by James Wolf
‘Whatever they are,’ Logan said dauntlessly. ‘The Nemeth feel steel as sharply as any other creature.’
Taem saw how all his companions took heart from Logan’s words, as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Even Ragad seemed more relaxed, as he let the massive head of his warhammer rest against the snow.
‘Come on, rest now,’ Logan sat down and got under his blankets, and gestured for the others to do the same. The Sodan Master kept his gaze towards the darkness.
None of the company could relax though, knowing what was out there. No one easily fell to sleep, even though they knew they had friends to watch over them. Taem kept seeing green eyes out in the dark, and he would shoot upright and reach for his sword. He looked around, searching for the Nemeth, and realised he was imaging them in his nightmares. Taem saw two of his friends awake and watching the night, and tried to return to his troubled sleep, laying shuddering in the cold dark.
At the first sign of daylight, the companions were up and packing their blankets into backpacks, keen to get walking and bring warmth to their frozen muscles.
‘Where are all the Nemeth dead?’ Baek gestured around the camp. ‘I saw Hirandar destroy them with fire magic, but where are the bodies?’
‘They nay be easy ter kill,’ Forgrun said darkly.
‘No, they eat their own dead,’ Logan said strongly.
‘Especially if it’s been roasted,’ Drual quipped in, and everyone laughed, even Forgrun – who seemed to be dwelling on the legends he had heard since he was a child.
For once, Taem thought, Drual had managed to say something at a delicate moment that eased tension.
They walked through the snow that morning, and passed some hardy evergreens in rare sheltered spots by the trailside. Today, everyone in the company leapt to gather or cut down anything that could be burnt on a fire. They all now knew the extra weight would be well worth the burden, once night set in, and the Nemeth lurked out in the dark.
‘I am afraid, Taem,’ Baek whispered, as they trudged through snow, at the back of the company.
‘Why are you afraid?’ Taem whispered, so none of the other companions would hear.
‘I am not a legendary hero like the Grim Wanderer,’ Baek nodded at Logan, ‘I am not a great warrior like you – or even Forgrun,’ Baek said grudgingly, ‘I’m not strong like Ragad and I have no magic like Hirandar. I was terrified last night when the Nemeth came – I am ashamed to say it, but I was.’ Baek stared down at the snow as he walked. ‘And now we are in this cold and dangerous place, and I’m asking myself if I should even be here. I do not know how much more I can take.’
‘Baek,’ Taem said strongly, ‘you are the best shot I have ever seen. And you are a better swordsman than you give yourself credit for. You had the strength of will to survive that arduous journey, wounded and close to death, through Borleon. And even after all that, you became a hero of your people in the battle of Leafholme. If those are not the actions of a great warrior, then I do not know what are,’ Taem nodded, causing Baek to smile. ‘You are an important part of this company, and you are my good friend.’ Taem patted the Aborle on the shoulder.
‘Thank you,’ Baek murmured.
‘We all get frightened,’ Taem whispered, ‘I thought we were dead last night. It’s only natural–’
‘Logan is never afraid,’ Baek said wearily, ‘ever.’
‘As you said yourself,’ Taem said softly, ‘Logan is a hero of legend. He was born to be a warrior. We are fortunate to have him lead us.’
‘I think we would panic and flee,’ Baek murmured, ‘if his will was not holding us together.’
Taem nodded, ‘The Light is with us, Baek.’ Taem respectfully touched his sword hilt.
‘You don’t actually believe that though,’ Baek whispered, ‘do you? I believe we are out here all alone. There is no Light to save us, out in these dark mountains.’
I believe in you, Baek,’ Taem said fiercely, ‘and the strength of the company. If we stay together we will get through this.’
Baek nodded at his friend, and looked up to the mountain peak above, as they waded on through snow.
‘You’re a good friend, Taem,’ Baek smiled. ‘Your determination is extraordinary. I have never known anyone like you,’
‘You honour me by your words,’ Taem put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘I think we have both succeeded in making the other feel better, agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ Baek grinned. ‘That is what friends are for.’
‘Right,’ Taem smiled, as he ploughed through deeper snow, ‘then let’s catch up our other friends, before they miss us.’
By midday the trail became jagged and irregular. The clouds had grown dark, and snow fell as the company drudged on, wrapped in their blankets to keep in whatever warmth they could. The Hand of Fire’s path had started to cross stone bridges spanning the many deep ravines. Forgrun examined every bridge before any of the company took it – which they only did one person at a time.
‘Most o’ these bridges,’ Forgrun scrutinised the stone foundations, ‘be stood since before ye Lost Realms be first lost. But this be Rhungari craft,’ he said proudly, ‘and it be standin’ fer another age yet.’
But Taem could see the cracks and missing blocks in those ancient stone bridges, and he did not feel safe as he crept across them. He tried not to look down, at the snowy valleys far below. Taem saw the dubious look in the eyes of his other companions. Jvarna was hesitant to step out onto the crumbling bridges, and Baek at first refused – but the others always managed to coax the Aborle across.
After a few crossings with bated breath, the path turned to reveal a gap fifty yards across, and a drop of miles down to the ground beneath. Taem saw how it was traversed by a spindly bridge, of frayed rope and broken slats, layered in snow. A cold wind whistled across the gaping crevasse, and the rope bridge swayed with the breeze. Jvarna gasped as the rope bridge pendulumed over the wide ravine. Hirandar stared through the snowstorm, with doubt in her eyes. Taem took in a deep breath. The rope bridge looked so fragile that the extra weight of the falling snow might send it tumbling into the ravine. That falling snow was now so dense that he could barely make out the path, on the other side of the ravine.
No way, Taem thought to himself.
‘Looks like it could fall any second,’ Baek murmured.
‘I’m not stepping on that!’ Drual held his hands up in protest.
‘Is there any other way?’ Jvarna asked fearfully, as she turned to the Wizard.
Forgrun pressed the posts embedded in the rock, ran his eye down the length of the bridge, and shook his head.
‘We have to cross,’ Logan said firmly. ‘It is too late to turn back.’
But Taem saw the pensive way Hirandar’s forehead crinkled up, and Taem knew by the Wizard’s silence she was reluctant.
‘It be folly!’ Forgrun tested the tension in the rope, and found the wooden posts were loose in their foundations.
‘We’ll have to go back and take the other fork,’ Jvarna turned to face the way back. ‘That bridge will break,’ Drual watched the bridge sway in the wind.
‘What rope do we have?’ Logan said.
‘Not nearly enough,’ Baek’s shoulders drooped.
Taem felt the company slump into a depressed mood. He shivered as he pulled his hood forward, in a vain attempt to deflect some of the biting wind. The situation was bleak. The sky was dark, snow was falling heavy, and it was cold beyond freezing. They were in one of the most inhospitable places in Hathlore – bar only the Shadowlands – and to go forward was perilous, but the thought of traipsing back the way they had come was worse than anything else.
‘I'll go across,’ Ragad said quietly.
‘It can’t be done.’ Drual said at the same time. ‘What did you just say?’ The rogue gawked at the Northman.
Everyone gaped at the barbarian in amazement.
‘I said,’ Ragad stared over the ravine, ‘I will cross the bridge. If
it can take my weight it can take anyone’s – even yours, Forgrun.’ Ragad let out a rare smile.
Ragad stepped onto the rickety bridge, which creaked and swayed under the huge man’s bulk. Before anyone could hold him back, the Croma began to advance across the spindly bridge.
Forgrun let out a low whistle as the others watched anxiously. Step by step, Ragad edged forward through the swirling snow, both hands grabbing onto ropes either side. Some steps stretched over gaping holes in the bridge, over nothing but air and an endless descent below. Ragad slipped, and the watching companions gasped as his foot went through a slat, and he clamped his hands onto rope. But Ragad regained his footing, and crept onto the other side. All the other companions cheered with relief, as the giant Croma stepped onto firm rock again.
‘Ragad is a man of courage,’ Logan stared across the crevasse, nodding his head at the great Northman.
‘I have never seen the like of it,’ Baek said in disbelief.
‘Aye,’ Forgrun nodded. ‘Odrin himself be watchin’ ye Croma across ye bridge.’
‘Right,’ Hirandar said confidently, ‘you’ve seen how it’s done. As Ragad said, if it can take his weight it can hold any of ours. Let’s go, one by one.’
Taem stepped onto the bridge next. He edged his way across, slow and sure. Taem made certain he never had less than one hand gripping the bridge, as he tested every bit of wood with his foot, before he put his weight on it. His heart thundered through his chest. His mouth went dry. Taem just kept his eyes fixed on the bridge, and where he was putting his next step. He dared not look down. Like the way he applied himself to anything, it was only one step at a time.
Taem made it across and was followed over by Baek, the others, and finally Forgrun. The Rhungar was the most unsure of any of them. But eventually – by taking tiny steps and gripping on for dear life – Forgrun made it to the other side.
By nightfall the Hand of Fire had traversed all the bridges, and the snow-covered ground had become continuous once more. They built their fire up as high as possible that night, with whatever material they had been able to scavenge. A vigilant watch was maintained through the dark hours, but none of the company saw anything all night. If the Nemeth watched them, they did so from a distance. Taem lay shivering in his blankets, striving for sleep, and he wondered if Hirandar’s magic display the night before was enough to keep the Nemeth back, or if the sinister creatures would not take the bridges.
By the following midday, the company had left the snow of the high peaks, and descended into the eastern mountains. This side of the mountains was lawless and wild. There were no Grey Ranger patrols here. That afternoon, Logan found fresh footprints in the soft earth of the path, a group of fifteen to twenty men on foot, a day old. There were no horse tracks.
‘They lost their mounts in the Blizzen Passes,’ Baek shook his head. ‘No place to take horses.’
Taem thought that Balthus would have known his mounts would perish in the mountains, but if the Lord of Dolam was Maliven, would he even care?
‘The enemy are on foot now,’ Logan gazed on down the trail, into the valleys, ‘and they took the longer route through the high peaks. We have made ground on them. If we quicken our pace, we could yet catch them. Let’s move.’
Taem felt the afternoon get warmer as the company walked lower into the eastern mountains, over the rocky terrain with its sparse plant life. Before the mountains he had enjoyed winter, but now he would be happy to never see snow again.
The companions walked on past a highland stream and through a tranquil glen, dropping downward as they passed through a lush valley, nestled between two peaks, and then down steep mountain ridges. It was upon one such ridge that the Hand of Fire stopped for the night. Their campsite had a commanding view over the surrounding highland country. Team looked out over the mountains by twilight, and found it a wild and beautiful land.
‘We left the threat of the Nemeth in the high passes,’ Hirandar reached inside her backpack, ‘so tonight there is no need for such a big fire. Nevertheless,’ Hirandar pulled the Orb of Silarnon out of her pack, and its colours began to swirl into each other, ‘this will hide us from searching eyes.’
‘Good,’ Logan nodded, ‘for up on this mountainside, our campfire will be visible for miles.’
‘The orb will have enough charge for two more nights after tonight,’ Hirandar placed the orb back in her pack.
The companions sat looking over the dusky mountain landscape, as Drual and Ragad prepared a deer that Baek had shot earlier. They soon realised the value of the magic orb. Three miles to the north, down in the valley, Taem saw there were campfires burning – enough for scores of men. Five miles to the south, on one of the mountain sides, there were a similar number of campfires. There were more to the east too, further away.
‘Dare I ask what they are doing in the mountains?’ Jvarna laid out some blankets.
‘Is one of those Isornel?’ Hirandar gazed out towards the campfires.
‘Impossible to say,’ Logan stared at the distant fires, and Taem sensed his Master was troubled.
‘At each of those camp there must be fifty men or more,’ Taem gazed down, ‘by the number of their fires.’
‘If they are Men,’ Logan said darkly.
‘What do you mean by that?’ Drual looked at the Sodan Master with wide-eyed fear.
Logan did not answer, he just stared out into the dusky mountains. Taem knew the Master’s Sodan senses were more attuned than his, but realised he also could feel there was something wrong about those distant camps.
‘What are they doing here?’ Taem murmured.
‘Could be looking for something,’ Logan said warily, ‘or someone. They are too far away to tell, but if they come closer I will be sure. But I feel uneasy at their presence.’
The warriors all shot cautious glances between each other.
Now that Taem thought about it, he realised he also could feel whoever was at those fires, lingering on the edge of his periphery. It was a feeling of dread, of darkness. He had sensed it once before, at Stheeman’s Hill.
‘They are Narg fires,’ Taem whispered.
‘Yes,’ Logan nodded, to the alarm and distress of the other companions.
Baek’s shoulders hunched over with worry, as he looked down at those camps. Forgrun’s face went withdrawn, with an anxious frown.
‘Nargs,’ Jvarna murmured, her eyes wide with fear.
‘So far from the Border?’ Ragad even had concern in his voice.
‘How can you know that?’ Drual’s voice shook with panic.
‘There are other skills to being Sodan,’ Logan put a hand on his sword, ‘as well as the Way of the Sword.’
‘They are so many,’ Baek’s eyes were full of dread, as he counted the glowing campfires.
‘They are looking for us,’ Hirandar gazed out over the darkening twilight. ‘To believe any less would be foolish. Our fire is hidden from them, but in daylight the magic of the Orb cannot conceal us.’
‘We will have to move fast tomorrow,’ Logan said, ‘if we want to make it through.’
Logan looked at his companions, saw in all their eyes how terrified they were.
‘Do not forget, my friends,’ Logan held up a fist, ‘we are only eight, and they need to find us first. Taem and I can sense them coming, we will avoid them.’
The tension in the warriors’ shoulders eased, and the terror in their eyes lifted. The companions knew the Grim Wanderer – the hero who had strode alone into the Shadowlands – was the one man in Hathlore that could get them through this alive.
‘Should we move on, Logan,’ Hirandar whispered, ‘head out into the night?’
Logan shook his head, ‘It’s too late for that. We have the orb, and the night is the ally of the Shadowsworn. Better to rest here till morning. Everyone must eat,’ Logan gestured to the deer roasting on the spit, ‘and get some sleep. I will take the first watch with Hirandar.’
After days of provisions, roast
ed deer tasted divine. Taem was so tired, he curled up in his blanket and fell to sleep, as soon as he had finished eating.
It was still dark when Forgrun woke Taem, to take his turn as sentry. Although it seemed only moments ago that he had shut his eyes. Taem roused himself and took his place alongside Jvarna. Logan made them keep watch in twos, to keep each other awake. The fire had died down, but the embers were still glowing and gave off some warmth. Taem bathed his hands in the heat. Gazing out into the darkness, he saw the campfires to the north and south had faded. But Taem could still feel them, sense their evil.
Chapter 24 – The Light Shine on your Blade
Jvarna and Taem woke their sleeping companions as first light swept away the night. The Hand of Fire were soon packed away and ready to move. The campfires they had seen last night filled all the warriors with haste and dread.
‘Enemies circle us like crows,’ Hirandar looked up at the bleak dawn sky.
‘We must all be wary today,’ Logan gazed down into the valley, where they had seen fires last night. ‘Every step must be taken with caution. For the enemy are close.’
The warriors barely spoke as they walked, and every member of the company scoured the surrounding mountain country, searching for signs of danger. The verdant glens were no longer a source of joy, but places where menace lurked. The Hand of Fire left the ridges behind and descended into a valley basin. Two out of Baek, Logan and Taem – the swiftest and most careful of the group – were always scouting ahead of the main party.
It was on one such scout ahead that Logan and Baek came across numerous tracks, on an expanse of grass that had become muddy and soft alongside a trickling stream. Logan grimaced, as he saw how the deep impressions in the mud revealed whoever had made the tracks had been heavy – far bulkier than Man or Rhungar. Logan brushed his hand over the flattened shoots of grass, and he felt them stretching back up skywards. The tracks were fresh, one to two days old. Logan saw there were boot marks in the churned up earth, but mostly there were hoofprints, with a scattering of other impressions where the feet had been padded, as a giant dog.