The Cessation of Karrak_Ascension III

  Acknowledgements

  To my wife Jane, for her continued support, as always. Thank you, I love you.

  To Nick Berriman, my faithful test-pilot. Three down many more to go. Thanks again, my friend.

  To Lucy James and Kenny Andrew, of The Studio Tettenhall. Thank you for yet another stunning book cover design.

  To David Berriman, for sharing his wealth of experience and giving his valuable time so freely. Thank you, David.

  Also by Robert J Marsters:

  The Ascension of Karrak

  The Bane of Karrak

  Robert J Marsters

  The Cessation of Karrak

  ASCENSION THREE

  Copyright © Robert J Marsters (2018)

  The right of Robert J Marsters to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978-1-9996518-5-5 (Paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-9996518-4-8 (EBook)

  CHAPTER 1

  Plumes of thick, black smoke billowed high into the starless night sky, the fires from whence they came engulfing structure and flesh alike.

  Agonising screams ripped through the air as yet another body was incinerated, eviscerated, decapitated or crushed by falling masonry.

  There had been no warning before their attackers struck.

  Believing the gates to be secure, many were slaughtered, oblivious to the onslaught that would soon ensue.

  The enemy poured through the parting gates, destroying everyone and everything in their path.

  Many attempted to stand their ground in a futile attempt to repel the unknown assailants.

  Emnor stood defiant, his magnificent staff raised high above him. He bellowed orders for his fellow wizards to band together. He was unheard, it seemed, his voice drowned out by the numerous explosions around him. Instinctively, he blocked a fire spell that had been launched in his direction by one of the mystery assassins. He reversed it and it flew toward its caster who was immediately turned to nothing but a charred skeleton that hovered momentarily, before collapsing in a heap. Emnor barely had time to witness this as he was already defending himself against another attack. He launched spell after spell, finding it difficult to move forward as his foes fell before him. His heart sank. For each adversary he defeated he saw at least one of his fellow wizards fall, but they did not fall alone, each taking the lives of many enemies before their own imminent demise.

  It had all happened so quickly that he had not realised how ghastly their enemies appeared. Some were ghostly in appearance, floating in mid-air, clouds of black smoke that had a will of their own. Others appeared to be no more than walking corpses that wielded heavy swords, hacking mindlessly at any within reach. Worst of all were the beasts. They darted between ally and enemy alike, their huge, fanged jaws tearing at limbs indiscriminately.

  Amidst the mayhem, Emnor caught sight of his oldest and most trusted friend, Yellodius Tarrock. He seemed to revel in the carnage. Waving a staff of his own and casting spells with his left hand, he slashed wildly at the walking corpses that now surrounded him with a sword clutched in his right. Emnor desperately wanted to reach his position but as the body-pile before him increased, he found it more and more difficult to move. The expression on his face was a mixture of rage and anguish as, trapped and unable to reach them, his friends and colleagues fell in greater numbers.

  Still he battled on. How many enemies had he felled? Why were their numbers not decreasing? Emnor’s strength was failing, how could he or any of his kind possibly survive such a mindless, cruel assault? The noise, combined with the billowing dust created by the exploding walls around him, only added to his confused state as he tried to fathom why this was happening.

  Suddenly there was a loud screeching from many of his enemies as scores of them turned to face the wide-open gates. They halted their onslaught momentarily, in awe it seemed, at the entity that had appeared between them. Twenty-feet tall, it hovered inches from the ground, surveying the battle-ground of the inevitable victory that was about to be his. His black robes billowed around him as if fluttering in a non-existent breeze. Turning to face Emnor, buried deep within shadow-like features, his red eyes flashed brightly. Emnor stood petrified. The entity slowly stretched out its arm. The old wizard tried to retaliate but was too late. Instantly clutched in an invisible grasp, he was unable to move. The battle continued before him. Tears streamed down his cheeks as, one by one, he watched his friends fall to sword, spell or beast.

  Yello was the last man standing. Roaring at the top of his voice he continued to bring down his enemies in droves until, with a wave of the enemy leader’s hand, he was thrown the full length of the courtyard and crashed into the damaged wall. Falling heavily to the ground, he lay motionless. His wounds were severe. As powerful as the old wizard was, he could defend himself no more. The enemy fell silent. A blood-curdling laugh came from the gargantuan entity as it once again faced Emnor. The new terror seemed to sense how much Yello meant to him as he heard its voice inside his head.

  “I am the Shadow Lord Karrak. All shall bow down to me. All shall fear me.”

  With a wave of Karrak’s hand the wall above Yello began to crumble, huge pieces falling, to both crush and entomb his battered body.

  ***

  “NO!” Emnor suddenly yelled, sitting bolt upright.

  “Bad dreams?”

  Emnor wiped the sweat from his brow and looked across at Yello, “You could say that,” he said rubbing his eyes.

  “Understandable, with all you’ve been through.”

  “I suppose so,” Emnor sighed. “It’s just that it seemed so real, so vivid.”

  “Care to share?” asked Yello, peering over the top of his book.

  Emnor could recall every intricacy from his nightmare but, glancing across at his friend, decided not to reveal its details, “Oh, you know how it is,” he replied. “Ghosts, ghouls, monsters, all that nonsense.”

  “I think the only thing that’s vivid is your imagination,” scoffed Yello. “Ghosts indeed, as if!”

  “What do you mean, as if?”

  “Don’t tell me you actually believe in them?” laughed Yello.

  “I don’t have to believe in them. I’ve seen them.”

  “Oh really! You’ve seen them? Are you sure you hadn’t just been at the wine again?” Yello sniggered.

  “No, I hadn’t! If you’d have spent a bit more time in Reiggan instead of galivanting halfway around the world, you’d have probably seen them as well!”

  “Why would I want to be cooped up in that place? Look what it’s done to you!”

  “And what exactly, do you think it’s done to me?” asked Emnor.

  “Well, look at you. You wouldn’t have been having nightmares, for a start,” replied Yello, pointing at him. “And then there’s your attitude,” he added.

  “What’s wrong with my attitude?” exclaimed Emnor. “I’ll have you know I have the patience of a saint.”

  “Exactly!” replied Yello. “You’re like an old mother hen the way you pamper this lot. And don’t get me started on the subject of Jared.”

  “What’s this got to do with
him?”

  “Everything, you daft old git!” said Yello. “You mollycoddle him,” he mumbled.

  “Preposterous!” retorted Emnor, “I do not mollycoddle him!”

  “Yes, you do. I’m surprised you don’t tuck him in at night! There was a time when you’d have blasted the crap out of him. You used to believe that harsh lessons were the only way a wizard could learn to defend himself. Not your beloved Prince Jared though. Oh no, teach him all the nice stuff to keep him safe. ‘When in danger, scarper’ seems to be your new motto.”

  “I’ll have you know that Jared is one of the most gifted students it has ever been my honour to instruct!” insisted Emnor. “Look at the time he faced the boys, four on one.”

  “Cobblers!” replied Yello. “They’re just a bunch of kids. What’s he going to do when he comes up against one of Karrak’s lot, eh? They won’t be polite enough to hang back in case the teacher tells them off for hurting the new boy.”

  “So, I take it that you believe you can do better?” asked Emnor.

  “I never said that. I would never undermine the instruction you have given him,” replied Yello, reassuringly. “However, if I were instructing him, I wouldn’t be scared to set his arse on fire during training either!”

  Emnor paused, contemplating Yello’s last statement. “What would you do different, if you had the chance?” he asked. “Considering that he is of royal blood, of course.”

  “Royal blood or no, Emnor. It’s only when you feel pain that you truly realise how much you want to protect yourself against it. If you ask my opinion, and I know you haven’t, Jared needs to take a few knocks to bring him into the real world.”

  “I’m not convinced, old chap. What if he takes offence and decides it’s too much for him?”

  “It’s for his own good, Emnor. Whether he likes the idea or not it’s only a matter of time before Karrak comes looking for him. He must be prepared. It’s going to be survival of the fittest, I’m afraid. Look at young Drake for instance, he’s a prime example.”

  “What have I done now!?” asked Drake, appearing unexpectedly.

  “Ah, Maddleton!” said Yello with a beaming smile. “What fortuitous timing. I wonder if you’d mind helping me out with a little experiment?” he asked.

  Drake flinched, “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” he asked sheepishly. “And why are you using my first name?” he continued, becoming increasingly nervous.

  “Ha ha, I love your sense of humour. Don’t worry, it’ll only take a second. Now, Emnor, as I was saying…”

  Without warning, Yello took a swipe at Drake’s head. Drake was too fast for him and quickly dodged out of the way.

  “Hang on a minute!” yelped Drake. “What the bloody hell was that for? I didn’t do anything! As a matter of fact, I didn’t even say anything!”

  Yello smiled at Emnor, “See what I mean?” he said. “Basic survival instinct.”

  ***

  Only the distant lightning flashes broke the gloom of the evening sky. The thunder was in stark contrast to the silence that had ensued between the two strangers. Neither moved a muscle as they stared at one another, both pairs of eyes hidden beneath heavy cowls.

  “Tell me, did you honestly believe that such an obvious falsehood would delay my decision to destroy you?” asked Karrak.

  “Well, I’m still standing here, aren’t I? Although you are very much mistaken about it being a falsehood.”

  “The person once known as Karrak Dunbar no longer exists.”

  “Oh, I think you know that that’s a lie. He’s in there, trapped and suppressed admittedly, but he still exists.”

  “You seem very confident for one who is about to die. Perhaps you would be better off if you were to beg for mercy.”

  “I think the confidence comes from my father’s side of the family. And I’m sure you’re the merciful type! Forgive and forget? Somehow, I don’t think so.”

  “You may have survived this encounter if you had copied the actions of your friend and remained silent.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying, you’re not very good at this intimidation lark. And as for him, you have no idea. Remain silent? That’ll be the day! It was a relief to control his mind just to shut him up. Do you realise how annoying it can be when circumstances dictate your actions to the point that you have to pretend to be something you’re not? I’ve been wanting to fry this little creep for years. I have enjoyed our little games together at times, I’ll admit. I kept implanting false memories whenever I put him in a trance. He believes that he killed his brother when he was a child, accidentally of course, a brother whose ghost now haunts him. Honestly, it’s hilarious to watch, he never even had a brother, he’s an only child. First time I saw him he’d been trapped in an alley by a gang of street kids. If I hadn’t intervened when I did they’d have cut him to pieces. Naturally, I erased all memory of what actually happened to him, who would want to remember passing out at the mere sight of a knife anyway? It was infuriating the amount of times I had to virtually spell out answers to the simplest of questions, that’s when I’d arrange a meeting with his ghostly brother. It worked perfectly, all eyes were on the ‘looney in the room’, as it were. Nobody even gave me a second glance. I was reading scrolls that were hundreds of years old right under their noses and they never even noticed. I did whatever I needed, and they watched him, Alexander Hardman, the most annoying, self-righteous git it has ever been my misfortune to meet. I had to ‘play nice’ so that the old cronies wouldn’t become suspicious. They thought I was being a friend and taking care of him. But you can learn a lot when you live in a wizard’s fortress.”

  “You know of Reiggan Fortress?” asked Karrak.

  “Yes. I also know all there is to know about the Elixian Soul, that pretty little gem you wear so proudly in your breastplate.” Karrak moved forward. Whether as the shadow lord or as Prince Karrak Dunbar, never had he been spoken to with so much disdain. “I’d calm down if I were you, or I may decide not to share my secrets with you, secrets revealed by the Peneriphus Scroll!” sneered the stranger.

  Karrak backed away, “What do you know of the scroll?” he asked. It was a subject he desperately wanted to learn more about, but he could stand no more. Storming forward, he raised his hands. He would destroy this impudent upstart. If it was a show of strength his enemies wanted, a show he would give them.

  The stranger began to laugh, “What’s wrong, Daddy? Can’t light the fuse?”

  Karrak twisted and jerked. What was happening? The Elixian Soul was his to command but even as he had attempted to destroy his enemy, it had denied him. “What have you done? What is happening to me?” he bellowed.

  “There’s been a slight change of plan, Father dear. You never did your homework, did you? Well, I did. It seems that for your little trinket to ‘work its magic’, if you’ll pardon the pun, we both have to be present. I’m afraid you’ve been demoted. You see, you have the strength to bear the Elixian Soul whereas I, sadly, do not. The downside for you unfortunately is that, when you and I are together, it will only obey my commands. I’m sure we can work out our differences, but let’s not worry about that now, there’ll be plenty of time later. We’ve got some catching up to do. I’m known as Xarran, Xarran Althor. Perhaps you could tell me my real name?”

  ***

  “Come on, come on! Hurry up, it’s time to leave!”

  “Lodren!” shouted Faylore, suddenly. “Will you please calm down? We are not going anywhere until I find out what this is all about.”

  “But Faylore! Thelwynn… he’s waiting. He said we have to go now! Jared and the others are in danger. Come on!”

  “Lodren,” she sighed, placing her hands on his shoulders. “How many dragons have you met? Before you came here, of course.”

  “Well,” he replied, “there was the time when I thought I’d seen one, but that turned out to be a glamoch that had been rolling in the moss by the river. Then… no, that was another glamoch, I think. Ooh, a friend
of mine told me that…”

  “So, that would be a grand total of…?” she asked, almost singing the words.

  Lodren began wringing his hands, “None,” he mumbled.

  “Sorry?” said Faylore, to emphasise her point, “How many?”

  “None,” repeated Lodren, even quieter than the first time.

  “Ah, well in that case, I’ll let you into a little secret,” she whispered. “You’ve probably figured out, by yourself, how nice they are, and I completely agree with you on that. The thing you don’t know is this, they do tend to over-exaggerate things somewhat.”

  Lodren frowned at her, “You’re just saying that because you think it would be rude to ride on a dragon’s back,” he chuntered.

  “You should know me well enough by now, Lodren. I do not tell lies. It’s the truth. For instance, Thelwynn sent one of the dragons to us for some ointment once because Fireweigh had a splinter in his hand that had become infected. By the time the messenger reached us, the story was that Fireweigh had managed to impale his arm on a tree limb, and they needed one of us to amputate it in order to free him!”

  “Wow! They wanted you to cut his arm off just because he had a splinter?”

  “No, Lodren, that’s not what they wanted. They wanted us to attend immediately. The reason that they exaggerate so is because they’re also very impatient.”

  “Alright, I understand that, but why now? Why us?” asked Lodren, a little confused.

  “It’s obvious ain’t it?” said Grubb, roaring with laughter.

  Lodren looked blankly at him, “Erm… No!”

  “’e’s bored. ‘e wants us to take ‘im on a jolly with us!” said Grubb, wiping his eyes. “The crafty sod!”

  Even Faylore hadn’t worked it out so quickly. She smiled at Grubb, “Do you honestly think he wants to come with us?”