Zenak (11 page)

Tak nodded in the affirmative and then gave his theory in a rare instance of gabbiness. “It has to be sorcery of some kind for how could a whole town go mad at once? The woman I slept with during the storm spit on me as if she had not beg­ged the night before for my hard loving. I feel that the same sorcery made the storm stop as quickly as it did. Did you not question the sudden stop of the storm? I slept through it, but when I heard a recounting of what happened just before I killed the blacksmith, I questioned it.”

“No,” Zenak said. “I question few things anymore. Maybe I should question more,” he said thoughtfully silent for a moment as he thought of his blundering into the trap that the townspeople had laid. He thought about Gam. He then con­tinued, “You are right Tak—it is sorcery. The most evil kind you will ever find. It is the evil sorcery of Vokar. Yes, the insanity of this town is really no different from the forest and Magaz.”

“Vokar! The great priest of our religion?” Tak asked.

“Yes. And he has abducted Mara and the prince,” Zenak said.

“Abducted the queen and the prince! We are at the gates of some dark days. What do you mean that it is no different than Magaz and the forest?” Tak asked.

“I'll explain later,” Zenak said. “Now we must try and escape for there is not much of the night left.”

“Yes, it is only a couple of hours before sunup. You were unconscious for most of the night,” Tak said.

So with just the full moon silently and softly lighting the interior of the cell, Tak and Zenak concentrated all their strength to be free from their chained bondage. Rivers of sweat poured from their bodies as they wracked themselves pulling on the chains. Every muscle in both their bodies swel­led and pulsed and attempted to reach an even higher plateau of strength as they strained at their chains. Blood flowed from their wrists where they were manacled. Tak, whose strength was almost equal to Zenak's, was making better progress than the king. The townspeople made sure to get the heaviest chains they had for Zenak. They had not been so careful with Tak.

Slowly, very slowly, the long hooks that connected Tak's chains to the wall were slipping and this urged Tak to even greater strengths. Zenak gave the boy confidence with his gruff urgings and finally when the first ray of sunlight kissed the earth Tak pulled himself free from the wall. Zenak looked at Tak with a glow of pride that normally would only be seen on a father's face. Then Tak grabbed the base of Zenak's chains and with Zenak also pulling, the two giants were free in no time. It was not a moment too soon, for an instant after Zenak had been freed from his chains, the sound of the cell door being unlocked broke the quiet of the morning.

“Quick, to the wall,” Zenak said. Both men went back to the wall and put their arms up in the chained position that they were left in the day before. The door opened with a squeak and three burly men walked in,

“Well, did we have a nice night?” one of the Gastonians asked sarcastically.

That was the last word he was ever to speak as a mortal man. Zenak sprang like a tiger and wrapped a chain around the man's neck, snapping it. The guard fell to the dirt floor his head flopping to the side. His eyes were wide open in frustra­tion and surprise. No sooner had Zenak surprised the first guard with death than Tak jumped the second guard and finished him off in split seconds by grabbing the guard under his sternum with his hand and ripping the man's chest from his body. The blood of the guard's heart flaying outside its owner's body splattered all over the two fighters. Undaunted by the all too well-known juice of war Tak and Zenak did away with the third guard, who was too stunned by what was happening to move, by ramming him into the back wall and smashing his head against the cold stone. The man dropped to the floor in his own blood while bits of his brain on the wall dripped piece by piece on­to his bloody, convulsing body. Tak and Zenak each took a sword from the dead men and ran outside into the fresh day. From a short distance the two men saw the townspeople walking deliberately toward them. It looked as if no one in the crowd had slept. Their clothes were wrinkled, their hair was tousled, and their eyes were sunk deep in their skulls. Insanity had totally taken over the town and the pitchforks they were carrying were not for pitching hay. The crowd discerned Tak and Zenak and angrily broke into a run toward the two warriors.

“Blasted short sword,” Zenak said as he waived the sword he had taken from the guard in the cell. He looked around and saw his great broadsword and regalia hanging on the outside of the jail. Happily, he threw the guard's sword to the ground and retrieved his own mighty broadsword. He also took Tak's weapon and threw them to him. Tak fondled his sword lovingly and smiled at Zenak.

“For the queen and prince of Deparne,” yelled Zenak as rushed the oncoming mob.

“For the queen, the prince, and the king of Deparne,” Tak yelled. He firmly grabbed his own trusty sword and ran at Zenak's side into the wild townspeople.

Like the madmen they were attacking, Zenak and Tak went into the mesmerized fighting crowd and carved through the people as if the townsfolk had no weapons at all. To Zenak it was senseless slaughter. To Tak it was the death of lifelong friends and lovers. Tears streamed down his young face while he sliced through the maddened crowd.

Zenak and Tak killed at least a dozen people when they entered the melee. Blood was spilling all over and the women and children who were armed cried out in pain when the two mighty arms drove their mighty swords through them as one would cut through butter. Heads fell and guts spilled all around the two reapers of death. The mayor, armed with a short spear and a sword, fought Zenak alone for a moment and put up a valiant fight until Zenak finished him off with a whimsical slice to the top of the mayor's head causing the mayor's brain to spatter all over. No matter how much havoc and slaughter Zenak and Tak created, the people were not stopped from pressing forward to their deaths. The day before they had been more cautious, but today abandon was tossed to the wind. The sleepless night the townsfolk spent, a curse every person mesmerized by Vokar was to carry with them, had driven them totally insane. So Tak and Zenak, standing back to back, were slowly and methodically wiping out an entire town.

“My King,” Tak called out, “I cannot stand it, I cannot kill any more of my people.

“Even I loathe such killing,” Zenak said. “Where are the stables?”

“Over there, to the right,” answered Tak as he shot his sword through one of his classmates.

“Yes, I see them. Let's run for them and find two swift marks. We will leave the remaining people to bury their dead. Watch out, Tak, to your left.”

Tak wheeled around and jammed his sword into the neck of one of his adversaries. Tak almost threw up from disgust and sadness as he saw his father's severed head roll from his massive body onto the dusty street.

“My father?” the young hunter yelled. Tak dropped his sword and four men took advantage of his grief and rushed in to finish off their supposed enemy. Zenak, however, was quicker and jumped in to save his new-found friend from certain death. A parry and a head was severed; then a thrust or two did away with two other men; and then a swipe to the right dismembered the fourth attacker.

“Let's go!” ordered Zenak. Then he grabbed the dazed boy and forced him to run by his side. At first Tak was too dazed to run, but he soon regained his composure and kept up with Zenak.

The people were not going to let them get away so easily, however. As soon as they realized that Zenak and Tak were running away, they took after them as if their lives depended on it. Tak turned around and saw the crowd close behind them. Even the old women were running fast.

“We'd better hurry, they are close behind,” Tak said to Zenak.

“No problem, when we get to the stables you shut the doors as quickly as possible,” Zenak said. “I'll get the marks.”

As soon as they entered the stables, Tak bolted the stable door shut and Zenak grabbed two marks. The crowd hurled itself against the shut door. They were banging and clamoring on it as they tried to get at the two men. It was as if a pack of wild, rabid ryaks were outside the stable.

Zenak picked the stable master's riding mark. This animal was black, sleek, beautiful, and the swiftest animal in town. Tak's mark was white with a black mane and a black tail. It was a bit heavier than Zenak's mark and thus not as swift. But it could still outrun any war mark. So, since speed was the only requisite for Tak and Zenak to release themselves from this af­flicted town, these two marks were perfect for them.

“You picked a fine mark,” Tak said to Zenak as Zenak finished looping the saddle on.

“I have an eye for marks, ale, and swords,” Zenak replied. “I love them all.” A note of sadness crossed Zenak's voice as the memory of his faithful Gam came to him. For a moment the clamoring of the townsfolk of Gaston on the other side of the door was blocked out of Zenak's mind. Instead, he thought of Gam and all the good and bad times they had had together. He could see Gam and himself crashing into battle wreaking havoc all around. He could see Gam setting into motion his fierce hooves as Zenak plowed the riders down. He remembered the many times that he would have died had it not been for the quick responses of his faithful mark. Zenak also thought of the happy times when he would take a woman to a stream and drink wine with her. How he loved to drink wine, be with a woman, and watch his magnificent war mark frolic in the fields as if he were a mark-colt. But now it was over, his mark of many years was dead; killed by people who knew not what they were doing. Zenak came back to reality and listened in anger at the screaming and cursing people outside the stable door.

“Let's get out of here,” Zenak said to Tak.

The two men mounted their marks and went to the stable door.

“Try not to kill anymore people,” Tak asked Zenak. “They are still my people and I still love them no matter what has over­taken them.”

“I'll try,” Zenak replied.

Zenak bent down and unbolted the door. Then he and Tak backed up and waited for the Gastonians to open the door. They did not have to wait long. For no sooner had Zenak unbolted the door and he and Tak had backed up, than the door was flung open by the crowd. At first there was not a sound to be heard from the crowd or the two protagonists. The people just stared at Zenak and Tak with red, swollen, glaring eyes. The two men stared back. Tak felt as if he would cry when he saw the crazed state his friends and relatives were in and Zenak felt sick with disgust as he looked at the blank faces. Then one of the leaders of the crowd gave a loud war whoop and the crowd attacked Zenak and Tak.

“No killing,” Tak yelled out. Zenak looked at Tak in disbelief for how were they to escape? Then he had an idea. Zenak grabbed a pitchfork and broke off the fork. Tak did the same and the two of them spurred their marks into the crowd with their new­ly made clubs spinning. The clubs were effective. They were strong enough to knock an attacker down but usually the club would cause no damage. So as the two heroes pushed their marks through the crowd to effectuate their escape, no one in the town was hurt bad­ly and none of the townspeople were killed. The people, however, were doing anything they could to get at Zenak and Tak and to kill them. It was all Zenak could do to keep from unsheathing his sword when he saw men attacking him with spears and swords. But his club was efficient and usually, as it was when he was wielding his broadsword, it only took a couple of strokes to put the antago­nists down on the ground either knocked out or dazed from the battering club. Finally, they were free of the doorway and almost free of the crowd. Tak was happy that no one else was killed and Zenak was also satisfied at these bloodless results. Then a silent arrow struck Tak in his back and stuck out of his chest. Tak wheel­ed on his mark and valiantly tried to keep riding, but he fell to the ground. Zenak was stunned. He felt as if he had seen his own son die in battle. Then Zenak quickly pulled his dagger and threw it into the assassin's chest. The young girl, Tak's lover of only two days prior, fell to the ground grasping the dagger helplessly. Zenak was angry for he had clubbed this girl earlier as she attacked him with a spear. He should have killed her.

The sight of blood enraged Zenak even more and he drew his great broadsword and discarded the club. He was going to bury it into every man, woman, and child in the town. Revenge was going to be sweet, for this town had killed his loyal mark and his only friend on this harrowing journey in search of his beloved Mara and child. But as he was prepared to do this revengeful deed, Zenak glanced at Tak and saw the young man staring intently at his king.

“No more, kill no more,” Tak mouthed to Zenak, then his head slumped to the ground never to rise again. The young hunter still had love in his heart, love that Zenak had lost from years of fighting and killing. Zenak, still poised for the slaughter, stared at the young man. He looked at the crowd of people massing together preparing to charge him. They were a pitiful lot. Many of them were bleeding from minor wounds and all of them stared at Zenak from eyes that were not theirs. They were sleep­less, hypnotized eyes set deep in their sockets and red from no sleep and madness. Zenak sheathed his sword and looked west. There were no obstacles now so he kicked the black riding mark and quickly rode out of Gaston. As he rode out he passed the maggot-riddled corpse of his beloved Gam. He did not give the corpse a second glance but rode right by. A close inspection of Zenak would have revealed tears welling up in his eyes. He and Gam had known many good and bad times.

He stopped his mark about a half karn from the town on a hillock and saw his short-lived friend's body being hacked at by the townsfolk with their swords and pitchforks.

“Vokar shall die for this,” Zenak swore to himself. Then he let out the loud clear resounding western war whoop, turned his mark back toward Soci, and rode into the night and out of Gas­ton forever.