The Grim Wanderer

by James Wolf

  Logan nodded to Drual, and a smile returned to the rogue’s face. Taem also saw his Master nod his head to Hirandar.

  Turning to Jvarna and Ragad, Drual said, ‘We’ll be in the safest company, if only half I’ve heard about the Grim Wanderer is true.’

  Taem thought that Jvarna seemed reassured by the rogue’s confidence, whilst Ragad gave nothing away. Taem wondered about the silent Northman, wondered what his story was. Most people must have seen a mindless barbarian when they looked at Ragad, but Taem could tell there was a greatness hidden within the giant man.

  ‘However,’ Hirandar said, ‘there is more you should know. For I would not let you enter into this blindly. My four companions and I are warriors of the Light.’ The Wizard glanced around to her friends with pride. ‘We fight the Dark power rising over Hathlore. We fight so there may be a future; we fight because there are no others who can. And it is for the safety of Hathlore we go to the City of Night. We search for a Key-Piece, to take it into safekeeping, and prevent the terrible consequences of it falling into the hands of the Maliven. If we should fail in this great undertaking, Hathlore will become a darker place.’

  Taem could see that even Drual was moved by the Wizard’s words, and the rogue was someone who never looked beyond himself.

  ‘If we are fortunate,’ Logan said, ‘we will only pass Krun tribes and the walking dead of the Nakramilis, but it is likely our path will be shadowed by the servants of the Dark One.’

  ‘You will each be paid twenty-five thousand gold coins on our return,’ Hirandar said to Jvarna, Ragad and Drual.

  Taem saw the befuddled looks on Jvarna and Ragad’s faces, and these were seasoned adventurers. Even Drual – who had found, stolen and spent many fortunes in his time – let out a low whistle. Taem also saw Logan’s grimace of disapproval at mention of so much coin. Taem assumed the Master was uncomfortable paying people to do something they should feel it was their responsibility to do anyway, as part of being an honourable person in the world.

  ‘What are your decisions?’ Hirandar asked. ‘Will you join us?’

  ‘I will,’ Drual said quickly, his eyes glinting with the fame this quest would bring.

  Jvarna stared into Ragad’s stony eyes and said, ‘As will we.’

  ‘It is settled then,’ Hirandar nodded. ‘But you must now swear your allegiance under the Light. Let every person here bear witness to the commitment of the others.’

  Taem thought these were strong words, binding unto death, and beyond.

  ‘You have my allegiance,’ Jvarna said. ‘I walk in the Light.’

  ‘And mine,’ a deep voice said. That was the first time Ragad had spoken all night, and his low voice boomed like thunder echoed in the valleys. ‘I swear homage to Hirandar Firefist, and the Light.’

  ‘And mine,’ Drual added after a pause, although he did not speak with the conviction of the other two. ‘I give you my allegiance,’ the rogue dipped his head.

  ‘Good, ‘Hirandar murmured. ‘I will hold you to your words.’ The Wizard stared into the eyes of each of them in turn, watching if anyone could not meet her gaze. Drual’s eyes faltered, and the rogue had to look away. Taem saw the troubled gleam in Hirandar’s eyes, and the cautious way Logan watched Drual.

  ‘We’ll be needin’ a name,’ Forgrun said eagerly. ‘Our company – aye! Somethin’ tha’ be inspirin’ hope in good people, an’ fear in our enemies.’

  ‘Yes,’ Hirandar said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe that would be a good idea.’

  ‘I be havin’ it!’ Forgrun beamed. ‘Our name be Ye Fist o’ Gromm!’ He shot one of his giant fists into the air. ‘Ye Rhungar god o’ combat an’ war. By thunder! Tha’ would inspire terror in any Krun ter hear it! They’ll be trumpetin’ Ye Fist o’ Gromm in ye rooftops, an’ cheerin’ it in ye streets!’

  The others stared at the Rhungar with a mixture of mirth and disbelief.

  ‘That’s a really great name for all the non-Rhungar members,’ Baek said sarcastically.

  Forgrun’s puffed out chest deflated with disappointment.

  ‘No, let us think,’ Hirandar tapped Forgrun’s massive forearm. ‘Something that combats the dark has to be bright, strong, light, forceful.’

  ‘You know,’ Logan said, as a great twist of fate occurred to him, ‘As Hirandar was once renowned as the Firefist, we could use part of her old title.’

  ‘Of course!’ Hirandar shot a knowing glance at Logan. ‘There is only one name for us. We shall be called, The Hand of Fire.’

  ‘The fiery hand that fights back the encroaching darkness,’ Logan said, feeling the pull of destiny. ‘Whose might protects the Light, and defends the helpless.’

  The others all brightened, sitting up straight in their seats.

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Jvarna murmured, ‘the Hand of Fire we are.’

  ‘Think of the stories they will tell,’ Drual’s eyes shone, ‘of the quest of Drual Dhagren, with the Grim Wanderer and Hirandar Firefist… And the mighty warriors of the Hand of Fire.’

  ‘Aye!’ Forgrun said enthusiastically. ‘We all do need fiery hands sewn ter our clothes. Like badges – so people do recognise us.’

  ‘There is more to our company than fame!’ Taem said sharply.

  The Rhungar’s shoulders and bushy eyebrows drooped. Drual just shrugged.

  ‘No, Forgrun,’ Logan said softly. ‘The Hand of Fire is secret, and must never be displayed or mentioned casually. Secrecy will be our greatest strength.’

  Forgrun nodded to Logan.

  ‘You’d do well to remember that too,’ Logan said harshly to Drual, who wilted under Logan’s cold eyes, nodding his agreement.

  ‘We shall set out three mornings from now,’ Hirandar said, ‘at the break of dawn. Stay in your own inns tonight, but tomorrow I will organise for you three to have rooms here.’

  ‘Have a care,’ Logan said warily, ‘all of you. I was followed back to the Jester this afternoon, and the inn is being watched, even now.’

  Taem glanced in surprise at Baek and Forgrun. And he saw the uneasy look that passed between Ragad and Jvarna.

  ‘Followed?’ Taem asked Logan.

  ‘I know not who followed me,’ Logan said, ‘nor for what purpose.’

  ‘Dark servants?’ Drual asked. ‘Some people are naive enough to think the Maliven are a story, but they are many in Dolam – I have seen them. One night I broke into one of the great houses north of the Bodium to... borrow some jewels,’ Drual smiled. ‘But when I was inside, I saw a gathering of many robed figures all chanting to a Dark altar.’ Drual shivered. ‘Needless to say, I got out quick.’

  ‘Which house was this?’ Hirandar asked, her eyes intense.

  ‘Lord Dochan’s house,’ Drual said softly, and Hirandar shook her head.

  ‘That is dark news,’ Logan said. ‘Dochan is the marshal of the Defenders of the Gate.’

  ‘What?’ Taem said, as Baek gasped.

  ‘How do that be?’ Forgrun asked.

  ‘The Maliven are everywhere,’ Hirandar said darkly, ‘they fester in many positions of power. Every year their influence grows. And every year more people are seduced into the service of the Dark. When the war comes, there will be many who will betray Hathlore.’

  ‘So we take no risks,’ Logan said strongly. ‘None of us. By midnight tomorrow, I want you all back in this inn. Tell no one of what you have heard this evening.’

  Ragad nodded at Logan.

  ‘You have my word, Grim Wanderer,’ Jvarna said.

  ‘I will speak of this to no one,’ Drual bowed his head.

  Chapter 17 – Lurking in the Shadows

  The next day saw the city well and truly alive. Taem sensed it in the air, saw it in the streets and heard it in people’s voices. Preparations were in full swing for the Festival of Masks. It was a Saturday, so most people were not working, and some of the celebrations were well underway.

  After individually sneaking out from The Jester – to avoid being seen together by any spies watch
ing the inn – Taem, Forgrun and Baek met up at the six-sided playhouse, two streets over, and headed out into the decadent revelry of the Festival of Masks.

  The three friends headed along the streets of Southside, walking with the crowd and making for the market square, across the Bodium. The wide street was full of hundreds of people but, despite this, Taem saw something untoward out of the corner of his eye. He looked again, and yes! It had not been his imagination! Down a side lane, Taem saw someone small had been grabbed from the crowd and was being bundled through a doorway by a gang of men.

  ‘Follow me!’ Taem shouted to his friends, as he dodged through the crowd and into the lane. Baek and Forgrun shot each other bewildered glances, before following after Taem.

  ‘I saw someone being taken,’ Taem told his friends, as his sharp blue eyes surveyed the ramshackle lane. The rundown buildings were derelict, with broken windows, cracked walls and missing roof tiles. Half of one side of the lane had been ravaged by fire.

  Taem ran to the house he had seen the kidnappers go into, drew his blade and burst through the door. Taem was ready to unleash his sword into the kidnappers. But nothing moved. His gaze swept over the room. The building was empty. Taem listened, but there was only the sound of his friends shuffling in behind him. He saw how the house was filthy, and surely had not been lived in for years. Forgrun and Baek fanned out behind their friend, as Taem crept forward. The Aborle had his broadsword out, the Rhungar held his great axe.

  ‘Are yhee sure?’ Forgrun asked doubtfully. ‘Twas across ye busy street.’

  ‘I’m certain,’ Taem murmured.

  Taem rushed to the only through door, Estellarum raised high. He exploded into another squalid room. Taem was ready to strike out. But he sensed no movement. Taem crinkled his nose as a foul smell filled his nostrils. He saw how the room had only a dusty flea-bitten mat on the floor, and an old cooking stove up against the far wall.

  ‘There be nothin’ ’ere, Taem.’ Forgrun shot a dubious glance at Baek.

  ‘It stinks in here!’ Baek pinched his nose.

  ‘Maybe we are in the wrong building,’ Taem said in frustration, as he looked back out into the street, through a grimy window. ‘Although I could have sworn this was the place–’

  ‘Wait!’ Baek bounded forward and yanked back the filthy rug. Underneath, there was a wooden trapdoor with a rusty old handle.

  ‘All right!’ Forgrun said eagerly, as Baek sheathed his sword so he could cover the entry hatch with his bow, arrow notched.

  The Rhungar bent down and wrenched the trapdoor up, jumping back with his axe raised. Forgrun waited, primed to smash any enemies that came. But there was nothing in the hole except darkness.

  ‘We have no torch,’ Baek loosened the tension on his bow, but kept his arrowhead fixed on the black below.

  ‘My eyes do be more accustomed ter darkness than thine,’ Forgrun nodded to his friends, as he dropped his feet into the hole to find the top of some steps. ‘We can be goin’ down in a line, be keepin’ one hand on ye person in front’s shoulder.’

  Forgrun and Baek both looked to Taem for his decision. The Sodan could see the Rhungar was keen, whilst the Aborle was not.

  ‘If someone is in danger,’ Taem said, ‘we should try to help them.’

  ‘Aye,’ Forgrun motioned for Taem to scabbard his sword, before the Rhungar descended into the hole. ‘Don’ be wantin’ that sharp blade do stab me in ye dark by mistake,’ Forgrun murmured, as he disappeared in the murky darkness.

  Taem lowered himself into what turned out to be a dry, narrow passageway. Taem crept down the tunnel with his hand on Forgrun’s shoulder. Forgrun may have said his Rhungari eyes had better night vision, but Taem thought it was still the blind leading the blind, as he felt Forgrun stumble for the umpteenth time.

  ‘Are you sure you can see?’ Taem whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ Forgrun murmured, just as Taem felt the Rhungar walk into a wall.

  ‘Ouch!’ Baek grimaced, as he walked into Taem’s back.

  ‘Really?’ Taem said sarcastically. ‘You can see, can you?’

  ‘Well,’ Forgrun turned and walked on, ‘more or less...’

  The passage went on and on, sloping downward. Taem made a mental note that they were heading eastward, towards the centre of the city.

  Minutes had passed when, far down the tunnel, Taem saw a light in a chamber up ahead. The warriors advanced cautiously toward the soft glow, from where they could hear voices grumbling.

  ‘Come on, get that urchin up!’ A rough man snarled. ‘She’s rested enough.’

  ‘On your feet, wench!’ Another man sneered.

  ‘Get up, you snivelling little whelp!’ And there was a thud, as the cruel man booted the little girl.

  ‘Carry her if you have to,’ said another. ‘We don’t want to keep them waiting, or it’ll be us up on the altar’.

  ‘I heard there was going to be a special guest today,’ a fifth man shivered. ‘One of The Chosen. Not something to be made to wait.’

  In the torchlight, Taem could just make out the Rhungar’s silhouette, as Forgrun edged closer to the light. By the sound of things, Taem had seen correctly back up on the street.

  ‘One of the Great Lord’s own?’ Another of the kidnappers sounded petrified. ‘I didn’t join the Cult of the Dark for this.’

  ‘I’d watch your tongue,’ snapped one of the others, ‘and do as you’re told – if I were you. Do you know what happens to the Pledged who displease the Seers? I heard the last one was tied up, covered in blood, and left in the sewers where only the rats would find him.’

  ‘Kill them all,’ Taem whispered to his two companions, in the dark tunnel, ‘save the girl.’ He had heard enough. ‘There will be no mercy for Dark Servants.’

  ‘Get her on her feet!’ One of the Maliven kicked the girl hostage, as Forgrun charged into the dim cave. Forgrun’s axe chopped clean through one of the Dark Cultists, spraying blood everywhere. The men of the Maliven stumbled to react to the ambush. Taem was close behind his Rhungari friend, and a horizontal swing of his blade smashed another Black Servant. Steel flashed in the torchlight, as the Maliven drew blades. They came swinging at the companions, and the clash of blade on blade rang out. Taem chopped down one enemy with a diagonal blow. There was nowhere for the Maliven to run. Forgrun chopped a Maliven’s head clean off. Roars and screams echoed through the tunnels. Taem blocked a sword strike to his east, and clove a Maliven head in two with his riposte. The closeness and the dim light made the combat furious. Baek’s sword cut the throat of an enemy, as Forgrun and Taem killed the final two Maliven. Taem rammed Estellarum’s sword point through a Maliven’s ribs. Forgrun’s great axe chopped clean through a Dark Servant torso. The warriors had burst upon the Black Cultists like terriers sent into a rat hole.

  Taem surveyed the dead bodies of the Servants of the Dark, and he saw their captive lay curled up in a ball on the floor, too frightened to move. Those Maliven men had looked so normal, no different to the hundreds of other men the companions had seen today. But then – Taem pondered, as he and friends examined their fallen foes with surprise – what did the warriors expect? That these Maliven would all have marks on their foreheads bearing their Dark allegiance for all to see? No. The Cult of the Dark could only survive if it remained hidden.

  As Baek and Forgrun checked the enemies were all dead, Taem sheathed his sword and knelt down to the terrified girl, who was no more than eight years old.

  ‘You are safe now,’ Taem said gently, as he touched the girl’s trembling hand, and her fear seemed to melt away. ‘Can you stand?’

  The girl nodded and Taem helped her up to her feet.

  ‘Go,’ Taem said softly, as he picked up one of the dropped lanterns. ‘Follow the passage back to the surface and get some help.’ Looking to Baek and Forgrun, Taem said, ‘We must go on.’

  ‘Thank you,’ the girl mumbled, despite her cut lip and swollen jaw.

  Taem saw the look of sheer terror on the yo
ung girl’s face, and it reminded it him of his sister, on the day their parents had been murdered. Taem knelt down a put a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

  ‘You’ll be alright,’ Taem murmured, as he put a lantern in the girl’s quivering hands. ‘There’s only one tunnel, just follow it back to the surface, get help.’

  The terrified child stared into the dark tunnel.

  ‘Are you afraid of the dark?’ Taem said, and the girl nodded.

  ‘Well I think you’re very brave,’ Taem gripped the child’s shoulder. ‘And you just need to hold the lantern out in front of you, and count out-loud the number of steps back to the trapdoor. You’ll be there before you even know it. Now go,’ Taem gently pushed her towards the passage.

  ‘I won’t forget you,’ the child whispered, before disappearing into the dark of the tunnel.

  Taem turned to his friends, as the girl’s lantern disappeared in the distance. ‘Whoever these Maliven were meeting is waiting at the end of that tunnel.’ Taem glared into the darkness. Picking up a burning torch, Taem started down the passageway that led down into the depths, and his two friends followed.

  The trio carried on for another ten minutes, but their progress was much faster now they had torchlight. Baek was at the rear, and he kept most of his attention turned back the way they had just come. Sometimes the Aborle heard a scratching in the dark behind them, but he could see nothing. Baek hoped it was just rats – but then again, maybe not. The Aborle had heard those dark creatures were known to be in the service of Malveous.

  Taem could see light emerging from further ahead, at the end of the passage, so he put down his torch and crept forward. Taem passed torches in wall brackets, and wooden supports reinforcing the tunnel ceiling. The Sodan crept up to the opening, with his friends on his shoulder. Taem could feel his heart thundering. His body quivered as he stepped lightly. Every crunch of his boots seemed to echo down the passage as loud as a drumbeat.