Unexplained absences by the queen began to occur. Her relationship with the king was in tatters, as they now barely spoke to one another. Then, the disappearances began. Maids, cooks and general staff would simply be missing, but any sinister motives were swept aside by the queen, making an excuse that she had dismissed them, or that they had run off, finding the work too hard for them, anything to cover the truth.
The once-happy atmosphere of the castle was transformed. Tamor usually dined alone, the queen saying she had better things to do. She had insisted that the children be with her at all times, loathed to trust the ‘incompetent’ staff. The king reluctantly agreed to this. Any time he suggested anything, other than following her wishes, resulted in the queen going into a rage. His main problem with his wife, despite her much-changed personality, was that he still loved her deeply, and would never believe that she could hurt her own children.
Partaking of lunch, Tamor was chatting to one of his personal guards, when the subject of incarceration came up. He had questioned how long it been since the dungeon had been used and asked if the guard had any idea, but he could not recall. “I wonder if it could be put to any other use?” asked Tamor. The guard had remained silent. “Come on let’s go and have a look shall we?” When they reached the dungeon door however, they found it locked. Tamor looked at the guard manning the passageway. “Well don’t just stand there, open up.”
The guard was very nervous. “Sorry, Sire, I can’t. I don’t have the key.”
“Well go and get it from whoever does have it, go on, I don’t have all day,” ordered Tamor.
“I can’t, Sire.”
“Why not?”
“Orders, Sire.”
“Orders? From whom? I’m the King dammit.”
“The Queen, Sire, she has the key.”
“Why on earth would she want the key to the dungeon?” he asked himself. The king had the castle searched, but the queen was nowhere to be found.
Later that evening, as the king dined, the queen entered the banqueting hall. When questioned by Tamor, she made the excuse that, as the dungeon was unused, she utilised it to store a few of her private things. It allowed her a total escape from castle life, ‘personal space’ as she referred to it. The king never pressed the issue and allowed her to leave, but he doubted her, for the first time ever.
***
Tamor, flanked by four of his personal guard, turned the key in the dungeon door, but it remained locked. “Locksmith, open this door,” he ordered. The locksmith stooped, fiddling with the lock until they all heard the distinct ‘click’ as he successfully unlocked it.
“There you go, Sire,” he said.
The king reached for the handle, but even before he grasped it, there was another audible ‘click’. Trying the door, Tamor found it to be locked once more. He turned to the sentry in the hallway. “Are you sure there is nobody within?” he asked.
“Quite sure, Your Majesty, the queen came out about an hour ago and it’s been locked ever since.”
Under instruction, the locksmith made a second attempt, with the same result.
Tamor growled. “Break it down,” he ordered.
His guard stepped forward, and in a few seconds, the door was open, split completely in two.
They all reeled back from the door, the stench was dreadful. One of the guards put his hand to his mouth in a bid to stop himself from vomiting but, unfortunately, was unsuccessful.
They entered and began to descend the spiral stone staircase, the reek getting stronger as they did so, an acrid and putrefying smell. By the time they reached the bottom step they could barely breathe, but all concern of this was erased from their minds by the scene with which they were greeted. In each corner of the room a brazier cast an eerie glow across the dungeon, making the scene even more abhorrent. Chained to the longest wall, at equal distance, were the bodies of three young girls, the eldest one twenty at most. Their mouths were gagged. They had been stripped to the waist and their legs bared, wearing only the tattered remains of their petticoats. The torture that they had endured was easily apparent with, wield marks and brands from red hot irons all over their bodies. Their torturer had ended their suffering by slicing them open from stomach to throat and pulling out their innards so that they now hung down like a gruesome decoration. Another body lay on the ground; she too had undergone the same sadistic treatment. But the worst of all was the corpse on the torture rack in the centre of the room. As the king moved toward it there was a gentle cough. Turning to face the corner of the room the king gave a gasp for there, lying on a small makeshift cot, was his son, Jared. Blood had been smeared on his body to form symbols, symbols that he did not recognise as a language. Jared opened his eyes. Looking directly at his father he smiled, unaffected, it seemed, by the horrors about him.
Tamor snatched up his firstborn and handed him to one of the guards, ordering him to cover the boy’s eyes and then began to tread slowly toward the corpse lying on the rack. This was the most sickening of all. The same fate had befallen the victim, but this time the innards had been removed and dumped in a pail to the side and there, inside the eviscerated body… lay Karrak.
His second son had been nestled into the corpse as if it were a cocoon. The king began sobbing uncontrollably at this sight and, as he did so, Karrak opened his eyes. He seemed to glare at his father as if he had been disturbed from a heavenly slumber, then Tamor saw that his eyes were jet-black. Horrified, Tamor fell to his knees, grabbing the edge of the rack to save himself and placing his head against the back of his hands, praying that this was just a terrible nightmare.
Two guards ran forward and, raising the king to his feet, half walked, half dragged him to the foot of the staircase, whilst the last guard lifted Karrak from his sickening cradle.
As they climbed the stairs not a word was spoken, but at the top, having regained his composure a little, the king turned, a fiery rage in his eyes, “Nobody goes down there, take my boys to the nursery, have them bathed and dressed and find the queen. Bring her to me in the throne room, in shackles if you have to, find her, NOW,” he bellowed.
The castle and grounds were searched thoroughly, but the queen still was nowhere to be found. The captain of the guard reported to the king. “Double the watch,” shouted Tamor, “she will return, sooner or later, and when she does, I want her arrested and dragged before me.” The captain bowed and hastened from the room.
The king’s wait would not be long. His sons were brought, cleaned and dressed, and placed at his side, now sound asleep in cots that had been laid ready. The court physicians had examined them, in turn, declaring them to be unharmed. Tamor had asked for Karrak’s eyes to be examined, but on lifting the lids they appeared to be their normal, brilliant blue and the king convinced himself that what he thought he had seen must have just been due to the gloom of the dungeon.
Exhausted by his ordeal, Tamor, not wanting to disturb his children, had settled back in his throne, cushions packed around him, and was in an uneasy sleep when suddenly the double doors were blasted open with great ferocity and standing in the doorway, was his queen.
Outside the doors, four guards lay on the floor, dead or alive, the king was unsure. An eerie black smoke surrounded the queen as she entered the room. Dressed in a long black gown, she approached the king, the lights seeming to dim as she passed them. Her question threw his mind into confusion. “Did you think I would allow you to take my son from me?”
Her voice had changed, it was much deeper than usual and had a rasp as if her throat was devoid of all moisture. She had said ‘son’, not ‘sons’, singular, why? And which ‘son’ did she mean?
“You shall not keep him from his destiny, mortal, he will be great. A worm like you could never comprehend the power that shall be his. He will erase you all from existence, with his mother by his side to ensure it,” rasped the queen.
Tamor realised that these were not the ravings of a lunatic. His wife had, in some way, been bewitched and had to
be stopped, before she took her favoured child.
“You have two children my dear, of which do you speak?”
“My second born and I shall rule this world, mortal, I have no need of the weak one.”
“Oh, so you mean to take Karrak?” he asked.
“Do not toy with me, I may even allow you to live, to prolong your suffering as you witness the demise of your kingdom.”
“How very kind of you.”
With her back to the door, she had not seen the guards who were now sneaking up behind her.
“But tell me, WITCH,” said Tamor, emphasising the word for his guard to hear, “do you believe that you alone, can conquer an entire kingdom?”
Realising his ruse the witch turned. Seeing the armed guards, she thrust her left hand forward. Immediately, one of the guards dropped his lance and clutched at his throat as if being strangled. His head suddenly snapped to the side, and with a loud crack he fell to the floor, dead. The witch was now using her right hand. Tamor watched as this time a guard erupted in flames, screaming in pain as he thrashed around hoping to somehow douse them. Now her left hand again, but this attack was to be her last. The captain of the guard had charged in amidst the confusion and paused, just briefly, waiting for his moment. Clasped in his right hand he held a crossbow, a solid gold crossbow. As the witch turned for her third attack he raised it and, taking a short breath, released the bolt. The witch’s head was turned to the side as the bolt struck. Piercing her temple, the solid gold bolt travelled through, its tip now visible on the other side of her head. The noise that came from her was not a scream or a shriek nor even a roar, it seemed to be a mixture of all three. She stood stock still for a moment, but never fell. She began to shake violently, so violently that her features were distorted until, without uttering another sound, she exploded in flame, literally, her limbs strewn around the room. The king, the captain, and his remaining men, were felled by the blast, but unharmed.
Fortunately, the captain had entered the adjoining room as the king had announced, indirectly, that they were dealing with a witch and had charged to the armoury to get the crossbow. Because, everybody knows, that the only real way to kill a witch is to impale the head with pure gold.
Search parties were formed and rewards offered. The king was convinced that these events were linked to the mysterious stranger who had come forward so readily and cured the queen of her illness so many years before, snatching her from the jaws of death itself. Tamor had only realised since the dealings with the witch, that he had never even asked his name.
“But I’ll find him one day, and when I do…”
CHAPTER 8
“I don’t know what was in that stuff that fellow gave me this morning Jared, but I feel as if I could run all the way to Reiggan Fortress with Karrak on my back without stopping once. I feel absolutely marvellous.”
“Me too, I wonder if they’ll give us the recipe? If we ask nicely, of course.”
“Somehow I don’t think it’s worth asking, I know Faylore’s alright, but the others don’t seem overly keen on befriending us.”
“Whatever makes you think that, Hannock?”
“Try it, go on, speak to one of them and see what happens.”
Jared waited for a short while, then, catching the eye of one of the Thedarians called out to her. “Beautiful morning isn’t it?” She tilted her head to one side as if she were contemplating whether to answer but then, without a word, she looked up and jumped into the lower branches of a tree she was passing. Jared looked at Hannock, who burst out laughing.
“Nice to see you can still make an impression with the ladies, Your Highness.”
Jared was astonished and shook his head, laughing.
They were now leaving the woodlands. Ahead of them were miles of sweeping plains. A small track trailed into the distance and would now be their obvious route as it would lead them to Ferendon village in which they would rest for the night. The soldiers would be provided with lodgings and ordered to wait until they were re-united on the return journey, as their wounds should be healed by then.
Keeping up with the Thedarians was not the easiest task. They were tall and had long legs, making their stride much greater, and every so often they would stop to allow Jared’s procession to catch up. Jared offering apologies each time. They were a fascinating race to watch, graceful, with sparkling white skin and platinum hair blowing in the gentle breeze. Hannock fell in love at least five times that morning. Faylore called a halt, at about midday and Jared took this opportunity to speak with her again.
“Faylore, I was wondering if there was any way, if you’re not busy of course, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you, erm would you be our guide?”
“No, that would be impossible. I told you, I am a queen.”
“Yes, sorry, my mistake. What I meant to say was, would you consider accompanying us, it would allow you to study us in greater detail?”
“I might. You are a little tedious, but also intriguing, and I would like to see your mad brother safe.”
Jared remained calm. “My thanks for your consideration I am highly honoured Your Majesty.”
“Yes, you are,” she replied.
***
It was nearing dusk as they approached the tavern in Ferendon. Faylore had agreed to accompany them for as long as she could and bade farewell to her fellow Thedarians. Hannock believed his eyes were playing tricks on him. He had looked away from the Thedarians for the briefest of moments, but on looking back, found they were already gone, as if they had simply vanished.
Jared had rented rooms for his party, all except Faylore of course, who said she would feel uneasy opening her eyes and not being able to see the stars. Jared and Hannock carried Karrak in through a back door to save people gawking and he now seemed comfortable, on a bed at the far end of the room. Hannock made himself scarce as Jared produced the two vials used for treating Karrak.
“I’ll go and see what I can find in the way of supplies, Jared, meet you at the bar when you’re done?” Jared raised his thumb.
Hannock did well on his ‘shopping trip’, managing to replace most of the foodstuffs and provisions they had lost, as well as a cart, not as big as their previous one but that was unimportant, as there were now only three of them. Finding good horses in this region was going to be difficult, he had been told, and he had to be content with the purchase of a pair of mules. At least this would allow Jared to ride his own horse, he had thought. Riding on the back of a cart would be good enough for him, but not for a member of House Dunbar. Faylore had followed him every step of the way, fascinated by the fact that he had to make purchases from others. Thedarians are completely self-sufficient. Questions were asked regarding almost every purchase, What’s that for? Why do you need that? Why do you need the beasts, is there something wrong with your legs, can’t you walk? Why does he like those shiny pieces of metal, what will he do with them? Her questions seemed endless.
Hannock was glad when they returned to the tavern. Bidding Faylore goodnight, he entered. She’s so exasperating, he thought. The two soldiers were sitting at a table, a flagon of ale between them. Hannock walked to the bar and spoke to the barkeep. Taking two bottles of wine from him, he then walked over to the table, handed one to each soldier and pointed to the passageway that lead to their room. “Rest,” he ordered. They rose from their seats and headed off.
Jared entered the barroom shortly after and sat down opposite his friend, “Any luck?” he asked.
“There’s a man with a huge flying carpet and he said for twenty gold coins, he’ll fly us directly to Reiggan in the morning.”
Jared laughed.
Hannock informed him of his purchases and of Faylore’s interjections, “I mean, Jared, how can you not know what money is?”
“They seem to have no need of it my friend, they must grow or make everything that they require.”
“Even their weapons? Have you seen them? You have to have serious talent as a smith to produce s
omething like that.”
“From what I’ve witnessed so far, Hannock, I wouldn’t think that there’s anything a Thedarian couldn’t do, if they put their mind to it.”
“Do you think they’re trustworthy?”
“Well they saved our lives, you can’t get more trustworthy than that, and they could have killed us at any time, if they’d have been of a mind.”
“Well that’s a fact, Jared, I suppose I’m just not used to folk helping without wanting some kind of reward.”
“I know, but it’s nice to find the exception to the rule don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely. We must study this, Faylore. I know, we’ll get her a gift as a surprise.”
“Just be careful, Hannock, have you noticed how touchy she can be?”
***
Ramah had followed his plan. He headed north, Klag by his side with the ten selected Dergon following closely behind. They had covered quite a distance and had soon come upon three of their own kind, wandering aimlessly at the foot of some small hills. It took minutes for Ramah to convince these ragged, gormless individuals to join his group. “Here you are, here’s some nice clean clothing for you. Put it on, put it on,” he urged. The Dergon were not the most hygienic of species, but even Ramah had reeled at the smell. “Nice iron helmets, and a sword each, you can throw away those awful clubs now, go on, go on.”
The Ascension of Karrak (Karrak Trilogy Part One) Page 8