The Bane of Karrak_Ascension II of III

by Robert J Marsters

  The Gerrowliens watched with interest, Poom pinching at his nose and shaking his head, “I think I smell water.”

  Lawton was literally slapping himself in the nose, “Work, you stupid thing!” he moaned. “That damned dust has killed my sense of smell completely, I can’t smell anything.”

  “I’m sure of it, the water’s in there,” insisted Poom. “We’ll have to go and take a look.”

  “And what if there are more of those hairy things in there that don’t want us to drink any of it?”

  “I have my spear, and you have yours. Anyway, if there’s too many of them, you can sit on them, can’t you? Nobody would survive that.”

  “Oh, ha ha, very funny! You mean if the smell of you doesn’t kill them first? Or you could bore them to death with one of your war stories.”

  Poom glared at Lawton, “Are we going in there or not? We could stay here and die of thirst if you prefer. I know we’re getting on in years, but you really have become a cynical, miserable old git recently.”

  Poom never waited for a reply and within seconds was standing in front of the bushes through which the beast had scrambled. Inching his way between the branches, he was surprised at how far he was having to travel and had no idea when he would be clear of them. This, combined with what seemed to be a complete blanket of hair that had been shed by the beast, or beasts, perplexed him greatly. Undaunted, he continued until, a few yards ahead, he could see a glimmer of light between the claustrophobic veil of matted hair. He peered through. The cocoon that had been produced around the entrance had muffled the noise beyond, but now he could hear the unmistakeable sound of running water. He waited until his eyes became accustomed to the light and was amazed by the scene.

  He was looking into a large cave through, what seemed to be, the only entrance. The cave had no roof, allowing the sunlight to stream through and a small waterfall trickled down the wall to one side, forming a natural pool at the foot of it. Poom clicked his tongue quietly against the roof of his mouth then ran it across his lips that, even for a feline, felt dry and chapped. For this to happen in the matter of only a day made him realise the desperation of their situation. He stared long and hard at the pool and then turned his attention to the occupants of the cave. He could see the one that he and Lawton had followed, but it was not alone.

  There were at least two dozen of his kind with him and Poom was surprised at how friendly they all seemed to one another as, one by one, they rose from where they were seated, to hug the new arrival. Through the facial hair, he could see bared teeth, but this wasn’t a sign of aggression, they were smiling!

  The beast they had followed was steered toward a rock and made to sit before one of the others pushed something into his hands, grunting as if it were some kind of offering. It held it to its nose and bared its teeth once more before raising it to its mouth. Then Poom realised what it was, food. Not just any food, it was fish! If Poom’s mouth had not been so dry, he was sure that he would have started drooling.

  What was he to do? Should he attack the strange beings and steal their food? Would he have enough of a chance to gather some water before he was outnumbered? Studying them, Poom realised that they were harmless. He could not, in all good conscience, harm another being that showed no aggression toward him and was sure that the race he now gazed upon were nothing but peaceful. He placed his spear on the ground and pushed his way through, staying low to the ground so as not to startle the gathering.

  The first one saw him and let out a yelp, causing the rest to back away and cower against the cave wall. Poom held out his hands in front of him, trying to reassure the cave dwellers that he meant them no harm. “Stay calm, it’s alright,” he said quietly, “I’m not here to harm you. I just need water, that’s all. Water,” he emphasised, pointing firstly to the pool, then to his mouth. There was a slight drop to the cave floor and Poom dropped silently, still holding his hands out to pacify the alarmed occupants. He made his way across to the pool and, uncharacteristically, cupped his hand in order to scoop the water to his lips. Uncharacteristically because cats hate getting wet, even their hands, or more traditionally, paws.

  The individual they had followed seemed to understand that all Poom wanted was to drink and began to nudge his fellow cave dwellers. It realised that Poom meant no harm. He picked up the flat rock on which was placed the fish that he had been presented with. Sneaking slowly forward, he held it at arm’s length toward Poom. Poom took it slowly and nodded in thanks before his host scurried away, still slightly unsure of their uninvited guest. Poom raised the fish to his mouth, surprised by the fact that it was not raw. How had they managed to cook the thing? There was no fire in the cave nor remnants of an earlier one.

  Poom’s host bared his teeth as the Gerrowlien began to eat. It stretched out its arm and made a fist, but its thumb was in the air. Where had it learned to do that? It was actually communicating with him, as primitive as the communication was. Poom suddenly realised that he had left Lawton behind, and he had now been in the cave for some time. Should he go and fetch him perhaps? “Sod him,” mumbled Poom, under his breath. “He can stay outside and stew in his own juice for a while, may make him a bit more appreciative of my efforts.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “We’re getting a little off track, don’t you think, Jared? Does it matter where the Gerrowliens have gone? All we know is that they have. What we need to concentrate on is what our next move will be,” insisted Hannock.

  “Don’t want to go over your royal head, old chap, but Hannock’s right. The Gerrowliens have gone and both Xarran and Alex have buggered off to who knows where in search of water. That leaves the six of us to either wait here until they return or die of thirst if they don’t, which I, for one, have no intention of doing.”

  “There’s only one option open to us then, Yello, we resume our march and hope they catch up with us later,” said Jared.

  Emnor tried to be the voice of reason, again, “March!” he exclaimed. “What do you mean, march? We can barely stand through trying to conserve what little water we have, three of us anyway. We may manage a convincing stumble for a couple of hours but Yello’s leg would halt him in his tracks within minutes. We should wait here. Xarran and Alex will return, I have total faith in them. As for the Gerrowliens, they have proven more than trustworthy. I do not believe for one second that they would abandon us. Whatever they’re up to, I’m sure it’s for the good of us all.”

  “You should listen to him, you know. He’s got more brains than the rest of you put together.” They looked up to see Poom lying on the rocks above them, four large water skins swinging from his hand, “Who needs a drink?”

  They were astounded. Not one of them had heard him approach and now craned their necks, looking behind him. They were, however, bemused by the absence of Lawton.

  “Where’s the big fella?” asked Hannock.

  “Left him behind with our new friends. He’s getting far too fat to keep up with me so I decided it would be quicker to bring the water by myself.” He descended swiftly and handed a water skin to each of his friends, “Drink as much of it as you need, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

  This was the only invitation they needed and they gulped the refreshing water. Poom paid no mind to the fact that a large quantity ran over their dusty faces and was wasted on the dry earth.

  “You found a river then?” enquired Emnor. “Or was it a stream?”

  “Ooh, better than that,” replied Poom, smiling. “Well, kind of, I found a waterfall. Only a small one, I admit, but it runs into a shallow pool within a cave. Keeps it nice and cool. That’s where I met our new friends.”

  “Don’t you mean we?” asked Hannock, a little confused.

  “Oh, you mean old grumpy nuts? No, he hasn’t met them yet. He couldn’t fit through the entrance to the cave, barely got through myself. Might have been easier if there wasn’t all that blasted hair clogging it up.”

  His friends were puzzled by his last
comment, all except Yello, who had a slight smile on his face. “Don’t suppose they introduced themselves to you, did they?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t think they have a language. Not like our common tongue anyway. They do seem quite partial to singing though, if you could call it that.”

  “And they kept hugging one another, I presume?” asked Yello, chuckling.

  “How did you know that? Have you met them before?”

  “It seems that you have gotten closer than I ever have, that’s for sure. They’re gibbonites, Poom. They communicate with song, at least with one another it seems. I’ve studied them for decades, but every time I try to approach them, they scarper. Mind you, I’m glad you’ve found some. I could do with some of that spare hair of theirs.”

  Poom stared at the top of Yello’s head, “You have plenty of hair, why do you need theirs? Listen, if you’re thinking of hunting them, I will not allow it. They are as peaceful a species as I have ever witnessed and…”

  “I have no intention of hunting anything, Poom!” Yello announced loudly, interrupting the Gerrowlien’s rant. “I simply need some of the hair that they shed, I do not need to remove their skins, you stupid cat!”

  “Are you sure?” asked Poom, gripping his spear tightly and glaring at Yello.

  “Positive! Put down the spear, remember what happened the last time you tried that with me?”

  Poom lowered his spear, “Glad to hear it… and yes, I do,” he replied, grinning.

  “Right,” began Jared. “Where’s this waterfall? Can we make it on foot?” he asked.

  “Not advisable, Jared,” replied Poom. “Those… gibbonites…” he said glancing at Yello for approval of his pronunciation. Yello nodded, “… were not the only beasties we came across on the way.”

  Hannock sighed, leaning back on a rock and dropping his head, “Should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy. What now, giant lizard people? Four-headed monsters with razor sharp teeth? Or perhaps something simple like a stampede of swamp beasts?”

  Poom opened his mouth to answer, then realised what Hannock had just asked, “Swamp beasts? There’s hardly any water out here, you berk. How could there be a swamp, let alone any beasts living in it?”

  “Alright, maybe I was a little too precise,” replied Hannock, realising how stupid his last question had been. “Just tell us what you saw,” he sighed.

  “This one’s been out in the sun too long, Jared. He’s getting as bad as the fat one,” laughed Poom. “Anyway, about ten-foot-tall, big claws, covered in hair. Three of them, different colours. Overheard them talking about someone who had some sort of hound as a pet. They seemed terrified to abandon their post for fear of what he might do to them. I’ve never seen them before, but I think you have,” he said, sticking out his bottom lip at Jared whilst leaning on his spear.

  Jared glanced over at Hannock, they both recognised the description, zingaard. Without a word being spoken, Hannock nodded at him. “Where’s a Thedarian when you need one?” he asked, grinning.

  “Can we avoid them?” asked Jared.

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. Yello and Emnor will have to use magic though. No offence, gentlemen, but you’re not exactly light on your feet,” replied Poom.

  Emnor gave Poom a sardonic glance, “You could say that,” he replied. “Or you could say that it would not be advisable for three gormless zingaard to stand in the way of, what may be, the two most powerful wizards on the planet.”

  “Oh, I say!” exclaimed Yello. “The two most powerful wizards,” he echoed. “But what Emnor forgot to mention was the fact that we are also the angriest wizards on the planet. There is only one who would lower himself enough to deal with their kind, and if they are in his service, they are fair game.”

  “I presume you have no intention of trying to avoid them then, old friend?” asked Emnor.

  “You presume correctly, Master Emnor. My intention is to fry them in their own fat,” replied Yello with a growl in his voice that impressed even Poom.

  “We’ll make a Gerrowlien out of you yet.”

  ***

  They crouched behind the rocks where Poom and Lawton had secreted themselves earlier. The wizards had relocated, bringing Poom with them despite his many protestations. Jared had done the same, his closest friend Hannock at his side. Hannock trusted him with his life, and this was to be another testament to the fact. “Are you sure you can do this?” he kept asking, “I’ve seen you do it by yourself but is it the same if you tow somebody along for the ride?”

  Jared’s reply was simply, “Shut it, Hannock. Stop being a baby and drink your water.”

  Arriving a few hundred yards from where they needed to be, they had sneaked in undetected in the hope of hearing any conversations between their newly discovered foe. They watched, straining their ears, but not a word passed between the zingaard. After half an hour, Yello had seen enough. Tapping Emnor on the shoulder, he indicated that it was time to face their enemy. They each took a sip of water, stood next to one another and vanished. Appearing a split second later, they startled the beasts who immediately charged toward them. The one that had been lucky enough to feed earlier, grabbed a leg bone from the glamoch carcase and hurled it at Emnor. With the slightest flick of his wrist, it was blasted to the side, striking one of the others full force in the face. It yelped in pain but its pace was barely hindered. The two wizards held their staffs aloft and bellowed in unison, “Perranghorra!”

  There was silence. The zingaard were frozen in their tracks and Emnor and Yello turned to face one another. Shaking hands with one another, Yello asked a question, “Which one do we kill first?”

  “I’m not really fussed,” replied Emnor. “You choose. As a matter of fact, what’s your least favourite colour? That may help you decide.”

  “Don’t really like brown,” said Yello. “Mind you, I’ve never been partial to blue either.”

  “That’s settled then. Kill the brown one and the blue one and we’ll question the black one.”

  “Question? I thought we were going to torture it,” said Yello, sounding most disappointed.

  “I thought we’d agreed, old friend. If one of them answers our questions, there’ll be no need to torture them.”

  “You’ve taken all the fun out of this adventuring lark, you know. It was much better when we were children!” groaned Yello.

  “Now don’t go getting your robes in a tangle. None of them have agreed to co-operate yet. You might still be able to have some fun.”

  Jared and Hannock watched in amazement as Hannock leaned in to whisper, “Do you think they were actually like this when they were younger?”

  “I sincerely hope not. With the powers those two possess, you’d need to change your breeches, even if they were joking,” replied Jared, doing his best to curb his laughter.

  “We only tackled one of those things and there were five of us. Look at their eyes, they’re terrified.”

  “They’re frozen solid, Hannock, completely defenceless. Wouldn’t you be?”

  “We need to speak to whichever one of you is the leader,” announced Emnor. “You will be released in turn and offered one chance. We shall ask the questions, you shall give the answers. If you do not, you will be of no further use to us and will be put to death. If the first to be released co-operates, we shall release you all, and you may go on your way, unharmed. Any sign of aggression will mean your instant death.”

  Jared and Hannock, seeing no reason to remain hidden, joined the wizards. Poom, however, was not impressed and lay flat on his back, his head drooping over the edge of a rock with his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth, “Why not just tell them you’re going to eat them whatever happens?” he mumbled, snarling with laughter at his own humour.

  Studying the immobilised zingaard, Emnor noticed that the brown one seemed the most nervous of the three. It would be the perfect choice to be questioned first. With a gentle wave of his hand, Yello released it from the spell and it fell forwa
rd with a thud, causing a dust cloud to plume into the air around it. They were a stupid, vicious race, but wary of reprisals for an unsuccessful attack, the brown zingaard remained where it fell. “You won’t get anything from me,” it said, growling deeply at its captors. “You may as well kill me now.”

  “As you wish,” replied Yello, raising his hand and conjuring a fireball. He launched it without warning, deliberately missing its mark. It struck the ground, the sparks splashing onto the beast’s fur. “I will not miss a second time, beast,” he added, conjuring another.

  The zingaard scampered sideways from the inferno, slapping at the smouldering patches on its legs, “Wait!” it shrieked. “Wait! Stop. I don’t know nothing!”

  “That’s good. Very good. If you don’t know nothing, it follows that you do know something.”

  By the looks in their eyes, Jared could tell what the other zingaard were thinking. The black one was as scared as the brown and was willing it to give the answers that the wizards required. The blue one, however, had a completely different look. Rage burnt within its glare and Jared was sure that, if released, it would tear its kin apart before allowing them to divulge any information. The questioning from Yello and Emnor continued and with each syllable that left the lips of their prisoner, the fire in the eyes of the blue zingaard burned brighter.

  Jared’s mind wandered from the interrogation. He could no longer hear what was being said by any party involved. His mind strayed to the memory of his dear friend Faylore, torn open and nearly dying by the hands of one of these ferocious beasts. He began to approach the fiery-eyed blue zingaard, unnoticed by his friends. Now standing directly before the beast, he held out his hand. A slender blue flame appeared, quite unlike any fire spell seen before. As perfectly honed as the finest blade and pointed at the tip, Jared waved it back and forth, its movement mesmerising the blue zingaard.