by Ross Turner
Their journey took them around the western side of the Kalaren Peaks and up through Rilako’s milling fields - the main location that provided food, of all kinds, for Akten on Avrik. They had chosen this route, as they wanted to avoid Akten for the meantime, though more so to evade the inevitable flurry of questions for which they would have no answers.
They made good time in the cold but clear weather, and by the end of their second full day they had reached the northernmost farm of the milling fields to the west. Compared to the rest of Rilako, which was almost entirely open common land, the milling fields were vast compilations of mills, grain houses, farms, and ploughed and cattle fields.
Since Isabel and Zanriath were renowned throughout Tamarack, there were very few who did not at least recognise them by description. Due to this, they easily found the farmers more than willing to offer them shelter and food for the night when they had reached the fields.
They gratefully accepted and stayed in the hayloft of one such generous farmer who raised cattle: pigs, cows, sheep, chickens and goats, all on huge stretches of land. His produce was all mainly for consumption by his fellow farmers, and for trade within Akten on Avrik of course.
The kind fellow had taken their horses to his stables for the night, and Isabel prepared supper in return for his generosity. His kitchen was small but homely, and had all the necessities, nothing more.
Zanriath returned with a large bundle of firewood and dumped the heavy logs unceremoniously beside the stove. He turned and stared out of the window at Inferno Range in the rapidly fading light of the evening, as the sun cast long, cold rays over the mountains, illuminating them against the dark purple backdrop.
Sensing that something was amiss, Isabel took their finished supper off the boil and came up behind Zanriath, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder.
“What is it Zan?” She asked quietly. He sighed and his forehead creased as it always did when he considered a problem.
“Something’s wrong.” He warned.
“Cole?” Isabel asked with all too evident concern, but Zanriath shook his head.
“Not Cole, unless you can sense something has changed?”
Isabel cast a quick thought to the north and sensed that Cole had stopped experimenting, and that the range of his will had greatly decreased, even if only temporarily. Isabel could now finally make out three distinct forms. Two were the ones she recognised, which never parted. The third she did not, and it was growing steadily nearer to Cole and Rose, and had been for some time.
“Still the same.” Isabel reported, her thoughts returning to her body. “It’s getting much closer now.”
“So are we.” Zanriath said quite coldly, unusually so.
“So what’s wrong?” Isabel asked, and again, Zanriath sighed.
“The mountains look angry.” He stated.
It was Isabel’s turn to battle confusion now as she attempted to fathom how a mountain could display emotion. Eventually she decided she simply did not have enough time to understand, and simply accepted her husband’s observation.
“How?” She asked. “Why?”
“The atmosphere is different.” Zanriath said, looking increasingly concerned. “It’s like they’re trying to tell me something.”
“What?” Isabel asked. Zanriath shook his head.
“I don’t know.” He replied. “But there’s a storm coming.
“Hmmm.” Isabel agreed quietly. “I know.”
The next day dawned bright and clear, though very cold and, shivering in the chill of the morning, Zanriath and Isabel set off from the milling fields, starting once more towards Inferno Range. Travel was, as usual, uncomfortable and laborious, only today they would finally reach their destination, and face whatever perils lay hidden there.
They rode side by side for several hours until their hands were numb from the cold wind that had worked its way up around them. The dew-covered grass beneath their horses’ hooves churned up violently in dirt filled tussocks, leaving a lonesome trail meandering behind them.
The mountains were growing visibly closer, almost by the mile it seemed, and it was Isabel who broke the silence of the morning.
“Zan.” She began, looking over at her stern-faced husband who was evidently still battling with the confusion he was having with the peaks. She had decided it was time.
“Yes?” He replied almost absently as he looked far up and the looming structures of rock and ice and snow before them.
You know when Ormath speaks to you…” She started, unsure how to phrase her explanation. “And when He spoke to me too…” Zanriath wrenched his gaze away from Inferno Range and looked across briefly at Isabel, clearly unsure what she was trying to tell him.
“Yes…” He said again, his attention more focused this time.
“Well, someone, or something, else has spoken to me as well.”
“What, another of the Gods?” He asked confused.
“No.” Isabel decided firmly, almost as if this first time she had spoken of the strange voice was her own confirmation to herself that it was indeed not the voice of a God. “It’s not another one of the Gods.”
“Who is it then?” Zanriath asked.
“I don’t know.” Isabel admitted. “But it tells me things that the Gods don’t have answers to.” She told him.
“Such as?”
“It spoke to me on the bridge once to Compii Tower, and it took over your voice in Akten on Avrik, when we when to Kambeth’s father’s ball.” Zanriath blinked, confused and perplexed. “And in Ormath’s cave. And it spoke to me when I saw Cole and Rose. It told me to let them go, that Cole has to learn to control his power or it will destroy Tamarack; that we have to help him.” Her words tumbled out as if they had just been released, and she almost gasped for breath as she finished her sentence.
Zanriath looked across at his wife for a moment with intrigue, his mind working quickly to process what she was telling him. They slowed their horses’ pace somewhat and continued in silence for a few more minutes. Isabel felt guilty, even a little ashamed, that it had taken her so long to tell her husband about the voice that was not of a God.
“Well…” He finally said, unsure how to reply. “I don’t know if that’s comforting or not.”
“It spoke to Depozi too.” Isabel told him then, revealing knowledge that she herself had not previously possessed, only seconds ago, surprised by her own words. “And it has spoken to Cole.”
“How do you know?” Zanriath asked her, but Isabel had no idea. She spread her hands and shook her head, her expression one of surprise and confusion.
“Hmmm.” He said thoughtfully. “Strange.”
“I wanted to tell you.” Isabel said, choking almost shamefully. “But for some reason, I don’t know why, it never seemed the right time until now.” Zanriath looked at her sympathetically.
“Don’t worry sweetheart.” He comforted her. “I don’t think you had much choice in the matter.” Isabel smiled and nodded, but before she could reply Zanriath’s eyes shot forwards again and narrowed warily.
“What is it?” She whispered to him, her voice carrying below the whistling of the wind. The cold bit still at her lips and was only growing ever colder as they continued north.
“We’re approaching the border.” He replied. “Something’s definitely wrong.”
“How do you know?” Isabel asked still whispering. Zanriath did not reply, but looked around warily and cast a concerned glance up towards the sky.
“Can you sense anything?” He asked.
Isabel closed her eyes and expanded her worried thoughts out over Rilako. She hovered there for a moment, taking in what she could sense, before returning to her body and her awaiting husband.
“No change.” She said. “But I can sense them more clearly. Cole and Rose are almost due north, and the other one is slightly further east.” Zanriath’s brow furrowed for a moment before his eyes shot up forward again.
�
��We’re here.” He said quietly. Isabel didn’t know what he meant for a second, for she did not know exactly where Sorcerer’s Border was, as there were no physical markers indicating its presence. But somehow Zanriath could always locate it, Isabel imagined, due to his elemental power, and this time its approach filled him, for some reason, with dread.
Then they crossed the invisible boundary, and Isabel realised exactly what was concerning her husband. She had been bracing herself for the blasts of freezing air that she remembered from their journey almost two decades ago, and the shrill deafening wind that had accompanied it, but she received neither.
There was only silence. Oddly, the slight wind there had been only a second ago, vanished the instant they crossed the border, and it was not replaced by anything. The temperature plummeted and took Isabel’s breath away sharply. Zanriath’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and he looked up to the sky in the north with deep dissatisfaction.
“What’s going on?” Isabel managed to force the words through chattering teeth. Zanriath’s breaths were shaky, but he maintained his composure, more accustomed to the cold than Isabel was, though his eyes spoke volumes of fear.
“This looks bad.” He warned quietly and ominously, his voice breaking the eerie, even spooky silence all around. “We must hurry.” He added, spurring his large, black steed to the north once more. “Keep checking Cole’s location. “We have to find him quickly!”
The worry in her husband’s voice unnerved Isabel greatly, but she sensed that this was not the time for questions, and followed him automatically, both plunging deeper and deeper into the mountains so threatening.
12
The temperature dropped continually as Isabel and Zanriath ventured still further north in their desperate search for their lost son. The journey proved to be treacherous and on several occasions their horses lost their footing and almost careered helplessly down into the steep ravines. Unusual amounts of breakaway rock threatened to crush them from above and somehow the silence seemed to prove even more threatening than the shrill wind and snowfall could have been.
Zanriath looked increasingly concerned as they continued and the temperature plummeted even further. Isabel was physically shaking in her saddle and her hands were numb through from the cold. She was barely able to pry her fingers from the reins to warm them within her clothes, though it did little to fight against the overpowering chill sweeping over her body.
They both donned extra layers, trying desperately to keep their remaining heat in, but it seemed to have little or no effect.
Still there was no sound other than that of their horses’ laboured breathing in the chill and hooves clumping against rock and through drifts of snow. They both worried for their mounts and did not want their muscles to seize in the still rapidly declining temperature. They draped thick cloaks over their horses’ backs in the hope of preventing such a problem, and tried desperately to keep them moving, having to stop to rub their legs more and more frequently.
“Can you sense anything?” Zanriath asked, his voice sounding unusually loud breaking the strange silence. Again Isabel cast out her search, and what she found worried her.
“We’re not far from Cole and Rose.” She reported. “But the other demon is close too.” Zanriath looked round at her.
“How close?” He asked.
“Quite.” She said quietly. “Three or four miles.” It was then she first saw the fleeting black silhouette appear and then quickly vanish again between two sets of rocks, high up on a ridge above them in the distance and far to their right. “Zan!” She hissed pointing up to the east. His gaze followed hers.
“Is it Cole?” He asked quietly, moving his horse closer to Isabel’s.
“No, I think it’s the other demon…” Isabel whispered. Zanriath did not reply. His sharp eyes scanned the ridge as he considered their options. Finally he spoke, his voice faint and hushed.
“We don’t have time to find it.” He concluded. Isabel looked at him worriedly, wondering exactly what he meant by that. “If it attacks us, we’ll just have to deal with it, but for now, we have to keep moving.” His words were to the point and they headed off again instantly.
What he did not tell Isabel was that if they, and probably equally the other demon, didn’t get inside soon, they would all be dead regardless.
For the following hour Isabel and Zanriath moved at a relentless pace, though picking their way through the treacherous terrain was slow going at best, until the cold finally began to stiffen their horses’ muscles to the point where they were forced to lead them painfully on foot.
The times they were forced to stop and rub their horses’ legs, just in an attempt to keep them warm and supple enough to walk, became more and more recurrent, and soon it would simply not be enough.
Periodically the darting silhouette would pass in and out of view. It was too quick for Isabel to actually make out its shape, but each time she caught a glimpse of the hidden demon, it was ever closer.
Above them, though it was just after midday, the sky was darkening without cloud, turning a deeper and deeper shade of ominous red, and even sometimes purple, and Zanriath seemed to press on with increasing haste and urgency as it did so.
Eventually, Isabel saw the speeding demon again; this time it was so close she could almost hear it, and she called to Zanriath to stop.
“Zan. It’s almost on us.” She warned worriedly. He did not reply, still only looking up to the sky with concern.
“It doesn’t matter.” He finally said. “We’ve run out of time.”
“What do you mean?” Isabel asked, her voice shaking, out of either cold or fear, she couldn’t tell. Then, she didn’t so much sense as feel the other demon’s presence, darting out from concealment behind a rock pile, less than ten metres away now.
She braced herself for an attack, but none came. She turned and looked all around, confused, unsure exactly what was happening.
Why had it stopped?
After casting out a quick thought, she realised that the demon was retreating rapidly, running for its life it would seem.
But from what?
“What’s going on Zan?” Isabel asked, her fear turning to terror, for she did not understand what happening.
“How far are we from Cole and Rose?” He asked in a voice so calm and monotone that it only frightened Isabel further.
“Not far.” She replied in a quivering voice. “Less than a mile. Why Zan? Please tell me.” The knowledge that Zanriath had been keeping something from her had been eating at Isabel for some time, and now she felt as if she badly needed to know.
Zanriath only sighed.
“Ok Isabel.” He said finally, turning to her beneath the dark crimson sky. “Do you remember much of what I told you about Inferno Range?” Isabel nodded. He had on a few occasions spoken to her about his time spent amongst the mountains. She even recalled him telling Heldvik and his men some of the tales too, long ago when they had joined the Southern Armouries’ march.
Zanriath looked around again with an analytic gaze before turning his attention back to his wife.
“What do you remember?” He pressed urgently as he moved off again, still leading his horse, continuing to the north. Isabel followed.
“That you came here when you were younger.” Isabel replied meekly. “That Ormath resides in Dragon’s Peak. That the storms move around and eventually scatter to the coastlines, and…” Isabel’s voice trailed off and her eyes widened in fear as she glanced up and the now almost blood red sky. Zanriath looked back at her understandably as she remembered what he had once told her, long ago. “And there are firestorms…” She said in a timid, barely audible whisper.
“Yes.” Zanriath replied softly. “We need to get to Cole, now.”
The danger they were in, and even more greatly so, that their son was in, suddenly hit Isabel like a hurricane, and she realised all of a sudden why Zanriath had kept the knowledge concealed from her.
Unsure now whether she
was glad she had pressed for the truth or not, she followed her husband through the peaks, beneath the angry, boiling sky cast like blood above them.
The couple were less than half a mile from their son when the firestorm finally broke free from its subdued rage; striking the towering snow covered peaks with full force, its fury was unmatched.
Isabel could only watch as the deep red sky above them parted to allow a single shaft of light through from above. And then, through that single column leading up to the atmosphere beyond, concealed from view, the storm emerged.
Flames shrieked down with an uncontrollable wrath and bellowed into the snowy mountainsides all around them. The snow evaporated almost instantly upon impact, and the rocks, moments ago covered with ice, now seared and scorched and shrieked with intense heat and the boiling, raging winds.
Isabel screamed as the flaming storm surged towards them, threatening to incinerate them without a thought. She could think only of Cole as the fire plunged relentlessly into them. The horses shrieked and bucked and Isabel and Zanriath struggled to control them in their panic, as death bore down relentlessly upon them.
But, somehow, the heat did not burn them, in fact, Isabel did not feel a thing, but simply watched as the fires parted around them and melted vast quantities of snow in every direction. The sudden surging waters swelled up around their feet, but not getting far before evaporating entirely.
She looked over to Zanriath to see him sweating and breathing heavily, a look of intense concentration upon his face. Isabel moved over to him, though she said nothing, not wanting to disturb his focus.
“Isabel!” He forced through gritted teeth, unable to even turn his gaze to her. “I can’t hold this off us for long; lead us to Cole and Rose! NOW!” His voice rose louder and louder, competing with the deafening firestorm all around.
Without response, Isabel complied, and led them still further north, through a valley that, even with the surging flames berating the rock and ice all around them, she strangely recognised. Stained with flowing red and orange, the rocks moulded and changed shape even before her eyes and long, searing grooves began being cut deeply into their exposed faces.
