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

  ‘Drual!’ Jvarna called back to the rogue, who was lagging behind the horses.

  ‘I’m just covering the back trail!’ Drual snarled, but everyone could see he was tired and out of breath.

  ‘Well hurry up!’ Jvarna waited for the Darnean, with a cruel smirk on her face, as the others pushed on up the trail. ‘How is it an old woman has got more stamina than you?’

  ‘Look,’ Drual scowled, ‘your majesty, Drual Dhagren takes commands from no one–’

  ‘Except Logan Fornor, of course,’ Jvarna said flatly.

  ‘Well,’ Drual glared, ‘certainly no Shacainian!’

  ‘Okay then,’ Jvarna glowered at the rogue, ‘I guess the weakest of us should travel back here, behind the horses…’ The Shacainian jogged back up the road to report to Logan, leaving Drual glaring daggers into her back.

  An hour later, the companions all glanced up as a loud crack of thunder rumbled through the mountains. Within moments, it began to pour harder than Macen had ever seen or felt. And there was nowhere to shelter. Whichever way Macen looked, lashing grey rain blocked his vision. The companions pulled up their hoods and struggled on through the rainstorm. Despite his Aborle cloak, Macen could feel his drenched clothes were sticking to his skin and growing ever heavier as they soaked up more water. When the next Mckayley hut came into view no one needed to be told to run for it, and all the companions sprinted for the stone shelter.

  The company huddled into the one room hut, dragging Storm and Krun-Smiter inside through the low door.

  ‘Well this is cosy,’ Jvarna huffed as she was forced over the other side of the low room, away from the jumpy horses.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Drual sneered at the warrior woman, ‘you’d prefer it back outside?’

  ‘Well, perhaps,’ Jvarna said, ‘you should try and calm Storm and Krun-Smiter down, but they don’t suffer fools–’

  ‘Gladly!’ Drual snapped. ‘Even those horses are better conversation than you!’

  ‘I would say likewise!’ Jvarna said angrily. ‘Storm has better manners than you, and more of a backbone!’

  ‘You two would get on famously,’ Drual scoffed, ‘same intellect–’

  Storm whinnied loudly, and Macen wondered if the mare’s ears had been burning.

  ‘Silence!’ Logan glared at Drual and Jvarna, as he rubbed Krun-Smiter down. ‘If you two do not stop your bickering, you will both be going for a walk outside to cool down.’

  Jvarna and Drual continued to glower at each other.

  Ragad had to drop his head and hunch his shoulders, the ceiling was so low. The Croma began to rub down Storm, and Macen heard the great Northman murmuring a song to the horse. It was so quiet that Macen had to strain his ears to hear it. He did not know if the song had words or was just a tune, but Ragad’s humming was so peaceful that both horses calmed down. Macen found it a pleasant sound after listening to Jvarna and Drual squabbling.

  Baek discovered some candles in a wooden chest, and passed them to Hirandar. The Wizard lit up the dark room by sparking the candles with a thread of fire magic. Forgrun dragged some heavy woven mats out of a cupboard, so the companions did not have to sit on the stone floor. In the fireplace there were carefully stacked coal briquettes over a nest of dry tinder. Macen thought that fire would always be left ready to be lit, in case someone struggled into the Mckayley without the strength to build a fire. A tendril of flame spurted from Hirandar’s outstretched finger, and within moments a roaring fire was alive in the fireplace. Macen observed the flicker of disbelief in Ragad’s eyes at the magic, but it only lingered for an instant. Macen marvelled at the Croma; Ragad’s ability to conceal his emotions rivalled even the Sodan Master’s.

  The companions all hung up their sodden cloaks to dry, and bunched together around the fireplace, warming their hands as they sat on the woven mats. Baek began to sneeze uncontrollably. The only other sound was the crackle of the fire, and the rain rattling on the glass windowpanes.

  Macen thought he caught something moving past the outside of one of the hut’s windows. Logan spun round too. There was a silhouette against a dark sky. A loud knock at the door followed. Macen readied himself to leap into action. The door opened. Lightning tore the outside sky. And a Rhungar casually made his way inside.

  Everyone turned in surprise to watch the new arrival. Logan loosened his blade in its scabbard. The Master did not release his grip on Mantioc’s hilt, as the Rhungar hung up his grey cloak and said, ‘That be an unusually cold one fer this time o’ year.’

  As if the presence of eight outlanders were a normal thing, the grey-cloaked Rhungar put down his crossbow and axe, and sat down next to Ragad, to warm his hands at the fireplace. Macen saw this Rhungar had dark eyes, and jet black hair and beard. He did not wear the audacious clothes Macen had come to associate with Rhungars, but greys and shades of brown – to blend into the mountain terrain.

  ‘I be Strumval,’ the newcomer said, ‘o’ ye Rangers, an’ clan Galvin Tor.’

  Logan released his grip on his sword.

  ‘Thank you,’ Hirandar said to Strumval. ‘For the Grey Rangers provided us shelter and warmth today.’

  ‘All be welcome here,’ Strumval said cheerily.

  How refreshing it was to meet a genial Rhungar, Macen thought. Apart from Forgrun, this was the only friendly Rhungar that Macen had ever met.

  Hirandar introduced herself, which received the honourary bow and knuckling of the forehead. After which, Hirandar went on to present everyone else to the Grey Ranger.

  ‘O’ clan Ironstone,’ Strumval remarked of Forgrun. ‘I be a friend ter many Ironstone in ye Mountain Rangers, thy clan-Rhungars make good fighters.’

  ‘I be Forgrun Krojan, son o’ Dugan. I too be havin’ friends o’ Galvin Tor, at my native Citadel o’ Dundean, far ter south.’

  ‘Yhee father be Lord o’ Stronghold?’ Strumval asked.

  Forgrun nodded.

  ‘Yhee do be welcome ter ye lands o’ Khan Zhen,’ Strumval said to them all. ‘It be uncommon fer travellers ter enter these lands, but ye Rangers will see safe passage fer all good folk.’

  ‘You are alone?’ Logan asked, and Macen could tell this was unusual.

  ‘Me partner do left two day ago,’ Strumval said, ‘ter escort another party up ter citadel. In truth, he be jumpin’ at any excuse ter head back as his wife be with child, an’ be due any day. I be waitin’ down ’ere fer relief force, so I too can return ter citadel.’ Strumval glanced over the diverse members of the Hand of Fire. ‘It be a strange an’ unusual thing, ter meet such a mixed group be bound for me people’s empire. Strange enough ter meet one party, but yhee be ye second in as many days.’

  Macen could see everyone’s ears perked up at this, and each of his companions leaned forward. Logan was the only one that did not move, but Macen knew the Master would be listening more carefully than anyone.

  ‘They be a larger group than yheeselves,’ Strumval went on. ‘Though nay nearly as friendly as yhee people. Nay! I do be feelin’ nay comfor’ble with them – nay at all. Strange that, non-Rhungars be rarely treadin’ ye winding mountain road, an’ then two groups do come along at once? In fact, that nay be ye only odd thing,’ Strumval rubbed his bearded chin. ‘I be due ter be relieved last night, or this morning at latest, but no Ranger do come? I do be never known fer Rangers ter be late...’

  ‘What do you remember of this other group,’ Hirandar asked intently.

  ‘Let me do think,’ Strumval mused. ‘There be a lord, an’ at least ten soldiers o’ his household – they be havin’ many ’orses. That man do nay be in charge though, ye leader be a nasty man with purple skullcap, black pointy beard, he be havin’ cold piercing eyes.’ The tough Rhungar shivered. ‘He may be wizard, but there be nothin’ good abou’ him.’

  ‘The lord was wearing house colours?’ Hirandar asked, although she had already formed suspicions.

  ‘Nay official house colours, I nay think,’ Strumval said. ‘But he be a big strong man with silv
er hair, but nay greyed through age, fer he be only in his middle years.’

  Macen saw Logan shift uncomfortably.

  ‘The soldiers of the household?’ Hirandar said.

  ‘Oh aye,’ Strumval said. ‘Now I do remember. Aye. They all be havin’ badges on their jerkins. Their jackets be quartered yellow an’ sky blue, their house badges do be havin’ black doors on ’em.’

  ‘Defenders of The Gate?’ Jvarna said.

  They had to be, Macen knew.

  ‘Led by their king,’ Hirandar said softly.

  ‘The description fits,’ Logan said reluctantly. ‘But why would Balthus go to the Rhungars?’

  ‘I fear it may be for the same reason as us,’ Hirandar said darkly.

  This statement brought some uneasy looks amongst the companions. Macen looked to Baek, and his Aborle friend shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘They must have left Dolam the same time as we did,’ Hirandar sighed. ‘By horseback, they could have reached here before us – if they came direct. And they only would have done that if they had known The Gate would be besieged. Even the King of Grantle could not have known Kruns would be blocking The Gate... without some inside information,’ Hirandar muttered.

  Baek gasped at what the Wizard was implying.

  ‘That is, of course,’ Hirandar spread her palms wide, ‘if this group is whom it suggests.’ Hirandar paused to weigh her words before she went on. ‘Isornel was once a Wizard of Jinamon, but he disappeared over ten years ago, whilst Logan and I were still travelling the length of Hathlore. Back then, Isornel was expelled from the Order for his increasingly… dangerous attitude.’

  ‘And we now know where Isornel has been in the years since,’ Logan said, ‘learning Dark magic from Calagar, Lord of Storms.’

  Macen trembled at that damning proclamation, and he could see the worry in all the listening companions’ eyes – except Ragad’s. The Croma just looked intense. Macen could see the thought of a Greatseer of the Naliven did not bother the strong man.

  ‘Isornel came to the Fortress of Magic just before The Incursions,’ Hirandar said, ‘twenty years ago. Long was my search during those troubled times,’ Hirandar glanced at Logan, ‘and rarely was I at the Fortress as I travelled Hathlore. Whilst I was away, Isornel rose to become the highest Keyholder, and was set to join the Celestial Circle. But the Order had learnt much from the treachery of Calagar. The Circle kept a close watch on Isornel, and it was discovered he was indeed pursuing darker interests… Rather than face trial Isornel fled, and he has been on the run ever since. Whether Balthus is his conspirator, or unwilling pawn, is yet to be seen.’

  ‘I will not pass judgement until more is known,’ Logan said solemnly. ‘But sometimes the facts speak for themselves. However much you do not want something to be true, your will alone cannot make it so.’ Logan shook his head. ‘I will cease deceiving myself, and wishing things were different. If Balthus and his party are Dark Servants, we will deal with them like any other Shadowsworn.’

  Macen heard how his Master’s voice was merciless. He knew, and so did all the rest of the company, that any Dark Servants unfortunate enough to meet Logan would not live long.

  The rains of the storm cleared as swiftly as they had arrived. Soon the companions had left Strumval, and were trekking high towards the peaks. By the way Forgrun paced forth at the head of the company – for once quietly keeping to himself – Macen could tell his Rhungari friend was eager to get to Khan Zhen. When the Hand of Fire stopped for camp that night, Forgrun spoke of the hospitality they would receive at the Rhungari fortress, of the great feasts, the merriment to be found at the alehouses, and the colourful traditions of the Clans.

  ‘I too am excited to see the Rhungari city,’ Baek touched Forgrun’s shoulder, and the Rhungar became even more animated, as he raved about the sights he had promised to show the Aborle, many weeks ago, as they had walked towards Gulren.

  As the company sat by the campfire, joking and laughing, Hirandar’s thoughts were more troubled than they had been in a long time. Although the Wizard would not burden the happy mood of the others, she knew the quest was becoming more dangerous with every step. Enemies were all around, and appearing unexpectedly. Hirandar hoped things would seem brighter once they reached the Rhungari city.

  But the Wizard found heart, as she watched her friends around the campfire – their aliveness and their courage. Drual was cracking another joke to which everyone was laughing, including Logan, and even Jvarna – Hirandar allowed herself a wry smile at that. And Hirandar was pleased to see Logan laughing along too. The Sodan Master had been in a dark mood since Dolam, but with good reason. Hirandar knew Logan always had faith in people, believed people could be something more than they were. Hirandar hoped Balthus did not turn out to disappoint his old friend.

  The following day, the company had made steady progress up into the high mountains when, as the dusk closed in, the next signpost told them the citadel was only two miles away. The warriors followed the path on with enthusiasm, past giant rocks and over rises in the undulating land.

  ‘We be arrivin’ in time ter catch dinner feast,’ Forgrun said eagerly, as the Hand of Fire strode on.

  As the Rhungar told his companions of the great meal that awaited them, Logan cut in, ‘Quiet! Everyone!’

  The company’s mood became serious and alert. In the distance, Macen could hear the faint noise of a mass gathering. Logan motioned for the company to make a defensive formation. Ragad and Baek took up the rearguard, Forgrun the left flank, Jvarna the right and Macen and Drual moved forward to match pace with Logan at the front. Hirandar remained in the centre. As the road went on, and the dusk darkened to night, Macen heard the drums become louder and the feral shouting recognisable. Macen shook his head in anger. How could the company suffer yet more misfortune? Macen knew those wild screams did not come from the throat of Man or Rhungar. They were the howls of his enemy.

  Chapter 2 – Dark Forces Conspire

  Macen could just make out the hunched shapes of Logan and Baek on the rocky ridge above, their outlines silhouetted against the night sky. He heard the clamour of a mass of unruly creatures, as it swayed in on the soft night wind. From time to time a tremendous boom reverberated through the dark mountains, and Macen wondered what in Hathlore could be making such a noise.

  The other companions waited at the foot of the ridge for their friends to return. Jvarna stared up at the two shadowy figures lying on the hill rise. Ragad appeared unbothered, but Macen suspected the Croma was heedful of everything. Forgrun examined the edge of his war axe, running a finger along its polished edge, lost in his thoughts. Hirandar sat cross-legged with her eyes shut, deep in concentration. The Wizard’s palms were together, almost in prayer, with the middle and ring fingers folded over. Her hands shook, as they moved slowly up and down. Drual’s anxious gaze darted around into the surrounding darkness. Macen stood watching the ground to the rear of the ridge, just in case any enemy came that way.

  Logan returned to the main party, leaving Baek at watch on the top of the rise. Logan gestured for the others to come in close, and the companions gathered round.

  ‘The stronghold lays under siege.’ Logan whispered. ‘A force of thousands of Kruns and Ugurs is encamped on the plateau outside the gates. With catapults positioned on the south-eastern ridge, the Krun launch boulders at the walls of the citadel. Whilst the Rhungars return fire with their black powder war machines, cutting swathes through the midst of the horde. Even as we now speak, the Ugurs are hammering a great battering ram against the fortress gates. But the conflict is in a stalemate. Those Rhungari gates will hold for weeks, and the Krun are too numerous for the Rhungari warriors to charge out and battle them on the plateau. It is impossible for us to enter through the front door. Are there any secret entrances?’ Logan looked to Forgrun.

  ‘Aye there must be,’ Forgrun murmured, ‘but nay that I do know. I never do be here before, an’ know nothing o’ Khan Zhen’s mysteries. Years
ago, when ye Rhungars be greater in number, there would be many entrances ter ye stronghold.’ Forgrun sighed. ‘But there be no longer enough soldiers ter maintain all ye passages an’ gates of old, so corridors havin’ been sealed and filled in fer defence.’

  ‘Can we go around and continue the quest?’ Jvarna asked.

  By the way Forgrun glared, Macen could see the Rhungar did not like that suggestion, but Logan shook his head anyway.

  ‘The path ahead will be infested with Ugurs,’ Logan whispered. ‘Progress would be slow and dangerous, all but impossible to slip through.’

  ‘Didn’t think you’d be one to shy away from danger,’ Jvarna said mockingly.

  Logan gave her a flat stare.

  ‘So what are you saying?’ Jvarna shrugged. ‘We wait for weeks – maybe months – for the siege to resolve itself, and maybe not in Rhungar favour?’

  Forgrun snorted at that.

  ‘Dark forces conspire to delay our quest,’ Hirandar woke from her trance, and wearily rose to her feet, ‘when every hour plunges us into greater danger. We need both Rhungari support and counsel to aid the quest. We need to get inside the stronghold.’

  ‘The darkness is not always the enemy,’ Logan said softly, ‘it can be a strong ally on the battlefield.’

  ‘The Kruns can be deceived in the confusion of battle,’ Hirandar nodded to Logan.

  ‘Hold on a minute,’ Drual spoke for the first time. ‘You want the eight of us to mount an offensive against an Ugur army, thousands strong? Are you out of your minds? I knew this quest would be pure folly when I joined up with you people! I don’t even know why I’m here! Dangerous stupidity; not worth risking, even for the amount of gold you were talking about–’

  ‘Be silent!’ Logan said harshly.

  ‘Do you not care about anything but yourself?’ Jvarna glared at Drual. ‘Some of us are trying to do the right thing,’ she scowled, ‘but if gold is all you care about, the only thing you value in your life, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be well compensated later.’