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

by Robert J Marsters

  Porflax lowered his arms and folded them, “There we go,” he said contentedly. “That should make things a little more comfortable for a while. Tea anybody?”

  The nemilar didn’t care how Porflax had done it, all they cared about was the roaring campfire to warm themselves by and tents that, when inspected, had not only cots, but large cushions on which they readily made themselves comfortable. It was not long before they, as well as Yello and Emnor, were settling themselves in for a few hours well deserved rest.

  Ballorn pushed himself up on one elbow as he surveyed the two young wizards, “How come you never say anything?” he asked. “Why don’t you get involved? Those two clearly don’t get on but you don’t say a word.”

  “Not our place,” replied Yello, shrugging his shoulders.

  “We’re here to observe, not interfere,” muttered Emnor.

  “You must realise there’s something going on between them though?”

  Emnor raised his eyebrows as he looked across at Hunter, “Well, we… suspect. That’s all we can say, I’m afraid.”

  “They’re as dodgy as the day’s long if you ask me.” They were all surprised by Stitch’s sudden comment, because they believed he was already asleep, “Barden seems to be running the show and Porflax is just waiting for his orders. We’ll have more than just a dragon to contend with when it all kicks off, we’ll have to keep an eye on that pair as well. You mark my words.”

  “Well, well, well,” chuckled Ballorn, “They say it’s the quiet ones you have to watch. You’ve got this all figured out by the sounds of things, Stitch.”

  “Yes, I have. Only one thing is bothering me though.”

  “Which is?” They all sat up, eyes transfixed on the tailor, who hadn’t even bothered to open his.

  “Well I’m convinced it’s not the dragon, but when we get to wherever it is we’re headed, I think there’s going to be someone there waiting for us. I also think it’s about time we started pressing our two travelling companions for a little more information on who that person is.”

  “You’ve been doing a lot of thinking then,” Hunter said, inquisitively.

  “Not much else to do when you’re stuck in a bag by yourself for a whole day,” replied Stitch, yawning. “The only thing we can hope for is that the mystery person, or persons, are on the right side. By that, I mean our side.”

  “Whatever plans they had laid hadn’t included a couple of things,” sighed Emnor.

  “You and him?” said Hunter, pointing at Yello.

  “Precisely,” replied Emnor, with a smile.

  “I’m not sure about that either,” muttered Stitch. “Because you two are up to something as well. I’m not sure what, but you’re up to something.”

  “Charming!” snorted Yello. “He doesn’t even trust us after all we’ve done for them!”

  Stitch held up his hands, his eyes still closed. “You haven’t done anything for us though, have you. Alright, you stopped me putting my hand in that stinky stuff, but nothing else comes to mind.”

  “Well, really!” exclaimed Yello.

  “Oh, don’t come with the fake feelings of insult, Yellodius. If you trusted us, and you yourselves were trustworthy, you’d tell us why you’re really here.”

  “We may be young compared to Porflax, but I can assure you that we are men of the highest integrity, Stitch. If we, in any way…” he paused, “Stitch? Stitch, are you… well I never!”

  Emnor’s protest had been interrupted by Stitch, who was now… snoring.

  CHAPTER 28

  Neither Ballorn nor Hunter had slept. Emnor and Yello had snoozed occasionally but were easily awoken as the slightest breeze ruffled the sides of the tent. However, the brief respite had done them no harm and they had been glad of it.

  Then, of course, there was Stitch. He lay, fast asleep, clutching one of the larger cushions as if he were holding on to a piece of driftwood while stranded at sea. Ballorn stared in disbelief at how serene he looked.

  “Stitch, time to move,” Hunter said softly.

  Stitch never stirred.

  Hunter raised his voice, “Come on, Stitch. Time to get up.”

  But still the tailor never moved.

  “Get up, you lazy git!” bellowed Ballorn. “We’ve got to go!”

  Stitch stretched out his arms and opened one eye, “Just five more minutes,” he whispered, and promptly wrapped his arms back around the cushion and began snoring.

  “I said… get up!” bawled Ballorn, grabbing the cushion and wrenching it from Stitch’s grip.

  Stitch sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, then scowled at Ballorn, “You didn’t have to be so rough!” he complained. “All you had to do was call me!”

  “We did call you… twice, and you weren’t moving. Now come on, on your feet.”

  “Oh dear, I’m shattered,” yawned Stitch as he rose from the cot. “I thought we had a few hours before we had to move. It could only have been about ten minutes since I closed my eyes.”

  “It has been hours, Stitch, almost four,” Hunter informed him. “Now get outside, Porflax needs to dismantle the camp.”

  Poor Stitch shuffled through the tent flap and immediately shivered as the cold breeze hit him, “It’s such a shame,” he groaned, “It wasn’t exactly warm in there but at least we were sheltered from this horrible wind. Wish I had a hat,” he whined, “or a scarf I could wrap around my head to keep my ears warm.”

  Yello walked up behind him, “Here you go,” he said, dumping a huge fur hat on Stitch’s head, “Will that do?”

  “Excellent!” cried Stitch. “Where did you get it from?”

  “Does it matter where it came from?” sighed Ballorn. “You wanted a hat, and you’ve got a hat. Now get in the bag!”

  “No, I’m alright,” Stitch assured him, “I can walk for a bit.”

  Ballorn glared at him.

  “On second thoughts,” said Stitch, nervously, “Maybe I’ll get in the bag.”

  With the tailor secured in his transport, they made good time. They had to endure no more than an infrequent flurry of snow and the ground was level and smooth. However, there seemed no end to the vast expanse of Ellan-Ouine.

  “How much farther is it?” Ballorn called to Barden.

  “How much farther is what?”

  “Wherever it is you’re taking us.”

  “Well, on foot it’s about three days,” replied Barden.

  “Three days!” screeched Stitch. “You mean we’re going to be out here for another three days?”

  Barden paused and looked back at him, “I never said that.”

  “Yes you did!”

  “No, I said, if on foot, it’s three days,” said Barden as he rolled his eyes.

  “Well how else are we going to get across this ice?” complained Stitch. “None of us have wings, or had that escaped your notice.”

  “Just be patient!” replied Barden, angrily. “You’ll have all the answers in a few hours!”

  “Did you hear that, Ballorn?” whispered Stitch. “A few hours! You’d better keep a tight hold on that hammer of yours, ‘cause it sounds like we’re going to be ambushed!”

  Ballorn chuckled, “How could anyone be ambushed out here, Stitch? There’s nowhere to hide for a start, unless some bandits decide to bury themselves in the snow.”

  Stitch felt a tap on his shoulder. Looking around, he saw the curve of Hunter’s bow. “There’ll be three of them dead in the first second, my friend. I doubt any of them will hang around after witnessing that. That is, of course, presuming that there are bandits lying in wait for us.”

  “I never said anything about bandits!” hissed Stitch. “But what if Barden’s in league with the dragon and it’s waiting for us?”

  “I hope it is,” replied Ballorn, gruffly. “It’s about time it stopped running and faced me.”

  He heard Keldenar’s voice in his mind, ‘Not yet, Nibrilsiem… not yet.’

  “What’s that?” Emnor suddenly asked, pointing to
the horizon.

  Yello squinted, “No!” he said with amazement. “It can’t be!”

  Emnor smiled at him, “I think you’ll find it is.”

  Yello looked a little uncomfortable, “But he’s never forgiven me for, erm… well, you know?”

  “It was a long time ago, Yello. I’m sure he’s forgotten about it by now,” laughed Emnor.

  Yello shook his head, “Not him,” he said slowly. “He never forgets anything!”

  “What are you two on about?” asked a very curious Ballorn. “I can’t see anyone.”

  “You will soon enough,” groaned Yello, “And just in case it goes wrong, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

  “You sound as if you’re about to die!” laughed Hunter.

  Yello looked at him with concern, “That’s probably because there’s a distinct possibility that I might.”

  “Oh, stop it!” chuckled Emnor, turning to Hunter. “You see, there was this girl…”

  “They don’t need to know anything about that…” began Yello.

  Hunter held up his hand, “It’s alright,” he said, trying to save Yello the indignity of his misdemeanours being aired in public, “we get the idea.”

  “I still can’t see anything,” said Ballorn. “Wait a minute, there it is. There are lights up ahead.”

  “Here we go,” groaned Yello.

  The stranger never moved nor spoke as they approached him. He looked them up and down in turn and seemed completely baffled as to why Stitch was being dragged along in a bag. He nodded at Barden, they were obviously acquainted, but the look he gave Yello was one of complete disdain. He eventually stepped forward, circling Ballorn and studying him intently.

  “You are the Nibrilsiem?” he asked, with an air of disbelief.

  “That’s what I’m told,” replied Ballorn, bluntly. “And who are you?”

  The stranger’s brow furrowed as he looked to Barden, “You have not told him?”

  “I thought it might be better coming from you.”

  “Mmm… perhaps,” replied the stranger thoughtfully. “But not here,” he continued. “You must all come with me. Climb aboard my sleigh and we shall depart for my home.”

  “We’re not going anywhere with you until you tell us what’s going on,” Ballorn said adamantly. “Surely, having only just met, you can’t blame us for being wary of you.”

  ‘You must accompany him, Ballorn. You are quite safe,’ said Keldenar’s voice.

  The stranger tilted his head to one side as he looked into Ballorn’s eyes, “Good enough?” he asked.

  “You heard that?”

  “Yes, but only because he wanted me to,” replied the stranger, smiling.

  Stitch was not happy. He glared at the sleigh. I knew it was a good idea, he thought, and now I find out somebody else thought of it first! It’s not fair… it’s just not fair! The sleigh was huge, but what stood before it was even more impressive. Four beasts were secured by soft leather harnesses in order to pull it. They were as big as horses but had no tails and were covered with thick white fur. Stitch was ecstatic. He marvelled at the way their horns splayed out like the branches of a tree, their wide faces sporting huge tusks that any dragon would be proud of and their thick legs ended in wide, clawed hooves that allowed them to grip the ice. Stitch’s eyes twinkled as he gazed at them. I’ve never seen anything as strange as these things, he thought as he climbed into the sleigh. “Where are you taking us?” he asked quietly.

  The stranger glanced at him briefly, “To my home, little one,” he replied, “I’m taking you to Thedar.”

  Stitch studied his every move as the sleigh lurched into motion. The strange beasts may have looked cumbersome, but Stitch couldn’t believe how swiftly they were moving within seconds. No horse or pony he had ever seen would have been able to reach the speed they were travelling at, even at full gallop. Stitch spoke loudly so that he could be heard over the sound of the wind and whooshing of the sleigh.

  “What are they called?” he yelled, pointing at the beasts.

  “That’s Dolly, then there’s Nobby, Sally, and that one’s Gin.” He leaned over and whispered, “Gin’s my favourite, but keep it quiet, I don’t want to upset the others.”

  Stitch shook his head, “No, I never meant their names!” he giggled. “I meant… what are they? What sort of animal?”

  “Oh, my mistake!” laughed the stranger. “They’re terralopes.” He looked at Stitch with surprise, “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a terralope before?”

  “No, never,” replied Stitch. “Do you only get them where there’s snow?”

  “I believe so. Mind you, I very rarely leave my home so I couldn’t say for sure.”

  Feeling more relaxed, Stitch shuffled a little closer to the stranger, “I’m very sorry,” he said, “but I didn’t catch your name.” He hadn’t really looked at him before, but Stitch began to realise that this was no mere nomad who wandered the wintery expanse of Ellan-Ouine. He had a regal air about him. The way he sat bolt upright, the way his white skin glistened, almost sparkled in the light, and the creases around his eyes that revealed an age-old wisdom that was tinted with kindness.

  “That’s because I never said it,” replied the stranger as he nudged him. “But there’ll be plenty of time for introductions later. For now, just know that you are safe and will soon be comfortable and warm.”

  A dreamy look appeared on Stitch’s face as he dwelled on the stranger’s final word. “Oh… warm. I haven’t been warm for days, even with this huge coat on!” he sighed. “How long before we reach your home?”

  “A few hours to reach the edge of the ice and then one more after, I’m afraid you’ll have to walk for a while. Stitch, is it?”

  “Well, that’s what this lot call me, because I’m a tailor. But my real name is Felidan Portwitch.”

  “How delightful!” chuckled the stranger, “I like it! A name like that holds a certain… nobility.”

  Stitch was liking the stranger more and more. A nobility, he thought. Nobody’s ever said anything as nice as that about me before!

  Ballorn shoved him in the back with his foot, “Enough questions, Stitch,” he suggested. “Let the fellow concentrate. We don’t want this thing crashing do we!”

  Stitch stood up and briefly glanced in all directions, “Into what!” he exclaimed. “There’s nothing out here to crash into!”

  Hunter grabbed him and pulled him back onto the bench beside him, “He means… stop being nosey. Now be quiet and get some rest!”

  Stitch folded his arms in a huff, “I was only being friendly!” he chuntered.

  The stranger looked back at them and smiled, “But there is still an element of doubt in their minds, Felidan. They’re not sure if I am a friend.”

  “A bit of caution never went amiss,” replied Ballorn, looking deep into the stranger’s eyes. “Let’s see what happens when we get to your… Thedar. We’ll decide then whether you’re friend or foe.”

  “Ballorn, shut your mouth!” protested Barden, “You have no idea to whom you are speaking!”

  “Perhaps we should all reserve judgement?” advised the stranger. “We’ve only just met and already the seeds of doubt are beginning to spread their roots. My only surprise is that Yellodius hasn’t graced us with a few choice phrases.” He turned and stared at Yello, “Oh, don’t worry, young wizard. I’ve not forgotten about you,” he added menacingly.

  The hours passed slowly for some, but far more quickly for others. The stranger was the first to climb down from the sleigh and he immediately began to detach the harnesses from the terralopes. “Time for us to take a little stroll,” he announced.

  Stitch ran ahead, crossing the last smatterings of snow and falling backwards onto the lush green grass, “Oh, it’s dry!” he cried. “There’s not so much as a drop of dew on it. Thank you, erm, whatever your name is. I’ve never been so happy to see so much greenery!”

  “Indeed!” replied the stranger. “I expect you’ll b
e overjoyed when we reach the forest.”

  The comment peaked Hunter’s interest, “Is it large?” he asked.

  “Far larger than you’ve seen before, I’d wager,” replied the stranger. “Just be wary of the nymphs, they can be little monsters when they’re disturbed.”

  “Monsters?” moaned Stitch. “Here we go again!”

  “You’ll be safe enough, Felidan. Leave them be and they’ll stay away from you.”

  “But what if we meet up with them accidentally? I suppose they’ll try to eat us like all the other monsters do?”

  “Nymphs do not eat people, Felidan! They are magical beings. The worst they’ll do if agitated is, well… make sticks sprout from your fingers… or other places. I heard about that once, but it was only a rumour, I’m sure.”

  “You’ll warn us then, won’t you? I mean, if you see any?” Stitch grabbed the stranger’s hand, “I don’t want sticks growing out of my other places!”

  “Am I allowed to climb the trees?”

  “By all means,” replied the stranger, glancing at Hunter. “But don’t you hurt them. That would be the quickest way to raise the ire of the nymphs! Mind you, I wouldn’t be too happy about it either.”

  Hunter frowned, “I have lived with nature my entire life, friend, and it has always been good to me,” Hunter stated adamantly, “I would be the last person to bring it any harm!”

  “Ooh, a breakthrough,” grinned the stranger. “You called me friend!”

  “Figure of speech,” grunted Ballorn as he walked away.

  ***

  As they reached the edge of the forest, the stranger ordered them to halt.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Stitch nervously, worried that some horror was lurking just beyond the treeline. “Are there nymphs waiting for us in there?”

  “No, Felidan, not nymphs, something far more dangerous. Well, they would be if I were not accompanying you.” He placed his fingers against his lips and whistled. Figures began to appear from everywhere. Their glistening skin was very similar to the stranger’s but seemed to have a green hue. One of them stepped forward. Grasping the hilt of a beautiful curved, silver sword, he dropped to one knee and bowed before the stranger.