Later, as they rode on along the trail, Hadaras could feel eyes upon them from the dark forest. He sensed ill intent, but unease at the same time. No, we don’t look like easy marks, but if there are enough of them, they will muster up the courage to attack. “Stay alert Aleron. I do not think we are alone. Fortunately, bandits are usually cowards, but we should put some distance between us and them.” They continued uneventfully for several more hours, the bandits evidently deciding to wait for easier pickings. Soon, the forest gave way to open fields again and the road widened, as smaller paths joined the flow, like streams joining the greater river. It was mid afternoon by this time.
The road they were following began to veer east and they could see a large village in the distance. Hadaras chose a smaller path that headed more northeast, in the direction of Arundell. They were far from needing a resupply and he had no desire to slow their progress with a visit to the town. They would camp outside tonight. The leagues flowed by beneath the horses hooves and as dusk drew near, they found a place to camp by a small stream. They unloaded the horses and rubbed them down well to avoid stiff muscles. Then Aleron baited a couple hooks and set the lines in a calm pool he found just downstream. When he came back up to help Hadaras with the fire, he said, “Maybe we’ll get some fresh fish for supper tonight.”
“That would be nice,” the old man answered. “The more we forage, the less we drain our supplies. Once we set up, you can go back to tending your lines and I will see to feeding the horses. They should be cooled down enough for some food and water now.”
Later in the evening, as they enjoyed grilled trout and bannock, cooked over their modest fire, Aleron asked, “Should we gather more wood for the night, to stay warm?”
“We have enough,” Hadaras replied. “There is a saying among the Chebek. They say, ‘The plainsman keeps warm with a small fire and staying close to it. The villager keeps warm with a big fire and running for more wood.’ Now go to sleep. I’ll take the first watch and we will rotate every two hours.”
Aleron settled into his bedroll, tired and stiff from riding all day and quickly drifted off to sleep. Hadaras sat with his back to the fire. He could have kept watch all night, from his bed, setting out mental feelers that would wake him to the slightest hint of danger. Instead, we must do this the hard way. The boy needs to learn the basic ways first. Simply having the mental discipline to stay awake when you need to is a necessary step on the way to self-mastery. Hadaras often wondered just when Aleron’s sorcerous abilities would emerge, or if they would at all. All elves had at least some degree of ability and the majority of halfbloods did as well. Usually, with Halfbloods, the ability manifested between sixteen and eighteen years of age. He hoped that it would happen before the lad went off to the military.
***
Dusk found Jessamine was busy finishing the last few chores around the homestead. With only one horse left in the stable, there wasn’t much to do. She left the lonely animal with warm thoughts of companionship to comfort it through the night and puttered around the yard, making sure everything was in its place. As she bent over the trough fishing out debris to keep the water fresh, she could sense the man moving out from the concealment of the hedgerow. What the miscreant could not sense, was the vines reaching out from the hedge behind him. She turned to him, after hearing his yelp of surprise and witnessed, the vines rapidly entwine him into a green cocoon. She heard the muffled wheeze, as the vines constricted, crushing the life out of her would-be assailant. The vines recoiled to the base of the hedge and began dragging the twitching cocoon into the earth. That section of hedgerow will be exceptionally green next year, she thought. Not a nice way to go, but it serves him right, having rape and murder on his mind. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, in case he only wanted to look but not act. As darkness fell, she went back inside the cottage and settled in for the night.
***
Hadaras sat in a trancelike state, as Aleron dozed beside him, keenly aware of everything within a half mile of the camp. Jessamine spoke to him in his mind as he sat there. They would communicate in this manner throughout their time apart. You did the right thing my love, he said to ease her conscience. If not you, he would have gone on to victimize some other innocent.
I know, but I hate to make any living thing suffer and I fear I let my anger get the best of me. I didn’t end it as cleanly as I should have.
It sounds to me, like it was expedient and quick, even if a little creative, my dear.
I suppose so. I just feel guilty when I am forced to take a life, she replied. That’s why I always make you kill the livestock.
I know, my darling. Now get some rest. Not that you need it, but I need to shut down this part of my mind, if I intend to be on top of my game tomorrow.
Very well, good night my love.
Good night darling.
Chapter 5
Gurlachday, Day 25, Sowing Moon. 8760 Sudean Calendar
The tall figure lurked about the black walls of the fortress Immin Bul. He had been pacing around the ancient fortress for several hours. The once sharp angles of the obsidian stronghold now somewhat rounded after four thousand years of weathering from the daily rainstorms of the jungle. The individual had been slowly circling the edifice since mid-afternoon and night was quickly descending. A close look would reveal to anyone, that this was not a man. The pointed ears and set of the eyes said elf, but his skin was dark, like unto the jungle men and no respectable elf would be loitering at the prison of the Nameless One. Whatever he was, he had journeyed long to reach this place, thousands of leagues over sea and land. The men of the jungle who guarded this place sensed something about him and left him alone. The one leopard that was watching from its concealed perch sensed the same and let him be. He radiated malevolence to the point that it was a palpable thing. The deepening darkness meant nothing to this one. His night vision was excellent, though he didn’t truly need his eyes to see.
Dusk gave way to night and the faint sliver of the new moon hung over the western horizon. Soon it would follow the sun below the horizon and night would be complete. The stranger could see the faint glow from Kolixtla far to the southwest. The stars glittered thickly in the black sky of the Central Jungle. They reflected perfectly off the glassy surface of Lake Bul, calm for the moment, in the heavy tropical air. As the moon left the western sky, the stranger heard a voice in his mind.
Welcome, my son, did you journey well?
Yes Father, the stranger replied. I set out as soon as I could after receiving your summons. It took some time to assemble a proper crew and to fit a ship for a journey of such distance. I am sorry that it took nearly two years to reach here.
Do not feel sorry, my son. I have grown patient here in my prison. I realized it would take some time to reach me. Are my people prospering on our island? I had such high hopes for them. The voice inquired.
Yes, Father, your people number in the millions now. You would be proud of the progress we have made. As King over these thousands of years, I have sired scores of children. Every living Arkan carries some of your blood in their veins.
Are there none left of the first generations then, those that came before I sired you?
Once the breed was well established and numerous, Father, we disposed of the original progenitors. The elves proved to be untrustworthy and their part-goblin offspring were unpredictable at best.
And what of your mother? When I chose her, she was the strongest and brightest of the quarter-goblin generation.
The stranger hesitated for a moment, then, Father, I hope you are not upset. She contributed greatly to the advancement of our breed, dam to many of the eighth-goblin generation. But, that generation was bred only to each other after that point and to myself. Eventually she outlived her usefulness and was disposed of with the rest of the old breeding stock.
I am not upset with you. The voice replied, with a melancholy tone. You did what was necessary for the race. I was only thinking that I would like to have
seen her again.
Father, when you are freed, you will have your choice of any maiden in the kingdom. And freed you will soon be, he added, emphatically.
That is a good thought, my child, but there is much for you to do to make that happen. You must spread the word among the men of this land. They are still loyal after all these centuries. Then you must send word to your people and muster them to this land. Finally, you must return to me my axe.
Father, can you speak to your servants here, as you do to me now?
I was once able to. For many years, I felt the bindings weaken, with the makers of the wards all dead for centuries. I spoke to the priests of my temples in Kolixtlan and the sacrifices to me resumed. My power swelled as they spilled blood in my name and I cast my web further afield. It was then that I sensed something amiss. There was a Halfblood child whom I sensed had claim to the long empty throne of my old enemy, Sudea. I sent out an assassin from the temple to capture the boy. Though we warded him well against all magic, an elvish sorcerer thwarted the mission.
How could this elf have defeated your wards, Father?
That is a good question. The priest who imbued the wards with my power perished immediately when this elf dispelled their magic. I sensed the priest saw the attacker through the eyes of the assassin, but the encounter destroyed his mind. Then, suddenly, the bindings on my prison renewed, as strong as the day they were laid. I could no longer speak to my temples here. There was ever only one that powerful among the elves and he should have been long dead, but this renewal had his flavor upon it.
How then, can you speak to me? The dark elf asked, somewhat perplexed. It is a far greater distance to Arkus, where you summoned me.
I discovered one small gap in the bindings that confine me. It is not enough for me to cast my web fully upon the land, but I am able to cast a single thread to one of my own blood. I can speak to my followers only when they are in close proximity to me. I am only able, when darkness is complete and my power is strongest. I was able to contact you through the fortuitous combination of a moonless and overcast sky and a mass sacrifice by my priests in Kolixtlan. Only then was my power great enough to reach across the seas to you. I can speak to you now because you are close and the darkness is full. Our power is always stronger in darkness, just as the elves’ magic thrives in the light.
How shall we free you from this binding, Father? I feel that these wards are beyond my ability to dispel.
That is why I need my axe, Zadehmal, The faceless voice answered. I invested much of my power in that weapon. Separation from it weakens me greatly.
Where is your axe now, Father? I will bring it to you.
I sense that it is very far away and has not moved for many thousands of years. It is somewhere cold and remote. You must find it for me. It is a focal point of dark power and has my particular flavor about it. You will be able to recognize it when you are near. When you bring it here, I will be able to draw enough power from it to break the wards binding me here.
I will bring you Zadehmal, Father and you will be free. Then we will crush our enemies and extend your dominion over all of Aertu. All living beings will worship you Father, as their God and King.
Yes Zormat, my son and as lord over my chosen people, you will lead their armies in the battles to come. In turn, you will lead the goblins and trolls, my people on this continent, the men loyal to me, and the other beings I created. Your allies shall be the dark Aelient, loyal to me since the creation of this world. You bear my mark and all loyal to me shall bow to you, my chosen one. One day soon, that will be all of Aertu, but there will be many enemies to overcome.
But Father, do you not desire to rule over all of Aertu?
I desire worship by all of Aertu and those that do not, to be sacrificed in my name. It is through worship and the blood of sacrifice that I gain power. You shall be my representative and rule in my name, as the Son of the True God. Now go and do as I have directed you.
I will do as you have bid me to, Father.
Go to the edge of the lake, son. There you will find something that will speed your journey to you comrades. May the Darkness always be with you, my son.
And also with you, Father.
And so, Zormat, Son of the Nameless One, King of Arkus and the most powerful sorcerer of the Arkans, left the prison of his father. He strode to the dark lakeshore and, seeing nothing, waited. Soon he detected a rippling of the water, far from shore. The water parted for the massive bulk of a huge reptilian creature. The long sinuous neck bore a large crocodilian head, with elongated jaws full of dagger like teeth. Its thick trunk bore four long flippers, which it used like feet on land. The long tail had a flattened cross section, like a leaf shaped blade. Overall, the creature was easily over fifty feet long. It looked expectantly at Zormat, as it waddled onto shore. He walked to the animal and lightly sprang onto its back. The huge lizard lumbered back into the water and began swimming. The creature shot across Lake Bul on a northwesterly course that Zormat knew would take them to the outlet of the lake. They skimmed the surface of the water, the lizard’s tail sweeping side to side, propelling them at an impressive pace. He estimated that they were travelling at a speed of at least forty knots. If the beast were capable of maintaining this pace nonstop and down the course of the rivers, they would complete in a day, what had taken him a month to accomplish on foot.
Dawn found them exiting the lake into the wide lazy river. The beast did not slack in its pace. Zormat believed they would reach the far shores of the next small lake by late morning. Whether we can proceed past that point is the question, he thought. The river draining that lake to the sea was much narrower and faster than the one they now travelled. He doubted this massive beast would fit the narrow channel.
By mid morning, they entered the small lake. The magnificent beast he rode had never once slackened its pace and they cut across the glassy surface like a hot knife through butter. True to his suspicions, they made directly for the far shore, not the outlet. The beast obviously knew where it did or did not fit. The giant lizard lumbered ashore at the site of a small village of thatched huts. The village looked deserted and the beast bellowed a horrific roar. Zormat dismounted and patting the beast’s neck said, “Thank you friend. Now go find some food.” The lizard grumbled and turned back to the water, looking back to the village once longingly, before sliding back into the lake. It was obviously disappointed at finding the shore deserted.
The Arkan drew his sword and, resting the blade on his shoulder, proceeded into the village. The sword glowed deep red, imbued with the magic of the Nameless One. Two figures stepped out from the cover of the huts. They were tall and dark skinned, with a greenish tint. They wore hide loincloths and capes of woven palm fiber and carried short spears with foot-long black iron blades. Straight black hair extended to the brow line of the vaguely ape-like faces. Some sort of goblin, it appears, though not one I’m familiar with. They look a bit like the Arkan half-goblin breeders we once had, but darker. I think this is a cross with men, Zormat surmised.
The elves of Arkus were a work in progress at the time of the Great War and became separated from their founder before learning of his breeding programs on the continent. Zormat knew nothing of the hobgoblin and half-troll races his father developed from breeding his creations to men and westmen. Here, the Adversary bred men to elves, to create fast maturing halfblood sorcerers to counter those of Sudea and bred goblins and trolls to men and westmen, to refine his creations and imbue them with more intelligence. The Arkans, with their one-eighth goblin heritage, were intended as a long-term project to create a Master Race of Elves, attuned to the wielding of dark magic. Zormat was the first of the one-eighths. To conceive him, the Adversary assumed the form of an elf and bred himself to the best specimen of the quarter-goblin females. Thus, Zormat is the original Arkan and directed the breeding of the race, in his father’s absence, himself mating with many generations of females, to assure that his father’s legacy permeated the race.
“Greetings stranger,” The first hobgoblin said in a guttural dialect of Zormat’s own language. “You bear the mark of our Lord, the Nameless God,” referring to the eight-pointed star tattooed on Zormat’s forehead, “and you bear a weapon of his power. We have never seen one tame a korkor. They are the fiercest hunters in these waters. You must have great power. What sort of being are you.”
“We call ourselves Arkans and live far across the sea from here. The beast you call a korkor is one of my father’s creations and as such, it will obey me,” he answered as he sheathed the sword. “And what sort of being are you? You look like some sort of goblin, but not any that I have seen before.”
The other two’s eyes widened in shock. “You are the son of our Lord?” the second one asked in disbelief. “Please grant us mercy Lord,” he pleaded, as the two fell to their knees and kowtowed. “We meant no disrespect in how we addressed you.”
“Please, stop groveling and answer my question. I took no insult and I may have use for you. You need not fear me, for the moment.”
The hobgoblins lifted their heads from the ground, though they remained kneeling. “We are called hobgoblins, Lord,” the first one answered. “We were bred by the Nameless God, for the Great War against the men and elves who worship the false gods.”
“Interesting, my father has been absent from our land, since his imprisonment. We are unfamiliar with what he was accomplishing elsewhere in the world. Were any other new races created by my father in these lands?”
“Living in the hills to the south and the northwest, my Lord, there are trolls. Our legends say that they were bred alongside us for the Great War and they are very different from the mountain trolls they were bred from. They are fierce and crafty warriors, Lord.”
“Do you know what races you were bred from?” Zormat asked.
The Halfblood King: Book 1 of the Chronicles of Aertu Page 4
