falscastra - journey to the king (preview chapters)

8/18/2019 Falscastra - Journey to the King (preview chapters)

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Falscastra:Journey to the King


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Falscastra:

Journey to the King

Peter Baade

2016


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Copyright © 2016 by Peter Baade

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced

or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of

the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly

journal.

Printed by www.lulu.com

www.journeyinvitation.com/falscastra

www.facebook.com/falscastra

Trade paperback ISBN: 978-0-9944767-0-8

http://www.journeyinvitation.com/falscastrahttp://www.facebook.com/falscastrahttp://www.facebook.com/falscastrahttp://www.facebook.com/falscastrahttp://www.journeyinvitation.com/falscastra


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“ You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”

To Kerri - with whom I have the great privilege of sharing this journey.

Thank you to everyone who has provided feedback, reviews and encouragement

through the writing of this novel.


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Prologue

Wyobilt scanned his surrounds. This jungle was getting to him. All he

had was a gut feeling, but he knew someone had been watching them. He

turned to their guide. “What does your great knowledge tell you?”

“There is no method by which we can cross this, my friend. We must

retrace our steps.”

The bedraggled group of men moved closer, shielding their eyes from

the sunlight. They stared at the ravine before them.

“Watch out for your safety, friends,” the guide said. “These edges can

be treacherous.” He looked into the chasm, shuffling forward for a better

view. Without warning, the muddy edge under his feet gave way, sending him

sprawling to the ground. Despite his desperate fingers grasping for a firm

hold, he slid along the slimy ground then disappeared into the dark expanse.

The five men stood frozen as the guide’s panicked screams echoed off

the ravine walls.

Wyobilt found breathing difficult. Not only had their guide been the

only one with experience in this jungle, those screams meant that whoever,

whatever, was out there could pinpoint their location. He forced his ribs to

expand, filling his lungs with air. “We need to return home ,” he said, keepinghis voice low. “There is no point going further.”

Gradin, the youngest of the group, looked beyond the treacherous

ravine. “But … but we have not yet found the castle.”

Wyobilt turned to Gradin. Both men were tall, broad and strong.

Gradin’s youthful face was partially covered by his ruffled hair, while

Wyobilt’s bald scalp exaggerated the weathering in his face that only manyyears of life experience can produce. “Gradin, I ask you to think for a

moment. This castle might not even exist for all we know. We have no guide,


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and have used more than half of our provisions. Our only choice is to start

back now.”

Gradin gave an almost imperceptible nod, his shoulders slumped.

Wyobilt placed his arm around him. “Let us return home and warm our

feet by the fireplaces in `Castra.” The steady pace of Wyobilt’s words

contrasted with his churning stomach.

Wyobilt looked for confirmation from the other men. He knew that

Tesluk, quiet and dependable, would follow him wherever he led. Rufleg,

desperate for adventure and riches, looked less convinced, but gave a resigned

nod. Wior, his old friend, was more comfortable on the desert plains than this

jungle. He had already started to retrace his steps. As Wyobilt moved to

follow, something scraped his neck. Before he had time to register what it

was, Rufleg, standing directly behind him, screamed in pain as he fell back

into the ravine, an arrow embedded in his chest.

A second arrow sped past Wyobilt’s face. “Get back into the jungle!” The men scrambled from the clearing, forcing their way through the

thick vegetation. Vines tangled Wyobilt’s legs and brambles pulled at his

clothing, but the rush of arrows through the air gave him panic-induced

strength.

Even after the arrows stopped, the men continued to push further back

into the jungle. Only after Wyobilt felt they had evaded their attackers did hemotion the others. “Enough … we must rest,” he managed to gasp.

After the adrenaline-charged exertion they slumped to the ground. No

one spoke. Breathing was hard enough in the sticky humidity of the jungle.

A strange laugh punctured the darkness in front of them. Dread

churned around the pit of Wyobilt’s stomach. Panic and fear were clear in his

companions’ faces. Wyobilt strained to see the source of the sound.

Nothing.


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Another laugh, more like a cackle, to his right, followed by another

behind.

“Wh – where … are they?” Gradin asked.

Wyobilt held his hand up for silence.

It was impossible to locate the source of the sounds. Whatever was

making them was getting closer. The men would be easy targets.

“Time to move,” Wyobilt said, almost to himself.

The men crouching around him gave no response. Wyobilt dragged

Gradin to his feet and moved left, urging the others to fol low. “Come on,

keep your heads low.”

They pushed through the undergrowth once more, sweat dripping from

their faces as they strived for stealth, cringing at each cracking twig or rolling

stone. Gradin kicked out in frustration as the vines tried to entangle him.

“Keep it together ,” Wyobilt said, his voice barely a whisper.

Scraping noises, more cackles, closer. Dark shadows moved through thejungle around them.

“Run!” Wyobilt yelled. The time for hiding had passed.

Wyobilt forced his way through the undergrowth. Someone screamed

behind him and fell. Wyobilt turned to go back but dark figures had already

surrounded his old friend’s unmoving body.

Steeling his heart, Wyobilt continued on. His lungs reached burstingpoint as he pushed further, faster. Another strangled scream to his left and

another to his right signalled his greatest fear – he was the only one left.

Wyobilt almost stopped, resigned to the inevitable, yet he kept moving,

driven by the thought of home. Someone needed to warn those in Castra

about the perils of this jungle. He found reserves of energy he did not know

existed.Eventually he dropped to the ground, beyond exhaustion. Their search

for the legendary castle had come to this. Failure. Death.


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On the brink of sliding into unconsciousness, the silence around him

echoed in his brain. A flicker of hope formed – had he escaped?

Panic extinguished hope when Wyobilt heard movement behind him.

He scrambled away, clawing at the vines.

“Wyobilt … wait! ”

Hearing the desperate voice, Wyobilt turned to see Gradin slump down

to the ground. He crawled over, relief flooding his mind. “I thought you had

fallen.”

“I … had,” Gradin said, gasping for breath. “… nasty gash to my leg

… fell into … a gully just as they struck me. I … h id under a rock. They …

did not find me.”

“Rest here. Get your breath.”

“No … can … not do that. They … are coming!”

Wyobilt clasped Gradin’s shoulders. He blinked, trying to focus on his

young friend’s wild eyes. “We must rest, hide under these logs.” The power behind an unexpected push from Gradin sent Wyobilt

tumbling backwards.

As Wyobilt stood to follow his young friend’s stumbling path through

the undergrowth he felt a sharp, piercing pain in his lower leg. He dropped to

the ground, writhing in agony as pain coursed through his body, not seeing

the yellow-diamond black snake continuing its silent journey between theferns.

As a dark mist spread across the jungle, Wyobilt called out toward

Gradin’s receding form , his voice barely making a whisper. “Warn them.”


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Chapter One

Five summers later

The ground behind me rumbled as I sprinted across the grassy plateau

toward the crest. I risked a quick glance behind, my heart skipping a beat

when I saw how rapidly the huge yamorf bull was gaining.

The uneven surface made traction difficult, yet I strained every muscle

to run faster, anything to escape the charging colossus. Tales of men gored by

curved horns or trampled to death underneath the hooves of an angry yamorf

bull flashed through my mind. I was determined to experience more than my

fifteen summers.

The thumping of my heart competed with the intensifying thunder of

the hooves.

My back muscles tensed, anticipating sharp horns piercing through my

flesh. I flung myself to my right, but not fast enough to escape the bull’s legs

as they glanced across my feet, sending me cartwheeling through the air.

Lying on the ground, winded, I struggled to replenish the air in my

lungs. I had to hurry. I forced myself to roll onto my knees.

Where was the bull? The bull’s momentum had car ried it further across the plateau. It

wheeled around to face me, pawing at the ground. One eye seemed fixed on

me, not losing its focus even when it shook its head. A bellowed challenge

rang out, echoing from deep within the yamorf’s chest.

I got to my feet and hobbled toward the only place of safety, a small

rocky outcrop that formed the crest of this hill. Another bellow. The ground beneath me started vibrating once more. I

forced myself up the slope, the grass giving way to rocky terrain. Beads of

sweat formed on my forehead, not all of it from physical exertion. I slipped


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on the loose stones, falling to my knees, expecting another impact from

behind. I scrambled forward on all fours, anything to escape the beast behind

me.

The soft clatter of the rubble moving behind me caught my attention.

Not because of what I could hear but because of what I couldn’t. T he

thundering of the bull had ceased. Hope flooded my mind. Turning, I saw the

bull standing still, watching me from the grassy edge.

Making a final surge, I reached the top of the outcrop and slumped

down, exhausted but safe. The air rushing into my lungs felt exhilarating.

The bull bellowed one last warning, then retreated across the plateau

toward his waiting herd of heifers. Their brown woolly hides formed a sharp

contrast to the green grass they grazed on.

I took the opportunity to take off my leather sandals and inspect my

feet. Not for the first time had the hardened leather protected them. No

blood, and the throbbing was starting to fade.I looked out over my surrounds and took in the panoramic view. Far

below me were three small figures I had left early this morning, racing the sun

as it rose above the plains. My goal had been to cut across country and reach

the creek crossing before my folks and younger sister, Riatah. Leading our

two faithful ponies and our wagon, they would take a long time to negotiate

the winding path that skirted the banks of a swiftly flowing creek.Behind me, in the direction from which we had come, vast mountain

ranges rose on either side of the plain, their peaks dwarfing the hill where I

now sat. Several large eagles soared on the thermal air currents high above.

Ahead of me, a dense, dark jungle dominated the horizon.

What mysteries might the jungle contain? It was lush and green, but

there was something foreboding about it, something threatening. I let out asigh as I switched my gaze to the small village on the edge of the jungle.

That village, Falscastra, was our destination.


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make out the village in the distance. The surrounding wall looked huge, with

high towers set at regular intervals.

What would the villagers need to protect themselves from? Wild

animals? A jungle tribe? Or something more unimaginable to the likes of me?

This viewpoint made the jungle appear more threatening than it had

seemed from the hilltop. Each tree took on a personality, shaking its branches

at another, rising up, threatening the surrounding trees. Shadows moved

across the tree canopy like a silent presence was patrolling its domain.

Imagination or not, a strong sense of unease coursed through my body.

“Stop it,” I said aloud, something I did whenever my imagination ran

away unhindered. Yet, mixed with the anxiety I had a strange sense of

curiosity, a desire to find out what mystery might be hidden within the jungle.

“Hey, Bejoch, what are you doing up there?” Riatah’s distant vo ice

interrupted my thoughts.

It was pointless replying; the same wind that blew Riatah’s voice to myears would carry my voice further away from my family. I hurried down to the

ground.

Papa had loosened the harness on the closest pony by the time I had

reached the ground. “Son, did you make it to the top of the hill?”

“Yes I did, Papa.”

Strangers would not doubt I was Pap a’s son. The combination of browneyes, longish brown hair, and wiry body shape must be a family characteristic.

Age might slowed Papa, but not his physical or mental strength.

“How much further do we have to travel?” I asked.

“The main track goes around t he hills. It could take us another day at

least. There might be another …” Even be fore I had spoken the last four

words I regretted them.Papa gave me one of his more exasperated looks at my unfinished

answer. “There might be another what?”


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Why hadn’t I ke pt my mouth shut? “There might be a more direct path

to the village. There is another path that skirts the edge of the jungle.”

“How much more direct?”

“It might take us a brace of hours.”

“It would be good to make the village before sunset, Dapé,” Mama’s

soft voice came from behind Papa.

“Do you think it wise going so close to the jungle?” I asked.

“I do not see why not, son ,” Papa replied.

I struggled to keep my growing unease in check. “Have you seen that

jungle?” I asked in a low voice.

“I have had a fe w glimpses of it as we have journeyed here. Why do you

ask?”

“I do not know . It makes me uneasy.”

“It is very different to the sandy plains back in Tigliruk. Is that your

concern?” “No,” I replied, unconvinced. “It is more than that.”

“Now is as good a time as any to elaborate.”

The time I took to clarify my thoughts had little effect. “Whenever I

look at the jungle, something inside of me screams out ‘Danger!’. Yet at the

same time, it is as if I can hear another voice whispering ‘Come, there is

something in here you must find.’” “ You must find what?” Papa asked.

“I thought you would be able to provide me with answers, Papa.”

“I am not the one hearing voices in my head,” Papa laughed, “even two

at the same time!” He continued in a tone that precluded furthe r discussion.

“We will give the ponies a drink, and then take the shortest route to

Falscastra.” I dropped my eyes to focus on a tuft of grass. “Yes, Papa.”

After a moment Papa added, “You can take the reins for this section of

our travels.”


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Normally the prospect of taking the reins would cheer me up; on this

occasion it did nothing to distract me from the churning in my stomach. It

wasn’t long before the two ponies were pulling our cart over the bridge. I

held the reins, clenching the leather straps in my hands. I noticed Papa

looking at the bridge. “Do you agree it is a strange design?”

“You could say that.”

“I believe you could build a better one.” He had been a master

craftsman back in Tigliruk.

“You could say that.”

“Maybe you could offer to do it once we get settled in Falscastra?” I was

hoping my question would get a different response. “They might be waiting

for someone with your skills to fix this bridge properly.”

“They might say that,” Papa said , his smiling eyes contrasting with his

straight face. “Hey, son, go a bit easier on those reins. The ponies prefer more

slack. You look a bit tense there.” I didn’t bother replying , but moved my hands about an inch down the

reins. As we reached the fork in the path I slowed the ponies. “Can we take

that pa th?” I asked, pointing to the wider path meandering up the slope to my

right.

“We take the left path, son.”

To emphasise his words, Papa leaned across and tugged the reins to theleft, turning the ponies down the path. I concentrated on the gentle

movement of the ponies’ heads, not daring to look up, hoping that somehow

this would slow down our approach toward the jungle.

The quietening sounds betrayed our progress. The ponies’ hoof beats

grew louder, echoing against the otherwise oppressive silence. The breeze had

stilled. I glanced at Papa; his face was set firm, staring straight ahead. The earlier banter between Mama and Riatah had stopped. This was

surprising. Riatah might be hard of hearing, but there was no corresponding

limitation with her voice, or her determination for that matter. We might not


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always get along, but if it ever came down to the crunch, I would do anything

to protect my little sister.

The path now ran parallel to the wall of dense foliage, the green leaves

almost brushing against our wagon and forming an impenetrable barrier to

whatever lay within.

For all I knew there were a thousand eyes watching us, waiting.

“If you move over any further you will take us into the ditch.” Papa’s

voice startled me back into reality. The ponies had veered to the far side of

the path, the right wheels bumping over the grassy fringe.

“Sorry,” I said, leaning on the reins to correct our course.

The path ahead of us dissected a shadowy grove of trees jutting out

from the jungle.

“That looks like a cave,” Riatah said.

Riatah’s observation echoed my thoughts. I was tense enough ; letting

my imagination run wild about being trapped in a cave would not help.Papa turned around so Riatah would see him speaking. She heard better

that way. “It does, my daughter, but one with a back and front entrance.”

Ruvic, the pony on the left, threw her head back with a loud neigh.

“That is not like Ruvic,” Mama said, uncertainty evident in her voice.

Something moved in the shadows ahead. I flicked the reins in an

attempt to increase our speed. Papa looked across at me with raised eyebrows;anything more than a steady trot was a foreign concept to our ponies.

I shrugged in response, but flicked the long leather straps anyway,

urging the ponies on.

The tree trunks of the grove formed a loose boundary on the edge of

the path, their high canopy blocking out all but sparse rays of sunlight.

Shadows covered our wagon as we entered the grove. The chill going up my spine was not caused by the cooler temperature.

The branches to my left moved despite the still air. There was something,


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just inside the trees at the far end of the grove. In the dim light all I could

make out was a vague outline. Was it a person?

Papa took a quick breath, but before either of us could speak the dark

shape stepped out onto the path. Ruvic threw her head back again and veered

right, jamming against Tealn, our second pony.

I heaved back on the reins, regained a semblance of control and then

urged the ponies forward. At that instant a second figure stepped out from

the right. Both ponies were jittery. Ruvic managed to kick her short front legs

into the air.

Papa leaned over and pulled the ponies to a stop. “Whoa, girls. Whoa!”

The shadowy figures moved closer, their faces concealed by their dark

cowls. One of them moved over to control the ponies. A hushed cry of alarm

sounded behind me. Papa’s hand moved down to the thick staff he carried

beside the front seat.

The second figure moved over beside Papa. “What brings you to theseparts?” The hissed question soun ded more like a threat.

“We are headed to Falscastra,” Papa said.

“This path is not often travelled, sire. Most travellers choose the

western route.”

“We hope to reach Falscastra before the setting of the sun,” Papa said.

“Some hopes never come to pass,” c ame the reply.I tried to see the figure’s face, but his cowl remained pulled over his

forehead.

“We would be obliged if you would let us through.”

“I am not surprised for your haste,” the figure hissed. “These woods are

not a place to be after dark.”

“Who are you?” I could hear frustration building in Papa’s voice. “I am a person of the jungle. You need not know any more than that.”

“Do you intend to let us through?”

“We do.”


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I relaxed.

“Once you pay the ransom for your travels,” the figure continued.

Every muscle in my body tensed. The wagon moved as Papa lifted his

staff higher, raising it above the rim of the wagon.

“What is your demand?” Papa asked.

“Ten coins of silver,” hissed the man. I groaned. I had not seen even

one silver coin in my life.

“We are not able to meet your demand,” Papa said.

The figure reached inside his tunic and drew a short sword. “Then we

will have your wagon, and youcan resume your journey on foot.”

Papa stood, holding his thick staff in an attack position. “You will have

nothing of the sort!” He lashed out at the hooded figure with his staff.

Although it was wood against metal, Papa’s advantage of height meant he

could keep his assailant at a distance, rendering his opponent’s sword

ineffective.Unless the sword cut through Papa’s staff.

The dark figure rushed up to the wagon, ducking a swinging blow from

Papa and lunging forward with his sword. Papa thrust his staff down in

defence, forcing the sword against the wagon. In the same motion Pap swung

the other end of the staff down against his assailant’s unguarded shoulder

with a heavy thump, rebounding into the side of the man’s head . The figureslumped beside the wagon, his sword clattering against the hard ground.

“Dapé!” Mama’s scream from the back of the wagon shattered the brief

lull. Papa yelled out as he jumped over the side of the wagon, “Bejoch, get the

wagon moving!”

I looked behind to see a big tear in the wagon lining, and glimpses of

Papa fighting off another shadowy figure. What if Papa was overwhelmed?“Bejoch, now!”

Papa’s voice snapped me out of my trance. I grabbed the cane from

below my seat, and swung it against Ruvic’s rump. She reared her head, her


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unexpected action hitting the man holding her noseband flush on his chin. He

slumped to the ground, unmoving.

“Yaah!” I flicked the reins hard, and swung again with the cane. Both

ponies seemed to sense the urgency, dragging the wagon forward. The wagon

jerked twice as the wheels closest to me ran over the motionless shape.

“Dapé, hurry!” Mama called. “Bejoch, wait for your Papa!”

“Where is he?” I asked , shielding my eyes from the sunlight as we

emerged from the canopy of trees.

“He is coming around the side!”

I pulled back a touch on the reins, thankful to see Papa’s hands grab on

the wagon side, pulling himself up on the seat beside me. His staff had

broken in two, but he clasped both pieces in his hands. I flicked the reins

hard.

Papa leaned back, taking big gulps of air. “Well … done, … son”

I glanced over to see blood seeping from Papa’s thigh. “Mama! Pap a ishurt!”

There was movement in the wagon behind me. Once the ponies were in

a regular rhythm I turned to see Mama finish wrapping a bandage on Papa’s

leg.

“Those ponies have never moved so fast in their lives,” Papa said.

“Ruvic did great,” I said . “She head-butted one of them; the mandropped like a stone.”

“They both deserve an extra helping of grain tonight.”

“Who were those people?” I asked.

“I do not know,” Papa said. “I only hope they are not the type of

people we will meet in Falscastra.”

“Were they scoundrels?” “No doubt, but not very good ones. The two I fought were clumsy with

the sword. I expect they intended to scare us into submission rather than

being prepared for a fight.”


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“The ir skills of intimidation were as lacking as their skills in wielding a

sword,” Mama said from the back of the wagon. No doubt she had already

started repairing the torn lining.

“I think the ponies want to get to Falscastra as much as I do,” I said ,

noting that they had increased their pace as the path veered away from the

jungle.

“Yes, it will be good to reach our destination,” Papa said. He leaned

over the side of the wagon, frowning. “Strange rattles are coming from those

wheels. They might need some repairs on the morrow.”

“Where are we going to stay, Papa?” Riatah asked from the back of the

wagon.

Papa turned around to answer. “We are to find that man named Gradin.

We are in no rush, mind you; that can wait till the new morning. First we get

into the village and rest for the night.”

The rays of the setting sun turned the overhead clouds a brilliant orangeas our destination came into view. Up close the walls were formidable. The

arrangement of large boulders wedged together stood at more than three

times my height. The main gate was a monstrous combination of timber

beams fastened together and hinged onto the stone wall. Tall towers were

placed at regular intervals along the wall. I could see five of them, each with

men-at-arms standing on the battlements.“I would not like to attack this gate by force,” Papa said to no one in

particular.

A squad of armed men stood outside the opened gate. A few looked

toward us, sour expressions on their faces. Two men from the group moved

across into the middle of the path, holding their hands up for us to stop.

Not a word was spoken.I glanced back at the jungle and gave an involuntary shiver. It looked

like the jungle was stalking the village - a wave of green vegetation waiting to


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pounce and devour its prey. No wonder these people wanted to protect

themselves.

A tall man emerged f rom the watchman’s hut. There was no hint of

welcome on his face. “State your business, strangers.”

“Sir, we have journeyed from Tigliruk,” Papa said. “We hope to make a

new home in Falscastra.”

“Do you now?” The watchman glanced at Papa’s leg. “ You met with

trouble?”

“Yes. We met some scoundrels about two hours back, by the jungle just

past the bridge.”

“Only ignorant or foolish travellers venture that path these days. I will

give you the benefit of putting you in the first category. ” He spat on the

ground . “I have been known to be mistaken.”

“We wanted to get here before the set of the sun,” Papa said.

“ You should be thankful you made it here at all. Better to take the wideroad, always the wide road. There is nothing to be gained going so close to

that jungle.” There was a pause, then the man added, “Do you know anyone

in this village?”

“We were told to meet a man called Gradin. His brother was known to

us in Tigliruk.”

A strange smile appeared on the man’s face. “Gradin, did you say? He will not take long to set you straight about the ways of this village.” The man

looked up at the sun. “There is no point trying to find Gradin at this hour.

More likely than not he is polishing off his third flagon of ale at the Pitchfork

Inn. If you continue through the gates you will find vacant land around the

bend in the road, between the two large oak trees. You might as well rest

there til the new sun rises.” The man moved aside and motioned us through.

“Thank you, sir. I am known as Dapé,” Papa added, holding out his

hand.


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Once supper was eaten, it didn’t take long to move our provisions

underneath the wagon and get our beds ready for the night. I was thankful for

the balmy night. I rested my head on my clothes bag, a myriad of thoughts

circulating through my mind. An uneasy trepidation would not go away, not

only due to the welcome we had received. Even thinking about the jungle

gave me the shivers. What was in it? What would be important enough to

find?

I was still struggling to digest these thoughts when sleep came to my

rescue.


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falscastra - journey to the king (preview chapters)

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