The Isle of Ilkchild (The King of Three Bloods Book 4)

by Russ L. Howard

  Sur Sceaf collected all the flasks. “We’ll get some from the streamlet we crossed and bring it back along with the meat.”

  * * *

  Ilkchild was in a quandary as to which way to go. Tunnels ran everywhere and the creatures were both to the fore and aft in the caverns. Worse yet, they moved with great agility and speed. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed they ran along the ceilings. In the honeycomb of chambers came a continuous snarling. The young bloods huddled together with the security of an alley between two chambers, both walls were visible and nothing could attack from either open end without being seen. Fairchild discarded his spent torch and lit another.

  Still breathing hard, Ilkchild quickly took stock. Elf Beard was dripping blood profusely out of four gashes along his forehead. But otherwise seemed his usual chipper self and looked eager for a direct confrontation with the trolls. Fromer still lay where Elf Beard had dropped him, curled into a fetal position and making piteous sounds. The rest of the crew, though fearful, looked determined and ready for a fight.

  “I think we’re safe for now.” He summed up. “Sunchild, take Fairchild’s torch.You and Elfdane plant your torches at either end of this passage to keep those trolls at bay. Fairchild, get out your medicine bag and tend to Elf Beard before he floods us out with his blood.”

  Elf Beard groused, “Too bad we had to leave that barrel of Govannon’s ale behind. I’ve got a dry mouth. Could sure use a swig of it about now.”

  Ilkchild offered him a drink from a skin flask while Fairchild knelt over him to examine the wounds.

  After wiping away the blood, Fairchild declared, “The cuts are superficial. It’s good they bled so profusely. That ought to have washed away any poison in the wound.” He poured liquid into the wound.

  “Aargh! You son of a bitch!”

  “Calm down, Old man, I washed it with vinegar to cleanse it.”

  “Damn me, if vinegar won’t end a friendship. Warn me next time.”

  Next Fairchild took a mixture of mullein, sphagnum, and comfrey out of a small canvas bag and began packing the wounds on Old Grokk’s head. Old Grokk looked up at all the eyes staring at him, mischief brewing in his eyes. “Had the troll clawed Ilkchild, it could have never freed itself from that mass of hair.”

  Fairchild took out a roll of linen swaddling and began wrapping Elf Beard’s head with it, tied it off, and then announced, “I pronounce you sound and whole, Old Grokk.”

  “That was the fastest doctoring I’ve ever had. At least I didn’t die from the treatment.” Elf Beard patted the swaddling. “A lot less stinging than that hide peeling medicine Xelph uses.”

  “Don’t go comparing me to Xelph now,” Fairchild ordered. “Everyone knows he’s the best with medicines and healing. Were it any worse, and he were here, I’d have had him care for you.”

  “It appears we’re safe here for the moment.” Elf Beard shot a glance over at Fromer.

  “Methinks you need to tend our Quailor friend, there. I believe he, too, received a wound.”

  Hearing his name, Fromer sat up and held up his hands for them to stop. “Touch me not with that witch doctoring. Keep thine herbs and witchcraft to thyself. Whether they be Herewardi, Sharaka, or Jywdic, I’ll have no part of them.”

  “Suit yourself, but in the morning fever will come and we won’t be able to carry you. You’ll be left to the beasts of the underworld.”

  “Well, in that case, let me do my own doctoring with thy witchy herbs.”

  The young Jywd smiled as he took his kit over to Fromer and gave him a handful of the mixture. Fromer spake a whispered prayer over the wad and then reached into the seat of his pants and winced. Ilkchild caught Sunchild snickering. Trying not to grin, he shot him a warning glare. Their unvoiced conversation was interrupted by a blood curdling scream echoing into their chamber.

  Elf Beard said, “These torches aren’t going to last forever, Ilkchild, and by my count we only have a small number left. You need to make a decision to make a run for it or not.”

  * * *

  “I estimate this beast stood twenty feet tall,” Khem said as he put a chunk of meat in his pack. “Its head alone is enormous enough with jaws that could snap off a horse’s head in one bite. And those claws could rip an oak down in less time than it would take you to climb it. The harpoon shafts have the gashes to prove that.”

  Hartmut took off his hat and wiped his brow with a bandana. “I salute thee, Surrey. It was a well thought out plan. If we hadn’t gotten five spears into him, we probably would have never stopped him.”

  The shaman, Red Fox, observed, “You know this is a very strange creature. I don’t know any bear that has a tail this long. It’s like a panther tail with what reminds me of a frayed rope on the tip of it.”

  Mendaka said, “This is very much like Sunchild related his grass beast looked like.”

  After some discussion they folded the hide in quarters and draped it over two harpoons which required four men to carry. They fashioned a makeshift pack for Khem to carry the prime cuts of meat in a bundle on his back and left the remaining carcass for the scavengers. Vultures, gulls, and crows were already surrounding them and eager to take their respective shares.

  Even though the incline was not that steep, it was a struggle to carry the heavy weight of the hide and the harpoons to the top. By the time they returned to the campsite, Xelph had a fire built and Elijah was unpacking his cooking gear. Red Fox laid the skins of water near him and Khem shrugged out of his backpack full of meat effortlessly.

  Khem opened the flap on the pack, “You’ll have your pick of meats to prepare tonight, Brother Elijah.”

  Muryh looked over the cuts, “I vote for steak. While I was at sea I must have lost half of my body weight and need to build back up.”

  Sur Sceaf laughed, “There might be something that resembles a steak in there, but for the most part, it’s just hacks and chunks. So be it. I think we could all use a hearty meal about now.”

  “I must tell you, Sur Sceaf,” Elijah said, lifting a large chunk of the reddest of meat from the pack somewhat resembling a pot roast, “I have never felt so alive as today. I had no idea exploring could be this invigorating. And just look at this scenery.” Elijah waved his hand in a wide arc. “That rocky column with the sunbeams darting around it reminds me of the Holy Scripture: ‘He putteth forth his hand upon the rock; he overturneth the mountains by the roots’.”

  “I like those words,” Mendaka said, “I shall write them upon my heart, Elijah. It really does look like the mount was ripped up by its root and placed on its head.”

  All the men pitched in and then in no time Muryh was passing around sumptuous morsels of piping hot meat on wooden skewers, served nearly raw.

  “Tastes like bear to me.” Mendaka observed.

  “I’d say, it tastes more like panther, but sweeter.” Red Fox added.

  “I think you’re both right. It has the flavor of both panther and bear,” Crooked Jack weighed in his gravelly voice, “but yes, definitely a bit or two sweeter.”

  Muryh said, “Whatever it is, it beats that jerky stuff we had on the boat. I think that must have been dog.”

  When night fell, they were relaxed and well fed. The men sat around the fire, quaffing the little ale they had, comparing the battle they had just fought with tales of hunting grizzly. Mendaka kept them entertained with parodies of the clash with the grass beast and with Sharaka legends, while Hartmut played his syrinx flute. As the fire burned low the men wrapped themselves in their bedrolls while Mendaka and Hartmut took first watch together. Elijah lit a candle lamp and completed the record in his journal, said his prayers, then tucked into his own bedroll.

  As Sur Sceaf lay upon his back looking into the stars, he had an image of Ilkchild’s troubled face come before him. For an instant he was concerned, but dismissed it as nothing more than fatherly worry. He took comfort that he had sent Old Grokk with Ilkchild and the young bloods for a surety. His mind then wandered to his w
ives. He could not wait to share these experiences with them and the children. He knew the twins were going to eat it up, but Lana would be aghast. Ahy, on the other hand would find it fascinating. If all went well and as planned, he would be sending a message off to them very soon. He was confident that tomorrow would reveal if the stones had presented him with a true vision of this isle.

  * * *

  Two torches had already burnt out and were replaced with fresh ones, leaving only two remaining. Periodically, Fairchild ventured out of the narrow passage into the chamber ahead, wielding his torch like a weapon, and each time he was met in force by a mob of the cat-like creatures and only barely, managed to keep them at bay.

  Fairchild waved his torch, “We can’t stay here forever! These torches won’t even burn another hour.”

  Ilkchild asked, “Does anybody have an idea of what get out of here means?”

  Sunchild coughed, “Maybe there isn’t any way out of here. Maybe we should turn back. At least we know that way out.”

  Ilkchild hesitated, “This is my fault. I have no idea which would be best. Elfbeard, you are a hounds man, you should take over command.”

  “You are doing fine, my boy,” Old Grokk said, “although it looks like there is no way in Hellheim to get out of here, we must never give up. Never! There is a way out and we’re getting out of here alive and I’ll kill anybody who doesn’t.” All, but Fromer laughed.

  Ilkchild felt some of the tightness in his belly ease. Elfbeard was always a comfort.

  “Fairchild, did you get a look at any of those creatures at all?” Old Grokk asked.

  “Not much. Mainly just flashes of teeth and claws. I did note that they walked upright like unto a man. But I saw tails and they appeared to be grey or tan in color.”

  “Xelph is right, we need a plan of action,” Ilkchild declared. “My father always said when you find yourself pinned down by your enemy you must take stock of your resources and use them to your best advantage. So what do we have?”

  Sunchild held up his elf blade and a torch. Fairchild held up his torch and reached for his kukri. The rest showed their various weapons, until a full assessment of resources had been gotten.

  Ilkchild said, “And we still have two torches in reserve. They’re probably going to hit us from all sides. So we need to move as a group in a covey phalanx, so that we can look forward as well as backwards. All blades should be brandished from now on and we’ll only use the two torches we have lit now,” he noticed the dripping blood on Elf Beard’s face. “Use your torches as weapons. Let your kukris bite flesh, and by the gods, let’s cut ourselves a pathway to freedom.”

  Sunchild inquired, “Once we leave this passage way, which direction do we go, Ilkchild?”

  “We need to find the stream and follow it up. Logically it is to the right of us. Keep an ear for the splashing of water. We must have faith that the stream comes from above.”

  “But what if it doesn’t?” Fromer asked. “We need to go back where there is a sure exit.”

  Ilkchild blew air forcefully through his lips. “No, that would be too damned costly. They could be waiting for us and the torches would burn out before we got back down there. So we have no choice, but to go forward as planned.”

  Old Grokk encouraged them. “There was a time when Sur Sceaf and I were trapped deep in some ancient mines, Old Grokk related, “and Surrey’s faith kept us going when I had thought we were eternally lost. He said that he saw light ahead, but I saw none. Still I trusted in him and we found our way out. Mind you, that was in pitch darkness.”

  “Sur Sceaf is not here. I agree with Fromer, gods help me. We should return to the beach, gather more torches, and try again with better preparation.” Elfdane said.

  “I shall be your light, my friends,” Ilkchild declared. “Assemble the phalanx.”

  Fromer said, “Please! Let’s just stay and pray. I don’t want to face those demons again.Or let’s go back. Others agree.”

  Ignoring Fromer, Ilkchild commanded, “Fairchild you stand with me on the right, and Elfdane you stand on my left at the fore, and Sunchild, you and Fromer stand with Elf Beard at the aft. Stay alert and keep your blades ready. Keep moving forward, though all Hell should bar our way. Remember, to stop is to die.”

  When everyone was in ready position he counted, “One. Two. Three. Move out! Move out!”

  With Ilkchild in the lead, they moved out into the large chamber, the torches lighting their way. They heard a scurry of claws that seemed to come from the walls of the chamber. The flickering firelight caught eerie cat-like eyes blinking and peering at them from the dark. The cat calls continued behind them as they picked up their pace and followed along the stream.

  Sunchild remarked, “Do you hear that? It sounds like a waterfall.”

  They quickened their pace.

  Ahead the chamber opened into an even larger one. This cavern was different from the others, in that it resembled a great stone hall with catacombs and labyrinths going in all directions. As they moved forward, the light of their torches shone on a wide underground lake into which water poured from above. They stopped for a moment and reconnoitered.

  Elf Beard said, “We have to get around this lake.”

  Elfdane said, “Why don’t we just wade through it?”

  “For one thing,” Elf Beard declared, “it may be too deep, and too slippery. For another, it may be home to vicious water creatures. This has the looks of Grendel’s home. For all we know Grendel’s mother could be lying at the bottom of this pool.”

  The cat calls started again. They were coming from all directions. In the torch light, dark figures could be seen climbing the walls and running upright like men.

  “There must be a half dozen cave mouths.” Sunchild exclaimed. “Which one do we take?”

  Elfdane said, “I count nine chambers.”

  Ilkchild said, “What do you suggest, Old Grokk, how do we know which way to go?”

  “By your torch lad, if the wind whips it, then that is the way up. Stay close to this wall on the left. Press on till we find an entrance that draws air.”

  Ilkchild repeated, “We will go left and stay close to the wall. When we find an entrance that draws air that’s the one we’ll take.” After a brief pause to catch his wind he said, “Be alert!” Sucking in his courage, he was swiftly off once again, brandishing the two torches in sweeps, which to their relief kept the creatures at bay.

  “Watch out, Sunchild, there’s one on your right.” Elf Beard yelled.

  Explosively, one of the demons rushed out of the dark, only to retreat when Sunchild stabbed at it with his torch. With each cave mouth they passed, Ilkchild became more and more concerned. What if Elf Beard is wrong? What if there is no way out of this trollheim?

  Just as they were passing the sixth chamber, a cat leapt through the air, and sunk its claws into the back of Sunchild, and its teeth into his shoulder. The young blood miraculously managed to shake it off with a torch to its face. Old Grokk countered with an elf blade through its back and into its vitals. The cat man’s screams and erratic efforts to free itself from pain left it gnashing and clawing in the dust on the cave floor. The other cats retreated with shuffling sounds into the dark from whence they came.

  Elfdane swiftly cleaved its head off with his battle axe and spit on it, “Damned troll.”

  Fairchild held his torch high to light the creature’s face.

  Fromer cringed and peered from behind Elf Beard.

  Sunchild frowned, “That damned son of a troll-wife nearly took my shoulder off.” He shot a grateful look to Elf Beard.

  “For the sake of Elfdom, they look like cat-men, but with a long worm-like torso.” Ilkchild could scarcely believe his eyes.

  “Wyrm-kats.” Elf Beard declared. “Ain’t nothing I’ve ever seen like it.”

  “Wyrm-kats? Well, if you haven’t ever seen anything like it, how do you know it’s a wyrm-kat?” Fairchild asked.

  Elf Beard hummed and hawed for a
moment, “By Os and all the Holy Woses, that is just what I’m calling them.”

  Blood now soaked the back and shoulder of Sunchild’s tunic.

  Fairchild said, “Boy, it damn near bit through your shoulder. Those were some sharp teeth.” He took his shirt off and pressed it over the wound. “I think you will be alright until we can get to a place to treat it.”

  “Man, I don’t have much choice. Do I?”

  Ilkchild said, “Let’s keep moving while they are retreating.”

  “Alright,” Old Grokk said, “But let’s take it slower. I’m thinking fast movement is triggering their prey drive.”

  They only went a few feet forward when one was leapt for Ilkchild. He yelled, “Holy Woses! Another troll bastard. Are there no end to these tros?”

  Elfdane nailed it in the chest with his elf blade just as its claws were within reach of Ilkchild. Its scream halted all the other wyrm kats and paused the attacks, but the screams tortured the men’s ears. Sunchild stepped forward to put it out of its misery, but Elf Beard stayed his hand.

  “We don’t do the humane thing here. Leave it scream, my boy, it keeps the others off of us.”

  Elfdane shot a confused glance at Elf Beard, realized he was right, and pressed on.

  They moved ahead slowly and cautiously, passing the seventh and then the eighth chamber. As they approached the ninth and final chamber, Ilkchild prayed this last cave would be the door to salvation. Its opening was larger than the others and Fairchild’s torch flickered from a breeze as they neared its threshold.

  Old Grokk cried out, “This is the way up, this is it boys! This is it, by all the elves in heaven and earth, this is it!”

  They rushed into the ninth chamber, which led up at a sharp incline. The heat and mugginess lifted as the moving air cooled their sweating bodies. Just the thought of reaching the light and the surface caused them to pick up their pace. None of them could refrain from running the two plough lengths at full speed toward the rays of natural sunlight streaming from directly ahead. Just as they got to the entrance, a wyrm-kat sprang from above. Elf Beard tackled it and swung his swift blade, striking the bastard troll with such impact that it was hurled by his forward motion completely out the mouth of the cavern. It twitched and clawed, then breathed its last breath with a cat like snarl.