Grubb jumped up and, grabbing at his foot, yelled, “What did ye do that for?” His hand touched the soul of his boot. “Oh, very funny,” he said.
“Already awake!” laughed Lodren, “You big fibber.”
Faylore smiled, “Now that you’re awake, Grubb, we can start making plans.”
“To do what?” Grubb asked.
“To get back to Jared and the others, of course,” she replied.
“But we’re already doing that!” exclaimed Grubb.
“And we would have found them by now if we hadn’t refused Thelwynn’s help,” added Lodren.
“Whether in the clouds or on the ground, Lodren, we still had no idea in which direction they had travelled,” Faylore said. “There were no guarantees that we would ever find them.”
“So, what’s so different now?” asked Grubb.
“Now,” replied Faylore, grabbing his horns and shaking his little head gently, “we know where they are.”
“What!” exclaimed Lodren, “Where… how?”
“It’s a bit obvious ain’t it, ye plum? Faylore’s folk ‘ave seen ‘em.”
“Oh yes!” said the Nibby, a little surprised at his own lack of deduction. “There couldn’t be any other way of finding out could there?”
“No, ye pillock!”
“Grubb, please,” implored Faylore, “do shut up.” Grubb opened his mouth, and then closed it again. “My people have reported that they witnessed strange goings-on in a village not too far from here. Admittedly, they never entered the village, but they are adamant that there were wizards there.”
“Oh, in that case, it’s got to be Jared and the others, hasn’t it? It couldn’t possibly be Karrak and his cronies! Why don’t we save ourselves the journey and roast ourselves alive now? Who’s first? Lodren, do ye want to go basted or not?”
Faylore pushed her bottom lip out with her tongue. She adored the Vikkery but, at times, would happily choose to leave him behind if it were put to a vote. “It’s a real shame that you do not use your ears for anything other than eavesdropping, Grubb. If you had listened to what I said you would have heard the word wizards, not sorcerers.”
“Oh, and your lot can tell the difference, can they? I’m sure they could see everythin’ as clear as day, lurkin’ outside the village in the bushes.”
“They were not lurkin’! I mean, lurking, Grubb,” protested Faylore. “Have you forgotten our ability to blend? They were close enough to identify two elderly wizards, one with a pronounced limp, one carrying an elegant staff made of precious metals.”
“Oh,” said Grubb, quietly, “well I suppose it could be them.”
“Of course it’s them. How many wizards do you know who carry a golden staff?” blurted Lodren.
Grubb tried to mount a defence. Raising his finger, he pointed first at Faylore and then Lodren, “It’s not all gold.”
Faylore had heard enough, “It is them, Grubb,” she said. “Now stop being awkward. Eat your breakfast and feed Buster, we must depart as soon as possible.”
“Faylore,” said Lodren, tentatively, “where exactly is this village?”
“Still some way off,” replied Faylore. “Three or four days at the very least.”
“Well… in that case,” said Lodren, “why don’t we see if we can contact the dragons? We’d get there much faster with their help.”
“This again?” sighed Faylore. “They are not servants that one can beckon on a whim, Lodren. Yes, they are our friends, but we cannot abuse that friendship.”
“But friends are supposed to help each other,” argued Lodren. “That’s what makes them friends.”
“Not forgetting the fact that it gives ye another chance to scream at the top ‘o yer lungs an’ show off.”
“Exactly,” replied Lodren as he turned to face Grubb. He paused, the realisation dawning on his face, “That’s not what I meant!” he snapped. “But riding them would be much faster and far less dangerous than travelling cross-country! There could be all sorts of monsters along the way.”
“There are no monsters, Lodren. You’re just looking for excuses to call the dragons.”
“It’s alright for you, Faylore! You’re a warrior queen who can camouflage herself. Grubb can turn into Wilf and tear through enemies with his huge claws. Jared and Emnor, Yello and the others have their magic and what do I have? This,” said Lodren, holding his hammer aloft.
Faylore knelt before him, “Do you think that we do not value you as an ally, Lodren? If so, you are dreadfully mistaken. Have you forgotten that I still owe you a life debt? You are one of the most courageous people it has ever been my honour to encounter.”
Lodren would not look her in the eye, “But I’m nothing special,” he mumbled. “If we end up facing Karrak again, what use will I be? I can’t do anything against him.”
“Do you not see that every one of us feels the same way? Karrak’s strength has grown immensely, Lodren, we are all unsure of our effectiveness against him. But to give in to such doubt and fear is to surrender prematurely. We shall face him and battle to our last breath if needed, that is all we can do. If you feel that you are unable to join us, go your own way. We will think no less of you, you will remain in our hearts always.”
Lodren suddenly glared at her, “You think I’m afraid!” he shouted. “You think I’m scared that Karrak will kill me or turn me into something horrible! Well I’m not! If he gets in front of me or tries to hurt any of my friends, I’ll smash him flat!” Whirling around, he raised his hammer before bringing it down full force. The ground split causing Grubb and the Thedarians to lose their footing. Within seconds six arrows were trained on Lodren, but Faylore had already raised her hand and they were lowered almost as quickly.
Lodren stood with his back to Faylore, breathing heavily. She placed her hand on his shoulder, “Look before you, Lodren. That is why I would feel far safer if you were with me in battle.”
Lodren stared at the fissure that his tantrum had just created. Dust floated in the air and Grubb was attempting to waft it away from his face. “Gotta do somethin’ about that temper o’ yours, Lodren,” he said laughing. “I wouldn’t want to be Karrak if you end up facin’ ‘im.”
CHAPTER 8
Jared stepped back. He shook his head a few times and rubbed his eyes. It seemed that, other than appearing a little woozy, he had suffered no lasting ill effects from the joining. He looked across to Emnor, “It may take a few minutes before the others return.”
“What happened, Jared?” asked Hannock, “Is Yello alright?”
“He’s fine, Hannock.” Smiling at his friend, he pointed, “I don’t think you’ll be needing that.”
Hannock glanced down at the golden crossbow. His grip tightened as he held it even closer, “Please forgive me, sire, but my duty is still to protect you, I’m not taking any chances. We’ve witnessed first-hand how quickly these things can turn nasty.”
Jared shrugged his shoulders, “If you insist,” he said. “Any chance of a drink?”
Harley poured some water and handed it to Jared. Jared immediately poured the contents of the goblet onto the floor, “No, a proper drink.”
Hannock sloshed some brandy into a glass and passed it to Jared, who downed it in one. “Another?” asked Hannock, holding up the bottle.
“Perhaps later,” replied Jared. “They’ll be coming out of their trance any minute.”
“Who do you think will wake first?” asked Drake.
“Yello,” replied Emnor, and he was correct.
Overall, the years had been good to Yello. He had been in many battles and survived countless brushes with death, walking away mostly unscathed. But now, having lived for over a millennium, he could not shake off his fatigue as easily as he once would have. He staggered as he woke, his fall broken by Drake and Harley.
He smiled weakly in gratitude as they escorted him across the room and lowered him into a chair.
Emnor sat beside him, “Drink this,” he said quietly
. “You’ll be fine in a few minutes. It’s simply the effects of the joining.”
“So why wasn’t Jared effected?” asked Drake.
“He would have been if he’d have remained in there as long as Yello,” replied Emnor, not taking his eyes off his lifelong friend.
Yello was blinking and raised his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes and cheeks vigorously. “I say!” he exclaimed, “Who hit me?”
The others breathed a sigh of relief, it seemed the wizard was becoming his old self again. He curled his lip as he looked at the tankard, “Is that what I think it is?” he asked with disdain.
“Water,” replied Emnor.
“Stuff that!” coughed Yello, “After what I’ve just been through! Dealing with that cantankerous old crock Barden and his smug sidekick only affords me water as a reward? Some thanks that is!” He thrust the tankard toward Drake.
It wasn’t long before Barden and Darooq began to stir. Each groaned as they regained consciousness, stretching themselves as they woke. Darooq was the first to open his eyes. It took a few moments for him to focus, but as he did, he began to survey his surroundings. They were vaguely familiar to him, brief memories flashing through his mind as he became more aware. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he saw, firstly Jared, and then the others. Feeling more intrigue than fear, he tilted his head, “I know you,” he said, half recognising the prince. His throat was dry, his voice not much more than a rasp.
Emnor, leaving his friend’s side, approached Darooq. Supporting his head with one hand, he raised a glass of water to their enemy’s lips. Darooq drank heavily, grateful for the old man’s kindness. He nodded in gratitude as Emnor stepped away.
Barden began to twitch. It seemed that his awakening was going to be far less peaceful than Darooq’s. Even before his eyes opened, he began to curse. His threats were apparent but directed at no-one in particular. Even semi-conscious, his hatred and bile were obvious. He was calling to his master, Lord Karrak, to save him, begging his forgiveness at having forsaken him. Hannock raised the crossbow.
Emnor offered the same kindness to Barden that he had offered Darooq, placing the glass against his lips. He allowed the water to trickle into his mouth. Barden’s eyes opened. He immediately went into a rage, thrashing out and sweeping the glass from Emnor’s grasp. “You coward!” he spat, “You would poison me in my sleep?”
“There is no poison, Barden. It is water, fresh water, nothing else,” Emnor assured him.
“You would say that, wouldn’t you? Now that your plan has failed!”
“We mean you no harm, Barden. We merely wish to help.”
As Barden’s ravings, insults and threats continued, Jared retreated to the back of the room. The staff had begun to glow gently. Jared gazed into it, mesmerized as brief flashes of colour, fleeting but vivid, added to his awe. The light grew brighter and brighter until it could no longer go unnoticed by the others. In turn, they covered their eyes, blinded by its intensity. Jared however, continued to gaze directly into the centre. He could hear a whisper deep within its core and stroked the heart as if understanding its message. He nodded and turned his head, looking directly at Barden, whose ravings had continued. Jared smiled. His eyes flashed, resembling the purest of white pearls. A pulse of energy blasted across the room, avoiding his friends and striking Barden full force. He was thrown from the table and slammed into the wall behind him. He fell heavily to the floor and was silent. Jared’s friends stared, wide eyed at what they had just witnessed. The light dimmed, and Jared’s eyes began to revert to their normal piercing blue, but not completely. A faint pale light could still be seen deep within them, but what could have been causing it?
Emnor was the first to move. He rushed across to the limp body of Barden. It was only a moment before he spoke. “He’s dead,” he announced shakily. “Jared, you killed him!”
***
“What was that?” asked Poom, leaping to his feet.
“Not sure,” replied Lawton, “but it definitely came from the tavern.”
“Do we go and investigate?”
“No, Poom. I think it best to stay out of things, for now at least. They’ve been in there playing with magic for ages. I don’t think they’ll need any help from us.”
“You see,” replied Poom, “we aren’t needed any more. We may as well be on our way home!”
“Why don’t you go for a run, Poom? You always say how it helps to clear your mind, not that there’s a lot to clear,” sniggered Lawton.
“Oh, shut your face, Lawton. What’s the use of being here if we can’t offer a little advice occasionally?”
“And what advice would you give, Poom?”
“Well I’d need to know a few facts first, wouldn’t I!”
“Of course you would. But your advice would be exactly the same as always, grab a spear and charge at the enemy. Look around, Poom. There is no enemy to charge toward.”
“You think I’ve got a one-track mind, don’t you? No matter the scenario, you think I just charge into battle without a single thought in my head.”
“It’s what you’ve always done before,” snorted Lawton.
“Not true, see. There was that time when…” he paused for a moment, “... maybe that’s not a good example. Ah yes, when we were facing… oh my days, you’re right. I’ve never done anything differently, have I? Just charge in blindly and to hell with the consequences!”
Lawton leaned forward, agog at Poom’s last statement, “Are you alright, Poom?” he asked. “Only you do realise that you just admitted that I was right?”
“Perhaps, yes,” said Poom, slightly flustered by his own admission. “But it always worked! I’m still fast, faster than Hannock and everyone else!”
“Hannock is a man, you are a Gerrowlien. If you were a thousand years old and could barely walk, you’d still be faster than a man.”
Poom sat quietly for a moment. Turning to his friend, he lowered his voice, “What about a wizard?” he asked. “Am I faster than a wizard?”
Lawton patted him gently on the shoulder, “Come on,” he said calmly, “let’s both go for a run. The wind in your fur will do you good and,” he looked down at his portly build, “it won’t do me any harm to get a little exercise. We’ve been sitting around here far too long as it is.”
“Should we tell them where we’re going?”
Lawton wrinkled his nose, “Nah,” he replied, “we’ll be back before they even notice we’re gone. Come on, I’ll race you to the edge of that field over there. Ready?”
***
Lodren had a new spring in his step. His smile had returned and his annoying positive attitude along with it. Within the first few hours Grubb was pleading with him to be quiet. But, undeterred, the Nibby continued prattling, “It’s nice to have some company for a change, don’t you agree, Faylore?”
“I do indeed, Lodren. But I cannot see why you are so happy that we have been joined by my kin,” she lowered her voice and leaned down to him. “After all, they’re hardly a chatty bunch, are they? Not with you and Grubb anyway.”
“You used to be like that, Faylore,” mumbled Grubb. As usual, he was reclined on Buster’s back with his eyes closed. “Ye hardly used to say two words unless it was to be sarcastic. Ye used to walk about with yer nose stuck in the air as if ye were better than everybody.”
Lodren whirled around, causing Buster to stop abruptly, “Grubb!” he said sharply, “Faylore is a queen, she is better than everybody else, so show some respect!”
“I meant no offence, Your Majesty,” replied Grubb. “But ye were a bit toffee-nosed.”
Faylore raised her hand to her face. Why would anyone put toffee on their nose? she thought.
Lodren, realising her confusion, attempted to explain.
Faylore raised her hand to stop him blabbering, “It’s alright, Lodren, I understand. Grubb means that I was a little aloof.”
“That’s the posh way of puttin’ it,” Grubb said quietly, “I’d just say ye were
bein’ a bit of a…”
Before he could finish, Lodren swiped him from Buster’s back with one arm. The poor Vikkery sailed through the air before he knew what had hit him and landed on the hard ground. Devoid of any plant life, a plume of dust enveloped him and he sat there coughing and spluttering. Lodren glared at him.
“QUEEN!” roared Grubb. “All I was gonna say was queen.”
“Don’t you fib, Grubb. You were going to say something rude and horrible like you always do and I won’t stand for it any longer! I warned you before so don’t start complaining. You deserved that.”
“No, I did not, Lodren!” moaned Grubb, climbing to his feet and rubbing his nether regions, “Bugger! That stings! Well, yes I did, maybe fer all the other times, but this time I’m tellin’ the truth! I wasn’t gonna say anythin’ nasty!”
***
“Why, Jared?” asked Emnor, still supporting Barden’s head. “He did not have to die, we could have saved him.”
Jared looked unconcerned, “No, we couldn’t,” he replied calmly. “He was evil, Emnor. One such as he would never seek nor accept redemption.”
Emnor peered at him. Jared was somehow different, his voice distant. Emnor had been in his company almost his entire life, but not once had he ever witnessed him so devoid of emotion.
“Jared was right!” announced Hannock, “He was a traitor to king and country. His treachery alone was enough to condemn him. He freed Karrak and murdered innocents, he deserved to die.”
“But, at the very least, we should have waited until he was fully conscious! He was confused, rambling… we should have waited,” repeated Emnor.
“There was no need,” Jared assured him. “He was evil, I could sense it. Any and all evil must be destroyed without hesitation, there can be no other way.”
“In that case, what do we do with him?” asked Hannock, pointing at Darooq.
Jared tilted his head, “He has done many ill deeds, that cannot be denied, but I sense that he is not inherently evil,” he replied. “He may yet be of some use to us. Place him in chains until I decide what must be done, I will speak with him later. For now, we must prepare ourselves for what comes next.”
The Cessation of Karrak: Ascension III (The Karrak Trilogy Part Three Book 3) Page 12
