by Ross Turner
Isabel and Zanriath looked at each other worriedly before quickly fetching their own cloaks, and following their son to the stables, hurrying after him, shouting a hasty farewell and thanks to the High Priest and to Kay and Hale.
Though it seemed Cole had forgotten his goodbyes altogether, that was not the case, and the old man smiled as he watched them dash away through the water-smeared front window of his cottage.
“May the Gods be with you, young Colvan.” He said quietly, a sly smile touching his lips, his faith restored. Kay and Hale stood to the old man’s side, also watching the Eternal Son, the Protector, depart through the downpour.
First they sighed, but then relief flooded through them both, and finally they saw the end result of what they had been preparing for, for so many doubtful years.
Then they revelled.
The brother and sister, orphaned at such a young age, in order to undertake such an important task, were at last having their efforts rewarded.
After laying centuries of foundations in place, all in preparation for Cole’s arrival, many of those stepping stones absolutely imperative for his birth to even occur, let alone everything else, their content was well deserved.
They joined hands and spoke for the first time in almost countless years in unison, their voices soft and unused, fresh as the first days they ever used them.
“Thank you Cole. We believe in you.”
Their guides were awaiting their arrival, but did not question their lateness. Clearly they had heard of what had happened, and showed sympathy, or perhaps fear, for Cole’s little mishap in his total destruction of the barn.
It was but another half an hour later that all the horses and Rose were fully laden with supplies and riders, still in the driving fury of the angry storm, that they preceded back to the north, fighting the lashing of the rain and doing their best to defend themselves against it as they rode.
Their return journey to Kazra was slow, and the spiteful rain battered them constantly. Their horses’ hooves churned the ground into thick clumps of mud and clay, slowing their progress considerably. It took them a full day longer to return to Kazra than it had done for them to reach the Southern Mills, and they all felt that extra time most arduously.
The ride was tiring, but when they reached the capital of Vak’Istor they rested for only one night, thanked their guides, spoke briefly to King, swapped their horses, and set off again the next morning, still with the heavy rain resisting them.
But as they already knew, they had no further time to spare.
Their next destination was the Isle of Ayva, formerly known to all as Land of the Demon-Lord.
Isabel was apprehensive as to what they would find there, for she did not know to what extent the demons had damaged her old home after she had left it, for what she had thought was the last time, almost twenty years ago.
She recalled all too clearly the demonic army they had faced, and knew that they would certainly have wreaked havoc upon the land and its people, having been unable to claim Isabel at the last moment.
But there was nothing she could do about that now, and she would simply have to wait and hope that their wrath had not been too great.
Isabel took a deep breath and they pushed on endlessly, battling the pounding rain and the prevailing winds, fighting with all their might to prepare their kingdom for the demonic war that, if they could not find a way to stop Thorn, would undoubtedly ensue.
27
Their cold, wet, gloomy, and decidedly unpleasant journey from the Southern Mills to the shores of the Isle, took them the best part of a week to complete in the horrendous conditions that seemed to have settled. They were overjoyed when, finally, the fog cleared after yet another unnerving pass through Compii Tower, the rain ceased, and the shoreline of Isabel’s original home at last came into view before them.
Crossing Compii Tower and the bridge to the south towards the Isle of Ayva had been no more pleasant than their first crossing. The constant feeling of watching eyes upon them from the water plagued Isabel as they rode, raising the hairs on the back of her neck and chilling her to the core. It was as if she could almost feel the very presence of the lost souls, once more longing for her co-operation and submission.
Casting her hood back, Isabel pulled her damp hair away from the back of her neck and surveyed the expanses of the Isle of Ayva - the island that, over the years, had brought her such great joy, learning, and indeed sorrow.
Though it had once been her home, this place now felt almost entirely foreign to Isabel. As she surveyed it in that brief few minutes upon their arrival, though little seemed to have changed, nothing was familiar.
“Is this where you grew up mother?” Cole asked her as he pulled his own hood back, cold droplets of condensed water running down his face and neck.
“Mmm.” Isabel replied quietly, taking in the land before her, the land she had not seen for almost two decades. Indeed her answer could not entirely be yes.
Continuing, they rode south towards Aproklis, but this time following the western shoreline, so as to avoid the Great Forest. This was a silent agreement that had come about between Zanriath and Isabel, even before they had reached the island, for that forest held too many memories that they did not wish to bring up, especially at such a vital time.
Overall, Isabel was pleased with what she saw. Though there were scars of the demonic hordes from years ago, Ayva’s people had recovered well, and were indeed prospering. The abandoned, derelict and often destroyed farmhouses that had once stood atop the swelling hills in every direction, had mostly been rebuilt, and were now working farms once more.
The afternoon brightened as it wore on and that evening proved to be clear and calm, though extremely cold, and Cole’s fire was much needed that night, as had become one of his regular tasks as part of his training. They were thankful for the night free of rain, allowing them chance at least to rest comfortably.
The next morning dawned early and bright, and they set off shortly after sunrise, once more wrapped up to keep the harsh chill at bay. Fresh dew kicked up from the cold, wet ground sprayed them and their horses as they set out, and only made the morning feel colder.
Rose was the only one amongst them unaffected by the temperature, as her brown fur, though it was not too thick, helped keep her warm, and her pumping muscles generated vast quantities of heat, enough even to keep the chill off of her.
Their pace was relentless and Isabel’s thoughts whirred constantly as they rode, unable to quite grasp that she had returned after such a long time away. She had never expected to come back. As they followed the coastline south, she frequently glanced out across to the mist-covered ocean, dreading every time that she and Cole scanned the waters, what they would find lurking there. But, as of yet, thankfully, Thorn still seemed to be alone.
They continued south still, coming slightly away from the western shoreline as it rose from the ground and became the enormous and steep Black Cliffs that made up one of the western shores of the Isle. They veered inland towards Aproklis, cantering away from the cliffs at a dead run, making good time for the town at their hurried pace.
Then, for some reason, as they moved further from the edge of the rising cliffs, Rose slowed her pace, her great strides shortening to a lope, and finally to a walk. She eventually stopped altogether and turned back, looking quite deliberately and purposefully out towards the ocean.
“What is it Rose?” Cole asked aloud, though he had not needed to. His confusion, along with Rose’s slowed pace, caught his parents’ attention, and they reigned in their horses to see what the problem was.
“Everything ok Rose?” Isabel asked. Zanriath pulled his horse closer to the demon, her eyes locked on the horizon off to the west. After a few moments Cole spoke again.
“She wants to go back over there.” He told them, still confused himself. Rose’s thoughts seemed to be scrambled and he struggled to understand her intentions.
“To the Black Cliffs?” Isabel
asked, puzzled also. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” Cole admitted, shrugging his shoulder and looking to his parents with a somewhat bewildered expression.
“Be careful.” Zanriath warned, indicating with that simple caution that he would allow them to venture out to the Black Cliffs alone. Isabel looked across at him sharply, but said nothing.
Cole nodded and, without any instruction from him, Rose took off in a flash to the west, striding in huge, leaping bounds once again, tearing up earth and rock and mud with her monstrous claws.
“What’s going on?” Isabel asked her husband, unsure why he had allowed their son and his demon to sprint off to the cliffs alone.
“I’m not entirely sure.” Zanriath admitted. “But I get the impression it’s something quite important.”
Isabel did not reply, but looked instead off into the distance after her disappearing son and his demon, not for the first time.
“Come on Isabel.” Zanriath reassured her quietly. “We’ll never catch up with them, and they’ll easily catch up to us when they’re finished.”
And so they turned their horses towards Aproklis once more, and continued their journey, for the moment, without Cole and Rose.
The wind tore through them and whipped at their cold, exposed faces as Cole and Rose raced towards the cliffs with blinding speed. The tip of the sheer face drew nearer and nearer until, only at the very last second, Rose screeched to a frantic halt, almost throwing Cole from her back in the process, right at the edge of the sheer face.
Her talon claws scraped horribly against the cold, bare face of the rock, leaving great jagged indents behind them. The cliffs extended as far as the eye could see in each direction, masses of rock piled up atop each other - a dark, impenetrable barricade that the lifeless ocean could not infiltrate.
“Woah Rose!” Cole yelled as he clung on to her fur for dear life. “What’s going on girl?” Rose did not reply, even in thought, and only glared down irately at the seething water at the base of the cliff.
Cole dropped from her powerful back carefully and stepped round to her side, running his hand along her underbelly and neck, looking over the edge also, straining his eyes to see what was clearly upsetting his Rose so.
The Black Cliffs were aptly named. The grass extending out behind him vanished into stone at his feet, and the grey face of the rock dropped steeply down. However, after a metre or so, a stain in the rock’s normal colour could be seen, spread across the rock face like an ugly scar. It stretched all the way across the cliff in both directions, and far down below to the lashing water. The stain was a deathly black and looked as though it oozed across the surface of the exposed rock painfully, as blood oozes and spreads from a wound.
Far down at the base of the cliffs the ocean broke in thumping waves and seething foam as vast quantities of water smashed relentlessly into the rock. There was no animal life on the cliffs, and it was as if the black faces were all but uninhabitable.
Then, Cole finally saw what had put Rose so on edge. There, far down amongst the crashing and breaking waves, stood the single lonely figure of a man, soaked through and freezing, staring back up at them with warm, brown eyes.
But the warmth in those eyes however was false, and Cole’s own identical eyes hardened as he recognised the figure, not by sight, but instead by sense. A deep, threatening growl grew deep in the back of Rose’s throat as they bore down, not quite wholeheartedly, upon their adversary.
Thorn smiled then as he looked up at them and, just as an enormous wave smashed into him, he fell back into the bubbling water and vanished, disappearing amongst the frothing and foaming surf.
Cole blinked a few times, as if convincing himself that what he had seen had actually been real. But then, as it struck him, he needed no more convincing. The words smacked him like a mighty blow, and Cole was sent reeling backwards. Rose snarled fiercely and adopted her usual defensive position, standing over him rigidly and protectively.
Dizzily picking himself up from the ground, Cole rubbed his whiplashed neck and a cold sweat broke out over his body.
He suddenly realised the exact meaning of the words Thorn had just shouted in his mind, and the fear dawned upon him once more.
In one fell swoop Cole’s heart became as hard and black as the rocks spread out as menacing cliffs below him.
‘It’s time.’
28
It was not long after Isabel and Zanriath had set up camp and begun preparing supper that their son and his demon returned. Rose stormed towards their camp with frightening speed and tore up ground and earth in great clumps as she clawed to a shuddering halt. Cole dismounted immediately and attempted to quiet his infuriated friend, holding her great head to his and whispering quickly and quietly in her ear.
“What happened?” Isabel asked, immediately on her feet and at Cole’s side, relieved more than anything that he was ok, but worried by Rose’s angry and frantic display.
“We saw Thorn.” He replied, still tending to the enraged beast, now clawing in frustration at the ground, ripping it away in great chunks.
“Are you both ok?” Zanriath asked, clearly also concerned by Rose’s mood.
“Yes.” Cole said firmly, looking pointedly at Rose. She seemed to understand his meaning and quieted, but Isabel didn’t know what had passed between them. “We’re just very tired.”
Isabel looked at her son expectantly, knowing there was more, but he did not speak, and so, in exasperation almost, she let the matter drop once again.
“Come on.” She said. “Supper is on.” She and Zanriath turned back to the camp and Cole and Rose exchanged another thought.
Cole quickly closed his eyes and cast his thoughts out to the west yet again and over the ocean. It took him only a matter of seconds, his parents did not sense or feel his concentration, as by now he could conceal it almost expertly, but it confirmed his fears.
For now, at least, there were only a few dozen, but he knew it would not be long before their numbers became almost countless, and Thorn had an army at his command.
“Cole?” Isabel called to her son. He had not moved and still stood with his hand atop Rose’s huge head. He sighed regretfully, the weight of his mistakes crashing down upon him, and trudged over reluctantly to join his parents.
“We’re coming.” He called back as light-heartedly as possible, attempting to veil what he had learned for a little while longer, time enough at least for him to come to terms with his failure.
The next day the family of four reached Aproklis. They had encountered very few people prior to their arrival, and Isabel had continued to look upon the Isle during their journey, and was pleased with its recovery.
This only made her more mournful however for the knowledge that soon the island would likely be once again plunged into chaos. Little did she know how soon. Cole sensed her sadness and was moved deeply by it, but could not yet bring himself to speak on it, for his heart ached too greatly and his wounds were too fresh.
Rose stayed shrouded from view, and Cole remained with her as his parents entered the town. It did not take long for the news of Isabel’s arrival to spread, and it was met with both happiness and concern, for her long-awaited return could mean only one thing and, somehow, the townspeople seemed to know this instinctively.
Eventually, Cole and Rose made their way through the cobblestoned streets also, and found Isabel and Zanriath surrounded by a throng of onlookers.
Strangely, they were met for the most part with great joy. The news that Isabel had a son had pleased those old enough to have known her when she had lived on the island, and indeed those amongst the crowds who had never known her seemed influenced by their elders, and greeted Cole, and equally Rose, openly.
Although there was still no council-system in place like there was in Vak’Istor, within only a few hours of their arrival the news they brought with them had spread rapidly, and already preparations had begun.
It did not take great dinners or speeches
to spur these people into action. It seemed that the island’s dark past had been so deeply ingrained within the minds of its inhabitants that they were forever prepared, awaiting yet again the arrival of the terrible beasts that had once plagued them.
Isabel said a silent prayer, thanking Ayva for Her good work, knowing somehow that Her dear, immortal friend had certainly had at least a little hand in the ease of her task that day.
They continued to spread the news that they had brought with them, and before long it seemed that everyone on the island would be aware and readied for an invasion within only a matter of days.
Nevertheless, though they were all tired and weary, Isabel and her family continued reuniting old acquaintances, and indeed building new ones, for the following few hours after their arrival.
It was soon late into the afternoon and, almost before she knew it, Isabel found herself over on the southeast side of Aproklis, wandering the streets alone upon her horse. Initially her wanderings were without direction, but she had always known to where she would be one day drawn for a final time.
It seemed the perfect opportunity, on this gloomy day, with such impending doom hanging over their heads, that her long awaited urge to revisit this particular site should be finally quenched.
Her husband and her son and his demon were resting at the inn that they had taken lodgings at, but she had told them there were a few more old friends she still needed to see - past tutors whom she needed to visit.
In fact, although she simply wanted to be alone for this time, in a sense, she had not been lying.
She knew Zanriath would spend the time with Cole, enhancing his elemental power, and she could foresee no other opportunity she would receive to make this detour.
