by Jon Kiln
It was a puzzle. Why would the Admiral want the port emptied? It was almost as if he was purposely leaving it open for attack. Maybe it was a ploy, some decoy to draw the enemy in and then ambush them. He had sailed with the Admiral for years, and respected his authority and his seafaring tactics, but he was no longer sure this was the same man. He was unhappy leaving the port with just a small army garrison to protect it. They were less than one hundred men and not much of a presence.
Even more confusing was that Patterson was ordered to board the same vessel as the Admiral, the North Star, and she was to head the naval forces. This was not the usual protocol, but Admiral Bingham had insisted that they sail together. Usually, they would sail on different vessels, spreading out the chain of command in case of attack. This was one anomaly that Patterson did not object to though. He wanted to be close to the Admiral, watch his every move. If necessary he would act to secure the safety of Palara and suffer the consequences at a later date.
It would be a few days before the larger ships would be ready to set sail, so Patterson decided to bide his time. He would await the right opportunity to act, if necessary, and hopefully get a better understanding of the Admiral’s intentions.
***
The weather so far had been fair. Ganry and Artas were at last finding their sea legs. They were both on the deck of the ship, Artas looking out to sea while Ganry sharpened his sword. He had decided to repair Windstorm before they had set out. It had been damaged in the battle with the usurper, Duke Harald. Originally, it had been forged by the great swordsmith, Grimlock Gladesmith, in the Limestone mountains. That had been a long time ago, and it was one of the last of its kind.
He was happy with the craftsmanship of Rosinda, the blacksmith, who had repaired the blade. She was a skilled swordsmith for sure. It was a shame that not many would use her services, believing that it was man’s work, but Ganry believed her workmanship to be equal, if not better, than that of any man he knew. She had added her own personal touches to the reforged blade and Ganry believed it to be even better than ever.
Ganry always believed that Windstorm had been special, almost with a mind of its own. When Rosinda told him his sword had magical properties, which were dependent on the holder who wielded it, he had not been surprised one bit. Once, not too long ago, Ganry would have said that she spoke nonsense, but now, he was not so sure—not after everything he had seen over the last few years.
Hendon, the forest dweller, had almost convinced him of the truth of magic with his extraordinary staff. Hendon also had other skills, seemingly able to understand and speak to the animals and trees. He had become a good friend and trusted companion, and Ganry wished that he traveled with them. Hendon had needed to return to his forest home after helping to recover the kidnapped Duchess D’Anjue. He did not care too much for travel, much preferring to be close to nature in his forest home.
Ganry sat and admired the blacksmith’s work. The dark sheen of the blade, its razor sharp edges, and its perfectly balanced weight. He swung it around, cutting it through the air in an intricate pattern of swirls and arcs. Artas watched on, amazed at the old veteran’s skill with the blade.
“Do you think I will ever be as skillful with a sword as you, Ganry?” Artas asked, hopefully.
“Not unless you train a damn sight harder than you have been so far. You’re getting lazy on this boat,” he retorted, pointing his sword at Artas.
Artas ignored Ganry’s challenge. Instead, something on the horizon caught his eye and he stared intently out to sea.
“Well then, boy, you afraid of an old man?” Ganry teased.
“Look,” Artas said pointing out across the water. “What is that large dark shape on the horizon over there?”
Ganry stood next to him and looked at the black mass. It appeared to be growing bigger every second.
“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s a storm cloud, but it’s not like one I’ve ever seen before. It seems to be moving too fast. See how quickly it approaches. Whatever it is, something tells me we should not ignore it.”
Suddenly the ship’s bell rang insistently. Clearly they were not the only ones who had seen the dark shape on the horizon. The sailors were galvanized, shouting orders to each other and frantically rushing around, preparing the vessel for the approaching storm.
“I think our adventure has just begun,” Ganry said to Artas as they both readied themselves for the approaching darkness.
3
Chief Linz arrived at Castle Villeroy with a small contingency of his closest advisors. He was a good friend and a distant relative of the Queen and had come instantly at her calling, as had many leaders and nobility in the Kingdom of Palara. They were all here to discuss the threat to their borders.
He bowed to Queen Myriam as he entered the state rooms, pleased to see her looking so well after their recent ordeal. The arduous journey in the desert and then being held captive by the Akkedis, while they drained them of blood to feed the reptile empress, had exhausted them all.
“You are looking well, Queen Myriam,” he said, graciously.
“Please Linz, let us do away with the formalities. I’m in great need of friendship right now, having sent my closest friends away,” Myriam replied, looking a little fed up.
“Have you not called upon Hendon?” Linz asked, surprised not to see him.
“No, he’s busy wandering the land and training, so I’m leaving him be. One day I may need his skills, but this is not that day,” she explained. “How is your training going, learning to be a leader of your people?” she asked, knowing he would be struggling in his new role, as she was in hers.
“Experience and time will get us both there, Myriam, you know that,” he smiled back at her. “Now, tell me, how serious is this border breach?”
They spoke as they walked through the corridors of the castle towards the room that was to be used for the meeting. It was to be held in the community long room, a neutral place within the castle. It also had good acoustics so it was perfect for speaking to a large gathering.
“Well, I’ll be briefing everyone when we meet, but as I said, I’ve sent Ganry and Artas as my emissaries to Mirnee, hoping it can be dealt with quietly. Somehow, though, I think it is a little more sinister than a simple border standoff. I do believe they think us to be weakened, what with all our recent events. It seems that they began this build up while we were held captive by the Akkedis, although Artas was unaware of it. As of yet, they are showing no signs of breaching the border, to my knowledge, but the very act itself is aggressive. Still, I am somewhat perplexed as to exactly what they are up to,” she finished.
“I’m assuming you have scouts in the area?” Linz asked.
“Yes, of course. They report that all is well in the nearest village. I send scouts out weekly but the last group have not yet returned and I am concerned. Hopefully they’re just delayed with the weather, or some other innocent reason.”
They both entered the large meeting room, with the other attendees mostly present. Linz followed Myriam to the dais where she could be seated higher than the others and be heard well.
“I heard that Arriba was never found, by the way,” Myriam spoke quietly to Linz. “Qutaybah sent out a search party after it was agreed she was likely to have been the one to have poisoned you. They never found her, but rumors abound of a female Akkedis gathering her people to make a new life for themselves. I suppose we cannot deny them a new beginning.”
“Those lizard people, or Akkedis, or whatever you wish to call them, will never be welcome in the forest lands. We have solved the mystery of the Roogaru that fed off our blood for many years. We no longer fear the lizard people and will kill them on sight,” Linz retorted, a little anger in his tone. It had taken several weeks for him to recover after being poisoned by Arriba. It was only with the help of Barnarby, communicating through Hendon’s staff, that an antidote was procured. His stomach still troubled him on occasion, even now.
“You have every reason
not to trust them, Linz,” the Queen agreed. “They killed your great Chief and haunted your people for many years. I understand your anger, but I, for one, would not ignore them completely. Who knows which friends and possibly allies we may need in the coming months.”
The room was becoming too noisy to continue their private conversation, so Queen Myriam called for silence, before standing to address the meeting.
***
The two young men riding the cart down the rickety path had gone to purchase a rug that was only made in the village of Norham. Leyla, the rug maker, was famous for her handmade quality carpets. She was well regarded in all of Palara for selling them as gifts for weddings or birthdays. She used the wool of the goats that grazed on the border grasses of Mirnee. The craggy hills have a stream of water that the goats drink from, which meanders down from the nearby mountains. It is said to have special minerals, giving their coats a beautiful sheen. Though the wool was too rough to be made into clothing, it was strong and hardy and made excellent heavy coats and rugs.
Isaac and Crin were not brothers, though they had known each other all of their lives. Isaac’s father owned the mill and Crin’s father worked in it. Their parents were best of friends, despite their social differences. Isaac’s mother had died when he was very young, and Crin’s mother treated Isaac as if he were her own. They had grown up as brothers and they were inseparable. They even looked alike. It stood to reason that they would travel together to purchase the rug for their shared mother’s birthday gift.
The journey from their village to Norham only took a few hours, and they arrived on their single horse pulled cart at around noon. As they came up on the outskirts of the small village, they looked down the main street. Both were surprised at how quiet it was. In fact, there was no one to be seen at all. Usually at this time of day there were many people bustling around, going about their business.
“I’m going to find Martha at the inn, she always has a kiss for me and a roll in the hay,” Crin boasted. He tended to be the more adventurous of the boys.
“I say we buy the rug first, then take it in turns to kiss Martha,” Isaac suggested, feeling it better to get the rug before they spent any money.
As they sat there, debating which task should be done first, they had not noticed what was happening at the edge of the woodland. A crowd of people had gathered and were walking towards them. They moved awkwardly, shuffling along slowly, but getting closer and closer.
“What’s that horrible smell?” Crin said as a foul odor invaded his nostrils. Standing up on the step of the cart, he noticed the crowd that had now grown to a considerable size, and heading their way.
“Is that the village people, Crin?” Isaac queried. “They don’t seem right.”
“No, they don’t,” he agreed as he sat back down and took up the reins.
The crowd was now close enough for the boys to hear that they were wailing mournfully. They walked with small shuffling steps, their heads bowed down with chins on chests as if their eyes were searching out something on the floor. The worst of it was the smell, metallic and nauseating, they seemed to smell of death itself.
“Crin, turn the cart around, the horse is spooked and so am I,” Isaac ordered.
Crin always did as Isaac asked, because he knew and accepted that he was the always the more sensible of the two. He spurred the horse on with the reins, and the cart slowly started to turn.
“Oh Maker, oh Maker look, that’s big John, but he ain’t right. He’s… he’s all pale and his eyes, his eyes are completely black,” Isaac shouted, looking back at the village mob.
The mob stopped, all at the same time as if they were one. There was a heavy sense of something bad, some pervading evil in the air. The two boys looked behind them and stared as the people all tipped back their heads. They all looked up to the sky, but their chins remained on their chests, each of their mouths an impossibly wide black pit. Suddenly, they emitted a high pitch screech that froze the boys in sheer terror.
Unable to move, they watched as the rabid crowd started forward again. The nearest ones were almost upon them with sightless eyes, black as coal, and mouths still gaping, filled with razor sharp teeth. The ones at the front reached out, their hands black and bloodied with large dirty fingernails that looked like they could rip a person to shreds.
One of the monstrous beings managed to scramble up onto the back of their cart, its hands reaching out to grab one of the boys. Still frozen in terror and unable to move, it seemed all was lost, when suddenly the horse found its legs and bolted in fear. Running as fast as it could, it pulled the cart away from the advancing creatures.
Once the cart had moved a distance from the mob, the terror eased and the boys regained control of their limbs. Isaac cried out in horror on seeing that one of them was still on the cart, its hands clawing at his legs as he had seated himself backwards to watch. He kicked out with all his might, and the skull of the whatever obscenity it was, caved in like a rotten peach, spraying him with its stinking black blood.
“Ride, Crin ride! For the Maker’s sake, don’t look back,” he encouraged his friend. “We ain’t waiting around to be their dinner.”
Crin tried to gain some control over the spooked horse, but he was having no success. At least it was pulling them away from the horrible apparitions they had seen in the village.
As they rode out, Isaac ignored his own advice, looking backwards only to see the mob still trying to follow them. Their movements were slow and awkward, and soon they were safely out of reach of the monstrous humans.
“I ain’t going back there, Crin. Ride quickly, like the devil himself is on our tail,” Isaac urged, a panic in his voice.
4
“What are those things?” Artas shouted out to Ganry, trying to be heard above the screeching birds that were rapidly approaching the ship.
“I’m not sure,” Ganry shouted back. “I’ve traveled many lands but never seen the likes of those creatures before.”
As the large, dark shape loomed closer, it had become obvious that the cloud was made up of many smaller shapes. Something was flying in the sky and it was not a storm cloud, as they had first thought. This was unlike any flock of birds anyone had ever seen. Even the seasoned Captain had no idea what to do or how to confront the menacing mass which was almost upon them. It was unclear if the flock had simply come across the ship in their travels, or more worryingly, had been sent to attack them by some unseen force that meant them harm.
As the strange creatures approached, the men could better make out what they were. Some of the crew relaxed a little, thinking them just unusual, but harmless. Initially, that seemed to sum up the situation. The birds were quite small, around the size of a man’s hand. Attached to their black, feathered bodies were small compact wings that worked frenetically to keep them in the air. The beating wings gave off a high pitched buzzing sound, and the combined noise of so many was almost deafening.
As they neared the ship, they could all see the creatures’ beaks. They looked like long yellow sticks, almost as long as their bodies. The beaks protruded out from the heads, and tapered into a wickedly sharp point.
They circled the vessel a few times. On each pass, it appeared the flock dropped down lower. The ship’s crew had stood mesmerized, all moving their heads together and watching the flock intently. It was a spectacular show. Assuming it was just an unusual phenomenon as when they observed a pool of dolphins jumping in and out of the seas, it gave the sailors a sense of calm. They were completely unprepared for what happened next.
The birds stopped the circling motion and dived down towards the ship as one large entity. Individually, they posed little threat, but together en masse, they were a formidable killing machine.
The creatures targeted one of the crew who had become separated from the others, swooping down on him at an amazing speed. Soon, he looked like a black blur of movement, as the flapping wings engulfed his body. A red mist of blood arose above him as they furiousl
y pecked at the human with their vicious, knife-like beaks.
It took only seconds before the sailor fell to the floor, the birds still ravaging him. Finally, finished, they flew back into the sky, leaving nothing but a skeletal figure in a pool of blood. The birds had completely stripped the flesh from the sailor’s bones.
It had happened so quickly that no one had moved from where they stood. All looked on, aghast at what was left of their shipmate. Panic now ensued on board the ship. Sailors ran, desperate to find cover before the birds attacked again, but for some it was too late as they swooped down once more.
This time, the dark shape split up into three flocks, each one targeting a different human. Soon, screams of agony drowned out the buzzing of the beating wings as the creatures tore into the crew.
Artas and Ganry watched on in horror as the ship’s crew were decimated by the attacking creatures. Ganry could no longer watch the bloodshed without taking some action. Drawing his sword, he attacked a group of the birds that were still feasting on a fallen man. He swung Windstorm down in an arc, the sharpened, sleek blade sliced through the mass of blackness. Ganry was stunned to see that the creatures remained unscathed as if the blade had simply passed through them. He would not be dissuaded, even by death’s spawn itself.
He drew back his sword once more, and with a cry of defiance he swung it down with all his might into the black mass, once again. This time Windstorm was wreathed in hot red flames and the birds cried out in agony.
The hot fiery blade had sliced right through some of the small feathered bodies. Many of them burst into flame on contact, others tried quickly to rise back into the air. Those that managed to escape had been singed from Windstorm’s fire. Unfortunately, it was too late for the sailor whose body Ganry had been trying to defend. It had been stripped clean by the monstrous birds.
