Felix moved with the speed and grace of a practiced hand, slipping away from the beast’s mindless charges and slicing through its already broken hide with every turn. The other man proved his mettle as well, stabbing and hacking at every vulnerable part of the hound; a trained hunter who showed no fear in the face of a ferocious enemy.
In moments, the pair had the monster broken, exploiting its existing wounds and inflicting enough fresh ones to drain what remained of its strength. Yet the hound still did not relent. Huffing and wheezing, it lumbered toward Felix in a desperate final attack. Feinting and parrying in the manner of all expert duellists, Felix opened a gash across its soft throat, spilling black blood onto the mossy rocks and sending it down, its front legs crumpling beneath it.
Before he could shift his footing, the other man leaped. He jumped atop the hound, raised his blade to the sky then plunged it through the creature’s skull, cracking it open and rendering the death-blow. The lifeless carcass quickly collapsed into a heap underneath him.
His bearded face and jerkin spattered with dark blood, the man looked up in triumph. He smiled with a mouth full of crooked teeth as the foul vapours from the beast’s innards bathed him in death-steam.
‘Ernst Erhard,’ he said, by way of introduction. ‘Sergeant-at-arms for Count Otto von Halkern.’
‘But you may direct your queries to me,’ the other man added, stepping up from behind now that the danger was past. ‘I am Draeder von Halkern. Son of the aforementioned count.’
Felix responded with the polite half-bow of a gentleman, introducing himself.
‘Felix Jaeger, and I am…’
The thought occurred to him in mid-sentence that he had not had cause to speak his own name in a formal introduction since his recent disgrace and expulsion, and he stopped short of using either his father’s name or that of his former university.
‘At your service, my lord,’ he finally concluded.
3.
They only rested for a moment, catching their breath beside the steaming, rancid carcass. There was no celebration. No cheers or songs of triumph. Only a hard-earned repose.
The pause allowed Felix the chance to take a longer look at the uncommon attire of his new-found companion. It was clear to him now that Draeder was not only the son of a nobleman, but was indeed a wizard of some sort.
In contrast to his apparent youth however, the silk and velvet robes he wore looked quite old, with frayed edges and dyes faded from the passing of years. Totems and talismans of a macabre character adorned his mantle and his sashes; white skull insignia decorated his pointed sleeves and his boot-length waist-coast. The gold trim on his breechcloth and vest were stitched with human bones woven into the worn fabric. Arcane runes ran in columns down the length of his cloak, but his cowl was absent of decoration, a hood of purest black that made the man’s pallid complexion seem all the more stark.
What appeared to be an hourglass hung from his belt, the timepiece dangling as another man might wear a sword. The only thing he carried that looked like a weapon was the reaper’s scythe, a wicked, curved blade affixed atop a crooked wooden staff.
Their respite lasted only a few short minutes, just long enough for Erhard to recoup his strength before Draeder ordered that he return to his duties. Despite his obvious exhaustion, the grizzled sergeant obeyed with little more than a nod.
The first order of business was to see after the remainder of the von Halkern men. In this effort, Felix joined Erhard, if for no other reason than Draeder appeared oddly uninterested in doing so himself. Instead, the young man in the fine, old robes remained beside the beast whose demise he had done so little to assist, while Felix and Erhard went about tending to the fallen.
The sergeant was a stout man, not particularly tall but very heavily built; his massive arms and broad chest evident beneath his hauberk and mail. The hair was thinning atop his pate and his tanned face had the round fullness common to men at middle age. His nose was wide and crooked. It looked to have been broken more than once. The most recent injury had healed a permanent kink across the bridge. The dappled beard he wore covered most of the lower half of his face, even his mouth was hidden beneath his thick moustache.
His gear was well-worn and his hands were callused, the signs of a life spent hard at work. A half-dozen blades and two longswords were affixed to his belt, and even with his horse nearby he carried a pack at all times that would strain the spines of most other men. Though all appearances suggested him to be far more experienced and capable than Draeder, he nonetheless went about his work following the younger man’s orders with never a complaint, even as his master appeared to sit idly by.
Some of the men they were able to rouse without much effort, merely knocked unconscious by the force of the hound’s blows but otherwise unharmed. Of the dozen who had entered the fray, they found four in reasonably good condition.
Three more of the men were still alive, but wounded and requiring aid. The best that could be offered was river water to wash out their lacerations and bandages from Erhard’s pack to bind them. Felix could already tell that one of the men was hurt too badly to survive without more expert care. In its absence, he’d be dead within a day.
Of the rest, the other five men lay dead, their bloody, savaged bodies bearing witness to the brutality with which their lives had been taken: throats torn out, flesh ripped from their bones, disembowelled or bled nearly dry from too many wounds to count.
At Erhard’s direction, the able-bodied four and Felix joined him in the task of corralling the horses and then interring their lost comrades in shallow, muddy graves along the edge of the tree-line. As they finished that grim work, Felix accompanied the bearded old sergeant back to the river’s edge, where Draeder remained beside his peculiar prize.
Erhard made a round of introductions, once the group was re-gathered.
‘Young Felix, these are some of the most trusted servants of House von Halkern,’ Erhard said, presenting them as they stood, in a kind of informal muster. ‘These first two dangerous looking men are Reinhard and Volker.’
The two acknowledged him with polite head nods. The hunters were obviously veterans, not as experienced as Erhard, but men who bore the scars of battle across their skin and their similarly well-worn gear. The first was thick-armed and compact, the second taller but no less hearty.
Erhard next came to the most fearsome looking of them all, a dark figure with a craggy face and a patch over one eye. He stared out from under a brooding mass of long, black hair and a forked beard. His brigandine and surcoat were stained with both blood and soot, and his gauntlets and pauldrons were studded with dozens of iron spikes.
The man beside him however, standing almost in the other’s shadow, looked to be even younger than Felix. His hair was dark, but clipped much shorter than the others, and like Felix his beard had not yet grown in fully. His eyes were brighter and wider than the man next to him, although the two had very similar, narrow faces and resembled one another in a certain respect.
‘These two are my twin attack dogs,’ Erhard joked. ‘The brothers, Strang and Torsten. Thick as thieves and utterly inseparable, try as we might. Strang is one of my most experienced men, and Torsten is the youngest of the company, but we expect great things from him given that he’s learning from a sibling with such distinguished service.’
The smallest of the hunters, Torsten’s frame was thinner than the rest and his armour bore none of the dents and stains that soiled that of his fellows. While his elder brother said nothing, his greeting was the most enthusiastic of them all.
‘Good to have another hand at the ready,’ he said, although the others grumbled a little at his eagerness.
A newly-built fire centered their makeshift camp, some distance from the festering hound carcass, in the relative safety of a larger stone outcropping along the riverside. The beast seemed like something akin to a trophy to the yo
ung wizard, and he at first appeared reluctant to leave its side. Indeed, he seemed enrapt by the fallen monster, admiring every warped corner of its flesh as a cultured patron might study a painting or sculpture.
Finally, having concluded his examination, Draeder von Halkern left the dead creature and joined his men around the fire, seating himself atop the highest rock in sight, as if assuming the mantle of a conquering hero. The sun had crept lower on the horizon by then, bringing a dour dusk to the party of men that was now halved in strength. As the brothers assumed sentry duty, Erhard retrieved a flagon from the pack he kept on his horse, and he proposed a solemn toast to those of their number who now lay beneath the ground.
When it was done, Draeder announced what they all suspected. They would make their camp there for the night, in the relative safety of the clearing among the rocky outcropping along the river.
‘You’re quite good with a blade,’ Draeder said, as Felix sat down. ‘Had you not joined our cause, we all might have fallen victim to this vile creature.’
Erhard passed the flagon to Felix, who took a long drink of the wine inside it, despite its spoiled, vinegary taste.
‘I should be thanking you,’ Felix answered. ‘That beast nearly made a meal of me, before you came upon it.’
Draeder smiled.
‘Indeed, that abomination has been rampaging throughout these lands for some time now, often straying into my father’s estates nearby. Many folk living on my father’s grounds found themselves facing the same difficulty as you. The rest were not so fortunate in the end, however,’ he said.
‘We’ve been chasing this hound for days, tracking it deep into the haunted woods,’ Erhard added.
The old sergeant lit an ivory pipe and began puffing a sweet-smelling smoke.
‘So it seems this was indeed something of a common cause for us both,’ Felix replied.
‘Well then, on behalf of House von Halkern, we are happy to have been of assistance to you,’ Draeder said. ‘That does beg the question however, of how you came to be all the way out here at all. These dark woods are haunted by many dangers. Monstrous beasts are not even the worst of them. It’s no place for wandering alone, even for one so skilled with a sword as you appear to be.’
Felix grimaced, and he took a second, longer draught from the flagon.
‘Let’s simply say I have no one but myself to blame, and leave it at that,’ he replied.
Draeder laughed.
‘Forgive me, good sir,’ Felix continued. ‘But I must tell you, though I am not native to these lands, I recognize the name of your noble house. Yet something troubles me.’
‘And what is that?’
Felix paused for a moment, unsure if his next words would bring offence. Given the circumstances, he finally decided the chances were unlikely.
‘The fierce reputation of Count von Halkern is known even in my home in the north of the Empire,’ he said. ‘Yet I must ask, I know of only two sons born to the man. One is said to have been killed in battle, and of the other they say his combat prowess is the equal of his sire.’
Draeder smiled, flashing his teeth in a knowing, almost clever grin. He did not seem offended at all by Felix’s insinuation.
‘Forgiveness is not required, but you’ve not actually asked a question,’ he said.
Felix nodded, grimaced a little as he took another drink, then put his manners aside entirely.
‘You do not appear to be either a ghost… or a warrior,’ he said.
Draeder laughed.
‘Still not quite a question, but diplomatic nonetheless,’ he said. ‘You clearly come from a refined background.’
‘My father is a merchant, fairly well off indeed,’ Felix replied. ‘Though we are somewhat… estranged at the moment.’
‘Ah, then perhaps we have even more in common than either of us has yet realized,’ Draeder replied. ‘But you have been patient with me, and I have not yet answered your query. I am indeed the son of Count Otto von Halkern, and you are correct as to the identity of his first two sons.’
‘His first two?’
‘I am the much less well known third son of House von Halkern,’ Draeder said. ‘The one my father has never been proud to speak of, and so the one you – and most people – have never heard of.’
‘And why is that?’
Draeder laughed.
‘You’ve seen me facing a beast, would you ever mistake me for the son of a renowned warrior?’
‘He disowned you because you couldn’t fight?’ Felix asked, making no attempt to disguise his amazement.
‘Oh, I never said I have been disowned. At least not formally,’ Draeder answered, with a sly smirk.
Felix noticed Erhard grumbling a little at the suggestion. Felix downed more of the lousy wine.
‘No, the situation that brings me to this place is quite a bit more complicated than that,’ Draeder continued. ‘But it is true, my father and I are not on the best of terms, and our falling out did indeed begin with my failure to take to the ways of swords and armour.
‘I was always more given to the study of books than to blades, you see. That alone made me the least of my brothers, in my father’s eyes, as you can well imagine. Eventually I left his estates, looking for a way to regain my lost favour through other avenues. That led me to Altdorf, and to the Colleges of Magic.’
‘So you are a wizard, then?’ Felix asked. ‘I had thought as much, given your attire. But I must admit, I have rarely been acquainted with users of magic. And your spell against the hound was somewhat…’
Erhard muttered something under his breath, which Felix couldn’t quite make out. Draeder did seem to hear it though, and his face tensed. Felix thought he sensed a slightly defensive turn in his voice as he glanced over at his sergeant with a disapproving eye.
‘There is quite a reasonable explanation for my apparent lapse against that beast,’ he finally replied. ‘Controlling the winds of magic is a complex and difficult endeavour, and one not easily understood by common folk. The hound was clearly more powerful than I expected. Had I known the extent of the dark-influence upon it, of course I would have chosen a different approach.’
Draeder seemed to be very nearly boasting, despite what had seemed to Felix an obvious failure. Again, Felix noticed Erhard bristle in the dim, though the sergeant said nothing more.
‘Should I face such a beast again,’ Draeder continued. ‘I promise you the correct spell would dispatch it with little effort. My studies with the Amethyst Order have taught me many ways of dealing with such abominations.’
Felix’s face went blank. Without thinking, he recoiled, edging away from his new companions. He looked again at Draeder’s attire, as if for the first time. The skulls. The bones woven through aged fabric. The sinister black runes.
‘The Amethyst Order?’ he said. ‘You’re a student of… death magic?’
Draeder nodded. He took a reassuring tone, clearly seeking to put Felix’s trepidation to rest.
‘Do not be frightened by that, my friend,’ he said. ‘Whatever you may have heard, the Amethyst Order is not a cabal of necromancers. The study of death is the study of change. Of endings and beginnings. Consider for a moment, how can one truly understand life, if one does not also comprehend the mysteries of death?’
The explanation seemed to satisfy Felix. He reflected on the notion with a furrowed brow – and yet more wine.
‘I had never viewed it such a fashion, but there does seem to be some sense in that, I grant you,’ he finally said. ‘Did your father not see the wisdom in that philosophy?’
Draeder laughed.
‘He might, if I ever actually converse with him over it. But as yet I have not done so. You see, I have only just recently returned from the Order after several years spent cloistered away, deep in study. Shortly after my return to my father’s castle we heard
tell of this hound terrorizing the local villages.’
‘The count dispatched us to see after the threat,’ Erhard said. ‘He ordered Draeder to lead the expedition. Though I had not laid eyes on him in several years, I knew him at first sight.’
‘A challenge, no doubt. For that is the kind of man my father has always been. And so I joined my old comrades on the hunt, to perhaps prove to him that my training has been worth something after all,’ Draeder said. ‘In my father’s estimation it is no source of pride to have a son studying something as cowardly as magic. But, now I can return to him having led the expedition that has slain a threat to his people. My sincere hope is that such a feat might erase some of the disappointment he feels at my course in life.’
Felix’s face changed. His eyes brightened, and he lifted his head.
‘Disappointment? You feel like you’re an embarrassment to him?’ he said. ‘I know exactly how that feels, as it happens.’
Draeder von Halkern put down his flagon.
‘Do you now?’ he said, a curious and rather serious glint in his eye, despite the effects of the drink.
‘As well as any man in the Empire, I’d bet,’ Felix answered, rising to his feet. The wine was affecting him now, and he began to speak as though giving a half-drunken speech in a tavern. ‘I know how it feels to do precisely what he says, just what he tells you that you have to do to satisfy honour and tradition. I know how it feels to try to do everything you can to live up to his exalted name – and to be kicked in the face for the effort.’
Draeder extended Felix a hand.
‘You must tell me of this,’ he said.
That was all the incentive Felix required.
‘Three years ago he sent me off to study at university. I remember how his face beamed when I left, so proud of having a son enrolled at such an esteemed institution. We had our disagreements since then, of course. My passion for poetry was not to his liking, for example. But we remained on good terms, until the events of this spring.’
Into the Valley of Death Page 2
