Fortress of the Forgotten: Book One of the Swordmaster Series

by Rutger Krenn

  Talon didn’t know what to say. He’d had no idea of the pendant’s significance. He always kept it because it was his mother’s, but how did she get it? And why had his father given it to him? Did he want him to have a keepsake of his mother or did he just want to get rid of it because it reminded him of her?

  “I don’t know how she got it,” said Talon. It was the truth but it still avoided her question.

  “Well,” she said, tucking it back inside his tunic, “she must have done something extraordinary. Maybe you’ll be able to find out from your family now that you’re back in Aren Daleth.”

  Arell walked over to her horse and he watched her go. He could find out from his father, but there was a better way and quicker way. If so few of them were ever handed out by the king he would remember them all. He would ask when he saw him soon. The king might have answers about other things as well. What was the discord between his parents? Why did his father consider her death a good thing?

  Some time later, mounted on their horses, they emerged from the trees and rode on the open plains. The great sweeping range of the Stone Mountains was hidden from view. All they could see was a dark horizon where the sight of the stars was blocked from view.

  The two of them felt invisible to any eyes that may have been searching for them and they intended to make good progress across the plainlands. With some luck they would find another place to camp around dawn that had the shelter of trees or at least bushes that would break their outline and make them harder to see if they were being followed.

  Suddenly heard a distant cry in the wood behind them. It was high and piercing; a fell sound in the night and it brought goose bumps to their skin and made their hearts thud loudly in their chests. The horses pricked their ears and shivered.

  Arell’s eyes were wide. “What on earth was that?” she said.

  “I don’t know.” Talon’s brow furrowed in thought. “It didn’t sound like any beast or bird that I ever heard before.

  They rode on but kept looking over their shoulders to the wood that lay behind them. They guessed a creature was hunting in the night, and even if they could not know its quarry, they knew something terrible was seeking to destroy life.

  They pushed on quickly and the horses’ long strides made light of mile after mile. Towards dawn though the protracted race with few spells was taking its toll on the horses. They must be careful not to override them because if they went lame their journey would be slowed to a crawl and that would lead to disaster.

  They had come up to a copse, nowhere near as large as the previous woods but it still offered concealment from prying eyes, and also from the sun, which was much warmer on the plains than it had been in the mountains.

  Water remained in the flasks they carried and after ensuring their horses had the greater part of it they drank sparingly themselves. They didn’t know how long it would be before they found a fresh supply, perhaps not even until they reached the stone Mountains. These lands were not widely travelled and they couldn’t be sure of finding water on the plains, though it was likely enough that there would be creeks coming down from the mountains.

  “I’m stiff and sore all over,” said Arell.

  “It could be worse,” said Talon. “You’re a good rider and relaxed in the saddle. That’s saved you from the worst of it.”

  Soon they lay down and slept. The horses were picketed nearby and grazed contentedly. It was on these that Talon chiefly kept his eyes while he was awake. They would sense the approach of anyone before he or Arell could. Their hearing was keener and their nature more attuned to the wilderness.

  His thoughts turned to his mother again. What had she done to be awarded honor from the king? He knew there had always been much that was hidden from him as a child. What else didn’t he know?

  Talon slept, and even as he did so he kept a part of his mind fixed on the horses. He slept lightly, and through the years had learned to wake the moment his unconscious mind detected a change around him. If the horses became skittish or whinnied at the approach of another horse he would know.

  The day wore on and the horses continued to graze peacefully. There was no sign of anyone in the wilderness and no indication of any danger. Even so, Talon felt increasingly uneasy. It was not unexpected he told himself, given what he’d been through and the perils of the task ahead, and yet it was more than that. He tried to dismiss it, but could not do so. Should not do so, he thought to himself. Being cautions and suspicious was the way to stay alive. It might be a waste of time, yet it might not.

  Several times he had awakened, but hearing nothing he merely shifted the pickets of the horses to allow them access to fresh grass and then went back to his blankets. Arell slept on soundly, even more tired than himself he supposed, for she was less used to the hardships they were suffering.

  Her father had obviously raised her well and brought her up to handle herself among weapons and horses. She rode with skill, tracked proficiently and knew how to set up a good camp. She did it all uncomplaining and this was something that he admired greatly. Had he underestimated her? Was she more capable than he had thought at their first meeting? Was there more to her than a snobbish aristocrat?

  Whatever else he might think about her she had courage. Courage and determination. It was strange that she was going to marry such a dislikeable character as Mecklem. What did she like about him? All his cultivated speech and habits, all his wealth, his rank and position in the army, were things a man could acquire. They were not, and could never be, what the real man was made of. One couldn’t acquire courage, or intelligence, or a sense of right and wrong. They could be developed, brought out into the open, but could not be acquired. Neither through training nor through wealth, which was probably how Mecklem had achieved all the things Arell must find so attractive. Mecklem still nagged at him too. What had caused such enmity from the first? It was like they had met before and were enemies from long ago. But that was impossible. He’d left Aren Daleth as a child.

  He looked over at Arell now and wondered what it would be like to marry someone like her, to have such a wife, someone to share his life with and endure hardships together such as they were now and yet still smile at each other at the end of the day. That was the kind of woman he was looking for, but it could certainly never be Arell. She was betrothed to another man, whatever faults he had.

  Talon mumbled to himself and turned over so that his back was to her. He was troubled by his thoughts. He was only young and there was plenty of time to find the right woman for himself. This one was far too arrogant and sharp tongued. She was not the one for him and would certainly be the first to tell him so!

  The creature swooped down, after finding the camp of its prey in the wood and taking their scent, which it had lost in the creek, once more. Clumsy on the earth, it shuffled along the surface and snuffled at their spoor. It moved grotesquely, like a bat on the ground, its huge membranous wings were spurred and these were dug into the soil as an anchor to pull itself forward.

  It was a creature of the midnight air and almost useless on the ground. Almost, but not quite, for by crawling on the earth it could catch the scent of any prey it chose and then by flying low follow it. This was a slow means to hunt but it was sure. Its other method was to rely on sight. That way was faster, but when the prey hid it had to rely on scent, and the prey was hiding.

  With a last satisfied snuffle the great creature climbed into a tree and heaved itself into the air. The wings flapped madly and a storm of leaves and branches blew about in its wake.

  Eventually it was properly airborne and clumsy no more. Its wings kept it aloft and it glided agilely through the wood as a shadow darker than all others, silent as an owl in flight but more deadly to its prey.

  The creature gave rise to its hunting call. Long notes, high and shrill, that spoke insurmountable depths of woe. Evil beyond anything in nature it lifted itself only just above the forest canopy and followed the spoor. It dreamed of the kill, knowing it would c
atch them soon and slake its thirst on warm blood.

  The Chung heard the cry and found soon after the clearing in which Talon and his companion had camped and were studying the remaining traces with great care. They had also come across strange new marks that had not been made by a person. Wu Chin sensed his men’s fear at what they saw and felt coldness settling in the pit of his own stomach.

  He was the best tracker among them and he took his time to carefully consider the situation. It had not been easy to follow Talon and the girl, for so he was sure the second rider must be.

  The horses had a comparable stride which signified they were of similar build. When they were unmounted their prints were of the same depth, yet when they were ridden the second left behind shallower marks than Talon’s sorrel. This meant the rider weighed significantly less than Talon who was of normal build. Also, there was something about the way it was ridden that made him think it was a girl. It was instinct more than anything else but tracking relied heavily on such feelings of intuition.

  He’d lost much time in pursuing them for the trail was well hidden and the campsite not where he’d expected. Whatever else he thought about Talon he knew he was skilled in the wilderness. Not that it would save him, but it was something to be cautious of.

  He’d been following their trail, however faint it was, but in this glade he’d discovered more than he expected. Something had come along after the two riders, and even as he was doing, had studied their tracks.

  It was not a man. Whatever it was had left none of its own tracks before now. They had suddenly appeared, and then disappeared, without leaving a trace into or out of the clearing.

  He considered how the fine dirt about the horses’ hoof marks was disturbed. Wind would blur them, or the passing of time, but no breeze was blowing strong enough to penetrate the clearing and not much time had passed. What must have blurred them was the breath of the creature. Whatever it was, it was large and it hunted by smell at least as much as by sight.

  Fang Lee disturbed his thinking. “You had better come and see this.”

  “See what?” he snapped, straightening.

  “I don’t know, but you had better look anyway.”

  Frowning, Wu Chin walked toward the warrior. He was growing impatient to be away from here. He wanted to finish off Talon and the girl quickly and return to Shagga Lu. He didn’t want any complications and he certainly didn’t want anything to do with the creature that seemed to be hunting Talon as well.

  “Look at that.”

  Wu Chin directed his frown to the tree being pointed at. At first he saw nothing. It was a pine, which was unusual as most of the other trees in the wood were broadleaved, then he saw the scratches a third of the way up the trunk. He studied these with great concentration. The grooves were large and sap was flowing freely from them. He noticed more further out along a thick branch, moving away from the trunk.

  His frown disappeared, replaced by a cold, stony mask intended to hide whatever he felt from his companions. This was the final piece of the puzzle and he now knew what had happened.

  The creature could fly. It had landed on the trunk, and from there, careful of its weight, moved out along the branch closer toward the clearing. He noted the ripped turf where it had swooped down. From there it had followed Talon’s and the girl’s scent to the center of the clearing. He retraced this path and saw on the other edge more rough marks in the turf. This was the point from which it had taken to the air once again, and judging from the scrambled marks, it was not easy to do so.

  There was no sign of the creature now, and he, and the men whose worried expressions showed they had also pieced together the puzzle, hoped it would stay that way. Wu Chin caught them glancing at each other with superstitious dread.

  “Death,” whispered Fang Lee thickly. “Death itself follows them. There is no need for us to continue. They are pursued by winged evil and they cannot escape. We should return, lest we ourselves be hunted by the Engar.”

  Wu Chin was worried but he wouldn’t let anything interfere with his revenge on Talon. His hand arced out in a blow that caught the warrior unaware. It was a vicious strike, delivered with tremendous force and knocked the man to the ground.

  He drew one of his sai. “We shall continue the hunt,” he said coldly. “And any man who turns away from it will find death can fly even swifter without wings.” Fang Lee stood up slowly. He appeared indecisive, as though unable to settle on whether he feared the creature or Wu Chin the most. The faces of all the other men were now carefully void of any hint of their own thoughts.

  Fang Lee wiped blood from his lips with the back of his hand. “You will see. Death shall follow us all and you will wish that we had let things alone.”

  The man turned his back on the others and slowly walked over to his horse. He mounted and overcame the temptation to kick his heels into the horse’s flanks and make a dash for it.

  Wu Chin clenched his teeth. He still held authority over the men, but only just.

  Without another word they rode out of the clearing in single file. With the naming of the creature a fog of bleakness settled heavily upon them; fear gnawed at their hearts and dread weighed on them heavier than they had ever known before. They had all heard rumor of the Engar. Such creatures were servants of Eruthram and Fang Lee’s words echoed in their minds as they rode. Death shall follow us all.

  Chapter 11

  Kenrik’s mind raced. A messenger had interrupted while he and Cadrafer were discussing plans in the castle.

  The soldier had reported a Turgil was approaching and the Duke, swiftly leaving the chamber, had come to the walls. His blood now ran cold as ice. Dark sorcery was about to be unleashed and what means did he have to resist it?

  The black-cloaked figure of the Turgil now stood below and appeared to be waiting for something. A guard of Goblins were halted behind him. The soldiers defending the wall were silent but Kenrik could feel their fear as a palpable thing. Was the Turgil going to parley with them or was it an attack?

  After a few moments the sorcerer’s gaze found him and the Duke saw the cloaked figure stiffen. He moved so that his hood fell back slightly and revealed a glimpse of long white hair. White robes unexpectedly showed beneath the concealing cloak and his eyes, like no others in Andoras, bored into his own.

  It was Arandur! With a sudden understanding Kenrik realized the boldness of the scheme that had brought a Wizard to the gates of Thromdar through an enemy who would destroy him if they perceived who he was.

  He recognized as well that doubt was mounting, moment by moment, in the minds of the Goblins and understood Arandur’s danger.

  Old stories flashed through his mind of how the Wizard had befriended the Northmen in the past. It should not have been a surprise to see him here now. He had come to oppose the dark workings of the real Turgil but Kenrik was unable to think of a way that would allow him access to the castle without the Goblins forcing entry too, and the masses of their brethren soon after.

  The Goblins were faltering. Some looked like they might flee but others were seemingly ready to draw weapons on their supposed master. The Duke realized his new hope could be crushed in the moment of its revelation should Arandur be slain. Should that happen what hope would remain for Thromdar?

  The spell that held the Duke was suddenly broken. Chancing that the Goblins would not be able to react in time he gave his order.

  “That’s not a Turgil!” he cried. “He’s a Wizard. As you love Thromdar shoot only the Goblins!”

  His order was yelled for to do otherwise was to risk that archers all along the battlements would fire indiscriminately. But the Goblins would understand him as well and the subterfuge that had been worked upon them would be revealed.

  There were many archers drawn up nearby to defend the gates. The whole valley seemed to still, as though the very earth paused in its breath, then there was a rush of wind and a storm of black fletched shafts flew toward the enemy.

  A score of arrows
whistled through the air above Arandur’s head and struck the Goblins. A dozen died before they could fall to the ground and the remaining few broke and ran. Only one remained who neither fled nor suffered injury. He was larger and fiercer than the rest and determination to kill the man who had deceived the entire Goblin army shone like madness in his eyes. He drew a knife from his belt and prepared to hurl it at the Wizard.

  The Goblin’s hand lifted high and then commenced a downward arc. Arandur lifted his staff upwards preparing to fend away the knife that would soon plummet toward his heart, and yet the knife never left the Goblin’s hand. One moment he stood there, knife poised, and the next he shuddered, transfixed by a dozen arrows. He staggered back and his arm collapsed still holding the now useless knife. He fell to the ground and the cruel light in his eyes was extinguished.

  “Open the gates!” yelled Kenrik. This action was commenced but it would take some moments to achieve. A vast roar went up from the seemingly endless ranks of the Goblin army.

  They charged. The unwholesome yells of their battle lust filled the air. The sound of their iron-shod boots trampling the valley floor and the crash of weapon against shield and the rattling of armor lifted into the heavens and rolled along the valley walls as though it were thunder.

  On they rushed and a shadow as though of a dark cloud blotted out the sun. The men opening the gates paused as a feeling of dread overcame them. For a second all was held in the balance then the gates at last swung open and Arandur slipped through.

  “He’s safe!” yelled Kenrik with relief but his words were lost in the heavy clang of the two huge panels of iron and steel as the gates came together.

  Relief flooded through him but there was no time for joy now. The Goblins were nearly upon them and the defenders must try to stave off another attack.

  He looked out at the hordes as they came on. Some carried ladders and others ropes with hooks on the end to be thrown over the battlements. There were hundreds of these and they came in the lead and behind them were thousands of others who would try and climb the battlements and take the castle.