by James Wolf
‘Is he really as dangerous as they say?’ One young noble asked another.
‘I saw him a kill a thousand Krun at The Gate,’ one older noble said respectfully.
‘Don’t let him catch you looking in his eyes,’ a man said fearfully.
The King of Grantle rose from his throne, and the room went quiet. Strangely, Logan realised Balthus was clean shaven, without the Dolami moustache. He wore an extravagant golden crown, beset with yellow diamonds and sapphires. Balthus was draped in layers of yellow and blue silk robes, and covered with a deep green cloak that was lined with white fur. A brilliant silver chain held the cloak on his shoulders. Even Balthus’s brown leather boots were studded with jewels on their turned over tops, and he wore many sparkling rings on his fingers. Logan thought the King of Grantle gave his country the impression of great wealth, sitting wrapped in showy clothes and decked with priceless jewels. Although Balthus hid it well, Logan knew this man, and he was sure this aggrandised appearance was not Balthus’s own choice.
The King bowed to Logan, came forward and proclaimed, ‘Welcome brother,’ as he clasped Logan’s hand, and put an arm on his shoulder.
All over the throne room there were startled gasps and befuddled faces. The King never rose out of the throne for anyone but another king. And it was unheard of for the King to bow to someone!
‘Come, let us talk in private,’ Balthus said loudly, as he showed Logan to a door behind the throne.
The murmur of the nobles was cut out, as Balthus shut the door behind the throne. Without a word, or even a sideways glance, Balthus walked across an extravagant sitting room, expecting Logan to follow him. The Sodan glowered at the Lord of Dolam as he was led up a spiral staircase at the back of the room. Three times the staircase twisted upwards and round, until Balthus showed Logan through a locked door on the stairs, which Balthus was careful to lock behind him after they were through.
They walked on down a corridor, through another door into a smaller, but no less grand, sitting room. Logan thought this must have been the King’s private chambers. There were expansive windows, and a balcony outside, overlooking the gardens at the rear of the castle. The opposite wall was dominated by a grand fireplace.
As they entered, King Balthus tossed his crown aside, and carelessly slung his velvet cloak over a sofa. Logan saw Balthus’s mighty longsword, held vertically – pommel up, for ease of drawing – on a simple hardwood stand. Behind the great sword was a painting of the city of Arilon. Around the other walls there were more paintings of fantastic landscapes. Logan realised there was not a single canvas depicting Dolam or Grantle.
‘Please, Logan, sit,’ Balthus gestured to one of the many comfortable Dolami chairs. ‘Away from watchful eyes there is no need for formality.’
Logan defiantly remained standing, ‘That show you put on, brother? I did not come here to be used as some political pawn.’
‘Forgive me, Logan,’ Balthus humbly bowed his head, ‘but the kingship of Grantle is weakly held, at best.’
‘That little performance will keep your detractors on their toes?’ Logan said coldly.
‘Forgive me, friend,’ Balthus bowed his head again. ‘Too long have I been embroiled with the intricacies of court, when I should’ve been out in the wilderness, fighting by your side. Now you’ve finally come back, it reminds me how much I miss the old days. Remember the adventures we used to have?’
For the first time, Logan heard something positive in Balthus’s voice.
The battles,’ Balthus said wistfully, ‘the death-defying quests, the celebrations and the fame? Everything was so much simpler back then, so much clearer. Has it really been that long? Have times changed so much?’
Logan saw the despair in Balthus’s face, and it saddened him to see his old friend so low.
‘I know I am very different these days.’ Balthus said glumly. ‘But could our days of past glory return to us? Or is that part of me gone forever? Can I go back from the path I have wrongly taken? Be granted forgiveness for mistakes I have made?’
Balthus stared up at a painting above the mantelpiece. To Logan’s surprise, he was in that painting with Balthus. They were both standing beside King Aswan, whom they had both served loyally. The painting was set over twenty years ago, and all three men looked youthful and happy.
‘You always knew this day would come,’ Logan said strongly. ‘When you would assume the kingship that was promised.’
‘Yes, my Captain,’ Balthus touched his right hand to his chest, bowing his head, as he had done so many times before. ‘You always tried to ready me for it... but it was never quite what I wanted.’
Logan heard how Balthus sounded so weary once more.
‘Anyhow, where have you been?’ Balthus perked up a little as he changed the subject. ‘How is it I have not seen or heard of you in years?’
‘The Darkness looms larger with every passing year,’ Logan said solemnly. ‘As always, I strive to stand against it.’
‘Fine then, Logan,’ Balthus said harshly, ‘keep your secrets. No doubt you have your reasons.’
Logan detected the old hint of jealousy in Balthus’s voice, the factor that always lingered on their friendship. For it was Logan who had been King Aswan’s First Sword. Logan who had been Captain of the Lion Guard. Logan, the hero who the men followed and the people loved. Logan had even been first in the affections of Balthus’s own sister.
Logan was reminded of how different he and Balthus were. Logan had always fought for honour and what was right, whilst Balthus fought for glory and renown. Logan well remembered how Balthus, the noble of royal blood, had at first hated taking orders from Logan, a commoner – for in the Lion Guard all men were considered equal, regardless of birthright. Sometimes that old jealousy would flare up but, as always, it faded like the warmth of a winter campfire, swept away on a chill northern wind.
‘Oh!’ Balthus howled. ‘What has this crown done to me? My most trusted friend comes to visit me, and I only have hard words for him! Again, Logan, please forgive me.’
Logan nodded his head, ‘You see this kingship as a burden, not a privilege. But I gaze out over your city, and have never seen it so prosperous, so alive.’
Balthus smiled.
‘Our liegelord King Aswan would be proud,’ Logan said.
‘Yes, he would,’ Balthus grinned. ‘What was it he always said to us?’
They both repeated a phrase they had heard countless times before, ‘I rule all these people and have their allegiance, but it is I that serves them. For it is my kingly duty to repay their allegiance, by providing them with freedom and justice.’
‘Noble sentiments from a righteous king,’ said a powerful voice from a door on the far side of the room.
Logan noticed the smile drop from Balthus’s face.
‘Logan Fornor,’ Balthus withdrew to a formal tone. ‘Please meet my counsellor, Isornel, an emissary of the Sceptre.’
Isornel stepped forward into the room, and his flowing robes of purple and crimson swished as he walked. Isornel stood tall and straight, and Logan was reminded of a powerful bird of prey. Isornel looked to be in his middle years, but he was a wizard so you could never tell his age. He was suave and self-assured, with a sculpted beard that gave a severe point to his chin, and circled round his mouth to join the facial hair on his top lip – in the Jinen style. His black hair was covered by a purple skullcap, and his black eyebrows were jagged. He had a presence that exuded power. Logan detected no warmth in that face at all. And when he saw Isornel’s frost coloured eyes, the Sodan knew this Wizard was absolutely ruthless.
‘My Lord Balthus has told me all about you, Logan,’ Isornel said knowingly.
Isornel wore splendid jewelled rings on all his fingers, and some of those gems were as big as a thumbnail. Logan regarded the metallic six-pointed star that hung on a golden chain around Isornel’s neck. Each of the bronze star’s points was embedded with a different coloured gem. Logan recognised the significance o
f the colours of the six gemstones, each represented one of the six strands of magic. Red for fire, blue for water, white for wind, green for earth, yellow for spirit and grey for metal. Logan was certain the medallion was a powerful magic item.
‘Tell me,’ Isornel said, ‘is the Wizard Hirandar with you?’
‘I do not know her current location,’ Logan said awkwardly, ‘and have not seen the Wizard for some time.’
‘Really?’ Isornel scorned. ‘I have heard she is in Dolam at this very moment, and you were not aware of this? That does surprise me. I would very much like to meet the “great” Firefist. For she and I have a mutual friend. I am the student of the Firefist’s student.’
Logan did not move, but his mind leapt. ‘Your Maestro is Calagar of Geldor – The Lord of Storms?’
‘Yes,’ Isornel said aloofly.
Faster than a flying arrow, Logan swept his blade from its sheath and brought it up to Isornel’s neck. A look of terror flashed in Isornel’s eyes.
‘Logan!’ Balthus cried. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Give me one good reason,’ Logan glared at Isornel, ‘why I should not end you right now.’
‘Guards!’ Isornel shrieked, and he dared not move. ‘Guards!’
‘Your Maestro is my enemy,’ Logan said to Isornel, ‘and he is Maliven.’
‘That can’t be, Logan!’ Balthus said. ‘Stop! Stop this at once!’
‘Kill him!’ Isornel screamed at the Defenders that ran into the room. The seven soldiers encircled Logan, all with their swords drawn.
‘Hold, men!’ Logan roared. He did not take his eyes from the Wizard. ‘I do not want to spill your innocent blood, but attack me and you will not live to see another sunrise!’
The Defenders looked fearfully to each other. They were all trained soldiers, and they had the man surrounded. But this was the Grim Wanderer. And the surety in his voice made them all draw back.
‘Answer me Wizard!’ Logan said menacingly. ‘Are you Maliven?’
‘This is madness, my King!’ Isornel looked to Balthus.
‘Stand down Defenders,’ Balthus said strongly. ‘There will be no killing in my castle! Logan, for my sake, and the sake of my men, sheath your sword.’
Logan continued to glare into Isornel’s petrified eyes.
‘Logan,’ Balthus said sternly. ‘I am King of this castle, and I am ordering you to sheath your sword!’
Logan held Mantioc up to Isornel’s throat for a few more moments, before he stepped back and lowered his blade.
Isornel glowered at the Sodan with pure hate. The Defenders watched Logan warily. They kept their swords fixed on the Grim Wanderer.
‘This is madness,’ Balthus said. ‘Logan, I would not allow a Dark Servant into my counsel!’
‘No pupil of Calagar could be a Wizard of the Sceptre,’ Logan watched Isornel warily. ‘Calagar was thrown out of The Order!’
‘He lies, my King,’ Isornel turned to Balthus, with his arms spread wide.
‘I never lie!’ Logan said coldly.
‘All that wandering with that killing rage has fuddled his brain,’ Isornel’s icy eyes turned to stare at Logan.
‘Enough!’ Balthus cried. ‘I have had enough of this! Logan, I will speak to you tomorrow. In the evening I am holding a party here for The Festival of Masks, and you are my guest.’
Logan nodded, as he continued to glare at Isornel. He did not want to go to this party, but he could not decline the offer of a king. And something told him his old friend was in desperate need of help. He did not have to be Sodan to know that.
‘I must return to the court,’ Balthus gestured for the Defenders to leave the room. ‘I will send for someone to show you out the castle.’ Balthus said to Logan as he left the room.
‘You are dead, Wanderer!’ Isornel hissed, once Balthus was out of earshot.
Logan saw the look of pure malice in the Wizard’s eyes, before he followed after the King of Grantle.
Logan sat down in one of the luxury chairs, and someone he had hoped not to see slipped into the room by a different door. Logan thought she had barely aged a day, even though it was years since he had last seen her. Her long silky hair was jet black, and it shone whenever it moved in the light. She had an oval face, with a delicate nose and full lips. Her body was slim and sleek, just as Logan remembered it. But it was her dark eyes that were truly enchanting.
‘Alyssa,’ Logan said coldly.
‘It’s good to see you too,’ Alyssa said warmly. ‘Somehow, I knew our paths would cross again, one day. And now you come back to me, the great man. The legendary warrior I always knew you would be,’ she purred as she edged toward Logan.
‘I am no different from the person I was twenty years ago,’ Logan said angrily, ‘neither, I doubt, are you!’
‘Oh I grew up,’ Alyssa snapped. ‘But you didn’t?’ She mocked him with a dry smile. You haven’t changed, Grim Wanderer?’
‘What men call me might have changed,’ Logan said, ‘but my belief in what is right has not.’
Alyssa scoffed as she raised her eyes skyward.
‘What happened to you?’ Logan asked. ‘There was a time, long ago, when you were a good person. What happened to her?’
‘I was a child then.’ Alyssa said callously. ‘I am a woman now.’ She smiled the most seductive of smiles.
‘Well, I remember.’ Logan said. ‘I remember how a beautiful girl fell from grace to become a heartless woman. It was an evil change.’
‘Evil?’ Alyssa said innocently. ‘A strange choice of words – oh mighty Grim Wanderer,’ Alyssa smirked. ‘From you, who has faced and killed true evil, Logan. Surely I am not that?’
‘Bad then,’ Logan said reluctantly.
‘I realised a few things about life,’ Alyssa shrugged, ‘that it was not so simple as we once thought it to be. How naïve we were!’ Alyssa crept towards Logan, pretending to be meek – as if a lioness could ever be considered meek. ‘Your heart is heavier than it once was.’ Alyssa’s voice was lined with care. ‘Your burden greater than ever. Your hair is greying,’ she reached out to run her hand through the silver hair at Logan’s temples. ‘But if anything, you look more handsome with age.’
‘A heart as cold as yours would not warm with time,’ Logan pulled his head away from Alyssa’s hand.
Alyssa pretended not to notice. Her hips swayed sensuously as she came forward, to stand in front of Logan. She bent down, so Logan could see down the top of her dress, and her silky hair trickled onto his shoulder.
She moved to whisper in Logan’s ear, ‘Why is it you were the one man I could not tame? When others would fight to court me, kill to have me.’
‘I was a man,’ Logan said, ‘who could see what lay beyond the outer beauty.’
Alyssa reared her head back to glare at Logan. He saw anger flash in those dark eyes, but it passed. Alyssa lowered herself to sit on Logan’s lap and lace her arms around his neck, bringing her face so close to his that their noses were touching. Logan could feel the throb of her heart as blood pulsed through her soft, warm skin. He tried not to think about running his fingers over that smooth skin, and through her dark hair. Logan did not move a muscle as he stared into those bottomless dark pools, those eyes that he once could have lost himself in – but never again, he urged to himself!
Alyssa edged closer to whisper into his ear, ‘You could have had me you know. Imagine if we had married?’ she nibbled on the top of his ear. ‘We still could,’ she murmured, as she gazed back into his eyes. ‘Together, we could do anything.’
Alyssa made to kiss him, but Logan turned his head away.
‘You once told me you loved me,’ Alyssa said softly.
Logan thought she sounded sad and, for the first time, he was reminded of the girl he had once known, before he had even been King Aswan’s First Sword, during his first year in the Lion Guard.
‘Many things change,’ Logan said softly. ‘That girl is gone forever.’
Alyssa’s sabl
e eyes flared with wrath.
‘I know you,’ Logan met her furious gaze. ‘I know what you are capable of. I will never want you again.’
Alyssa leapt off him and flew into a rage, ‘I offer myself to you – what other men could only dream of – and you throw it back in my face? What is with you? You are so moral, so high and mighty, and just look where it’s got you! There is nothing in your empty life!’
‘You are wrong,’ Logan said strongly, ‘there is good in my life.’
His eyes gleamed with a noble purpose, and that look infuriated Alyssa further.
Logan watched as Alyssa’s eyes became burning black coals of glowing hate. A hatred greater than Logan had thought possible. That scorching glare shocked Logan. Were her eyes actually blazing with fire? He could almost see flames in them.
‘I’m sure your brother is awaiting your return,’ Logan got up and made towards the door, ‘he could never see through you like I could.’
‘Balthus is mine!’ Alyssa spat venomously. ‘You could not take him from me then, you will not take him from me now!’
Logan was shocked by the anger in her voice. It was almost unrecognisable. He opened the door but, to his alarm, it slammed shut as he did so – moved by some unseen force. He turned to look at Alyssa, ready to unsheathe his sword.
‘You see,’ Alyssa’s eyes flared with hatred, ‘I have not been idle over the years. Your Wizard mistress,’ Alyssa curled her lip in contempt, ‘the one you follow round like a lapdog, she refused to teach me the magical arts, so I found someone that would.’
There was real menace in Alyssa’s black gaze now. Logan tried the door handle but it would not budge.
‘Open this door now!’ Logan said.