The Bane of Karrak: Ascension II of III (The Karrak Trilogy Part Two)

by Robert J Marsters

  “Not all of us, old boy,” added Hannock. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed but the Gerrowliens did a bunk ages ago. Either they are searching for water or they have lost faith and left us to our fate.”

  ***

  Xarran stared at the ground, his brow furrowed. He had never behaved like this before.

  “That was a very noble speech, Xarran. You should be proud of yourself.”

  Xarran turned to face Alex briefly, but turned his back on him once he realised who had spoken. “It didn’t feel noble. I can’t understand why I said it, Alex. To be honest, I wasn’t even thinking it. I don’t want to start jaunting all over the place in search of water. I don’t even know the area! Why would I volunteer for a suicide mission?”

  “You must have been thinking it subconsciously. Your emotions obviously took over and got the better of you,” replied Alex.

  It was dusk and the failing light added, to the plumes of dust that rose as Xarran paced back and forth, allowed Alex to retreat slightly into the shadows. He studied Xarran, a leering smile on his face as his eyes flashed black.

  “Don’t do this to him, Alex, I beg of you, leave him alone.”

  Alex glanced across at the ghost of his brother. “Be quiet!” he mouthed.

  “But he’s your friend, Alex, he’s done nothing wrong. I don’t know what you’re doing to him, but knowing the way you have changed, it’s bound to be something bad.” Alex tilted his head slightly to one side. Theodore clutched his chest and began to cough. He started to wretch as a black smoke poured from his mouth. He fell to his knees, “Stop! Alex, please stop! How are you doing this? How can you kill me again?” With great effort, the spirit seemed to wrench itself free, leaping to its feet before turning and running, screeching in fear as it dissipated into the darkness. Alex smiled once more.

  “I’ve made my mind up. I’m going to tell Emnor that I was being far too hasty, he’ll understand. There’s no way he wants me to go anyway, you heard him say so yourself.”

  Alex glared at Xarran, “Oh dear, showing yourself to be the coward you really are? What would your dear, adventurous father say? I’m sure he’d be most disappointed with his brave little boy.”

  The look on Xarran’s face showed his anger at having been called a coward. Alex held up his hand and continued, “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Althor. I have a few questions to ask and it’s far too dangerous for me to go looking for the answers by myself. I’m taking you along as my bodyguard. Not to mention the fact that you’ll back me up on anything I care to tell the old ones when we return. That is, you’ll tell them exactly what I tell you to tell them.” Xarran did not reply. He had a blank expression on his face.

  A few moments later they were joined by Drake and Harley. Harley had a look of concern on his face but Drake, being Drake, piled into his friend without hesitation. “You’re mental, you are! What gives you the right to speak to Emnor like that? They all think you’ve lost your marbles, you know! It wouldn’t surprise me if they were placing bets as to how long you’ll last before you shrivel up from dehydration or get killed and eaten by something nasty. And why are you taking him with you?” he asked, pointing at Alex. “No offence, Alex, but you’re hardly the type to get stuck in if you’re in a punch up or something worse,” he added. “Well, don’t just stand there, Xarran, say something!”

  “He’s probably waiting for you to take a breath so that he can get a word in,” muttered Harley.

  Drake took an exaggerated intake of breath and held out his arms toward Xarran, awaiting his reply.

  “If I hadn’t made such a fuss, Emnor wouldn’t have allowed us to go. Surely, you realise that, Drake? And before you start ranting again, the reason Alex is going with me is because we two are the most expendable.”

  “Of course you’re not expendable, Xarran, and neither is Alex. In fact, none of us are, according to Emnor,” protested Harley.

  “We have covered half the distance we should have today, Harley. That means that the route that should have taken four days to cover is now going to take at least eight. In just one of those days, we have used almost half of the water we brought from Reiggan. None of us is sure of our position and the longer we wait to do something about it, the worse off we’ll be. We’re all tired, Emnor is ancient and Yello is only one step away from being crippled for life. So tell me, genius, do you have an alternative plan?” It was Xarran’s turn to await a reply.

  “When you put it like that…” began Drake, “… I can’t see another option. How is it I always lose to you when we argue, Xarran?”

  “Oh, that’s an easy one to answer,” replied Xarran, “You’re thick!”

  CHAPTER 20

  Darooq’s heart skipped a beat as, taking his eyes from the beast that loyally followed him, he caught sight of the pulsating red glow that had suddenly appeared at the end of the dark passageway. It was the light from the Elixian Soul. The supernatural gem now possessed the body of Karrak, he had become the shadow lord. He bowed low as his master glided swiftly and effortlessly toward him. Stopping immediately in front of him, Karrak’s deep voice rasped menacingly. “A day has passed, Darooq, and I see no weapons or armour adorning my army.”

  “Apologies, my lord. I am unfamiliar with these lands and sought maps and charts within the libraries to aid me in my quest to find equipment.”

  “And did you find what you were looking for within those libraries?”

  “Yes, my lord. There is a sizeable village that is protected by a fort. It may take me a few days to procure everything needed for your army, but I am confident that my journey will be successful.”

  “Two days, Darooq, your deadline is now reduced to two days. Why is this beast at your side? Do you not realise that this one is my own personal pet?”

  “I do, my lord. The beasts are driven to devour one another as there is no longer food for them. Believing this to be your favourite, I thought it best to keep it out of harm’s way. It seems weak and old. I am not sure that it would have survived much longer had I left it with the others.”

  “You are a poor judge of character, Darooq. The beast that stands at your side is probably the most cunning, devious, ruthless creature you will ever have the misfortune to meet. It knows a cruelty which even I admire and would tear out my throat and yours if it were given the remotest chance. The strongest of the pack will survive, and this one is the strongest of them all,” Karrak gave a chilling, guttural laugh. “You have two days, Darooq. Return successful within that time, if you do not, pray that I never find you whilst you are still alive. However, even then you still would not be safe.”

  Darooq bowed, Barden cowering behind his leg as Karrak glided away and disappeared into the darkness.

  Making his way into the daylight, Darooq leaned down and patted Barden gently before taking a firm hold on his collar, “Sorry boy, but if I allow you to escape, our master would probably roast me alive. Take solace, at least for now you are free of any punishment.” With a wave of his hand, he and Barden vanished.

  ***

  Within the blink of an eye, they reappeared on a broad makeshift dirt road. It was well used, showing the evidence of fresh tracks caused by the cartwheels that travelled it regularly. Darooq reached down and petted Barden again, “That wasn’t too bad, was it, boy? Listen to me, I’m talking to a…” looking down, he curled his lip, “you’re not even a dog, are you? Come to think of it, I have no idea what you are, or who you were for that matter. What I do know is that you must have offended Lord Karrak in some way. Who’s a good boy?” he laughed. He shrugged his shoulders. The creature seemed to be smiling at him, a hideous smile admittedly, but still a smile. “We’ll be alright for a couple of days at least, boy. He shouldn’t beat either of us if we do a good job for him.”

  They followed the track for a few miles until, up ahead, they saw movement that could only mean that they were nearing their destination. Darooq thought it best to attempt to disguise Barden. Wrapping a shawl around hi
m, he decided that should anyone enquire as to the breed of his dog, he would spin them a yarn of the dog having suffered a horrendous accident as a pup, perhaps having been run over by a cart. He looked down at Barden… two carts… ten carts, he thought. He was developing quite an attachment to the ugly, downtrodden beast.

  He entered the village. Not the smallest of men, he still went unnoticed by the villagers. They were far too busy with their trade or gossip to pay attention to a travelling stranger and his pet. Darooq was in no rush and ambled between a throng of tents set at the edge of the village by various travelling merchants, hawkers and those who were not much more than beggars. He paused occasionally, pretending to show interest in an item, its owner trying desperately to enter into a bartering session with him. But he had no real interest in any of the merchandise he was offered, he was too busy listening carefully, listening for the sound of the only thing he needed, the sound of a hammer striking an anvil. He was searching for a smith. It would have been illogical, and possibly suspicious, for him to storm into town and ask directions. The gentle approach, he thought, would glean far more results. Mingling with the crowds, he continued his search, then he heard it… clink.

  Darooq approached the smith and, with a slight bow, smiled at him. “Forgive me, smith, I am a stranger in these lands. Tell me, how highly you would rate your work with the forge?”

  “Is that how you begin a conversation where you come from? Walk up to a complete stranger and insult his skill!” Although there was a sharpness to his tone, he didn’t seem overly insulted at Darooq’s question. “Does it matter what I think, friend? Would a craftsman not tell you that his workmanship was second to none, whether it be true or not? I do not judge my own craft. If you want an honest opinion, go to the tavern. There are warriors, mercenaries mostly, who’ve had need of me in the past. Ask ’em what they think, although not one of ’em will part with coin enough to afford ’em new weapons or armour. Repair, repair, repair, it’s all I ever do for ’em. I can’t complain though, if they bought new, I’d be out of pocket in the long run,” he winked at Darooq, knowingly tapping the side of his nose with his index finger, “An old sword blunts and breaks much faster than a newly forged one.”

  Darooq had met many merchants like him before. He may have been skilled at his trade, but what better way for the smith to increase his profit than to insult his other patrons for being tight-fisted. His smile remained as he eyed the smith. “May I ask your name, smith?” he asked.

  “They call me ’ammer’. Been called it since I was a lad. Real name’s Ben, but if you shouted me in the street with it, I’d probably ignore ye. I’ve been wielding one for nigh on twenty years now, an ‘ammer that is, so the name just stuck after a while.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Hammer. I would like to talk business with you. I need one hundred suits of armour and the same number of swords, the bulk of both, in two days from now.”

  “Now why didn’t you say so in the first place!” replied Hammer, laughing with mock glee. “Tell you what, I’ll ’ave it ready by this afternoon. I’ll even wrap it all in a giant flyin’ carpet, ’ow’s that?”

  “Do not mock me, smith!” growled Darooq, glaring at Hammer. “Few who do so survive to tell the tale! I am no fool. You will be well rewarded for your efforts should you choose to accept, but failure is not an option if you do.” He threw a bag of gold coins against the smith’s anvil. The bag split, spilling the coins all around Hammer’s feet. He dropped to his knees, snatching them greedily from the ground.

  “All I’m sayin’, sir, is… well, a hundred… in two days. It’s a lot, sir. It can be done, but I’d need some ’elp!” he replied.

  The smile had left Darooq’s face as he watched the smith, who was still grovelling on the ground to make sure he had not missed any stray gold coins. As he reached for one, Darooq placed his foot on the back of his outstretched hand, grinding his heel into it. Hammer winced in pain but did not attempt to pull his hand away as Barden moved closer until he was directly in front of the smith and began to growl, the stench from his rancid breath causing Hammer to wretch. “I suggest you begin immediately. Hire your help, there is plenty more gold where that came from. Remember, complete this task and there will be more opportunities for you in the future, and with even greater rewards. The armour needs to be strong and serviceable. The swords a basic, straight blade but perfectly honed. I shall return tomorrow to check on your progress. Work all night if you must, it would not serve you well to disappoint me. Now… where is this tavern you mentioned?”

  Hammer rose to his feet and, rubbing the back of his hand, pointed toward the fort, “It’s at the side of the fort, sir. You might want to be careful what ye say around them soldiers though, they bully anyone who gets near the fort. An’ if you go into the tavern itself, expect a fight. The place is always full of ’em an’ they tend to kick the crap out of anyone who dares to go in there. They act as if they own the place, an’ the poor bloke who does, never makes any coin out of it, they never pay ’im for any of the ale an’ other stuff they drink.”

  The smile returned to Darooq’s face, “So, they like to fight and bully people, do they? Oh my… they’re going to love me then,” he sneered. He glanced down at Barden, “What do you say, beast, shall we go and introduce ourselves?” Barden began to growl quietly.

  Darooq headed toward the tavern, a determination in his gait that showed his intent. He had suffered at the hands of Karrak for what seemed like an age, and a chance to vent his frustration was at hand. The mental and physical torture he had suffered had become almost unbearable, and he knew that soon, his only release would be his demise.

  If he was going to die, he was determined to take as many as possible with him on the journey to the abyss. He would not be as sadistic as Karrak. The ones he took with him would be those to whom such an end was deserved. The cruel, the violent and the vicious would be his unwilling travelling companions. As he walked, all emotion drained from his face as he pictured in his mind the events that were about to take place. Perhaps ridding the world of a few of its barbarous inhabitants could offer him a little redemption for all the innocents that had been slaughtered by Karrak? But he was not foolish enough to believe this. He had willingly joined with Karrak, and if things had gone to plan, maybe, he now would be the one wielding the power over throngs of innocents. He reached the doorway of the tavern and opening it slowly, he stepped inside.

  “Can’t bring that mangy thing in here,” bellowed the barkeep. “You’ll have to tie it up outside. Animals carry all sorts if diseases on ’em, kill people without even trying, they do.”

  Darooq stared at the barkeep, “My hound stays with me, or would you prefer that I take my custom elsewhere?”

  It was almost possible for anyone to read the barkeep’s mind. He could not afford to lose a single paying customer, Hammer had informed him of that. His eyes darted to the table in the centre of the room that was surrounded by at least a dozen, scruffy-looking unwashed guards. A few of them laughed at him, as his retreat was almost immediate, “Well, take a table at the back and make sure it behaves itself or you’re both out. Understand?”

  Darooq nodded once and began to cross the room. Barden stayed at his heel.

  “That’s it, you show him who’s boss. Can’t even keep his own customers in check. You’re bloody pathetic, you are,” bawled one of the guard as he hurled a pewter tankard at the barkeep. Luckily, it missed its target, smashing a bottle behind him instead.

  “Alright, gentlemen,” said the barkeep becoming flustered. “There’s no need for any unpleasantness. Remember what happened last time?”

  “I think I do,” replied another one of the rowdy, uniformed men. “Although, I was very drunk at the time. I remember beating the living daylights out of a few of the villagers and then arresting them for causing a riot.” He roared with laughter, as did his friends.

  “But they didn’t do anything. You tripped one of them up deliberately and
then accused him of kicking you,” said the barkeep.

  “As I said,” repeated the guard, “I was very drunk.”

  The barkeep turned his attention to Darooq, “What can I get you to drink, sir? Perhaps an ale? We do have a nice selection of wines, or perhaps some mead.”

  “You call that cat’s water you serve, wine?” shouted the outspoken guard, “I could pee better than that stuff tastes.”

  “Well, why don’t you do that? And leave me to take my refreshment in peace,” hissed Darooq as he glared at the guard.

  “Did you hear that, boys?” the guard asked confidently of his friends, although Darooq could see in his eyes that he was unnerved. “Seems this one wants to keep us company. Looking for a nice little free bed and board in our gaol, I think. I suggest you keep a civil tongue in your head, stranger. This is our town and we don’t like it when outsiders come here thinking they don’t have to obey the law.”

  “And what laws do you uphold?” asked Darooq quietly. “The laws of the land or the laws of the highest bidder to fill your pockets, wretch?” he added with a sneer.

  “Now, now, sir, let’s not have any trouble or I’ll have to ask you to leave,” urged the barkeep.

  A few of the guard were now on their feet, hands firmly on the hilts of their swords. One took a step toward Darooq but retreated rapidly as Barden began to snarl. “I am sure, innkeeper, that you would rather lose the patronage of such scum as these than that of a paying customer. After all, I’d wager that what I alone would spend in one sitting would outweigh what a gaggle of freeloaders would part with in an entire day.”

  The barkeep’s hands were now visibly shaking. He had witnessed on more than one occasion what the corrupt guard were capable of, and nine times out of ten, their actions were unprovoked. They were the town bullies. More a gang of murderous bandits than a military unit. People had banded together in the past in order to stand up to them, and each time, those people had mysteriously disappeared.