by Ross Turner
The fact that the High Priest was offering them his sympathy didn’t fill Isabel with confidence, though she had to admit she had barely considered the possibility of luck amidst all that had happened, and wondered for a moment just how big a part it had already had to play. She and Zanriath had briefly discussed the possibility, but had dismissed it just as quickly. It seemed that in everything that had happened, luck would surely not be allowed to intervene, but then she wondered, could even these ‘higher forces’ that the Priest had spoken of control such a thing?
For some reason, now that they were all going to finally get a glimpse of what lay in store for them, they were all more nervous than they had been at any point so far. Somehow, that made perfect sense to Isabel. An unknown fear can never hope to be as great as even a glorified known fear.
“Timeless Zanriath. Sorcerer of Rilako. Disciple of Ormath. Your task has been the longest and most frustrating, but nonetheless it must continue: to gather and protect your companions. To lead them, allowing each to grow and to more fully understand their purpose, and in turn, to further understand your own. Zanirath nodded in understanding and continued acceptance of the purpose he had spent most of his life already fulfilling. He would not falter now.
“Ben. Zhack. Warriors of Land. Providers of Hope. You are tasked with showing that the good left in this world may still triumph over darkness. Prepare yourselves well, for the sacrifices you must make shall come the most swiftly.” The boys went very pale at the High Priest’s words but their acceptance was automatic, and their mental preparations began, even unconsciously.
“Ayva. Warrior of Hinaktor. Saviour. You must show resilience even in the darkest of hours, against the strongest of foes, for your task shall be the most difficult, and the most painful, but that is why you shall be our Saviour.” Ayva absorbed every word and breathed deeply, steeling her heart for what she was sure would come.
“And finally, Isabella the Eternal. Mistress of the Demonic. Prepare yourself also, for in the end, when your friends, companions and lovers have each completed their own tasks, you shall find yourself alone. Demon-Lord Depozi may fall only by the will of your hand, and only through you shall come Tamarack’s eternal protection.”
28
“Make haste my friends. Time is short and you must reach Dragon’s Peak before the boy can get ahead of you.”
“Does he know where we’re going?” Isabel asked the old Priest.
“He will do shortly my dear. He has his own tasks just as you have yours.”
“Ok.” Zanriath announced. “In that case, let’s go. We need to cover as much distance as we can before the day is out.” The old man smiled and took a step back to join Kay and Hale.
“Goodbye then, my friends.” He said fondly. “May Koack watch over you.” He raised a hand in farewell and Kay and Hale followed suit.
Ayva was strong enough to ride alone now, so Isabel and Zanriath rode together once more. The next few days would surely be a great test for Ayva, but Isabel knew she would cope. The purpose that had once driven her had now changed.
The boys were already mounted and eager to get moving. The hundreds of pairs of eyes watching them from the trees all around made their skin crawl and they were extremely edgy. It was definitely time to leave.
Isabel felt as if their time spent with the High Priest had been extremely rushed and hoped, as she often did, that she hadn’t missed anything. Though, with an army of demons at their back, she supposed they didn’t have time to waste on regrets.
So they rode east, back the way they’d come. Their night spent at the Western Tower had been enlightening, and they had each begun to come to terms with what the High Priest had told them. By the morning they were ready for the yet again long road ahead. And that day would be one of the longest. However, the comparatively rushed night had refreshed and rejuvenated them all considerably and they levelled their gaze at the tasks facing them with a grim determination.
The air was cool and damp from rainfall the night before and all around the trees seemed suddenly very lush and full. The skies were clear and they looked out across the endless sea of forest, surveying the mixture of pines, evergreens, oaks, wykvans and many other trees they could not begin to name, trying to force from their minds exactly what was waiting for them, hoping the Watcher would be able to protect them.
They rode fast, pushing their horses even harder than they had done after the ambush the previous day, not stopping for a second. It seemed that, at least for now, speed was their closest ally.
As the trees whipped by beside her Isabel could sense the army of demons encircling them. They were all jumpy knowing that they were being watched. But no ambushes came. She imagined the Watcher in his tower seeing all these demons amongst his beloved trees. She wondered how angry that would make him, whether he even knew if it was his task to protect them, or if he was acting out of pure, pre-meditated emotion. That was an interesting concept.
Their horses’ charge churned the soggy track and kicked stones in every direction. Even they sensed the eyes on them and kept their pace, wide eyed and snorting loudly, their heavy breaths misting the air, more out of panic than determination.
As they rode noises from the forest echoed all around. It slowly came alive with whistles and whispers, and before long snarls and roars, whines and whimpers and the snapping of limbs. The sounds followed them all the way to Kazra and beyond.
As they thundered through town they saw people eyeing the woodland with curiosity. They quickly turned their attentions to the five on horseback charging madly through the quiet streets.
“Stay out of the woods!” The five called to passers-by as they rode. Isabel hoped they would take heed of their words and obvious haste, and would pass the message on. She was sure she caught a glimpse of King as they raced past heading north for the bridge.
The day was wearing on fast and they all felt it heavily. But still they did not stop. Isabel knew Zanriath wanted to be in Rilako before nightfall, and somehow she knew they needed to be, but that would be a challenge. Not half as difficult however, as stopping without the demons catching them would be. Exhausted and weary, they would be all too easily overrun.
The afternoon air was cool and it still hung heavy and damp with vapour. Isabel found it surprisingly easy to let her mind wander as they approached the bridge. She held her arms wrapped tightly around Zanriath and the wind whipped her hair violently.
She tried to think of any possible way that they could defeat Depozi, or rather, that she could defeat Depozi. The High Priest’s words rang clearly through her mind. ‘You shall find yourself alone’. Why would she be alone? The others would still be with her surely? Zanriath would still be with her. She held him even more tightly. Her mind returned to the frantic questioning that always accompanied mild panic. ‘And Demon-Lord Depozi may fall only by the will of your hand’. It was going to be her against her own God. She trembled just at the thought, knowing all too well how badly the odds were stacked against her. Though, her rational mind told her that wasn’t possible, considering everything the Priest had revealed, the odds were balanced very evenly. But then, fear is by no means rational.
As they rounded a slight ridge they caught a brief glimpse of the ocean and the mist beyond. The bridge to Compii Tower merged from the sand and from the very earth, and disappeared into nothing, just as dauntingly as always. They pressed on.
The noises from behind the screen of leaves and branches had faded now and Isabel was left with nothing but the sound of thudding hooves and the comforting beat of Zanriath’s heart as she held her hands closer and tighter to his chest.
None of them had spoken since they’d left the Western Tower, but the day spent so far in silence had allowed them all the precious time they needed to gather their thoughts and mull over their newly assigned tasks. Well, Isabel thought as they rode, newly realised, assigned at some point far, far in the past.
Finally the trees began to thin and the track opened out
to reveal the short crossing to the beach. Their pace didn’t falter and Zanriath led them boldly across the sand and onto the bridge, urging his horse forward into the mist. The horses panicked at first but after some convincing their pace picked back up and they hurtled through the fog, more afraid of the beasts behind them than the eerie mist and water around and below them. They hadn’t the time to waste.
Careering left at Compii Tower, they headed north to Rilako, ignoring the four bodies that still lay just as they had left them. The bridge to Rilako was identical to all the others and perched perilously in the same way over the water.
For some reason as they approached Zanriath’s home, Isabel felt compelled to examine the water more closely, something urged her closer, dulling her thoughts. She became suddenly fascinated by the lost souls that resided there. She felt some invisible force pulling her sideways from her saddle, as if drawing her down to the water.
‘Not yet Isabella.’ A voice sounded in her thoughts. ‘The Eternal Son and Protector may come, but that is a task for another time.’ The voice startled her and sharpened her senses. Blinking a few times she realised her vision had been going hazy. ‘It is yet to be determined.’ And then the voice was gone. She could only presume it was Ormath, but it hadn’t sounded like Him. Perhaps it was one of the other Gods? No, it was different. It was someone, or something else. She was sure of it. She considered mentioning it to Zanriath, but for some reason decided not to, knowing that, if the time came, they could deal with it then.
Before long they saw the calm waves begin to break on a shoreline appearing before them out of the mist. Rilako. Emerging from the fog Zanriath brought them to a steady trot and eventually a halt as the bridge merged gently with the grassy slopes to the southeast of the Island. Zanriath let out a small sigh, audible only to Isabel, and turned to his friends.
“Welcome to Rilako.” His smile was false and they all knew it. As was happening to everyone, his home was soon to be infested by the plague of demons, if they hadn’t already spread here too.
“It’s late.” Ayva noted looking up at the darkened sky, dotted with the occasional pinpoint of sparkling hope. “Where can we stop Zan? Is there anywhere close?”
“Is there anywhere safe?” Isabel added in a hushed voice.
“There is, but not yet. We have to keep going.” Riders and horses alike were exhausted, but there was still no time for rest. “We’ll be able to reach Still Waters soon hopefully.”
“Still Waters?” Isabel said curiously. Zanriath led them off from the bridge.
“The River Avrik runs from the mountains and feeds a lake northwest of here - a sanctuary was built on the north shore called Still Waters. The lake is very calm and sometimes sorcerers go there to help quieten their minds. Folks go there often when times are hard.” He smiled faintly and without enthusiasm. “It’ll probably be quite busy by now, unless of course everyone is too afraid to travel through the countryside…
Isabel placed a reassuring hand on Zanriath’s shoulder and rested her head against his back. His hand came up to hers and he looked out across the Island they now had to venture across.
Though it was dark they could still see by the moonlight that the shores curved back on either side of them in a widened bottleneck before opening out into the mainland. Hills rolled over one another and the sanctuary at Still Waters was faintly visible, barely a spec on the horizon. Random forestry blocks were dotted among the hills and the land was clearly common - no fields, fences or even tracks were in sight. In fact, even in the moonshine Isabel could see little in the way of marks of mankind. Even on the vast plains of Hinaktor there had been field and tracks and fences.
Ayva turned her eyes skyward once more and looked off to the distance.
“There’s a storm on the way.” The sky was still clear, though mostly black, and the temperature was dropping steadily. Clouds ebbed closer from the north and seemed to pillow out towards them menacingly.
They were ahead for now, of the weather and the boy, but all that could change. It was time to go again. They stayed for a brief time to eat and quickly feed and water their horses, knowing that they were probably pushing them too hard, but their relief was short lived. Soon they set off toward Still Waters, their horses’ hooves churning up grass and dirt with every powerful stride, though they had to slow their pace considerably as, with no tracks to follow, the footing was uneven and they weren’t keen on the idea of one of their mounts pulling up lame.
Again Zanriath led while Ayva and the boys followed. Isabel was beginning to worry about Ben and Zhack. They had spoken little, if at all since leaving the Western Tower in Vak’Istor. Their expressions showed concentration, even frustration, as if they were permanently deep in thought, pondering a problem for which there was no solution, or worse, only one solution. There was an unmistakeable worry about them. Clearly something was very wrong.
The moon was bright for now and, though she wasn’t sure why, Isabel pictured how the sun had tumbled across the sky and fallen down to the horizon with strange haste, wanting to escape the very daylight it had created. It had been eager to allow darkness to engulf her and her friends, pushing hard for their refuge. All too soon it had submitted to its evening grave and melted over the horizon, leaving fading streaks of orange in the distant sky, only for them to arrive then in an unnerving blackness.
The demons were on the island. Isabel could feel them.
Eventually, pushing through their exhaustion, they reached the lake at Still Waters and followed the line of the perfect shore round until it brought them to the sanctuary. They all dismounted and Zanriath approached the large stone building wearily. The stones were not cut as perfectly as the towers had been in Kazra, and hundreds of years of weathering were apparent. The slanted slate roof gave way to a spire at one end of the structure that Isabel had been able to see from a distance, and large clear windows, squared not arched, were set evenly all the way along each side.
Zanriath knocked on the great wooden door and the sound boomed out across the lake, amplified tenfold by the night and the tranquil crystal water. A small hatch opened and Zanriath spoke briefly to a bald headed man on the other side. The first raindrops began to fall. They were like cascading icicles against Isabel’s face and she brought her hood up with a shiver. She had barely noticed the clouds closing in above them.
Zanriath approached after a few moments rubbing his hands together for warmth. Isabel could see his breath clearly as he spoke.
“Ok. There’s plenty of space. Let’s go inside. I’ll take the horses to the stables round the back. You four go ahead.” Isabel led Ayva and the boys into the sanctuary without question and the same bald man who had spoken to Zanriath immediately greeted them with a broad smile.
“Dear friends. I am so pleased to see you. Young Master Zanriath has indeed done very well.” The man was of average build and wore a long black robe and his skin was a papery white, as if the years of weathering the sanctuary had withstood had also affected him.
“You know about us?” Ayva asked the man.
“But of course my dear. Zanriath stayed here with us before he left for Land. I was told of his coming and to prepare supplies for him.” Isabel’s mind suddenly flashed back to Kilkaw and Mr Thomis. He had been so friendly and accommodating, and so yet again, she found her mind exploring the interesting intricacies of their situation.
By now the rain was falling heavily outside and the water drummed on the roof above them. Zanriath entered and closed the door behind him, wiping water from his eyes and trapping the sudden wind chill outside their haven.
“Ah, I see you’ve made acquaintances with my dear friend Pike.” He said removing his clock.
“I congratulate you my boy.” The man called Pike said, embracing Zanriath briefly. “Now, let’s get you some food shall we?” As he beckoned them to follow him, Isabel examined the sanctuary more carefully as her eyes adjusted to the light.
The building was ornately decorated with
dragons carved into the stone at every opportunity. Wooden benches lined the immediate walls and further along beds were carefully spaced, one below each window. Some were occupied, but most were not. At the far end a very large sculpture of a majestic dragon watched over all who resided within.
Large square chandeliers hung from the ceiling and were painted a rusty gold. The atmosphere was strangely calming and, even though the wind bayed outside, Isabel felt oddly protected in these four battered and dimly lit walls, watched over protectively by the statue representing Ormath. Her shoulders drooped and her eyes felt heavy. She had no idea of the time but she sourly suspected it was approaching dawn.
Their meal was quiet and pleasant. The food Pike served them was plain but clearly specially prepared. He soon left them to their own devices, tending to the others also staying in the sanctuary. Isabel wondered if he ever slept. The other men there looked mostly like travellers and slept soundly as she ate.
They were all exhausted. They’d been on the road for a long while. They had made good time and now needed to rest. It wasn’t long before the warm food drew them closer to sleep and they each one by one retired to a spare bed. Ayva examined her injury briefly and was pleased with its rapid recovery. Clearly Kay and Hale had spent a lot of time preparing and perfecting their vile tasting medicines. The boys still said nothing and found two empty beds long before the others. Isabel spoke briefly to Pike before retiring herself, wanting to check that her senses weren’t deceiving her.
