by Ross Turner
Thorn’s power was indeed growing rapidly, and his army was expanding at a rate that she did not wish to consider, but what had Garan been so insistent on hiding?
What could possibly help them draw Thorn out, and save the countless, needless deaths that would undoubtedly ensue if they couldn’t stop this carnage?
What were they going to do?
The notion seemed impossible, how could they get to him, or get him to come to them? They couldn’t, surely?
Somewhere, deep in the middle of the great mist covered ocean, Thorn’s forces were gathering, preparing so cruelly to overwhelm everything that Isabel and her family were fighting so hard to protect.
He awaited their decision eagerly, but since they had little choice in the matter, he gleefully anticipated the moment in which his forces would claim Tamarack for their own. And with his victory, Isabel and Zanriath, and indeed Cole and Rose, would fall helplessly before him, their resisting efforts all but futile.
35
The next morning, Isabel and Zanriath awoke to noise and commotion. From outside came the sounds of shouting, banging, hammering and grinding, as weapons, armour and troops were massed in hasty preparation. The Southern Armouries’ organisation, and not surprisingly craftsmanship, far surpassed anything Isabel had seen from any of the four islands’ people up to that point.
Isabel was astounded at how quickly Garan had accomplished such mobilisation, and more and more men and women seemed to pour into the workshops by the hour, setting hammer to anvil with blistering speed and effect.
During a hasty breakfast, Garan still seemed a little distant, his expression unchanged from the night previous, and perhaps this was not helped by the fact that Cole had not yet appeared. Isabel assured the gentle warrior that her son and his demon were not far away, and were spending the morning in further training, preparing themselves for imminent future turmoil.
Whilst she was not lying, she could indeed sense that Cole and Rose were only about a mile or two away, a little out from the hustle and bustle of preparation, she did not in actual fact have any idea what they were doing. Nonetheless, she was keen to find out what was on Garan’s mind, and so she set herself to the task of unlocking whatever secrets the stubborn warrior was hiding.
However, no matter how she pushed and persisted, nothing Isabel could say would make Garan reveal that anything was awry or amiss. He adamantly denied that he knew what Isabel was referring to, and after quite some time, she eventually let the matter drop, wondering how in the world her son had upset the honourable warrior so.
Shortly after breakfast, Garan took Isabel and Zanriath through the core of the Southern Armouries’ encampment, in part to see how many troops they had already managed to muster, and in part to motivate and rally the men.
“So far we’re looking at about four hundred strong.” He told them in a loud voice that carried just above the noisy surroundings, ensuring that his troops could hear his confident tone. “More are coming down from Warriors’ Plain, but they won’t arrive all together. They’ll probably filter in over the next few days.”
“It’s unlikely they’ll make it here without encountering more demons.” Isabel called back. “I’ve been tracking their movements and there are many more on the island now - quite a few are also making their way here.”
“That’s rather disconcerting…” Garan replied, though more quietly, not quite loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Are all the troops armed?” Zanriath asked, as he eyed the numerous forges, all burning brightly and hard at work.
“For the most part.” Garan told him. “But we’re desperately trying to strengthen our ranks with bigger, better and stronger weapons. The demons will likely overpower us otherwise. They are far too powerful for us not to at least try to ready better weaponry.” Zanriath nodded in agreement.
“I thought you already made the best weapons and armour here?” Isabel asked. Garan smiled a little.
“Indeed we do Isabel.” He replied. “Our work is unrivalled, but there’s always room for improvement, is there not?” She nodded in reply, but it was her husband who spoke next.
“I will help in the forges.” He said. “We don’t have much time, and I have certain advantages when it comes to metalwork.”
“Thank you.” Garan replied. Zanriath nodded and headed off immediately, leaving Isabel alone with the great warrior, leader of the resistance.
Garan’s eyes followed Zanriath for a moment as he introduced himself in the smithy and immediately set to work. He then caught Isabel’s sharp gaze and, just as he did so, he looked as though he was going to confess what he had been hiding right there and then, but he held his tongue resolutely. Isabel sighed deeply and continued to follow the stubborn man.
Some way off, Cole and Rose sat in silence amidst a clump of trees. Cole’s thoughts scanned over the island, repeatedly leafing through the converging army of demons. Their ranks were swelling continuously as numerous smaller packs joined together into larger hordes.
Then something brought him back to his physical being, and he looked over to Rose questioningly.
“Did you feel that?” He asked, speaking aloud out of habit. Rose shook her enormous head.
‘No.’ Her voice formed in Cole’s mind. ‘What was it?’
“I don’t know…” He said. His voice trailed off and the sound vanished, lost amongst the still falling snowflakes.
But after a few moments he heard it again - the sound that had brought him back from his search. It was a shrill whistle of wind that did not match the other winds blowing around him. It stood apart, and was so distinctly separate and obvious from the others that Cole could almost have stood up and plucked it from the air.
Following the sound of the wind came the voice carried upon it.
‘Time is growing short Cole.’ It said to him in his thoughts.
Rose heard it now too, and plucked up her ears, though that made no difference, as it was not her ears that were detecting the sound. The wind had simply been used to gain their attention.
‘I know.’ Cole thought wearily in response. ‘How much time is there?’
‘Very little.’ The voice informed him ambiguously. ‘Things are moving too quickly. By sunrise tomorrow, the one you know as Thorn will have opened the gateway to the demonic realm.’
‘Perfect.’ Cole thought dryly.
‘You must complete your task soon Cole, lest Tamarack perish. As you are aware, you must get to Thorn.’ The voice’s tone remained steady, but the urgency behind it was blindingly clear.
‘I know.’ Cole replied again, this time more helplessly. ‘I have to wait until morning for Garan to tell my mother and father though. I cannot change his mind, but they can.’ The voice was silent for a moment.
‘You are correct Cole.’ It told him then. ‘Garan is a good man, and he wishes only to protect you.’
‘Yes.’ Cole thought, sighing deeply. ‘But he’s only holding us back.’ Rose nudged Cole’s arm and he placed it across her broad neck.
‘Patience.’ The voice said then. ‘Isabella shall realise the truth before sunrise, and Garan shall be turned. Then you will have to act immediately. But still, even then, you know you cannot prevent all the casualties.’ And with that, before Cole had chance to formulate a response, the voice was gone.
Though short, the conversation with the voice that was not of a God had seemed strangely personal to Cole, and he thought upon that fact for a moment before the young, burdened man sighed deeply, and turned his attentions back to memories of home and his former life.
Strangely, as he recalled the places he no longer visited, and the people he no longer saw, he did not miss them, for they had always seemed somehow incomplete. Save one figure that remained forever fixed perfectly in his mind’s eye.
Rosynn was the only part of his old life, his life without power or ability, that Cole felt any sadness in losing. But then his sadness turned to guilt as the image of Rosynn drifting in his th
oughts was brutally attacked and murdered by demons, cutting at Cole through those few he cared so dearly for.
Angered by the thought, Cole climbed to his feet in defiance and, without consideration for whether or not what he was attempting could even be done, he cast his demonic thoughts out across Tamarack. As he had expected, viewing the kingdom from this very broad perspective, he saw demons scattered lavishly throughout the ocean, and more and more pouring out onto the four islands by the minute. They were dark stains to his mind’s eye, slowly expanding in all directions and infecting the purity of the land.
There were already several hundred on each island, at least, and those numbers were rising rapidly. He focused in on Rilako more specifically, seeing that the demons there were spread reasonably thinly, but many already having made their way into towns and villages.
Akten on Avrik had already been reached, and there was a particularly large group only ten miles or so from Kalaris.
Gritting his teeth and focusing his thoughts with even greater concentration, Cole attempted to use what his mother had taught him in a much more specific manner, and not simply for standard demonic observation.
He focused on Kalaris itself, sensing the village as a whole in his mind at first, before trying to identify individual buildings. However, he struggled, and found it was too difficult. Soon he was tired, sweating, and breathing heavily, even in the cold all around.
But then he began to feel his other awareness spreading, the one he did not fully understand, and this time over a much wider distance, replacing the demonic power he had been at first trying to solely focus with.
Once more, he could feel the earth beneath his feet, now right down to its very core, the rhythm of its life dancing around him like music.
Focusing in on Kalaris again, Cole now found it simple to identify individual buildings, and even people for that matter, as they prepared in frenzy for the inevitable attack ahead.
By now, Cole felt as if he was walking among the villagers himself, as they scurried to and fro in their tasks. They could not see him, as he was not really there, but he walked amongst them and took in every detail and event as they occurred.
Here too snow fell, and was building up in drifts all around the stone houses and shops. But this was not the time to dawdle. Cole had only one destination in mind. As his mind ‘walked’ through the small village his old friends and neighbours bustled past, panic and stress clear on their faces. Fresh guilt gripped him as yet again new waves of realisation poured over the young man, though the heavy responsibility he felt had indeed always been unavoidable.
Minutes later, Cole, or more accurately Cole’s awareness, approached Rosynn’s cottage. She was sat in her garden, as she always was, somehow unaffected by the cold and the snow and the looming prospect of death. And again, as always, she looked up as Cole approached, which was even stranger than usual now, as she was not only blind, but also, Cole was not even there.
“Hello Cole.” She greeted him sweetly, and with evident joy. “I was so hoping to speak to you before you left.”
Cole was completely taken aback for a moment, astounded, unable to find the words to reply to her. Rosynn waited patiently, knowing the young man was a little shocked, both by what he had just done, and by her greeting.
Eventually, Cole found his words, though what he said did little other than to confuse him further.
“You told my mother that before we left Rilako.” He said quietly, though he did not know how he knew. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”
“You don’t need to apologise Cole.” She told him gently. “Though I would enjoy meeting Rose, I’m sure.” Cole blushed for a moment then, and he was uncertain whether his projected thoughts would show her his embarrassment. He sighed as Rosynn smiled gently and understandingly. Clearly they did.
“I named her after you.” He admitted.
“I know.” She replied simply, nodding as she spoke. “Thank you. You are very sweet Cole.”
“Rosynn.” He said more seriously now. “You must leave. The demons are on the island. They will reach Kalaris today.”
“I know that too.” She told him calmly.
“Then you must go!” He urged her. “Please!”
“Where would I go Cole?” She asked him truthfully.
“Warn the others.” He insisted. “Tell them to leave too. They will guide you somewhere safe.” Then her next response took Cole once again by surprise, and his heart sank deeper than he ever could have imagined.
“What need have I to leave Cole?” He could not reply. For a moment he had no response. Surely the answer was obvious?
“To stay alive Rosynn!” He answered finally. “To escape! To live!” She sighed mournfully and looked up at Cole again through misty eyes. He could have sworn she was looking directly at him, through him even.
“Cole.” She whispered. “None of us know how this will end. Not I, not you, your parents, nor the Gods…”
Her voice was thick with emotion, an emotion that had been building now for years, and Cole was on the verge of tears, knowing almost exactly what she would say next. Her unspoken words tore a blistering hole in his heart that burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.
“My life left me when you embarked upon your quest. I do not blame you, for I know you had no choice in the matter, and I have known for quite some time about your task.” She admitted heavily, coughing weakly before she continued, her face paling. “But, if, fate forbid, you do not return, the world as we know it will come to an end, one way or another, and all of us will perish. This, you already know.”
“I will come back.” He answered defiantly, as if he could control his fate. Rosynn only smiled again.
“Of that I have no doubt.” She assured him gently. “For you have more heart than I my sweet. But were I to leave, it would not be to live Cole.” She told him. “It would be, quite simply, to not die.”
By now Cole’s voice was caught in his throat, barely holding his emotion back, and Rosynn’s was so thick she could hardly contain it either.
“But when you do return, as I am sure you shall, you will be changed Cole.” She told him honestly. “My sweet, young Colvan will be gone, altered inevitably by the hands of fate, and my life shall go with him, for he has forever been the centre of my being. His preparation was my task.”
The horrible truth crashed down on Cole without care, crushing him to within an inch of his being. Rosynn smiled sorrowfully and raised her hand to him in farewell as she began to slip from his grasp.
Cole tried to call out to her, but he could do nothing but choke up tears. He grasped desperately at the sight of her as his will failed him and her image slipped from his concentration.
The last thing he saw of his Rosynn before she vanished from his awareness was her tear-stricken face, disappearing from view, just as young Colvan disappeared also, replaced by another. And in his wake, stood not the child he had once been, but instead, an older, stronger, more regretful Cole, more determined, and more prepared for the task that lay inevitably ahead.
It was necessary for him to be this way, for without that regret, he could surely never hope to succeed.
“I love you Cole.” Were the last words he heard Rosynn speak before she was gone, never to return. He had lost her forever.
Regardless of whether Cole completed his task in time or not, it appeared he would never see her again.
As his thoughts cascaded back to his body, they were stricken with grief that crashed into him carelessly and relentlessly. He opened his watery eyes to the snow-covered scene before him, seeing the blurred white shapes of trees and open expanses, his legs almost buckling beneath his own weight.
Sensing and sharing in his anguish, Rose wormed herself beneath Cole’s arm as he collapsed into her enormous side, his emotion overtaking him entirely.
They could do nothing but let his grief run its course, and he lay against Rose for almost the whole day, listening to the strong thumping on
her heartbeat against her ribcage, warmed from the chill air and snow by her immense heat.
The sound comforted him considerably, and he rested his weary head against the massive and ferocious demon who, now that he knew he would never see his Rosynn again, was his only remaining friend. He could not let any harm come to her, or to his family.
It seemed that, as time ticked ruthlessly by, all those who Cole loved were being torn from him, and he did not know how many more he would lose, how many more he could lose, before it would all become too much for him to cope.
But it appeared now that he had indeed lost even himself to this task. Young Colvan was no more, and as he and Rose turned back to the Southern Armouries’ encampment, the day was slowly merging to night, submitting to its dark clutches.
It was with new determination, ever-greater regret, and a heart so heavy that it felt like stone, that Cole now prepared to face his task.
And indeed also, he prepared himself to face the likely possibility that he would never return, or even worse, that he would have nothing to return to.
36
Cole had not returned all day, and though she could sense he was not far away, Isabel naturally began to worry. When her son and Rose eventually did return to the house they were staying in, the haunted look in Cole’s eye was something Isabel could not comprehend, and her heart tugged and strained in her ignorance as to what was causing her only son such terrible anguish.
But Isabel knew somehow that asking him would only worsen his suffering, and so she retired to bed for the night, troubled by her son’s pain, troubled by the demons ever-encroaching, and troubled by nightmares that had so far on this journey spared her their torment.
It seemed that Cole was being anguished by many different and torturous truths, and each one drained at Isabel’s strength equally, though that provided her with little in the way of lessening her young boy’s pain.
