by James Wolf
With a twirl of Hirandar’s fingers the floating, glowing lump split into five pieces that spread wide over the table – Taem supposed that these were the five Key-Pieces. A grey smoke erupted in the air above the teapot, billowing over and swirling round. In its midst, a pair of glowing orbs appeared, these yellow eyes held such malice that Baek was quaking and Forgrun had to look away. Taem shivered at those sinister glowing slits, they could only be a demon’s eyes.
‘In the same way that these five keys were used to close the vortex,’ Hirandar said, ‘they can also be used to create it. And the vortex is a bridge, from our world to the Baledemon’s prison.’
Just as the trembling watchers were sure a demon was going to burst free from the writhing smoke, beams of burning fire lanced through the haze from the five Key-Pieces. The lines of fire joined into a circle, trapping the smouldering malevolent eyes in its middle. Forgrun let out a great sigh of relief. The evil yellow eyes blazed with baleful rage, and from within the smoke a mouth bellowed in fury. But the evil grey cloud, and the demonic eyes within, dissipated to leave a blazing circle of light, hovering over the table.
‘These five Key-Pieces,’ the Wizard said, and the five points around the circle twinkled gold, ‘or Vokra they are called, were scattered throughout Hathlore for safekeeping. The first was kept in the vaults of Calledron in Marnion. To be guarded by the now failing line of Mage Kings. The second was hidden in the Temple of the Light, in Ruhr – kept secret by the monks there. The third’s location has never been known. All records of where it was hidden are lost – or were never written. The fourth lies in the tomb of Anaksum, The Nakramilis, far to the east beyond the Dredgen Mountains. The fifth was stolen and taken to the Shrine of Shados, an evil demi-god who is subservient to Malveous. That dark Shrine lies far to the north, beyond the realms of Men, deep in the Shadowlands of Zezometh.’
Baek shot Taem a troubled glance at mention of that evil land.
‘But the news is dark,’ Hirandar whispered, ‘Early this year the Temple of the Light was sacked by a horde of Narg marauders, coming from the Feral Lands. And six weeks ago, thieves broke into the treasure vaults of Calledron, and stole the Vokra held there.’
Baek and Forgrun gaped at the Wizard. Taem felt a sense of dread grow in his heart. ‘The work of the Dark One is everywhere,’ Baek murmured.
‘It is alarming beyond words,’ Logan said, ‘that the Temple of the Light was sacked. But with the theft in Calledron, and the third Vokra being unaccounted for, we can only assume that someone – or something – plans to raise the Baledemon.’
Taem felt a shiver run down his arms. He looked between Baek and Forgrun, and saw the dismay that lined their faces.
‘Of the remaining two Vokra,’ Logan said, ‘both are held in great danger and peril. But the tomb of Anaksum, is safer than venturing into the Shadowlands.’
‘We are going to get this Vokra?’ Baek said fearfully.
Hirandar nodded to the Aborle, ‘Over eight hundred years ago,’ the Wizard again drew all light into her hand. ‘When the fledgling states of man emerged from the destruction of the Great War of the Dark, Anaksum was an emperor of a nation of primitive Men. Cruel and terrible he was, and his people little more than slaves. Many generations of Anaksum’s people toiled to construct a palace of gargantuan proportions. He gathered as much treasure as possible in the many years of his long reign, including one of the Vokra. Using dark magics Anaksum extended his life for many centuries. He made a pact with a necromancer, to make him one of the undead. But the necromancer tricked the cruel emperor, for the necromancer coveted the emperor’s wife and kingdom. With Dark magic, the necromancer linked the emperor’s life force to the palace. In giving himself to undeath, Anaksum had unknowingly been bound there, to live out a half-life for all eternity.’
Hirandar’s words formed vivid pictures in Taem’s mind. When he was younger Taem had wondered if Hirandar used magic when she spoke, but now Taem knew it was just a natural ability to tell good stories.
‘With the emperor trapped,’ Hirandar said, ‘the necromancer seized the throne in a bloody coup, and the people swapped one tyrant for another. The necromancer forbade anyone to enter the new palace – the Nakramilis – anyone that did never returned, and it soon become known as the Tomb of Anaksum. The necromancer, however, did not have the military prowess of Anaksum, and he was killed by a slave uprising a few years later. Nothing now exists of that nation but the Tomb of Anaksum. The Kruns that now roam the Lost Realms fear to enter the tomb, and with good reason. The place itself is infused with the black magic of that dark pact, and the restless dead walk the catacombs and corridors of the Nakramilis. People now call it The City of Night. And that is where we now head.’
With her story finished, Hirandar allowed light to flood the room with a homely glow, causing the listeners to wake from their daydream of necromancers and cruel emperors.
‘Many adventurers go searching for The City of Night,’ Logan said. ‘Few return.’
‘Our road lies north through Aritas,’ Hirandar said. ‘To the city of Dolam, the fabled Gateway to the East. We will pass through The Gate, east into the Lost Realms and on for ten days, heading north-east until we come to the Nakramilis.’
‘Ye City o’ Night,’ Forgrun nodded. ‘Tales o’ tha’ place be well known ter Rhungars. My people do say tha’ place be full o’ treasure beyond imagination.’ The Rhungar’s eyes gleamed with the prospect of gold. ‘Legend do say nay only do ye dead walk tha’ curs’ed city, but ye Nakramilis be full o’ ingenious booby traps. Anaksum did nay wan’ anyone gettin’ his treasure! Nay!’
‘We need this Key-Piece,’ Hirandar said purposefully. ‘We cannot allow the Baledemon to be released. The creature would start a second Great War.’
Everyone was quiet for a time, thinking of the magnitude of the task ahead. Taem turned from staring into the fire, and caught Baek’s eyes, saw the determination there.
‘So,’ Forgrun planted his massive fists on the table, ‘this be ye quest o’ which yhee spoke. It be ye greatest adventure o’ our time.’
Taem saw the excitement in the Rhungar’s eyes. Taem knew that for all Forgrun’s life he had been waiting for such a challenge.
‘During the Great War of the Dark,’ Logan said, ‘Gorzaemon could not be killed. No weapon on earth could be used against it, and many brave heroes died trying. We must not let this old evil rise again.’
‘I think we were meant to take up this quest,’ Hirandar looked at each of the warriors in turn, ‘I do not believe it is pure chance alone that brought us together. I feel the pull of destiny, and the Light is with us.’
‘It is,’ Logan said reluctantly, ‘but faith will not save us, when the Nargs come in the dark. Only skill and courage will save us then.’
‘Still a sceptic, Logan?’ Hirandar smiled.
‘We are each masters of our own destiny,’ Logan glanced at Taem.
‘Agreed,’ Hirandar nodded. ‘We start for Dolam at dawn, it’s one month’s ride along the Mountain Way.’
Taem watched the smile spread across Baek’s face, and he knew the Aborle could not wait to see a city. Taem felt excited about seeing a city too – and not just any city, one of the biggest in Hathlore!
‘I suggest you all get a good rest for what remains of tonight,’ Hirandar said. ‘I think we will all find the road arduous.’
Chapter 12 – The Gateway to the East
‘Curse them!’ Remar said under his breath for the thousandth time. Of course, Remar was careful not to be loud enough that the ones he was cursing would hear, as he and his two companions drudged on through the endless dreary countryside. How Remar hated the countryside! Nothing but fields, hills and trees for as far as the eye could see.
‘Did you say something, Servant?’ Garslinn hissed, as he walked alongside Remar.
‘No?’ Remar looked down to where he was stepping his feet, anything to avoid meeting that terrifying gaze. The worst thing about this journey
, by far, was Remar now found himself taking orders from Garslinn. That bloody peasant lunatic! Although Remar had once been a lord in the realms of Men, Garslinn was a higher Servant of the Dark than he. What had his life come to, Remar wondered? He was yielding to a disgusting peasant, who smelt like he bathed in horse manure!
‘Have a care with your tongue, servant,’ Dagmar said harshly, from atop Remar’s horse. ‘You can still serve our Dark Lord without it. And Garslinn likes the taste of human meat.’
Garslinn grinned. Remar looked up at Dagmar with dread, and he was met by the sinister glare of that green eye staring down at him. Sometimes Remar was convinced that dark emerald was glowing. Sometimes it was so dim it seemed to be drawing light in. At night it was another story entirely. That green eye disturbed Remar as much – if not more so – as the unhinged Garslinn. At least Garslinn was predictable and stupid, Dagmar was neither.
Garslinn smiled as he licked his lips, and Remar thought the freak looked more animal than human with those red jagged facial tattoos.
‘Yes, High Servant,’ Remar said submissively. But inside he was seething. The high-born Remar was grovelling to a common peasant! And that jewel-eyed criminal had taken his horse!
In the service of the Bandit King, Remar had suspected Garslinn was a Dark Servant Maliven. When Graveldeep prisoners were found with their throats cut and their skin slashed to strips, there had only ever been one suspect in Remar’s mind. If Garslinn was disturbed like that, he had to be a servant of the Dark One. But it was only now they were alone, amongst other “friends”, that there was no reason to hide their Dark allegiance. Remar was sure he had got away, but Garslinn and his handler Dagmar had caught him on the road north. He wished they had not, for Dagmar was a trusted servant of the Dark Seer of Dolam.
‘Do you think the Seer will reward or punish us?’ Garslinn asked.
A cold terror swept over Remar as he thought of the Seer. He would rather be going anywhere else in Hathlore than back to Dolam.
‘The Nefar do not like failure–’ Dagmar said.
‘No they don’t!’ Garslinn laughed. ‘Do you remember when the traitor Rageese was flayed alive! I liked that!’
Remar shot a look of pure horror at Garslinn.
‘But I don’t believe we failed.’ Dagmar said. ‘We did as we were ordered; you spread as much chaos as you could. The Seer will not punish me, anyway.’ Dagmar smiled at Remar, ‘You, on the other hand, I’m not so sure.’
Remar felt a lump rising in his throat.
‘I am Pledged to the Great Lord,’ Garslinn said softly. ‘My soul I give to the Darkness. My heart exists in the black of the Shadow.’
Even though Remar was himself a Dark Servant, it still made him shiver to hear the Black Pledge spoken aloud.
‘It displeases you to hear our Pledge?’ Dagmar asked Remar, on seeing the fear in the nobleman’s face.
Garslinn snatched a dagger from his belt. He snarled as he thrust the blade up onto Remar’s throat.
‘No!’ Remar yelled, as Garslinn’s dagger drew a drop of his blood. ‘I serve the Dark One! My soul and my life belong to the Dark! I exist to serve our Great Lord!’
‘Ha!’ Dagmar snorted. ‘You do remember the words!’ Dagmar motioned for Garslinn to release Remar.
Garslinn grimaced in disappointment, as he took his dagger away from Remar’s throat. Remar shivered as the tattooed freak licked the blood from his dagger, and glared at the nobleman with hungry eyes. Garslinn smiled before he turned and followed after Dagmar. Remar let out a sigh. And promised himself he would be more careful from now on. Remar knew Garslinn or Dagmar would kill him, without hesitation, if they thought he was not committed to the Dark.
Remar glanced back down the wooded trail, but he knew he would never make it far. Even if he was able to give Garslinn and Dagmar the slip – which he was not – there were Maliven everywhere and he would be found. Remar knew there was no escape from the Dark Cult, as he wearily trudged after the other two more fervent believers.
Logan led Hirandar, Taem, Baek and Forgrun north through the hills, forests and plains of Aritas, and then Grantle. The Sodan Master had the warriors practicing with their weapons during those light summer evenings. Baek and Forgrun soon found that not only was Logan a master of the sword, but he could also teach them the skills of axe and bow.
‘Come on!’ Logan would shout as the younger warriors trained. ‘Faster! Concentrate on the perfect technique! Don’t drop your guard! More power!’
Up and down Forgrun swung his axe, as Baek loosed arrow upon arrow into a nearby tree. Taem twirled his sword with all the speed and power he could gather, until his muscles quivered and he was gasping for breath.
‘Let’s go again,’ Logan would say after a short break, and the Sodan Master usually picked up his sword to join the practice, once he was satisfied the other warriors were performing correct techniques.
After skills training physical training would follow, leaving the warriors heaving in huge lungfuls of breath, at the point of collapsing with fatigue. Logan had them running and jumping, or lifting and carrying, until sweat ran freely from their exhausted bodies. At each campsite, Logan found his students some new exercise to enjoy. In his mind, tree branches could be used to hang from and pull yourself up with your arms, rocks could be jumped over or up onto, and big stones and small tree-trunks could be hauled up and borne aloft, or hurled as far as possible. Some evenings the warriors would even run whilst carrying each other on their backs. During those training sessions, the dusky countryside would echo with the companions cheering each other on.
‘Go on Taem!’ The other warriors would cry.
‘Run Forgrun! You’re almost there! Keep going!’
‘One more lift Baek, you can do it!’
‘Come on Logan!’
At times during that journey, Taem felt sorry for Forgrun. It was the Rhungar’s first time he had spent hours in the saddle, and that coupled with the harsh training, meant Forgrun could barely walk for the first two weeks his legs were so sore. But to Forgrun’s immense credit, he never once moaned. Taem found it sometimes comical to watch the Rhungar limp around the campsite, but he also realised he was seeing an amazing display of iron-hard will. Now he could see why Rhungars made such formidable warriors!
Spirits were high in the company, and friendships grew. After training and food, the companions sat and talked and laughed by the campfire. Logan would share some of his battle experience or Sodan lore, or Hirandar would tell them a story, or Forgrun would explain how fantastic the Rhungari Empire was – whilst Baek asked countless questions of everyone. As the days flew by, Taem realised how happy he felt, to be in the company of such good friends.
A month on the Mountain Way passed swiftly. The companions had travelled through a handful of villages along the way, but mostly they crossed the wilderness without seeing any dwellings or people for days on end. But then, one morning, the traffic seemed to grow and grow, as other roads and trails joined the Mountain Way. Under the summer sun, the companions came upon the expansive view of Dolam, in the river valley below them. Logan gestured for the company to halt at the top of the shallow rise.
The valley below was a sight that took Taem’s breath away. The first thing that struck him was the vastness of the city. Dolam was immense! Taem guessed there must have been thousands of buildings inside its walls, and tens of thousands of people. He had never imagined a city could be this big, this impressive. Dolam, The Gateway to the East, stood in the shallow valley on the western side of a gap in the huge Dredgen mountain range. Taem marvelled at the power and majesty of the towering grey stone battlements that encircled the city. That massive curtain wall seemed impenetrable, as it loomed up off the grasslands, dominating the country for miles around. How had this wonder ever come to be, Taem asked himself? How had it been built so tall? For a young man raised in the country the sheer scale of Dolam was incredible. Taem thought that an army of thousands could throw themselves at that g
reat stone wall, and still the defences would not be breached.
Logan motioned for the company to all dismount, to give their steeds a rest. Even Forgrun was becoming accustomed to horseback after a month of practice, and he was the first to leap down from his mount. But then Taem realised why, as he saw a party of Rhungars heading towards the companions. Taem smiled, Forgrun did not mind riding in the presence of his friends, but he was too proud to let other Rhungars see him doing something so unnatural.
‘So much life, everywhere!’ Baek had barely ever dreamed of such a place.
‘This is the strength of civilisation,’ Hirandar said wistfully, as she leant on her staff. ‘It is the future.’
‘Well I prefer the mountains and the wild,’ Logan muttered.
‘Not everyone is such a grumpy lone wolf,’ Hirandar smiled wryly, ‘old friend.’
Taem gaped at the majesty of that gargantuan outer wall, interspersed by huge towers and commanding gatehouses. The round-based towers reached up well over a hundred feet to pierce the clear sky, and were crowned with roofs of yellow or blue tiles. At the highest points of those towers the flag of Grantle wafted in the breeze, a golden chalice on a blue field.
‘Those walls are magnificent!’ Taem whispered.
‘I have only ever read about such places,’ Baek gazed at the great city. ‘But no book could do this place justice.’
To Taem, the square gatehouses in the outer wall were each a castle in their own right. Each entry point to the city was an impregnable stone fortress! On the roofs of the gatehouses there were machines of war – bolt throwers and trebuchets – and numerous soldiers manned the sweeping walls.
‘It is a mighty stronghold,’ Logan rested a hand on his sword hilt. ‘But stone is only ever as strong as the men holding it.’
Miles away to the right, along the valley, Taem could see the fabled “Gate”. See how it was not just a giant unassailable doorway, but also a hundred foot high, twenty-foot wide, defendable stone wall. Taem’s jaw dropped low. The walls of The Gate were so enormous they dwarfed even the city walls of Dolam. The Gate was colossal! Taem blinked, as if he were not sure if his eyes were deceiving him – the size of it! A great smile swept over his face. The Gate Wall extended from mountain foot to mountain foot, for over five miles. What a sight it was! Taem imagined it as a monstrous dam, shoring up the gap in the Dredgen Mountain range from the tides of wildness and savagery in the Lost Realms.
