by Chuck Black
The crew worked intently, and everyone held their breath at one point as the hull scraped along the jagged edge of an unseen rock formation. As they navigated their way to the channel between the two islands, the Tempest vessels stopped their pursuit, but did not retreat. The ships formed a barricade between the open sea and the channel of the two islands, thereby trapping the Raven within the confines of the islands. They were now at the mercy of the legends of the Isles of Melogne. Most of their supplies had been cast off and their route blocked, but they were alive. They turned their attention from the perils of the sea to the challenges of survival in a haunted land.
THE ISLES OF MELOGNE
The canal narrowed even further the deeper they progressed, and the cliffs of the two shores beside them rose high above. The islands were dense with trees and vegetation. The men occasionally heard the sound of an animal that was unknown to them, and it brought chills. Fortunately, Dante was correct and the canal was deep enough for the Raven to continue onward. Halfway through the canal, the cliffs dropped quickly to meet a grassy shoreline. The canal widened for a short distance and formed an alcove. The captain ordered the crew to set anchor. The serene landscape engulfed the ship in wild beauty.
They did not know how long the Tempests would wait for them, but Dante reckoned that they would exhaust their food and water long before the Tempests gave up. He formed a landing party of fifteen men to see what was available on the island, but those he selected were not pleased. Huntly remained on the Raven while Gavinaugh and Captain Dante went with the men to shore.
As the crew pulled their boat ashore, they determined a direction to begin their search and proceeded inland a fair distance before stopping to rest. They found a clearing and set up a base camp to facilitate further searches into the island.
After a short time, one of the men came running to the captain.
“Captain! Look!”
The man pointed into the trees beyond the clearing, and Gavinaugh saw what was causing his concern. Amidst the trees, thirty to forty figures stood with spears in their hands. Gavinaugh wondered if this was perhaps the source of the legends of the ghosts on the islands.
The men all rose and drew their swords, but the shadowy figures remained still. Eventually, Dante and Gavinaugh sheathed their swords and slowly approached the native islanders with open arms. Dante and Gavinaugh stopped midway, and one of them walked toward Dante. His hair was long and tied back at his neck. His skin was slightly darker than theirs, but there was little difference in the features of his face. He wore crude clothing made of leather.
The man came within two steps of Dante and Gavinaugh and stopped. He stared intently as if he had never seen the likes of such men before.
“We are in search of food and water. Can you help us?” Dante asked.
Gavinaugh wondered if the man could even understand them. Then the man spoke.
“Yes, we can help you. Where are you from?” The man’s accent was strange, but he spoke with a clarity that surprised both of them.
“I am Dante. I come from Namor. This is Gavinaugh. He comes from Chessington.”
The man thought for a moment. “I have heard of such places. My name is Pliubus, chief of the Melitans. These are my people,” he said, motioning toward the trees. Those with him came out of the trees and stood in the open.
“You are fleeing the Tempests,” the chief said.
“Yes. How did you know?” Dante asked.
“We are always aware of the Tempests when they are near. They will not attack you on the island,” he said.
Pliubus and his people went to the camp with the men. As they entered, the chief became concerned and lifted his spear. His men did the same, and Dante’s men drew their swords.
“You should not be here!” Pliubus said sternly. He did not appear concerned with Dante’s men but instead looked to the trees.
Captain Dante tried to calm the situation. “What is wrong, Pliubus?”
Pliubus and his men began to step back to where they had come from. “It is the strangler vine … you must leave!”
Suddenly, the man next to Gavinaugh screamed and fell to the ground. He clawed at the dirt, but something unseen was dragging him toward a large tree at the edge of their camp.
“It is too late!” screamed Pliubus. His men shouted in fear and backed farther away, searching the ground as they went.
The seaman continued to scream, and Gavinaugh dove for him. He locked hands, but whatever was pulling the man was overpowering both of them.
“My leg … my leg!” the man screamed, and Gavinaugh could see that a vine as thick as a man’s thumb had wrapped completely around his lower leg.
Gavinaugh stood, drew his sword, and ran ahead of the man. The vine was buried in the vegetation of the forest floor, but he could see its movement beneath the leaves. He made a quick slice and severed the vine. Then he helped the man to his feet, and they ran away from the large tree. Three paces later, Gavinaugh felt a pull on his own leg, and before he could react he was prone on the ground and being yanked back toward the tree. A vine had wrapped around his leg, and another was encircling his waist. Its squeeze was powerful. Dante drew his sword and began to run toward Gavinaugh, but the chief stopped him.
“It’s too late, you cannot stop it!” he exclaimed. “You will die too!”
As the chief spoke the words, the entire ground for twenty paces around the tree came to life as dozens of vines surfaced from beneath the overlying leaves and grass. The trunk of the huge tree also seemed to move as vertical strips of thick bark separated from the base of the tree but remained connected farther up the trunk. Each moving piece served as an arm with bonelike spikes that swung outward to strike the flesh of any prey captured by the vines. Little did Gavinaugh know that the poisoned spikes on the limbs paralyzed their prey until the juices of the vine could digest it. Like some enormous woody octopus, the tree was a frightening oracle of horror.
Gavinaugh felt the grip of the vine tightening about his leg and waist and the air being forced from his lungs. He saw dozens of vines surface around him and knew that he had only a moment to react. Thankfully his left arm was still free. The vines had dragged him about six paces from the tree, nearly within reach of the spiked arms from the trunk that were flailing through the air around its base.
Gavinaugh made a quick slice across the vine that encircled his waist and then another across the vine about his leg. He tried to stand, but another wrapped around his right arm and pulled him to the ground. He cut it and quickly stood up. He knew it was paramount that his sword arm remain free. Everywhere he looked, vines were whipping about him and closing in. Whoosh! One of the trunk arms flew past his chest, just missing its mark.
Knowing there was no escape, Gavinaugh did not run. He focused his mind as though he were facing the blades of a dozen Shadow Warriors and began to cut and slice each vine that came within reach of his sword. With the training of the Prince, he could almost see the vines behind him as they prepared to strike. One vine reached from below and grabbed his leg. He bent slightly to sever it and felt a strong, painful blow from one of the trunk arms. In his fight with the vines, he had stepped too close to the tree, and the spikes from one of the arms had pierced his back. Gavinaugh tried to ignore the pain and swung powerfully at the arm as it poised for another strike. His sword cut clean through the arm and left a weaponless limb flailing in the air. Then Gavinaugh methodically worked his way about the tree, severing each limb and vine that appeared until all about him was still.
Gavinaugh backed away from the tree until he was at a safe distance. Only then did he allow himself to relax. The pain in his back returned, but it wasn’t as severe as when he was first struck.
Dante, Pliubus, and all of their men ran to him and looked at him in awe. Pliubus examined the wound in his back and noticed that it was already beginning to heal. He knelt before Gavinaugh.
“No man has ever survived the grip of the strangler vine. You are a supreme
knight!” he said, kneeling and bowing his head. All of his men did the same.
Gavinaugh reached for the man’s shoulder. “No, Pliubus, I am not a supreme knight, but I will tell you of One who is. It is His sword, His training, and His power that have allowed me to survive. Rise up.”
Pliubus took Gavinaugh, Dante, and his men into their village that day and gave them shelter and food. The group stayed for three days, gathering food and water for their ship. Pliubus and his people showed great kindness to the men and taught them how to identify the trees infected with the strangler vines. During this time, Pliubus and his people listened earnestly as Gavinaugh told them about the Prince.
During an afternoon meal, one of the villagers urgently approached Pliubus. “Chief Pliubus, your father has been taken!”
Pliubus rose up from the table. “What?”
“Your father and three others have been taken by Lord Malthos. A terrible fate has fallen upon our village!” he declared.
Pliubus sank to his seat in a daze and did not rush out at the news, as Gavinaugh expected.
“Pliubus, there are many of us. We will help you recover your father … from whoever has taken him,” Gavinaugh said as he rose from the table.
Pliubus looked blankly at Gavinaugh. “There is no hope. The one who has taken him is much too powerful.” He put his head in his hands.
“Who is this man, and where is he?” Dante asked.
Pliubus looked up and seemed hesitant to answer. “Toward the center of the island, in the Valley of Shadows, there is a castle. He who lives there has dominion over this island. I am sorry … I should have told you earlier … but it was so good to see people from other lands, and I did not want to frighten you off.” Pliubus said and lowered his eyes.
“What should you have told us?” Dante asked, quite concerned.
“You have heard, no doubt, that the Isles of Melogne are haunted.”
Dante nodded. “Yes, but we thought perhaps it was because of the Tempests or the strangler vines.”
“No, it is because of Lord Malthos. Anyone who comes to the island never leaves. He is lord over this island. Our village exists to serve him. He will never let us leave.” Pliubus became sober. “You will either serve him or die, but you will never leave. It is my fault … I should have warned you at the very first. But when we saw the power of Sir Gavinaugh over the strangler vine … I had to know more.” The man lowered his eyes and stared at the table.
Gavinaugh reached across and grabbed Pliubus’s arm. “It’s all right, Pliubus. Your warning would not have changed anything.”
Pliubus looked up. “He is punishing me for showing you kindness. That’s why he has taken my father and the others. Each winter we are required to send two servants to his castle to be his slaves. No one ever comes back. It is not yet time, but he has taken four. You should leave quickly … if you can.”
“But he is just one man,” Dante said. “How can he stop a ship full of mighty men from leaving?”
Pliubus shook his head. “He is not just one man … he is like many men, and his power is great. I’ve seen him destroy ten men at once as if they were but children. You and your ship are in grave danger. It may be too late already.” His voice was devoid of expression.
Dante rose up. “My ship! We must leave at once!”
“Captain Dante, I know of this Malthos,” Gavinaugh said. “He is an enemy of the Prince. See about your men, but I want Pliubus to take me to his castle.”
“No!” cried Pliubus. “I will be killed, and so will you!”
Gavinaugh looked straight at him. “Your father may still be alive.”
Pliubus sat back in his chair and his shoulders fell. “I will take you,” he said softly.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dante asked Gavinaugh.
“I am called to it.”
“Very well. One of my men will accompany you. I will wait to hear from him what has become of you.” Dante exited quickly and assigned a man to go with Gavinaugh and Pliubus.
Gavinaugh, Pliubus, and the shipmate journeyed farther into the island until they came to the Valley of Shadows, which was surrounded by hills that rose high above them. Deep in the valley stood a massive dark castle. Pliubus became stricken with fear—so much so that Gavinaugh had to encourage him to continue. As they descended into the trees of the valley, Gavinaugh could feel the oppression all around him. He reached for the hilt of his sword, and it brought him great comfort.
“We are close,” Pliubus whispered.
They proceeded cautiously and then stopped at the edge of the forest, which gave way to the castle grounds. The towers of the great castle loomed large, and the walls looked massive.
Gavinaugh started toward the castle.
Pliubus grabbed his arm. “He will kill you, Gavinaugh.” His eyes were wide, and his hand was shaking.
Gavinaugh looked at him and smiled. “The Prince is greater than any dark warrior,” Gavinaugh said as he drew his sword. “He is the sword.”
Gavinaugh held the brilliant silver sword before him, and it seemed to reverberate within his grip. He walked into the open and up to the massive gates, leaving Pliubus and his escort in the cover of the trees.
“Malthos!” he shouted. “Release your slaves!”
A moment of silence followed, and then the gates of the castle began to open. Deep, ugly laughter echoed out into the forest from behind the doors. The opening widened until the monstrous form of a dark warrior appeared. He drew his sword and came toward Gavinaugh.
The laughter turned to loathing. “Who dares enter my domain?” With each step, the form of the warrior grew, until he stood but a few paces away, towering over Gavinaugh like the castle behind him. His hair was black and hung to his shoulders. His face bore the deep scar of his master and revealed the utter hatred that emanated from his soul. He flexed the large muscles in his chest and arms, which seemed to expand his size. He was not a man—he was a giant. The sword he wielded was a picture of evil. The blade was long and contained engravings that were dark and unidentifiable. The hilt had short, wicked bladelike protrusions similar to the ones that had impaled Gavinaugh many years earlier in the forest on the road to Denrith.
Gavinaugh stayed silent as he beheld the warrior. He felt the apprehension rising within him until he remembered the Prince.
“I will cut out your heart and feed it to my dogs, fool!” the beast of a man said with disgust. He began to draw back his sword. “I am Gavinaugh, servant of the Prince!”
The warrior hesitated, and Gavinaugh saw a fleeting glimpse of concern cross his face at the mention of the Prince.
“Your dominion over these people will come to an end, for by the power of the Prince and by His name I command you to release your captives!” Gavinaugh spoke the words with great authority.
Malthos seemed paralyzed. It was a strange picture to behold, for the simple and powerful words of a faithful servant of the Prince had caused the heart of a monster to tremble.
The warrior shook himself and roared in defiance. He attacked Gavinaugh ferociously. Gavinaugh defended himself against the beast’s massive blows. The strength of his sword matched the image of his power, and Gavinaugh found himself retreating against the onslaught. Yet he also felt the strength of the Prince rising within him as he bore the fury of the warrior. The grisly sword came streaking toward Gavinaugh, and he brought an upward deflecting blow to meet it. As he did so, he ducked beneath the colliding blades and executed a counter slice that tore through Malthos’s left side. The warrior screamed in agony.
Malthos stepped back and looked at Gavinaugh incredulously. His disbelief turned quickly to fierce anger, and he came at Gavinaugh with more fury than before. His sword came perilously close to Gavinaugh’s neck, but Gavinaugh did not retreat this time. He stood his ground and the fight raged on. Gavinaugh was tiring, but the warrior was growing weak from his wound as well. In one quick and explosive maneuver, Gavinaugh de-flected and thrust so quickly that th
e warrior could not recover. His blade pierced Malthos’s chest. He dropped to his knees as his dark weapon loosened from his grip and fell harmlessly to the ground.
“The power of the Prince overcomes all evil—even that of the Dark Knight and his Shadow Warriors!” Gavinaugh proclaimed.
“No!” Malthos gasped with his last breath. He collapsed to the ground and died.
Pliubus and the escort slowly crept toward Gavinaugh with their eyes fixed on the hulking mass that lay at his feet. They looked as though he might rise up and slay them at any moment, but their fear was for naught.
They walked through the gates of the castle and entered a world of despair and death. They opened the cells and released all those Malthos had held captive. Pliubus found his father, and their reunion was joyful. Many villagers of years past were freed that day, and Pliubus wept for the freedom that Gavinaugh had brought his people by the sword of the Prince.
Gavinaugh embraced his new friend and then departed later that day with his escort to join Dante and the rest of the crew of the Raven. The escort described to Captain Dante all that had happened, and he marveled at Gavinaugh’s skill. Dante allowed Gavinaugh to retain his sword, for he had proven his word and his integrity to the captain. Never before had Dante encountered such a man as Gavinaugh, and he came to realize that the man’s call to the Prince bound his heart more than any fetters of iron ever could.
There was no sign of the Tempests on their departure, and their journey to Namor continued uneventfully. Upon their arrival, Captain Dante vouched for Gavinaugh and was given charge over him. Dante brought him into his home and allowed him great freedom until the time that he should appear before the Duke of Namor. During that time, Gavinaugh formed a new haven of Followers, for many longed to hear the words of the Prince and the hope that He brought. Through it all, Gavinaugh and Dante became close friends.
On the appointed day, Gavinaugh stood before the Duke of Namor and declared the Prince before him and before the council that had been convened to hear his testimony. Because of the duke’s association with Lord Kifus, Gavinaugh was not set free, but it was declared that he should remain under Dante’s custody. Dante granted all freedom to Gavinaugh—with the exception of traveling to Chessington, since such an act would cause severe turmoil between the two great cities and their leaders.
