"Nothing!" Brenn snapped back, then after a pause he continued. "Sorry, but I'm just getting fed up with all of this."
Luan was mystified. "All of what?"
"Well, we've spent the day learning to look after horses, saddling them, dealing with bridles and reigns and other tack, checking hooves, what they eat..." He tailed off looking dejected. "It's just not what I expected that's all."
Luan thought for a moment. "It's all really important stuff though."
"Oh I can see that!" replied Brenn. "I just imagined really learning to ride like a warrior. Hooves drumming, shield on my arm and lance in my hand, wind in my hair..." He paused, lost in his own private vision. "Instead I'm doing all the things my grooms do!"
"Your grooms?" Luan was suddenly struck that he knew very little of his friends background.
"Yes. When we ride on my father's estate, the grooms bring the horses all prepared. Isn't that what happened on your estate?"
"Not exactly." Luan thought about his home and how it would sound to Brenn and then decided to change the subject.
"What was that voice that Fin was doing?"
Brenn looked up. "You mean to the horse?"
"Yes, all that thee and thou stuff."
"I asked him about that." Brenn scratched his head "He said that there's a Blacksmith in his village who talks to horses like that, and they're all meek as pussycats. So he thought he'd give it a go."
"He's mad!"
"I know!"
They stood and looked across the field. A group of six boys were practising relays, cantering to the far side of the field and then galloping back. Fin, back on 'his' horse, came to the end of his turn and slapped hands with the next rider who set off across the field.
"Hey, Fin!" called Brenn and he set off towards his friend. Luan started to follow but suddenly something pricked at his senses. He looked up. At the far side of the field the rider turned and started his gallop back. Time seemed to slow. Luan was suddenly aware that his breathing was fast. His fingers tingled. He could feel the blood pulse round his body. The air in front of the young horseman swirled and darkened like a drop of ink falling into a glass of water. For the briefest of moments Luan saw the form of a giant black wolf leap for the horse's throat. The horse reared, screaming. The boy fell, his cry cut short by the crack of his neck. The darkness contracted to a point and disappeared.
Seven – The Dragon Inn
Hanging Point. Hold the hilt at the shoulder over the rear foot, then let the whole sword 'hang' somewhat forward and down, with the point dipping at a slightly steeper angle, this is hanging point.
THE INN FELT UNCOMFORTABLY warm after the chill of their walk. From the door a maze of low tables, every bench and stool taken, made the quest for drinks a challenge. Beyond that the room was turbulent mass of noise and smoke. Vaguely glimpsed figures laughed and talked, conversations punctuated by the clink of bottles and the thunk of flagons on the bar.
"Come on, this way." Cail pushed his way into the room. It was midwinter's eve and by tradition novices were allowed into the town to join the celebrations, as long as they stayed in groups and were always supervised by an older guild member. Luan wondered if Cail remembered his arrival at the guild house. The man had been kindly then and he had treated the boys well tonight, telling jokes and pointing out the sights. 'Where do you want to go?' he had asked as they stood in the market square, amidst the food stalls with the torchlight flickering over their faces. 'The Dragon Inn' Fin had answered and Cail had laughed, then stopped abruptly when he realised it wasn't a joke. 'Alright then,' he had said, and led the way.
"Sit here," Cail said and headed off towards the bar. The table was squashed in a corner. Brenn, taking his position as the smallest seriously, wormed his way in to the stool at the back. Fin plonked himself down next to him. Luan was about to join them when a squeal made him turn and something hit him hard in the chest.
"Luan!" Bridie cried as she threw her arms round his neck. "It's been so long! And you've grown! How's training? Are you a proper warrior now? Did you miss us? Oh, it's so good to see you!"
Luan was uncomfortably aware of the two grinning boys watching.
"Hello Bridie," he said as he untangled himself.
"Are these your friends?" She asked.
"Er...yes," replied Luan as if he wasn't too sure. "This is Brenn and Fin."
Fin stood and then bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet such a beautiful lady," he said theatrically
"He means hello," said Brenn.
Bridie laughed. "You are funny!" she said.
"You can sit down now," said Brenn to Fin who was standing slightly awkwardly.
"Now girl!" The words were accompanied by a large meaty hand that clutched Bridie's shoulder and turned her around. "You're paid to collect pots, not for bothering our guests!" The man was large, his solid frame running to fat. He wore a beer -stained apron and his over-large head was bald but for a fringe of white hair. "Now!" he commanded. "Off with you!"
To Luan’s surprise Bridie smiled and said "Yes Tomasz," and then, with a wink at Luan, skipped off towards the bar.
The innkeeper looked after her and shook his head. "She's a good girl, but she tends to forget what she’s supposed to be doing. I only keep her on because of her grandfather."
"Her grandfather?" The surprised words slipped out before Luan could stop them.
"He's a singer, a minstrel I suppose." The fat man scratched his head. "To be honest, I couldn't tell you whether he's any good or not, it all sounds the same to me. Thing is, he pulls in a crowd, and that means good business. He'll be out soon and you can judge for yourselves. Now," he bestowed a benevolent smile upon the three boys, "can I interest you in dinner? We have a hog roasting out the back!"
"It's alright innkeeper, we'll be fine for now." It was Cail returning with a tray which he placed on the table. Tomasz muttered a few pleasantries and then moved on, looking for more profitable conversation. Fin eyed the tray with interest, three small flagons and one much larger one.
"Which one is mine?" he asked cheekily.
"Hands off!” growled Cail, as he took the large flagon and took a long pull.
"What is it?" asked Brenn as he picked up one of the cups. "Ale?"
The big guard snorted in derision.
"What? That thin watery stuff they give us at the guild? Black Beer! That's what this is, thick and strong and a proper man's drink." He took another pull at his flagon, slightly slower as he savoured the taste. "Aye, and The Dragon has one of the best beers around." Cail leaned back with a contented sigh.
The boys picked up their drinks. Brenn took a cautious sip while Fin, in imitation of Cail took a longer drink. Unfortunately the strong taste hit him just as he tried to swallow the second mouthful. Dark liquid fountained from his mouth as he choked and coughed, splashing on the table as he slammed his flagon down and pounded his chest. Brenn struggled frantically to contain the attack of giggles caused by this display but to no avail. Froth sprayed from his nose, coating the table in front of him. Luan stared at his friends in dismay and then put his drink down carefully.
"Shall we go and sit somewhere else?" he said to Cail.
It was at that moment that the noise in the bar stilled, and into the firelight stepped a tall figure, hooded and caped. With a theatrical gesture the man threw back his hood and raised his arms, one of them holding a zither harp.
"It's Mack!" gasped Luan as the room echoed to cheers and stamping of feet. The old man lowered his arms and the applause died away.
"Thank you my friends! Thank you!" he exclaimed. "You honour me with such a welcome. Now, how may I entertain you?" His cape swirled dramatically as he looked around the room.
"A song!" a voice cried and it was quickly joined by others. "Yes! A song! A song!"
"Ah, but what sort of song?" Mack called back "A ballad? A song of love?"
At once the room was filled with shouted suggestions but one strong voice sounded over the others.
"Make us laugh man!"
"Very well," replied the old troubadour. "I will give you the tale of Folan the Fair and his mountain love!"
The room became quiet once more as Mack settled the zither harp in the crook of his arm and moved his hands lightly over the strings. After three quick chords of introduction he began to sing. It was a good tale and a long one, and Mack held the room's rapt attention throughout. Luan was amazed by the versatility of the performance. One moment Mack was the young Folan, fair to behold and with a voice that beguiled all, the next he was a young maiden, besotted and heartbroken as the young hero moved on to another damsel. Then he had the audience crying with laughter as he played the part of the troll wife, bewitched by Folan's singing, who came down from the mountain to carry the young man off to be her husband. To cap it all, the song finished with a duet between the hero and the troll and the skill of the minstrel made it seem that both were there in the room, arguing back and forth. As Mack played the final chord the room exploded into noise, he bowed low, a triumphant smile on his face.
"THIS IS NOT GOOD!"
Mack was pacing up and down the room. Bridie was perched on a battered chair, her legs tucked beneath her. Brenn was sitting cross legged on the floor while Fin sprawled on the single bed. Cail had stayed downstairs, 'to be nearer the beer' he had explained. Lunchtime was over and Mack, with several hours before he performed again, had showed them to the quiet of his room. Luan, despite the interruptions of Fin and Brenn, had just finished describing the deaths of the three novices. Mack stopped in front of Luan.
"Describe the boys."
As Luan reiterated the descriptions he realised that there were similarities, but he was aware of something else as each of his companions stared at him, Bridie put her hand to her mouth, and Fin sat up with a frown.
"What?" Luan asked.
"Have you looked in a mirror recently?" Fin replied.
With a jolt, Luan realised what he meant.
"Me?" he exclaimed. "The killer is after me?"
"It looks very much like it," replied Mack in a sombre tone, "and he's getting very close!"
"But why me?" Luan looked round his friends. "I mean, there's nothing special about me."
"Totally agree!" Fin smiled.
"Yeah, maybe it's a case of mistaken identity!" added Brenn.
"Not really helping!" replied Luan in a grim tone.
"Actually," said Mack thoughtfully, "there is something very special about you, or have you forgotten?"
Luan knew exactly what he meant, and it made him feel very uncomfortable. He spoke directly to Mack.
"I've been trying to put that behind me."
Mack's look was sympathetic but determined. "Well maybe it's catching up!"
Bridie looked from one to the other as if trying to understand a conversation in a different language.
"Is this anything to do with the House of Collection?" She asked.
"That's just a story!" interrupted Brenn scornfully.
"What is?" asked Fin, feeling very confused. Mack gave Luan a long look.
"I think you better start at the beginning," he said.
And so Luan did. He left nothing out, struggling sometimes with his instinct to keep the stranger parts of his story to himself. He tried to remember word for word his conversation with Zand, the ancient hunter, the details of his time in the House of Collection and even his growing awareness that this might be something he could understand, even control. When he finished there was a long pause before Brenn broke the silence.
"I don't believe it!" he said.
"If it is any consolation, I don't believe it myself," Luan replied, "but it is true."
"But it makes no sense," Brenn protested. "How can there be two worlds?"
"I don't see a problem." Fin sounded uncharacteristically thoughtful. "If you can have one, then why not two?"
There was a pause while they all considered this. Bridie shook her head.
"But I don't see how this relates to the killings. I mean, yes Luan is a bit..."
"Strange?" suggested Brenn.
"Slow?" interjected Fin.
"...special!" Bridie finished her sentence. "But it's not like any of that is happening now, is it?"
"Well, actually..." Luan began apologetically.
"What?" Asked Mack.
"I thought I saw something just before the accident at the horse riding. It was as if the space in front of the horse just expanded and..." Luan paused, head down, as he relived the moment.
"What?" Fin asked softly as he leaned forward. When Luan looked up they could all see the fear in his eyes.
"Something came through!"
Luan dropped words into the silence that followed. "Wolf...black...smoke like..." He could not form his vision into a coherent description. Bridie leaned towards him, half reaching out her hand for his.
"How do we fight it?" asked Fin. His question broke the spell of fear. Mack resumed his restless pacing. Brenn grinned and smacked his fist against his palm. Bridie turned and fixed Fin with a smile so fierce that he felt it like a slap in the face. Only Luan remained downcast.
"I don't know if we can fight it," he said.
Mack stopped and turned on his heel. "There is one place that will have the answer!"
"Where's that? Asked Brenn. Bridie supplied the answer.
"The House of Collection."
Brenn frowned. "I don't want to seem sceptical," he said, "but I'm finding this really difficult. Are we really saying that some monster from another world is trying to kill Luan and that we have to travel to a mythical house to find a way of defeating it?"
Fin shrugged. "That's about the size of it. Question is, are you with us?"
"Of course he is!" Bridie turned her large brown eyes on Brenn. "Aren't you?"
Brenn look at her for a moment and then grinned. "Why not? These two will need someone to keep them out of trouble"
He turned to Luan. "Just humour me though, are you sure about what you saw? Are you sure it wasn't just some big black dog or something?"
Fin looked up at Luan. "Black dog? You were going on about a dog when we were fighting shield wall. I thought you were going potty."
"Actually," said Brenn. "Now you say that, didn't you see one after our first sword lesson?"
"Yes," replied Luan, "and I saw it again after we met up in the kitchens, the day before the horse riding..." His voice trailed off as he looked at the others with horror. "I've seen it three times, and each time, shortly afterwards someone has died!”
Bridie's face turned ashen "The Cruan Croche!" she whispered.
Mack looked at her as realisation dawned. "The Hound of Death!" he hissed.
"What's that?" Luan struggled to get the words out. A part of him rejected the whole thing.
"It's one of the oldest tales", Mack replied, his voice low and urgent. "A ghostly black dog that haunts those that are close to death. Seeing the hound means that someone is going to die."
The silence that followed seemed almost unbreakable. Finally Brenn spoke.
"It still doesn't add up. Luan keeps seeing this dog but nothing's actually happened to him. The first two deaths could just as easily been caused by a man, assuming that Luan is the target, the fact that the killer has got the wrong person three times shows that they are just going on a description and there is still no real reason that Luan should be the target. All this other world stuff is very vague. Usually if someone wants someone dead they have a very specific reason."
"Maybe you're a threat to someone?" Fin suggested to Luan.
"Or maybe you know something you shouldn't?" Brenn asked. Luan racked his brains but could come up with nothing. They discussed possibilities while the fire burned down and the grey light turned to darkness outside but in the end they were no further on. Two things were agreed: contact Conn at the house of collection and that Luan should be on his guard and try never to be alone.
"Time to go," declared Mack. "You need to get back before it
gets too late, and I have to earn my keep!"
They said their goodbyes and Bridie led the boys back downstairs. As they reached the central courtyard the stairs opened out giving a clear view of the cobbles beyond. Suddenly Bridie stopped dead, one foot on the final step.
"What is it?" Luan tried to see past her. Bridie said nothing, but held up her hand in warning and moved to one side. Luan squeezed past her and then he too stopped. There, in the centre of courtyard, sat a large black dog. Luan stood, unable to move. Then, to his everlasting horror, the dog looked him straight in the eye. Everything else seemed to shrink away as those eyes grew into pools of darkness that tugged at Luan like a stubborn undercurrent. He felt the start of familiar feelings, the dizziness, and the unnerving twist of the ground beneath his feet, but he was powerless.
"Luan! LUAN!" Suddenly he was aware of shouting as hands grabbed him and spun him around. He shook his head as reality crashed into him.
"What is it?" Fin was in his face, fear showing in his eyes. Brenn was pulling at Bridie's hand, trying to get her to turn around.
"Back up the stairs, quick!" Luan pushed Fin away from him and the boy didn't hesitate. Turning, he scrambled up the stairs. Brenn followed, pulling Bridie after him. Luan set off after them but then stopped, almost overcome by a compulsion to turn back. A small hand grabbed hold of his and he looked into Bridie's eyes. The spell finally broke and he ran up the stairs after her.
Eight – A Lesson Learned
Hanging Point can be assumed on either side, but feels much more comfortable, relaxed and natural when held on the left side. A skilled fighter in this guard is devastatingly hard to hit.
MACK MET THEM AT THE top of the stairs.
"What is it?"
"The Cruan Croche!" Bridie struggled to control her breathing. "It was waiting for us in the courtyard."
Mack didn't waste any time. “Over the rooftops. It's your only chance."
Bridie nodded. "That way!" She pointed up a ladder to a trapdoor above their heads.
Up on the rooftops the darkness was pierced by intermittent moonlight. The roof of the inn wasn't too bad, the shingles were old and rough and the pitch not too steep. The three boys made their way across without too much trouble, trying to follow Bridie's directions. Then came the first real test, between the inn and the next roof was a gap of about five feet, normally an easy jump but when a fall to your death is the price of failure, it seems a very long way. To make things worse it began to snow, dust like flurries whipped by the wind.
The Guild of Warriors Page 6