by Stas Borodin
“I’m Eimor Tur.” The knight behind the chair stepped forward. “His brother.”
“His little brother,” Tairnon Tur smirked.
I looked around dumbfounded. “Good God,” I said, hiding my trembling fists behind my back. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Plague and treachery.” Tairnon Tur raised an eyebrow. “It’s only us now.”
“The wizards are gone too?” I was shocked. “Did they run away? I thought they could stop the plague with ease.”
“They could,” the Keeper nodded. “But they weren’t allowed to. For some reason the king blamed the plague on us, so they had no choice but to abandon the city to its fate.”
“What about Master Aydiola? Is he alive?” I asked, fearing the answer.
“For the time being.” Tairnon Tur frowned.
Eimor Tur stepped forward and put a folding chair in front of me. “Sit.” The swordsman slapped me on the shoulder. “Want a drink?”
I licked my dry lips and shook my head.
“So, Master Aydiola is sick?” I was barely holding back my tears. “How could that be? After all, he’s a greatest wizard alive!”
“Yes, but he’s a mortal one. Just like we are.” The swordsman folded his huge hands on his chest. “We can’t hack the plague with a sword, boy; we can’t burn it with a fire.”
“Our enemy is much more cunning,” Master Tairnon said.
I gritted my teeth, unable to utter even a word.
“And now, we are outlawed.” The swordsman rocked on his heels. “Funny, isn’t it?”
“But this is ridiculous,” I muttered. “Why now? Who will protect the people? Who will protect the city?”
“That’s the point, Master Wizard. Paara will fall,” Master Tairnon continued calmly. “There is no one left to protect.”
“War and Plague are old friends.” The swordsman returned to his place behind his brother’s chair. “They walk hand in hand, destroying all in their path.”
Master Tairnon nodded. “Our true enemy is very cunning. His face is well hidden and his hands reach far. War leaps from island to island, devouring cities, tribes and kingdoms alike. Old grudges and ancient claims are unearthed, vows of friendship fast forgotten.” Master Tairnon paused. “Betrayal is back in fashion, Master Wizard.”
I felt goosebumps on my back.
“However”—Master Tairnon suddenly stood up from his chair and stepped towards me— “Master Aydiola believes that we have a secret weapon of our own. A certain wizard, who possesses a very peculiar Gift.”
“Don’t hide your eyes, Master Grimm,” Eimor Tur said. “You should be proud.”
“Proud?” I frowned. “Are you talking about my so-called luck?”
“No one can harness luck,” Eimor Tur replied. “But you did it, Master Grimm.”
All of a sudden I was angry. “To me it feels more like cheating!”
Tairnon Tur put his slender hand on my shoulder. “I know, your Gift is so unusual that it is hard to believe in its very existence…”
Eimor Tur stood before me like a tower. Tall, powerful, smelling of leather and metal. I looked at the buckles on his armour and did not dare look him in the eye.
“You killed the warlock,” he said. “You found the pirate’s lair. You gave our enemy a couple of heavy slaps.”
I gasped; it felt unfair to take the credit for all those deeds.
“But you are wrong, my lord! All this is just a coincidence!”
“Coincidence?” Master Tairnon shook his head. “Do you really believe, that all of us, including Master Aydiola, have gone mad?”
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I muttered. “I just—”
“I understand your doubt,” Master Tairnon interrupted me. “You have to believe in yourself, Master Grimm. Listen to your heart and your Gift will be forever your faithful servant.”
“I wish it were that simple,” I sighed.
Master Tairnon rolled his eyes. “Well, let us move on to the next topic.”
Master Eimor spread a map, tracing the familiar outlines of the islands with his finger.
“Our enemy is still looking for you, Master Grimm,” he said. “We will hide you here.” His finger suddenly stopped. “Right under his very nose.”
“Gonkor?” I looked at the map, puzzled.
“Clever, isn’t it?” said Tairnon Tur. “You are an experienced scout, Master Grimm; you can do much good while in Gonkor.”
This part of Master Tairnon’s plan I liked better.
“I want you to gather intelligence on our foe. Find out, if possible, who pays the mercenaries. Talk with the locals, examine Gonkor’s fortifications, count their warships, find out how many men they have in the city watch. Every bit of information you obtain may be crucial.”
“You can count on me.” I sighed with relief. “And I was afraid that you were going to lock me up in some deep cellar!”
“I’m not that stupid,” Master Tairnon said. “Your other talents should be exploited as well. Who knows, one day you may become a master scout, just like your old friend Master Dante.”
I scowled. “You are joking, right?”
Swordsman Eimor rolled his sword handle between his palms. “I’ll help you, if you live long enough.”
Master Tairnon nodded solemnly. “My brother will be your bodyguard and assistant. He’s a wise man and a very good fighter.”
“I am?” Eimor Tur smirked mischievously.
“Yes, you are.” Master Tairnon rolled his eyes.
Dumbfounded, I stared at the swordsman.
“But that’s not all; there is one more thing…”
I held my breath.
“…Master Aydiola asks you to look after your friend Ayssived. He is afraid that without his strict guidance, the boundless force may corrupt him.”
That part of the job seemed to me the most difficult. Almost impossible.
“I’ll try,” I said. “But I cannot promise anything. You’ve never met Ice. He’s like a force of nature!”
“Be more cunning, then. Use your friendship,” said Master Tairnon. “Do you think my brother is easy to control?”
Swordsman Eimor grinned approvingly. “The question is – who controls whom?”
Master Tairnon shrugged, but the corners of his mouth went up for a moment.
“One day your friend will be a mighty wizard, but for now we should keep an eye on him and stop him if he goes astray.”
Eimor Tur stroked the hilt of his dagger. “Better me than Avalor’s Inquirer.”
I shuddered. Back at the Academy I had heard many stories about Avalor’s ruthless agents hunting down renegade wizards.
“I’m also giving you a cage with homing pigeons. Only they know where to find Master Aydiola,” Tairnon Tur continued. “Send us your reports once a week.”
Swordsman Eimor threw his huge sword across his shoulder and picked up his heavy iron-bound shield. The meeting was over.
“Farewell, Master Grimm.” Tairnon Tur shook my hand. “May your luck be with you!”
✽✽✽
There was a donkey and a small wagon waiting for us in the courtyard. The wagon was packed with cages and sacks of grain.
“Those birds are pretty fussy,” Master Eimor said, looking at the sacks. “They eat only one thing – the grains of Durr.”
“The grains of Durr?”
“Their beaks are very powerful,” the swordsman explained. “Be careful when you feed them, or you may lose a finger or two.”
I looked at the birds and found them very different from the pigeons I knew. These birds had larger heads and curved black beaks, their eyes were red, rimmed with yellow and their legs were dark blue with razor-sharp claws on each toe.
“Your doves are scary,” I said, cautiously stepping back from the cages.
“True, but only they can beat the Falcon Watch. These birds are bred to fight.”
Master Eimor jammed his heavy shield between the cages, his longswo
rd he placed on top of the grain sacks.
“His name is Glaysad.” He patted the black blade lovingly, for the sword had no sheath. “He was forged a thousand years ago by some unnamed Tevalian master. According to legend, he belonged to King Aptor, who killed the dragon Mortstag, who was the father of the dragon Etfulstag that was slain by Master Aydiola on Mount Nef.”
“So, this is the very sword from the dragon’s treasury?” I looked at the legendary weapon with reverence.
“Yes,” Master Eimor smiled. “The wizard gave it to me the day I became a Keeper. I don’t know why, but the sword picked me among hundreds.”
I held my breath, looking at the priceless relic, a relic that had seen dragons and legendary kings. “Can I touch it?” I asked hesitantly.
The swordsman stroked the blade with his fingers and nodded. “He does not mind.”
I reached out with both my hands and gently touched the black steel. Using my fingertips, I traced the long interweaving lines carved on the cold metal and felt a faint throbbing. At first, I thought it was my own blood pumping excitedly in my veins, but then I felt something different. It was a strange feeling, as if my hands were touching the chest of someone humming a tune under his breath.
“The sword sings!” I cried out.
“He is pleased to meet you, Master Grimm,” the swordsman said.
“Pleased to meet you too, Glaysad!” I said. “Let’s be friends!”
Chapter 2
The Punisher was waiting for us down at the harbour.
A wide smile illuminated Bevid’s dark face. “It feels like a great stone fell from my back!” he cried, directing a small rowing boat towards the shore.
“Hello to you too, Master Keeper.” He nodded to Eimor. “Are we in trouble once again?”
“Nah,” the swordsman grinned. “This time I’m just accompanying Master Marcus. No hidden agenda.”
I was surprised. “I assume you already know each other.”
Bevid snorted. “Can’t say I’m terribly proud of that acquaintance.”
Eimor laughed and slapped Bevid on the shoulder, almost sending the old sailor tumbling overboard. “I know you like me really!” he said.
“In your dreams!” the sailor growled. “Come on, you big oaf, unload your stuff!”
The grain sacks and bird cages were hauled onto the boat, and the donkey was set free. The oarsmen pulled hard on the oars, and we rushed away from the shore as if being chased by all the beasts of Annuvir.
✽✽✽
I told Captain Gormant everything I’d learned from Master Tairnon. His face darkened. “Let’s keep it a secret for a while,” he said. “Captains Modron and Penkaur are still loyal to Prince Gorr.”
“They will betray us eventually,” said Bevid. “Just mark my words.”
“In that case, let’s get rid of them,” Ice said. “We don’t need a fight among our allies.”
“We will,” the captain agreed. “But not now. We still need each other.”
Eimor lay down on the deck with his feet high on the gunwale and a bundle of armour under his head.
“That man is trouble.” Bevid eyed my new friend suspiciously. “You’ll see!”
After some discussion, the captains decided to replenish their supplies of food and fresh water on Lev island, and only then part ways.
Captains Modron and Penkaur were worried about their families staying back in Paara, but they were worried about their warships even more.
“The plan is,” Captain Gormant began, “Punisher will take Master Eimor to Dekos to treat with the ambassadors of Artera and Mino. Meanwhile, Hammer and Anvil should blockade the Rodar Strait. Sink anyone who tries to sneak past you.”
“Seems like a good plan.” Captain Modron grinned.
Captain Penkaur snorted, leaning over the map. “Your plan is good, but I would have sent another ship towards the Iron Finger.”
“Just one?” Bevid shrugged. “What’s the point of that? To block the strait you will need a whole fleet.”
“I know these waters better than Madame Penkaur’s boudoir!” The redheaded captain chuckled. “Including the treacherous currents, shoals and reefs.”
“Well”—Captain Gormant folded his arms across his chest—“just promise me you won’t look for trouble.”
“It’s a promise!” The red-haired giants looked meaningfully at each other.
✽✽✽
The wind filled the sails, taking The Punisher to Dekos. As soon as The Hammer and The Anvil were out of sight, the captain changed course, turning the ship towards Pator.
“At night we will use the oars,” he said. “We will try to slip past Kortas and Byblos unnoticed.”
Near Pator we spotted a Gonkor merchant ship, running away under full sail. After a short pursuit, we caught it and sent it to the bottom of the sea.
“I hate sea battles,” said Eimor. “A sea battle is all about the size of your ram, not skill and valour.” He was leaning on the bulwark, watching the crossbowmen shoot the enemy sailors clinging to the pieces of flotsam.
Bevid shrugged. “True, you don’t have to be a hero to sink a vessel like this one here. But if you have a whole damn fleet rushing at you: huge rams, archers, spearmen and crews of hundreds, that’s when you’ll need all the skill and valour you can muster.”
Eimor snorted. “You’ve got it all backwards, old man. I am talking about a single warrior who can’t do anything to distinguish himself in a naval battle.”
Bevid grimaced, as if he had swallowed some sour Artera wine. “A mere landlubber cannot fathom it.” He looked with admiration at the sailors scurrying up and down the deck. “For us, our ship is a living being, not just a pile of wood held together by hemp and nails. The oarsmen and archers are her legs and arms, the sailors are the blood running through her veins. We fight together and die together. Is that not courage? Is that not worthy of your respect?”
Eimor grinned, as though taunting the old sailor on purpose. “If you only knew what a real warrior feels when he climbs to the top of the enemy’s tower! If you only knew that feeling in your hand when your sword rips through the enemy’s steel and flesh! The fury of the fight! The shouts, the noise, the wail of the pipes, laughter and curses! The true warrior should see the horror in the eyes of his enemy, he should see Death herself stalking the bloody battlefield!”
“Fie on thee!” Bevid looked disgusted. “I believe that a huge ram trained at my ship’s belly is way more terrifying than a puny knife in a nomad’s dirty hand!”
Ice and I stood nearby, quietly listening to the conversation.
“They’ve both got a point,” Ice said. “Too bad they don’t hear each other.”
✽✽✽
The oarsmen rowed all night. During the day they rested well and could have pushed even harder, but Bevid was reluctant. “Who knows what kind of surprise might be waiting behind the next island,” he said.
The captain nodded in agreement. “Better safe than sorry,” he said.
I watched them for quite some time and came to the conclusion that the captain and the first mate shared some kind of invisible bond and were able to communicate over a distance almost without words.
“This is Sea Magic,” Bevid grinned. “It is not so easy to explain.”
“Really?” Ice chuckled. “We saw a lot of weird stuff back at the Academy.”
Bevid squinted slyly. “Nah, they won’t teach you this trick at the Academy,” he said. “Our heads”—Bevid pretended he was pulling something invisible from his forehead— “as if connected by invisible strings. Should the old man think of something, these strings start to vibrate …”
The captain, standing with his back to us, looked over his shoulder and tsk-tsked.
“He says,” Bevid lowered his voice, “not to give away our secrets.”
✽✽✽
To my surprise, Hrianon turned out to be a very educated girl. She was fluent in four languages, she knew how to read and write, and had an
extensive knowledge of geometry. Within two weeks she had read all of my books, even those that were written in foreign languages.
“This book is a work of Pekul Varg. It’s written in old Venedian.” Under her arm she held a thick tome. “My grandmother was Venedian,” she added, and I heard proud notes in her voice.
“Is it a good read?” I asked, settling myself under the awning.
“Oh, Pekul Varg was one of the brightest minds of his times,” she said. “He wrote a lot, but his best works were on mathematics and archaeology.”
“Really?” Ice grinned. “My father and his pals were archaeology enthusiasts too. Especially when some cunning farmer tried to hide a bit of the tax money. Believe me, no buried treasure could escape their furious shovels!”
“True archaeologists seek knowledge, not riches!” Hrianon snorted.
“Old pots and bones?” Ice shrugged. “What good are they?”
“You’re a real bonehead, Master Ayssived,” the girl said with a grimace. “And I used to think that all magicians were educated and intelligent people—”
“You were telling me about the book,” I butted in, trying to prevent another squabble.
“Yes,” Hrianon sighed, patting the book cover lovingly. “This book is about the wonderful discoveries made by Master Varg in the lands of the mysterious Teteges.”
I’d always loved legends, old weapons and stones with the imprints of dragon’s scales. Fascinated, I could spend hours wandering through the desolate ruins of ancient castles, climbing the crumbling barrows and, putting my ear against the stone, listening to prehistoric dolmens.
Seeing a spark of interest in my eyes, Hrianon moved closer and opened the book in her lap. “This book tells about an astounding discovery,” she whispered. “It turns out there were winged people in the lands of Teteges!”
I opened my eyes wide and listened to her, trying not to miss a thing.
“One day, Pekul Varg received a report about a huge structure made of three enormous stones found in the lands of Teteges, just six days’ march away from the Venedian border. Without further ado, Master Varg gathered a hundred soldiers – in those days he was a governor of Teel – and went on a journey.