Age of Demons_In Search of the Amulet

by David Lawrence

  “I surrender!” Alex cried. He flung down his sword and raised his quivering arms.

  The goblins quickly trussed their prisoners with rope but felt anxious about this amazing fighter and his contest with those dreadful giants. What was such a valiant, skilful swordsman doing with a coward and an incompetent witch? Unfortunately, he seemed to be mastering the giants.

  Indeed he was. Regaining his feet, Tarralen leapt upon the second hill giant’s back, using his powerful legs like a spring. He plunged his hunting knife clean through its jugular vein. The gargled, blood-gurgling sound sickened Alex. The giant reached back and managed to grip Talarren’s arm but too little, too late. Talarren’s knife sliced deeply across its throat. Its murderous fingers relaxed. Talarren jumped free. The giant fell heavily. Blood pulsated in streaming jets out its jugular, pouring down its neck in rivers, coating its cowhide garment and matted hair in dark layers of red ooze as it gurgled and clutched its severed throat.

  The last surviving giant pulled Talarren’s blood-covered sword out its body. It roared in anguish and pain, instinctively knowing it did not have long to live. Blood gushed from its back. Meanwhile, Tarralen grabbed its club. He slammed it against the giant’s leg, bringing it to its knees. It wildly swung Talarren’s sword but the Ranger skilfully manoeuvred himself behind the floundering giant. As it attempted to regain its feet Talarren brought its iron-spiked club crushing into its exposed temple in a sickening thud. Its eyes rolled back. It was dead before it pounded onto the hard earth, sending dust in all directions.

  The goblins dragged Razel and Alex from the woodpile. Sharp swords nestled up nice and close to their exposed necks, ready to do to these humans what the Ranger had just done to the giants. They didn’t seem too upset by the hill giants’ demise. In fact, they seemed pleased. Clearly there was no love lost between them.

  After killing the second giant, Talarren turned.

  For these goblins, what was upsetting was the sheer audacity of these trespassers. How dare they arrive unannounced? What sort of man defeats two hill giants? Well, he did have help, they decided. There was an eagle. Not a magical eagle, no, but still, a very bald eagle. The Ranger didn’t use magic, no, but even so, he did fight unfairly, using pieces of wood. Who does that? And those giants probably hadn’t slept properly. Of course, they were off their game.

  Talarren noticed Razel’s arrow wound. Her face was pale.

  “Surrender, or we gut this she-girl’s gills like a seagull gobbles garden greens,” goblin guard Grigori guffawed at Talarren. “And hurry up about it.”

  “No tricks, now,” a second goblin said.

  “None, not one, understood?” a third goblin warned.

  “You heard. Surrender,” chimed in a fourth.

  “Enough, already!” Grigori told his fellows. “Now, you. I’m going to count to three. If you’re still playing the hero, she gets it.” He pressed Razel’s face to his rough cheek, his putrid breath streaming out his wide yellow-stained mouth, causing a double dose of nausea to rise up inside her stomach.

  “She needs help,” Talarren said, eyeing her arrow wound.

  “You’re in no position to give orders, now, are you? One. Two…”

  Talarren dropped his club.

  “Tell him to call off his eagle, boss,” goblin two said.

  “Call off your eagle, or we’ll roast it for supper,” Grigori threatened. “Now, hands up. Walk here slowly. That’s it. On your knees, big boy. Okay, boys, truss him up like a turkey. Leroy-Toadstool will be happy with us.”

  “Boadstool, boss,” goblin three reminded him.

  “What?”

  “You said Leroy-Toadstool, boss. It’s not Toadstool. It’s Boadstool. You know he hates you calling him that.”

  Goblin five piped up. “Didn’t he say if you called him that again he’d put you on kitchen fatigues for a month?”

  “Shut up, idiot. I said Boadstool, and all of you would do well to remember it, if you know what’s good for you. As I said, Leroy Boadstool will be proud of me.”

  “Us, boss,” goblin two corrected him.

  “Of course. Stop your pernicketyness, Gonmarriday. That’s it. Nice and tight. Where’s his eagle?”

  “It flew away,” Talarren said. “It can’t save me now.”

  “Can he talk to eagles, boss?” goblin two asked.

  “Firstly, how should I know? Secondly, why don’t you ask him yourself? Thirdly, stop with your stupid questions, for the sake of my late goblin grandmother.”

  “We need to get her treated,” Talarren said urgently. “Please, let me tend her. She’s losing blood.”

  “One more word out of you,” came the reply, “and we’ll have your tongue.” Razel’s head dropped forward. Grigori shot Talarren a warning glance. He opened his wide mouth and stuck out his long, yellow tongue, using his fingers like a pair of scissors as warning.

  They forced Talarren to walk ahead at spearpoint, his arms tied tightly behind his back. Next followed Alex, also tightly bound with a goblin spear prodding him on. Two goblins propped up Razel as well as they could for creatures that stood only four feet tall. She limped forward, her hands tied behind her, wincing in pain. Her wand lay safely tucked away in Grigori’s belt. A spear touched her back uncomfortably, ready to pierce her should there be any sign of trouble. Her side throbbed horribly.

  A clap! came from behind. A crossbow bolt scattered a smattering of Grigori’s brains as it passed through his head. He dropped. Everyone turned to see a charging, fearsome dwarf hurl himself upon Razel’s two goblins. He smashed their heads together with one skull-crushing movement, killing one and knocking the other senseless.

  “Take him!” Talarren ordered as Alex’s goblin drew back to throw his spear. Talarren kicked sharply, sending the goblin behind him sprawling. Alex was too slow. His goblin hurled his spear. It ricocheted off Kron’s thick, superbly crafted plate armour. Before Alex’s goblin unsheathed his sword, Kron flung his throwing axe, splitting the goblin’s head wide open, staining Alex’s shirt. Talarren jumped forward, viciously kicking his goblin’s head, snapping his neck. His knife finished the last goblin, still out cold from Kron’s horrific blow.

  “That was too easy,” Kron growled, surveying five dead goblins.

  “Well done.” Talarren looked around. “No time to lose.” He took Razel in his arms. “Hide these goblins and hill giants in that shed. We can’t afford to raise the alarm. I’ll tend Razel.”

  They quickly obeyed but only Kron had strength to drag the hill giants. Inside the barn Talarren had no difficulty finding what he needed. Giants obviously used this as their lair. It didn’t stink like a normal hill giant lair, being ventilated by holes and gaps. He boiled water in a small pot as he made a comfortable bed out of bales of hay, discarding the disgusting blankets used by the giants. He cleaned and sterilised his knife. He carefully ripped away the clothing around her side then cleaned away the blood around the protruding arrow.

  “Your bird just said something,” Kron said, dragging a headless giant to the shed’s far corner.

  “I heard. All clear for now, luckily. We need that blood covered over with sand.”

  The dwarf thrust Alex a pail. “Here, fill this with sand. Start over there. I’ll gather up their weapons, then give you a hand.”

  Alex fumbled around ineptly. Kron looked at him with disdain. As Kron moved away his eyes met the Ranger’s. An understanding passed between them. Talarren knew he had chosen wisely. Uncharacteristically, he thought to himself, First Wizard had failed. Their magic user had frozen under pressure. This was totally unacceptable. Worse, she did not seem to possess the magical firepower necessary for their quest. He would tend to her wounds, then decide their next move. Could he find another spellcaster at this late stage? His disappointment was bitter. He bitterly regretted not securing Gatby. The mysterious death of Winchester still weighed on his mind.

  They ordered Alex to bring more hay from the adjoining barn and cover the corpses. Meanwhile
, Talarren skilfully drew out Razel’s arrow and cleaned her wound with boiling water and special blend of healing herbs.

  “Didn’t you say you’ve got a Potion of Healing?” Alex asked as he slumped onto a broken bench.

  Talarren finished washing Razel’s body. He gently ripped off her top, revealing shapely and full breasts held tightly together by her undergarment. “I dare not use anything in this cesspit as clothing.” He pressed more herbal leaves into Razel’s wounds. “We have fresh linen and bandages in our wagon.”

  Kron gathered up his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder. He picked up his battle-axe.

  “Potion?” Alex asked again.

  “Caspar only left us one, so I want to repair as much as I can using natural ingredients. This wound is worse than I thought. She’ll probably need to quaff a good half of what we have.” He gently picked her up and waited at the barn opening. Esmay called from above. All clear. They trudged down toward their wagon.

  “Lucky you came when you did,” Alex told Kron.

  “Luck had nothing to do with it,” Kron replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Ranger’s eagle sent word. I was itching to come. You didn’t do yourself proud, I hear.”

  “He’s not trained,” Talarren said in his defence.

  “Sorry,” Alex said, embarrassed.

  As they passed through the crumbled walls, Perry greeted them. Hunter raced up to Talarren, licking his hands. Inside the cabin their prisoners were still huddled together, bound tightly with a Ranger’s knot. Kron pulled them out, not gently, and threw them onto the long grass. “Don’t go giving a dwarf those filthy looks, lad,” Kron said. “King’s men or no, I’ll give your cheeks a regular what for. What business do you have with likes of goblins and giants? Not a healthy one, I’ll warrant.”

  Talarren drew clothing out their leather bag and gently placed Razel on one of the thin mattresses he pulled out from their wagon. Caspar was not there to perform a healing spell so he poured a half portion of healing potion into her mouth. Immediately she came to, groaning.

  All four Dagan kingsmen anxiously watched the thrice-beautiful maiden, unsure how to answer the dwarf. Razel smiled weakly.

  “Good to see you looking so well,” Alex said, his eyes dropping to her partly exposed skin.

  Talarren guided their wagon behind the cabin, untied their horses and guided them into the nearby corral. He returned to kneel beside Razel. Hunter sat at his heels. Caspar and Elfindi still had not returned.

  A frown crossed Talarren’s face. “This is strange. Reswald’s Chief Magistrate is using Dagan’s soldiers to guard Harrad’s ruined castle, guarded by goblins and hill giants. Why? What are they guarding? What’s more, I thought I heard a giant say, in their language, “Minotaur”, which makes sense because Esmay says a herd of bulls is penned behind the keep. Minotaurs surround themselves with bulls. What is a minotaur doing here?” His storm-grey eyes studied a line of ants frantically marching up a tree.

  “What’s a minotaur?” Alex asked.

  “A terrible creature,” Talarren replied, startling everyone. “Stronger than a hill giant, more cunning than a troll. Intelligent, resistant to magic. Very difficult to kill.”

  “But what is it?” Alex asked.

  “A gigantic half-man, half-bull. Its head, neck and hindquarters resemble a monstrous bull; its torso is humanlike. All bovines obey them, even wild bulls. They wield battle axes that weigh as much as an iron door. Makes Kron’s battleaxe look like a toy. They have thick hides and deadly horns sprouting from a bony base capable of ripping through a knight’s platemail. They have been known to charge down stone walls. They trample men to death with ferocious hooves.”

  “And you think one of those things is here?” Razel asked weakly. If a goblin could overpower her, what could one of these minotaurs do to her?

  “I do.”

  “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  Talarren was more interested in what such a creature was doing here. “Esmay sees goblin activity around some of the dilapidated castle rooms, but not much. If there is a minotaur, and if goblin guards are patrolling hereabouts, it means there are a lot more goblins, which means they’ll be underground.”

  “Great,” Alex groaned. “Underground is where my Title Deeds are.”

  “But,” Talarren continued, “those goblins mentioned a name, Leroy Boadstool, who seemed to be their boss. That is not a minotaur name, if I’m not mistaken, and if anyone commands a minotaur, it will be a druid or powerful spellcaster…or worse. Who commands a creature so destructive and self-serving as a minotaur? A Purple Ivy druid?”

  Kron frowned. “What are you on about?”

  “You’re losing us, Talarren,” Razel said.

  “Please,” Alex said desperately. “Can’t we just get my Title Deeds and go?”

  “What I’m saying, everyone,” Talarren said gravely, “is that I did not expect such opposition here. We’ve walked into something way above our heads.”

  “For a man who commands eagles, heals arrow wounds, knows ancient lore and kills two hill giants single-handedly, forgive us if we don’t believe you,” Kron said.

  Talarren shook his head. “Wrong, Kron. If we continue now, we walk into a hornet’s nest. And these hornets have lethal stings.”

  “That’s awful,” Razel said. Perry noted her fear, revealing in her countenance a new aspect of beauty.

  Talarren shook his head. “We need to wait til Caspar and Elfindi return, then leave. We are not equipped to deal with what is going on inside that castle, or underneath its ruined walls.”

  “But we’ve come this far,” countered Kron, thinking of Harrad’s treasure trove. “We can’t turn back now.”

  “Please,” Alex begged, procuring his map. “Look, our treasure room is immediately below the keep, down one set of stairs. A secret door takes us directly to it.”

  “Alex, this castle has been unattended for twenty years. Scores of experienced adventurers have looted it. It was first ransacked by Norsemen. Don’t you think by now there’s nothing to find?”

  “But my aunt said no-one knows about our secret treasure room.”

  “There are spells to find secret rooms,” Razel said.

  “Even so,” Alex insisted, “we have nothing to lose by trying.”

  Talarren looked up. Wind rustled in the trees. A horse neighed. “We have our lives to lose.”

  “We must try,” Alex pleaded, “I have full confidence in you.”

  “As do I,” Kron agreed.

  “Me too,” Razel said.

  “None of you understand our danger. I must postpone this task til we know what we’re facing.”

  “But you’ve just told us,” Kron insisted. “What’s more, I can see you’re itching to discover what’s going on here, what with this minotaur and mysterious herds of bulls, with goblins and giants guarding some ruined castle, all aided and abetted by none other than His Majesty King Dagan the Third himself.”

  Talarren laughed. “You begin to know me, Kron.”

  “Besides,” Alex reminded them, “my ownership of Harrad Castle becomes null and void unless proof of ownership is produced within a twenty year time period imposed by our constitution. Those twenty years expire on Hallow’s Day. That’s in two days.”

  Talarren considered his options. “True, we are left with little time. And we have the element of surprise. We will need to use stealth, then disappear quietly.”

  “If there’s gold in it, I’m,” Kron said.

  “I doubt that,” Talarren said, a tone of warning in his voice. “Let gold not be your downfall as it has for countless others before you.”

  “Let me be judge of that,” the red-bearded dwarf boasted, tapping his mighty battle-axe.

  They fed and watered horses and prisoners. “You’ll never get away with this,” a kingsman warned. “You’ll never survive, and I tell you because I care. Men should not get involved with what’s going on in there.
”

  “You’re involved,” Razel said.

  “I’m a king’s soldier. We guard it, that’s all our orders is. But if you do get out of there alive, which you won’t, you’ll be thrown into Reswald’s dungeons for trespassing on Crown property.”

  “Hold your tongue,” Alex said. “This is my property, and my family’s, and has been for countless generations. Dagan has no right. We’re here to prove it by retrieving my Title Deeds.”

  “Treason,” another soldier said.

  Alex slapped the soldier across the cheek.

  “Enough,” Talarren ordered Alex, then looked up upon hearing Esmay. She landed on his raised forearm, squawking. Talarren nodded. “Half a dozen goblins have returned to the watchtower. Fortunately for us they were not there earlier or they would have seen us. I have a plan. We’ll take these kingsmen’s coats. You and I, Alex, will be kingsmen. Kron, creep through those woods. They have a warning horn and a bell. Razel, can you do a Silence spell?” She nodded. “Will your range be long enough to silence anything from that watchtower?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We have to know. If they raise the alarm, we may never get out alive. So you must dress as a guard and come with us. When you’re in range, cast your Silence! spell. Goblins have poor eyesight in broad daylight. They won’t be able to tell if we disguise you well.”

  “And I?” Perry asked, suspecting that he would be relegated to guarding prisoners while others braved goblins and a minotaur.

  “You stay here. We need a guard,” Talarren replied. “Hunter will stay with you.” She growled her displeasure at leaving her master again.

  Perry shook his head in disbelief. “You take a boy and girl into a minotaur’s lair while leaving me here?”

  “Be assured, Perry,” Talarren answered him, his storm-grey eyes filled with reassurance, “before we enter that castle, you will be by my side. We disarm the watchtower first. But if Caspar and Elfindi don’t return soon, we abandon this mission and chase after them. Something must have gone wrong. In this I will brook no argument.” Talarren gave orders to his eagle who sped off following the road taken by Caspar and Elfindi.