“Do you want to know something, stranger?” asked the guard, “I knew you was trouble as soon as you walked through that door. I’d know a criminal from a mile away.”
“Of that I am sure,” replied Darooq. “Must be all those years seeing your own reflection.”
The guard laughed again, but it had turned to a nervous laugh, “You really do like making trouble for yourself, don’t you? You sit there as cocky as can be, thinking we’re scared of you just ’cause you’re such a big fella. Well, you’re wrong. There’s more than a dozen of us, we’re not scared of you. Not one bit,” he grabbed for his sword.
As he rushed forward, Darooq flicked his fingers as if he were shooing away a fly and the guard was blasted across the inn, taking some of the other guards with him. Barden flew into the air and with one sideways jerk of his head, he tore the throat out of another. The air was suddenly filled with flame and lightning as blood splashed across tables, chairs, walls and floors. The screams from within the tavern could be heard halfway across the village, but they lasted for just a few minutes before an eerie silence fell not only over the inn, but the entire town.
The door to the inn opened. Darooq stepped out into the afternoon sun. There were bloodstains on his robes and the jaws of the hideous beast that he seemed to care for so dearly. The large sorcerer closed his eyes. A blue hue that began at his head travelled down his body, shrouding both him and Barden. When it dissipated, not a trace of blood could be seen.
He turned and looked back into the tavern. The bodies of the entire troupe of guards lay dead, strewn across the room. Some had obvious wounds, whereas others seemed physically untouched, but the looks of horror on their faces told a completely different story. Darooq waved his hands toward the scene. A green haze appeared from nowhere and drifted silently over the corpses. They began to hiss and bubble, their skin resembling a joint of meat sizzling over a spit. The seething mist dissolved the bodies, literally melting them into the wooden floor.
After just a few minutes, not a single trace of the carnage that had just taken place remained. Darooq smiled at the barkeep as he threw him a purse of gold. “A good red wine, please, and water for my pet,” he said politely. The barkeep nodded, aghast. “Then we shall have a discussion about the fort on the village outskirts. Who runs the place, and how best should we rid ourselves of them?” The barkeep gulped.
CHAPTER 21
“Lodren, have you, by any chance, seen my father?”
“Of course I have, Faylore! He’s the mad one who keeps shouting at everyone, don’t you remember? The first this, the first that. Not the first, the second. But not the second, but the second. Ring any bells yet?” It was unlike Lodren to be so curt, but his frustration was showing.
“Sarcasm really doesn’t suit you, Lodren. Honestly, the bad habits you are learning from Grubb are becoming most tiresome.”
“What bad habits? Do you mean speaking my mind?” Lodren sighed, “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he said quietly, “It’s just that we’ve been here ages now, and although it was lovely to meet your family, even Jendilomin, now that she’s not all mental about turning everyone into a tree, I can’t help worrying about Prince Jared and the others. They might need us. We’re weeks away from them and if they need our help, we’d never be able to get to them in a hurry.”
“Nonsense!” Faylore replied, adamantly. “We could return to them within a day should the need arise.”
“Within a day?” asked Lodren, surprised. “How?”
“Never you mind. Save to say, if there were such urgency, we would be at their side almost immediately. Now, back to my first question: have you seen my father?”
“He was around this morning, Your Majesty. He was talking to Grubb, funnily enough. They actually seemed to be having a conversation, but I couldn’t hear what was being said. Have you asked him if he’s seen Koloss?”
“No, I came to you first. Imagine the response I’d get from a grumpy Vikkery if your reaction was anything to go by. He’d probably be ripping at me with his claws by now,” she replied with a gentle laugh.
“Oh no! He’d never do anything to hurt you, Faylore! He can be a miserable so and so at times but he’d never raise a hand against you, I can promise you that much.”
“I’d have said the same bond exists between the two of you, Lodren. Yet, only a few days ago, you were ready to tear one another to pieces.”
Lodren pursed his lips, “Yeah… it’s a good thing your sister was around. That could have ended up getting nasty. Do you know, I still don’t know how it started or what it was about? Strangest thing is, I can’t remember much about it either.”
“Jendilomin thinks there is something in the soil itself, something that has tainted it. Explanations, however, on that subject, will have to wait. I need to find my father.”
Lodren joined Faylore in her search and it was not long before they came across Grubb. He was sitting on the ground with his back against a large tree, idling his time away by playing with the silver dagger that Hannock had presented to him. His target, if you could call it a proper target, was the side panel of a hay cart. He would draw back his arm and throw the dagger, but he was so bored that he couldn’t even be bothered to get up and retrieve it properly. Leaning forward, he was transforming one of his arms into one that they were more used to seeing attached to Wilf. Even with the transformation, this was a bit of a stretch, tell-tale by the grunt as he sat forward far enough to reach. It was quite apparent that he had been practicing his knife-throwing routine for some time, as the side of the cart was looking decidedly splintered.
“I don’t know what that cart said to upset you, Grubb, but it must have been bad. I’d stop now if I were you, I think it’s dead,” chuckled Lodren.
Grubb glanced across at his friend, “Get stuffed!”
“Oh dear… you’re in one of those moods, are you? That’s not going to help us, Faylore.”
Faylore ignored Grubb’s mood, “Have you seen Koloss recently, Grubb?” she asked politely.
“No I ’aven’t. And I don’t care if I never see ’im again!” he snapped. “Tried to be nice to ’im I did. You know, ’cause ’e’s your dad and a bit barmy, and what does he do? Insults me, tells me I’m not a proper Vikkery just ’cause I do things differently than the rest of my kind. Well, ’e can get lost and stay lost for all I care!”
Faylore stood wide-eyed at Grubb’s sudden outburst, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Grubb,” she said, crouching down in front of him, “What do you mean, you’re not the same as the rest of your kin?”
Grubb was never one to show his emotions, but Faylore could see the tears welling in his eyes as he stared at the ground, “Mocked me, Faylore, he mocked me. Said I was a joke and that I should be ashamed. Said it was no wonder I left my family, ’cause they’d laugh at me. Just ’cause I’m different.”
Faylore attempted to comfort him but Grubb would not allow it. Shrugging her away, he stood up swiftly and took a few paces away from her whilst wiping his tears away with his sleeve. “Well, I might be different, but none of ’em can do what I can! They can’t heal cuts and bruises like I do. I’m not ashamed, I’m better than all of ’em.”
Lodren was most uncomfortable with the tense situation. It was not the fact that Grubb was ranting and stamping his feet as he walked, it was the fact that his friend was in emotional pain. He knew that no matter what was said, or by whom, it would not ease his suffering. He did not know what Grubb’s secret was but it was obviously most distressing for him. Not being able to help his friend after all that he had done for them was heart-breaking. Walking determinedly up to his friend, he slapped him on the shoulder, “I know you’re not one for cuddles and things, Grubb, so I’ll simply say this. Should you ever need to talk to anyone, someone who’s not judgmental and offers only loyalty and friendship, I’ll be right here. Do you hear me? Right here,” he said adamantly, pointing at his feet.
Faylore smiled at Lodren and then turn
ed her gaze to Grubb, “I need you, my friend. Help me find my father, please?” she asked.
Grubb took a deep breath in order to pull himself together, “Can you lot not manage without me for one day?” he asked, putting on a false, grumpy mood. “Carry me stuff, heal me wounds, save me life. Honestly, will I never ’ave a moment’s peace?” he grumbled, smiling at his friends. “Come on then. Let’s go and find yer mad dad.”
The three wandered around the forest for some time, searching various caves and copses the former king was known to frequent before his illness, but to no avail. They heard a voice in the distance calling Faylore’s name, a female voice, it was Jendilomin. They found her in a clearing not far ahead, but she was not alone. The guard that Faylore had rebuked when they had found their father in the hall of history was beside her, looking decidedly sheepish. He bowed as she approached.
“What is it, Sister?” Faylore asked. “Has something happened?”
Jendilomin turned to face the guard, “Tell Her Majesty what you told me.”
The guard kept his head bowed, too fearful to look his queen in the eye, “Your Majesty, I cannot say how… it is impossible. He could not have passed without being detected, but somehow he did. Please, accept my humblest apologies. I understand that you will be angry with me… but I have done nothing wrong.”
“Stop babbling and tell me what has happened!”
“Your father, Koloss, Your Majesty,” he began nervously, “somehow, he has re-entered the hall of history.”
Faylore went into a rage, “You were given strict instructions to prevent him from entering. How could you allow this to happen, again?”
Jendilomin raised her hand to calm her sister, “Majesty,” she said quietly, “It appears that during his previous visits, our father may have been dabbling… with magic.”
Faylore could not disguise the look of horror on her face, “He would never be so reckless! Even with his illness he would know that he would put his very life at risk!”
“It may, however, explain his rapid mental deterioration. We have held true to our laws regarding the use of supernatural forces, Sister. If our father’s judgement was impaired due to his illness, its use would only exacerbate his symptoms. It would, literally, drive him insane.”
Grubb marched forward, grabbing Lodren’s tunic as he passed him, “Come on,” he ordered. “We’ve got a king to save.”
“Wait a moment,” urged Jendilomin, “he could be dangerous.”
Grubb transformed into Wilf and lifted Lodren onto his shoulder, “Maybe,” he growled. “But so can we,” he added, reaching up and patting Lodren on the head. Faylore and Jendilomin followed quickly and were directly behind them as they reached the door to the hall.
“I didn’t like this place the first time we came here,” whispered Lodren, leaning down to Wilf’s ear, “I’ve got a nasty feeling I’m going to like it even less this time.”
“Don’t you worry, me friend,” growled Wilf, “I’ll be right here,” he said, pointing at his feet and giving a deep, grunting laugh.
They closed the door gently behind them. Pausing for a moment, they listened intently, hoping to hear anything that may reveal Koloss’ whereabouts. There was silence. Lodren looked down at the royal sisters, “Any ideas?” he asked hopefully.
“The aisle of royal remembrance?” asked Jendilomin, looking at her sister quizzically.
“By that, I presume you mean dead kings and the like?” asked Lodren, scrunching up his face in disgust.
“Don’t look like that!” hissed Faylore. “It simply means diaries and scrolls of the ancient royals. Not the cadavers of them, you daft Nibby.”
Lodren breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank goodness for that. For a minute I thought we’d be greeted by a load of dead people trying to keep us out.”
“You have a very vivid imagination for one so small!” said Jendilomin, who could be very tactless sometimes.
“I think we should split up,” growled Wilf. “Me and Lodren go one way, and you two go the other.”
“Not bloomin’ likely!” objected Lodren, hurriedly. “Wherever Faylore goes, we go. We’re not splitting up. It always goes wrong when people split up. Or haven’t you read any adventure stories?” He looked down at Wilf, “Stupid question, forget I asked it. Anyway, we stay together and that’s the end of it.”
They searched the hall of history as methodically as they could. It was vast, but after many hours, they found no trace or tell-tale sign of Koloss. As more and more time passed, both Lodren and Wilf felt that they must have covered most of its expanse by now. “How much of the hall do you think we’ve covered, Faylore? We should find him soon?” asked Lodren, hopefully.
“We should finish searching this level by tomorrow. If we’re not successful, we’ll be able to leave and come back the following day equipped to start the descent to the lower levels,” she whispered in reply.
“Lower levels?” asked Lodren, his eyes wide. “How many levels are there?”
Faylore looked at Jendilomin, who leaned forward and whispered to her sister. She turned to face Lodren, “Twenty-eight,” she announced confidently, “We think! There may be one or two more that have been forgotten. Well, don’t look so dumbfounded, it is centuries old after all.”
“That means we could be down here for weeks!” exclaimed Lodren.
“Shut yer face, Lodren, you’re only trying to cheer me up. It’ll be like being back in the caverns again. I haven’t been in a good cave for years, not since you lot piled in when I was having me dinner. Do ye remember?”
“Yes, unfortunately I do. I also remember the wolves and that zingaard that wanted to have us for supper. Nothing good comes out of dark places,” said Lodren, becoming a little anxious.
“Thanks very much,” growled Wilf, “I come from a dark place and I’ve always looked after you.”
“Alright, alright. Present company excepted, I should’ve said. But, most of the time, there’s only bad things in the dark.”
“I suggest you keep a tight hold on that hammer then, Lodren. Not that it’ll be much use against ghosts,” chuckled Wilf.
“Ghosts! What do you mean, ghosts?”
“Take no notice of him, Lodren. Grubb, stop teasing him,” said Faylore sternly, trying her best not to laugh.
“Anyway, there aren’t that many ghosts here. We hardly ever see them, and when we do, they leave us in peace. The worst they do is give a nasty scowl.”
“You’re not helping this situation, Jendilomin,” advised Faylore.
“Perhaps not, but I am telling the truth,” she replied.
“L-listen,” gulped Lodren, his eyes darting from side to side nervously, “let’s forget about the ghosts for a minute, shall we? If they’re as harmless as you say, they shouldn’t be a problem. The thing we should be focussing on is the fact that with this hall having so many levels to search, we could be down here for months.”
Wilf transformed back into Grubb. Holding his arms in front of him, he balled up his fists, “Pack it in!” he exclaimed in glee, relishing the idea of being underground for so long. “You’re getting me all excited.”
“You won’t get excited if a ghost takes a dislike to you, Grubb. You’ll scarper just like anyone would.”
Grubb rolled his eyes. Tilting his head to one side, his chin low to his chest, he sighed, “Lodren, haven’t you realised yet? Everyone takes a dislike to me sooner or later, and guess what, I don’t flamin’ well care!”
Faylore laughed at them both, “I think we should make a start. Follow me, we’ll try down here first.”
***
“What is it? I’ve never seen anything that woolly before.”
“I don’t think it’s wool, Poom. I think it’s actually hair!”
“It can’t be, it must be fur.”
“Well, whether it’s fur or hair, it’s got far too much of it for its own good if you ask me. How can it see where it’s going with that lot over its face?”
&nb
sp; “Well, it can see enough to find water, I think. Doesn’t look as if it’s dying of thirst.”
“No, it doesn’t. Doesn’t sound like it either. Why is it making all those strange noises?”
“If anyone asked me, I’d say it was… singing.”
The Gerrowliens had come across yet another strange creature they did not recognise. They watched intently as it strolled around, pausing occasionally to poke amongst bushes as if it were searching for something. It was one of the hairiest beings they had ever seen. Clumps of its matted coat became entangled on the smaller branches of the bushes, leaving them adorned with tufts as if it had been purposely decorated.
“I’d hardly call that singing, Poom. Sounds more like it’s in pain,” Lawton whispered.
“If we follow it, it’s bound to lead us to water eventually,” suggested Poom.
“This is so embarrassing! When has any Gerrowlien not been able to find a water source by himself?”
“When an evil sorcerer casts a spell that leaves an unnatural dust clogging the air, that’s when, Lawton. I can’t even smell myself.”
“No, Poom, I can’t smell you either. We should be grateful for small mercies, I suppose.”
“I suppose… hang on a minute! Are you saying I smell?”
“Not at all, Poom, not at all. I’m just saying that maybe you should give up the practice of licking yourself clean. With your bad breath, it doesn’t help your scent. Try a little water occasionally, that may help.”
“Happy to oblige, fatty. I don’t know if the sun baked what little brain you have left but it’s the one thing we’re a little short of at the moment!”
“Keep your voice down,” Lawton hissed. “You’ll scare it away.”
The creature paused, glancing around nervously, unsure of what it may have heard. Looking directly toward where the Gerrowliens lay, it backed away slowly and hid in the shadow of an overhanging rock face. It sniffed the air, tilting its head to listen. Its fears seemed to settle quickly, as it ventured into the daylight once more before scurrying away. The Gerrowliens followed, their footsteps silent as they pursued their quarry. The beast travelled blissfully unaware of its followers until, after a few miles, giving one more glance over its shoulder, it disappeared into a gap between two bushes that grew beneath a rocky outcrop.
The Bane of Karrak_Ascension II of III Page 27
