Champion

by Jon Kiln

  “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 took 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 know 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 hand made 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 takes a few hours, and they arrived on their single horse pulled cart at around noon. As they pulled up the cart 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 worse of it was the smell, metallic and nauseating, they seemed to smell of death itself.

  “Crin, turn the cart around, the horses are 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 on the horse 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, 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 ignoring his own advice, looked 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, 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 tapering into a wickedly sharp end.

  They circled the vessel a few times. On each pass it appeared that 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 furiously 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 ships 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 who’s body Ganry had been trying to defend. It had been stripped clean by the monstrous birds.

  “Quickly, Artas!” Ganry shouted to his companion. “We need torches, an ordinary blade is no use against these creatures.”

  Artas heeded Ganry’s warning, taking a lighted torch from the wheel house and thrusting it into another mass of attacking birds as they descended upon the crew once again. Waving the torch in front of him, they soon began to retreat and fly back up into the air.

  The remaining crew quickly caught on, and soon all of them were armed with blazing torches, fending off the savage birds.

  “How do we get rid of these creatures,” the Captain cried out to Ganry, who was slicing through yet another attacking flock. Windstorm was in full blaze, setting fire to any feathers that it made contact with.

  “We burn them,” Ganry cried out. “The normal sword is useless. These creatures do not fear the blade as they are protected by magic. Fire, however, is a natural element they cannot avoid.”

  The Captain rallied his crew and they all formed a circle of fire, thrusting out with their torches at any beast that dared to come too close.

  “This is a dark evil that attacks my ship, that’s for sure,” the Captain bemoaned. “Burn them men, burn them all and send them back to the hell they came from!” he shouted out to the remaining crew.

  Soon, the ship was covered with the charred bodies of the small dead creatures. More crew members had been lost, even in the end battle. The number of birds had dwindled so low that the remaining ones gave up the attack and retreated. At last they flew off in the same direction they had come from.

  Every man left alive on the ship dropped in exhaustion from the life and death battle. As they collapsed to the deck, they could see their ship was a mess. Many of the hoisted sails had been damaged, either by the bird’s knife edge beaks or the fire that had consumed their bodies. The deck was littered with the charred remains of the birds and a number of dead colleagues. Most of the dead humans had been reduced to a pile of bones, so it would be hard to recognize who had died that day.

  “I fear this is a day of dark evil,” Artas said as he seated himself on the wet deck, next to Ganry.

  Both men allowed the spray from the sea that crashed over the bows of the ship to wet their bodies and cool them down. They too were exhausted and welcomed the cooling sea spray. Around them the sailor’s began to clear the decks, removing the burned bodies of the ugly creatures and throwing them overboard.

  “This does not bode well, my young friend,” Ganry said, fearing it might be something to do with their mission. He knew there was a long tradition of witchcraft in Mirnee. It had been practiced for centuries, though the Emperor had tried to ban it when the black arts had started to take a hold. He suspected something, or someone, had stirred, for this seemed the work of magic. A dark magic at that.

  “You believe this to be connected to us, Ganry?” Artas asked with raised eyebrows.

  “Well, ask yourself, did the birds simply come across the ship on their travels? Or, had they been sent to attack us by some unseen force?” Ganry paused for a moment before continuing, “Personally I am inclined to believe the latter.”

  “But how? Who could control such creatures?”

  “The only kingdom I know that tolerates the existence of witches, is Mirnee. Although, they’re not supposed to practice. If memory serves me well, the Emperor could not abide them. He believed them to be a rogue force that no one could control. It was General Jeon, his First in Command of the armies, that said they were an asset to the lands. He had wanted to control them and set them to work for the good of Mirnee. The Emperor would have none of it, but I believe he managed to be persuaded. At that time I was very skeptical that they could actually preform any magic, believing it to be trickery and fraud, but after that experience, I feel different about it now.”

  “Are there no good witches? Surely they cannot all be evil?”

  “Some, yes. They would cast their spells for the good of the community, increasing the harvest or calling for rain in time of drought. Most though, were attracted to the darker magic. Those witches do not heal or put their talents to good use for the sake of the people. They always strive to be the most powerful of their kind. I could never understand why the Emperor allowed them to stay in his lands. They could not be trusted, but Jeon's argument must have been convincing. That was all many years ago and I do not know the situation now. I left, remember!”

  “Perhaps the witches moved on to where they can now practice, and created the monstrous birds?” Artas suggested.

  “No, I don’t think they will have moved on, they had it good in Mirnee because General Jeon supported them. He moved them to a remote area where they could be left alone to practice their art. I think the Emperor tolerated his little project because, like me, he really didn’t believe in magic,” Ganry admitted.

  “We should know soon enough. This will delay us. We were due to get into the port city of Aelland, tomorrow. I doubt that will be possible now, not with the damage to the ship, and we’re light on crew members too. I’ll check with the Captain, but I should think that we will lose a couple of days at least.”

  “You go rest, now, boy. I will speak to the good Captain,” Ganry insisted. “You need to conserve your strength. I have a feeling this diplomatic mission of ours is going to be more troublesome than I first thought.”

  5

  “These are my boys. I know they are young but they would not lie to their Ma. Not about something as serious as this. I believe what they say is the truth, your Majesty. The villagers have been massacred, yet they walk around as if they still live,” the woman finished telling Queen Myriam the tale.

/>   Myriam shuddered at the thought. Surely there must be some mistake? The dead do not walk around, of that she felt certain. What concerned her the most was that the villagers had been murdered, but by who?

  She looked upon the two young men, not much younger than herself. They appeared scared and had fear in their eyes. She needed to determine what exactly it was that they saw.

  “I’m assuming you have checked the tale of the boys?” she asked, knowing very well that young boys would exaggerate their adventures, especially if they were in trouble.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the woman replied. “The men have been to verify their story, and what they saw was horrific,” Crin’s mother explained. “We came straight to inform you. Our entire village is fearing that they will be next.”

  “But what is it that makes you think the villagers are dead, if they are walking around?” the Queen asked, still unable to believe such a story.

  “They be walking around with sightless eyes. They do not respond to their names, and some of them have injuries, injuries that no living being could bear,” Crin’s father replied. “When they saw us, it was the strangest behavior I ever did see. They made such a dreadful sound and attacked us. At first we were unsure we were under attack. Even then, we never thought that they would want to harm us, they’re our neighbors. I saw Mitchell Bragan, we drink together in the ‘Hanging Sheep’ on market day, but he tried to bite me. I was lucky and managed to push him away. Poor Alfonze wasn’t so lucky, they ripped him to shreds. I can still hear his screams in my head now.”

  He stood tall to re-tell the tale, but his voice shook with fear. Clearly the memory of what happened would live with him for years.

  When the villagers had arrived in the early hours of the morning, begging to speak with the Queen, her personal guards had awoken her. They thought that she needed to know what was happening on her border, especially with the problems of Mirnee. On hearing the news, Myriam quickly dressed and immediately came down to meet with the villagers. They were in the reception parlor, where they could sit comfortably whilst they awaited her arrival.