Rise of the Deathbringer

by Mark Boutros

  ‘We can’t risk it. What if we find the others?’ Karl said. ‘Bar Witch, Hargon; where are they?’

  Sabrinia shook her head. ‘We could end up looking for days and we need more than them to turn this in our favour. As much as I hate it, an alliance is our best hope.’

  Karl turned to Frong who seemed equally unsure. King Sastin had cut off all alliances and Karl doubted anyone would risk their people for the sake of a kingdom that had turned its back on them.

  He hoped Sabrinia knew what she was doing.

  An Unwanted Reunion

  Oaf and Questions followed the stream through the sunny forest.

  Oaf gazed at the side of Questions’ head. ‘Do you blame me?’

  She’d barely asked him anything for two sunsets. She stared at the ground and creased her forehead, but then shook her head.

  ‘I blame me.’ He wished she’d shout at him or hit him. Or do something other than suffer in silence. He wished she’d ask him a weird question about the clouds or why soil was brown. Anything. Oaf opened his water pouch and drank. He offered Questions some but she ignored it.

  She took the blade the Fool had given her and waved some flies away. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘I don’t know. But Karl and the others will help.’

  Questions nodded and turned to him. ‘Will you be able to kill?’

  That was the question he dreaded. It was in his blood to preserve life, not to murder, but in this situation things were different. ‘For our son, I’ll rip the heads off a thousand Man-Hawks.’ He hoped if it came to it he wouldn’t hesitate.

  Questions nodded. She stopped and pointed to a bloody streak that ran from the muddy grass to a rock by the stream. She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Do you think?’

  Oaf’s neck tensed. ‘No. He’s alive. We’re going to find him.’ He didn’t want to look but they followed the blood. Oaf walked around the rock. The image his mind created caused vomit to rise in his mouth. His terror turned to anger. ‘You!’

  Arazod laid there, the side of his face in the stream and his back feathers soaked in blood. Water flowed around his face and beak and he groaned.

  Questions joined Oaf, her face turned red. ‘Do you think he knows something?’

  Oaf lifted Arazod and tossed him against a broken tree stump. ‘Talk.’

  Arazod covered his head and struggled to breathe.

  Oaf grabbed Arazod’s neck. ‘What has your sister done with our son?’

  Arazod wheezed and groaned. His left eye twitched.

  ‘Shall we clean him so he’s well enough to speak?’ Questions asked.

  Oaf nodded and removed his cloak. He ripped Arazod’s armour off, carried him into the stream and dipped him in the water. Arazod’s eyes fluttered and his beak twisted when stream water met his wounds.

  Questions ripped her sleeve, dunked it in the water and wiped Arazod’s lacerations clean. She took some berries from her pocket and put them into Arazod’s beak. He weakly chewed and swallowed them.

  ‘Can you lift him higher?’ Questions asked.

  Oaf did, and Questions cleaned Arazod’s back.

  They returned to the rock and laid Arazod against it. Oaf ripped strips from his cloak and wrapped Arazod’s injuries.

  Questions made a fire and they waited for Arazod to awaken, if he would. They held hands and stared at him. The night sun rose before he showed any sign of life.

  Arazod looked at Oaf with misery in his eyes. He raised a claw. ‘Kill… me…’

  Oaf leaned over him. ‘Where is our son?’

  Arazod shook his head.

  Oaf squeezed Arazod’s face and yelled into it. ‘Where is our son?’

  Arazod whined.

  Questions placed a hand on Oaf’s arm. He took a breath and released Arazod’s face.

  Arazod wheezed. ‘Flowforn…’

  Oaf nodded and stood. ‘Let’s go, Questions.’ He had no issue with leaving Arazod. They walked away.

  ‘Wait,’ Arazod called out weakly. ‘Listen.’

  Oaf stopped. ‘What?’

  ‘War. Flowforn isn’t safe.’ He wheezed.

  Questions stepped towards Arazod. ‘How do we get our son?’

  ‘Sister won’t kill him… until she’s powerful.’ He coughed blood on himself. ‘In case she… needs him.’ He fell to the side. ‘Your friends… escaped. No idea where.’

  Oaf turned to Questions. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Shall we look for them?’

  ‘How do we even find them?’ He clenched his fists. ‘We have to go to the castle and find our boy. Maybe we’ll find survivors on the way.’

  Arazod raised an arm. ‘Please, kill me. Please.’

  Oaf turned to Questions, who gripped her dagger.

  Killing wasn’t in her, but her normally gentle face twisted with anger and pain.

  Babysitting

  Noise filled the stuffy, secret room in the tavern. Tears, fear and uncertainty mixed into a buzz that whirred around Bar Witch’s head. She stood by a plinth with a tinderbox on it.

  The point of the secret room was to only open from one side. In trying to save everyone, she had locked them in a big brick coffin. ‘Quiet, everyone. Try to stay calm.’ The noise lowered but was still too loud for her liking.

  ‘When are we getting out?’ a bald man asked her.

  ‘I’m hungry, where’s the food? And water, we need water,’ a small, filthy-looking boy whined.

  ‘Are we going to die?’ an annoying girl who always complained about Bar Witch’s ale asked.

  In every direction was unpleasant noise. She could handle cranky people and tears from behind the bar, because she could drown them in a drink, but here, she was lost. She raised an arm. ‘I don’t have the answer to any of your questions, so best to just be quiet for a bit.’

  ‘But you made us come in here,’ a drunk idiot said.

  ‘Would you rather be out there?’

  The idiot looked at the stone floor.

  ‘Listen,’ Bar Witch said. ‘We all need to keep calm. If you need patching up, see that red-haired one.’ She pointed at Hargon, who used the hair of the wizard-lizard to regenerate a girl’s hand. ‘Help should be coming soon.’ Bar Witch had no idea if that was true.

  The people left her alone. She closed her eyes, but a baby cried. Bar Witch looked around for the noise and found the baby lying in the corner. ‘Sort that out, someone!’

  Everyone looked at each other. A short man, holding a bloody rag to his neck, came forward. His face was pale and sweat streaked his cheeks. ‘I found him lying in some hay. His parents must’ve ditched him to run.’ He could hardly breathe.

  Bar Witch folded her arms. ‘Well then, he’s yours.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s how it works,’ he said.

  ‘You found him and brought him here. Sounds about right to me.’ She patted his shoulder but he collapsed, dead. Flowfornians gasped and backed away.

  ‘That’s not from me touching him,’ she clarified. How were they going to survive? There were too many problems. For all she knew, everything outside was on fire and everyone had been killed. She wished she had a barrel of ale.

  Proster, a dark-haired brute and builder, stepped forward. ‘Someone help me move him. We’ll bury him when we’re free.’

  A woman helped him to carry the dead man away.

  Bar Witch approached the baby, picked him up and then turned to everyone. ‘The most important thing we can do is stay quiet.’ She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with the life in her hands. ‘There, there, quiet now.’

  The baby’s cries grew louder. That’s why she couldn’t stand them. At least people would say what they wanted, even if it was slurred or annoying. Babies had some stupid crying code instead. Bar Witch thought about performing some of her party magic, but the space was too small and might lead to chaos.

  Hargon came over. ‘Need a hand?’

  Bar Witch handed him the baby. ‘Please take it. I’m an entertainer to drunks, not
a leader to morons or a baby minder.’

  Hargon swapped the baby for the hair of the wizard-lizard. He rocked the baby and made bizarre noises. ‘Why don’t you just treat this lot like a drunk audience?’ Hargon asked Bar Witch.

  She scowled. ‘A group this size will go wrong. For every person that likes something, another four will hate it.’

  The baby fell asleep and Hargon smiled. ‘I always wanted to be a dad.’ He stroked the baby’s head. ‘Closest I got was a chicken.’

  Maybe Bar Witch should be nicer to him. He was an idiot, but an innocent one. ‘Yeah? What was it called?’

  Hargon nodded. ‘Chicky. My dad wasn’t the most creative with names. And just when I was learning what Chicky’s different noises meant, we had to eat him.’ Hargon shrugged. ‘But I like to think he tasted so good because he died happy.’

  Bar Witch shook her head. Her eyes widened and she pressed her ear to the bricks, raising her arm for everyone to be quiet.

  Muffled conversation seeped through the bricks.

  ‘Is it help?’ the annoying girl asked.

  Bar Witch turned to her and pressed her finger to her lips. She turned back to the wall and listened.

  ‘There’s nobody in the tavern,’ a whiny voice said.

  ‘But I saw them. Loads of them, and so did Arnul. They couldn’t have just vanished,’ the other replied and squawked.

  ‘Stop wasting my time. I want to go and peck more humans.’

  Bar Witch exhaled, relieved. She turned back to the people but knocked into the tinderbox. It crashed against the floor. She stood stone still but the baby cried.

  Peezant perched on a branch and looked down at the tavern. Two Man-Hawks pointed to the outer wall.

  ‘See! It came from the wall,’ the taller Man-Hawk said.

  ‘But the place is empty and walls don’t cry,’ the whiny one replied.

  ‘How do you know? Have you met all the walls in the world?’ The taller one poked its sword between the bricks.

  ‘Well, no, but—’

  ‘We were locked up for years. Maybe a new type of brick has been magicked and this one has some kind of secret.’

  The Man-Hawk grunted. ‘Let’s smash it. At least then if it is a talking wall it’ll shut up.’

  Peezant turned and looked into the forest. ‘Peezant,’ he squawked and flew away from the castle, hoping to find help before it was too late.

  Sand, Sea and Screams

  Karl and the others waded through a muddy bog that, thanks to the scorching sun, was more like a hot stew.

  Karl and Frong carried Sags on tied-together planks they had taken from an abandoned cart. Frong wanted to carry Sags from the feet so he could look at his face. They were so desperate to preserve him that they panicked whenever insects hovered around Sags’ corpse.

  Frong kept speaking to Sags. It was as if he was convinced Sags would spring back into life and reply at any moment.

  It made Karl think about why people buried the dead. Maybe it was knowing they were close. Even though they were dead it kept hope alive. It was how he felt about his mum. To him, she was perfectly preserved underground and perhaps, even without a relic, she might just rise from the soil one day.

  Sabrinia walked ahead, out of the bog and onto the endless sand. She’d barely spoken to Karl the entire journey. The only conversations they had were functional, about rest and food.

  Their destination appeared, a speck on the sandy horizon, still too far away.

  Karl turned to Frong. ‘You okay?’

  Frong nodded. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Marlens?’ Karl asked.

  She nodded with a half smile and continued walking with her head down.

  Karl and Frong climbed out of the bog. They set Sags down, poured some water on him and sat for a moment.

  Behind Karl, the tallest yellow stone walls he’d come across reached into the sky. A shriek came from beyond them, shaking him to his core. ‘What was that?’

  Frong scratched his beard. ‘That’s the reason we came by the messy route.’ He took a breath. ‘Jermal. The most advanced people in Hastovia, but unfortunately ones who made bad decisions.’ He stood and lifted his side of Sags’ planks.

  They resumed their journey and Frong continued his story. ‘Their leader made a deal with the Spirit Queen, a being corrupted by Shardur, the god of shadow and darkness, and that was the end of their people.’

  ‘And that shriek?’ Karl asked.

  ‘The result of the deal.’ For once, Frong didn’t seem interested in continuing a story and Karl wasn’t sure he wanted to know any more.

  ‘Stop.’ Sabrinia held her hand over her eyes.

  From their destination, figures rode towards them on strange-looking horses that had humps growing out of their sides.

  ‘Humped horses,’ Frong said.

  Sabrinia stood in front of everyone to greet the six riders.

  They were huge clumps of muscle in light sheets. They pointed their curved swords at Karl and the group.

  Sabrinia raised her hands and placed her bow on the sand, followed by her quiver of arrows. ‘Let’s start with peace and hopefully we’ll end up with friends,’ she told her allies.

  The others followed her lead. Karl and Frong placed Sags down. Karl removed his shield and tossed it on the sand, while Frong removed his spear and Sags’ throwing axes. Marlens removed her potion belt and dropped her sack.

  The warriors spoke in a language of aggressive noises. Karl hoped the meaning didn’t match the sound.

  Sabrinia stepped towards one of them. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re saying, but we would like to see your king.’ She moved her hands up and down above her head to suggest a crown.

  The warriors looked at each other. One sprang off his humped horse, flipping and landing on his feet as though such a manoeuvre was nothing. He held his sword and approached the weapons, picking them up and throwing them to his warrior friends.

  ‘Gulrit.’ He nodded at Sabrinia.

  ‘Gulrit?’ she replied.

  He stretched his arms out and clenched his fists, so Sabrinia copied him.

  The warrior reached into a sack on the humped horse and retrieved a rope.

  Karl stepped forwards. ‘No—’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Sabrinia said. ‘It’s probably just a precaution. I suggest we all do this… gulrit.’

  The warrior tied her wrists, and the other warriors tied the rest of the group. Two warriors took Sags.

  ‘Please be careful with him.’ Frong welled up.

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ Karl said.

  They placed Sags on the back of a humped horse and each took a prisoner and rode in the direction they came from.

  Karl looked up at the sky and was sure he saw Peezant.

  The warrior pulled a sack over Karl’s head and tied it.

  Karl struggled to breathe and worried they had made a terrible mistake.

  A Frenemy In Need

  Sabrinia shuffled her knees on the creaky, wooden floor of a stuffy room. With every inhalation the sandy sack invaded her mouth and any footsteps made her think a sword was about to slice her head off.

  Someone yanked the sack off her head and she took a breath. She faced a luxurious throne covered in cushions. It was the only luxurious thing in the hall. The green decay of wood sickness ate the walls.

  The warriors stood behind her and her friends. If the warriors were going to kill them it would’ve happened by now. It didn’t make the cold blade against the back of her neck any less terrifying.

  Sabrinia noticed Karl scan the room, probably expecting the worst. His face filled her with rage, but maybe he was right and she would have done the same if she had the orb. Everyone could imagine what they would do with power, but they couldn’t truly know until they had it. It didn’t change that Karl had done something stupid and costly.

  A wooden door creaked open and a large half-naked man with long brown hair under a wooden crown entered. A light sheet didn’t do much to cover wh
at was underneath and a steel rod ran from his left knee to the ground where a leg should be. He carried a steel axe over his shoulder, put it down by the throne and sat scratching his muscular stomach. He stared at Sabrinia and raised his steel leg onto a throne arm, drawing attention to what she didn’t want to see.

  ‘You can rise,’ he said in a slow and precise tone. ‘Jut kul pulfi,’ he said to his warriors.

  A warrior grabbed Sabrinia by her bound wrists and pulled her to her feet.

  ‘So why would anyone come all the way out here?’ The man looked Sabrinia up and down.

  Sabrinia held his gaze. ‘I’m Princess Sabrinia of Flowforn, daughter of King Sastin, and I come wanting to put right the wrongs of the past. To apologise for how my father treated your people.’

  He shrugged. ‘Your Sastin didn’t do anything to me. I’m Lord Lofad. Your father wronged my father, but who cares for the arguments of old idiots who are both gone.’

  Sabrinia swallowed. ‘I’m sorry. Losing a father is horrible.’

  Lord Lofad shook his head. ‘Mine didn’t die; he fled. With most of our supplies, a handful of warriors and ships.’

  Lofad was so relaxed about it. ‘Then I’m sorry your kingdom has suffered its own tragedy,’ Sabrinia said.

  He lowered his leg to the floor and leaned forward. ‘Please. Cut the politeness. I doubt you came all the way to this sandy dump to make friends without the need for something, so go on. And make it worth listening to.’

  The warrior behind Karl tightened her grip around her curved sword. ‘Well, I’m here to ask for your help.’ Sabrinia told her story, mentioning everything from Arazod, Lord Ragnus and the Fools, to the latest invasion. Every detail was crucial to conveying the danger the Man-Hawks posed.

  Lofad spun his axe handle as though it was more interesting. He raised a hand to stop her speaking. ‘Why should we care? They’re never going to come out here.’

  Sabrinia shrugged. ‘You don’t know that. You may have great warriors, but nothing will protect you when it rains boulders. Your wooden buildings will be reduced to splinters. So, you can wait and hope they leave your home alone, or you can come with us, to a place we know better than anyone else, and strike first.’