The Grim Wanderer (8 page)

The demon moved with supernatural speed. It seemed to attack in three places at once. Taem was frantic as he tried to beat away the demon’s sword. He blocked and parried, and moved aside – but always the demon attacked again and again. It was a shadow. It moved faster than he could think. Taem could not get any time to do anything but desperate defence. Taem turned the demon’s blade over, but it was already swinging in from the other side. Taem just managed to deflect its blow. The demon lashed out for his head, and Taem parried the slash so it missed his cheek by an inch. In the next moment, the demon thrust a kick into Taem’s stomach. Taem went flying back and dropped to the floor. Pain shot all over his chest. He could not breathe. He clutched his stomach, tried to struggle to his feet. He felt as if he was drowning. His sword was on the ground. But the pain! He could not move. Taem slumped back to the floor. The demon towered over him.

‘Pathetic,’ the demon hissed, ‘the legacy of the Sodan is dead.’

Logan’s blade flew through the air, and the demon leapt away.

‘Get back, Nightdemon!’ Logan lunged forward, but the demon blocked his thrust.

‘Grim Wanderer,’ the demon spat out with venom, as it recognised Logan’s sword.

Logan leapt at the demon, as it charged towards him. Their swords clashed together in an almighty collision. Taem watched in awe as the Sodan Master battled the Nightdemon, moving so fast that he could barely follow what was happening. Logan’s sword flashed through the dark. The demon lashed out faster than a striking serpent. Their swords smashed together over and over again. Logan defended the demon’s ferocious attacks, and managed to counter back. The Sodan swung for the demon’s head, chopped at its legs, and aimed to cleave through its body. But each time the demon’s sword deflected his every move. The Nightdemon went into a fury, hacking and slashing, throwing a dozen strikes, forcing Logan back. The Sodan Master just managed to stop the demon short on every blow, though Taem could see Logan was hard pressed. The demon had the upper hand.

A ball of white light smashed into the demon. There was a massive bang. The Nightdemon was launched thirty foot through the air. It tumbled end over end to stop in a heap in the ground.

Hirandar helped Taem get on his feet. Taem looked the Wizard in her eyes, and saw she looked exhausted. More tired than Taem had ever seen anyone. Hirandar’s eyes seemed to have shrunk into her head, and she was bent double. She seemed to have aged ten years in ten minutes.

‘What took you so long,’ Logan muttered to Hirandar, as he walked over to help support the old Wizard.

Taem saw the Nargs slinking back into the shadows.

‘Why do they back off?’ Taem looked round, and saw all the surviving merchant’s guards and townspeople were as surprised as he was.

‘The Baku leads them,’ Logan gestured at the still black mound that was the Nightdemon.

‘Baku?’ Taem whispered.

‘That’s what the Nightdemons call themselves,’ Hirandar pointed her staff at the fallen demon, and crept towards it. Logan went with the Wizard, with his sword at the ready.

The demon leapt to its feet. Taem reared back in shock. How was it still alive? The creature sprinted off for the nearest shadows. Hirandar took aim with her staff, and loosed a massive ball of white light at the fleeing demon. The Nightdemon threw itself aside. The white light missed. The demon rolled, came up running, and was off melding into the shadows. The ball of white light flew into a house across the street, and blew it to pieces.

‘We’ll never catch it by night,’ Logan watched the Nargs running off into the darkness.

‘How did Hirandar’s magic blast,’ Taem looked at the destroyed house, ‘only manage

to knock down the demon? How is it not dead?’

‘They are not easy to kill,’ Logan watched all the Narg corpses. ‘You are lucky to have survived at all, Taem. Few men have faced a Baku and lived to tell the tale.’

‘What’s it doing so far from the Shadowlands, Logan?’ Hirandar leaned her weary body on her staff.

‘I think we know why it’s come,’ Logan looked down at Taem’s sword.

‘The demon’s eyes,’ Taem whispered, ‘they’re terrifying. I was so afraid.’ Taem stared at the floor.

‘Taem,’ Logan put a hand on Taem’s shoulder, ‘you did well to even fight it. I have known many brave men who have tried, and failed. I’ve seen hardened troops run in fear from one, and entire bands of soldiers ripped to pieces. Trust me, you did well.’

‘Can we kill it?’ Taem looked at Logan with frightened eyes.

‘The Nightdemons move faster than anything I’ve ever seen,’ Logan stared out into the night, ‘and have more strength than a giant Narg. But one of our swords,’ Logan held up his Sodan blade, ‘will take its head clean off.’

‘My Lady Wizard,’ an older man rushed up to Hirandar, ‘my son. He has a sword in his gut, but still breathes. Can you come? Please?’

Taem saw the desperate look in the villager’s eyes.

‘I will try,’ Hirandar nodded, and followed after the man, disappearing into the next street.

‘Warrior,’ one of the merchant guards came up to Logan, ‘what do we do now?’

‘Gather the people into the safest building,’ Logan said, ‘light watch fires, barricade the doors, and pray for dawn.’

‘The old mayor’s house is fortified,’ the guard said, ‘we might be able to hold them off there.’

‘I can feel they’re still close,’ Logan stared out into the darkness.

‘As can I,’ Taem murmured. He strained his eyes, and made out shadows shifting in the dark of night, just beyond the town boundary. ‘I can see them!’

‘They’re coming to finish us off,’ Logan said.

A horn blast rang out through the dark, making Taem jump out of his skin. Roars echoed through the night, from all around.

‘They’ve been reinforced!’ Logan shouted. ‘Come, we must get the horses!’

Logan and Taem ran back down the street, towards the Boot and Fiddle. They ran for the stables, and found only one of their horses still there, Storm, the others had bolted. Taem hurried to get a bridle on the terrified horse, as he tried his best to soothe the grey mare.

‘No time for a saddle,’ Logan peered out into the darkness. ‘Hurry, we must find Hirandar.’

A thunderclap boomed through the night.

‘The Wizard is under attack!’ Logan ran towards the noise. Taem ran after him, dragging the whinnying horse behind.

They turned a street corner, and saw three Nargs breaking into a grand house with barred windows and a solid door. There was a flash of green light from inside the house, and one of the Nargs squealed as it was consumed in green fire. Logan charged in and speared one of the Nargs. He turned and cleaved in the other’s head.

‘Let them in!’ Hirandar shouted, from inside the house.

‘Hurry!’ Logan looked from side to side, seeing hulking shadows sprinting towards them. The frantic people inside the house removed the makeshift barricade on the door.

‘There’s people being chased!’ A villager shouted, from an upstairs window.

Taem looked round to see a woman running towards the fortified house, pulling two children along, with a Narg just behind them. There was no way they were going to outrun it. Taem leapt on Storm’s back. He met Logan’s eyes for a moment, as he spun the horse, and a knowing look passed between them.

‘Ride!’ Logan shouted.

Taem slammed his heels into Storm’s flanks, and she galloped forward. He charged out towards the fleeing villagers, saw the Narg gaining on them, and the dozens more Nargs following. The children’s legs were giving way. The Narg was two metres behind. It reached out and pounced. Taem flew past the villagers and swung out his sword. The Starblade cleaved the leaping Narg’s head. Storm was charging so fast, that Taem shot past that first Narg, and was moments away from being amongst the dozens of other Nargs. Taem yanked the reins hard to the right. Storm swerved to the side, and it took all his leg strength to hold on. Nargs leapt for the horse, but she skittered past them, down an alley.

Storm raced away, and Taem glanced behind to see Nargs pursuing them. There was no way back. He could hear thunder behind him, and he knew Hirandar was defending the fortified house. He turned at the end of the alley, back towards the house. Taem drove Storm hard, looping round the town to come at the house from the other side. But when the house came into view, Taem’s heart sank. There were scores of Nargs surrounding the house, screaming and roaring for blood. Taem pulled Storm back. There were still Nargs in pursuit. Other Nargs turned from the house, and started running towards him. There was nothing he could do. Taem jolted Storm into a gallop once more, and they flew into the darkness of the countryside.

Taem rode hard for three days. He went north, making for the great city of Dolam, the way Hirandar had always said to go. Poor Storm was pushed to the limit of exhaustion, but Taem knew the Nargs could still be after him. He was forever watching over his shoulder. Waiting, expecting to see Nargs on the horizon, but he never felt the taint of evil, as he had at Stheeman’s Hill. He was torn by abandoning Logan and Hirandar. Racked with guilt that he had left them to their fate, but what else could he do? There were a hundred Nargs pursuing him, for all he knew.

The nights were the worst. Taem tried not to sleep, but Storm needed the rest. Travelling on horseback he must have far out-ran the Nargs, but that was small comfort in the dark of the night, when he sat shivering in the gloom, with no blanket and no fire to reveal his position. All Taem could think about in those long nights, was the red glow of Nargs eyes out in the darkness. They were out there, somewhere. Taem was well-schooled in woodcraft and hunting, but he was forever running, so he had to scavenge what little food and water he could find as he fled. And he had to be wary of Nargs in front as well as behind. It was extraordinary for them to be so far south. Had they invaded the whole of Aritas? Or had they just come down from the Dredgen on a raid? Watching for enemies in every direction, was grinding him down to the ground.

During the day, Taem passed the odd traveller on the Mountain Way, a farmer or a merchant train, heading south. He tried to warn them of the Nargs to the south, but they always looked at him like he was crazy, and hurried on past. The more insistent he was about the monsters, the quicker other travellers wanted to get away. They would only believe when they saw it with their own eyes, when it would be too late.

Taem was slumped over in the saddle, asleep, when Storm stumbled, jolting him back awake. Taem opened his eyes, and was confronted by the enormous Borleon Forest. The massive hardwood forest stretched from the base of the Dredgen Mountains to as far as the eye could see westwards. It roared up over the land like the crest of a green wave. People said Borleon Forest was haunted, but Taem knew it could be no worse than what was behind him. The quickest way to the north was through the forest – to go around would increase the journey time three fold. Taem crossed the threshold into the shadows of the trees, and he felt there was something watching him. The trees towered over his head, ancient and domineering. An eerie breeze whistled through them, and Taem shivered. There could well be Nargs hiding in the depths of the old forest.

Night had fallen in the vast forest, and Taem could understand why people were wary of being there. Without a fire, it was so dark he could barely see his hand in front of his face. The trees around him seemed to loom up with menace, as if angry he was trespassing in their forest. Storm was resting her head on Taem’s knee, as he sat with his back to a tree. She was so tired she was sleeping lying down. Taem rubbed the poor beast’s nose, and it soothed her a little. She was even more frightened than he was.

Creatures of the night hours called to one another, causing Taem to jump and shiver each time some ominous cry echoed through the darkness. Those calls were different to the menacing roar of the Nargs, but it was hard to be sure of anything any more. As another harsh cry rang out through the forest, Taem was thankful he had Estellarum. His trembling hand closed around the hilt as he stared out into the darkness. He tried to stay awake, but his eyes became so heavy.

When Taem next opened his eyes, dawn was seeping through the trees. With hollow legs and an empty stomach, Taem struggled to his feet. There was birdsong amongst the trees this morning, and he hoped they would alert an enemy’s approach. Taem wolfed down a handful of nuts and berries he had collected yesterday, but he needed a proper meal. He patted Storm’s head, took up her reins and led her on through the forest. He would not ride her today unless he was in danger, she needed the rest.

They stopped late afternoon by a stream to drink. Taem managed to scoop a trout from the water. He was so hungry, he risked a fire by the daylight, to cook and eat the fish. The forest seemed quite ordinary during the daytime. Woodland animals bustled about their business, scurrying through the undergrowth as they cast him wary, yet curious, glances. Birds fluttered between the great trees, singing a pleasant chatter of competing tunes, and insects buzzed between the scarce flowers, barely aware of anything beyond their own existence.

Someone shouted in the forest. The rabbits stared that way, turned and scampered off. Taem sat dead still and listened. There was no birdsong now, and he could make out feint sounds of metal crashing upon metal. He left Storm by the stream, and crept closer to the noises. He knew there was no mistaking what the sounds were. Taem glimpsed movement in a clearing up ahead.

Taem drew his sword and stalked closer. He placed each foot to avoid snapping noisy twigs. His body tingled. Suddenly he became more aware of everything: the sound of his quickened breathing, the touch of his boot to soil, and the movement of every leaf in the wind. He shot from tree to tree now, using them as cover, skulking his way towards the clearing. The ringing of clashing blades had finished.
What did that mean?
Taem felt his blood rush. Fear surged through him. The urge to run flared up from the back of his mind. But something held him back: “Honour above your own life”, Logan’s words resounded through Taem’s head, and he remembered The Code.

Taem went down into a crouch, and crept up to a tree trunk through a patch of dense undergrowth. He winced every time he made the slightest sound, pausing for a moment, listening for signals he had been detected. He crawled to the base of a wide oak. Taem’s thundering heartbeat threatened to burst from his chest, as he edged his head round the knotted roots to see.

In the clearing, Taem saw his enemy, and all his fear was lost. A pack of Kruns had attacked some men and women. Two men and two women lay dead on the ground, as did six Krun. Taem saw a third man still had life in him, and he lay wounded and gasping for breath not two yards from Taem’s concealed position. A deep crimson gash ran down the man’s leg, and his side was pierced by one of the Kruns’ crude arrows. Five more Kruns still stood, in a huddle beyond the injured man.

Taem recognised the Krun by their horrifically sallow skin – it was a rotting, gangrenous yellow, akin to raw meat that had decayed beyond festering purple. Their wizened hides were leathery and flayed, akin to sun-scorched carcasses. The Krun were no more than five feet tall, they were skinny and ungainly, and lurched with a characteristic stoop. Their foul stench filled Taem’s nostrils and it took all of his discipline not to make a sound as he retched. The Kruns’ hooded yellow eyes, beady and devious, darted around with crafty malice. Those eyes were sunk in a face that looked as if it had been mauled by a rabid beast. A sinister hooked nose hung over a wide gaping mouth full of crooked, filthy teeth. The Kruns were armed with an assortment of vicious weapons, which were all afflicted by a rusty pestilence. Taem gagged again as he took in the clothes they wore. Their disgusting tunics and armour were stained dark by dirt, and infested with crawling lice.

In many ways Taem could see the Krun were frightening creatures – but they did not frighten him. A cold fury overcame Taem. He remembered when he had seen the Krun once before, from a distance, as they butchered his family and childhood friends. He remembered how they took such delight from the mindless slaughter of innocence.

One of the enemy walked up to the injured man – a particularly nasty Krun with a horrendous cut splitting its chin, and a badly stitched scar that ran through its missing eye.

‘We is gonna cut you good,’ The Krun hissed at the injured man, as it raised its jagged spear.

Taem leapt forward from his hiding place in the undergrowth. Taem drew Estellarum as he exploded forward. He parried the Krun spear as it was thrust at the downed man. Taem reversed the direction of his blade’s swing, decapitating the Krun with the return strike. The severed head rolled away as the body collapsed into a twitching heap.

‘Kill im!’ Shrieked one of the other Kruns.

The remaining four Krun rushed towards him. But Taem was ready. He sidestepped the first, bringing his sword into its stomach. The Sodan blade sliced clean through. Taem was already moving on. The second Krun came at him from his right, swinging its wicked scimitar, screaming for his blood. Taem swayed like a willow in the breeze, dodging the Krun’s wild swipes. Taem blocked with ease and countered swiftly. The enemy fell to the ground clutching its ruined throat. The third Krun tried to bring an axe down on Taem’s head. Taem jumped back to evade the attack. In one fluid motion, he brought his sword up above his right shoulder and down through the top of the Krun’s head. Taem charged towards the final foe, catching the Krun unaware, impaling it through the chest on the point of his blade.

Taem glared into the Krun’s dying eyes. He saw their terror. The Sodan withdrew his sword, and the last enemy crumpled to the forest floor. The fight had happened so fast, but Taem had reacted with instinct. Taem’s gaze swept the clearing, still in a high state of alert. Moments before he had been oblivious to all but his enemies, and now his senses were bombarded once more with the sights and sounds of the forest. But he caught no movement in his periphery, and heard nothing but the whisper of the wind. The enemy were all dead. It was over. Taem turned over Estellarum’s blue blade and saw the glisten of oily blood marring its keen surface.

‘I thank the Light for shining on my blade,’ Taem deftly flicked the blood from Estellarum, and sheathed the sword back in its scabbard on his back. He looked down at his hands, and saw they were shaking. He had almost died again, one wrong move and he would be lying cleaved and gutted on the floor. That thought filled his muscles with ice.

The injured man moaned in pain, and Taem hurried over to him. Taem knelt down beside him, examining his wounds. The man was taller than Taem, but much slimmer. The injured man had wild tawny hair, and was clothed in browns and greens – the colours of the forest. Around his shoulders was draped a woodland cloak that seemed to meld into whatever background it was laid against. Taem realised there was something different about this forest man, his face and his eyes were thinner, and his features were smaller.

‘You are skilled with the sword… friend,’ the forest man spluttered. ‘You saved my life, for sure… thank you.’

‘We are not out of danger yet,’ Taem looked warily around the forest. ‘There is bound to be more of them. They would not come so far from the Lost Realms in such small numbers.’ Taem peeled back part of the injured man’s shirt to see the arrowhead embedded in his skin. ‘Thank the Light,’ Taem murmured to himself, as he saw the arrow had gone in at a shallow angle. ‘The arrow has not penetrated deep,’ he told the forest man, ‘but I cannot remove it. If I do it will bleed heavily, and we have to move now.’

‘These were just the advance scouts of a horde heading westwards,’ The injured man’s voice was strained, but his bronze eyes were filled with purpose. ‘The enemy head towards my homeland. They are five hundred, at least. We were part of the border patrol… Warders who watch the boundary of the Forest Realm. You
must
go into the centre of Borleon… Warn my people, the Aborle. Go now, and quickly.’

‘I cannot leave you,’ Taem tore strips of cloth from the Aborle’s cloak to bandage the injured man’s leg, and tie around his waist to stabilise the arrow. The forest man flinched as Taem snapped off the shaft of the arrow and pulled tight the bandages around his waist.

The injured man slumped with a look of weary resignation, ‘My name is Baek Malaran,’ he struggled to say. ‘You’ll never make it carrying me.’

‘I am Taem Dratana. I have a horse not far from here, she can carry you.’

In the distance a deep pounding of a tribal drum resonated through the forest. The men shot worried glances to each other. They both knew the Kruns were close.

‘I’ll be back,’ Taem ran off and found Storm, and ran with her back to Baek.

‘I can’t get up,’ Baek gasped.

Taem pulled Baek onto his feet, and lifted him onto Storm’s back. The forest man winced in pain as the arrow moved.

‘Which way?’ Taem stared in the direction of the drums.

‘West,’ Baek raised a weary hand, as he lay slumped on the horse’s neck.

‘Can you go on ahead,’ Taem passed the reins to Baek, ‘take my horse?’

‘I don’t have the strength to hold on,’ Baek grimaced.

‘I will hold you then,’ Taem put a hand on Baek’s back, as he led Storm eastwards.

‘It’s ten miles to my village,’ Baek gasped with pain. ‘They will catch us for sure, by

the sound of that drum they’re almost on us.’

‘Save your breath,’ Taem said. ‘You will need the strength later.’

Taem led Storm on for an hour, and twilight descended on the forest. The drums still pursued them, and Taem was ever glancing behind, expecting Krun to burst from the forest. Baek lay on Storm’s back, with his eyes closed and his face contorted in pain. Taem saw how every jolt the horse made was agony for the injured man. Taem examined the wound and frowned, the bandages were soaked with blood. Taem tore more strips from Baek’s cloak, and wrapped them round the injury, replacing the blood-stained makeshift bandages.

‘My people will welcome you with open arms…’ Baek said laboriously. His eyes were clamped shut as he clung onto the horse’s back. ‘You should see the great trees in the heart of the forest, Taem… they are
truly
a wonder to behold. We Aborle live in their boughs… At night, our lanterns rival the stars in the sky… It is a mystical place.’