Fortress of the Forgotten: Book One of the Swordmaster Series

by Rutger Krenn

  “Die!” yelled the Chung warrior but Talon had no such intention. He remained silent but ever his sword worked to discover a weakness in his opponent’s defense.

  The sorrel stumbled slightly and the Chung saw his chance. He lifted the dao higher than usual in an attempt to deliver a powerful killing stroke. He never anticipated the sudden thrust of Talon’s pattern-welded blade toward his chest. One moment he was going to kill, the next he fell dead from the horse and landed heavily on the ground.

  Talon quickly caught up with the others. The sorrel was well trained and the stumble was no accident. It was taught to do so at Talon’s signal.

  Even Mecklem looked earnest now. He had seen the Chung warrior draw blade with no reason, and he had seen the killing frenzy in his eyes, but Talon would get no apology.

  “Good riding!” shouted Arell over the pounding of hooves. She had divined his trick with the horse even if the Chung had not.

  She certainly knew horses and how to ride, thought Talon, but he didn’t answer her. He merely winked at her. She glared at him, her blue eyes turning several shades darker, then turned her head quickly back to the front. The long golden trail of her hair billowed out behind her.

  Talon cursed himself. He had to learn to control his impulsiveness. She had made some attempt then to bridge the gap between them but he hadn’t answered her.

  They rode on but there were still many more miles to go before they reached Thromdar. It would be much later in the day before they did so and they knew now that the pursuers, on fresh horses, would catch them before then.

  “This isn’t any good,” said Talon. “We have to find somewhere to turn and fight. They’ll catch us sooner or later and then it’ll be on their terms.”

  Arell nodded. “I think you’re right.” Her eyes shifted to Mecklem for confirmation.

  He nodded. “So it seems,” he said. “We’ll head for that rise over there.” He pointed to a low knoll some little way to the left. “At least it gives us some advantage. Then we’ll see if these Chung are as good as people say.”

  Talon didn’t bother to reply. He knew how good they were and it would be two men against four. The chances were nowhere near as good as he would have liked.

  They came to the knoll as the midday sun beat down from above and found it to be nothing more than a slight upward swelling of the valley floor. It was an advantage of sorts though and they wheeled their mounts around to face their pursuers.

  The Chung came on and Talon studied their approach. They carried the normal assortment of weapons and wore the customary black clothes of Chung warriors. The traditional sash wrapped around their waist hung down a foot or so but it didn’t escape his attention that it was tied on the right hand side. The left signified training, the center free sparring, and the right meant one thing only: the intention to kill.

  In less than a minute the Chung had pulled up before them. Their horses panted heavily and bled from their flanks where they’d been struck by naked swords to spur them on.

  Talon’s blood boiled. He hated the mistreatment of animals. He hated his old enemies who had tracked him down and would kill him for no good reason. He was angry and when he was in that mood he was a dangerous man.

  He wasn’t stupid though, not even in anger. He readied himself. Clear like the sky, cold like the winter, he told himself. Edging his horse a little forward he spoke to one of the Chung who sat uncomfortably on his mount. It had been a long ride for them all.

  “Ying Fu,” he said. “This business is between the Chung and me. There’s no need to bring these strangers into it. Let them go and I give you my word I’ll stay here and give you the fight you want.”

  Ying Fu looked coldly at Talon and his companions. “I don’t care about the strangers, Talon. Their life has no meaning to me. Only they are with you, and so must die. It’s just the way of things.”

  Talon was about to see if he could change his enemy’s mind, though he didn’t hold out much hope, when Arell’s voice came unexpectedly from behind.

  “I have met some rude men today but certainly you are the pick of them. Perhaps your feeble mind can grasp this. Your life has no meaning to me, and the fact that it is about to end will be the one good thing that comes out of our meeting.”

  Ying Fu didn’t seem to have anticipated this reaction. Just as he was beginning to think of a reply a knife flew from Arell's hand and stuck in his neck. It was totally unexpected and it was thrown with skill and power.

  Talon didn’t hesitate. He knew such a chance to catch his opponents by surprise wouldn’t come again. The thrill of battle suddenly pumped through his veins. The sorrel leapt forward at his urging and his sword flashed toward one of the remaining warriors. He moved with a speed his new companions could barely believe. Quick as the knife throw seemed, this was quicker. In a moment another warrior lay dead on the ground.

  Mecklem, though slower to react than Talon, had also taken on his man. His sword met his opponent’s with a loud clash. The Chung was not easily defeated though. He had long years of training behind him and also a strong urge to kill. But he wasn’t going to kill easily this day. The Northmen was skilled too and neither could find an opening against the other.

  Talon engaged the remaining warrior and he saw out of the corner of his eye that Arell was dismounting and retrieving her knife. She may be arrogant but she had nerve too!

  His momentary lapse of concentration nearly cost him his life. The Chung feinted and then ripped upwards with a sudden lunge of his other hand. It held a knife and the blade cut into Talon’s abdomen. He wasn’t quick enough to evade it but he moved just enough to turn the blow from a killing stroke into a surface wound.

  The Chung had made a mistake though. He had reached too far forward believing he was near a kill. Too late he realized his error and Talon’s sword slid easily between his rib bones and into the heart. Blood trickled from his mouth as he slumped and then fell from the saddle.

  The other Chung disentangled himself from Mecklem.

  “We’ll come again!” he said, spitting out the words as he backed away. “There’s no place we won’t follow and we’ll never give up!”

  Talon, the anger at being hunted like an animal for the last few weeks shining in his eyes, moved the sorrel forward. The Chung warrior backed off further, then turned and kicked his horse into a gallop.

  “Come any time you like,” Talon said softly to himself, “I’ll be ready when you do.”

  He turned and saw Arell looking at him strangely. His anger evaporated and he gave her his best smile then laughed aloud when she frowned and turned away. It was foolish of him, but he was starting to like provoking a reaction from her.

  “Those Chung deserve their reputation, all right,” said Mecklem. “They’re not bad fighters. Not bad at all.”

  Talon shrugged. “Those weren’t full blooded Chung warriors. They were just novices. They haven’t learned the full art yet. Some of the others who come behind them,” and he nodded westwards, “are people to be afraid of. Very afraid indeed. And their leader, Wu Chin, has skill beyond them all.”

  Mecklem didn’t seem to like the tone of his voice but he looked where Talon indicated. Five more riders were galloping toward them, and they weren’t that far away. They must have descended into this valley from close by, and not come the way Talon had. Wherever they came from they were here now and the race must begin once more.

  Arell gave him a cool, level look. “So this leader, young man, is evidently beyond your skill?” Having said this she turned quickly, not awaiting his answer, and nudged her mount into a run.

  Haughty was the word that came to Talon’s mind. It described her perfectly. He gritted his teeth and refused the impulse to reply to her turned back.

  Wearily their horses began to gallop again. They were all good, strong animals, but it was a grueling race for them. The Chung obviously didn’t care if they killed their mounts in the pursuit though.

  They rode forward and slowly b
ut surely the pursuers closed in. They were a mile behind and Talon wondered how long it would take them to shorten that distance.

  The three of them rode abreast again with Talon in between. He saw the bright eyes of Arell upon him as she moved in unison with her horse. She seemed to be thinking of saying something and he forbore smiling at her. For whatever reason she found that upsetting. Besides, he could always smile at her later if he didn’t like whatever she said.

  “Talon’s a strange name,” she eventually called over her shoulder. “Who calls you that?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said curtly. This didn’t appear to be the answer she was hoping for and she favored him with a glare before tossing her hair and looking away. Not before he smiled at her though.

  He cast his mind back to that day after the Chung warrior had saved him from the Goblins. The old man was taking him back to his village, all the while trying to get him to release the sword, which his small fingers gripped with determination, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “You’re holding that sword tightly, boy,” he said. “I don’t blame you, I suppose.”

  They went on. “What’s your name?” the warrior said at last, trying to start a conversation, but he still didn’t get an answer. Fear had wrapped Talon in a net and choked his voice. His arms and legs trembled but still he wouldn’t let go of the sword.

  “I’ll have to give you a name myself, then. It’s not fitting to call you boy all the time. You’ve earned more than that from the way you stood up to those Goblins. I’ll call you Talon, for you grip that hilt like a hungry eagle seizes a rabbit.”

  Talon looked at him and the trembling began to subside. He smiled weakly before the tears came to his eyes.

  “My name is Chow,” said the old man, putting his arm around him and leading him into the village. It was large and boisterous and there were quite a few houses and children playing in front of them.

  “This is my home. You have a welcome here for as long as it takes to get you back to your family. In the mean time I will teach you the warrior’s way. I have a feeling that when you’re older the Goblins, and perhaps even their masters, will have cause to fear your blade.”

  Talon’s thoughts had taken him back a long time. Neither he nor Chow could have known how things would turn out. Had they understood the dangers better perhaps their courses of action would have been different. Or perhaps not.

  His thoughts came back to the present as afternoon drew on about them. Great sweeping shadows seemed to fall down from the valley sides as the sun moved lower and resin scented air flowed down from the pine swathed ridges. Their pursuers were close now, but so too was Thromdar castle. They could see it looming up between the shoulders of two massive mountains forming the head of the valley.

  It was a deadly race and six warriors were close behind. The air tore through the horses’ lungs in great gasps and they began to stumble. Even the sorrel, stronger and quicker than the others, began to have difficulty after the day’s long chase and the upward incline toward the castle.

  They were nearly there. Too late it seemed though for there was no way to reach Thromdar in time. It was only a mile away but the Chung had nearly caught them. They would have to turn and fight again but the odds had shifted and there could be no victory like there was last time.

  Just then there was a glint of metal near the castle and a large group of riders cantered out and then began to gallop.

  The Chung gesticulated wildly. They were close, but not close enough. They must now give up the chase and let their quarry go, if only for the moment. They pulled their horses up and headed toward cover among the many stands of trees in the valley. The Northmen rode on and in a matter of moments Arell was surrounded by soldiers.

  The Lady Arell, the Lord Mecklem and Talon were now safe. Or safe for a little while at least. There was still the army of Goblins. He looked up at Thromdar castle. The fortress itself lay behind a wall spanning the gap between the mountains. Dark cliffs beetled up on either side. There was no way into the kingdom except under, through or over the wall. He looked along its length and suddenly noticed how few soldiers manned it. It appeared almost deserted.

  He remembered his earlier impression that something was horribly wrong and he began to feel sick to the very pit of his stomach.

  Chapter 3

  Talon sat in the Duke’s private study. He was weary after the weeks of pursuit and felt drained by the news he’d just heard.

  His head was bowed and his eyes closed. The room was luxurious and filled with rare books and expensive tapestries where the rich history of the Northmen and their settlement of Aren Daleth was depicted. This would have been of interest to him in other circumstances but he spared it no thought now.

  Duke Kenrik had called him to the meeting. Apparently he’d insisted on hearing Talon’s firsthand account of the Goblin army rather than Mecklem’s retelling. He’d also wanted to know why the Chung wanted to kill him. Talon had talked of his time with Chow and what he’d learned, though he didn’t reveal his identity. He had explained how the knowledge he gained was the reason the Chung warriors hunted him. Such knowledge was believed by many to be precious; a national treasure reserved for the benefit of the Chung race alone and that there were fanatics who would keep it so.

  Mecklem was at the meeting also, looking even more irritable than normal, but remaining quiet for some reason as though he didn’t wish to draw attention to himself.

  The Lady Arell was present as well, a pensive expression on her face, and seemingly no interest at all in talking to Talon. Cadrafer, Captain of the Duke’s Guard, remained quiet and grim. His red hair and freckled face stood out among the Northmen for whom such coloring was rare and contrasted with the other captains sitting nearby. Talon guessed from his looks and accent that he was from the distant city of Lonrak.

  Kenrik had his back to everybody. He towered above six feet and was the tallest man Talon had ever met. This was a man of whom he had heard much. Years ago he had been one of the great heroes of the Northmen. His exploits were legendary and were told and retold around campfires and were matters of fine tale telling by bards at well provisioned dukes’ tables.

  Of more recent times Talon had heard nothing. Now, he leaned listlessly against the carved stone framing of a large window and looked out into the dark night. Everyone in the room knew he was searching for answers – for anything that would help to defend Thromdar castle.

  Talon sensed they all believed the castle would fall. From what he saw of the walls on the way in and through the near empty corridors the defenders were spread dangerously thin. Even so, surely they could hold against the Goblins until help arrived?

  If Thromdar fell then the way to Aren Daleth was opened. An entire nation of people would be put to the sword. The Goblins wouldn’t show mercy even to women and children. The castle, the history it represented and the people throughout the kingdom who relied on it for protection would be destroyed. The heritage and legacy that would have passed to their children would disappear in smoke and ruin.

  Talon heard a soft noise on the deep carpet. Looking up he saw the Duke had turned away from the window and once again faced the hastily convened group.

  “You have a lot to answer for, Mecklem,” he said. The words were quiet but heavy with rebuke.

  “I performed my duty as I thought best,” Mecklem answered stiffly. “You were gone to the capital and the command was mine for a few days.”

  “Exactly so,” said the Duke icily. Mecklem’s reply seemed to have angered him. “I was away for less than a week. All you had to do was watch the soldiers parade in the mornings. Not even that. You had no reason whatsoever to take out a patrol, and certainly not with a hundred men.”

  This much Talon had earlier learned. Mecklem had led out those men and none had returned. They had been destroyed by a Goblin army and the defense of Thromdar had subsequently been depleted. There were not enough soldiers left to properly man the wall.

  Me
cklem looked stonily at the floor. He was not used to being reprimanded, especially in the presence of others.

  “You weren’t even doing a patrol,” continued Kenrik. “What you really wanted was your own little war at home so when the army returned you could match their stories with your own. Don’t think I don’t know it! Had you not taken so much on yourself without any need the fate of the realm wouldn’t be on a knife’s edge.”

  Talon’s mind reeled and his stomach lurched when the Duke spoke of Aren Daleth’s army returning. This was something new. If it wasn’t in the kingdom, where was it?

  A number of things suddenly clicked into place. When coming to the meeting he’d told them a little of who he was and what he’d seen. He’d described the army of Goblins in great detail and it worried him that with each word he spoke the others in the room, even the Duke, grew paler and paler.

  Finally, they had told him about Mecklem and the patrol. Normally, it would have consisted of only twenty. Mecklem wished to do a deep reconnaissance and had taken a hundred. They had been ambushed by an army of Goblins; a different army from the one Talon had discovered encamped further to the north, and the patrol had been massacred.

  The Lady Arell had accompanied them, fearing no danger because of their numbers. In the end only Mecklem, Arell and five other men had escaped. They had been set upon by Goblin scouts later on and the soldiers had been killed.

  So it was that Talon discovered the two remaining riders yesterday morning. Mecklem, believing they had outridden all danger, was finishing the patrol by doing a cursory sweep of the valley further to the south. When they saw Talon they had thought him one of their own soldiers who had somehow contrived to escape but it was now clear that none had survived. Thromdar had lost a hundred men and now only two hundred remained: a mere handful against the two armies of Goblins that would now surely join and come against them as one.