Taken aback, he paused. There was only one course of action left open to him as, he too, gave the order to charge. Ramah witnessed his brave warriors fall. He and his warriors hacked and cleaved until as before, all life was extinguished. The battle was done. His army celebrated their victory but Ramah himself felt no joy, as to him this had been a disaster, having lost at least fifty of their own. He called his warriors to him and stood before them, holding out his arm for Klag to stand at his side. Klag stood proudly beside his Chief, a twisted smile showing his brown, rotting teeth.
Ramah addressed his army solemnly, “We have achieved another victory my Dergon, but we too have suffered losses this day, and far too many. I made you a promise that none of your lives would be lost needlessly and today I have broken that promise, not purposely, but by putting my faith in another, I have failed you. Had my orders been followed we would still have our fallen brothers.”
Ramah’s body jerked slightly and the twisted smile disappeared from Klag’s face. “This will not happen again, pay heed to this lesson. Fail me and you shall suffer the consequences.”
Klag, still standing during the final warning, dropped to his knees and fell face first into the dirt, a large knife embedded to the hilt, in his skull.
***
Jared could not resist, he kept on all morning. “After you, Charles, keep up, Charles, are you alright, Charles?”
Come lunchtime, Charles, had had enough. “What’s with all this Charles business? It’s Hannock. You never call me by my first name, ever, it’s always been Hannock, even my own father calls me Hannock, so knock it on the head will you! No more Charles.”
“Alright, alright if you insist… Charles.” Jared ran ahead as Hannock took a swipe at him.
Their mirth however was short-lived. They had thought that reaching the main path would take roughly an hour, but as they rounded the very next bend the trail they were on ended, smashed away by a landslide or storm, just the edge still attached to the cliff remaining. Hannock groaned, “Bugger.”
“It’s not that bad, it’s only about a fifteen-foot gap,” said Lodren cheerily, “we can manage that.”
“We probably can my dear Nibby,” said Faylore, “but what about those?” she asked, pointing to the carts.
“Oh I’ll take care of those, Majesty.”
“And the horse and the mules?” asked Jared.
“Easy, like I said, I’ll take care of them,” replied Lodren.
“And how do you intend to get those, over there?” asked Hannock pointing.
“Well, I’ll throw the carts across and then carry the animals one at a time. I’m not stupid, Charles.”
“Don’t you start. I’ve got enough with him.”
“But that’s impossible” said Jared, “you can’t throw a cart.”
“No, Prince Jared, you can’t throw a cart, but I can.”
At Lodren’s request, they unhitched the mule from the provisions cart. He stooped and shuffled between the wheels and without taking a breath, lifted it above his head. “See…” he said, “…easy.”
Hannock’s jaw dropped.
“You’ll get used to him,” smiled Faylore, “how many more times must you be told? He’s a Nibby.”
Faylore crossed first as she was the lightest and very nimble. Jared and Hannock followed. Lodren came straight after them almost at a run, carrying Karrak over his shoulder. This was thought to be a better idea than him being tossed around like a ragdoll in the back of the cart when it was thrown. Lodren then returned to the carts. The animals had been blindfolded to save undue alarm and Lodren was now trying to assess the best way to lift a horse. “I could just knock him out for a while?” he said reaching for his hammer, “Only joking, only joking.” He lifted it with its front legs over one shoulder and back legs over the other and began the crossing, but even though the horse tried to buck in protest, he never missed a step. He repeated the process with the mules and now had only the carts to deal with.
He took hold of the first, advising the others to stand well back, and then with a very slight grunt he launched it. Landing on the other side, its wheels already locked, it scraped to a halt. “One down, one to go,” said Lodren, moving to the second cart. This was the covered cart, the larger of the two and considerably heavier.
“Do be careful, Lodren, we don’t want you hurting yourself old chap,” said Hannock, with genuine concern.
Lodren lifted the cart as easily as he had the first and approached the gap. He rocked back and forth slightly and as it moved forward for the third time, he gave a mighty push. The cart flew into the air, but all had not gone quite to plan. As Lodren had released his grip, his waistcoat had snagged and as the cart took flight, he went with it. It was halfway across, Lodren still attached, his arms flailing wildly in an attempt to grab hold of a lifeline that didn’t exist. It seemed as if the cart would clear the gap quite easily but that the Nibby was in danger of being crushed as it landed. His companions gasped in shock, but the worst was yet to come. As they looked on in horror, Lodren’s waistcoat tore, the cart continued its flight, but he did not, and plunged into the gap. The cart landed the same as the first, scraping to a halt. Faylore fell to her knees, her two companions aghast.
They heard a thump, then again, and again, realising that the noise was coming from the gap in the broken trail. They approached the edge, gingerly peering over to see Lodren hanging onto the sheer rock face, still smiling. “Don’t worry, be with you in a minute,” he called.
All three began to laugh and cheer.
As Lodren fell, he pulled back his huge arm and punched the rock face, creating a handhold and was now repeating the process enabling him to climb back up. His companions threw him a rope and, once he was safe, Faylore threw her arms around him. She had become very fond of the Nibby.
***
“They shall be here in a day or two, Barden. Have the preparations been made?” Emnor enquired.
“Yes of course, but I still think you’re overreacting.”
“One cannot argue with lore, Barden. The scroll warned of this and we must not take the matter lightly.”
“One failed fire spell, Emnor, one, failed.”
“Yes, I admit that it could have been a lot worse. However, he did attempt it, which means he now realises he has the ability to perform magic and knowing him the way I do, Karrak will certainly endeavour to learn more,” said Emnor.
“And that is why we are bringing him here. The power of the Administration could suppress the most powerful of magis,” replied Barden.
“His power was borne of madness; unlike his brother whose power is natural. His was obtained by absorbing five souls tortured into that madness, exactly as it is stated in the scroll. We must take great care; preparations must be made to the letter.”
“And they are, Emnor. I told you he should have been destroyed as an infant, but he wasn’t, and now we have to deal with the situation as best we can. Personally, I find it difficult to believe that one mortal can consume the soul of another, but why doubt us so?” asked Barden.
“I am unsure, I just have a strange feeling of unease and if something goes wrong, I fear Karrak will be hard to contain.”
“Emnor, listen. The columns have been placed and the runes carved into them. The markings from the scroll have been etched into the floor and ceiling. Spells have been cast on the only door, nobody can get in or out of the chamber without prior knowledge of the incantation and I alone know that, plus he’ll be kept asleep most of the time.”
“And what if Karrak somehow draws the incantation from your mind, what then?” asked Emnor.
“Impossible. I shall remain outside the doors at all times and Karrak will be attended to by another, and of course, I’ll be wearing this.” Barden raised a talisman secured by a thick gold chain around his neck. “The Order of Corrodin will not allow another to probe my mind.”
Emnor glanced at the talisman. He was unsure, as was everyone, of its origin, or indeed of
its properties. Barden had begun to wear it some years before and as far as he could remember, had not been without it since. Only Barden knew its true significance.
“Let’s hope you’re right, Barden, because if you’re not… I dread to think what might happen.”
***
Faylore remained silent as their journey continued, embarrassed at her show of affection toward Lodren and Hannock. Thedarians rarely showed emotion but the simbor had affected her as well as Hannock and she would never, ordinarily, have been so sentimental.
“We should reach Reiggan by tomorrow evening don’t you think, Hannock?” asked Jared.
“What? You’ll have to speak up. I can’t hear you over this blasted wind,” shouted Hannock.
“Never mind,” said Jared, waving his hand to show his last comment was of no importance.
The weather had turned, the wind blasting the snow into their faces and spooking the animals. They ploughed on, but the weather seemed to worsen with every step. Jared abruptly called a halt. “We must find shelter; the snow is blinding.” He too, was now having to shout.
They suspected that the map bore no relevance to the paths that they were now being forced to take. Without option, they continued. Discovering a cave and without thought or hesitation, they entered, throwing caution to the wind. Catching their breath, they stared, but try as they might, their eyesight could not penetrate the abyssal blackness of the cavernous expanse.
“Any chance, Your Highness?” asked Hannock.
“Oh yes, of course,” replied Jared. A flame appeared, nestled in Jared’s palm.
“Hang on just a sec, Mr Jared,” said Lodren. Rummaging in the provisions cart, he produced three torches, lighting them before passing them to the others. “That’s better,” he said.
“Trust Lodren to always have what we need,” said Faylore.
“Plenty room in this cave, Mr Hannock,” said Lodren with a laugh.
“Indeed. I don’t think you’ll need your hammer this time.”
“I think we should make as little noise as possible,” suggested Faylore, tilting her head to listen, “we are not alone.” They all stood stock still, watching Faylore intently.
“What can you hear?” whispered Jared.
“Somebody humming a tune,” she replied, “it’s coming from deep within the cave and whoever it is knows of our presence. Stay here, I’ll take a look.”
“But you can’t see in the dark,” said Jared.
Faylore looked across at him, “No, Jared, you can’t see in the dark.”
Jared remembered his conversation with Lodren regarding the cart. “I’ll shut up shall I?” he suggested.
Venturing further into the gloom, Faylore saw the faint glow of a campfire. Sneaking closer she witnessed a tiny individual, no more than two feet tall, tending to a spit placed across the flames. He was wearing a brown leather jacket with trousers to match, sported a goatee beard and had a shock of red hair with two small horns poking out of it. “I ain’t got nothin’ worth stealing, so you might as well bugger off now,” he said suddenly.
She was taken aback by this, not at what was said, but that she had been detected. “My intention was not robbery, friend, merely curiosity.”
“Oh, so you’re a nosey bugger? Well you’ve had yer look. Now sod off.”
Faylore was unused to being spoken to in such a way, but realising her trespass, she remained polite. “My apologies, friend, we shall not disturb you again.”
“We? What do you mean we? You’re not alone?” he asked.
“There are five of us, but we mean you no harm.”
“What are ye doing here, pokin’ around?”
“We were caught in the storm and simply sought shelter,” replied Faylore.
With hands on hips, he looked her up and down. “Bring ‘em down here. I’d rather have ‘em where I can keep me eye on ‘em,” he said gruffly.
Faylore returned to her companions and, with her assurances of safety, they all returned to the camp of the grumpy individual.
Entering the firelight, Jared prepared to make formal introductions.
“Don’t think you’re gettin’ fed, this is my dinner. Ye can use the fire when I’ve finished with it and that’s all, and keep them bloody animals away from me, horrible smelly things,” snapped the stranger, before Jared could speak.
Lodren tried to break the ice as this strange individual tended his spit, “I have some very nice herbs that might improve the flavour of that, happy to share if you’d like some.”
“This is why I prefer to be on me own. Ye haven’t been here two minutes and yer already sayin’ me food’s no good. Did I ask fer ye herbs? I’m fine as I am, ye can stick ye herbs.”
“Just a thought, we’re all different I suppose. Could I make the campfire a little bigger when I prepare our meals, as there are five of us?” asked Lodren.
“And now me campfire’s not big enough. Anythin’ else ye’d like to insult while yer at it?”
Hannock spoke for the first time, “Look, it’s obvious we’re not welcome, we’ll just go a bit deeper into the cavern and leave you in peace.”
“What makes ye think you’re not welcome? Was it something I said!?” exclaimed the stranger.
Hannock was flabbergasted and Jared started laughing. Holding out his hand he announced “Jared Dunbar, and you are?”
“Grubb. No first or last name, just Grubb.”
Having eaten, they all settled by the now, large campfire.
“Has this been your home for long?” asked Faylore.
“I come and go, sometimes here, sometimes not,” replied Grubb.
Faylore had the distinct impression that this was not going to be an easy conversation.
“Do you know the area well, Grubb?” Hannock enquired.
“Yes, and no. Some bits I do and some bits I don’t.”
Lodren realised what it was that the others were attempting to glean and felt inclined to speed up the process. “We’re trying to get to Reiggan Fortress and we’re lost, can you help us get there?” he asked. The rest of the companions stared at him in disbelief.
“Well normally I don’t involve meself in other’s affairs, but if it means getting rid of ye a bit quicker, then yes I can, and I will. We just have to follow the cavern to the other side and it’s not far from there. It’s too late in the day to start now so get some sleep and we’ll go in the mornin’,” replied Grubb.
Looking rather pleased with himself, Lodren pulled his trusty backpack closer to use as a pillow, and settled down for the night.
***
The last leg of their journey had begun, at least they hoped it had. They were now well past the halfway point through the labyrinthine cavern.
“Be quiet as ye can through this bit. Don’t want to attract any unwanted attention,” advised Grubb without elaboration. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before they found out what he meant.
They heard the snuffling first and then the patter of the paws… wolves!
Appearing from the darkness they stalked closer. They began growling and snarling, their breath showing as steam would from a half-boiled kettle. They edged closer and would surely have attacked, when suddenly there was a roaring howl that seemed to stop them in their tracks. In an instant it appeared, it, because none of the group knew exactly what it was. Ten feet tall, four arms with hands as big as spades, talons like an eagle and walking on two legs. It charged toward the wolves that yelped in fear. One wolf jumped at the creature but was caught mid-air and thrown against the cavern wall, killing it instantly. The pack circled the strange creature, still growling, hackles up. The creature slashed once. The wolves, realising that they were outmatched, turned tail and ran.
The companions drew their weapons, Jared nestling a fireball in one hand, ready for battle. Unsure of the best strategy, they watched the creature intently for a few moments, for although it had scattered the wolves, they were still wary of its intention towards them, but were astounded when,
incredibly, it began to shrink, getting smaller and smaller until, there stood Grubb. The creature had been Grubb, or was Grubb the creature? “Damned wolves are a bloody nuisance!” he exclaimed.
“Well, there’s something you don’t see every day!” said Hannock.
***
Tamor sat on his throne, arms folded. Staring into the eyes of the soldier standing before him, he asked, “Not one survivor?”
“No Sire, and all were beheaded, even the children,” he replied solemnly.
“Who would do such a thing, and why?”
“Forgive me, Majesty, but it is more of a ‘what’ than a ‘who’, and I am not sure what ‘they’ are.”
“What do you mean? Make sense man,” snapped Tamor.
The soldier turned to his side and was handed a grain sack. “It was done by these, Sire.” Drawing his hand from the sack, he raised the head of one of the fallen Dergon.
“Dergon!” exclaimed Tamor, “But I thought they were all but extinct. There can be no more than a handful left, and what there are have been scattered far and wide.”
“We counted over fifty dead, Sire, but by the tracks they left, they number hundreds.”
“This makes no sense, these animals are mercenary. They fight for the highest bidder during open warfare, they do not simply attack innocent villagers. They must be in someone’s employ, but who is commanding them?”
“Sire, the only tracks other than the ones of these things, were the tracks of beasts, but nothing I recognise.”
“Glamoch probably, they use them as we would horses, but that still doesn’t explain who they were fighting for. They live for battle, not lands or titles, only blood.”
“What are your orders, Sire?”
Tamor sat silently for a few moments, contemplating what action to take. Why had he suggested that Jared should oversee his brother’s safe passage? Why had he allowed Hannock to accompany them? It had barely been two weeks since their departure and could be twice that before their return. His mind was in turmoil at the loss of so many of his loyal subjects, but he knew he must act swiftly.
The Ascension of Karrak Page 11
