Mark of The Nibrilsiem: Set before The Ascension of Karrak (The Karrak Trilogy Book 4)

by Robert J Marsters

  Dannard tugged at Hunter’s sleeve, “I don’t know what that thing just said to him, but ‘e don’t look too happy about it,” he whispered.

  Peering around Ballorn, the dragon tilted its head. He knew that the nemilar could not understand what he was saying. He however, clearly understood every word that passed their lips and could bear it no longer. Opening his jaws, he let out a rasping breath. A yellow mist surrounded the nemilar and they waved their arms frantically, trying to disperse the vapour before it melted the flesh from their bones, or worse. Stitch grabbed his nose, fearing that the smell of the dragon’s exhalation would be even more rancid than it looked. To their surprise, they neither melted nor were harmed in any way and were totally amazed that the dispersing mist actually had a faint fragrance of lavender about it. The dragon glared at them, “Now perhaps I may continue…” it said, sternly, “… without interruptions or commentary!”

  The three nemilar were shocked, they understood every word the dragon had said.

  The day wore on and soon the light began to fail. Hunter, Dannard and Stitch had moved away and built a fire, allowing Ballorn and the dragon a little privacy. Hunter and Stitch thought it best, but poor Dannard was beside himself at not being included in their conversation and one ear or the other was always cocked in the hope of overhearing what was being said.

  “Come and sit down!” hissed Hunter. “If there’s anything we need to know I’m sure Ballorn will tell us later.”

  Dannard stared wide-eyed at him. “What’s wrong with you pair!” he exclaimed. “A brackin’ dragon appears, blows snot all over us so we can understand what it’s saying, and then buggers off to have a conflab with a nemilar it reckons it saved when he were nowt but a bundle of rags under a bush! Is I the only one who don’t think it’s quite right?”

  Stitch shrugged his shoulders at Hunter, “He’s got a point you know,” he sighed. “If you were to tell this story in any inn, they’d take your ale away and show you the door, thinking you’d gone barmy.”

  “What’s more…” continued Dannard, “… how does we know this ain’t the beastie that destroyed Krevick and murdered all of our friends.”

  “We don’t,” snapped Hunter. “But if it was, do you think it would introduce itself and have a cosy little chat with Ballorn? No, it wouldn’t, it would have slaughtered us as soon as it saw us. I’ll admit that it’s an unusual state of affairs, but there’s more to this than we know. Ballorn will fill us in on the details later, of that much I’m sure.”

  ***

  “Alright, so you’re saying that it wasn’t my parents who protected me from the beasts, but you.”

  “Your mother tried, Nibrilsiem. If I had not checked that you had survived the attack, those beasts would have surely sealed your fate.”

  “Did you see it happen?”

  The dragon lowered its head. “Yes, I’m afraid I did, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

  “You couldn’t do anything! Look at the size of you, nothing could ever stand against you. You should’ve saved them!”

  “We are not allowed to interfere in the lives of others, Nibrilsiem. It is our way.”

  “Your way! How can it be your way? How do you explain me? You say you saved me, but you weren’t allowed to save my parents? What sort of creature are you?”

  “One who, ordinarily, obeys the laws of my lord,” replied the dragon.

  “Lord! What lord? Your lord would stand by and watch as simple village folk are trampled to death?”

  “That… and far worse, I am sad to say,” replied the dragon, quietly.

  “Your village,” he whispered, “it was the crystal lord himself who destroyed it and took the lives of your people.”

  “So, it was one of your kind,” roared Ballorn. “Murdering piece of filth! I’ll gut it like a fish, and mark my words dragon, if you intend to stand in my way, you’ll be first!”

  “You are a very… excitable, fellow, aren’t you,” the dragon said, calmly. “Now settle yourself, I have no intention of standing in your way. Quite the contrary, my intention is to help you.”

  Ballorn stepped back, “You want to help?” he asked, suspiciously. “I’ve just told you I’m going to kill your dragon lord, and you want to help? What’s in it for you? Do you get to take his place?”

  “You really do have a very low opinion of me, don’t you?”

  “Why would you expect anything else?” growled Ballorn. “The only one of your kind I’ve encountered tried to kill me! But that wasn’t enough, it decided to destroy my whole village as well!”

  “Ah well, that was your fault, I’m afraid.”

  Ballorn stood agog, “How is it my fault?”

  “When I say, your fault, I do not mean you are to blame,” the dragon assured him. “Only, he had not intended on heading in that direction until you came along. You see, he followed your scent and it took him straight to your home.”

  “So that’s my fault!” roared Ballorn. “How was I to know there was a murderous dragon skulking around, it’s not like it came out and introduced itself before it attacked me!”

  “No, his manners are lacking somewhat of late,” groaned the dragon. “I blame the crystal.”

  Ballorn glared at him, “This conversation is going nowhere,” he growled. “I’m done with you and your nonsense! Tell your dragon lord, when you see him, that I’m coming after him,” he pointed at the dragon, his arm shaking in anger. “You tell him, when I find him, I’m taking his head as a trophy!”

  “No, Nibrilsiem. When you find him he will kill you,” the dragon sighed, looking to the other nemilar, “and any who accompany you.”

  “He might, but rest assured, dragon, I won’t go down without a fight, and neither will they!”

  “You could defeat him you know. Now don’t interrupt,” said the dragon, holding up a claw. “You already have the clues that would provide you with an advantage. However, I am surprised that the stupid one has come up with the most sensible suggestion so far.”

  Ballorn glanced over to where the others were seated around the campfire. Could the dragon be referring to Dannard’s idea of the silver armour? How would he know? Surely, he could not have heard them? They were at least two miles away when they had spoken of it.

  “Ah, there it is,” laughed the dragon. “It’s all coming together for you now isn’t it? It is the crystal lord’s only weakness, alas it will not protect you fully. Magical attacks can be nullified, but physical attacks cannot.”

  “Silver,” said Ballorn. “You’re talking about silver. I’ve already told this lot, you can’t get a good enough edge on silver. There’s no way it would cut through a dragon’s scales. In fact, I can’t think of anything that would be sharp enough to cut through them!”

  “That’s because there is nothing that could cut through them,” replied the dragon.

  Ballorn stared at him. It was a little unnerving, and he wasn’t completely sure that he was correct, but the dragon seemed to be smiling. “So, I can get close, but what then? How do I beat it?”

  “Please, Nibrilsiem, I implore you! Use the brain inside that disproportionate head of yours! If something cannot be cut, then…”

  “You have to smash it!” exclaimed Ballorn. “I don’t need anything sharp, I need something blunt, and heavy… very heavy!”

  The dragon’s smile grew wider, “See, not so difficult was it?”

  “So, you’re saying…”

  “No, no… I’m not saying anything!” interrupted the dragon, nervously. “I would be guilty of treason were I to impart upon you information that would lead to the harm or death of another dragon.”

  Ballorn’s eyes widened, “You’re scared of him,” he breathed.

  The dragon lowered his head, “Yes, I will admit, I am. Even we, his own kind, are not safe from his cruelty and wrath. Several of my friends have met their demise at the claws of the crystal one, for he is above our laws and free to murder at will if he so chooses.”


  “That’s… that’s… dreadful!”

  “Yes, Nibrilsiem, it is. Once, he was beloved and admired by all dragons. But the light from the crystal has begun to blacken and, with it, so has his heart.”

  “So, he’s gone nuts then!”

  Ballorn glared at Dannard, who quickly lowered his head.

  “You must rest now, Nibrilsiem, but before you do…” the dragon lowered his head and, once more, exhaled a vapour that surrounded Ballorn. “When you awaken, your leg will be fully healed. Return to your village, craft what it is you need to enable your revenge. There is ample time so do not rush and skimp in its construction. Return to me when it is complete, and I shall bestow upon you one final gift.”

  ***

  They rose early the following day. Ballorn tapped gingerly against his leg. The pain was gone. Removing the brace, he clambered to his feet and stamped on the ground a few times. His leg, as the dragon had promised it would be, was completely healed.

  “Full of tricks, your dragon friend,” said Hunter, smiling as he handed Ballorn some food. “It’s only nuts and berries, I’m afraid. Very slim pickings around here this morning.”

  Ballorn grunted and nodded. “Better than nothing,” he mumbled.

  “You never said much last night, Ballorn, did the dragon tell you something that we should be concerned about?”

  Ballorn looked up at Hunter and smiled, “Him? No, he never told me a thing,” he replied, chuckling. “However, I have had an idea. Do you know of any silver mines around here?”

  “Silver?” asked Stitch. “What do you need silver for?”

  “I’ve got some,” said Ballorn as he glanced at the tailor. “But not enough to make a full suit of armour, and I’m going to need a lot more than that for something else I’ve got in mind.”

  “Why not go all the way and make a shield to complete the set,” laughed Hunter. “May as well while the forge is hot.”

  “How much silver will you need though, only Dannard…?”

  They looked at Dannard, whose eyes were as huge as dinner plates. He was glaring at Stitch and shaking his head vigorously, “No, no, no… shut your brackin’ face! Ignore ‘im, it’s only a few coins I was keeping for a rainy day. You know, a bit o’ savings in case times gets a bit lean,” he laughed nervously.

  Hunter grinned, “How many is a few?” he asked.

  “Ooh, he’s got hundreds of ‘em. I remember when you asked me to help you count them, Dannard.” Stitch laughed, “We kept losing track, remember, but it was typical that it was always after we’d gotten past six hundred.”

  Ballorn raised his eyebrows, “You miserly little oik!” he said, his voice higher than usual, “You always said you were broke, when you had all that stashed away! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

  “I isn’t a miser, I uses it to help other folks what ain’t got much, them as really needs it! I doesn’t keep it for myself and never has done! Ain’t my fault that most of ‘em is doing alright lately and don’t need no help!”

  “Perhaps not!” exclaimed Ballorn, “But it never stopped you pleading poverty and complaining every time you wanted the hoops making for your poxy barrels!”

  “My barrels is not poxy!” exclaimed Dannard, “They is the bestest quality barrels what money can buy, so there!”

  “I swear, if…”

  “There’s one near Cheadleford,” announced Hunter, raising his voice. The others looked at him confused, having forgotten what started the argument. “There’s a silver mine about ten miles from Cheadleford. It’s a bit of a jaunt, three or four days to be precise.”

  Stitch shook his head, “How is three or four, precise?” he asked.

  “If I were by myself, it would be three,” replied Hunter. “If Ballorn’s leg holds out, it would still be three. However, for the gentile members of the nemilar, it would probably be four.”

  “So, you think me and Stitch is a couple o’ feggers, that we’ll slow everything down?” snorted Dannard.

  “All I’m saying…”

  “Yes!” exclaimed Ballorn, “You’ll slow us down!” He pointed at Dannard, “You’re the only nemilar I’ve ever seen sitting down to make a barrel, and Stitch has to sit down to do his tailoring. Your legs aren’t strong enough to keep up with us, simple as that!”

  “I’ll try my best,” Stitch assured him. “But I do understand. I couldn’t possibly stand up to work, my seams would be all over the place if I did that.”

  “It’s only a day!” exclaimed Hunter, “Stop making such a fuss.”

  “But it’s another day out here waiting to be gotted by a beastie what wants us for dinner, ain’t it? Another day as we could fall off a cliff or down a big hole as we can’t get out of, so we starve to death. No, I isn’t doin’ that!” Dannard glanced sheepishly at Ballorn, “You can have loan of my coins,” he muttered. “But I wants ‘em back,” he added, wagging his finger at the blacksmith, “When this is all done, I wants them back, do you hear me?”

  Ballorn stared at Dannard in disbelief. “So, I melt down your coins and make armour from the silver, Then if we survive the encounter with the crystal dragon, which I very much doubt we will, you want me to re-forge the silver back into coins?”

  “Well it don’t have to be exactly the same, but as long as it’s coin-shaped and about the same size.”

  Ballorn glanced at Hunter. Rubbing his eyes, he sighed, “That settles that then, we’re headed for Cheadleford.”

  “What!” exclaimed Dannard. “But why? I just said as you could have my coins, what more could you want?”

  Ballorn waved his hand in dismissal of Dannard’s questions. “Hunter, do you know where this silver mine is?”

  “It’s past the village itself, about ten miles, as I said. But, it’s tough going, Ballorn, the rock-face it’s set in is a perilously steep climb.”

  “Excuse me, Ballorn,” said Stitch, “I was just wondering. If we travel to Cheadleford, how are you going to pay for the silver? What’s more, how are you going to transport it back to Krevick?”

  “I’m not going to pay for it!” replied Ballorn, shrugging. “They’re going to give it to me. And, they’re going to help me bring it back.”

  Dannard burst out laughing, “Oh yeah, they’re gonna do that ain’t they! S’cuse me, can I have a couple of hundred pounds of silver for free? Oh, and while you’re at it, sling it on your back and carry it home for me will you?”

  Hunter nodded his head. “He does have a point, Ballorn. You’re going to need a heck of a lot of silver to make a full suit of armour, you’re not really expecting them to just hand it over, are you?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m expecting, Hunter, and more,” replied Ballorn. “Come on, we may as well just carry on from here. There’s nothing worth going back for in Krevick, anything we collect in the form of provisions will be used up by the time we get back here anyway.”

  “Ooh no, we can’t do that!” protested Stitch. “I’ve not got my travel cloak and I’ll need it if we’re going that far. My lovely jacket will be ruined if it rains.”

  “You’ll have to survive without it, I’m afraid,” smiled Ballorn. “It’s not cold and I doubt we’ll have any rain for a while, you’ll be fine. Trust me,” he added, squeezing the tailor’s shoulder.

  CHAPTER 8

  Dannard and Stitch surprised Ballorn and Hunter. Other than the occasional concerned whining from Stitch about his poor jacket, they complained very little and managed to reach the outskirts of Cheadleford at the end of their third day.

  Dannard curled his lip, “Bit crappy lookin’ for a village, ain’t it.”

  Hunter stood next to him, “It was never meant to exist, that’s why. It was only supposed to be a settlement until the silver in the mine ran out, but there was far more than anyone had expected. The settlers began to build permanent homes, that meant there was an opportunity for them to open various businesses and trade with the miners. They’ve only been here a couple of years, Dannard, s
o don’t be too hard on them.”

  “If you say so,” replied Dannard. “But look at ‘em all, look at the way they is all glarin’ at us! They don’t look too friendly to me.”

  “They’ve had to put up with a lot,” sighed Hunter. “Every vagabond, thief and bandit headed here when they heard that silver had been struck. They’ve fought off every insurgent who tried to take what was theirs by right. I doubt that there is a single person who has not lost at least one family member to the scum that was drawn here.”

  “Good evening,” came a sudden cry from a nemilar who approached them. He was rather portly to say the least and Stitch covered his face to hide the smirk as the stranger waddled toward them. “Hunter,” he continued, “how nice to see you again, and with friends! What brings you to our humble little village, do you have fresh meat and pelts to trade perchance?”

  “No, not this time, Senn,” replied Hunter. “Our business here is far more important, I’m afraid. Allow me to introduce my friends, Ballorn, Stitch and Dannard,” he said gesturing to each in turn. “My friends, this is Senn Pinom. He was chosen by the villagers to be the head of the town council, here in Cheadleford.”

  Dannard scratched his head, “What’s one ‘o them?” he asked.

  Senn leaned forward slightly and smiled, “Sorry?”

  “What’s a cows… thingy, what he just said?”

  “Ah, you mean a council!” laughed Senn. “It’s a group of nemilar who gather together in order to decide what is best for the village and all who dwell in it.”

  “Bit thick your villagers then?” snorted Dannard. “Can’t decide for themselves what’s good and what ain’t?”

  Senn looked a little uncomfortable at the slight on the villagers, “Hunter,” he said, deciding not to go any deeper into the subject, “you look worn out. Would you care to join me in the tavern? My invitation is extended to your friends as well, of course. The village may not look much, but our hospitality will, one day, be legendary!”

  They followed Senn toward the tavern. Stitch could not resist and mimicked his waddle, making sure that none of the locals were watching, of course.