Wilmurin: Land of Darkness

by H. J. Cronin

  Kris nodded a greeting and approached the newcomers. Kris then looked at Ardag, scrutinising him thoroughly, which made him feel rather uncomfortable. 'You definitely have your father's look,' he said to Ardag, who looked at him in bewilderment.

  'Who are you?' he asked Kris; Bry had joined Johan and the others at the table.

  'I am Kris,' said the Lone Druid. 'I haven't seen you for a long time, Ardag. It fills me with great sorrow that we have been apart all this time.' Kris was evidently overwhelmed with emotion but continued, 'My son is the Eagle, making you my only grandson.'

  'Grandfather?' said Ardag, shocked. 'I have no memory of you – how could this be?'

  Kris placed a hand on his shoulder and walked him over to the table. Over the next two hours, Kris and Ardag shared many stories and tales; Kris told him everything that had been discussed with Johan about the filven.

  'So you feel the power within?' Kris asked Ardag after they had spoken about everything they needed to.

  'I do. I have knowledge that I have never known before – I woke up from a dream and suddenly it was there. There was a little sickness and fatigue at first, but now I feel great and powerful,' Ardag replied with an excited gleam in his face.

  'Be careful, Ardag, great power can corrupt a mind,' warned Kris. 'Use it, but control it.'

  'I will – my powers will be used for good,' Ardag said sternly. 'I think it is time we moved on, though, time is against us with this lich king on the move.'

  'Alas, the time has come, my grandson, but, before you depart, I have important gifts to pass on to you,' Kris said. He turned around, walked over to his bed and rummaged through a large wooden chest.

  The companions exchanged curious glances. Moments later Kris returned with a stick and a large bag.

  'Ardag, I will start with you,' he said, presenting the long stick which, upon closer inspection, was an oak staff with a blue orb at its tip held by curved iron claws. ‘This is my staff, the source of all my power. With this staff, along with your father's magic, you will wield a power far greater than any being that has walked upon this world, even Darkool. It will not give you the ability to destroy him but it will enable you to distract him to give Johan time to make the fatal blow. The chimera will provide you with a valuable lesson in embracing magic.'

  Ardag nodded, full of emotion at the precious gift Kris had bestowed on him, 'Thank you, I promise you it will come to good use.'

  Kris nodded his approval and then moved onto Johan. 'Johan, when I look at you I see a young man dressed as a mercenary, especially wearing those fur coats,' he said, rummaging through the sack he carried. 'I give you the armour of your family. I took it with me before I left – it is meant for you.'

  Kris revealed the armour to Johan who stared at it in amazement. A dark grey chainmail vest under a black breastplate, featuring an image of the skull of a vampire, with a sword protruding from the top of the skull. The leg armour bore the same symbol, which also appeared on a round shield.

  'Your father would have wanted you to have this,' Kris said, patting Johan on the shoulder. He then looked at the others and spoke to them all, 'Time is against you now. Head to the mountains north of here, be on your guard, frost giants patrol those parts frequently. Good luck in completing the task set upon you. I may see you all again – only fate knows when our paths will next cross.' The party took turns thanking Kris for all he had done, but when Ardag was about to leave Kris pulled him back, 'It is your responsibility to ensure the safety of Johan – if anything happens to him this whole journey is wasted.’

  'I have promised many times, Grandfather. For as long as I live, so does Johan,' Ardag replied and Kris smiled. 'Farewell for now, it saddens me to come and go so quickly.'

  'Don't worry, Ardag, there will always be a time for us to meet again, in this life or the next. Farewell for now. Just one last thing, though,' whispered Kris, out of earshot of the others.

  'What?' replied Ardag, giving Kris a curious look.

  'Be wary of the elves, they are deceitful creatures as you already know. This one may be helping you – but although the rest are in captivity, they still pose a threat. Keep an eye and ear out for their true intention.'

  Ardag sucked in a deep breath, nodded, and embraced his grandfather. They said a final farewell before departing. Once again, the party was on the move, this time marching farther away from any form of civilised life than ever.

  14

  The Bear and the Troll

  Bethegar had changed his mind and decided to travel east to the mountains, towards the Dark Wood. The enemy had patrols everywhere, and it had become too dangerous for Bethegar to take his original route, directly to the mountains. When he arrived at the Dark Wood, full of dread, he pushed forward.

  He carefully navigated the Dark Wood, feeling pity for the forest as it had become a shadow of its former self. It had been dark and gloomy before, but now, because of the dark sky, and the trees just charred stumps, it was like a graveyard of trees that had once dominated the wood. He was anxious about coming across enemies; the extremely long journey had left his body tired and hungry – what little food he could find was not enough for his large frame.

  'All I need is a troll to come and finish me off,' he said to himself, and sat down on a fallen burnt tree. He remembered the time he had fought a troll, the last troll to have come down from the mountain. He remembered it well because it was just before his first encounter with Johan.

  The doors to the Great Hall of Bemon opened with a creak that echoed throughout the vast open hall. In walked a shabby looking man, elderly, with a long beard that hung over the front of a hooded white robe. He was hunched over, gripping a long staff, as if it was the only thing that kept him standing. To the naive this elderly man would seem to be a hermit, an unwanted loner. However, King Bemnom knew who he was; he was the Eagle, and that usually meant bad news.

  King Bemnom stood as the Eagle approached him. He held out his arms and embraced the druid mage. 'Welcome to my house, old friend,' said King Bemnom. 'What brings you here unannounced?' he asked kindly.

  'Warm is the greeting I always receive in your hall, King Bemnom,' the Eagle replied as the king returned to his throne. 'I apologise for not informing you, king of the Clan of the Bear – my presence here is much needed.'

  The king smiled for a moment before speaking, 'Apologies are not needed by you, old friend. You are a true friend of the clans. What is the reason you have travelled so far from your tower?'

  'I flew as an eagle, as I always do. Although more convenient, my shape-shifting days are nearly over. Too tiring for an old man,' the Eagle said with a sigh. A silence followed; the Eagle knew he was getting old, for centuries he had flown around and seen his world change. He had lived through many wars, he had been there when Count Darkool was defeated and sent into the abyss five hundred years earlier.

  King Bemnom cleared his throat to break the silence. The Eagle came out of his reverie and the king offered him a drink of mead, which the robed man was more than happy to accept.

  The king decided to press the Eagle’s intent further. 'What tidings do you bring to Bemon?' he asked.

  'Oh yes, the matter at hand,' the Eagle said, gathering himself, breaking away from his thoughts. 'In one month from now an old clan will return to Wilmurin: the Night Hunters,' he said, not surprised by the look of bewilderment that came over the king.

  'But, Eagle, that clan has been destroyed, only the baby you sent away with your son lives, and they live in a different world, do they not?' King Bemnom said, trying to figure out what the Eagle meant with his words.

  'Indeed, Johan the Night Hunter lives in another reality, alongside my son, Ardag. They will be here in one month, their time in the other world is almost complete. I have watched the baby grow into a strong young man, and now he, as well as my son, need to be back amongst their own people. I sense a darkness I cannot explain – something is happening in the west. Vandaloria has come alive, the counts have become
active once again,' the Eagle whispered, so that only the king could hear him. The guards and other nobles had done well to go about their business, ignoring the new arrival.

  'What are you saying?' asked the king.

  'I do not know, it is as if the counts are once again preparing for war.'

  'The counts are weak, their defeat nineteen years ago rendered them useless. It is well beyond their capabilities to raise a sufficient force for war,' King Bemnom said, his face set in a troubled expression.

  The Eagle thought for a moment, stroking his beard. He then fixed his eyes with the king’s and whispered so that no one could hear, 'What if they have found him?' He emphasised the word ‘him’, which sent a shiver down the spine of the king. 'If he returns then a darkness will come which has not been seen for five hundred years.'

  King Bemnom stared into the eyes of the Eagle, not knowing what to make of the situation. 'If Count Darkool has returned, we would know about it,' the king said, although his words couldn’t hide the anxiety he felt about the possibility. 'Besides,' he continued, 'they do not have the ability to find him.'

  'No, they don't have the ability,' the Eagle said thoughtfully, the king’s gaze still fixated on him. The Eagle sighed, 'There are some in Wilmurin who have the power to bring him back should he be found, ones who have dealings with the dead.'

  'Necromancers?' King Bemnom asked, with a puzzled expression on his face.

  'A powerful necromancer is all the counts need,' the Eagle said, sounding troubled.

  'But the necromancers are few in number, hidden from the world, none has been seen for decades,' King Bemnom said hastily. 'Some would even say they are extinct.'

  'Not extinct, King Bemnom,' said the Eagle. 'I have had trouble finding a particular powerful necromancer called Shalon, who is the best in his dark trade. He has magic which could even match mine.'

  This troubled the king greatly. The Eagle was a powerful mage; the thought of an equally powerful magical being was bad news, especially an evil one. The king also dreaded another war with the Vandalore clan. There had been peace for almost twenty years, and the king was keen to keep it that way.

  'We must find this necromancer and stop him,' King Bemnom declared, slamming his fist down onto the arm of his oak throne.

  The Eagle nodded, 'I will continue to try to find him. Meanwhile you are tasked with meeting Johan one month from now, when he arrives with my son. Keep him safe until I send for him, teach him of our world. The lad will be confused – he knows nothing of his past, only you can tell him what you can because you are king of this clan.' The Eagle stroked his beard and stood silently for a moment, leaning on his staff and thinking, giving every appearance of a frail elderly man. After a short silence he spoke in a hushed tone to the king, 'One last thing, if you hear any more news about Count Darkool, send for all of the clans’ kings to gather for a council – it will be your task to persuade and muster the clans.'

  King Bemnom said nothing but give a curt nod. He stood up and approached the Eagle and the two shook hands. With only a smile as a farewell, the Eagle turned and walked away. The king of the Clan of the Bear stood for a while, dozens of thoughts swimming around his mind. The thought of Count Darkool returning haunted him; the peace that the druid clans had fought hard for would turn to war, and thousands of lives sacrificed before on the battlefield would be in vain. King Bemnom would obey the Eagle's command and sit back until something happened. If it did, he would be ready.

  King Bemnom, Bethegar, Brehan, and Bry sat at a table in the king’s ante-room, a small room to the left of the throne in the Great Hall. A round oak table in the centre dominated the small room; the walls were lined with various ornaments and family heirlooms.

  The king had summoned his children to discuss the arrival of Johan; the Eagle had left the previous day to search for this necromancer called Shalon. Brehan sat to the right of the king, the eldest of three children and the largest. Bethegar and Bry were to the left. They sat silently, waiting for their father, the king, to begin.

  The king stared at his children before starting, 'I trust you have heard about our recent visitor, the Eagle. He came to inform me of the return of the last Night Hunter, Johan. He comes with the Eagle's son, Ardag, in one month from yesterday. They will be arriving in the southern half of the Dark Wood – they need to be met – Johan must live, it is imperative.'

  His children sat silently for a moment; it was Brehan who spoke first with a smile, 'It only feels like yesterday that Ardag and the baby were sent away. Oh, how quickly nineteen years have gone.' His voice was hoarse and tough.

  'The Night Hunters are useless now,' said Bry. The others looked at her questioningly as she continued, 'With the counts hiding away from the world on their island, there is no need for this Night Hunter—'

  'You must remember, Bry,' interrupted Bethegar, 'Count Darkool could still return, and if he does then there is no one we would rely on more than the Night Hunter.'

  Brehan laughed, 'Count Darkool cannot return, little brother, he was defeated five hundred years ago. The Night Hunter is no longer relevant – he may only be a burden. Can he not live with Ardag and the Eagle?'

  'I agree with Brehan, Father, the dark times are behind us,' said Bry.

  'Are you two blind to the danger that the Vandalore clan still poses? I wouldn't put it past them to attempt bring the Dark Count back,' argued Bethegar.

  'The cowards pose no danger, brother, never again will Count Darkool return,' responded Brehan, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.

  Bethegar became irritated by the naivety of his brother. The two brothers had always had disagreements, ever since they were little boys. Bethegar stared into the eyes of his older brother and spoke harshly, pointing a finger at Brehan, 'I care for the people of Wilmurin, I care for the innocent. I would not sit idly as you do now, should the darkness return. I could even say you are as bad as the counts.'

  'Enough!' King Bemnom intervened, slamming his fist down onto the table, and his children instantly fell silent. 'I will not have my own children argue at my table. If you wish to bicker, go and do so with the dogs outside and not in my hall.' The three siblings watched their father, waiting for his next word. After the king was satisfied that peace was restored he continued, 'It is to the knowledge of all the clans that Count Darkool could return. If he ever does then it's Johan who has to vanquish him. For that reason we must protect him at all costs, he is the last Night Hunter. Do I make myself clear, Bry and Brehan?'

  'Yes, Father,’ Bry said, lowering her head.

  King Bemnom looked at Brehan who remained quiet. 'Do I make myself clear, Brehan?' he reiterated to his son, who stared back at him.

  'Yes, Father,' he muttered, ignoring the grin from his younger brother.

  'Good. Now I must ask one of you to volunteer to meet Johan and Ardag. We do not know exactly where they will appear, what we do know that it will be in the southern half of the Dark Wood. Which of you three will happily do this for me?' asked the king, looking to each of his children in turn.

  They all sat quietly, Bry stood and spoke first, 'I apologise, Father but I will wait here for the Night Hunter. I will not be trekking into the Dark Wood to seek out somebody I do not know.'

  Brehan only shrugged his shoulders; Bethegar looked at his older brother in disgust. He stood up, straightened his back and began, 'I will meet the Night Hunter. I will require a small handful of men, it will make the search a lot easier.'

  King Bemnom smiled, he could always rely on Bethegar. He understood that Bry was a little apprehensive to travel through the Dark Wood. He was shocked, however, that Brehan hadn't volunteered. 'Good, that is settled then. In one month you will meet the Night Hunter and bring him here safely. Do not worry about giving him information, I will talk to him when he arrives.'

  Brehan then stood and bowed his head, 'Noble Bethegar, always doing what Father asks,' he said with a little envy in his voice. He continued, 'I must be going now. I have busin
ess elsewhere to tend to.'

  'Going where?' asked Bry, taken aback.

  'Nothing that concerns you, little sister,' said Brehan, smiling.

  'You can share your doings with your family, can you not?' asked the king, finding Brehan’s behaviour rather peculiar. He was also concerned about him travelling far from home because of what the Eagle had shared with him.

  Brehan raised both of his hands as if surrendering. 'I have business with a merchant in Flordonium, that is all,' he said.

  Bry was about to protest further but Bethegar signalled for her to say nothing with a brief shake of his head. Bethegar was convinced that his brother was up to something, but decided it was best to let the situation go rather than score points in the everlasting brotherly feud with Brehan.

  It was at that moment that the door leading to the room suddenly burst open, and in came one of the city’s sentries, wearing chain mail on top of a brown tunic. He was clearly exhausted and took a moment to gather his breath.

  'My king, my king,' he said, panting.

  'Calm down, man, for what reason do you intrude on me?' the king demanded.

  'There is a monstrous troll in the Dark Wood,' said the sentry, still panting.

  'A troll?' Bethegar asked, bewildered; he had not known of a troll coming from the mountains for almost five hundred years.

  'Yes, my lord,' the sentry continued, 'Farmers have reported missing cattle and I saw the beast with my own eyes, it killed three of my men.'

  'This is dire news indeed,' the king sighed, wondering whether what the Eagle had said about the necromancer had anything to do with this. 'Trolls are dangerous beasts, this one has broken the treaty signed after the Second War of Wilmurin, a treaty which stated that all troll-kind must retreat to the mountains and stay there until the end of time.'

  The king dismissed the sentry and sat back for a moment to think. Trolls were dangerous foes, almost as tall as giants and just as powerful. King Bemnom did not know how many were living in the mountains; if one had come down then others could follow, and dozens of trolls would be a major problem for the Clan of the Bear. He would require at least two dozen men to put the beast down, and half of that number would perish. But what are a few lives for the sake of the clan?