by Ross Turner
Zanriath unbolted the stable doors and, with the help of only a few brave and trusting individuals from the crowd, began to disassemble the hastily built barricade.
Finally, Rose trotted out into the morning sunlight, in the least threatening manner she could manage, and went immediately to Cole and rubbed her nose against him, yearning for the attention she had been deprived of for almost five hours. Cole gladly obliged and soon was vigorously scratching behind Rose’s ears, much to the disbelief of the crowd of onlookers.
“Zanriath?” A voice called from the crowd. “What is going on? Is all this more of your doing?” They all turned to locate the owner of the voice, and their eyes fell upon an old man who, though once youthful, was now very wiry and even thinner than the last time Isabel had seen him, making him look decidedly ill in fact.
His hair was virtually white and he used a stout wooden stick to aid him walking, though she imagined he did not need it as much as he let on, for his limp was a little more than slightly exaggerated. His face looked haggard by the effects of time and his hands were chapped and bleeding in some places, from the cold no doubt.
“Kambeth?” Zanriath asked incredulously. “I thought you’d gone down to still waters?”
“You were correct.” Kambeth replied. His voice was croaky and his once extravagant gestures had been all but abandoned with his younger-self. “I returned not three or four days ago. That strange fellow Pike seemed to think something was afoot. He kept mumbling something about the lake being disturbed by some strange senses…he’s gone a bit senile in his old age I do believe…though he’s still a nice chap…” Kambeth explained in a rambling tone, his voice trailing off somewhat. Isabel and Zanriath looked at each other, and then briefly to Cole and Rose.
Kambeth’s still seemingly sharp attention caught the meaning of their swift exchange and broke into a sly smile.
“It would seem he was not wrong.” He said. “I don’t seem to remember either of you siding with the demons…and certainly I would never have thought you would give one to your son as a pet…” His words trailed off again, but this time with the insistence of further explanation.
Zanriath glanced around the crowd and cast quick questioning looks at his wife and son. He turned back to Kambeth to reply, raising his voice so that everyone could hear.
“Very well.” He declared. “As my dear friend Pike has so rightly surmised, there is indeed something afoot. There is a demon once again loose in Tamarack; in fact he is loose on this very island.” He explained, deliberately skipping over a few minor details. “For now, his power is nothing that we cannot contend with, but soon he will grow and his strength will become infinitely greater, and he may even raise more demons.”
There were nervous whispers amongst the ever-growing crowd, and the shock on people’s faces began to show as they registered what Zanriath was saying. No one had ever expected this to happen again.
“Rose here…” He continued, projecting his voice loudly across the entirety of the crowd, indicating with his hand to the enormous and vicious-looking cross between a monstrous horse and a lion that his son was still petting playfully. “Has allied with us, and is helping us to track the beast, so that we can destroy it. We followed it here from the north…”
“And now it’s moving east.” Isabel cut her husband off as she blinked a few times, her eyes readjusting to the light.
“What does it want?” Someone shouted from the crowd. That was when Cole stepped forward and addressed the throng of worried onlookers with a new confidence that Isabel and Zanriath did not know he had, though it was probably somewhat amplified with Rose stood towering at his side. Those closest to the pair drew back nervously, though they could not escape his words.
“It is being manipulated by the Souls of the Ocean.” Cole asserted. The worried looks were suddenly dashed with a hint of confusion. He elaborated. “The demons want to escape their realm and rule new worlds. The Souls of the Ocean want us all dead.”
Cole’s words were cold and blunt, and for a moment Isabel was unsure whether they were even his.
“So, I think it’s fairly obvious what their intentions are…” His voice trailed off and there was silence. After a moment, Kambeth broke the tension.
“Honestly spoken young master Cole.” He complimented. “You have raised your son in your spitting images.” He said, inclining his head to Isabel and Zanriath. “What would you have us do?” He asked.
Though he was almost directly addressing Zanriath, much to all of their surprise, it was Cole who spoke to answer the old man, continuing to take control.
“Spread the word.” He said. “Find every sorcerer that you can, and instruct them to begin preparations immediately.” Kambeth nodded in response and the solemn looks on a few individual faces amongst the crowd told Isabel that there were indeed at least a few sorcerers among them.
The rest of the crowd had already begun to attempt to disperse, more than likely to return home to hide, but Cole’s loud, echoing voice halted them like the crack of a whip.
“Everyone else…” His piercing words and gaze stopped the escapees in their tracks, it was either that, or the fierce and determined look on Rose’s fanged face. They both made it very clear that there would be no individuality in this battle. Tamarack would stand together, united to the very end.
Isabel and Zanriath looked upon their son at that moment, even through the peril portrayed in his tone, with glowing pride, for more reasons than they could possibly have named.
“Prepare for war.” The crowd looked at Cole almost disbelievingly as his meaning slowly sunk through to them.
He stood steadfast and resolute, not wavering for even an instant.
“This has happened before.” He reminded them sternly. “If history is going to repeat itself, at least this time, we want to be ready.”
16
“How much of that was the truth Isabel?” Kambeth asked in a hushed whisper, back in the stables away from the prying eyes of the public. Outside the crowds were in panic as the reality of the situation began to spread like a disease. At least this time they had more forewarning.
Cole and Zanriath had gone back up to the rooms to collect their belongings ready to depart, and Rose sat contentedly at the back of the stables on her haunches. Kambeth kept one eye trained one her at all times, still rather nervous in her presence, and spoke quietly and quickly to Isabel.
She sighed at his question.
“All of it I’m afraid.” She admitted. “The Souls of the Ocean are making another move.”
“Another move?” He questioned. “I must confess, I didn’t realise they’d already made a move?” Isabel nodded somewhat sorrowfully.
“They were the reason the demons ever came here in the first place.” She explained, revealing somehow perhaps even more than Ormath had told them, though she did not quite know how. “They drove Depozi to madness, and wanted to use the demons to kill us all.”
But they couldn’t because you killed Depozi?” Kambeth asked.
Isabel bit her lip for a moment and pondered his question.
“That is part of the reason why they didn’t.” She answered honestly.
“Alright…” Kambeth replied dubiously, unsure whether or not he wanted to know the other parts too. “Why can’t you just kill this demon like you killed Depozi?” He asked.
“I didn’t kill Depozi.” Isabel pointed out. “I couldn’t. He’s an immortal.”
“Ok fine.” Kambeth said throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Why can’t you just do whatever it was you did to Depozi to this demon? Surely if you can stop a God you can stop anything?” Isabel winced slightly at his words. Kambeth obviously did not know as well as she how little power the Gods really had, but then, how could he?
She moved to the stable door and glanced outside briefly before pushing it to, and returning quickly to their conversation, directing him, somewhat reluctantly, to the back of the stables, directly beside Rose.
> He swallowed hard as they stood almost directly beneath her massive jaws and Isabel whispered to him in a close to inaudible voice.
“This demon didn’t come from the demonic realm.” She said quickly. Kambeth’s eyes widened ever further as her explanation continued. “Neither did Rose. Cole created them. Rose has the equivalent of half of Cole’s power, and Thorn, the other demon, has the other half.”
“So we control one half…” He whispered back, glancing briefly up at Rose, still peering down at them inquisitively, her head cocked to one side. He gulped. “I hope…and the Souls of the Ocean control the other half.”
The old man’s wit pleasantly surprised Isabel and she nodded in response.
“So…” Kambeth continued. “At the moment we have the advantage, because Rose is his equal, and we have you, and Zanriath, and Cole, and the rest of Tamarack for that matter.”
“Yes.” Isabel agreed, though not wholeheartedly. Kambeth picked up on her scepticism.
“Until he can raise more demons?” He guessed. Isabel nodded. “How soon will that be?” He asked.
“I don’t know.” Isabel admitted. Kambeth looked at her with a strange knowing.
“I would imagine that depends on how powerful he is going to become?” She looked at him with an expression that begged him to keep the conversation to himself. He understood her meaning quite clearly. “Which I would also imagine depends entirely on how powerful your son is…” He trailed off, their conversation finally coming to its crux. Isabel sighed.
“And on how much more powerful the lost souls make him…” She added sullenly.
Kambeth’s returning look was an understanding one, and Isabel found at least a little comfort in his kindness.
“Cole has known his potential for barely a week.” She continued. “His power is growing every day, and I can’t even begin to imagine it. It’s vast, uncontrollable.” Her voice skipped on her last few words and Kambeth looked at her sympathetically.
“He’s still your son Isabel.” The old man said kindly as he leaned heavily on his wooden cane and rested his free hand gently on Isabel’s shoulder. “Nothing can change that. If anyone can find a way to stop this Isabel, it’s you and Zanriath.” He told her with a smile. “And if Cole has even a fraction of the power you say he has, I’m sure together you’ll be able to stop Thorn.”
From outside the stables they could hear Zanriath and Cole’s voices approaching and Kambeth moved stiffly to open the door. “Not to worry…I shall keep this between us.” He assured Isabel.
She smiled and thanked the old man and watched him fondly as he hobbled off towards the centre of town, undoubtedly going to rally the townsfolk to war.
“Everything alright?” Zanriath asked as he and Cole reached the stables, watching Kambeth as he limped away into the distance.
“Yes.” Isabel replied smiling, looking between her dear husband and son. “It should be.”
Less than an hour later they were saddled, and fed, thanks to the eager compliance of the locals, and ready to depart. Even Rose had been provided with generous portions of meat, and they made for the east in frantic pursuit of Thorn, who was moving now with great speed.
“I think he’s heading for the coast!” Zanriath shouted suddenly as they ran full pelt, leaving Akten on Avrik, the town built up so splendidly around the river, sparkling in the light of the autumn cold, far behind them.
Their horses’ breath steamed in the still cold air, as did Rose’s, though comparatively she seemed not to be exerting any effort to maintain the pace, her enormous and powerful strides eating the distance with relative ease.
“How do you know!?” Isabel shouted back.
“Just a feeling!” He replied. “I have no idea what for though!” Isabel did not reply, although somehow she thought she did have a very good inclination as to the demon’s terrible intentions.
They continued the chase. It was not until they realised that on horseback they would not be able to catch Thorn before he reached the shoreline, that Cole and Rose broke away and sped ahead.
Storming now, her pace unhindered, Rose extended her strides and pounded the ground with her powerful legs, tearing up great chunks of earth and stone with her monstrous claws. Even as she sprinted to the east with all her speed, the ground shaking beneath her powerful bounds, it still felt as if they were moving all too inexorably slowly.
Cole clung to her back tightly, though the fear of falling never entered his mind, as he and Rose shifted their positions to match each other’s movements continuously. Their thoughts were by now linked even more closely than before, maintained without even a trace of conscious effort.
Soon they reached the thick band of trees that extended north to south, parallel to the coastline, blocking the way to the coast. But they could clearly see that, in his haste, Thorn had not bothered to evade them, and a trampled line was cut through the undergrowth. Cole ducked and Rose erupted through the foliage with ever-increasing speed. They tore between the weathered and worn trunks, and burst through a small clearing, leaving a trail of churned earth behind them.
For a brief second, as Rose churned the fallen leaves and earth and leapt the clearing in almost a single bound, the brief image of Cole’s mother, much younger than he knew her now, flitted into his mind. Time seemed to slow, even if only for a moment, as Cole’s thoughts registered what he was almost certain was a memory, though it was not one of his own.
The memory belonged to his mother, to the trees and to the wind, and even to the ground she had rested upon, all those years ago.
She stood alone in the fading light of the clearing that Cole and Rose now crossed. Around her were several sets of gravestones, and her expression was one of such responsibility, and sorrow, and burden, that Cole could almost not bear to look upon her saddened face.
But then, as they left the clearing and re-entered the woods, the image was gone, flickering from sight, and Cole was caught breathless, unsure exactly what had just happened.
Bursting from the eastern side of the woodland, Cole immediately sensed they were close to Thorn, and Rose, unfaltering in her step, continued the hunt.
Before long the misty shoreline that Cole had never seen before, but had heard many stories and rumours of, came into view, and there, ahead of them, sprinting toward the fog, was a black and surely demonic silhouette.
“There he is Rose!” Cole shouted. But he needn’t have wasted his breath. Rose sensed Thorn’s presence just as Cole did, and somehow raced forward even faster, closing the distance between them evermore rapidly.
Soon enough Cole could make out Thorn’s outline. He had altered his shape since they had last met in the mountains, opting for four legs rather than two for the sake of speed, and looked much like a large dog, though nowhere near as large as Rose. His coat was jet black and the powerful muscles in his legs rippled beneath his thin fur, pounding out great strides in a final and desperate attempt to reach the ocean.
His physical arsenal was reduced to the bare minimum, his focus bent solely on outrunning Rose. However, he stood little chance, as Rose’s strength, combined with that of Cole’s, gave them a distinct advantage, just as Kambeth had rightly surmised - for now at least.
Within less than another minute they were upon him, now barely a mile from the shoreline. In a single, powerful motion, Rose swept Thorn up in her vast jaws and, slowing her pace, shook him like a rag doll, his limbs flailing about helplessly and his pain filled shrieks carrying off into the distance all around.
Finally, coming to a standstill, Rose spat Thorn out onto the ground, bloodied and twitching. Cole, his mind and heart racing at least as fast as Rose’s, breathed a heavy sigh of relief and leapt down from Rose’s back as she jumped upon Thorn’s barely breathing carcass, pinning him rigidly to the ground.
Cole urgently wanted to deal with Thorn, but he was wary, caution instilled in him by his mother’s all too true words, and so he awaited her and his father’s arrival.
Rose guarded the fallen brute, her giant, clawed foot resting almost casually upon his bleeding and wheezing chest.
Sometime later, Cole sensed his parents’ emergence from the woodland and they hurried down to where their son and his demon stood. Still Rose guarded over Thorn to ensure he did not escape. In fact he had not moved since Rose had attacked him, and his breathing was rapid and shallow, his eyes only flickering in and out of consciousness.
Zanriath and Isabel immediately dismounted and raced over to Cole.
“What happened?” Isabel immediately asked, though as she took in the scene before her, she needn’t have bothered.
“We caught him.” Cole replied, stating the obvious somewhat. “But I wanted to wait for you.” He admitted honestly. Isabel looked at him squarely. “Just in case.”
“Thank you.” She replied. Then an unfamiliar voice spoke and they all looked down sharply at the bleeding body under Rose’s intense watch.
“This isn’t what you want Cole.” The strange voice from Thorn’s lips spoke. The words were harsh and rasping and he seemed somehow to barely be able to control them, as if they were being forced upon him. “How will killing me bring you what you want?”
Rose snarled fiercely and pressed down more forcefully upon the wounded beast, turning his rasping words into a wheezing gasp.
“You are the threat.” Cole spat back at him. Isabel and Zanriath were a little shocked at the spite in Cole’s voice. “You will not harm the people of Tamarack.” It was as though Cole was not only speaking to Thorn, but to the lost souls themselves.
“Your passion is a great strength.” The voice from Thorn’s lips replied. “But it is also what drives you, is it not?” Cole did not reply. “Have you not always wanted more? Have you not always felt as though you were unfulfilled?”
