by Mark McCabe
Tay-rala smiled at Golkar’s compliment. “My skills are nothing compared to yours, but I’ll be happy if I can play some small part in helping you achieve your goal. What are friends for after all? No. I didn’t see Kell. But that isn’t surprising. The connection was with the gryphon, with the wound he gave you and the magic that resides in the beast. It isn’t unusual for such a vision to be localised just to that aspect of the connection, to the beast in this case.”
“That makes sense. I expect that he won’t have strayed far from the creature in any event. If I find the gryphon, my guess is I’ll find Kell somewhere very close by. You have done me a service Tay-rala, a very great service. If your vision was a true one, and if I’m right about the place you saw, then you’ll have given me just what I need to finish that meddling, old fool off once and for all. I won’t forget this.”
Golkar eased back in his chair and took another sip from the draught Tay-rala had brewed for him. For the first time since the human girl had gone missing, he felt that his plans were back on track again. Though he’d had no word from Tug, regardless of what Tarak may have known, it was clear that Kell, at least, was unaware of her presence here in Ilythia. He would never have acted so precipitously if he had been. He would have bided his time, or worked out some way to use the girl’s power to thwart him. Instead, all the old fool had done was expose his own weakness. Clearly, Kell hadn’t the faintest idea how to stop him from achieving his aims. Now that he’d played his one and only card, and failed, it would be a simple matter for Golkar to finish him off.
He was glad he hadn’t let Josef die just yet. He would come in handy now. Not as good as the girl would have been, and certainly not enough if his colleagues had been more challenging adversaries, but, given the circumstances, adequate for the task at hand. The girl was simply a bonus now. He would be able to use her power to better effect without having to waste it in dealing with his two colleagues as he’d originally planned.
He would rest now. When he was rested, he would strike, and strike quickly. Kell would have no chance at all this time. Then Golkar would be the Guardian of Ilythia, sole Guardian that is, not just one of three. Then all of Ilythia would see how powerful he had become. He would need to make a demonstration or two of his powers, of course, finish off the girl and ensure that all would bow to his will in one and the same breath.
“No indeed,” he said softly, turning to look once more at Tay-rala and reaching out to take her hand in his. “I won’t forget this, my dear.”
~~~
Count Regulus leaned forward with his elbows resting on top of the rough stone wall of the parapet as he gazed out at the scene before him. The view from the walls of the city was little different from what it had been the day before, or the day before that, or the one before that. The smell of smoke and ash was stronger than it had been yesterday. That was one difference he noted. Today, he could see four separate plumes of smoke rising from beyond the distant hills, whereas yesterday there had been only two. The overall colour of the sky was different too. Looking out as far as the horizon, he could see that a smudgy brown haze now separated the green of the hills from the clear blue of the eastern sky. If only it would rain again, he thought. That might douse the flames. It might even slow down the sligs’ seemingly inexorable advance.
They were out there, and he knew it, as did everyone else in Keerêt. Somewhere beyond those distant hills, beyond the horizon, they would be fighting skirmishes with Algarian regulars even now. Hopefully, the army had their measure by now. Hopefully, the tide had finally turned.
That didn’t stop the frantic preparations that were going on closer to home, however. The Marshal was too seasoned a fighter to be caught with his guard down. Regulus knew that he was working just as hard at preparing the defences for the city as he was at directing the tactics for the front line troops. One had only to glance at the wide expanse of plain between the walls of Keerêt and the distant row of hills to see that.
From where Regulus stood, he could make out small figures scurrying across the plain. The smaller groups, he knew, would be citizens in the main, maybe a farmer, with a bundle of his belongings across his shoulders, hastening to move into the safety of the city, or some merchant rushing to see to his goods before he too sought shelter. The larger groups, he knew, would be Algarian regulars. A whole regiment had marched out only an hour beforehand and he could still make them out by the plume of dust he could see rising skywards way in the distance. It wasn’t hard to guess their destination, even if you weren’t privy to the details of imperial strategy as Regulus was.
The road they were following would take them straight to the Mendobar Hills. That was where the last stand would be made if the sligs weren’t held at the river. Not that that was likely now. After a fortnight of bad news, the situation was slowly but surely changing. The weather hadn’t turned, even though Count Brassilius, the Marshal of the Realm, had been quietly praying for more rain for a week, but the slig advance was being slowed nonetheless. Indeed, from the more recent reports, it seemed it might even have ground to a halt. The Algarians had finally stopped retreating.
Brassilius had formed his defensive line along the eastern shore of the Sarrowmar River, knowing that if the regulars couldn’t hold them there then they could rapidly pull back across the river, bring down the bridges behind them, and defy any attempt to cross the river in force. Though the deep and swift-flowing river would provide an almost impenetrable line of defence, however, it would also prove difficult for the Algarians to re-cross. Once yielded, the eastern shore would prove difficult to regain should the sligs decide to stay there. And that meant virtually giving up some three-quarters of Algaria to the enemy. They would be able to plunder and ravage the eastern parts of Algaria with impunity. And so Brassilius had formed his line on the eastern shore, and his strategy seemed to be working.
He and his commanders had considered a wide range of scenarios. Regulus and the rest of the Council had been briefed on their deliberations only the night before. In the unlikely event that the army couldn’t deny the sligs passage of the river, Brassilius’ plan was for them to fall back to the line of the Mendobar Hills. There they would re-group before completing a more orderly retreat to the walls of Keerêt.
Of course, Regulus knew only too well that if that happened they were all doomed. The Mendobar Hills couldn’t be held for more than a day or so. A stand there would merely delay the sligs while the bulk of the Algarian army retreated with some dignity. What was left of it, that is. A retreat from the river would only occur if the army’s losses were too great for it to remain there any longer. There would be nowhere else to go then. They would be bottled up in Keerêt and the doom of the Algarians would be upon them.
None of that was likely though, realised Regulus, shrugging off his gloomy thoughts. Brassilius was simply covering all eventualities. That was why he was Marshal of the Realm. The eastern shore of the Sarrowmar was well fortified. The Algarians could hold that line for years if need be. And, in any event, they would surely find a way to re-cross it even if they were forced back. The Algarians weren’t done for yet. If anything this war was just starting. Now that the army had stopped retreating, the sligs would see what they were really up against. They’d had it all their way till now, but no more.
Regulus felt his spirits lifting. The Algarians were a great people, with a great leader. Elissa would lead them out of this situation. She would never allow them to go under without a fight that would ring down the ages. He could hear her words now, echoing in his mind. The speech she had given the Council last night had been one of the most stirring he had ever heard. Even her father would have been proud to see her. One part kept repeating over and over in his head.
“We have only just begun to fight,” she had said. “The sligs will curse the day they started this war. It will go down as their great day of mourning, if any of them live to tell the tale. They will rue the day they took on the might of the Algarian empire. They
will find that instead of a sleeping dog they have roused a mighty lion, one that will chase them back across the land, nipping at their heels, devouring their fallen, tearing at their stragglers. There will be no place in all of Ilythia for them to hide from our wrath.”
It had roused the Council members just at the time they needed it most, and their fervour would soon spread through the Algarians like a fire. They had been the right words at the right time. Regulus couldn’t help the feeling of pride that coursed through him as he remembered the emotions that had swept through the chamber when Elissa had delivered her speech. They were a mighty people and they wouldn’t go down into the dustbin of history without a fight.
“The sligs have broken through at Jeeluk, Sir. Our outliers are falling back to the river.”
Count Regulus turned to face the military attaché standing before him, drawing his eyes away from the eastern horizon. He had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard the man right.
“Sorry, What did you say? The sligs have broken through where?”
“At Jeeluk, Sir,” the attaché responded, with just the hint of a tremor to his voice. “The Queen has called an emergency meeting of the Council. You’re required urgently.”
“But that can’t be right,” responded Regulus, ignoring his demand for the moment. What the man was saying didn’t make sense. “Brassilius had the defences on the Northern Frontier bolstered. The last report said that all of the bridges were down except the one at Landorion, and Landorion is well garrisoned. Where did you get this information, soldier? It can’t be right.”
Regulus’ eyes widened in horror as the attaché answered his questions. He could see that the man was rattled, and the more he heard, the more he understood why.
“From Count Brassilius, Sir. I’ve come directly from him. They’ve got across the river on the northern front. Landorion’s been cut off and they’re sweeping south towards Keerêt. Jeeluk has already fallen, Sir. There’s nothing between them and the capital this side of the river. The order’s gone out to pull back across the Sarrowmar immediately, before the army’s caught in a pincer. They’ve got to abandon their positions there before they get trapped between two slig armies.”
Chapter 11
If ever Sara had been in any doubt, the horrible images Ruz had conjured up of what they would do to Rayne confirmed her worst fears. She was in the hands of cruel and sick monsters. Not content with simply killing her, as she knew they would do in the end, for the moment they seemed to be enjoying the mental abuse they were inflicting upon her too much to bring her ordeal to that chilling conclusion.
They would hunt Rayne down, Ruz had told her. It might take some time, but in the end, they would find him. And once they did, they would use their authority to insist the Algarians hand him over. And she should be in no doubt. The Algarians would not dare to refuse such a demand from Golkar.
Then they would torture him. And she would be made to watch. It would be slow, and it would be painful; that much was certain. Regardless of what else they did, that would be their payment for her refusal to tell them what they wanted.
But it wouldn’t end there. Not if she kept on denying them. Tell them everything now, Ruz had demanded, and Rayne’s end would be painful, but at least then they would put him out of his misery. They would kill him and that would be the end of it. Continue to deny them, he had assured her perversely, and they would let him live; if you could call living what it would be like for him after they had removed certain parts of his body. His right arm, certainly, and both of his ears, perhaps, and his nose, maybe even his legs.
Sara took a deep breath as Ruz stepped back for a moment to give her a chance to consider his repulsive threats. She was grateful for at least that moment of respite, but knew that he wasn’t done with her yet. Not by a long shot.
“Answer me, hu-maan,” the draghar screamed at her. Though the volume of his voice was unnecessary, both that and his shrill tone had the effect he no doubt wanted. Sara cringed in response.
She knew that she couldn’t keep this up for much longer. Why am I holding back, she thought, watching for a sign that he was about to move in closer and continue his vicious verbal assault. I’ll tell them in the end. I know I will. They won’t stop until they’ve broken me, so what am I proving by denying them. If I tell them now, maybe they’ll stop and put an end to all of this torment.
Before Sara could complete her line of thought, she whimpered involuntarily as she saw the draghar take the step forward she had known he would, closing the distance between them before she could even begin to think of how to answer his question.
“I’ll ask you one more time you little bitch,” Ruz snarled, leaning in so that his face was almost touching her own. “How do you know the old man? Who is this Josef and where did you meet him? Where did he come from?”
Sara could smell his fetid breath as he spoke. She wished that her hands were free so that she could reach up and wipe from her face the spittle he was spraying as he scowled at her. She knew deep down though, even if her wrists hadn’t been bound tightly to the arms of the chair they had chained her to, she wouldn’t be game to do that.
She was confused. Although she wanted her torment to stop, fear was muddling her thoughts. Right at this moment, she didn’t dare do or say anything that might further fuel his barely-contained rage.
But she had to say something. She had to stop them from continuing their interrogation. She couldn’t take it any more. To think that they might do these things, that she might have to watch while they did them, that Rayne might have to endure such things. It was just too horrible to contemplate. Her whole body was trembling now.
Her mind was equally agitated, with contradictory thoughts swirling around, jostling for attention, first suggesting one way of responding, then, only moments later, another.
She was afraid to speak, lest it not be what they wanted to hear. At the same time, she wanted to tell them. She wanted it to end. But she couldn’t betray Josef, not after everything he had done for her and Rayne. But then, maybe he would understand. Maybe he already knew that she was no hero. She was a coward really. She knew that now, and surely he must too. If only she could ask someone. She didn’t know what to do.
“I . . . I don’t know. Ho . . . hon . . . honest I don’t. I . . .” she finally managed to stammer.
As Sara spoke, she turned her head towards Golkar, pleading with him with her eyes in her desperation. Surely he would see that this couldn’t go on for much longer. Surely there must be some vestige of decency left in the man. Surely he would step in soon and bring an end to Ruz’ horrific inquisition.
The tears in her eyes as she stumbled over the words, combined with the direction of her gaze, prevented her from anticipating Ruz’ reaction to her silent plea to his master. The scream he shrieked from his position just a few inches from her face shook her to the core.
She almost blacked out in response, the fright he gave her was so extreme, so unexpected. For a few moments, she seemed to lose track of what was happening, of where she was and what was being asked of her. It lasted for only a few moments, and then, in a sudden rush, it all came back to her, the memories washing through her like a flood from a collapsing dam.
She was in Golkar’s lair. That was it. After the wizard had met them on the path to Tu-atha they had brought her back here and they had been tormenting her ever since. She wondered if what she had been through in that time had served any purpose other than to satisfy their sick needs and to drive her to the brink of insanity. All those questions and all those disgusting threats. Why? What was the point? What could they possibly gain from finding out what she knew?
They had asked her about Josef a number of times. At first, she had been surprised to hear they were even aware of his existence. Then she had been about to reveal what little she did know when it suddenly dawned on her that they had been using the present tense when they spoke of him. That meant he was still alive! She had been certai
n he was long dead. Before long, she had ascertained that he was not only alive, he was here, here with her in Tu-atha. They were holding him captive too.
The glimmer of hope that had formed then had been just as quickly dashed. Ruz had told her that he was all but dead, that Golkar was using him, like he had used that young girl he had killed the night she had arrived in Ilythia, like he intended to use her once he was finished with Josef. Unfortunately, Josef’s particular nightmare hadn’t ended yet either; he was in the same predicament she was.
Now she remembered why she had refused to tell them what she knew. Josef was alive. She couldn’t betray his friendship while ever he was still alive. Who knows whether it mattered or not; she just couldn’t do that. They were going to kill her anyway, the least she could do was to honour his friendship. It was all she had left now.
“That’ll do, Ruz,” she heard Golkar exclaim wearily from where he sat on the other side of the room. “It doesn’t really matter, anyway. He’s been useful, whoever he is.”
Turning her head to one side again, Sara watched apprehensively as the wizard slowly rose from his chair. “You’re an enigma, Sara,” he exclaimed as he approached her, “that’s for certain. As is this Josef. But who’d have thought I’d get two for the price of one?”
Sara closed her eyes so that she didn’t have to look at the smile on the wizard’s face. It was so horrible, so false. Turning her face away from him, she tried to swallow. She had been so terrified of Ruz and his threats she hadn’t thought to do that while his intense questioning had been going on. Doing so now only served to remind her how parched her throat felt. Though she knew that her face must be covered in sweat, her mouth felt incredibly dry.
“Please,” she begged, taking advantage of the wizard’s seeming decision to end her torment, at least for the moment, and hanging her head, not daring to look at either of her tormentors as she spoke. “Can I have some water?” Her voice sounded croaky.
