by V K Majzlik
He hung his head and explained. “You must forgive me. I have spent so many years alone, in exile, as you well know.” He looked at Jaidan, whose stern face and eyes softened slightly with sympathetic understanding. “This…..is all strange for me. Surely you understand that as a fellow clansman?”
Jaidan took a deep breath and lowered his arrow. He nodded at Eilendan, then turned and went to sit in a shady corner of the camp. It was true that he understood what it was to be a banished clansman of the Empire, but still his instincts said Tavor was not to be trusted. Pulling his cloak tightly round his neck to seal out the cold night air he decided he would sit and watch Tavor, studying his moves and words, with the hope of learning his true motives.
“You will travel with us then?” Eilendan asked one more time.
The boys and Tavor nodded in agreement.
“But, where are we will you be taking us?” Nechan queried.
“Loreandril. The Heart of Elvendon.”
Nechan’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing those words. As he turned to look at Cradon, neither needed to say a single word. They could read each other’s expressions clearly. The Elves were going to take them to Loreandril! Tavor, however, was not so thrilled at the prospect.
Chapter 22 – Betrayal Revealed
The karzon had ridden their new, rabid animals swiftly in an attempt to reach the Aeonorgal before the Elves and their comrades. They had been plagued by considerable delays, finding it difficult to track the Aeonorgal: it seemed to be moving on a very aimless course. Vlandac and his faithful followers were becoming increasingly frustrated.
They came thundering through the forest, hooves pounding and cloaks billowing, with no heed for how much noise they made. Javil and the rest of the soldiers scattered as the karzon and their black horses stampeded into the camp. Govan, however, stood his ground and did not even flinch as Vlandac rode his horse at full pelt, straight towards him, stopping a mere inch in front of his face. Many of the soldiers discreetly covered their noses, keeping their distance, not wanting to inhale the strange stench that lingered around the karzon. It was said this smell was part of the mind-magic, aiding the deception of their true visage.
“You’re late. What has taken you so long?” Govan was undeterred by sight of the karzon fleet.
Vlandac replied first with a hissing screech that was almost unbearable to the soldiers’ ears. Even Govan doubled up, clutching his head. Vlandac laughed. “Come now, Govan, you know that is no way to address me!”
Govan straightened up as Vlandac pushed his horse several paces closer to intimidate him. Govan did not flinch. He was angry that his men had been forced to wait so long for the karzon. The delay, whatever the reason, could destroy all hope of returning the Spirit Star to the Rjukhan - a thought that did not bear thinking about. People thought the karzon were ruthless but they did not compare to the Rjukhan, their masters and creators.
“Do you know what your delay may have cost us?”
Again, in fury, Vlandac screeched loudly, the piercing noise echoing around the glen and making the soldiers wince in agony once more. Even the horses stamped their hooves with the discomfort. Govan clenched his jaws, not wanting to recoil a second time at the sound.
“I dislike your insolent tone, soldier!” Vlandac hissed. He and his followers had not yet dismounted their horses; instead they sat staring at the uneasy troops. They were keen to get it over and done, resentful that they had been ordered to fight alongside these mere men. While they knew they had failed with their first ambush, they would not do so again. The karzon knew what to expect now.
“Need I remind you why we are still out here? Your first attempt at recovering the Star failed, and now, because of you, this assault may fail. Things are no longer as simple as we originally thought.”
Govan explained the situation in detail, describing what they were up against, as Vlandac and his followers listened. “I suggest we make our move now, rather then wait for first light. We cannot afford to give them time to prepare for the attack. They will suspect an ambush, I am sure of it.”
Vlandac motioned that he agreed with Govan’s advice and commanded his followers to ready themselves for attack. Govan and Javil ordered their men to do the same. They were fully prepared to unleash war on the unsuspecting comrades to recapture the Aeonorgal once and for all. They could not afford to make another mistake. As soon as the final preparations were complete, they left the camp and headed out with deadly silence towards the travellers.
The camp was completely still, except for the occasional crackle and spark from the fire. The comrades were all asleep, preparing themselves for the long days ahead on their journey home. Gaular and Jaidan had requested to be put on watch, both uneasy about the events that were slowly unfolding, and neither trusted Tavor.
“There is just something not right about him.” Jaidan’s eyes were fixed on Tavor’s slumbering body as if expecting him at any moment to spring up and attack him.
“I trust your judgement, Jaidan. You of all people would know how to read someone from your own clan.”
“He does not carry himself like a Brathunder. Nor does he have the understanding and knowledge of Elves.”
“Then why did we untie him?” Gaular growled, his troubled brow deeply furrowed. They paused for a moment as Tavor stirred in his sleep, but he did not wake.
“What better way to make someone trip up and reveal his true self? Untied, he is more likely to drop his guard and make a mistake.”
Gaular nodded, understanding what Jaidan meant. In silence they continued to keep watch. An eerie quietness had fallen on the camp and the surrounding woods.
The silence was broken. From the darkness there was an unmistakable twang and snap of a bow and arrow. It hummed past Jaidan, narrowly missing his head as he ducked out of the way. He rolled to the left and grabbed his bow, instantly stringing an arrow ready for a shot. Gaular grabbed his war hammer and heaved it over his wide shoulder, ready to swing at the first thing he saw.
“Ambush!” he bellowed, alerting his slumbering comrades.
The boys woke, startled at the sound of Gaular’s cry. They scrambled around, scared, unsure of what was happening and how to react. Their instinct was to run, but their bodies were paralysed with fear. Nymril flung back her blanket, unsheathing her sword and shouldering her shield in one swift movement as she got to her feet. Eilendan and Gomel shook themselves quickly from their sleep and drew their weapons, studying the surrounding tree line, searching for their attackers in the outlying darkness.
The air became filled with the loud clamour of shouts and yells as if challenging them. Another torrent of arrows came raining down, the horses taking most of them. They whinnied and fell down dying, their crimson blood seeping out onto the dry woodland floor. Only Sonda and Nechan’s horse, Danfor, escaped, bolting as the comrades ducked out of the way behind tree trunks and fallen logs.
It was quickly apparent that they were surrounded, with little chance of escape now they had no horses.
From the dark, a harsh voice could be clearly heard. “Attack!”
There was a strange rumble through the ground as the Karvathan soldiers burst into the small glen, closely followed by tall karzon mounted on black, wild horses. They crashed through, brandishing their weapons and yelling at the top of their lungs. Jaidan let loose several arrows, the first two hitting their intended targets perfectly, the soldiers falling dead, impaled through the heart and neck. But before he could fire another shot, other soldiers were upon him. He was forced to resort to his sword, defending himself from the frenzied blows and slashes. It was soon clear that he was fighting a losing battle.
Gaular too, was quickly overpowered, surrounded on all sides. Try as he might, the dwarf, although bigger than most of the men, was unable to swing his hammer, with the men scrambling all over him trying to pin him down. Somehow, one of the soldiers succeeded in knocking him out with a tremendous blow to the back of the head. He fell like a lead weigh
t.
Nymril and Eilendan fared no better, unable to put up a fight as the karzon and soldiers filled the glen so quickly and with full force. Nymril, her frame delicate and light, was taken by surprise and knocked flat to the ground as Eilendan desperately tried to defend her from the stamping hooves of the rabid horses. He killed one karzon with a swift clean hew of his blade, decapitating him, but was promptly inundated from all sides.
In the confusion the saddlebag containing the Aeonorgal was kicked to the side by the frenzied hooves, and left hidden under a prickly bush.
Cradon and Nechan became separated in the melee. They hid on opposite sides of the camp, crouched behind tree roots, watching in dismay as their new-found friends fought bravely. They felt powerless, knowing there was little they could do to help.
“Tavor!” Nechan cried, as he came within earshot.
Tavor turned, his blade drawn, and ran towards Nechan. “Where’s your brother? Where’s the Spirit Star?” he panted as he fell on his knees covering the boy as if protecting him.
“There. Cradon is by that tree!” Nechan pointed, and Tavor looked over, quickly spotting Cradon’s distinctive red hair protruding above some gnarled tree roots.
“Good!” He looked at Nechan again, leaning in closer and pressing his weight against the boy. “Which of you has the Star?” There was a strange look in his eyes, one that Nechan had not seen before. The man who had taken them in at the farm was no longer recognisable.
Tavor scanned the frenzied commotion that filled the glen, then caught a glimpse of the gnome not far from Cradon. He was rummaging beneath a bush and to Tavor’s surprised pulled out a discarded saddlebag. He watched closely as the gnome reached inside, pulling out the Spirit Star, the silver embroidered cloth shining in the firelight. It was obvious he was not going to give it up without a fight, brandishing his axe with his free hand, ready to start on anyone who came near.
“Wait here!” Tavor commanded, preventing Nechan from getting up. The boy obeyed, fear forbidding him from doing anything else. Tavor sprang up and began to run across the glen, picking his way through the turmoil, heading for Gomel.
Cradon saw him coming towards him, and automatically assumed he was heading over to help. He clambered out from his hiding place, running out to meet him. “Tavor, Tavor! What’s happening? You have to help us! Where’s my brother?” he jabbered anxiously, trying to grab hold of the clansman.
Tavor barged past, pushing Cradon out of the way as if he had not seen him. Tavor only had one thing on his mind and that was not this silly boy. “Not now! Out of my way!” he snarled.
Cradon fell to the ground with a thud, landing hard on his elbow. Why had he not stopped to protect him?
“Gomel!” Tavor roared.
Briefly, Gomel was relieved to see a fellow comrade who was still able to fight, naturally assuming Tavor was coming to help protect the Aeonorgal. He looked at the man’s face again and realised to his horror it was not that of the same man they had captured. His kind, humble smile had disappeared, replaced by a raging, angry grimace, and he was wielding his sword in the gnome’s direction.
“Give me the Spirit Star!” he shouted as their blades clashed.
Gomel spat defiantly. “You will have to kill me!”
They dropped their blades and began wrestling, even though Tavor was a man nearly twice his size. For a being of such diminutive stature Gomel held his ground, his short stocky legs and wide body helped maintain his centre of balance as Tavor pushed and shoved, trying to prise the Aeonorgal from his grip.
Cradon, still lying stunned on the ground, was shocked as he watched Tavor attack Gomel. Had Nechan been right? Could it be that Tavor had fooled him all along? Anger began to swamp Cradon’s mind.
Crawling on his stomach towards a broken branch, avoiding the stamping hooves, Cradon made his way rapidly across the glen. The soldiers and karzon appeared to ignore him, spending all their effort on subduing the others. Picking up the branch in both hands, he ran towards Tavor, and clubbed him on the back of his head. The man fell to the ground instantly, his head bleeding from the force of the blow. Cradon dropped the branch, amazed at what he had done.
“Come, boy! We must run!” Gomel grabbed his arm and began dragging Cradon into the woods, leaving behind the raging battle.
“Nechan, my brother, I cannot leave him!” he cried as Gomel continued to haul him deeper into the woods.
“It’s too late. I’m sorry. The others will take care of him!”
The noise of the attack faded quickly into the darkness behind them.
Nechan had not seen Gomel and Cradon leave. No one had. Amazingly, they had slipped away unnoticed as their attackers had paid no attention to the little gnome and the young, bewildered boy. Nechan, remaining hidden, watched in pale terror as the soldiers and karzon eventually overwhelmed the entire group. Gaular lay unconscious in the mud with a large gash bleeding above his eye, while the others were all pinned down at knife-point.
The soldiers that were not holding them captive were tearing apart the packages and saddlebags looking for the Spirit Star, but to no avail. A slow panic brewed as the truth began to dawn on them.
“Deal with that Aeon Elf, immediately!” ordered Govan, pointing at Nymril.
Without needing to be told twice, Javil and two soldiers grabbed Nymril, pinning her even more tightly to the ground. Eilendan and Jaidan yelled at them to stop, fearing the worst as they watched hopelessly, their bonds too tight to escape. Javil pulled out a heavy neck brace with a large black stone set in the centre. He clamped it tightly round her slim neck, pressing against the skin, as she struggled hopelessly beneath the weight of the men.
In an instance she felt her veins course with a strange magic that seemed to chill her to the core. Before her eyes, she watched as the silver etchings that decorated her skin turned black.
“That will stop you and your Elven magic!” Javil sneered, showing his yellow, stained teeth, as the laughing soldiers released her. Nymril was barely able to move. It was as if her body had been encased in a lead weight, sapping all her energy. There was nothing she could do as the rest of the comrades were searched and stripped of all their weapons.
At the order of the Vlandac, Govan began to interrogate the comrades, a growing sense of urgency in his voice. “Where is it?” he demanded, slapping Eilendan hard around the face. The elf felt the warm, iron taste of blood against his tongue. He spat it out, but did not answer the question.
“Tell me, where is the Aeonorgal?” Govan hit him hard again; this time his nose seemed to burst and blood quickly ran over his lips and down his neck. Even with blood now dripping from his chin, Eilendan remained defiantly silent as his back was pressed hard against a tree truck with a knife at his throat.
Believing he was about to witness the death of the elf, Nechan found himself unable to stifle his yelp as the soldier hit Eilendan again. Javil turned to look for what had made the cry, scanning the tree line. He caught sight of Nechan crawling away. Govan quickly caught up with him, placing a heavy, restraining boot on the boy’s back, pushing him into the ground. Satisfied Nechan was not going to resist, the soldier picked the terrified boy up by the scruff of his neck, and dropped him at Eilendan’s feet.
“What do we have here, then? A coward, hiding in fear?” Govan jeered, making Nechan lift his chin with the blade of his sword. He looked back at Eilendan who was almost foaming at the mouth with rage. “Should I kill him now, or later?”
Eilendan tried to struggle free, managing to elbow one of his captors in the stomach. He was determined not to let an innocent boy die at the hand of this barbarian, but within seconds more soldiers were upon him.
A summons from Vlandac disturbed Govan’s interest in the prisoners. The karzon was shouting at his men in a tone that Govan did not appreciate.
“Have you found it yet? Tear everything apart!” Vlandac ordered, desperately thrashing at saddlebags with his sword. “Govan! Where is it?”
Go
van dropped Nechan, leaving him to be bound by one of his men, and joined Vlandac in supervising the search. The men continued searching frantically, tossing supplies and clothes everywhere, other men were moving dead bodies to check the area. One of them, realising Tavor was still alive, dragged his unconscious body back into the centre of the glen, dropping him at Govan’s feet.
Slapping Tavor several times around the face Govan stooped over him, waiting for him to return to consciousness. Tavor rolled over, blinking, still dazed as he touched the back of his head.
“That little……” he sniped through clenched teeth, remembering how Cradon had jumped him and knocked him out. His head was caked in dried blood, and already swelling.
“It’s not here!” Govan stated, staring angrily at Tavor, not offering a hand to help him up. Instead he kicked him swiftly in the leg, wanting an explanation.
“Why don’t you ask the little runt where his brother went? Ask him where he and the gnome have run off to!”
“What?” Govan spun round, anger burning in his eyes as he stared at Nechan. He stormed over, picking the boy up by his tunic, slamming him against a tree trunk. “Where did your brother go? Tell me now, traitor, and your suffering may be less severe.”
“Perhaps you should just kill him now! He looks old enough to have been drafted. He is clearly a traitor to the Empire!” Javil joined in, disgusted by the boy’s treachery.
Nechan squirmed in Govan’s vice-like grip, the gnarled tree trunk digging painfully into his back. He stared back at the soldier, recognising the distinctive shaved head and nose ring. This was the man he had seen talking to Tavor all those nights ago.
“Enough! We don’t have time for that. He’s only seventeen – believe me, it was one of the first questions I asked!” Tavor came up behind Govan, glancing a look at Nechan.