The Cessation of Karrak_Ascension III

by Robert J Marsters

  “Starvin’. I could eat a whole glamoch by meself.”

  Lodren glared at Grubb, “I wasn’t asking you, greedy guts. I was talking to Faylore.”

  Grubb shrugged his shoulders and began to unload some of Buster’s burdens. “There ye go, fella. Time to ‘ave a good rest,” he cooed. “You’ve earned it.”

  “More than can be said for some of us.”

  “Lodren,” said Faylore, gently. The Nibby looked back at her, his smile returning immediately. “The campfire?” she asked.

  Lodren dashed off to find some kindling.

  ***

  Jared raised his head from the table and peered around the room with bleary eyes. Hannock was lying on the floor, his arm across his face to shield him from the early sunlight that streamed through the dirty windows. Yello was slumped in a chair, his head tipped back, still dead to the world and snoring loudly. Harley and Drake were on the floor, their arms wrapped around one another as if each were trying to comfort the other. It only took a second for Jared to scan the room, but then the pain came. He raised his hands to his head, it felt as if someone was banging the largest drum ever made inside his brain.

  Then, he saw Emnor. Leaning against the bar, he shook his head as he studied the state the prince was in, “So,” he said quietly, “it seems that even a prince of the realm is not immune to a hangover.”

  Jared held up his hand in submission, “I may have overdone it slightly, Emnor but there’s no need to shout. The drink has not affected my hearing.”

  “Perhaps not,” replied Emnor. “Let’s hope it has not addled your senses either.”

  “I’ll be fine, just give me a couple of minutes,” pleaded Jared, lowering his head back down onto the table.”

  “Oh, no you don’t!” exclaimed Emnor. “It’s almost ten o clock. Get your lazy backside off that chair, we have work to do.” He suddenly bellowed at the top of his voice, “And that goes for the rest of you. UP, UP, do you hear me?” Somehow, he managed to keep a straight face, despite the debacle that ensued over the next few seconds. Hannock shot to his feet, grabbing for the hilt of his sword, a pointless exercise as he had removed it and placed it on the bar the night before. In his confusion, he looked for it whilst groping at his belt, lost his balance and fell sideways. Yello attempted to rise from his chair, but his efforts were thwarted as the toppling Hannock crashed into him, driving him back into, and over the back of, his seat. The two younger men woke with a start and somehow figured that the best form of defence was to clutch one another even tighter than they did in their slumbering embrace.

  Emnor sighed as he wiped his brow, “May the powers save me,” he mumbled. “If it’s left to you lot, I’ll be surprised if I last another day.”

  It took a while, but eventually they managed to pull themselves together. There were moans and groans from all, but it was clear that they would receive no sympathy from the head of Reiggan. “I warned you all that you’d had enough, but oh no, you knew best. Now look at the state of you. You were like children with sweets, you wouldn’t listen.”

  “You’d begrudge a trail-weary warrior a well-earned flagon of ale, Emnor? Don’t you think that a little harsh?” asked Hannock in a vain attempt at defending their actions of the previous night.

  “Absolutely not, Captain. I would, however, draw the line at three bottles of wine and an entire bottle of brandy.”

  “That’s hardly excessive!” protested Hannock, “There are four of us, after all.”

  “Yes. Yes, there are, but I wasn’t counting what the others drank. That was what you put away by yourself!”

  Hannock suddenly looked a little sheepish, “Oh,” was all he could offer as a reply.

  “Alright, Emnor, we get it. We went a little over the top, but what’s done is done and Hannock is right for a change, we did need to blow off a little steam.”

  Hannock stood upright tugging at his somewhat-shabby tunic. “Thank you, Your Highness, very good of you to, hang on a minute. What do you mean ‘for a change’?”

  Jared cleared his throat, “A figure of speech, Captain, that’s all,” he replied, avoiding Hannock’s gaze. “See if you can find the barkeep, would you? I could do with some breakfast.”

  They were finishing their meal, for it can hardly be referred to as breakfast when the hour has almost reached noon, when they heard a commotion outside. People weren’t screaming and shouting so they realised that there was no immediate danger, but from the droning buzz of voices outside, they knew that something had riled the villagers. Striding across the room, Hannock threw the door open. There was a throng of people in the village square and each one seemed to be engrossed by whatever was in the middle of the gathering.

  “What do you make of this, Jared?” he called over his shoulder.

  Jared joined him in the doorway, “No idea, but something’s definitely got their attention.”

  Nodding at one another, they ventured outside. As they approached the crowd they picked up on one or two things that were being said. ‘It is him, you know,’ ‘He looks different somehow,’ ‘Why’s he smiling like that?’ ‘Has he gone simple?’ They reached the edge and began to part the crowd, edging their way closer to the centre. Looking down, they saw a man sitting cross-legged with his back to them. He was broad-shouldered and if standing, looked to be a mountain of a man. Stripped to the waist and wearing only a tattered pair of breeches, his dark skin was splattered with grey, dried mud. Hannock and Jared moved around in order to see his face. He looked up at them, a huge inane grin on his face. Jared crouched down and spoke, “Who are you?” he asked. The man did not reply and his grin never wavered. “Did something happen to you?” Jared continued. But the man still offered no reply and began rocking back and forth, the permanent grin still showing his perfect, pure-white teeth.

  There were mumbles in the crowd behind them and, turning, Jared and Hannock saw the innkeeper pushing his way through, “What’s going on?” he asked, tetchily. “You’re all blocking the front of my business, nobody can get in or out with you lot standing here.” Then he caught sight of the man squatting on the ground. He let out a terrified scream and began charging back through the crowd, “Run. Run for your lives, he’ll kill us all.”

  The crowd were becoming restless. Their mood had changed as a murmuring of hostile voices came from individuals that were unseen amongst them. Jared and Hannock caught the comments that were being uttered. ‘String him up,’ ‘He’s the one that slaughtered the guards,’ ‘We’re defenceless now ‘cause of him,’ ‘Let’s burn him before any others arrive to help him’.

  They were gradually closing in. Hannock reached to his side, he was unarmed, as was Jared. He glanced at his friend, “What do we do? We can’t hold them all back.”

  They were being jostled, the crowd baying for the blood of the mindless victim who sat helpless on the ground, but not one of them had the courage to make the first move.

  Suddenly, there was a loud roar. Jared saw two men at the edge of the crowd fly into the air and within seconds they were joined by Poom and Lawton who now stood at their side, teeth bared and spears brandished.

  The crowd backed away, warily. Jared thought this a good time to address them. “Friends,” he called, “we know not what this man has done to raise your ire, but if he is guilty of a crime, he will be punished. It is not, however, your right to pass judgement. Please, disperse peacefully that we may resolve this issue.”

  One old man started shouting, “Who are you? What gives you the right to decide what happens in our village? He killed the guards with his sorcery! We demand justice, hang him!”

  Lawton took a step forward and pointed his spear, “We, are the ones with the weapons, old man, that’s what gives us the right,” he said calmly.

  “Why don’t you all just leave! Can’t we just be left in peace? First him,” said the old man, pointing at the man on the floor, “then those two young blokes and now you lot. Scaring people with your magic and your weapons. It ain�
�t right I tell you, not right!”

  “But it is fair for you to murder a mindless fool, old man?” asked Poom.

  The old man did not reply and looked more than a little uneasy at the suggestion.

  The crowd began to disperse as Hannock turned to face the Gerrowliens, “Thank you friends, your intervention was much needed.”

  Lawton nodded but his eyes were fixed on another, “What’s his story then?” he asked, gesturing toward a man who remained before them.

  Hannock looked across, it was the blacksmith, “Something we can do for you, smith?” he enquired.

  “They were right, you know. He does deserve to be hanged.”

  Jared took over, “Is he…?”

  “He’s the one who ordered the weapons and armour from me. I thought those two young sorcerers had done him in. Obviously, I was wrong. Darooq is his name, more than that I can’t tell you, I’m afraid. Mind you, he was in much better shape the last time I saw him.”

  More out of instinct than anything else, the Gerrowliens turned their spears toward Darooq.

  “Put them down,” urged Hannock. “Look at him. He’s a complete jelly-brain, he’s no threat.”

  “This makes no sense!” exclaimed Jared, “First Barden and now… him.”

  “Makes perfect sense to me,” called Emnor as he crossed the town square.

  “Why weren’t they killed?” asked Hannock, “Karrak and his followers have never hesitated before.”

  “This is not Karrak’s doing though, is it? Another party is guilty of this. Two guilty parties, to be precise,” replied Emnor.

  “You’re not suggesting…?” Jared began.

  “It’s exactly what I’m suggesting, Jared. This is the work of a new enemy. This is the work of Alex and Xarran, and it troubles me that they are far cleverer than I gave them credit for.”

  “In what way? Turning men into jabbering wrecks,” snorted Hannock.

  “Exactly so, Captain. They know that we will not simply abandon or execute their victims. It is a delay tactic. Whilst we tend to the walking wounded, they are allowed more time abroad, leaving chaos in their midst.”

  The blacksmith spoke again, “As I’ve been so helpful to you, gentlemen, would there be any chance of some sort of…. gratuity?” he asked with a slight bow.

  Poom was nose to nose with him in a split second, “Your people suffer, and you expect to be paid for helping them? Here’s your reward for today, smith, I’ll let you live. Pray that I don’t have a change of heart. Now get out of my sight, you repulse me.”

  The fear in the smith’s eyes was plain for all to see. Hurriedly, he lowered his eyes to the ground and backed away, bowing again before turning and fleeing for his life.

  “Well done, Poom,” said Lawton. “Tact and diplomacy… tact and diplomacy.”

  Poom did not reply but watched as the terrified smith disappeared from view, “Piece of filth,” he mumbled.

  They helped Darooq to his feet and steered him into the tavern. The barkeep shook his head, “Oh, come on,” he pleaded, “not another one!”

  “Oh, shut up, you stupid man!” snapped Yello. “He can’t do you any harm. He doesn’t know his own name or what day it is.”

  “But you never saw what he did to those gua…”

  “I’ve been witnessing things like that for more than a thousand years, you imbecile. Now be quiet and get this man some food.”

  Knowing when he was beaten, Douglas did as he was instructed. Grabbing a platter, he slapped cheese, meat on bread on it, crossed the room and all but threw it on the table.”

  “There,” said Yello, “that didn’t hurt, did it?” He grinned as Douglas scurried away, chuntering under his breath.

  “So, now we have Barden and his master. What are we going to do with them?” asked Hannock.

  “It would be useful if we could get some information from them. Alas, I think that avenue is closed to us,” replied Emnor.

  Yello had a mischievous glint in his eye as he stroked his long grey beard. “Erm, not necessarily,” he said slowly. “There is one way we could get the answers that we need.”

  Emnor shot him a look, “Surely you’re not suggesting?”

  “We know it works, Emmy old boy. We’ve seen it done, remember?”

  “But it’s barbaric. We were barely out of our teenage years when last we saw it. It’s been over a thousand years. No, no, definitely not, I cannot condone its use.”

  Yello was grinning from ear to ear, “Come on, Emmy, you’ve got to live a little,” he added, twitching his eyebrows.

  “Impossible,” protested Emnor. “Anyway, you’d never find the ingredients. Where would you find pollum in this climate? It’s far too dry.”

  Yello’s grin grew larger, “Funny you should say that.”

  CHAPTER 6

  It was a simple enough task for Lodren to prepare a meal for himself, Faylore and Grubb. With everything cleaned and packed away, he lay against his backpack, staring at the pale green moons above.

  “Wonder what it’s like up there?” he sighed.

  “’ard to breathe,” mumbled Grubb.

  “There must be someone living on them though. I mean, look at how green they are. That must mean that there are lots of trees and grassland on them and animals that graze on it.”

  “Why don’t ye pop up there and ‘ave a look then, it’ll give me an’ Faylore a bit o’ peace and quiet,” replied Grubb without moving.

  “Don’t be spiteful, Grubb,” said Faylore. “He could be right. And even if he’s not, having a vivid imagination doesn’t harm anyone.”

  “No, I’ll give ye that, Majesty. But they don’t need to share it! I don’t need to hear Lodren’s fanciful ideas about things that live on distant moons.”

  “Fanciful ideas!” exclaimed Lodren. “That’s rich coming from you! I’m not the one who turns into Wilf. Four arms, covered in hair, huge teeth and claws! You should study your own imagination before you start picking on mine, Grubb.”

  “I didn’t think ‘im up though, did I? It just kind of… ’appened.”

  “Will the endless bickering between you two never end?” snapped Faylore. “Why can’t you have a conversation without it becoming a barrage of insults and petty disagreements?” She rose quickly to her feet. “I’m going for a walk!”

  “But, Your Majesty, it’s not safe out there by yourself. There could be anything lurking in the darkness,” protested Lodren.

  “Well if there is, it had better hope that it doesn’t have to tangle with me. I’ve had enough of foolish creatures for one day!” she turned and marched away. She had only taken a few steps when her silhouette began to shimmer, and she vanished in the darkness.

  “Now look what you’ve done,” Grubb hissed quietly, “you’ve upset Faylore.”

  Lodren’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open momentarily. Turning to Grubb, he stammered, “I- I- I’ve… me? I’ve upset…?” He was shaking with anger. “You inconsiderate, foul-mouthed moaning swine! If you were anyone else, I’d flatten you. I’d take my hammer and I’d… I think I’d better go for a walk as well, if I don’t, I won’t be held responsible for my actions! But, when I come back, I don’t want to hear a word out of you! Do you understand? Not a solitary word,” snatching up his hammer, he stormed off in the opposite direction to Faylore.

  “Are ye sure ye should be going back amongst the rocks?” Grubb called after him. But Lodren didn’t hear, he was far too angry.

  In his temper, Lodren hadn’t realised how far he had travelled and now, as he paused, he noticed that he was surrounded by the rocks at the foot of the mountain they had been so glad to escape from earlier that day. Unsure of himself, he slowed his pace and kicked at the dusty ground beneath him. Small plumes appeared around his feet and he marvelled at how pretty they looked when bathed in the pale green light from the moons. He had gone far enough. All he wanted was time by himself, with a sigh, he sat on a huge boulder to collect his thoughts. Was it him? Was Grubb r
ight in his assessment? Placing his hands behind his head, he leaned back, suddenly feeling quite weary. Perhaps the rigours of the day were taking their toll. Perhaps his disagreement with Grubb had been the final straw. All Lodren knew for sure was that he was exhausted. Fatigue getting the better of him, he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep. But it would be far longer than he had intended before he opened them again.

  He woke with a start. How long had he slumbered? Seconds? Minutes, or perhaps hours? Glancing at the moons, he realised that they had moved considerably. Lodren, having travelled far and wide for many years, estimated that he had been away from the camp for at least four hours. Why had his companions not come to search for him? Perhaps they didn’t want him to come back. It seemed Grubb may have been correct when he accused him of talking too much. Lodren was allowing his thoughts to run wild. This was a time when a vivid imagination was, perhaps, not such a good thing.

  Wanted or not, he had to return to the camp. His backpack was there and, if indeed he was to resume his solitary nomadic life, it was something he could not be without. The foodstuffs within it could be replaced, but he had a few personal possessions from his childhood that he could not bear to be parted from. He had to face his former friends and be brave, although he knew it would break his heart to be separated from them. A large tear welled up in his eye and he wiped it away roughly with his huge fist. “Come on, Lodren,” he said to himself, “don’t be such a big baby. You were by yourself long enough before. It’ll just be like old times.” But although he spoke the words, he never truly believed them.

  What was that noise? It sounded like rasping breath. Lodren strained his ears, tipping his head to one side as he listened carefully. A few seconds passed but he heard nothing more. Glancing around he got his bearings, took a deep breath, and headed back toward the camp. As he rounded the first massive rock, he got the shock of his life… wolves!

  His heart began to pound as he realised his peril. There were five, no six, no… eight. His heart sank. Gripping the handle firmly with both hands, he clutched his hammer tightly to his chest. What to do, what to do?