Suddenly alarmed, the girl bolted from the shrine, only to run headfirst into the swordsman. She screamed at Zaine and pounded her tiny fists on his torso. Zaine crouched down in front of the girl, held her fists in his hands and muttered something back to her, in what, Thorne thought, was the same language.
The girl immediately stopped bawling and looked into the swordsman’s eyes with wonder. She ran a hand down his bandages and muttered something quietly back.
Thorne was taken aback. He had hoped Zaine would have some understanding but how did his companion know how to speak the tongue of the Scorched Isles? Had he met this girl before?
He watched the pair exchange a few more words, then his companion turned to him. ‘She needs help, her family is in danger.’
‘What do you mean? Who is she?’ Thorne said, pointing at the girl.
‘A girl who needs her family, she says her settlement was attacked,’ Zaine replied.
Thorne paused. ‘Attacked by what?’ he enquired nervously.
‘Nothing you need to worry about. You’re not due to be barbequed until we reach the City of Light, remember?’ Zaine retorted with a grin. Zaine prodded the girl forward and marched along with her.
‘Oh, very funny,’ said Thorne, scooping up his satchel and jogging after the two.
*
Thorne scowled and looked ahead, past where the girl stood pointing.
The land was utterly barren. The grass ended in a circle around the settlement, then there was just dry soil and sand, which whirled about in the air with the cool breeze.
Inside the desolate circle were several meagre huts. Thorne thought that they seemed to be constructed poorly – just bundles of grass and straw tied together in a knot at the top. The covering was kept in shape by thin planks of rotting wood exposed within the foliage.
There were nine huts which all circled around the centre, where loose clothes, more wood, and a few other random objects were strewn about carelessly on the ground.
But his gaze was drawn to the huge, hulking great trees beyond the camp that towered over everything. Although he realized that this forest couldn’t be the same one he’d been to previously, it was still rather unsettling to be around.
‘I don’t like this,’ Zaine murmured behind him, ‘there’s something... amiss.’
Thorne scowled. ‘Oh, now it’s a bad idea?’ he said, following the girl into the camp. They went with her into the closest cabin where they saw a small table with its legs snapped and frame cut in several places. There were also more loose clothes and half–eaten food - bread and deer meat - strewn across the floor. They even found a cracked dagger among the mess of wood and clothes, stained with dry blood.
‘Ajfr! Ajfr!’ the girl called out.
They followed the girl past the table where she stopped and pointed at the mess of planks and wicker baskets on the floor.
Zaine lifted them up with both his arms and threw them effortlessly aside.
‘A hole,’ Thorne observed.
‘She must have hidden here,’ Zaine said.
The girl then tugged at Thorne’s pantaloons and pointed at the entrance.
Zaine asked her something, or at least Thorne gathered he had, in the girl’s language, to which she duly nodded.
‘Ain,’ she agreed.
The girl then led them to the centre of the camp where there was a pile of blackened, smoking logs that met altogether in the middle.
The wood still emanated a strong burning smell.
‘A hearth?’ Thorne asked.
Zaine crouched down to examine it closer. ‘A hearth,’ he confirmed, ‘still warm… they were taken recently.’
‘Who could have done this?’ Thorne asked.
‘Not much sign of fight, little left in tracks, these people are professionals,’ Zaine said. ‘My money’s on slavers.’
Thorne scratched his head. There was little evidence bar the clothes and objects to suggest anyone had lived here at all.
‘Dokram,’ she told him, pointing at the hearth.
‘Sorry?’ he replied.
‘Dokram,’ she reiterated.
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Dokram!’
He glanced at Zaine, who shrugged his shoulders but she continued to repeat the same word over and over again while indicating the set of burnt logs.
‘Dokram! Dokram!’
Thorne rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Maybe... her friend’s stuck under it.’
‘She does seem quite distressed about it,’ Zaine pointed out, ‘but still...’
‘Well, we’re going to have to have a look then,’ Thorne said.
He then stepped forward and raised his leg.
‘Wait... something’s… amiss,’ Zaine muttered, sniffing peculiarly at the air.
Unfortunately, Thorne hadn’t heard him. So intent on doing what he thought was right, he kicked the logs away and with a resounding CRACK, the ground gave way beneath them.
‘What the–’ Zaine growled, the rest of his sentence disappearing along with the ground.
Thorne yelled out in shock and the girl began to wail. Then there was silence.
Chapter 14
‘Wake up...’
Thorne groaned, and through the fog of his eyes he saw something glinting.
He felt hands softly lift him to his feet, bracing him when he staggered.
‘Hello again.’
‘Who?’ Thorne mumbled.
‘Greetings,’ said a smooth voice.
Thorne squinted and his eyes began to pick up on his mysterious surroundings.
He was back in the white room again, everything was maddeningly the same colour except for the wooden door with the silver handle at the end of the small room.
Directly in front of him, his arms curled behind his back was the golden man. Now that his sight had been given time to focus, he could properly see the strange man.
He wore a white tunic which fell to his ankles and covered his arms up to his wrists. He had a slightly darker shade of gold than his skin for hair. The man had a perfectly set nose, downward sloping eyebrows giving him a mischievous look, gleaming white eyes with no pupils or iris and he wore a broad smile.
‘You again,’ Thorne pointed at him.
‘Yes, it is I,’ the man smiled, ‘how are you feeling?’
‘I–’ Thorne began, then his eyes widened as he suddenly remembered what had happened to him; screaming as he was falling... falling. ‘I’m dead, aren’t I?’ he asked the golden man, dreading the answer.
‘Why do you think that way?’ he replied.
‘I–I fell...’ Thorne muttered absent-mindedly, recalling the sickening sensation he’d felt in the pit of his stomach.
‘Yes you did, fall into the trap that is,’ the man said, shaking his head sadly.
‘So I’m– I’m dead then?’
‘We shall see...’
Thorne frowned. What kind of an answer is that? He was either dead or he wasn’t, so which of the two was it?
Unfortunately, his efforts of repeating and rephrasing the question were in vain. He began to worry that the golden man’s reluctance to tell him about his current state was because he only had bad news available to give.
‘What of the others?’ Thorne asked, ‘Zaine and the girl?’
‘It is best I do not say,’ the gold man replied.
‘What do you mean?’ Thorne demanded.
‘You will find out, I promise,’ he assured Thorne.
Thorne opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t think of anything to say.
‘It is regrettable, yes, but fortunate, as now I – through the will of my master – may speak to you.’
‘About what? And who is this master you speak of?’
The golden man smiled and guided him towards the door where he slipped in a glowing gold key into the silver keyhole.
‘After you,’ he said, inclining his hand towards the door.
Thorne raised his eyebrows scepti
cally at the door. ‘Where does this lead?’ Thorne inquired, ‘to your master?’
‘Somewhere... different,’ the golden man replied.
Thorne sighed. He had no choice but to follow this odd... spirit.
He looked the door up and down. What wonders lied beyond he thought, as he grasped the handle and pulled open the door.
‘Gahhhh,’ Thorne gasped, shielding his eyes from the blinding light that issued from within.
‘You can look now,’ the man told him after a minute, pulling Thorne’s hands away from his face.
Unwillingly, he obeyed and was awestruck by what he saw. Hundreds of shining stars that surrounded him and comets that flashed past him, leaving trails of colour in their wake.
‘Where are we?’
‘Nowhere in particular, at the moment.’
Thorne rolled his eyes and tried to discern for himself what was happening, which was when he realized that he wasn’t actually standing but flying. He was surrounded by the starlit sky everywhere he looked.
This was certainly the oddest yet most exhilarating dream of all.
Before he could comment on this peculiarity, however, the dark starry sky suddenly vanished with a blink of an eye and a new scene unfolded before Thorne’s eyes.
‘What the–?’ Thorne began, completely stunned.
They’d arrived at the back of a large hall, which stretched on for several hundred yards.
Dining tables and chairs were stacked neatly against the torch–lit walls, to allow for the huge crowds that had gathered inside. The tightly packed bodies were separated by a thick red carpet and lines of heavily armoured soldiers with pointed helmets obscuring the top half of their faces, their swords held out in front of them, points on the floor.
Clunk!
Clunk!
Clunk!
Thorne looked past the soldiers to see a remarkable spectacle.
A man at the end of the room wearing dazzling, scaled gold armour – almost rivalling the shine of the golden man beside Thorne – clunked his way up the fragile, small stone steps, warmly grasping the hands of the soldiers. The crowd roared in delight with his every step.
Just beyond the sparkling knight was an imposing, but spectacularly shaped stone throne.
The throne consisted of two man-sized, snarling dragons, whose L–shaped inner wings met together to form the seat. Behind, the wings, the creature’s tails intertwined together to form the back of the throne. Shooting out of the dragon’s open jaws were stone flames, which formed the magnificent throne’s armrests.
The golden knight had short dark hair, but when he turned to sit, receiving a chorus of appraising roars from those gathered, Thorne saw he also had a gold mask covering his face.
Thorne noticed, to his surprise, that the man had a familiar looking rod attached to his side, which gave off an equally familiar green glow.
So, there were more of these?
He placed his hand on his shoulder but didn’t find the strap of his satchel. Thorne sighed, it was to be expected. This was a dream after all... he hoped.
At the front of the throng of commoners, a priest garbed in purple robes, with a bushy snow–white beard that curled around his neck like a scarf, stepped forward.
He placed his hands together, as though in prayer, and bowed his head to the golden knight, who inclined his head politely in return.
He saw the priest’s head bob slightly and Thorne assumed he was talking to the masked man, however, he was inaudible over the cheers of the gathered crowd.
‘I SWEAR!’ the golden knight boomed suddenly, his tremendously powerful voice causing Thorne to tremble, and the crowd to applaud and pump their fists ecstatically into the air.
Satisfied, the purple garbed priest bowed to the golden knight and then received a large wooden chest from a member of his entourage.
Thorne stood on the balls of his feet to try to get a better view. He saw the priest open the chest and heard the awed murmurs from the crowd. The priest drew out a gleaming gold crown, to match the masked man’s golden armour, with amber flames spiralling across the sides and a sparkling red ruby set in the middle.
Thorne could make out the movements of the priest’s mouth, as he whispered something to the awaiting warrior, and then slowly lowered the crown on the golden knight’s head.
A hush fell over the audience, as the ruby began to glow brightly consequently after being placed on the man’s head.
‘I NOW PROCLAIM YOU, FIERSLAKEN, HIGH KING OF HORIZON!’ the priest bellowed.
‘ALL HAIL!’ the people yelled in unison, clapping their hands and stamping their feet so loudly that Thorne had to clamp his hands tightly on top of his ears.
It was then, as he looked away he noticed something strange: a hooded man at the back of the group who stood apart from the people, quietly observing the scene.
What really scared him, however, was the long-handled scythe the stranger held by his side, which was shaped like a spine, and then the blade with the writhing faces, silently screaming.
Thorne paled as the hooded stranger turned around to face him and then with its hand, the skin missing from the yellowed bone, pulled down its hood to reveal the flame–eyed skull. Death gave a brief look of exaggerated surprise and then waved at him.
The blood drained from Thorne’s face, he blinked and the hall and all its occupants disappeared. Thorne and the golden man had returned to the white room.
For a moment he was speechless, staring open–mouthed at the door they’d passed through. He wasn’t sure how it had happened or even if it had happened. Perhaps it was a figment of his imagination. But somehow, Thorne thought that they’d actually travelled back in time.
It was impossible! There was no Majik, no matter how powerful, that could do that. But how could this be a dream when it was so realistic, when he actually seemed to exist there.
‘Quite amazing, was it not?’ The golden man asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.
Thorne jumped at the touch of the spirit’s hand. ‘What did I just see?’ he asked.
‘The crowning of the first high king of Horizon,’ the golden man replied.
‘Yes, I heard that!’ Thorne retorted, ‘but why was Death there? And the king had my rod, and–and–’
‘Sleeeep,’ the golden man sang, placing a finger on the middle of his forehead.
‘But–’
Before he could finish, Thorne felt himself begin to slip away.
Falling...
Falling...
Falling forever...
*
‘Where now?’
‘Up the hill right there, the boss would like to have a word with him.’
‘I thought ‘e wanted us to gut the pig.’
‘Why are you carrying him then?’
‘Because you told me to.’
‘Exactly, now shut up!’
Thorne eyes opened but he was greeted only by darkness. He worried briefly that he’d lost his sight but was relieved to realise he’d been blindfolded with a piece of dark cloth folded tightly around his head and mouth.
He also began to be aware of a pair of hands at his back and at his calves, roughly gripping his robes.
Thorne could feel, he could breathe, and hear. He had somehow survived the fall. But what of Zaine and the girl?
‘e’s movin’,’ said a voice.
‘Bugger’s waking up, come one Tom, we’re nearly there,’ said the other.
Thorne could hear the man’s ragged breath as he carried him but worse was the putrid smell.
Thorne heard the slamming of a door and he grunted as he was dropped roughly onto a hard surface. At least it was better here, he could feel the warmth of a nearby fire. The aroma of the room was kinder to his nose, he could smell a pleasant mix of flowers and the sweet perfume of what he presumed was fruit.
‘Now, now gentleman, is that a pleasant way to treat our most esteemed guest?’ tutted a third man disapprovingly.
‘So sorry sir,
but Tom isn’t exactly the brightest–’
‘Oi!’
‘What? It’s true.’
‘Quiet! I will see our guest myse– What the devil? Who in Ozin’s name did you bring?’
‘Exactly the one you wanted, sir!’
‘This is the Warlock you fool!’ growled the third voice, ‘I told you to bring the other.’
‘You said the one with the glowing eyes!’
‘One job I gave you morons! One bloody job! And you got me the wrong one! You got me the one I said specifically to bloody leave!’
‘I–’
‘Silver eyes I told you! Everyone knows they have silver eyes!’
‘But–’
‘Just shut up you idiot! Leave us be, now!
Thorne heard the sound of footsteps, the creaking sound of the door as it opened and shut and then the frustrated growls of the third man.
He then felt himself being picked up to his feet and guided to a soft chair, where the bonds holding his arms together and covering his mouth were cut and removed. Thorne thought it best not to speak, bearing in mind how angry the man seemed.
‘Quiet, hmm?’ the man commented dryly, ‘calmer than I expected.’
He remained tight–lipped as the man then removed the blindfold. Thorne groaned as his eyes, blinded for some time by darkness, were abruptly introduced to the light once more. His sight was hazy, with multicoloured lights dancing in front of his eyes, as they adjusted to the sudden change.
The man then came into focus and Thorne gasped.
He had black hair, greased back over behind his head, which shined in the light. He had harsh, cold brown eyes, almost black, and an angular cruel looking face, which wore a mocking, seditious sort of smile revealing a perfect set of pearl white teeth.
‘Hello, Warlock,’ said the Baron with a grin, ‘I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.’
Chapter 15
‘Wanya!’
‘Wanya straga!’
Zaine eyes flashed open and he saw the little girl thumping her tiny fists on his chest, stopping when she saw his eyes open. He jumped to his feet, cricked his neck side to side, and stretched his arms. He checked for his sword and breathed a sigh of relief when his fingers found the pommel.
Thorne Grey and the City of Darkness Page 13
