by M J Webb
The wizard’s eyes were now open wide, too wide. Then, they suddenly exploded from within with a bright, blinding light! It looked to the young Sebantan Princess as if they were on fire and both she and Sawdon instinctively covered their eyes to shield them from the resulting glare. Another bright light appeared almost immediately, this time seeping through the gaps in the King’s fingers as he struggled violently to hold it tightly within his grasp. He began to shake and sweat uncontrollably as the awesome power it generated continued to grow stronger and stronger. Eventually, his strength failed him and he could hold the force that the light contained no more. He unclasped his hands and unleashed it, shouting out loudly just before he let it go.
“Nosug fellishneras… Barath!”
The dazzlingly bright beam of light shot straight up from his hands to his eyes at astonishing speed. Vantrax’ whole body jerked upright and he screamed out in pain as it entered him. The light and the energy it contained remained within him for a split second or two before it was ejected and sent rapidly down towards the two stones lying on the floor.
A small explosion followed, dirt and dust kicked up all around them and both warriors automatically recoiled, covering their heads with their arms to protect themselves from the debris. Sawdon became a little embarrassed by his involuntary reaction. He was ashamed at himself for allowing others to see what he thought was a show of weakness. He recovered from the shock first and he bolted upright.
“Raaarghh! My King, where are you? Are you hurt sire? Answer me!” he roared, as he waved the smoke away furiously. There was no reply but the dust gradually cleared and Sawdon was able to see again.
King Vantrax was lying motionless on the floor, his body was sprawled out awkwardly and it was covered with dirt. He appeared to be dead, though his face could not be seen. He remained motionless for several seconds and Sawdon was beginning to fear the worst. He seethed with anger and he clenched his fists but then, to the Thargw Gerada’s immense relief, he began to stir slowly. A few moments later he stood up, though he was still a little shaken and disorientated. He brushed away the dust from his clothes and took stock of his surroundings. He appeared to be dazed and confused, as if he had no idea what had just happened. Then he began to laugh, slowly at first but rising in speed and intensity until it had developed into a gut-wrenching roar of delight.
Melissa and Sawdon were unsure what to make of their King’s reaction but they began nervously laughing along with him, more out of relief than anything else. After a short while Vantrax stopped abruptly and began to speak to them.
“Ha! Yes Sawdon, I heard you, I am fine. I had forgotten all about the tremendous energy contained within these stones. It is quite something to behold, is it not? Now do you see? Do you understand now why we have searched so hard, and for so long? And that was just a small piece of Reolite! Imagine what I could do with…”
“Grar, yes, I know my Lord, but are you sure you are unhurt?” interrupted the concerned Thargw.
“Yah, stop your fussing. Look!” answered the wizard, pointing down at the floor.
A large, round, solitary stone lay at their feet, a single pendant hanging from the chain, larger than the Lichtus had been but still able to be worn comfortably around the neck.
“Raas! It worked!” screamed Melissa, excitedly.
“Of course it worked!” snapped Vantrax. “You…! Kuh, never mind, we have work to do. Now that I have forged this weapon no one will be able to defeat me! The days of the old Kings and Queens have gone forever, I will see to that. These pathetic peasants and farmers will finally be crushed into submission. I promise you both that all those who oppose me in this land will be destroyed. This time, I will show no mercy, I will take no prisoners and I will kill them all. I will raise an army capable of defeating anything they put before us! Huullaarrr! Look out my brother, your renewed faith is badly misplaced. This little boy of yours in whom you seem to place so much trust, the one you expect to save this land, will wet himself with fright at the sight of my new legions! There will be no half measures this time, I assure you. I will summon such creatures from myth and legend that the whole population will tremble before them. No one will be able to defy my will. Raar! Yes, the time for leniency has passed brother. We have been toying with each other up until now, playing games. Well, you wanted a war and it begins today. Today we take the first steps towards achieving final victory. Today I unleash the Lords of Srenul! And today I will free their assassins and set them to work! Kraarr… Yes, you have thwarted my plans for the last time. You and this ‘Keeper’ of yours will rue the day you met. Run while you still can for you will not be able to escape my wrath. We are coming for you, your days are numbered. Come, my fine warriors, to work!”
He raced to fetch a bowl and poured some water into it. Then he placed it carefully on the floor and gathered Melissa and Sawdon around him. Taking up the new stone he used its increased power to show a series of visions. Three different scenes appeared clearly in the liquid, one by one.
The first was of King Artrex and his army. They were marching south in extended column and heading straight for his own Southern Army, which had been warned of the rebel’s approach and would be waiting to ambush them at a suitable place. It was a sight that King Vantrax expected to see and he wasn’t unduly concerned by it. The water clouded over and a different vision appeared.
This time they could see the young Princess Zephany together with her two companions. The three warriors were camped and concealed at the base of a large tree, deliberately concealed in the roots and surrounding vegetation. The rebels were obviously content that they were safely hidden in their hideout, they were talking openly and were completely oblivious to the fact that their every word was now being listened to. Zephany was discussing her plans with Onall and she unwittingly gave away their destination and intent. The evil King and his warriors looked excitedly at one another as they heard Zephany relay her plans in full detail, but they said nothing as the water suddenly clouded over once more.
A third image quickly replaced the second. The eager onlookers now witnessed Jake and his group standing in amongst the trees of Leagh forest. Sawdon’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared as he saw the young Keeper happily handing out weapons to Ben and Verastus. He leaned closer to the bowl and strained his superior ears to hear what was being said, hoping that the young boys would also divulge their plans just as Zephany had. Suddenly, his head shot up as he recognised a name in amongst the hushed conversation.
“Bierenstell!” he shouted out triumphantly.
The vision disappeared almost immediately and the water returned to its normal state. Vantrax looked straight at his Thargw Gerada. He was confused.
“Bierenstell?” he asked. “Srrr… Why do I know that name?”
“He… He was a champion of old Nadjan sire, a great warrior knight,” answered Sawdon. “It was many years ago. His time has come and gone, it has passed, his people have been subdued, but I have heard tales of his deeds, they were, impressive. His legend has not faded so easily from memory. Many of the soldiers here still talk of his prowess with a sword. He is an old man now, if he still lives. Taaarrr, no, it cannot be true, a warrior such as he does not live to see old age, he does not seek it, to grow old and infirm and weak, to be unable to wield a sword. It is better to die in battle. He…”
“Enough of your warrior’s code, Sawdon!” raged King Vantrax. “That is a part of you I wish I could change. Well, it would seem that this warrior did not have the good grace to die like the rest. No matter, we will find him and we will remind him of his failing! Legends are not easily killed Sawdon, but knights?”
“Ay raas! There will be soldiers in our army from Nadjan who will surely know of him sire. I can question them if you so wish? Learn of his…” began Melissa.
“Quite! Well, what are you waiting for?” interrupted the King. The young warrior nodded obediently and raced away. When she had left the tent completely Vantrax turned to face his Thargw G
erada. “Now, that is one problem for us to solve, what of the other? What of Zephany’s group, Sawdon? What is to be done about them?”
“She must be stopped at all costs! If she succeeds in reaching Dassilliak she may be able to raise a force which will prevent Obreth from aiding us, and he has to stop Artrex before he reaches the city! It is vital that he does. If the rebels do manage to break through our lines, Dassilliak will be extremely hard to take. The walls are high and firm, they are thick and built of heavy stone, and the mountains surround them on three sides. We will have no choice but to launch an attack on the main gates, a frontal assault which will be both difficult and costly, maybe even impossible. Many of our army will die and I think I am right in saying that the city has never been taken in battle before.”
“Krrmmmn, yes, thank you. I agree with you Sawdon, we need to send someone, or something, to stop my niece. She must die. And we shall need a powerful, invincible army that will be ready to take on such a siege, should it become necessary. That army will have to be vast in numbers, those within its ranks will need to be skilled and experienced in the art of siege warfare, ferocious and unswervingly loyal. We require an entire army comprised exclusively of expert killers, Thargws and Falorians who will do my bidding without question. Raaart! Yes Sawdon, I believe I know what we need and where to find it; we need an army of the dead!”
Chapter 7
21st August - The Gathering – Mount Hedrus - Nadjan
A thick, heavy mist carpeted the moors that surrounded the base of Mount Hedrus. The full range of the snowswept Echtral Mountains towered menacingly above the bleak landscape, the mighty summits hidden from view by the fog and clouds. This was a God forsaken, desolate place. It was cold, bleak and wet. None dared venture here without good reason and the locals stayed away, as if the land were cursed and infested by plague. It was not a place for the living; nothing grew in the surrounding soil except for a few solitary tufts of thorny weeds which had somehow managed to survive against all the odds in the hostile terrain. The dead were more at home here than those who breathed in the damp, moist air, and here they had free reign to do as they pleased.
It had not always been this way. Long ago, too long for many to recall, the moors had been located on a popular trade route frequented by travellers and merchants passing through on their way to the local markets in the cities and towns of Nadjan. But something changed. A great number began to mysteriously meet with ill end on their journey. Accidents for which there were no explanations became common place, and more and more were proving fatal. Then there were those who vanished completely in the mist of the moors never to be seen or heard from again. So many had disappeared over the years that the local population began believing that the moors were haunted by evil spirits, they were too afraid to speak of it now, but they had all been warned about its history and dark secrets. They would tell you if they could that to talk of what happened here would be to invite the spirits into your life, the most unimaginable curse. They knew what was buried beneath the soil near Mount Hedrus. As soon as their children were old enough to walk they were warned never to set foot in this place. They had good reason to be so afraid.
No, it was no place for the living this, for the dark patch of scorched earth that lay in the shadow of the great mountain, was the final resting place and burial ground of the Lords of Srenul!
It was eerily quiet on the moors now, not a living creature could be seen or heard for miles. Then, all of a sudden, the ground which had lay undisturbed for a thousand years began to shake. The rumblings were slow and gentle at first, but they soon became a tremor which grew rapidly in intensity. Then the whole mountain range and surrounding fields shuddered into life. A vicious, icy wind began to howl from out of nowhere, blowing away the mist that covered the ground to reveal the jagged rocks and blood-soaked soil hidden below. In one of the small patches of black and hardened ground a faint crack appeared. It lengthened and widened slowly as it meandered its way towards the nearby rocks until, just short of the nearest boulder, the ground suddenly exploded along its length and a warrior’s gauntleted fist and arm punched powerfully through the soil to reach for the sky!
With dirt flying in every direction as a result of the force used to smash through the earth, the gloved hand rotated and stretched its fingers, as if it was searching desperately for a weapon to fill the emptiness within its grasp. Then, an almighty roar resounded in the morning air, echoing for some time in the mountains and causing a good deal of the snow to fall. The ground continued to shake, the land gave way and the rest of the warrior’s body extricated itself from his shallow grave. The ghostly knight stood up slowly to shake off the dirt and crawling insects which covered him from head to toe. He drew his huge battlesword from its scabbard and held it aloft as he shouted out ferociously in an ancient dialect.
“Reeass allaturrann. Quovach nuestell.”
(Free at last! It shall be done.)
Once again, the warrior thrust his sword triumphantly at the dark and gloomy sky and once more he let out a terrifying roar. In four separate areas of ground nearby an identical scene was being repeated. One by one the remaining Lords of Srenul awoke from their former graves, rising triumphantly to retake their place amongst the living, until at last all five were finally reunited on the moor.
Five heavily armoured knights of old, each of them clad in armour and cloth that was black from head to toe and all wearing Jintan helmets which covered their entire heads. Even their eyes could not be seen through the tiny slits. They wore a variety of tunics and chainmail, a different crest adorned each of their chests, but there could be no mistaking their allegiance to one another. They began congratulating themselves on cheating death yet again.
No one on the continent of Estia spoke their names, not anymore. The people who lived here were too afraid of the possible consequences. They were known collectively as the Lords of Srenul, though even this title was only heard these days when whispered in a hushed voice, or occasionally as part of a spontaneous, angry and ill advised curse. They had once ruled over the whole continent of Estia, but long ago they had sold their mortal souls to evil wizards for the promise of power and wealth. In their campaign of conquest and obliteration which followed, the mighty warriors had defeated and killed everyone and everything that stood in their way. They had bestowed upon them the gifts of immense strength and speed and they were aided by black magic, as well as many frightening and horrific creatures conjured up by the dark wizards. Their reign of unbelievable terror had lasted for hundreds of years; Estia was brought to the very brink of destruction. But, a great and noble alliance of good witches, warlocks, magicians, warriors, dragons and Kings had somehow managed to defeat them. It was achieved only at a terrible cost in lives and the final battle, the largest and bloodiest in Estian history, had been fought here on the moors below mount Hedrus.
It proved to be a bittersweet victory for the alliance. Before their soldiers were able to seize the bodies of the warlords who had wreaked such carnage on their homeland and set Estia on a path of war and destruction that continued to this day, the dark knights were devoured by the ground. It opened up miraculously at the behest of the wizards, preventing the alliance leaders from sending their body parts to all four corners of the realm, as they had planned to do. The Estians hunted for their graves and bones for years, unaware that the evil wizards had concealed them deep within the soil until such time as they could be resurrected once more. No trace was found of the fearsome knights and eventually they gave up trying.
***
Far away to the north in Erriard forest it was peaceful now. The green and brown leaves on the huge trees were rustling happily in a gentle breeze, sheltering the many plants and animals below and protecting them from the warm Rhuaddan sun. The deafening noise and commotion of the hard fought battle was a fading memory already consigned to the pages of history. The scorched earth of the many funeral pyres and upturned patches of brown earth that lay littered amongst the tr
ees and spilled out onto the open fields of the Astelli Plain, were the only indications that a battle had been fought here at all. In the peace and quiet of the morning the birds were singing cheerfully and the many forest creatures were happily going about their business.
Then, the animals began diving for cover. Birds took to flight as a tremendous roar cracked in the distance. The terrifying and bewildering noise came from the direction of the Echtral Mountains, far, far away to the south. The forest was suddenly lifeless; every living creature had seemingly vanished.
The soil covering each of the shallow graves suddenly began to move! One by one, the slain warriors who had been hastily buried there following the battle between Vantrax’ forces and King Artrex’ rebels, began to rise!
They resurfaced slowly and as they stood up they each cried out loudly at the top of their voice, an ear splitting, and awful cry. The Thargw warriors screamed loudest of all, they roared in fury at having been snatched so abruptly from the halls of Kalvanaar, the paradise they had entered once they left the land of the living. The warrior’s wounds were all clearly visible, though none were still bleeding. Some had lost their arms or hands but where the limb had been buried nearby, it miraculously emerged from the soil of its own accord and unbelievably, reattached itself to its host. Soon, the ghostly soldiers began checking themselves over, many of them snapping off the shafts of the arrows which had killed them, or covering up sword entry points with cloth as best they could.
Erriard forest was not the only battlefield on which the dead were rising. At the sites of many old conflicts in both Rhuaddan and Nadjan, the ground was giving way and an entire army of fearsome warriors was emerging from within. Many of the corpses rising from their graves were nothing but a mass of rotting flesh and bone, having been buried for years in the soil, but within seconds of standing upright and breathing in the cool morning air, they were transformed. Skin regenerated itself and their bodies were restored to the vessels of their former life, at the peak of physical condition. Everything returned to the way it was, except for the one fatal wound which had killed them. It no longer bled but it refused to heal.
