The Grim Wanderer

by James Wolf

  ‘How is the paddock coming along, Edar?’ Logan said, his tone severe. ‘I do not see much of that long grass cut down, like I asked?’

  ‘I’m trying, Master,’ Edar passed around the plate of bread. ‘But it’s hard work cutting that whole field with those small hedge shears you left me.’

  Macen, Elena and Taem exchanged twinkling glances as they all paused mid-chew.

  ‘What about using the hulking great scythe to cut the grass?’ Logan laughed warmly. ‘I did leave it out especially.’

  The look on Edar’s face was priceless, and Taem and Elena laughed at their younger brother’s expense.

  ‘That would’ve been too easy,’ Macen smirked.

  ‘Oh,’ Edar scowled down at his plate.

  ‘Never mind, dear,’ Aunt Sera smiled as she patted Edar’s forearm.

  ‘Like I told you yesterday,’ Logan grinned at Edar. ‘I wanted you to cut the grass in the paddock and trim the hedge, not trim the paddock and scythe the hedge!’

  Everyone roared with laughter. The trickster was on the receiving end of a joke, for once.

  Edar had been on Logan’s strict orders to rouse at the crack of dawn that morning to start his penance. Alandar and he had released a sack of mice at last weekend’s “Annual Cairbron Cake Baking Contest”. The crafty duo had swapped the main showpiece cake, concealed within a box, with a sack of mice they had collected. When the time came for the box to be opened and the showpiece revealed, a swarm of writhing mice had scattered throughout the village hall, and the resultant shrieks had brought everyone in Cairbron running. Logan had been furious, and set Edar to a month’s hard labour around the farm, on top of training.

  ‘I thought you’d left me the shears as a punishment, Master,’ Edar snatched another piece of bread. ‘To make cutting the paddock really hard work.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Taem reached over the table to pass Edar the meat and cheese plate, ‘that would be really hard work! You would still be trimming that paddock come harvest, if you continued with the shears!’

  Edar had the blackest of grimaces, as everyone laughed once more.

  ‘It was an easy mistake to make,’ Aunt Sera said, and the old lady’s caring eyes did cause Edar’s angry face to soften into a smile.

  ‘I am a hard taskmaster,’ Logan said, once he had stopped chuckling, ‘but I am not cruel.’

  ‘Yes, Master,’ Edar sighed, as he poured everyone a refill of milk.

  ‘Only you could “build a thoroughbred stable for a sheep herd”,’ Macen said to Edar.

  ‘Oh silence your mouth!’ Edar yelled at Macen.

  ‘Edar!’ Logan said sternly. ‘That is not becoming of a Sodan.’

  Edar’s shoulders slunk down as he lowered his eyes, ‘Sorry, Master.’

  ‘To be Sodan is to live with discipline and determination,’ Logan said. ‘You will need to show both to get back in that field and finish your punishment.’

  Edar nodded, with weary resignation.

  ‘And Macen,’ Logan said, ‘is the tool shed tidy?’

  ‘It will be,’ Macen looked out the window, avoiding Logan’s eyes. ‘I just haven’t had chance to sort it out yet.’

  Taem sighed, as he reached over the oak table, and Elena passed him a slice of cold beef. Macen had a laid back approach to life – sometimes, Taem thought, a little too laid back for his own good.

  ‘What do you mean,’ Edar scoffed at Macen, ‘you haven’t had chance? The rest of us were up early while you were lazing in bed!’

  ‘Oh let him be, Edar.’ Elena snapped.

  ‘I said I’d do it, alright?’ Macen snarled at Edar.

  ‘But why did you not do it this morning?’ Taem said.

  ‘Because,’ Macen banged his hands on the kitchen table, ‘I’m going to do it this afternoon!’

  Logan’s eyes blazed.

  ‘Sorry, Master,’ Macen took his hands from the table and placed them in his lap, dropping his head in disgrace.

  ‘Just see that it is done by this evening,’ Logan said.

  ‘I will,’ Macen nodded.

  ‘Did you all sleep under the wrong side of the moon last night?’ Logan asked. ‘It is unlike you to argue, and Sodan do not lower themselves to bickering and taunts.’

  The disappointment in Logan’s voice pierced Taem deeper than a dagger thrust, and he glowered at Macen and Edar for being so foolish.

  ‘I thought I had trained my students better than this.’ Logan murmured.

  All four apprentices went red faced and lowered their eyes in shame.

  ‘I will have no more of it,’ Logan said firmly, ‘is that understood?’

  ‘Yes, Master,’ all four apprentices said, and Logan nodded his head.

  Edar gathered up everyone’s empty plates, whilst Macen went and lifted the kettle from the fire, filled the tea pot with boiling water, and spooned some tea leaves into the pot. Elena got out the china teacups and saucers.

  ‘If you are to become true Sodan,’ Logan said to his four apprentices, ‘you must start by honouring The Code. The Way of the Sword is not an easy path to tread. It requires a lifetime of discipline and sacrifice. A commitment to do what is right. Your mind and body must be as one, in perfect harmony with the world around you. Only then can you call yourself Sodan.’

  ‘Yes, Master,’ Macen said humbly as Edar bowed.

  Taem nodded thoughtfully. He and his siblings had heard it all many times before, but Logan always reminded them what their training represented.

  ‘Sorry Master,’ Elena said. ‘We do honour The Code.’

  ‘Honour, valour, virtue.’ Logan whispered.

  The four apprentices dipped their heads in respect to the Sodan Code.

  ‘That is The Code by which we live,’ the gleam never left Logan’s eyes as he spoke.

  Very few alive knew the secrets of The Way of the Sword, and all were reluctant to pass on their knowledge. When – or if – they did, they only passed on their skills to someone they deemed worthy.

  ‘We saw Rhungars in the eastern hills again, Master.’ Elena said to Logan. ‘They think we do not see them, but you have trained us well,’ Elena smiled. ‘They have armour of shining gold! What could they be doing there?’

  Before Logan could answer, a grand voice announced itself, ‘Alas! I see I have arrived too late to catch a fine lunch.’

  They all turned to see Hirandar standing in the kitchen doorway. The people around the table leapt up to hug the old woman.

  ‘It is good to see you,’ Logan took the old woman’s cloak. ‘But I did not think you would be home for weeks?’

  ‘Situations have changed.’ The Wizard said darkly. ‘But let us leave that until a little later. How have you all been? You all look well!’ Hirandar grinned. ‘Have you continued your studies since I left?’

  ‘Yes, teacher,’ Taem answered for the four of them.

  ‘And your training?’ Hirandar said, as Taem took the Wizard’s gnarled staff.

  ‘We have intensified it,’ Elena beamed, as she lifted out a chair so Hirandar could be seated at the oak table.

  ‘Thank you, my dear,’ Hirandar patted Elena on the arm as she sat down. The Wizard asked similar questions of Sera and Logan, then continued, ‘Now that I have ascertained everyone is well, I am feeling famished after a week’s travelling…’

  No sooner had she said it, and Macen had already placed a plate of crusty bread and soft blue cheese – the Wizard’s favourite – in front of the old woman.

  ‘Most kind, my boy,’ Hirandar smiled, as Sera gestured for Edar to get a cup of milk for the Wizard.

  They all sat back down at the kitchen table to listen to Hirandar tell them of her journey – in-between wholesome mouthfuls of bread and cheese.

  ‘I travelled to Marnion,’ Hirandar said, ‘to the Realm of Magic, and many miles more to its capital, Calledron. I was called there by the great sorceress Manewe Baldomere, the head of The Order of the Sceptre, to a secret council for the forces of the Light
.’

  Taem had heard Hirandar mention The Order of the Sceptre before, and he knew it was a gathering of wizards

  Hirandar washed down her bread and cheese with a big swig of milk, before she continued, ‘This council’s purpose was to oppose the works of the Dark One Malveous. I told the council that the times we had long feared were now upon us, that the powers of Darkness are growing. There are more Krun raids from the Lost Realms, and increased activity in the far North, with more Beastmen marauders surging out from the Shadowlands, into the Borderlands of Sarcaedia. Even in the cities there is more crime and rioting. These are worrying days ahead.’

  Hirandar gazed at the four apprentices, searching them with her dignified blue eyes.

  ‘The balance of good and evil is shifting,’ Hirandar whispered. ‘Dark times are coming. The shadow of Malveous looms over Hathlore.’

  ‘I can feel it,’ Logan murmured, ‘seeping through the land like a cold mist.’

  Taem shivered at that, despite the warmth of the sunny day. For Taem realised that he could feel it too. Taem must have come some way along the path of the Sodan, if he was now beginning to sense such things.

  ‘We can no longer stand by and do nothing,’ Hirandar said firmly, looking to Logan and each of the four apprentices. ‘I think it time we left the farmhouse.’

  The three brothers and sister all gaped at the old woman in disbelief.

  ‘Tomorrow we shall all set out,’ Hirandar said. ‘Although I wish to rest my old legs for a few days, there are things that supersede my weary limbs.’ Hirandar rubbed her aching muscles. ‘Elena, Macen and Edar will go to West Aritas, where the border with Marnion meets the Blue Mountains.’

  Macen and Edar’s eyes widened with shock, their grins full of enthusiasm. Elena scowled.

  ‘I am not to go with them?’ Taem said.

  ‘No,’ Logan murmured. ‘There is something else you must do first.’

  What could that possibly mean? Taem wondered to himself.

  ‘Nestled in the feet of the Blue Mountains,’ Hirandar said to Elena, Macen and Edar, ‘there exists a small fortification called The Holdstead. It is a haven for the forces of the Light, run by Fedral Landra and his wife Ilyena.’

  ‘This is one of the safest places in Hathlore,’ Logan said. ‘Fedral will keep a close eye on you,’ the Master looked warily at Macen and Edar. ‘You will meet many interesting characters passing through this haven in the wilderness, and the training will be hard,’ Logan smiled – he knew, from experience. ‘Fedral is Sodan. One of the handful of others, besides myself, who keeps alive the Old Ways of the Sword.’

  ‘And why do I have to go with them?’ Elena said fiercely. ‘I am eighteen, and I am not a child! Taem is barely two years older than me, and I can best any man with a sword. I will go wherever Taem goes, my brother needs me to watch his back.’

  ‘You are skilled, Elena,’ Logan said calmly. ‘But not ready. Your time will come.’

  ‘Are you saying that because I’m a girl?’ Elena slammed her fist into the table.

  ‘You forget yourself, apprentice,’ Logan growled.

  ‘Sorry, Master,’ Elena murmured. ‘But I am ready. I can fight!’

  ‘I know you can fight, Elena,’ Logan said softly, as he put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘And sometimes you have more heart than the rest of us put together. But if I say you’re not ready, you are not ready. This is not your time. And that is the end of it.’

  Elena crossed her arms with a sulky grimace.

  ‘Sera,’ Hirandar said, ‘you must go with them. I would fear for your safety if we left you living in this isolated place by yourself. And Logan, you should go as far as Crowhurst with them. A friend will be waiting there to escort them to the Holdstead.’

  ‘Someone we can trust?’ Logan asked.

  ‘A friend for sure,’ Hirandar nodded. ‘From Crowhurst, Logan can make his way to Stheeman’s Hill. Taem and I will meet him there, but there is something we must do first...’ The Wizard paused, contemplating the importance of what was to come. ‘Taem and I will join Logan at Stheeman’s Hill, as soon as the Light wills it.’

  The following evening Taem left Elena, Macen and Edar playing cards on the patio table, and went to the practice yard to do some exercise, to give his busy mind something to concentrate on. Even as he walked over to the training field he could still hear his brothers and sister laughing as they played, and that made Taem smile. The late spring evening still held some of the day’s heat, and the sky glowed a magnificent furnace-red, a good sign for travelling in fine weather tomorrow. Taem picked up the heavy, unwieldy, blunt bit of metal that Logan often made him use as a training weapon. It was the opposite of the light, balanced, razor-sharp blade that Logan possessed. They called this crudest of swords the Armburner – because, no matter how often you trained with it, your body was always in pain the next day! As Taem finished, breathless from the exertion, Logan approached from the dusky shadows.

  ‘Well done,’ Logan nodded. ‘If you can learn to use that as a weapon, you can use anything. Now try it with the real thing.’ Logan passed Taem his sword. ‘Try Lone Wolf Hunting.’

  Taem held up Logan’s sword, and saw how its single-edged blade – arced in the slightest crescent – gleamed silver. He marvelled at how the last russet rays of the sun shimmered over the blade’s flawless surface. As Taem turned to face the setting sun, he felt its warmth bathe his face. Always the Forms looked to the west, towards the last monument of daytime as it fell into the shadow of the horizon. Easing out a deep breath, Taem felt as one as he became the Lone Wolf Hunting.

  Taem performed the Form with precision and skill. The real sword felt so light and effortless compared to the Armburner.

  ‘Feels so easy now,’ Logan had a knowing look in his eyes – his Master had often made him train in the same way, ‘does it not? Come, I need your help fixing the barn roof. I want it done before we leave tomorrow.’

  Taem sheathed Logan’s sword and gave it back to the Master, presenting it with both hands, as in Sodan ceremony. Logan smiled as he took the offered blade. That humility would serve Taem well for what was to come.

  Taem followed Logan up the ladder onto the roof of the barn, the older man carrying the wooden toolbox, whilst Taem struggled behind with a bundle of thatch. As they sat up on the peaked roof, and mended holes in the straw, they talked and joked – not dissimilar to any other father and his son. Taem could see Elena in the field yelling at Macen for the next pass of the leather ball, as Piper the sheepdog scampered between them. Hirandar sat in her favourite rocking chair outside the kitchen door, watching the youngsters having a good time. Sera was in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to their dinner of roast pheasant and vegetables. Taem caught the delicious smell of roasted fowl as it rose up on the breeze. His stomach rumbled as he inhaled a sweet scent, and he realised there was apple pie for dessert.

  From his elevated position, Taem appreciated the view of the dusky evening over the farmland, and the plains stretching up to the far off forest. He cherished the glow of warmth emanating from the farmhouse. Taem knew he was fortunate to call such a place home. And, he knew it might be some time until he would again look over the sleepy farm.

  Later that evening, Taem examined one of the maps on the wall of the sitting room, tracing the route to Stheeman’s Hill. He felt the warmth of the fire on his back, crackling in the fireplace. Ever since Taem had been a boy, he had gazed in awe at the outlandish maps, the old tapestries and the paintings of legend that decked the sitting room’s walls. They always caught his imagination, filling him with the promise of adventure.

  Aunt Sera rested in a comfortable armchair close to the fire, with her feet up on a footstool. The farmhouse cats purred by her side, whilst Sera concentrated on her knitting. Macen lounged across one of the luxurious sofas – an expensive import from Grantle – reading a storybook called The Travels of Jevan Deshlan, whilst Elena and Edar were out helping Logan bring the horses in to st
able for the night.

  Hirandar approached Taem as he was looking at the map.

  ‘Planning out the route?’ The Wizard said.

  ‘Yes,’ Taem turned to the old woman, ‘although it does seem straightforward’.

  ‘Ah, but it pays to be careful,’ Hirandar nodded. ‘You never know what may happen on route. Have you packed everything you need?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good,’ Hirandar smiled. ‘There is something I want to give you before we leave.’ The Wizard bade Taem follow her out into the oak-panelled hall.

  They went past the stairs that led up to an overhanging balcony, and under a sweeping gold chandelier that held enough candles to light a banqueting hall, let alone a modest hallway. The Wizard led Taem under the balcony and down the corridor. On their right they passed the reinforced door to the armoury, which had been kept locked when Taem and his siblings had been younger, but was now as open as the rest of the farmhouse. At the end of the corridor they reached the door to the library, and the Wizard strode into her private domain.

  In complete contrast to the rest of the farmhouse, the library was a jumbled mess. Bookcases overloaded with books, from floor to ceiling, hid two of the walls. The other two walls were packed with shelves and cupboards that held all manner of materials and strange-looking artefacts. Taem’s bewildered eyes could never quite take in the countless interesting tokens that filled the library. On the desk in the middle of the room lay open books, scrolls and pieces of parchment, and the workbench was covered in apparatus set up for magical investigations and tests. With a swish of Hirandar’s hand, flames sprung to life from various candles and lit up the dark room.

  ‘I really should tidy up in here,’ the Wizard lifted some ancient parchment and started to rifle through the scattered items on her workbench.

  ‘A-ha!’ Hirandar said triumphantly. ‘Here it is.’ The Wizard held up a smooth round stone, suspended from a piece of black cord. The stone glowed blue in the candlelight as the Wizard let it dangle from her hand. Taem discerned a rune engraved in the stone, it appeared to be an amalgamation of an “H” and a “Y”.