The Bane of Karrak_Ascension II of III Page 7

  They departed for Thedar within the hour and were left at the foot of the Muurkain Mountains by Yello. He wished them the best of luck, smiling at them before vanishing in a cloud of blue smoke.

  “I wish I could do that,” said Lodren. “You know, just disappear.”

  “Sometimes I wish ye could, when ye’re bein’ all nice and mushy like,” mumbled Grubb.

  Lodren snorted and pulled the straps a little tighter on his backpack. “Just get on your pony and let’s get going,” he said.

  ***

  Jared, Hannock, Emnor and Yello were discussing their own next move.

  “We can’t just sit around here waiting for something to happen,” said Hannock.

  “So in what direction should we begin our search, Captain?” asked Yello.

  “I don’t know, but we have to do something,” replied Hannock.

  “We don’t know where Karrak is, so it’s no good just thrashing around in forests or climbing mountains in order to find him. He’ll make a move sooner or later and when he does, we’ll be ready for him,” said Jared.

  “Quite right, Jared,” agreed Emnor. “Shall we continue with your instruction?”

  “Yes, shortly. I’ve been thinking though. Do you think that it might be an idea to check on things at home?” suggested Jared. “Now that I know the basic theory of relocation, I could be there and back in no time.”

  Xarran and the other boys were sitting close by and could be heard sniggering as they eavesdropped on the conversation.

  “Did I say something to amuse you?” asked Jared.

  “You haven’t even gone further than the length of this courtyard and you think you could make it all the way to Borell! That’s a good one, that is,” laughed Drake.

  “Hold your tongue, boy!” snapped Hannock. “You’re speaking to a member of royalty and don’t you forget it!”

  “We’re really sorry…” smiled Alex, “… but trust me, within minutes you’d be dead. The slightest change of wind direction and you’d end up halfway into a mountain or up a glamoch’s backside. It isn’t as easy as you think, Your Highness.”

  Jared gave a huge sigh.

  “I’m afraid they’re right, Jared,” agreed Yello, reluctantly. “It’ll be some time before you’re able to travel a greater distance than you can at the moment.”

  “And how long is ‘some time’?” asked Jared, his obvious frustration showing.

  “That depends on you, I’m afraid,” replied Emnor. “Weeks, perhaps even months.”

  “Wonderful!” exclaimed Jared. “In that case, can you take me to Borell?”

  “I have a better idea, Jared,” said Yello. “Why don’t I go to Borell?” he suggested. “You stay here and continue your studies with Emnor. The sooner you get the knack of relocation, the sooner you’ll be independent of us having to hold your hand.”

  Jared sighed again. As frustrating as it was, it made sense.

  “Would you like me to leave now, Jared, or will tomorrow do?” Yello chuckled.

  “There’s no rush. Go tomorrow, or the day after perhaps, I’ll leave it up to you,” he replied. “Apparently, I’m going nowhere.”

  The day wore on and, as evening came, thoughts turned to food. Lodren had left with Faylore. Who was going to do the cooking? Jared shuddered at the thought of Hannock’s past endeavours, to say they were atrocious was an understatement at best, and far too polite. His fears were soon allayed as Drake and Alex volunteered to prepare a meal, which actually turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable, although the boys would not reveal the ingredients.

  ***

  “If he discovers the power too soon, he’ll be overconfident. It’ll protect him instinctively anyway. The twin sisters cannot be allowed to merge, not until the scroll reveals the time,” whispered Emnor.

  “But it does say that they must merge,” hissed Yello. “Is it essential that the time be specific?”

  “There is a chance that each would attempt to dominate the other, good versus evil,” replied Emnor. “If that happens, there is a chance, however slight, that they would both be destroyed and their bearers along with them. They are equally powerful, Yello, we must take care.”

  “I wish I’d set fire to that blasted scroll centuries ago,” chuntered Yello. “After I’d stuffed it in your beard for good measure.”

  “So do I, old boy…” whispered Emnor, “… so do I.”

  The two ancient wizards were far below the ground level of Reiggan Fortress. Emnor, as he had vowed, had not revealed the location of the Peneriphus Scroll to Yello and was merely informing him of its latest content. They were there to search the depths of Reiggan for anything that may yield information or aid them in their plight. An ancient talisman perhaps, or a spell, or incantation that would give them an edge. The briefest of pauses could be the difference between life and death for anyone, if not all of them.

  “Here’s one that we could use, Emnor. Time dilation, what’s dilation?”

  “It means it slows down time,” replied Emnor.

  “Well, why not just put that? Why all the fancy words?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it, it won’t work against the Elixian Soul anyway,” replied Emnor.

  “I’m keeping it regardless,” said Yello, slipping the small scroll into his robes.

  “We’re wasting our time here, there’s nothing of any use. Let’s have faith that Jared is who we think he is. We may not need anything else.”

  “You’ve never been wrong before, Emmy, I just hope you’re not this time.”

  They headed toward the staircase and were about to ascend when Yello saw a glint as the light caught a small object, partially buried beneath a pile of scrolls. Brushing the scrolls aside, he revealed a silver disc approximately six inches in diameter. The centre was made from an unusual, milky-white, translucent stone that seemed to be alive. The stone seemed to contain a swirling mist.

  “Hang on!” said Emnor, excitedly. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “It is indeed,” replied Yello with a sly grin, “Tallarans Eye.”

  “But old what’s-his-face took that off us years ago. He said he’d destroyed it!”

  “But he never found out what it was for, did he?” asked Yello. “He could never figure out how we could find almost anyone in seconds. If only he knew.”

  “All you had to do was brush something belonging to the owner across it and it would show you where they were,” added Emnor.

  Both wizards had exactly the same thought at the same time, Karrak.

  “All we need is something belonging to him and… bingo!” said Emnor.

  “Bingo? What does bingo mean?” asked Yello.

  “Oh, sorry. It’s a new word all the youngsters are using. Becomes a habit after a while, it just means you get the result you wanted.”

  “So why not just say that? Honestly, you’re gone a couple of years and people start inventing a new language!”

  They hurried to the chamber in which Jared and Hannock were sleeping soundly, charging through the door so quickly that it slammed against the wall. Hannock immediately jumped to his feet and, grabbing his sword while still half asleep, began to slash about wildly causing the wizards to retreat rapidly through the still-open doorway. Jared opened one eye and seeing Hannock’s antics, thought that it was the result of a bad dream and simply pulled the blanket over his head.

  “Hannock, it’s only us, you fool!” shouted Emnor. “Put that blasted sword down before you kill someone!”

  Hannock squinted at them with his one good eye. “What do you expect when you come charging into a fellow’s room in the middle of the night, a bedtime story? What the hell were you thinking, you silly old sods?”

  “We may have a way of locating Karrak,” they announced.

  Jared immediately sat bolt upright. “How?” he asked, shaking his head vigorously to rid himself of his drowsiness.

  “We discovered this,” began Emnor. “It was just a bit of a lark when we were youn
ger, more of a toy than anything else. But it has a real use.”

  “Which is?” asked Hannock.

  “It can locate anyone, providing you have something that belongs to them,” answered Yello.

  Hannock looked across at Jared. “Well?” he asked.

  For some strange reason, Jared’s mind leapt back to one of his very first confusing conversations with Faylore. He grinned. “Yes, thank you,” he replied.

  Hannock, didn’t get the joke. “I meant, well, have you anything that belonged to Karrak in your possession?”

  “I know,” laughed Jared.

  “Are you actually awake yet, Jared?” asked Emnor. “You’re acting very strangely.”

  “I’m fine, Emnor…” sighed Jared, “… and no, I don’t have anything of Karrak’s.”

  “Not to worry,” said Yello, “I’ll grab something of his when I’m in Borell tomorrow. Then, we’ll find the git.”

  “Are you sure that thing’ll work?” asked Hannock.

  “Positive!” replied Emnor. “It never let us down once. We even found one of the seniors who had been missing for months. He’d gone a little strange and turned himself into a goat by accident, but we still found him. I never had the heart to tell him he’d eaten my favourite underwear before we had a chance to reverse the spell.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Faylore, Lodren and Grubb had set off at a brisk pace that morning. No real thought had been given to the urgency with which they had departed and the rest of the companions would never dare to question the motives of a queen. Faylore strode ahead of the others and even Buster seemed to be almost trotting to keep up with her.

  “How long will it take to reach your home, Your Majesty?” asked Lodren.

  “Seven, eight, nine days maybe, it depends on whether you can keep up…” she replied, “… and it’s Faylore, not Your Majesty. At least, when we are alone anyway.”

  “Never took you to be the kind to become homesick,” said Grubb.

  “Why ever not, my dear Grubb? Our lands are amongst the most beautiful in the world and to be away from them for a single moment can appear, to some of my folk, an eternity.”

  “I don’t doubt it for a minute, Your Majesty. But you said ‘some’, not ‘I’.”

  “Don’t be so pedantic, Grubb. It was merely a figure of speech,” she replied.

  “So what’s it like, your homeland?” asked Lodren.

  “Let’s see,” she replied. “A thousand shades of green, broken by the beiges and browns of the tree trunks and branches, with crystal-blue streams that trickle gently between the foliage.”

  “Sounds lovely,” said Lodren.

  “Sounds damp and soggy to me,” grumbled Grubb.

  “I can assure you, Grubb, it is far from soggy. The sun streams between the leaves and the air is warm and clean,” she said, smiling as she pictured it in her mind.

  “Why would you ever want to leave if it’s that beautiful, I mean?” asked Lodren.

  “How could we appreciate its beauty if we have no comparison?” she asked.

  “I can understand that,” said Grubb. “I liked it in my cavern. Quiet, dark, secluded, just what we Vikkery are used to. But I have to say now that I get to travel with you lot, I have gained a new appreciation for other landscapes.”

  “How very philosophical of you, Master Grubb,” laughed Lodren. “You’ll be reciting poetry next.”

  “Get stuffed, stumpy,” snapped Grubb, slightly embarrassed.

  “Ignore him, Grubb, I think it’s wonderful that you are happy with your altered lifestyle,” said Faylore.

  “And of course, I wouldn’t have Buster if I were still in me cavern, would I?”

  “No, you wouldn’t, Grubb, and he wouldn’t have you taking care of him either,” added Faylore.

  “No, he wouldn’t. And this dopey git here would be walking instead of being given a ride. I’ll let you remind him of that next time he’s making fun of me.”

  “And while we’re on the subject of reminding people, Faylore,” began Lodren. “Can you remind Grubb that if he doesn’t shut his face, he’ll be cooking his own dinner!”

  Less than an hour had passed when it began to rain. It was only a light shower at first, but soon became torrential. Faylore was as sure-footed as she would have been if the ground were bone dry, for poor Buster though, it was a different story. His hooves slid in the mud, and the burden of both Lodren and Grubb on his back soon gave way to the inevitable as he slipped once too often, spilling both riders straight into the muddiest puddle they could have encountered. Grubb scrambled back to his feet to check that his precious pony had not been hurt as Lodren lifted Buster off the ground, allowing Grubb to check his legs.

  The mud-spattered, soaking wet pair, combined with the antics of Lodren lifting the pony and Grubb’s attempts to check he was alright, was just too much for Faylore, who suddenly burst into hysterical laughter at their antics. Tears ran down her cheeks, disguised by the rain, and she held her sides, her ribs beginning to ache. At first, even she thought she must be ill. No Thedarian would ever behave like this. Giving in to emotion was most unseemly, even if that emotion was a form of joy. She attempted to compose herself… but failed dismally.

  “Well, I’m glad you think it’s funny, Your Majesty,” snapped Grubb. “Buster might have been hurt.”

  “But he’s not, is he?” asked Lodren. “He’s just dirty, and so are you. I suppose I am as well, so let’s just brush the worst of the dirt away and carry on. We can get cleaned up properly when this rain stops.”

  Faylore had enjoyed their comedic interlude but felt slightly guilty at the same time, not for laughing at them, but because she knew something that they didn’t. Yes, the rain would stop, eventually. However, in a few days at the very latest, it would start again and they would then have to suffer it for almost a week as they entered the rainforest that she knew so very well. Here, the downpour was ceaseless. So far they had only travelled on even ground. How would they fare with the peaks and troughs of a rainforest? she thought.

  The ground became more and more treacherous as the day wore on. There was no respite from the rain and less distance seemed to be covered with each hour’s passing. At one point, Lodren actually lifted Buster onto his shoulders for fear of him getting bogged down. After an exhausting day, the decision to set camp was a welcome one and just as Lodren was about to light the campfire, the rain stopped.

  “Well, that’s just flamin’ typical!” yelled Grubb.

  “I don’t do this very often, Grubb…” announced Lodren, “… but I have to agree with you on that one, typical. It doesn’t stop all day and as soon as we do, it does.”

  “At least we’ll have a chance to dry our wet things,” said Faylore. “I’ll show you how. You never know, it may be of some help in the future.” She knew, of course, that it was to be in the not-too-distant future. She began to gather branches from the sparse bushes, assembling a small framework that she supported with stones placed around the back of the campfire. Wrapping a cloak around herself, she changed out of her wet clothes and arranged them on the framework to allow the heat from the fire to dry them. “Come on, you two, get out of those wet things. It’ll be easier for you, you can hold the cloak for one another.”

  Lodren blushed and Grubb began muttering under his breath. With a little encouragement from Faylore, they eventually gave in and were now more evenly tempered, enjoying the comfort of their dry clothes.

  Later that evening, as they ate, Lodren realised that this was the first time that he had ever had the chance to get to know Faylore properly. They had sat together many times but somehow the conversation was always between Jared, Hannock and herself. He took no offence when this happened, it just seemed natural. They were, after all, warriors, despite two of them being of royal blood, and tended to unintentionally gravitate toward one another. Grubb never concerned himself with such things. He understood that he was part of the companions by chance and, having been the last to join,
would never make any decisions for them. They listened to his opinions and valued his input, for he had knowledge of things with which they were unfamiliar. The incident with the zingaard being the most memorable.

  “Do you enjoy your travels, Faylore?” asked Lodren.

  “I enjoy meeting new folk, well, some of them anyway,” she replied. “The bad ones are no challenge, but there are few of those. Occasionally one meets a fascinating character, although the most interesting tend to be the most infuriating.”

  “You mean like Captain Hannock?” asked Grubb.

  “Yes, I suppose I do,” she said, with a smile.

  “We must all seem really stupid to someone like you,” said Lodren.

  “Not at all, I think you are wonderful. You too, Grubb. I bless the days on which I met you both.”

  Lodren blushed again, and so did Grubb. “And we bless the day we met you, Your Majesty,” said Lodren.

  “Lodren, what’s in this stew?” asked Grubb, prodding at the contents of his bowl.

  “Mind your own business, Grubb,” replied Lodren. “Just eat it.”

  A few moments passed before they spoke again, but you could almost hear the questions rattling around inside Lodren’s brain. “Maybe we should have brought one of those young wizards along with us. Might have been able to do something about all that rain,” he said.

  “Oh no, we couldn’t do that,” replied Faylore. “Thedarians do not approve of the use of magic within our borders.”

  “But you don’t seem to have any objection to it. Mind you, I suppose we’re not in your lands yet, are we? Is that why?” asked Lodren.

  “Not as such, Lodren. It’s just that we, as a race, are not synergic with magic, it tends to have a strange effect on us. You saw what happened with Jendilomin.”

  “You mean it sends you barmy, like Jared’s brother,” said Grubb.

  Faylore glared at him. “My sister is not barmy, as you put it, Grubb. She was merely a little confused.”

  “That’s what I said, barmy,” repeated Grubb, shrugging his shoulders.