The Cessation of Karrak_Ascension III

by Robert J Marsters

  “Have you any idea why they changed so much over the years?” asked Lodren, deciding he may as well keep asking questions for as long as Grubb was willing to answer them.

  “No idea,” he replied, “But the strangest thing was, the black dragon was never seen again. There were stories of all sorts of different coloured ones, but never a single mention of the black one!”

  Lodren pondered for a while, wondering what he could ask next. Before he could, Grubb spoke again, “Which reminds me…” he muttered as he began to march away.

  Jared nodded to Hannock, who promptly rose and followed the storyteller.

  It didn’t take long for Hannock to discover what was playing on Grubb’s mind. Within minutes, Grubb had found his quarry… Lorzic. As he stormed toward him, his arm transformed. Grabbing Lorzic by the throat, he hoisted him into the air, “Me an’ you need to ‘ave a little chat,” he said, menacingly.

  “Grubb,” called Hannock, questioningly, “… you’re not going to kill him, are you? Only you know how tetchy Faylore can be regarding such matters.”

  Grubb sniffed loudly, “Don’t know!” he replied abruptly, “Ain’t made me mind up yet.”

  Lorzic began pleading with his attacker, “Don’t kill me, Grubb,” he whined, “I’ll do anything you ask, anything, but please let me live!”

  “Give me one good reason why I should?” asked Grubb. “You didn’t care about anybody else when ye sold ‘em out to that sorcerer and ‘is pet dragon, did ye? They could ‘ave all been killed, but it didn’t matter to you as long as ye got to line your own pockets.”

  “No, Grubb!” exclaimed Lorzic. “It wasn’t like that at all. He said if I told anyone, he’d slaughter everyone in the village, even the children! I wasn’t paid, I swear to you!”

  Grubb pulled him close, “Ye didn’t, not for one minute, think that a dragon could kill anyone by accident when it was rippin’ buildings apart?”

  “I didn’t know about the dragon, just that he was a sorcerer. He grabbed me one night after dark and magicked me into the middle of a forest somewhere. He started setting fire to the trees and bushes with a wave of his hand. He said he’d do the same to every villager if I didn’t agree to help him…” Lorzic looked more terrified than ever as he finished his sentence, “… distract you.”

  “So he knew where we were,” Grubb mumbled thoughtfully. “How?” he shouted, shaking Lorzic roughly.

  “I have no idea!” wept Lorzic. “You must believe me!”

  “Grubb, put him down,” sighed Hannock. “A horrible little money-grabber he may be, but he’s telling the truth.”

  Grubb frowned, “How can ye be sure?”

  “I’m a soldier, Grubb. I’ve interrogated enough men in the past to know when someone’s lying.”

  Grubb snorted and released his grip.

  Lorzic fell heavily to the ground but didn’t try to flee, he just lay there, weeping and feeling sorry for himself.

  CHAPTER 19

  “So, how long before we reach this place then?” asked Tambly.

  “Not really sure?” replied Grubb, “I don’t take much notice of time. I just follow the others. All I care about is Buster, as long as he’s alright, I’m alright.”

  Tambly laughed, “You have all these lovely friends but all you care about is your pony?”

  Grubb smiled, “I never said I don’t care about ‘em, but they’re big enough to look after ‘emselves. Buster’s only got me to take care of ‘im.”

  “He earns his keep though, doesn’t he!”

  “Course ‘e does!” exclaimed Grubb, “Carries all my stuff for me does my Buster. But, when the ground gets a bit too slippery I carry ‘im and all the stuff, in case ‘e hurts ‘imself.”

  Two more weeks had passed since Lorzic had been questioned by Grubb. Their journey was blissfully uneventful, apart from Lorzic receiving the occasional scolding for being annoyingly helpful to everyone and the occasional pungent whiff when Bogg was brave enough to venture a little closer to the camp at night.

  “Ooh look,” said Tambly suddenly, “The prince is calling a halt. Looks like we’re setting camp here tonight.”

  “Good!” replied Grubb, “I can give Buster a good rub down, ‘e must be exhausted.”

  “I hope that’s not directed at me!” exclaimed Tambly, “It was your idea for me to ride on his back.”

  “No!” exclaimed Grubb, “No… I didn’t mean that… what I meant was, well we found those fruit trees and he’s got loads …”

  Tambly began to laugh again, “Oh do shut up, Grubb, I’m only teasing.”

  Grubb blushed, “I know, I know!” he replied looking flustered, “I was just going along with your little joke, is all.”

  ***

  Now completely dark, save the light from the fires, the camp was peaceful. The companions as always were together discussing provisions and other mundane topics, when a small voice hissed to them from the shadows.

  “Excuse me.”

  They looked around. Faylore peered into the darkness. Her eyesight, being far superior to her friends, allowed her to see a tiny vikkery child waving to her.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” she whispered, “I just thought you’d like to know…” she pointed toward the forest, “… there’s somebody out there watching us.”

  The companions stared into the darkness, most now clutching weapons.

  Faylore beckoned the child toward her, “Where?” she whispered.

  “Everywhere,” she replied, “There are quite a lot of them.”

  “Did you see what they look like?” asked Jared, “Were they big like us, or small like you?”

  “As big as the lady,” replied the child, “But you can’t see them because they aren’t there.”

  “Do you mean… they’re ghosts?” asked Lodren, nervously.

  “I don’t know,” whispered the tiny girl, “They could be.”

  “Charming!” came a female voice from the darkness. “We travel all this way to offer our help and what thanks do we receive? A mutant child comparing us to the dead!”

  Faylore tilted her head slightly. She knew the voice, knew it very well indeed, “Jendilomin, is that you?” she asked.

  “Were you expecting someone else?” replied her sister, suddenly shimmering into view.

  Faylore hurried forward and embraced her sister enthusiastically, “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Jendilomin was not used to such shows of emotion and gently pushed her sister away, “Well, if I’m not welcome,” she said curtly.

  Jared smiled. The tone in her voice was identical to that of her sister’s when they had first met… patronising and dismissive.

  “Of course you are welcome, I’m simply surprised by your appearance,” replied Faylore.

  Jendilomin looked herself up and down, “What’s wrong with my appearance?” she asked, “Do I have mud on me, or do you not like my clothing?”

  “I meant that I am surprised to see you here,” laughed Faylore.

  Jendilomin looked puzzled, “Well why didn’t you just say that?” she asked. “You’ve been around these people far too long Faylore, you’re picking up dreadful habits.”

  Faylore glanced at her friends briefly, raising her eyebrows apologetically. Jared wondered if she realised how alike they were, or at least, were once. “How many are with you?” asked Faylore, keen to change the subject.

  “Our ten best,” replied Jendilomin, “But I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, Sister. News concerning our mother.”

  Faylore lowered her head, “I already know,” she said quietly.

  “How?” asked Jendilomin.

  “That’s not important,” Faylore replied, “I just know that our mother is dead.”

  “Dead!” exclaimed Jendilomin, “When, how?” she screeched.

  Faylore stood back confused, “Well, to be honest, I thought you might be able to tell me what happened.”

  “She was fine when I left her yesterday!”
exclaimed Jendolim. “Did something happen?”

  “No… at least, I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t know!”

  “A dragon-riding sorcerer told us he’d attacked your home and your mother had been killed, but it was weeks ago,” blurted out Lodren.

  “So, Mother was not killed?” Faylore asked excitedly.

  “No!” replied Jendilomin, becoming tetchy, “She’s not dead, it’s far worse than that!”

  Grubb screwed up his face in disbelief, “How can somethin’ be worse than bein’ dead?”

  Jendilomin craned her neck and studied him, “She’s gone completely mad!” she stated abruptly.

  “What do you mean, she’s gone mad?” asked Hannock.

  Jendilomin glared at him, “Family business,” she said slowly, her way of telling him to be quiet.

  Lodren sensed that it was all becoming a little confusing, “Why don’t you all make yourselves comfortable by the fire?” he suggested, “I’ll get some refreshments and you can discuss your business a little more calmly.”

  “At last!” Jendilomin sighed, “Someone with manners.”

  They were soon settled by the fire, eager to hear Jendilomin’s news. Insisting that there be no interruptions, she began, “There was no attack,” she informed them. “All was as it had always been, apart from a sense of unease when we ventured too far from our home. It was as if something were casting a permanent shadow across the lands, but we encountered no strangers nor beasts. However, we realised that all was not well. Late one afternoon some of our scouts reported that they had seen dragons on the wing. That concerned our mother greatly…” she said, glancing at Faylore, “… and she immediately ordered an escort to accompany her to the hall of history. Imagine our surprise when, on her return, she informed us that your crown had been stolen!”

  “That much I do already know,” Faylore informed her, “That young sorcerer has it, it has given him control over the dragons.”

  “Rotten stinker!” exclaimed Lodren. “We will get it back for you, Faylore! Perhaps the other dragons will help us?”

  Faylore smiled at him, “I know you want to help,” she said, “however, I’m afraid that there will be no aid from any dragons whilst Xarran has possession of the crown. It does not simply give the one who holds it the power to command a single dragon, it gives them the power to command them all.”

  Lodren’s shoulders dropped, “Oh dear,” he said quietly, “that’s not good.”

  Faylore turned her attention back to her sister, “And what of Mother?” she asked. “What makes you think she has lost her mind?”

  “The fact that she’s only a day behind us and has every able-bodied Thedarian following her, armed to the teeth and is ready to go to war against the dragons!” exclaimed Jendilomin.

  A huge grin spread across Grubb’s face, “I always liked your mum,” he said loudly.

  “We can’t wage a war against the dragons!” screeched Lodren. “They aren’t evil! We can’t hurt them, they don’t know what they’re doing!”

  “We are not going to war with the dragons, Lodren,” Faylore assured him.

  “Speak for yourself,” huffed Jendilomin, “If one of those things comes near me, I’ll put an arrow through its eye.”

  “I thought you cared about all beasts, Sister?” asked Faylore.

  “I do,” replied Jendilomin, “But not ones that are intent on burning me to a cinder!”

  “Now, now, they aren’t all like that,” protested Grubb, “Some of ‘em will just turn ye into a big ice block,” he added, roaring with laughter.

  Before he could blink, Lodren’s hammer appeared right in front of his face, “You’re not helping, Grubb,” hissed the Nibby.

  “I don’t want to interrupt,” came a dreamy voice from above them, “But as you’re not going to allow me to sleep in peace, would you like me to inform the rest of your people of your location? I’d be happy to guide them, providing they aren’t too slow of course.”

  They looked up to see Poom hanging by his feet from a branch with Lawton close by, nodding in agreement.

  “They are quite capable of…”

  “That would be very kind of you,” said Faylore, quickly interrupting her sister, “I’m sure you’ll have no difficulty finding them with your superior night vision.”

  “Did you hear that, Lawton? Superior. That’s what we are you know, superior.” Laughing raucously, the Gerrowliens sprinted away.

  Jendilomin turned to Faylore, “Why have you sent them to find Mother?” she asked, “Our people have no problem with following a trail.”

  “They are our friends, it would be rude to refuse their offer of aid whether it is needed or not,” replied Faylore, smugly.

  “Can we get back to the subject of the dragons?” Lodren asked, the concern obvious in his voice.

  “Be serious for a minute, Lodren!” exclaimed Hannock. “Do you honestly think that any one of us is physically capable of doing harm to a dragon?”

  “Ah, so you’re saying you would if you thought you could?” shouted Lodren.

  “That’s not what I meant, stupid. But if it was a choice between any one of you or a dragon being hurt, I’d at least have to try!”

  Lodren pouted, “Yeah…” he said slowly, “… I suppose you’re right.”

  “We don’t want to hurt them, Lodren,” said Jared, “But we must learn how to defend ourselves against them. More importantly, we need to devise a plan to retrieve the Thedarian crown.”

  “Aren’t we forgetting what our ultimate goal is here?”

  All eyes turned to Drake, “Whilst we have to consider the threat, dragons are not our main concern.” He looked around slowly at his friends, “Neither is Xarran, who seems to be controlling them with the power of the Thedarian crown,” he added. “We need to concentrate on the heart of the problem, the very root that needs to be destroyed. Karrak is behind it all, we must find him and finish him, everything else is secondary!”

  “And by finish, you mean…?”

  “Yes, Hannock,” said Drake, “I mean kill him!”

  The companions stared at the young wizard. He was no longer the foolish adolescent that they had learned to tolerate so very long ago, he seemed to be more than he at first appeared. He rarely spoke, but when he did, what he said seemed very carefully thought out. Even his voice had changed. Mostly it was his own, but occasionally a phrase or comment would sound identical to the way Yello would have said it. In the past his opinions on virtually everything were ignored by the rest of the companions, but that was no longer the case.

  There were a few moments silence before Jared spoke, “He’s right, of course,” he said quietly, “But for now at least, we stick to the plans we have made. We escort the Vikkery to Borell, retrieving my father on the way.”

  “Yeah,” said Grubb slowly, “You sure you can get ‘im back, Drake? Only it’s one heck of a detour if ye ain’t.”

  Emnor smiled as he patted Grubb on the back, “Don’t you worry about that,” he said quietly, “He’s been doing this for centuries.”

  Grubb looked puzzled, “No he ain’t!” he exclaimed, “He ain’t even been alive for a quarter o’ one!”

  “I trust him, Grubb,” Jared assured him, “That’s all you need to know. Let’s all get some rest,” he suggested. “The Thedarians should be here with Poom and Lawton at first light and we’ll need to be ready to leave shortly after.”

  ***

  The following morning everything went as expected, with the Thedarians arriving before sunrise. Seeing over a hundred shimmering into view at once thoroughly impressed Lodren, who immediately began charging between them offering them a breakfast of honey cakes. Introductions were made and pleasantries exchanged, but it was quite clear that they were all of the same mind. They must proceed without delay if they were to have any hope of retrieving King Tamor, settling the Vikkery and finally defeating Karrak.

  The only decision to be made was who was going to take the lead. The Thedari
an’s pompous nature naturally meant that they believed that no other could follow a trail better than they, something that didn’t sit well with the Gerrowliens. Hannock also felt a little put out, having lead many a mission through the wilds. In the interest of co-operation, it was decided that two Thedarians would accompany Poom and Lawton as scouts, although this left a slight tension between them.

  Faylore along with Jared, explained to Erenthas the events that had brought them to where they now stood, a process that took far longer than necessary due to her mother’s constant interruptions and questions. Two days passed and still she would need something clarifying.

  “So you say this boy, Sarrap, was a friend of yours?”

  “Yes, Mother, and his name is Xarran,” replied Faylore, being as patient as she could.

  “Why did you not simply kill him when you had the chance?” her mother continued.

  Faylore sighed, “I thought I had,” she said, “I shot an arrow through his head, but somehow Karrak brought him back.”

  Erenthas shook her head, “No dear,” she said almost sympathetically, “That’s not possible. You must have missed him.”

  “Missed him!” exclaimed Faylore, “Mother, I never miss my target.”

  Her mother patted the back of her hand, “I know,” she cooed. “Not usually, but no-one can bring back the dead my sweet, so you must have.”

  Faylore gritted her teeth, “Karrak studies necromancy,” she said.

  “It doesn’t concern me what his hobbies are,” snorted her mother, “You should tell me more about the type of magic he uses, that would be far more useful.”

  Jared and Hannock were walking directly behind them, both struggling to keep their faces straight.

  “Faylore,” said Jared, half biting his lip, “Terribly sorry to interrupt, but there’s something I could use your help with.”