The Grim Wanderer (49 page)

‘You’re too in love with yourself to ever love anyone else!’ Jvarna snarled.

‘Wooaaa!’ Drual beamed one of his dazzling white smiles. ‘Relax,
princess
, there’s plenty of me to go around.’

Logan glowered at the rogue. And Taem felt angered enough to punch Drual.

‘You must be
deranged!’
Jvarna scoffed. ‘Did you slip and bump your head? The last time your cheating girlfriend was chucking your cowardly arse out of her house? You must’ve died with fright, when you heard her husband coming home early from court!’

Most of the companions sniggered. They had all heard that rumour in Dolam.

‘I prefer brave men to
cowards
,’ Jvarna looked down her nose at the rogue. ‘You don’t measure up, in
any
department!’ Jvarna snatched a throwing dagger from its sheath and launched it at Drual.

Drual hurled his legs apart as the dagger thudded into the tree trunk he was sitting on, landing inches from the rogue’s groin. Drual let out a relieved sigh as he glanced down, wide-eyed, at the dagger juddering just below his manhood.

All the other companions erupted with laughter at the look of terror on the rogue’s face.

‘Looks like Drual do be losin’ his
balls
, again!’ Forgrun jeered, to more guffawing from the others.

‘Ho ho ho,’ a deep voice rumbled, a laughter like no other, so low it almost shook the ground. The companions all swivelled, to see Ragad trying to stifle his mirth behind one of his massive fists, which in turn caused all the friends to laugh some more.

‘Well thrown,’ Logan gestured for Drual to give Jvarna back her knife, ‘and well said!’

Drual scowled as he returned Jvarna’s dagger, whilst everyone else laughed some more. Only Hirandar was quiet and thoughtful, as her sapphire eyes twinkled by the firelight. She was an old woman, who had seen much of the world, but it could still surprise even her.

The companions were still joking and laughing when they got in their blankets and laid down by the fireside. No one got more than broken sleep that night though, just a few snatched hours between shifts. Taem knew he would have to get used to such little rest in the weeks to come.

The companions had already been striding up the mountain trail for an hour, when the sun emerged from behind the snow-capped peaks to the east. Taem could see, further up the trail, the rocky path would soon lead them higher up into snow.

Logan’s keen gaze scoured the ground for tracks as they walked.

‘Hoof-prints are nigh on impossible to conceal,’ Taem pointed down at the horse tracks, ‘where the trail leaves rock for softer ground. But they made no effort to hide their passing?’

‘Yes,’ Logan gestured for the other companions to walk on, ‘either they thought there was no risk of being followed, or they did not care if they were. How many were they, Taem?’

Taem surveyed the numerous markings trodden into the bare soil, and said, ‘A score of horses, all heavily laden by the depth of the prints.’

‘Correct,’ Logan gazed up the mountain trail, searching for any sign of them in the distance.

‘My friends,’ Logan called, as he and Taem walked on after the company, ‘we must make haste. They have two days head start at the least.’

The trail climbed ever higher, and by midday the company trod ground blanketed with snow. By the afternoon the snow was above their ankles, sometimes over their knees, and they had to wade through. Taem found the snow heavy going, but he braced himself against the chill air, draped Rhungari blankets over his trembling body, and battled on. Taem saw Baek staring glumly down at the floor, as the Aborle trudged through the snow.

‘Keep going,’ Taem murmured, as he touched Baek on the shoulder.

Baek nodded with a weak smile, and seemed to wade on with more energy than before.

Because nothing grew up in the peaks, each companion lugged with them a few bits of firewood collected in the lower mountains.

‘As if I don’t have enough to carry already,’ Drual muttered under his breath, but none of the other companions heard.

‘In winter,’ Hirandar strode on through the snow, ‘these high paths are sealed, simply impassable. And even though it’s summer, and the sun is shining,’ the Wizard pointed her staff up to the sun, ‘this chill in the air will become bitterly cold by nightfall.’

‘Be thankful the day is still,’ Logan’s breath frosted. ‘When the winds come, it will be twice as cold.’

Taem had never been this high, and he marvelled at the mountain peaks, how they stretched away for an eternity, until pure white snow met brilliant blue sky.

‘Ye heights be covered in white all year round,’ Forgrun puffed out great clouds of mist, in between deep breaths.

Taem could see the Rhungar was struggling. It must have been hard ploughing through that snow with short legs, carrying firewood, when you weighed well over twenty stone. He wondered if Forgrun was regretting his brashness that morning, when he had strapped six logs to his pack – twice as many as anyone else. But Taem also knew the Rhungar would never admit he was having difficulty.

‘Follow my footsteps,’ Taem whispered so one else would hear, as he strode through the snow in front of the Rhungar.

‘Thank yhee, me friend,’ Forgrun patted Taem on the shoulder, as he followed behind the Man.

Taem thought he saw shadows during that icy day. He caught a whisper of a black form crouching on the mountainside, or down a gully, but on second glance there was always nothing.

Logan looked at his companions, saw how they trudged through the snow with heavy feet and heavy hearts, weighed down by the cold, their hefty backpacks, and firewood strapped on top. He needed to give them something to keep their spirits up, something to hold their minds off the cold.

‘Where were you before Dolam?’ Logan asked Drual.

‘On a job in Calledron,’ Drual looked up from where he was plodding through the snow.

‘Calledron?’ Hirandar raised a questioning eyebrow, her breath frosting in the chill air.

‘Yes,’ Drual nodded. ‘Unfortunate incident.’

‘So,’ Hirandar’s keen gaze pierced the rogue, ‘before Dolam you were in Calledron to steal something?’

‘Unfortunately it fell through,’ Drual said casually, not noticing the firmness of the Wizard’s tone. ‘
Oh no
, not that!’ Drual spread his arms wide, ‘believe me when I tell you, it takes a magician to break into the vaults of Calledron. I couldn’t have stolen your Key-Piece – even if I’d wanted to!’ Drual shook his head and smiled. ‘And I wouldn’t go for the Mage-King either. I respect him, he’s a good man.’

Taem stared at Drual in disbelief. He had thought the rogue respected no one. Taem looked at the other companions and saw they were as astonished as he. The amazement was even visible on Logan’s controlled face, and Taem saw the flash of delight in Jvarna’s eyes.

‘There’s an art to being a thief, you know,’ Drual smirked, all the arrogance returned. ‘To steal something and flee the authorities is hard enough, but to steal something and leave everyone bewildered at who did it – and how it was done – that shows
real
class.’

Logan gave Drual a sharp look, in between scanning the mountains ahead.

Drual caught Logan’s disapproving eye, and said to the Sodan, ‘I only steal from people who can afford it, and try to go for those that deserve it.’

‘Oh you’re a real saint,’ Jvarna shivered, as she pulled her blanket tighter. ‘Did you ever think of giving some of your ill-gotten gains to those that actually need it?’

‘I don’t know?’ Drual snarled, ‘There’s an almhouse and an orphanage in Dolam, which have been run by the donations of an anonymous benefactor for many years! Why don’t you ask them?’ Drual glared at Jvarna.

Jvarna looked away, hiding her red cheeks. Logan looked at the rogue in disbelief. Taem was amazed, and he really hoped that was the truth.

‘Are you outlawed in Shacain and Marnion?’ Hirandar waded through the snow, leaning on her staff.

Drual nodded, ‘And Darnea, the country of my birth, though I hold no allegiance to that unjust land.’ Drual shook his head. ‘I hate the way the poor are treated there.’

‘So,’ Jvarna said mockingly, ‘you’re not a thief? You’re an agent of wealth redistribution? Is that how you’d describe yourself?’

‘I never said I was perfect,’ Drual smiled, with a dangerous glint in his eye. ‘But the Empress and the Lords of Darnea live their lives in luxury and plenty, whilst they strangle the people with taxes and cruelty.’ Drual kicked the snow angrily. ‘I chose the life of an outlaw over one who has nothing. The peasants there barely even own their own lives, scarcely more than slaves. I will die before I live like that again.’

Taem had disliked Drual before now. But now he wondered if there was a good man underneath the rogue’s aloof exterior.

‘No one should have to live under the yoke of tyranny,’ Logan said defiantly, and he nodded at Drual. Taem thought Drual seemed to grow two inches taller with the Sodan Master’s approval.

‘Well the rich of Marac are no better,’ Jvarna grimaced, as she stomped through the snow and glared up at the mountain. ‘They deserve to have every coin tossed down from their cliff-top palaces, down into the desperate arms of the city’s poor.’

Jvarna told her companions how she had spent her childhood on the cruel streets of Marac. How Marac’s Lower City was a dangerous place where criminals ruled, and the poor people suffered, whilst the nobles glanced down from their cliff-top palaces and did nothing.

‘By eight years old,’ Jvarna kept her head down, driving forward through the snow, so no one could see the tears glistening in her eyes, ‘both my parents had died. By eleven, I knew how to use the blades I carry,’ Jvarna patted to where her blades were hidden in her clothes, ‘and by fifteen I escaped Marac and Shacain, stowing away on a trade ship. I have never settled since.’

Taem saw the sheer disbelief on Baek’s face. It made Taem realise how lucky he was, to have found people who wanted to take care of him after his parents were murdered – and he had his siblings. Jvarna had no one. Her loneliness was laid bare for all the companions to see, and it filled Taem with sadness.

After a minute of trudging on through silence, Hirandar touched Jvarna on the shoulder, ‘The hardships endured can make us appreciate the simplest joy of life, strengthening our character and our hearts.’

Hirandar stopped to wipe a tear from Jvarna’s cheek. The fierce warrior’s grimace turned into a smile, as she nodded to the old Wizard.

The Hand of Fire battled on through the snow, carrying backpacks, firewood and weapons. The original five members each told the newer companions a bit about themselves, before Ragad spoke of the wintry wilderness of his Croma homeland, the Everwinter lands. He told of the great lakes and pine forests that were, for more than half the year, covered in snow and ice. His voice boomed through the still mountain air, as he powered through the snow at the front of the company, clearing a path for the others to follow.

‘I became a slave in the Southlands,’ Ragad’s breath frosted as he spoke, ‘when my longship was destroyed in a storm. All my crew and comrades perished, but I was plucked from the Balyon Sea by pirates, who found me clinging to a piece of driftwood. The pirates sold me to the Southlanders.’

Taem knew Southlanders were a strange and cruel people, who lived in their jungle kingdoms beyond the Wasadi desert.

Logan shook his head, ‘Slavery has been abolished in the northern realms of Hathlore, but is still rife in the Southlands.’

Ragad dropped his head in shame, ‘I was forced to fight and kill other slaves in the arenas, and I became a champion gladiator. It was
They die or you do
,’ Ragad said solemnly. ‘That was the code under which we fought. I am shamed to say I killed many innocent men, but I had no choice. I tried to kill quickly, a small mercy, but the faces of those fallen slaves will haunt me to my dying day.’ Ragad’s cold eyes looked back over the company, towards the setting sun. ‘Jvarna rescued me from the hell of those Southland dungeons. Although she never asked for it, I follow her because I owe her my life.’ Jvarna smiled, as Ragad ploughed on through the snow, ‘We soon became friends, and have travelled together since.’

Taem could see why Jvarna and Ragad had kept each other company for so long. They were two lonely kindred spirits, each seeing themselves in the other.

‘You have not returned to your beautiful homeland?’ Baek asked the Croma.

Ragad shook his head, but ventured nothing.

Taem glimpsed shadowy silhouettes watching the Hand of Fire struggling through the wintry wilderness, skulking amongst the shadows of the mountain. But he looked again, and they were gone.

‘The pass forks into two up ahead,’ Logan held up a fist, the gesture for everyone to be quiet and watchful.

The company came up to the divide, and Logan checked the snow, examining the numerous tracks and furrows. The fork in the pass was in the shadow of the peak, so the tracks had not been covered by fresh snow here.

‘They took the left fork in the path,’ Drual’s breath misted in the cold.

‘You don’t need to be a master tracker to tell us that,’ Jvarna gestured down at the hoofprints in the snow.

‘They have taken their mounts with them,’ Logan shook his head. ‘Their horses will not live to see the other side of the mountains.’

‘The right fork is a shorter route,’ Hirandar held her staff towards where the right path wound on round the mountain, ‘but more treacherous. If we take it, we can make up ground on Isornel.’

‘The right path is dangerous,’ Logan said warily, ‘but we are already so far behind. We must brave the risk.’ Logan looked to each of his companions, and they each nodded back to the Sodan.

‘Onwards then,’ Logan said purposefully. The Sodan led them on until night fell, forcing the Hand of Fire to stop and set up camp.

‘We are being followed,’ Logan murmured, as the company sat round the fire, enveloped in thick Rhungari blankets, whilst the frozen winds howled round the mountain and through the camp.

Taem shivered, as he leaned closer to their massive campfire. He was thankful of the Rhungari blankets. They were so thick that, as he sat on the blankets, the cold of the snow did not seep through. Nevertheless, most of the warriors were still shuddering, but if it were not for the Rhungar blankets Taem doubted any of them would survive the night. Ragad, however, seemed to be relishing the freezing temperatures, as he gulped in the icy air, letting the cold cleanse him. Whilst the others huddled under their blankets, the Northman had just one draped casually over his shoulders. Taem thought the Croma was unbelievably tough, or half-mad.

‘Even now they watch,’ Logan said warily. ‘They might be very close. Our fire draws them like moths to the lantern, but without it they would surely attack. For fresh meat, they might even brave the fire.’

‘The Nemeth?’ Drual whispered, terrified, shaking with the cold.

Logan nodded grimly.

‘So there were dark shapes in the mountains today,’ Taem shuddered, as he rubbed his arms with his hands.

‘I saw them too,’ Ragad added.

‘As did I,’ Baek said through chattering teeth, as he hugged his torso with his arms.

‘This is too cold,’ Hirandar said wearily. The Wizard rummaged through her pack and produced a smooth pebble, scored with a rune of power. The Wizard also pulled out a bottle of ruby-red draught. The warriors watched as Hirandar dripped some of the gleaming liquid onto the marked stone and tossed it into the fire.