The Blackhawks Impossible Quest

by Michael Siddall

  ‘This place gives me the creeps,’ admitted Baltar. He sniffed the plants vibrant fragrance and touched them. They were huge, spiny and seemingly mutated.

  Vinn nodded. ‘Gives me the creeps too,’ he said, the grey hairs on the back of his neck standing proud of his skin. He sniffed, touched and tasted them. Bitter they were.

  ‘Might as well get used to it,’ said Rogan looking around for a dry place to camp, ‘there’s no way back and the man-gods aren’t going to make any of this easy for us. We’ll stay here tonight and look for the Oracle's cave tomorrow at first light. It’s around here somewhere. I can sense it.’

  Night began to fall, and under a starry, triple-moonlit sky a camp-fire blazed like a white-hot furnace once again as the six warriors talked and laughed about the day’s events, making light-hearted comments about their near death experience on the river. What would they discover with the coming of their red-giant sun in the morning, they wondered? Something good, they all hoped. Over the past ten weeks of initial trials and tournaments, each had formed a bond that now could not be broken. Once they had acted individually. Now they lived and breathed as one, all true blue-blood heroes. And as they fell fast asleep, all were aware that this would change very soon, when they set off alone on their individual quests.

  *

  Rogan’s eyes sprang open the next morning as the sky darkened and the shrill trill of what seemed to be a million wild birds taking to flight greeted him. It was intensely humid in the forest and adjoining swamp. Streams of sunlight were shining brightly through the dense foliage above their heads. No doubt, the man-gods will threaten us again today, he thought. They had only been travelling for a day, and their journey had been more than eventful to say the least, since leaving their makeshift camp at Delucia. Now each warrior awoke to face the morning sun with new hope, watching bruise-purple thunderclouds disappearing from view, leaving a glorious radiant giant sun climbing higher and higher into the sky.

  ‘Oh, my body aches from head to toe,’ said Kira covering her eyes with her hand, shielding them from the intense light.

  Grumpily, Vinn yawned and stretched. ‘I hurt in places I never knew I had.'

  Dopiaza’s eyes popped wide open. ‘Never had a better night’s sleep, or a more comfortable bed. I slept like a log. I slept like the dead!’ he admitted smiling brightly with the widest of grins. He pursed his lips, sucking in the misty morning air looking rather thoughtful.

  Baltar opened his eyes, shaking his head. He yawned and stretched. ‘Why is he so cheerful?’ he asked, flexing his enormous biceps with his hard hands clenched.

  ‘Because he never takes anything seriously,’ said Rogan.

  The dwarf sat up, brushing back his wild hair. ‘Serious I am… serious I can be… but never miserable that’s me.'

  Ofash clenched his teeth, growling at him like a mad dog. 'Shut up Dopiaza, you’re beginning to get on my nerves,’ he shouted, throwing his pouch of magic-runes at him, missing his head by a whisker. ‘You only talk like that to annoy me, you self-opinionated little pipsqueak of a man. If I’d been your mother, I would have drowned you at birth and done this world a big favour. No one wants to listen to a gargoyle or gargolen, whichever you are, who’s thrown his clothes on with a pitchfork.’

  Rogan, ever the peacemaker shook his head. ‘Let it go, Ofash, he’s…’

  ‘…Dead, if he doesn’t shut up,’ interrupted the giant hero.

  ‘Temper, temper, my huge friend,’ said Dopiaza. 'And just for the record, I’m a dwarf, not a gargoyle or gargolen. They're no relation at all!'

  Ofash cast him a dark glance. ‘Shut up,’ he flared. ‘I’m still tired and your words annoy me. Why can’t you speak like every other hero? It’s not natural to talk like that, it can’t be.’

  ‘It’s just his way,’ Rogan said, appraising their surroundings.

  Ofash shot Rogan a dark glance too. ‘I’m tired, so shut him up or I’ll rip his short arms from their sockets and eat his aggravating ugly head,’ he said swinging around, staring mad-eyed at the dwarf. Ofash, a monster of a male who could break most ordinary heroes’ bones by simply grabbing them was very temperamental in the mornings until he'd eaten, and Dopiaza grated on his nerves intensely.

  ‘Time to move on,’ said Rogan, trying to defuse the situation.

  ‘You… you…’ The dwarf’s voice suddenly sounded fearful as if his throat had tightened and dried up. ‘You don’t really mean it, do you? You’re not really going to pull my arms off, are you?’ He usually spoke little, preferring to cloak himself in silence. But when he did speak, it was usually exceptionally eloquent or thoroughly scathing, depending upon the circumstances and who he was talking to. Now he was scared stiff.

  Ofash smiled at him without humour, but there was a hint of menace. ‘See, you can talk normally if you want to, or if you’re made to do so.' He stood up and braided his long hair.

  Dopiaza ignored him.

  Rogan picked up his bow and quiver and slung them over his shoulder.

  ‘Best be on our way,’ said Kira hauling herself up. She brushed the leaves from her tunic, ‘we have far to go and much to do.’

  The warriors broke camp and marched off, always watching their back trail while treading cautiously and silently through the dense bracken and gauze undergrowth, looking for the Oracle's cave. Then, a forced march around a vast lake, up a muddy trail and along the bank of a meandering river brought them to within sight of a sheer rock wall. And as they approached, their eyes widened in disbelief. Some dread force that must have been gigantic had torn hundreds of trees from the ground in the clearing beneath the wall, their roots scattered everywhere. It looked like a hurricane had swept through. But there were huge three-toed footprints everywhere.

  ‘Never – have I seen anything like this,’ said Baltar, fear welling up within him, terror in his heart. His whole body stiffened. A cold chill ran up and down his spine like so many spiders. ‘What do you make of it, Rogan?’

  The bowman’s face, wide-eyed, reflected utter disbelief. ‘Don’t know. Never seen anything like it either,’ he said with the same chilled feeling. ‘But, that looks like the cave described to me by the Oracle before we left camp at Delucia,’ he continued, pointing to a large opening in the rock. It was five hundred feet up from the ground and looked like a gaping dragon’s mouth.

  Kira swept the area with her keen eyes, cocking her ears, watching and listening for anything untoward. ‘Now what do we do?’ she asked.

  ‘Follow me,’ ordered Rogan, ‘and keep your wits about you at all times, just in case whatever uprooted all those trees comes back.’

  Dopiaza had a look of dread on his pale face. ‘Oh, I have a very bad feeling about this.’

  ‘Just shut up moaning and follow me, dwarf,’ flared Ofash, madness in his eyes. ‘I thought you didn’t take anything seriously.’

  Then they began to hear low voices… deep voices… huge voices snarl whispering, ‘Kill and eat them all.’

  Terrified, Dopiaza’s hair stood on end and he didn’t utter another word. He just followed Ofash very closely, skipping in and out of his over-sized footprints as they all made their way down towards the glade, nervously switching their gaze from side to side, with a backward glance every now and then. Marching staunchly forward past the uprooted trees and holes in the ground, Rogan couldn’t even imagine a creature big enough to do this kind of damage. And when they all stopped suddenly, Dopiaza bumped into Ofash, knocking him forward again. ‘Keep your distance – idiot,’ said the giant grinding his teeth.

  Finally, moments later, they stood silently beneath the rock face gazing up at the ledge they would have to climb up onto to enter the cave. Bunched together, staring wide-eyed at the dark hole they trembled, scared-stiff of the climb.

  ‘This is going to be dangerous,’ said Vinn looking for possible hand and footholds that might afford him a good grip.

  Suddenly, the voices stopped and a dreadful, blood-curdling roar came from somewhere c
lose. Each warrior dived at the rock face climbing frantically, grabbing at any small crack or crevice. There was another roar, louder and certainly much closer than the last and they all scrambled up the sheer face as if they were flies, all with the exception of the dwarf who struggled greatly to follow and keep up with Ofash. But, one by one they made it up to the ledge, scrambling onto it. Dopiaza was the last. Tired and grazed from catching himself on the wall, his heart was pounding like a hammer. He clung to the edge of the ledge with his fingertips, unable to summon the strength to pull himself up.

  Ofash sneered, staring down at him. ‘Catfish got your tongue?’ he said watching the dwarf struggle with his feet hanging in space above the long drop. ‘I’ve hardly heard you speak since I threatened to eat your aggravating ugly head.’

  ‘I can’t make it,’ said Dopiaza, his fingers slipping. ‘I can’t breathe. Please give me a hand.’ A wave of nausea swept through him. He was breathing heavily, his heart racing. Sweat trickled down the middle of his back and his armpits were damp and stung savagely. His head began to swim.

  Ofash’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. ‘I told you that you might need my help one day soon – little male. Do you promise me –?’

  The dwarf’s hands slipped and let go of the ledge. Horrified, Kira screamed. She watched helplessly. And the others were too far away from the edge to make a difference. He began to fall, arms thrashing like a windmill, eyes shining with terror. The rock face burst to the sound of his cries for help.

  A powerful hand seized the dwarf by the scruff of the neck, hauling him back from certain death. Ofash held him up in the air in front of him for a moment, before turning away from the edge and the long drop. ‘You… you saved my life. I – I thought you were going to let me die,’ stammered Dopiaza. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

  Ofash shook his head. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said dropping him down onto the hard ledge. ‘If anything or anyone is going to kill you, it’s going to be me, if you don’t stop stammering. It’s more annoying than the rhyming. And you’re so ugly you could make an onion cry.’

  The dwarf scrambled back to his feet, rubbing his backside indignantly. ‘You great hulking oaf,’ he flared. ‘I am not ugly and I am not amused.’

  Rogan turned, entering the cavern alone. There was hardly any light and he couldn’t see much at all. But he knew it if there was something deadly lurking in the shadows, they would be trapped.

  Very slowly and cautiously the bowman made his way further up the tunnel. The most haunting sounds came from within. And his heart raced and pounded. Then as he rounded a corner, his eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat.

  ‘Come here.’ he yelled to the others.

  They came running through the darkness, eyes wide.

  They stared in utter disbelief. 'Wow,' they said in unison.

  Chapter 4

  The hero-warriors gasped as they came face to face with a wall of white hot flames and a deep echoing voice greeted them. ‘Welcome, Vinn of Verbania, man of the sea; Ofash of Orath, giant man of the north; Baltar of Bergimlii, son of Blackfriar; Kira of Cardobia, daughter of Darroth; Rogan of Rascalia and Dopiaza of Lonely Mountain.’

  Shoulder to shoulder they stood facing the super-heated flames, which hissed loudly and sparkled like a white-dwarf star. And amid the cloistered shadows of the cold grey walls stood a tall male, well over six feet – and so lean as to be almost stick-like – dressed in black clerical man-god robes which cloaked his scarecrow form. A hood shadowed his face. The heroes looked puzzled as the Oracle's deep velvet voice welcomed them, ringing throughout the grotto. ‘Your Quest is an adventure worthy only of heroes who are brave in heart, cunning of mind and endowed with all the heroism of the man-gods,’ he said, studying them like insects.

  ‘We six are the Blackhawks, the warrior-rangers sent here to meet you,’ said Rogan looking awed.

  What lengths will each travel to win the Quest, the Oracle wondered. Again, his voice echoed throughout the cavern. ‘The adventure shall begin with you all going forth in search of six magical jewels, which can only be found in the dark realms of the Enchanted Cities of the Lost. However, be warned. As you travel, Koki, the Northlands man-god may appear and cause you great harm. Or you may meet a Narok hunter-killer shadow-warrior and be slain in combat. You may be confronted by a crazed giant known as the Cyclopia and eaten alive, or held captive and not allowed to search further on your quest, until you have solved a riddle or paid a toll.

  ‘On the other hand, the man-gods may favour you and send a messenger to aid you, enabling you to travel further and faster on your way. You may even encounter the golden goddess of the winds, who with her icy breath may blow you in a favourable direction. Or you may be lucky enough to sit and rest awhile with Master Lydas, win a wager and gain Golden Starpieces for your long journey. You may also be able to summon the Mage Majiker to do your bidding and dispose of an irritating and troublesome follower. Again take heed and be warned. Murder and mayhem may follow you, good sense and the fates should guide you, the man-gods may love or leave you – and only one of you shall live to recount the tale for all eternity as an immoral.’

  The Oracle paused as each warrior said a silent prayer to their chosen man-god, their hearts pounding within them like hammers. They had all made a long journey to be here and beaten all competition for the right to take part in the coming quest. Loden himself will be proud of me today, Rogan thought. My achievements have been many-fold just to get here.

  ‘Approach the eternal fire and take your amulet of life, so that on your long journey you may survive to do all that is asked of you by the man-gods,’ said the Oracle. Then his ghostly silhouette faded into the darkness and was gone.

  Ofash shook his head. ‘How, by Tor’s hammer are we supposed to reach the amulets without being burned alive?’

  ‘Let’s approach this logically,’ said Rogan. ‘We can’t get close enough to the amulets without being burned, so we must employ a mechanism of some kind to reach them.’

  Dopiaza stepped forward, shooting a glance at the man standing three heads taller than him. ‘You have the mechanism we need.'

  Rogan looked puzzled. ‘I have?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Dopiaza pointing a finger at his longbow. ‘Take chain-mail as thread of twine, attach to arrow and shoot straight line. Into the fire the arrow is hurled by bow, all amulets on the line will go. In one side and out the other, an amulet for each my brother.’ He did a little jig on the spot and smiled.

  ‘Look, he’s right,’ said Kira pointing to the amulets, 'they are in line and they’ve all got a steel ring on them that a grey goose-shaft could pass through. Rogan could shoot an arrow through them with a thin line attached. I’ve seen him hit birds in flight at a distance well over fifty yards. He can do it blindfolded too, by listening for the flapping of wings.’

  Those were the days, thought Rogan. He pulled the longbow from over his shoulder and Ofash fashioned a thin metal twine from the chain mail around his waist. Rogan attached it to an arrow using his golden earring and took aim. His mouth was bone dry, his heart beating fast.

  Carefully drawing back the sinew of the bow betwixt his fingers, he closed one eye, casting his mind back to a time when an Ogre was about to cut off his mother’s head in the forest near his home when he was a boy of only ten years. His arrow had found its mark that day – right between the eyes of the giant. Looking back now, the man-gods have always favoured me, he thought. He took aim and loosed the arrow.

  ‘It flies straighter than a bird on wings, hitting its mark with all six rings,’ said Dopiaza excitedly.

  ‘Knew you could do it,’ said Kira kissing his cheek. She had instantly fallen in love with Rogan as soon as their eyes met, some days ago.

  All six amulets on the far side of the cave now had the metal twine through each of them. Rogan pulled the arrow back through the flames with the amulets attached and shot Kira a broad smile, blowing her a kiss.

  ‘Pure magic,
’ she sighed, smiling back at him like a lovesick child. He put his bow down and braided his long black hair. He was just her type of male – darkly handsome with a moustache, small chin beard and fever bright blue eyes

  Vinn picked up the arrow and removed the earring, giving it back to Rogan. He scooped up the amulets – which shone with a faint blue aura – and he distributed them between the others, placing them around their necks. And in doing so, a strange feeling of invincibility overcame them all. The man-god, Tor had once owned the original amulet. Engraved with silver leaf on a background of gold, the amulets, duplicated six-fold by his father, Loden, would enhance each warriors own natural skills, making them faster and stronger, but not immortal. Now each of the warriors strutted proudly around the cave, wide eyed and smiling, adorned by their new shiny trophy – and their bodies tingled strangely.

  In an instant the blistering flames died away noisily from whence they came.

  ‘Well done,’ echoed the voice of the Oracle. ‘The man-gods are pleased. Now you each have your amulet of life it is time for your next test. Which one of you can persuade Master Lydas to sponsor your long journey to the Enchanted Cities? Not an easy task as you will no doubt find out.’

  Suddenly, they became aware that everything around them was beginning to change as if by a mystic spell and they were bathed in a soft glow of muted colours – gold’s, greens, reds and blues. For a moment they were all silent, their expressions thoughtful. Then they stared in amazement as the darkness of the cave became daylight, the stony ground transformed into soft red clay, and the eternal fire that had raged before them was now a calm blue lake. Marsh, desert and mountains ringed the area and their gaze wandered out across orchard groves, seeing familiar fruit trees – plumbles, applehides and cherrybobs – but of a colour and size unfamiliar to them.

  'It’s impossible,’ said Rogan. 'I must be dreaming.'

  ‘What sorcery or mysticism is this?’ asked Ofash, unable to believe what he was seeing as a pathway of burnished golden stones appeared, pointing up into the hills, off in the distance. They were shining brightly with fingers of cool sunlight reflecting off them.