City Of Night: Book Two of The Hand of Fire

by James Wolf

‘Come quickly, Logan!’ Hirandar whispered, as she cast a great beam of light across the dark pool. ‘Make haste whilst they still fear our lights!’

  Logan walked backwards out of the pool, keeping his sword between him and the deeper water. Although fear tingled thorough Macen’s body, he prepared to leap forward and fight by his Master’s side.

  Forgrun and Ragad shone their lanterns back over the pool. Macen put his hand on Logan’s shoulder to guide the Sodan Master as he walked backwards. The companions huddled close together. Macen glanced at Baek and Jvarna and saw the terror in their eyes. He heard Drual’s crossbow rattling against his sheathed sword, as the rogue’s hands shook.

  ‘Powerful evil lingers here,’ Logan stared back at the pool, as he continued to back away.

  ‘Hurry!’ Hirandar pointed her staff down the next tunnel, and she led the company off at a brisk pace.

  The Hand of Fire trekked on through the murky cave system, and Macen forgot it would have been morning in the daylight, miles above through solid rock. He could see how the blackness weighed all his companions’ hearts down – see the fear in their shadowed faces. These caves had a sinister feel that chilled him to the bone. The fear touched his soul. Every step further seemed to feel heavier, and he began to feel weary.

  ‘There’s light ahead!’ Baek said.

  And Macen felt such relief surge through him, as he looked beyond Forgrun, Jvarna, the Aborle and the Wizard, to glimpse natural light at the end of the tunnel.

  ‘Thank the Light for that!’ Jvarna murmured, as the company pushed on faster, keen to escape.

  As the rest of the companions moved onward, Hirandar dropped to the back, and Baek followed, to cover for anything that could be stalking them. If there was something trailing them in the dark, it would know they were coming up to the outside light, and might make a last ditch attempt to snatch one of them. Logan motioned for Macen to follow, as the Sodan Master advanced to the head of the company.

  Logan and Macen removed their backpacks, crept up to the edge of the cave mouth and flattened themselves against the side-wall, looking over the mountain country for any sign of Kruns. As they edged out into the daylight, Macen soon discovered they were in the midst of a rocky outcrop, to the east of the plateau outside the Rhungar stronghold. Shifting round the edge of the giant rocks, Logan and Macen saw the Krun army was a couple of miles away, entrenching themselves on the plateau, out of range of the Rhungars’ war machines. They listened and watched as drums were banged and horns were blown, and one of the impatient tribes charged the great doors of Khan Zhen. Booms echoed through the mountains, as Rhungar cannons hidden above the fortress walls targeted the charging Kruns. Cannonballs ripped through the screaming horde. The Krun charge lost momentum, and the creatures were soon fleeing back outside the range of the cannons.

  Macen and Logan flanked back round the rocks, to find the company had all safely emerged from the caves. From the outside, the cave entrance was a small hole that gave no clue to the extensive subterranean network it led down into. At Hirandar’s suggestion, Drual and Baek had kept their missile weapons fixed on the black opening. Ragad, also, had not taken his eyes from the cave, whilst Jvarna surveyed the landscape and Forgrun scrutinised the surrounding rocks. There was no talking now. They were seasoned warriors and this was a time for concentration.

  ‘Even if the Kruns knew there was a secret exit inside,’ Hirandar said, ‘they would somehow have to navigate the cave system, and whatever monstrous creatures there are down there.’

  ‘The Kruns have returned to their siege,’ Logan gestured around the edge of the rocky outcrop, ‘and are camped on the plateau. The eastern path is open to us, but there may be scouts patrolling the trail.’

  ‘It’s ten miles on from here,’ Hirandar gazed eastwards, toward the gap between two snow-capped mountains, ‘till the start of the Blizzen paths.’

  Behind those two mountains, Macen could see the mountaintops rose to pierce the clouds.

  ‘Lead on, Logan,’ Hirandar stared warily back into the dark cave.

  ‘Stay close,’ Logan set off eastward over the loose soil, weaving through scattered boulders. ‘Macen and I will push ahead. Baek, watch the rear. And Forgrun, watch Baek. Make sure he does not fall behind.’

  All the companions were eager to press on and leave the shadow of the menacing cave, but the rearguard did not turn their backs until it was far in the distance.

  The Hand of Fire soon left the sight of the Krun army, as they traversed the open country of the grey mountains. Macen saw each of his fellow warriors was ever watchful, sweeping their gazes all around the rocky country, and listening for any sound of an enemy. Logan found the mountain path, and Macen saw the countless imprints of thousands of boots on the softer parts of the trail.

  ‘The sheer volume of markings means I cannot find sign of Isornel and Balthus,’ Logan said to Macen, as they crouched down to look at the tracks.

  ‘But on the plus side,’ Macen said softly, ‘it also means our company will barely leave a trail here.’

  ‘Right,’ Logan smiled.

  Besides a whole army of boot-prints, Macen saw signs of the Kruns passing everywhere. The Kruns had hacked down the hardy mountain shrubs and flowers within reach of the path, and had broken any mountain trees they had come across. Even the sparse patches of thick mountain grass had been burnt.

  ‘Why have they attacked these trees?’ Baek pointed to a smashed copse by the trailside.

  ‘Malice and spite,’ Hirandar shook her head in disgust. ‘The Krun and Ugurs are wicked creatures. They get malevolent enjoyment from destroying anything that is fair and good.’

  ‘Scum!’ Forgrun snarled.

  ‘They are creatures of darkness and evil,’ Logan said grimly.

  ‘It is so senseless,’ Hirandar said angrily, ‘but it is typical of Kruns.’

  As Macen surveyed a line of broken trees, and the patches of stomped on flowers, he hated the Kruns for the destruction they caused.

  ‘Come,’ Logan waved his hand towards the snow-capped peaks, ‘we have much ground to cover before nightfall.’

  The trail snaked on between the bases of the two low peaks, before coming to an obvious crossroads. Macen saw how their path crossed the main trail as it stretched away, to the south and north, through more low mountains and beyond. A smaller track led straight on eastwards, climbing as it wound upwards through the high mountains. Macen knew this was their path.

  It was late in the afternoon, but Logan gestured for the company to continue on without a moment’s rest. Macen knew it was too dangerous to dawdle here. Logan wanted the Hand of Fire to be well into the high passes, before setting up camp for the night – just in case there were Krun scouting parties.

  As soon as the company stepped onto the Blizzen Path they began to climb. Macen soon found himself shivering, even though his legs were burning from the exertion, and he pulled his cloak tighter. The path became narrow, often running alongside crevasses and ravines. Although some of these sheer drops fell down into hidden valleys, many fell into the darkness, reminding Macen of the sinister cave system where they had spent that morning. At one point, the company was skirting a mountain edge over a thousand yard drop. Macen gazed over the edge, trying to glimpse what lay beneath mountains, but it was too far down to make out. The wind seemed so cold here that its biting chill burned his face. Baek and Jvarna had wrapped cloth around their mouth and noses, as they struggled into the wind, whilst Forgrun seemed to be enjoying the fresh air as he hummed a quiet tune. To Macen’s amazement, Ragad was still bare-chested under his great bearskin cloak.

  ‘Are you not cold?’ Macen asked, as he pulled his cloak tight.

  ‘I like the feel of the cold,’ Ragad said, ‘it makes me feel alive.’

  ‘It makes me feel half-dead,’ Drual muttered, through his chattering teeth.

  ‘It will only be for a few days,’ Hirandar said half-heartedly.

  ‘Accept the cold,’ Logan said to th
e whole company, ‘do not fight it. You must pay it no heed. Be one with the elements.’

  ‘Easy for a Sodan to say,’ Drual murmured once Logan was far out of ear shot.

  Macen glared at the rogue. He stopped and placed his left hand on his sword hilt.

  ‘Sorry,’ Drual shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Just remember whom you speak of,’ Macen said harshly, ‘before you open your thoughtless mouth!’

  ‘Come on,’ Jvarna pulled Macen along up the trail. ‘He’s not worth it,’ she glowered back at Drual.

  Ragad shook his head at the rogue.

  ‘What?’ Drual threw his arms wide, as Ragad turned and followed after the rest of the company.

  That night, the adventurers built a huge campfire, chopping or breaking down any of the mountain trees they could find. Under Logan’s instruction, the fire grew to a massive roaring blaze, and gave off so much heat no one could bear to sit too close.

  Looking westward, and far down below them, Macen saw there were hundreds of campfires spread out over the plateau. Macen thought the countless tiny twinkles of red light rivalled the number of stars in the sky. The outer walls of the Rhungar citadel were hidden – the Khan Zhen Mountain obscured their view. Macen thought on how his sister Elena would have loved to have seen this amazing sight.

  ‘We need more firewood,’ Logan told Forgrun and Ragad.

  ‘Are you planning on keeping us warm,’ Jvarna asked, as the two bulky warriors sunk away into the twilight, ‘or roasting us?’

  Macen had also wondered why Logan insisted on the fire being so large.

  ‘The Nemeth stalk the high mountains,’ Logan watched Forgrun and Ragad working on some trees out in the dusk. Even in the twilight, the Sodan Master knew it was dangerous to be too far from the light.

  ‘They are like shadows in the night,’ Logan’s hand rested on his sword-hilt. ‘Hunting any they come across. But they loathe sunlight, and cannot tolerate any other light. And they have a great fear of fire.’

  ‘Evil creatures,’ Hirandar rested by the warmth of the fire, ‘but not servants of Nalveous. The Nemeth are as old as the mountains themselves.’

  Forgrun – who had returned from gathering more firewood – said, ‘They do have big claws an’ razor sharp teeth. Whenever people be disappearin’ in wild mountains, more of’en than nay ye Nemeth be ter blame. They do run fas’er than any Man,’ Forgrun whispered as he held up his fist. ‘An’ they be size o’ bears, but do have gaping, dripping jaws,’ Forgrun used his hands to pretend he had a massive snout, ‘an’ long black fur.’ Forgrun waved his hands outwards and backwards.

  The Rhungar’s wide-eyed dread sent a shiver down Macen’s spine.

  ‘They be unnat’ral creatures,’ Forgrun muttered. ‘Yer in deep trouble if yhee can see thy green eyes shining out from darkness.’

  Macen saw how all the company had edged closer to the fire, and now clutched their weapons tight, as they stared out into the darkness with anxious eyes. Baek had gone paler than normal, and even Drual was silent for once.

  ‘The fire must keep burning until first light,’ Logan said strongly. ‘No one leaves the fireside at night, not for any reason.’

  ‘Will the Kruns not see our fire?’ Macen gazed down at the distant campfires.

  ‘Not with this working,’ Hirandar reached under one of her blankets, and brought out an orb in the palm of her slender hand.

  Macen watched, transfixed, as the sphere glowed yellow then green then purple, and proceeded to meld and swirl into every colour under the sun. Over and through each other, melting and moulding together in a continuous kaleidoscope.

  ‘This is an Orb of Concealment,’ Hirandar said. ‘Called an Orb of Silarnon – after the wizard who invented it.’

  Macen heard the respect in his teacher’s voice.

  ‘From a distance,’ Hirandar went on. ‘It can hide us, and our fire. But for anything within a hundred yards, it is beyond the orb’s magic to conceal.’

  ‘Even so,’ Logan stared out into the darkness, ‘we take no chances here. We need a constant watch throughout the night. Macen and Baek first, then Hirandar and Drual, myself and Jvarna, and finally Forgrun and Ragad.’

  ‘Now that be settled,’ Forgrun said heartily, ‘anyone do be up fer some grub? Cos I be famished!’

  Macen smiled as the Rhungar set to building a spit for the campfire, and he could see he was not the only companion who had been encouraged by Forgrun’s good spirits. The thought of food had banished any thought of the Nemeth from the Rhungar’s mind.

  As the other companions chatted away, over their dinner of spit-roasted gollys, Ragad gazed up to the night sky.

  ‘You have guided me all this time, mighty spirits,’ Ragad murmured, as he looked up at the stars. ‘When my courage is questioned it will not be found wanting. I am thy humble servant until the end,’ Ragad dropped his head in silent prayer.

  From across the fire, Hirandar watched the barbarian. Whilst Forgrun entertained the others, with tales of his ancestors’ incredible – yet improbable – bravery and guile.

  ‘What unnerves you, Ragad?’ Baek asked.

  ‘The nightship waits to take me,’ Ragad gazed up to the stars, ‘on the last lonely voyage across the Starlake. The helmsman, Elor, calls for me, but I will not board his vessel – not yet. Not until my purpose is fulfilled.’

  Macen could see Hirandar was listening with interest, her bright blue eyes fixed on the Croma.

  ‘Cheer up!’ Jvarna placed her arm over Ragad’s massive shoulders. ‘You’re safe from this boatman. There’s no water round here anyway!’ She smiled, trying to lighten Ragad’s heart. ‘It’s Nargs and Kruns you should be worrying about.’

  ‘In life we all search for something,’ Ragad rumbled, as he stared into the fire, ‘I will not go before I have found it. It was prophesised my life would be given in great service to the Light.’

  ‘He’s always pensive,’ Jvarna shrugged her shoulders to the other companions. ‘Always going on about his fate. His destiny to die a great death… Needs a good woman to cheer him up a bit!’

  ‘Don’t we all,’ Drual winked at Jvarna.

  ‘From what I’ve heard,’ Jvarna’s eyes could have withered stone. ‘You’ve already had plenty of good women.’

  ‘Well, well darling,’ Drual grinned at Jvarna. ‘You can’t get too much of a good thing! I can’t help it if I’ve got scores of women in love with me.’ Drual chuckled, but no one else was laughing.

  Macen saw Jvarna fingering the hilt of one of her throwing knives.

  ‘You’re too in love with yourself to ever love anyone else!’ Jvarna snarled.

  ‘Wooaaa!’ Drual beamed one of his dazzling white smiles. ‘Relax, princess, there’s plenty of me to go around.’

  Logan glowered at the rogue. And Macen felt angered enough to punch Drual.

  ‘You must be deranged!’ Jvarna scoffed. ‘Did you slip and bump your head? The last time your cheating girlfriend was chucking your cowardly arse out of her house? You must’ve died with fright, when you heard her husband coming home early from court!’

  Most of the companions sniggered. They had all heard that rumour in Dolam.

  ‘I prefer brave men to cowards,’ Jvarna looked down her nose at the rogue. ‘You don’t measure up, in any department!’ Jvarna snatched a throwing dagger from its sheath and launched it at Drual.

  Drual hurled his legs apart as the dagger thudded into the tree trunk he was sitting on, landing inches from the rogue’s groin. Drual let out a relieved sigh as he glanced down, wide-eyed, at the dagger juddering just below his manhood.

  All the other companions erupted with laughter at the look of terror on the rogue’s face.

  ‘Looks like Drual do be losin’ his balls, again!’ Forgrun jeered, to more guffawing from the others.

  ‘Ho ho ho,’ a deep voice rumbled, a laughter like no other, so low it almost shook the ground. The companions all swivelled, to see Ragad trying to stifle his mirth b
ehind one of his massive fists, which in turn caused all the friends to laugh some more.

  ‘Well thrown,’ Logan gestured for Drual to give Jvarna back her knife, ‘and well said!’

  Drual scowled as he returned Jvarna’s dagger, whilst everyone else laughed some more. Only Hirandar was quiet and thoughtful, as her sapphire eyes twinkled by the firelight. She was an old woman, who had seen much of the world, but it could still surprise even her.

  The companions were still joking and laughing when they got in their blankets and laid down by the fireside. No one got more than broken sleep that night though, just a few snatched hours between shifts. Macen knew he would have to get used to such little rest in the weeks to come.

  Chapter 6 – Fires in the Night

  The companions had already been striding up the mountain trail for an hour, when the sun emerged from behind the snow-capped peaks to the east. Macen could see, further up the trail, the rocky path would soon lead them higher up into snow.

  Logan’s keen gaze scoured the ground for tracks as they walked.

  ‘Hoof-prints are nigh on impossible to conceal,’ Macen pointed down at the horse tracks, ‘where the trail leaves rock for softer ground. But they made no effort to hide their passing?’

  ‘Yes,’ Logan gestured for the other companions to walk on, ‘either they thought there was no risk of being followed, or they did not care if they were. How many were they, Macen?’

  Macen surveyed the numerous markings trodden into the bare soil, and said, ‘A score of horses, all heavily laden by the depth of the prints.’

  ‘Correct,’ Logan gazed up the mountain trail, searching for any sign of them in the distance.

  ‘My friends,’ Logan called, as he and Macen walked on after the company, ‘we must make haste. They have two days head start at the least.’

  The trail climbed ever higher, and by midday the company trod ground blanketed with snow. By the afternoon the snow was above their ankles, sometimes over their knees, and they had to wade through. Macen found the snow heavy going, but he braced himself against the chill air, draped Rhungari blankets over his trembling body, and battled on. Macen saw Baek staring glumly down at the floor, as the Aborle trudged through the snow.