Faylore gave a gentle laugh, “I think you’re right, Grubb. He definitely seems to.”
As Lodren gave another exalted, thundering roar, Thelwynn launched them into the air. The sudden downdraught from his wings created an unexpected loud ‘boom’ and a blast that caused bushes and trees to bend precariously. They watched the magnificent spectacle of the dragon rider’s flight. The early morning sunlight glinted across the golden scales that covered Thelwynn’s wings, but they also noticed something that made them a little nervous. The flash of ruby-red close to Thelwynn reminded them that they were to be the next to be privileged enough to ride upon a dragon’s back, as Fireweigh came into view.
CHAPTER 3
Emnor’s plan had worked perfectly. With very little effort, and many hugs from the gibbonites before their departure, he and the others had arrived on the very outskirts of Mellanthion. Hidden in the treeline, they watched the villagers going about their daily business.
“Don’t you think something feels a little… off?”
“What exactly do you mean by off, Hannock?”
“Well look at them, scurrying around like rats when the cat appears. How can you be too afraid to walk outside in broad daylight?”
“No idea, Hannock,” replied Jared. “What say we go and find out?” Jared turned to the others, “Wait here, we’ll go and have a scout around and see what we can find out. We’ll signal you when it’s safe to come out.”
“Oh, my hero,” mocked Drake. “No thanks, I think I’ll do some digging of my own, and before you start, we’ve had this conversation already.”
Jared shrugged his shoulders, “If you insist,” he said grinning at Drake. “But not all of us. Let us err on the side of caution, at least for now.”
The three ventured slowly into the village. They had not gone far before they were noticed. “Just a minute you three. Where d’you think you’re going?”
Hannock glanced at Jared and Drake, “Leave this to me,” he mumbled. “To the tavern,” he replied, turning to face the inquisitive guard who now approached.
“We don’t like strangers coming into our village. We’ve ‘ad a lot of strange goings-on of late. Guards disappearin’ an’ the like. What’s your business in Mellanthion?” he asked, now flanked by at least a dozen of his men.
“Nothing much,” replied Hannock. “We were hoping to purchase some horses, if there are any for sale, of course.”
“Buy some ‘orses? Buy ‘em, or steal ‘em?” sneered the guard.
Hannock felt insulted at the unwarranted accusation, but remained calm, “No, we mean to buy them,” he repeated, “I am Captain Hannock of Borell and this is Prince Jared Dunbar, heir to its throne.”
The guard burst out laughing, “Yeah, of course you are, and I’m a fairy princess.”
“You certainly look like one,” muttered Drake, under his breath.
The guard took a step toward him.
“We mean no harm, we simply need to buy a few things and then we can be on our way,” said Hannock, stepping in front of him.
“So, you reckon he’s a prince and you’re a captain? Well your armour says somethin’ different, or at least the rust on it does, anyway.”
Hannock ran his hand across his chest, embarrassed that the guard had noticed his slightly dishevelled appearance, “It has been a hard road but I assure you that I speak the truth.”
“Look,” began the guard, “I don’t care where you got your armour to be honest, providing you can pay the toll, that is. I don’t care if you cut a prince’s throat or chopped his head off completely. I don’t care if you pulled his arms and legs off, but I do care that there are taxes to be paid here in Mellanthion. Now, ordinarily, we collect ‘em once a month but as you say you’re not going to be here, I think I should collect yours personally, now!”
Hannock stepped back and cast another glance at Jared.
The prince shrugged his shoulders, “I think you should give the man what he’s asking for, Captain,” he said. “He has made his position quite clear, after all.”
Drake hadn’t understood Jared’s meaning and suddenly blurted out, “Or you can tell him to ‘piss off’ before you run him through!”
Jared sighed, “Nice one, Drake. There goes the element of surprise.”
The guard suddenly became interested in Drake again, “You two I get,” he said, frowning. “But him? What’s his story?”
“Mind your own bloody business, half pint,” Drake snapped. “Get out of our way before I fry you and all the other little piglets you’ve got with you. Go on, sod off while you’ve still got the chance!”
The guard became agitated and pointed at him nervously, “H-h-he’s one o’ them wizards like the ones before. He’s even the right age. Kill ‘em all!” he suddenly yelled.
He had hardly taken a step when he felt the cold steel of Hannock’s dagger at his throat. “You die first, understand? Tell your men to back off, or there will be some throat-cutting taking place today, namely yours.”
The guard instinctively raised his chin, a terrified look in his eyes, the realisation of his peril dawning on him. He raised his hand, a signal for his men to hold their positions.
Another guard attempted to sneak up on Hannock, thinking that he had not been seen but he too felt a tap tap on his shoulder. Frozen in fear he moved his eyes to see the tip of a Gerrowlien spear resting on it, “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. He’s had a very hard day and he may take it personally, you backstabbing little creep.”
The second guard turned his head a little, his panic-stricken eyes being met with the sight of razor-sharp fangs. Lawton’s razor-sharp fangs to be precise.
Each member of the guard, having followed the order of their commander, had drawn their weapon. But all quickly released them, allowing them to fall unceremoniously to the ground as they realised that they were now the ones who were surrounded. The Gerrowlien’s spears were trained upon them, as were the staffs of Emnor and Yello. However, the one thing that seemed to facilitate their immediate surrender was the sight of the two wands wielded by Drake and Harley. It seemed that they had seen something similar before and made it quite clear that they wanted no part of a defiance to one who held its like again.
Keeping his dagger at the commander’s throat, Hannock leaned closer to him, “I think you and I can have that little chat now, don’t you?”
Despite his interrogation of the fort commander and his men, Hannock learned very little. None of them had actually seen anything. They had heard rumours of wizards and war hounds but had witnessed nothing first-hand. The only thing that linked any of the stories, it seemed, was the tavern. Emnor stepped in when it appeared they could extract nothing useful from their captives and, with a wave of his hand, sent them all into a deep sleep, “That’ll stop them interfering for a while,” he announced.
“At last!” exclaimed Hannock, “A breakthrough.”
“What are you talking about, Hannock?” grumbled Yello. “We know no more now than when we entered this grotty village. What’s the breakthrough?”
Hannock grabbed Yello gently by the front of his robes, “Don’t you see?” he said in a pleading manner. “A tavern! All that wine and ale, just begging for me to drink it. I may even feel like a Borellian again, if I drink enough, that is.”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Hannock!” exclaimed Jared, “Everything we’ve got to contend with and all you want to do is get drunk?”
“Ah well, that’s the beauty of it see, Jared. I can do both, question the patrons of the tavern and drink myself into oblivion at the same time.”
“Drink yourself into oblivion? Why would you want to do that, Hannock?” asked Drake.
Hannock grinned at him, “You wouldn’t understand, Maddleton, you’re far too young.”
Drake ducked and looked around him nervously, “I wish people would stop using my first name, it usually ends up hurting.”
“We’ll split up for a while,” suggested Emnor. “Yello and I
shall make enquiries around the village. The rest of you can head for the tavern, we’ll join you presently.”
“Master Emnor, perhaps I should accompany you? I am your apprentice, after all.”
“If you’d prefer, Harley. But I doubt we shall learn much,” replied Emnor as he turned and headed toward the centre of the village. “See you later,” he called.
Jared, Hannock and Drake entered the tavern. As usual, the Gerrowliens chose not to join them, “We’ll be in those trees over there if you need us,” said Poom.
“Just get him to blow something up as a signal and we’ll come to the rescue,” laughed Lawton, slapping Drake gently on the shoulder.
***
Emnor, Yello and Harley ambled across the village square. They were in no rush and, understandably, slightly unsure of who might be a reliable source of information.
Yello scanned the market stalls. Various vendors plying their wares called out in a half-hearted attempt to attract passers-by, but it seemed that they had as little enthusiasm toward their goods as their potential customers. Only one stood out from the rest, the blacksmith. He was swinging his hammer with an enthusiasm the likes of which Yello had never seen before. Sparks flew into the air with every strike he made, his clothes were sopping wet and the sweat from his brow had formed a sooty line that ran down and dripped from his, rather bulbous, broken nose. Yello nudged Emnor gently, “I think we may have found our man,” he said quietly.
“Why him in particular?” asked Emnor.
“Well for one thing, do you think that anyone in this village could afford new armour? And even if they could, why would they need it?” replied Yello.
“And it’s completely different to what the guards wear. There’s no detailing or crest of any kind. That armour is made for a single purpose, to protect expendable soldiers who are to be sent into battle very soon,” noted Harley.
Emnor raised his eyebrows, “My, my, Harley. We have been paying attention, haven’t we?”
“Yes, Master Emnor, far more than you would believe, if you were to so much as glance in my direction occasionally,” Harley replied, testily.
“Listen to me, my young apprentice,” Emnor began quietly, “if I thought that I would have to keep my eye on you in everything you do, you would not be my apprentice. Do you understand what I am saying to you, Harley?”
Harley lowered his head, “Yes, Master Emnor, my apologies. It’s just…”
“Just nothing!” interrupted Yello. “Do you think you’re the first apprentice to ever feel left out? Now be quiet, let’s get on.”
Emnor made his way through the sparse crowd and stood facing the smith. Fixing his gaze upon him, he waited for his response.
“Unless it’s something trivial sir, I’m afraid I can’t help you today. I have an important order to complete, so unless it’s a horse you want shod quickly or a small crack in your armour…” he glanced up at them, “… perhaps not. Come back tomorrow gentlemen, I’ll give you a special price for your patience, good-day.”
“It is not your skills as a smith we require, good sir. We need information,” said Emnor, raising his voice over the clanging of the smith’s hammer on the anvil.
The smith stopped almost immediately and stood stretching his aching back, “Ah, that’s a different kettle o’ fish, isn’t it? Sorry, old-timer, but it doesn’t pay to gossip about other people’s business in these parts.”
“We’re not enquiring about anyone in particular, my dear sir. We simply wondered if there have been any strange goings-on of late.”
The smith placed his hands on his hips, “Not that I can recall,” he said. “Mind you, I’m finding it difficult to focus on anything at all lately, what with all the rising prices. I’ve only got this one order to complete and who knows where the next one’ll come from. Looks like my poor wife and young ‘uns will be going hungry again if I don’t get some coin from somewhere.”
Yello stood aghast at what he was hearing. The smith was a stout fellow and his pronounced paunch was testament to the fact that he had not struggled to afford food of late. Yello also doubted the fact that he even had a family, let alone one that was destined to starve to death.
Emnor searched in his robes before handing the smith a few gold coins, “Perhaps these will help your focus, sir?” he asked politely.
The smith took the coins and raised one to his mouth, biting it to prove its authenticity. “Thank you, sir,” he said in mock gratitude. “Well now, what can I tell you?” he stood tilting his head and stroking his unshaven chin. “No!” he announced suddenly. “Nothing strange at all, good-day gentlemen.”
Surprisingly, it was Harley who was next to act. As the smith turned to face his forge, a pair of tongues, glowing red hot, shot into the air and hovered in front of his face. He attempted to dodge from side to side but they matched his every movement, getting closer and closer. “Not good enough!” said Harley. “We’ve tried this the nice way, smith, but my colleagues have far more patience than I. You’ve been paid, and you think you can fleece us? Do you realise what any one of us could do to you if we were of a mind?” The smith never replied. Arching his back as much as was possible to avoid the floating tongues, he was too terrified to speak. “I think it’ll suffice to remove just the one eye for now. If you deign to speak, you’ll still have one left, that will allow you to work your forge. You see I’m not completely without compassion. But unless you say something interesting, well then, I’m afraid I’ll have to take both. Then you and your fictional family will starve to death, won’t they?”
“Alright, sir, you’ve made your point. Just my little joke!” he gave a nervous laugh. “Strange, you say? Well the fella who ordered the armour I’m making, he was a bit different. Big, dark-skinned fella with long black robes.”
“Dark-skinned you say?” asked Emnor with a sudden, urgent interest.
“Yes sir. Great big bloke he is. Much taller than any of us.”
“And you saw his face? It wasn’t hidden in any way?”
“Well he had a hood on, sir and it was pulled forward a bit but no, not hidden,” replied the smith, looking completely confused.
“Can you describe him to us? Tell us what he looked like?”
By now, the smith had no idea what was happening as he faced his interrogators, “Like I said, sir, he had dark skin…” he paused and took a breath, “… and two eyes, a nose, a mouth and a chin with a little fluffy beard. That’s all I know, honest!”
Harley waved the tongues into the middle of the forge, “Did his face… move?” he asked.
“Only when he was talking,” whimpered the smith. “Please, I don’t know no more, have your coins back and let me carry on with my work, I meant no offence.”
“Shortly!” snapped Emnor. “This armour, how much of it did the stranger order?”
“A hundred sets and a sword to go with each. I’ve got two more forges burning on the edge of the village. I’ve got blokes heating the metal and then bringing it to me, so I can shape it. I’m just trying to earn a bit of coin, sir. There ain’t no harm in that.”
“So, you’ve only just started?” asked Yello.
“No, sir. This is my second day. I’m nearly half way through the order, I haven’t slept since I started.”
“Where was it to be delivered?” asked Emnor.
“He didn’t say. Just said he’d be back and headed off toward the tavern. I think he was looking for a fight, sir.”
“A fight? With whom?”
“I don’t think he cared, but I warned him to watch out for the guards. Not long after he went in there, loads of screams could be heard. Mind you, one sight o’ that dog of his would be enough to make anybody scream.”
Emnor grabbed him, “Dog, what dog?”
“Ooh, ‘orrible thing it is, sir. Twisted face, huge uneven teeth and just little patches of hair on its wrinkled skin.” The smith shuddered. The three wizards looked at one another knowingly. “Mind you, I ain’t seen him or his mu
tt since yesterday, and we’ve got a new looney who’s appeared. Mad old bloke who’s scared of his own shadow.”
“I think it’s time we re-joined the others,” whispered Emnor, releasing the smith.
***
The barkeep looked up nervously. He nodded toward Jared and Hannock but as he saw Drake behind them, his attitude changed drastically. “GET OUT!” he yelled suddenly, “I don’t want any more of his kind in here! I’ve had enough! Kill me if you like, you might as well, seems like you’ve already murdered all my customers. Go on, GET OUT!” he bellowed, grabbing a cosh from under the bar.
Hannock turned and looked at Drake, “Do you have to start trouble everywhere you go? Can’t you behave yourself, just once?”
“What are you on about!” exclaimed Drake, “I’ve only just walked through the bloody door, how could I have done anything? Hang on, what does he mean, his kind?”
Jared held his hands out in front of him and approached the barkeep slowly, “We’re not here for trouble, my friend. We’d just like to have a drink, that’s all. Obviously you’ve been having a few problems, but I can assure you that they have nothing to do with us.”
“At least, not that we know of,” Hannock mumbled under his breath.
Still clutching his cosh, the barkeep backed away slightly, “What do you want?” he asked abrasively.
“I’ll have an ale and a bottle of your finest brandy, a lemonade for my nephew and, Jared, what would you like?” chirped Hannock.
“I meant in the village. What do you want in the village?” repeated the barkeep.
“We heard about a tavern that has such a welcoming atmosphere that it’s the talk of the land. The innkeeper’s an absolute sweetheart, apparently,” smirked Drake.
Jared smiled at the barkeep, “We want a drink, plain and simple.”
Placing his cosh beneath the bar, their host sighed, “My apologies, gentlemen. There have been so many awful things happening of late, and for some reason, always inside my tavern. A whole troupe of guards killed by a sorcerer and then in turn him and his horrible hound attacked by two others and tortured before my very eyes. It’s a wonder I’ve kept my sanity after all that I’ve seen over the last few days. Makes me wish I was back to the times when all I had to contend with was a gang of homicidal, bullying guards.”
The Cessation of Karrak_Ascension III Page 4
