“’ere, Chief,” said Klag, “‘ow come you talk to ‘em like that?”
“Like what, my dear Klag?”
“Like they’re your bestest mates ‘n’ that.”
“One has to be gentle with them at first, Klag, to earn their trust. One must speak calmly. They don’t know me as you do, they don’t know how kind and fair a leader I am, and they’re not as clever as you.” He’d also learned that flattery worked just as well.
“Cor the Chief told me I was clever. Clever Klag, ooh I like that, clever Klag,” he kept repeating to himself.
Ramah’s recruitment campaign continued. More and more joined him. Slaying the current head of a group was a simple enough task and very few of them could think for themselves, always craving leadership. Within a few days, eighty-seven new ‘volunteers’ now followed him. “We shall give it another five days my General,” he said to Klag, slapping him on the head, which was his idea of showing affection, “five more days and we shall have an army, my friend.”
Klag’s eyes grew wide. General, friend, clever General Klag the Chief’s friend. He shivered with excitement.
Ramah was correct, recruitment became easier and easier. He hardly ever spoke now. Klag had taken the initiative and, with the help of his warriors, their number had tripled, with Dergon actually seeking them out, eager to join. Ramah sat at the top of the hill looking down at his warriors. A pride welling in his chest, he raised his voice and bellowed down to them, “The time of The Dergon has come,” causing his new followers to chant, ‘Dergon, Dergon, Dergon.’
***
Faylore had taken the lead, her long legs striding easily across the grassy plains. She had spoken very little that morning, but had studied the two friends as they packed up the cart, hitched the mules and saddled the horse. Karrak had been lifted into the covered cart and made comfortable, and instructions were given to the two soldiers before they were ready to leave. Throughout their preparations, Faylore had paced, sighing occasionally, placing her hands on her hips and tapping her foot, not disguising her impatience. Although bemused, she had survived the wait until, eventually, they set off. Their progression would, of course, now be increased, with the acquisition of the mules. Mounted once more, Jared rode at the tail of the procession so that he could converse with Hannock, who sat on the back of the provisions cart, his legs dangling, swaying gently as it trundled across the uneven terrain.
“This is much better,” said Hannock, “we should be able to make up for lost time, if we don’t have rain and the ground remains firm and even.”
“Our path is clear for miles, Hannock, so no nasty surprises, and best of all, we have Faylore now, her senses seem to be much keener than ours, you know!”
“I know; she is impressive isn’t she?” Hannock had a dreamy look on his face like an enamoured schoolboy.
Jared laughed and, spurring his horse gently, rode ahead in order to speak to Faylore.
“I saw no bows, Gerald, what do you use to hunt?”
“We have bows and crossbows in the covered cart, and it’s Jared.”
“Why didn’t you use them against the Dergon when they attacked?”
“We never had the chance, they were on us too quickly.”
“It never looked that quick to me. How strange you are.” She quickened her pace and marched ahead, seemingly losing interest in the conversation.
Two more days passed. The trio’s time was taken up with Jared and Hannock reminiscing over childhood events, and Faylore’s constant questioning. She was becoming used to the Borellians’ ways and they hers as their friendship was beginning to form. Faylore, however, still regarded her new-found friends as very strange, but had also gleaned that they bore no malice to others.
They broke camp on the third day, the most unusual day to date. Faylore was attempting to supervise, in order to speed up the process, as impatient as ever, to continue their journey.
It was raining again. The Borellians took this in their stride, but Faylore produced a full length, hooded cloak of emerald green from her pack and wrapped it around her shoulders, drawing the hood over her platinum hair. Hannock gave a little sigh and the dreamy look returned to his face, as well as a stupid smile. This was wiped off with a whack around the back of his head, as Jared struck him with a leather glove. “Back with us, Captain?” he asked.
Faylore looked over her shoulder and smiled. Yes, a most unusual day.
The soggy ground hindered their progress, but only slightly, and by late afternoon they reached the foothills of Peralorn. Rising very gently, the grassy slopes, despite the rain, were easy to traverse with only sparse rock formations. As they started the ascent, Faylore suddenly signalled for them to hold. Her two friends looked at one another, their confusion obvious, as they could neither see nor hear any reason for this abrupt halt. Swiftly, Faylore armed herself. “We must help,” she said.
Bow in hand, she sprinted away at such speed that her cloak was now blown horizontally behind her as she disappeared over the horizon. Hannock leapt into action, running to the cart and snatching up two bows and quivers of arrows. Jared spurred his horse and, grabbing Hannock by the arm, swung him so that he was now seated behind him. Turning, he charged after Faylore. Reaching the top of the ridge the pair could not believe their eyes. Faylore, now stood on top of a rock, was firing arrows at a herd of beasts that numbered at least fifty. Massive beasts with black skin and red eyes… glamoch.
The arrows bounced off the hides of the glamoch as if they were made of iron until, with a loud thump, one fell dead, an arrow through its eye. The others were now charging the rock on which Faylore stood, causing it to shake, shards breaking off as the beasts slammed head first into it. Faylore, her footing unsure, was struggling to aim.
The Borellians had now begun their own attack and managed to fell another glamoch, resulting in part of the herd turning and charging toward them. Hannock’s eyes grew wide, “Oh bugger.”
There was nowhere to shelter, the stampeding beasts were now a mere twenty feet from them. Hannock felt himself pulled backwards, violently. As Jared stepped past him, he thrust his hands forwards and gigantic flames flew from them, not leaving them but from them as he moved them from side to side. The beasts reeled and bellowed in terror. Jared began walking forward the flames still roaring from his palms, herding the glamoch away until finally, they turned, and fled to escape their fiery fate.
Hannock, now seated on the grass, looked up at Faylore. “What was that all about?” he asked. Without a word, she jumped down and strolled around the rock on which she had been standing, then with lightning speed, made a grab for something behind it.
“Ow, ow, ow, that really hurts you know? It was an accident, I mean, I didn’t do anything, it was somebody else and they ran away, please let go, that really hurts.”
Faylore now dragged her captive from his hiding place by his ear, and what an ear, or indeed ears? Stood before them was the most peculiar creature that either Jared or Hannock had ever seen. He was about five feet tall, but two feet of them were his head, and his ears were nearly the full length of it. His body was dumpy but his sleeveless arms were huge with biceps as thick as tree trunks. He had enormous green eyes a small pointed nose and very rosy cheeks. One could actually describe it as cute but for his arms. On seeing the rest of the party, a beaming smile appeared on its face.
“Hello,” he said, “I’m Lodren.”
Slightly taken aback by this pleasant greeting, Jared stepped forward and offered his hand. “Jared Dunbar,” he said, “This is Captain Hannock and Queen Faylore,” he added, gesturing in turn to his two companions.
“Very pleased to make your acquaintance, can I have my ear back now please?” Faylore released her grip. Lodren stood rubbing his ear as it turned bright red, a result of its harsh treatment by Faylore. “You’ve got a very good grip you know, for a queen?”
The impudence, Faylore thought, for a queen, indeed.
“Join us for a moment, Lodren,�
�� said Jared, as he headed back to the cart not waiting for a reply.
“If you insist,” said Lodren, following him.
Jared wanted to return to the carts, he couldn’t leave his brother unprotected.
“Nice horse by the way,” said Lodren, then he pointed at the mules and added, “shame about them though.”
“What are you doing out here, Lodren? And why are you alone?” asked Jared.
“I’m a Nibby,” he answered holding his arms out from his sides as if the statement was the answer to everything.
“What does that mean?” Jared asked the question inquisitively.
“You don’t know?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” said Jared.
“Where are you from?” asked Lodren.
“We are from The Kingdom of Borell,” replied Jared.
“So, what do you call yourselves?”
“We are Borellians.”
“So, you’re from Borell and you call yourself a Borellian. Well, I’m a Nibby because I’m from nowhere.”
“That makes no sense,” said Jared looking puzzled.
“Right, how can I put it?” Lodren paused for a second and raised his finger in a ‘eureka’ gesture. “A nomad, you’d call me a nomad. I am a Nibby and I’m a nomad.”
Hannock had to chip in at this point, “Well at least you’ll never get homesick.”
“How did you manage to get yourself into that mess with those beasts?” asked Jared.
“Just hungry,” replied Lodren.
“Just hungry?”
“Yes I thought I could bag a stray one, they taste lovely if you use the right herbs. Can’t beat a nice glamoch steak. Mind you the shoulder’s nice as well, but only if it’s slow-roasted.”
“Bag a stray one! No offence, but how on earth did you think you could bring down one of those things by yourself? I mean they are pretty big and…” Jared’s voice tailed off. He might insult Lodren by mentioning his small stature, and that would simply be rude.
“Come on, I’ll show you.” Lodren started walking back up the hill. Reaching the point where the felled glamoch lay, he paused and looked down. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said, rubbing his hands together. He carried on, disappearing behind the rock where he had hidden earlier. Emerging a moment later he was holding a hammer, but what a hammer. It was as big as Lodren himself and he smiled at it as he raised it into the air. He now stood before the rock that Faylore had used for elevation. “Sorry about this,” he said patting it gently and then, swinging the hammer as hard as he could, brought it down with an almighty crash and smashed it into pieces.
Hannock, as usual, “Stone me.”
Leaving Lodren to his own devices, they returned to the carts, discussing what they had just seen. Lodren rejoined them a short while later with many leaf-wrapped parcels, obviously containing glamoch meat, and began to stow them away in a backpack he had secreted earlier, which had also explained the acquisition of the leaves. “Anybody hungry?” he asked.
They had decided to press on and invited Lodren to join them.
“Why not?” he said, “should be good for a laugh if nothing else.”
Late that afternoon, they were fortunate enough to come across some old, disused stone cottages and the Borellians took advantage by settling in one of them for the night. Lodren, much like Faylore, preferred the outdoor life and they had left the two of them in order to discuss their progress and tend to Karrak’s needs.
“Have you ever seen strength like that before, Hannock?” asked Jared.
“Well there was this one chap…” replied Hannock, glancing at Karrak.
“My brother is powerful I’ll admit that, but this… Nibby, well, he’s in a league of his own.”
“He’d be a good asset to us on the rest of our journey Jared. If we could persuade him to stick with us, things could be a lot easier.”
“I wonder. Do you think there’s anything he might want or need, Hannock?”
“Well he says he’s a nomad. I wonder if they use coin or just barter for anything they can’t get in the wilds?”
“Well, the easiest thing would be to just ask him, that is of course if he’s still here in the morning,” suggested Jared.
Hannock began to laugh. “I wonder how those two are getting on? I bet the conversation’s simply flowing.” His manner changed, “And how are you? I mean you’re not tired?”
“Well maybe a little, but no more than usual, why?” asked Jared.
“Jared, you cast that fire spell today and it never even affected you, you never even flinched,” replied Hannock.
“I know, and unlike the last time, I actually felt stronger after.”
“Good old Emnor was right then. Tell you what, you keep up with your magic and pretty soon we won’t even need that magic carpet I mentioned, you can fly us to Reiggan.”
***
They arose the following morning and were pleasantly surprised to find that, not only was Lodren still with them, but was eager to join them in their ‘adventures’ as he called them. A word that Faylore found to be most vulgar.
They travelled yet another day without incident and, once camp was set, Lodren had insisted that he would take care of the ‘catering’, another strange word that he had used. Jared and Hannock had their reservations, but as much as they protested, Lodren had said that it was only fair that he be allowed to ‘do his bit’. The meal prepared, they sat around the campfire. Faylore attempted to leave but Lodren begged her to at least try some of the food he had prepared. “Your Majesty,” he said most politely, “I do understand that your palate is far more refined than ours, therefore I have prepared dishes solely for your delicate taste buds.”
Faylore, surprised at his wonderfully formal manner, accepted and took her place.
They raised their plates in unison, each taking tentative nibbles at the unknown cuisine. Their hesitation lasted but a few seconds as their taste buds were overwhelmed with the delicious flavours! They had made an unspoken pact to not ask what the ingredients were, but the meals produced from them were wonderful! Lodren was overjoyed by the response, cooking being his love, “I’m really going to enjoy cooking for you three.”
***
“With the ones we’ve already got, Chief, and the ones what you’ve got ‘ere, that means we’ve got, erm, how many is it, Chief, I ain’t no good wiv numbers.”
“No, now that you mention it, I had noticed that slight flaw in your character, Klag. Never mind, my plan is coming to fruition, and one such as yourself who has a bovine brain should be quite adequate.”
Klag raised himself to his full height and pushed out his chest, taking it as a compliment.
“And in answer to your question, we are now over four hundred strong.”
“Ok, Chief, what’s the plan then? What we gonna do wiv our army, I mean your army, I mean, what you gonna do wiv your army?”
“For too long, Klag, the might of the Dergon has been used to win the wars of others. For too long we have been given the scraps from the tables of kings who keep the fortunes of war for themselves. It is time for the Dergon to have a kingdom of their own, and I shall sit upon its throne. We cannot win a war with so few warriors, however weak our enemy, for we would easily be outnumbered. The numbers we do have therefore must suffice to take our first steps. We shall raid villages and destroy townships. Word of our victories will spread far and wide and all others of our kind will join us until our number reaches thousands and, when that day comes, we shall take kingdoms for our own.”
On reaching the rest of the horde, the Dergon began to make ready for the first stages of their planned uprising. Leather armour was made from glamoch hide and issued to all Dergon that were still without. Helmets, heavy swords and shields of iron were forged and Ramah himself taught his warriors fighting techniques, to aid them in their upcoming battles. Warriors would fall to their knees exhausted, only to be pulled back to their feet and forced to endure even more gruelling battle t
raining. These were Dergon, they were not weak, each would fight to his dying breath and were convinced that soon, they would conquer the world.
***
The four companions had now reached the base of the Muurkain Mountains and set up camp and Lodren, as agreed, was taking care of the catering. The air had become a little cooler and the travellers had changed into warmer attire, well not all, Lodren had pulled a light waistcoat from his backpack and insisted that this was all he needed, as the cold never really affected him.
At this point Hannock leaned across to Jared and whispered, “Where would you find a jacket with sleeves wide enough to fit those arms anyway?”
“Do you know the route at all, Faylore?” Jared asked.
“I can tell you the route as it has been explained to me in the past, but I have never actually taken it myself,” she replied.
“I tried it once, but I was driven back by the snow,” announced Lodren.
“Why didn’t you tell us that before?” asked Hannock.
“I don’t like to poke my nose in, and anyway you didn’t ask me.”
Hannock shook his head “Oh for f…”
“How far did you get, Lodren?” asked Jared loudly to drown out Hannock’s foul language.
“Nearly half way. I never pushed myself, it was only a trail I hadn’t used before and I just wondered what was up there.”
Hannock was amazed, “You decided to climb a mountain, just because it was there?”
“Well yes, I suppose I did,” replied Lodren.
“What a barmpot!” exclaimed Hannock.
“Good evening, how are you all?” They all jumped up, grabbing for weapons as they had not seen anyone approach. “Oh dear. My apologies, did I startle you?” Before them stood Emnor, chuckling, having obviously amused himself.
The Ascension of Karrak Page 9
