by Sam Ferguson
Sami walked as if nothing could be more pleasant than an early spring rain. Rourke, on the other hand, drew his cloak tighter about himself to fend off the deluge.
Fort Sym was a marvelous sight to see. In front of the outer wall that surrounded the fortress were several wooden cottages and houses. The thick thatch on the roofs was turned a muddy brown color in the heavy rains. There were several people out patching roofs, or moving along the muddy streets with animals.
A wooden horse-drawn cart squeaked by, sloshing a bit of mud up onto Jonathan’s right leg as it dropped down into a puddle in the road. A bunch of miserable looking chickens huddled together in wooden cages for warmth. Jonathan and the others walked alongside the cart for some time, passing a blacksmith who was busily pounding out something on his anvil.
A few people stopped and stared at Jonathan, or more accurately they stared at the bow on his back. Even if they didn’t know what it was, it was easy to see that it was as dry as a bone. Due to its enchantment, not a drop of water was able to remain upon its surface. If anyone had ideas of trying to take it from him though, Sami was quick to put down such thought with an ever watchful glare.
The giant black haired man stood nearly six and a half feet tall, and must have weighed more than three hundred pounds. There weren’t many men in all the realm who would likely tangle with a man like that. For that, Jonathan was happy to have him around.
Truth be told, he was happy to have Rourke along as well. It had been awkward at first, with Sami always eyeing the scout sideways or looking as though he were two seconds away from slapping the man upside the head, but they got through the first day alright and things felt as normal as they could all things considered.
If the buildings were interesting to see on the outside of the wall, the shops and buildings inside were much more so. There were no thatched roofs here. Each pitched roof was expertly made with shingles and boards, completed with gutters and drain pipes made of copper. The road was better as well. Though some of the mud from wagon wheels and feet was certainly brought in and smeared around the entrance, the well-built cobblestone road easily shirked off the water much better than the road of dirt and mud outside the wall.
Thirsty drains alongside the cobblestone wall gulped streams of rainwater down below the surface as well. Jonathan had heard of such things, but had never seen them in life. None of the other towns he had visited had them. He stopped and moved close to the iron grate that strained some of the twigs out of the water that disappeared into the ground below. He couldn’t exactly see how far down the opening went, but the rushing sound of water was pleasant, and he smiled as he thought about who might have invented such a thing. He wondered then where the water might go. He turned back to his waiting companions and shrugged simply as he thought of several uses for a large quantity of water stored underground.
Then he looked up at the keep and all of his wonder at the simple sewer drain faded away into nothingness. Before him stood a gargantuan building of gray stone that reached at least forty feet into the sky. Each corner was built into a round tower topped with conical roofs that pointed up to the clouds. Jonathan eyed the building for several moments, noting the many windows it had, and pausing when he saw the large, rectangular stained glass pane over the entryway.
“If Pa could see this,” he said aloud. He knew his Pa would be as awestruck as he was by the sight of such a grand window. The glass depicted a scene much more pleasant than the reality of the large wall just behind them would hint at. A pair of horses galloped through a field of flowers with a golden sun pouring its light over them. It was simply stunning.
“I’m sure he has,” Sami said as he clapped a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder.
Jonathan looked up at Sami with a furrowed brow. “Who has what?” he asked.
“Your Pa, I bet he has seen this window before. After all, it would have been here during your grandfather’s time in the army. It was commissioned well over eighty years ago, by the king’s father.”
“How do you know my Pa?” Jonathan asked.
“I don’t,” Sami said with a shrug. “But I know of him. He was the one that found The Warrens.”
“Everyone has heard of him,” Rourke put in. “And anyone who hadn’t sure got an earful of it after we came back to camp without you.”
“What do you mean?” Jonathan asked.
Rourke sighed and shook his head as he tugged on his cloak. “Captain Burke told us then that you were a Haymaker. We had no idea before that point.”
“He didn’t tell you before we set out together?” Jonathan asked.
Rourke shook his head. “If he had, I am willing to bet things would have turned out differently.” Rourke motioned to the bow with his chin and offered a half smile.
“Let’s get inside,” Sami said.
The three of them moved to the grand double doors and pushed them open.
Jonathan expected they might be met by a guard, or perhaps a steward of some sort, but no one was in the entry way. In fact, they walked into the sweeping antechamber without seeing a single person. Sami directed them down a long, wide corridor flanked by suits of armor set up on stands with small names engraved into stone pedestals beneath them. Jonathan glanced at one to see what was written. It was the name of someone who had fallen in battle more than a century ago.
The three pushed on down the hall until they came to the door at the end. Sami pushed it open and they walked through. This room was a grand chamber, carpeted with a large, square rug of red and gold. A black dragon was embroidered into the middle of the rug, though the fibers were beginning to show wear over the center image and made it a little less enchanting than it might otherwise have been. There were no tables in the room, only a row of chairs lining each of the four walls. Tapestries depicting battle scenes with men and trolls hung over the chairs, and great iron chandeliers clung to the ceiling with long, thick chains.
“Sorry, I think this is the wrong room,” Sami said with a shrug. “We needed to take the hall on the right back at the antechamber.” Sami shrugged and closed the door as he ushered them back out and down the corridor. As they walked down the hallway, some men entered from the other side and began walking toward them.
The first man was tall, only an inch or two shorter than Sami. He had brown hair and was extremely muscular. A sword hung at his belt and a bow was slung over his back. He wore a set of freshly oiled chainmail and a pair of plate mail boots. He did walk with a slight limp, but otherwise he was as imposing as any soldier Jonathan could have thought of. Beside him walked an older man, maybe in his late fifties by the look of the lines on his face. In spite of the wrinkles, or perhaps because of them, the man’s face caused Jonathan to stop in his tracks. There was something about the way the man carried himself that commanded respect. The white beard lining his jaw melded into his black and gray hair, nearly covering the scar on the left side of his face. He wore a full set of armor, tucking the helmet under his right arm and a flowing, red cape billowing out behind him as he walked.
“Well don’t just stand there, step aside!” the man with the limp ordered as they approached.
Sami and Rourke ducked to the right side of the hall, and Jonathan moved to the left. From his vantage point, Jonathan could see there were many men following behind the first two. He flattened himself against the wall and waited as the first couple of rows passed by. Then, someone reached out and grabbed Jonathan’s arm and the whole procession came to a crashing halt as the others grumbled and mumbled.
Jonathan looked up to see Lord Bingham.
“Jonathan! Jonathan Haymaker! What are you doing here?” Lord Bingham asked.
Jonathan smiled and he took in a breath of excitement. If Lord Bingham was here, then perhaps he knew where Jason was. After all, Bingham said that he was going to fight in the Quags with the Ghosts, so perhaps he had already found Jason. “I am looking for my brother, have you seen him?”
Jonathan’s heart sank as the sparkle in Lord
Bingham’s eyes died out. The smile faded into an open mouthed gawk that stared blankly back at the young man.
Bingham shook his head. “No, son, I haven’t seen him.”
“But you said you were joining the Ghosts of the Quags,” Jonathan said. “You said you would be there with him. Where is he?”
Bingham mouthed something, but no words came out.
The brown haired man with the limp pushed through, ordering the others to back away. “What’s all this then?” he shouted. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
Jonathan winced away from the man for a second, but then he regained his composure, emboldened by the idea that perhaps Bingham had lied that day last summer when he said he would join the Ghosts. “My name is Jonathan Haymaker, and I am looking for my brother, Jason Haymaker.”
A murmur rumbled through the others nearby and Bingham backed away. The man with the limp stepped in and narrowed his eyes on Jonathan. “You’re a Haymaker eh? How old are you?”
“Old enough,” Jonathan answered.
“Actually, he isn’t yet seventeen,” Bingham cut in. “So, he isn’t old enough for anything.”
Jonathan stood firm, puffing out his chest and trying to look bigger than he was. “I’m old enough for the Quags,” he said.
The others laughed derisively. The man with the brown hair stood silent. He looked at Jonathan for a while and then he glanced to the man with the white beard. The older man stepped in close and pointed to Jonathan’s bow.
“What is that?” he asked.
Jonathan turned to him. “It’s Kigabané, sir,” he said.
“And it’s his,” Sami called out from behind the group of soldiers. “He went into the Kigyo alone and he came out with the bow. No one else has claim on it.”
The man with the limp and the older officer turned to see who addressed them. The other soldiers moved out of the way.
“I am Sami, and this is Rourke,” Sami said in answer to the unspoken question. “We’re with the young man.”
“You’re with him?” the older officer repeated. “In what capacity?”
“We’re his,” Sami replied.
“I’m his scout,” Rourke said. Then he thumbed to Sami. “This is the boy’s muscle, though with his archery skills the boy hardly needs either of us.”
The older officer balked and said, “Is that so?”
The officer with the limp turned around and eyed Jonathan from head to toe. “You want to find Jason?” he asked.
“Do you know where he is?” Jonathan asked.
The officer shook his head. “I know where he went, but I don’t know where he is, or even if he is more than a pile of bones, kid. I don’t mean to upset you, but you have to know that the Ghosts are called that for a reason.”
“Because they’re the best,” Jonathan put in quickly.
The officer with the limp arched a brow and looked to the older officer.
Jonathan continued. “People tell me they are called the Ghosts because none of them ever survive, but that isn’t it. They are called Ghosts because they slip in and out without being defeated. Sure, they may have had casualties, but they are also the best warriors in the kingdom. That’s what Jason always told me. That’s why he wanted to be a part of them.”
The officer with the limp shook his head. “No, son. That is not why they are called Ghosts of the Quags. They are called Ghosts because all who are assigned to the unit are considered to be dead men. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no one can walk into the deepest parts of the swamps and come out again.”
“I will,” Jonathan said quickly. “So will my brother.”
The officer folded his arms and took in a deep breath as he shook his head again. “How will you find him?”
“Pa told me there is a map in Battlegrym. If I can get inside, I can find it. It’s the map that Pa helped make when he found The Warrens. My brother will be working his way to the trolls’ central lair. That’s where I’ll find my brother.”
The others started to laugh again, but the older officer with the white beard held up a hand and silenced them. “My name is Commander Kilgrave. I was the commanding officer at Battlegrym. I managed to retreat with some of my men, but Battlegrym is now teeming with trolls. To go there would be a foolish plan.”
Jonathan shook his head. “After surviving a den filled with giant snakes, I think I’ll take my chances. Besides, one or two people can sneak in without drawing attention. It isn’t the same as if I was trying to knock down the front door with an army.”
The officer nodded his head and smiled. “Spoken like a true Haymaker if I ever met one,” he said. He pointed to the officer with the limp and introduced him. “This is Dell, he and I were about to discuss a rescue mission. You see, there is a town that lies between here and Battlegrym. The trolls haven’t made it that far north yet because the winter stopped them. So, we are trying to get the residents out before the monsoons come in full force and the trolls ravage the town.”
“I am going to lead the mission,” Dell said. “I can’t promise you any support, but perhaps you could travel with us at least as far as Wendyn.”
Jonathan couldn’t believe his ears. “You aren’t going to try to talk me out of it?” he asked.
Commander Kilgrave laughed and shook his head. “Wouldn’t do any good if I tried,” he replied. “I saw the same fire in your brother’s eyes when he begged to be assigned to the Ghosts of the Quags. I saw it before that when your father did the same thing.” The smile vanished and the large officer placed a heavy hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “If I let you go with Dell, then promise me that you will come back. So far the Haymaker family have shown their spirit and proven their valor, but only one out of three have returned.”
“Two out of four,” Jonathan corrected. “My brother just needs a bit of help, but he’s alive.”
Commander Kilgrave pointed to the far end of the hall. “Come, sit in the council room with us. Bring your… men too.”
Chapter 11
Jonathan pulled his cloak tighter around himself and secured the iron brooch as tight as it would allow him to do. He pulled the hood up over his head and took his bow in hand. He tested the string one more time and then slowly set it back into place. Then he slung the bow over his shoulder. A long, curved knife hung from his belt, a gift from Dell.
Sami stood nearby, spinning a massive hammer in his hands by holding the shaft near the head and using his other hand to twirl it. Sami had not smiled at all that morning as he stood and waited. He looked off, focusing on something beyond the stone wall and the wooden doors that separated them all from the Quags. Jonathan was still not entirely sure why Sami had come along, but he was happy to have the large man with him.
Rourke was also quiet, sitting off in a corner and burying his face in his hands as he muttered some prayer over and over. The scout had equipped himself with two additional daggers and a long spear. He had also traded out his normal boots for a pair of thick leather boots that had iron cleats on the bottom.
Jonathan and Sami had gotten similar boots. Dell had told them that the cleats were absolutely necessary.
A cadence of heavy thumps sounded over the stone behind them. Jonathan turned to see twenty men, led by Dell, walking toward them from the open double doors at the opposite end of the large chamber.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Dell asked Jonathan as he approached.
Jonathan glanced to the hardened faces standing behind Dell and then nodded. “My brother is alive out there, I know it.”
Dell leaned down and whispered into Jonathan’s ear. “No one would think less of a young boy for changing his mind, you know that don’t you?”
Jonathan shrugged. “I am not here because I want to please others,” he said simply. “I am here because I know my brother is out there, and he needs me.”
“Tell me one thing,” Dell pressed. “Did you really get Kigabané by yourself?”
Jonathan nodded. “I di
d.”
Dell pressed his lips together and sighed as he nodded. “Then, let’s not waste any more time.” He turned to the men behind him and addressed them briefly. “Men, we march for Wendyn. We don’t stop until we reach the town. As you know, it is a little less than eighty miles away. If we hasten our pace, and eat as we walk, then we should make it within a couple of days, depending on the weather and the trolls of course. As you may already be aware, the last letter we received from Wendyn stated that many of their people could not venture out from the safety of the walls, for the trolls were prowling the forest. We need to act swiftly.” Dell ceased speaking and turned to Sami. The large man nodded his head and then moved to the large doors.
Jonathan watched as the iron banded wooden door was pulled open. The morning rain had already started, though it was only a misty drizzle that clouded the green grass beyond the iron portcullis. Chains and gears popped and clanked as the portcullis was raised up to allow the troop access to the quags. Jonathan walked in lock-step with Dell out into the open air.
Pillows of thick fog rolled across the drenched grass between them and the tall trees that marked the beginning of the forest some two hundred yards away. As with the other trees to the east, these oaks, elms, and pines had all but been destroyed by the relentless torrent of rain. Moss and ivy ate away the trees’ strength while the waterlogged ground drowned them from below.
What once had been a wide, well-packed dirt road was now little more than a tan path of mud that swirled in the puddles that formed along the ground. Patches of pointy mushrooms and large-headed toadstools popped up from the water. Jonathan could feel his cleats digging into the softened ground with each step. The squishy mud squirted out either side of his boots as he walked, some splatter falling onto Dell’s ankle.
