“What now?” asked Baram as we left the shadow of Hillstone Pass behind us.
“Now my friend,” I began whilst turning to the weaponsmith, “now I think I’ll have some of that meat I‘ve seen you eating…that is if there is any left?”
Baram nodded and leant into the rear of the wagon before re-emerging with a whole leg of salted pork in the offering.
“Excellent!” I chirped happily whilst taking hold of the food, “and how is our mage faring?”
As Baram was about to turn once more, Jaramel’s hooded head appeared from between the wagon’s canvas beside us.
“I am fine, thank you for asking,” replied Jaramel somewhat weakly. His voice sounded strained as if he had been using his magic again. “Although I am glad that this Menon is elsewhere.”
“As I am,” I offered jointly, “the luck of Kanthar must have indeed been with us on this day.”
“So where do we go from here?” asked Baram.
I had been thinking about this. Now that we were back in lands known to me I shared my thoughts.
“Two miles past the central fort there is a trail which heads off towards the Talon mountain range. If we take this path, we can journey south along the range of the mountains until we are near to Ranak-lore. Once there we’ll have a better understanding regarding the situation of the City.”
Baram immediately intervened.
“But wouldn’t it be best to meet with these northern guards,” he protested, “ and then we could be escorted almost all the way to the Capital?”
I shook my head as I prepared my reasoning.
“Baram, it was easy to fool the gatekeeper into believing that we were from the north, but it’s a three-day ride to the Capital. If we meet with these escorts now, they will accompany us for all of that time, and I am sure it would not take them long to suspect our authenticity, especially if there were Ashar-Khan amongst them. I am also sure Jaramel would prefer not to spend that time hidden under a grain sack!”
As Baram pondered the truth of my words, Jaramel surprisingly added to my argument.
“It also does not bode well master weaponsmith to bring two of the most powerful magical artefacts ever created within easy grasp of Vorgannon men.”
Baram nodded understandingly accepting the foolishness of his words.
“Don’t worry my friend,” I said with cheer, “I’m counting on Vorgannon’s army to have gone straight through the south’s centre. This means they would not have even bothered with the outlying villages. They know the Capital is the key to the King’s downfall, so we should make good uninterrupted progress until then, and if we are really lucky, we may even beat Vorgannon to the Capital ourselves. We’ll soon have you back in the arms of that fiery woman of yours in no time,” I said with a smile, “ I’ll see to that. But until then, take these reins for a moment and let a hungry man eat his meal in peace.”
As Baram took the reins, the comfort of my words were clearly readable upon his face, and as my first mouthful of good eating meat in days stimulated my taste buds and filled my belly, I had but to wonder, though, if the walls of Ranak-Lore still stood?
We had journeyed halfway across the Battle Plains when the first signs of Menon and his men going about their work came into view. Dust clouds far to the east mixed with black rising smoke to signal Vorgannon’s apprentices’ determination to break the spirits, and the walls of the brave southern souls that still held strong the eastern fort.
As Baram and I looked on in grim silence, it was all I could do to imagine their plight, under siege and outnumbered, and cut off from any visible reinforcements. Their future prospects did not look favourable…I guess we were not the only ones with problems.
By mid-afternoon, directly ahead of us, the tower of the central fort crept slowly into view. At this distance it looked as if nothing was amiss, and if it were not for scavenger birds that were flying overhead, I would have almost expected a contingent of southern soldiers to ride out at any moment with the brash Governor Talak at their lead to greet us. But no such welcome was received, and as we journeyed nearer to the ill-fated fort, the foolishness of my thoughts were made all too apparent.
This first thing to catch my eye were the southern gates to the fort, or rather the lack of them. The solid oaken gateway that I had once walked through to stand alone on the Nazoran Battle Plains was now replaced by an opening of air for anyone who had the care to enter. Nearer still and the first bodies came into view, about eighty in total and mostly northerners by the looks of them. They lay on the earth in a sporadic pattern amidst a trampled sea of stakes, arrows protruding from their flesh suggested the defenders’ reply to a direct attack against the fort’s southern wall. It seems, however, their defence was in vain, and as I steered the wagon around to the left of the silent fort, many more bodies were spied in the courtyard beyond the opening. But what surprised me, or maybe should not have surprised me were broken wooden ramps that lay abandoned against the low fort walls. One was blackened, presumably from fire, another was broken in two and was missing a wheel. It was not the fact that the North had used such devices to accomplish their aims, it was the simplicity of their designs that had surprised me.
Shaped to form a triangle, the ramps would have had two wagon-sized wheels attached for ease of movement, and each had steps leading up their centre for ease of ascent. How anyone could have not foreseen such an obvious error of design with perimeter walls such as these were beyond me. At least the Galvians had got it right.
As we passed along the western wall we came across a body on the ground before us, it was the body of a Divide’s guard who could not have been much more than twenty years of age. Looking up along the inadequate battlements I saw many more of his comrades lying in various positions of death in the places where they had fallen whilst in the service of their King. It was at that moment when the sudden pain of remembrance stabbed at my heart reminded me that there had also been another who had given his life not far from this spot in protection of what he believed…and loved.
“Mr Stein, are you well?” It was Jaramel, I had been so preoccupied with my thoughts I had not even seen him emerge from the canvas again.
“I am fine,” I assured whilst looking up at even more southerner bodies, “the poor fools.”
“Do you think…” began Baram, “do you think that Governor Talak made it out of there, before…well, you know.”
“Governor Talak would not be one to abandon his position lightly,” replied Jaramel using a tone that hinted at sadness.
“Then shouldn’t we have a look…just to make sure?” enquired Baram.
“Why?” I asked questioningly, “I already know what lies on the other side of these walls. You can smell it from here.”
“Governor Talak is resigned to his own fate whatever that may be master weaponsmith,” said Jaramel, his tone unchanging. “As are we all.”
Leaving the stench of death behind us, we continued onwards in grim silence until we reached the northern edge of the Talon mountain range. Once there, Jaramel and Baram set about freeing our horses from the restraints of the wagon, whilst I found what water I could to wash off my northern face.
With our horses re-saddled and ready for the road, our empty saddle packs were filled with an assortment of meats, fruit, and all manner of other edibles from the stolen wagon until they bulged at the seams. Why we needed so much food for a three-day journey was beyond me, but Baram had been in charge of replenishing our supplies, and he was taking no chances with having to dine on nuts and roots again. At least there was some consolation to be had, knowing that there would be an empty northern belly or two in the south in days to come.
As I mounted Storm, I nodded to each of my travelling companions in turn. Baram looked as dependable as he had always done. Wearing a face full of determination, this larger than life warrior had had his wish and journeyed on an adventure deep within the northern territories. Now he rushes back to the one place he knows he should not h
ave left!
Jaramel also looked the same. Thin, and frail, and forever hiding within a shrouded cloak, the only clues to the man inside being two fiery points of light that glared out from within…Wizards!
With the afternoon sun at its zenith, and under the shadow of the Talon mountains, we kicked our mounts to an eager start for what I knew would be our desperate rush south.
We rode hard for the remainder of that day, and well into the night, the only reason we had stopped then was because our horses were too tired to continue. Our first day’s travelling was pretty uneventful, and the only real surprise of the day came when I asked Jaramel to light the darkness with my Glowball staff only to find it had been disassembled by the young mage, and converted into an all powerful rod of control complete with Soul Crystal attachment!
It did not even resemble my staff anymore! Instead, it looked like any other wizards staff I had seen, apart of course from the illuminating green Crystal tip where my Glowball had once sat. I was in a foul mood after that. I know that I had given my staff to the mage freely, but all the same, I was dismayed to have seen it replaced like this. Its light had been like a comforting friend for me on so many nights when I had sat alone.
In his defence Jaramel had told me that it would save his master Luka much time in converting the staff to accept the Crystal, it was, after all, he assured, “a relatively simple operation to perform with the staff of Baros, although time-consuming.” He also stated that the reason he had converted it in secret was because he did not want to cause me any undue discomfort over its deconstruction. Well, it had! I was kind of hoping I would get it back after these wizards had finished with it, but now!
On our second day’s haste to reach Ranak-lore, we inadvertently rode straight into the middle of a southern refugee camp! Our unexpected arrival caused quite a panic at first, and the men in the group quickly grabbed what weapons they could and surrounded us. It took us some time to convince the forty or so refugees that we were not northerners sent to kill them. But after much persuasion, mostly spoken by Jaramel after lowering his hood at their request, we finally had them convinced. We then discovered that they were mainly families who had fled to the mountains after their encampment near the divide was attacked over five days ago. Many families did not make it, and many of the children in their group were consequently orphans. When we asked about Ranak-Lore and Vorgannon’s army, little was known. Apparently, they fled when they were able to, and had been here ever since. Understanding their plight, we shared some of our food supplies with them and gave the men directions to the remaining food on the abandoned wagon. After that we said our farewells, we rode on with renewed determination.
Following our encounter with the refugees, something inside me changed. I was never one to let any job get the better of me, but this felt as if it was becoming more personal. The north had invaded and were pushing people…my people out of their homes. Dare I say this, but this was starting to go even beyond a mere five hundred gold!
That night I could not sleep. Through tiredness and near exhaustion we had decided to gather a few hours rest between us before our final push eastwards towards the Capital on the next day. We made our camp under the watchful gaze of the Talon Mountains, in a large sheltered alcove of rocks and grass near to the base of one of the noble peaks. It was a virtual haven of tranquillity.
Without a cloud in the sky, the stars in the heavens peeked through the curtain of night in their hundreds, the grass we lay upon was as soft as a straw bed, and no wind blew around us to trouble our rest. Even the animals of the dark were silent in their respect for the serenity of the night. But yet with all this calming influence around me, I knew that the real night lay not within this sheltered alcove of stone, but instead with the southern Kantarians in a City not far from here. I turned on my side for the umpteenth time knowing full well that Vorgannon’s army was already at the gates of Ranak-lore. My suspicions had been confirmed when the people of the refugee camp had told me that they had fled over four days ago. From there it would have only been a two and a half days journey to reach the Capital, even for an army! And now with this extra day since then, Vorgannon would have to have been going around in circles not to have reached the King’s City by now!
Baram still remained hopeful, his love for his woman was blinding him to the truth. I think however Jaramel understood the reality of our situation. The mage, like me, had become more withdrawn this past day and now kept his thoughts to himself.
As I lay there looking up at the perfect night sky, I pictured every scenario of what tomorrow might bring. But think as I may, I just could not imagine a way to get the Soul Crystal into the Capital if the northern army was besieging it. Also if this Vorgannon is as powerful as Jaramel says he is, then we might not even be able to bring the Soul Crystal any further than this without this renegade Wizard somehow sensing its presence.
I turned yet again without at first even realising that I had and recognised that this was the first time in my adult life that I did not know what to do next…
“You’re going to die,” said the voice, I thought I had once banished inside my head.
“Don’t listen to him,” said another, “get some sleep, something will turn up.”
“Yes…something will turn up…” I assured myself before closing my eyes.
I must have finally slept, as the next thing I was aware of was Baram’s bearded face looming above my own whilst wearing a stupid grin.
“Come on sleepy head,” cheered the weaponsmith, “no time for that now. You can rest when we’re in the City.”
Dragging myself from my bed, I felt that I had about as much enthusiasm for this day as a thief has for a hanging rope! But nevertheless, I went about my regular morning routine as I had always done, even though it was still several hours before dawn and as dark as any night. As I rubbed my weary eyes free from the one or two hours sleep I had managed to steal and smelt the unmistakable aroma of food cooking upon an open fire.
Looking around I saw that Baram was tending the flames to what was going to be our breakfast. I also noticed that he had awoken the mage, and had readied our horses for travelling. I just hoped that this day was going to be all that he was expecting it to be.
As I moved towards the fire, the loud crack of a twig snapping in two somewhere behind me instantly brought me to my senses. Twigs generally do not just break by themselves, and only have cause to do so when someone or something is trying to sneak up on you. Either way, it meant trouble if you were at camp in the wilderness.
Looking from the corner of my eye, I peered into the darkness, but it was still too dark to see anything other than the night. I would need the mage’s eyes.
Without alerting any potential attackers to my awareness of them, I casually collected my bedroll from the ground and started to walk towards Jaramel who had joined Baram beside the fire a short distance away.
If I needed more evidence that something was approaching, it then presented itself in the form of small pebbles falling from the sides of the sloping rock walls that surrounded us. Again I rolled my eyes, this time upwards without moving my head, and was soon aware of a large shadow crouching down some twenty feet above us amongst the rocks. That would make two at least. I suspected more…
“Taragon,” Baram greeted as I neared, “ready for a hot meal and a swift ride?”
Ignoring the comment, I crouched near to Jaramel so my voice would not carry on the still night air.
“Jaramel,” I urged, “something approaches us from above and behind. Carefully, and slowly, look into the darkness and discover its origins.”
As Jaramel nodded I turned to Baram who was now eyeing the night with new found suspicion.
“Where is your weapon?” I enquired, seeing that he was armed only with the spoon that he had been using to stir with!
“It lies on against a rock near to our horses,” he responded worriedly.
“Then retrieve it now, but do it slowly,” I caution
ed.
As Baram moved to collect his battleaxe, I turned back to the mage.
“I see nothing,” said Jaramel in answer to my thoughts, “are you sure you are not mista...Wait…I see something… THEY ARE COMING!”
With time for caution spent, I grabbed the hilt of my sword at the same time as snatching a burning log from the fire. I did not share Jaramel’s affinity with the night, so by doing this, I at least stood a chance of seeing our foes.
I stood as fast as my legs would allow and called out Baram’s name in warning. Now with sword drawn, and fiery torch held out towards to the night, I awaited the onslaught that must surely follow.
In the very next instance the roar of numerous thunderous battle cries rang out from all around us, they bellowed so terrible that they planted a seed of fear in my mind concerning the coming moments. Then, as several large impacting thuds shook the earth, I desperately scanned the blackness in front of me as I tried to discover the positions of the attackers who had abandoned their places on the sloping rocks above.
As I strained my eyes to see beyond the glare of my improvised torch, I called out Baram’s name once again. Any moment now and our assailants would be upon us. With Jaramel standing behind me, I needed Baram’s strength to shield our left. After all, a circle of three was better than one of two!
But a worrying cry to my left sent my head spinning, just as a mass of black fur came hurtling out of the night towards us! Then in all the glory of time slowed, I watched as the shape crashed through our fire to send a cascading shower of burning embers into the night, before then rolling to a stop in a crumpled heap a short distance away…I looked on in disbelief. It was Baram.
My anger then got the better of me, and with a rush of adrenaline, I foolishly abandoned my position by Jaramel’s side in favour of yelling a battle cry of my own and dashing blindly forwards into the night.
Taragon Stein: The Search For The Soul Crystal Page 42