CHAPTER 11 – BURY THE HATCHET
The three Tanarian commanders stamped their feet and kept their limbs moving to generate some body heat as they waited for the magic portal to form. The freezing gale rolling down from the Eastern Mountains could chill a man right through to the marrow. The commanders were in a solemn mood, as were the thousand armed men who stood-to in a parade formation behind their three generals, silently suffering the cold wind. The generals did not take kindly to magicians meddling about in military affairs, especially as the command had filtered down to them from their superior who was merely the emergency stand-in Commander. He had only achieved the role because of the chaos in the capital.
Tamar’s hooded agent Lewem stood by the shimmering portal radiating from the slowly decaying diamond beneath. He had liaised with the commanders through the correct channels and with the magicians’ influence and help he had been warmly received by the newly formed high command; that warmth was yet to be extended from these men of the north-east garrisons. The advantage of the swift relay of messages and military orders by Tamar’s magic had already been a massive help in organizing a unified defence, although the sudden news that they were being assigned a Su-Katii commander plunged the mood to one of distrust. With the fall of the capital some in the east had even talked about forming a new independent region, but these were still just whispers. Now, judging that the attitude in the camp was rapidly taking a turn for the worse from the unsavoury news he had delivered, Lewem decided that he would engage with the massed ranks whilst they were kept waiting for their new commander, but his futile attempts to address the crowd and raise their morale fell on deaf ears.
‘Thank you resistance fighters of Tanaria for agreeing to meet in parlay with the last true Su-Katii general,’ he would always pronounce the letter ‘S’ sibilantly as if he had swallowed a snake. Some amongst the assembled soldiers wondered if he was indeed human or possibly part reptile beneath the dark hood. When Lewem laughed, which was often and generally timed inappropriately, it was simply a string of S’s hissed out. Lewem deciding the human touch was needed to win the crowd, they needed eye-contact to warm to his words, so he pulled back his hood and cloak, revealing his plain looks and greasy black hair. As he talked, the commanders were split between following the movement of the mole above his lip, or following the sway of his slightly hunched back as he shuffled his feet nervously. Their cold wait did not last long before a defiant form appeared through the transportation portal. Thirty archers on the raised hillside behind silently notched arrows into bowstrings. Barrad now sported a new deep purple cloak that Tamar had insisted he wear instead of the traditional Su-Katii red.
‘Red is no longer your colour, you will no longer be associated with the corrupted ones,’ he had said before leaving. He had thought to himself that it would take a lot more than the change of your cloak to show people that he was different. If this is what Tamar had referred to as help with winning over his new command he was in deep shit. Before he had departed Tamar’s final words had been;
‘I have gathered the leaders together for you general, and primed your audience, now it is down to you to win their trust – good luck, I think you will need it. I must go as some urgent business, as always, demands my attention, I leave you in Lewem’s capable hands.’ Tamar gave a shiver, and then rapidly stalked off, back away from the portal before its collapse.
The cold wind blew right through Barrad, whose armour and undergarments offered little protection against the harsh elements. The weather was bitter here. Looking at the assembled ranks of soldiers that stared back with eyes filled with contempt, he suddenly felt quite alone. He slowly approached the three nervous commanders standing in front of the ranks of men. Lewem hovered obsequiously around Barrad’s every step, hampering his advance and his attempts to appraise the situation – thirty bowmen to the right, twenty heavily armed bodyguards close behind the commanders, plus a massive contingent of men-at-arms beyond them. It would appear that Tanarian trust was in short supply. This challenge could either prove interesting or very bloody. As he closed on the three silent figures he shouted out.
‘I am going to reach for my swords and put them into the snow. I do not need them to talk to your generals.’ He slowly reached out and pushed both his swords into the snow and advanced several yards further to the three men that stood in front of the army.
‘Relax men, I am here to help you by taking over your burden of command – my name is Barrad,’ he paused looking past the men he shouted out, ‘Now enough of this nonsense - let me speak to your commanders.’
The three men looked at each other then shuffled forward a step.
‘Do not take me for a fool.’ shouted Barrad. ‘I said the commanders. The real commanders. Not you three raw recruits.’
Three men stepped forward from behind the group of bodyguards.
‘How did you know?’ called out the lead man and real general.
‘Easy’ Barrad replied, ‘The man on the right has a nervous look to him and wears a wedding ring. Not one general that I have ever known has had time to hold down a marriage. The man to the left, because of his advancing years had obviously been chosen to give the impression of great experience. However he wears a general’s surcoat which would get him noticed and immediately marks him as a target, which goes against the common Tanarian practices employed in times of war. More likely he has been ordered to wear it for show. Plus I noticed that his insignia on the crest distinguishes him as a cavalryman, yet his footwear matches that of the archers.’
‘Well,’ retorted one of the real generals, ‘You certainly have an eye for detail, but do you have a head for winning battles?’
‘What about the middle decoy?’ questioned another man advancing from the ranks, whom Barrad took to be the last general.
‘Oh him,’ smiled Barrad, ‘He is one mean-faced son of a bitch – he could be a general, but bearing in mind the other two jokers it was highly unlikely. Come on, let’s get out of this wind and around a fire, we have a lot to discuss.’
‘Very well,’ they agreed, ‘But know this Su-Katii – had you not personally slain the Aristrian Supreme Commander and had several very prominent people vouch for your loyalties we would not be talking now, although I still remain to be impressed by your tactical ability. Barrad let the comment go unanswered.
The massed men were stood down and commanded to return to their duties. Walking towards the beckoning warmth of the command tent, the third general quickly explained that they had only remained anonymous to test the newcomer’s ability, a suggestion of the wizard, not because they suspected that there may be some trouble with his arrival. Barrad nodded understandingly.
‘Pick up your swords, Su-Katii - sorry sir, I mean, Lord Barrad. You never know when you might need them,’ said the first Tanarian general, lacking any real conviction in his words.
‘As long as it’s not to use on us,’ added a second Tanarian commander with a nervous smile.’
Back in Nordheim lands the horses snorted and panted with the effort of their riders pace.
‘We need to slow down for a while or the horses will be spent,’ said Tress.
‘They have already been pushed too hard,’ agreed Corvus, as he patted down the sweat from his chestnut steed.
They had pushed on hard for the last hour to put as much distance between them and Croweheim as possible. Not one of them had said a single word during the ride, the loss of Henrick still weighing heavy in their hearts.
‘Still, I think that would have been the way he would have wanted to go - in battle,’ stated Corvus, sensing that the others were also thinking of Henrick.
‘Yes.’ said Tress. ‘He displayed amazing skill and valour at the end, may his Gods eternally bless him for saving my life’.
Athene swung around in her saddle,
‘Quiet. I can hear something?’ she said, wiping a tear from her eye.
The group halted and scanned the area, hoping to God that it was the returning Nordheim patrol. They opened their mouths as they strained to hear the slightest of sounds. Moments later on the ridge line towards the north-west, the first of the possessed crested the horizon. It was a crazed female with shards of green crystal glistened from her skin. Her hair crystallized backwards as if frozen in a gale. She halted; smelling the air, then spotted the riders and let out a blood curdling scream. More howls followed behind her. Her hands, extended into long crystalline claws, like stilettos hanging down from her hand, they raised and pointed towards the distant group. The green-tinged possessed ones were the most disturbing to view as they still showed more human features than the others. The faces of old comrades and loved ones could sometimes be seen. They began to run towards the group over the open ground, several bulkier red forms appeared behind her. A sound similar to that of stampeding cattle filled the air.
‘Come on, now is not the time to stand and fight this freak show,’ Corvus spun his horse around and spurred the unwilling beast on again. His companions rapidly followed.
An unusual thunderstorm had settled over the ‘Wyverns’ Nest, Bellack’s home and heavily fortified mountain villa situated deep in the Aristrian mountains. Lightning illuminated the jagged skyline.
Inside Saznack and Bellack greeted Anak as he was led into the meeting hall.
‘How long is it since we last met face to face Anak – about sixty or seventy years perhaps?’ Bellack asked trying to set a civil tone to their meeting.
‘Let us not pretend that we are old friends Bellack, you have supplied me with just enough information to get me interested in attending your home, but I have not forgotten the past,’ croaked Anak as he scratched instinctively at the leather capped stump that used to be his left hand. Bellack smirked as he remembered the last incident that had seen them clash.
‘Ok, have it your way then, but you know that you should have consulted me before taking my slaves all those years ago, I desperately needed them to complete the spell.’
‘Don’t keep bringing that up Bellack. I had no time, and needed their blood urgently – get over it.’ It was as close that Anak came for an apology for the small feud that had developed last time they had worked together in the Brotherhood.
Bellack nodded ‘…Yes, yes we have been there before, let’s just leave it that you still owe me the gold for them.’ He decided to move off the subject quickly.
‘Well Anak, I am just pleased that you accepted my invitation.’ Bellack could not help himself and fell back into his rhythm of mock hospitality, offering his guest some fruit. Anak raised his hand in refusal as he spoke.
‘Well normally I would avoid the monotonous tones of your laughable sect, Bellack. Why waste your time attempting the impossible, your God will never be free.’
‘Enough of your blasphemy.’ shouted Saznack, who until now had remained in the shadows behind his partner-in-crime.
‘She is still your God as well; you are just bitter because her renewing effects will no longer work for you. You are here because we need your unique skills in your cursed blood magic and if you had any faith left in the Brotherhood and love for your Queen you would help us, besides with the coldness of death creeping towards you, this is indeed your last chance to prevent it.’ Anak barked back at the comment that instantly questioned his reasons for attending,
‘It wasn’t so cursed when you needed me to corrupt the Su-Katii blood tattoo ink, my magic has made them your bitches ever since.’
‘Your price was indeed heavy for that task Anak but we do need such skill to be displayed again,’ Saznack admitted reluctantly. As the one-handed wizard deliberated his next action, Bellack spoke.
‘Come on man don’t think of turning us down, you haven’t heard what we have to offer you in return yet – would the one that took your hand be of interest to you? The Tyranny, she is amongst those that we hunt. Now make your mind up as time is of the essence. If you don’t act now they will escape us forever for we are unable to track them, but we know where they will soon be and we need a Soul Beast to be waiting for them.’
‘Ah I would see that slut flayed alive, but the thought of her soul forever screaming at the beast’s foul breath would be pleasing to me.’ Anak savoured the thought for a moment before continuing.
‘Ok, with the chance for revenge on the table you know I cannot refuse – my heart is as black as your teeth. But you know, even with my great powers, the Soul Beast may still kill me, or for that matter all of us – it is not to be underestimated.’
‘Why don’t you just go yourself and deal with them, it would be far less dangerous to us all?’ asked the wrinkled old magician, further screwing his face up at the task ahead of him.
‘I have many matters in hand at the moment, I can’t afford to waste my time sitting about in an old shrine all day waiting for them, that is why we have magic to command. Besides I believe that Master Tamar may attempt their rescue, so I need something that has the ability to intelligently follow our orders and deal with him as well.’
‘Ah Tamar, I have not heard that name for some time and I had hoped never to hear it again. You desire a beast, and face a magician; I think that you ask for too much from me.’
‘Hush your defeatist noise man,’ Bellack scoffed back at the last comment.
‘What’s so important about this girl that you wish to capture, I hope you do not waste my time with your promises?’ asked Anak.
‘I have heard she has immunity to your magic, or is it that your powers are just too weak?’
He was hoping to get the rival magician to rise to his comment, he enjoyed mocking him. Bellack let loose a hysterical fit of laughter.
‘If only I had more time to enjoy the depth of your wit Anak.’
‘Now to business. The girl seems to resist the magic in this world but the Soul Beast is from another – perhaps she will succumb to its unearthly powers.’
‘In any case the beast has immense physical abilities should its magic fail. Well, so the legends have it,’ added Saznack.
‘The legends are correct, but my skills will also cost you the lands and the subjects of Southpoint to rule over after your glorious war is ended.’
Ok, your price is agreed, but what you could possibly want with that unprofitable coastal region is beyond me, Saznack will make the arrangements.’ Bellack was pleased to see that the old magician was still as predictable as ever and fuelled by revenge.
‘Good, then we will all have reason to celebrate tonight. Get Marcus to arrange the slaves, we will need many and have a lot of work to do before then.’
The blood of the slaves trickled down the built-in channels in the floor that traced the pentagon shape. The lines of blood ran from five angled slabs that manacled their unlucky victims. In the dim light of the chamber the channels were lined with red crystals. Two burly guards pinned the screaming wretches to the slabs as they pulled them one at a time from their rust encrusted cages. The two magicians moved to the points of the pentagram, chanting dark incarnations and slicing deep bleeding cuts into the slaves.
Anak stood in the middle of the terrible scene, chanting the sacred words that he had memorised hundreds of years before. As he chanted, the dagger clasped in his right hand would cut a series of grooves into his own left forearm opening several deep cuts. The blood ran down his elbow to splash upon the crystals below. The room appeared to shudder as the rhythm of his words grew. Saznack immediately threw a large crystal into the centre of the pentagon. In his left hand he clutched a silver relic – a bright orb that radiated power and lightning arced from the relic into the centre of the pentagram. The darkness of the blood chamber occasionally further illuminated by the lightning outside through a small roof opening. Anak’s chants quickened in tempo and a white mist formed around his feet. The pentagram suddenly burst into flames. Anak shouted out the last of the incantations, the chamber echoing his inaudible words. Then dropping to his knees through gritted teeth he chopped off his little toe, which he quickly slung into the centre of the pentagram as a vessel to enable the Soul Beast to enter this world. This was not the first toe to be lost by Anak in such a way. Blood continued to ooze from the wound as finally a silence settled over the room. A portal began to swirl in a Vortex as Bellack placed a diamond to the floor and backed away, all eyes in the room turned from the portal to focus on the toe. It began to twitch like a new born infant, blood wept from its exposed wound as it pulsed with the new rhythm of a heartbeat. Soon it began flipping about the floor like a landed fish. As it flipped and bled, it began to grow larger at an accelerating rate, changing as it began to grow from its foetal shape.
‘Careful, do not approach it. You will need to force it through the portal quickly before it reaches full strength or else we’re in big trouble,’ screamed Anak above the loud crackle of magic pulses that now filled the room.
‘I know, you half wit.’ Bellack pulled at his enchanted amulet from around his neck for extra protection, fighting the urge to move into the pentagram as a terrible aura started to fall over the room. Bellack muttered an incantation and a great shockwave rolled across the room from the amulet. Again he felt an uncontrollable urge to move towards the growing beast and his foot stepped forwards. The invisible wall of force hit the growing beast flinging it from its feet into the portal.
Saznack rushed forward and smashed the crystal that was holding the portal open with an iron headed staff, the weakened and depleted stone shattered abruptly closing the portal. Everyone present gave an audible sigh of relief including the remaining slaves in the cage. Anak fell to the floor and tended to his bleeding foot, an evil smile spread across his face.
‘I hope that they enjoy their new friend,’ he laughed. ‘Now bring me some food, I need to build my strength back up again. It will now take all my powers of control to stop the beast from claiming your girl for itself.’
The three riders had pushed their tired horses for far too long, but needed to ensure that their crazed pursuers were left far behind them; both riders and mounts were now exhausted. The large peaks of the Tanarian border-mountains stretched in front of them promising no way through the daunting range, so with good visibility in all directions they dismounted and walked the tired animals discussing their limited options.
‘We could try and get over the mountains, you know there are a few hidden goat tracks that cross the peaks and there are also caves for shelter,’ suggested Tress.
‘I know these lands well, Tress. There are no routes over those peaks it is a false rumour that we spread years ago to entice foreigners into these mountains so that we could trap them and kill them. The only pass is through the Great Gate. There are however caves that can provide us with shelter in these steppes, but you know there can be no camp fires tonight, as it would draw those who hunt us from leagues around like flies to dung, so we definitely need to find the best shelter early.’
After scouring the hillside for some time, the group managed to find a shallow cave that at least afforded them some shelter from the biting wind.
‘With so little room inside we are going to need to huddle in close together, so it looks like you ladies are going to get lucky tonight. Don’t worry, I’ll go in the middle so you can both get a piece of me,’ grinned Corvus, still trying to raise their spirits in his own way.
The two ladies looked at one another shaking their heads, but managing the first smile since leaving Croweheim.
‘I would rather sleep with the horses,’ replied Tress with a twinkle in her eye.
‘You will be – they need keeping warm too.’ he replied.
Athene blushed as she thought of nestling up to Corvus’ naked chest. The reality of the cold night to come would be a far cry from such thoughts.
With the horses fed, Corvus ran through their plans for escape, for by now Titus could well be free and would surly resume his hunt.
‘I think our options are somewhat limited. Tomorrow we can either try to get through the Great Gate or head south? I think the Gate will be a death trap, that’s where the mob from the town were heading off to, so I suggest that we head south and take our chances.’ Tress nodded in agreement.
‘Come on; let’s not talk about death traps and the like. My mother always told me that the best plans were always made on a full stomach. We’ll have something to eat, it will help cheer us up a little,’ suggested Athene.
‘Mine always told me never to bed with foreign women; I have followed her advice for years, then I find two surrounding me at once and look at the trouble I’m in. Why do mothers always have to be correct?’ replied Corvus.
‘I would stick with your mother’s teachings if I were you – there is still a little room at the back with the horses.’ added Tress.
‘Perhaps I will,’ agreed Corvus always trying to have the last word, ‘They nag me less.’
The wind had picked up through the night and the temperature had now fallen well below freezing, but their shallow cave kept the worst of it out. The group had removed their cold armour and their teeth chattered as they huddled together amidst a pile of furs and blankets. Their packs lay beneath them on the ground in an attempt to keep out the penetrating cold. Corvus was quite comfortably wedged between the two girls, his great arms pulling their slender bodies into him to ensure they shared their body heat and everyone made it through the night. He was determined not to let their shivering keep him awake.
The horses were also restless and gathered together at the rear of the small cave. Corvus alone slept soundly. He had set an elaborate array of trip wires and deadfalls for anything that should venture up the difficult trail, if they were followed up this snow covered track there would not be much hope for escape. As Tress drifted in and out of sleep; she awoke feeling a sudden repulsion at the thought of a man’s body next to her. The claustrophobic feeling soon passed and her teeth chattered as she rolled closer back into his warmth and began to dream. It was the familiar and more pleasant of her recurring dreams of what her life could have been like, had she not been dragged into slavery. No matter how hard she tried, she could not remember the faces of her parents. A tear was in her eye and she woke up abruptly as Corvus farted loudly. He muttered something about warming them up as she drifted back off to sleep. Hearing a rustling noise outside she picked up her sword and investigated, she could use some fresh air. Straining her eyes and ears there was nothing but the chattering of her teeth and the blowing gale. Suddenly Tamar’s voice interrupted her return.
‘Listen quickly. This spell is too difficult to maintain at such a distance and the presence of Athene dampens its effect. In order to get to safety’ - his voice faded in and out ….. ‘Shrine two hours’ ride south. Stick to the … and you will get to it. When you get there we can … a portal to get you out of … all other routes are doomed.’ Tamar’s voice faded to a whisper and disappeared.
The cold night passed without further event. At first light Corvus stretched his aching back, miserably strapping back on his cold armour. He gave a great shiver and looked over his shoulder. Good job the girls were not watching as he liked to maintain his macho image. Picking up his large axe he decided to check the lie of the land in the better light. Staying low, he scanned the landscape, but all appeared peaceful.
After disarming his traps, he joined the girls who had awoken and started to pack up camp. They ate a simple breakfast of smoked meats, cheese and a little rye bread, the food was difficult to digest with the cold water. Tress recounted Tamar’s words and instructions and Corvus recalled the structure that she described. With the chance of a quick escape a decision to head to the shrine was made swiftly.
‘I know of this shrine,’ said Corvus, ‘It was built long before my people ruled this land. It is constructed like a great barrow mound similar to an iceberg, in that more of the shrine is actually beneath the ground. A strange sect of priests used to maintain it, devout in worship and deadly in battle. We had a treaty between our people for generations, some forgotten deal that we would leave them be in peace.’
‘Are they hostile?’ asked Athene.
‘I should hope not. I believe that they are now long dead. The stories tell how they rode out to battle hundreds of years ago to a distant land and never returned, but their shrines of worship remained protected by a great yellow dome of magical power. None could ever pass it.’
‘Ok, if it is so well protected how are we supposed to get in past that dome-thing then?’ asked Athene.
‘I don’t know. Tamar’s voice was very broken in my dream, but he must have a plan, perhaps he will meet us outside or something?’ Tress decided to leave out the ‘Path to doom,’ part of the dream, no need to upset the increasingly frustrated Athene.
‘It is decided then.’ Corvus remarked abruptly. ‘Let’s be on our way.’