Visions of Magic - The Kidnap of Gabrielle Ulan

  “Come Poppin, I have a plan,” he said, already on his way down to the village. Poppin followed reluctantly. She had no desire to meet whatever was in that hut.

  #

  The morning sun struggled to penetrate the heavy cover of the trees deep inside the forest. The air was chill; steam flowed from the nostrils of Lord Ulan’s mighty grey stead as he rode slowly into the goblin village. Lord Pelham and Lord Anon rode either side of him.

  Lord Ulan looked about him intently as he trotted along. All around him were thatched huts jumbled together as though someone had just thrown them into a large heap. The huts in some places were so close together at first they looked like one large mass of thatch.

  The familiar stench of goblin filled Lord Ulan’s nose in disgust. After picking his way through the mess of huts, almost into the heart of the filthy place, he found what he was searching for. It was a large hut with a small chimney upon one side. As the trio rode up to the hut a growing crowd of sleepy looking goblins gathered around them. The goblins followed them chattering fiercely and intermittently lobbing objects at them.

  A stone crashed into the back of Lord Anon’s helmet. The noise made him jump in his saddle. His heart beating hard he reached for his sword in anger, the ringing of the rock against his helm still loud in his ears.

  “Stay your sword and just ignore them,” ordered Lord Ulan. “Fear not, goblins are too stupid to attack all at once. At least until someone gives them an order. Even then they usually get it wrong.”

  Lord Ulan halted in front of the large hut with the chimney. He sat proudly and bravely in his saddle with all his battle armor gleaming even in the gloom of the goblin village and despite many days hard travel.

  “Mank!” bellowed Lord Ulan, his voice so thunderous the goblins all stepped back in fear.

  Several moments later a goblin stepped out of the narrow opening in the front of the hut. He was average in height and stature, for a goblin anyway. In fact, the only thing which really set him apart from all of the other goblins, which now closed in around them again, was his fine clothes. With a cheeky grin, filled with horrid, sharp, yellow teeth he spoke.

  “And what brings you foolishly to my nest Lord Ulan?” he croaked.

  “I want my daughter back now!” shouted Lord Ulan sternly. He shifted his girth in the saddle slightly and Mank warily took several paces back. However, the apprehension left his ugly face rapidly.

  “Your daughter? We have not your daughter O Lord.”

  “Some of your little rodents ambushed a party, six days ago, there was a girl, and I want her back.”

  “But I say we have her not. Look about you, you see her not I bet.”

  At this the goblins around them began to laugh.

  “I am prepared to bargain Mank!”

  “This time you are in no position to bargain oh high and mighty Lord. Look around you,” he said cackling.

  “Oh yes I am,” replied Lord Ulan with a loud laugh. “I am prepared to die after killing you first. Still think we should not bargain?”

  This silenced Mank’s cackling immediately. Apparently it also convinced him that bargaining may not be such a bad idea.

  “What deal have you for me?” he asked reluctantly.

  “A duel. I wish to fight the most skilful warrior here. If I win I take back my daughter. If your challenger defeats me you still let my daughter go free unharmed, but you also may have my castle and all my lands.”

  “That is a big wager. What guarantee do I have that you will hold your promise?”

  “I have had papers drawn up for such an unlikely event.”

  Lord Ulan waited for Mank’s response, readying himself for a quick charge into the hut to rescue Gabrielle when he did not agree.

  “I agree to your challenge.”

  “You had both better be alert, I fear our little chief has something up his sleeve,” he whispered back over his shoulder. “Well Mank, where is your challenger? Bring him to me, I could best any of your rodents blindfolded. Come Mank where is he?” scoffed Lord Ulan as he looked about warily for some trap.

  “A challenger you want, a challenger I have,” laughed Mank, then disappeared back into his hut, much to Lord Ulan’s dislike. Several moments passed and then Mank returned smiling gleefully and rubbing his hands together.

  “Well?” asked Lord Ulan.

  “Shall we do battle!” hissed a deep strong voice from within Mank’s hut. The crowd of goblins around them cringed at the sound of the voice. Moments later out from the small opening a figure squeezed. Lord Ulan and his comrades gasped. The orc strode confidently towards Lord Ulan’s horse, its large curved sword flashing in the shafts of light that penetrated the trees.

  “I am Dolk. You wished to duel the best here, then dismount and we shall fight!” he hissed.

  Lord Ulan looked down at the horrible face of Dolk. Outside his own face was as hard as stone, but inside fear took him as it had never done before. Slowly Lord Ulan dismounted.

  “My lord you can’t...” started Lord Pelham, but Lord Ulan turned and interrupted him.

  “I must or my life is worth naught anyway.”

  Lord Ulan withdrew his mighty sword and saluted his foe as was proper. The orc stood almost a head taller than Lord Ulan, who was himself slightly over six feet. It was lean and muscular and carried a myriad of scars across its body with the pride of an experienced warrior.

  They both stood still, eyeing each other for several moments. Everything was quiet around them. Then suddenly Lord Ulan made his move. The ringing clash of steel upon steel was violent as the two adversaries drove towards each other in an opening attack. Lord Ulan’s sword flashed in a mighty arc at Dolk, who dodged and swung a counter blow in the same movement. Lord Ulan parried it, but the force of the blow surprised him. The two spun about in a deadly dance to the clanging of swords. Lord Ulan’s cunning with the sword saved him from many a thundering blow, but he was not as young as he used to be and his strength and speed began to waver.

  Dolk exploited Lord Ulan’s fatigue. As Lord Ulan struck out at him Dolk fended away the half hearted blow knocking Lord Ulan’s sword from his hand. In an instant Dolk reversed his block into a swipe, smashing Lord Ulan’s helmet with the flat of his sword.

  The soft cool earth comforted Lord Ulan’s fall. He lay there desperately beating away the beckoning slumber of unconsciousness. Just as he seemed about to win, a rough hand pulled him up to his knees. From a distance words seemed to drift into his mind.

  “A pity we could not have met when you were in your prime, for you may have been a more worthy opponent,” hissed Dolk.

  Lord Ulan began to laugh and then to cry, not out of fear, but out of sorrow for failing his wife and now his daughter. He wished he had told them that he loved them no matter what they did. Suddenly Lord Ulan caught a flash of light in the corner of his blurred vision.

  Then all was blackness....

  #

  “No!” screamed Lord Pelham as Dolk beheaded his friend and held the head in his claws victoriously.

  “Revenge!” screamed Lord Anon with hatred.

  “Kill them! Kill them both!” cried Mank.

  #

  Farrel squeezed between two thatch huts and made his way to the back of the large hut with the chimney. Poppin hovered just behind his head watching the way they had come. Finally Farrel reached the rear wall of the hut and carefully crouched down. As he did so a voice rang out from somewhere in front of the hut.

  “Mank!”

  It was Lord Ulan’s voice and it cut the air like a sword and seemed to vibrate the very ground beneath Farrel. The shout was followed by and increasing din at the front of the hut from many fiercely chattering voices. With the growing chatter Farrel was strained to hear anyone inside the hut.

  “The whole village must be there. I hope your nose is right,” he whispered over his shoulder to Poppin as he pushed his hand through the thatch wall at its base. The hole he made was only small, almost unnotice
able but it was of ample size for Poppin to squeeze through.

  “Poppin!” whispered Farrel again. In a flash Poppin darted into the hole and squeezed her way through. Despite the odd chill of the morning air Farrel sweated profusely. He held his breath as Poppin disappeared. The seconds seemed like years as he awaited her return.

  #

  Poppin peered through into the hut timidly before she reluctantly crawled in. At one end, farthest from the fireplace, a beautiful copper haired human female sat staring hopefully at the doorway. She was bound hand and foot and her mouth was stuffed with a strip of cloth torn from her dress.

  Poppin began to push her way completely inside, but the rustling of paper stopped her dead. A most horrid smell suddenly filled her nose. It was the same one she had smelt around the outside of the hut. She shivered involuntarily and peered over toward the fireplace. In front of it sat a large green orc bulging with muscles. She stayed still for several moments, but the orc seemed intent on the vast array of maps laid out in front of it on a low table, which was the only furnishing in the hut with the exception of a hay bed.

  Words from an argument outside filtered in through the narrow low doorway and the orc seemed to be growing more interested in it and less in the maps. The orc shifted its girth slightly and it was then that Poppin noticed a metal cage sitting amongst the maps on the table. Inside the cage was her brother! Stifling a gasp with her tiny hands Poppin pulled herself out of the hole as fast as she could.

  Poppin raised one finger and began to murmur the words of a sleep spell. Before she finished however a goblin dressed in fine clothes burst into the hut with a grin from ear to ear. In a flash Poppin darted back through the hole before it saw her.

  #

  Poppin emerged from the hole and Farrel gasped for air, finally able to breathe again. Poppin hovered near his face, her eyes wide with fear and excitement. With her arms outstretched as far as possible she grabbed both his cheeks in her tiny hands and shook them.

  “My brother, I have found him!” she sang. Farrel removed her hands from his cheeks as delicately as he could.

  “Is my friend inside there also?”

  “A human inside there is with hair red like the sunset. Save them both we may,” she sang again doing a loop to loop.

  “Then let’s do it now so we can be gone from this place,” said Farrel, reaching out to push a larger hole in the wall.

  “No, not yet friend Farrel,” said Poppin flying in front of his outstretched hands. “A monster in there awaits, an orc is he, a fowl and terrible thing. Too big he is for you, much larger than anything I’ve seen I think.”

  “But I have too I can’t leave her!”

  Suddenly everything went quiet outside the front of the hut. The voices had stopped. A few minutes of dead silence passed before the air was cut by a loud booming voice and the din of goblins started again, but this time louder and accompanied moments later by ringing of sword against sword. There was no time to waste so Farrel stood and hurled himself against the thatch wall. He was going to save Gabrielle orc or not.

  #

  Gabrielle sat starring at the doorway of the hut. She strained her eyes, but to no avail for she could see nothing through the narrow doorway at the angle she was sitting to it. It didn’t matter though now that her father was here to save her. She struggled against her bonds as quietly as possible, her gaze never leaving the doorway. Without warning the orc at the far end of the hut shuffled slightly. Gabrielle froze looking over at the orc, praying he did not hear her attempts to escape. She winced involuntarily as she remembered the blow she had received the first time she had tried to undo her bonds. The side of her head still ached a little where the orc had hit her. So caught up in the fear that the orc may hear here Gabrielle did not really notice Poppin’s presence at all.

  Suddenly someone burst into the hut. Gabrielle almost leaped up, bonds and all, expecting it to be her father. Alas though, it was the goblin called Mank and the sight of him made her want to vomit. Gabrielle’s eyes were a blazing inferno of anger and if looks could kill Mank and every goblin in the village would have been burnt to a crisp many times over.

  Mank spoke abruptly to the orc, all the time rubbing his hands together as though he had just inherited a small fortune. When Mank finished both of them glanced back toward Gabrielle who straightened her back defiantly. The orc laughed, nodding his head. Mank clapped his hands together in joy and scurried out of the hut. Gabrielle had not understood a word between them for they spoke some common language that only they understood. To her it just sounded like a lot of growling and grunting mixed together. Understanding what they had said was not a problem however, for the look upon the orc’s broad face was a sinister one.

  Gabrielle wanted desperately to scream as the orc stood slowly, but his eyes held hers sending her body ice cold. Even though the orc was uncomfortably hunched in the low roofed hut he still looked deadly. Gabrielle could not even squirm in her bonds, her thoughts were completely frozen. She heard her father’s voice outside, but it drifted to her on the edge of comprehension. The orc smiled at her, a mirthless cold smile, shouted something out the door then squeezed through it.

  A minute later the sounds of clashing swords snatched her back to reality.

  “Father!” she screamed into the gag. She strained frantically against the ropes which held her. Suddenly there was a crash against the rear wall of the hut and two arms pushed their way through it.

  Gabrielle stopped struggling and starred wide eyed at the protruding arms which rapidly disappeared again. She looked quizzically at the little winged man in the cage upon the table. It seemed to be doing the same to her, equally intrigued by the arms as she was it seemed. Gabrielle’s attention was drawn back to the wall by a second crash against it. This time however a whole body came bursting through it, landing on the earthen floor between her and the winged man. When he stood unsteadily Gabrielle could not believe her eyes.

  “Farrel?” she cried into the gag.

  Farrel leaped over to her, albeit a little unsteadily. The thatch wall was not as weak as he had first thought. Quickly he cut through the rope that bound Gabrielle with his short sword. As soon as her hands were free she ripped the gag from her mouth and kissed his forehead. As he cut the binding around her legs he could feel her trembling slightly. He looked into her eyes for just a brief instant. She was frightened, but no more than he, in fact he shook just as much if not more. At that moment he wanted desperately to kiss her back, but he had already used up every ounce of courage he had in him for one day.

  Poppin suddenly appeared at his shoulder, startling the both of them. Gabrielle’s mouth fell open at the sight of the pretty wood fairy. Poppin smiled at Gabrielle briefly before quickly turning her attention to Farrel.

  “Your friend I have found, but my brother is still bound.”

  Farrel sheathed his short sword awkwardly then helped Gabrielle to her feet. She stood unsteadily.

  “Father, we must help father,” said Gabrielle gripping his arm so firmly that it hurt.

  Farrel obeyed his heart and not his better sense of judgment. With a spell formed in his mind he headed for the door, ignoring Poppin’s pleas to free her brother. The clash of steel stopped before he reached the door however. Farrel froze in his tracks it had now gone completely silent outside the hut again, but not for long. The air was pierced by a blood curdling scream that penetrated his very bones. As though the scream had beckoned chaos, all havoc broke loose outside the hut. Men yelled and goblins screamed. One voice rose above them all.

  “Kill them, kill them both!”

  Farrel was still standing a few paces from the doorway completely motionless when Mank slipped out of the battle and into the safety of his hut. When he saw Farrel, he almost retreated back out of the doorway again. Then Farrel went for his short sword but, his hands were shaking so badly, he fumbled it as he pulled it out and dropped it. Mank quickly reassessed his opponent and with a broad smile, baring all h
is sharp yellow teeth, the goblin withdrew a small curved blade of his own.

  “Trying to steal my gifts to King Dolk? For that you will die. King Dolk will have such a feast tonight.”

  “No!” Gabrielle screamed, diving at Mank like a wild animal pouncing on its prey. Mank moved like a viper in response to her lunge bringing the flat of his sword up under her chin. Gabrielle crashed to the floor motionless. Turning from her Mank lurched toward Farrel striking out at him. Farrel leaped away toward the fireplace where Poppin was struggling frantically with the lock on her brother’s cage.

  “Poppin, help!” cried Farrel.

  Poppin launched back into the air and buzzed around Mank’s head trying to distract him. It had no effect and Farrel was backed into a corner. Before he really knew what he was doing he forgot his fear and began forming the words of a spell in his head.

  “Whirling wind, swirl about me,” he chanted, drawing a wide circle in the air in front of him with his right hand which finished with it pointing at Mank palm first. “Let me feel your embrace, touch me, hold me then from my hand race!”

  As Farrel spoke the words of the spell a wind began to swirl within the hut, spiralling ever inwards with increasing speed and force toward Farrel’s outstretched hand. As he shouted the final words he flicked his wrist and from it a whirlwind about a foot wide and twice as tall raced forth to consume Mank. Mank managed only a yelp as it picked him up and threw his body right across the hut into the far wall, where he dropped to the floor, out cold.

  Farrel starred at his right hand in pure amazement. He had never before made a whirlwind so large or so strong. He had only intended it to frighten the goblin so he could escape. He followed the direction of his outstretched hand with his stare. The sight of the unconscious goblin slumped against the far wall made him swallow heavily.