CHAPTER 10 – THE DREAM
Bellack questioned his man servant, barely giving him time to reply.
‘Well man? Stop grovelling and get to the important details, tell me what I need to know about the woman? What have the dark arts and her interrogation revealed?’
‘Master, the acolytes report that she has no powers to speak of, she is merely a woman, nothing more.’
‘Impossible. How could her daughter resist the full might of my transformation spell? Perhaps we should set Marcus lose on her again to discover what’s behind this, or do I have to do every little thing myself?’ Bellack barked, his irritation clearly showing as he grabbed the man by the throat.
‘Master, if I may explain, there was more that you need to know. She is just a woman, but one with an interesting history.’
‘Quit dawdling worm, out with it.’ Bellack snapped, giving the poor man little time to explain the memories that that the acolytes had revealed to him.
‘The acolytes’ were able to travel through her memories and uncovered some interesting information. When she was younger and, I imagine from her uncovered history, somewhat more comely, they managed to trace her employment back to the Isle of the Su-Katii God-King. She lived in the community in Cardus, she was the ale-brewer’s daughter and also the barmaid. After the victory celebration of the Elsa Pass, all Su-Katii were invited to a huge feast and celebrate the victory with Lord Hadrak himself. They drank the Temple hall dry and demanded that more provisions be bought through the portal. For such a celebration the old laws were forgotten for a day. Their need was so great, several men and women were constantly running fresh supplies through the rift. During the drunken festivities that continued for weeks, one of the warriors desired more than just a refill and coupled with her. Her memories were too faded to tell his name – I don’t think she knew it herself, although their drunken rutting was easy to extract from her mind, as their daughter, Athene, was conceived in the God-King’s Temple that night.’
Bellack smiled with amusement,
‘Well, well, well, who would have thought it – a woman in the Su-Katii temple? A child conceived in a dimension of magic, where time does not exist. Who could predict the effects of that? All this time we thought it impossible, but it must indeed be that only the Gods themselves cannot conceive in the rift. Did the Su-Katii Order know of her pregnancy?’
‘No master, she was moved along from the island with the others, before the Order had any knowledge of the child. Besides, her memories revealed that she had acquired an inn and had soon shacked up with a few of her drunken patrons so no one could tell who the Father was.’
‘The little slut,’ laughed Bellack.
‘It could have been any one of the twenty knights in post at the time, I wonder which one it was? Still the identity of the father is unimportant. It is the consequences of her actions that appeared to have empowered Athene in some way. How did the mother fare against your arts?’
‘She is broken to our will Master, yet as you commanded she still lives – but after her memories were forcibly sucked from her mind, she may not be of much further use to you. She is a mere husk of the woman that she used to be.’
‘Ah, I’ll be the judge of that. Is she still a looker?’ Bellack enquired, then tutted to himself.
‘Pointless, asking a eunuch.’
‘I may have her later if the mood takes me, I’ll see then if there is any point in keeping her alive. The last batch of slaves were a little too fat for my liking. Can you imagine it? What kind of slaver allows his stock to eat that much grain, surely there is no profit in it?’ If not I’ll just give her to Marcus he thought to himself.
The servant just looked back blankly at Bellack not knowing if his master really expected him to answer such a question.
‘You may go now, but summon Saznack to me before you depart.’ He was waved away. The servant grovelled and bowed his way backwards out of the room. As Bellack sat back absorbing the fresh information Saznack appeared.
‘I know what you are going to ask,’ Saznack interrupted as Bellack opened his mouth to speak.
‘And no, I still have not been able to track down that renegade Su-Katii, Barrad. I have scoured Western Tanaria and have found nothing. Of course had he been influenced like the others, I wouldn’t have to waste my time conducting this search.’ He made the last words flow out in a mocking childish voice, as if in some way it was his peers’ fault that Lord Thulsa now lay dead and their direct influence into the Aristrian forces was now compromised. His plan had been to divert the blame a little further from his own failures, to level the playing field before the anticipated questions were asked by Bellack.
‘I am only as good as the tools that I have to work with …you being one of them.’ Bellack sighed. Anyway there’s not much we can do about it now, I say forget about it and leave it to the Aristrians’ …he is their problem now – so moving on, have you made any progress with Athene’s capture yet Saznack? Does your man have her yet?’
‘I expertly guided our hunter to the prey and he has so far despatched one of the vermin protecting the girl, but there have been some minor complications, he somehow managed to get wounded in the fight and is delayed a little in his pursuit.’ Bellack’s face flushed a deep red as he demanded an explanation.
‘What? But there were only four of them, how did they manage to injure him, I thought you said he was good, if not the best?
‘I cannot say what passed between them; my powers were masked when that stupid girl got near our man.’ Admitted the large magician, he paused and then continued to confess the remaining facts of the incident.
‘It gets worse, Titus was trapped in a building – and I reckon it will be a while before he cuts his way out, in the meantime our little bird may fly off to freedom.’
Bellack briefly considered the implications,
‘Perhaps your man has spent too many years on the shelf and is no longer up to the job? Which one died Saznack? Was it the Tyranny?’
‘No, it was one of the warriors – the Tanarian one.’
‘Hell’s teeth, that bitch has more lives than a cat,’ Bellack threw away the apple he had just picked up, suddenly losing his appetite,
‘I’ll not have her steal from me again - make sure your man kills her next time. Put all of your attention into finding Athene, we need to apprehend her now. Send the possessed back after her again if you have to. Use any means necessary because I am getting the feeling that she is a lot more important for our aim than we first anticipated.’
‘But the Great Gate hasn’t been breached yet. I thought the mine…’ Bellack cut him short.
‘The mine will fall to the Aristrian forces closing in, even if the Gate does not.’
‘Let the pathetic nations fight their own little wars, we need to remain focused on our mission. Soredamor must be freed. Do you not also yearn for her man? The power that would be released would give us untapped resources, perhaps enough to make us truly immortal this time. Imagine it Saznack, an eternity spent with our Queen? I can already taste it in my dreams.’
‘You know what Bellack, I think you are right, but our controlled ones lack the intelligence to meet our needs. They are also a constant drain on our resources. Why don’t we just release them to go feral? Their wild destruction would still serve our purpose.’
Bellack locked eyes with his fellow sect-member.
‘We can’t risk Athene being killed by a stray beast – but I think you are right to a degree. We do need intelligence, cunning and unstoppable power, and I think I know how to deliver all three of these values in one package. The question is, where do we deliver the package so as to be most effective? The enemy’s aware of the girl’s worth, I can see Tamar’s subtle hand in this, they will try to get her to safety via the shortest path. The gate is blocked and the distance is too great for a direct portal. The only other option is for them to head south – but that’s at best a two-month journey. That’s far too much time for us to close in on them. No, they are alone and need protection quickly.’
Saznack cut in ‘Hmm, if they had the means to amplify a portal they could just reach into Nordheim I think.’
‘Yes Saznack, I see you’re not quiet the dullard that you make out to be.’
‘The Tohali mountain shrines are the only places in Nordheim that could house such power. The large crystals that still remain within would increase the portal’s range enough to get them to safety. That, my friend, is how they will get out. I state my reputation on it.’
‘Our controlled ones could help to herd our cattle to the slaughter house. But our prey would surely have magical help to hand if they can portal that far.’
‘Then we need to be prepared. Will we also need to bring Titus back into play?’ asked Saznack.
‘Oh what I have in store for them won’t require him, but let’s play it safe and contact him anyway.’
‘OK let’s do it. We will catch them at the shrine, but for what I have in mind we will need some extra assistance, this will be very dangerous and there is only one man powerful enough and stupid enough to attempt what we need. It will go against my good nature to have to ask for his help and he may need some persuasion, we didn’t exactly part on good terms. But I know that he will come just to gloat at us for requesting his help alone. He has little time left, so when he hears what we have to offer, he will assist us. Fetch the diamonds and get me Anak now.’
Despite his soft words and weak chin, Barrad found himself admiring the golden-bearded mage’s approach. On arrival, Tamar had immediately requested that Barrad surrender his blades. Barrad contemplated his request then complied, noticing the flicks of grey showing amongst the magician’s blonde bristles. He didn’t need to give Barrad any stirring speeches of introduction, or a show of power to toe the line. They both understood these were merely tools to encourage the correct behaviour in the meek. Neither fitted that bill.
In return Tamar appreciated the directness of the young man, there was something refreshing about the young general’s attitude. A wise head on young shoulders was not uncommon in the Su-Katii ranks, for most had already lived several lifetimes by the time they had reached manhood, yet Tamar sensed that there was also another dimension to his character. Tamar slipped away as Barrad enjoyed the delicious array of foods and fruits that had been laid out for his arrival but his soldier’s stomach was not accustomed to such rich flavours and he knew that he would later pay a high price for consuming too much fruit at one sitting.
On finishing his small feast, the steward of the halls led Barrad to the open courtyard where Tamar awaited his arrival; he was leaning menacingly on a large crystal mace. The two-handed weapon’s diamond-like head shone in the sunlight of the gardens. The magician had tried to hide the threatening stance, but Barrad could read the slightest sign of threat in anyone’s body language. He began to think that he had made a serious mistake.
‘I’m afraid I have a dilemma where you are concerned, Barrad. I have only just met you and I’m unable to read your heart and mind fully with my mystic talent. Your mind races so quickly that you are difficult to follow although your initial actions have done us a great service, I sense that you live by a code, but I need to see what lies beneath. With you it’s like reading only the first sentence of every page in a book when I look into your mind. I hope you don’t mind but I need to know what lies at the bottom of your pages. Should you be something other than what I hope you are, you could be the downfall of me. There are a lot of people’s lives at stake, far more than you could ever imagine, so I need to be sure of what kind of man you are.’
Barrad noticed the additional rings, bracelets and amulet that now adorned the wizard. These had not been present on the wizard when his image had visited his dreams the night before, indicating only one thing.
‘Dressed for battle,’ he thought.
‘What do you ask of me Tamar?’ he inquired with a raised eyebrow.
‘Simple, I just require two things; drink this solution,’ he pulled forward a silver tray with a large goblet of liquid in it.
‘I think not wizard, what is it, a poison to quickly dispatch a potential threat. Perhaps this is just a clever ruse and you also work for the Aristrians’,’ said Barrad swiftly weighing up his next actions.
‘If this were the case I would have just sent your transport portal into the middle of the ocean. If you are truly ready to stand against the evil at work in this land you will have nothing to fear from the goblet.’ Tamar studied the young warrior’s reaction intently.
In a second Barrad calculated the situation, unarmed and facing an unknown and prepared magician, he knew he had already made his decision the second that he had passed through the Portal.
‘OK Tamar, lets do it your way, what will your brew do to me?’
‘It’s just a potion to ease you into a deep sleep.’
‘Oh good,’ Barrad replied, trying to brush off this unusual request. ‘I could do with some sleep, I can never get enough.’ He smiled a little nervously.
‘And the second thing you mentioned, what else do you require of me?’
‘Survive.’ Tamar said seriously.
‘Believe me that’s also something that I can’t get enough of, I will certainly try. I don’t suppose you could give me any hints on how to achieve your requests?’
‘Only one - follow your heart. Do you accept then?
‘Of course I do. Rest easy on your mace and pass your potion over here and let’s get this over and done with. I understand your concerns and I will rise to any challenge. I always have.’ With that Barrad gulped down the sweet liquid, waiting for any adverse effect.
‘You will experience the complete range of emotions, it’s the only way to read you, please don’t hate me for this, but I need to be sure,’ Whispered the Magician.
‘I’ll only hate you if I don’t return.’ Saying that Barrad lost focus, his head hit the table with a thud and a loud snore rippled from his mouth. His mind started to spin with the faces of people he had met in the past, and with the memories of training in the Su-Katii temple. Again, he felt the pain as one of his sword blocks was ineffective and the teacher’s blade slid over his own, the longsword piercing his chest. He was back there again, reliving the moment, screaming, fighting for his breath as the coldness of death enveloped him. The teacher’s final words rang in his ears.
‘Next time boy, step forwards to meet the blow with the weight of your body backing your block you will turn the blade, have confidence and you will stop it. I will see how you do next time.’ The second blow sent him to his resurrection quicker.
The light faded into blackness and the sensation of spinning filled his head. He found himself on a cold floor, a badly tiled floor at that. A beetle scurried across the floor and over his hand. He quickly recoiled to the safety of the corner of the room. This just wasn’t right, staring down at his hand it was now tiny. He jumped up with an unusual lightness, looking around the room he recognised the layout; this was his father’s lodge. Above the fireplace his father’s huge silver drinking tankard still hung. He would often take it away with him on trips to dwarf his companion’s mugs, he always liked to boast about how much more he drank than the others. His father relished one-upmanship. He had even had his swords forged an inch longer than those of the blades of the other knights. Barrad stretched up on tiptoe to reach the tankard, struggling to retain his grip on the monstrous handle. He polished its surface on his vest and looked at the warped reflection of himself – a bright eyed infant stared back through the distorted surface of the tankard. He looked no older than five. He read the inscription etched upon its surface ‘In gratitude to Bolzat the Brave.’ He felt a surge of pride for his father well up inside him. One day he thought, when he was older, he too would have such a tankard.
The urge to pull a funny face at his reflection overtook him, with a childish laugh he surmised that like an infant, his emotions were now beyond control.
‘Focus Barrad, this isn’t real,’ he whispered to himself. As Tamar had said to him, it was just a test, but it sure felt real. He bit his finger to make sure and felt the tears well up inside himself, this wasn’t funny. He wanted his mummy. He wiped away his tears and then rubbed his snotty nose on his sleeve.
A challenge must have been set for him and his overactive mind thought through the possibilities. I’d better give my infant body a test run, to make sure I know what I’m capable of. Grabbing the nearby fire stoker, wielding it as if it was a sword he practised several manoeuvres. The tip of the stoker was heavy and kept dipping towards the floor with each lunge and he soon threw the stoker back into the fireplace in a tantrum after several failed attempts. Oh boy, it was difficult being five again. This was not the kind of challenge he had in mind, mental note to oneself – never trust a wizard. Now if his memory served him correctly, through the front door outside there was a small stinky outhouse, a stable to the left, and an overgrown copse to the right. He had spent a lot of time playing in the copse when he had been younger, hitting trees with sticks and the like. In fact, they were the final memories that he could recall before his infamous wailing and screaming trip to train at the temple. He had sobbed the entire journey. He turned to his right, spotting the door to the cellar and a shiver instantly ran down his spine. He found himself clenching his fists – he hated the cellar.
His father had piled endless chores upon him in the months preceding his one way trip. He forgot how many times he had been ordered to struggle with the ale barrels up the steep wooden stairs, and the sound of their creaking floor boards still haunted him. Bolzat had even given explicit instructions to Emily, his nanny, to make him lift the ale barrels every night when he was away, which was often. Barrad had just considered his father to be a boozer but his preparation had eventually shown its worth in building his upper-body strength and will power. His eyes welled up when he remembered the cruel and unthinking words he had spat out one night, after too much ale.
‘You know your mother didn’t want you, don’t you? But keep your chin up son - she didn’t want me either, just my money or a fancy man on her arm, the little slut. I had to pay thirty gold coins to stop her from feeding you to the dogs, boy. I should have killed her.’
Barrad wiped the falling tears from his cheeks at the memory.
‘Tamar, this is getting embarrassing.’ He yelled at the echoing walls. He moved through the door, struggling to lift the heavy latch as he moved outside. The brilliant sunshine caused Barrad to squint as he took in the familiar old views of home. It even smelled right, disgustingly right he thought, as a gust of wind blew over the stench from the outhouse. Little Barrad heard a disturbance to his left; the chickens in the hen house were going ballistic. Barrad jogged over to investigate the disturbance. As he got nearer he could see the chickens inside flapping around the netting in panic, a fox was entangled in the nets that surrounded the hen house snapping at anything that moved or came within range of its white fangs. The fox frantically chewed at its entangled leg as Barrad approached. The youth spotted the hunting knife stuck in the tree nearby. After a two-handed tug the blade was released from the grasp of the tree. The young boy stepped forward towards the unfolding drama, one nervous step at a time. Barrad looked at the chickens, then at the fox. As the knife was poised to strike, the fox looked up at the boy then its eyes focused on the blade. To Barrad’s utter amazement it spoke to him in the common tongue,
‘Please young Sir, do not slay me, for pity’s sake. My children will surely die without me. I am only trying to save my cubs from hunger.’
Barrad froze for several seconds considering his options and the strange event, then lashed out, plunging the knife into the fox’s side several times until its screams for mercy stopped.
Barrad looked up as he heard the clatter of horses and the trail of the riders approached, dust rose around the path as his father came riding back home. The accompanying riders waved and headed off leaving just a single rider. His father sat on his horse in full battle armour and weapons, his thick dark beard hiding any expression - an impressive and intimidating sight, his chain armour links shining around his chest on which the Su-Katii tabard hung with pride. Little Barrad ran to his father finding himself shouting.
‘Daddy, Daddy, I killed a fox.’ His father dismounted.
‘Good boy,’ he said ruffling Barrad’s hair playfully.
‘Come see,’ called the little boy.
As his father approached the hen house a terrible noise erupted from him.
‘What have you done boy? You’ve killed all of our chickens.’ Little Barrad turned and a bloody scene lay before his eyes. All ten of the hens lay cut to shreds, feathers and heads littered the reddened floor.
‘It… It wasn’t me,’ squeaked little Barrad, trying to pluck up courage in his now mouse-like voice.
‘The fox did it.’ Yet the body of the fox had now disappeared.
Grabbing the bloody hunting knife from the boy, Bolzat inspected the blade for sharpness.
‘Barrad.’ his father shouted loudly flustering the boy.
‘I am going to ask you ten times for the truth. If you tell me a lie you know I’ll not mess about, I’ll just cut off one of your fingers with each wrong answer.’
He pinned the young boy’s arm to the tree trunk and in a cool, calm and levelled voice Bolzat asked his questions.
‘What happened to my chickens?’
‘I don’t know,’ came his response.
‘Who killed them? Answer me boy, you will not get a second chance?’
‘Not me, father,’ Barrad’s voice trembled.
The blade came swiftly down and severed his first digit. Little Barrad screamed in agony, his legs wheeled about flailing in the air in his futile attempt to release himself from the vice like grip of his father.
‘That cut was to prove to you that I am not joking,’ said his Father, a stern frown on his face.
‘Now I’ll ask you again, did you kill my chickens?’
The child looked his father directly into his eyes and replied,
‘No father, I did not. I killed the fox.’
Bolzat began to hum a tune softly to himself, an old nursery rhyme as he went about dishing out his punishment. The blade sliced easily through the boy’s flesh and bone. Again he cried out uncontrollably through the pain. With a shout from the stables Barrad’s old nanny, Emily, came rushing over.
‘Leave the boy alone.’ she cried.
His father’s face came in close to his ear, he whispered. ‘I’ll tell you what son, I’ll take off one of her fingers instead – you can keep the rest of yours. Now, for the last time, give me the truth. Give into your pride and admit to your actions and then we can all go to bed.’
Summoning every ounce of courage he possessed, Barrad shouted out.
‘Leave her alone, you big bully. If you are going to cut fingers off then take mine, if you take any more off it will only mean that I’ll not be able to lift another one of your stupid barrels from the cellar.’
Bolzat pulled back little Barrad’s hand and effortlessly skewered it to the tree trunk – the boy passed out.
Barrad awoke during the night shivering and still pinned to the tree trunk. He could barely feel his, now numb, arm and with his eyes streaming with tears he strained with all his might to pull the knife free but the blade was embedded too deeply. He pulled at it, attempting to work it loose with his other hand, but the pain made his knees give way. As he stared into the night in despair, a pair of eyes gleamed in the moonlight and from the undergrowth emerged another fox which proceeded to taunt the trapped boy, by snapping at his heels and retreating quickly.
‘I suppose you are going to start talking as well,’ said Barrad through his teeth gritted with pain.
Silently the fox gathered the severed fingers lying around the base of the tree in its mouth and scampered off. Several minutes later it returned and sat beside Barrad just out of his reach.
Through its lolling tongue it spoke with a female voice, its mouth curled into a smile.
‘It was me that killed the chickens,’ the fox smirked.
‘I have also killed your magician, Tamar, while you have been sitting here dreaming. Now you are going to be trapped here, neglected by your mother and stuck in this dream forever.’ The fox broke into a mad laugh.
‘Who are you? Why would you do such a thing?’ asked little Barrad with fear truly building within him.
‘I am Soredamor, a God to you pathetic mortals. I command powers beyond your comprehension, boy.’
A mist engulfed the fox and a beautiful young lady emerged, scantily dressed her jaw-dropping figure brushed past the trapped lad, her raven black hair swishing into his face. The sweet smell of her hair lingered under his nose and seemed to magically mesmerise him. With his first glance he realised that he had never seen a woman of such perfection and could not take his eyes from her.
She stroked his face; he smiled back feeling the urge to please her.
‘Now to finish my business, I am going to kill your father and your nanny first just for fun. You really should not have killed my mate. But, I think I will have you instead, I can tell you will be a real man when you grow up. I will keep you in this place, if you live long enough to grow up.’ She sniffed his scent and licked her lips ‘Mmm I could just eat you up.’
With that the shapely figure magically shifted its form once more – this time into that of a great war-bear and charged off towards the door of the building, its impact sending it flying inwards off its hinges. Barrad fought down the bitter taste in his throat and began frantically pulling at the blade that pinned him to the tree. Again it did not budge, so instead, thinking quickly, he pulled on his trapped wrist and strained with both legs then dropped his weight slicing his hand through the embedded blade and out past his remaining fingers. This time there were no tears – just beads of sweat dripping from his forehead. He ran to the faint light of the doorway, stooping to pick up a stick along the way to combat the bear. As he raced through the doorway, Barrad tripped and tumbled forward, but instead of hitting the solid ground with his face he fell into what felt like a dark bottomless pit, spiralling ever downwards.
‘Barrad… Barrad.’ He heard his name being called repeatedly. Barrad sat up, quickly bringing his wounded hand in front of his eyes. All of his fingers were present; he breathed a sigh of relief. Quickly he inspected his other hand – all appeared okay there too. Tamar sat beside him, an unreadable expression on his face and his crystal mace across his lap.
‘Welcome back from your dreams Barrad. Before our business is concluded here, please answer me these simple questions.’
Barrad sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning loudly, judging on account of still being alive he gathered that he had passed the magicians strange test.
‘Firstly Barrad, I must ask - why did you kill the poor defenceless fox trapped in the net?’
Holding Tamar’s gaze Barrad replied.
‘That’s a simple question; a fox is a fox, be it trapped, hungry or even a talking fox, whatever. It would have killed everything in the hen house had it got in. Besides, it put itself into that situation not me, so it was the fox’s fault it died.
‘But surely you could have just cut it free?’
Nope, I’m afraid it had to die – a talking fox is just plain and simply wrong. Be it a dream or not, if it could talk and it was that desperate for the survival of its starving cubs then it should have asked me for some food instead. It attempted to take what was not his, when it had other options available to it.’
Tamar scratched his chin intrigued. ‘Ok, so why did you not just expand the truth a little when your father started cutting off your fingers? Was telling the truth really worth losing your fingers over?’
‘Of course. What is a little pain compared to the truth? My father bought me up never to back down against bullies and never to tell a lie. Besides he would never have carried out such barbaric acts against me – he may have been a deadly warrior but he was never unfair to me. He had such a high moral code and his actions in your created dream were so out of character for him that I realised quickly that it had to be your doing. So did I pass your tests, Wizard?’
‘Your father taught you well Barrad. Had you lied you would now be dead, for no snakes will do my work …unless of course I need a snake for an unsavoury task.’
The Su-Katii merely nodded thinking back to the strange dream.
‘Good, if I have passed all of your tests and you have the power to control my dreams, feel free to introduce that fiery raven-haired lady back into my dreams any time, I like them wild and foxy, but next time can you make her a little kinder to me - b