The Grim Wanderer (36 page)

‘Where have you been?’ Hirandar rose out of her chair by the fire. ‘I’ve been worried… Oh,’ the Wizard gaped in wide-eyed surprise, when she saw they were covered in dust and grime. ‘Are you hurt?’

Taem shook his head, ‘We were in terrible danger – in truth, I think we still are.’ Taem recounted everything they had just experienced: the kidnap in broad daylight, the house and the trapdoor, the passage, rescuing the girl, the Cult of Dark worshippers, the Baku in the city and their flight through the passages, sewers and cathedral. The Wizard’s eyebrows rose up in shock on more than one occasion.

‘Go and freshen up,’ Hirandar said once Taem had finished. ‘Pack your belongings as fast as possible, then Taem and Baek go and find Drual. He’s staying north of the Bodium, at the Stag and Hare hotel. Here’s the address,’ Hirandar passed Taem a piece of paper. ‘Collect him, and tell him we leave tonight. Forgrun, you stay here with me.’

The companions set about what needed to be done. Taem knew the quest had begun in earnest now.

Amos whistled himself a hearty tune as he loaded his travel pack. He had been in such a fantastic mood all day – he was finally going to be a proper wizard! Amos checked his room at The Gatehouse Inn to make sure he had gathered all his possessions. He almost had to pinch himself to make sure he was not dreaming. He was going to be the apprentice of Hirandar Firefist! The most powerful Wizard in Hathlore! Last night, his Maestro had come to visit him, and she had given him directions to The Holdstead – some haven of the Light in the Bardaron Wilderness, south of the Blue Mountains – where the Maestro would join Amos as soon as she could.

Amos’s Maestro had left him strict instructions to leave that morning, but Amos had wanted to get a magic book from Fandivas Street before he left – to prepare for when the Maestro started teaching him, and to try and improve his reading. Amos did not know how it had taken all day, but all of a sudden the sun had set, and he still had not left Dolam. The Maestro would not be pleased, Amos thought.

Amos was packing his last few items into his sack, when a knock at the door startled him. He shrugged, and shuffled over and opened the door, yawning. Amos was confronted by a hooded stranger, wearing a rich green cloak. How odd? Amos thought. He recognised the man from somewhere – he was sure the stranger was someone famous? Amos just could not put a name to him.

‘Excuse me, friend,’ the stranger asked, ‘do you know where room number seven is?’

‘Second floor,’ Amos pointed up the staircase.

‘Thanks, friend. Say,’ the stranger said cordially, ‘aren’t you the new apprentice of Hirandar Firefist?’

‘Why yes,’ Amos beamed proudly.

The stranger smiled, whipped out a dagger and plunged it into Amos’s chest. The stranger grimaced at Amos’s startled expression. The stranger thought of how he loathed all wizards, as Amos gurgled on his own blood. Every time he killed another one, the stranger imagined it was the Wizard that had killed his sister.

Amos slumped to the floor, his face rigid with bewilderment and fear. Within moments his life was gone.

The hooded stranger casually walked away, careful not to rush, leaving Amos Ballon lying dead in his doorway. A finely crafted dagger protruded from Amos’s heart, with a gold and silver chalice etched into the weapon’s hilt.

Logan strode to the castle, as the red evening glow of a summer’s day dulled towards night. At least the gold-coloured mask he was wearing served to hide his face. Logan made sure his blue cloak covered his distinctive sword as he walked. The streets were teeming with masked people having a good time, and Logan knew a night such as this was a prime opportunity for people to do mischief, hidden behind their masks. His Sodan senses were alert as merrymakers stumbled past him. If one of them was stupid enough to attack him, Logan was ready. And he would have to be on guard tonight, as Isornel would surely be there at the castle. Logan did not fear wizards – they died as easily as any other man – but he knew they were powerful and dangerous.

As Logan approached, the majestic castle appeared more forbidding than ever in the shadows of dusk. Guards met him and he showed them his invitation. The Defenders let him in without question, and without even checking the face under his disguise. Logan walked past incredulous. Any assassin could have been hiding behind one of these masks.

The Sodan again felt the evil that lingered over the castle, as he crossed the courtyards and gardens. He was directed by another Defender into the great hall, toward the sound of music and revelry. Logan managed to slink inside, and elude the herald. He planned to keep to himself, and observe. He only wanted a chance to speak to Balthus again, before he slipped away. Logan knew Isornel would be skulking around here, and he kept his left hand on the sword hilt at his left hip. Logan felt the touch of Mantioc’s comfortable hilt, and he sensed the connection between himself and the blade. The great Sodan blade could cut through magic spells.

The ball had all the pomp and splendour Logan expected of a royal occasion. The great hall was decorated with glittering streamers, metallic ornaments and fairy lights held in coloured lanterns. Couples, spread evenly over the hall’s floor, danced in step to the gentle music of an orchestral band.

The Sodan watched the nobles gossiping amongst themselves about the latest society news and scandal, whilst servants glided between them offering more champagne from trays of crystal glasses. Logan could see the nobles were in competition with each other, as to who was wearing the most lavish mask, and the finest clothes. There were a team of acrobats and entertainers waiting against the wall, doing nothing at the moment, but when the dancers took a break they would provide some spectacle for the privileged guests.

Behind Logan’s mask no one knew who he was. Sometimes someone would approach him, and Logan would politely answer any question they had, but he avoided getting into lengthy conversations. No doubt, anyone who spoke to Logan found him boring. One drunk gentleman even asked him if he had heard the rumour that the Grim Wanderer was back in Dolam!

Logan had endured the party for about an hour, and there was still no sign of Balthus, or his Wizard counsellor. Surely the King would come soon? He could not miss his own party? Logan still felt the unease in the castle, and he was ever vigilant for signs of danger and Isornel.

‘I remember there was once a time when you liked to dance.’ A lady whispered in Logan’s ear.

Logan turned to see Alyssa looking every inch the resplendent princess. She wore a flowing gown of regal green silk, with sparkling emerald jewellery to match. Logan thought that stunning gown revealed far too much leg and cleavage than was proper, and he felt desire stir in him. But Logan was Sodan. He was disciplined, and the moment of weakness passed. Alyssa’s mask was an extravagant head-dress made of real gold, unlike all the others at the party. As her head moved plumes of wafer thin metal swayed mesmerically, floating like wisps of smoke on the wind.

‘Those times are as long gone as your innocent self,’ Logan turned away to watch the dancing.

‘I wonder if your feet remember what a dancer you once were,’ Alyssa weaved her fingers inside Logan’s hand. ‘Would you give me the honour?’

‘I don’t dance,’ Logan shied away from her touch. ‘Especially not with you.’

‘If you are
so righteous
,’ Alyssa sneered, ‘how can you not grant me forgiveness?’

‘Even if I believed you,’ Logan said coldly, ‘I would still never forgive you. Goodbye Alyssa, may we never meet again. Send your brother my regards,’ Logan made for the door.

‘Please Logan, don’t go,’ Alyssa said with concern. ‘I don’t want you to go out there.’

Logan was startled. It was like he was speaking to a different Alyssa. She spoke with a softness that he not heard in twenty years. Had the tone of her sultry dark eyes also altered, Logan wondered? He thought there was compassion in her eyes now. They seemed more…
human
?

‘I must,’ Logan murmured.

’The Light speed you on your journey,’ Alyssa snarled, with all the spiteful malevolence returned, her dark glower almost burning through her mask.

Confused, Logan turned away and left the ball. He could not understand the woman, and it was beyond him to help her find redemption.

How could the girl he had once loved become such a monster? Logan thought, as he tossed his mask into a fire in the castle’s entrance hall, and walked outside the keep and back through the gardens. A girl he had once, long ago, hoped to ask for her hand in marriage – how could she turn so cruel? So cold?

Logan had spent six years training with his Master, in Borleon, before he first arrived in Arilon, during the summer of Nine Seven Three. He was twenty one, and Master Talion had finally deemed Logan worthy to be ennobled as Sodan. He travelled to the great capital, with the intention of using his skills to serve noble King Aswan. On the first day of the Lion Guard trials, Logan had bested any warrior that was sent against him. It did not matter if they sent two, three or even four men against Logan. The Lion Guard trainers watched in amazement as the villager outmatched their best swordsmen with ease. The court had gathered to watch the spectacle. The First Sword of the King, Jagar Ebron, challenged Logan in front of the whole court. Logan had his wooden sword point at Jagar’s neck within moments. Logan remembered the shock in Jagar’s eyes as the crowd gasped in disbelief.

‘One day,’ Jagar had said to Logan, ‘you will be revered as the greatest swordsman in all of Hathlore.’ Jagar bowed his head to Logan.

‘What is your name, swordsman?’ Aswan came over to the combatants.

‘Logan Fornor, my King,’ The Sodan dropped onto one knee.

‘What do you want, Logan?’ The King asked. ‘A man of your skill could take the whole world.’

‘It is not my place to take, my King.’ Logan said. ‘I want only to serve, with honour.’

Aswan smiled, ‘You will join my Lion Guard, Logan; and I expect great things of you.’

Logan bowed his head, and when he raised his eyes he met the gaze of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He fell for her in that first moment.

Logan and Alyssa had courted in secret for a time, and both hoped to take it further. But they were young and free, happy to let nature, and the years, run its course. And besides, they had little choice. Those were the days before Logan’s legend grew into the Grim Wanderer, and Alyssa’s royal family would never have approved of their daughter with a lowly commoner. So they had continued a courtship of secret meetings, until Logan was called away to war, in the year of the Light Nine Seven Five. When Logan returned from that war a hero, Alyssa had been unrecognisable to him.

Logan left Castle Dolam through one of the minor gates. He was lost in his thoughts, as he made his way back through the maze of streets, but it did not escape his attention that there were many shadows following him. When Logan slowed, so did the footsteps behind him, and when he sped away they followed. The street ahead was unusually quiet, except for the men loitering in the distant shadows. Logan grimaced. He knew it was too quiet.

Logan could tell by the way they walked, the men ahead had been waiting for him. Glancing to the sides, Logan knew there was no escape, and not enough time to climb to the rooftops. Windows had their shutters closed and, Logan was sure, all the doors were barred.

Street lanterns revealed the dozen men ahead were all armed. Logan checked back over his shoulder, and saw the men standing some way down the street behind him – the ones that had followed him since the castle. The Sodan watched how the men stood, how they moved. He saw many of them had taken up a proper fighting stance, and Logan knew these were no normal footpads. These were all trained warriors, and they had come for him. Logan had always thought he would die in a great battle, but not here, and not when the boy still needed him. There was so much for Logan still to teach Taem. The Sodan Master had hoped to see his apprentice to that final day, to stand by his side on that Day of Reckoning. But if it was his destiny to die tonight, he would do so with honour, Logan thought as he drew his blade.

Logan counted twelve assassins to the front and eight behind, as both groups stalked towards him. The Sodan looked down at his blade, Mantioc, and asked the Light for strength. He turned and charged the eight assassins that had followed him. Logan saw the shock on their faces as he ran at them. He was so outnumbered, he had to do what they least expected. In his mind Logan prayed to the Sodan Code, as his gleaming blade hit aside a thrown knife.

Taem gaped at the luxury and style of the Stag and Hare hotel. He and Baek found Drual easily enough in the upmarket hotel, but getting the rogue to hurry up and pack was the hard part. Eventually, the famous adventurer decided what clothes from his vast wardrobe would be most suitable, and they headed back to The Jester Inn.

Drual had a broadsword strapped to his side, and carried what Taem was sure must have been the rogue’s most prized possession. It was a rare Rhungari repeater crossbow, custom made for the rogue and capable of shooting four bolts before a reload was needed. Taem marvelled at the craftsmanship. Its only wooden parts were the two twin composite bows, the rest was all burnished metal and tanned leather. Taem could see the repeater crossbow had four different triggers, one for each of its bows. On both sides of the butt there were silver plates engraved with “
Drual Dhagren”
in a flowing script. Taem was also amazed by how many blades the rogue carried. Drual now wore a belt holding ten throwing knives – and that was in addition to his knife lined baldric, and the knives hidden inside his coat!