Fortress of the Forgotten: Book One of the Swordmaster Series

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Fortress of the Forgotten: Book One of the Swordmaster Series Page 27

by Rutger Krenn


  Wu Chin attacked and his blade stabbed forward in the killing blow. It struck Talon but he was moving. Not backward as would be expected but forwards towards the lethal point. The blade advanced but as it struck home Talon was already twisting sideways. The blade drew blood and burned like a lash of fire across his chest but he had thrown out Wu Chin’s timing and it wasn’t a killing blow.

  The Chung warrior was surprised and tried to withdraw but Talon continued forward and his right hand clamped down about Wu Chin’s wrist and pressed it against his bloodied side. Simultaneously his left hand found the Chung’s elbow and pushed forward.

  Talon suddenly sunk his body weight down and twisted his hips. Wu Chin’s arm was caught as though in a vice. There was a crack, clearly audible to all close by, and the dao dropped from Wu Chin’s broken arm. Talon snatched it from the ground and rested the point against his opponent’s throat as he reeled back cradling his ruined arm.

  Fear and shame filled Wu Chin’s eyes. Not even the pain from broken bones could hide it.

  Talon made ready for the killing blow. Here at last was his enemy. All the weeks of being chased and of looking over his back were over. All the hardship that he had endured at this man’s hands and the taunts since he was a little boy. Most of all, here was the moment of justice for Chow. His murder would be avenged!

  Talon could almost hear his sifu’s voice now; gentle, humble as it always was. He remembered that bloodshed and revenge were not Chow’s way.

  He straightened and withdrew the sword. “Go!” he said. “Do not return. Your master will be waiting for you. Tell him that he is no true master at all. That Chow was far higher on the path, a path that Shagga Lu will never find. Tell him also that one day I shall return to the land of the Chung. I will hold him to account for murder.”

  Talon retrieved his own sword from the ground and turned his back on Wu Chin. He began to walk toward Mecklem and did not see as he turned the look of fear and shame turn to one of hatred. Wu Chin drew a sai from its sheath. Those gathered round struggled to yell a warning but it was Arell who found voice first.

  “Talon!” she screamed.

  There was a whooshing sound through the air. He spun around and lowered himself nearly on one knee as he did so. It was an old maneuver, one of the first to be learned in Chung Fhat weapon forms, and it served him well. The sai spun through the air but didn’t strike where it was aimed. It gouged the top of his shoulder rather than penetrating a vital spot.

  The sword in Talon’s grip continued to circle out and sliced deeply into Wu Chin’s neck. There was a spray of red over his shoulder and the hatred drained out of the Chung warrior’s eyes. Life followed moments after and he fell to lie unmoving in a pool of his own blood.

  So died one of the greatest warriors of the Chung but his prowess bought him little glory.

  Talon stood. It was over now. Arell raced and clung to him, holding him tight or holding him up, he couldn’t tell. He made his way to Mecklem. He had one last thing to do.

  “Hello, Talon,” said Mecklem weakly as he approached. “You fought well,”

  “It proved enough,” he said.

  “There is something that I need to say,”

  “Hush, Mecklem. You need rest.”

  “I will soon get all I need,” said the lord. “It is no use pretending. I have only moments to live, Talon.”

  Talon didn’t answer.

  “I shouldn’t call you that. It’s not your real name.”

  “Hush, Mecklem,” said Arell. “It’s Talon all right. You must rest.”

  “No,” he said gently. “It’s not Talon. At least it wasn’t before. A long time ago he had another name. Do you remember?” he said.

  Talon didn’t answer at once. He didn’t confirm that his name was Talon as Arell obviously expected.

  Mecklem smiled. “Of course you remember. I see it in your eyes. I had another name then, too. Elenthar I was called. And father called you Taran.”

  “Elenthar?” whispered Talon, unbelievingly, but he now began to see the truth. His memory reached back to his early childhood and he saw past the beard and the changes wrought by maturity. He now understood why something had nagged him since their first meeting. Was the secret he had struggled to keep going to be revealed? He felt all eyes upon him. Could he deny who he was?

  “I thought I knew you from the first,” said Mecklem, but I could see you didn’t recognize me. No wonder, considering how young you were and how much I’ve changed. I was glad of that. I was ashamed of the way I treated you. Father was too. After we learned of the Goblin attack on the caravan we came looking for you, but it was too late. It’s too late for many things now. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that we didn’t find you. I’m sorry for so many things.”

  Mecklem’s eyes widened and his hand gripped Talon’s wrist with sudden strength. “Can you forgive me?”

  Talon’s mind reeled. He could forgive his brother; he was only a child at the time. Though to do so was to acknowledge his identity and reveal the very thing he so desperately wanted to leave in the past. Could he lie? He would be able to pass off Mecklem’s words as delirium, but that would deny a dying man forgiveness. His choice was suddenly made.

  “I forgive you, Elenthar.”

  Mecklem released his grip and sighed. “Father’s not well,” he said. “We often argued long and bitterly. We argued about everything after you were gone. Eventually I left the Seamark and came here. They all knew who I was but I changed my name. I wished to leave my past behind. It’s a pity that I didn’t change my ways though.”

  “It’s all right, Elenthar,” said Talon. “Rest quietly.”

  Mecklem didn’t answer. His skin was grown deathly white and he closed his eyes.

  “Can you hear it,” he said at last.

  “Hear what?” asked Talon softly.

  “The sea. I can hear the breaking of the waves on the shore. I can smell the salt like we used to when we played on the beach. And mother. . .”

  Talon looked up. There was only Thromdar Mountain, wreathed in cloud and mist, and afar the sound of the breeze in the tops of the charred pines. He had caught a note of desperation in Elenthar’s voice. What was he going to say about their mother? But when he looked down he knew that his brother was dead.

  The rest of the summer was a time of rebuilding in Thromdar valley. The fortress had to be repaired, and like the castle the Duke too required looking after. He suffered from headaches and dizziness after his head wound, but slowly, under the ministrations of his daughter he grew well again. She looked after him, even if, as he said, she bossed him around like he was a little boy and told him when to go to bed, to have a bath, what to eat and so on. But he didn’t mind. He enjoyed her company.

  He often spent his days recuperating in a deep and comfortable chair in his study. He looked out of the windows to Thromdar Mountain or out over the green valley below where children played once more in the lush grass.

  “How things change!” he said one evening as twilight darkened the view and brought in the scent of night-time through the open windows. He breathed deeply of the fresh air.

  “Ah yes,” said Arandur. “How things change, indeed. But the more they change the more they stay the same.”

  The Wizard said this with a wink to Kenrik. He didn’t look at either Talon or Arell but they knew the comment was directed at them and they blushed.

  “Too true,” said the Duke with a laugh. “Come, Cadrafer, poor me some wine. “And I’ll have real wine,” he said quickly, before Arell could instruct the Captain of the Guard to mix it with water. “It’s good for the blood.”

  They were silent for a while now. Only the cracking and popping of the small fire that always burned in the hearth could be heard.

  “So,” said Kenrik after a particularly long sip of wine. “When will you two be getting married?”

  “Father!” yelled Arell and blushed crimson.

  “Don’t be such a fusspot,” he replied. “You two
may as well bring it out in the open. Arandur and I are old but we’re not stupid, you know.”

  Talon smiled at Arell’s discomfort but the Duke looked at him sharply. “And you spend far too much time talking to Beorht about how the Dwarves are helping Aren Daleth with its fortifications. You can leave that to Cadrafer and me. We’re still capable, if you thought otherwise.”

  “Nobody works with stone the way the Dwarves do,” said Arell in a fair imitation of Talon’s voice.

  “Well,” said Talon, “I think Arell’s rather put out with me lately. After all, now that she knows I’m no longer a peasant boy,” and he said those words in a perfect imitation of her own voice, “I don’t think she finds me interesting anymore.”

  Arell sniffed loudly and looked down her nose at him. She really was rather put out that Talon turned out to hold the same rank as her.

  “And don’t think I’ve forgiven you yet either,” she said at last. “You should have told me right from the beginning! Keeping secrets is no way to get on a girl’s good side!” She maintained a superior expression as the room filled with laughter but couldn’t keep up the act for long. Soon she joined them and gave Talon a mock punch to the shoulder.

  Arandur, however, did not laugh. He reflected on the secrets he knew. Kenrik had called them both old, and the Duke guessed better than most how true this was. Only the immortal Elves knew some of his own tale. But they had their own secrets as well.

  He considered what the Turgil would do; the sorcerer had been defeated but not destroyed. He thought of Eruthram, far away in the south, and of the machinations that were in place to spread his dominion over all Andoras.

  Had the others in the room known the power and evil that was at large in the land they would not laugh, and yet he had not the heart to tell them. Let them enjoy the victory while they could, but the saving of Aren Daleth was only the winning of one battle, only one part of the great game being played.

  Arandur put these thoughts from his mind. For a little while at least he could afford to enjoy the comforts of Thromdar castle. The time would come soon enough when the harsh world would intrude once again into all their hearts and they must be ready for the challenges it would bring.

  Table of contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

 

 

 


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