by James Wolf
‘That Gate wall must have been an astronomical undertaking!’ Taem murmured.
‘Yes it was,’ Hirandar smiled. ‘It was the year of the Light Four One Seven when the Lost Realms became lost. The following year, the Order of the Sceptre supervised the construction of The Gate. Even with the help of the wizards it took twenty years to build. But it still stands to this day, almost six hundred years later.’
‘Men do ’ave grown in might beyond ye Golden Days,’ Forgrun muttered, in reluctant respect, ‘if they be buildin’ a place such as this.’
‘Dolam is one of the great cities of Hathlore,’ Logan gazed at the towering city walls. ‘But have a care. It may look grand from the outside, but there is plenty to be wary of on the in. This is a dangerous place with thieves and murderers on every street. And rumours are rife that the Maliven spread their decay amongst the high and the low. We need to watch the shadows at all times.’
The other warriors all nodded. After a month training under the Sodan Master, they would follow him into the Shadowlands themselves.
Logan waved for the company to walk on, leading their horses by the reins, and they rejoined the flow of traffic on the road, striding down toward the city.
‘Grantle is a weakly knit land of just one very large city,’ Hirandar gestured her gnarled staff towards the great walls of Dolam, ‘provided for by a hinterland of farming villages.’
‘Grantle must have a royalty?’ Baek said.
Taem noticed the quick glance that swept between Logan and the Wizard, before Hirandar answered, ‘Yes, Grantle is united under a king – but not an all-powerful and dominant king.’ The Wizard paused, to check none of the other walkers or riders on the road were within earshot, then whispered, ‘In Grantle, the kingship is scarcely more than an honourary title. Political power here comes and goes like the changing of the seasons, and no king or queen of Grantle is ever truly secure. This is not Aritas. Grantle is a land where the nobles plot against the ruler and amongst themselves. Although the King of Grantle rules this country in name, his authority often only extends a little further than the city keep, The Rock – and sometimes it doesn’t even extend that far.’
‘Who is the king here?’ Baek asked eagerly.
Again, Hirandar looked towards Logan before answering, ‘King Balthus Dalonvega. Succession here is not hereditary like in other realms. The crown of Grantle will go to whoever holds the Chalice, the most important heirloom of Grantle.’
‘The city is sighted on the convergence of two rivers,’ Baek gasped.
‘Yes,’ Hirandar smiled at the Aborle’s enthusiasm. ‘Right at the city’s very centre these rivers join to form the great river Bodium. The Bodium flows on westwards for hundreds of leagues through Grantle, over the expanse of Jinamon, slinking its way into Darnea until it finally reaches the northern sea of Maclond.’
Logan’s sharp gaze surveyed the surrounding farmland as he spoke, ‘Grantle’s treasury relies heavily on Dolam being the staging point of every expedition to the Lost Realms. Such expeditions are extremely dangerous, and often parties never return. But if they survive the feral natives, there are treasures of the old civilisations to be found, and plundered. For before the Great War there were many realms of Sartorian Men to the east of the Dredgen Mountains. In the Great War, the Dark forces hit those lands hard, forcing all the survivors to flee westward behind the natural barrier of the Dredgen Mountains. Kruns and their kin – and darker creatures – now stalk those Lost Lands. But to many, the danger of those monsters is worth risking for the riches that can be found.’
‘This makes Dolam a vibrant, multi-cultural city,’ Hirandar gestured to the city walls ahead, ‘where adventurers come to join up into bands, and head out eastwards through The Gate. Adventurers are a lucrative source of income for the King of Dolam. Not only do these adventurers spend a lot of money in his city on gambling, drinking and living the high life, but when parties of adventurers come back through the Gate, the Defenders take one quarter of the riches they’ve found as a “Gate Tax”. If adventurers do return from the Lost Realms, they’re usually so wealthy from the treasure they’ve plundered that they’re not bothered about giving away some of the spoils. In fact, many a band gladly pays their dues. The sight of The Gate, manned by hundreds of armed Defenders, is very comforting indeed when being pursued by hordes of screaming Kruns.’
Hirandar winked, and Taem suspected the Wizard was speaking from experience. Gazing ahead, Taem could see the city gates were all guarded by many soldiers. Even from this distance, he caught the shine of their polished armour as it glinted in the sun.
‘Of course,’ Hirandar glanced around to check no other travellers were listening, ‘in a city where there is a lack of authority, corruption is rife. Although the current king has worked hard on cleaning up the streets.’
‘King Balthus?’ Baek said.
Taem saw Logan flash an unreadable glance to the Wizard, before Hirandar answered, ‘Yes.’
As Taem looked down into the shallow valley, he saw thousands of crooked and mismatched buildings inside Dolam, saw how the bewildering maze of streets and alleyways criss-crossed the city. There was no order or reason to it. Taem was surprised, the jumbled streets and rundown houses were such a contrast to the strength and uniformity of the great city walls.
‘Please tell us about the city, teacher?’ Taem asked.
Hirandar grinned, and seemed to stand up straighter, ‘As you can see, the city is circular with six evenly spread out gates.’
Taem nodded eagerly.
‘The number six is considered both lucky and prosperous for the people of Dolam,’ Hirandar said, ‘and is often present in Grantlean life. You see the castle?’
‘Yes,’ Taem said. Well beyond the outer city walls, Taem could see an imposing castle with a gigantic keep, surrounded by inner and outer defensive walls that enclosed many other buildings and parklands. Here was a palace worthy of a sovereign of a great nation. The towering stone castle was hexagonal based, with six battlement-topped towers in the inner wall, ringing the main castle. At the core of the great castle there was one central keep – an epic cornerstone of solidarity and endurance – that towered hundreds of feet above the sprawling city beneath it.
‘The Rock,’ Hirandar pointed to the great castle, ‘as it is called, is the tallest landmark in the whole of Dolam. Look how it dominates the whole city.’
‘The Rock is Dolam’s castle,’ Logan murmured, ‘and its heart.’
‘The Lord Of Dolam,’ Hirandar said, ‘and therefore the King of Grantle, sits in that great castle. The Rock towers above the fork of the waters, where the River Grendric meets the Treymar, to form the great River Bodium.’
‘Good strategic location,’ Logan eyed the people before and behind them in the long procession to enter the city.
‘Yes, Master,’ Taem had come to the same conclusion himself.
‘To enter Dolam by ship is quite a sight indeed,’ Hirandar said softly. ‘Sailing upriver from the west, boats pass through the massive harbour gates to be presented with Castle Dolam, standing tall and mighty, at the origin of the River Bodium. To come into the city by boat, at dawn, is an incredible vision. To see Castle Dolam framed by the rising sun, as your craft sails into one of the largest cities in the world... It is just something else.’
‘Amazing!’ Baek gasped. ‘I wish we were going in by boat!’
‘Dolam’s three rivers split the city into three parts.’ The Wizard gestured to three different areas as she spoke. ‘A northern third, a southern third and an eastern third. The eastern third is called the Old Quarter, where the city’s castle is nestled between the two river banks.’
‘The castle walls run along two riversides,’ Logan said, ‘to aid its defences.’
‘Also,’ Hirandar tilted her hat to shade her eyes from the sun, ‘the Old Quarter is made up of the barracks of the Defenders, a Rhungari Quarter, the Ecclesial Quarter and the Scholastic Quarter.’
‘T
he River Bodium,’ Logan pointed down to the city, ‘flows west, and splits the northern and southern city thirds into a rich-poor divide. The difference from one side of the Bodium’s bridges to the other is staggering.’
‘Cross ye river,’ Forgrun ruffled his horse’s mane, ‘an’ it be like yhee be in a diff’rent place entirely.’
‘Yes,’ Hirandar nodded. ‘To the north of the Bodium, there are large houses and grand mansions linked by smartly paved streets, scattered with parks and market squares, and Lahern Street with the city’s merchant guild. The Bodium’s northern bank is lined with riverside villas overlooking enclosed harbours, full of small pleasure craft. The southern bank of the Bodium is the complete opposite, lined with docks and warehouses, where trade-ships and fishing boats call port. Below the Bodium is Southside. The heartbeat of the bustling city.’
‘Here in the Southside,’ Logan said, ‘is where the poorest citizens live. Houses are crammed together one on top of the other, to create a maze of streets and back alleys. There are too many people there living in desperate conditions,’ Logan shook his head.
Taem heard the pity in his Master’s voice.
‘In Southside we’ll find Dolam’s Industrial Quarter,’ Hirandar said, ‘of workshops and forges. But most importantly, Southside holds the Entertainment Quarter. This is the place where all the adventurers and travellers stay whilst in Dolam. A mixture of inns, gambling dens and alehouses, the city’s Watch headquarters and Dolam’s famed playhouse. The Entertainment Quarter is a decadent place, full of life, a haven for all sorts of strange and wonderful characters. Here is where the true spirit of Grantle is to be found.’
‘How many quarters are there?’ Taem asked.
Hirandar chuckled, ‘Yes, it is funny how a city can have six “Quarters”. But I can only put this down to – as you can with so many things in Dolam – the fact that the Grantleans have an obsession with the number six. Even if that means having two more quarters than the name suggests you should!’
Baek laughed out loud. This city was going to be a fantastic place!
The companions approached the soaring gatehouse, and there were so many people entering Dolam that they had to join the back of a long queue. Now they were up close, Taem could see just how imposing Dolam’s walls were. He had to crane his neck to look up at the majestic battlements. The stone gatehouse was many levels high, and two of its towers climbed up even higher into the brilliant blue sky. The gatehouse’s only windows were thin arrow slits, and the huge oak doors were reinforced with black iron. A jagged portcullis was raised up behind the doors, ready to be dropped in an instant. Taem could see that each of the gatehouse’s turrets was flying a flag of Grantle, and a flag of Dolam – a shut Black Gate on a yellow hexagon, on a blue background.
‘Soon,’ Taem murmured, as he rubbed Storm’s nose. ‘Soon we will find you food and water, my friend.’
Waiting to enter the city, Taem saw many countrymen and farmers – with carts loaded with produce – alongside well-dressed nobles and merchants, and numerous hard-looking and armed adventurers. The line trailed all the way up to the massive city gates, where Defenders of the Gate were vetoing people for entry into the great city. Taem could see the frowns of those queuing nobles, it galled them to line up with the peasants.
The companions joined the back of the queue, and a few of the crowd turned to examine the new arrivals. All could see Logan and his companions were a group of warriors, but Taem was bewildered as he watched some of the queuing people give his company an incredulous double-take.
Nailed to a wooden sign, by the roadside queue, Taem saw the poster of a wanted man. The artist had done well in capturing the criminal’s face, even Taem’s brother, Macen, would have been impressed by the drawing. The poster’s subject had a roguish look about him, with a long Dolami moustache and unkempt stubble. He was a handsome man, despite the cruel scar that ran down his face, cutting through what once was an eye but now appeared to be a jewel. Wanted! Dead or Alive! The poster declared. The emerald-eyed butcher. Ten thousand gold pieces reward.
As the companions made their way down the line toward the city gate, Taem watched as people glanced at him and his friends with wide eyes – then quickly turned away, whispering amongst themselves. What were they looking at, Taem wondered? He strained his ears to try and catch some of the conversations.
‘Can’t be,’ murmured a well-dressed merchant, sitting behind Taem, up on his horse. The merchant’s guards and his train of wagons waited off to one side. The man wore an extravagant fur-lined leather jacket, and a baggy silk shirt that hid his ample belly.
‘He’d look older than that by now.’ The merchant whispered.
‘If he’s still alive,’ replied a lady in a red silk dress, who, by her fine horse, had to be a noblewoman. ‘Which is doubtful. He hasn’t been seen for many years.’
‘There is no way he’s still alive,’ growled a lean soldier, who wore chainmail, and metal shoulder guards. ‘He was a fabled warrior, but no one could act like he did and live.’
‘He must be dead,’ agreed a young man, wearing the basic wool of a countryman and carrying a sack of wool for trade.
Taem noticed Logan had put on his cloak, and pulled up the hood to conceal his face.
‘I be headin’ fer ye first beef satay stall we can be findin’,’ Forgrun said happily. ‘Oooh, they be delicious, Baek!’
‘Sounds great!’ The Aborle beamed. ‘But I want to walk the bustling streets first. Even out here I can feel their energy and life!’
‘First of all,’ Hirandar said, ‘we must secure accommodation, and stable the horses, before you can do anything else. Then you can go and explore,’ the Wizard grinned at their excitement.
After a few minutes, the five companions and their mounts reached the front of the queue. Two Defenders were stationed under the domineering gatehouse, checking people as they went past. High up overhead, Taem noticed the massive keystone of the gate’s arch was etched with an intricate carving of the Chalice of Grantle. He pointed the carving out to the Aborle, and a big smile spread across Baek’s face.
‘Ye Chalice be sacred ter Dolam,’ Forgrun said to Baek.
One of the Defenders stationed at the gate was a gnarled old veteran; the other, a youthful boy. The veteran’s hair was grey and his face was wrinkled, but his body was that of a much-younger man. The youth had intelligent eyes, foppish brown hair and was still scrawny. They both wore the quartered blue and yellow jackets of the Defenders of the Gate, with dark brown trousers and polished black boots. They carried halberds, and had longswords at their waists. On their jackets was a large badge on their left breast, the same crest that was on the flag of Dolam: the Black Gate, on a sandy hexagon, on a field of blue.
‘Purpose of visit,’ the younger Defender asked the companions, whilst the grizzled old gatekeeper eyed them suspiciously.
‘Travel and adventure,’ Hirandar stood tall, with her staff planted firmly.
The fresh-faced guard, who was growing the beginnings of a Dolami moustache, nodded his head.
Hanging from the stone wall of the gatehouse, Taem noticed a brass bell that, when rung, would surely bring many more Defenders charging out from the city.
‘Length of stay?’ The young Defender asked.
‘One week,’ Hirandar said.
‘Number in group?’
‘Five.’
‘Where have you come from?’
‘Aritas.’
‘And where does the bowman come from?’ The young Defender looked at Baek strangely. ‘I see people from the four corners of Hathlore pass through this gate, but I’ve not seen his kind before?’
‘My friend is a man of Borleon Forest,’ Hirandar gestured to Baek. ‘One of the Aborle. His people are not often seen abroad. I will personally vouch for this man.’
‘Fine.’ The young Defender said, even though the old veteran scowled at Baek. ‘So, we have a man of Borleon, two Aritians, one Rhungar, and…?’ The young De
fender directed the question at Logan, whose face was hidden by his pulled up cloak.
‘Show your face,’ the veteran Defender growled.
Logan took a step towards the veteran and Taem saw Logan’s hand was on his sword hilt.
‘Lower your hood!’ The veteran glared, and brought his halberd forward.
Logan pulled his hood down to reveal his stony face and piercing eyes. The veteran Defender gasped.
‘Logan Fornor?’ The veteran’s jaw dropped.
‘The Grim Wanderer!’ The young Defender said in amazement.
A dozen people turned to stare, their eyes full of wonder.
Logan stood motionless. Hirandar crossed her arms, with a thunderous scowl.
‘You are alive?’ The veteran Defender asked.
‘The greatest warrior of our time!’ The young Defender whispered.
Taem and Baek shot each other puzzled glances.
‘The Grim Wanderer?’ People in the crowd murmured in astonishment. ‘He is dead?’ They said to each other. ‘How can this be? He was slain in the Shadowlands, was he not?’
Taem watched incredulously as scores of people strained to get a glimpse of Logan.
‘Who is the Grim Wanderer, father?’ A young boy in the crowd asked.
‘A mighty hero, son,’ a warm smile spread across the father’s face. ‘He has not been seen in ten years. All tales told of a noble death, fighting Dark enemies in the North...’
‘The Grim Wanderer has returned!’ Yelled a warrior carrying a shield and an axe, as he looked at Logan with nothing short of veneration, and the call was passed on back down the queue.
