Finally, way off upon a distant, gentle hill Elfindi spied the faint outline of a castle. They continued at a slow pace. On either side a wide stretch of grass gave way to immature birch and oaks. It had been some time since surrounding lands had been farmed.
Alex peered outside. “I was reading last night about how fertile this land is. How many crops it yielded for farmers working on Harrad estates. Now look at it. Nothing but forest. Once I become king I will restore agriculture.”
Elfindi strained his eyes as he stared ahead. “Soldiers,” he told Talarren.
Esmay returned to Talarren’s outstretched arm. She chattered into his ear. Talarren frowned. Why would Dagan’s soldiers be guarding his rival’s castle? He hadn’t protected it from marauders all these years. Why now? Talarren decided to ask directly.
As they approached, four soldiers sauntered onto the road. A log outpost had been constructed not far from the winding path leading up to Harrad Castle.
“State your business?” their leader said, pointing his pikestaff at Talarren.
Perry pulled on his horses’ reins, drawing the wagon to a halt.
Talarren explained they were travellers heading north. After more questioning, the soldiers seemed satisfied and allowed them to pass. Almost immediately, all four soldiers stiffened as if held by some invisible power. Caspar had cast a Stun! spell. Talarren directed Perry and Elfindi to drag their prisoners inside the log outpost and bind them with ropes. The outpost was strewn with unmade beds, scattered clothes, dirty dishes, barrels of beer in one corner and sacks of victuals in another.
Behind it four horses stood corralled in a small enclosure.
“We’ll need to post a guard over them,” Talarren said. “I’ll ask what lies beyond.” Talarren clicked his tongue and released his eagle who flew outside and up into the sky. Caspar tapped his staff twice. All four guards came to, the slow dullness in their eyes sharpening as they regained focus.
“This is treason,” their leader said. “Casting spells on His Majesty’s soldiers. I won’t stand for it.”
“That’s because you’re sitting,” Perry chortled, casting a quick glance at Razel to see if she understood his pun. She rolled her eyes.
“Using magic against those employed in His Majesty’s service is treason,” repeated their leader. “Set us free and I will reduce your sentence to ten lashes.”
“We mean you no harm,” Talarren said, his storm-grey eyes blistering in their intensity. “What lies beyond those castle walls?”
“That is no business of yours,” their leader answered. His three colleagues looked on, unsure of this Ranger’s intentions. They did not like the look of the scowling dwarf carrying the heavy battle axe. Neither were they sure about the Ranger himself.
From his position at the cabin door, Kron stepped forward bearing his enormous dwarven battle axe. “You see this axe? It hasn’t spilled blood for some time. It’s getting thirsty. I’ll count to three. If I hear nothing but blackbirds twittering in those trees, you will be first to lose your head.” The fearful edge to Kron’s voice made Razel’s skin crawl.
Three worried kingsmen eyed their leader, hoping he would talk. Kron stepped forward.
“We know nothing, lieutenant,” one guard hissed. “Don’t get us killed for nothing.”
“That is true,” their leader admitted to Talarren. His eyes darted to Kron’s battle axe. “None may enter under pain of death by order of the Chief Magistrate of the Realm. We do not know what lies beyond those walls.”
“You must know something,” Talarren said.
Their lieutenant hesitated. His comrades turned their apprehensive eyes to their leader again. Would he refuse to answer? “Their supplies come in wagons at night,” Lieutenant Ditherspoon said reluctantly. “We think children are driving them, for they seem short, but stocky. They always wear hoods so we are not sure.”
Another guard, noticing Talarren’s kindly yet mysteriously potent storm-grey eyes, added: “Sometimes we hear a blood-chilling roar.” Something like fear crept into the guards’ eyes. “It’s not human.”
Talarren nodded.
“There are lots of bulls,” another added.
Hunter barked loudly. Talarren rushed outside, followed by Kron. Perry stood guard. Two horsemen were galloping away in the distance. Red and blue colours shimmered upon their backs. Perry drew his sword. He placed its point at Lieutenant Ditherspoon’s neck. “How many of you are there?” he ordered.
Lieutenant Ditherspoon refused to reply.
“If you do not answer me,” Perry threatened him with soft but steely voice, “this sword enters, and exits, your miserable neck.” Once again, fear crept into the other guards’ faces. Were they to see their lieutenant slain before their eyes?
Talarren considered his options. “Caspar, Elfindi, mount two horses. Fly. Bring those guardsmen back alive. No doubt they intend to alert King Dagan.”
“Right you are, Talarren,” Caspar said, rushing to the horse enclosure with Elfindi. Staff in hand, he mounted, followed by Elfindi.
“Ride well, Elfindi,” Perry cried after them as a dust cloud hid them from view. “Mind that dust!”
“They have six bunks,” Perry observed. “There are six of them. I’m taking this one out to make it five.” Perry bent down to untie Lieutenant Ditherspoon’s ropes.
“There are six of us.”
“There, isn’t it better telling the truth?” Perry asked condescendingly. “Didn’t you mother forbid you to lie when a knee-high wee laddy?” Perry slapped him gently across his face. An insulting gesture.
Perry walked outside. Razel followed.
“Do you always have to be so annoying?” she asked.
“Begging your ladyship’s pardon?” Perry retorted, in no mood to be reprimanded by a green magic user eight years younger than he. If she wanted a fight, he would give it to her. Caspar was not there to intervene.
“That’s enough,” Talarren said simply.
Talarren called on Esmay who flew down and perched on his arm. They exchanged sounds. “There’s no movement except bulls penned inside a rear enclosure,” Talarren said. “The watchtower seems deserted.”
After half an hour Caspar and Elfindi had not returned. Alex’s restlessness overtook him. Anxious to enter his long lost castle, he strode toward the castle entrance. There was no drawbridge or portcullis. Nothing to stop anyone walking directing through the front gate.
“Alex,” Talarren called, “come back.”
“Should we follow Caspar and Elfindi?” Perry asked.
“They will return with their prisoners,” Talarren replied confidently. “Those guardsmen had a head start, but Caspar will bring them back.” He stormed forward. “I need to get Alex.”
“Can’t I come?” Perry asked.
Talarren shook his head. “I shan’t be long.” He dared not shout.
Alex had raced through the front entrance and up the path, too eager to worry about safety. Vague memories began to stir of once-familiar shapes.
“Come back!” Talarren called in as loud a voice as he dared, striding after him.
“This is my home,” Alex returned as he continued striking up the path, sword in hand. “Whoever lives here is trespassing. I insist they leave. We’ll show my Title Deeds.”
“Come with me, Razel,” Talarren barked, irritation lacing his voice. “You two stay here. This foolhardy youth could land us in serious trouble.” He raced ahead, leaving Razel struggling to keep up. “Stay, Hunter,” he ordered his dog.
As they passed a hole-ridden, partly crumbling outer wall, further up Alex was confronted by the most horrifying sight of his life. There, not far in front of him, a giant stopped in its tracks, utterly surprised by his unexpected visitor.
It stood over twelve feet tall, full of muscle and fat, carrying a large bone of partly gnawed meat in its massive hand. Its thick facial features, huge eyes, broad nose, heavy forehead and enormous mouth creased into an evil, gap-toothed smile when it saw Alex standin
g in mute horror before it.
Talarren leapt forward in a blinding blaze, striking with gleaming sword. The giant roared as Talarren’s blade cut deeply across its chest. A devastating swish from the giant’s club sailed inches above the ducking Ranger. Talarren’s counterstrike followed immediately. His sword plunged into the giant’s abdomen. In shock and fury it dropped its club but lunged with both hands, ignoring the pain in its midriff, intent on one thing. He’d killed many men and human-like creatures before including goblins, orcs and elves with his bare hands, hurling them to the ground mercilessly amid a sickening crackling of bones, only to pick them up and hurl them to ground a second time. Rarely a third was needed. Never a fourth.
He’d never fought a human like this before. Though badly wounded, he would break every bone in this Ranger’s body. Why doesn’t he look frightened, the confused giant wondered?
Talarren knew exactly what to do. Enormous, dirt-encrusted hands lunged at him. He dived sideways. With both hands and his full body weight he swung at its trunk-like leg, between knee and heavy leather strapping. His sharp blade sliced through flesh, then bone, then into fresh air. The giant screamed in pain, cursing in its own tongue. It crumpled to ground, its amputated leg curiously upright and immobile, like a macabre display in a wax shop. Blood spattered onto sand and stones.
Rolling over and jumping to his feet, Talarren faced the giant, who reached across and grabbed his bloody, amputated leg. He hurled it at Talarren who dodged it. Sitting on its wide backside, dazed and confused, it looked around for its club. A bad mistake. In that split second, in one impossible movement, Talarren steadied, aimed and swung his shining sword with consummate precision. He severed the vulnerable giant’s head from its body. It never knew what hit him.
“I can’t believe it!” gasped Razel, eyes wide, rushing to Talarren from behind a woodpile. She swallowed, her mouth dry. “You killed that…monster so easily.”
Talarren quickly looked around, then upwards. Piercing eagle cries reached their ears.
“Quickly!” Talarren warned. “We must hide.” He sheathed his sword while pushing Alex forward. Razel raced for cover, gripping her staff, horrified at what could have made Talarren so alarmed.
No sooner had three of them crouched behind a woodpile did gruff, offensive hill giant language ring out nearby. Perry made sure Razel and Alex were completely hidden. Still as a rock, he peered through leaves of a sycamore tree growing beside the woodpile. Two more hill giants rounded a bend in the descending path, discussing something that clearly irritated them. Both stood tall as their brother, twelve feet in height at least, bustling with muscle and fat, necks like tree trunks. Their wide, large faces, filled with thick features framed by wiry, lice-ridden hair, could not hide their surprise as they spied their boon companion, minus head and lower leg, lying in an ever-widening pool of blood.
Talarren made a slow rotating gesture with his hand. High above, an eagle screeched.
Both hill giants carried enormous clubs, wrought-iron bands studded with iron spikes fixed tightly around their ends. Their mottled shirt-skins weaved inexpertly together revealed a life-style of filth. They exchanged glances, then looked around, their large dark eyes narrowing, studying path, clearing and outhouses, passing over woodpile and sycamore tree. They surveyed sparsely wooded areas beyond, checking for prints or signs of trespassing. They frowned as they crept closer to their fallen comrade, turning their massive heads from side to side. What could possibly have done this to Hrhusk?
One turned to his mate and asked something that sounded like “I-n-ou-t-o-o-o-r-h?”
They exchanged a few more guttural words. Creeping slowly, they approached headless Hrhusk. They studied his dismembered body, from nearby head to blood-spattered body to bloody leg-stump twenty feet away, vainly trying to recreate what could have happened. The first bent down and ripped fabric from Hrhusk’s stomach. He pointed to a wound and said something.
Talarren quickly peered at Razel and Alex, both pale with fear, not moving a muscle.
A peal of hideous laughter suddenly erupted from both giants. Alex almost screamed in fear. Talarren did not move. One of the giants held Hrhusk’s head by its wiry hair, making grotesque faces at Hrhusk’s sightless face. They burst out laughing again, daring what they would never have done while Hrhusk lived.
“What spells have you got to kill giants?” Talarren whispered quickly.
“Kill them?” Razel repeated. “I don’t think so…”
“What can you do?” Talarren hissed.
“A Sleep! Spell?” Razel suggested uneasily.
Talarren’s face said it all. Did she know what she was doing? What on earth was First Wizard thinking sending her on such a perilous mission? Was she serious? A sleep spell? “If that’s all you’ve got, do it,” he ordered.
Razel peeked through the protective leaves. She began an incantation, using hand gestures. One of the giants yawned grotesquely, emitting a baleful moan as he did so. He dropped his club, almost fell down, and began snoring. His mate studied him, confused, then kicked him viciously. He cried in pain. The spell broke.
At that point, Talarren’s eagle squawked as it made its descent. Talarren turned. “Something’s behind us,” he whispered
“What?” Alex blubbered, louder than necessary.
Both giants pricked their hairy ears, directing their eyes to the woodpile. They sniffed.
Talarren remained immobile. “A band of goblins,” he said, his voice holding a steely calm. “Razel, you must immobilise them. Alex, protect her. I have to deal with these giants.”
“But they’ll slaughter you,” Alex objected.
“Just do what I tell you!” Talarren commanded.
“Yes,” Alex cried, shaking uncontrollably as his hand gripped the unfamiliar hilt of his borrowed sword. “You should have brought armour.”
“Leather won’t do much against a hill giant club,” the Ranger replied. “Stand your ground! Focus on protecting Razel.”
Razel whipped out her wand. She began a Poison Cloud! incantation which she realised she should have performed earlier.
Talarren stuffed two large pieces of wood down his tunic. Without warning, he swung onto a sturdy sycamore branch and leapt onto the wooden eave running overhead. Both giants roared. Talarren yanked himself up and raced nimbly to one end of the stable, drawing both giants away from the woodpile. The stable stood fifteen feet high, its roof littered with holes and rotting beams. The hill giants considered their next move. Talarren, careful to keep his balance, eyeballed one giant while throwing his block of wood at the other. It thudded into his eye. He roared in pain, covering his face.
At that moment five ugly goblins on patrol duty walked around the corner, wondering what idiotic mischief those stupid giants were up to now. Each carried a spear and short bow slung across leather armour. They stood four foot tall. Short swords hung from their belts, only slighter longer than an assassin’s dagger. They halted, shocked. All at once they witnessed one hill giant holding his eye and roaring with rage while the other stared at something on the roof. A third lay headless in a pool of blood in the clearing between stable and barn. Directly in front of them stood a woman waving a wand and a petrified man pathetically holding his sword, unsure of exactly what to do with it.
Razel cried: “Poison Cloud!” A greenish, shimmering hue issued from her wand and covered the goblins. Four began retching violently, dropping their spears. A fifth gawped at his comrades, clearly aware of a spell which did not affect him. He charged.
Talarren, still in position, held his second piece of wood. His giant foe yelled abuse in its own grotesque language. The Ranger made an eagle-like sound, pointing to the first giant still bent over, clutching his bloodied eye in a rage. Precisely when Talarren hurled his piece of wood with catapult force at the second hill giant’s dull face, Esmay, in a blinding, screeching flash of feathers, swooped violently into the first giant’s face, ripping and shredding its gnarled and mottled skin me
rcilessly before speeding out of range. When the giant looked around out of bloodied eye and scratched face to see what creature had attacked him, Esmay doubled back. With fearsome accuracy, the predatory eagle pecked its good eye to shreds. The giant was now permanently blind in one eye and temporarily blind in the other. Esmay flew upwards, avoiding the blind giant’s flailing arms.
Meanwhile the second giant’s massive forearm shielded Talarren’s second throw. He quickly turned to his comrade and swiped at the pestilential eagle with his fearsome iron-studded club, narrowly missing what would have obliterated her. Time enough for the Ranger to hurl himself down, withdraw his sword and plunge it downward like a spear. The sturdy blade pierced its heart. The giant arched its back violently, its breath caught in its throat, sending Talarren somersaulting backwards.
Meanwhile, the unaffected goblin ran directly for Razel, spear poised.
“Stop him,” she cried to Alex.
He jumped forward with not a moment to spare, chopping his sword onto the goblin’s thrusting spear. But not soon enough. Razel had jumped away, dropping her wand and dissipating her poisonous green-hued air.
Four retching goblins covered in nauseating pools of vomit slowly regained their senses. The fifth drew its sword. Alex swung wildly. His blade struck the goblin’s hip, snapping a bowstring but lacking sufficient force to pierce its leather armour. Alex shuddered as the goblin’s enormous mouth turn into a sneer. It smelled fear in this pathetic human. And what of this inexperienced witch who cast nothing more sinister than a nausea spell when her life was at stake?
“Poison Cloud!” Razel shouted again. But too late. Her spell had been broken and could not be cast for another day, perhaps more. Razel backed up against the woodpile, drawing her knife from her alligator skin belt. She never imagined she’d be reaching for her knife in a life and death situation. She raised her wand for a final spell.
Two goblins gathered their spears. Two others drew their bows. One arrow sailed past Razel’s right shoulder. It ricocheted off wood and skimmed across stones and earth. A second arrow embedded itself into her right side. With a cry of pain, she fell backwards, scattering the woodpile, clutching the stiff shaft in horror.
Age of Demons_In Search of the Amulet Page 12