The Kingdom of Tamarack (Book One in The Tamarack Series)

by Ross Turner

  “My dear girl, we breed the very horses you be riding here on these plains, before they be taken to your town for selling. Much more profit there than here you see, though it does look as if yours haven’t been kept in too good a shape.” He noted a little critically, though his broad grin seemed not to change. His accent was noticeable and his voice rasped a little with each heavy syllable.

  “Farmhand.” Zanriath cut in quite crisply, sounding a little cautious. “Aren’t you worried about the demons? You’re aware of what’s happened aren’t you?”

  “Of course my boy, of course. But if all we do is just run and hide, where would the world be? And besides, I’m sure they won’t be for harming a poor old fellow like myself.” His smile was kind and made his thin features seem very fragile. “‘It is the only thing I can do you see. I must be carrying on my livelihood, and of course looking out for my family.” He turned slightly to Isabel but addressed Zanriath still. “If you were never to see her smile again, would all your other troubles still seem so important?” Zanriath caught his breath and looked to Isabel as a shy smile crept unconsciously to her lips. “And I shall be leaving the pair of you with that thought my young friends. May you both be happy together.” And with that the old man crossed their path and faded off into the rain, following the tree line of the forest away to their left.

  They had at least several days of similar travel until they reached the shore to the north, and then further still through Compii Tower and on to Hinaktor. Isabel wondered what Hinaktor was actually like. People had told her stories of the other Islands, but in reality, the only truthful thing she knew about them were their names. She’d heard tales of monsters and god-like warriors. A smile crossed her face. They couldn’t be true she thought; there must just be people, like here in Land. She considered asking Zanriath, but decided it would be best to wait. Besides, it gave her something to think about as they rode, in place the continuous loop she’d been so far stuck with, replaying recent events repeatedly in her overactive mind.

  Zanriath still hadn’t told her everything he’d said he wanted to; they’d rushed straight from town after she’d killed the demon at Mr Drixen’s house. Burning once more with sudden curiosity, she desperately wanted to stop and settle for the night; riding was tiring and it was steadily draining her energy, making even the thought of conversation exhausting. Darkness was swiftly setting in and soon they would have to stop and rest. An eerie mist had begun to settle, which would surely develop into a thick fog during the night. Isabel couldn’t decide if that was more or less inviting than the constant rain they’d already endured.

  Just ahead, Zanriath brought his mount to a halt.

  “Shall we call it a day? What do you think?” He asked. It seemed more of a statement than a question. Isabel replied, but with the notion that he already had a plan.

  “Yes, I think so. But where can we go?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that…” He smiled as he turned and began to lead Isabel away from the track they’d chanced across and off into the fog. With the weather’s rapid deterioration and lack of light they quickened their pace. Admittedly, Isabel hadn’t been thinking about where they would stop, and she couldn’t recall seeing a single building still standing amidst their entire day’s travel, save one isolated farmhouse atop one of the many rolling hills.

  A square shape began to materialise from the fog ahead. The closer they got the clearer Isabel could make out the object’s outline. It was a ruin, like so many they’d already seen that day. The roof had collapsed in several places and there was no way to reach the first floor. Nevertheless, it would be shelter enough. The thick stones that made up the lonesome building were charred black, and littered around was the scarce remaining evidence of what appeared to have been a very one-sided struggle.

  There looked to be one room on the ground floor almost entirely intact and, as if to confirm her thoughts, Zanriath led them directly into it.

  “I noticed this just before the fog hit.” He said by way of explanation as he climbed down from his horse and offered Isabel his hand. She took it and followed his lead, landing neatly at his side. “I’ll find somewhere for the horses and get a fire going.”

  “Ok, I’ll sort through the food in the packs.” She replied. And with that brief exchange they set about their assigned tasks, as if it had forever been that way. This time Isabel glanced over that peculiar ‘way of the world’ as casually as she could and began rooting through their bags. She hung their saturated cloaks, hoping they would dry by a good fire, and she was very much looking forward to getting the feeling back in her fingers and toes; the night was only going to get colder.

  Zanriath led the horses to the back of the room where he tethered and attended to them, checking their legs and feet, hoping good fortune was favouring them. Isabel had always understood to care for a good horse, as it would usually be your most reliable friend. In this case she hoped they’d last them long enough to get to Hinaktor. She set about preparing dinner.

  Once Zanriath was satisfied he set about making a fire in the centre of the deceptively large room. The walls were made up of large stones and thankfully they were almost completely intact, save the door, which was now no more than a large hole in the wall.

  There was a sudden crackling as Isabel finished sorting through the rations and she turned to see an already sizeable fire blazing the centre of the room.

  “Well.” She noted approvingly. “How’d you manage that?”

  “Practice.” Zanriath replied casually. He looked to the entrance. “We’ll need to block that, the rain seems to be easing off for the night, but it’s going to be cold.” She nodded in agreement.

  “Ok, if you sort that, I’ll sort supper.” Isabel stated in a matter of fact tone.

  “Sounds good to me.” He replied grinning, Isabel returned his smile and knelt down beside the welcoming flames, warming her hands gratefully. Off to the side of the room were remnants of an old table and chairs, almost burned to cinders. Sadly useless.

  She glanced back and forth briefly between the orange flames and her stranger before readying some of the supplies they’d purchased in Aproklis. Zanriath headed outside and she got down to work. There wasn’t much fuel for the fire. She looked again more closely. Maybe he’d gone to fetch some firewood too, and she couldn’t see a flint - perhaps he’d taken it with him? Again, she overlooked it.

  Her gaze followed Zanriath out past the entrance but she lost sight of him in the fog. He’d been right about the cold she thought as a blast of freezing air shot through the opening. She put herself between the entrance and the fire, hoping to stop it going out as the fuel dwindled, though it seemed to make very little difference and it still burned strong and bright, without so much as a flicker.

  “Here.” Zanriath’s voice suddenly sounded behind her making her jump. He propped a thick sheet of wood up against the wall with a sigh of relief and secured it with some rubble. Isabel recognised it from a pile of remains she’d seen outside the house, from what had looked like an old barn. “That will do for a door. The house is a wreck. This looks like the only room that’s still intact. Everything alright?”

  Isabel looked back and forth between Zanriath and the fire very quickly again before answering.

  “Yes.” She said, snapping back from the trance she’d lost herself in. “Fine.” He nodded and turned back to tend once again to the horses, which both needed food and water.

  The night progressed to be cold and harsh around their lonesome shelter, the entrance blocked by the makeshift door, it seemed as if the icy storm was testing them, probing for weaknesses and exploiting the tiniest of holes in the walls. Despite that, Zanriath, Isabel and the horses were all surprisingly comfortable. Zanriath hadn’t made any inclination that it was out of the ordinary, nor had Isabel made such a suggestion, but somehow he had managed to double the size of their fire, and more strangely, increase its heat tenfold. And for that, Isabel was definitely not complaining.
/>
  Instead, she stared longingly into the flames, lost in thought. Occasionally casting a fleeting look toward their makeshift wooden door, hoping it would hold through the night. Zanriath too was deep in thought, running through their situation and next steps in his mind, over and over. He said nothing of it to Isabel just yet, but he was trying to plan for all eventualities. He liked to know what he was doing, where he was going, and perhaps most importantly, that it was definitely going to work. The trouble was that they were running blind, only knowing roughly where they were heading, not what to expect, and he hated that.

  Isabel found herself sat leaning against him with his arm resting lightly round her shoulders, not really knowing how they had wormed themselves into that position, but at the same time not wanting to move. She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly, still fixated by the flickers of orange and yellow dancing before her.

  Initially she’d been cold and the baying wind outside had made her uneasy, but now she felt much more relaxed, held close and safe by the warmth around her, and by her stranger. She thought that over. He was still virtually a complete stranger to her, but one it seemed she had absolute faith in. One who had appeared to save her life, just as it had fallen to pieces.

  For a moment she felt ashamed again, but this time for a different reason. Her father had so recently been taken from her, and yet, she had given so very little time for grief. Things had moved too fast, racing by in a blur. The partnership she and Zanriath were forming, how they were needed for this task, whatever it might be exactly. How he needed her to be strong. How she needed him.

  Only now was the truth beginning to sink in, and she was afraid. Afraid of what was to come, what she had to do, afraid of leaving home, afraid of never coming back. If there would be anything to come back to at all that was. But she seemed to find strength in him, reassurance, surely he knew, he must have realised; very little seemed to evade him.

  The amulet at her neck shone golden and Zanriath’s eyes reflected the same colour. Isabel was content, at least for the moment: warm, fed, comfortable, safe.

  She rested her head on Zanriath’s shoulder and he instinctively tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. She sighed and closed her eyes for the night, listening to the crackling of the fire and the slow, steady breathing of Zanriath at her side.

  Safe, for now.

  8

  Their journey to Compii Tower continued the next day at first light, and the weather held firm in its rage, ceasing only for brief periods, never long enough to let them dry off. Finally, after what seemed to be a torturously long time, they stopped to rest for the night. The day had again been cold and uncomfortable and to preserve the horses’ strength their pace had been slower than they would have liked. A few times they’d been forced to use more major tracks because of flooding, but had encountered very little in the way of demons or people. Save a few isolated farmsteads, mostly ruined.

  The sky had cleared, at least for the time being, and there were even a few stars visible as they walked their horses through an open field toward a small block of woodland, just south of the Great Forest. Once again they settled for the night, this time finding a small but sheltered clearing. In no time at all the horses were tied, fed and watered and they had only a small fire burning so as not to attract attention, though it gave off intense heat - strange for such a small blaze.

  Though their horses were not the fittest, they had made surprisingly good time and with any luck, if the weather held, tomorrow they would reach the bridge and pass through Compii Tower and on to Hinaktor.

  Isabel had an inclination that the excellent time they were making was probably not the result of chance, but she kept that particular insight to herself. She thought pensively as she sifted through their rations. What would they find? There must be guards; everyone knew that no one had ever been able to cross the bridge to any of the other islands. And what about Zanriath? What part did he play in all this, why did he need her? Surely she wasn’t all that important? She was sure she’d asked herself that question before. He seemed so in control, so calm, wasn’t he worried? All these questions raced through her mind, but she managed to refrain from blurting them out irrationally. She just didn’t know, and sometimes a lingering doubt can be fatal.

  “Are you okay?” His gentle voice was caring. Isabel looked up from her thoughts to see him sitting close beside her, leaning against the thick trunk of an oak. He seemed relaxed but his face was creased with concern. Only the crackling of their small fire penetrated the silence around them. Strange, she thought, it’s not usually so quiet in the woods. And for some reason her thoughts flitted quickly to the strange man with the strange accent who had called himself farmhand.

  “Yeah, fine thanks, just tired.” He seemed somehow unconvinced. “So…what’s going on? What do we have to do, I mean, what can I do?”

  “You should have more self-confidence Isabel.” He said with a reassuring smile. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything. What are we supposed to do?” Isabel implored him with pleading eyes, her curiosity getting the better of her judgement.

  “Ok…” His initial response seemed reluctant and his eyes hardened with thought. Isabel waited eagerly; she hadn’t really known what he’d tell her, though she didn’t see any reason for him to keep information from her, it may just have been that he didn’t know either. “I may as well just start at the beginning. I’m presuming you know how Tamarack was formed?”

  “I’ve heard lots of different stories… my father…” She winced slightly, “He always told me there were four islands and then the Gods chose an island each and created their own people.” Zanriath smiled fondly.

  “That is a popular belief.” He replied. “But it’s not quite accurate.” He cleared his throat and made himself more comfortable. “For an eternity the four Gods have travelled, searching for new planets to harbour and create life. Several times they have spent many millennia overseeing single civilisations, such as is the case now. But, always eventually, nature intervenes and their civilisations are lost, forcing the Gods to move on. There are many things that even the Gods can’t control, though most people don’t realise that; they are as much a part of life as we are.” He let out a brief sigh and continued. “Such a civilisation had been lost, and the Gods travelled with four meteors, simply for ease, to save them having to force their own way through the vast emptiness of the universe. And then, after many millennia of searching, they finally found this planet.”

  “How do you know all this?” Isabel asked.

  “Like I said before, I have a very wise mentor.” He said fondly. “The previous inhabitants of this planet were swallowed and drowned by the ocean. Do you know about the Souls of the Ocean?”

  “I have a rough idea. I know that no one can sail. They’re monsters aren’t they?”

  “Not quite. They are the souls of the thousands who drowned when the ocean rose and killed everything that lived on land. This happened before our Gods arrived here. The God’s cast their four meteors down and formed the four islands – Rilako, Hinaktor, Vak’Istor and Land of the Demon-Lord. Then the Gods all charged themselves with the safekeeping of their own island and its people, which they then set about to create.”

  As Zanriath talked Isabel’s weariness began to take hold. The day had been long and her thoughts filled with uncertainty, but now he was beginning to fill in some of the gaps in her knowledge and she focused intently on his words, on his soft, soothing voice. Her body was exhausted however, and was slowly dragging her toward sleep. Zanriath seemed unaffected by the many hours spent travelling and was just as alert as always.

  “Because they created their own people, they are all different. Very few have ever crossed to other islands, so each island knows little of the differences between themselves and others, however small the differences may seem to be.” He reached for a flagon from the pack next to him on the floor and offered it to Isabel before lifting it to h
is lips. He took a mouthful of water and glanced up at the sky between the gaggles of branches for a minute.

  Far above their heads the sky was surprisingly calm and hundreds of stars were dotted randomly across its still, dark face. Zanriath’s breathing was very even and relaxed Isabel. She found herself wishing she knew what he was thinking as he looked up, and couldn’t help but feel a little small and insignificant beneath the watchful lights.

  “Each island’s people are different simply because the Gods are different. They named their islands too; Ormath chose Rilako Island, Enthel call His Hinaktor, Koack chose Vak’Istor and the name Depozi chose has been lost now.” Isabel allowed herself a moment to absorb everything he said but focused intently; she knew the Gods had representative forms, but found herself wondering whether they physically existed or not.

  “So are they…” she began, searching for the right words. “Are they…physically real? Or just…spirits I suppose?”

  An understanding smile spread across Zanriath’s face, visible in the flickering light from the fire. “They’re both. What you have to understand is they are spiritual, but can appear physically to whomever they choose. So, Ormath would appear as a Dragon, Enthel as a Gryphon, Koack as a Phoenix and Depozi as an Angel. Their physical appearances represent what they are as divine beings.

  “Ormath is very wise and powerful.” His smile broadened. “And He enjoys telling stories. The four have godly abilities as you would expect, but He also possesses additional elemental abilities. In particular, the ability to harness and control fire, hence He chooses the form of a Dragon. That form helps people to understand His power, as dragons are renowned for it.

  “His people are generally wise, and some become very powerful, a certain number of them also able to harness fire. It’s all explained in an old text called The Sorcery of Ormath. I translated it one summer, years ago now. The power He bestows on His people gives them new strength - they live much longer than most - sometimes to a hundred and fifty, or even two hundred years.”