The wolf immediately barked once and Khara gave a grateful nod. ‘Has Ahren sent you to us?’ she asked. Another bark.
‘Does he need help?’
‘Woof!’
‘Is he injured?’ she probed.
The wolf hesitated.
‘Has he been attacked?’ interjected Trogadon.
‘Woof.’
‘Right then’, said the dwarf firmly. ‘Show us the way.’
The white wolf spun around and disappeared at lightning speed down an alley with Khara nimbly following and Trogadon struggling behind and snorting for air.
***
Cold water tore Ahren from his dreamless state and he immediately had a painful headache. With a groan he made a move to feel the swelling on the back of his head, but his hands were tied painfully together, and any attempt to stand was futile as his feet were bound to the legs of a chair. He tried to open his eyes but was blinded by a bright light and so he closed them again with a groan.
‘You gave his brain a good rattling there, Tontur’, said a deep woman’s voice, which Ahren recognised immediately. It was the woman who had visited Vandir. ‘How are supposed to question this spy if you’ve cracked his skull?’
‘You’re too kind-hearted, Jarla’, said a hard, buzzing voice directly beside Ahren’s right ear. The apprentice tried to shrink away but was painfully prevented from doing so by his fetters. ‘We’re going to have to slice off a few bits of him anyway in order to get him to talk.’
‘Slice off?’ squeaked Ahren in a panic. He swallowed hard and a feeling of nausea came over him. He tried opening his eyes a second time but gave up. ‘I’m not a spy’, he stammered, but then he felt a firm hand under his chin and, to his horror, a cold blade on his right ear, painfully stabbing his skin.
‘I think this might be a good place to start. He can hear our questions with his left ear anyway’, continued the heartless voice, and Ahren’s eyes filled with tears of terror. He had never felt so helpless before, and nothing in his training had prepared him for a situation like this. He searched mentally for Culhen, but either the wolf was too far away or his head too battered to be able to hear his friend.
‘I’m no spy!’ he screamed. ‘I am a Paladin and I’m looking for Bergen!’
This was met with uproarious sarcastic laughter from all around him. He was well and truly trapped and over a dozen voices were cackling among themselves. Finally, the hubbub died down. The blade was still lying on his ear and the danger of it being sliced off if he made the slightest movement all too real.
‘So you’re a Paladin then?’ cackled the hard voice in mock merriment. ‘Then tell us how that came about.’
And so, in a panic, Ahren started babbling about everything he could think of. His training under Falk, the discovery that he was the Thirteenth Paladin, the journey through the Knight Marshes, and the revelation that Falk was really the Paladin Dorian Falkenstein. He babbled for as long as he could, in the desperate hope that the hand holding the sharp knife to his ear would not begin to cut. Deep in the back of his mind was the hope that Culhen would have found his friends, and the longer he kept speaking, the better chance there was that they could save at least some of him. He shuddered and carried on yapping.
He told of how he had visited the dwarves, and of how he had finally been Named, and that they were now trying to free Bergen from the present mess the Paladin now found himself in and they were attempting to negotiate peace between Justinian III and the Brazen City.
‘That’s enough’, announced a warm-sounding voice which resonated with authority. The blade immediately disappeared from Ahren’s skin and with two quick cuts he was freed from his fetters. Ahren heard a metallic sound directly in front of him and when he cautiously opened his eyes and blinked, he could make out a lantern being moved away, which the henchmen had placed right in front of his face.
A comfortably dim light filled the room, and the apprentice realised to his relief that he could now keep his eyes open without feeling any pain. He looked around and saw two dozen men and women, all dressed in deep-blue, positioned in a rough circle around him. Most of them were hunkered down on the dirty floor of the dilapidated room, and many of them were performing their everyday duties – most of which seemed to be connected with their armour. Some were mending holes; others were polishing their boots or sharpening their weapons. A small fat man with a crafty look on his face was just putting his sharp-looking knife and Ahren was certain that this was the mercenary who had just been threatening him. The apprentice carefully felt the apple-sized bump on his head and looked daggers at his torturer, who shrugged his shoulders apologetically before grinning greasily.
In spite of his terror, Ahren was about to launch into a tirade, but was prevented by the comforting voice coming from a dim corner of the room. ‘Please forgive Tontur; he plays the blackguard with too much passion. We’ve discovered that fear of pain is generally much more effective than pain itself.’ The speaker came into the light as he continued to speak. ‘Which is why we almost always find out the truth without inflicting permanent injury on the person. I suppose I really haven’t forgotten who I once was.’
Ahren was staring at a tall, broad-shouldered Ice Lander, whose blond hair was streaked with grey, and whose otherwise handsome face had lines of deep sorrow and weariness. Blue eyes, almost colourless, examined Ahren intensively, and Ahren looked back, captivated. The man’s beard was decorated with a few short braids, and the apprentice’s eyes were drawn as if by magic to the man’s breastplate, shimmering with the white sparkle of Deep Steel. A heavy axe of the same material could be seen extending upwards from behind the man’s right shoulder as he bowed slightly. ‘Allow me to introduce myself’, he said quietly. ‘My name is Bergen Olgitram, commander of the Blue Cohorts and Paladin of the gods.’
***
Trogadon smashed his hammer in frustration against the wooden wall of the abandoned warehouse in which they were standing. Everywhere there were tell-tale signs that a crowd of people had been living here until very recently – but now it was empty. The residents of the surrounding longhouses had withdrawn quietly into their homes and hadn’t prevented them from entering the warehouse. And now the dwarf knew why,
‘They’ve moved on’, cursed the dwarf, and hammered the wall once again, causing the beams to grind against each other.
‘I wouldn’t do that while we’re inside if I were you’, said Khara nervously, and stepped out onto the narrow street.
Trogadon followed her example and called over his shoulder. ‘Culhen, try to follow their scent. It stank so much in there that even I can’t forget the stench.’
A heartbeat later, and the wolf was out the door, nose to the ground, and leading them deep into the darkness of the Brazen City.
***
‘Enough!’ thundered Xobutumbur and threw his goblet against the wall. ‘Whenever we’re on the point of making progress, you come along with your supposed war against the Adversary!’ The heavy chair fell with a crash to the ground as the dwarf stood up. ‘If you want to have any decent negotiations, prove your story. Until you present your Thirteenth Paladin, you’re nothing but a pack of liars and have allowed yourselves to be manipulated by a treacherous Emperor.’ He shook his fist and the vein on his temple pulsated. ‘Deliver a message to that snake in the grass. Tell him that he’s welcome to try and attack us. Thousand Halls have heard our appeal for help, and we’ve received permission to use Deep Fire. His legions will drown in blood and heat on the side of the mountain!’ The dwarf stormed out of the room, leaving the three companions shell-shocked in his wake and the two female members of the Triumvirate, who had also stood up, looked on somewhat shamefacedly.
‘His choice of words may have been a little drastic, but essentially he’s correct’, said Windita politely. ‘You do owe us some proof if we are to completely abandon our conditions. Our people look up to us. If we surrender unconditionally to the Sun Emperor, we will be torn asunder by a furious mob
and in the end, there will be war anyway.’
The two ladies bowed their heads slightly, then followed the irate dwarf, leaving the stunned emissaries behind them.
‘Where did that outburst come from?’ asked Uldini in bafflement, and Falk laughed bitterly.
‘You’re really asking that? You picked apart and undermined almost all of their demands and didn’t offer them anything in return except for sparing their lives’, he said forcefully.
‘We either serve the Brazen City to the Sun Emperor on a silver platter or we sacrifice the Blue Cohorts – you know that yourself’, hissed Uldini in response. ‘And Bergen is doubtless attached to his surrogate family. Because of this, I’m trying to conduct negotiations in as thorough a manner as possible so that Justinian allows them all to go free.’
‘We need Ahren’, interjected Jelninolan simply before the two were able to start squabbling with each other again.
‘And we can only present him once he’s found Bergen’, groaned Uldini. ‘Don’t you just long for the old days when we only had to slaughter an army of Dark Ones?’
The three companions trotted back to their lodgings lost in thought, and Falk resumed his watching position at the window, warning Selsena again to listen out for any emotional signal from Culhen or Ahren.
***
Ahren let out an almost hysterical laugh as the gigantic man straightened himself up again. ‘You were damned difficult to find’, said the relieved apprentice. ‘We’ve travelled a long way to help you.’
Bergen raised his eyebrows in amusement. ‘And how is a young lad, still yet but an apprentice, going to help me? I’ve taken on the mightiest ruler in the area because I refuse to betray either my principles or this city.’ He turned around and was going to leave the room, but Ahren wouldn’t give way.
‘I am the Thirteenth Paladin, and HE, WHO FORCES will re-awaken. That is a truth you cannot run away from. My master tried to and he failed as well’, he said forcefully.
Something in either Ahren’s tone or choice of words caused the captain to pause. He turned back and looked Ahren up and down. ‘Where is your armour? Where is your weapon of Deep Steel? Where is your companion animal?’ he snarled at the young man. ‘You are nothing but an imposter!’
Once again, he turned, and Ahren struggled for words, when a woman with a face like toughened leather and pitch-black hair flecked with grey, interjected. ‘He had a damned big wolf with him, Captain. Completely white and remarkably strong.’
Ahren recognised the speaker’s voice. That could only be Three-Fingered Jarla, the armourer of the unit. ‘Culhen is my companion, blessed by HER, WHO FEELS. I don’t have my armour or my weapon yet because we had to improvise at the Naming. I am a Paladin and I am speaking the truth.’ Then he added quietly: ‘I’ve seen them. You know who I mean.’ Ahren’s mind flashed back to the moment he had caught sight of the sleeping gods, and when Bergen spun round and looked him in the eye, the expression on the captain’s face changed. For an instant the rough lines on his face seemed less sad, his shoulders not quite so tensed. Then the moment was past, and Bergen straightened to his full height.
‘You will stay with us tonight as our guest. We will give you food to eat and something to drink and no-one will touch a hair of your head while I consider what you have said. Do you give me your word of honour that you will not flee?’
Ahren nodded, and Bergen seemed satisfied. Inside, the apprentice was jumping for joy at having got through to the Paladin, at least to some extent. And although the young Forest Guardian had promised not to flee, he was sure that his friends would soon find him and they could all persuade the mercenary together.
***
Culhen sneezed violently, then sneezed again. He was overcome by a sneezing attack and found it impossible to stop. Trogadon had to drag the helpless animal away until he finally calmed down. They had just been following the scent that Culhen’s nose was tracking so well and then from one moment to the next, Culhen was incapacitated.
‘Sneeze Weed’, groaned Trogadon. ‘Clever little swine. They were prepared for Culhen and covered their tracks by laying this ingenious trap. They’ve scattered it everywhere.’
Culhen whined and was about to rub his nose with his paw, but the dwarf caught it in an iron grip. ‘Don’t scratch or it will be sore. It will be alright, son.’
‘So can we go around the outside and take up their scent again later?’ asked Khara hopefully.
‘Unfortunately, not. Culhen’s nose is out of action for a while. The poor chap won’t be able to find his own backside for the next few hours’, said Trogadon grumpily. Then he shook his head. ‘I suggest we forget this plan and try the other one.’
Culhen barked his support, Khara nodded, and they set off towards the city centre, Culhen repeatedly being shaken to the core by violent sneezes.
‘I know it isn’t easy, but could you try to be a little quieter?’ whispered the dwarf nervously, holding hard onto his hammer. ‘It’s the middle of the night, and you’re positively inviting...’
More than a few figures stepped out of archways, alleyways and darkened corners. They had weapons in their hands and hungry, greedy looks on their faces.
‘...trouble’, said Trogadon, wearily finishing his sentence. He quickly calculated how many opponents there were, then reached a conclusion. ‘Right then’, he whispered. ‘You and Culhen are agile. Run to the others and tell them the news. I’ll follow you.’
Culhen sneezed out an objection, and Khara’s face spoke volumes as she drew Wind Blade.
The bandits came closer, and when they saw Khara, some of them let out a greedy, cheerful whoop of joy.
The dwarf rolled his eyes and spoke to the stubborn young woman. ‘Of course, you can cut some of them into pieces, but Culhen won’t be any help if he has to keep sneezing, and you certainly won’t be helping Ahren’, he implored. Then he loosened his shoulders and tested out his hammer, swinging it in wide arcs, which caused the cutthroats to slow down.
‘Now go!’ he snapped. Khara hesitated for a moment, then ran off down a side-alley, followed by the sneezing wolf.
The dwarf stared after them with a look of satisfaction and then began to sing quietly as his attackers approached. He raised his weapon and let the hammer swing down in time to the music, as the first of the bandits thrust his knife forward.
***
Falk’s eyes were beginning to close and he decided to go to bed. A last glance down on the dimly lit square revealed that there were no souls out apart from the nightly scavengers, looking for anything edible or valuable enough to be exchanged for foodstuffs. He almost thought he caught a glimpse of Culhen’s white silhouette stalking along the edge of the square, but then he wearily shook his head. His imagination had been playing too many tricks on him over the previous few days. He turned around. He was tired and thought the best thing to do would be to lie down. The following day was going to be long.
He sat down on his bead with a groan and was about to take off his boots when he felt a sudden jerk in his body that caused him to leap back on his feet.
‘Selsena!’ he shouted. ‘She’s telling me that Culhen is terribly agitated. She senses terrible concern!’
He ran to the window and looked out. The while spot hadn’t moved, and now Falk was certain that the wolf was biding his time, waiting for the moment he would not be observed, to race between the scavengers and reach them. Three paces and Falk was at the door, and Uldini was quick-witted enough to cast a spell on the door, preventing the Forest Guardian from storming out.
‘Think, numbskull! Do you really want to go running out there in your linen shirt an and boots?’ said Uldini urgently. ‘Get your armour and weapons. Jelninolan and I will deal with those dubious characters on the square for now. Our current position is no secret anyway, so it makes no difference if the Doppelganger senses our magic.’
The elf had already magically put on her ribbon armour and was holding her fighting staff in her hand. She poin
ted it down towards the square and immediately all the torches round about blazed to fiery life. Every inch of the market square was lit up by blazing flames, and all but the most obdurate scavengers left the open area of their own accord and sought refuge in the darkness of the surrounding alleyways.
Uldini gave a nod of appreciation. ‘Very effective.’
‘Sometimes the simple solutions are the best’, responded Jelninolan modestly.
In the meantime, Falk struggled into his armour, combining centuries of experience with reckless force, and willingly enduring bruises and abrasions in his desire to prepare as quickly as possible for their departure.
‘We’ll wait downstairs’, said Uldini drily, and the two Ancients quickly left the room while Falk secured his breastplate. Cursing, he snapped the lower cannons onto his forearms before hurrying after them, past a stammering servant who had already failed to halt the two experts in magic.
The old man came out of the main building, almost in full armour but for the last few touches, and then he was ready. Culhen hurtled towards them, whimpering with joy at having found them, and the Forest Guardian spotted Khara, who was waving them towards her from one of the side streets. Uldini and Jelninolan quickly flashed a few thunderbolts across the square which chased away any of the stragglers, before they all ran over to Khara who was waiting for them with Wind Blade drawn.
‘Selsena is going to be fuming that she missed all the drama’, grumbled Falk when he’d caught up with the others. ‘but if I take her out of the stables now, that will slow things down even more.’
Everyone sensed the warhorse’s anger at these words and Falk scowled. ‘Oh dear, this is going to be fun’, he predicted, and then turned to Khara. ‘Where are the others?’
‘Ahren has disappeared and Trogadon is fighting with a few scoundrels’, gasped Khara.
‘First the dwarf, and then we’ll talk about the others’, commanded Uldini and they set off.
The Brazen City Page 32
