Kangalor

By Hazel Richardson

On a planet called Frandis is a continent called Traztajor, which is divided into eight countries. Kangalor in the west is the largest of these countries. In the north, an area known as the upland is under the despotic rule of Zackard Lei, who is ruthless, brutal, and mad. Lei, the leader of the Das Blaazd Society of Thaumaturgery, has once before made war on the midland and downland areas of Kangalor, bringing much death and devastation until he was driven back behind his own borders by the brilliant and courageous leadership of Zaland Arj, the formidable leader of the Maj Society of Thaumaturgery. For five years, there was peace. Now Lei is plotting mayhem and turmoil for the unsuspecting population of Kangalor. He has developed a huge cannon and explosive devices to use against the Kangalor Army. He has ordered the building of a large fleet of ships whose only purpose is to land Leis soldiers, under blaazd leaders, all along the west coast of Kangalor and let his soldiers burn, slaughter, and plunder as they please. But there are dragons whose powerful black leader, the mighty Zagog, brings terrible revenge that will help to overturn Leis plans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jul 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524637965

Hazel Richardson

The author lives in South Yorkshire. The second of four children, she learned early that selfishness would not be tolerated. It is a good principle to live by. She has strong political opinions but thinks that everyone has a right to their own beliefs. As a child, she loved to read and lose herself in other writers’ worlds. Soon she was writing her own short stories and some poetry. This was not encouraged by a mother who believed that a daughter should principally learn to clean, cook, and sew. She still enjoys poetry and loves historical novels. There have always been animals in her life. Most were dogs, but there have also been a couple of cats, lots of birds, and tropical fish. Her daughter brought home animals she found but was not pleased when made to let them go back to nature. She worked as a stock controller for some years and then as a buyer and finally as an administrator. She enjoyed working and interacting with her colleagues. She was coerced by her daughter to help while she was training to be a driving instructor, an experience she does not recommend to anybody.

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© 2016 Hazel Richardson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/22/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-3792-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-3796-5 (e)

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

I would like to thank the following people for all their help and support in getting my book ready for publishing.

Paul Lynch for his very welcome computer skills without which this book would never have been completed.

Stephanie Lynch for loving and enthusiastic support.

Kay Louise Thewlis for designing the covers of my last two books.

CONTENTS

Glossary For Kangalor

Kangalor

Sarita Arj

A Clan Chief’s Meeting

Zalund Arj

Brorskit’s Progress

The Hunt

Journey To Orvain City

Flet Balk

Partrise Harg

In Search Of Dragons

Events In Orvain City

Events In The Gakk Sector

Big Mouths Gossip And Big Ears Listen

Prince Lomax Tells An Astonishing Tale

Sarita Arj Indulges In A Little Shopping Trip

The Maj Society Hold A War Conference

The Confrontation With The Blazd

The Meeting At The House Of The Minister Of Justice

The Progress Of Roland Witt

Vrandon And Asrial Meet The Dragons

The Secret Prince Of Kangalor

The Flight Of The Dragons

Flet Balk Overhears

Zalund Arj Makes His Plans

Loresia Ravark

The Flight To The Dragon Island

Roland Witt Makes More Progress

Zalund Arj Conferes With Prince Lomax

Flet And Rozita At Work

Zalie Has Dinner With Sarsie

Bernez Arj Demonstrates His Diabolical Weapon

The Wedding Party

Zagog Calls A Meeting

The Wedding Ceremony

The Allies Gather In The Arj Sector

The Battle For Orvain City

Zalund And Sarita Arj Carry Out A Painful Duty

Roland Witt Makes His Last Report

Karl Learns His True Identity

Broskit Patrols The Great Sea

The Battle For The Borders

Flet Balk’s Revenge

Karl Takes Council

A Proclamation Is Ordered

Prince Karl And Princess Loresia Receive An Official Welcome

The Funeral Of The Satrup

The Ceremony Of Departure

The Trial Of The Luffs

The Dragons Return

A Harvest Return

The Story Of Taskar Parz

Taskar And Olive Parz Reunited

Orvain City Prepares For A Celebration

The Accession Ceremony

A Maj Wedding Ceremony

Brorskit’s Egg

GLOSSARY

FOR

Kangalor

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KANGALOR

Rakk Clav leaned back against a flat-sided rock which had been warmed by the sun. There was danger among the hills and rocky outcrops surrounding the valley. A number of predators prowled the area looking for a stray from the flock of an inattentive shepherd boy. He looked over the valley where all the flocks of the Bazzat clan were gathered throughout the day to graze on the rough herby pasture. Other boys from the clan were sitting in similar attitudes in elevated positions above the flocks all around the valley.

To the casual observer they appeared to be half asleep and inattentive, but nothing was further from the truth. The flocks made up a large part of each families income, each boy was responsible to his family for the care and maintenance of the flocks.

For this reason each boy had a flute on a cord around his neck, to signal to other shepherd boys if he spotted any sign of danger. Each boy also carried a sling with a pouch of smooth pebbles at his waist, and kept a short double headed spear close by, with which they could defend the flocks, each other and themselves.

Most of the predators were only dangerous to the sheep, but the skaggit with its long claws, could cause painful injuries to any boy. Luckily they preferred to keep their distance from the hardy, well muscled and fleet footed shepherd boys. Today however, the shepherds were extra alert despite their indolent appearance.

A visiting merchant had reported to the Clan Chief, Rakk’s father, that his trade train had been attacked by a targask. This was a terrible beast, with a large head and powerful jaws. The feet of the beast had double claws, which could rip the flesh off any animal or human it encountered. It could devastate a large flock or herd of animals, leaving dead and maimed animals behind after its killing spree. For that reason Rakk also carried the Bazzat horn, which when blown could be heard all the way back to the village. Then the adult males would arm themselves and come running to the rescue.

Rakk noted a ripple of unrest suddenly run through the peacefully grazing sheep. The big aggressive rams raised their horned heads and looked around them. The hornless ewes gathered their young together, moving to the centre as the sturdy rams moved to the edge of the flock. Rakk raised his flute; the high pitched note had every shepherd boy on his feet with his sling in his hand.

A streak of ginger erupted from a large patch of tall herbs half way up the side of the valley, a skaggit was trying its luck. All the shepherd boys hallooed; one boy directly above the fast moving skaggit launched a pebble from his sling. The missile struck the animal behind one ear. It leapt into the air, rolling down to the bottom of the slope. Dazed, it staggered to its feet, but three of the big alpha rams charged it. A skaggit was no match for more than one ram. It streaked away, with the rams in hot pursuit, with all the shepherd boys hollering and leaping around. The noise and blether of the rest of the flock was deafening, and could be heard all the way back to the village. Everyone ran out from their houses or workshops, listening alertly, but no horn was sounded. As the noise gradually died down, the people went back to their work, content the shepherd boys were in full control.

On the hillsides overlooking the valley the boys were grinning and waving to each other. Some were ‘speaking’ to the others by sounding out a variety of notes on their flutes. The flocks settled back down and were soon contentedly grazing once more, with the exception of the alpha rams, who were too worked up to settle for a while. Rakk lowered his sling, carefully scanning the slopes of the valley. All the boys took their cue from Rakk, and carefully looked all around them. There was no sign of danger anywhere. The youths settled down again, but for the rest of the day they piped to each other, signalling with their arms and heads. Like the rams, they were too stimulated to relax completely.

The tumult which had alerted the village, had also alerted something else. Several miles away, the targask stood over the mangled remains of a beautiful llarlang. The slender legs were smashed; the velvety body was torn apart. The lovely gentle head lay to one side, the huge eyes sightlessly reflecting the sky. The targask had a moderate sense of smell, but its hearing and sight were extraordinarily acute. Raising its great head, blood drooling from the enormous jaws, it listened alertly to the combined sounds of distant sheep and shepherds sounding an alarm. Leaving the remains of the llarlang to the scavengers, it moved purposefully in the direction of the sounds. The muscular body, covered in dark brown matted fur, stood a metre at the shoulder. The short, thick powerful neck balanced the enormous head, with long crushing jaws, and long slanting green eyes set either side of the skull. The large rounded ears on top of the head were set sloping slightly forward, and could rotate in an almost circular motion, independently of each other. The huge rounded pads were thickly cushioned with matted fur, while the bottom row of large curved claws gripped the ground as it travelled effortlessly, the top row of smaller, finer claws were retractable when walking or at rest.

The targask loped steadily over the herby terrain, until it came to a deep pool of water at the foot of a low cliff. The pool was fed by a fine cascade over the surface of the rocks. It stopped, examining the water before it plunged into the pool. By thrashing about, and dipping its head beneath the surface, it cleansed itself of the blood and detritus from its last meal. Emerging from the pool, it violently shook its body, water flying in all directions. Harka the more distant sun had already slid below the horizon. Tronja was now beginning to sink slowly, though the great yellow orb still burned fiercely, the air was warm and pleasant. Time to return to the village, pen up the flocks for the night, and home to a good supper. Rakk felt satisfied they had all earned the comforts of home tonight. Raising the flute to his lips, his eyes ran along the top of the hills on the opposite side of the valley. His blood froze in his veins. An enormous beast was silhouetted against the sky line. The targask had arrived.

Dropping the flute and snatching the Bazzat horn to his mouth, he blew one long, ululating sound which echoed all around the valley and beyond. The shepherd boys had all began a slow descent to the valley floor, while the flock had gathered together at Rakk’s side of the valley, the two suns had descended in the sky. The alpha rams were already urging the rest of the flock towards the narrow track, which led from the valley to the village.

The shepherd boys swung round to see what had excited Rakk so much, and were just in time to see the targask launch itself down the long valley side. The youths raced to form a protective line between the beast and their flocks. The aggressive alpha rams raced to face the targask with the shepherd boys, while the minor rams urged the terrified ewes and their young faster along the valley track. This hardy breed of sheep were not given to stampeding, even in great danger. They would stay together in support and defence of each other. This made them easier for the shepherds to control and protect normally. However, Rakk knew at once they were up against a terrible danger. He was not confident of their ability to keep the beast away from the flocks. Glancing quickly around, he saw the grim determination on all the faces of his young friends as they raced to form a line with the alpha rams. He tightened his resolve, balancing his spear on his throwing arm, he joined the other shepherds in readiness for their desperate battle.

Back in the village the workshops were beginning to close for the night. The villagers were generally tidying up and chatting. They raised their noses appreciatively to the smells of suppers cooking in each house. Tarkin emerged from the private place at the back of the smithy, having satisfactorily relieved himself, he helped his oldest son Cratt put up the shutters for the day.

They turned to walk across the square, when Tarkin’s stepped faltered, and he suddenly humphed angrily. Cratt chuckled.

A great winged creature was sitting on the ridge of their roof. It regarded them both with black beady eyes, over a long, heavy curved bill as it sat wrapped within its leathery wings. So we are to entertain Sarita Arj over supper tonight it seems, groused Tarkin."

Knowing Sarita Arj, father, she will be entertaining us, laughed Cratt, and anyway you know you like her.

I know, but I like to take my boots off to have my supper and sit in my chair afterwards. I never feel I can do that when Sarita Arj visits.

I bet she wouldn’t mind a bit, laughed Cratt, as he looked at his discomforted father.

Well, your mother would. Tarkin glared again at the brorzkit sitting on the roof. Why does she always bring her creature with her? It makes my skin crawl.

Cratt was about to make a jesting reply when the ululating sound of the Bazzat horn echoed around the village, everyone stood stock still for a few seconds. Organised chaos erupted in the square.

All the adult males rushed to collect weapons from within their houses. Heavily armed, they ran fleet footed towards the valley from where they knew the sound had come. The brorskit unfolded its long wings, launching itself from the roof, gliding silently above the running men.

The women, after initially rushing out of doors, rushed back in to remove food from cooking ranges and gather the younger children around them. Sarita Arj turned to the Clav women. Come and gather some of the women in the meeting hall. Collect together all the herbs and potions you can, bring them to the meeting hall too. We will set up a healing room for anyone who may be wounded.

Rosalee, the youngest daughter, ran round the square urging women to gather in the meeting hall. Letiva, Tarkin’s wife and their eldest daughter Marta, went into a special room at the back of their large house and began to gather together many of the aromatic herbs which were hung drying, or were in jars. The tall stately Sarita Arj led the way to the meeting hall, where a number of women were already gathered. Some had brought wrappings for wounds, while others brought clean water in jugs. Two women were trying to coax a large cooking range at the end of the hall to light so they could boil the water.

Oh it’s no use, cried one of the women. This range hasn’t been used in an age.

Allow me, said Sarita Arj. She looked inside the fire box. Her long, fine features and strange, tawny coloured eyes were still for a moment in concentration. Suddenly flames sprang up from the kindling. She closed the door with a satisfied smile. The two women looked knowingly at each other, nodding their heads in unison.

As Tarkin raced along beside his son, he glanced upward at the brorzkit. It had a long, thin, muscular neck a long body ending in an even longer tail, with bony barbs on the end. It had four legs. The two rear legs were heavily muscled, and had large claws at the end of the feet. The front legs were lighter, with finer claws, which it could manipulate like fingers on a hand. Tarkin changed his mind about the brorskit. He was very glad it was with them now.

Do you think it could be the targask, father? Cratt had to raise his voice above the sound of running boots.

What else can it be? replied Tarkin shortly. They became silent, both saving their breath for running, and whatever was to come afterward.

In the valley, the Targask came to a halt before a wall of defenders. It could see the flocks streaming out of the valley. Its prey was escaping. Enraged, it threw back its monstrous head, opening its jaws to reveal a terrifying array of teeth. It let out a thunderous roar. The sound almost immobilised the courageous shepherd boys. The beast gathered its muscles to spring onto the backs of the three leading alpha rams, but as it leapt, the nimble and intelligent rams also leapt forward, underneath the great beasts belly. As the targask landed amongst a deep patch of herbs, the rams spun round and charged it from the rear, their heavily horned skulls knocking the targask violently forward, off balance.

Seeing his chance, Rakk launched his spear into the beasts flank. Letting out a terrible roar of rage and pain, it slewed round to face Rakk, slashing at this body with its front paws, all the dreadful claws unsheathed. Rakk leapt backwards as two more shepherds launched their spears. The weapons found their marks, injuring the beast further, but its thick coat and tough skin prevented really serious injury.

Again the targask slewed round to face the new threat, lashing out with its deadly claws. This time its slashing claws caught the side of an alpha ram, tearing the flesh from the animal, exposing its rib cage. It gave a piercing blether of agony, before it fell beneath the trampling claws of the dreadful creature. In seconds its body was mangled, and the beast launched itself at new victims. The shepherds launched their spears as it presented its flank, or rump as a target. They tried to drive their spears into the muscles to weaken the beast, but it was too powerfully built.

Half the boys had thrown their spears to little effect. Two more rams were mangled by the lethal claws. It sprang forward again as the shepherds and rams drew back. The leap dislodged some of the spears from its flesh. Rakk sidestepped the beast, snatching up one of the fallen spears, raising it above his head. Double handed he plunged the twin spikes as deep into the targask’s neck as he could.

With a dreadful roar of rage, the beast slewed around slashing as it turned. This time Rakk was not quick enough to leap out of the reach of those deadly claws. A great chunk of flesh was torn from his rib cage. His scream of agony was lost in the beast’s roar of rage. As it lashed out to finish the youth off, Nartak Jakart plunged his spear deep into the creature’s side. Nartak did not get cleanly away either. Turning from the stricken Rakk, the targask sank the claws of its left front paw into Nartak’s upper arm. As the boy struggled to free himself from the deadly grip, damaging his muscles even more, his agony was unbearable. The targask drew the horrified boy towards its dreadful jaws. As the drool dropped onto his flesh, he fainted from sheer terror.

With perfect timing, the brorskit glided swiftly over the targask, lashing at the head with its tail. The bony projections at the end of its tail took the beast’s eye out of its skull. Roaring in agony, it released the unconscious Nartak. Rearing up on its hind legs, it lashed blindly above itself but the brorskit had passed over. The shepherds launched the last of their spears with all their strength. The enraged beast became frantic in its efforts to destroy its tormentors, but as it readied to launch itself forward again the brorskit landed on its back sinking front and back claws deep into the fur and flesh. The targask reared and plunged in rage, in its desperate efforts to unseat the brorskit. It made an attempt to roll onto its back and crush its enemy, but the effort plunged the spears deeper into its flesh. The heavily armed village men broke through the line of desperate young shepherds.

The men carried heavier spears than their sons, also clubs, axes and crossbows with thick flight shafts. The targask, unable to rid itself of the heavy brorskit, charged at the men. One gave it a terrible blow with his club, and had his right leg ripped open to the bone. Another man swung a mighty axe at the beast’s head, it knocked the axe from his grasp, slashing open his arm. Rattork Vask swung up his crossbow, sighting down the thick shaft. He waited until the targask turned to face him squarely. As the enraged beast tried to spring at him, with the heavy brorskit’s claws still firmly embedded in his back, it fully stretched out its front legs, extending its claws, leaving an open target of its heart for a brief moment. Rattork released the shaft, which hit its mark, plunging deep into the targask’s heart. One final terrible scream of agony, and the beast fell short of Rattork by a less than a metre. The body writhed on the ground for a little time, until it was very still. All the time the brorskit clung to its back. No-one approached the beast until the brorskit finally hopped down off the targask’s back, waggling away to a large rocky outcrop which it climbed, launched itself into the air, and returned to the village.

Without a word said, the uninjured shepherd boys ran swiftly down the valley towards the track taken by their flocks, which had now disappeared from sight. The remaining alpha rams also trotted off in the direction of the village.

Tarkin stood grim faced above his son. Karl Jakart knelt besides Nartak. The injured youths and adults were taken back to the village, carried or assisted by family members. The rest of the men stayed behind to collect valuable weapons, and to dispose of the carcass of the targask. It was a long grim night for everybody.

SARITA ARJ

As the sheep began to trot nervously into the village, Sarita Arj called for the young women to open the pens. The lambs followed the ewes to their own pens. The ewes were very jumpy, gathering their young close to them. Finally when all the flocks had returned except for a few alpha rams the girls carefully locked the gates, then gathered together in the middle of the square.

The brorskit glided over them, landing on the Clav family roof, folding its leathery wings around itself. It glared down its beak at the gathering of young girls.

Sarita Arj looked up at the brorskit, it looked back. They locked eyes for a few moments. Sarita Arj sighed deeply, then returned to the meeting hall.

They are returning with injured men, she informed the waiting women. They did not cry out or wail. They simply waited in tense silence, until the first party arrived with the two young shepherds, who were gently laid on two tables. The women gasped, Sarita Arj bustled around the tables, giving orders which the women followed without question. When the two injured men were brought in Sarita Arj quickly examined them, turning to Marta Clav. You must take care of these men, she said. When Marta looked at her, she said simply, you have the skills. She turned her back, attending to the more seriously injured shepherd boys.

The rest of the shepherds returned just ahead of the injured fathers, going straight to the pens. The remaining alpha rams which had not been killed, were let into the pens. The youths were very downhearted. They had lost three very valuable animals. They did not know how badly injured Rakk or Nartak were. They joined their sisters in the middle of the square until their fathers called them home; they were served supper by their sisters, whilst their mothers battled to save their friends.

While Rosalee tried to persuade her father to eat some supper, Letiva and Sarita Arj prepared Rakk for healing. First Sarita Arj mixed some of the herbs in hot water into a jug, to which she added a powder from a pouch on her girdle. Pouring the contents of the jug into four drinking vessels, she handed one cup to each of the women in charge of one of the patients. With Letiva’s help, she gently raised Rakk’s head and shoulders, a movement which made him scream with pain. Sarita Arj poured the warm liquid into his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but Letiva clamped her hand firmly over his lips, holding it there until he swallowed. Laying him back down, they left him to prepare other potions and herbs. When they returned to their patient, he was deeply unconscious, as were the other three patients.

Good, now we can get on with our work. First, we must cleanse the injured area of any dirt or poison the targask left on him. Sarita Arj directed Letiva in the use of the potions. They removed splinters of bone with fine tweezers. The beast did not take the flesh off completely, Sarita Arj murmured almost to herself. We must spread it out with care, cleanse it and lay it back over the rib cage.

Much flesh has been lost, healer, said Letiva worriedly.

This is true, he will be dreadfully scarred for the rest of his life, though I will do all I can to minimise that. We will save him, Madam Clav. Sarita Arj turned her strange tawny eyes to Letiva’s face. He will live. Letiva stared back at Sarita Arj, she believed her.

The four healing teams worked carefully on their patients long into the night. When they had done all which could be done, the women cleansed the patients, cleaned the room and cleansed themselves. They sat down around the tables where their unconscious patients lay. Sarita Arj went to the cooking range and brewed a large jug of herbal tea, which she shared around the exhausted women.

Drink, this will restore you. You have all worked exceedingly well. Sarita Arj examined each patient without disturbing any wrappings. They will all recover in time. Some sooner than others, but they will all bear the mark of the beast for the rest of their lives.

Beatris Jakart leaned over her son. Will he regain the use of his arm, Sarita Arj?

In time, madam Jakart. I believe he has been very fortunate to survive.

The other boys said the brorskit saved his life.

Sarita Arj smiled briefly. Ah yes, my good friend Brorskit. He has his uses.

You never go anywhere without it, remarked Marta.

I could not if I tried, snorted Sarita Arj. He is of the opinion I would not be safe if he did not escort me everywhere. She chuckled. I raised him from an egg, which had somehow escaped a raid by predators. He thinks I am his mother. Zalund Arj becomes most upset if I suggests he is its father.

All the women laughed. Not because they thought it was particularly amusing. I was just a relief to laugh. Sarita Arj smiled. She had a special soft spot for the people of this clan.

She found them stout hearted and community spirited. Every person looking out for the other members of the clan. If only all the clans behaved in such a way she reflected, sighing deeply. People were complex, she must not become critical of them.

She sat down by the table on which Rakk lay, sipping her herbal tea with the women, relaxing a little. They were all silent now, one or two began to nod off. After a while Sarita Arj notice that morning was breaking through the light spaces.

Standing up she said quietly to Marta, you must mix a large jug of pain killing draught. As they come around they will need it.

Marta nodded, going to mix the draught. She was Satira Arj’s student, carrying out most of the minor healing among the clan, sometimes travelling to the two other Bazzat clan villages, which were not far away. She was greatly relieved Sarita Arj had been visiting the village when the alarm was raised. Sending for her could have taken too long; lives may have been lost.

Sarita Arj slipped her cloak around herself, leaving the meeting hall. The air was fresh and sweet. This was a clean village, despite all the flocks which were penned around the perimeter. As yet there was no sign of life from the houses. She looked up to the rooftop of the Clav house. Brorskit was still perched in the middle of the ridge. He glared at her down his bill.

Good morning, she said softly. Brorskit merely clacked his bill, and remained wrapped in his wings. A dark shadow passed over the village. Brorskit took no notice, but Sarita Arj followed the shadow as it circled back, gliding towards the Clav roof. It was a female brorskit. She landed on the end of the ridge, partially folding her wings. She surveyed the male perched in the middle, who completely ignored her. She clacked her bill; there was no response. She began to sidle slowly to the middle of the ridge, stopping a fraction before she touched against the male. Again she clacked her bill. Again she was ignored.

She sat for a time watching the male, while below Sarita Arj watched with amusement. The female sidled one more step, bumping against the male. He turned swiftly, striking her bill sharply with his own. She scuttled a short distance from him. Regarding him once more, she slowly sidled back to him. He again struck her bill with his own, she scuttled away once more. This time she waited a little longer before sidling back to him. This provoked an angry squawk, and a much harder rap with his bill. Offended, the female spread her wings, knocking the male sideways. She glided from the roof, circling round. Coming up behind him, she whacked him across the back of his head with her tail. He snapped his bill at her, but missed. She glided swiftly away in a huff.

Oh Brorskit, laughed Sarita Arj, you are a disappointment to females brorskits all around the sector. Brorskit clacked his bill angrily, glaring at her. The door of the house opened. Tarkin Clav stumbled outside, bleary eyed, with a dark shadow on his chin. He looked anxiously at Sarita Arj. She smiled a welcome. Good morning, Tarkin. He will live.

Relief flooded the Clan Chief’s face. Huskily he said, we have much to thank you for, Sarita Arj.

I will not take all the praise. Your own wife and Marta, along with all the other women, did wonderful healing work during the night. Do not forget to thank them also.

I will not, Sarita Arj. How are the other injured men?

They will live, but for a while their abilities will be limited in different ways. They will carry the scars forever.

We will all help each other as we can. No-one will lose by this bad luck.

Yes, mused Sarita Arj. It was very bad luck indeed which brought a targask to our valley. It is true the males wander far and wide, but I have never known one to come roaming this far downland before. Let us hope no others follow it.

Tarkin looked shocked as he digested the thought. Do you think we should still be on our guard, Sarita Arj?

For a while, until we are sure. The other villages and clans must be warned too.

Tarkin thought for a moment. I will have the horn sounded to call the Clan Chiefs and their wives to a meeting. Can we use the meeting hall?

Yes, they will not be able to gather until tomorrow. We should be able to move the youngsters to their own homes by tomorrow morning. The men can go to their own homes later today.

Other villagers began to leave their houses. Tarkin called to them. They selected a youth with strong lungs to sound the Bazzat horn, which would alert other clans who would pass on the message to more distant villages. A Clan Chief’s meeting was arranged.

Cratt joined his father, asking after Rakk. Assured his young brother would live, he went to open up the smithy while Tarkin followed Sarita Arj into the meeting hall to see his son.

As Tarkin entered the healing room, Marta was administering the pain killing draught to the man who’s arm had been slashed. The man who had had his leg ripped open, was just recovering from the effects of the sleeping draught, but was grunting with pain. Marta hurried to his table, pouring more pain killing draught into a drinking vessel.

Tarkin stopped, speaking gruffly but kindly to the two men. They nodded in return. Tarkin moved to the table where his son lay, still deeply under the influence of the sleeping draught, both young shepherds having been given larger doses than the two men, were still fast asleep.

Letiva looked at her husband with eyes which were red rimmed with exhaustion. He placed a large rough hand on her shoulder, smiling down at her.

He will live, Tarkin. she said anxiously, as if she could not quite believe it.

I know, Sarita Arj told me. he replied softly. Looking down at his youngest son, he sighed deeply. He reached out his hand to touch him, but thought better of it and withdrew it. Trying to sound cheerful, he said to his wife, looks like he is going to be under your feet for a while.

I can live with that. She smiled up at him as they stood side by side looking down on their injured son.

An eruption of blathering, announced the young shepherds were moving the flocks out to the valley pastures again. Kall Jakart walked into the room to be greeted by his tired wife. He looked at his son sadly, then turned to Tarkin.

Zalgo will go with the flocks today, he is taking charge of yours for now. Tarkin thanked him. Kall had three sons, Zalgo was the second. I gave him the Bazzat horn, and warned him to be aware that another targask may be in the area. He has taken a crossbow with him.

That’s good, Tarkin said quietly to Kall. Stepping away from his son he raised his voice. You women have done wonderful work here during this night. On behalf of the whole village, I want to thank you. You all look exhausted. Perhaps some of the other women could keep watch over them, while these good wives have a well earned rest. He looked enquiringly at Sarita Arj.

She nodded her approval. I will arrange it, she said simply.

No-one suggested Sarita Arj should stand down for a while. Everyone knew better.

During the course of the morning, the two injured men were taken to their own homes, to be fussed over by their womenfolk, while they fretted to get back to their workshops. Nartak and Rakk awoke half way through the afternoon. Marta, who was back in charge again, administered the pain killing draught to Nartak. Sarita Arj ordered Rakk be given another sleeping draught, for his pain was so great. He sank gratefully back into oblivion.

Brorskit gave a harsh cry. Sarita Arj went outside, looking up to him. They locked eyes, she nodded. Brorskit unfolded his wings, glided from the roof top and circled round the village, before heading off in the direction of the great nesting place. There, stood high cliffs with many ledges, surrounding a deep lake, which was fed at one end by a small river. This was where a large colony of brorskits lived, raising their young on large nests built of rocks and rough herbs. They were mainly fish eaters, making spectacular headlong plunges into the deep water of the lake to catch enormous fish of several different species. Sarita Arj’s brorskit was going fishing for his breakfast.

Sarita Arj turned to re-enter the healing room, when two very strange looking little men trotted across the square, bowing before her. They were identical in appearance, being twins. Standing little more than a metre high, they had large round heads, rotund bodies, long arms ending in podgy hands, with short legs and amazingly large feet, encased in soft fur lined boots.

They were the Paskit brothers. Coming from a race of people who lived hundreds of miles across the great continent of Traztajor. Ruled by their own Satrup, they were highly intelligent and scholarly. Know as Clerz, only a few were known to live and work beyond their own borders. These two were in the service of Zalund Arj, an exacting and irascible master.

Good afternoon, Sarita Arj greeted them smiling, did my husband send you?

Yes, Sarita Arj, they piped together in high pitched voices. He is anxious to know what the problem is in the Clav village. The villages were always named after the Clan Chief or leading man’s family. Zalund Arj wishes to know when you will be returning to the cattille, piped Clatt. They looked enquiringly at Sarita Arj.

Sarita Arj sighed. She might have known. Zalund Arj hated her to spend a night away from the cattille. He relied on her presence far more than he would ever admit. In fact she did not like to be away from him for too long, for she greatly cared for him.

However, as Head of the Healers of the Maj Society she felt obliged to spend time among the villages of the seven different clans in the sector, which came under Zalund Arj’s protection.

I shall return by tomorrow evening, for I cannot leave the two badly injured shepherd boys yet, she said.

Zalund Arj wishes you to return at once, piped Clunn.

The twins looked at her anxiously. By tomorrow evening and no sooner, she replied firmly. The twins looked crestfallen. Sarita Arj felt sorry for them. As her husband’s closest associates, she knew they would greatly suffer from his irascibility until she returned. She had sent a message by scrying stone to her husband as soon as she knew the seriousness of the situation, but he was never so sympathetic towards the villagers as she would have liked. However, she would stand firm in her resolve; her husband would have to live with it.

Are you sure, Sarita Arj? Clatt tried to appeal to her better nature. He did not realise that it was Sarita Arj’s better nature which was holding her firmly in her resolve to help the injured shepherd boys.

I am sure. she replied firmly. Very sure, in case they did not understand the first time.

The twins sighed in unison. Giving her one of their strange bobbing bows, they turned, trotting out of the village towards the cattille.

Bother, said Sarita Arj crossly. Why can’t he just understand sometimes? I’ll give him a piece of my mind when I get back.

Giving a snort of annoyance, she smoothed out her anger before going back to her patients.

A CLAN CHIEF’S MEETING

By the time Sarita Arj did return to the cattille to do battle with her husband, the seven Chiefs and their wives from all the clans had gathered in the Clav village meeting house. Also present, were the leading men of the minor villages. The news of a targask attack had greatly disturbed them. Other villages had sheep or cattle which grazed among the hills and valleys, which were a feature of the Arj sector. There was even more disturbing news to come.

Blandro Lakk of the Frangort clan reported that strangers had been seen in the sector by his herd boys. They had with them a large covered wagon, pulled by four bullocks. The boys had tried to approach the wagon, because they heard muffled snarls coming from it, but the driver had driven it quickly away. The boys were told roughly to go away by the strangers.

We of the Frangort clan now wonder if it was the targask they set free, to roam and create chaos among the flocks and herds.

Why would they do such a terrible thing? How would they capture a fully grown targask in the first place? protested Dannat Cazz who was the Clan Chief of Rakkin the smallest of the seven local clans.

My own son Ziggi was with the herd boys, said Blandro. He said one of the men was covered in a large cloak and hood. His face was covered, but it was very windy; the hood was blown away from his face. The man snatched it back into place, but my son swears he had very white skin and a black Blazd beard.

There was a unified gasp around the room. It is true, said Vesha Lakk supporting her husband. Our son was sure.

Why did you not go to Zalund Arj to report it as soon as your son told you? demanded Frank Loggit of the Pozzak clan.

Because the other herd boys did not see it, and could not support my son.

Even so, you should have taken the boy to Zalund Arj, and let him decide whether to pursue it or not, said Tarkin slowly. When did they see these strangers exactly?

Four days since, before the targask attack. Blandro was defensive now.

Pann Koggan of the Tagrik clan spoke. He was the oldest of all the Chief’s, into his seventieth full year. Whatever has gone before, matters not now. If there’s the slightest chance of a Blazd in the Arj sector, Zalund Arj must be informed, at once. Did I see Sarita Arj as I entered your village, Tarkin?"

It was Letiva who answered. Yes you did, but she may have already left. I will find out, she hurried from the meeting house, only to confirm that Sarita Arj had indeed already left. It would mean Blandro and his wife going all the way to the cattille. Serves them right, muttered Letiva, they should have done their duty in the first place. She quickly reported back to the meeting.

Blandro and Vesha left the meeting immediate on Letiva’s return. They had arrived in a small wagon drawn by a bullock. They drove out of the village in the direction of the cattille.

The meeting continued the discussions. Some of the Pozzak were scornful of the idea that a Blazd had entered the sector, and released the targask. They argued that they could have been minor merchants trading in illegal animals. The wives were not so easily assured by this kind of talk. Where would these minor merchants have come from they wanted to know, and why had they ended up so far off the main road? The Arj sector, they pointed out, was not on a main road to any large town or city.

Why should they take illegal animals to a town or city? demanded Racc Plak of the Joda clan. It would make more sense for them to sell to a farmer, to breed a stronger strain into his herd or flock?

Nonsense, snorted Hal Tannet of the Labbak clan. You of the Joda clan mostly grow food crops, and know little of animal rearing. Just where do you think anyone in this sector could keep an illegal animal, and breed from it without everyone else finding out about it?

There was general agreement on this point, so Racc withdrew his argument. Mainly because his wife gave him black looks.

It was getting late; the shepherd boys returned to the village with the flocks.

All we can do for now is to keep alert and wait for instructions from Zalund Arj, said Tarkin. Those who can get back to their villages before darkness falls, should set off at once. Those who cannot, I urge you to stay with my people until morning.

There was agreement to this suggestion; the Clan Chief’s meeting broke up. Those who could get home before dark set off without delay; those who could not were welcomed into the homes of the Clav village until morning.

ZALUND ARJ

When Sarita Arj left for the cattille she walked through the village square, passing by the empty flock pens to a small clearing among the wild herbs. There she waved her hand; a chair appeared, which she had hidden by vigort. Thaumaturges and some privileged assistants, like the Paskit twins always travelled by Maj chairs. The clan members called them flying chairs. Sarita Arj and the Paskit brothers always landed beyond the village and walked in, as the appearance of a Maj chair caused too much disruption. Zalund Arj however, cared not a jot for the disruption he may cause, on the occasional times he did pay a visit to a village, he glided right into the centre in his Maj chair.

The chair appeared simple enough in construction. It had a straight back and a large seat, which were comfortably upholstered in a multicoloured fabric. The arms were plain and unadorned. The legs were sturdy, with a step attached to the bottom of the two front legs.

Sarita Arj stood on the step to get into the chair. Sitting down, she placed her feet firmly on the step and commanded, rise. The chair ascended vertically for a few metres then stopped. To the cattille, she commanded, the chair turned about in midair, setting off towards the cattille. The brorskit glided down, sailing majestically along beside his mistress.

On arriving at the cattille the chair glided over the outer wall. The cattille was a tall square building with many floors. On the very top surrounded by a stone balustrade, were two round towers with large light spaces.

Rise, she commanded the chair. It rose vertically up to the top of the building, over the balustrade where the brorskit landed, folding his wings around his body. The chair glided inside one of the round towers, the doors opening at her approach. It stopped in the centre of the large chamber. Land, she commanded; the chair gently settled onto a huge, red, circular carpet with a black border of strange symbols.

Home at last, Sarita Arj murmured gratefully.

And about time too, came a sharp, slightly harsh voice from the depth of a large upholstered armchair, placed with its back to her. Sarita Arj pulled a face, then arranging her features into a smile she alighted from the Maj chair, walking across the room to confront her husband.

It has been a dreadful two days for the Clav village, she said, the smile still in place. I simply could not leave until the young shepherd boys were out of immediate danger.

It is time you stopped coddling these peasants and let them get on with it. You might perhaps in future have some consideration for me.

The smile vanished; she leaned down, thrusting her finely moulded features into his hard chiselled face. I will have more consideration for you, when you have a little consideration for anyone but yourself. He stared back at her with large, oval, green eyes, and a mouth set in a thin line on his long face. I am not your assistant, nor am I your servant. I am my own person, I will come and go as I please. If you do not like it, I do not care. She withdrew her face from his, straightened up and glared down at him. He glared back.

I haven’t had a decent meal since you left, he said jutting his chin out stubbornly.

Rubbish, she exploded. "We