CLOAK - Lost Son of the Crested Folk

by Russell Thomson

  As high sun approached Smoke concentrated his gaze on Throat Bark’s star tree whilst to his left, the portly inquisitor sat himself inelegantly down on a damp heap of leaf litter. Despite his honed self discipline, Smoke found himself taking an involuntary step backwards as a blinding white rent lit up the trunk of the giant spirit tree and Shiver Cauldron stepped through. The blue white light was bitterly cold and painfully bright, the king’s assassin barely having time to raise and arm to shade his eyes from the blinding force of the majic light. Behind him, Ember gawped, the inquisitor frozen to the spot with fear, his fingers clawing at the soft ground. Never had he seen such a sight, a one eyed giant, a tattooed fiend and beast of legend. A beast bigger by far than a man on horse and as wide across the shoulder as a barn door. As for the majic…………he had seen dark majic wielded in the past, a cautious stream of dark blue licking the air, deadly and unpredictable. Never ever had he witnessed such a flood of white from the earth’s very core, a conduit of raw majic fashioned and commanded to lead a person from one place to another many hundreds of leagues away.

  As the mighty Troll stepped clear of the rent the conduit snapped shut behind him and the silence of the forest returned. Shiver Cauldron scanned the glade and sniffed the air, snorting several times before finally drawing a deep breath and stepping forward. The bodies of Smoke and Needle hung from his arms like limp bedrolls. Unconscious, their faces ashen the two bodies resembled rag doll puppets, their limbs flopping as if the threads that gave them life had been cut.

  ‘The air here is as warm and wet as a she cow in heat…………….’ Grumbled the Troll as he stretched his arms wide and unceremoniously dropped his human cargo onto the wet grass.

  Smoke winced as his own body thumped heavily to the ground, rolling down a shallow slope and into a damp hollow. ‘You don’t look surprised Troll,’ said Smoke, ‘which means you are either very good at controlling your emotions or more likely, you already knew this meeting was going to happen........which therefore means you knew about it when we met last at No Marrow.’

  The giant Troll wiped his nose and rubbed his empty eye socket before turning his one eyed gaze firmly on Smoke. When Shiver Cauldron stepped forward Smoke stood his ground, the Troll stopping no more than an arm’s length from where the king’s assassin stood. Tilting his head back at an uncomfortable angle, Smoke held the Troll stare, the assassin’s hands resting lightly on his hips, an eye blink from the hilt of his blades.

  ‘Well, what say you Troll?’

  Shiver scowled at the un-necessary prompt. ‘Yes is the answer to both your questions Master Blood Shadow. Yes, my face reveals no emotion, but be assured, my hatred of you remains as does my wish to kill you. And yes, I knew before our meeting at No Marrow that you would be here to greet me. Such was foretold. What lies unanswered is the purpose of this meet and what is of such great import that you chose to travel back in time to seek me out?’

  Smoke adjusted his stance, a frown spreading across his forehead.

  ‘That was not the answer I had expected. Are you saying that you foresaw we would be here but that your tell gave you no insight as to why we waited?’

  ‘Not ‘we’ Master Murderer, just you. I had no foresight of Master Pork Suckling shitting in the grass, nor as you say, foresight of what lies beyond the here and now. It would appear that for some reason unknown to me my god has deemed that this meet be shrouded in mist and shadow.’

  Ember rose and stood behind Smoke, the fat inquisitor using the assassin as his shield.

  ‘Perhaps it is just that your god wishes this meeting hidden from prying eyes or perhaps he thought that you having foresight of the events may have influenced the outcome in a way your god wished to avoid.’

  Shiver’s derisive look silenced Ember. ‘Put away your nectared tongue fat dog before I pull it from your head. Your puny talent will not work on me and your brazen attempt to mask your words with watery majic makes me distrustful of you.’

  ‘Cool your blood Troll,’ said Smoke calmly. ‘Perhaps the fat man is right, perhaps your god feared that you would not turn up or acquiesce if you knew the purpose of my mission or the consequences of this meet.................or perhaps,’ said Smoke sharply ‘he has kept you blind because he does not trust you as much as you claim he does.’

  Shiver roared down at Smoke, his spittle coating the assassins face. The iron necklace with its dagger pendant swung like a pendulum above Smoke’s head, the blades lust for blood imbuing the shining steel causing the edge to shimmer with a blue light. Unmoved, Smoke held his ground as behind him Ember withered.

  ‘You think yourself a clever dog do you not Master Murder,’ said Shiver barely concealing his hatred. ‘Perhaps if you kept your hole shut then shit would not dribble from between your lips. I care naught about you or your mission or the consequence to the crested dogs if it succeeds or fails.’

  Ember spoke up, the portly inquisitor peeking over Smoke’s shoulder, his features pale. ‘Oh but you should care Master Troll. Indeed I would say that it is vitally important to the Troll.’ Shiver remained silent, his caustic look causing Ember to cower. ‘Master Silverfly seeks to recover secrets belonging to the king. Rightly or wrongly I have already passed this information on to my former masters, five powerful, ruthless, and ambitious men whose majic is very dark and whose reach is very long. I believe it is these same men who stir the mist.’

  Shiver snorted dismissively down his nose. ‘That Master Lard does not explain why the Troll should concern themselves with the affairs of the crested dogs. Nor does it explain why your master’s stir the mist into froth and in doing so blind themselves and others to the future. What do they hope to achieve?’

  Aware now that Shiver could detect his use of scentless majic Ember’s heart raced. ‘Before I answer them more fully, let’s first consider the boy. Until the Teller found Cloak and attempted to tell the boy he was almost but not quite hidden in the mists of time. For fifteen years he has drifted in and out of view, a wraith without form, and in all that time there has been no concerted effort to search for him, why, because he remained out of reach. If he had just been invisible because of the stirring of the mists by the Tellers, then why are the Seers also blind to him?’ Ember paused but no answer came. ‘I do not believe the power to hide the boy lies with any mortal being, I believe such an act demonstrate that the hand of a god has been at work.

  My former masters only purport to be as blind as the others when in fact, they are not. When Blacksky first laid hands on the boy it caused ripples across the world and for a brief period of time Cloak became visible. Within a week his sudden appearance had every Teller in the land parting the veil of time and clawing at the mists.’ Embers lie slid from his tongue. My masters were first to find him and once they did, they knew others would seek him out. In order to keep the secret to themselves they started the stirring and as others unknowingly joined in, all became blind,’ said Ember, the truth of his statement covering over his first lie. ‘As the rhyme goes, ‘.... the one eyed man did blind his clan in order to be king.....’ Shiver raised the eyebrow above his seeing eye. ‘I meant no offence Master Troll,’ said Ember apologetically. ‘Whilst all others are kept blind to the boy’s future they seek to prepare. At present they will be digesting the information stolen from Master Silverfly but very soon they will start to prepare in earnest; cull threats, set traps and cultivate new allegiances but their prime purpose is to make ready to war.’

  ‘A war,’ said Smoke clearly surprised. ‘To what end? Surely they see that conflict with the south would be suicidal.’

  ‘Not the south,’ replied Ember, ‘that is not their purpose. What they seek is a war against the Troll. They fear you acting with one mind and seek to make you feral again. They want to break your alliance with the Northern Lord but to do that they must first expose, discredit and overthrown the old king.'

  ‘And if he does not join their cause, would they fight their own folk?’

  'They feel t
hey can offer the Lord of the Northern Lands sufficient incentive for him to side with his folk.'

  'Bribery! my dog brother would not accept a bride,' snarled the Troll.

  Ember resisted the temptation to use honey, choosing instead to dip his head in order to avoid Shiver’s piercing gaze. 'That depends on how much he wants to become king.'

  Shiver turned his cold gaze from Ember to Smoke. ‘This is your fault Master Death Devil,’ said the giant Troll, his accusing finger mere inches from Smoke’s eyes‘

  ‘How so?’ replied Smoke sharply.

  ‘Had you not robbed the old walking dog of his majic you would not be here now and had you not fallen into Cold Choke the bloody deeds for which your enemies seek revenge would have remained secret. You are the dog king’s trusted vessel yet on the first whiff of Master Pork’s honeyed majic you spew out your master’s secrets.’ Shiver ground his tusks in anger as the first sign of pink staining invaded the white of his eyes. ‘You are arrogant and haughty and your heart is black and as hollow as cinder. Had I killed you when I had the chance, I would not only have killed your secrets I would also have rid the world of a black pox. I would rent you and eat you Master Foul Dog. I wish it so much I can almost feel it and taste it. It is fortunate for you that I am bound by an oath not to harm you but when the time comes and that obligation is removed, I will seek you out, spill your puddings and eat your heart.’ Shiver turned his cold gaze once more to Ember. ‘As for you Master Meaty Morsel, I have made no such pledge. You are chattel, a thief and an abomination and I will have you.’

  ‘I am no thief,’ replied Ember, dodging down behind Smoke’s shoulder. ‘I was the Master of Cold Choke. My guilt or otherwise is for my king to decide.’

  Shiver roared again, his foul breath burning Smoke’s eyes. ‘Silence Master Bloat, I suggest you do not test my blood. You have tampered with the majic of the Troll and have by some miracle survived the act. I can see the thread of majic that links you to the deep rock of Cold Choke it is testament to your deeds and its very presence convicts you and proclaims you chattel of the Troll.’

  Smoke held his breath and prayed that Ember’s resolve would stand firm and that he would not try to run and hide. To do so would be viewed by Shiver not only as a display of cowardice but also an admittance of his guilt, both acts that would surely lead to a tortured death. As if in answer to his concerns, Ember tightened his grip on Smoke’s cloak, the Questor’s nails digging deeper into the sodden cloth.

  Smoke chose his tack and readied his words. ‘Troll…………When we last met you told me that your brother had forbade you from killing and eating me.’

  ‘My brother has decreed so, I am faithful to my brother and will not disobey him but be assured King Killer, should you heat my blood I would suffer his wrath and forfeit gladly.’

  ‘Do you believe in fate Troll?’ asked Smoke. Do you believe that there are times when the god’s decide for their own reasons to intervene in the fate of mortals, create confluences, converge fates and change the future?’ Smoke paused but Shiver remained silent, his jaw set tight, his mouth a broad thin line. ‘I did not, but I do now.’

  ‘Why so?’ spat Shiver.

  ‘Because Troll, whilst it sticks in my own throat, I believe you are here before your due time because your god determined it necessary. Just as my god had me tumble into Cold Choke and travel back in time............this is not a chance meeting Troll, this is a god-chance to work with a shared purpose and defeat the same enemy.'

  'It is not a confluence dark dog, it is a contrivance. All my god need do is return my foresight.............'

  'But he did not,' shouted Smoke, 'and you have to trust that there is a good reason why your god does not clear the shadows from the path.'

  The giant Troll raised his face skywards and roared again, a thunderous rumble that stirred the leaves and sent birds to flight.

  ‘I feel your tongue reaching for my arse assassin of kin, your words do not ease my hatred but I reluctantly accede. If I did not trust my god, my entry into the snow nest would be forfeit. My god is the king of all cunning, he wishes the Troll to multiply, prosper and prevail. I seek the same and for that reason I will hear you out.’

  Smoke felt Ember release a slow breath and ease his grip. Shiver’s words had dripped with malice but it was clear that his blood remained cool and his mind rational. Capitalising on the moment, Smoke spoke quickly.

  ‘I have but two boons to ask and I suspect neither will test your deep well of talent,’ said Smoke. ‘The first is simple; I need you to un-make the bond that ties Master Meaty Morsel to the nest. The second simpler still, I need you to far walk me to the fortress city of Clemency?’

  The giant Troll furrowed his brow houghed and spat at Ember's feet.

  ‘The second I will grant but not the first..............his life is forfeit; such is the law of the Troll.’

  ‘Both,’ replied Smoke briskly.

  ‘Do you wish to walk to Clemency or not? The bloated leech is not and never has been Master of Cold Choke and his so called bastion is nothing but a puss boil whose presence taints a once great Troll nest. He is not your kin, he is a glutton and a thief who has grown fat with power that is not his own, a glutton who has supped honey and finds himself addicted to its sweetness. The rock owns him now and draws him back. All home nests exert such a pull but to a Troll the pull manifests itself only as a touch on our senses, a beacon to guide us home through the white storms on the snow flats or through dense forest lands.’ As he spoke, the giant Troll’s clenched and unclenched his fists. ‘He is an aberration and an abomination. He is a leech and I will burst him and feed his blood to the rock. He is nothing to you yet you find the price high, why?’

  ‘I have my reasons,’ said Smoke

  ‘………and I have my price,’ replied Shiver swiftly.

  Smoke ignored Ember, the assassin considering his options before answering. ‘Agreed, as a gesture of good faith you can have him,’ said Smoke.

  Ember stood his ground, the Questor's shaking his head slowly form side to side. ‘I think not Master Silverfly,’ said Ember, his voice calm. ‘I have a confession to make, a matter of life and death you might say.’

  ‘Well Questor, say your piece? Whose life, whose death?’

  ‘I had grown to like you Smoke,’ said Ember gripping Smoke’s cloak. ‘I have no excuse for what I did to you and I know I should have told you before now but there was never a right time.’

  ‘Yeeees,’ said Smoke his concern growing.

  ‘You see Master Silverfly,’ whispered Ember, ‘our bond is a special one, it is more than just a prison ward bond and it does more than just compel your obedience. It is a bond sometimes known as a Jailer’s Whip, a crude but effective variant that is designed to prevent the slave from killing the master. I however have added my own twist because as the good Troll would no doubt attest, the king’s assassin is a resourceful man and would kill or sacrifice anyone who stood in his master’s path. A worthwhile precaution given the circumstances.’

  ‘For god’s sake you great tub, spit it out,’ snapped Smoke.

  ‘.....................if I die, you die.’

  ‘You lie. You bluff.............’ said Smoke, the king’s assassin fuming inwardly.

  ‘Ah, but there is only one way to test it is there not Master of Murder. I suggest that you strike another bargain with his good Troll and make him promise firstly, not to eat me and secondly, to unbind me from the nest. Succeed and we will go our own ways. Once you and the beast have walked to Clemency and I am safely away from this place I will release you from your bond as promised.’

  ‘You expect me to trust you?’ spat Smoke.

  ‘Do not be so thick assassin. If I did not break the bond it would be as easy for you to seek me out as it would be for me to find you. Once the tie to the nest is broken I have no need of you.’

  Smoke stepped away from Ember, pulling his cloak sharply to break the Questor's grip.

  ‘W
hat say you Troll, kill him, kill me. Which would your god have you choose?’

  Shiver gave an ugly tusked grin. ‘Master Meaty Morsel is indeed a tricksy dog. He has read you well Master Blood and has now made me his unwilling bondsman. I will release him from the draw of the deep rock but I will remember him..................oh yes,’ said the Troll, a sly tone creeping into his voice. ‘Be aware Master Lard, when I break the link the draw from the nest will disappear but the naked wound it leaves behind on your soul and your flesh will be slow to heal, a small penance for your theft.’

  Ember nodded his acceptance, an over wide smile splitting his face.

  ‘As for your second boon Master of Death, this too I can only fill in part. This is your penance. Clemency is warded and all marks within a score of leagues of its walls are now fallow, most have been desecrated, others buried in doorless chambers and warded with soul traps. The spirit tree of White Scream is the closest to the city. It is an ancient tree, wizened from the cold and bent from the gales that tear the air. Its roots go deep and its sap is warmed by the earth’s heart. Each year it sprouts new growth and when it does it awakens the prayers and memories of a once great Troll.’

  ‘Can you take me?’ said Smoke. ‘Can you wish walk me to White Scream’s mark?’

  ‘I can,’ said the Troll, ‘it’s an easy walk, nothing more than a single step. I would relish the cold; you on the other hand would likely die.’

  ‘Why so?’

  ‘The tree is unique. It sits outwith the midden but within its own grove of blood thorns, if it were not protected so it would have succumbed to the axe of man many years ago. It lies on an island some twenty leagues to the east of the mainland and is only connected to the land in winter when the sea freezes over. It is an old mark and is venerated, my people still visit but only in the heart of the ever dark days, by late spring the ice will have all but melted away……………..you would be marooned.’