more quickly than he, “I’ll finish this one!” he bellowed, raising his hand.

  “Wait!” cried Ballorn, stepping in front of him, “I want to know what this was all about and that thing may have some answers.”

  “It’s not about anything, Ballorn! It’s their nature to lie their way into any unsuspecting camp, murder its occupants, eat them and steal their belongings. It’s what they are!”

  Ballorn shook his head, “No, you’re wrong,” he snorted. “Three of them against the five of us? They could see how well armed we were, they wouldn’t be so rash if they’re as devious as you say.”

  “Even if you’re right, it won’t tell you anything. It’ll just spout more lies, it doesn’t know how to do anything else!”

  “Well, let’s hurry, if we wait much longer it won’t be able to say anything, true or otherwise.”

  Walking across, Ballorn flipped the grezzler onto its back with the toe of his boot. “Why did you attack us?” he asked, demandingly.

  “’elp me first an’ I’ll tell ya. Look, I’s bleedin’.”

  “Answer the question and then we’ll care for your wounds!”

  The grezzler sneered at him, “’e told us we ‘ad to. Said we could ‘ave the swamp back for ourselves, like it used to be afore the likes o’ you came about.”

  “He?” asked Barden “Who is, he?”

  “The dragon,” wheezed the grezzler. “The one wiv the sparkles and the shiny face.”

  Ballorn glanced at Hunter, “Where is it now, the dragon, is it still here in the swamp?”

  “No, it went. We was supposed to go to it when you was dead.”

  “Go where? Do you know?” asked Barden.

  “It’s ‘iding,” coughed the grezzler, blood spilling from its mouth. “’iding in the ice in ellan…”

  The fiery blast shocked them all and they turned to face Porflax as the flames subsided from his palm. He had destroyed the grezzler.

  “What are you doing?” Ballorn bellowed. “It wasn’t finished! We could have found out exactly where to find it!”

  Porflax scowled, “It was lying, Ballorn, wasn’t that obvious! Dragons hate the cold, even frost dragons hate the cold! There’s no way any one of them would be able to survive anywhere where there’s ice!”

  “At least we’d have had some idea of where to go! It would have been better than paddling around in this blasted swamp for days on end!”

  “You should both calm down,” suggested Hunter. “What’s done is done, there’s no point arguing over it. Let’s be honest, we weren’t going to allow it to live anyway!”

  Ballorn stared at him and Hunter’s reply was simply to raise his eyebrows.

  They sat together by the fire and watched as Porflax wandered away.

  “Ellan-Ouine,” said Hunter, quietly.

  “What?”

  “That’s what the grezzler was about to say, Ellan-Ouine, it actually means land of ice, or something similar.”

  “So, you think it was telling the truth, you’ve heard of this place?”

  “To be honest, that’s all I know, what it’s called and why, oh… and where it is.”

  “You know where it is?” Ballorn asked, excitedly. “How long would it take us to reach it?”

  “That depends,” sniggered Hunter. “How good are your climbing skills?”

  Ballorn sighed and lowered his head, “Why?” he asked, forlornly.

  “Because it’s weeks away and, it’s on the other side of the Muurkain Mountains.”

  Ballorn frowned, “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  Hunter pointed at the wizards, “Because it’s where that lot have started building their new… fortress, I think they call it.”

  “Oh joy!” groaned Ballorn, “We’ve got our hands full with just the two of them and we might have to deal with even more?”

  “We don’t have to go there!” laughed Hunter. “But if we get close to it, they might come to us. Then there’s the chance that Porflax and Barden might want to pop in and say hello and want us to go with them. How would we tell them we don’t want any more wizards involved?”

  “We don’t even want the ones we already have! I was just about to get some information out of that grezzler and one of them decides to turn it into a third campfire. Could we go around the mountain, by any chance?”

  “It stretches for hundreds of miles, Ballorn. All the way to the Sebland Ocean in fact.”

  Ballorn rolled his eyes, “Oh well,” he sighed, “let’s worry about it tomorrow. We’ll clear the swamp by late afternoon and see if we can find a village. I could do with sleeping somewhere dry for a change. I feel like this armour’s been glued to me, although, surprisingly enough, it’s still very comfortable.”

  Stitch had listened to their every word, “You’re welcome,” he mumbled, grumpily, “Goodnight.”

  ***

  “Don’t you think it’s about time we went and checked on Cordain?”

  Gelbran looked at him inquisitively, “Why do you suddenly want to go and see Cordain?”

  “Well, it’s been a couple of days and I just want to make sure that he’s safe,” replied Asdor.

  “He’s a forty-foot dragon, what do you think could possible harm him?”

  “Erm… himself!”

  “Do you think he’s going to go mad and start biting his own legs off or something?” Fellis asked, nervously.

  “Of course not!” exclaimed Asdor, “But he might feel abandoned being left all by himself after the accident.”

  Gelbran shrugged his shoulders, “Alright then, let’s go and visit him.”

  Asdor leaned down, a gleam in his eye. “Would you like a ride? You can jump on my back if you like, save your legs. You too, of course, Fellis.”

  Gelbran pulled his head back, “No thanks, I’m fine,” he said with an uncomfortable smile. “The exercise will do me good.”

  “What about you, Fellis? Fancy a ride on a dragon’s back?”

  “Erm, not really,” she replied. “You know I’m not good with heights.”

  “Oh, speaking of heights,” said Asdor, nonchalantly, “who do you think is bigger, me, or Cordain?”

  “Oh, my days!” screeched Fellis, “That’s why you really want to go and see Cordain! You want to show off because you’re a bigger dragon than he is!”

  “What!” exclaimed Asdor, unconvincingly. “How could you say such a thing? I would never…”

  “You’re horrible, Asdor,” Fellis yelled at him. “If you dare say one word to upset Cordain, I swear I’ll pull your scales off one by one!”

  They reached the cave where Cordain was hiding. Asdor had begged to be the first to speak and they had reluctantly agreed. “It’ll be a nice surprise for him to find out he’s not the only one,” he said.

  “Cordain,” he shouted. “Come out and say hello.”

  “Sod off!” came the answer from within.

  “Come on, I have a surprise for you,” Asdor continued.

  “Leave!” roared Cordain, flame erupting from the cave mouth.

  “It’s no use getting hot under the collar,” laughed Asdor.

  Gelbran and Fellis glared at him.

  “Just a little joke,” he whispered. “Cordain, please come outside, you’ll be glad you did, I promise.”

  “If I come out there I might be tempted to bite you in half, you annoying swine!”

  “I’d like to see you try!” laughed Asdor. “When you’re big enough, I’ll be too old.”

  Cordain charged from the cave and found himself face-to-face with another dragon lying directly in front of him. He drew himself to his full height and extended his wings to make himself seem more impressive, as if that were possible. The dragon before him never moved.

  “Morning, Cordain,” said Asdor, cheerily.

  Cordain tilted his head to one side, “Asdor?” he said quietly
.

  “One and the same,” replied Asdor, smiling.

  “But I was the only one who was caught in the blast. How did…?”

  “Take your time,” sighed Asdor. “You’ll work it out eventually.”

  “Another dragon?”

  “There you go, I knew you’d get there in the end.”

  “When?”

  “Couple of days ago. Anyway, enough of that, how are you?”

  Cordain looked down at himself, “Oh, you know, no change.”

  “I bet you’re starving aren’t you, Cordain?” Fellis looked a little nervous, “Or did you manage to… do something about it?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Cordain assured her. “A couple of villagers wandered past yesterday, should keep me going for a while.”

  Fellis was horrified, “Oh, Cordain, YOU NEVER?”

  “Of course I didn’t,” laughed Cordain. “What do you take me for? To tell the truth, I’m not hungry in the slightest.”

  “Strangely enough, neither am I,” said Asdor.

  “I’d have thought you’d need to eat tons of stuff considering your size!”

  Gelbran closed his eyes as his head dropped. Here we go, he thought. Nice one, Fellis.

  Asdor jumped at the opportunity, “I suppose we are quite large,” he said slowly. “I’d probably have to eat more than you though, Cordain, what with me being bigger.”

  Cordain looked him up and down, “No, you’re not!”

  “Oh, I think you’ll find that I am. Let’s stand side by side and Gelbran can tell you by how much.”

  “It doesn’t matter who’s bigger!” yelled Gelbran.

  “You never change do you, Asdor? Everything’s a competition!”

  Asdor, even as a dragon, looked a little sheepish, “Well, it just makes things a bit more… interesting.”

  “We’re dragons you half-wit! We couldn’t be any more interesting!”

  “No, I suppose not,” mumbled Asdor, “Sorry.”

  “So you should be,” replied Cordain, lowering his voice. “It’s bad enough having been turned into this,” he said looking down, “but with all these new senses kicking in as well, it’s even more confusing.”

  Gelbran frowned, “What new senses?”