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

by Robert J Marsters

  “Time,” Hunter called back to him. “That’s all you need, Ballorn, a bit more time. You’ll see. Come over to the wagon, your surprise is over here.”

  Ballorn was glad to reach the wagon and grabbed at the board on the side, which promptly came off in his hand. He looked sheepishly at Hunter as he tried to replace it, but even that did not go well. He slapped it as gently as he could but ended up knocking the wagon three feet sideways. He cleared his throat, trying his best not to make eye contact with Hunter, which would have been difficult as he was now watching Dannard and Stitch who had been concealed behind the wagon and were now fleeing to a new hiding place.

  Hunter held up his hands, palms facing Ballorn, “Just drop it on the ground,” he suggested, “I’ll deal with it later.”

  Ballorn shrugged and let the board fall. “What’s this surprise then?” he asked.

  Hunter pointed.

  Ballorn gazed in awe. What looked like an anvil with a sapling for a handle stood on the ground ahead surrounded by a suit of magnificent armour. Strangely, he felt more stable and focussed than he had since his awakening. He walked slowly toward the fascinating display, feeling more confident with each step. Getting closer, he realised it was a hammer, but it was the most immense hammer he had ever seen and even the handle seemed to have been forged from pure silver. He turned to face Hunter.

  “All for you!” his friend smiled. “Everything you need to defeat a dragon. More importantly, everything you need to ensure your survival.”

  Reaching the centre of the circle, Ballorn stared at the hammer. The head was polished to mirror-like perfection, the handle as smooth as satin with ancient runes carved deeply into it. He wrapped his fingers around it. Despite its size it seemed as light as a feather as he lifted it from the ground with one hand. He stroked it lovingly, fascinated by the magical bond he never even knew existed.

  Something seemed familiar to him. He glanced over at the cart and then at Hunter. “Where’s my anvil?” he asked.

  Hunter looked a little uncomfortable.

  “Hunter, is this my anvil?”

  “Keldenar said it would be perfect for what you needed.”

  “But where’s the bick?”

  Hunter looked confused, “The what?”

  “The bick, the horn?”

  “The pointy bit on the side,” shouted Stitch, quite proud of the fact that he knew what Ballorn was talking about.

  “Oh that!” said Hunter. “Keldenar said he couldn’t possibly leave that on there, you might kill one of the dragons by accident hitting it with that! You shouldn’t have a problem with the weight though, the handle is only a silver-covered sapling.”

  “But look at it!” exclaimed Ballorn. “The hardy hole and the pritchel hole have been filled in, it’s useless now!”

  “But look at it, Ballorn, it’s beautiful,” shouted Stitch. “Much nicer than that ugly old anvil.”

  Ballorn thought for a moment as he stared at the hammer. He bared his teeth as he held it aloft and roared, “NIBRILSIEM!”

  ***

  “They’re gone! What do you mean, they’re gone? How can they be gone?”

  “They just stopped!”

  “It must have changed direction, try looking somewhere else!”

  “I’ve searched everywhere, there’s nothing there!”

  “Well search harder, they can’t have just disappeared!”

  “I want to find this thing as much as you do, Gelbran! I’ve been tracking the foot and hoofprints of beasts for nigh on sixty years, do you really think I could miss ones that are ten feet long and six inches deep?”

  Gelbran looked at Asdor, stamping his foot in frustration, “We were close!” he raged, shaking his fist. “I know we were close and now the trail has gone cold! It may take weeks or even months before we find another one to follow!”

  “If at all,” added Asdor. “You do realise these things can fly, don’t you?” he said, flapping his arms. “That’s why the trail ended so abruptly.”

  “You think it took to the air?” asked Gelbran.

  “I don’t think,” replied Asdor, laughing. “I know. The last prints were deeper than the others, must have been caused by it launching itself from the ground. If you look up there…” he pointed at the trees ahead, “… you’ll notice there are a few of the smaller branches broken from those trees, and it happened recently. I’ve inspected them and the stumps are still clean. It must have clipped them as it flew past.”

  “Wonderful!” exclaimed Gelbran, “How are we supposed to follow it now that it’s taken flight?”

  “Well we do have one thing that we never had before,” replied Asdor.

  “Which is?” Gelbran asked, sceptically.

  “Have you tried turning yourself into a hawk yet, Gelbran?”

  Gelbran raised an eyebrow, “Your point being?”

  “You can see for miles, much farther than you can in the form of anything else.”

  “So what are you suggesting, we all turn into birds and fly around until we find the dragon?”

  “Kind of,” replied Asdor, “I’m suggesting that those of us who can, because somehow we are all limited as to what we can transform into, search for a dragon, any dragon. I know we all want to find the one that killed our people, but it’s possible that that may not be feasible. When it attacked it didn’t choose which ones of us to slaughter, it killed all within reach. I suggest we treat their kind with the same contempt. Let’s kill any we encounter, better still, let’s kill them all.”

  Gelbran stared long and hard at his friend, thoughts of revenge whirling through his mind. “Agreed,” he said quietly. “We kill them all.”

  The next few days were… interesting. The vikkery camped where the dragon had taken flight, occasionally glancing at the deep prints made by its claws as a reminder of why they were doing what they were doing. They were practising. They huddled around discussing what would be the best form to take if they were facing a dragon and their progress was remarkable.

  Bears and wolves and the like, were ruled out. In fact, anything with fur was not an option. If they met with a fire breather, the fur would ignite far easier than a thick hide or scales. Four of the vikkery had perfected the form of a glamoch, surpassing even that by changing into one double the size of a real one.

  “We can charge at their legs and bring ‘em down for the kill,” growled one of them.

  “And if we fail,” laughed another, “at least the survivors will have a nice roast dinner!”

  Asdor screwed up his face but could not help laughing, “You’re sick!” he chuckled.

  “Alright, that’s enough,” said Gelbran, quietly. “Any other ideas?”

  A young female raised her hand nervously, “I have one idea,” she said quietly. “It’s not brilliant, but it might help.”

  “Go on then, Fellis, what is it?”

  Fellis lost her nerve, “No, it doesn’t matter. It was a silly idea anyway. Forget I said anything.”

  Gelbran smiled at her, “Now you listen to me, young lady,” he said. “There can be no thought, plan or idea suggested in this meeting that isn’t silly. We’re talking about slaying dragons, who’s to say your idea won’t the best of the silly?”

  Fellis smiled shyly at Gelbran, “Alright then,” she said. “But it’ll be easier to show you than to tell you. I’ve got a couple of ideas you see.”

  “This is going to be dreadful,” muttered Asdor.

  Gelbran nudged him hard in the ribs with his elbow. “When you’re ready, Fellis,” he smiled.

  Fellis backed away and closed her eyes. She began to change shape and grow. Feathers sprouted all over her body and her arms became huge wings, which she flapped a few times before drawing them in to her sides. She shuddered slightly for a moment, and her transformation was complete. Before the rest of the vikkery stood a ten-foot tall falcon complete with razor-sharp talons and a beak that looked capable of tearing the toughest flesh.

  The vikkery wer
e dumbstruck.

  “I told you it wasn’t a very good idea,” said Fellis as she changed back. “I should have stayed quiet, only I heard you talking about dragons being able to fly and I thought I could move faster and bring one to the ground if I was quick enough. Sorry. I’ll shut up now.” A little tear appeared in the corner of her eye.

  The vikkery began to applaud and cheer.

  “That was incredible!” shrieked Asdor. “Talk about inventive, nobody else thought of that. Fellis, you’re a genius!”

  Fellis wiped away the tear and stared, wide-eyed, at the reaction from the group. “Really?” she asked.

  “Absolutely!” exclaimed Gelbran. “What was your other idea?”

  Fellis laughed excitedly, “Well, it’s a bit similar to the first one, but without the feathers,” she giggled. “Would you like to see?”

  Cheers rang out from the crowd.

  “Alright,” said Fellis, “but this one’s easier if I start like this.” She got to her hands and knees and, once again, closed her eyes.

  The transformation started as before, only this time there were no feathers and her skin began to turn green until the distinct shape of scales could be seen appearing all over her body. She grew and grew, until she was even larger than when she had changed into a falcon. Her hands and feet became three-toed claws and with a final shudder, leathery wings erupted from her back. This time, she was a dragon. Opening her jaws, she revealed huge fangs and the black forked tongue struck dread into the hearts of the vikkery observing the spectacle.

  She changed back and waited for the reaction from her friends and family, who simply sat open-mouthed in awe.

  “I tried to breathe fire the first time I did that one,” she said, slightly embarrassed, “but I just made myself sick.”

  Gelbran walked toward her, hands outstretched. “You are a marvel, my dear,” he sighed. “I am confident that not a single vikkery would deny that you are the most gifted amongst us.”

  Fellis allowed him to take her hands, “You’re just being nice,” she said quietly. “But thank you for letting me try. I bet everyone else has much better ideas than mine.”

  “Well I haven’t,” Gelbran confessed.

  “Nor me,” called Asdor.

  “Oh, Gelbran,” laughed Fellis, “I bet you’ve got loads of ideas.”

  “No, just the one,” he admitted. “And it’s nowhere near as good as either of yours.”

  “Let’s see it then,” shouted Asdor. “What was that you said about silly ideas?”

  “No, no,” protested Gelbran. “We are here to make sure everyone else is safe, we’ll concentrate on them first,” said Gelbran, trying to avoid putting on his own display.

  “Ah, but that’s the point, we protect each other,” said Asdor, enjoying teasing Gelbran, perhaps a little too much. “Your efforts could help save someone else’s life. I’m sure everyone is beside themselves with anticipation and longing to see the shapeshifting abilities of our leader.”

  Gelbran smiled at him through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna kick your backside for this, Asdor. You just wait!” he whispered.

  The crowd began to cheer his name Gelbran, Gelbran, Gelbran.

  He held up his hands, nodding to them, then took a deep breath. He began to grow but did not change shape. Now fifteen feet tall, he looked down at them. Reaching across he gripped one of the smaller trees, tearing the roots from the ground. His voice boomed as he spoke, “Would any dragon dare face me now?” he bellowed. “I’ll crush it’s skull with a single blow!”

  The gathering erupted in cheers and applause once more. Many displays were put on that evening, admittedly some more successful than others. The changeling game continued for some time, but it gave them a brief respite from the memories of the horrors they had already seen and, perhaps, the thoughts of the ones they were still yet to witness.

  CHAPTER 14

  “Is it comfortable?” Stitch called from a distance.

  “It’s alright,” replied Ballorn, raising his voice slightly.

  “No, that’s not good enough,” said Stitch. “It has to be comfortable! I’ll make any necessary adjustments, just tell me what you need.”

  “I just said it’s fine!” Ballorn yelled, testily. “Will he ever shut up about this blasted shirt?” he asked Hunter in a quiet voice.

  “I have to give him his due,” chuckled Hunter. “He did put in a lot of time to make sure it was finished before you had to wear your new armour.”

  “But, a padded shirt. It doesn’t seem right to me.”

  “Perhaps not, but it has to be better than bare metal rubbing against your skin.”

  “Hunter managed to collect a load of gombin feathers, that’s why it’s so soft,” called Stitch. “Don’t worry, I washed them all first in hot water, so they’re nice and clean.”

  Ballorn turned to face Stitch, “Why don’t you stop shouting and come over here?” he asked.

  “Ooh… no, I don’t think so,” replied Stitch, nervously. “I think I’ll hang on a bit, you know, until you’re used to your new… erm, arms, and things!”

  “In other words, you’re scaring the crap out of him, you freak,” yelled Dannard.

  Hunter smiled, “Charming to the last, as always,” he sniggered.

  “Do you know,” said Ballorn, “for the life of me, I can’t remember why I thought it would be a good idea to bring him along.”

  “Because you’re a good person, Ballorn, that’s why. You know he wouldn’t have lasted a day without us to protect him.”

  “Too good for my own good, that’s my problem,” snorted Ballorn.

  “I know,” laughed Hunter. “But the skill with which you hold that frown and gruff manner is something to behold, knowing it encases that big, soft heart of gold!”

  “Oh, shut it!” mumbled Ballorn.

  “Why don’t you give Stitch some praise? It might relax him a bit. Tell him the shirt’s wonderful and the most comfortable thing you’ve ever worn.”

  “Why?” grunted Ballorn. “It’s only a shirt!”

  “He worked on it for three days, Ballorn!”

  “Three days!” exclaimed Ballorn. “How could he have worked on it for three days?” He thought for a moment, “Hunter,” he asked quietly, “How long was I asleep?”

  “Five days according to those two.”

  “What! That’s not possible.”

  “It is,” replied Hunter. “Apparently, we were twitching and mumbling all the time we were asleep as well, and before you ask, neither of them understood a word we were saying. They stayed a safe distance from us the entire time.”

  “We’ve wasted almost a week, Hunter!” Ballorn began pacing, “We must leave at first light tomorrow, that wretched dragon could be anywhere by now!”

  “I know,” replied Hunter, sympathetically. “So, it’s execution is stayed for a while. Don’t worry, Ballorn, we’ll catch up with it eventually.”

  Ballorn shook his head, “Execution?” he asked slowly. “You are mistaken, my friend. There will be no execution. I do not mean to slay the dragon, I mean to capture it!”

  “What! But you said…”

  “I know what I said, Hunter, but it’s the deal I made with Keldenar. He gave me, well…” he waved his hand toward Hunter, “… us, these gifts, but only if I gave my solemn word that we would not kill any of his kind.”

  “Which makes perfect sense, because no dragon could possibly want to kill us!” Hunter exclaimed sarcastically.

  Ballorn grinned, “I know,” he said, “but I didn’t say I wouldn’t knock the living crap out of ‘em!”

  ***

  They set out the following morning as planned. Senn had graciously left them a pony and the smaller of the two carts, which now trundled behind them as they discussed what to do next.

  “The only way to find out anything will be to head to the local villages,” suggested Stitch. “Perhaps one of the locals will have seen or heard something.”

  “And what
if all the villages has been burnded to the ground?” sighed Dannard.

  “Then we’ll know we’re on the right track,” replied Hunter.

  “You know the land better than we do, Hunter,” said Ballorn. “Where do we start?”

  “Gendrim,” said Hunter. “It’s about twelve miles from here and the way is easy enough. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”

  “Gendrim it is then,” said Ballorn. “Are you two happy with that?”

  Stitch shrugged his shoulders, but Dannard as usual, couldn’t keep quiet. “Happy? Happy! How is we supposed to be happy? We has been stuck out in the wilds for over a week! Most of which you two was sleeping! We has had to fend for ourselves! We is gentle folk what is used to the finer things in life, not beasts what lives in the woods! Now we has to go into a village what is full of strangers what might want to hurt us, if the village hasn’t been squished by a plonking-great dragon… and you asks us if we’s happy? No, boulder bonce, we is not happy!”

  “We could leave you behind,” suggested Hunter. “We’d leave you the pony and cart of course,” he smiled.

  “That’s just typical!” exclaimed Dannard. “We watches over you while you is asleep to make sure nothing nasty happens to you, Stitch makes you a lovely shirt so your armour doesn’t scratch you, and you wants to abandon us out here in the…”

  “I’m happy!” squeaked Stitch. “Gendrim sounds lovely to me! I’m happy to tag along with you. Ignore Dannard, he just gets a little agitated when he hasn’t eaten for a while!”

  “I has only just had my breakf…”

  “Shut up, Dannard!” pleaded Stitch. “For goodness sake, just this once, please… shut up!”

  ***