The Grim Wanderer

by James Wolf

  ‘As you say,’ Bessie scoffed. ‘But the legend of the Grim Wanderer has grown since his disappearance. His feats have become the stuff of storybooks.’ Sarcasm tinged her voice, and disapproval glowered in her dark eyes. ‘You must think what effect the return of the Grim Wanderer’s will have on Dolam, and how it may affect your desire for secrecy.’ Bessie left the room, making sure to slam the door behind her.

  Logan shook his head in annoyance.

  ‘Clever woman, that,’ Hirandar said thoughtfully. ‘She would have made a fine stateswoman – if she were not so dedicated to the ideals of The Order. Hers has been a virtuous life of service. I would tell her what she believes in is nothing more than a dream… but I could not bear to break her heart.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Baek asked. ‘What is wrong with the Order of the Sceptre?’

  Hirandar started, coming back from her daydream, ‘The Order is... in decline – like magic itself.’ The Wizard smiled weakly at Baek.

  ‘Nay!’ Forgrun boomed. ‘It can nay be! I do seen yer great magic, Me Lady?’

  ‘I thank you for your words, Forgrun,’ Hirandar reached over to tap the Rhungar’s huge forearm. ‘But magic is a failing power. Over the last few years I have sensed the ebb in the flow of magic. If The Decline continues, there won’t be any wizards in a hundred years.’

  Everyone sat quietly back in their chairs for a few moments.

  ‘Who is the Grim Wanderer?’ Taem said casually.

  ‘Ye greatest warrior o’ our time!’ Forgrun said grandly, leaping in before Logan could choose some careful words. ‘A man o’ nay fear!’ Forgrun shot his fist up into the air. ‘Who strode unafraid inter ye Shadowlands. Who single-handedly held off a Krun war party who be raidin’ a defenceless village, an’ stood alone, against o’er hundred beastmen, dauntlessly barrin’ gates o’ Cragmir when ye city be besieged by a Narg army–’

  ‘The tales of the Grim Wanderer,’ Hirandar said, ‘are so embedded in peoples’ minds, that they will never be forgotten.’

  All the warriors looked at Logan.

  ‘I was the Grim Wanderer,’ Logan whispered, ‘long ago.’

  ‘I can nay believe,’ Forgrun bowed his head, ‘I do ‘ave ye honour ter travel with yhee.’

  ‘But people speak of the Grim Wanderer as if he were a myth?’ Baek stared at Logan

  in awe.

  ‘They have embraced the legend in their hearts,’ Hirandar said wistfully. ‘In these dark times, people need to hear of the good deeds of heroes.’

  ‘That was my old life,’ Logan had a cold gleam in his eyes, ‘much has changed since. I feared nothing, because I neither loved nor cared for anything. Yes, I was once called the Grim Wanderer, but I never spoke of it.’ Logan looked at Taem. ‘It does not change the person I am. The same person you have always known.’

  ‘Remember,’ Hirandar said to Taem, ‘first and foremost he is Logan, who is as close to you as a father. The man who taught you the sword, and how to ride. Who taught you to be humble, how to patch up a barn roof, and to help your auntie collect in the washing. Know that first, before you hear tall stories of the warrior who kings would kneel before.’

  ‘Ter be trained by ye Wanderer himself,’ Forgrun looked at Taem in disbelief. ‘What great Kaladim.’

  Taem saw the reverence in Forgrun’s eyes, but he realised Hirandar was right. Logan was the same man he had known back on the farm. This famous name would make no difference to their friendship. If anything, it made Taem wonder how terrible Logan’s past must have been, if the mention of it made him go cold.

  ‘I want our stay in Dolam to be short,’ Hirandar said. ‘I remind you all that we must keep a low profile. You three should stick together at all times,’ Hirandar said to Taem, Forgrun and Baek. ‘We will have dinner later, but first I suggest a shopping trip.’

  Chapter 13 – Fandivas Street

  ‘Come one, come all!

  Come to train in the adventurer school!

  See the wonder, feel the heat!

  Nobody does it like Fandivas Street!’ Bellowed a herald. He wore a striking gold tunic with the Chalice of Grantle on the front. He stood on a pillar, just beyond the confines of Fandivas Street, beckoning for all to enter.

  Beyond the herald, people walked through a giant stone arch carved with stars, comets, moons, suns, lightning bolts and all manner of creatures. Over the arch’s roof there was a grand metal sign that said Fandivas Street. Through the arch, people milled up and down the alley as it stretched away until the street’s first bend.

  ‘What is this place?’ Baek said, his voice full of wonder.

  ‘Fandivas Street,’ Hirandar said, from underneath her grey hood, ‘Every adventurer that comes to Dolam will come here.’

  Taem saw how everything in the street was bright and colourful, and full of life. The buildings on opposite sides loomed out over the alley as they got taller, so much so that Taem imagined it might be possible to jump from one top storey window to another, leaping across the cobbled street.

  ‘Keep close together!’ Hirandar led the company on down the street.

  Logan trailed behind the other companions, with his blue hood up to conceal his face.

  Taem thought Fandivas Street must have been the busiest places in the whole of Hathlore. With everyone being confined in the narrow alleyway, it made it seem as if there were twice as many people as there actually were. Taem’s nose drew in the salivating smell of Dolami street cuisine, and there was more chatter, shouting and yelling going on here than at Cairbron’s harvest festival.

  ‘Have your blade ready,’ Logan whispered over Taem’s shoulder, and the apprentice moved his right hand onto his scabbard, by his right side.

  The companions walked down the bustling alleyway, and Taem saw people of Aritas, and more natives from Grantle, but there were also many outlandish warriors from further afield. He saw olive-skinned pirates, who he assumed were from Shacain. He recognised barbarians from Croma, dressed in animal skins and carrying great weapons – every one of those Northmen was a giant of a man. Taem saw warriors with baggy trousers and curved swords, and he knew they were from Ruhr.

  ‘There are so many strange people here!’ Baek said.

  Hirandar shushed the Aborle, before she murmured, ‘The lure of treasure draws people from far and wide.’

  A dozen Rhungars stomped past the companions, and each one was a squat mountain of muscle. They all nodded to Forgrun. Taem saw how they were all dressed in a wild array of colours, and a couple of them wore bright yellow and red – the same colours as Forgrun always wore.

  ‘Hail! Ironstone brother!’ The yellow and red wearing Rhungars called to Forgrun.

  ‘Hail! Brothers o’ ye Clan!’ Forgrun boomed back.

  ‘Axemen of the Bardaron wilderness,’ Logan whispered to Taem, when he saw his apprentice looking at some fierce eyed warriors. They had long hair, with wolf skin cloaks, and braided leather bands tied around their foreheads.

  ‘They are a backward people,’ Logan murmured, ‘who live in tents and move with their herds, and pray to their own totem gods.’

  Taem saw the middle of the street had cleared up ahead. Four Darnean Reavers were fronting up against a dozen Chevaliers.

  ‘Step aside, Darnean,’ sneered one of the Chevaliers.

  Taem saw that all those Chevaliers wore burnished steel breastplates over white robes, and long brown velvet cloaks, emblazoned with a golden shepherd's crook.

  ‘A fight!’ Forgrun said. ‘Good.’

  ‘Long ago,’ Hirandar said softly, ‘the reverent forbears of the Chevaliers would never have gotten into street brawls. Neither would they have worn such extravagant cloaks and armour, but there’s nothing down to earth about Chevaliers these days.’

  ‘Where do they come from?’ Baek asked.

  ‘Jinamon,’ Hirandar said, ‘the realm north west of here, the centre of the church’s power.’

  ‘You bar my way!’ The leader of the Reavers scoffed. ‘A Darnea
n high-born move aside so a Jinen can pass? I think not!’

  Each Reaver had jewel stud earrings in either or both ears, depending on their rank. They all had pruned moustaches, and manicured stubble with a triangular goatee beard. Taem knew the Reavers were the heaviest, and most feared, cavalry in the whole of Hathlore, famed for their long lances and barded warhorses. But no one could walk around in heavy armour all day, so these Darnean nobleman now wore the finest clothes, with swords on their belts. A Reaver had to be one of the Darnean high-born, and they all wore a gold earring with a purple stone to mark their noble status. Taem thought their silks and ruffles made these Darneans look like stuffed-up peacocks.

  ‘They may look ridiculous,’ Logan whispered to Taem, ‘but these Reaver Knights have the best equipment money can buy, and are extremely powerful in battle. I have seen a company of Reavers rout an entire army. But they only train to do one thing, strap themselves to their warhorses, point their lances and charge. So should you ever come to face them in war, Taem, remember how inflexible they are. They are effective in one direction only, forwards.’

  ‘Deadly,’ Taem murmured, ‘yet predictable.’

  Logan nodded.

  ‘You dare deny a soldier of The Church?’ A Chevalier roared at the Reavers. ‘Heathens! We are Chevaliers, move aside now! The Light wills it!’

  ‘The Light wills it!’ All the other Chevaliers shouted, as they unlooped their maces from their belts.

  ‘Know your place!’ A Reaver snarled. ‘You disgusting peasant riff-raff! Were we in Darnea–’

  ‘Thank the Light we’re not!’

  ‘I’d have you peasant scum whipped for your insolence!’ The lead Reaver shouted, as the Reavers reached for their swordhilts.

  The entire flow of people down Fandivas Street had been halted by the confrontation. Taem thought that most bystanders found it difficult to decide who they disliked more.

  Taem saw Hirandar was impatiently drumming her fingers over her staff. Baek watched on incredulously, as Forgrun observed the argument with a wicked smile.

  ‘You must be servants of the Dark One!’ Howled the leader of the Chevaliers, as he brandished his mace.

  ‘You aren’t worthy to lick my boots!’ Glowered the Darnean lord. ‘Didn’t the Light teach you to defer to your betters?’

  ‘Blasphemy!’ The Chevalier bellowed. ‘We’re going to put you “Hound’s Hoods” to the mace–’

  All the listeners laughed. Because of the exaggerated helmets the Reavers wore in battle, they were nicknamed Hound’s Hoods, or even Darnean dogs – but usually no one would risk uttering that within earshot of a Reaver.

  Taem saw outrage flare in the Darneans’ eyes. They drew blades. The Reavers fanned out and lifted their swords up to guard, trying to look menacing. The Darneans were outnumbered three to one as they closed on the Chevaliers. Despite how much he despised these arrogant Darneans, Taem had to admit these Reavers had some guts. Although to his trained eye, none of them moved like they really knew how to use the swords they carried. And the Chevaliers were as stiff as planks. No, Taem decided, there was not a man there that actually had any skill at arms.

  A horn was blown in the distance, back at the arched entrance to Fandivas Street, and everyone froze.

  ‘This isn’t finished,’ the Chevalier leader scowled, as he backed off into the far side of the crowd.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ the Darnean leader melded back into his side of the watching throng. ‘Dawn. Three miles beyond the harbour gate.’

  ‘By the grace of the Light we’ll be there!’

  ‘Don’t forget to bring some Light-blessed coffins,’ the Reaver snarled, as he and his cronies disappeared into the crowd.

  ‘You better say some prayers to your Empress!’ A Chevalier shouted, before he hurried off in the opposite direction.

  ‘Well that be a load o’ big talk an’ nay action!’ Forgrun boomed, and he winked at the retreating Reavers, who scowled back at the Rhungar.

  ‘Always the way around here,’ Logan murmured to Forgrun. ‘I doubt any of them have ever seen battle.’

  ‘Our company would a had ye lot o’ ‘em!’ Forgrun grinned, causing Taem and Logan to smile. ‘Do wearin’ earrings?’ Forgrun’s face contorted in disgust. ‘An’ do trimmin’ thine beards? What a bunch o’ pansies!’

  Taem laughed.

  ‘An ye Chevaliers,’ Forgrun said, ‘they be so haughty they must do ‘ave that mace stuck up their arses-’

  ‘Thank you, Forgrun!’ Hirandar said sharply. ‘I’ll only remind you once, you are not to draw any attention to us. Now come on, follow me.’

  By the time the City Watch arrived, there was no sign of a disturbance, and the companions were well on down Fandivas Street.

  ‘Beef satay?’ Forgrun scampered back from a street-side barbecue, grinning, as he handed Taem and Logan some juicy kebabs of grilled meat.

  ‘Thanks,’ Taem bit into the dripping meat, as Logan nodded.

  ‘Com’ un,’ Forgrun mumbled, through a mouthful of succulent meat, as he passed Baek a skewer. ‘Do try it!’

  Baek eyed the meat disdainfully.

  ‘Go on!’ Forgrun said.

  ‘It’s really good,’ Taem said to the Aborle.

  Baek timidly bit into the meat, and chewed it with a sour grimace, which turned into a smile.

  ‘That be better!’ Forgrun boomed. ‘We do make an adventurer of yhee yet, Baek!’

  Unlike the Reavers and Chevaliers, most of the warriors around Fandivas Street displayed no hint of any allegiance. For every seasoned warrior in Fandivas Street, there was just as many novices walking around, all wide eyed and unsure of themselves. They were farmers who had spent their entire lives without leaving their villages before now, or city folk sick of working all day in the workshops, or on the docks, for a pittance. The chance of riches could captivate anyone. Taem shuddered to think how these novices would fare if they went east.

  Taem saw a handful of wizards and mages walking Fandivas Street, and they were as varied as the seasons. They wore dramatic capes and cloaks, decorated shirts, spectacular hats and expensive robes. Taem realised Hirandar must have been concealing her magic-strength now, as she was drawing no reaction from all the flamboyant wizards they passed.

  The Aborle strolled on by the Wizard’s side, oblivious, and enchanted by the diversity of life in Fandivas Street. Some pickpocket might think Baek a prime target while he was bumbling along, daydreaming, so Taem made a conscious effort to watch the Aborle.

  Hirandar led the group on down Fandivas Street, passing the notorious ale and gambling houses.

  ‘These taverns are good places to recruit or be recruited,’ Hirandar said to Taem, ‘to find groups setting out on expeditions, and join up with them to go east. Always these dens are thick with rumours of newly discovered maps, and talk of the legendary treasures of the Lost Realms.’

  Taem saw Forgrun’s eyes glaze over at the prospect of entering the taverns, the Rhungar had been forced to go without beer since Gulren. Taem, as well, was almost lulled inside by the intriguing rumble of adventurer’s stories. But the other companions were already moving off, so Taem had to drag his Rhungari friend on.

  The companions passed by many curious shops, all with their own colourful signs. Taem saw armourers, weaponsmiths and animal traders. Shops that sold adventure clothing, and shops that specialised in provisions. Hirandar took the company to Sweltons general store, where they stocked up on travelling provisions, water sacks, rope and tinderboxes.

  Baek stopped at a fletcher to stock his quiver. The Aborle swaggered out of the shop, triumphantly bearing a bundle of two dozen flights. But Logan shook his head, sending Baek back inside to get loaded up with two more cloth-wrapped, double-loaded packages of arrows.

  ‘Still not enough,’ Logan said, as Baek struggled back out for the second time. Taem rushed to help his friend and take one of the bundles, Forgrun lifted another.

  ‘But we cannot carry any more,’ Logan said relucta
ntly.

  One of the most intriguing places the companions passed was a giant building, as big as a warehouse. The School of Weapons and Adventuring was written in silver letters, on a grand sweeping sign that hung over the doorway. There were posters plastered all over the walls, advertising a two week crash-course in adventuring for three hundred gold pieces. Inside the open double doorway, Taem could see a wide range of prospective warriors were training with blunt weapons. Most of them were painfully awkward and stiff, and Taem thought they would need a lot of training.

  In the school’s next doorway, further down the street, there were would-be adventurers running a giant mechanical assault course of swinging sand bags, wooden bars – that swung out so they had to jump over them – balance bars, monkey bars and rope swings. A Rhungar supervisor looked on, with an unimpressed scowl, as exhausted adventurers completed the course.

  Hirandar took the companions on to the Emporium of Magic. Taem thought it was an ordinary looking building on the outside, more drab than all the other shops and easy to miss. But Taem found it mysterious within. The room was lit by a few candles, and an ethereal ball of blue-tinged light floated close to the ceiling.

  Forgrun gasped as he stared up at the glowing orb.

  The magic shop’s walls and windows were covered with dark purple drapes. Taem surveyed the many bookcases that were stocked with magical tomes, and he saw how Baek’s eyes lit up at all those books. Upon the numerous shelves and pedestals in the shop, countless magical items were for sale. Taem saw the room was overflowing with thousands of jumbled goods, stored in no logical order.

  Hirandar set upon the shop’s ware, compiling an unusual assortment of shopping: Moondust, Essence of Lightening, Firedraught, Earthwater, an orb of Silarnon, a tiny vial of purple liquid, Power Stones, Hellas Sticks, three bottles of an icy blue liquid, and three bottles of a glowing green draught.