Chapter IV
Journey into the Wild
Achil had gathered his belongings together for the journey ahead and made his way over to Andreas’s house. The Krakon circled majestically above him, all Achil could think about was his kin in far off Findolin. His sword rested at his side, a bow a gift from the Underlings was slung over his shoulder, his shield was strapped to his saddle. Achil restlessly groped at his leather jerkin beneath which was a linen shirt. He also wore a thin laid chain mail jacket, over which he had hastily slung his cloak. It was late afternoon and their shadows were stretching out like ghostly apparitions, when Achil finally arrived at Andreas’s house. Nicholas was patiently waiting outside, his greying cloak covering a light mail shirt. His sword and shield were strapped to his saddle in an ordered fashion. He gave Achil a bemused stare, as he watched his comrade struggle to gain a more comfortable seating.
“Is your saddle on fire or something,” said Nicholas.
“Not funny," said Achil sheepishly. “This saddles still new, it's as hard as rock. I hope it's not too long before I wear it in. Where‘s Andreas anyway.”
His young friend nodded towards the house.
“Andreas is presumably saying his final farewells,” replied Nicholas.
Their horses began to stamp restlessly.
Achil was also growing impatient, and becoming irritated. “Come on Andreas the day grows old and we have a long journey ahead of us.”
“What do you know of the Askalon‘s?” asked Nicholas. “Are they as wise, fare and beautiful as people say.”
“Who truly knows Nicholas,” replied Achil. “Do not forget wise words should relate to wise deeds. When we meet them then shall we decide whether they are a wise people or not. Where’s Andreas is he saying goodbye to the entire city in there.”
Achil pulled from beneath his seat a small stone which had been plaguing him and threw it to one side. He seemed to relax immediately, gesturing to Nicholas that all was well once more. His saddle suddenly became more bearable; it seemed it was not as hard as he had initially thought especially now that the cause of his discomfort had gone.
Andreas came out carrying a holdall, he wore a long cloak that covered his entire body, beneath which was a mail coat, which glinted at the sight of the deepening sun; it shimmered almost golden in the light. He had once served in the Vangarian Guard and proudly wore the dress that signified it: his helmet ornately adorned at the sides with dragons gleamed gracefully. He smiled at his two waiting companions and lightly mounted his horse.
“To Askalon,” said Achil, relieved that they were finally on their way.
The three of them silently rode away. It was dusk by the time they reached the great lake, where they dismounted and led their horses onto a ferryboat for the crossing. The Krakon slowly circled overhead. On the other side of the Lake they turned eastward and slipped into the night, their heading the Haven Mountains.
“Achil I think maybe we should ride by night so that the spies of the Mandrake do not see us,” said Andreas.
“As you wish,” replied Achil. “Since we must first cross the Planes of Dunne, I think we should make our way over to the ancient stone circle, close to Earlerics nose, which should afford us some cover at least. We can then make camp.”
“Earlerics nose it is,” replied Andreas with a nod.
By the time they had reached the stone circle, the night chill had closed in all around. The moon stared down upon them, it was slightly veiled by light wisps of cloud that looked similar in appearance to tendrils from creeping vines, and the stars were like crystal studs attached to the deep night. They set up camp by a small area of brush that stood out as though they were tufts of unkempt hair, they lit a small fire to keep the night chill away, and got some provisions from their bags to eat.
Nicholas crouched down next to Achil, “Tell us about Findolin? And all you know of this Mandrake Imperium."
“I probably won't be able to say anything you don't already know, so I'll be brief if I may. As you are aware my people have lived in Suberia for more than a thousand years, we came far from the east, we still have in the Hall of Records many ancient documents from that time, it is said that we were driven from our lands and wandered in the wilderness for many years until we came upon Findolin. According to legend the God Lore struck the land with a spear of light, which created the plateau on which Findolin was built, as time went by each king added to the Cities magnificence. There’s the Kings palace adorned with frescos depicting distant glories and heroes of old, and the great Temple with the tower to the Gods with its Jade pillars that are as thick as the trunks of the great Thavma Tree, it is a wonder of the world. There are the underground baths of Thalasa heated by the God Efesteo. And the way the sun bounces off its many domes, it's as though a golden halo rests upon the city that can be seen both far and wide.”
Achil grew silent as the memories of his past returned once more.
Nicholas watched him as he stared distantly into the ground, he wondered what it would be like had it been their city under siege and not Findolin.
“As for the Mandrake,” continued Achil returning to the present. “We have known of them for many years. But we thought them a menace far off, nothing for us to be concerned with, just yet. We were not aware that they were in such control of the Central Plains; though we did know they were treating with the Mead, I don't believe we thought they could organise such a divided group of tribesmen so swiftly. From the message the Krakon delivered to us we can tell that Jin is certainly a cunning adversary, baiting us into attacking the peoples of Mead, and then crossing into Findolin on the pretext that we invaded a state under the protection of his mighty Empire. As though anyone would be stupid enough to go to war against an enemy so overwhelmingly superior, in arms, in manpower, and in sheer brutality.”
They stared into the fire in silence contemplating Achil’s words. As they settled down to sleep, somewhere behind where they lay a loud shrieking sound came out of the dark that froze their spines. There was another cry in response to the first, which echoed in front of them, they both sounded like some tormented beast crying out in agony. They jumped up in reaction to this second sound, Nicholas and Andreas drew their swords while Achil drew back his bow string, they stood with their backs to each other. They waited, listening intently. There were many foul creatures out in the hours of darkness but what they heard this night was unrecognisable, frighteningly sinister. Again there was another shriek more harrowing than the first, and this time it was much closer. Achil’s thoughts began also to turn dark, was it the Wrath, and even though he had never seen a Wolfman before, he knew that anything giving out such a bone chilling cry had to be something unnatural. And if the Wolfmen were this far west, what did that mean for Findolin? Had it already fallen? Of course not, the Mighty walls of the city were impregnable. Achil reassured himself with this thought, before fear again crept back into him, unless of course some foul magic had been at play. Achil was rudely returned to the present, by a jab of Nicholas’s elbow, who was gesturing into the dark, some creature could now be heard pacing just beyond the glow of the fire. Achil pulled his bowstring taut. The shrieking had stopped but they could hear some rustling coming from beyond the light of their fire.
“How many are there,” said Nicholas sharply.
“Who knows,” said Andreas. “I haven’t learnt to see in the dark yet.”
Then seemingly from no where the Krakon appeared diving down and swooping on one of the creatures, giving its position away, a shocked cry was heard as it jumped back, Achil picked up a burning branch from the fire and threw it in the direction of the scream, lighting it up. It was a Vendigo half man, half demon, a spy of the Mandrake. It stood in front of them beneath a dark cloak, it pulled back the hood to reveal ravenous drawn skeletal features, and in one hand it held a long sword, in the other a short jagged blade. Achil reacted swiftly, leaping forward and shooting an arrow into the heart of the Vendigo, then whilst slinging his b
ow over his shoulder he drew his sword, as other Vendigo fell upon them from all sides, they were grotesque looking misshapen beings, eyes red with rage, teeth pointed, no gums to be seen, their bodies were sallow beneath their cloaks, making them seem in the dark barely visible.
Swords drawn, shields at the ready, Nicholas cleaved the head off the first as it entered their camp. Andreas lifted his sword and swung round to the rear as two more Vendigo rushed forward, swords at the ready, he blocked the first blow with his sword, and pushed his shield into the second, forcing it to lose balance and fall to the ground. He then blocked the second blow from the one still standing and thrust his sword deep within its gullet; pulling his sword out, Andreas swung round toward the other. It was still struggling to rise as his sword swept down upon it, lopping its head clear from its shoulders.
Achil was rolling on the floor, a Vendigo on top of him, the creature shrieked into his face, its bloody saliva dripping down. Achil drew his dagger and thrust it into the creature's midriff. It fell limp and went silent. He shook the Vendigo off, and quickly stood up.
“Is everyone okay,” cried Achil excitedly.
Nicholas was still breathing deeply from the struggle, “Other than a few scratches I’m fine, I wasn't expecting to fight such demons so close to Dragon City, what are those things doing in Osgaroth.”
Andreas was leaning over the one that Achil had killed.
“Look,” he said drawing some parchment from its belt and unfolding it, “They seem to have a map of this entire area, if they are spies of the Mandrake then it looks like they have been preparing to strike for a very long time.”
“If they are spies,” cried Nicholas incredulously. “I don’t think there’s much doubt about that!”
Achil stared at the map startled by what he saw. “This is an ominous sight indeed: we should pack up and leave for Askalon right away, let us not stop until we are their guests.”
With that they struck camp mounted their horses and left, the Planes of Dunne were not a safe place to be. The Vendigo were in Osgaroth which could only mean one thing; the storm clouds were swiftly descending, as creatures that had kept to dark and distant places were now very close to home.
Achil & The Rise Of The Mandrake Page 6
