“Are you alright?” asked Asdor, sincerely.
Keldenar opened his eyes wide, “Me? Good heavens no, I’m exhausted. Have you ever had to listen to the Nibrilsiem screaming down your ear simply because he’s riding through the clouds for the first time, or had a tailor threaten to vomit all over your freshly preened scales? Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever recover!”
“Sounds to me like you deserve a lie down and a nice rest, friend. We’ll go about our business and leave you in peace,” said Asdor, winking at Cordain.
“Yes, that sounds lovely,” sighed Keldenar, his eyelids flickering a few times before they closed. “But I’m afraid the answer is still no. You must turn back, and take the rest of the bokkery with you.”
“Vikkery,” said Asdor, correcting him.
“Yes, if they’re here you must take them as well, you wouldn’t want to leave them stranded up here would you?”
Cordain leaned close to Asdor and whispered, “We’ll just go back along the trail where he can’t see us. Look at him, he’ll be sound asleep before you know it, then we can easily sneak past.”
“Not as easily as you might think,” yawned Keldenar.
Cordain was astounded that the dragon had heard his whisper.
“Fatigue has no effect on one’s hearing you know,” continued Keldenar, his eyes still tightly shut. “I’m not trying to be difficult, but you have no idea what awaits you should you continue on your foolish quest.”
Asdor tried reasoning with Keldenar, “We understand that you have our best interests at heart, my dear dragon, however, I do not believe that our leader will be so easily dissuaded. Will you not allow him to decide the fate of his own people?”
Keldenar opened his eyes slightly, “Do you mean that he would readily put you all in danger?”
“Of course not, but he is headstrong and would probably challenge you to battle if it were the only way to pass,” said Cordain, with a certain amount of admiration.
“Ah, so he is as stupid as he is brave?” snorted Keldenar.
“He’s far from stupid!” snapped Cordain. “If it wasn’t for him, many more of us would have died instead of…”
Keldenar stared at him, “Instead of… who?” he asked.
“Instead of a couple of dragons!” replied Asdor, loudly. “Happy now? We hunt dragons! Your kind have hunted us for far too long… now we’ve turned the tables and it’s our turn to be the hunters!”
“Mmm, interesting,” Keldenar said, quietly. “Do you think you could prevail against the one whom you seek most? He is far larger and stronger than any you would have seen so far. He controls any dragon who ventures near and, although you are not true dragons, he would control you in the same way. Not only would you not harm him, you would willingly destroy any whose intention was to cause him harm.”
Cordain peered at him, “But how do we know you’re telling the truth?”
Keldenar pushed himself up to a sitting position, “You have only my word,” he replied. “I have had to abandon my friends to their fate, for I too, would turn against them if I were commanded to by him.”
“What friends?” asked Asdor.
“Friends who have a better chance of success than others who would foolishly face such a colossal enemy,” replied Keldenar. “There is one amongst them whose destiny it is to defeat him and put an end to his tyranny.”
“One?” laughed Cordain. “As if one person could win against a dragon!”
“He would have a better chance than two imitation dragons would against a real one.”
“I don’t like being threatened!” growled Asdor.
“Not a threat,” sighed Keldenar, “a fact. Face facts, dear boy, you can’t even land properly. Look at the mess you made!”
“Flying and landing aren’t the same as fighting!” snarled Asdor. “Now I suggest you get out of our way before our tempers start to fray!”
Keldenar laughed as he spread his wings. With one hefty surge, he pulled them forward. Asdor and Cordain were taken completely off guard and were blown off their feet. Scrambling to face Keldenar, they glared at him.
“You see,” said Keldenar, calmly. “I could crush you both within seconds… how long would you expect to last against one I would dare not face?”
“We’ll see!” yelled Cordain. “You won’t find it so easy when the rest of our people arrive!”
“I’m trying to help you!” exclaimed Keldenar. “Can you not see that? You have blocked the trail with a bit of snow, I’ll bring down half the mountain to prevent you from putting yourselves in danger. Turn back, turn back now!” he pleaded. “There is no need for you and yours to put yourself in harm’s way, the crystal one will be defeated!”
Realising that they would never be allowed to pass, the vikkery turned away. “You’d better be telling the truth, dragon,” Asdor called back. “Because if you’re lying, I’ll come looking for you.”
“What do we tell Gelbran?” asked Cordain.
“We tell him the truth.”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely, Cordain!” Asdor replied emphatically, “We tell him the trail is blocked because you crashed and caused a landslide that’s impassable!”
“What about the dragon, do we tell him about that?”
“I can’t see how telling him every detail would help,” replied Asdor, timidly. “Best leave that bit out, just knowing that there’s no way through is enough.”
“And what if he goes and has a look for himself?”
“You always have to look on the bleak side, don’t you!” exclaimed Asdor. “Gelbran is my closest friend, he’ll believe whatever I tell him!” He gulped, “I hope.”
CHAPTER 26
Ballorn lifted his backbag. Glancing across, he noticed the coats he had left at the foot of the bed the night before. “Well we won’t be needing those any more,” he muttered, “Might as well leave them here.”
Focussed on his packing, he had not noticed Zolban, who now stood in the doorway. “You may not need yours,” smiled the old wizard, “but your friends will be glad of theirs. Take them with you, it gets more than a little chilly out on the ice flats.”
Ballorn looked at him inquisitively, “You’ve been there before then?”
“Oh yes,” replied Zolban, “many times. But not for a great number of years. These old bones of mine don’t like the cold.”
“It’s a frozen wasteland. What could there possibly be out there that would be of interest to a wizard?”
“Put a wizard anywhere in the world, Ballorn, and he’ll find something fascinating there,” chuckled Zolban.
“What, wizards are fascinated by snow and ice?” giggled Stitch.
“Of course, and what can be found beneath it,” replied Zolban.
Stitch frowned, “Like what?”
“Oh, well, plants, fungi, algae and other such things that have strange properties for healing. Although we do discover more that are poisonous than those of a restorative nature. There are hidden caves that house strange beasts and lifeforms that would make your hair stand on end! All sorts of wonders can be found out there if one knows where to look!”
“Beasts?” groaned Stitch. “You mean monsters, don’t you? Why can’t we go somewhere nice for a change where all the animals are fluffy and nice and only eat leaves?”
“Because,” replied Hunter, slapping him on the shoulder, “this is the real world, and nothing is ever that easy. Where there are fluffy animals that eat leaves, there are also beasts that eat fluffy animals.”
“And people who like fluffy animals!” sniggered Ballorn.
“You’ll be quite safe, Stitch,” Zolban assured him. “You’d have to venture into the deepest caverns to find anything that could do you any real harm.”
“Ah, good,” sighed Stitch. “So where are we going then?”
“We’re going to the ice fields, Stitch,” Hunter told him.
“Sounds cold,” said the tailor. “But, at least we’ll be abo
ve ground,” he added happily.
“Eventually,” said Ballorn, “Once we’ve travelled through the caverns to reach them.”
Stitch’s face dropped, “I knew it, I flamin’ well knew it,” he moaned.
Barden, Porflax, Yello and Emnor entered the room.
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Emnor, pointing at Stitch. “He looks a bit peaky.”
“Ballorn smiled, “He’s just had a bit of bad news. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. He’s a lot tougher than you’d think is old Stitch.”
“I don’t feel well,” grumbled Stitch.
“Yeah,” chuckled Yello, “tough as old boots that one.”
The procession entered the courtyard and approached the gates. Barden was ahead of them and seemed agitated.
Hunter nudged Ballorn, “He’s in a bit of a mood, isn’t he?”
“It’s because he’s had a bit of bad news of his own,” whispered Emnor.
“Oh yeah, what’s that then?”
“We’re coming with you,” replied Yello.
“Why?” asked Hunter.
“Safety in numbers,” Zolban replied.
Yello couldn’t hold his tongue, “And the fact that we don’t trust the little git!”
“Yellodius!” snapped Zolban, sternly.
Yello immediately regretted having opened his mouth, “Sorry, Master Zolban,” he said hurriedly. “My apologies.”
Zolban spoke softly to Ballorn, “Don’t worry about Barden,” he said. “He has the best intentions but can be a little… impetuous.”
“The boy’s an arse!” exclaimed Porflax. “I still say we’d be best to leave him here!”
“But I am the head of Reiggan and I say he’s going with you!” replied Zolban, firmly.
“Alright, I know!” continued Porflax, “You’re in charge, so we’ll do as you say. If we’re lucky, he’ll get eaten along the way!”
Stitch grabbed his sleeve. “Eaten!” he shrieked. “Are there things in the caverns that will try to eat us then? Can you throw salt on them like you did with the woodles?”
Porflax patted his hand, “There’s nothing in the caverns, Stitch, don’t fret. I’m just saying that, if he’s not careful, a dragon might just get a surprise breakfast.”
“Oh,” sighed Stitch, “That’s a relief… Oh, no,” he groaned, “I’d forgotten about the dragons.”
The gates slid open silently and they ventured outside. Headed back to where they had parted from Keldenar, they noticed the entrance to the caverns.
“How didn’t we see that before?” asked a bemused Stitch. “Was it there all along or have the wizards used magic to open it up?”
“We’re good, Stitch, but we’re not powerful enough to open and close passageways in mountains,” Yello told him. “It was always there, you were probably tired and focussed on reaching the gates, that’s why you didn’t see it.”
“Oh, can I walk between you and your friend though? You seem to know this place and I’d feel a lot safer with you two either side of me.”
Yello turned and watched as the gates closed, Zolban waving them a last goodbye as they thudded together. He breathed a sigh of relief, “Oh it’s so good to get out of that place. Emnor, do me a favour and walk in front of Stitch will you? I’ll stay behind him. Don’t worry, my needle-pulling friend, we’ll take good care of you.”
The gloom soon enveloped them as they entered the cavern. The four wizards produced torches from thin air, illuminating the walls as they sparked into life.
“What am I doing?” mumbled Porflax. “I haven’t used one of these for ages!” Handing the torch to Hunter, he held out his hand. The familiar ball of light he had used previously appeared and hovered before him, moving forward with each step he took.
Stitch was impressed, “Can you do that?” he asked Yello, excitedly. “It would save you having to carry that torch.”
Yello sneered, “No… that’s one of his own spells,” he mumbled. “He won’t share it. The old ones prefer us to learn our own spells.”
“But it’s only a light!” exclaimed Stitch.
Barden turned and offered Ballorn his torch as he duplicated Porflax’s orb spell. “Here you go, you have this,” he said, sniggering.
Yello glared at the back of Barden’s head, “As for that one, if he had a piece of mouldy bread he wouldn’t hand it to a starving man. All he cares about is himself.”
As they went deeper into the caverns, Stitch was fascinated by the glowing algae that had formed on the walls.
As he stretched out his hand, Yello grabbed his wrist, “Don’t touch that!” he warned. “It stinks! You won’t get rid of the smell for days if it touches your skin.”
The corners of Stitch’s mouth curled down, “Thanks,” he muttered, “That could’ve been nasty.”
“And watch your footing,” called Barden. “We don’t need you breaking your leg down here.”
“Don’t worry, Stitch. A broken leg doesn’t hurt as much as you’d think,” said Ballorn, smugly. “After all, I should know.”
“Thanks to yours truly,” said Hunter. “You’d have been in agony after a while if I hadn’t been there. Come to think of it, you probably wouldn’t have been around at all. You’d have been beastie food.”
“I’d have managed somehow!” snorted Ballorn.
The light ahead of Barden cast an eerie shadow across his face and Stitch scowled as he caught a glimpse of him in the darkness. “Was he real?” he called.
“He’s talking to you, dung head,” said Emnor, nudging Barden in the back.
“Was who real?” said Barden, ignoring the insult.
“Dannard. Was he a real person or someone you made up?”
“Oh, he was real, alright,” replied Barden. “But you wouldn’t have liked him, Stitch. He was a most surly and abrasive character.”
“So all you had to do was change your appearance then,” laughed Yello. “You already had the same personality.”
“Be quiet,” said Barden.
“Oh, come on, Barden,” said Yello, still laughing. “Where’s your sense of humour?”
“No,” whispered Barden, sternly, “I mean, be quiet. There’s something lurking ahead of us.”
They all listened carefully. They could hear something shuffling around in the gloom and, for a split second, saw something move, revealed by the glow from the strange algae. Then, it began to growl.
“Oh, dear,” whimpered Stitch, “What is it?”
“Oh, get out of the way!” raged Yello. “It’s probably a zingaard. Make a bit of noise and flash a bit of fire and it’ll soon scarper!” He held up his hands and flames erupted, lighting up the entire cavern and revealing the beast that had been hidden in the darkness. Whatever it was, it was huge! Startled, it turned to face them, the matted fur hiding its features but revealing large canine teeth that glinted as the light caught them. It stood at full height and roared, the razor-sharp claws on its hands clearly visible.
“We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die,” whined Stitch. “Why didn’t I stay with the other wizards? At least they had walls to keep the nasties out!”
However, Yello was correct. The creature suddenly turned and began to scale the wall behind it in a bid to escape the fire-wielding interlopers who had invaded its home. Pausing briefly, it turned and roared again, before fleeing back into the safety of the darkness.
The flames disappeared from Yello’s palms and he wiped them on his robes, “See,” he said, smugly. “Only a zingaard. Easy enough to deal with if you know how.”
Emnor looked at him inquisitively, “And just when have you had to deal with those things before, exactly?” he asked.
Yello smiled at him and tapped the side of his nose, “We’re not always together, my friend,” he replied. “I may have had a bit of a mooch around down here by myself in the past, for my own reasons, of course.”
“What reason would anyone have to crawl around in the darkness when they know there ar
e probably monsters waiting for them?” squeaked Stitch.
Yello frowned at him, “Well I never knew that those things were down here the first time I visited, obviously,” he sighed, “I just… hoped.”
Emnor shook his head, “Yellodius, you may be my dearest friend,” he said quietly, “but you’re mental!”
“I know,” replied Yello with a grin, “Fun isn’t it?”
“You came down here,” exclaimed the exasperated Stitch, “and you were hoping to find monsters?”
Yello folded his arms, “Absolutely!” he replied. “It’d be boring otherwise.”
“Have you finished?” growled Barden. “Can we continue, or did you want to hang around and have some more… fun?”
Yello raised his eyebrows, “See what I mean? No sense of humour, that one.”
***
“Are you sure?”
“We’ve just told you! There’s no way we can get past. The trail is completely blocked. We could probably clear it eventually, but it would take weeks.”
Gelbran stared at them, “We’ll have to find another way,” he chuntered. “You’ll have to keep searching until you find a safe passage we can take.”
“There is no other route, Gelbran! We’ve been flying around for hours, knowing what you’d ask us to do, but there’s nothing!”
Gelbran pointed up at Asdor, “You got us into this mess, it’s up to you to get us out of it!” he bellowed.
“The only way is if you’re prepared for us to carry you on our backs,” mumbled Cordain. Asdor gritted his teeth and glared at him. “Erm, but you know that’s not safe, so I don’t know why I even suggested it!”
Asdor looked sideways at him, “That’ll be because you’re a pillock.”
Gelbran held up his hand, “It might be the only way though,” he mumbled. “Have you managed to learn how to land a bit better now?”
“Oh, no, not in the slightest!” Cordain said quickly. “I mean, look at the state I made of the trail. No, Gelbran. You’d have to be mental to want to ride on my back! None of our people would have a chance of surviving one of my bungled descents.”
Mark of The Nibrilsiem: Set before The Ascension of Karrak (The Karrak Trilogy Book 4) Page 25
