Yello smiled back at him, “I promise not to resist, dear boy. As pathetic as that hatpin of a sword you rely on is, you can run me through like a pig destined for the spit. Deal?”
Hannock backed away. His loyalty to the crown had never wavered, and his warning had been no idle threat.
The door opened. Drake entered the room, having retrieved Yello’s trusty bag. “Here you go,” he said.
“Thank you, Drake. Jared, I think it only proper that you do this,” suggested Yello, attempting to hand Jared a small glass bottle.
Before Jared could reply, Hannock quickly stepped forward, snatching the bottle from Yello’s grasp. “Jared is heir to the throne of Borell, not a valet. I shall apply the oil, thank you,” he said haughtily.
Removing the stopper, he sniffed warily at its contents, “Now there’s a surprise!” he said. “Normally, I end up regretting volunteering for anything. This stuff smells quite pleasant.” Pouring some of the oil carefully into his cupped palm, he rubbed his hands together briefly before smearing it gently across Tamor’s face, neck and hands. One would have expected this to embarrass Hannock slightly, but far from it. Hannock was proud to be caring for the man who not only was his king, but was also as close to him as his own father. His self-appointed duty completed, he stepped away from Tamor. With a half-hearted smile, he nodded at Jared. “Your wizard may commence, Your Highness.”
“I’m not his wizard, you berk,” snorted Yello. Raising his hands and closing his eyes, he began to chant quietly. A faint grey mist was forming around Tamor. Small electrical discharges snapped and popped within it, minute sparks and flashes were giving it the appearance of a miniature storm cloud. Tamor’s body began to fade. It was fascinating to watch as suddenly he became completely transparent, causing the boys to gasp.
Yello’s voice remained constant with not a hint of emotion detectable, despite the fact that the tiny storm cloud around his subject seemed to be growing more torrid. Yello opened his eyes, they had turned milky-white. The group were mesmerised by his trance-like state as he continued to chant. Tamor’s body became virtually invisible until, with a blinding flash, he disappeared completely. The air pulsed and the scene became still, but there was no trace of Tamor to be seen. Yello staggered a little, obviously the spell was more arduous than he had revealed. Jared grabbed his elbow to steady him and the old wizard turned slightly to face him, his eyes now clear and normal in appearance.
“Well?” asked Jared, an unmistakeable urgency in his voice. “Did it work?”
“Of course, it worked!” came Emnor’s reply from behind him. “He’s been performing those types of spell for centuries. Your father is still there, Jared, safe and sound, but a few seconds ago…” Emnor screwed up his face, “… no matter how one says that, it never seems to make any sense, does it?” He smiled. “But you understand my meaning. Tamor will be fine, is fine. He is and will be, fine,” he added.
They made their way upstairs, leaving Yello to place protective hexes and runes around Tamor’s chambers. Reaching the courtyard, Emnor gazed into the sky, the failing light giving way to the twinkle of the first stars of the night and the lower edge of the red moon. “This is why we stand against Karrak. We fight for the freedom that allows us to witness such beauty in our world.”
“And should we fail, Emnor, what then?”
“We shall not fail, Jared,” Hannock assured him.
“And why is that, dear friend?” asked Jared, despondently. “Do you have a miraculous solution to our plight? Are you going to challenge my brother to a duel, man to man? Can you defeat him, Hannock, because I know I can not!” Jared was becoming agitated.
“Why would you believe that, Jared?” asked Emnor, frowning. “Is something troubling you?”
“You’ve all got it into your heads that I have the power to stop Karrak. Where did you get the idea from? A dusty thousand-year-old scroll, that’s where. We saw what Karrak is capable of, and now he’s even stronger. How can I possibly defeat him? There were five of us last time and we barely survived. Hannock, you lost an eye and almost your life and what did I do? Hurled a couple of fireballs at him, that’s what. I can’t even beat a twenty-something-year-old wizard, let alone someone as powerful as Karrak.”
“So that’s what this is all about,” said Hannock, laughing. “You got your backside kicked by Drake and you don’t like it,” he added, pointing at Jared.
“Preposterous!” snorted Emnor. “Jared was merely toying with the boy, weren’t you, Jared? You were toying with him, weren’t you?”
“I… couldn’t… beat him!” said Jared, emphasising each word. “Drake’s little more than a child and I couldn’t beat him.”
“I think you could have. If you had really wanted to, that is.” Drake had appeared unnoticed and now stood behind them, smirking. “Our dear prince has a little problem, you see… he likes me.”
“What does that have to do with your wizard’s duel?” asked Hannock.
“I, kind of, took advantage. The Heart of Ziniphar helped me,” replied Drake, looking a little guilty.
“How could the Heart help you?” asked Jared. “I’m the one wearing it.”
“Oh, what a silly old fool I’ve been!” exclaimed Emnor, suddenly. “It’s obvious!”
Drake’s smile kept on getting bigger. “Simple enough to work out really,” he said.
“I’m glad it’s obvious to you two. Any chance of letting us in on your little secret?” asked Hannock.
Emnor smiled, sighing as he cast a glance toward Drake, “The Heart of Ziniphar is around Jared’s neck and therefore has to protect him.”
“Yes, Emnor. I know that,” said Hannock, impatiently. “The question is: why couldn’t Jared kick Drake’s backside in a fight?”
“Because, my dear Hannock, the Heart not only protects Jared from others, it protects him from himself.”
“That makes no sense. He’s hardly going to beat himself up!”
“Do you know something, Hannock?” asked Emnor, a little exasperated. “You can be a bit of a prat some days.”
Drake rolled his eyes, “Some days?”
“If Jared were to really harm Drake, he would never be able to forgive himself. The Heart of Ziniphar obviously sensed his feelings of friendship. Whilst wearing it, his spells will be tempered, allowing no real harm to come to his friends by his hand.”
“You see, soldier boy. I’m Jared’s new best mate!” teased Drake.
“Just one thing, Drake,” Jared reminded him, holding up the Heart of Ziniphar. “Remember, I can take this thing off.”
Emnor laughed, “Drake, find something worthwhile to do or go to bed. We have an early start tomorrow.” With Drake out of the way, Emnor returned his attention to Jared, “Are you alright now, Jared? You seemed most concerned about facing Karrak.”
“If the Heart of Ziniphar is only for protection, how can it help me defeat Karrak?” he asked in reply.
“It is not merely for protection, Jared. We’ve been over this before. It’s for enhancement. If you need extra power to defeat anyone that intends to do you harm, that power will be drawn from the Heart. It will never allow any harm to come to you. It may even act independently if you are in the gravest of danger.”
“And Karrak has its twin sister. So tell me, Emnor, how will it help in the final battle? If there is to be one. Will it, along with its twin, be destroyed, as my brother and I are prophesied to be?” asked Jared, cynically.
“The only person, if he can still be referred to as such, who will not survive all of this will be Karrak. I’ll squeeze the life out of him with my bare hands if I have to!” sneered Hannock.
CHAPTER 16
“My lord. I do not understand. Why all? Why not some, or even half?” Darooq could not disguise the look of horror and panic on his face as he glared at the countless corpses strewn around the chamber.
“They were mine to do with as I wished, and I wished them all dead,” replied the shadow lord.
“But they were here to serve you, my lord. Their lifeless bodies can no longer be of service.”
“Perhaps to you, it would seem so. But bear witness to my power, Darooq.”
Karrak drew himself to his full height, his arms outstretched, a stance that Darooq had witnessed so many times before. A black mist oozed from his open palms and began to enshroud the scores of cadavers that littered the floor. Darooq was not a virtuous man. He himself was guilty of many atrocities, but he had never sunk so low as to attempt necromancy. He had feared it, in all its forms, and now witnessing this shadow lord performing the art made him realise why. Minutes passed as he morbidly studied the scene that unravelled before his eyes.
At first there was nothing, just the black mist swirling eerily around the limbs of Karrak’s victims, but then the twitching began. The fingers of the corpse closest to him began to move, a gentle quivering that soon turned to a violent shiver. Darooq inadvertently retreated slightly. The remaining bodies began to display similar movements as the rasping breath came from their dry throats, rasping that became deathly groans. Heads began to turn and limbs were outstretched, grasping blindly for anything that may help them rise from the ground. Bodies writhed and jerked awkwardly.
The undead creatures, now gaining strength, drew themselves to their knees before lunging clumsily to their feet. Their skin was taught and dry. Their eyes sunken, lifeless and grey. One by one they turned to face Karrak, groaning with the voices of the damned. Darooq was shaking uncontrollably. Why had Karrak done this? What use could he make of this undead horde?
“Behold! Look upon my legion of damned souls, Darooq. Are they not magnificent? Nothing shall stand before them and survive. They shall not be moved by sentiment, slowed by painful wounds or hindered by malnourishment. I have lingered here long enough. The time for me to rule this world is almost here, and this is the beginning of the spearhead that I shall drive through the heart of it.”
“A... and … am I… to suffer the same fate as these… my lord?” asked Darooq in a shaky voice.
“If that is what you wish, Darooq. Tell me, is that what you want?”
Darooq shook his head. “No… my lord,” he replied.
“Then save yourself, Darooq. Continue to serve me and I may yet spare you their fate.”
“Anything you ask, my lord,” Darooq replied quickly, dropping to his knees.
“Look upon the beginnings of my army, Darooq. They cannot easily be destroyed. However, they are still only flesh and bone. I shall not allow them to be decapitated by my enemies simply because they are so cheap a resource. You must arm them, Darooq. Give them weapons, dress them in armour. After all, it may be some time before I find any more suitable… recruits.”
“Master, where will I find armour enough for so many? There is little of it left here in Merrsdan. Should I perhaps search further afield?” Darooq was, once again, thrown against a wall. Karrak floated toward him, stopping inches away from his face.
“Do not take me for a fool, coward. Do you believe that I would allow you to escape so easily?” he hissed, his foul breath causing Darooq’s eyes to burn.
“Master!” exclaimed Darooq. “I have no wish to leave you. It’s just that I could acquire what is needed far more swiftly from elsewhere than if I were to attempt to forge such a great amount by myself!”
Karrak paused, stroking his clawed finger across Darroq’s cheek with enough force as to graze it slightly, “You have three days, my friend, no more than three,” he whispered. “Whether you choose to venture abroad or fashion the weapons and armour yourself is your choice. Delay me any longer, and you might be making an extra set of armour for yourself, understand?”
“Yes, my lord,” Darooq replied, nodding nervously. “I shall begin immediately. May I ask, if at all possible and merely to avoid suspicion, should I purchase what is needed with gold from the treasury of Merrsdan?”
“I, unlike you, care little of people’s suspicion. More and more you prove your cowardice. I have no need of gold or jewels. Take it if you believe it will make your task easier. Purchase, steal or murder, but make sure you succeed,” whispered Karrak, gripping Darooq’s face. “And should you attempt to betray me, remember this. When I capture you, and I will, I shall skin you alive and feed you to my pets one piece at a time.”
Karrak released him and Darooq fell heavily to the ground. Wiping the blood from his cheek, he watched the shadow lord glide away effortlessly before disappearing through the solid stone wall. Darooq rubbed his head as his heartbeat slowed. Would it be easier just to end his own life? It was obvious that Karrak would never allow him to leave, so why continue to suffer his torment? Karrak was right, he was too much of a coward to commit suicide. He stared at the undead souls ahead of him. Was this to be his inevitable fate? Would he join Karrak’s legion of undead? The beasts in the pit began to howl and bay causing the tears to well in Darooq’s eyes. Wiping them away quickly, he rose to his feet. He had proven himself a coward. At least, for now, he was a live one.
***
Karrak drew the golden platter toward him on the marble altar. Holding his arm above it, he sliced into his wrist using the same claw with which he had grazed Darooq. But it was not a mere graze he wished to inflict upon himself. The dark red, almost black, blood flowed freely onto the golden platter forming a shallow pool. He leaned forward and gazed into it, his black eyes momentarily flashing red beneath his cowl.
A vision began to form in the depths of the murky pool, swirling and shifting until, as clear as if he were in the room, Jared’s face could be seen. He was talking to someone, but Karrak could not make out whom. He waited until the image swirled yet again and he could see the face of an old man, perhaps a wizard, a wizard that Karrak did not recognise. It was actually Yello. Karrak became agitated. They were plotting something, but he was unsure what. His sorcery allowed him to watch, but not to hear. More visions, another wizard, some younger men and then, HANNOCK. Karrak roared at the top of his voice. He swiped the platter from the altar splashing his blood across the floor and swept out of the great hall.
***
Lodren and Grubb sat huddled together in one of the many atria of Thedar, a whispered conversation transpiring between them.
“So, do you think she has?” asked Lodren.
“I suppose she must ’ave,” replied Grubb.
“So why have we never seen it? She’s never so much as mentioned it, if she has.”
“So ask ’er then, if it bothers you that much.”
“I can’t do that!” replied Lodren, astounded by the mere suggestion. “That would simply be rude. I’ve got a good idea, you ask her.”
“Oh, so it’s rude if you ask ’er, but not if I do!” exclaimed Grubb. “I know some days I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer, Lodren, but even I can see straight through that one. Grubb’s always grumpy and rude, once more won’t hurt. Well, I ain’t askin’, so there. You want to know. Find out for yerself.”
“Oh please, Grubb, I desperately need to know,” pleaded Lodren. “I’ll cook your favourite meal for you, anything you want, just name it.”
“Now there’s a tempting offer,” said Grubb, scratching his beard in contemplation. “Whatever I want you’ll cook it, no matter ’ow difficult?” he asked, frowning at Lodren.
“Anything, I promise. All you have to do is ask Faylore one question,” replied Lodren, gripping his friend’s arm tightly.
“In that case,” said Grubb, placing his arm as far around Lodren’s shoulder as he could. “You can go away to your fire, get some fresh water, and boil yer ’ead. I ain’t doin’ it!”
Lodren stamped his feet in frustration, “What do you want then? There must be something I can do to change your mind?”
“You’ve got more chance of seeing me kiss Karrak’s backside! I said ‘no’ and I mean ‘no’.”
“I wish one of you would have the courage to ask me. It’s so annoying when one’s friends feel that it would appear unseemly
to ask a simple question of one so close to them.” The Vikkery and the Nibby suddenly became petrified. Slowly they raised their heads to see Faylore. She was perched high above them in the trees swinging her legs like a bored child. “Well?” she asked. “Can neither of you now remember the burning question? Lodren, you sounded as if your very life depended on its answer, have you nothing to say?”
“Well, erm, Your Majesty, what a lovely surprise. Another beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Lodren began nervously. Faylore raised an eyebrow at him. Attempting a weak smile, Lodren continued, “It’s, erm, well, we were just wondering…”
“Don’t bring me into it, ye stupid Nibby. I wasn’t wonderin’ anythin’, you were. I told ye I wanted nothin’ to do with yer daft question,” snorted Grubb.
“No, no, perhaps you didn’t, but we, erm, we were discussing it nonetheless, weren’t we?”
“No, we weren’t. You wanted me to ask the stupid question for ye and I told ye to boil yer ’ead. That’s as much of a discussion as we had, remember?”
“Yes, yes, you did say that. But in my defence…” Lodren stammered.
“Will you just ask me the blasted question, Lodren, before I put an arrow in your rear,” snapped Faylore, causing the Nibby to physically jump with shock.
“Yes, Your Majesty, of course, Your Majesty,” he answered, fumbling with his tunic, “I was just wondering, as you are a queen, something of which there is no doubt…”
“Get on with it.”
“Sorry, Your Majesty,” Lodren took a deep breath. “Do you have a crown?” he asked, sheepishly.
“That’s it? That’s the question that has been tearing you apart, you silly Nibby?” Faylore laughed. “Why in the world would you fret so much over such a trivial thing?”
“Because if you have, he wants to see you wearing it. Not all the time of course, just the once. You know what a prat he can be at times,” announced Grubb.
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