by M J Webb
A vast and awesome army of the undead had risen from the Estian soil, proven combatants who had all fought and died for their evil masters, for only those who had served the dark forces had been summoned by King Vantrax. Now, driven somehow by a magical force, they all formed up into perfect marching order to begin their long journey south, heading immediately for the location of his Northern Army. They knew instinctively the direction they had to take to reach his camp, outside the city of Triess. Thousands and thousands of Thargws and Falorians had been reborn and they were now heading for the war and the beleaguered, hounded rebels. Though they did not know it yet, the soldiers and slaves of the Rebel Army were about to be seriously outclassed and outnumbered!
***
Back on the moors below Mount Hedrus the Lords of Srenul were preparing to move. Each of the five warlords had received images and information about their quest from King Vantrax, who had used the power of his new stone to communicate with their minds whilst they were still buried deep within the ground. They were tasked by the evil King to find and kill the Keeper and all of his companions. Vantrax had plenty more planned for these awesome warriors in the fullness of time, but for the present he had made the defeat of Jake and capture of the stones their number one priority.
The soldiers from Nadjan who served in the Northern Army had reported Jake’s likely destination to Melissa, informing her that he would probably try to seek out Lord Bierenstel in the city of Ilin-Seatt where he was thought to reside. This information had been relayed by the wizard to the dark lords and they were now about to act upon it. The fearsome knights who were the subject of so many Estian nightmares had also been given a secondary mission however. They were to hunt down and kill or capture the rebel, Princess Zephany, to prevent her at all cost from reaching the Estian Alliance in the south.
To aid them in this task King Vantrax had again used the new weapon he had created, giving them the power to raise creatures from the afterlife which had once been their allies, and which had been extinct for centuries. These were horrible, vicious, warring beings which were hunted to extinction long ago and for good reason, spoken of now only in myth and legend just like the lords they would serve.
The five black knights turned silently to face the dark, forbidding mountain before them. The largest of the warriors took a giant step forward, he drew his sword and rammed it deep into the soil. Then he knelt down on bended knee, bowed his head slowly and hissed in an evil sounding, deep drone of a voice.
“Dreckniall uchfuschtiarr, esrilleniath, rachssh awhybrell enuem.”
Suddenly, an ear-piercing shrill of a scream erupted loudly from high on the mountaintop, somewhere above the clouds. A second or two later, three small specs swooped down beneath the mist to appear in the distant sky. The winged creatures soared swiftly upwards again, disappearing from sight for a brief moment until they reappeared and dived down rapidly, flying straight towards their new masters at high speed.
Resurrected from the underworld and the hellish fires of Zsorcraum, these were the Graxoth. They were a grotesque, horrifying sight to behold. Their dark grey and dirty, tan-coloured bodies loosely resembled a small and hideous human being, but their arms were far longer, they had claws and talons instead of hands and feet and, from the centre of the backs, two giant wings sprang out impressively, giving them the power of flight but also preventing them from standing upright whilst on solid ground. A long and thin tail protruded from the base of their spine, its jagged spikes were immediately apparent, a highly effective weapon whether in flight or on land. Their faces were enough to scare even the most courageous of souls. Each had a pair of huge eyes, covered by a thick, protective yellow screen of an eyelid, and two small holes for a nose. Their large mouths were filled with incredibly sharp teeth and two pointed ears were perched on top of their heads, giving them excellent hearing to more than match their impressive eyesight, the chief tools of their trade.
Each of the Graxoth was also carrying a smaller creature effortlessly in their huge, powerful arms. The Sraine were almost monkey-like in appearance, though they had no fur or hair on their bodies and their dark brown skin was full of blemishes and warts. Their mouths contained two fangs which were always on view, used to administer a deadly toxin. The claws on their hands and feet were lethal, they were often used to tear other creatures apart in a succession of rapid, group attacks, for which they used their astonishing speed and agility. Their pack mentality meant that they favoured attacks in which they took it in turns to wound and eventually bring down their prey. Unlike the Graxoth, who were primarily hunters, these creatures were the evil power’s assassins. Created by black magic long ago for that solitary purpose, they had very nearly annihilated the entire nobility of old Estia, killing and rampaging with impunity until the Lords of Srenul had finally been defeated, at which point they had simply disappeared, vanishing into the mists like the travellers and merchants and never to be seen or heard of again. Now, they were back!
When they neared the patch of scorched earth on which the Lords of Srenul were standing, the Graxoth circled low overhead and screeched a terrifyingly high pitch shriek. Then they dropped the Sraine one by one at the Lord’s feet, before landing awkwardly to take their place at the Sraine’s side, and await their master’s command. Within seconds, the orders were issued and the Sraine were lifted up by the Graxoth. They wasted no time at all in pursuing their quarry and headed off together to search for Princess Zephany. Without making a sound, the Lords of Srenul formed a circle on the moor. Then they all began to chant.
“Bissallurth yestiollan richstir kurprass. Bissallurth yestiollan richstir kurprass. Bissallurth yestiollan richstir kurprass…”
Once again, the ground began to shake. This time however it was with far greater force and rocks began to fall from the mountain. The dark knights did not stir as they continued to concentrate on the task in hand. Then, incredibly, the soil at the base of the mountain suddenly fell away! It opened wide to reveal a small chasm that seemed to have no end. A horrifyingly loud roar resounded from within, echoing in the bottomless pit. It was followed almost immediately by the unmistakeable sound of galloping horses. Within seconds, the first of five huge, muscular beasts came thundering out of the hole and galloped to where the Lords were waiting. The remaining steeds emerged from the blackness one by one until all were reunited with their former riders. The thoroughbred Eratian war horses were muscular and heavily armoured, they had a tough, sharp horn on their heads and they were as black as their rider’s clothes.
The resurrected warrior knights mounted them quickly. The leader drew his sword and without speaking he pointed it towards the city of Ilin-Seatt, the location he had been given for Jake. The horses bolted. The ground seemed to shudder under their weight as they raced away at high speed.
Chapter 8
Dawn - 22nd August – The City of Ilin-Seatt - Nadjan
“Oi, Ben! For Pete’s sake, keep your head down!”
Jake was concerned that his best friend would give away their position. Ben was leaning forward, trying to get a better view of what was happening. The small group of rebels were concealed in the shadows of the buildings that overlooked the City Marshall’s palace. They were attempting to reconnoitre their target before launching the raid to capture the Bloodstone. Ben huffed a little at Jake’s sudden rebuke, but he relaxed back onto his haunches and disappeared into the darkness once again.
Jake’s mind was now ‘working overtime.’ He was trying desperately to devise some kind of a plan that would achieve the seemingly impossible task of sneaking the four of them into a heavily guarded fortress right under the noses of hundreds of soldiers and into a locked vault, in order to steal and escape with a rare and precious gem upon which the fate of countless millions probably hung in the balance.
‘Hmmnn…’ he thought to himself, ‘well ol’ son, after all we’ve done so far, the raids at the mines and the taking of the fortress at Heron Getracht, this should be a piece of cake.’<
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Several hours earlier, when they were still in Lord Bierenstell’s shack hidden from the sight of others and safe from harm, Tien had performed an astounding feat of wizardry, a piece of magic which was of epic proportions. At the great old warrior’s insistence, the Heynai’s assistant had chanted quietly some sort of spell in the ancient Rhuaddan language. His voice had risen slowly to a crescendo as smoke suddenly appeared from the ends of his fingers and then erupted into bright flames.
Tien was as calm as a gentle breeze, he held the small fire briefly in his cupped hands before passing it gently over to the outstretched fingers of the bemused Lord Bierenstell. Though hesitant at first, the old knight had taken the fire from his friend and held it for a second or two, before looking quizzically back at Tien when nothing else of note occurred. Then, all of a sudden, the fire had vanished into his fingertips and an almighty surge of energy had shot through his entire body in an instant, making him jerk upright and lifting him forcefully a few feet off the ground.
He was suspended in mid air for a few seconds. The rest of the group looked on amazed as the burst of energy grew in intensity and spread rapidly within the old warrior. Within minutes, his whole body was miraculously rejuvenated. His hair suddenly grew back thick and strong, changing in colour before their eyes from the whitish grey it had been to a dark brown. His old and loose skin tightened by itself. His curved spine straightened and every one of his muscles grew in size, until the spell had run its course and the change was complete.
Then, the knight’s body had relaxed and he suddenly went limp. The enchantment had worked; Lord Bierenstell had been transformed into the thirty year old warrior who had once defeated all before him. He was once again in the prime of life, an awesome figure of a man who had yet to meet his equal in battle. But, he was left suspended in mid air for a few moments, completely helpless and feeling very weak from the sudden exertion.
Then, without warning, he had fallen to the floor like a stone.
It was a drop of only a few feet to the solid ground below, no mortal being should have been able to correct their positioning and land upright from such a height, from his almost prone starting point. He should have ended up on his backside with a bruised behind to match his dented pride. But Bierenstell had moved swiftly and with astonishing agility, his excellent reflexes somehow allowing him to shift his weight and land perfectly upright!
“Whooaah! Yeah!!! Hey, did you see that? Check it out. That was cool!” Ben had cried, the excited youngster clearly impressed by Bierenstell’s impromptu display of gymnastics.
The warrior himself had said nothing in reply, but his face was beaming with gratitude and pride and he had an almighty look of contentment upon it. He nodded at Tien. Then he had drawn his sword from its scabbard and kissed the blade tenderly, treating it as if it was his one true love and they had been reunited after many years apart. A tear had formed in the corner of his eye. With the others staring on in disbelief, acting as if he no longer had a care in the world, the formidable knight had spoken to the blade as though it were alive and could hear every word he was saying.
“Raart! Tacgruth, it has been way too long since I held you, my friend. Come, we have one last quest to embark upon you and I. There is one last battle we must fight together, one final chance for glory. And then, I promise you, we shall finally rest in peace.”
As usual, it was Ben who had ruined the moment with a typical response.
“Yeah, alright mate. Err… You need help.”
***
The high walls that surrounded the Marshall’s palace were manned by only two guards as far as Jake could see. The soldiers who were stationed there were clearly confident in their surroundings and not expecting any sort of attack. They were both marching along the length of the wall in standard patrol, oblivious to the fact that they were now being watched. The remainder of the garrison were presumably asleep in the living quarters, for it was still the early hours of the morning. The huge gates to the grounds were locked and all appeared quiet.
“Well Keeper, what are we to do now?” enquired Verastus, who was keen to begin the raid before the rest of the guards awoke.
Jake smiled confidently at his friend. Then he turned to Tien. “Err… That ‘trick’ you pulled at Bierenstell’s, you know, opening the lock, do you think you could do the same here, to something bigger? Oh, I dunno, say those gates? Silently I mean, same as before? You’ll have to be quiet if we’re gonna get in without bein’ spotted.”
The old wizard nodded a firm reply.
“Good. Right, we need some sort of a diversion then. Ben, you’ll do, can you do your best cat impression for us? Err… From over there?” he asked, pointing to the shadows of the buildings which were opposite the far corner of the palace wall.
“Eh? What did you say? What d’ya mean, ‘I’ll do?’ Course I can, piece o’ cake,” laughed Ben in reply. Jake laughed also as Ben scurried away to take up his position. The others looked back towards Jake, clearly confused by Ben’s response.
“Ah, never mind you lot, it’d take way too long to explain to ya, and it’s not all that funny anyway.”
Jake waited until his best friend was in position before giving him the thumbs up sign. Ben acknowledged it and then he did the world’s worst ever cat impression, very high pitched and very loud. The two guards on the perimeter wall ran immediately to the far corner in order to investigate the noise. It took several minutes of heated debate before they were satisfied there was nothing there and returned to their patrol. The four remaining attackers used this time to scamper quickly and silently across the street to the gates. There they stayed hidden in the shadow of the wall, remaining as quiet as possible until the guards had returned to their posts. Ben rejoined the others as soon as the sentries had their backs turned to him and by the time he had, Tien had already opened the heavy wooden gates. The wizard pushed the large door ajar quietly, just far enough so that they could all pass through it.
“Right, Lord Bierenstell, the guards on the walls, we need to take them out, but it has to be done without giving away our position, and without them having chance to raise the alarm,” rasped Jake.
The experienced warrior smiled as he took a dagger out from each of his boots, he crept silently and without being seen to the centre of the courtyard. Once there, he turned sharply and threw his knives in rapid succession at the two guards, hitting them both squarely in their backs and killing them instantly, so that they fell forwards and landed almost without a sound on the ramparts above. It was the action of an expert warrior and the enemy soldiers who were sleeping in the surrounding buildings were not disturbed. Bierenstell waved the others forward, the five attackers sprinted quickly to the door of the main palace where they stopped and knelt down to catch their breath. Then, Tien silently opened the huge door.
“Okay, me and Tien go it alone from here. We’re going inside to get the stone.”
It was Jake who was speaking, the ordinary teenage boy from Lichfield who’d never even been abroad on holiday. Once again he was giving instructions with an air of confidence and an authority that seemed to come from nowhere. He was feeling extremely self-assured and, despite the circumstances, he was now thoroughly enjoying himself.
“…You guys wait here. It looks like those blocks over there are where the guards sleep,” he added, pointing to two of the outbuildings. “Protect our rear. And, if you can, try to keep our escape route open for as long as possible. Whatever you do, don’t let them cut us off from the gates!”
Ben Brooker was also beginning to feel a familiar sensation. A sinking, sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach. His throat was dry again and he suddenly began shaking all over. He knew that it was a mixture of fear and adrenalin making him react this way, that it was something he couldn’t control and a perfectly natural reaction for anyone other than his best friend. But, Ben had changed somehow, he wasn’t the same terrified schoolboy he had been at Erriard Forest. He was more determined than ever
not to let anyone down. Choosing to ignore his fear, he decided that he would try his hardest not to show it to the others. He placed his hands on Verastus’ and Bierenstell’s shoulders, even though he looked rather silly as he had to reach up on his tiptoes to do it.
“Yeah, okay pal. Don’t you worry yourself, we got this thing covered.”
Jake laughed a little inside, trying hard not to let his friend see that the comment had amused him. Then he crept inside the door with Tien and entered the palace. They searched along the main passageways, following Bierenstell’s vague instructions. They were relieved to find them all devoid of enemy, as the soldiers of the Marshall were still asleep and oblivious to what was happening. Finally, they came to a huge wooden door with a giant lock.
“Here, this must be it,” said Jake. “Open it, please.”
Tien duly obliged and they crept inside, entering swiftly a large, dark room which had no windows. It quickly became pitch black as Tien closed the door behind them and they found that they could see nothing at all, not even each other. The old wizard began whispering something. Suddenly, the whole room was illuminated by a bright ball of fire that he held in the palm of his hand.
“Err… Thanks for that,” hissed Jake, nodding at Tien before shifting his gaze to look around the room. The teenager was shocked and amazed by the sight that greeted him. The entire space was full of neatly stacked chests and boxes, many of which were overflowing and open, revealing the precious stones and gems, jewellery and trinkets they housed. It was a regular ‘Aladdin’s cave’ right in the heart of Nadjan.
