Fortress of the Forgotten: Book One of the Swordmaster Series

by Rutger Krenn

  “It seems I’ve been in trouble all my life,” said Talon. I think I can handle Mecklem, but thank you for the warning. I’ll not forget it.”

  Cadrafer led him through quite a few corridors and eventually came to an empty room. It was large, filled with various papers and reports, but extremely neat and tidy. There was a bed in the corner, the sheets and blankets made up precisely. A pitcher of wine stood on a table nearby.

  “This is my room,” said Cadrafer. “I won’t be needing it tonight. There’s a lot of planning and work yet to be done on our defenses. Also, no one will expect you to be here.”

  The significance of his last comment was not lost on Talon. He took the captain’s hand and shook it firmly. “Thank you,” he said simply, and he meant it.

  Talon lay down on the bed and thought for some time before he finally went to sleep. He was very tired but he recovered quickly and so did the sorrel. Tomorrow night they would both be rested and ready for the journey ahead. It would be a dangerous road. There were multitudes of Goblins to avoid as well as the remaining six Chung warriors, dangerous in their own way as an army. They would not have given up the hunt. There would be peril at every moment, and yet it was what he had been trained for. Then, even should he succeed, there would still be Mecklem and Arell to face.

  At length he drifted to sleep. The last waking thought he had was of Arell’s face. How shocked she looked!

  Chapter 4

  Dusk slipped into Thromdar valley. It came so slow as to be almost imperceptible and there was no sound to be heard nor any movement detected. There was only a sense that something had passed and the world was now different.

  Talon knew that in order to avoid his enemies he and the sorrel would have to become one with nature. They must move through the night as though they were no more than a wind-stirred leaf. Every step must be the soft footfall of a watchful deer. They must be elusive as the fox and merge into the wilderness as though they were wild things. They would achieve this or die.

  Thromdar castle, silhouetted against the starry night, rose close behind him. It formed a dark hulking shape against the heavens; a seemingly sinister construction designed for the sole purpose of war. Its appearance by necessity contradicted the warmth and humanity of those it protected in the lands beyond.

  A few lights illuminated the battlements but no one was in sight. The Duke and Cadrafer had accompanied him to the gates. Each had solemnly wished him the best of luck and firmly shaken his hand but they hadn’t been able to hide their misgivings.

  The pair had watched until he’d disappeared into the night and he could read their thoughts like a book. Could he slip through the Goblin lines? Would he return in time with the army, without which Aren Daleth was doomed?

  He wished he knew the answers himself. Would he succeed? Would he make a place afterwards for himself in his old home?

  He shrugged and shook such thoughts from his mind. He could do nothing but try to fulfil his task. Sooner or later the result would be known.

  There was one thing which he couldn’t quite put from his mind. He’d seen no sign of Arell since the previous night. Would it have been so difficult for her to have wished him luck?

  Once again he regretted his answer to the Duke’s offer of a reward. He must learn to control these hasty impulses. What was done was done though and there was no use worrying about it. He had worse problems to face.

  The sorrel stirred uneasily. It sensed the beginning of a journey and was anxious to get on with it. He’d recovered quickly from his previous trials and Talon knew this was yet one more sign that he was an exceptional horse. If he could settle down somewhere into a new life he would like to breed from him and establish the finest herd in Aren Daleth. The army had need of such mounts.

  Nudging the sorrel forward the night swallowed Thromdar castle as though it had never been.

  He moved in a southerly direction so as not to retrace his previous steps. The bulk of the Goblin armies would no doubt be in the center of the valley by now and have established a sentry line across its entire width, perhaps more than one. And there would be roving scouts as well. Not to mention the Chung who could be anywhere. One thing he felt for sure though was that they would not have given up. They would regroup and look for another chance.

  He had explained to the Duke and his advisors about the Chung and why they pursued him. They hadn’t understood. The Duke may have done, but it wasn’t his major concern at the time. He had briefly told them about Chung Fhat, the methods of the Chung, or the warrior’s way. They were skills trained and used by warriors but included many other things besides fighting. Keeping the body healthy, tracking and stealth were among them. These arts were believed by the Chung to be at the heart of their society and were secrets reserved solely for the advancement of the Chung themselves. It was forbidden for outsiders to learn them and any foreigners caught spying was executed. Chow had circumvented this by adopting him as a son. This solution was accepted by some but there were many who were fanatical. Wu Chin was one of these.

  How the fanatics hated him! Yet it wasn’t his fault. He’d done nothing to them, nor had Chow. They despised him only for who he was and they had hated Chow for teaching an outsider their secrets.

  Talon saw the irony in this. They reviled him because of what Chow had taught him, but knowing his life might one day depended on how well he studied, he had learned and practiced with a swiftness and determination that Chow told him exceeded anyone he’d trained before. But the old man had died suddenly and his protection had disappeared. Talon felt a fresh wave of grief rise within him. Chow had been a good and kindly man.

  He reminisced about their time together. They were good days. Chow had become the father he’d never thought he would have. He’d passed on much more than just the warrior’s art and if his family had come looking for him they’d never found the village. Nor would Talon consent to Chow sending word to the Northmen and the old man, having heard the story of his upbringing, didn’t force the issue.

  Talon, bringing his mind back to the present, considered his best chance was to continue south until he reached the valley sides and then skirt below its rim, working his way through the covering timber that grew intermittently there, until he came to the valley mouth. No doubt it would be guarded but it was wide and he had some chance to slip through undetected or at least to use surprise and the horse’s speed to get through.

  The safest option of all might be to continue travelling southward and attempt to cross a pass into more distant valleys before turning west toward the Stone Mountains. This would be slow though. The ridgeline was high and there were few navigable passes. Also, they were narrow and sure to be securely guarded. He could not afford the lost time. Danger must be balanced against necessity.

  The stars shone ever more brightly as the night grew older. They burned with a cold white flame; beautiful, but uncaring. The glittering heavens were vast and in the mountain air invoked a sense of the infinite.

  The valley was silent and it seemed as though he was alone in the world. There was nothing but the stars, the empty night and the steady rhythm of the horse’s steps beneath him.

  This was a false feeling though. The valley was full of enemies, and if the Goblins didn’t discover him the Chung probably would.

  Time was passing slowly but after several hours the rim of the valley was getting close. He’d seen nothing to worry him and yet something was beginning to make him feel uneasy. He didn’t know what it was but it had triggered his instincts.

  He eased the sorrel into a grove of trees. Such stands only provided broken cover but they were a good deal better than nothing. When daylight came he would hole up in a deep stand of timber and rest while waiting for the concealing cover of darkness again.

  The night was long and lonely but Talon had learned to be content with his own thoughts and how to occupy himself by the exercise of mind and body. In the past, whenever he had felt the need for company, Chow was always there. He wa
s father, teacher and friend all at the same time. Talon missed him enormously and now that he was gone there was a hollowness in his life. He wondered if he would ever again know a home where he was welcome, where he could talk over a hot meal and discuss the events of the day.

  The ground started to rise steeply and he nudged the sorrel into a westerly direction and hoped his luck would hold. He’d always been fortunate and he trusted a little to that and much more to the skills he’d learned over the years. He’d have to put them into practice as never before. This was no training exercise but a desperate quest upon which his, and the lives of so many others, depended. He hardened his resolve to do what he must to ensure he didn’t fail.

  He was skilled enough not to fear a small group of two or three Goblins but in greater numbers not even Chow would have hoped to prevail with certainty. He was mounted, which the Goblins never were, and that would help greatly but if he were caught unaware the horse wouldn’t give him any advantage. A lone archer attacking from ambush would still be able to kill him with ease.

  It was the Chung warriors though that might prove the greatest danger. Had they given up hope of ever finding him? He didn’t think so. Aren Daleth was not their land and they weren’t welcome there, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get by in some manner. Perhaps they would pose as traders. Merchants were welcome even when warriors were not, and, for that matter, it wasn’t unheard of that some of Aren Daleth’s dukes hired mercenaries from time to time. He couldn’t be sure the Chung wouldn’t attempt either of these things and be waiting for him if he ever returned. That was a problem for the future though, if he or Aren Daleth had one. For now what worried him most was that they would find his fresh trail and pursue him immediately.

  The Chung had the ability to avoid Goblins just as he could. It was risky though and he was only attempting it through sheer necessity to save his people. They didn’t have his motivation but they had something just as powerful. They had a fanatical desire to kill him, even if it were not for something that he had done but merely for what he’d learned.

  Even now they could have discovered his tracks and begun hunting him. He was beginning to feel as though something was doing just that. Instinct had warned him earlier and now he noted that there was a quiet behind him that shouldn’t have been there. After his passing the wildlife should have gone back to normal but his back trail was completely silent.

  His tracks couldn’t be found in the dark. So, if he was really being followed, it was done the same way that he sensed his pursuer. It was guesswork, or instinct, or whatever name people gave to feelings that they couldn’t prove nor yet wholly discount. There was some logic in it also, for the sounds of the night were an understandable phenomena. The lack of normal activity behind him was measurable and proved that some kind of predator was on or near his trail. It could be a wolf pack. That was possible. But what he feared most were the Chung.

  The sky was beginning to grey and the dawn was not far off. He decided it was time to rest. He would try to doze through the daylight hours and keep alert for anything, or anyone, that tracked him. He slipped down from the sorrel and removed his gear.

  He camped within a sheltered position amid a thick growth of timber, mostly pines of various sorts, but there were also occasional deciduous trees as well. Steep ground, overgrown with stunted bushes, rose sharply to the immediate south and nothing could approach from that direction without his knowing. The sorrel grazed opposite this and would sense the approach of anything and by his response provide a warning. The other sides were more likely directions from which any attack would come and it was these that would receive the greater part of his attention.

  He spread a heavy blanket on the ground and lay down, placing another upon himself and resting his head on the saddle. He was not the first man to improvise a pillow in such a way and he could not help wonder how many other men had found themselves in the same situation. He was probably hunted. He must live, or die, by his own skill and the luck of the world. If fortune favored him he might yet achieve his mission. If not he would die a lonely death in the wilderness. His passing would be unmarked by anyone except those who killed him. Only the Duke and Cadrafer would note his demise. And if he died their deaths would follow soon after.

  It was time that he settled down. He had led a good life while Chow was alive. He hadn’t needed anybody else then but for the first time since he was a child he began to feel the stirrings of loneliness. It was time he started a family. He wanted to share his knowledge even as Chow had done. It would be nice to have sons and daughters.

  His musings turned back to Thromdar castle. Would Arell miss him? Would she feel any pang of sadness if he didn’t return, knowing that he’d perished by the hand of his enemies somewhere in the mountains, striving to save her home? He couldn’t be sure. She was a strange one. She didn’t panic easily and was strong willed and intelligent; these were qualities he admired. He pictured the bright look of her eyes, blue and sharp, so expressive that he could almost see her feelings as they passed across her mind. If only she weren’t so arrogant!

  He couldn’t help but think of Mecklem also. What could Arell possibly see in him? And why had he been so hostile from the first?

  He dozed off and nothing disturbed him. In the eastern sky the pale light of dawn gave birth to a new day. He awoke, only an hour or so later, but felt refreshed even if he hadn’t rested for long.

  The air was brisk and he slipped out of his blankets and gathered fallen branches for a fire. He used only the oldest and driest in order to ensure there would be little smoke and built it beneath the canopy of leaves so that whatever smoke was produced would be dispersed. He had no intention of making himself easy to find.

  It took a little while for the flames to die down to the steady heat of embers. While he was waiting he practised the first fighting exercise that Chow had taught him. He’d called the set a seed form and said it was the foundation upon which all else would grow. It was a simple sequence of moves performed slowly and with muscular tension but it was smooth rather than jerky. It was punctuated intermittently by sudden strikes.

  All his movements were small and controlled. It was a deceptive exercise. It looked simple but encoded within the straightforward techniques was the essence of the style. How long had he studied this set? Yet still he found new things to learn. The old masters had gathered secrets, one by one over the millennia, and many were hidden within these movements.

  All of Chow’s arts were like that. Whether it was fighting, tracking or hunting there was always more to learn. Even when it seemed as though mastery had been attained another layer would reveal itself after due study.

  His breathing slowed further, condensing energy into his movements. His breath and the movement of his arms became one. His hands flowed at one moment with relaxed tension and at others shot forward with explosive speed and power. As he continued he thought of the saying that Chow had taught him with the exercise. What the mind believes the body can achieve. This, Talon now knew, was a seed also. It was a concept that grew in the mind and evolved with confidence. It was the foundation upon which Chung Fhat was based.

  When he finished this he practised another of his favorite sets. It was much faster and more intricate. It taught deflections and strikes and constantly wove a web of deception about an opponent. It trained the value of the unexpected and unguessed, of luring opponents into false steps and setting traps, of giving the appearance of defeat so as to close the trap in victory. He shifted between movements with a speed and fluidity that defied any but highly trained eyes to follow.

  Suddenly Talon felt that there were eyes on him. He could not say how he knew but he was certain that he was being watched. He continued the set, improvising several spins and turns so that he could quickly scan the likely hiding spots in the timber around him.

  He saw nothing. Finishing the pattern he slowly walked around then sat down with his back to the steep embankment and casually studied the landsc
ape while putting a pan on the embers and began frying some meat for breakfast. He hoped to pinpoint his stalker without letting them know he was aware of them but he could see nothing.

  Perhaps there was nothing there? Maybe the last few weeks of constant travel and pressure had worn down his nerves. Was he imagining danger where none existed? The sooner he finished this mission the better. He needed a good rest somewhere well away from Goblins and Chung warriors.

  A small twig snapped. It was barely audible, just one of a thousand noises that could be heard at any time in the woods, and yet Talon suddenly knew his instincts were right and there was at least one person out there and that they were attempting to close in on him. At least now he knew where they were. He didn’t give this awareness away by looking in that direction, but he listened with desperate attention to the east, the side from which he had himself come.

  After a while his breakfast was cooked and he began to eat with relish and seeming inattention to anything but the food. When he had finished he cleaned the pan and put out the fire with swift handfuls of dirt. There was no smoke.

  He had no wish to travel in daylight but he must now take the risk to escape. He saddled his horse, being careful to keep the mount between himself and any missile, and prepared to leave. The moment he mounted and offered a clear target would probably be the one of greatest danger. Either way he didn’t doubt that the attack would come soon. Carefully, he scanned the westward area through which he would ride looking for any sign of ambush. There was none. At least none that he could find. He would ride now, but not the leisurely way a traveler would be expected to start his journey. Once he was on the horse’s back it would be kicked into a fast gallop and he’d cling low to its back hoping to escape any arrows.