by Jake Adler
Gizurr used his right sleeve to wipe away some of the congealing blood that had travelled down his face from his head wound. “So what now genius?” he winced, instantly regretting his harsh use of words towards Jetzan who had just found them a safer place to hide.
“We need to find one of their exit routes. They must have some located along one of these side tunnels. We just have to find one of them,” he replied ignoring Gizurr’s earlier comment.
Suddenly another group of Orcs appeared from the Eastern route of the tunnel, another battalion, smaller than the first but with larger shapes mixed among it heading their way. The companions pressed themselves flat against the cold boulders and stone flooring and lay motionless. The scraping and foot shuffling sound grew louder as the battalion neared their hiding location. Gizurr held his breath and began to worry if a Troll was amongst their number as Trolls were notoriously good at scenting out blood. If a Troll was among the band they would be dead for sure.
Fortune must have smiled upon them as for a second time the group escaped detection. The three companions heaved a sigh of relief.
“We can’t go on like this. We must escape now else the next time we will be discovered for sure.” Ragni gasped, his eyes were now wide with terror.
“Agreed,” growled Gizurr as both of them looked towards Jetzan for guidance.
“I suggest we travel with the invading groups rather than risk going in the opposite direction. These tunnels are likely to be crawling with the enemy and anything going against the flow will stick out.” Jetzan suggested.
“How do we do that?” Ragni asked in confusion.
“We wait for an opportunity to acquire some armour from some Orcish stragglers, then travel incognito until we pass an exit. I’ve seen their garb, some of them look vaguely human or Dwarven in stature and many have full armour masks, so we stand a chance.”
“Small chance of survival as opposed to no chance, let’s takes the small chance?” Ragni asked, his eyes appealing to Gizurr to agree to the plan.
Gizurr stared at the dim outline of the human as crouched down among the rocks. The human had helped them survive so far and he knew that he had no better idea. He had already decided that he both liked and trusted the man.
“Sounds like a plan,” he growled as he silently drew his sword in readiness.
“I’ve also got my Grandmother’s Bedazzler Locket.” Ragni added, almost as an afterthought. He held it up to show it to Jetzan.
“Creator be blessed!” Jetzan exclaimed in excitement, leaning forward to examine the locket more closely. “It’s a Bedliari Miplivan charm locket!” he smiled at Ragni, “do you know how to recite the charm?”
Ragni frowned, “My grandmother once told it to me, but I’ve never had the need to use it. However, I’m sure it must work sometimes even without reciting the charm. Besides, I can’t quite remember the words,” Ragni, finally admitted. It was too dark to see but Jetzan was sure that he was blushing with embarrassment about forgetting to mention that he possessed the locket much earlier.
“What’s a Bedliari thingymagig when it’s at home?” Gizurr asked.
“It’s an Elven charm locket. Some have mild magic whereas others are incredibly powerful. They help calm both beasts and potential enemies. Sometimes they even enable the wearer to become invisible for short periods of time.” Jetzan exclaimed excitedly.
“How did you come by this? They are incredibly rare outside of the Elven peoples.” Jetzan asked then swiftly shook his head, “Never mind. You can tell me all about it later once we’ve got the hell out of here.”
Ragni immediately gave the locket to Jetzan. The tracker closed his eyes at the as his fingers clasped hold of the charm. He quietly whispered some words which sounded Elven to Gizurr’s ear and also sounded familiar to those told to Ragni by his late grandmother. After a few short moments Jetzan held opened the palm of his hand for Ragni to retrieve it. The locket looked exactly the same, save that it felt mildly warmer to the touch. He placed the locket around his neck and tucked it safely away underneath his woolen shirt.
“How did you come to learn the language of the Elven?” Gizurr asked, squinting curiously in the dark at the increasingly curious human to which he’d taken a liking.
“It’s a complicated story and not one to be recounted right now.” Replied Jetzan as he peered into the darkness. He withdrew a jagged edged dagger from his boot.
Taking his cue, both Gizurr and Ragni readied their weapons. Gizurr had decided to replace his beloved Blaze with a garroting rope, in order to achieve a silent kill. Ragni had opted for his favorite sickle shaped hunting knife that he used for field kills on animal hunts.
The three companions waited and it was not long until another band of Orcish warriors could be seen heading towards their hiding location. As before, they pressed themselves flat against the cold stones in an attempt to hide their presence, but this time with the view to spying the tail end of the group as soon as they had passed. As the sound of footsteps began to diminish Jetzan could hear a few late trails of scuffed boots from the end of the battalion. Having assessed that it was safe to act, he immediately sprang up from behind the boulders and attacked the nearest Orc who was dead with a blade in his neck before he knew what had happened. Ragni was the next to appear and deftly twisted his blade under the chin of the second Orc, who again, was quickly dispatched without too much effort. The third Orc had more time to respond and swung around with a wickedly spiked club, narrowly missing the head of Jetzan and crashing into the tunnel wall. Gizurr was next to move, dropping his now useless garroting rope and grabbing the legs of the Orc as they tumbled to the ground. Jetzan quickly leaped on top of the downed Orc and dispatched the surprised creature with one smooth motion of his dagger across its throat.
“I hate Orcs”. Grimaced Gizurr as he stared into the dead face of the allotted Orc whose armour he would be taking. Its greenish blue skin and lizard like eyes made his skin crawl.
“Think about something nice that you will do with Mistress Inga when you get back home,” Ragni winked in reply.
“Aye indeed I will!” smirked a much happier Gizurr.
* * * *
Ethan absent mindedly rubbed the ears of his mare Bella as the three travelers wound their way along the muddy path leading towards Beshok. He was the last in the line of horses, with Cara located just ahead of him and Master Bedwyr leading the group. Whilst doing so he admiringly examined the sway of Cara’s back as she moved in perfect motion with her mount. It had occurred to him some time ago that she was very pretty and from what he gathered so far had a kindly nature. He also found himself thinking back to the kiss she had given him on the Isle of Vallan, how soft and inviting her lips were and the warm blue of her eyes. There was no doubting that they shared a connection and he wondered how often Cara had been looking at him over the past few months with her use of Bedwyr’s magic orb. This thought troubled him. Had she seen how he was treated by his factory supervisor? What must she think of him in how meekly he had put up with it for so long? She probably pitied him he thought with embarrassment. He was nothing but a mild natured man-boy with no backbone to stand up to the office bully. He decided that she had probably kissed him out of kindness and nothing more. Besides, he thought, she had chosen him for someone else anyway, for that Princess Talina no less.
Sighing with disappointment at his short lived romantic daydream he decided to reaffirm his connection with the mysterious Princess Talina, “So, Cara, do you think that the Princess and I are well suited?” he enquired to the back of her head.
For a moment he wondered if she had heard him, but slowly she positioned herself around on her mount to view him, “As much as anyone else I assessed,” she smiled back with an expression he couldn’t quite place.
Mildly irritated at her rather muted response he replied, “Well if she’s pretty and has a good sense of humour, you never know I might marry her.”
“Good for you,” she responded without ex
pression and turned her gaze back to face the road ahead.
Ethan stared at the back of her head and remained silent. Chivvying up his horse, he moved ahead of Cara and closed in on Master Bedwyr.
“Do you really think that I have the ability to use magic?” he asked, rubbing his forehead as he could feel the beginning of a headache coming on.
“Yes I do,” replied Master Bedwyr mysteriously.
“How so?”
“There is a lot about you which fits the description of the person written about in my books,” said Master Bedwyr, patting the bulky shape of the book hidden inside his left breast pocket.
“What do you mean ‘written about’? What book?” queried Ethan with his eyebrows slightly raised.
“There’s a text, written by a Seer who lived some two thousand years ago. So far, the text has predicted quite accurately much of what has happened. It mentions that someone from another world will come to forge a bridge between our worlds. This person, with courage, honour, love and sacrifice will halt the loss of magic from our world and heal the plains of existence.
“So this is where the love bit comes in,” sighed Ethan, “I am to fall in love with Princess Talina and do the squishy stuff, but what about the sacrifice bit? Is that where I snuff it?” he asked, failing to sound nonchalant.
Master Bedwyr looked at Ethan with an intense gaze, “I have no intention of letting you ‘snuff it’ as you put it. Besides, I am thinking that it would be taken quite badly by your parents, not to mention other people.”
“What other people?” Ethan asked with an open expression.
Master Bedwyr’s expression grew darker. “Are you really that blind?” he whispered.
Ethan looked blankly at Master Bedwyr and blinked. Sighing, Master Bedwyr looked at the road ahead and tapped the flanks of his horse with his heels. “We need to cover more ground if we are to find suitable lodging before nightfall.” Master Bedwyr moved his horse quickly ahead before Ethan was able to speak further.
Both Cara and Ethan matched their mounts to the pace of Master Bedwyr’s horse as they sped across the path. In the cold light of the morning Ethan noted that the sky was a clear ice blue and not a cloud was in sight. To either side of them were open fields of grass as far as the eye could see, with a smattering of a few oak and elm trees to either side of them.
After several hours of swift travel, their horses showed signs of fatigue and they slowed their mounts to a walk. Master Bedwyr leaned forward to feel the heaving sides of his horse and promptly stopped and dismounted, beckoning them both to do the same.
“We are in danger of pushing them too far. We shall walk some of the way. There is a small stream up ahead there where we can water our horses.” Master Bedwyr pointed towards a small hillock some four hundred meters ahead of the group.
“I didn’t mean that,” said Ethan, almost saying the words without knowing he was going to say them.
“Didn’t mean what?” Cara asked with her back towards him.
“About marrying Princess Talina,” he replied, “as if she would be interested in someone like me anyway,” he laughed nervously.
Cara was silent for a moment and quietly patted the neck of her horse.
“You haven’t met her yet. Maybe she looks like the backend of a Tarn’s arse!” she replied as she burst out in laughter to which Ethan immediately responded in kind.
Turning round to face him, they smiled in unison and were relieved to note that the tension between them had gone.
“Come on you nutter,” she stated, “let’s go water our new pet horses and get walking!”
Smiling at one another they headed towards the hillock. He had no idea what a Tarn’s arse looked like, but he was sure that it wasn’t pretty.
Chapter 6
Councilor Delabo rubbed his hands together in glee in anticipation of the power he would have following the massacre of the Council of Elders. Only the bloodied body of Councilor Vichan had survived for a few hours after the attack; finally succumbing to his many horrific wounds in the early hours of the following morning. His death had removed the headache of Councilor Delabo finding a way to have him killed without arousing suspicion. Although one was badly wounded, both of the Blood Trackers had disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. Their trail was last seen heading North East, back to whence they came, so that problem was also solved.
At long last, Councilor Delabo had realised his lifelong ambition for power. The only price was servitude to GraJin to which he readily agreed. It was during his secret exploration of the diabolical dark arts that he had established a communication with a servant of GraJin, a small wraithlike creature that called itself Yariq. Councilor Delabo suspected that the small hooded creature which reached no higher than his waist was one of the lesser demons that had recently escaped from the veil along with GraJin.
The first instruction that he had received from Yariq was to recall the Emissaries and to end all communications with the Isle of Vallan. The first order could be achieved by bringing forth the argument of the lack of response received from both the Dwarves and the Elves. The second order to break all communication with the College of Mages could also be achieved but would arouse some suspicion from the populace.
Councilor Delabo knew that he needed to establish himself as being a safe pair of hands that was working towards the security and safety of his citizens. The enactment of mandatory subscription into the army and the training of the troops in readiness to protect the city would be required. This was merely a tactical move on his part but it would satisfy his subjects for the time being. The main thing was to be ready when GraJin called upon him.
* * * *
Dilliavin Llellyvn stood with his arms crossed and lips pursed as his daughter Ellaminva explained and apologised for the loss of his latest crop of prized cabbages and peas.
“So you see, he’s really is doing it for health reasons,” said Ellaminva, biting the corner of her lip which she often did when she didn’t quite believe what she was saying, but when she hoped that the other person would believe her.
“Not for anybody else’s health,” responded an unconvinced Dilliavin.
“Well, no.” Ellaminva confessed with a half-smile.
He raised a stern finger, “No entry into our house until all the after effects are complete and no flight training for at least a week!” he added.
“A week?” Ellaminva cried, “Vank will be mortified!”
“Well maybe he will think twice next time before taking other people’s prized vegetables,” replied Dilliavin who then turned on his heels and went inside their family home. He immediately headed towards the kitchen of the snow white cottage to help her mother with the stew and inform her about the missing ingredients.
“Not a week,” Ellaminva mumbled, “not even an hour!” she mumbled even louder and swiftly turned on her heels. She stopped briefly at her bedroom to collect some items and then immediately headed towards the family barn to pick up Vank’s flight training gear.
With her face burning with anger at the injustice of it all she headed out with purpose towards the rather large figure of the sleeping Dragon which could be seen twinkling in the sunlight from a fair distance. His rainbow coloured scales changed from violet, to pink to blue and then finally to indigo as they moved in response to his breathing and twinkled in the midday sunshine.
A lime green eye popped open as Vank’s keen ears heard the soft padding of a very determined set of feet over a hundred yards away. He saw the set expression on Ellaminva’s face and then swiftly spied the flight gear that she held in her hands. He immediately leapt up and danced around in a tight circle excitedly, popping a few times as he did so.
“Flight time! Flight time!” he roared in glee as his face beamed and he was now excited and fully awake.
Ellaminva could not suppress a huge smile seeing how happy Vank was. What was father thinking in banning Vank for a week? He knows how much Dragons love to fly.
“Y
es my darling Vank. We are going to rid you of your wind with some flying exercises.” she piped in a cheery voice, slipping on Vank’s riding bridle then swiftly throwing over the first set of ropes onto which the riding saddle would be attached.
“Erm Ellaminva, I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet,” he said with a worried frown.
“Oh don’t be silly. Of course you’re ready! You’re strong enough to carry the both of us. You’re certainly big enough by now and I trust you,” she responded warmly and patted his neck reassuringly.
Vank’s face beamed with pride and he snuggled up closely to the crook of her neck, blowing a snort of warm air into her neck as Dragon’s do with only a select few to whom they have given their heart.
Ellaminva blinked back a tear and smiled as recognised the important gesture of love and companionship offered by her dear friend and hugged his neck.
“Right then, let’s fly!” she shouted, as she quickly leapt into the training saddle and grabbed the reins.
Vank spread open his sizeable wings, which fully extended spanned some thirty feet. His wings matched the scales of his body, and changed colour in response to different angles of light caught by the sun. At times, he could easily be considered to be a rainbow Dragon, although sometimes all the colours seemed to collide together to form the purest beams of bright white light.
“Hold on!” he roared as he began to beat his powerful wings at great speed and readied himself for a gigantic leap into the air.
For the first time, Ellaminva hesitated, wondering if Vank was indeed ready to fly with her weight added on top. He was quite young she thought, but he was so strong and test flights with weighted dummies had proven successful. Before she could think further on this matter, she felt a great whoosh of air as Vank leapt up high, followed by powerful gusts of wind made by Vank’s long, strong wings either side of her body and they were up and away.