Resurrection (Book 1: The Chronicles of Chaos) Read online

  Chapter 5

  The Watcher and his Wraiths had made slow progress returning to Blackheart Castle. The way had been blocked on several occasions. Wishing to keep the presence of the human child a secret, The Watcher had adopted a stealthy approach to his journey. After leaving the ferry, the first day’s travel had been rather uneventful. This was just the way The Watcher wanted the journey to go. Two Wraiths scouted the land ahead, to make sure that nothing was likely to see him. The inhabitants of the Cursed Isle feared The Watcher. However, a lot of them were ruled by primal instincts. Food was one such instinct. Many of the undead races on the island would attack anything for food. Man-child, as human children were commonly known, was one of the most sought after foods there was. Fierce battles between races would ensue if the opportunity to eat man-child ever arose.

  The first sign of trouble came on that first night. The daytime was generally quiet on the Cursed Isle. Most of its denizens were creatures of the night; those that did roam during the day tended to be less primeval and more in control of their instincts. This is why The Watcher and his party were moving during the day. As the party moved across a dense marshland, one of the scouts returned.

  “Master, there is trouble ahead.” The Wraith said.

  “What is it?” The Watcher asked bluntly.

  “A party of Ogres are attacking a band of Orcs. It looks like feeding time for them.”

  “What direction are they heading in?” The Watcher demanded.

  “This way, Master. They are heading this way.”

  The Watcher paused for thought. Ogres were probably the only race that he did not want to run into. They were a race of huge, powerful monsters. They had the appearance of humans but the desires of Zombies. Food and devastation were the only things they were interested in. A small Ogre would probably be about ten feet tall. A large one could be up to twenty feet tall. This made them difficult to defeat in open combat.

  “What is the terrain like further on?” The Watcher enquired.

  “It is all marsh land. The only thing that is different in a ten mile radius is the spider caves.”

  The options were hardly startling but if given the choice of fending off an attack by Ogres or spiders, The Watcher would choose spiders every time.

  They headed to the spider caves with great haste. The cave had a massive entrance that narrowed considerably just a few feet in. It split into a series of smaller tunnels, each heading in a different direction. This wasn’t just the layer of a single spider. It was the layer of many. One of the Wraiths was sent to monitor the trail of the Ogres. The other three were sent to scout the tunnels. The goblins in the party stayed with The Watcher and the child. They were to be the cannon fodder if an attack occurred.

  Almost an hour had passed with no word from the Wraiths and no sign that anything had detected them. Suddenly, from one of the tunnels, a piercing scream was heard. One of the Wraiths was in trouble. The noise awoke the baby and it began to cry. The Watcher did not like this. The cries from the baby would give away their position before they were ready. From the tunnels, two of the Wraiths returned.

  “The spiders are following, Master” The first shrieked.

  “Defensive positions” The Watcher ordered.

  The goblins drew their swords and formed the front line only feet from the entrance to the tunnels. The remaining Wraiths formed up on either side of The Watcher. At the first sign of movement from the tunnels, The Watcher began an incantation. Fire formed in the palms of his hands. At the end of the incantation he pointed towards two of the entrances. Fire burst forth from each hand, creating a barrier of flame in the tunnel entrances. There was still one tunnel that remained unblocked. It would take time for The Watcher to be able to conjure up any more magic. The first spider sprung out of the entrance at such speed, one of the goblins had been caught in the pincers of the spider before anyone could react. The two sharp spikes penetrated the ribs of the Goblin, crushing the life out of it. The other three goblins began hacking at the legs of the spider. It was huge. Its long legs made it difficult for the goblins to strike a blow at its body. It used all of its legs to defend itself. The spider turned to face another goblin. It lunged forwards. The goblin jumped backwards, landing straight in front of the tunnel entrance. The goblin readied itself for making a counter attack. Suddenly, something grabbed it from behind. The goblin disappeared into the tunnel. The screams were chilling. The spider engaged in battle with the party made short work of another goblin before The Watcher stepped forward. He swung his huge black blade with such force; it sliced through the spider’s two front legs. The spider fell forward onto its face. As it landed, The Watcher’s blade crashed through the centre of the spider, halving its body like a knife slicing an apple. The Watcher could feel that his power had returned. He began his incantation again. The spiders in the tunnel had feasted on the goblin that had been dragged in. They were now moving down the tunnel to get more food. They needed to be kept at bay. The remaining goblin stood trembling with fear. Its eyes were focused on the approaching doom. Suddenly he was lifted off the ground. The Wraiths picked the goblin up and tossed him deep into the cave. Again the screams echoed down the tunnels. This distraction had given The Watcher just enough time to finish his spell. Another ball of fire burst forth from his hand. The last entrance was sealed. Magical fire would burn until the caster was a good distance away. They were safe for the time being.

  Later that night the Wraith who had been monitoring the Ogres returned.

  “It is safe, Master. We can continue.”

  With that they left the cave and journeyed on.

  Sunset brought the journey over the marshland to a close. They now had to cross the badlands. This was the name given to a series of large fields that were no more than flat terrain. However, long ago, the mountain at the southern end of the badlands; was a volcano. It had been dormant for many years now but all the rock that it had spewed forth many years ago had landed around this area. As such the landscape was now very rocky and jagged. It was difficult to cross at any great speed. It also had plenty of hiding places for the islands many creatures. The primary inhabitants of the badlands were the skeletons; evil human warriors re-animated as mindless monsters. Some of the skeletons still had memories of former lives; all had memories of former skills. The degree of decomposition to their brains determined their communication ability. Skeletons were motivated by power and death. They were the most organised race on the island. They required no food and no water to survive. They were dead already. Their bodies were reanimated many centuries ago by the evil gods. The only problem is that their numbers are finite. No skeleton has to power to reanimate more. The numbers they have at the moment, however considerable, would not swell unless some magical being would make it so. The Watcher was not too worried about the skeletons. They would not attack him or his Wraiths. The child however, was another matter. The magical aura surrounding the child may give the skeletons the illusion that she could be used to reanimate more of their followers. The Watcher had barely stepped foot onto the badlands when a group of skeletons made their presence known. The nature of the land afforded many places for the skeletons to hide their bones until they were ready to rise. This would make it difficult for the party to detect nearby threats.

  “What do we have here? A human child?” The skeleton said more to himself than to The Watcher.

  “Step aside, Skeleton. We are returning this child to Blackheart Castle.” The Watcher replied.

  “This child is magical, I can feel it.” The skeleton began, reaching a bony hand towards Isabelle then quickly withdrawing it again. “What do you intend to do with it?”

  “The child has been chosen to house the spirit of Bhryll.” The Watcher proclaimed.

  The skeleton group took a collective pace backwards.

  “You would resurrect the God of Chaos?”

  Random whispers were going through the skeleton group.

  “He will be resurrected. Or
der will be restored to the denizens of the Curse Isle. The living world will descend into Chaos.” The Watcher stated.

  “Would we be able to reanimate more into our order?” the skeleton enquired.

  “You would have all the numbers you desire, providing you swear your allegiance to Bhryll.”

  A discussion broke out amongst the skeletons. After a few minutes they turned back to The Watcher.

  “We have decided to escort you on your journey back to Blackheart Castle.” The skeleton said. “After all, we wish no ill to befall you. We know these parts well. Follow me.”

  The party set off. The badlands were behind them by early the next morning. The journey now led them to ascend the lower foothills of the mountain, across Pitfall Pass and down into the valley of the tortured souls. This was to be the final stretch of the journey before reaching the safety of the castle. The valley was home to bugbears. These were hybrid creatures of fierce rage. They were half bear and half ant. This gave them a number of advantages. Their bear characteristics brought them immense strength and unmatched aggression. It also brought them size, bulk and speed. Their ant characteristics gave them a solid exoskeleton that protected them from even the heaviest blow from the sharpest blade. They could also lift many times their own body weight. They were a territorial race and would attack anything that entered their land.

  Again, the Wraiths scouted ahead trying to find the easiest route through. Bugbears did not act in an organised manner. They were scattered randomly around the valley. Many hours passed without incident. The group had been spotted on a number of occasions but were ignored. The steps leading up to Blackheart Castle came into view. They were still a mile away but they could be seen rising crookedly up the face of a sheer cliff. The castle sat at the top, looking over the valley like a god looking down on the earth. Nothing was ever easy though. It seemed that something had attracted the bugbears to this end of the valley. There were hundreds of them. The skeletons behind The Watcher were suddenly scattered all over the ground; a couple even being tossed into the air. Everyone turned. A bugbear had attacked from behind. The skeletons hacked at the exoskeleton of the bugbear. No damage was done. With a single swing of its huge arm, the bugbear sent skeletons flying. The Wraiths moved in. The first hacked at the bugbear. The impact made no impression. With both arms the bugbear hammered the Wraith. A loud popping noise echoed out around the valley. The Wraith’s body had been crushed so easily, it could have been an egg. The only weakness in a bugbear’s armour was around its legs. The exoskeleton was both weak and holed to allow flexibility and movement.

  “Aim for the legs” Screamed The Watcher.

  The skeletons duly obliged. More went flying with the force of another blow from the bugbear. The tactic was working however. Many blows later, one of the legs was severed. The bugbear howled with pain. The skeletons went to work on the other leg. It came off swiftly.

  “Now leave it to bleed to death” The Watcher commanded.

  They moved on. The howls of the bugbear continued to echo down the valley. Unexpectedly, it served as a warning to the other bugbears in the Valley. They did not approach the party. Upon reaching the stairs leading up the cliff, the skeletons departed; returning to the badlands. The Watcher and the two remaining Wraiths ascended the steps. Days and nights had passed but they had made it back, giving little indication to the inhabitants of the island as to what lay ahead. As they approached the castle walls The Watcher gave out a command.

  “Wraiths, go ahead and make preparations for the child.”

  With haste they forged ahead.

  Isabelle Turner spent her first night in Blackheart Castle.

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