The Bane of Karrak_Ascension II of III Page 3

  “Take care with that, Yello. I doubt that we have the correct ingredients for you to brew more, should you run out.”

  “Don’t you worry about me, Emmy,” replied Yello. “I’ve been through worse without the help of this,” he continued, holding up the green vial.

  Emnor, his young apprentice, Harley, and the others had begun to survey the extent of the damage to Reiggan. Yello joined them and, surprisingly, was more knowledgeable regarding construction than he had given himself credit for. His input was priceless when instructing the young wizards on how to properly erect walls and repair masonry with the use of magic. Throughout, however, he insisted that he had far more love for demolition than construction. Harley and Drake were working with Emnor as Yello was guiding Alex and Xarran’s efforts.

  “I’m sure it would be easier if you were to just show us, Master Yello,” suggested Alex.

  “Me? Build something?” laughed Yello as he limped around. “I’d have what’s left of Reiggan flattened if I tried, Alexander. I am far better suited to tuition when it comes to reconstructive magic. Now if you want something blown up or demolished, trust me, I’m your man.”

  Xarran laughed, “Well, we won’t be calling you very often then, we’ve got Drake for that.”

  “Yes, Emnor mentioned something about that earlier. I take it he’s not a very talented wizard then, your young friend?”

  “On the contrary, sir, he’s a bloody genius!” replied Xarran.

  “So why did Emnor suggest that I stay clear of him?” enquired Yello.

  “Because Master Emnor realises how talented he is. He also realises that Drake can be a little… overzealous. He thinks his skills need tempering in order for him to achieve his full potential,” said Alex, “without blowing himself up in the process, of course!”

  “I know that feeling well,” chuckled Yello. “I was just like him when I was a lad, have a go at anything and damn the risks, but that, of course, was a very long time ago,” he added, smiling at the boys.

  ***

  The restoration of Reiggan Fortress was going well. Many thoughts ran through Emnor’s mind as they toiled. The young wizards were keen to help, following every instruction to the letter, but Emnor felt that with what may lie ahead, this may not be enough. He needed them to think and start making decisions for themselves. The time may come when he would not be in a position to give them advice or instructions. He needed someone who had a similar amount of experience and knowledge as he. “Yello, might I have a word?”

  The two senior wizards ambled into one of the repaired chambers within Reiggan. Waving his staff, Emnor righted a desk that had been tipped over and then, with another wave, he placed two large armchairs either side of it, gesturing for Yello to take a seat.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” said Yello, as he limped toward it, rubbing his leg as he lowered himself onto the sumptuous padding. “Now what can I do for you, old friend?” he asked.

  “Nothing, Yello. Nothing at all. You’ve done quite enough already. You must be exhausted.”

  “Don’t give me that crap, Emnor! Something’s going on beneath that mangled mane of yours. Spit it out. What’s your problem?”

  Emnor smiled as he noticed the twinkle in his friend’s eye, a twinkle he recognised from their younger days. Like Emnor, he too was over a thousand years old but still had his youthful sense of adventure. “There’s no fooling you, is there?” laughed Emnor.

  “Get on with it, you old crock, we don’t have all day,” mumbled Yello.

  “Very well. I think it only fair to explain exactly what our situation is, Yello. Karrak may appear to be just a spoilt brat, and he was. He was an obnoxious child, an annoying teenager and an absolute tyrant as an adult. Realising his magical ability, he tried to kill his brother Jared. The spell he used was pathetic but it was his first attempt. Luckily Hannock, Jared’s best friend, cracked a pikestaff on the back of Karrak’s skull before he could do any real harm. Ruined Jared’s shirt though, apparently,” said Emnor, frowning.

  “So why was he allowed to roam free?” asked Yello. “You said he even has followers now.”

  “He wasn’t allowed to roam free. He was locked up here in Reiggan,” replied Emnor.

  “For a failed spell! A bit harsh, isn’t it, Emnor?”

  “There were other events. The body of a guard was discovered and Jared thought that Karrak had murdered him. But there were no witnesses, no evidence and no proof of Karrak’s guilt.”

  “So, was the guard killed with magic?” asked Yello.

  “No, his neck was broken. Twisted until his head was facing backwards,” replied Emnor.

  “So why would they think that Karrak was the murderer?”

  “The guard had prevented him from killing an innocent, a barkeep by the name of George. Lovely chap. Lost one of his eyes due to the unprovoked beating that Karrak gave him.”

  “It would take immense strength, Emnor, to twist someone’s head like that.”

  “You haven’t seen the size of Karrak. Six-and-a-half-foot-tall and almost as wide. He’s a monster, in more ways than one.”

  “And you say he was locked up here?” asked Yello.

  “After the attack on Jared, King Tamor decided it best. Thought he could be rehabilitated and allowed to re-enter polite society. I wouldn’t have anything to do with Karrak or his incarceration, I believed the prophecies of the Peneriphus Scroll, you see?”

  “So how did he get out? Did he escape or did he have help?” asked Yello.

  “Barden Oldman. He even tried to acquire the Elixian Soul for Karrak,” replied Emnor.

  “What!” exclaimed Yello. “Barden? But he’s been here forever. What would cause him to do such a thing?”

  “I think he believed that resisting Karrak would be futile. So, resigned to that futility, he thought he’d be joining the winning side, as it were.”

  “So what happened to Barden?” asked Yello. “Did he go with Karrak?”

  “Not exactly. Barden used a relocation spell to get Karrak out, but not before they killed Dane Fellox and one of the young novices.”

  “So what now? We know he has the Elixian Soul but not the knowledge to access its full potential. We suspect that he is in league with Barden, so that doesn’t bode well…”

  “He’s not in league with Barden,” interrupted Emnor.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because, Yello, Barden knew of the scroll’s existence. If he were still alive, so would Karrak.”

  “Do you think he was keeping it as a kind of insurance?”

  “Possibly, but I don’t think he was ever given the chance to play his trump card.”

  “And what about those boys out there, are we going to take them somewhere out of harm’s way?” said Yello, more as a suggestion than a question.

  “You read my mind. I’m sure they would have survived against Karrak before all this, but now that he has the Soul, I’m not convinced,” replied Emnor.

  The two wizards entered the courtyard and beckoned the boys to join them. Drake suspected what was about to be proposed but held his tongue.

  “Boys,” began Emnor, “I have no doubt where your loyalties lie, and to date your courage and dedication to the rectification of the plight of House Borell, Reiggan and myself have been nothing but selfless, but I fear that you must now abandon…”

  Drake had a short fuse, and it had just burnt out. He went red in the face and began to rant. “Stuff that, we’ve worked our arses off for you. Who gave you the most powerful staff in the world? Who followed you and never asked a single question? Who trusts you more than anyone else? We do! Now old hop along turns up and you don’t need us any more. Is that what you think? You aren’t the only wizards left in this world. Our friends died as well as yours. Now you think you can palm us off like a bunch of kids? There are six wizards here, six, and you need every one of us. Whether we’re with you or alone, we’re still going after that bloody sorcerer, and when we do, we’re going to blow
the crap out of him.”

  Emnor was stunned and said nothing. Neither did Yello.

  Harley sighed. Raising his hand, he pointed at Drake. “Erm, what he said,” he smirked.

  CHAPTER 3

  Karrak stared at the Elixian Soul. Mounted on a golden skeletal hand-shaped stand, it stood on the altar before him. He and his followers had now invaded the monastery that, only hours before, had been inhabited by more than fifty monks. Karrak slaughtered most of them immediately before twisting the remainder into forms similar to that of Barden, who Karrak kept close at hand so he could continue his ceaseless torture of him. The Elixian Soul had proven its worth. No more did Karrak have to waste time enslaving his victims singularly, he could enslave a dozen or so easily, as a collective. He had no real need of the beasts that now yelped and whined outside the walls, but it had the desired effect he wished to convey to his followers: Obey him without question, or test him and suffer the consequences.

  The only member of Karrak’s loyal clan that dared to speak freely was Darooq. He was, nonetheless, under no illusion that he was indispensable and remained cautious when passing comments or answering questions put to him by his lord. Entering the room, he bowed his head. “I must congratulate you on your acquisition, my lord.”

  Karrak’s gaze never left the Elixian Soul as he answered. “Why should I be congratulated for obtaining something that is mine by right? Something that it was my destiny to possess, according to Barden,” he asked. His voice was different now, deeper, monotone and sinister. The words left his lips, but simultaneously seemed to have a different source, a strange echoing as if they had come from a cavernous space before passing through him.

  “I beg your forgiveness, my lord…” continued Darooq, “… I merely meant that you must be pleased to have at last received your prize.”

  “I like you, Darooq, I enjoy your company, and your counsel, but do not take me for a fool. What is it that you actually want to know?”

  “What is our next move, my lord?” asked Darooq.

  “Our next move. Our next move. Don’t you mean my next move, Darooq?”

  “As we are loyal to you, my lord, your next move shall also be ours. We have sworn to serve, and that fealty remains intact.”

  “Do you believe that I still need you? A rabble of second-rate conjurors and tricksters, now that I have this,” Karrak raised the Soul, complete with its stand, from the altar.

  Darooq stepped back nervously as Karrak turned to face him. “My lord, you cannot guard every hall and courtyard by yourself. Surely, we could at least offer that protection? Every one of your followers…”

  “Silence…” barked Karrak, hurrying toward Darooq and throwing his arm around his shoulders. “… Calm yourself, my friend,” he continued. “As I said, you are safe, Darooq. You shall remain as you are. The others, however, may need a little… adjustment.”

  “Adjustment, my lord? In what way?” asked Darooq, not entirely sure that he wanted to hear the answer to his question.

  “I mean to destroy royal bloodlines, overthrow kingdoms and take lands and fortunes that have been passed down for generations. In short, I mean to rule this world. Avarice and petty jealousy will eventually corrupt the minds of many of those who follow me, Darooq. The only way to prevent that from happening is to ensure their absolute servitude, and sooner rather than later. If one fears that the beast may bite in the future, one must extract the teeth in the present.”

  “And am I to be amongst those who shall have their teeth removed, my lord?”

  Karrak caressed the Elixian Soul. “No, not you, Darooq,” he whispered. “Summon the others. I shall deal with them.”

  ***

  “Tell me, Faylore, why is Jendilomin so dangerous?” asked Jared.

  “Emotions. Well, one emotion anyway,” she replied.

  “And that emotion is…?” asked Hannock.

  “Love,” replied Faylore.

  “Love? How can love be dangerous?” asked Hannock.

  “Well, for someone as primitive as you, Charles, it can’t. For a Thedarian, it can be devastatingly so.”

  The look on Hannock’s face was priceless. The combination of being called primitive along with Faylore’s notion that love could be devastatingly dangerous had rendered him speechless.

  “No matter how you flower it up, Faylore, she turns people into trees. Not even the hissthaar are safe,” said Poom.

  “She merely befriends them,” sighed Faylore.

  “By turning them into trees!” exclaimed Poom.

  Jared and the others were now completely confused. “Faylore, please enlighten us. What does turning people into trees have to do with love?” he asked, innocently.

  “As you know, Jared,” she began, “we Thedarians are a superior race…”

  “Oh yes, and don’t forget humble, and modest,” interrupted Hannock.

  “… A simple fact, Charles,” she continued. “As I was saying, my sister was always one of the most intelligent of our kind. Even as a child she would only converse with the more learned and enlightened of our people. Jendilomin matured very quickly, no Thedarian female is known to have reached the simbor at such a young age...”

  Jared snorted as he attempted to subdue a laugh, as he remembered the events that had taken place in the cave on their first journey to Reiggan. Hannock glanced at him, having no recollection of the embarrassing incident. Jared couldn’t resist the temptation, “Sorry Faylore, swallowed a fly. You alright there, Charles?”

  Faylore resumed her explanation, “… Jendilomin became terribly bored with us and had learned the ways of the forest.”

  “You mean tracking and hunting, that sort of thing?” asked Lawton.

  “No, I don’t…” she sighed, “… I mean that she had learned to converse with the flora and fauna, but the trees were always her favourite. She found them fascinating.”

  “You mean, she can talk to the trees?” gasped Lodren.

  “Yes, my dear Nibby, she can talk to the trees.”

  “But how is that dangerous?” asked Hannock.

  “Well, it wasn’t at first, but then she began to wander off for days at a time. That’s when she first met the forest nymphs.”

  “But they’re harmless, seen ’em loads o’ times, they don’t bother anybody. If ye try to get near ’em, they just float away,” said Grubb.

  “They used to, before they met Jendilomin,” said Faylore.

  “And she can talk to them too, I presume?” asked Hannock.

  “Not at first. Their reaction to her was as it would be if anyone approached them. They tend the forest, they aren’t interested in any other life form,” replied Faylore.

  “So what changed?” asked Poom.

  “She started to learn the ways of magic,” replied Faylore.

  “And there it is. Every bloody time!” exclaimed Hannock. “Magic again. Yet another foe, ready to start blasting away at us!”

  “She isn’t like that, Charles. She’s a white witch, not a sorceress,” snapped Faylore in defence of her sibling.

  “It doesn’t matter. It seems that every time magic is involved, we become the target. We should hang anyone who even thinks about using it!”

  “Yeah… thanks for that,” said Jared.

  “You know what I mean, Jared. I didn’t mean you,” said Hannock, apologetically.

  Lodren, always being the most level-headed, attempted to calm the heated discussion. “Look, if all she wants is to be friends, we’ll meet her, introduce ourselves, shake hands politely and be on our way.”

  “Somehow I get the feeling that it’s not going to be that easy, is it Faylore?” asked Jared.

  “Indeed…” replied Faylore, “… Jendilomin only regards the trees as her friends, so in order to befriend her, you have to become one.”

  “How did this all start, Faylore? It’s insane,” said Hannock.

  “To you, Charles, it may seem that way. The sad thing is that Jendilomin’s intention is only t
o create a more peaceful world.”

  “By turning every living being into a tree?” asked Jared.

  “Do trees go to war, Jared? Do you see a tree hunting its brother in order to destroy it? Do you see a tree murdering one of its own to steal its belongings or take a patch of ground that it wishes to possess? Jendilomin has convinced the forest nymphs that the only way for their charges to be safe is to make all living things part of their world, a peaceful world.”

  “This is wonderful. Her sister’s as mad as your brother, Jared. We should introduce them, imagine what their children would be like. Half tree, half insane sorcerer, the possibilities are endless.”

  “You’re not helping, Hannock,” sighed Jared.

  There was a brief moment of silence before Faylore, resigning herself to their predicament, spoke again. “She will not allow us to leave, I must visit with her… alone.”

  “Not bloody likely!” snapped Grubb.

  Faylore smiled at him. “Indeed, Master Grubb. What alternative would you suggest?” she asked.

  “Easy,” Grubb replied, “I’ll become a hawk and fly over the forest until I spot her. Then, when I’ve found her, I’ll swoop down and rip her bloody head off.”

  “How very gallant of you, you wish to murder my sister on my behalf. You must be very proud of yourself.”

  Grubb lowered his head. “Just trying to look after ye is all. You’re alright , you are,” he muttered.

  Faylore leaned down and kissed the top of his tiny head. “You’re not so bad yourself, Grubb…”

  “Now if you’re going, just bugger off,” chuntered Grubb, a little embarrassed.

  “… Most of the time,” added Faylore.

  The companions watched as Faylore disappeared behind the treeline.

  “Strange home you have here, Poom, Shaleford Forest I mean,” said Hannock.