by V K Majzlik
The karzon brought not only fear but also darkness. A strange, dark conjuration of the Rjukhans’ device followed their servants, pulling a blackening veil of hazy gloom behind them as they rode. It was as though they unzipped the sky itself, revealing a starless darkness. Even though dawn had begun to break it would make no difference. Daylight would not return to these lands while the dark armies stood strong.
Another tedious day passed. In the whiteness that covered everything and everyone, it seemed impossible to guess how long they had been travelling, or even how far. Behind them it was white, and before them it seemed whiter still. Even time itself seemed enveloped in snow. Although their progress was slow they were gradually making their way down the mountainside, having already travelled halfway down.
After two more brief stops to warm themselves and snatch a few restless hours of sleep, the travellers were finally given some respite from the relentless blizzard. Cradon was encouraged, his heart even warmed slightly as he held his gloved hand out before him catching flakes of snow. Not only could he see his hand, the flakes were visibly smaller and falling gently like downy feathers. Even the gnomes were now more cheery and began marching as fast as their short legs would permit as they waded through the snowdrifts.
Nilean and Cradon had gone before the troops, leading their horses in an attempt to plough a path through the snow. This was taking a toll on them both, especially Cradon. Although the healers had worked wonders with his wound, he could feel the cold gnawing at it, the fingers of ice penetrating deep into his back. Still, he put on a brave face and continued stoically, determined to keep up with the elf’s long-legged pace.
That night as they sat huddled round tiny, spitting campfires the wind finally dropped. The travellers shivered as they listened to the echoing, deep-bellied rumblings of avalanches occurring on all sides. No one really slept for fear of being swept away in a torrent of snow and boulders.
Chapter 56 – A Chilling Escape
The avalanches continued the next day. The clouds had started to break in the sky above them but did not reveal the light blue, winter sky they expected to see. It was hues of grey, like dark mists swirling above the heavy, snow-laden clouds.
“Lorth’ ath niorl!” exclaimed Nilean, staring up at patches of dark sky. His face paked and his eyes seemed to grow more piercingly blue.
“What is it? I have never seen a sky like that before!” Cradon felt a shiver of terror run down his spin, plucking at every hair as it went. He knew he was looking at pure evil.
The gnomes began falling to their knees. Many covered their ears, others their eyes as the captain cried out, “Black skies! They dark ones are coming!” There was panic and terror in his voice. At his words even the surrounding mountains seemed to respond in distress, echoing his dread with rumbles of tumbling snow and sliding rocks and boulders.
“We have no time to waste,” commanded Nilean, shaking the terrified gnome by the shoulders. “Gather your troops. We must continue, our fate is already decided!”
At the captain’s floundering orders the troops stood one by one, shaking themselves as if trying to restore some sanity and bravery back into their bodies.
“I don’t understand! What’s happening?” Cradon stammered. He found himself gripping the hilt of his sword as if attack were mere seconds away.
Leading them on, Nilean continued to plough through the snow. “Steady your hand, young warrior. The time will come, but it is not yet upon us. This is only the beginning.”
“What do you mean?”
Nilean stopped and turned, whispering into the boy’s ear. “Dark skies mean dark enemies approach. You will sense when they are close.” The elf turned, continuing to make a path through the snow. “It should serve to hasten our journey, Cradon. Time is of the essence, every step towards Loreandril vital!” d drifts of white powder, the gnomes following them reluctantly, brandishing their weapons.
Together they continued to plough through the mounds an. With each step the skies darkened even though the clouds were lifting. Dread and fear increased, spreading across the snow-covered valleys and hollows. Cradon could feel his heart pounding fast and hard in his chest as if it were trying to escape his body.
Then they heard it, a shrill, wordless cry that stabbed like a hot iron through their ears into their brains, instilling a breathless fear. The karzon were upon them.
The two horses fled in fear down the mountain into the unknown darkness, carrying with them the Aeonorgal, away from the approaching karzon. The enemy had ridden almost continuously to reach the mountains and now without hesitation were launching their attack. They were drawn to the travellers, called by the Aeonorgal calling, its white light and pure magic cutting through the dark chasms of their minds, leading them straight to its keepers.
The Gnome army was now nearly enveloped in darkness, and flurries of snow began to fly again as if stirred by invisible whips. Dark shadows loomed above them. They were surrounded, trapped like rodents in the steep-sided ravine. Snarls and gnashing teeth of the khalit could be heard above the wind, mixed with the grating of steel weapons and armour of the karzon as they rode forward. The wind itself seemed to be an orchestra of howling beasts circling them. Then the sickly, sweet stench of the karzon hit.
“Draw your weapons!” yelled the captain, finally finding the courage to take command of his troops, rising above the gurgling fear in the pit of his stomach.
Nilean pulled out an elegant, white-wood bow and loaded it, pulling the string far past his ear, his muscles taut as he held his breath. Many of the gnomes did the same, stringing their short bows with purple-feathered, needle-tipped arrows. Together, as one, they let loose the cascade of arrows into the growing darkness. With the howling wind gathering strength, as the grating whines and yelps of the wolves grew louder, it was hard to tell if any arrows struck a target. They let loose another volley. This time, their enemies closer, even above the wind they heard yelps and thuds of bodies hitting the cold ground.
Their brave efforts were not enough. The shadowy shapes grew closer, becoming more pronounced. Screams of wrath were expelled by the karzon and their prey once again were forced to their knees, hugging their ears, wincing and crying in agony with the screech of the evil, black voices. With their foes disabled the karzon attacked, having lost very few with the meagre flurries of arrows.
The wolves struck first. Standing their ground, the gnomes found new strength, wielding their axes and short swords, but within seconds, their numbers were decimated.
Nilean fired several more arrows trying to pick off the wolves. Cradon drew his sword and stood close, ready to fight. It was clear the wolves were targeting the weaker, smaller gnomes, overpowering them easily by their sheer size. Even in the growing blackness the ground glistened crimson with spilt blood.
Moments later, the karzon and khalit joined the fray. With their raven robes billowing in the pounding wind and snow, seated upon their unearthly, scaly mounts, jagged blades held high above their cloaked heads, the karzon were a terrifying sight. Cradon fell to one knee in fear only to be pulled up by the strong hand of Nilean.
“Stand by me! Do not leave my side!” His words were almost lost in the angry gale and inky darkness.
Cradon turned to see the elf, his silver sword now drawn, casting a white scar of light through the darkness. His green travel cloak was cast athis feet and his white armour shone brightly, the star of Loreandril twinkling like a beacon. For a moment the enemy paused, fearing the elf and his light, giving the remaining handful of gnomes time to scramble towards the two. Their captain and sergeants dead they now looked to Nilean for orders.
The pause in the siege did not last long but it was time enough for the travellers to regroup and find new courage against the dark foe.
Shaking off their own fear, the enemy attacked with new fervour. Swords and axes clashed against ragged fur and scales. Blood sprayed from hewn flesh. Surrounded by darkness there was no way of telling how many enemies
were upon them.
As the travellers’ numbers began to dwindle, the gnomes picked off one by one, the enemies’ bodies began to mount up. With most of them slain, the remaining ones turned tail and ran for their flea-ridden lives. Several of the khalit also lay dying, their scaly bodies jerking spasmodically in the gloom.
Cradon could have sworn Nilean had killed at least three karzon, his white blade tearing at their ebony robes. By the blood curdling, deafening screams of the foul beings, he was certain they were dead. Yet there was no sign of their bodies, only tatters of robes as if they had melted into the snow, back to the dark earth from which they were born.
They were tiring from the continuous onslaught. Cradon’s arms were aching from wielding his sword, his back wound screaming in agony. It had felt like hours. Now they were completely drowning in blackness, even the Elven light of Nilean seemed to be dwindling as he tired. And then, only Nilean and Cradon remained and all hope seemed lost. They stood back to back waiting for the next beast to approach and fall on their blades.
Another karzon appeared from the darkness, its fur-lined robes billowing in the wind. Holding high a jagged, blood-soaked blade it swung for Cradon, forcing him to roll to the left, separating him from Nilean. He had no time to stand before the next blow came from above. Their swords clashed and locked, sending sparks of chipped metal into the blackness. Cradon slid his blade to the hilt of the karzon’s sword, using the locked weapons as leverage to stand. Cradon thought himself tall, but in the shadow of the karzon he was dwarfed. The movement pulled them so close he could smell the stench of rotten meat on its breath.
Hunching forward the karzon hissed, and then a slow whining screech made Cradon clench his jaws and squeeze his eyes shut for the pain. Resisting the urge to fall to his knees and wrap his arms around his head he twisted his blade and flung his elbow into the karzon’s hooded face. The startled karzon staggered, its head snapping back. In that instant the karzon lost its mind grip on the black magic that hid its true form. As its hood slid back the hideous, unearthly face was exposed.
Cradon had always assumed they were men, but before him stood something unimaginable for even the most creative of minds. It took his breath and as if he had been punched in the stomach he gasped, falling to his knees. The karzon stepped forward and it was all Cradon could do to look back up. It had large black eyes set deep into scoops on a ghostly, grey face, with scaly skin so thin it was opaque. Black veins and capillaries visibly pulsated, etching out intricate patterns of an unknown, black language. The nose and mouth were fused together in a mass of jagged teeth, behind which a large, long, black tongue writhed and salivated at the smell of blood. Even the ears were disturbingly grotesque, lying like scaly flat mounds that coiled round the hairless head towards the bony nape of the neck.
Cradon could look no more and paralysed by fear he cowered at the karzon’s feet.
Suddenly the ground beneath them began to tremble and there was a sound like pounding, roaring waves filling the air all around. It broke the fighting frenzy and in a bewildered daze enemy and foe stood side by side with bated breath. Then it hit them. First a cold gush of air pummelled their bodies, followed by a wall of snow that appeared from nowhere. The raucous noise of the fray had sent reverberations up the mountainside which accumulated into one catastrophic avalanche.
The air in Cradon’s chest was pounded from him as if he had been slammed against a stone wall and he had a strange sensation of being thrown around like a rag doll. The flood of snow and rock carried away everyone and everything standing in that ravine. Cradon lost all sense of time and direction, engulfed in deafening, cold noise.
It ended as quickly as it had begun. The river of material came to a halt in a lower valley that gently led to the very foot of the mountains, carrying its load nearly three leagues. Cradon remembered only the noise stopping, feeling like he was trapped in a vice, and then nothing, only whiteness.
Once Nilean regained consciousness he managed to dig his way up to the surface. Exhausted and breathless, every bone in his body bruised and twisted, there was nothing he could do except lie still, looking up into the black sky. He had no idea how long he had lain unconscious. He was unsure whether the karzon were still close or whether it really was night. He searched his heart, trying to sense their black evilness, but could feel nothing.
The elf suddenly became aware of a presence approaching. There was a gentle huff and a puff of warm air brushed his face, followed by a velvety nuzzle of a soft nose. He knew immediately it was his mare. She had found him. There was a second nuzzle, this time from the other side and he felt blindly with his hand to feel the soft mane of Sonda.
Somehow they had escaped the avalanche and much to Nilean’s relief and delight had retained their saddlebags. He felt encouraged when he realised had the horses not run the Aeonorgal might have fallen into once more enemy hands.
With renewed hope the elf found the energy to roll over and begin crawling around, groping in the darkness, feeling the snow’s surface for any sign of Cradon. The horses followed him, scuffing the tumultuous powder as if trying to help him search. Finally, to his relief he found a small corner of Cradon’s green travel cloak poking through the broken surface of snow. He began digging frantically, a resurgence of energy fuelled by adrenaline. He reached Cradon’s feet first. The boy was suspended upside down, at an angle in the snow. The elf dug a little further and began pulling the clansman out, digging his heels into the soft surface to get leverage.
At last Cradon’s limp body slid out, sending Nilean backwards. He scrambled round to Cradon’s head and began clearing the encasing of snow from his face. There was no response. He shouted his name several times and then began shaking the boy.
“Cradon! Cradon, can you hear me?”
The voice sounded distant and muffled. Cradon tried to blink but felt nothing except snow. The white powder filled every orifice. As he tried to breathe in to reply the snow stifled his nostrils and mouth. He had no recollection of where he was. His body had a strange sense of being suspended in mid-air. All he could remember was that thing standing over him preparing to kill him, after that his memory was just a black hole.
Finally, with a spluttering cough expelling snow, Cradon took a deep breath. He gasped, his heart pounding and lungs burning, blinking the snow from his eyelashes. Overjoyed, Nilean grabbed the boy’s shoulders and hugged him tightly, laughing. Even the horses nuzzled Cradon’s icicle-filled hair.
“Where…….What?” Cradon choked, his eyes wide, still terrified by his last memory.
“An avalanche! It saved us!” cried Nilean joyously, still hugging the boy.
“Saved us? I feel like it killed me!”
“You’re alive aren’t you? Had the avalanche not hit when it did, nothing could have saved us! It truly was a blessing from the mountain!” The elf finally released the boy.
“What about……the others?” stammered Cradon, still struggling to get his words out. His body and brain felt numb with coldness and fear.
“The dark ones?” whispered Nilean. “Of their fate I cannot be certain, but I do not sense them near. I believe the avalanche killed them.”
“They weren’t men. What are they?”
“It is best you do not linger on thoughts of them. They are the spawn of the enemy and do not belong in this world.”
“Are we safe?” asked Cradon feebly. He was calming down, the nightmarish vision fading as he began to absorb his surroundings.
“Not safe enough to linger. I’m afraid we need to move on.”
Cradon moaned, resisting the elf as he tried to help him stand. Finally, he gave in and staggered to his feet. A plume of snow fell from him as he shook his clothes.
“Do you think you can ride?”
“Nothing appears broken if that’s what you are asking!” Cradon replied as he heaved himself into Sonda’s saddle. Nilean checked the young Hundlinger was secure before mounting his own horse.
Riding slowly th
e horses nimbly picked their way through the snowfield. Even in the darkness the white blanket reflected light. All about them were traces of the avalanche’s destruction: scattered axes and shields, the odd glove or helmet. It was as though they were riding through a field of death. There were no words to express their feelings.
In silence, they continued their long journey back to Loreandril with their precious cargo still safely hidden in the saddlebags.
Chapter 57 – Messengers Return
“Come quickly! There is news!” Jaidan shouted through the curtain door of the tent.
Nechan and Gaular quickly jumped up to join Jaidan. As they sprinted through the Elven streets Nechan grasped the hilt of his sword to prevent it clanging against his leg.
It had been a few weeks since he first started his combat lessons and now his sword remained permanently attached to his belt. He wore it with pride, feeling his strength and skill grow daily, although he had not yet beaten Eilendan. The boy showed the greatest potential with the bow, hitting the target every time, even from great distances. The Elvish congregation that gathered daily to watch his progress now referred to him as Elio’l Elvini, which meant Elvish eyes, because of his pinpoint-sharp bowmanship.
“Jaidan, what’s going on? What news?” panted Nechan, trying to keep pace with the long legs and fast pace of Jaidan.
“Messengers have started to return. They bring news of our allies!”
With a sudden burst of additional speed Jaidan sprinted even faster as if he were running over hot coals. They soon left the cumbersome dwarf behind to plod along at his own pace. Although very strong, he lacked speed, especially over long distances.