The Bane of Karrak_Ascension Page 5

  “The worst,” replied Yello, placing it in his bag.

  Their hunt was successful. After a while, Yello’s small green vial had been refilled with Abigail’s Mercy. As there was no one left alive in Reiggan to make use of them, Yello took the liberty of keeping the remainder of the rare ingredients, placing them carefully into his bag. “Come on, Harley, let’s get back to the others,” he suggested.

  ***

  The idea was simple. Return to Cheadleford, collect Jared and the others and then bring them back to the safety of Reiggan. Well, that was the plan.

  The wizards gathered in the courtyard of Reiggan and after a short discussion, disappeared.

  In an instant, they were standing on the outskirts of the village. It was calm and quiet, maybe a little too quiet. Wandering along the main street, they noticed that the campfire had gone out.

  “Why would they allow the fire to go out?” asked Emnor.

  “A better question would be,” said Yello, “why isn’t there anyone on guard duty?”

  They all began to squint as they studied the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of Faylore or perhaps one of the Gerrowliens.

  “Do you think they are just investigating the forest, Master Emnor?” asked Harley.

  “The Gerrowliens may do that, but neither Jared nor Hannock would consider it,” replied Emnor. “There would be nothing of use to them amongst the trees. No, we’ll probably find them inside the tavern, huddled around the fireplace.”

  They approached The Hangman’s Noose. Seeing the doors off their hinges, they were not surprised to find that it too, was deserted. Drake noticed the unusual rotting on the side of the cart and called for Emnor.

  “What could do something like that?” asked Xarran, poking at the decomposed wood with a stick.

  “Something very potent…” replied Yello, “… but I’m not exactly sure what it was.”

  Buster and the horses had been securely tethered and although a little skittish, remained unharmed. “If only you could speak,” said Harley, stroking Buster’s nose.

  “Where could they have gone?” asked Drake. “Why would they leave the horses?”

  “I hate to say this, Emnor old boy, but I think they were attacked.”

  “Unfortunately, Yello, I have to agree. But there are no fallen, friends or enemies. Surely, a skilled archer such as Faylore could have brought down at least a few of them before they were overrun.”

  “You mean like this one?” Drake had wandered a short way into the shrubs at the side of the road and was now studying the body that lay there, an arrow centrally between its eyes.

  “Hissthaar…!” exclaimed Yello, “Most uncharacteristic.”

  “Could you elaborate?” asked Emnor.

  “They’re ambush predators. More likely to attack someone who is by themselves. They’re quite cowardly in their ways and would never risk open combat,” replied Yello.

  “So why would they attack our allies?” asked Harley.

  “Only one reason I’m afraid. They’re starving.”

  “So why didn’t they take any of the provisions from the cart?” asked Drake. “It hasn’t been touched.”

  “That is because the hissthaar prefer fresh meat. The intended meal was… your friends,” replied Yello.

  “You mean, they’re all dead?” exclaimed Alex. “These things have eaten them all?”

  “No, they’re still alive. If they had been eaten, the diners would still be here, digesting their meal,” replied Yello.

  “I don’t understand. Why would that keep them here?” asked Drake.

  “They swallow their prey whole and still alive. Difficult to move if you’ve just swallowed a whole person, I should think,” suggested Yello.

  “What…!” exclaimed the boys in unison.

  “Yes, disgusting, isn’t it?” replied Yello with a shudder.

  “I think we should start searching for them, now,” said Emnor. They hastily headed toward the treeline.

  None of them could be termed as an experienced tracker, but it was obvious that the most knowledgeable of them was Yello when it came to the ways of the wilds. He had travelled extensively during his long life and, without realising it, had picked up a lot of useful tips from the various races he had befriended. A scuff in the dirt where someone had caught their heel; a broken twig where they had squeezed through a tight space; or a scratch on a tree trunk caused by something they carried when doing the same. Unaware of the danger, they grew closer and closer to the lea.

  They entered it much the same as the companions had so very recently and, as had their friends, began to study the strange saplings and trees with which they were now surrounded. Within minutes, the pale green vapour began to form. Yello saw it first and smiled as he pointed at it. “Stay away from that stuff, gentlemen. It’s obviously there to conceal something, or someone,” he advised.

  “Someone like whom?” asked Drake nervously, “I don’t fancy being someone’s dinner.”

  “This isn’t the hissthaar, my dear Drake, I’m afraid this is something far more dangerous.” Even as he spoke, the mist parted and the mystery was revealed.

  “Ah, my dear Jendilomin. So, it is you,” said Yello.

  “Yellodius Tarrock. How good to see you, have you too now realised the futility of your existence and come to join my beautiful forest?” she asked.

  “Not exactly, Your Highness. I believe you have given your hospitality to some of our friends. We need their aid and I must regretfully insist that you release them.”

  “You must insist?” she asked calmly. “What gives one such as you the right to insist upon anything?”

  “I do not mean to appear impertinent, my Lady. I apologise if I have offended you. There is a great threat that hangs over us all and we need our friends, if we are to succeed in its prevention.”

  “There have been many threats, Yellodius. Not least, the threat of wizards meddling with elements with which one ought not tamper.”

  “And what of sorcerers, my Lady?” asked Yello. “Are they not a greater threat?”

  “You all appear the same to my eyes, Yellodius. The elements are natural, and nature is the way of my folk.”

  “Your folk? Do you mean the abominations that stand around us?” he asked. “Or the forest nymphs that you have coerced into creating them? The very nymphs that, as we speak, are attempting to surround us, hidden in the mist, at your command.”

  Emnor and the boys watched the mist as it began to thicken, but as yet could see no lifeforms within it. Subconsciously, they closed their ranks, each facing in a different direction, wands and staff raised, apprehensively.

  “I do not command them, I merely suggest a more peaceful way of life. A life of complete harmony.”

  “They are a very trusting race, Jendilomin. They have no ill thought or will, but how would they react should they realise that they are being manipulated?” asked Yello. “How would they feel if they realised that, in time, they will have to neglect their true friends, the real trees, in order to care for your creations?”

  Jendilomin suddenly appeared nervous as she spoke again. “They, unlike others, understand what it is that I am trying to accomplish.”

  “Do they?” asked Yello. “They have protected the trees for many a millennia, Jendilomin, and have the ability to transform any who try to harm their wards. They have never needed you before. Why should they need you now?”

  Jendilomin was becoming angry. She had never had her ideals questioned before. “Enough of this!” she bellowed. “You will become one of us. Bring them into the fold, my friends,” she bellowed.

  Emnor and the boys whirled this way and that expecting at any moment to see hordes of forest nymphs charging toward them, but something strange happened, the mist began to dissipate. They saw no nymphs; there was no sudden attack; it seemed the threat was over.

  Jendilomin held out her arms toward the edges of the lea as if pleading with her unstrung puppets. Her reign, it seemed, had en
ded.

  ***

  “Where the bloody hell have you been? I’ve had to listen to this loony for hours!” The sudden break in the silence was, of course, Hannock. For whatever reason, he had been left unchanged by Jendilomin, who had now fallen to her knees and was oblivious to Hannock’s insult.

  Emnor stood over her, his hand outstretched. “Come, my dear, we must rectify some of your mistakes,” he said.

  Jendilomin looked up at him with pleading eyes, still convinced that she had done no wrong.

  “Will she be able to turn them back, Master Yello?” whispered Harley.

  “She never changed them in the first place, my boy, it was the nymphs who did that,” Yello replied. “Whether either she or one of us can convince them to reverse the transformation, is still to be seen.”

  After consulting Hannock, they were able to identify which tree represented which member of the companions, the only obvious one being Grubb. Both Emnor and Yello stood before each in turn, racking their brains in the hope that some ancient spell or incantation would come to their aid as they tried, unsuccessfully, to rejuvenate their friends to their proper state.

  “It’s no good, Yello, I have no idea what type of magic made them like this. Maybe we could somehow reason with the nymphs and convince them to change them back?” suggested Emnor.

  Strolling amongst the trees and bushes, each member of the wizarding party tried in vain to approach one of the nymphs. If they spoke to one, they were completely ignored, and if they drew too near, it would float higher into the trees to escape contact. They were not afraid, simply disinterested. Throughout, Jendilomin remained where she had fallen. Emnor tried a few times to draw any insight that she may have that would help them with their predicament, but she offered no aid as she knelt on the ground, staring deeply into it.

  Drake watched with interest as the others continued with their failed attempts at befriending the nymphs. A fleeting thought of capturing rather than enticing one of them may be a better plan, but he cast it from his mind almost immediately. Smiling to himself, he looked around him, he needed a tree, a real tree, not a nymph-made one. He had an idea. Choosing his target, he sat at its roots and leaned against it. Stroking its trunk, he began to speak to it.

  “Now you’re a proper tree, aren’t you, you’re not one of those nasty imitations? I have to admit though, some of the ones your friends have made are handsome, they fit in perfectly. There are a few that are absolutely repulsive though, there’s no way that they should be allowed to grow anywhere near you. I mean, look at them, they’re tiny, stumpy things with only two limbs. How could they ever hope to become as majestic as you? I bet you wish that they could be taken away, it must be awful for you to even have to look at them?” Drake continued to stroke the tree as he spoke.

  As the others heard him, they began to approach. Emnor had realised Drake’s simple, brilliant plan and shooed them away. “Leave him be, he knows what he’s doing,” he hissed.

  “Yes, he does…” grinned Hannock, “… he’s going barmy!”

  “Oh no, on the contrary, Captain. That boy’s a genius.”

  “He’s talking to a tree, Emnor!” exclaimed Hannock.

  “I know,” said Emnor. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

  Drake continued chatting to his tree. “They don’t belong here. They should be moved. I’d help if I could but I’m not big enough and even if my friends were to help, their roots are too deep. Oh well, never mind, I suppose they’ll have to stay. You’ll get used to them I’m sure… but it’ll take a long time, you poor thing. Fancy having something as ugly as them in front of you every day, it really doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  Drake noticed movement in his peripheral vision. It seemed that the nymphs had suddenly become interested as three of them now floated toward him. Had his plan worked or was it about to backfire spectacularly? Drake took a deep breath as one of them grew closer and hovered, tilting its head and studying him. To anyone who witnessed the scene, it may have seemed alarming, especially when the nymph opened its mouth and the high-pitched screeching began. This was no threat or warning, the nymph was attempting to communicate directly with Drake. The wizards covered their ears, the noise unbearable to them. Drake, however, heard something completely different. To him, it was a serene, ghostly voice that was as soothing to him as a cold, wet towel on a blisteringly hot day. He sighed contentedly at its sound.

  “It seems you have much love for our friends, young one,” it said.

  “Oh yes,” replied Drake, “they’re so regal and strong, who wouldn’t love them?”

  “Many have tried to do them harm. Do you not agree that we should protect them?”

  “Of course, you should. It would be a terrible world without their beauty,” replied Drake.

  “So why should there not be more? Jendilomin told us that we should make more to ensure their safety. Do you not find our creations beautiful?”

  “Some of them, yes. But Jendilomin lied to you, not everyone wants to harm your friends; they love them the same as we do and would never harm them. The truth is that the transformed would help protect them if they could, but instead they now stand here as part of your forest.”

  “What would you have us do, young one?” asked the nymph. “Many of these beings bring fire and dismember our friends for their own purpose. Do you believe we should make them as they were?”

  “Not the ones that would try to hurt the trees, no, just our friends.”

  “Scores of beings have joined our forest, young one. How many do you seek to retrieve?”

  “Six. Only six. The rest should be left as they are, they’re the bad ones,” replied Drake, adamantly.

  The nymph stared into Drake’s eyes. Despite Jendilomin’s deception, it still had faith in the goodness of others. “We shall give you this gift. We shall return your friends to you shortly. Show them to my family and it shall be done.” The nymph floated away followed by its kin.

  Drake joined his fellows, a dozen questions being asked of him at once. “Hang on, hang on, one at a time!”

  It was left to Emnor to begin. “What happened? What did they say?” he asked.

  “They’re going to let them go, all of them,” replied Drake.

  “All of them!?” exclaimed Yello.

  “All of our friends,” said Drake. “If I point them out, they’ll change them back.”

  “Well done, my boy, well done…” began Emnor “… but what gave you the idea?”

  “How many times does anyone here listen to me?” asked Drake. “None, that’s how many. It’s become a habit of mine saying, might as well talk to the wall. A tree seemed the next logical step.”

  They watched eagerly as, one by one, their friends were cured by the nymphs, but there were a few tense moments as both Poom and Grubb were reanimated. They were, after all, in the throes of battle when they had been transformed.

  Their work done, the nymphs floated away, leaving the companions, the wizards and the Gerrowliens alone, with Jendilomin.

  “Time for a vote, I believe…” announced Hannock, “… I vote we chop her head off,” he said.

  “Me too,” agreed Grubb, “keep ’er from doing anythin’ like this again.”

  Faylore had an arrow on her bowstring and was in front of Jendilomin in an instant. “No one shall harm my sister, or they will die this day,” she snapped.

  “Put the bow down, Faylore…” sighed Jared, “… no one’s going to hurt her. You have my word.”

  “Your word, Jared, but what of them?” she asked, nodding at the others.

  Drake held up his hand and the bow and arrow flew from Faylore’s hands. Drake caught them without even looking, and smiled at her. It seemed his confidence as a wizard had grown immensely. “You have my word as well, Your Majesty, but we don’t want any accidents. If anyone here tries to harm your sister, I’ll stand beside you.”

  Hannock started laughing as he slapped Drake on the back. “You’re alright you are, wizar
d boy,” he said.

  “Is that supposed to be a compliment, soldier boy?” Drake replied, stretching out his neck as if goading Hannock to make good on his earlier threat.

  The most difficult question now was, indeed, what should be done with Jendilomin?

  Faylore sat with her sister and took her hand, “What burdens you so, Jendilomin? Why are you so sad?”

  “I wished to bring peace to the world, that is all I ever wanted. Why did you prevent me from doing this?”

  “One cannot intervene with nature’s progress, Jendilomin. If one does, it ceases to be nature.”

  Leaving the sisters alone, Emnor guided Jared and the others to one side. “Jared, I’d like to introduce you to a very old friend of mine, Yellodius Tarrock. Yello, Prince Jared Dunbar, son of Tamor and heir to the throne of Borell.”

  “When he says old friend, I think he means ancient, Your Highness,” laughed Yello.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Yellodius,” replied Jared, shaking Yello by the hand.

  “The pleasure is mine, Jared, and just call me Yello, everybody does.”

  Yello was introduced to the others, who thanked him profusely for their rescue. No trouble at all and any time, being amongst his replies.

  The smiles faded and the mood became sombre as, inevitably, the subject of Jendilomin was raised. They watched Faylore’s attempts to calm her sister, who was now sobbing uncontrollably. It seemed that there was no consoling her. She was not evil and meant no harm to any that had been transformed. In her delusion, however, she still could not see that what she had done was wrong.

  “Would you mind awfully if I try to help young Faylore?” asked Yello, “I do feel somewhat responsible for her sister’s dismay.”

  “Not at all, I’m sure she’d welcome any suggestions you may have. Oh, and by the way, Yello, it’s Queen Faylore,” replied Emnor.

  Much to their surprise, Yello walked away from them, not toward Faylore and Jendilomin, but in the opposite direction. Reaching the edge of the lea, he disappeared amongst the trees.

  “But I thought…?”

  “Trust me, Jared, best not to ask. He has something in mind I’m sure, he’ll be back soon,” said Emnor.