“But of course, my dear Harley. Will you require me for the testing?”
Drake looked a little worried at this point, he had always tested the wands and would have felt most aggrieved should he be ousted when it came to testing their most adventurous creation to date, but his fears were soon allayed.
“No, Master Emnor. Mad… erm, I mean Drake, knows the testing process. He’s done it countless times, so better that he does it, you know, until we know it’s safe for you to use,” replied Harley.
Drake’s expression now changed. This thing was much bigger than any wand he had tested and he had temporarily forgotten the destruction of the floor, and the wall… oh bugger, he thought, maybe he should let the Head of the Administration test his own staff. But it was too late, he had already been ‘volunteered’.
***
Lodren had the campfire roaring in no time. The weather had remained dry and so had the wood that they had collected from the edge of the forest, found lying on the ground. “We made good time today, Mr Hannock. We’ve still got a good hour of daylight left and I’m already set to make a nice big meal for us all.”
“Yes, not too bad, and it’ll give the horses a chance for a good rest as well. Oh my word, just look at him!” Hannock pointed across at Grubb who was with Buster, stroking his mane and kissing his nose. “When’s the wedding then, Grubb,” he asked laughing.
Grubb gave one of his best scowls. “Get stuffed, Hannock.”
“You shouldn’t tease him, Charles, it’s not polite. Have you never had a pet?” Faylore asked.
“I had a chicken once,” answered Hannock.
“You had it for two days, Hannock, two days… and then you ate it!” said Jared.
“Oh yes, yes I did. It really was a delicious pet,” said Hannock, his eyes glazed in reminiscence.
Jared made his way toward Lodren. Stopping in front of him, he folded his arms. “Tell me about the Hissthaar, Lodren, and no dodging the question this time. Who are they?”
“Oh you really should stay away from them, nasty creatures, not a nice one amongst them.”
Hannock drew his sword instinctively. The question had been answered, not by Lodren or any other of the companions but by a deep growling voice somewhere outside the camp. “Show yourself. I am captain of the guard of Borell. If you have any ill intent I promise I shall cut you down faster than you can blink,” shouted Hannock.
“Oh really?” came the reply, “Just how fast are you then, Captain?”
“Show yourself and you’ll find out,” answered Hannock.
“Bloody growlies, I told ye, didn’t I tell ye?” hissed Grubb.
The voice spoke again, but this time the words were not directed at them. “Did you hear that, Poom, he thinks he’s fast.”
“Yes, but they all do don’t they, when they don’t even know what fast is, Lawton.”
“I have an idea, Poom. Why don’t you show this captain fellow what fast is? Then he might just have a bit of a rethink… Poom, put the spear down you won’t be needing that.”
“But, Lawton, I just thought that maybe…”
“There you go again, Poom, trying to think. It’s just a demonstration, you don’t need to kill anyone… well not yet anyway.”
“Why is it that whenever I begin to enjoy myself, you stop me? I’m not that old yet.”
“Yes you are, but you’re the only one that doesn’t realise it. At least be mature about this.”
“Alright, alright, what do you want me to do?”
“Just go into the camp, say hello, and come straight back.”
The fact that they hadn’t even lowered their voices had concerned Hannock slightly and he now stood, heel dug firmly into the ground, ready to strike anything that approached aggressively. Scanning the trees before him he saw nothing move. He had lost one eye, but the other still worked perfectly, but as he blinked there was a slight breath of wind. As he opened his eye, no more than three inches from his face was something he was not expecting. A head much larger than his with yellow catlike eyes and gold and black striped fur surrounding a mouth full of razor sharp teeth with canines that were at least three inches long. Before he could react it gave a roar so deep and loud that he felt it reverberate in his chest. He swung his sword as hard as he could but all that the blade cut was thin air.
“Where did it go? Did you see it!?” asked Hannock.
“I saw something. Well I think I saw something,” answered Jared.
“I thought he said he was fast, Lawton.”
“He did, Poom, I heard it distinctly, he said he was fast.”
“He didn’t seem very fast to me. If I’d wanted to, I could have killed him, even without a spear.”
“Oh I believe you, Poom, I saw it with my own eyes.”
“He didn’t. He’s only got one.”
“The other one probably got bored with going so slowly and moved out for a faster life.”
“What, like in a snail perhaps?” There was a strange noise coming from where the voices were, not snarling or growling nor even snorting but a mixture of all three. What the companions never realised at the time, was that they were actually being laughed at.
“Now, we’ve assessed that old one-eye is no threat, but what about the others, Lawton?”
“Well there’s the one who shouts at rocks and then blows them up. I like him, he’s hilarious.”
“Yes, but I don’t think he wants to do it, his house tells him to do it.”
“Oh yes, dumdum wasn’t it, remember him shouting ‘for my house dumdum’.”
“He’s cracked in the head that one, but I think he’s harmless, Lawton.”
“He does blow things up, Poom, but it takes him ages to do it. You’d be behind him well before he could blow you up.”
“I know, about five miles behind him.” And the strange laughter began again.
“We understand that we are in your lands, but is there really any need to be so rude and insulting?” asked Faylore.
The unknown comedian’s laughter ceased abruptly. Slowly they turned to see Faylore standing right behind them, arms folded, eyebrows raised. The two Gerrowliens, for that is what they were, looked at one another. Poom slapped Lawton on the shoulder. “Now this one…” he said, “… I like.”
“Would you care to join us? Food is being prepared as we speak, and you would be more than welcome,” offered Faylore.
“No thank you,” replied Poom abruptly. “You are meat eaters, and we do not eat the flesh of other beings.”
“I believe you to be Gerrowliens and have heard it said that you do not have an aversion to the consumption of fish,” said Faylore.
Her assumption was perfectly correct. It was a fact she knew to be certain, and the other fact she knew was that, being a feline race, Gerrowliens hated getting wet, therefore fishing would never be on their agenda. To them, fish was a delicacy they rarely had the opportunity to enjoy.
“Well maybe as a gesture, and to show that we bear you no ill will…” began Lawton, noticing that Poom had already started drooling at the thought of fresh fish, the saliva dripping from his chin, “we may…” he said now wiping his own large jowls, “be persuaded to join you, I feel it would be most impolite not to, please, lead on.”
Faylore walked ahead of the two guests, a large grin on her face. She knew that once they tasted Lodren’s cooking, she would almost be able to feed them from her hand.
They headed into camp. The atmosphere was a little tense at first as Lawton gave Poom a ‘don’t you dare start anything’ look, and Jared did exactly the same to Hannock.
Lodren was awestruck as soon as he saw the two Gerrowliens. “Bless me aren’t you handsome,” he said.
Poom held his head high and tilted slightly to one side, then unashamedly replied “Yes… yes we are!”
Grubb however could not take their vanity and stormed off, making the excuse that he needed to feed Buster.
“But you’ve already fed him,” said Jared.
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“He’s had a long day so he can have extra, that okay with you, Your Highness?” He could be heard chuntering away to himself for the next few minutes as formal introductions were made, and Hannock distinctly heard, ‘bloody growlies’ at least twice during Grubb’s rant.
“I don’t think the little one likes us,” said Lawton.
“Oh dear, what a shame, I doubt I’ll sleep a wink tonight through worrying,” replied Poom, pretending to brush a tear from his eye, “someone half the size of my leg doesn’t like me.”
Hannock had perfected sarcasm and Jared would never have believed that there would ever be anyone better, but these two were absolute masters of it and had no hesitation when it came to showing it. Unfortunately, they were also very amusing when they did so and with the exception of Grubb, the companions began to warm to them within minutes.
“Don’t you worry about it, the only one that Grubb likes is his pony, Buster,” said Lodren, trying to lighten the mood.
Lawton gave Poom a knowing look. “Oh dear,” he said, “he’ll like us even less then when we eat it, then.” They were of course, joking, and knew how Grubb would react. Yes, he was away from the group, trying to make it seem that he had no interest, but they all knew he was listening to every word.
He stormed toward the campfire. “Nobody is eating Buster, come on see if you can get past me. I’ll tear you apart, both of ye, with one hand.” Now, if it had been the two-foot tall grumpy Vikkery that had stormed toward them that would have been one thing, but within his first two steps he had transformed into his ten-foot, four-armed roaring alter-ego.
The reaction from the Gerrowliens was not what any of them expected. They fell backwards in absolute fits of laughter as soon as Grubb morphed, laughing so hard that Grubb stopped dead in his tracks.
Poom could barely speak, but somehow blurted out. “Is he always this touchy?” before his next bout of hysterical laughter.
Faylore had been the first to react, closely followed by Jared and Hannock, each with their arms stretched out in front of them, in attempt to calm Grubb.
“They’re joking, Grubb, just joking, they don’t even eat meat,” said Jared hurriedly.
“They only have fish very occasionally,” added Faylore.
The two Gerrowliens laughter stopped abruptly and they looked at one another.
“Oh yes… FISH. How long before it’s ready? I’m starving,” said Lawton, looking expectantly at Lodren.
“It’ll be ready when it’s ready, just have some tea or a biscuit or something to keep you going, shouldn’t be too long,” answered Lodren.
“Yes we know that. But how long is long?” asked Poom.
Lodren put his hands across his face. “It’s like having two Mr Hannocks at the same time. I don’t think even I can take that.”
Sometime later, after their hearty meal, the conversation had become a little more civilised.
“So what are you actually doing here, Prince Jared?” asked Lawton.
“We’re searching for my brother,” answered Jared, slightly reluctant to go into too much detail as to why.
“Oh, did he run away from home?” asked Poom, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.
“No, he escaped… again,” snapped Hannock.
Poom’s expression changed. “I take it he’s not your favourite person then Captain?”
“No, Poom, he is not, but he will be when he’s on the end of my sword.”
“That’s enough, Hannock, more than enough,” said Jared quietly.
“I can see that this is affecting you more than you would have others believe, Your Highness. Your own captain threatens the life of your brother, yet you do not defend your own blood against that threat. Your brother’s crimes must be great indeed but your friendship with Hannock even greater. If we are to be of any help to you, then maybe a little more detail would allow us to judge the extent of our aid,” suggested Lawton.
Jared explained the sordid details of Karrak’s betrayal of everything that he and his father held dear. The Gerrowliens listened intently. The tale of Karrak’s horrific deeds caused Poom to inadvertently growl quietly, but deeply at times, as Lawton patted his arm to calm him.
When the tale was done, Poom sat bolt upright. “This man should die, either at the end of your sword, or the point of my spear, Hannock, driven straight through his black heart.”
“Tell me, Poom, why do you volunteer so readily, when after all, this is not your fight?” asked Jared.
Poom leaned forward. “I don’t like bullies,” he snarled.
“And to be totally honest, any excuse for a fight and Poom will usually be right in the middle of it,” added Lawton.
“That may be the case…” began Poom in his defence “…but I never actually start any trouble do I? I just kind of… finish it, and I’m always on the side of the weak.”
“Most folk stay out of others business and at your age you should have learnt that by now,” said Lawton.
“At my age, that’s choice coming from a relic like you. At least I’m not fat.”
“Very true, Poom, very true. I may have gained a little weight, but at least I don’t have bald patches in my fur, unlike certain Gerrowliens.”
“They’re scars. They aren’t bald patches, they’re scars.”
“More like mange if you ask me,” said Lawton.
“Charming, you’re supposed to be my best friend and you say something like that.”
The pair continued to jibe at one another for the next hour or so, the others just watching in amazement at their most amusing, harmless banter. It was obvious to all that they were the closest of friends.
Lodren persisted with his pampering of their guests until, even Lawton, who had a very healthy appetite, held up his hands in submission at the offer of even more food.
“No thank you, Master Lodren, couldn’t take another bite. Poom, take care of that would you.”
The companions looked at one another, a little bemused. Lawton had made the slightest of gestures with his hand and the faintest of nods toward the edge of the treeline.
“Can’t you do it? I’ve eaten just as much as you have,” pleaded Poom.
“No you haven’t. Just do it, for me… please,” begged Lawton.
Poom sighed and rubbed his stomach. Slowly he reached to his side, wrapping his hand around the shaft of his spear. A strange silence had fallen on them as they had all sensed that something was awry, but what, they knew not.
In the blink of an eye, Poom was on his feet and had launched the spear so quickly that nobody actually saw it leave his hand. There was a high pitched, hissing screech from somewhere just inside the edge of the forest and two seconds later, Poom was gone.
“Should we go after him?” asked Jared.
“What? Oh no leave him to it, he’ll be fine, he loves it to be quite honest. Tries to make out he doesn’t, but he’s a warrior, it’s in his blood and nothing will change him. But he has a good heart, and a more loyal and honourable friend you could never find,” said Lawton.
“I know exactly what you mean,” replied Jared, smiling at Hannock.
Poom returned a few minutes later, wiping his spear on some large leaves he had collected. Checking it in the firelight, he decided his trusty weapon was suitably clean and cast the leaves into the flames.
“How many?” asked Lawton.
“Only four. Got the first one with my spear and took care of the others by hand.”
With this comment he held up the aforementioned hand and, splaying his fingers, revealed his razor sharp claws. Not one member of the companions could help remembering Grubb’s similar display in the inn, on the eve of their departure.
“Four what?” asked Hannock.
“Hissthaar,” replied Poom. “Horrible, nasty, slimy deceitful scumbuckets.”
“Not your favourites then?” asked Hannock, a smirk sneaking across his lips.
Poom had no hesitation in teasing anyone if he was of a mind, but was
never comfortable when the roles were reversed, and the look on his face made this very obvious. “No, far from it,” he replied.
“How did you know they were there?” asked Faylore, “We Thedarians have both excellent hearing and sight, but I did not detect them.”
“The smell of them, dear lady, I could smell them a mile away and so could Poom. We thought they might just slink away once they saw us here, but they had other ideas,” answered Lawton.
“What other ideas?” asked Lodren nervously.
“They were waiting for us to leave. Once we had, they would have attacked.”
“We have nothing of value, as such. Why would they attack?” asked Faylore.
“Food, madam, food,” replied Lawton.
“Well we’d have shared with them, if they just asked,” said Lodren.
Poom began one of his distinctive laughs, “You don’t understand…” he said, “…they didn’t want you to give them food, you were the food!”
A look of dread came upon Lodren’s face as the realisation dawned on him. “They wanted to eat… us?!”
“Are you kidding?” asked Poom “With those arms? One of those would keep a Hissthaar going for a fortnight.”
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” was all Lodren could think of to say, inadvertently picking up his hammer.
Lawton rose from his seat and stretched. “We’ll stay with you tonight and keep guard. We can discuss how best to continue in the morning. You lot just get some sleep, we’ll keep you safe, don’t worry.”
Lodren gulped. “I don’t think I’ll sleep soundly again until I’m safely back in Borell.”
The companions placed their bedrolls on the ground as Faylore, typically, leapt into a tree, followed by the Gerrowliens. Grubb however, had no intention of sleeping. Transforming into the four-armed beast he strode forward, positioning himself at the edge of the camp, staring into the blackness of the forest. “I’ll be buggered if I’m putting my friend’s lives in the hands of a pair of bloody Growlies,” he snarled.
True to his word, Grubb did not stray from his post until dawn broke.
***
“Why don’t you just tell me what I need to know? Join me, Derrin, we need not be enemies.”
The Ascension of Karrak Page 27