The Cessation of Karrak_Ascension III Page 7

  “Neither could Karrak,” mumbled Hannock, his eyes now closed. “I’ve known him since he was a child. Whinging little git, he was. Treated the servants in the castle like dirt, and enjoyed every moment of it. Tamor never saw it, of course and the more the brat got away with, the worse he became. Did you know, he murdered one of the royal guard well before... he… learned magic…” he began to snore loudly.

  ***

  Ginger had been shackled to a chair in the centre of the room. His captors stood around him as Jared approached, a familiar slender blue flame nestled in his hand. He brandished it in his prisoner’s face. “I could remove your head without spilling one drop of blood,” he whispered. “Or I could be merciful and simply take your sword arm.”

  “Up yours!” bawled Ginger. “Go on do it, I’ve got nothin’ to say to you, ya ponce!”

  Jared suddenly slapped his hand against Ginger’s forehead and rammed the back of his skull into the chair. “I’m so glad you said that,” he hissed. Placing the tip of the flame blade against Ginger’s cheek, he drew it slowly down. His victim’s lips parted to release the scream produced by the pain, but Jared was too quick for him. Re-positioning his hand, he clamped it firmly across Ginger’s mouth. His muffled cries barely audible, Jared continued, the hissing sound of burning flesh now louder than the victim’s gurgling cries. A faint wisp of smoke could be seen as Jared took his time with the completion of the blade’s journey, an acrid smell filling the air.

  Jared released him, allowing his head to flop forwards, “Do you feel like talking now, or shall we continue with our little game?” he whispered.

  Ginger was breathing heavily, sweat rolling down his face, “I told you once, get stuffed! I don’t know anythin’,”

  Jared consulted the two senior wizards loudly, “Gentlemen,” he began, “what say you, left… or right?”

  Yello was the first to reply, “Right,” he said, honestly not knowing what Jared had meant by the question.

  Jared glanced at Emnor, “As my learned friend suggests, definitely right,” he replied.

  Turning to face Harley, Jared spoke again, “I’ll leave this one to you,” he said. Then spinning around to face Ginger, “The boy has to learn some time.” He smiled, “My, my, look at the panic in your eyes, Ginger. Don’t worry, we’re about to halve your panic. Harley, gouge out his right eye for me, there’s a good fellow.”

  Harley suspected that it was an elaborate bluff. Surely Jared didn’t expect him to gouge the man’s eye from its socket? Unsure of what to do, Harley walked slowly toward the chair. Drawing his wand from his cloak he produced sparks that flashed in the gloom. He ran his hand across Ginger’s brow as the sparks became a slender, bright blue flame, which he began to lower toward the terrified man’s face. Ginger shook his head free of Harley’s grip, only to have Jared grab it with both hands. Jared nodded at Harley and the flame grew ever closer to Ginger’s right eye.

  “ALRIGHT!” he screamed, “Alright, I’ll tell you anything. Just don’t take my eye.”

  ***

  After locking Ginger back in his cell, they returned to the tavern. As they reached the door they could hear the most horrible noise coming from within. Pushing the door open slowly, they were aghast at the scene before them. Drake was standing on one of the tables, dancing. Well, it was obvious that he thought he was dancing; Hannock, still in the same seat, had woken up and was banging his fists on the table; and the innkeeper was stamping his feet and slapping the bar and, the worst part was, they were all singing like a bunch of baying hounds.

  Yello smiled, “At last!” he cried, “A party. Where’s the brandy?”

  Hannock suddenly noticed them, “Hoorah,” he cried. “The gang’s all here. Jared, do you know the words to… what was it called?” he said looking confused.

  “We have news, Hannock, but by the look of things, it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER 5

  “Can you explain to me exactly what it is that you are waiting for? For one who believes he is destined to rule the world, you seem quite content to sit here and do nothing.”

  Karrak drifted swiftly across the room until his shadowy face was merely inches away from Xarran’s, “I could ask you the same. You claim to be the offspring of Karrak Dunbar, you seem to have an immunity to my control and consistently mock me. You feel that you are safe from harm, but mark my words boy, sooner or later I will destroy you.”

  “It amuses me, you know,” Karrak inched away from Xarran, “this inherent need that sorcerers possess. The need to constantly threaten the lives of those around them. Doesn’t seem to have the desired effect, does it? Why won’t you accept that all I want is to offer you my help?”

  Karrak offered no reply.

  “Alright, if you’re not going to do anything, I will.” Xarran walked over to Alex who, still in a trance, stood stock-still at the far end of the great hall. “I’ve seen your effects at transformation, Father. If you don’t mind me saying, for one so powerful, they are pitiful. Those beasts you created, for instance, what are they supposed to be?”

  Karrak’s eyes flashed red. He desperately wanted to slay the sarcastic child that plagued him. He wanted to tear the flesh from his bones, to hear his screams of pain until his death throes eventually halted them.

  “Shall I show you how it should be done?” Xarran asked with a cursory glance over his shoulder. He raised his hand and stroked Alex’s cheek gently. “There doesn’t have to be all the screaming and crunching of bones when one changes one’s subject. It’s simply a question of application.” He smiled to himself as the air around Alex began to shimmer. Xarran began to laugh as Alex grew taller. His skin bubbled and his features shifted, his whole body convulsing as if someone had hold of his shoulders and was shaking him. His skin began to darken, a faint grey mist appearing to cover his whole face. He had stopped growing and was far taller than before, and his features had completely disappeared. Only a shadow remained. Xarran paced slowly around his victim. Placing his hand behind Alex, he drew his hood over his head. “What do you think, Father? Remind you of anyone?”

  If Karrak’s face had had any discernible features, his expression would have been one of confusion. What was the boy’s intent? Karrak glared at his doppelganger.

  Xarran, still smiling, faced Karrak, “Handsome chap, don’t you think? Oh, stop looking so apprehensive, Father.”

  Karrak tilted his head to one side, “Why?” he asked.

  “Misdirection,” replied Xarran. “Illusion. A decoy, Father.”

  “Why?” Karrak repeated.

  “You’ve upset quite a few people with your shenanigans, Father. They mean to destroy you and any who follow you.”

  “Let them come, they are of no significance. I could slaughter them all with a wave of one hand.”

  “I’m not referring to simple villagers, Father. When you attacked Reiggan, you thought you had ended the threat of any wizard that might stand in your way, so how do you account for me? Not once have you questioned how I managed to escape your genocide of wizards. I’ll tell you, blind luck. As you can see…” he added, pointing at the transformed Alex, “… I was not alone.”

  “There are others?”

  “Oh, yes,” laughed Xarran. “There are others. They are an enemy you should not take lightly. And before you start with the ‘I’ll smite them’ speech, I’ll tell you who they are. The new head of Reiggan, Emnor and his close friend, Yello. But the one that you should fear most is your own brother, Jared Dunbar. Dear old Uncle Jared.”

  “I fear no-one,” said Karrak, confidently.

  ***

  The dust was not much of a problem to Faylore, Lodren and Grubb as they, once again, followed the route that had proven difficult for Jared’s party. Faylore took the lead, remembering to avoid certain areas that had proved troublesome the first time they had followed it, with Lodren close at her heel. Buster plodded contentedly behind, the clip-clop of his hooves breaking the silence as they covered
the rocky terrain. Grubb had it the easiest. He was reclined on Buster’s back. The only thing disturbing his slumber was the occasional fly that would buzz around his face, which he would lazily attempt to swat away without opening his eyes, or a jolt as Buster negotiated a slightly bumpier part of the track.

  “We could have avoided all this nonsense, Faylore,” grumbled Lodren. “We could have been there by now if we’d have asked the dragons to take us.”

  “And where is there, Master Nibby?”

  “Wherever we wanted to be, of course!” exclaimed Lodren. “We could have scanned for miles while we were up there.”

  “An’ we’d ‘ave seen nothin,” muttered Grubb, much to the surprise of Faylore who thought he was sound asleep.

  “How do you work that out?” exclaimed Lodren. “We’d have seen a heck of a lot more than we will stuck between two mountains.”

  “I’ll give ye that,” said Grubb. “But we never would’ve found anythin’ that might ‘elp us find Jared an’ the others.”

  “Really!” said Lodren, amazed. “There aren’t that many people travelling the direction we’re headed in, Grubb. Anyone we met could have told us if they’d seen our friends.”

  “Oh yeah, o’ course they could. If you ‘adn’t scared ‘em away before we got to ‘em, what with all yer bawlin’ an’ shoutin’. Anyone within a mile would’ve hidden under the nearest bush once they heard you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Why would anyone be scared of me?”

  “Imagine it, Lodren. Travellers minding their own business suddenly hear the battle cry of a stranger in the clouds and look up to see a dragon swooping down on them. How would it make you feel?” giggled Faylore.

  “I wasn’t that bad… was I?” asked Lodren, innocently.

  “No… you were ten times bloody worse!”

  Lodren looked sheepishly at Faylore, “Was I really that bad?” he asked.

  “Maybe a little over-exuberant, Lodren, but it doesn’t matter now. You’re back to your old self again, the thoughtful, polite Nibby we love so much,” she replied, smiling at him.

  “How’re we doin, is it much farther?”

  “Try opening your eyes occasionally, Grubb. It might give you a hint,” said Lodren.

  “Why would I want to do that? I’ve seen rocks an’ dust before. Anyway, I’ve got meself in a really comfortable position now, it’d be a shame to waste it just for that.”

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Grubb!” snorted Lodren. “You make yourself comfortable. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine. How awful of us to disturb your nap!”

  “Get stuffed!”

  “Will you two stop bickering?” sighed Faylore. “We’ll be clear of the valley shortly and we don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

  “And whose attention are we goin’ to draw, Faylore? Last time we came this way we never saw a soul ‘til we got to that village, and we passed that without being seen.”

  “That was some time ago, Grubb. Who knows what could be lurking around the next corner? As for the village we passed, we won’t be passing it this time, we’ll be entering it,” replied Faylore.

  “I don’t think there’s goin’ to be anythin’ to be afraid of in a grotty village in the middle o’ nowhere, a load o’ merchants an’ farmers is all we’ll find there.”

  “Unless our old friend Karrak has visited it,” said Lodren. “We might find a load of those horrible hound things roaming around, or even worse, he might have slaughtered them all.”

  “Good grief!” exclaimed Grubb. “One mention of his name and your imagination just runs wild, doesn’t it? It’s a thousand to one chance that he’s ever been anywhere near the place but oh no, Mr doom an’ gloom ‘ere ‘as to paint the most gruesome picture ‘e can before we even get there.”

  “Unfortunately, Grubb we cannot rule out the possibility that Karrak could be anywhere. We must not lower our guard.”

  “Lower it!” exclaimed Lodren. “Look at him, Faylore. He can’t raise himself, let alone his guard.”

  Faylore laughed, “He does seem very relaxed.”

  “I’m right here, ye know. Ye shouldn’t talk about someone when they can hear what you’re sayin, it’s rude!”

  “Hah! That’s rich coming from you. You’re the king of rude. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you invented it!”

  “Up yours, Lodren. I can be polite if I want to, but it ain’t easy when you’re surrounded by annoying prats like you.”

  “Me! How am I annoying?”

  “YAAARGGHHH! I’M A DRAGON RIDER. YAAARGGHHH! I’M THE KING O’ THE SKIES. YAAARGGHHH! I’M GONNA SMASH YE TO BITS WITH ME TRUSTY HAMMER.”

  Lodren blushed, “I never said any of that, you’re just making it up,” he muttered.

  Faylore shook her head, “No, Lodren,” she laughed, “he’s not.”

  “Faylore, stop!” Grubb blurted out, suddenly. “Don’t move. Somethin’ ‘appened ‘ere.”

  Faylore studied the ground ahead. She could see nothing different to the last time they had been there, but Grubb obviously could. “What are you seeing?” she asked, in a whisper.

  “When we were ‘ere before, this ground was as flat as water in a bucket. Look at it now.”

  “It still looks flat to me,” whispered Lodren.

  “It’s flat alright, but only because someone wanted it to look like it did before. Look around the edges o’ the clearin’, see the brush marks. Someone is tryin’ to hide somethin’.” Jumping down from Buster’s back, Grubb skirted around the edge of the clearing, treading carefully so as not to disturb the loose dirt beneath his feet. He disappeared behind a rock, “Aha!” his friends heard him say, moments before he re-appeared, clutching a large branch.

  “What’s that doing there?” said the amazed Lodren. “There are no trees for miles yet.”

  “Whoever it was, used this to cover their tracks,” said Grubb. “An’ the only way you’d get a tree branch out here is if ye brought it from somewhere else.”

  “Who would carry the branch of a tree with them?”

  “Nobody, that’s who. This still has the leaves on it, well almost, and ye wouldn’t be able to get it here with the leaves still on it unless ye used some kind o’ magic.”

  “Maybe it was Jared and our friends?” suggested Lodren, optimistically.

  “I’m gonna scout about a bit more, see if I can find any more clues. You two stay there with Buster, I’ll only be a minute.” It wasn’t long before he returned, holding up a large bone with fur still connected to it. He grimaced, “I’m not sure what this came from, but there was more than one of ‘em,” he uttered, holding his nose.

  Lodren approached him and sniffed the air gently, “Oh dear, what a stench.” His eyes widened, “Oh dear, my goodness. I know what it was, or should I say, what they were: zingaard!”

  “How could you possibly know that by smelling a rotting bone?” asked Faylore.

  “I’ve been cooking for longer than I can remember, Your Majesty. I can tell you when an onion was picked or a ham was cured. I never forget a smell, and the last time I caught that scent was when you were almost killed by one of those… things,” replied Lodren, pulling his waistcoat up over his nose.

  “Grubb, where did you find that?” asked Faylore.

  “Buried amongst the rocks over there. Whoever killed ‘em did a damn fine job, burnt ‘em first then buried what was left.”

  “But there is no scorching on the bone, were there ashes from a fire?”

  “None. Magic fire doesn’t leave ashes though, does it?”

  “So, it was Jared,” suggested Lodren.

  “We cannot be sure of that. All we can be sure of is that magic was used. I’m afraid this is a mystery we cannot unravel unless we find the perpetrator or a witness.”

  “I don’t think it would be a good idea to start searching for a wizard, or sorcerer out here,” said Lodren. “I think we should be on our way. What good would it do us to fi
nd out who’s responsible anyway?”

  “Grubb, put that back where you found it, let us make haste,” instructed Faylore.

  Grubb did as he was bid and quickly returned the remains to their original resting place. “Done,” he said, hurrying back toward them.

  “If we hurry we can clear the gulley before nightfall,” said Faylore. “I think it may be a little unwise to be here after dark.”

  “Can’t argue with you there,” agreed Lodren, boosting Grubb back onto Buster’s back. “Let’s go,” he added with a shudder.

  The trail was clear, allowing them to make good progress and, as planned, they cleared the gulley well before the light began to fail. As they crossed the first patch of grass they came to, Lodren gave a huge sigh, “Ah, that’s better,” he said, shuffling his feet, “so much kinder on the feet than the hard rock.”

  “Can’t beat a nice bit o’ springy turf under yer aching bones,” added Grubb.

  “How would you know!” exclaimed Lodren. “You were on Buster’s back most of the way, you lazy Vikkery.”

  “I am not lazy. I was savin’ my energy in case we was attacked. I’d be pretty useless at defendin’ you two if I was exhausted, wouldn’t I!”

  “You? Defend us?” the exasperated Lodren blurted out. “With your eyes closed?”

  “Don’t you be fooled, Lodren. It might’ve looked like I was sound asleep, but I was ready to pounce at any threat,” replied Grubb in a whisper.

  Lodren was bewildered by Grubb’s attempts to offer ridiculous excuses and shook his head in disbelief, “I… forget it. I’m not even going to try, just forget it.”

  Faylore, as wise as she was, decided not to get involved. “I think we should set camp here for tonight. Lodren, would you be a dear and set a fire?”

  Lodren scowled at Grubb, but as he turned to face the Thedarian queen his expression changed to a pleasant smile, “Of course, Your Majesty. A little hungry, are we?”