City Of Night: Book Two of The Hand of Fire Read online

  Chapter 1 – A Winding Road

  The Hand of Fire left Dolam under the cover of darkness, and headed east towards the lights of the Gate Wall. As they walked through the dark fields, Macen glanced back beyond the trail of their lanterns, back to the torches lining Dolam’s walls, searching for any pursuit. He heard the drone of the celebrations of the Festival of Masks far in the distance, but the grassland the company walked through was quiet, bar from the light pad of their steps and the odd snort of their horses.

  Looking forward, Macen saw how the Gate Wall loomed out of the darkness. High up in the black sky, Macen could see the line of burning torches on the battlements of the great wall, a line of flickering lights that stretched far into the distance. The torchlight and the shadows made the forbidding wall seem even greater than it had done in the daylight.

  ‘We will have to wait here until morning,’ Logan gestured for the Hand of Fire to halt, ‘and take what rest we can find.’

  They had stopped on what seemed to be the edge of a village. Because of the many lanterns and torches, Macen could see armed Defenders moving in the shadows at the bottom of The Gate, at the far end of the settlement. Looking up high above, he could see Defenders lining the battlements. Macen watched as a group of Defenders emerged from one of the stone buildings built against the foot of the Gate Wall, and he caught the glint of their armour in the torchlight.

  ‘Why do we have to wait till morning?’ Baek asked.

  ‘The Defenders are forbidden to open The Gate between dusk and daybreak,’ Logan began to unload the packs off Storm’s back, and Macen went to help his Master.

  ‘The Gate never opens in darkness,’ Drual laid out a mat to sit on.

  ‘But our business do be urgent?’ Forgrun said.

  ‘In three centuries The Gate has never been breached,’ Hirandar patted Krun-Smiter’s nose, as Ragad and Baek unloaded the packs the chestnut horse carried. ‘And in all that time The Gate has never been opened by night – a wise rule, for the Kruns would surely use the darkness to attack. We have no choice but to wait till dawn, so I suggest everyone try and get some sleep,’ Hirandar pulled out some blankets and laid them down on the grass.

  ‘I will keep first watch,’ Logan said, as all the companions wrapped themselves in cloaks and blankets. Macen was so weary from the flight through the underground passages that he fell asleep within moments.

  ‘Wake up,’ Logan shook Macen’s shoulders.

  Macen opened his eyes to see the grey of dawn upon the world. In the dimness, he could see his other companions beginning to rouse themselves. Macen looked to the east and saw the towering walls of The Gate, and the numerous torches that lit up the great wall in the shadows of daybreak. The companions breakfasted on some bread, cheese and beef, before they packed their backpacks on the horses, and marched towards The Gate.

  Macen regarded the stone buildings and numerous huts around the road as it led up to The Gate. He knew these must be the barracks, storehouses and armouries of the army of Defenders stationed at The Gate. As the company got closer, Macen gazed up at the hundred foot high battlements, and he realised the amount of stone needed to build such a thing was immense. He looked upon the colossal doors of black oak with wonder.

  ‘These are the only thing,’ Hirandar gestured to the huge Gate doors, ‘that stand between the civilisation of Hathlore and the wildernesses of the Lost Realms.’

  ‘Them and an army of stout Defenders,’ Logan said. ‘The courage of men is what holds The Gate.’

  Macen saw how two enormous towers served as gateposts for the massive black gates. This titanic doorway had the heaviest locking mechanism that Macen had ever laid eyes upon. The huge crossbeam of wood that barred the great doors would have taken twenty men to lift it.

  ‘The main gate has not been opened in years,’ Logan told the companions, ‘You see that passage to the left?’

  ‘Aye,’ Forgrun said, as Baek nodded eagerly.

  ‘That passage leads through the Gate Wall,’ Logan said, ‘and is barred with a thick door at the far end. That is “Adventurer Tunnel”, and it is lined with pit traps and portcullises that can be dropped if the tunnel is compromised.’

  Jvarna pointed her spear at the passage, ‘That is the only way adventurers can get into the Lost Realms.’

  Macen saw there were a unit of fifty Defenders formed up in front of The Gate. And, craning his neck to look up, he saw there were hundreds more lining the battlements. By the murmur of their excited conversations, and the eager way Defenders hurried to follow orders, Macen could tell something unusual was happening.

  ‘Why are there so many soldiers at The Gate, Logan?’ Hirandar asked.

  ‘There can be only one reason,’ Logan said grimly.

  Hirandar shook her head in frustration.

  ‘An enemy approaches from the east?’ Macen asked his Master.

  Logan nodded, and gestured for Macen to take hold of Storm’s reins, whilst he gathered Krun-Smiter’s, as the company approached the entrance to Adventurer Tunnel.

  Macen saw how the unit of fifty Defenders were standing in a rectangular formation, waiting for an officer to give them orders. They all stood the same way, with halberds resting against their shoulders and yellow and blue shields planted in the ground.

  ‘We need passage through The Gate,’ Logan said, to another Defender who was striding away from The Gate. Macen noticed how this Defender’s uniform was decorated with a green trim.

  ‘No can do,’ the lieutenant said. ‘No one is to pass through The Gate until further notice. By the order of King Balthus himself.’

  ‘We are on a very important quest that cannot wait,’ Logan said.

  Seeing the adamant look in Logan’s eyes, the Defender lieutenant motioned for the Hand of Fire to follow him, ‘Come, see for yourselves.’

  The Defender led the company inside the left hand tower, and up to the battlements of the Gate Wall, round and round and up the circular stairs they climbed. Macen gaped in amazement at the spectacular view of daybreak over Dolam. He had never been this high up! Macen saw how the many Defenders stationed up at the battlements had bows at the ready, as they gazed out over the Lost Realms onto a sight that made Macen’s heart sink.

  As dawn’s first light was cast upon the world, Macen saw the thousands strong Krun army that was camped out of bowshot, to the east. There were tents arranged randomly for a mile to either side of The Gate, and shadowy figures moved amongst those crooked tents. Macen could see the flags of different Krun tribes flying around the massive camp. He counted the flags of fourteen different tribes. Macen knew this was a monumental gathering. An alliance between the warring factions of the Krun and Ugur world, united against their hated enemy, Man. Macen glowered at the countless foes, and his hand went to his sword hilt.

  ‘The Light blind them!’ Jvarna muttered, as Ragad stared at the great horde.

  Macen saw the eager way Forgrun ran his finger along his axe blade, and Baek looked out at the Krun with determination in his eyes. Logan glanced at Hirandar, and the Wizard shook her head as her shoulders slumped. Macen saw the fury in Logan’s glare, as the Sodan Master turned to survey the Krun encampments.

  ‘You see,’ the Defender lieutenant held his hand out towards the Krun horde, ‘even if I could let you through Adventurer Tunnel, you would not stand a chance. The Krun arrived last night, and – even as we speak – all the companies of Defenders are being recalled to The Gate. These Ugurs are wild enough to try anything, even try to take The Gate. If they do,’ the lieutenant shook his fist at the distant horde, ‘they’ll face the full Defender Army. We will stand defending The Gate with our swords, our
blood and our lives’, the guard said proudly, ‘as is our vow.’

  ‘Runners!’ A Defender bowman yelled.

  Everyone on top of the battlements hurried across the broad ramparts, to glance down through the eastern crenellations.

  By the dim light of dawn, Macen could make out four shadowy adventurers hurtling towards The Gate, through the long grass, being pursued by hundreds of screaming Kruns. Macen heard those feral howls, and he remembered the battles of Leafholme.

  ‘Drop the ropes!’ The Defender lieutenant bellowed, and Defenders hurled out half a dozen climbing ropes, each hanging from their own pulley and bracket, suspended away from the battlements.

  Macen saw that one of those running adventurers was limping. He did not envy those two men and two Rhungars, as they bounded towards – wait a minute! Macen recognised those runners!

  ‘It’s Argan, Lockfor, Braknar and Rani!’ Macen said to Baek and Forgrun.

  Macen heard the whistle of scores of arrows, as the Defender bowmen lining the battlements began shooting down at the pursuing Kruns.

  The running adventurers sprinted for the dangling ropes, as the Kruns pulled up and began to flee from the arrow onslaught.

  ‘They’re looped on!’ The lieutenant yelled as he looked down over the battlements. ‘Drop ballasts!’

  To Macen’s bewilderment, counter-balancing rocks were dropped off the western side of the battlements. There was a whirl of pulleys as rope raced across the ramparts, well over Macen’s head. Macen gawped back over the edge of the eastern battlements to see the four adventurers whizzing up towards him, their feet looped into little nooses in the ropes, and their hands clinging on for dear life. As Argan and his colleagues hurtled up the battlement, their speed slowed as they reached the ramparts, and Defenders grabbed hold of the adventurers and hauled them inbetween the crenellations.

  ‘Rhungari design,’ Forgrun said smugly, as he saw Macen gaping at the incredible pulley system.

  Lockfor was hesitant to let go of the rope, gripping it almost with rigor mortis, his face drawn and pale, but Defenders yanked him inside the battlements. Rani and Braknar looked unsteady on their feet, and even Argan seemed queasy.

  ‘That’s some ride, hey?’ The lieutenant grinned at the four shocked adventurers. ‘Well done men,’ the lieutenant called to the Defenders, ‘good job!’ Turning back to the four quivering adventurers, he said, ‘You need to go down and pay your Gate Tax.’

  Defenders started to lead Argan and his companions, still witless from the ride on the ropes, down to the Gate Tax office.

  ‘Macen!’ Argan suddenly came to his senses. ‘And Baek and Forgrun! Good to see you! And these must be your friends…’ Argan’s eyes shot wide open as he recognised Logan. ‘Grim Wanderer!’ The Sarcaedian murmured in veneration. ‘I knew there was something special about you, lad,’ Argan called back to Macen, as Defenders ushered him to the stairs. All the Defenders turned to look at Logan in awe.

  The Hand of Fire trudged down the steps inside the tower, and out past the barracks and well away from The Gate. Macen felt downhearted, and he could see how the spirit of the company had fallen, everyone was walking as if they carried a great burden. Logan waited until they were a hundred yards away from the last building, before he motioned for the companions to halt. The warriors slumped down to sit on their packs, and Macen could see the frustrated looks in their eyes.

  ‘Coincidence,’ Hirandar said darkly. ‘Or is this an immense Dark conspiracy? It would not be the first time the Kruns have acted in the service of Nalveous.’

  Forgrun still shuddered when that name was spoken, making the Shielding Sign with his hands.

  ‘A whole army?’ Jvarna realised what Hirandar was suggesting. ‘Just to stop us?’

  ‘It matters not at this moment,’ Logan said defiantly. ‘They are there, and our route is blocked. We will have to try the mountain path.’

  ‘The Mountains?’ Drual said incredulously.

  By the anxious look on her face, Jvarna did not like the sound of that either.

  ‘No one crosses the mountains!’ Drual threw his arms up in the air. ‘They’re more dangerous than the Lost Realms themselves! Are you crazy? I’ve heard worse things than Kruns abide there…’

  ‘It is the only way,’ Logan said strongly.

  ‘Some friends there are in the mountains,’ Hirandar assured Drual and Jvarna. ‘A warrior people who put fear into the dark hearts of evil creatures.’

  Forgrun’s chest puffed up with pride.

  ‘We will head back west,’ Hirandar pointed her staff back towards the city, ‘past Dolam, circle round the foot of the mountains and head north for two days. From there, we take the mountain road east to the fortress citadel of Khan Zhen. That road, and most of the western mountains, is kept safe by the Grey Rangers. At the Rhungari city of Khan Zhen we will find solace before we take the treacherous high passes. We will be going around the corner to cross the street, but we will not lose as much time as you might think.’

  From what he could remember of the map, Macen thought it sounded to be a good contingency plan, and Forgrun, at least, seemed to perk up at mention of a Rhungari city.

  ‘No one ever said this was going to be easy,’ Logan patted Drual on the shoulder, as he stood up and gestured for the rest of the company to get up.

  ‘Remember the quest,’ Hirandar said softly, ‘and its grave importance.’

  ‘We will honour the quest,’ Ragad boomed, as he pulled Drual up onto his feet.

  ‘What be we waitin’ fer then?’ Forgrun hefted his pack onto Krun-Smiter.

  ‘Follow me,’ Logan turned back to Dolam and led on.

  From Dolam, the Hand of Fire journeyed north for two days through the Grantlean countryside. They travelled along the Mountain Way, which would run on all the way through Sarcaedia and eventually on to Kendar – one of the three border cities of Sarcaedia, which stood right on the edge of Hathlore, holding back the Shadowlands. The company walked through countryside that was shadowed by the enormous Dredgen Mountains. It was wild country, and there were no villages, but the road was sometimes busy with passing traffic. During the evenings, Logan did not make them train like they had on the road to Dolam – much to Baek and Forgrun’s relief – for he said they would need their strength in the days to come. Nevertheless, Macen and his Master could not let those summer evenings pass without moving through the Sodan Forms.

  Early on the third day north, when the sky was overcast and grey, Macen was curious when he saw a paved stone road joined the Mountain Way, leading off to the east. Macen found the contrast in the roads extraordinary. The Mountain Way was a simple trail of hard-packed earth, whereas the Rhungari road was paved with thousands upon thousands of cut stone slabs, in an exact repeating pattern. Macen saw a metal signpost that declared, in a flowing script of gold characters, “Khan Zhen and ye Rhungari Empire 38 miles”. Hirandar motioned for the company to take this stone road.

  ‘There’s gold in that sign,’ Drual said incredulously, as the company walked on past. ‘How is it that no one has stolen it?’

  ‘Ha!’ Forgrun snorted. ‘None do be stupid enough ter steal from ye Rhungari!’

  ‘Not everyone’s as dishonest as you,’ Jvarna scowled at Drual.

  At every mile on the smooth stone road there was, without fail, another signpost with how many more miles it was to Khan Zhen. Every mile-sign Macen and his companions passed was a motivational spur, encouraging them to press on harder.

  At thirty miles to Khan Zhen the stone road began to rise, as it left the flat wooded plains, and the companions were now striding through the rocky countryside of the low mountains. For as far as Macen could see up the grey road, as it wound and stretched high into the Dredgen, there was no sight of anyone else but the company of The Hand of Fire. Macen looked up at the great mountains, saw how they were so tall their peaks pierced through the grey clouds that filled the moody sky. There were still clumps of woodland and plateaus of grassy pastures
in these low mountains, but Macen gazed ahead to where the road climbed and meandered through grey rock. Staring back west, Macen could still make out the sliver of the Mountain Way down below, trailing over the Grantlean plains, and leagues and leagues of countryside beyond, until the murky fog of a dreary day shrouded anything further.

  ‘Beaut’ful country!’ Forgrun patted Macen on the shoulder, as he paced on up the road.

  ‘Yes it is,’ Macen murmured to himself, as he followed after his companions.

  The Hard of Fire trekked on past a squat stone lodge, set back from the road. Macen thought this lodge, with its dainty windows and small chimneybreast, was more akin to a sculpted cave than a house. It was so in keeping with its surroundings that, from a distance at least, it was hard to distinguish it from any other rocky outcrop.

  ‘Is this someone’s house?’ Baek asked his Rhungar friend.

  ‘Nay!’ Forgrun said. ‘It be a Ranger station, a Mckayley hut. There be many Mckayleys in ye western mountains, specially along ye roadsides.’

  ‘For in the mountains,’ Hirandar turned back to the others as Logan scouted ahead, ‘the weather can turn in an instant, from a mild day to a severe thunderstorm.’

  ‘Aye!’ Forgrun paced on after Logan. ‘Only in Dredgen can yhee ’ave four seasons durin’ one day!’

  ‘Yes,’ Hirandar gestured up towards the gathering clouds, ‘the thunder and lightning can be so fierce here, it’s safer to be under cover when the tempest strikes. The Grey Rangers take it as a matter of pride that there is always tinder, coal, drinking water, some dried foods and clean blankets to be found by those in need.’

  ‘They do be basic shelters,’ Forgrun said as they hiked past the Mckayley, ‘maintained an’ used by ye Grey Rangers. Any traveller be welcome ter find refuge within.’

  ‘The Grey Rangers allow not just Rhungars,’ Hirandar said, ‘but also men to use their shelters.’

  ‘Aye!’ Forgrun said proudly.

  Macen could feel there was something brewing in the grey sky. Logan sensed it to, and urged the company to push on.