The Cessation of Karrak: Ascension III (The Karrak Trilogy Part Three Book 3)

by Robert J Marsters

  “What!” shouted Hannock. “You mean there are loads of those hairy, smelly, ferocious beasts in there, and they’re looking for a date?”

  “Not quite,” replied Lorzic, “they’re looking for a mate.”

  Hannock stared wide-eyed at Jared, “And you’re suggesting that we go in there to retrieve a couple of bits of old tat that they want back simply because it’s made of gold?”

  Jared smiled nervously at Lorzic before grabbing Hannock’s arm and marching him away from the others, “No…” he whispered, “I’m suggesting that we rescue a few bits of old tat so that we can get them to trust us and make them our allies.”

  “What use would they be? They’re scared of their own shadows for goodness sake. They aren’t like Grubb! He’d fight half a dozen of those horrible hairys by himself if he had to, but this lot would scarper if you showed them a picture!” Hannock placed his hands on his hips, sighed and tapped his foot on the ground, “If they aren’t prepared to fight, what could we use them for?” he asked, patiently.

  “They could be our spies,” replied Jared. “Imagine. Any agents of Karrak would ignore a bear or a wolf if they saw one. They could get into places virtually unnoticed and eavesdrop on conversations. They could inform us of anything they think might be of help to us quicker than any other messenger, by turning into a bird and flying to us, wherever we are.”

  Hannock raised his eyebrows and nodded, “Could prove useful, I suppose. Now all you have to do is convince Lorzic.” He smiled and slapped Jared on the shoulder. Gesturing to the others, he gave a slight bow, “After you, Your Highness.”

  “How many zingaard are we talking about, Grubb?” Jared asked as he approached.

  “I’d say at least a couple…”

  “A couple?” laughed Drake, “No problem, we’ll wipe them out before they even know we’re there.”

  “I hadn’t finished,” said Grubb, giving Drake a disdainful glance, “A couple of dozen, at least.”

  Drake gulped, “Couple of dozen! How the hell are we supposed to get past that lot? And there’s the hissthaar to consider! Jared, it’d be suicide!”

  Jared gave the young wizard a stern look, “We’d better have a really good plan then, hadn’t we? Because, like it or not, we’re going to get those relics back for Lorzic.”

  Lorzic’s smile grew wider than ever as he nudged Grubb, “Very brave, your friends, aren’t they!” He paused, “Or, of course, they could just be terribly stupid.”

  ***

  Jared had convinced Lorzic that checking on the condition of the village was a good idea and, as they made their way toward it, Lodren’s head was full of screaming questions. However, he managed to contain himself long enough to begin his probing politely, “You never mentioned your village to us in all the time we’ve known each other, Grubb. What’s it called?”

  Grubb sighed. He had left behind all that he was ashamed of, barely giving distant memories a thought. He knew that Lodren’s insatiable appetite for other people’s business would not be easily sated and resigned himself to the inquisition that was about to commence, “Pellandrin,” he groaned.

  “Ooh, what a lovely name!” exclaimed Lodren, “Is it named after anyone?”

  “Probably,” mumbled Grubb. “But before ye go on, I have no idea who it was!”

  “Is it a big village?” persisted Lodren.

  “Not any more, I don’t think!” said Lorzic from behind him. “Not from what we witnessed anyway.”

  “Oh, dear. That doesn’t sound promising,” sighed Lodren.

  “No, it doesn’t,” one of the Vikkery agreed. “It sounds expensive!”

  Grubb rolled his eyes, “Well at least you’re alive to worry about yer precious coin, ye should be grateful for that at least.”

  As they approached Pellandrin, the true devastation became apparent. Before they actually reached it, they could see the black smoke billowing into the air and blocking out what little daylight there was.

  “I told you it was going to be expensive,” groaned the Vikkery.

  They entered what little remained of the village. Not a single building was left standing. The footings of a few corners were dotted around where they had been, but nothing was left intact. The entire village had been razed to the ground.

  Many of the Vikkery could be heard sobbing, tears rolled down their tiny cheeks as they surveyed the wreckage of their lives. However, on the faces of the companions, only rage could be seen.

  Lorzic suddenly went into a panic, “Oh, no… no, no, no, the bank!” he exclaimed, running toward the centre of the debris-filled landscape. “The gold!” he added, as he began to dig frantically where a building had obviously stood.

  Many of the male Vikkery ran to join him in his efforts, the dust from their digging almost as choking as the black smoke that poured from smouldering timbers around them.

  “Never mind yer poxy gold!” bellowed Grubb, “It’s not safe here, Lorzic! We have to go!”

  Lorzic stood and turned to face him, a look of dread on his face, “Go? Go where? We have nothing, Grubb. How can we make a home elsewhere? How do we pay for it? Nobody will want us. We’ll be outcasts, beggars, vagabonds to be mocked and ridiculed. We may as well wait here and hope that our enemies return, at least we shall die with our dignity intact,” he said mournfully.

  Grubb began to shake with rage. He tried to control himself, tried with all his might to remain calm, but it was no use. His transformation came upon him even before he could think of what he was to become. His arms thickened, as did his legs. His fingers fused together and became huge, scaled claws. His face stretched outwards, his tiny horns elongating, huge teeth sprouting from his jaws. He arched his back as massive leathery wings sprouted from it. He opened his mouth and roared, flames mingling with his bellowed words, “None of my kin will die today.”

  Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared in awe at what stood before them.

  Grubb had transformed into a dragon.

  The reactions of the onlookers were mixed, to say the least. The children bounced up and down with glee. Admittedly Grubb wasn’t as large as a real dragon, but he had grown to around twenty feet in height and that was more than enough to impress them. The adult Vikkery however, responded quite differently. Their disapproval was apparent, and they made no attempt to hide their head shaking, tutting and frowns.

  Lorzic scowled at Grubb’s transformation and began yelling at him, “Grubb!” he screamed loudly, “How could you? Of all the things… and you, you choose this? I swear, if your mother and father were here, they’d be ashamed! They’d disown you! To turn into the very thing that…” his voice tailed off. Turning away and seeming much calmer, he began to usher the children away, “Come on now, don’t look at it,” he urged. “Nasty things they are, if ever you see a real one, hide as quickly as you can before it chases you down and eats you.”

  The companions were at a loss. Not only did they not understand why the Vikkery had reacted the way they did, they were completely confused by Lorzic’s statement that dragons were nasty man-eaters.

  Lodren gazed up at his friend, “You look fantastic!” he exclaimed, “Just like a real dragon. A bit shorter, I must say, but every bit as magnificent.” He frowned, “Why did Lorzic say that dragons eat people?”

  The rest of the companions were relieved that, in his innocent child-like way, he had been able to ask the very question to which they all wanted an answer.

  Grubb began to shrink, the flubbering sound of his quivering skin amusing his friends. He now stood before them at his normal height, shaking his head. “Ah, ye don’t want to take any notice o’ what ‘e said. Mad as a fremble ‘e is! That lot ‘ave been on about dragons for years, and not one of ‘em ‘as ever even seen one!”

  “But they must have the idea in their heads for a reason, Grubb,” suggested Faylore. “Grubb…” she asked slowly, “… is there something you’re not telling us?”

  “O’ course not!” snapped Grubb
, “I don’t know what that wally-head is on about, why would I keep secrets from you?”

  “So why would he think your parents would be ashamed of you transforming into a dragon?” asked Drake. “It really seemed to hit a raw nerve with the rest of the Vikkery, alright, not the kids, but the adults didn’t seem too happy about it.”

  “Now you keep yer nose out, Drake!” Grubb answered, angrily, “I don’t go pokin’ my nose into your family, do I? I’ll thank you not to involve yourself with mine!”

  Drake held his hands up, “Alright, I get it! Sorry, just wondering, that’s all.”

  “Well next time wander off a cliff, ye nosy git!”

  Faylore put her arm around Grubb, “Come on Mr Grumpy, cheer up, what’s done is done. We still need to help Jared. And that means all of us, you especially.”

  Jared smiled at the Vikkery as he tried to free himself from Faylore’s grasp, “Are you up for a bit of cavern exploring, Grubb? Come on, it’ll be just like old times.”

  Grubb had never been able to resist delving into any cave or cavern. With a mischievous grin, he ran over to Buster and started to gather what he thought he might need.

  “So we’re going now?” asked Drake, nervously, “I mean, right now?”

  “What’s the matter, young ‘un?” laughed Grubb, “Do ye think we should wait until the sun comes out so we can see where we’re goin’ in the caves?”

  “Shut your face,” mumbled Drake.

  CHAPTER 15

  It would take them at least two days to reach Mallorkan caverns. Leaving the other villagers to fend for themselves, Lorzic had set off with the companions. Grubb was not the only one who did not relish the thought of his prolonged, solitary company. Whilst his kin were around there were always distractions that took him away from them, but they knew that there would be no relief from his judgemental attitude for at least the next four days, and that alone seemed more daunting than facing an entire cavern full of zingaard.

  Not surprisingly each companion was given a reason to glare at him as they travelled, but Grubb was the only one who wondered whether any of his kin would be at all concerned if, by accident, he was eaten by one of the zingaard.

  It took a little longer than expected to reach Mallorkan. On the morning of the third day, they approached the entrance to the ominous-looking caverns. Moving stealthily, they were watchful for the slightest movement. Whispered plans passed between them, but the companions were quite taken aback when Lorzic announced that he would be going with them.

  They were far less surprised however, when Grubb explained why, “It’s only ‘cos he thinks we might steal the relics for ourselves!”

  The heat as they entered the mouth of Mallorkan caverns surprised them all, however the rancid, foul stench that was carried on the warm air soon made them forget it.

  “By all wars…” hissed Hannock, grabbing his nose, “… I don’t remember it being this bad the first time!”

  “That’s because there was only one zingaard the first time,” whispered Jared, “There’s a whole pack of them down here, and I don’t suppose the hissthaar will smell too sweet when you get up close either.”

  “I have no intention of getting up close,” replied Hannock, “That’s why I have this,” he added, holding up his crossbow.

  Faylore leaned on their shoulders, “Wait here…” she advised, “… I’ll scout ahead.”

  Lodren grabbed her hand, “You just be careful, Your Majesty,” he urged, “We don’t want a repeat of last time.” He vaguely saw her nodding in the dim light before she disappeared.

  They could do nothing else now but wait. Emnor glanced around, studying the walls of the cavern, “This is the same moss that we’ve seen too many times before,” he whispered, peering at the spores.

  “Bennemfud,” whispered Lorzic.

  “Sorry, what?” asked Emnor.

  “The fungus on the walls, it’s called bennemfud. We use it inside our houses, put it in the children’s rooms so they aren’t in complete darkness at night.”

  “How fascinating!” exclaimed Lodren. “How come you never told us about that, Grubb?”

  Grubb scowled, although nobody could see, “I don’t know, I just didn’t,” he chuntered.

  “I don’t know if you lot have forgotten…” hissed Hannock, “… but we’re in the lair of two of the most dangerous species we’ve ever encountered! So, if you don’t mind, will you shut up and save your bloody botany lesson for another time!”

  It was silent for the next few minutes, but a sudden sound made Jared’s ear twitch. Faint at first, but getting louder, Jared could hear rasping breath as something unidentified approached. They cowered as low as they could. To be discovered before their mission had even begun would be disastrous. A silhouette grew nearer, the light from the bennemfud revealing its large, hooded head. It was undoubtedly a hissthaar. Jared slowly reached for the hilt of his sword. Yes, his staff would destroy the beast in an instant, but it would also alert others nearby of their presence. Hannock had also seen it and raised his crossbow. Caught completely off guard, it recoiled, alarmed by its discovery. Its claws reached for the blue leather belt around its body, but it made no sound. Before Jared had drawn his sword or Hannock had even had time to pull the trigger, there was a sharp crack followed by a gruesome squelching noise. The hissthaar’s arms dropped and its body went limp. The scraping noise of the blade as it left the hissthaar’s skull was almost melodic as it hummed in the darkness. Placing her foot against its back, Faylore pushed the carcass away. “I suggest…” she said quietly, “… that from now on, we keep volume to a minimum. Follow me, we’re leaving… now.”

  Departing the cavern, Faylore spoke openly, “I have no idea what has happened in there,” she began, “Getting your relics back, Lorzic, is going to be far easier than we thought.”

  “Oh, happy days!” exclaimed Grubb, “We still might be ripped to shreds but at least ye get your trinkets back!”

  “Not exactly,” said Faylore, “I did say easier, not easy.”

  “What, there aren’t as many as we thought there would be?” asked Lodren, hopefully.

  “Well, to be fair, there are probably far more than we anticipated,” she replied, “The thing that makes the difference is that they are all caged!”

  “Caged!” cried Lorzic, “That’s wonderful news, I’ll just go and fetch the relics then. I won’t be needing your help after all. That means there’ll be no need for me to compensate you.”

  “See what I mean!” exclaimed Grubb, “All ‘e cares about is that ‘e ain’t got to pay anyone! Go on then, in ye go! Go and fetch your flamin’ relics, I ‘ope there’s still somethin’ left in there that eats ye!”

  “Oh, there is,” said Faylore, “Hissthaar, fifty or more I’d estimate.”

  “But you, you said it wasn’t dangerous!”

  “No, Lorzic, I said no such thing. Weren’t you listening?”

  Lorzic flopped to the ground, “That’s it then,” he moaned, “All hope is lost! Our last chance to retrieve the only thing that could save us has gone. We could have secured a loan, begun rebuilding our homes using the artefacts as collateral and worked off our debt somehow. But alas, it seems the fates are against us once more.”

  “Oh, do be quiet!” exclaimed Faylore, “I grow tired of your incessant whining, you horrible little beast.” It seemed that even Faylore’s patience had a limit. Unfortunately for Lorzic, it had just been reached.

  “Well that’s not very nice, is it?” protested Lorzic, “Who are you calling a beast?”

  “Enough!” ordered Jared. “This isn’t helping. Faylore, do you have a plan?”

  Faylore glanced at Lorzic and shook her head in disbelief, “As a matter of fact, I do,” she replied. “Only, why we are prepared to put ourselves in danger for this nasty…”

  “Can we just hear the plan?”

  Faylore turned her attention to Jared, “We’re going back in, but before we do, I need you all to keep an open min
d.”

  There were questioning looks from all of the companions. Hannock, as always, needed to know more, “We’re not going to like this plan of yours, are we?” he asked, “Come on, out with it.”

  “It will be far easier to show you,” she suggested.

  “Ladies first,” chuckled Grubb, bowing and gesturing toward the cavern.

  ***

  Once inside, they allowed their eyesight to adjust to the dim light once more. Faylore assured them that they would be quite safe for some time, but still advised that they should take care and move as stealthily as possible.

  The illumination allowed them to avoid the obvious perils of venturing through unknown caves. Jagged edges and small crevices in which one could easily turn an ankle could be seen quite clearly once their eyes became accustomed to the pale glow of the bennemfud. They had seen it many times now, but none of them had ever considered touching it.

  Poor Lodren was the first to have the pleasure of its nasty surprise! He giggled as it squelched beneath his palm as he reached out to steady himself, and didn’t even mind the fact that it was freezing cold to the touch. But then the smell hit him! It was faint at first, and he couldn’t help but to look at his companions suspiciously. How rude, he thought. But the pungent odour lingered far too long. He waved his hand gingerly in front of his face and sniffed gently. He was horrified. He began to wretch, frantically searching his pockets for anything he could wipe his hand with, a handkerchief, a rag, anything to free himself from the awful whiff!

  Grubb had seen it happen and, although slightly amused, grabbed Lodren’s arm, “Don’t touch nothin’!” he urged, “The stink’ll never go away! ‘ere, rub this on it, it’s the only thing that works.”

  “What is it?” asked Lodren, quietly, heaving and trying not to vomit.

  “Onion,” replied Grubb. “Suppose I should’ve warned ye about this stuff before.”