Blue Words

Inscribed - Part I

Inscribed

"Inscribe your values onto your chest and wear them with pride."

 

The last thirty minutes or so of travel were quite rough and much slower going. The van bounced, scraped and jittered. It was a coastal road which clearly did not see regular traffic. But just when it felt like the axels might give way, the van came to a halt outside a small, corrugated iron shack.

A large fire crackled away in a wrought iron brazier, the flames cast a warm, flickering veil of light over the area. Shadows waved and danced over an old shed which sported a distinctive drunken lean. Two other vehicles were parked in the dark beside the shed.

Kahn immediately slid out of the van, signalling for Gudrik to wait. Two men emerged warily from inside the shed, but at the sight of Kahn the uneasy men relaxed. They walked out and embraced him. From the car Gudrik watched them huddle in discussion, until something flickered in the corner of his eye. Creeping slowly through the thick black beside the drunken shed Gudrik could just make out a figure, a man. He was well hidden, cloaked in the dark, but as the flames flickered and surged in the brazier an odd mist of light illuminated him. Kahn's earlier words echoed in his mind, "With you free his agents will appear when we least expect it, so be on your guard."

Gudrik leant over and gently placed his hand on George's shoulder. He whispered delicately in her ear, rousing her. She groggily looked about, not really understanding at first where she was.  "Wait here," he rumbled in the softest rasp he could muster. He carefully opened the van door and crept out. The Warlock moved quickly behind a patch of small woody shrubs which lined the driveway. Using the plants as his cover he easily circled around until he was but a few metres behind the concealed figure using the same blackness to shroud himself. The shadow rose from its crouched position and moved towards Kahn. Gudrik leapt from the dark and tackled the figure into the light. The Warlock jammed his left arm into the shadow's throat and drew Scurt's wand, resting the blade hard against his cheek. A small trickle of red blood leaked out. "Who are you?" roared Gudrik.

Kahn and the two strangers spun in shock. The shadow gave only an indecipherable mumble. Gudrik repeated his question. "Nooo!  Stop!" called Kahn. Gudrik looked up at the tall, dark man, frantically waving his arms along with the two strangers. He drew the wand slowly away from the man's cheek and lightened the weight from his throat. Before Gudrik could climb off the shadow, two screaming women burst out from the house. With the grace of a tiger, the smaller, dark haired one loosed two small, serrated kitchen knives at him. Both embedded themselves deep into his face with moist thuds, rolling him back off the shadow.

"Teefa!" screamed Kahn. Gudrik climbed slowly up to his knees. He glared brutally at this Teefa while painfully levering the first knife from his eye socket, cursing her in a language which few understood.

"What?  He was gonna kill Paw!" Teefa argued as Gudrik popped the second blade from deep in his sinus; he tasted blood. He got to his feet and joined the others who had by then helped the shadow up and gathered in a group. There was a soft squelch as his wounds sutured themselves closed, leaving nothing but a few wet streaks of blue running down Gudrik's cheeks. He sheathed the wand and dropped the knives to the ground.

Kahn calmed the mood and commenced the introductions. The strangers, the women and the shadow were all what Kahn called ‘his familiars’. At his right shoulder stood Malaki, a pale, stocky man a head shorter than Gudrik. He had a heavily scared scalp. It was shaved like Kahn's, though looked balder by nature rather than by razor. Malaki seemed to carry a look of perpetual annoyance and constantly cursed under his breath. Gudrik guessed him to be in his late thirties. He spoke with a gruff sternness and ruthlessly eyed the Warlock with suspicion.