“No, you’re not! But did it cross your mind that whatever is wandering around in the woods might once have been exactly that?”
Grubb lowered his head, “As a matter of fact, Captain, yes it did. But what or who it was before is no longer something we should concern ourselves with. What matters is what it has become, and the threat it now poses to us all.”
“It’s alone! Point me in the right direction and I’ll take care of it myself,” said Hannock, becoming agitated.
“That would be an ill-advised course of action,” muttered Darooq.
Hannock whirled around, raising the crossbow and pointing it at Darooq. “Maybe I should start with you!” he bellowed. “You’re probably still serving your maniacal master!”
Darooq stared at Hannock through half-closed eyes, “I can assure you that I am not, but if you feel that it is my time to die, please, continue. However, one thing I do know is this. The creature that lurks in the shadows, as mindless as it is, undoubtedly still serves Karrak. What it sees, he sees. What it hears, he hears. It is an extension of his own soul and should you reveal yourself to it, the shadow lord will follow closely behind. Are you prepared to face him?”
Hannock tightened his grip.
“Put it down, Hannock. Surely you would not condemn a man for telling the truth?”
“You’re right, Emnor, I wouldn’t. But I would condemn him for the torture and murder of innocents, and we are all without doubt that he is guilty of that.”
Hannock’s finger feathered the trigger of the crossbow. His mind raced, images of townsfolk ablaze, heads driven onto stakes as trophies and the graves of children flashing through it. He could hear the terrified screams they would have made as they were butchered in the streets. He began to squeeze the trigger. The room was silent, every member of the companions holding their breath.
Slowly, Drake walked in front of Hannock, looking him straight in the eye. He blinked slowly and shook his head, “No, Charles,” he whispered, “you’re better than this. Don’t become the thing you hate, my friend. You taught me about honour and respect, time for you to lead by example.”
Hannock was shaking, the beads of sweat on his brow had become heavier and began streaming into his eye. He wiped it with his sleeve, his gaze falling on one after another of his companions. Lowering the crossbow, he handed it to Drake. “Quite right,” he said shakily. “I need a drink. Care to join me, my young friend?”
CHAPTER 12
The night passed slowly with none of them able to rest. They knew the day would come when they would face Karrak. In their own way, each member of the party was prepared to do battle, but none held the firm belief that they were ready for it. The Gerrowliens were once more on the rooftops scanning the horizon for any movement, but there was nothing to see. Grubb paced nervously in the village square, his every move watched by Lodren. The rest remained within the tavern. Hannock, slumped forward in a chair, stared into a half-empty tankard that he had held for at least an hour without raising it to his lips. The four wizards were around a table in the centre of the room, and Faylore gazed upon them all as she honed the blade of her silver sword.
“Is no-one going to ask the most obvious question?” she asked.
“By that you mean where is Jared, I presume?” replied Emnor.
“You presume correctly, Emnor. After all, as you have said frequently, he is the only one who has the power to defeat his brother.”
“He won’t come alone,” Yello grunted. “He may have become more knowledgeable in the ways of sorcery and necromancy, but do not underestimate him. He has learnt many other things over the years, patience being one them. He will send his beasts and other foul creatures ahead in order to weaken us before he comes to claim victory.”
“Let him send them,” mumbled Hannock. “When I’ve finished with them, he’ll have to face me himself. I will make him beg for mercy before I end his sorry existence.”
Faylore pitied Hannock. She knew that he was a good man, but his suffering and humiliation at the hands of Karrak had affected him more than he realised. She longed for there to be a way that she could put an end to his torment, his and everyone else’s. Many times she had considered going ahead by herself, to destroy Karrak before he could do more harm. But any such attempt would probably end in her death, only leaving her friends even more vulnerable than they already were. “You didn’t answer my question, Emnor,” she said softly.
“That, my lady, is because I have no answer to give,” replied Emnor, smiling.
“He’s preparing himself,” said Drake. “It must be far more difficult for him than the rest of us. I mean, how does one prepare oneself to kill their own brother?”
“Easier than you’d think,” replied Harley. “Jared knows that the man he knew as his brother no longer exists. He’ll be facing the shadow lord Karrak, not the man he grew up with.”
Hannock bolted out of his chair, “What do you know of the man he grew up with, boy?” he growled. “He was a cruel, sadistic bully from the day he was born. He half-blinded an innkeeper for suggesting that he’d had enough to drink! Not satisfied with that, he murdered the guard who prevented him from killing that innkeeper! He’s evil, I’ve known him all his life, and not once has he done anything good. And as I have already said, if Jared doesn’t kill him, I will.” His piece said, Hannock stormed out.
“You should take care of your friend,” said Darooq, quietly. “He’d be dead before he got within a hundred yards of Karrak.”
“Don’t you worry, Faylore,” said Yello, trying to sound positive, “Jared will be back soon. He will not allow us to face Karrak alone.”
***
The night passed without incident and they were relieved when the pale dawn light eventually peered through the tavern windows. Drake and Harley had succumbed to their fatigue in the early hours, but their seniors had remained alert throughout.
Random villagers drifted into the square outside, ready to begin their mundane daily routine. This prompted Lodren and Grubb to abandon their own sell-imposed vigil and they entered the tavern looking damp, dishevelled and tired.
“Well that was all for nothin’,” grumbled Grubb. “I’d forgotten ‘ow soggy ye can get outside at night.”
“We should be grateful that that’s all we got,” sighed Lodren as he began to fiddle with his pots and pans. “I’m sure we’ll all feel better after a good breakfast.”
It was not long before Hannock joined them, looking a little the worse for wear as he placed an empty brandy bottle on the bar.
“Did you manage to get a bit of sleep, Mr Captain, sir?” Lodren asked cheerily.
“After half a bottle o’ brandy? I should say ‘e did. Snorin’ like a drain ‘e was,” laughed Grubb.
“Grubb!” said Faylore sharply, “We all have to deal with our stresses in our own way.”
“Only sayin’,” muttered Grubb.
“Any sign of Jared yet?” asked Hannock.
“Nothing so far,” replied Emnor. “He’ll probably turn up this afternoon.”
They made small talk as best they could as the morning passed, when suddenly, they heard a bloodcurdling scream.
Hannock was first through the door, sword in hand. The Gerrowliens, not surprisingly, had beaten him to the doorstep. “What’s going on?” he asked them.
In the square, a woman was being comforted by some of the other villagers. Without warning she suddenly pushed her way through the crowd, determined to confront the companions, “This is your fault!” she shrieked. “None of this would be happening if you hadn’t come here.”
Faylore edged forward to face the woman, “Tell me, dear lady, what has happened?”
“Don’t you dear lady me, witch. They’re dead. They’re all dead and it’s because of you and your kind.”
“Who is dead, has something happened?” Faylore asked, sympathetically. “Just a moment, did you just call me a witch?”
“Never mind that,” Yello said impatiently, �
�Who has been killed, woman?”
“I never said they’d been killed!” sobbed the woman, “I said they were dead!”
Yello scratched his head, “Yes, but surely to be dead, one has to be killed? Well, not everyone, obviously. I suppose one could have been killed in an accident or died of old age…”
“They’re dead!” yelled the woman. “But they’re standing up and walking about like normal people! And that poor boy they have prisoner… beaten and shackled, crawling on the ground and begging for mercy. It’s your magic what’s done it! You’re all mad in the head!” Her tone changed, “I have to find my husband. We must leave this place, it’s cursed. You lot have put a curse on our whole village!” Pleading with others to follow, she hurried away. The villagers who remained huddled together, mumbling and casting furtive glances in the direction of the companions.
“I think we should discuss this inside,” suggested Emnor.
Each member had a particular part of the woman’s speech lodged in their mind as the door closed behind them, but it was Drake who spoke first, “She said they have a prisoner. It could be Alex or Xarran!”
“Or any one of a thousand young men,” replied Yello. “Now is not the time to allow our imaginations to run wild, Maddleton.”
“What we need to know is, who they are,” noted Faylore.
“Well, there’s only one way to find that out, Your Majesty,” replied Hannock, “and standing around here isn’t it.”
Faylore slung her quiver across her back, tightened the thick belt that held her sword and reached for her bow, “No time like the present,” she said.
Yello took up his staff.
Emnor glanced around the room, looking briefly like an absent-minded old man. He started to chuckle to himself, “Silly old fool! I no longer have a staff, do I? I never realised how attached I had become to it.” He followed Yello toward the door, “Drake, Harley, you wait here in case Jared comes back,” he ordered. “He’ll need to know what has transpired.”
“In your dreams,” Drake laughed. “You heard him, Harley, you wait here in case Jared comes back.”
Harley sighed, “Yeah… not going to happen, I’m afraid.”
Emnor placed his hand on Harley’s shoulder, “I need you to stay here, Harley. This could be dangerous.”
“I know! That’s why I’m going with you!” he replied. “I’m your apprentice and one of my duties is to protect you whenever possible, the danger just adds to the fun.”
Emnor smiled at Harley and Drake, “Alright,” he said, “Pointless arguing with either of you. You’re determined, I can see that. But, should anything happen that puts us in harm’s way, at least keep your heads down.”
“I’ll lead,” said Hannock, “I can follow the woman’s tracks.”
“She came from that direction,” Poom advised him. “Don’t worry, if you lose the trail, I’ll find it again for you,” he added, grinning.
Hannock gave him a dirty look, “The day I need you to help me track, Poom, I’ll probably hang myself.”
“Oooh exciting!” exclaimed Poom, “Can I watch?”
On the outskirts of the village, Hannock found the woman’s footprints easily.
“How do you know those are hers?” asked Harley.
“She’s on the large side,” replied Hannock, politely referencing the woman’s heavy build, “She shuffles when she walks, these drag marks are a tell-tale sign.”
They set off at a brisk pace.
***
Now far from the village the companions had slowed their pace, partly because they had reached the point where the footprints ended and partly because, as usual, Yello was struggling to keep up with them. The dusty road, no longer showing signs of recent use, lead Hannock to suggest that they venture into the dense forest that surrounded it.
The Gerrowliens, naturally, headed into the trees, slightly ahead of the rest. They would pause occasionally to signal that there was nothing to be seen, much to the annoyance of Hannock. “Where could they have gone?” he moaned, quietly. “They can’t have just disappeared!”
“On the contrary, Captain. They quite possibly could have. We are dealing with sorcerers after all,” whispered Emnor.
“If they try to hurt any of you, I’ll bash them with my hammer!” Lodren said to Grubb.
“That’s the way, Lodren,” laughed Grubb, “get yourself worked up, then when we find ‘em, start swingin’.”
“I’m not joking, Grubb,” said the Nibby, “I’ll flatten them, you see if I don’t.”
Their conversation was brought to an end as the procession ahead of them came to an abrupt halt. Poom held up his hand as a warning to the others. Unable to see properly, Grubb transformed, grabbing Lodren as he did so and hoisting him onto his shoulder. The trees had become sparse and they could clearly see that the ground began to rise steeply, large rocks protruding from the hillside they were undoubtedly about to ascend.
Poom and Lawton lowered themselves silently from the trees above to report their observations, “The hill levels out at about fifty feet,” said Lawton. “There are two of those things about half way up standing guard. The problem is there’s no way of knowing what it is that they’re protecting. We couldn’t see over the brow of the hill.”
“If they manage to sound the alarm, we could be facing hundreds of them,” added Poom. “It wouldn’t be a problem for me, but…”
“Shut up, Poom!” hissed Lawton, “Now is not the time.”
“They can’t sound the alarm if they don’t have heads.” They all turned to face Lodren, “I’m just saying,” he continued, “you can’t shout for help if you don’t have a mouth and you can’t take that off. Take off their heads somehow.”
Wilf looked up at his friend, frowning, “You know something?” he growled, “You’ve changed, Lodren. You’ve changed.”
Lodren shrugged his shoulders.
“Okay. Anyone have any other ideas?” asked Hannock. Nobody did. “Right,” he continued, “Your Majesty, what say we have our own little archery contest?”
Now perched in the topmost branches of a tree, Faylore prepared herself, waiting for Hannock’s signal. Her climbing of the tree was graceful and swift. Getting Hannock to her level, however, was a little more time consuming and far clumsier. Needing to be stealthy had negated the idea of Wilf simply carrying him up, the size of the four-armed beast would undoubtedly result in many twigs and branches being broken. With Wilf giving him a boost by launching him into the lower branches and the Gerrowliens aiding his ascent, he eventually reached a suitable vantage point. Looking down, he closed his eyes for a few moments, and swallowed hard.
“Are you alright, Hannock?” asked Lawton, who was standing on one leg on a branch nearby.
“I… erm… I don’t like heights,” Hannock whispered.
“Oh, that’s no good, is it?” replied Lawton. “Tell you what, fasten your tunic.”
“What good will that do? Stop me splattering too much when I hit the ground?”
“Just do it!” urged Lawton.
As Hannock fastened his buttons Lawton extended the claws from his right hand. Reaching forward, he drove them through the epaulette on Hannock’s tunic. “There you go, I’ve got you now,” he smiled. “There’s no way you can fall.”
Hannock glared in disbelief. Admittedly, his uniform was far from its best, but he still wore it with pride and was somewhat shocked to have it treated in such a way. “Thank you,” he said, smiling through gritted teeth.
He took aim. Faylore, with Poom directly behind her, did the same. Lawton held up his free hand and counted down with his fingers. The archer and the bowman released simultaneously. Faylore’s arrow struck a split second before Hannock’s bolt but both hit their mark perfectly, striking their targets between the eyes. Each victim released a breath that would have been inaudible to anyone mere inches away and fell, rolling down the hill silently until they reached the foot. The companions waited with bated breath.
L
uck, it seemed, was with them. No alarm was raised.
They dragged the bodies of their fallen foe into the cover of the trees and concealed them with loose leaves. As they began to climb, Wilf placed Yello on his free shoulder, his leg would not support him enough to climb.
“Very kind of you, Grubb,” Yello sighed.
Reaching the point where the guards had been posted, they were caught by surprise, horrified at what had suddenly appeared above them.
Xarran was being dangled over the precipice like a grotesque marionette, held by the scruff of his neck by another of the undead guards. “Wait!” he begged. “Don’t come any closer! He has Alex, he’ll kill him if any one of you resist! He orders that you drop your weapons and he’ll let him live.”
Xarran’s face was covered with blood. A deep gash on his forehead bled profusely, streaming into his eyes and dripping from his jaw. A patch on the side of his head was raw, evidence that part of his scalp had been torn from his skull, each wound smeared with mud. He had been tortured and brutalised yet, despite his injuries, his greatest concern was for the safety of his friend. “I tried to fool him, tried to trick him into lowering his guard. He’s too powerful! We have to surrender, if we do not, he will destroy us all!” Xarran lowered his voice, “He’s here!” he whispered. “He wants Jared,” he added, his eyes searching for the prince. “He is the key, if he swears to serve Karrak, all of this will end!”
Hannock’s grip tightened once more on his crossbow, “Where is he?” he growled. “Where is Karrak? This will end, but not in the way he had planned.”
“Hannock, you can’t. He’ll kill Alex,” pleaded Xarran.
“Where… is… he?” Hannock repeated slowly.
Xarran’s undead captor wrapped its bony fingers tightly around Xarran’s neck.
“He’ll kill me,” Xarran begged, barely able to squeeze the words out as he held up his hand. “You must lay down your weapons.”
The Cessation of Karrak: Ascension III (The Karrak Trilogy Part Three Book 3) Page 17
