Trials

by Pedro Urvi

  “To hell with it! Water and more water! There’s nothing but water in every direction!” Morksen barked in disgust. “I don’t like this one little bit. It worries me very much when I can’t feel the earth beneath my feet. Water is for fish to swim in, not for men to sail across. Anyone who spends his days at sea must be half-witted. Only a fool would sail on this lake in a floating nutshell like this.” He spat overboard.

  Lasgol smiled to himself at the one-eyed man’s unease.

  “Is it them?” asked Morksen.

  Lasgol put his hand over his eyes to try and make out whether the Assassin was indeed on that boat, but the distance was too great to let him be sure.

  “Can’t the great Tracker, with his unequaled Gift, use one of his extraordinary skills and enlighten this poor mortal?” said Morksen with exaggerated scorn, winking his good eye.

  Lasgol made a fist. He felt the urge to punch him, but discarded the idea.

  “I’ll try,” he said dryly, without even looking at Morksen.

  He concentrated, searching inside him for the small pool of accumulated energy in his chest, and activated his far seeing skill. A green flash enveloped him. With his skill activated, he was able to reach out with his sight as far as the fugitive vessel.

  “I can make out… four people in the boat…”

  “Four? How can there be four people on that barge?” said Morksen, very surprised and visibly upset. He spat on the floor of the boat.

  “I see two men and two women. One of the men is certainly the Assassin.”

  “Yes! At last we have him within our reach! It’s the first time in weeks of chasing after him that we’ve seen his face. Who else is with him?” There was a dangerous excitement in Morksen’s good eye.

  “The other man is wearing a robe… he looks like a priest, and judging by the star with thirty points I see on his chest, he must belong to the Temple of Light. If I’m not mistaken, he’s a Rogdonian priest.”

  “And what the hell is the Assassin doing with a priest? I don’t understand, it doesn’t make sense. This smells worse than a skunk in heat. And the two women? What can you say about them?”

  “I see Iruki, the Masig girl the Assassin’s been looking for all this time. He’s found her at last. He’s made good his promise and come back to her.”

  “You say it as if you were glad, young master… I don’t suppose that’s really the case, is it?” Morksen said in a threatening tone. “Do I have to remind you of our mission?”

  “You don’t need to remind me of anything, Ranger. I know my mission and my duty perfectly well, and I’ll carry out both of them.”

  “I hope so. Remember that good old Morksen is here to make sure of it,” He gave a sinister grin and patted his hunting knife.

  Lasgol looked at him with cold defiance. He would not let this rat intimidate him.

  “So it was for a woman, a mere woman, a despicable savage Masig, that we’ve had to chase him through all the steppes and half the Thousand Lakes?”

  Lasgol nodded.

  “A very special woman…”

  “Very special indeed, the bitch…” Morksen spat again. “It wasn’t logical that this scum would go first to the steppes and then the lakes. He’s dragged us all over the place for weeks, swallowing dust and grass, against the clock! Bastard! I can’t believe it!”

  “He went to the steppes because he thought he would find her there with her tribe, the Blue Clouds. But she wasn’t with her people, she’d left. That’s why he went to the Thousand Lakes, following her trail, the tracks of the war party she went with. When we arrived in Blue Clouds territory on the Assassin’s trail, I noticed that he’d only been there for a short while, one night and no more. Then he’d left at dawn following the tracks of about twenty riders.”

  “How did you know she was among the riders?”

  “I didn’t, but he did.”

  “Ha! Very smart, chief. Well played!”

  Lasgol shrugged.

  “And who’s the other woman?” asked Morksen, stretching his neck. “Can you identify her?”

  Lasgol focused his attention on the fleeing barge.

  “I don’t know who she might be. I’d never seen her before. She’s also wearing a very distinctive robe with an enormous eye embroidered on her chest. She must belong to some order or cult I don’t know about. I couldn’t tell you which.”

  “Strange group, very strange… I was expecting to meet soldiers, mercenaries or bandits. But this is truly weird. Although, on the other hand, one priest and two women shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. Rather the opposite. We might even have fun with them,” said Morksen with an evil smile.

  “I doubt it,” Lasgol warned him. “The Masig has the heart of a lion. She’ll work miracles to stop us catching the Assassin.”

  “Ah, love… pretty, isn’t it? Unfortunately I can’t say I’ve tasted it myself, but it’s known to cloud the reason of the most intelligent and experienced of men. It’s much safer to visit brothels and places of doubtful reputation to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with experienced professionals in the art of love, a lot less confusing and burdensome in my opinion. But we must take advantage of the opportunity the Masig is giving us. I’ll get rid of her first and take care of the risk that way, then we’ll see how her afflicted lover reacts.”

  “Definitely not, Morksen! The Masig must not be hurt under any circumstances, and that’s a direct order. Don’t touch her! I’ll cut your rotten heart out if you do!”

  Morksen looked at Lasgol, mouth agape.

  “Is that clear?”

  “And may I know the reason? No? I feared as much… well I’ll see what I can do… As you know perfectly well, this type of confrontation tends to be unpredictable and anything might happen…”

  “The Masig must go unscathed and the Assassin must go back alive,” said Lasgol. He looked sternly at the treacherous Ranger. “If anything else happens, I swear I’ll kill you with my own hands,” he added, his voice cold as ice.

  “Well, well, well… I see our young Ranger has a temper after all. Don’t let your blood get hot and go to your head, laddie. You don’t want this old rascal as your enemy…”

  Lasgol remained unmoved by the implicit threat.

  “I’m warning you, don’t try my patience, Morksen.”

  Morksen grinned evilly.

  “Ha! I see I’ll make a man of you after all.”

  “That’s enough! Now shut up and take the rudder. They mustn’t get away.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Lasgol secured the sail. The breeze on the lake was strong, and the lively fishing-boat skimmed across the blue surface.

  “Don’t you worry, young master. We’ll soon catch them with this little fishing-boat I got for us. Their boat is a lot heavier and slower than ours.”

  At that moment, as if they had been overheard talking, a large white sail was hoisted on the war-barge.

  “You were saying?”

  Morksen furrowed his brow, looking more than ever like a bulldog.

  “We’ll catch them. We’re lighter and faster, it’s just a matter of time.”

  “Maybe, but there are four of them and I’m afraid they’ll be rowing as hard as they can…”

  “Row! Row for your lives!” Yakumo implored his three companions on the war-barge. He had just hoisted the ship’s sail. He fastened it well, making sure it would hold, then resumed his position beside Iruki to continue rowing.

  They all rowed as one to the rhythm set by Yakumo.

  They rowed and rowed and rowed… aware of the danger. But the tiny spot chasing them on that blue horizon kept getting bigger and bigger.

  “They’re getting closer…” said Iruki nervously. “Why is Lasgol hunting you again? I don’t understand it. Why doesn’t he let us live in peace? What evil spirit of the steppes have we wronged to deserve this endless, vengeful pursuit?”

  Yakumo looked at her while he pulled on the oar. His eyes showed a silent tenderness.

 
“They’ve been after me for more than two months. I don’t know the reason, but I guess it has to do with the fact that my escape was successful. There was treason among Norghanians, foul play. That’s how I managed to escape, otherwise in all likelihood I would’ve perished. There are two of them after me, Lasgol and another Tracker. I was forced to hide in Rogdonian lands until the wounds my torturers had inflicted on me healed sufficiently. My body was severely punished, they maimed my legs and back. Luckily the damage wasn’t permanent. I managed to recover to some extent and kept them busy moving in circles, gaining time until my injuries were healed enough and I could come for you at last.”

  Iruki smiled as she heaved on the oar.

  “When I reached your tribe you weren’t there. Hidden in the shadows of the night, I deceived the watch, looking for you. But I didn’t find you. I found out about the terrible illness, and for a moment I thought the worst had happened. But thanks to my Gift I could identify your scent, along with that of twenty other warriors, and I knew you’d left with them. I followed the trail straight away to the Thousand Lakes.”

  “I still can’t believe you got there in time to stop my execution.”

  “The benign spirits of the steppes must have helped me,” said Yakumo with a wide smile.

  Lindaro stretched his neck to look at the vessel behind them.

  “It’s smaller and lighter than ours,” said the man of faith. “If the wind doesn’t change, I fear they’ll catch up with us.”

  Sonea stood up. Her gaze was thoughtful.

  “Even though there are four of us and only two of them, as Yakumo says, the weight of this bigger boat is slowing us down. The wind is coming from the southeast, and they’ll catch up eventually,” concluded the librarian.

  “We won’t make it easy for them. Row, row with all your might,” said Iruki.

  But the young Masig was fully aware that instead of gaining distance, they were losing it. Besides, even though as far as his body was concerned Yakumo was a force of nature, and Iruki herself would fight to the last breath, she doubted that their new traveling companions would last much longer. They were not warriors, nor did it seem they were used to living it rough. Instead they looked rather feeble… She was ashamed of this thought at once, but that was the reality, a priest and a librarian rowing for their lives… no, things did not look good for them at all. Luckily Yakumo rowed with the strength of a giant and she knew that her lover could go on rowing for hours. Even so, doubt and the fear of being caught, cramped her stomach like bitter acid.

  The wind began to blow more strongly, filling the sail and giving impetus to the pursuing boat. This did not look good for them. A moment later, to the surprise of the four fugitives, the wind rose to blow with the force of a hundred white horses at full gallop.

  “The wind’s getting stronger! This is bad for us!” said Sonea above the whistling breath of the gods.

  “Look at the lake surface. It’s getting rougher, making waves,” said Lindaro, uneasily.

  Iruki stretched her neck to take a look at the boat behind. Being lighter, it rode the waves and was gaining on them fast. She could make it out more clearly. She did not know Lasgol’s reach with his longbow, especially if he used his Gift, but she feared they would soon be within shooting range. It made her uneasy, and she found it hard to swallow.

  Yakumo could read her fear.

  “I won’t let them separate us again,” he whispered in her ear.

  That was what Iruki most feared, that he would risk his life once again. In that moment of anguish for the safety of her loved one, a sudden blue flash issued forth from the Ilenian medallion at her neck. It was so intense that Iruki lost her balance, surprised, and almost fell backwards.

  Yakumo reacted at once and held her, helping her sit down again.

  The medallion gave off a new, more powerful blue flash. They all stared at it, enthralled by its beauty. Suddenly the winds gathered strength, and the sky above the lake began to darken.

  “A storm!” cried Sonea. She pointed at the sky, which was rapidly growing darker swallowing the sun, the clouds and the blue canvas itself.

  “It’s the medallion that’s brought it on!” said Lindaro, shouting over the roaring wind. “There’s powerful magic in that object.” There was surprise and worry on his face.

  The water was turning rougher, and by now the wind had reached hurricane-force. The sky had vanished above their heads, and in its place there was a darkness so deep that even the gods themselves must have left their abode. A great bolt of lightning flashed down from the dark to touch the wild waves. An instant later there came a loud blast of thunder which made Sonea and Lindaro crouch in fear like children.

  “It’s a pretty nasty storm, so hold on to your benches!” said Yakumo. He was taking in the sail as fast as he could, to save the boat’s mast.

  Lindaro looked out at the lake. They seemed to be on the high seas, in the midst of one of the worst storms an experienced sailor could ever dream of. The man of faith began to pray to the Light, his soul fearful of what was brewing out there.

  A huge wave hit the boat to starboard, drenching the four fugitives. Iruki shook the fresh water from her face and hair and stared at the waves. Her heart shrank. The waves were reaching unbelievable heights now. Fear began to take hold of her.

  “The boat won’t hold! The waves will overturn us!” she shouted to Yakumo, in horror.

  “Keep on rowing, or the boat will capsize!” said Yakumo as they rode a huge wave.

  It seemed to Iruki that they would not make it. But suddenly the boat began to rise, riding a wave as enormous as the one before. Lightning lit a nightmare sea, and the deafening blasts of thunder which followed spoke of an abysmal storm.

  “We’re going to die!” she cried desperately.

  “Keep calm and don’t stop rowing! said Yakumo. He was trying to maneuver the boat to take the next giant wave. Sonea and Lindaro, drenched and terrified rowed on without a word. They knew their lives were at stake.

  Iruki glanced at her medallion and cursed bitterly to herself. It was all the fault of that wretched jewel from the Temple of Water.

  “Curse the medallion! Curse the magic!”

  And right then, as if the medallion had listened, Iruki felt it drawing on something within her chest, a pool of energy unknown to her. And it flashed again, like a beacon in the night.

  A giant whirlwind began to form in the center of the lethal storm!

  The lightening was getting worse, zigzagging amid the surrounding darkness illuminating waves of unbelievable height. In the midst of that killer storm a gigantic whirlwind was beginning to swallow sea and sky alike.

  “By the Light! It’s not a storm, it’s a cyclone! We’re lost!” cried Lindaro as he watched the huge swirl rising into the infinite blackness of the sky.

  The boat was a tiny nutshell beside the gigantic size of the whirlwind.

  “The cyclone has generated an enormous eddy! It’s something that doesn’t often happen on the water!” explained Sonea as she contemplated the incredible strength and voracity of the immense natural funnel.

  “It’s swallowing everything! It’s going to swallow us!” shouted Iruki as she saw it growing in size and virulence. The wind had the strength of a hurricane.

  “Row backwards! Let’s get away!” ordered Yakumo in a desperate attempt to avoid perishing in the maw of that monster of a thousand winds.

  Despairingly, the four began to row in the opposite direction.

  “The vortex is too big; it’s going to eat us up!” cried Sonea.

  The cyclone was gathering shape under the black, terrifying sky, painting spirals of hopelessness. The giant began to approach them over the lake. The four fugitives could barely hold on to the boat with the hurricane thrashing it as if it were paper. The boards were beginning to work loose with the violent shaking of the killing storm.

  “We’re going to die!” cried Sonea.

  “Hold tight!” yelled Yakumo.
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br />   “By the spirits of the deep! We’re all going to die!” cried Iruki.

  “May the almighty Light take pity on our souls!” prayed Lindaro.

  “We won’t die!” cried Yakumo bravely. “Hold fast! We’ll manage to ride the storm! Hold tight and fast!”

  A tremendous bolt of lightning exploded in the black sky behind the Assassin, accompanied by a deafening blast of thunder. The sky split open.

  The gigantic whirlwind came down on them. Its vortex generated such an abyss that it seemed to reach down to the very bottom of the lake. Everything around it disappeared, sucked in by the devastating force of the vortex. The water itself gyrated in giant spirals which climbed to the dark heavens.

  They were trapped by terror.

  The phenomenal whirlwind reached them. It gulped them down with devastating power, pushing the boat up to the sky, trapped in a giant spiral of pure terror.

  “Noooooooo!” screamed Sonea.

  “It’s the end!” shouted Iruki.

  And in that moment of absolute despair, the Ilenian medallion round Iruki’s neck flashed again with blinding intensity.

  The great vortex swallowed them up.

  Blackness.

  Silence.

  “Iruki! Wake up!” Yakumo’s voice was urgent.

  Iruki felt herself shaken. But she could not open her eyes, did not wish to open them, knew the whirl was devouring them, taking them to the abode of the evil spirits.

  “Iruki, it’s me, Yakumo. Wake up.”

  As she heard her beloved’s voice, her fear began to vanish from her heart. After a moment she managed to open her eyes. She found herself in a cave, whose strange limestone walls were encrusted with crystalline minerals which shone with an unusual mother-of-pearl sheen. The floor of the cave was also limestone, and Sonea and Lindaro were still lying on it unconscious. Iruki looked round the cave, wondering. She noticed that part of the ground they were standing on had disappeared, most likely crumbled and submerged in the water she now looked upon.