“Trust me, Jared, best not to ask. He has something in mind I’m sure, he’ll be back soon,” said Emnor.
Yello hadn’t gone far before he sat on the ground and began to ferret through his trusty bag. Taking out a small stand, he placed it on a flat rock and, muttering a few words, conjured a magical blue flame that appeared beneath it. It was fascinating to watch, for the flame needed no fuel as it hovered beneath the stand. He then produced a small glass jar and half filled it with plain water before placing it above the heat of the flame and, once more, delved into his bag.
Emnor and the others, unsure of exactly what Yello was doing, discussed the grisly events that had taken place in Reiggan. Emnor explained how ruthless the attackers had been and that if Yello had not been interred by rubble, he too would have surely perished. Almost as if he had heard his name, Yello returned.
He passed them without a word and stood over Faylore and Jendilomin, who still remained seated on the ground. “Queen Faylore, I am Yellodius Tarrock, a friend. Would you allow my help with your sister’s grief?”
“Why would I allow you to help my sister grieve? She can manage it by herself. Go away! Jared, make him go away,” she called.
“Oh crap. What’s he said to her?” mumbled Jared as he hurried across to them.
Yello turned to him as he approached. “I…?” he began, but Jared held up his hand, convinced that he already knew how Yello had attempted to begin the conversation with Faylore.
“Just say what you mean. Forget all the ‘may I’, ‘would you’ crap. Ask a question bluntly, make a statement blatantly, got it?”
Yello smiled at him. “Got it,” he replied.
“He’s not going away, Jared! He’s still here,” said Faylore.
“He wants to help you make Jendilomin feel better.”
“Well, why didn’t he just say that?” she replied.
With Jared’s help, Yello was allowed to administer a tonic and, within minutes, Jendilomin had stopped sobbing and was chatting pleasantly with Faylore. Yello, who had sat on the ground beside Jendilomin, now began to rise, but stumbled slightly, spilling the topmost contents of his bag onto the floor beside him. The only person who noticed was Harley, and what he noticed was the Bolinium root.
Harley intercepted Yello before he could reach Emnor. “I saw that,” he said.
“Saw what, Harley?” asked Yello, feigning ignorance.
“The Bolinium root,” replied Harley. “Yello, you never…!” he gasped.
“Sometimes, very rarely I might add, one has to bend the rules a bit. We don’t have time to waste on a weeping white witch, Harley. You’ll understand… when you’re a bit older,” said Yello, patting him on the shoulder and hobbling away as quickly as his wounded leg would allow.
CHAPTER 5
Standing high on the mountainside, Karrak surveyed the view of Merrsdan Castle nestled in the valley far below him. It was a typical construction. High, fortified walls, guard towers with archery slots and a wooden drawbridge that, when lowered, covered the expanse of the deep moat. His victory, it seemed, would be easier than he had anticipated. Normally, the protection offered by the castle’s defences would have been quite sufficient to repel any armed invader or usurper. The thickness of the stone and the strength of the timbers, however, would offer little resistance against as powerful a sorcerer as Karrak and a wry grin was upon his lips as he gazed upon, what would be, his greatest conquest to date.
The snow-covered peak on which he stood would provide him with an array of natural projectiles. Surrounded by rock, snow and ice, it would take little effort to use these against his targeted objective. Karrak glanced at Darooq, who bowed his head immediately, unlike the rest of Karrak’s followers.
Darooq had herded them into the monastery at Karrak’s behest and there they had all been transformed into mindless drones. Not one had resisted, having foolishly trusted both him and their master, Karrak. Now enslaved, they stood silently. Their appearance gave little indication of their mindless enslavement. Karrak’s skill in twisting the minds of others had grown immensely, leaving few tell-tale deformities on his victims as testament to the pain they had endured during the process. There was a slight twist of a lip or the drooping of an eye, noticeable on a few, but little more.
The silence around Karrak was broken by the howling wind that whipped the snow flurries around them into a frenzy, causing his transformed, sub-human beasts to whimper as the cold penetrated their hairless hides. As always, Barden, collar still firmly in place, was at the head of the pack.
Conquering the king of the largest castle in the northern territories would, however, send the message that he intended. His domination of the world had begun. After this, all would be given an ultimatum: Bow down to him, or be destroyed.
“It is said that the King of Merrsdan has five thousand soldiers at his command, my lord.”
Karrak looked deep into Darooq’s eyes, “It will not be enough, Darooq. Should I be lenient? Should I offer him the chance to surrender unconditionally?”
“No, my lord,” replied Darooq. “Five thousand is too great a number. You cannot ensure loyalty from so many before you have the opportunity to bring them to the fold, the slightest treachery may endanger you.”
“But is that not what you want, Darooq? For me to fail?” asked Karrak. “When first we met, it was your belief that my failure was imminent and that once removed, you would seize my power for your own ends. Or am I mistaken?”
“I shall not lie, my lord, it was my intent, initially. But now, having witnessed your power, I believe that it would be beyond my wildest dreams to achieve in a lifetime, that which you could, in the blink of an eye.”
“Once I would have killed you for such an admission, Darooq…” said Karrak, approaching him, “… but your loyalty is true. I no longer need to torture those around me to attain that loyalty, a wave of my hand is enough.” Karrak raised his hand but Darooq never flinched, he simply gazed into the jet-black eyes of his master. His devotion was absolute and he believed with all his heart that if Karrak felt it necessary to enslave him as he had the others, he would embrace his decision without question. Karrak lowered his hand. “No, my friend, you shall remain Darooq, trusted and loyal friend of Lord Karrak.”
“Thank you, my lord,” replied Darooq, bowing again.
Facing the castle, Karrak raised his arms. His followers were now spread equally to either side of him, forming a line. They imitated his actions, causing the wind to grow stronger and the sorcerers’ robes to flap wildly around them. Huge chunks of ice began to break away from the mountainside and float above them until the sorcerers threw their arms forward in unison. The frozen missiles were flung through the air as easily as a man would hurl a small pebble, and crashed into the castle below, destroying many of its fortifications and crushing hundreds of soldiers. Karrak lowered his arms and pointed at the castle far below. His followers began to disappear in clouds of smoke or crackles and sparks.
Amid the onslaught, the soldiers ignored them at first as they materialised within the castle walls. They had no idea who had attacked them or why, but within seconds, the realisation was there as the sorcerers, without provocation, resumed their attack. The first troops, unaware of their impending doom, were incinerated before they had time to understand their situation. Others were frozen solid mid-motion before unbalancing and toppling forward or back, shattering into pieces.
Now identifying their enemy, the remainder began to charge at the sorcerers but were literally blown into the air before, moments later, crashing back down to earth, their bodies broken and their lives extinguished. The sorcerers moved forward, instantly killing anyone in their path. Many soldiers accepted the futility of their attempted defence and tried to flee, tried to escape the barbarous insanity, but for them, there was no hope, none were spared. There was no pause during the relentless attack. Incinerations, decapitations and eviscerations continued until every soldier and citizen of Merrsdan was eradicat
ed. The only survivors, the royal family, who were subsequently banished in order that they might spread the word of Karrak’s intentions.
Karrak strolled through the castle grounds with Darooq at his heel as he glanced, emotionless, at the numerous corpses that now littered the ground. Making his way to the throne room, he climbed the steps and brushed the dust from the royal seat, then lowered himself slowly into it. “What do you think, Darooq? Does it suit me?” he asked. “Should I appear as a king to my followers? Should I wear royal robes around my shoulders and a crown upon my head?”
“No, my lord,” replied Darooq. “Such things are merely the vanity of mortal men. Robes and crowns are to command authority. You have no need of trinkets or finery, your presence is enough.”
Darooq looked, once again, into Karrak’s black, soulless eyes. His features had begun to change with the influence of the Elixian Soul. His face was darker, his skin no longer showing any natural pigment, appearing more like a shadow… a living shadow.
***
Jared woke and raised his hand to his eyes, Gamlawn seemed very different now as the brilliant sunshine flooded the lea. He saw that it would be difficult for anyone to conceive the threat that the entire world would soon face if they were in this serene, idyllic setting. Even the transformed beings that had become trees no longer seemed imposing, less gnarled and twisted, the face-like growths appearing more peaceful and overall, smoother.
“So, what’s the plan, Your Highness?”
Jared was in a world of his own as he looked up at Hannock, the question not registering. “Oh… morning Hannock.”
“Yes, Jared, it is. So, what’s the plan?” repeated his friend.
“I’ve only just opened my eyes, Hannock. At least allow me to wake up properly. Is everyone okay?”
“Yes, Jared, everyone’s fine. Get up. Things to do and all that.”
Jared rose slowly. He had slept more soundly than he had in weeks yet, for some strange reason, still felt exhausted.
“Are you alright, Jared?” asked Hannock. “You look a bit wobbly.”
“Of course, I’m alright,” laughed Jared. “Probably just an aftereffect of being turned into a tree.”
Emnor watched the scene closely, “Yello,” he muttered, “I think it’s time we removed the prince from this place.”
Yello knew that there was more to Emnor’s statement than it would first appear, but did not question it.
The forest nymphs, conversing through Drake, had insisted that they be allowed to care for Jendilomin. Faylore, convinced that they would allow no harm to come to her sister, agreed with their proposal and joined the others as they headed back toward Cheadleford. Yello, trying his best, limped alongside Emnor but it was not long before the pair fell behind a little.
“What was all the rush to get Jared out of that place, Emnor?”
“Well, you felt the power of it, Yello. He was absorbing it faster than I’ve ever witnessed,” replied Emnor.
“So he has a little help then?” asked Yello. “What is it?”
“The Heart of Ziniphar,” replied Emnor.
“Hah, no wonder he went a bit shaky. Is he carrying it?” chuckled Yello.
“On a chain around his neck. Lovely gold setting,” replied Emnor. “The boys made it for him.”
“But does he know what it truly is, Emnor? Does he know what it’s capable of?”
“Good lord, no! If he did, he’d refuse to wear it. He’s the sort of fellow who’d say it was an unfair advantage. Noble by nature that one, not simply by birth.”
“He may need that advantage if one day he’s to face his brother, alone.”
Reaching Cheadleford Village, they began to gather their belongings. Jared suggested that they rest for a while, but Emnor would not hear of it, “We shall not linger here for any longer than is necessary, Jared. Get your things together, we leave for Reiggan at once.”
The Gerrowliens seemed uneasy. They were wary of magic and its use and had no intention of visiting a wizard fortress. “You obviously have everything in hand,” announced Poom. “We’ll let you get on with it,” he added nervously. “We better head home now, make sure everything’s okay. I am sure you understand?”
“Of course, my friends,” replied Jared. “Thank you for all your help. Hopefully our paths will cross again,” he added, shaking hands with Lawton and Poom.
“If you need our aid, you know where to find us,” said Lawton.
In the blink of an eye, the Gerrowliens were gone.
***
Reaching Reiggan, Hannock was amazed at how much restoration the wizards had achieved in such a short space of time. The horrors that had greeted him when they had first entered, however, had not left him. There were still tell-tale bloodstains visible, bloodstains that were either missed, or deliberately omitted.
Emnor approached Jared. “Time to resume your training, Your Highness,” he announced.
“Training? I don’t have time for training, Emnor,” exclaimed Jared. “I need to find Karrak!”
“And when you do, you will also need to be ready to face him. At the moment, you are not,” replied Emnor.
“My magic is strong enough, and if all else fails, I have this,” said Jared, drawing his sword.
“And we also have this,” added Hannock, raising the golden crossbow.
Emnor laughed as he eyed the weapons that the Borellians were now brandishing. “And very pretty they are…” he said, “… if you are able to get close enough to Karrak in order to use them. Drake,” he called, glancing across at the young wizard, “take them away, would you, they won’t be needed for now.”
Drake held out his hands and the weapons were suddenly torn from the hands of Jared and Hannock. Catching them, Drake let out a long, high-pitched whistle. Nestling the crossbow, he looked at Hannock. “Got some weight in it, hasn’t it, soldier boy!”
“As I said, Jared,” reiterated Emnor, “you’ll need to be ready.”
Jared, Hannock and the others were now safely ensconced in Reiggan. Emnor had secured the stone entrance doors and, despite Jared’s protestations, refused to open them until Jared could prove to him that his power would offer him a reasonable defence against Karrak.
Hannock spent his time on target practise with the crossbow; the boys continued with restorations; Lodren kept them fed and Grubb… was Grubb. Faylore it seemed, was the only one who was at ease with her captivity. She wandered the halls of Reiggan, her Thedarian inquisitiveness fuelled by the wonders she discovered and almost drove the boys to distraction. She had resumed her: ‘What’s this? What’s that? What does it do?’ phase. A phase that seemed endless. At one point, Drake forgot he was talking to a queen, giving way to an outburst of frustration. “It’s a bloody vase!” he bellowed, before receiving a very loud smack around the back of the head from Yello. “Sorry, sorry… I’m really sorry,” he added quickly, attempting to ease the pain by rubbing his scalp vigorously.
Grubb had noticed Yello still limping on his wounded leg. He would not see anyone suffer, and although not overly fond of the old wizard, he sidled over to him. “Might be able to do something with that for ye, if ye want me to, that is.”
Yello looked down at Grubb, who was now facing the ground and shuffling his feet. “I don’t want to impose, Grubb,” replied Yello. “But if you could, I’d be very grateful. I actually said when I tried to fix it myself that a Vikkery could do it far better.”
“Sit down,” instructed Grubb. “It’ll only take a minute or two. And you were right… we can do it better.”
Grubb’s hands began to glow faintly as he placed them on Yello’s wounded leg. His willing patient sighed with the relief that was produced by Grubb’s healing touch. The boys looked on in awe. They all had basic healing skills, but nothing as impressive as the natural healing touch of the Vikkery. Faylore had once been mortally wounded by a zingaard, a huge, ferocious beast, but had been revived from the brink of death by Grubb. She glanced over with disinterest
, as Grubb treated Yello.
***
Emnor was attempting to explain to Jared the relocation spell that the wizards so often used, when Faylore approached them, “Jared,” she announced, “I need to visit my homeland.”
“What! Right now?” asked Jared, a little confused and taken aback by her statement.
“Not immediately,” she replied, “I can wait a few minutes.” To Faylore, a few minutes was almost a lifetime. She was impatient but never rude and made her opinion known if she was kept waiting. Never voiced, her actions spoke volumes, sighing and tapping her foot being the most obvious signs of her displeasure.
Emnor gave Jared a knowing look. “This can wait, Jared,” he said, “I suggest you take care of her Majesty first.”
“Can’t you wait until tomorrow, Faylore?” asked Jared. “We would be better prepared for the journey if you could.”
“You won’t need to be ready, Jared,” she replied. “I’m going alone.”
“Faylore, it’s not safe…” began Jared.
“I have my bow and my sword. I need no other protection,” she sighed.
“How about a bit of company then?” asked Lodren. “I’d love to see your homeland, if you don’t mind me tagging along, that is.”
“Don’t forget me,” added Grubb. “Who’s gonna patch you up if ye get in another scrape with some beastie?”
It was evident to Faylore that neither of the volunteers was about to take ‘no’ for an answer. She dismissed all objections by Emnor and Jared but did agree that she, Grubb and Lodren would allow themselves to be relocated to the foot of the mountain to save time. The only stipulation came from Grubb; Buster had to go with them. There seemed no urgency for Faylore’s home visit, but once she had decided, there was no changing her mind. Unsure of how long it would take, she promised that she would contact them within a few weeks. Karrak’s whereabouts were a mystery. The trail was cold and, for now, there was nothing to be done but wait for the next rumour of evil goings-on to surface.
The Bane of Karrak_Ascension II of III Page 6