Savage Games of Lord Zarak (6 page)

Josh was encouraging the men to talk about their situation. “We won't know how to help unless we know what's going on,” he told them.

Bentain spoke first of his relationship with Goél. When Bentain was a young man, Goél had visited this kingdom and had made many friends here.

“So are there many followers of Goél here now?” Sarah asked, leaning forward eagerly.

“There may be, but they keep quiet about it. The king doesn't like to hear about Goél. He has used some of Goél's people in the Hunt of Death.”

“That's certainly bad news,” Josh said gloomily. “I had hoped that there would be many who would be followers of Goél.”

“In the old days there were, but the king himself was different then.”

“Different how?” Josh asked.

“He was a good man when he was young, much like his father. Good to everyone. Yes, he was a good king.”

“What changed him? He's certainly not a ‘good king' now,” Josh said.

Bentain slowly rocked back and forth. He stroked his white beard. Then he said quietly, “I think it was the death of the queen that began the change. She died giving birth to their only child, a daughter named Lara. The king went nearly mad with grief. We all loved the queen, and all of us grieved, but King Falmor—I never saw a man carry on so.”

“That was probably a sign that he loved her,” Sarah said.

“Yes, but he couldn't get over his grief. He began seeing wizards and trying to make contact with her spirit.”

“
That's
a bad one,” Josh said.

“At the time, I was a good friend of his counselor, Datir. He told the king that he had to learn to deal with his grief and give proper attention to the kingdom. Perhaps seek another wife in time. The king grew furious with him and had him thrown in prison. I believe Datir died there.”

“King Falmor doesn't sound like a very reasonable man,” Sarah murmured.

“He was once, but no more.” A hard light came into Bentain's eyes. “Falmor made a very serious mistake —he began to lean more and more on the advice of a wizard called Zarak. The man gained great power over the king. Those closest to Falmor tried telling him that Zarak was a dangerous man, but the king would not listen. He thought he knew better than his advisers. I
believe,” Bentain went on quietly, “that the wizard had promised to raise the queen from the dead. At least that was the rumor.”

“And the king believed him.”

“I think his mind was clouded. Zarak has the ability to cloud the mind. He is Lord Zarak now and far more than a wizard. He is the king's chief counselor. He is at Falmor's right hand constantly.”

“What sort of man is this Lord Zarak?”

“A very wealthy man and crueler than you could believe, but the king listens to his every word. As I said, the man is a wizard, and I think the king is somehow under his spell.” He looked eagerly at Josh. “That's why I hoped that Goél would come—to break the spell. And something else is most worrisome—Lord Zarak wants to marry Lady Lara. That means that, when the king dies, Zarak will be king over all the land.”

Goodman nodded. “It is Zarak who came up with the idea of the Hunt of Death. He thought it was a good way of getting rid of his enemies. All of the king's old and trusted advisers either fled the land or have died in the Hunt of Death. And today, anyone who challenges Zarak's power will die under the spears of the hunters.”

“Do you think you can help us?” old Bentain asked, leaning forward pleadingly. “If Goél sent you . . .”

Josh Adams was an honest boy. This seemed to be a hard case indeed, harder than most of their missions. “We would love to help you, Bentain, but it seems to me that more than a war is needed.”

“True. True,” Goodman said grimly. He fingered the dagger in his belt. “We have a small group of forest men, as you have seen. But my men would be unable to take the king's castle. It is well guarded. And the king keeps a large army to do his bidding.”

“Again, true,” Bentain said. “They rule the land with an iron fist. It's a cruel world that King Falmor and Lord Zarak have made. This was once a fair land full of love and singing and joy, but now it is like one continual funeral.”

 

Sarah walked down to the stream with a line and some hooks in her hand. She trimmed a sapling, made a pole, and found a likely-looking place on the bank. She soon caught several fish, which pleased her.

And then she looked up. Roland Winters was walking along the stream toward her. He had his bow in his hand and a full quiver of arrows. She thought again what a fine looking boy he was, but she knew it would never do to say so. He was vain enough already!

“Can't you catch anything?” he asked. He threw himself on the bank but laid his bow down carefully. He was very proud of the weapon.

“A few. What have you been doing?”

“I thought I might bring down some squirrels or a rabbit. I'm getting hungry.” He looked out through the woods. “I've seen at least a half dozen deer. It would be so easy to shoot one.”

“Better not do that.”

“That's what everybody says. But why not? The king would never miss
one.
”

“From what I hear about the king and Lord Zarak, anyone who kills a deer is executed.”

“Oh, sure. In that Hunt of Death. I think that's probably an exaggeration.”

“No, I don't think so,” Sarah said. “Didn't you see the fear in the eyes of Garn and his family when we even mentioned shooting a deer?”

“Sarah, they are just ignorant people. What do they know?”

Impatiently Sarah turned and faced him. “Aren't you shocked at all over the plight of these people, Roland?”

“There are poor people everywhere. Weren't there poor people where you came from?”

“Yes, and I felt sorry for them. I've gotten to know Pilar a little. She's only twelve years old, but what hope does she have? There's nothing but to grow up in misery and poverty. And Robert, Garn's son—he's fifteen and afraid of his own shadow. These people live horrible lives.”

“If you say so,” Roland said carelessly. He tossed stones into the stream, one after another.

“Don't you care at all about anybody except yourself, Roland?”

He just grinned at her. “A fellow's got to take care of himself. Didn't you know that, Sarah?”

“I think I've learned something a little better than that. In the first place, most of us
can't
take care of ourselves. We all need help sometimes.”

“Well, I don't plan to need help from anybody. Now let's talk about something pleasant.”

Sarah saw that trying to reason with Roland Winters was hopeless. He had no idea what it was like to be poor or hungry or weak. He was strong and able and evidently had come from good circumstances.
I might as well talk to that rock about Garn and his family as to Roland,
she thought.

 

“Maybe we can get us a few squirrels—or maybe some rabbits, at least,” Reb said. He kept his eyes on the trees above him, looking for game.

“Rabbit stew would taste pretty good,” Wash agreed. “There sure are a lot of hungry folks in this country that need to be fed.”

The boys hunted for more than two hours but managed to bring down only two rabbits. Reb slumped in discouragement. “If I just had my shotgun and my old dog, Spot, I could fill this sack up with game in no time.”

At that moment Wash suddenly straightened, listening. “Hear that? Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Listen.” Wash stood perfectly still, and so did Reb. “That's dogs barking. Sounds like
hunting
dogs. And it's coming from over there. From the other side of that ridge.”

“Sure is. Let's go see what it is.” Reb took off running.

From the top of the ridge, Reb saw that they were looking down into the valley beyond. The baying of the dogs was growing louder. Suddenly Reb pointed. “Look there, Wash!”

Wash narrowed his eyes and then exclaimed, “That fellow's running away from something!”

Just below them a man crashed through the underbrush. His clothes were torn to tatters, and his face was filled with stark terror. Even as the boys watched, he stumbled into a sapling. The little tree rebounded and threw him to the ground. He struggled to his feet, looked behind him, and then threw himself forward again, ignoring the briars and branches that clawed at him.

“That fellow's in big trouble,” Wash said.

Then Reb caught another flash of movement. “Look at what's coming, Wash!” he exclaimed. “Those
are hunting dogs! Those
dogs
are what's after that man!”

The baying animals were lean and well fed and fast.

“Those are rough looking dogs. If they catch up with that fellow, he's a goner,” Reb muttered. “What's going on?”

“You know what this is, Reb?”

“What?”

“I think it's the Hunt of Death.”

Reb blinked. “You reckon that's it? The Hunt of Death?” He kept on watching, horrified. Below them in the valley, the dogs had almost caught up with the fugitive. “They'll get him sure,” he said. “Come on, Wash. Let's see if we can help him.”

Even as they started to scramble down the incline, the man took refuge on a small rise. The snapping dogs surrounded him, and he beat at them with his bare hands.

Reb caught at Wash's arm, stopping him. “Too late. Look what's coming!” he said and pointed.

A troop of horsemen swept toward the man and the dogs. The riders were shouting and seemed to be having a fine time. Soon Reb could pick up some of what they were saying.

The lead rider was a large man with black hair. He carried a spear. “There he is!” he cried. “We've got him! He's gone to ground!”

Just behind him rode a smaller man, who also carried a spear. “You make the kill, Your Majesty,” the smaller man said.

“No. Today it is your turn.”

The smaller man bowed in the saddle, then galloped forward. He rode to within throwing distance and with a practiced arm poised his weapon.

“He's going to kill him!” Reb cried. “We've got to help!”

“Too late,” Wash said sadly.

Indeed, it was too late.

Unbelievingly, Reb and Wash stared at the sight below.

“Might as well go, Reb,” Wash said. “We can't do anything for him now.”

The boys fled back through the forest, still horrified at what they had seen. As soon as they ran panting into the camp, they were surrounded by the other Sleepers, who wanted to know what was wrong. Bentain was also there, along with Garn and his family.

Reb could hardly speak, so filled was he with anger. Wash told the story of what they had seen. Bentain said sadly, “Poor fellow. Poor fellow. Probably one of the farmers from nearby.”

Reb said through tight lips, “I've seen some bad things in my time in Nuworld, but that was the worst. What kind of a king is this, anyhow?”

Bentain met his eyes. “He is a proud man who is in the power of the Dark Lord, my friend. Zarak is but the instrument. He has blinded the king's eyes, and unless something happens, we all must die. The land itself will perish.”

 

 

 

I
think what we ought to do is attack the palace.”

The Seven Sleepers were gathered around their campfire on the edge of Garn's farm. They had eked out a meal of squirrel and rabbit, all thrown together into a stew. There had not been enough to go around, but no one complained—this time not even Roland.

But it was Roland who had spoken. Everyone's eyes turned toward him.

“Attack the palace!” Josh said in disbelief. “You heard what Goodman said. To do that would take an army.”

“Well, Goodman doesn't know everything,” Roland insisted. He looked dirty and uncomfortable and was no doubt hungry. “I say the king doesn't always stay in the palace,” he said crossly. “You saw him, didn't you, Reb—when you and Wash were out hunting?”

“Yes, and he had his guards with him, and they look like rough fellows,” Reb answered. “You think you could've done something to save that man if you had been there?”

Roland glared. “I would have made a try, at least!”

“Wait a minute, Roland. That's not fair,” Abbey said quickly. “You're always jumping to conclusions and thinking you can do things better than anybody else.”

Roland grew angrier. He got to his feet and stood looking down at the Sleepers. “We could stay around here for a year and not get anything done! We'll probably all starve to death in this blasted forest!”

“You don't really think we should attack, do you, Roland?” Josh asked curiously. He was sure that a successful attack was impossible and could not believe that the tall young man was serious. “Attacking would be suicide!”

“I've heard a lot of tales about you Seven Sleepers. Looks like they were all just a lot of hot air.”