Chapter 29|Golorak
After stopping for Larris to retrieve his sword, and Oskar his staff, they hastened through the deserted village. Oskar wanted to bounce like a little boy at play. Pride swelled within him so strong he felt he would rupture. Not only was he along on a grand adventure, he was a real part of it. Not just some tagger-along.
They moved quickly through the deserted village. Everyone had apparently gone to the gathering. The clustered houses gave way to a gently sloping field, beyond which the mountains closed in. Cresting the hill, they scanned the rocky slopes until Larris spotted something.
“Over there.” He indicated a place where the shadows deepened from gray to black. As they approached, it resolved into a narrow crevasse, sloping upward. Without hesitation, they headed in.
The sharp rock dug into the soles of his boots as he clambered over the rubble from erosion and rockslides that cluttered the path. He laid his hand against the cold, firmness of the stone that walled them in. He imagined he could actually feel that ancient strength of the mountains. How much had these fractured old stones seen?
Side-by-side they picked their way up the gentle slope. Cresting the rise, they looked out upon the beauty of the mountain peaks, aglow in the shimmering light of the cradle moon. Oskar held his breath, awestruck by the spectacle. The mountains before them were not as tall as the ones through which they had come. There was no sign of snow on any of them. Everything seemed to slope downward from here. It was as if he was standing on the highest spot in the world.
“We’re on the divide,” Larris said, his voice made soft by the wonderment which mirrored that which Oskar felt. “And beyond those peaks is…”
“The Lands West,” Oskar breathed. “Wild men, barren wastes, and parched deserts. Do you know anyone who has been there?”
“No,” Larris replied, still gazing ahead. “A lord from the eastern part of the kingdom tried it once. I fear he had more gold than sense.”
“Does that not go without saying when speaking of a noble?” Oskar jibed.
Larris gave him a withering stare before continuing. “At any rate, he came to court with some outlandish story about black gold, and petitioned my father to finance his expedition. My father refused, of course. Somehow, the fool raised enough to buy and crew three ships. He set sail for the Boot.”
Oskar shook his head. The very idea of sailing around the Boot! “I suppose he was never heard from again.”
Larris’ grin was all the answer he needed.
“Did you hear something?” Larris cocked his head and turned an ear toward the pathway.
Oskar strained to listen. A whisper of wind, the rustle of scrub brush, and then the distinctive clink of metal on stone. He tightened his grip on his staff and looked around. He saw nothing.
Larris eased his sword from its scabbard. Holding it at the ready, he crept forward. Oskar followed, hoping he would not stumble. His father had always called him “Oxfoot” for his clumsiness.
The sound came again, sharp in the stillness of the evening, this time followed by an odd, groaning sound. Oskar’s first thought, though, was of the ice cats, as if one might be wearing armor or carrying a sword. He chastised himself and focused on picking his way quietly across the broken rocks, ignoring the tightness in his throat and the cool sweat that was beading on the back of his neck.
A few paces down the slope the pathway made a hard bend to the left. Larris pressed his back against the inner wall, scooted up to the bend, and peered around.
Oskar could barely see his friend in the deepening shadows. He moved cautiously up behind Larris, resisting the urge to ask him what he saw. He did not have to wait long.
After only a moment’s pause, Larris stepped around the corner, motioning for Oskar to follow. Rounding the corner, he saw a man lying chained to a wide, flat rock in the center of the path. They moved to either side of him.
The fellow was obviously one of the villagers. He had the look about him, and was garbed in the same fashion as the others they had met. His graying hair and beard told him to be of late middle-years. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his eyes were open wide, and his breath came in gasps.
“Are you hurt?” Oskar asked, not knowing what to say. The man shook his head and continued his labored breathing. “We’ll get you out of here.” He glanced up to see Larris examining the shackle that bound one of the man’s wrists, and shaking his head.
“You,” the man gasped, “you must go.” He swallowed loudly, and took a deep breath. “Golorak. He comes. You must go!”
“What is a golorak?” Larris asked, leaning over the captive.
“Golorak! You must go now!”
Oskar opened his mouth to speak, but a scratching sound drew his attention. He turned to see a bizarre shape appear in the dim light. It was the height of a draft horse, and three times the breadth at the chest. Moonlight glowed faint off the scaly hide covering its muscular form. Its shape was vaguely like that of a bull, but sleeker, with massive hind legs and a long, thick tail. Shadows rippled across its powerful haunches, and the long, sharp claws that tipped all four feet shone like daggers. The beast had no visible neck. Its wide head and bulging eyes reminded Oskar of a frog. Its gaze locked upon them, and it hissed angrily, opening its mouth to reveal rows of razor teeth.
Oskar could not move, could not breathe. Twice now, he had encountered ice cats. In both cases, the attacks had come swiftly, and ended just as fast. There had been no time to be afraid. Now, the golorak’s measured approach froze his very soul.
Larris raised his sword and took a step backward. “Oskar,” he said softly. “Run. Don’t look back.”
“I don’t think I can.” Oskar said truthfully. His eyes remained locked on the golorak. He had no doubt that the creature would catch him before he had run twenty paces.
“You must finish it, Oskar,” Larris said firmly. “Finish the quest. You can do it. Run back to the village. I’ll slow it down as much as I can.”
The full realization of what he was saying struck Oskar like a hammer. He took an involuntary step backward, more out of surprise than any desire to flee. “No. I won’t do it.”
“One of us has to live, Oskar. They can’t do it without at least one of us. They don’t have the knowledge.” Without warning, Larris darted toward the beast, his sword raised, his defiant roar rose above the terrified shrieks of the chained man.
Oskar tried to run, but he could not take his eyes away from the scene before him. The golorak paused only a moment before charging. Larris darted to his left, just avoiding the wicked claws. He struck hard with his sword, slicing the beast across the haunch, but his blade had no visible effect. The golorak hissed, whirled and charged again. Larris’ blade bounced off the beast’s hide, and its claws slashed his shoulder. He cried out in pain, but gritted his teeth and kept his sword in front of him.
Oskar had never felt so powerless. The staff in his hands would be useless, and Larris would never survive long enough for him to go for help. In fact, it was highly doubtful that Larris could last long enough for him to escape with his life. In that moment, there was nothing more he wanted than to save his friend. Everything he had ever wished for, all his hopes and dreams fell away. He stood alone with his own complete and utter helplessness, and his all-consuming need. He was nothing. He surrendered.
An icy fire swept through him. His body seemed to draw it in from all around him. Up from the ground it raged. His skin seemed to absorb it from the very air. It roiled through him, up through his legs, down his arms, and whirling in the center of his chest.
Something leapt forth from within him. He grunted as a blinding white light shot forth from his extended fist that still clenched his staff out in front of him. The beam struck the golorak in mid-leap, ripping through it at an angle from behind its left shoulder. The creature uttered nary a sound as its head and leg were severed from its body, the remains falling heavily at Larris’ feet. The prince stared blankly at the lifeless f
orm, blood soaking his sleeve, his sword still held aloft.
Oskar’s body tingled all over, but all strength had left him. His legs were like water. He dropped limply to his knees, and knelt there, staring straight ahead.
“What happened?” Larris asked, looking at Oskar with a baffled expression.
Oskar did not know precisely what had happened. Whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to share it. “It was…lightning,” he said, hoping Larris would take the uncertainty in his voice for shock or weariness.
“Lightning,” Larris echoed, looking up at the cloudless sky. “Amazing.”
“It was, Master,” the man on the rocks whimpered, straining to rise. “I seen it. A flash of white light. Cut the golorak clean in two. Nothing can harm the golorak.”
“Something or someone must be looking out for us,” Larris said, though the flat tone of his voice indicated that he did not believe it. His eyes vainly scanned the surrounding cliffs, as if he could see anything in the impending darkness. “At any rate, we must get you off of this rock, assuming you have no further objections master…”
“Kelrom,” the man said. “And no, Master, I do not object. You see, the golorak, it feeds on... fed on us. Every new moon, we gave a sacrifice, and it lets the village be.”
“I see,” Larris replied sardonically. “I suppose that explains the lack of elders in your village.”
“And the lack of men,” Oskar said, using his staff to help himself to his feet. “One man can impregnate several women. As long as they keep a few healthy young men, they can maintain their population. It must be how they survived with so few resources.” The shock of whatever it was he had just done was forgotten as he fit the pieces of the puzzle together. “The infirm, the weak, likely even anyone with a serious injury, anyone expendable.
On the rock, Kelrom nodded. “You have the right of it, young sir. We knew not what else to do. It is the way it has always been done.”
“I cannot even begin to fathom it,” Larris said. “I assume there is someone in the village who can unlock these?”
The sound of voices reverberated down the passageway, along with that of feet scrabbling on loose rock. “Here they come,” Oskar said, looking back.
Soon, torchlight flickered on the walls of the passage. Allyn and Shanis appeared at the head of a column of villagers. Shanis ran to Oskar’s side.
“What happened to the two of you? You disappear, and then next thing we know, someone comes rushing in telling us there’s some strange light up on the hill.” She paused, noticing Larris’ injury. “What happened?”
“It looks worse than it is,” Larris said.
Shanis frowned, but before she could argue with him, she caught sight of Kelrom. “Who is that?”
“It’s a long story,” Oskar said. He had not regained his strength, and he was feeling woozy. He placed a hand on Shanis’ shoulder to steady himself. She touched a warm, dry palm to his forehead.
“You’re all clammy.” She took hold of his hand. “Oskar, you’re like ice. Are you hurt too?”
“There was a…” He put his hand to his head and leaned against his staff, trying to explain what happened. Where should he begin? Should he tell her about…whatever it was he had done?
“The golorak!” Someone shouted. “They have slain the golorak.” A woman shrieked and fell to her feet, covering her eyes. Others groaned, or cried out. It almost seemed as if they were somehow angry.
Larris and Allyn appeared at their side, along with Malram. The villager wore a tight-lipped frown.
“I do not understand what has happened here,” he said.
Larris quickly recounted how they had found Kelrom, then were attacked. He did not offer any explanation as to how they had slain the golorak, but Malram did not let the omission pass.
“But how did you slay the golorak? No weapon can pierce its hide. Our ancestors tried…” he held his hands out, his face blank.
“Lightning struck it,” Oskar said.
“Lightning?” Malram looked up at the clear sky, just as Larris had done. “I suppose that would explain the bright light Lilan saw when she went out looking for you.” He looked directly at Oskar as he said the last.
“That was no lightning I saw,” Lilan piped up from behind her husband. “The light came up from behind the hills. It was the brightest I have ever seen.”
“I only saw a flash of light. My attention was on the beast that was about to kill me,” Larris said, turning to cock an eyebrow at Oskar. The others followed suit.
“If it wasn’t lightning, then I have no idea what it was,” Oskar said. There was an element of truth to his statement. He had no idea what the light was. That it somehow came from him was not a detail he intended to share.
“They called down lightning on it,” someone in the crowd murmured. The villagers who had followed Malram gravitated toward the remains of the beast that had held them in terror for countless grandfathers past. Slowly, curiosity overcame fear, and soon they were huddled around the remains of the golorak.
“What about Kelron?” Oskar asked, embarrassed that he had forgotten the poor fellow.
“Ah, yes.” Malram appeared uncertain what to do.
“For the god’s sake, let the man loose!” Shanis scolded. “There’s no monster anymore.” She spoke slowly and loudly as if she were speaking to someone thick-skulled and hard of hearing. “You no longer have to feed your people to it.”
“I beg your pardon,” Malram replied tersely, the glare in his eyes belying his apology. “This is all a shock to me. If you will now excuse me.” He turned and stalked over to the sacrificial stone. Fishing a key from inside his robe, he freed Kelron, who sat up slowly and began rubbing his wrists.
Oskar still felt wrung-out, but he wanted a closer look at the creature that had nearly claimed their lives. Still using his staff for support, he picked his way over to the crowd that encircled the beast. They gave way, awestruck by the slayers of their nemesis.
He knelt down alongside the bulk of the creature. Full night was upon them, but the moonlight and torchlight blended to cast the creature in a wavering golden light. He lay a hand on the smooth, reptilian scales. Unlike the ice cats, it was not cold to the touch, though the warmth of its body was scant. His eyes moved to the wound in front of the shoulder, where…whatever it had been had sliced through the golorak. He sucked in his breath at the sight. It was cut through as cleanly as a baker would slice a loaf of bread. What did I do?
A chill breeze swept through the assembled group. He rose and shrugged his cloak up around his shoulders. Larris, Hierm, Allyn and Shanis were engaged nearby in quiet conversation.
“Where’s Khalyndryn?” he asked, sidling up alongside Allyn.
“Left her in the village,” Shanis replied, her expression unreadable. “Larris was just telling us how the two of you came to be out here in the first place.”
“I should like to hear that explanation as well.” Malram stood with his arms folded across his chest. The other villagers were clustered behind him, most staring with expressions of disapproval or outright anger.
“Why are you looking at us like that?” Shanis snapped, stepping toward the group. “You live in this valley, feeding your people to this creature. Now it’s dead, and you’re angry with us?” Larris grabbed her forearm, but she pulled away. “No! I’ve been chased from my home, attacked by the gods-only-know-what kind of monsters, been thrown into a dungeon. I’ll take no more!” She stalked toward the knot of villagers, her eyes wide with anger. Oskar had seen that look before, and he feared for Malram.
Shanis stood nose-to-forehead with the village leader poked a finger into his chest. “You will take a civil tone with us,” she said, her voice icy calm. “We will not be interfered with, nor will we abide another moment of your sour looks and suspicious questions. You owe us a debt of gratitude. Do you understand?” The last came out as little more than a whisper, but it was clearly audible in the stillness.
&n
bsp; The villagers fell back a pace, but to Oskar’s surprise, Malram did not back down. He met her stare, his mouth working, but producing no sound. Oskar’s heart was racing, and he counted twenty beats as he waited for one of them to break the silence. He was not afraid. He and his companions could dispatch these frail little people with ease. Freeze me! What am I thinking? He turned to Larris and gestured for the prince to do something, but he hesitated before stepping in.
“Master Malram, it was not our intention to abuse your hospitality. We have been through a number of hardships of late, and I fear our nerves are stretched thin.” He glanced at Shanis, who thankfully remained silent. “On behalf of myself and my party, I apologize.”
Shanis locked eyes with Larris, and they stared at one another nearly as long as she and Malram had. Oskar felt his heart lift when finally, she nodded her head. “I apologize for shouting at you,” she said to Malram, taking a step back and lowering her head. “I am tired, and I was frightened for my friends.”
Malram’s frown made a deep, v-shaped furrow across his forehead. “I fear that my tone of voice did not help matters,” he said. “Please hear me. I must know what you were doing out here tonight. I must know why all of you are here. I must.”
The hesitation Larris had shown earlier was gone. Without so much as a glance toward any of his comrades, he sprang up on top of the stone where Kelrom had been chained. Facing the villagers, he drew the leather cord from his shirt, and held up his signet ring.
“I realize that this symbol will mean nothing to you, nor will the name of my country, but it is the symbol of my house and my birthright. I am the Second Prince of the nation of Galdora. The frost creeps forward again. We have twice been attacked by minions of the Ice King.” A collective gasp went up from the listeners. “For my kingdom, my bloodline, and for the good of all those who walk under the heat of the sun, I seek the Silver Serpent.”
Shrieks rose anew from the villagers, even louder than when they had discovered the slain golorak. Malram raised his hands to the sky and dropped to his knees. In groups of two and three, the villagers, many of them weeping, approached the stone. They prostrated themselves before Larris, softly chanting, “Bringer of heat. Bringer of heat.”
Someone grabbed Oskar’s forearm, and he turned to see Hierm standing next to him, looking baffled.
“I thought Larris was crazy for telling them,” he whispered. “Now look at them. What does this mean?”
Bringer of heat. Bringer of heat.
“I don’t know,” Oskar replied. “But at least it doesn’t appear we’ll have to fight them.” He looked over Hierm’s shoulder to see Khalyndryn round the bend, followed by more villagers. She frowned at the strange sight, but surprisingly had the good sense to remain quiet. Allyn walked over to meet her, taking her by the elbow and guiding her over the loose rocks with the aid of his torch, to stand by Hierm and Oskar.
“Where is Shanis?” she asked.
“Over there.” Allyn tilted his head in Shanis’ direction.
She stood only a few paces from Malram, arms folded, and foot tapping like an impatient mother. She stared up at Larris with a mix of disgust and wonder painted on her face. One corner of her mouth was tilted up in the beginnings of a smile.
Larris surveyed the scene as the newly-arriving villagers joined the ranks of their brethren, falling prostrate to the ground and joining in the chant. He cocked an eyebrow at Allyn, who shrugged and shook his head. Larris turned back to Malram, who had finally risen to his feet.
Bringer of heat.
“My friends,” Malram said, his tone now changed from annoyance to wonderment, “I ask that you return with us to the village. “Tomorrow, we must trade.”