The Ascension of Karrak

by Robert J Marsters

  “What are they doing here, Lawton? There’s nothing for days in any direction and, by the looks of things, they’re headed straight for Shaleford Forest, our forest.”

  “Well I’d be inclined to agree with you on their direction, but I have no idea as to their intention, Poom.”

  “Well they’ll reach the forest by tomorrow night as they’re so slow, so I say we go ahead, get some rest and wait for them to catch up. Once they reach the forest we’ll question them and find out what they want.”

  “You see, Poom, you can think when you have to, not once did you say ambush or attack.”

  “I’ll attack you if you’re not careful.”

  “Of course you will, of course you will,” replied Lawton wrapping his arm around his friend and rubbing the top of his head, “Wouldn’t have it any other way, need a spear?”

  ***

  “What do you mean he knows?!” exclaimed Xarran.

  “Exactly what I said. He knows,” replied Harley.

  “But how does he know, you told him didn’t you? To get into his good books,” said Drake.

  “I never told him anything, Mad, he already knew. He’s known for months.”

  “Don’t call me Mad. It’s Drake. Just call me Drake.”

  “It makes sense though, I mean that he already knew. We couldn’t have gotten away with this unless they had left us alone, we would’ve been discovered by now, surely?”

  “Thank you, Alexander. At last, somebody can see sense,” said Harley.

  “So are they going to let us carry on then?” asked Xarran.

  “Yes,” replied Harley, “but Master Emnor has insisted that he be present before we conduct any tests in future, to make sure that it’s safe.”

  “We always make sure that it’s safe,” stated Alex.

  “Oh really?” asked Harley, “How long did you say it took you to repair the wall and the floor?”

  “He’s got a point I suppose,” muttered Drake.

  The door opened and the boys stood to attention as Emnor entered, what they thought, was their secret room. “Morning, boys, how are you getting on. Anything exciting?” he asked.

  They cast furtive glances at one another, unsure of how to answer. Emnor looked from one to another, eyebrows raised in anticipation of some sort of response.

  Harley, now used to Emnor’s ways, stepped forward. “We have been experimenting with the suitability of different metals for certain spells, Master Emnor. Would you like to see?”

  “Indeed I would, but first I have a question. Would your research stretch to the imbuing of a staff as easily as it is to a wand?”

  The four conspirators grinned at one another. It seemed as if they were going to enjoy the involvement of Master Emnor in their research, for the grin on his face was as big, if not bigger, than theirs.

  Emnor said very little as the enthusiastic band turned their explanation into a full blown presentation of their achievements, even dodging searching questions as they attempted to receive any sign of approval he may have. He would simply nod or stroke his beard and fix one of them with a gaze as a sign for them to continue, which they did with fervour, their energy seemingly inexhaustible.

  Two hours passed fleetingly and Emnor had deduced that these mere novices possessed more magical knowledge than some wizards that were closer to his age. He had seen and heard enough. “Gentlemen…” he began, “…it is obvious that your research has gleaned many possibilities, and the demonstrations you have performed with your wands is most impressive, but in order for you to progress even further, your ideas must be bigger.” Holding out his hand, palm facing upwards he closed his eyes and mumbled a few words. A wooden staff appeared, perfectly balanced across his hand. Thrusting the staff toward Drake he bluntly asked, “What can you do with that?”

  Without hesitation Drake grabbed the staff and held it high in the air. “Easy,” he announced, and instantly turned it to ash.

  The others never flinched, much to Emnor’s surprise.

  “I meant something constructive,” sighed Emnor.

  “Not possible with wood I’m afraid, Master Emnor,” said Alexander, “far too brittle you see?”

  “Well you could have mentioned that earlier.”

  “We did, Master Emnor, different metals, different spells, remember?” Xarran pointed out, regretting his attitude almost immediately.

  “Mind your manners, Xarran.” But the reprimand had come not from Emnor, but from Harley, who had the utmost respect for his mentor.

  Xarran dropped his head forward, “My apologies, Master.”

  “No harm done, Xarran, we all get a little carried away at times,” said Emnor, patting Xarran on the shoulder, “So what material would be suitable?” he asked.

  “That depends on what your primary magic will be, Master,” answered Alexander.

  “Let’s just say it must be suitable for all types of elemental magic.”

  The young mens’ eyes grew wide with excitement. This was something that they had discussed many times, but had not dared to attempt. A wand would not withstand the imbuing of more than one type of magic, but a staff? That idea had not entered their minds. They began to babble at one another, “Gold, platinum, brass, silver, pewter, copper,” all suggestions relevant to a particular type of magic.

  Emnor held up his hand and a hush fell upon the group. “If each metal were to be set as a layer in order to construct the staff, would that work?” he asked.

  “Too heavy,” answered Alexander.

  “A central core of one metal, enhanced with stones and surrounded by the other metals, as filigrees could sustain the staff’s integrity,” suggested Harley.

  “What length would it need to be, Master Emnor?” asked Drake.

  Emnor hadn’t given this any thought and stood up, arms outstretched. “Six feet?” he asked, raising his eyebrows inquisitively.

  His pupils looked at one another, nodding in agreement.

  “I’ll leave it in your capable hands then,” said Emnor. “Oh, just one more thing, I need you to make a setting for this.” Reaching inside his robes he drew out a small velvet pouch and placed it on the table in front of him. “It needs to be fastened to a chain about eighteen inches long, gold preferably. Take care of it for me would you, and look after it, it is quite valuable.” Slipping his fingers into the pouch he removed the Heart of Ziniphar. Emnor winked at Harley, turned quickly, and left the room.

  ***

  The roar of the wind was almost deafening. Tree boughs bent, dust blew around them and even the water in the nearby river flowed in an unnatural direction, away from its banks.

  “For House Dunbar,” roared Jared, as the boulder before him exploded into tiny, gravel-sized pieces that were strewn in a twenty-foot radius.

  “He’s getting really good at this boulder smashing, don’t you think, Grubb?” said Lodren.

  “Yeah I suppose so. If any boulders, rocks or stones attack us, they won’t know what hit ‘em,” answered Grubb.

  “Why does he shout at them before he blows them up?” asked Faylore.

  “I believe it helps him focus his energy,” answered Hannock.

  “How strange… does he not like boulders, only he seems to destroy quite a few of them?”

  “Can’t stand them, Your Majesty, stubbed his toe as a child you see and has never forgiven them since,” replied Hannock. Faylore was used to him now and just raised her eyebrows in response. “Well done, your Highness, another one bites the dust, or should I say, becomes dust?” called Hannock, chuckling at his own witticism.

  Jared approached them, brushing the dust from his tunic. “How long before we eat, Lodren?” he asked.

  “Half an hour or so, Mr Jared,” answered Lodren “but as you’re obviously hungry, have this to keep you going,” and handed him a platter with sliced apples and cheese.

  “I swear you’re a mind reader, my dear Nibby, thank you.”

  “Well that’s why I’m here, to look after you lot.”


  “Didn’t offer me any apples and cheese,” mumbled Grubb under his breath, forgetting how acute Lodren’s hearing was.

  “Well if you’d said you were hungry, I would have. I’m not really a mind reader you know,” snapped Lodren. Turning to the provisions wagon, he grabbed a platter and slapped a lump of cheese on it, along with an apple. “Here,” he said, thrusting it toward Grubb, “now stop moaning.”

  Grubb took the platter, head lowered, “Thank you, Sir, much obliged Sir,” he chuntered.

  Hannock, watching the scene, was highly amused and had to stop himself from asking where his cheese and apples were, fearing that this would put poor Lodren back into his depressive state of a few days prior.

  “You are becoming most proficient with your magic, Jared,” said Faylore.

  “I wish I had no need of it, unfortunately something tells me that it must serve its purpose, when the time is right.”

  “And what would that purpose be?” she asked.

  “I wish I knew, Your Majesty, I wish I knew,” he replied.

  “Well, we’ve been fortunate so far. On the road for a week and nobody has attacked us yet,” said Hannock.

  “That’s a blessing I suppose,” replied Jared.

  “What about the Gerrowliens, Faylore, do you think they’ll attack at some point?” asked Hannock.

  “Oh no, they are far too civilised, they would never ambush anyone. They always have the decency to tell you they’re going to kill you before they do so,” she replied.

  “How polite of them!” exclaimed Hannock.

  “Don’t worry, Charles, we may not even meet them if we behave respectfully in their lands.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it, or don’t. You know that as soon as we get near Shaleford Forest, they’ll show up, bein’ all pompous and arrogant, bloody Growlies.” Grubb was making it quite clear that he was not a fan of this, as yet, elusive race.

  “You must not call them that, Grubb, you know they don’t like it,” advised Faylore.

  “Don’t care what they like or don’t like,” said Grubb gruffly and snorted.

  “We will be entering their homelands and you must show them the same respect that we showed you when we first met in your cavern,” said Faylore.

  “S’pose you’re right,” Grubb could not argue with Faylore’s logic.

  “So when will we reach Shaleford Forest?”

  “Before nightfall, Mr Jared, you don’t want to get there after dark… that’s when the Hissthaar come out. As long as your campfire is set before that, they won’t come near.”

  “Who are the Hissthaar, Lodren?”

  “I’ll tell you later, Mr Jared, lunch is nearly ready, don’t want it to spoil do we?” answered Lodren, noticeably unnerved by the subject.

  Repacking the carts with the few items that Lodren had needed, they resumed their journey until, well before dusk, they could see in the distance, the edge of the treeline that was Shaleford Forest.

  “This is where the fun starts,” said Grubb, stroking Buster’s neck as if the pony understood him.

  CHAPTER 15

  Karrak stood at the entrance of his cave. As usual his pets slinked around, but had become wary of getting too close for fear of ending up as a meal for the others. The only one to venture near was Barden. Was there still a trace of his consciousness present within the twisted body of the grotesque beast? Karrak had toyed with the idea of attempting a reversal spell, but only in order for him to further torture Barden. How much more pain could he inflict without killing either the beast or the wizard should the reversal be successful before, once again, twisting him to his animalistic state.

  His thoughts were soon interrupted. A few yards from his cave there was a crackling noise and then, what appeared to be, a small storm cloud appeared with mini lightning bolts striking within it. It grew larger until, with a loud crack, a cowled figure stood calmly before him. As this was happening there were other strange events, clouds of smoke of red, green or black, shimmering as if the light were bending and apparitions, ghosts or spectres that one could see through, but all with the same result. Wherever an anomaly had occurred, a cloaked figure now stood, twenty in total. These were to be Karrak’s allies, his disciples.

  Karrak gestured toward the cave entrance. His guests remained stationary for a time, unnerved by the strange pack of beasts between themselves and their suggested destination. “My friends, I thank you for attending, shall we step inside? Trust me it is far more than at first it appears. Do not worry about them, just my guards, an alarm call of sorts,” he assured. He waved his hand gently toward his pets and they scampered away knowing what came next should they not. His guests entered the cave at a leisurely pace, their host following closely behind.

  Karrak had met them all in turn, relating his personal tale of banishment from his homeland for simply not accepting another’s rules. Playing on the feelings of the assembly, not looking for sympathy, but making it appear that he was persecuted merely because his powers were misunderstood, as were theirs, had enticed them to the gathering. Now, before these likeminded individuals he could finally begin to put his plans in motion.

  He began his rehearsed speech. “We are more powerful than they, my friends. Why should we be governed and made to serve them? We should be the ones who are to govern and they should be the ones to serve us. Not because we can, but because we should. Their pointless wars not only cost countless lives, it costs far too much coin. Paying smiths, armourers and fletchers obscene amounts of gold in order to settle some petty squabble over lands or pride is arrogant and unnecessary. We could rule not only these lands, but the entire world, putting an end to war, making fortunes for ourselves and living by our own rules, the rules befitting the most powerful sorcerers in the world.”

  “Lord Karrak. It is a grand scheme indeed but there are very few of us, how are we to defeat armies?” asked one of the gathering.

  “I can understand your concerns, my friend, but we need only to achieve one goal, in order for any one of us to stand against one hundred, however well-armed they may be.”

  “And that goal would be…?”

  “The acquisition of the Elixian Soul. If I have that, we shall be unstoppable.”

  “If you have it?”

  “I am, my friend, the only one who can wield the power of the Soul.”

  “Where do we find this Soul?”

  “That, my friend, is the answer I do not have.”

  “And, if we were to make this discovery. What then, would prevent one of us from taking this Soul for ourselves?”

  Karrak paused. Running his fingers through his hair, he raised himself to his full height and spoke slowly, to ensure that they heed his warning. “Trust me when I say this. You would be destroyed by its properties. Join me and I shall share its power with you. No more would you answer to any mere mortal. Your path shall be of your own choosing, forged as one would forge the links of a chain, and as short, or long, as you wish it to be.”

  The questioning sorcerer stared at Karrak briefly before he spoke. “My name is Darooq, and I shall join you, Lord Karrak.”

  Karrak held up his hand. “In order for this to be successful, Darooq, nobody shall join me. They must serve me.”

  Darooq tilted his head to one side for a moment and studied the impressive Karrak. “In that case, Lord Karrak, I am at your service,” and taking a knee, he bowed to his new master.

  In turn, all present, followed suit.

  ***

  Emnor studied the setting in which the Heart of Ziniphar had been placed. Solid gold with a chain to match, it was a most beautiful piece of craftsmanship.

  “We didn’t think you’d want it too fancy, Master Emnor, your robes are fairly plain and we thought a more subdued look would be far better.

  “What? Oh no, no it’s not for me… but it is perfect,” he replied.

  “Not for you? Master Emnor, do you realise how much that thing’s worth?” asked Drake.

>   “More than you can imagine, dear boy, far more in fact,” Emnor replied, still examining the jewel and its new setting.

  Harley, far more used to his mentor’s ways gave Drake a gentle kick under the bench. Drake looked up and mouthed ‘What?’ not understanding what he had done wrong. Harley rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “Tell me, gentlemen, how are you faring with that staff I suggested?”

  Xarran became a little excited and hurried to the cupboard in the corner of the room. “It’s not quite finished, Master Emnor, but we’re more than half way,” he said. Removing an oilcloth-wrapped object and placing it on the bench, he gingerly revealed their creation. Exactly six feet in length, the core of the staff was a slender platinum rod, inset with topaz and amber. Gold filigrees had been fused along the entire length, filigrees so fine that they looked as frail as a spider’s web despite the jewels that they housed. Emnor, unable to contain himself, immediately reached out to take the staff.

  Alexander grabbed his wrist before he could clasp his hand around it. “No, Sir, it’s not finished. We’re still working on its construction and it’s not imbued with any magics yet so is still very fragile. Grip it too hard and the outer layers could shatter. Once it’s completed however, you’ll be able to smash through doors, without using magic if you need to.”

  “But how is that possible if its construction is so delicate?” asked Emnor.

  “The whole becomes greater than the sum of its parts, Master. You must have heard of that?” said Xarran smugly.

  “Well, yes, I suppose so, but I never believed that rule could apply to the manufacture of a staff,” answered Emnor.

  They had had their glory and Harley decided that it was time for him to step in. “Master Emnor, there is still much to be done, other metals to add and maybe a few different gems before it can be imbued… and then of course, it will need to be tested.”