Zenak (10 page)

The smith, blinded with Vokar's induced insanity, heard nothing and with a growl on his lips rushed Tak for a second time. This time Tak was ready for him and so once again the smith felt the iron fist of the young defender and the cold, hard cobblestones of the main street as he fell gracelessly back onto them.

“Will you stop,” Tak pleaded. All of his life Tak had known and loved this old man. He was baffled by the insanity that overtook the town mechanic. The blacksmith, however, could not hear Tak's voice. All he heard was the monotone voice of Vokar telling him to kill. This time the blacksmith rose from the ground, grabbed a sword from an interested onlooker, and came at Tak waving edged death at him. Tak was just as quick and had his sword released from its scabbard before the smith had gone three steps. When the smithy reached Tak, naked steel met naked steel with the resounding clash of lightning striking a tree.

It was obvious from the first clash of the swords that Tak was the master of the situation. He kept cool as he parried the maddened thrusts of the smith. The whole time that they fought Tak kept begging the old man to stop, but the crazy man was re­lentless. Death was all that the smithy wanted and his eyes made that known to the saddened hunter. Tears swelled in Tak's eyes as he thought of the days he would rush from school to watch his friend the blacksmith shoe a mark or fix a wagon. Now he knew that he would have to end this man's life or for­feit his own. As the fight continued the smith kept faltering and making mistakes that in other fights Tak would have taken full advantage of. But in this one Tak kept hoping that the old man would drop from exhaustion. He didn't, though, and Tak felt his own body tiring. So Tak began fighting with the intensity of a great fighter and within moments he had the blacksmith trapped in the corner of a doorway. This caused the old man to fight with even more ferocity and Tak found himself fighting harder than ever. But the blacksmith made even more mistakes than he had before he was trapped and Tak took advantage of them and kept licking his sword all over the old man's body opening blood-letting wounds at every lick. Finally, the end came when the old man dropped his guard. It was a mistake like the rest he had made, but Tak was tired and he knew if he fought any longer that he would make a mistake and if he did that would be the end of him. He could see the blacksmith would take every advantage he gave him. Tak jumped at this opportunity and drove his sword through the smith's sternum and tore at the heart as he twisted his sword in the blacksmith's hairy chest. The crunching of the bone was heard throughout the street and wail­ing of the dying man pierced every heart that heard the terrify­ing scream. Tak felt even more wretched than the rest of the crowd who had known the blacksmith. The old man had taught Tak how to ride a mark and it had been the blacksmith who had intro­duced Tak to the first girl he had made love to. The blacksmith had been his dearest friend. He had been even closer than Tak's father. Tak knew sometimes that his youth and arrogance about the places he had been in his short life bother­ed the blacksmith, but that was the only friction the two of them ever had. Usually they had good times together drinking and whor­ing with the women of the eight taverns in the town. Now it was over. Tak put his foot on the chest of the dead man and wrenched the sword from the body. The body dropped to the ground reveal­ing the hatred that was etched on the old man's face. Tak would never forget that face as long as he lived. He knew that.

Tak still held his sword in a fighting position after he had dragged it out of his friend's body. He stared intently at the dead body as he tried to figure out what he had done. What had come over the man? Tak couldn't help but think that it had to do with the sudden ending of the storm. He was positive that the storm had been stopped by a wizard and now he felt that this wizard had done something to his old friend. Maybe the whole town had been affected; he wasn't sure about that though.

“What was the fight about?” The town mayor asked Tak. The mayor put a sympathetic hand on Tak's shoulder. It was ob­vious to all that Tak had done what he could to avert this tragic ending, but since he had tried without success, he had done the right thing by killing the blacksmith.

Tak shook his head, cleared the daze from his mind, and responded, “He just went mad all of the sudden. We were laughing and talking in the manner of old friends, which we were, and discussing our great King Zenak when all of a sudden he went—”

“Put him in irons,” the mayor ordered. “You will be be­headed on the morrow.” The mayor's face was contorted and dis­figured with the same hatred the blacksmith had when Tak drove his cold steel blade into the blacksmith's heart.

Three men quickly grabbed Tak. Tak tried to shake free and tried to talk to the men who were holding him. But when he saw one of the men holding him, his knees buckled. Tak's father was holding Tak's right arm. Tak couldn't believe it. He and his father had always been close. Whenever he got into trouble his father had been there to help him. Didn't this big hulking man teach Tak to fight? Didn't he always tell him to protect himself whatever the cost might be? What was hap­pening now? His father no longer had the friendly look he always had. Instead, he had a vileness about him that made him un­recognizable to Tak. Tak offered no resistance as the three men dragged him to the stone jail by the river.

“It was self-defense,” Tak yelled to his father. Tak's legs dragged on the ground. “I didn't want to kill him. He was my friend. You knew that. What has happened to you, Father?”

“Shut up scum,” said his father gruffly. “Who cares about that pig of a blacksmith? You will die because of that hateful man you mentioned.”

“Who?” questioned the baffled Tak.

“King Zenak,” the father said. “Just the mention of that cursed name makes me cringe. Yes, you are dying because you men­tioned his name.”

Tak slumped even more. He couldn't even put up an argument; he was too amazed at what was happening.

The entire town was behind Tak as he was being pulled to the small, gray-block jail on the outskirts of town. He looked at their faces and was saddened. All of them, his mother, his good friends, and his women looked at him with total hatred in their eyes. As they followed him to the jail, they were all chanting in unison, “Die. Die.”

The young girl whom Tak had made love to the night before ran in front of Tak and began spitting in his face. “You scum, you mud,” she yelled at him. “I will be in ecstasy when I see your head fall to the ground.” Tak looked on in disbelief. He wondered if he were having a nightmare and that he would wake up any minute.

“Get up and walk yourself,” Tak's father yelled, “I'm tired of carrying you. I might even kill you right here.”

Tak picked himself up and walked alongside the men. They still kept a heavy hold on him.

“Let's kill him now,” an old woman yelled.

“Yes, let's kill him now,” the rest of the crowd screamed. Tak walked faster toward the jail. At least there he could be safe for a night and possibly he could escape.

“Stop,” ordered the mayor.

The three men who held Tak stopped and held him at bay.

“Maybe it would be a good idea to kill Tak now,” the mayor said. “What do you think, Havin?” the mayor asked Tak's father.

Havin looked at Tak and thought a moment.

“Father, don't kill me today. The gods will not like an execution on the same day as when the rains have stopped,” Tak said.

“Shut up, scum,” Havin said. “Yes, it would be good to kill him. That will assure us that we will never hear that terrible name again.”

Tak felt sick to his stomach. He had to think of a way out of this. He knew that the town was mad and he knew that he had to play up to that.

“No, don't kill me today,” Tak yelled. He looked at all the crazed eyes staring at him, “Don't you know that it is against everything we were taught to execute someone the same day a great catastrophe had ended. Do you think the gods would like you if you killed me right after they have saved your lives?”

The people mumbled among themselves and some nodded their heads in agreement.

Tak continued, “I agree I have done something terrible and I should die.”

“Die now!” his woman of the night before yelled.

“But must you incur the wrath of the gods today. Tomorrow all will be fine for you to kill me,” Tak continued.

“He speaks the truth,” a town elder said. “If we kill him today we will bring the wrath of the gods on us, but tomorrow we will bring their love, for he must die for what he said,” the old man's eyes were crazed when he finished speaking.

“It is settled then. We will behead you tomorrow at sun­rise as we planned,” the mayor said. “Take him away.”

Tak took a breath and was dragged to the jail. He was happy that even in his bewilderment he was able to remember some of the old teachings of the religion.

Tak fell back into a daze when he was chained to the wall of the damp cell. He could not believe that his father and two very good friends were chaining him to a wall. And, as they left, one of the men, not his father, kicked Tak in the groin leaving him to writhe in misery.

“Am I dreaming,” Tak yelled out, “all I mentioned was our beloved King Zenak.”

“Quiet,” hissed Tak's father as he locked the door. “One more mention of that man's name and morning will be too far away for me.”

Tak shook his head and stopped talking. He tried to posi­tion himself in a way that would ease the pain in his groin. It was hard to do though for the chains limited his movement.

The cell he was placed in was dark and damp. The only light was sunlight from a small window high in the outer wall. The walls were hard and rough as were the floors and resting on the ground was almost impossible. A nest of rats occupied the far end of the cell away from Tak, and when the din of the crowd died down as they left the small jail, Tak could hear the rats hustling about as if to tell their relatives and friends that a new meal had arrived.

Tak finally got relatively comfortable and collected his wits. He figured he had a good fifteen hours before the next morning and that should be plenty of time to escape. Now he had to figure out a way out of the chains. The first obvious solution for a man of Tak's strength was to try to pull himself free from the wall. He began pulling and for the next hour his mighty young mus­cles kept him tugging at the wall, but even Tak, a man with the strength of a bull, could not free himself. He sat back panting and decided to rest a while. While he was resting he kept turn­ing over in his mind any reasons why his town had gone insane. He thought a long time but the only reason he could come up with was that a wizard had driven the town insane for his evil gains. He decided not to think about it anymore and just to concentrate on getting out and warning the rest of Deparne of Gaston's in­sanity.

Chapter 12

It was late in the afternoon of the day that the storm had stopped when Zenak reached the muddy banks of the Volski. He had decided to detour off the road to Soci and go into Gaston. He hoped that someone would know about his family and possibly had seen them. He had to dismount Gam for the banks were too treacherous from the mud for a mark to carry a rider. Zenak walked along the river until he came to the place where the bridge stood only two days before. There was no way to cross the river except to ford it. This was an unpleasant alternative for Zenak because even though the Volski was back to its normal size it was still at least three quarters of a karn across. Zenak did not mind the swim, in fact, he was an excellent swimmer, but he was worried about Gam. A large animal such as Gam was not accustomed to swimming and the many years of building on bulk strength to make Gam even stronger made the crossing even more dangerous. It would take every ounce of strength for Gam to stay above water. But Zenak resigned himself to the fact that there was no other way. He was just about to direct Gam into the water when he noticed two saddled, riderless marks drinking from the muddy river just a little upriver. Zenak left Gam by the side of the river and ran to the marks to see where they were from. As he suspected the royal emblem of Balbania and Deparne was on the saddles. A look of frustration and consternation crossed Zenak's chiseled face when he recognized Mara's mark. But what had happened to her? From the look of the marks they had not had a rider in quite a while. Could it be that his wife and child were dead as a result of the raging storm the night before? Zenak did not even want to think of that possibility. He could not bear such a fate for the only two people he had ever loved. It was strange for Zenak to feel that way for he had known death and seen so much of it through the many battles he had fought. But he could not bear the thought of death for his two loved ones even though he never feared it him­self. He looked in vain throughout the immediate area but it was too much for one man to undertake. The brush a little farther up the bank was so thick that it would take him days to look in the area where he found the marks much less the area where they may have come from. So he decided to recruit the loyal citizens of Gaston to help him search for his family. Maybe his family was in Gaston resting from the storm and no recruiting would be necessary. But in case he had to call on Gaston to help him he would once again assume his title of king and take advantage of it to raise a search party.

He rushed back to Gam and pulled the loyal, but frighten­ed, mark toward the lazy river. Gam was visibly frightened and Zenak had to calm him down by patting him on the nose and speaking softly to him to coax him into the river. Many riders would have whipped their marks into the river but Zenak had no need for such force for he and Gam were as close as animal and man could be. Finally, Gam gave in and carefully went into the water. The crossing was rough and at least twice Zenak had to grab Gam's head and hold it above the water so the heavy war mark would not drown. They made it to the other side, though, and Gam quickly clambered onto the land while Zenak lumbered up behind him.

“I'd rather fight an army than go through this again,” Zenak said to himself. “That was some swim, eh, Gam,” Zenak said to his mark. Gam shook his head and whinnied louder than Zenak had ever heard him.

“Yes, Gam, I'm sure that you are cheering for a battle well done. Sometimes it is more rewarding to conquer Nature than an entire kingdom for kingdoms may come and go but the lady Nature is always at our backs threatening us with death and destruction.”

Zenak quickly mounted Gam and said, “We ride now, my mark. We ride like the wind for Gaston. For the faster we arrive the faster we will save our loved ones.”

Gam whinnied again and then took off to the town where only a week earlier the army had feasted, drunk, and whored in celebra­tion of the great victory over the mercenaries. The swiftness of the ride exhilarated both Gam and Zenak as the wind whipped across their wet bodies drying them quickly. As Zenak rode he passed a squat, stone jail that he gave no notice to. Little did he know that inside it was his only ally.

The main street of Gaston was bustling with business. The party had ended about two hours earlier and the people were busy setting things straight that the storm had destroyed. Many of the stores were already cleaned and open for business, in fact, a few shoppers were already haggling in the open-air shops which sold everything from grains to diamonds. Gaston was the center of trade for the eastern part of Deparne and because of this, a shopper could find almost anything he or she wanted in the small, thatched open-air stores that stood on the edge of the shopping district. The shopping district itself was rather large and considering that Gaston had only 2,000 inhabitants, the main street of town had all the best stores where a shopper could find anything from a spicy sausage from the northern mountains of Cambi to a hand-stitched embroidered dress from Lombaba, the fashion capital of the Island. It was amazing how fast the people could set things straight after the storm: it was al­most as if the storm was ten years in the past instead of a few hours.

Zenak reached the main street almost at a full gallop and with­out even stopping Gam, he jumped off his mark in the busiest part of the street. Gam came to an immediate halt when the weight of his master was not upon him any longer. Zenak looked magnificent. His muscles rippled even as he stood still. And his blond hair waved lightly in the soft breeze that blew across the street. But his cold, dark eyes in his sunburned, scarred, chiseled face told the story of a man who was bent on one task. The people standing in the vicinity were awestruck when his thunderous voice boomed out to announce the reason for his being in Gaston. But they were not awestruck for long.

“Your King Zenak has come to ask the loyal citizens of—”

Before Zenak could finish his request, his voice was drown­ed out by the fierce cries that came from the lips of every woman, man, and child who saw him.

“It is King Zenak,” yelled a man. “We must kill him.”

“Yes, I will tell the rest of the town that this scourge has crossed our borders,” another man yelled out as he ran down the street.

Zenak was bewildered but even his bewilderment did not slow his reflexes. He immediately whipped out his mighty broad­sword and stood prepared for what was apparently next to come. His foresight was not in error either, for no sooner had he unsheathed his sword, than he was attacked by three young men bear­ing down on him with pitchforks poised to kill. But they were no match for this seasoned warrior and in moments the three attackers lay on the ground amidst their blood and brains.

“What is going on?” Zenak yelled to the people. But the answer that was given to him was a rain of stones.

By this time everyone in town was rounded up and they surrounded Zenak. They looked as if they were moving statues. Their eyes showed no emotion but their faces were con­vulsed with hatred.

“Gam, quickly” Zenak said to his loyal war mark. Gam came close. Zenak was going to mount Gam when he heard someone yell attack.

He turned around and saw the people attacking him from all sides. The men had swords in their hands and the women and children had knives and sticks. Zenak couldn't believe what he was seeing. In no time the attackers struck and Zenak was surrounded by enraged, insane people. Zenak stood next to Gam and fought valiantly. His sword was bashing skulls, crushing breastbones, and slicing legs off the seemingly endless attackers. One man whose legs had been severed by a swift stroke from Zenak, crawled toward Zenak with a dagger in his mouth. Zenak was hor­rified but before he could do anything about this, Gam stomped on the man's head spreading his brains all over the already blood-drenched cobblestones.

Finally, there was a slight break and Zenak, seizing the chance, jumped on Gam and proceeded to leave this strange predic­ament he found himself in. But to his dismay he saw that all escape was blocked by raging men frothing at the mouth and with hatred written all over their faces. When the people first at­tacked, Zenak felt a deep sense of pity, but the pity he had for these people left his soul and he no longer looked upon them with sympathy. They were his enemies and he was going to make short work of them so he could find his wife and child. He let out the blood-curdling western war cry and then bolted to­ward a group of charging men waiving his broadsword in the air. Five men fell quickly under his whirling blade and any man who dared stand near Gam either had his neck and head torn asunder by Gam's razor-like teeth or had his bowels ripped from his body by Gam's razor-fitted hooves. Zenak was still shocked; he had never encountered such ferocity as these men displayed. From all sides people bent on his destruction attacked him and had it not been for his swiftness of hand and Gam's great fight­ing, Zenak would have been lying dead after the first charge from these hypnotized killers. The havoc Zenak was creating was enormous—blood and mangled bodies were knee-deep—but no amount of atrocities could stop these townspeople from attack­ing. Zenak had to keep killing. One man jumped on the back of Gam trying to get at Zenak from the rear, but Zenak was too fast and grabbed the man by his neck and broke it while at the same time guiding his sword through three knife-wielding men disemboweling them. The people were dropping like flies as Zenak cleaved skulls and ripped into the hearts of others with his sword.

Finally these maddened people pulled back into a circle around Zenak. Apparently, they were not so mad as to realize that they had to change their strategy. Zenak sat on Gam in the middle of the circle; he was alone, except for the piles of dead bodies that surrounded them. One man, near Gam's left foot, was screaming in agony as he clutched a stump where a leg once was. Gam put him out of misery by driving one of his razor hooves through the man's skull.

“What have I done? Are you all mad?” Zenak questioned. A note of shock and dismay shook his mighty voice. But the Gastonian men said nothing. They just stood staring at Zenak as if he were the deadliest scourge ever to be born. The women had been herded into a nearby building by some of the old men and they, along with their children, stood at their windows with rocks in their hands ready to throw at Zenak.

A small man crooked from age walked slowly up to the mayor of the town and whispered in the mayor's ear. The mayor shook his head affirmatively and smiled slyly as he looked at Zenak with cold eyes. The mayor then told the man next to him and within moments the entire circle knew the old man's secret. Zenak had strained to hear what was said but couldn't hear a word. Zenak knew, however, that he was the subject of this se­cret and that it probably was not to his benefit. So he pushed to the eastern point of the circle and to his surprise received no resistance. He sped through and after getting out of the circle wheeled Gam around and brought him to a halt. He looked questioningly at the townsfolk.

“Answer me this,” Zenak called out, “have you seen my wife and son?” The people said nothing. “Well, Gam, we have a choice. Do we head for Soci or do we cross back over the Volski and look for Mara? My instincts tell me that this town is insane be­cause of some spell that Vokar put on them. My instincts also tell me that I was correct in believing that Vokar is heading for Soci and he has my wife and child with him. I'm sure he believes he can take over Soci. How little he knows. How he is getting there without marks is beyond me unless they have other marks. But we will find out soon enough.”

Zenak looked down the road that led for Soci then he looked at the quietly staring people. He shook his head, turned Gam around, and bolted off.

He had ridden no further than a centikarn down the road when a large, thin-stranded net popped up in front of him and Gam. They never saw the net on the street for it had been covered by the dirt on the road and it popped up with such speed and surprise that Zenak was not able to stop Gam in time. As he fell to the ground Zenak thought to himself that this was the secret that had passed around the circle earlier. The people knew that he was trapped. How could he have been so stupid, he thought to himself.

Gam and Zenak were hopelessly tangled and Zenak was stab­bed in the hand as Gam kicked at the net trying to get out.

Zenak himself was frantically hacking at the net with his sword but he was so badly tangled that no amount of cutting seemed to help. All of a sudden he was pounced upon by three huge men. Even though he was trapped in this web, Zenak mana­ged to slay two of these attackers by disemboweling one and crushing the skull of another one with the hilt of his sword. But before he could send the third man to the afterlife, six more men pounced on Zenak grabbing his arms and legs and rendering him helpless. Zenak, however, would not be quieted and he kept thrashing about until the mayor smashed a wooden hammer onto Zenak's skull. As Zenak faded into unconsciousness he saw his beloved Gam killed by the spears, knives, pitchforks, and swords of these insane townsfolk.

Zenak woke up in a damp cell. He was chained to the moldy wall of the cell and was stripped of all his weapons. His head ached and even the slightest movement of his head was a ponderous task. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the small cell, but when he could see he noticed Tak looking at him in quiet expectation.

“Who are you?” Zenak asked Tak groggily.

“My name is Tak. I am a great hunter and am at the service of you, King Zenak,” Tak said proudly.

“We are in the service of each other, for we must help each other out,” Zenak corrected. “Do you know what they have in store for us?”

“Yes, they plan to kill us at sunup,” Tak said.

“Do you know why?” Zenak asked.

“You've got me. Only two days ago the townspeople loved me as I love them still, but now they want to kill me because I mentioned your name,” Tak said.

“Because you mentioned my name?” Zenak asked. He looked sullenly at the young hunter.