Ballorn took the lead with Porflax at his side. Hunter followed, holding the reins of the pony to help Stitch feel a little safer with Barden trailing behind.
“You should be careful.” Porflax paused, “Good grief, in all the excitement I didn’t get your name!”
“Ballorn. That’s Stitch on the pony and Hunter leading it. And, of course, you already know Barden.”
“Yes, unfortunately, I do,” replied Porflax. “He’s the one who I need to warn you against, Ballorn. Do not trust him. Whatever he says or does, there will be an ulterior motive for him to have aligned himself with you and your friends.”
“Such as?” Ballorn asked.
“I’m not sure,” replied Porflax. “But I’ll find out one way or another. Give me a little time and I’ll let you know what I uncover.”
“Oh, come on!” scoffed Ballorn. “He’s not much more than a kid!”
“That’s what he wants you to think,” Porflax warned him. “But have you seen him perform any spells or use any magic whatsoever?”
Ballorn shook his head, “Well, not as such. He did this thing where he had flames licking around his fingers and a few sparks, but nothing more impressive than that. I think he was just showing off, you know, trying to scare me. It didn’t work by the way.”
“Oh, any five-year-old wizard can do that. Take my word for it, Ballorn. I know wizards, centuries old, who have never managed to perfect the skills that Barden is easily capable of. It’s as if he’s already lived one life and, after re-birth, still retains all of the powers he learned in it.”
Ballorn smirked, “Really? You think that he’s managed to die and be born again?”
“Of course not. I was simply trying to give you an idea of how powerful he is! I might look a bit odd, but I’m not a loony!”
Ballorn took a deep breath, “Well,” he said, exhaling loudly, “we’ll find that out soon enough, won’t we!” he grinned.
Porflax chuckled, “Yes, I suppose you will.”
“So, how long have you known him?” asked Ballorn.
“Too long,” sighed Porflax. “Let’s think now. The first time I saw him in Reiggan was about five years ago. Scrawny little wretch with pimples and bad breath, and those were his good points. He has a knack for annoying people by simply being in the same room. I don’t remember him having a single friend in all the time he’s been there.”
“What’s Reiggan?” asked Ballorn.
Porflax eyed him briefly, “You seem the sort of person who can be trusted,” he said, “we’re not supposed to mention it to outsiders, you see. They’re very strict about that.”
“Who are?” asked Ballorn, still none the wiser as to what Reiggan was.
“It’s… well, it’s kind of a retreat for wizards,” said Porflax. “Although a few of them are starting to refer to it as a fortress. Makes it sound far too sinister if you ask me.”
“And who are they?” Ballorn repeated.
“We thought it best to have a council to keep control of the comings and goings, it is quite a large place and they wanted to make sure that all wizards would obey any rules that were imposed. So, we chose a select few of the oldest and wisest wizards to make the rules and ensure that they were adhered to.”
“Sounds like a right rigmarole. Can’t you wizards keep yourselves in check? Do you need someone to make rules for you to stick by?”
“Absolutely!” Porflax replied adamantly. “There are certain wizards who would enslave anyone they came across simply because they could. They would use dark magic to rule over many lands on this world, Ballorn! But there is no need for concern, the rest of us will make sure that that never happens.”
“Glad to hear it,” chuckled Ballorn.
“Ballorn,” called Hunter. “The light is failing. I think we should find somewhere to camp. I’ll go on ahead and see if I can find somewhere dry.”
Ballorn waved his hand.
“If we’re sleeping in these swamps tonight,” grumbled Stitch, “we’re having two campfires! And I’m sleeping between ‘em. Anything that comes near me in the night is going to get a flaming torch up its jacksey!”
Ballorn looked confused.
“Something wrong?” asked Porflax.
“I don’t know,” replied Ballorn. “This might sound strange, but I’m getting a real urge to do some cooking!”
Hunter returned a few minutes later, “We’re in luck,” he called down from above. “Just up ahead there’s a raised area, nice and dry for us to spend the night.”
Soon they were busy setting up camp. Stitch scampered around grabbing anything that would burn, he was determined to have his two fires. “It’s not enough!” he grumbled, and promptly tried in vain to grab at the overhanging branches in his frenzied attempt to gather more fuel.
“Would you like some help with that?” Hunter asked, smiling at the tailor.
“We need more firewood!” Stitch replied, panting. “No matter how much I jump, I can’t quite reach.”
Hunter immediately leapt into the lower branches and, drawing his hunting knife, began to hack some of the smaller limbs and pass them carefully down to Stitch.”
“Excellent!” Stitch cried with glee. “This should keep all the monsters away.”
Ballorn smiled at him, “There are no monsters in the swamp, Stitch, only animals.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Porflax said gruffly as he stared at Barden.
“Enough!” Ballorn snapped. “You may not like him, Porflax, but you’ll just have to accept that he’s a part of this group. He’s done nothing wrong.” He thought for a moment, “Apart from passing himself off as a cooper for five years, but nothing that has endangered us in any way,” he added. “Keep an eye on him if you must. Stay awake all night and watch his every move if it makes you feel better, I honestly don’t care! But stop having a dig at him in front of us all the time!”
“Who’s hungry?” Hunter asked, breaking the tension.
“Ah, funny you should ask that,” Ballorn said enthusiastically. “I was wondering, did you pack any herbs amongst the provisions? Only I’ve had this idea…”
After a sumptuous meal which Ballorn had insisted on preparing, they all settled close to the fires. None of them was quite sure what kind of meat it was that Hunter had unpacked and felt that it would be impolite to ask. But once Ballorn had added a few select herbs and spices, they agreed that it was one of the most delicious dishes with which they had ever been presented.
“Has it always been a passion of yours?” Porflax asked, “Cooking, I mean?”
Ballorn shook his head, “No, not at all. I’ve always been able to throw a decent enough stew in the pot, but you couldn’t call it a passion, and it never tasted as good as what I just made. After all, it was only for me, so it didn’t really matter if it wasn’t quite right.”
Stitch wasn’t paying much attention, too engrossed in tenaciously tending the two campfires. He was determined to not let the flames fall below a certain level. “Got to keep them out,” he kept mumbling, glancing up occasionally at the mist that was beginning to form around them.
“You’re quite safe, Stitch,” Hunter said quietly. “Look, I have my bow right beside me should we need it.”
Stitch did not look away from the fire, “Didn’t work against that woodle though, did it?” he said grumpily. “If he hadn’t come along, I wouldn’t be here now. Just leave me be, I know how to protect myself against those horrible things now!” Reaching into his pocket, he took out a pinch of salt, “And my pockets are full just in case.”
“It needs to be ground into a powder,” Barden reminded him. “Would you like me to do it for you?”
Stitch glared at him, “That’s it, you just make fun of old Stitch. Can’t even grind up a bit of salt to stop himself being eaten by monsters!”
Barden smiled gently at him, “Stitch, I have always been your friend. I would never mock you.”
“You’re not my friend!” growled Stit
ch. “Dannard was my friend and you took him away from me!” He pointed at Barden, his hand shaking, “You just stay away from me, you hear?”
Porflax raised his eyebrows as he looked at Ballorn, “As I said, he has a knack.”
The rest of the evening was spent with Porflax regaling them with tales of his many adventures, as he had travelled extensively throughout his long life. Some of his tales were amusing, some exciting, some awe-inspiring and others, to be frank, a little far-fetched. However, it helped to pass the time and soon they were all settling down for a good night’s rest, but not before Stitch had added a few more branches to the fires.
***
Ballorn opened his eyes, slightly startled by whatever was prodding his shoulder. Porflax placed his finger to his lips and pointed to the other side of the camp. Ballorn saw a shadowy silhouette disappear into the mist and gave Porflax a puzzled look.
“Barden,” whispered the old wizard. “I told you he was up to something. Who would venture into the swamp at night alone, unless they had something to hide?”
“Maybe he needs to…” Ballorn jerked his head to one side, “… you know. He’s hardly going to do that with all of us watching!”
“He wouldn’t slink off like that just because he needs to pee, Ballorn. Would you? Of course you wouldn’t, you’d want someone else to know where you’d gone in case you got into trouble.”
“What are you going to do?” Ballorn asked, sleepily.
“I’ll follow him of course. You go back to sleep and I’ll let you know what happens in the morning, unless I don’t come back,” he sniggered. “Then you’ll definitely know that Barden has bumped me off to cover his tracks.”
The wizard moved away quietly and Ballorn laid his head back down, “Ruddy wizards,” he mumbled, “wish I’d never met either of them.”
CHAPTER 19
“Now you’re absolutely certain there’s one in there?”
“How many more times, Fellis? I saw it go in there just before dawn!” He thought for a moment, “Do you think they’re afraid of the light?”
“They aren’t afraid of anything, Asdor! Unfortunately, I don’t think they’re stupid either. Being the size that they are, it must be easier for them to use the darkness to their advantage.”
“How are we going to do this?” asked Gelbran. “Do we lure it out like we did with the first one, or do we head into its lair and hope it’s sleeping? I must admit that I’d be far happier to catch the thing off guard.”
“I have a couple of ideas,” said Asdor. “What if there was a way of bringing the roof of the cave down on it? That way, we’d be in no danger at all.”
“Not a bad idea,” replied Gelbran, considering his suggestion. “But, if we made any noise it would be on us in a flash, then there’s the risk that we may also be squashed. But if it worked, and we did manage to get out, even if the dragon isn’t crushed, at least there is the chance that it would be trapped.”
Fellis laughed, “You’ve had a good idea, for a change. What was the second one?”
“I go in and scout around on my own whilst you wait by the entrance. I find out whether or not my first idea is a good one and if the dragon discovers me, I keep it occupied, allowing you to attack it from behind.”
“What!” exclaimed Fellis, “You’re saying that if it all goes wrong, you’ll use yourself as live bait?”
“Exactly,” replied Asdor. “What’s the worst that could happen? I’ll get roasted or frozen for a few seconds! Regardless of what sort it is, I’ll be turned into a dragon! Imagine! It’ll have you lot charging toward it but will never suspect that one of its own kind is about to attack from behind.”
“Have you gone completely insane!” cried Gelbran, “Do you think I would risk leaving you to face a dragon alone?”
Fellis peered at Asdor, “No, Gelbran, he’s not insane. He’s a crafty swine, that’s what he is! That’s the whole idea, isn’t it, Asdor? You deliberately want to be turned into a dragon!”
Gelbran was horrified, “Asdor, surely not!” he exclaimed.
Asdor shrugged his shoulders, “Can’t you see?” he smiled. “It makes perfect sense. If we have to keep going after these things, what better way is there than to be one? Think about it. As a dragon, I’d be immune to dragon fire, so none of us would ever be in danger again.”
“And what if you turn into a frost dragon, do you think you’d be immune to dragon fire then?”
Asdor wrinkled his nose, “To be honest, I hadn’t really given it that much thought.”
“You haven’t given it any thought!” Fellis yelled, “You’re a blockhead, Asdor. What made you think that either of us would ever agree to a stupid plan like that?”
“Because, if I can’t convince you to let me do it today, I’ll do it another time when you’re not there to stop me,” he sighed.
“And what of your future?” Gelbran bellowed. “You’ll never have a wife, so there’ll be no children to carry on your family name if we don’t find a cure!”
Asdor pointed at his own face, “Have you had a good look at this lately?” he asked. “Seriously! What kind of girl would want to marry this?”
Neither Gelbran nor Fellis answered.
“Exactly!” exclaimed Asdor with a shudder. “The ugly ones! No thank you very much, I’d rather take my chances as a dragon than be married to someone as repulsive as I am! Just think how hideous our kids would be!”
Fellis threw her arms around him, “But you’re our friend, you can’t sacrifice yourself like this. What if the dragon decides to eat you instead of using fire or frost?”
“It’ll be doing me a favour,” he laughed. “After all, I’ve got two choices, a few seconds of being chomped on or a lifetime of pain being married to an ugly woman! I’ll choose option one, thank you very much.”
Gelbran sat on the floor, rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands, “You do realise…” he began, “… that the transformation may be permanent?”
Asdor, still smiling, nodded.
“We have no idea whether you will remain as yourself once you become a dragon, Asdor. It may change you over time. You may become the very thing that we are defending against, and if that happens…”
“Then you’ll have to kill me too,” said Asdor, finishing his sentence. “I know that, Gelbran. But as we’ve seen with Cordain, I will remain as myself for at least a while. And I, Asdor, your friend, will be by your side to destroy as many dragons as possible until that decision has to be made.”
They all turned to face the cave. Asdor patted Gelbran gently on the shoulder, “You just wait there a while.” As he walked away, he called back to them, “I’ll be back before you know it.”
Fellis leaned on Gelbran’s shoulder and whispered frantically, “We’re not really going to let him do this are we? Tell me you have a plan to get him out of there.”
Gelbran lowered his head, “You heard him as clearly as I did. If he doesn’t do it now, he’ll try it later when he’s alone. We may at least be able to offer him some support if this goes badly. If he does it alone, who knows what the outcome could be?”
“I do!” exclaimed Fellis, “He either turns into a dragon or he dies trying to become one! This is madness, Gelbran. We have to stop him!”
Gelbran glanced up but could no longer see his friend. However, it took only a few seconds before he saw, emerging swiftly from a dense patch of long grass, a large grey wolf. It seemed that Asdor had thought this out thoroughly before suggesting it to Gelbran. Cordain had taken the same form when he had faced the dragon responsible for his change. Perhaps Asdor believed that by mimicking Cordain’s actions he would have a better chance of success? The wolf paused, glanced back… then disappeared into the gloom of the cave.
A few minutes passed. Fellis gripped Gelbran’s arm tightly, “Do you think he’s alright?” she asked nervously. “Perhaps we should follow him!”
“No,” replied Gelbran, solemnly, “I’m afraid we will
have to let this one play out, my dear. If we go in there now, we could do more harm than good.”
“But, what if he’s already…?”
Gelbran patted her hand, “Don’t go thinking like that, little one,” he said reassuringly, “I’ve known Asdor all my life. Trust me. Somehow, he’ll make this work.”
Their blood ran cold as they heard the roar. With eyes fixed on the cave, both of their hearts skipped a beat as they saw the eruption of flame billowing from its mouth. Would Asdor emerge as a dragon, or was the real dragon simply roaring in triumph having dispatched the intruder to its lair?
“We should have gone back and fetched the others,” sobbed Fellis. “How did we let him talk us into this? If only…”
The roaring began again, but it was clear to them both that there was now more than one dragon hidden in the darkness. There were crashing noises as something heavy was driven into cold stone walls. Flame erupted frequently, but it was too deep within the cave and revealed nothing of what was happening. They edged closer, hoping to get at least a glimpse of what was unfolding. Although still some distance away, they reeled back as the two dragons crashed through the rocks at the side of the cave mouth, raking and gnashing at one another, both engulfed in flame.
“We must help him!” screeched Fellis.
“I know,” Gelbran replied angrily, “but which one is Asdor?”
The dragons rolled around, each attempting to outdo the other. Suddenly one of them managed to pin the other by the wing and hold it securely before tearing a huge chunk of flesh from the other’s throat. It then grasped the wing, sinking its claws in and tearing it clean from its opponent’s body before glancing at the stunned vikkery, “The ugly one, of course!” it roared. “Fancy giving a dragon a hand?”
***
“Ballorn, can you hear me?”
“Of course I can hear you, I’ve only just closed my eyes.”
“I suggest that you open them again, my friend. We have much to discuss.”
Mark of The Nibrilsiem: Set before The Ascension of Karrak (The Karrak Trilogy Book 4) Page 18
