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

by Ross Turner

  “I shall see to it that each of you finds a steady mount.” Thomis declared once they had all the supplies they could carry, and more.

  Zanriath would have protested further against Thomis’ far-reaching generosity, but horses seemed like a very good idea if they wanted to keep moving quickly, and so he and the others thanked their odd but kind new friend, and gratefully followed him swiftly from his shop.

  Soon the enormous man was leading them through the hustle and bustle of Kilkaw, parting the crowds very effectively by holding Lucy rather menacingly in front of him. He talked as they struggled to keep up with him, his voice booming above the din of the crowd.

  “An’ did you hear about Hildor? He’s just become the second man ever to swim across from Varrock’s hook, after none other than Varrock himself.”

  “Varrock’s hook?” Ben and Zhack shouted after Thomis.

  “Yes boys! Don’t tell me no one’s ever told you ‘bout Varrock’s hook? I’d say you’re old enough to know by now. It’s a natural cove in the Island, to the northwest. Fella named Varrock swam from the point of the cove across to the beach. Swam that fast that them sea beasties couldn’t touch him.” He told his short tale with a beaming smile, as if proud to be of the same kin as this so called Varrock. “Here we are!” He said rounding a shabby tent and stopping by a small collection of clearly well-fed and giant horses, judging by their size capable even of carrying even the enormous Thomis. “Now, before we go inside I must tell you, the shopkeeper’s a tricky fellow, Kimlin his name is, an’ all he wants is your money. Just let me do the talkin’.” And with that he held open the flap to the tent and they stepped inside.

  “Ahh Thomis my old friend! So good to see you!” The man greeting them was much shorter than Thomis, but still muscular and clearly able to hold his own. A sturdy sword belted to his waist was more than obvious and his smile seemed somehow faked.

  “Save it Kimlin. I’m here on business for you, ‘cause I know you’ll happily give me the best price.”

  “But of course, of course! What is it that you’re seeking?” Kimlin’s manner was that of a polite businessman, bent on making profit, though his face did show a flicker of uncertainty as they all finally squeezed into the small tent and Thomis dropped the flap and revealed his enormous battle-axe. He thumped the head into the floor with unnecessary force and leant casually on the hilt once more.

  “So, m’friends here be after three horses…” He began, before looking across at Ben and Zhack, “Will you boys be wanting t’share a horse?” They nodded rather meekly, a little overwhelmed by the whole place.

  “Your friends look a little nervous, are they new to town? I’d quite happily negotiate a fair price with them…” Kimlin jumped in quickly, a glint clear in his eye.

  “They’ve been out of town for a while, an’ things are changin’ around parts.” Thomis replied with steely composure. Isabel imagined that Kimlin was quite nervous at this point, even a little afraid, and she’s couldn’t say that she blamed him. And then, as if to make the point even clearer, Thomis added plainly: “I’ll be doin’ the negotiating for them. They’ll wait outside while we talk business an’ sorts.” They needed little more suggestion than that and the four showed themselves out.

  A mere five minutes later Thomis emerged from the tent with a satisfied look on his face and a slightly quivering Kimlin trailing behind him. Zanriath took Thomis to one side to sort out payment, only to find that he’d been given the horses by way of a personal favour. Thomis gave him the news with a smile and a wink. Zanriath just laughed and shook the enormous man’s hand, holding on almost for dear life.

  “Thank you Thomis, you’ve been invaluable.”

  “Don’t you mention it m’boy.” The big man boomed once more. “Now, it’ll be gettin’ late soon so you and your friends should be headed down to the south gate. It’ll take you straight onto the Great Road. Rest for tonight and set out a first light tomorrow.”

  Zanriath and the others thanked the huge man once more and took their newly acquired steeds and goods and headed slowly south, loading their horses’ packs with all their new supplies.

  Thomis was right, it was getting late and had they left that evening they would have had to start setting up camp almost as soon as they set off. So instead they pushed on to the southern border of town, again marked by the makeshift wooden walls that had been erected. They found a shack advertising itself as an inn and turned in for the night, leaving their horses behind in a small stable.

  The day was fading quickly and the bustle of preparation was beginning to quieten, though furnaces and fires still burned bright through the now darkening market.

  They had spoken little all day in the strangeness of these new surroundings and in the little time they had had to gather supplies they had all been somewhat overwhelmed. So, with things now in motion, they sat together and enjoyed each other’s company even more than usual.

  “This place is strange.” Ben started almost as soon as they were seated round a small fire, and Zhack nodded in agreement. Each of them held a steaming mug of tea, so-called compliments of the house, though exactly what kind of tea it was Isabel wasn’t sure. She had a sneaking suspicion that it was just dirty hot water.

  The money they’d paid for their two measly rooms was outrageously high. Even though Zanriath had managed to bring it down somewhat, they had sourly wished Thomis had not had to get back to his shop so soon. The rooms they’d been given consisted of two beds each and little else. They’d managed to scrounge four chairs from another room and had lit their fire outside for fear of the canvas catching alight.

  “It is different.” Zanriath admitted.

  “I don’t think I could live here…” Isabel observed.

  “I don’t think they do live here.” Zanriath replied. “The people are only gathering here because of the demons. I doubt the town is usually this big. I think the people here all move and travel wherever they please. They live off the land. That’s why the buildings here are all falling down - because they only took an afternoon to put up. This is just like a base they can always rely on, for repairs and such.”

  “What about the Southern Armouries?” Isabel asked. “Are they the same?”

  “I’m not entirely sure Isabel. From what Thomis was saying earlier on the Southern Armouries sound a lot more permanent. It seems to be where all the specialist metalworkers go.”

  “But almost everyone here is a metalworker.” Zhack spoke up now. “And they all looked pretty good to me.”

  “Yes, but here by the looks of things most people make their own armour, all of it. The specialists don’t make anything but the one weapon, or piece, that they’ve made for almost their whole lives. They’re the best. You heard Thomis about them coming north in two days time. If we’re not back here by tomorrow nightfall with our fifth companion, then I imagine we’ll get to see exactly what specialist means.”

  “But they’re going to war with the demons.” Isabel protested “We can’t get caught in that. We’ll lose too much time.”

  “I know.” Zanriath agreed. “Though, as we don’t know exactly who our next companion will be, she may well be from the Southern Armouries. Tomorrow we’ll have to be very quick.”

  “If they stand any chance at all that is…” Ben added sullenly.

  “I don’t see what they think the march will do?” Zhack said.

  “They’re fighting for their homes, not to mention their lives. That’s probably one of the best reasons I’ve ever heard of to fight for anything.” Isabel said.

  “She’s right.” Zanriath agreed. “They have every right in the world to live here, and that would also say to me they have every right to defend it.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” Ben admitted and Zhack nodded in agreement. They were still young.

  “Why do we have so little time?” Isabel commented. “One minute everything was normal, and then, barely a week later, we don’t have time to breathe.”

  “The
demons are already here Isabel.” Zanriath pointed out. “All they need to do is mobilise and humankind is history. I know the people here are mobilising too, but even if they hold out at first, from what I’ve gathered, correct me if I’m wrong, the demon’s numbers are virtually limitless…?” Isabel considered that for a moment before conceding with a sorrowful sigh.

  “You’re right. They can just keep coming through. And if that fails they’ll just raise more. I guess we don’t have all that much time at all do we?”

  “No, I’m afraid we don’t. It seems the emergence of this demon-boy has sped things up drastically.”

  “We’ll make it though? Right?” Ben said hopefully, his expression mimicking Zhack’s. Zanriath smiled and, placing a gentle hand on Isabel’s shoulder in response to her desperate expression, nodded confidently, but did not speak.

  Again Isabel rested her head on his hand and closed her eyes. The twins sat back and looked deep into their mugs, searching for the answers to the hundreds of questions that, at this point, none of them had.

  “Right then.” Zanriath said, promptly draining his mug and standing up, gulping down what was left of his so-called tea with a slightly pained look on his face. “We set out at first light. Make sure you’re ready. Take everything.”

  16

  They rode hard through the chilled air under the glow of the morning sun, pushing their fresh horses hard. They were even bigger and faster than they’d first realised and the four of them tore south down the Great Road, leaving Kilkaw far behind them. Zanriath and Isabel rode in front, each on their own mount, and the boys close behind sharing theirs. The powerful horses seemed to not even notice the weight of saddles, riders and supplies as they raced down the worn track, taking each mile with new storm.

  Zanriath’s steed was jet-black and the biggest of the three, hugely powerful and intimidating. Isabel’s was a perfect white, absolutely flawless, and only slightly smaller than Zanriath’s. The boy’s was coffee coloured and a similar size to Isabel’s. They all seemed to have absolutely limitless amounts of energy and the speed they maintained was immense. The four riders had enough trouble just holding on for the first part of the day, clinging to the reins for fear of being thrown violently to the ground.

  Isabel imagined from what they had already learned of the people of Hinaktor that horses probably played a major role in society here, and therefore breeding them to be bigger and faster and stronger was simply a logical thing to do.

  By the time the sun had fully risen in the sky the horses had slowed from a dead run to a gallop, hardly affected whatsoever by the phenomenal distance they’d already covered. They were going to save an awful lot of time on a journey that would have taken them days on foot.

  Zanriath informed them when they crossed the invisible boundary dividing the island into northern and southern Hinaktor. Why the people felt the need to divide their home into sections Isabel did not know, and was even more confused by the way that there was no actual marking of that boundary.

  Nevertheless, as they rode Isabel took in the landscape all around them. Still almost perfectly flat, the plains extended in every direction, broken up only by small forestry blocks and copses, and the occasional rocky outcrop jutting up from the ground. They hurtled past repeated makeshift dwelling and sword fights, but all too soon they left the ringing sound of metal on metal behind and continued thundering towards Warrior’s Plain. Every mile was identical to the last and the only thing marking their progress was the steady changing of the sun’s position in the sky. It was now just after midday and their target was almost in sight.

  Isabel was pleased with the great distance they’d covered so easily, and how little resistance they’d encountered. Sadly, the thought in the back of her mind and the feeling in the pit of her stomach was much stronger now, and warned her that it would not last.

  Warrior’s Plain: a single field extending for miles in each direction, covering the western-most part of Hinaktor, reaching all the way to its west coastline. The plain was marked by nothing but a single wooden fence, coming only to waist level, which ran, seemingly, all the way around it.

  Its purpose was simple - a place for the best of the best to come, and to compete, mainly for pride. Prizes upon victory included the weapons and armour of the loser. It was relatively easy to tell who the best fighters were, as they always had the best weapons and the strongest and lightest armour, and could therefore keep winning; not giving anyone else a real chance, but Isabel supposed that was all part of the fun of the sport. The task was not to kill an opponent, as the people here were neither cruel nor bloodthirsty, but rather to disarm them, unhorse them, or win by forfeit, depending Isabel supposed on the type of competition.

  The four approached the border of the oversized battleground and dismounted, stiff and sore from the whole morning of riding. They had seen few people all day, but almost as soon as they had dismounted a contest broke out a mere twenty feet from where they stood.

  Three reasonably built men, dressed in full armour with helmets, swords and shields, were pitched against four much larger men wielding axes and broadswords. Their polished arms flashed and glimmered in the sun as they swung blow after blow. The three worked tactically, turning, ducking and diving, driving their four opponents into a tight group between them. Soon two were disarmed and one clutched a nasty gash to his arm. They soon surrendered and trudged off to a small hut in the distance, leaving their weapons and what was left of their armour behind them.

  The three victors looked across at Isabel and approached, one wiping his bloodied blade on the grass and grinning broadly.

  “We bid you good morning young sirs and miss.” They greeted them politely before introducing themselves. The man at the front of the three, who Isabel took to be the leader of the group, was the only one to speak. “I am Argon Vichten.” He said with clear arrogance, which his companions sadly probably mistook for pride or prowess, before pointing to his left and right. “This is my brother Welden Vichten and my cousin Ergon Southan. What is your business at the Plain? Are you here to compete? You don’t look too well prepared…” The two behind Argon smirked at his comment and were clearly also very fond of themselves. Isabel developed a strong distaste for the trio almost immediately. “I imagine you saw the quick work we made of those fools.”

  Zanriath in turn made his introductions politely before replying to Argon’s question. The three were unshaven and now they were stood closer Isabel’s sense of smell detected something most unpleasant: the surmounting combination of worn metal, sweat and body odour.

  All three had short dark hair and Argon had a small scar running down his left cheek, apparently the result of some long forgotten feud. The smirk they all wore was practically identical and there were splashes of blood dotted across their expensive looking armour.

  “Alas I’m afraid not Goodman Argon, we are searching for someone. A young girl with blonde hair and blue eyes it would seem. Possibly a warrior on this Plain?” Zanriath let his enquiry hang between them as they exchanged interested glances.

  “A girl you say? Yes we know of such a girl don’t we boys?” He said looking back to his companions who shared that same smirk still. “We’ve had our eye on her for some time.” He said with a wink to Zanriath. Isabel had already had enough, which was quite uncharacteristic for her, but there was something about these three that made her grind her teeth.

  “Where is she?” She said sharply, her voice testy. She was quickly growing impatient.

  “Woah ok. Relax little one.” Argon replied, still testing Isabel’s patience keenly. “I’m sure we could find her. No need to be in such a hurry. We could always talk a little more; you’re a pretty one yourself.” He said, eyeing her up and down quite deliberately. Her cold stare turned to stone and he seemed slightly taken aback. Perhaps there was something about the women here in Hinaktor that Isabel didn’t understand? Or then of course it could simply have been the arrogance of these three brutes.

&nbs
p; “Argon!” Zanriath barked, startling the three sweaty men and his companions alike. “I would ask you to leave that line of conversation if you please.” He warned quite menacingly. The flint in his voice was something again that Isabel didn’t recognise and, she didn’t know if she imagined it, but she was sure she felt the temperature rise a few degrees. Zanriath also made a firm point of pulling his horse in front of hers, positioning himself very protectively. Even Ben and Zhack had caught Zanriath’s intention and moved either side of Isabel, hands on blades. The three dirty men looked startled at this sudden display of aggression. Clearly they hadn’t really been expecting any sort of confrontation from the four young travellers.

  “No need for anything hasty young Master Zanriath.” Argon recovered. “If you wish to settle things by combat then let us to contest.” He said strictly and properly, drawing his blade from his waist.

  “Now Argon.” A new voice suddenly entered the conversation. “That’s no way to treat a group of unarmed folk is it? And besides, I think they might surprise you. You know how you can be with strangers.”

  Across from the right a young girl came into view, blonde with blue eyes. Isabel recognised her almost immediately, unable to believe the identical resemblance to the girl in her dream, right down even to the clothes she wore. As she drew closer she looked roughly the same age as Isabel and the only thing she hadn’t noticed before was a slight tint of orange around the centre of her eyes. Alight with life, and it would seem in this case, mischief.

  Her armour looked almost weightless and fitted her perfectly with a bronzed finish; her figure was athletic and her attire only accentuated her obvious womanly figure. Two small swords were strapped across her back and looked all too easily accessible, protruding above her shoulders. They were beautifully handcrafted and Isabel imagined had been made specifically for her and there were no other two like them anywhere.