The Kalkara screamed its victory to the night sky. Black blood streamed down its face. Never in its life had it felt such pain as these three puny men had inflicted on it. And now they would die for presuming to stand against it. But the primitive intelligence that drove it wanted its moment of triumph and it screamed again and again over the three helpless men.
Will watched, horrified. A thought was forming, an idea was lurking somewhere at the edge of his mind. He looked to one side, saw the flickering torch that Baron Arald had discarded. Fire. The one weapon that could defeat the Kalkara. But he was forty meters away…
He whipped an arrow from his quiver, slipping from the saddle and running lightly to the flickering torch. A good supply of sticky, melted pitch had run down the handle of the torch and he quickly rolled the arrowhead in the soft, clinging stuff, forming a huge gobbet of it on the arrow. Then he placed it in the flame until it flared to life.
Forty meters away, the huge evil creature was satisfying its need for triumph, its screams rolling and echoing through the night as it stood over the two bodies – Halt unconscious, Baron Arald in a daze of pain. Sir Rodney still stood, frozen in place, hands dangling helplessly by his side as he waited for his death. Now the Kalkara raised one massive, taloned paw to strike him down and all the knight could feel was the paralyzing terror of its gaze.
Will brought the arrow back to full draw, wincing at the pain as the flames singed against his bow hand. He raised his aim point a little to allow for the extra weight of the pitch, and released.
The arrow soared in a spark-trailing arc, the wind of its passage subduing the flame to a mere coal. The Kalkara saw the flash of light coming and turned to look, sealing its own fate as the arrow struck it square in its massive chest.
It barely penetrated an inch into the hard, scale-like hair. But as the arrow came to a halt, the little flame flared again, the bonding material in the hair around it caught, and the flame began to spread with incredible speed.
Now the Kalkara's screams had terror in then as it felt the touch of fire – the one thing in life it feared.
The monster beat at the flames on its chest with its paws but that served only to spread the fire to its arms. There was a sudden rush of red flame and in seconds the Kalkara was engulfed, burning from head to toe, rushing blindly in circles in a vain attempt to escape. The screams were nonstop, piercing, reaching higher and higher into a scale of agony that the mind could barely comprehend as the rush of flames grew fiercer with each second.
And then the screaming stopped and the creature was dead.
Chapter 31
THE INN AT WENSLEY VILLAGE WAS FULL OF MUSIC AND laughter and noise. Will sat at a table with Horace, Alyss and Jenny, while the innkeeper plied them with a succulent dinner of roast goose and farm fresh vegetables, followed by a delicious blueberry pie whose flaky pastry won even Jenny's approval.
It had been Horace's idea to celebrate Will's return to Castle Redmont with a feast. The two girls had agreed immediately, eager for a break in their day-to-day lives, which now seemed rather humdrum compared to the events that Will had been part of.
Naturally, word of the battle with the Kalkara had gone around the village like wildfire – an appropriate simile, Will thought as it occurred to him. As he entered the inn with his friends that evening, an expectant hush had fallen over the room and every eye had turned toward him. He was grateful for the deep cowl on his cloak, which concealed his rapidly reddening features. His three companions sensed his embarrassment. Jenny, as ever, was the quickest to react, and to break the silence that filled the inn. "Come on, you solemn lot!" she cried to the musicians by the fireplace. "Let's have some music in here! And some chatter if you please!" She added the second suggestion with a meaningful glance at the other occupants in the room.
The musicians took their cue from her. Jenny was a difficult person to refuse. They quickly struck up a popular local folk tune and the sound filled the room. The other villagers gradually realized that their attention was making Will uncomfortable. They remembered their manners and began talking among themselves again, only occasionally casting glances his way, marveling that one so apparently young could have been part of such momentous events.
The four former wardmates took their seats at a table at the back of the room, where they could talk without interruption. "George sent his apologies," Alyss said as they took their seats. "He's snowed under with paperwork – the entire Scribeschool is working day and night." Will nodded his understanding. The impending war with Morgarath, and the need to mobilize troops and call in old alliances, must have created a mountain of paperwork.
So much had happened in the ten days since the battle with the Kalkara.
Making camp by the ruins, Rodney and Will had tended to the wounds of Baron Arald and Halt, finally settling the two men into a restful sleep. The following morning saw the arrival of a leg-weary Gilan, riding a sway-backed plow horse. The tall Ranger gratefully reclaimed Blaze. Then, after being reassured that his former master was in no danger, he set off almost immediately for his own fief, after Will promised to return the plow horse to its owner.
Later in the day, Will, Halt, Rodney and Arald had returned to Castle Redmont, where they were all plunged into the nonstop activity of preparing the castle's fighting men for war. There were a thousand and one details to be handled, messages to be delivered and summonses sent out. With Halt still recuperating from his wound, a great deal of this work had fallen to Will.
In times like these, he realized, a Ranger had little chance for relaxation, which made this evening such a welcome diversion. The innkeeper bustled importantly to their table and set down four glass tankards and a jug of the nonalcoholic beer he brewed from ginger root before them. "No charge for this table tonight," he said. "We're privileged to have you in our establishment, Ranger." He moved away, calling to one of his serving boys to come and attend the Ranger's table, "And be quick smart about it!" Alyss raised one eyebrow in amazement. "Nice to be with a celebrity," she said. "Old Skinner usually holds on to a coin so tight, the king's head suffocates." Will made a dismissive gesture. "People exaggerate things," he said. But Horace leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "So tell us about the fight," he said, eager for details. Jenny looked wide-eyed at Will. "I can't believe how brave you were!" she said admiringly. "I would have been terrified. "Actually, I was petrified," Will told them with a rueful grin. "The Baron and Sir Rodney were the brave ones. They charged in and took those creatures on at close quarters. I was forty or fifty meters away the whole time. " He described the events of the battle, without going into too much detail in his description of the Kalkara. They were dead and gone now, he thought, and best forgotten as soon as possible. Some things didn't need dwelling on. The three others listened, Jenny wide-eyed and excited, Horace eager for details of the fight and Alyss calm and dignified as ever, but totally engrossed in his story. As he described his solo ride to summon help, Horace shook his head in admiration.
"Those Ranger horses must be a breed apart," he said. Will grinned at him, unable to resist the jibe that rose to his mind.
"The trick is staying on them," he said, and was pleased to see a matching grin spread over Horace's face as they both remembered the scene at the Harvest Day Fair. He realized, with a small glow of pleasure, that his relationship with Horace had evolved into a firm friendship, with each viewing the other as an equal. Eager to slip out of the spotlight, he asked Horace how life was progressing in Battleschool. The grin on the bigger boy's face widened.