by Ross Turner
And once more, as she had done so many times before, Isabel saw her son in her dreams.
Cole sat alone once again in a small boat, drifting slowly through the mist, though this time he was not in the marshes. The mist told Isabel only one thing, and that notion was confirmed as she realised he was adrift, alone, stranded, atop the vast ocean.
The water was black beneath the fog and lapped greedily up the low sides of the still algae-covered boat. The hungry waves rose and swelled and dipped, rocking the small, helpless vessel easily from side to side, threatening to capsize it with every movement.
A look of terrible abandonment swept over Cole’s face and struck Isabel deeply, and somehow made her feel as though she was the one who had caused this. She was the one who had cast out her son and left him at the mercy of the black waters.
But the empty expanse of ocean was not solely what Cole had been left to suffer.
Suddenly, Cole’s rotting boat began to sink; letting in water through emerging cracks and holes within the wood itself, the ocean encroached. Within moments it was half-filled with cold, black water, and the demonic souls hidden beneath the surface began to swarm and advance in on the helpless child, preparing to take him down to his watery, demonic fate.
Isabel tried to scream, she tried to get to him, she tried to save her son, but she could do nothing. Her voice made no sound, her body would not move, and her efforts were all but futile.
She could only watch as they grabbed him, ripped at his clothes and his skin, his blood staining the black water with great, dark red streaks, before he eventually disappeared beneath the surface, his eyes bulging and his one free hand desperately reaching out for help.
Her young Colvan was gone.
Isabel screamed again, and this time her voice did make a sound - a very loud one. She shot bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding fiercely against her chest, her breathing heavy and sweat pouring from her.
“Isabel!?” Zanriath called, startled from sleep also. “Are you ok!? What happened!?” She did not reply. Her breathing was still fast and her heart was racing. She got up and went to wash her hands and face, rubbing the back of her neck to clean it of cold and damp.
Then suddenly she stopped and looked up, glancing out of the window at the still dark sky, her eyes widening in realisation.
“What time is it?” She asked her husband abruptly.
“About an hour before sunrise?” He estimated, confused, on his feet and by her side now. “What’s going on Isabel?”
“Garan!” She exclaimed obscurely between gritted teeth. “I know what he wouldn’t tell us.”
Before Zanriath could even begin to extract any further information from his furious wife, she was dressed and storming out into the dark cold of the morning, her hot breaths steaming in the air as she headed directly for the armoury. She knew Garan would be making early preparations with the weapon smiths, and wasted no time, her blood racing.
Though she had not reached the smithy yet, Isabel’s frustration began to get the better of her, and soon all of the Southern Armouries was awake.
“GARAN!” She screamed at the top of her lungs.
Men and women, all already armed, came rushing out of their homes from all directions, but retreated back inside when they realised that they were in fact not under demonic attack, but instead that Isabel was looking, quite specifically, for their leader.
Her power was renowned throughout Tamarack, and at that point they were perhaps more afraid of her than of the demons. It didn’t matter that her ability was limited almost solely to the demonic; clearly the people were wise enough to steer clear of her rage.
Finally, just as Zanriath caught up with her, Isabel reached the smithy, and Garan came rushing out, armed and ready at the sound of Isabel’s cries, expecting to find himself fending off an army of demons. What he faced instead was almost infinitely worse.
“GARAN!” Isabel screeched, waving her arms madly, almost deafening him as he was now but three feet away from her. He looked shocked, confused by her sudden explosion. “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?” She continued, knocking his half-drawn bow down, almost knocking it from his grasp even.
His blank expression did little to quell Isabel’s wrath, and Zanriath knew better than to interrupt.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING!?” Garan eventually found is tongue.
“Pardon…?” Was all he could manage at first. “I…I don’t understand…” Isabel cursed, rather loudly and profusely at that point, surprising everybody, before gasping in utter exasperation. Managing to calm her nerves and her shaking hands ever so slightly, she gathered her wits and breathed deeply.
“The ship, Garan.” She said very slowly, very clearly, and very forcefully. “Why didn’t you tell us about the ship?” The emphasis on each of her words was not necessary, but had the desired effect of the warrior. The blood drained from his face and his arms fell limp at his sides.
“What…How…?” Garan stumbled.
“Oh never mind how I know!” Isabel cried again throwing her hands up. “Why didn’t you tell us!?” Garan sighed deeply, giving in to her onslaught and re-shouldering his bow.
“It’s my duty to protect my people.” He said openly, looking around at the crowd that had appeared in the gloom to see what all the noise was about, most of them carrying heavy axes and swords. “I would never intentionally put anyone in harms way, especially unnecessarily.” The gentle warrior explained carefully.
All those around strained their ears to hear their leader’s words, but he was not ashamed of his actions, and so hid nothing.
“If we could even get the thing on the water, the ocean cannot be sailed, and even if it could, you would be all alone. At least here you have an army to fight alongside you.” Then his voice dropped to a whisper so that only Isabel could hear him, wanting to conceal his final admission, only for the sake of morale. “Without you, Isabel, we are lost. My people cannot win this war alone. I don’t want your family, or my family, to suffer.”
He looked around openly at the warriors before him. Clearly, to this brave man, his fellow people were no different to his very kin.
“Oh Garan.” Isabel sighed, not quite regretfully. “You are a good man, but your duty has blinded you from logic.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” He confessed, though nonetheless he was glad that Isabel had calmed somewhat. But before Isabel could reply, Cole stepped forward with Rose in tow, appearing from seemingly nowhere, and spoke clearly and deliberately so that everybody could hear.
Isabel gaped at her son in astonishment, who seemed to have aged overnight, and spoke with tone and words and volumes years beyond his age.
“The time during which we have spent delayed on our journey, human life has been lost needlessly.” He explained quite clearly to Garan. “We must find Thorn and either defeat him, or be destroyed. If we do not, no matter how many warriors you find, and how powerful their weapons are, they will all be lost.” The harsh but necessary truth in Cole’s words struck like the blow from a mighty axe, and Garan took a moment to swallow his near-fatal err.
“I am sorry my friends.” He said after some time. “I could not see the flaws in my own reasoning. Please, you must believe me. I did not intend to delay you purposefully. I only wanted to help you.”
“That’s alright Garan.” Isabel said smiling. “But we can’t afford it any longer.”
“No.” Garan agreed hastily. “Absolutely not. We shall see to the ship immediately after sunrise…” His words trailed off as he watched Cole’s face with a mixture of shock and fear.
Isabel moved to reply, but also caught her son’s vacant expression with concern.
“Cole?” She said warily.
But he did not respond. He had simply blanked mid-conversation.
Isabel took her son’s shoulders and looked him square in the eyes, but they did not register her face before his.
“Cole!” She said sharply now, her voice edged with
worry rather than anger, not knowing what was happening. “What’s wrong!?” She shook him more forcefully and her voice rose to a crescendo yet again. “COLE!” She shrieked.
They received no response from the young man, and the small crowd around them began to murmur fearfully.
Next came the shaking. The very ground itself began rocking to and fro and threw even the hardiest, most squat of warriors to the floor. People screamed and shouted as the quake continued and several of the stone houses closest to them cracked, both stone and mortar splitting under the pressure.
Cole was the only one unaffected by the severe vibrations, his body barely moving at all, and his expression still vacant.
Trees all around began to creak and moan and the wind intensified fiercely. Many of the onlookers ran back inside to seek shelter. But Isabel could not.
What was Cole doing?
What was happening to her son?
The morning clouds above began to twist and spiral in the still hazy sky, changing shape seemingly on a whim, casting great, unnatural streaks across the vast seas of surging colour hanging above the pitiful humans, looking on helplessly to the spectacle unfolding before them.
The temperature rose and fell drastically, forcing them all to sweat and shiver and then sweat again in rapid succession.
Though all of these things were happening, they were not what frightened Isabel the most. As she clung desperately to Cole’s shoulders to stay somehow desperately on her feet, her hands felt as though they were burning, scalded by the heat pouring from Cole. As the power and the heat radiating from her son escaped from his body in excessive waves, his own power drowned his strength and sapped it relentlessly, overwhelming him almost entirely.
It was all too blindingly clear now that Cole’s ability was not simply limited to either that of demonic or elemental potentials, but that this was something else entirely. Isabel finally accepted that fact. She could deny it no longer, and whatever this ability was it was giving her son infinitely more power than her and Zanriath and Rose combined. It was something that seemed to almost control him, rather than him controlling it.
Then, just as suddenly as everything had happened, it all stopped. The shaking quelled, the temperature cooled, the winds dropped, and the clouds simply continued drifting, gradually gathering back into more recognisable shapes. They reformed slowly above Isabel and her family as her short, sharp breaths gradually slowed, her panic dwindling.
The heat emanating from Cole lessened and eventually recognition returned to his eyes. The first thing he saw was his mother, wide-eyed and afraid. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper, and croaked as if even to utter sound was of monumental difficulty.
“Don’t be afraid…” He managed hoarsely. Then he turned to Garan.
The aged warrior looked fearful also, his pride and equally his shame the only things forcing him to remain in Cole’s terrifying presence.
“There is no more time.” Cole whispered huskily. “We must leave immediately”.
“Now?” Garan asked in slight confusion, unsure whether Cole was even aware of what he was saying or what he had just done, unsure what was going on at all.
“Yes, now.” Cole confirmed ominously, his voice deepening and seeming to recover from its waver.
But then Cole’s legs buckled and he fell heavily to his knees, his mother and Rose were the only things stopping him from collapsing to the ground, his steadfast words seeming to drain the remainder of his strength.
“Thorn is at work even as we speak.” He managed to say. “By sunrise he will have released the demons from their realm, and they will wreak havoc upon all of Tamarack. We must get on the water now, or there won’t be anyone left to protect.”
The silence that followed his words was menacing, and the crowd shifted uneasily as Garan’s eyes took on a slightly wild look, the reality of the truth finally registering.
“Very well.” He said quietly, his tone resolute. “We shall leave immediately.”
Cole nodded heavily and the last morsel of his strength abandoned him, lost to his efforts to save his kingdom, seemingly before his final struggle had even begun.
His body fell limp and slumped cumbersomely to the ground, his fall again broken only by his mother and his Rose.
Unconsciousness and exhaustion engulfed Cole yet again, probably not for the last time, and the blackness swallowed his thoughts and his awareness like a hungry devil. It was a fiend feeding off of his strength, draining him of his will.
Even as he fought so hard to retain control of his own power, it only continued to slip dangerously from his grasp, and every time it did so, it only engulfed the world more wholly and more completely - unstoppable and relentless.
37
‘I doubt a ship shall ever touch Tamarack’s waters…’
‘I would like to sail the ocean, it’s a shame I’ll never get the chance…’
The conversation replayed in Isabel’s mind almost continually as she raced toward Hinaktor’s southern-most coastline, accompanied by her husband, her son and his demon, and the warrior Garan, who led the Southern Armouries’ resistance against the demons.
The cold of early dawn was oppressive as they rode and the black shadows that Isabel could sense growing ever greater loomed with evil menace.
Isabel pondered the thought that it had perhaps been such a menace that had overthrown her son’s consciousness, little over an hour ago. But, after talking herself round in circles four or five times, she decided against the notion. Though it had been her first thought when his expression had turned vacant, she had eventually decided that it had simply been Cole’s own power overwhelming him, and not Thorn’s presence.
Since then however, he had recovered immensely, though he had spoken only very little, and now rode on ahead with Rose.
As Rose ran, Cole surveyed Tamarack for signs of Thorn’s work, and what he saw was not comforting. Although he could not sense Thorn’s opening of the demonic realm yet, still the four islands were becoming further and further swamped by demons. Even without looking more closely, Cole could sense human efforts growing more and more desperately futile. It seemed that even already many lives were being lost, and there was little or nothing he could do.
He gritted his teeth and silently urged Rose to run yet even faster, the wind lashing violently at their faces.
Then, as the sun broke over the horizon to the east, and bathed them all in the cold morning light of winter, Cole, Rose and Isabel all simultaneously sensed Thorn’s success. So great was the blow that Isabel was knocked from her horse and was sent crashing to the ground with a scream.
Cole too felt the impact, but managed to stay atop Rose, even as she veered sideways and collided with a small clump of trees, sending rough bark flying in every direction.
They both also sensed Isabel’s distress and, as soon as Rose had recovered, they immediately doubled back to aid her.
“Isabel!” Zanriath called desperately as his wife fell. He reached out to catch her, hoping fervently to break her fall, but he did not quite make the distance. The horses were running too fast, and she had been too far away.
His wife smashed into the ground with tremendous force and careered almost ten metres forwards, her body flailing and spinning wildly, before finally coming to a messy stop in a crumpled heap. She settled finally and lay unmoving atop a small grassy knoll scattered with loose, icy rocks, exposed entirely to the cold, snow covered ground. Her horse whinnied in shock and fright and tried urgently to avoid trampling his rider as she fell, only just managing to avoid doing so.
Zanriath leapt from his horse and was immediately at Isabel’s side, followed promptly by Garan who grabbed her frightened mare.
“Isabel…?” Zanriath called tentatively, his eyes scanning over his motionless wife, this time with a great lump in his throat. He did not know whether to move her or try to rouse her, or whether that would only worsen whatever injury she may have sustained. With relief, he noted that her
chest was rising and falling, but only just, and her breaths were very shallow.
Shock gripped her usually logical husband, and he knew not what to do.
Then Rose screeched to a muffled halt in the snow and Cole jumped from her back. Zanriath looked to his son and could see the concern evident in his eyes, but his words did not match the emotion so clear in those familiar brown pools.
“We don’t have time for this.” Was all Cole said as he crouched at his mother’s side, his abrupt words sounding almost harsh, sharpened inevitably by the pressure of their situation.
In his mind the ocean no longer looked like water, but rather a seething mass of swirling black figures, climbing over each other desperately and greedily trying to reach dry land.
“She’s just unconscious.” Cole reported after looking over his mother for barely a second. Then he closed his eyes and, only moments later, spoke again. “Her right arm and leg are broken…And she has two cracked ribs…And a concussion…” He continued. Zanriath and Garan, quite simply, did not know what to think.
“Garan…” Zanriath began, finally finding his voice. “Can you make two splints…” His words trailed off and Cole cut in before the concerned warrior had chance to reply.
“Forget that.” He said, almost ordered. “There isn’t time.”
Then, with his eyes closed, Cole’s forehead creased in concentration and even his father somehow felt the strange sense of Cole’s awareness as he reached out to Isabel.
A few seconds later Isabel took a deep breath and gasped suddenly for air, sitting bolt upright as if she had just had another nightmare, her heart pounding.
“Cole!” She wheezed. “What…How…What did you do!?”
“Come on.” Her son only urged. “There isn’t time. We have to keep moving.” He helped his mother to her feet and she tested her leg gingerly, feeling that something was amiss.
“I thought you said it was broken?” Zanriath questioned, as Isabel put weight back on her leg without issue and flexed her arm, seemingly now unharmed. Cole shook his head.
