Savage Games of Lord Zarak

by Gilbert L. Morris

  For a long moment nothing happened. Then the bushes stirred, and a man appeared. He was brown as a berry, burned from the sun, and wore a short, neat beard. He had on forest green leggings that came down to green leather shoes. A green leather jerkin covered the top of his body, and atop his head sat a pointed cap with a feather rising from it. He carried a bow over his shoulder, a quiver of arrows in his hand, and a sword by his side. But he did not attempt to draw a weapon. The man came closer. “I greet you, strangers,” he said. “My name is Goodman.”

  Relief washed through Josh, for there was honesty in the man’s face and friendliness in his voice. “I am glad to meet you, Goodman. My name is Josh, and these are my companions. We have been sent by Goél to your land.”

  “I have heard of Goél often.” Then Goodman’s eyes narrowed, and he asked, “Are you on your way to meet King Falmor?”

  Josh did not know exactly how to answer that. “We understand from Goél that your land has some problems. We would like to learn more before we contact anyone,” he said. “Perhaps you would eat a meal with us . . .”

  “Gladly,” Goodman said. “But first, my friends would enjoy meeting you.” He put his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle.

  Almost at once the woods came alive. At least twenty men appeared, all clothed in garb identical to their leader’s.

  Josh blinked. “You are good woodsmen, Goodman, to keep yourselves so well hidden.”

  “We have to be if we want to keep ourselves alive. We live in this forest, and we are not in favor with the king. But if you would hear more of the kingdom of Falmor, let us have a meal together, as you suggested. We have just killed a wild pig.”

  The men in green advanced. They were weather-beaten men, and all were lean and fit.

  After Josh had introduced his fellow travelers, Goodman said, “Suppose we roast the pig, and then afterwards we can talk.”

  “Fine,” Josh agreed.

  At once the men in green went into action. They soon had a fire going and the pig roasting over it in a most efficient manner.

  Josh soon found that Goodman and the other forest men were very interested in them.

  “We do not see many strangers here,” Goodman said, as everyone sat near the fire, eating. He took a joint of the pig and bit off a huge mouthful. He talked around it, saying, “As a matter of fact, I might almost say none. The king does not welcome strangers into his land.”

  “Do you happen to know a man called Bentain?”

  “Bentain!” Goodman exclaimed with surprise in his eyes. “Indeed I do, but he is not a member of the royal court. No, indeed.”

  “He is a good friend of Goél, whom we serve. Could you take us to him?”

  “Gladly, gladly. His home is not far from here. After eating, we will take you. And as we travel, you can tell me more about Goél.”

  The wild pig was strong-tasting, and Roland Winters complained. But Sarah and the other Sleepers had all learned to eat what they had while they could.

  Roland was sitting close to Sarah. “How do we know we can trust these fellows?” he muttered.

  “Can’t you see it in their faces and in their eyes?”

  “See what?”

  “That they are honest men!”

  Roland scowled. “I don’t think you can go on that. A fellow can look pretty good on the outside and still be rotten on the inside.”

  Sarah studied him thoughtfully. “That is true. But after you’ve served Goél awhile, Roland, you will discover that there’s such a thing as . . . well . . . discernment.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “It’s hard to define. But sometimes you are able to look at a person and just know what he’s like on the inside.”

  Roland suddenly grinned. “And what did you just know when you first saw me, Sarah?”

  So far, Sarah had said nothing at all to Roland by way of criticism. Now, though, she thought it might be well to see if she could help him. So she said, “I saw a young man who is greatly gifted and is unsure of himself and would like to be different.”

  Roland’s eyes flew open. “Well, you sure read me wrong! I don’t want to be different. I’m satisfied with myself the way I am.”

  Sarah said no more, for she saw that he was still stubborn. And she knew that something serious would have to take place before Roland Winters would listen.

  Goodman and his band of forest men led the travelers along winding pathways until, perhaps an hour later, they arrived at a small farm. The place was little more than a clearing. There was a small garden, and a few pigs were kept in a pen. Over to one side was a shed where a cow peered out at them, mooing sadly. It was a rundown looking place.

  The man who came out to greet them wore a frightened look. “What is it, Goodman? Is it war? Is it the king?”

  “No, my friend. I bring some guests. I bring strangers who are seeking Bentain, your father.”

  Surprise crossed the man’s face, and he stood staring.

  “This is Garn,” Goodman said. “It is his father you seek. Garn, this group comes from the one they call Goél.”

  “Goél!” An older man with a white beard and white hair hurried out of the house. He was small and looked hungry, as did the younger woman and the boy and girl whom Josh could see standing back in the shadows.

  “My name is Bentain,” he said. “I knew Goél in my younger days.”

  Joshua felt relieved to hear that. Smiling, he advanced and bowed to the old peasant, who was wearing mostly rags. “I am happy to meet you, Bentain—and your family.”

  “You bring a message from Goél?”

  “Indeed we do. He wishes you well, and he has sent us to see if we can help with the problems in the kingdom of Falmor.”

  Bentain smiled then. He said, “I will always serve Goél. Many do not know him in this country. Would that he would come and rule over us.”

  Again Josh was aware of the hunger in the eyes of these people. When Garn said, “We will kill the pig for the evening meal. We have been saving him for such a time as this,” Josh knew he must do something.

  “No. We will go out ourselves and kill a deer to provide food.”

  But alarm leaped into Garn’s eyes, and he shook his head vigorously. “No! No! That would mean death!”

  “Death to kill a deer?” Josh was puzzled. “What do you mean, Garn?”

  “All the deer belong to the king,” Bentain explained. “Anyone who kills a deer becomes one of The Hunted.”

  Josh thought this was a peculiar statement. “The Hunted? What does that mean?”

  Goodman’s face was grim. “Anyone who kills a deer becomes the quarry in the Hunt of Death.”

  The Sleepers just looked at one another, and it was Roland who finally blurted out, “What in the world is the Hunt of Death?”

  Bentain and Goodman exchanged glances.

  The man in green said, “As I said, those who kill deer become the quarry—the king hunts them for sport.”

  “Yes,” Bentain said. “That is the Hunt of Death. Many of our people have perished that way.”

  Joshua’s heart sank. If the king used human beings for sport like this, how in the world could he ever be changed?

  Bentain said, “Let us sit and talk while food is being prepared. I want to hear more about Goél and his plans.”

  “Very well,” Josh said. “And we thank you. But we will eat only what your family usually eats. Nothing special.” He whispered to Sarah, “This is going to be harder than we thought.”

  “Yes,” Sarah whispered back. “I’m afraid so.” She shivered. “Imagine hunting human beings for sport. The king must not be just proud. He must be a monster!”

  5

  The Hunted

  I saw poor folks back in Oldworld,” Reb muttered to Wash, “but never anything like this!”

  Wash looked up at him. “Me either,” he said sadly.

  The two were sitting by Garn’s shed, eating a raw turnip. It was poor eating indeed,
but during the days they had been camping in the forest close to the farm, they had discovered that Garn and his family lived on the brink of starvation. There were deer aplenty in the woods, but stark terror leaped into the man’s eyes every time one of the Sleepers mentioned shooting one. The family survived on the few vegetables they could raise in their scrawny garden, fish from the small stream nearby, and berries far out in the woods. It was a hard existence. The Sleepers felt great pity for the family of Garn and ate as little as possible themselves.

  “I feel sorry for those kids,” Wash said. “Robert and Pilar.”

  Robert was fifteen, and Pilar was twelve. They were small and almost as shy as the deer that inhabited the forest.

  Reb glanced over to where the boy and girl were working in the garden. “It would be so easy to go out and shoot a deer for them, but Garn won’t hear of it.”

  “He’s as afraid of the king as a man can be. But so is everybody else.”

  Reb sighed. They had met several of the neighboring farmers and discovered that fear of King Falmor lay over all the land like a cloud.

  “Goodman doesn’t seem to be too afraid. He and his men kill deer.”

  Reb said, “But they don’t have families to worry about. They’re sort of like soldiers in battle, and I guess they’re good enough in the woods that the king’s men can’t catch up with them.”

  “I know they help the farmers as much as they can. They bring them parts of a deer from time to time,” Wash said. “Without that, Garn and his family would probably starve.”

  Josh and Sarah sat just outside the small hut that Garn’s family lived in. They were talking with Bentain and Goodman. It was certainly more pleasant outside than in. The house had a dirt floor and no windows. When she’d first seen the inside, Sarah said to Josh, “We kept our animals better than this back in Oldworld!”

  Josh was encouraging the men to talk about their situation. “We won’t know how to help unless we know what’s going on,” he told them.

  Bentain spoke first of his relationship with Goél. When Bentain was a young man, Goél had visited this kingdom and had made many friends here.

  “So are there many followers of Goél here now?” Sarah asked, leaning forward eagerly.

  “There may be, but they keep quiet about it. The king doesn’t like to hear about Goél. He has used some of Goél’s people in the Hunt of Death.”

  “That’s certainly bad news,” Josh said gloomily. “I had hoped that there would be many who would be followers of Goél.”

  “In the old days there were, but the king himself was different then.”

  “Different how?” Josh asked.

  “He was a good man when he was young, much like his father. Good to everyone. Yes, he was a good king.”

  “What changed him? He’s certainly not a ‘good king’ now,” Josh said.

  Bentain slowly rocked back and forth. He stroked his white beard. Then he said quietly, “I think it was the death of the queen that began the change. She died giving birth to their only child, a daughter named Lara. The king went nearly mad with grief. We all loved the queen, and all of us grieved, but King Falmor—I never saw a man carry on so.”

  “That was probably a sign that he loved her,” Sarah said.

  “Yes, but he couldn’t get over his grief. He began seeing wizards and trying to make contact with her spirit.”

  “That’s a bad one,” Josh said.

  “At the time, I was a good friend of his counselor, Datir. He told the king that he had to learn to deal with his grief and give proper attention to the kingdom. Perhaps seek another wife in time. The king grew furious with him and had him thrown in prison. I believe Datir died there.”

  “King Falmor doesn’t sound like a very reasonable man,” Sarah murmured.

  “He was once, but no more.” A hard light came into Bentain’s eyes. “Falmor made a very serious mistake —he began to lean more and more on the advice of a wizard called Zarak. The man gained great power over the king. Those closest to Falmor tried telling him that Zarak was a dangerous man, but the king would not listen. He thought he knew better than his advisers. I believe,” Bentain went on quietly, “that the wizard had promised to raise the queen from the dead. At least that was the rumor.”

  “And the king believed him.”

  “I think his mind was clouded. Zarak has the ability to cloud the mind. He is Lord Zarak now and far more than a wizard. He is the king’s chief counselor. He is at Falmor’s right hand constantly.”

  “What sort of man is this Lord Zarak?”

  “A very wealthy man and crueler than you could believe, but the king listens to his every word. As I said, the man is a wizard, and I think the king is somehow under his spell.” He looked eagerly at Josh. “That’s why I hoped that Goél would come—to break the spell. And something else is most worrisome—Lord Zarak wants to marry Lady Lara. That means that, when the king dies, Zarak will be king over all the land.”

  Goodman nodded. “It is Zarak who came up with the idea of the Hunt of Death. He thought it was a good way of getting rid of his enemies. All of the king’s old and trusted advisers either fled the land or have died in the Hunt of Death. And today, anyone who challenges Zarak’s power will die under the spears of the hunters.”

  “Do you think you can help us?” old Bentain asked, leaning forward pleadingly. “If Goél sent you . . .”

  Josh Adams was an honest boy. This seemed to be a hard case indeed, harder than most of their missions. “We would love to help you, Bentain, but it seems to me that more than a war is needed.”

  “True. True,” Goodman said grimly. He fingered the dagger in his belt. “We have a small group of forest men, as you have seen. But my men would be unable to take the king’s castle. It is well guarded. And the king keeps a large army to do his bidding.”

  “Again, true,” Bentain said. “They rule the land with an iron fist. It’s a cruel world that King Falmor and Lord Zarak have made. This was once a fair land full of love and singing and joy, but now it is like one continual funeral.”

  Sarah walked down to the stream with a line and some hooks in her hand. She trimmed a sapling, made a pole, and found a likely-looking place on the bank. She soon caught several fish, which pleased her.

  And then she looked up. Roland Winters was walking along the stream toward her. He had his bow in his hand and a full quiver of arrows. She thought again what a fine looking boy he was, but she knew it would never do to say so. He was vain enough already!

  “Can’t you catch anything?” he asked. He threw himself on the bank but laid his bow down carefully. He was very proud of the weapon.

  “A few. What have you been doing?”

  “I thought I might bring down some squirrels or a rabbit. I’m getting hungry.” He looked out through the woods. “I’ve seen at least a half dozen deer. It would be so easy to shoot one.”

  “Better not do that.”

  “That’s what everybody says. But why not? The king would never miss one.”

  “From what I hear about the king and Lord Zarak, anyone who kills a deer is executed.”

  “Oh, sure. In that Hunt of Death. I think that’s probably an exaggeration.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Sarah said. “Didn’t you see the fear in the eyes of Garn and his family when we even mentioned shooting a deer?”

  “Sarah, they are just ignorant people. What do they know?”

  Impatiently Sarah turned and faced him. “Aren’t you shocked at all over the plight of these people, Roland?”

  “There are poor people everywhere. Weren’t there poor people where you came from?”

  “Yes, and I felt sorry for them. I’ve gotten to know Pilar a little. She’s only twelve years old, but what hope does she have? There’s nothing but to grow up in misery and poverty. And Robert, Garn’s son—he’s fifteen and afraid of his own shadow. These people live horrible lives.”

  “If you say so,” Roland said carelessly. He tossed
stones into the stream, one after another.

  “Don’t you care at all about anybody except yourself, Roland?”

  He just grinned at her. “A fellow’s got to take care of himself. Didn’t you know that, Sarah?”

  “I think I’ve learned something a little better than that. In the first place, most of us can’t take care of ourselves. We all need help sometimes.”

  “Well, I don’t plan to need help from anybody. Now let’s talk about something pleasant.”

  Sarah saw that trying to reason with Roland Winters was hopeless. He had no idea what it was like to be poor or hungry or weak. He was strong and able and evidently had come from good circumstances. I might as well talk to that rock about Garn and his family as to Roland, she thought.

  “Maybe we can get us a few squirrels—or maybe some rabbits, at least,” Reb said. He kept his eyes on the trees above him, looking for game.

  “Rabbit stew would taste pretty good,” Wash agreed. “There sure are a lot of hungry folks in this country that need to be fed.”

  The boys hunted for more than two hours but managed to bring down only two rabbits. Reb slumped in discouragement. “If I just had my shotgun and my old dog, Spot, I could fill this sack up with game in no time.”

  At that moment Wash suddenly straightened, listening. “Hear that? Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Listen.” Wash stood perfectly still, and so did Reb. “That’s dogs barking. Sounds like hunting dogs. And it’s coming from over there. From the other side of that ridge.”

  “Sure is. Let’s go see what it is.” Reb took off running.

  From the top of the ridge, Reb saw that they were looking down into the valley beyond. The baying of the dogs was growing louder. Suddenly Reb pointed. “Look there, Wash!”

  Wash narrowed his eyes and then exclaimed, “That fellow’s running away from something!”

  Just below them a man crashed through the underbrush. His clothes were torn to tatters, and his face was filled with stark terror. Even as the boys watched, he stumbled into a sapling. The little tree rebounded and threw him to the ground. He struggled to his feet, looked behind him, and then threw himself forward again, ignoring the briars and branches that clawed at him.