by R A Oakes
King Kardimont had been his best friend, and the wizard had always been given a warm welcome at court. Being human, the mystic had yearned for a sense of belonging, and Dominion Castle was the only place he’d ever felt completely at home.
Possessing unique talents, Eldwyn was both respected and feared, but it wasn’t always easy being different. Yes, he was different in good ways, but he could still remember being viewed with mild derision while he was growing up. He’d been too intelligent, too intense, too sensitive, too spiritual and too easily hurt. Too everything! Or so it had seemed at the time.
King Kardimont, then the crown prince, had been his first real friend. Both were 20 when they met. The crown prince’s name was Ulray, and he was unique in his own right. Ulray traveled far and wide and brought wild animals from other lands back to Dominion Castle. Primarily he liked big cats, and tigers were his favorites.
In a way, Eldwyn and Ulray were born to be friends. The young wizard had been quiet, reserved, intellectual and awkward, whereas Ulray Kardimont had been the exact opposite. He was highly intelligent as well, but without a whiff of self-doubt. The crown prince had a charismatic personality, and almost everyone who met him liked him. Ulray was strong, outgoing and instinctively took command of any situation. He was a natural-born leader.
If Ulray had a failing, it was his violent temper. There was an inner anger that made him reckless. The crown prince’s father, King Roartan Kardimont, had been relieved and grateful when Eldwyn, reluctantly at first, decided to accompany Ulray on his travels. The king felt that the young wizard had a moderating influence on his son, which was true in a way. Without Eldwyn to help keep him occupied, the thrill-seeking Ulray was capable of almost anything. As it was, the crown prince still had risked death almost every day. Only someone like Ulray, who was truly full of life, could court death with the ardor of a passionate lover.
Upon returning to Dominion Castle, Ulray had begun breeding big cats because he found in them a kindred spirit. Like him, they possessed a fierce disposition, predatory instincts and raw physical power. For a little while, he’d even been a tiger, and in Ulray’s case it meant more than just being courageous. The crown prince had actually turned into one.
On one of their travels, and when almost a thousand miles from home, Ulray and Eldwyn had found themselves in serious trouble. The crown prince had taken three arrows in his chest during a fight in which they were greatly outnumbered, a fact that had never bothered Ulray before. His incredible luck was almost as amazing as his skill as a warrior. Of course, he could still be considered fortunate because a weaker man would have been killed instantly. As it was, Ulray’s life was hanging by a thread.
In one of Eldwyn’s most dazzling acts of magic, before then or since, the young wizard had let a dozen full-grown tigers encircle his dying friend. Next, in a blistering incantation that was as inventive as it was experimental, Eldwyn had the majestic tigers pour their life energy into the dying crown prince. Miraculously, it had worked, and Ulray was healed! His pulse had become stronger, and he felt revitalized. Soon, he’d been able to get back on his feet, all four of them.
Eldwyn had assured the crown prince that the condition was temporary. Ulray, ever adaptable, had found humor in his transformation into a tiger. Early one morning he’d teased Eldwyn by gently chewing on the young mystic’s leg to wake him. However, when the startled wizard had woken up, Ulray made a show of growling hungrily and slobbering all over Eldwyn’s leg which the crown prince was holding in his massive jaws. That the humor had escaped the wizard entirely was a mystery to Ulray, or so he had said.
While in the form of a tiger, the crown prince had teased Eldwyn every day by bumping up against his friend, and then growling hungrily and treating him like dinner. The mystic realized it was a joke, but it was still unnerving to have an 800- pound tiger walking alongside with its tummy rumbling. When Ulray had finally returned to human form, it came as a great relief to the young wizard.
Eldwyn had assured his friend that he wouldn’t lapse back into animal form. But in truth, the young mystic didn’t know what the long-range effects might be.
However, 25 years later, with Ulray Kardimont dead and Dominion Castle overrun by gargoyles, all of that seemed irrelevant. Anyway, as Eldwyn had predicted, Ulray never turned back into a tiger. At least the wizard didn’t think so.
There were times when a tiger had reportedly been seen roaming the castle halls at night, but such sightings were rare and unconfirmed. After each incident, a quick check of the big cats’ cages had showed that all the animals were accounted for. After a while, the guards who had reported seeing these “ghost tigers” were increasingly ridiculed. Eventually the sightings had stopped, or the guards ceased to report them.
But for now, Eldwyn set aside his memories and with a heavy heart resumed his journey away from Dominion Castle, far away.
The wizard was fortunate in one aspect. At least he wasn’t being hunted by Swarenth’s gargoyles as Tarlen was. Eldwyn thought the entire Kardimont line had perished, but he was wrong. Everyone had always said that of Ulray’s four sons, Tarlen was the most like him. Hawthorn Village was about to find out just how much like his father Tarlen actually was.
◆◆◆
A few days later, dressed as a peasant boy and helping the blacksmith, the young king looked like an ordinary child performing a rather ordinary task. He was helping sweep up.
Tarlen was now going by the name Arandar and was moving briskly about the shop getting into corners and behind tables with his broom, areas that hadn’t been that thoroughly cleaned in years.
His face and hands were covered with soot from the fire used by Janek, the blacksmith, to forge plows, hinges, horseshoes, various farm implements and axes for chopping wood. Janek created no weapons of war because the last thing he wanted was to attract the attention of gargoyle warriors, especially now that Tarlen Arandar, his “nephew,” had arrived and become his apprentice.
But on occasion, an unwelcome gargoyle would show up needing Janek to tend to his charnuk, what Swarenth’s warriors called the hideous beasts they rode. Today was one of those days, and while the gargoyle and his charnuk approached the blacksmith’s shop, the animal was limping badly favoring its right, front leg.
A charnuk was more like a reptile than a horse. It was hairless except for a scraggly mane that hung limply from its neck. The rest of a charnuk’s body was covered with a tough, gray skin that was stretched tightly over its scrawny frame. The beast had a pig-like snout, and its eyes possessed the alert, piercing look of a predator. Its ears were long and droopy so they flapped in the wind when galloping. A charnuk’s tail did nothing to improve its appearance. Mangy and bristly, it seemed more appropriate for a porcupine than a warrior’s mount. The animal’s ribs stuck out, it smelled bad, and its breath was even worse. But for the gargoyles who rode them, charnuks were a thing of beauty.
Charnuks could go for days without water, ate little, and disliked being groomed in any way. What would be viewed as animal abuse to a horse was a welcome respite for a charnuk. They were short-tempered, irritable animals. However, to a gargoyle, whose temperament was even worse, the beasts seemed wholly agreeable. So, it was understandable that the blacksmith was feeling nervous and apprehensive as the almost completely lame animal neared his shop. Yet Janek looked at the gargoyle walking next to it and, almost imperceptibly, shook his head in disgust.
“Blacksmith, I need my charnuk’s leg looked at and make it quick,” the gruesome warrior said in a threatening tone of voice.
While trying to avoid being bitten, Janek carefully ran his hands along the length of the charnuk’s injured leg and said, “It’s badly swollen, and the animal’s in great pain. I’d say the leg’s fractured, a bad fracture.”
“All I want is a new horseshoe. My charnuk lost one when it stepped into a gopher hole and fell,” the hairy, freakish ape grumbled.
“Well, with the leg fractured, I can’t bend it upward at the knee t
o work on the hoof.”
“Listen to me, nothing’s wrong. You’re just afraid of charnuks, aren’t you?” the longhaired ape taunted him.
Feeling angry, the gargoyle spread his wings which were made of tough, dark-grey skin stretched over a bony skeleton, and though the ape-like creature was far too heavy and couldn’t possibly fly, spreading his wings made him look even more intimidating. Then, rubbing his animal’s back, the hairy ape said, “Before my father died, he gave this charnuk to me. So I’d be pretty unhappy with any human who told me I had to destroy it.”
Tarlen Arandar’s senses went on high alert. He knew that a gargoyle’s first loyalty lay with his clan leader, not his own family. Gargoyle fathers and sons would never openly show each other such affection. The young king realized the ape-like creature was looking for trouble and thought, That gargoyle knew his charnuk had a broken leg before he came here. He just wants to take his anger out on someone.
The gargoyle bent down, took hold of the charnuk’s hoof and yanked it upward. Screaming in agony, the wild-eyed animal reared up on its hind legs and lashed out at the gargoyle delivering a glancing blow to the hairy ape’s shoulder. Fortunately, the kick wasn’t hard enough to break anything, but the gargoyle rubbed his shoulder and glared at the blacksmith.
“What did you do to my charnuk?” the ape-like creature demanded.
“Nothing!” Janek said.
“You must have done something. It was fine until we came here.”
Not wanting to make any quick moves, Tarlen Arandar leaned down slowly and gripped the knife in his boot. But then he thought, This won’t do, I need a bigger weapon.
The young king glanced around looking for something to fight with but couldn’t see anything. Sighing in frustration, Tarlen Arandar realized he should have placed defensive weapons around the shop, but his new “uncle” had been firmly against the idea. Janek had told him, “It’s better just to placate them, Arandar. There are thousands of gargoyles back at Dominion Castle, and we can’t fight them all.”
“Oh, yes we could,” Tarlen Arandar had answered without hesitation.
“I don’t think that would be wise.”
“Is it wise to allow Swarenth to go unchallenged? Every day that he has control of Dominion Castle is another day he has to solidify his hold on the kingdom. My kingdom!”
But Janek had said, “Captain Polaris and Carplorthian told me to keep you safe and out of mischief. Starting your own war with a horde of angry apes might be viewed as being a bit mischievous.”
“I wouldn’t be starting a war. The last one never ended.”
“It has for now,” Janek had insisted.
“If I were older, you wouldn’t dare speak to me like this,” Tarlen Arandar had said, angry that the adults charged with protecting him were thwarting his single-handed assault on Dominion Castle.
But focusing on the danger at hand, Tarlen Arandar cleared his mind of such thoughts shifting his attention back toward his “uncle” and the ape. The young king heard rather than saw the gargoyle punch the blacksmith in the ribs, a loud snap splitting the air as several of Janek’s ribs cracked, which was instantly followed by a scream of intense agony.
The young king became furious. Anger was welling up inside of him, followed closely by the most intense rage he’d ever experienced. Tarlen Arandar tried to control his emotions, but it was as if a savage beast inside his chest was fighting to get out.
Suddenly, the young king experienced a headache so bad it felt like his skull was going to explode. Tarlen Arandar’s eyes bulged out, the pressure momentarily blinding him. But after it subsided, his vision returned and seemed incredibly crisp and clear. He saw everything in much greater detail. Not only that, but he realized his sense of smell was heightened.
Next, he was swamped by an almost overwhelming desire to slash the gargoyle’s face and sink his teeth into the grotesque ape’s flesh. Barely able to control himself, the young king yearned to go in for the kill.
Gritting his teeth, an excruciatingly sharp pain ripped through his hands, and he was stunned to see sharp claws sliding out of his fingertips. Immediately afterwards, his gums began bleeding as long incisors cut through his flesh.
The gargoyle took no notice of this, being so preoccupied with tormenting Tarlen Arandar’s “uncle” that he paid no attention to the boy. Holding Janek by the throat, the winged creature shouted, “Worthless human, what good are you?”
Gasping at the force of the blow, the young king saw the gargoyle punch Janek right in the face causing the blacksmith to stumble backwards and look around desperately for some avenue of escape. Then, as the gargoyle lumbered towards him, Janek found himself forced to retreat into a backroom, one with no windows or doors from which he could escape, and it was almost pitch black inside.
“You can’t hide from me. I’ve never been afraid of the dark, but you’ll be once I catch up to you,” the gargoyle laughed.
The grotesque, winged ape entered the backroom and disappeared into the darkness. Tarlen Arandar could no longer see the gargoyle, but he could hear him tossing Janek against the walls and cringed upon hearing the sickening moans and grunts the blacksmith made as the ape-like creature pummeled him relentlessly.
“The gargoyle’s killing him,” the young king screamed out in alarm.
Having been deeply scarred by the recent death of his father, mother, brothers and sisters at the hands of Swarenth’s gargoyles, Tarlen Arandar realized he was also about to lose his “uncle.” It was more than the boy could bear.
Squaring his shoulders, the young king fearlessly entered the darkness prepared to do battle with the enemy, and he did so walking on all fours.
When Tarlen Arandar entered the backroom, the gargoyle was still hurling Janek against the walls, but the hairy ape was tiring of this cat-and-mouse game and decided to end it. Picking up a wooden post, the gruesome creature lifted it over his head and took aim at the blacksmith’s skull.
“G-r-r-r-r-r,” the tiger growled softly, threateningly.
The winged ape froze.
“G-R-AH-AH-R!” the big cat snarled cutting loose with a loud, throaty, rumbling growl that filled the room.
This time, the hairy ape blinked, looked over at the doorway and saw a figure cloaked in darkness. Outside, the sun moved from behind the clouds shooting a stream of light through the doorway and casting the shadow of a large animal on the far wall. The gargoyle saw the mouth of the shadow open and close, and it looked like the animal was licking its chops.
Then, as the shadow moved closer, the ape saw a pair of large, glistening eyes hovering in the darkness. Cat’s eyes!
“GRRRRRR!” the tiger growled with all its might while leaping forward, and the gargoyle was knocked to the ground with two large paws against his chest. Feeling the big cat’s claws shredding his tunic and digging into his flesh, the grotesque ape screamed, which was the last sound the gargoyle made before the tiger’s massive jaws closed around his neck.
As the blacksmith sat up, the tiger licked Janek’s face and brushed its fur against his cheek. Janek recalled the stories he’d heard about King Ulray Kardimont and how some suspected he could turn into a big cat. But over the years, the stories became myth, and Janek had assumed the tales were all a part of the king’s mystique.
As the six-year-old, 800-pound tiger purred gently and licked Janek’s hand, the blacksmith stroked its fur and said, “Like father, like son.”
The tiger purred contentedly. The young king had struck his first blow against the enemy.
Chapter 6
Skybrook Castle. Thirty years after the fall of Dominion Castle.
“What a beautiful night,” Aerylln said admiring the stars overhead. Wearing her dressing gown and looking out her bedroom window, the young woman was alone, speaking more to the creative energy flowing through her than to anyone else. Having become gradually more comfortable with this mysterious, unseen presence, she still found it confusing, and frustratingly so. The deep
er her awareness, the more unfathomable it seemed.
But at the moment, all Aerylln could truly focus on was the beauty of the heavens above her. The sky was clear, it was a moonless night, and stars flooded her vision. She thought, Seeing this from the castle’s main balcony must be absolutely incredible.
Opening her bedroom door, Aerylln cautiously peered down the hallway. No one was there, so the young woman ran as fast as she could, nightgown flowing all around her. She was completely covered, but Aerylln didn’t want to be seen by anyone while in her nightdress, especially by a man.
As she walked out onto the huge, upper-story balcony, she marveled at how close the stars seemed to be. Rarely had the young woman seen such a display of celestial glory. Aerylln lingered there lost in deep feelings of serenity, for on this night the beauty and wonder of the universe was something to behold.
When she finally made her way back to the adjoining hallway, Aerylln was caught up in the thoughts and dreams of a young woman. She hardly noticed the confining granite walls that hemmed in her body, for they did nothing to restrain her spirit.
At first, Aerylln didn’t see the rowdy group of drunken warriors making their way towards her. For their part, they shook their heads in wonder as they watched the innocent waif who was walking towards them. It was like a tiny vision of beauty. Like a sweet apparition. However, the drunken warriors gradually realized that the young woman in the flowing nightgown was real.
About that time, Aerylln snapped out of her reverie finding herself surrounded by a dozen men smiling crookedly at her. One let out an enormous belch. Another tilted his head back, finished off his flagon of ale and threw it against the wall. The shattering noise startled them all.
“Excuse me, please,” Aerylln said nervously. “I’d like to make my way back to my bedchamber.”
These were some of General Zarkahn’s men, the general being the most powerful and influential person in the castle, except for Lord Stallington himself. And though General Zarkahn was ambitious, he’d never considered staging a coup against his liege lord, not even now when Lord Stallington lay sick and near death. They’d fought in too many battles together, and Zarkahn owed his very life to the Fighting Eagle many times over.
