The Warlock of Hymal, Book I: A Boy from the Mountains Read online

  The downward climb on the other side, though, turned out to be more difficult than Nikko had hoped. For one thing, that side of the mountain was steeper than it was in the west, and for another, the lowering darkness made their progress harder and harder. At times, they descended only by slipping and sliding. Nikko could no longer even guess at how far they had drifted from the actual path.

  Eventually, they were able to leave the snow behind, and it seemed to Nikko—though it was so dark that he could not be sure—that they were on a kind of plateau. The only light was a pale, uncanny glow, like a halo, around the bizarre summits in the west, while in the east only a few stars flickered against the jet-black sky.

  “Can we make a fire?” asked the shivering youth when they finally stopped, hoping for some warmth, and for the opportunity to dry his clothes and shoes, sodden from their tramp through the snow, before the cold mountain night settled over them.

  Thorodos let out a hoarse laugh. “Did you happen to bring some wood?” he teased the lad.

  Nikko fell silent, ashamed at his naïveté. After a moment, the old man rummaged inside his jacket, took out the strange flask again and handed it to Nikko.

  “Here, take a sip of that,” he said, his voice gentler, almost as if he wanted to make up for his mean-spirited laughter a moment earlier.

  Nikko, naturally, believed it was the same energy-giving drink he had tried earlier, and he greedily swallowed a large mouthful. A serious mistake, as he instantly discovered. The liquid burned like fire in his mouth. A dreadful pain spread through his entire body and took his breath away. With tears in his eyes, coughing, panicking, panting for air, Nikko thought he was going to die. The only question was whether he would burn to death before he choked to death!

  A brief moment later, but a moment that felt like an eternity, the pain vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He could breathe again and, to his surprise, found an agreeable warmth filling his body, a warmth that spread all the way to his fingertips, and then even to his frozen toes.

  “A sip, I said,” the old man muttered, shaking his head. “Give it here, I need a little myself.”

  “What was that stuff?” Nikko asked, handing the flask back to Thorodos.

  “Try to get some sleep. The effect will only last for a few hours,” said the old man, ignoring—as expected—Nikko's question, then he took a small mouthful from the bottle.

  For Nikko, it was a restless night. It was not only that the scree and gravel dug into his back relentlessly, even through the two blankets that he had spread out on the stony earth. He was also unbearably hot. He had probably drunk far too much of the firebrew in Thorodos's flask! Despite the cold mountain air and occasional icy wind, Nikko sweated terribly. He hardly slept at all, and wondered more than once if he would not have been better off staying home. At least there, he always had a soft bed waiting for him at the end of the day.

  When, bit by bit, the first glow of dawn appeared over the rugged summits in the east, the effects of the brew were long gone. He had spent half the night sweating profusely, and now he shivered in the clammy mountain air. He sat on the chilly earth, his blankets now wrapped around him, hoping that the sun would soon appear above the crags and bring some light and warmth to the valley. Yet again, he longed for the comfort of his warm bed back on the farm, which now seemed far less hateful than it had the day before. This whole journey now seemed almost foolish to him, and he had to wonder what he was doing there in the inhospitable mountains of perilous Hymal. Perhaps his place truly was back in his native village.

  A little later, with the sun a dim, red disc hovering at the end of the valley and granting Nikko a hazy view to the east, Thorodos awoke from a deep sleep.

  “Here, try again. Just a sip this time,” he said to Nikko, handing him the firebrew. The old man had apparently noticed the chattering of the lad's teeth. Nikko felt better again instantly, as the liquid fire spread through his chilled body. And with the warmth, his lost confidence also returned, and the suffering of the night past was quickly forgotten. His doubt gave way to a reinvigorated enthusiasm for their great adventure.

  Despite his revival, Nikko was concerned at how damp his clothes and shoes still were. And it was only a matter of time until the effects of Thorodos's warming concoction wore off. All he could do was hope that their path would soon lead them into warmer parts.

  “We'll have to wait until it's lighter,” the old man interrupted his thoughts. “I can't make out the path. Eat something, lad!”

  Nikko gulped down a little dry bread and enjoyed one of his apples. He wanted to save the sausage for later; it would keep for many more days, after all. He wondered then how long they would be traveling like this, and hoped that he had brought enough provisions with him. Then he remembered the small packet that his mother had given him. He unearthed it quickly from inside his pack. A few pieces of good, cured meat were inside, and a small bag full of copper coins. His supply situation was suddenly looking a lot better. Only the future would show if the money was of any use.

  Some time later, the sun had turned golden and hung above a rocky ridge to the south-east, and Nikko had a considerably better view of the valley. The trail down from the pass was only a stone's throw away from where they had spent the night, beneath the small plateau. But from the spoor they had left on the mountainside the previous day, they had missed the trail by a considerable margin. He could make out the switchbacks of the real path some distance to the north-west, cut into a rocky cliff.

  The view to the east showed a long valley slowly widening away from them. But the valley was still filled with the white fog of morning, from which rugged walls of rock loomed on both sides. To the north stood row upon row of craggy snow-covered summits. To the south, however, the mountains seemed more gentle, while in the south-east, the lad could make out something that he had never seen before: a broad plain all the way to the horizon, where it seemed to melt into the sky.

  “We should move on,” Thorodos said, finally. “I have no interest in spending another night up here.”

  “Where are we actually going?” Nikko worked up the courage to ask, although he knew how rarely the taciturn old man answered questions.

  “We're going to find the landgrave's expedition,” Thorodos surprised him. “No doubt they have established an outpost not far from the pass. But enough chatter!”

  Nikko swung Thorodos's heavy backpack, which he'd been carrying since the previous day, and his own bag over his shoulders, and set off after the old man, who was already striding with determination toward the path below the plateau.

  From then on, their journey was considerably more pleasant. The path descended gradually, and a carpet of sweet grass soon covered the scree. The air was delightfully fresh, and the deeper the path led them into the valley, the more the mountain chill gave way to a balmy spring warmth. Late in the afternoon, the fog in the valley had lifted completely, and the two wanderers could enjoy the radiance of the sun on their faces. Occasional shrubs and bushes appeared on the blanket of grass, and many of them were blooming in bright colors. It seemed as if spring, here on the other side of the mountains, had advanced much further.

  For Nikko, the incredible tribulations of the previous day and night were all but forgotten. The doubts he had felt so many times during the sleepless night had been replaced by unclouded confidence.

  Around midday, the travelers were deep enough in the valley that, here and there, trees began to appear among the lush flora. The path now followed a creek, sometimes babbling gently, sometimes a wild rush of water, fed by springs along its course. The valley had widened noticeably, and the rock walls on both sides had become green hills.

  After a while, they came to a low hollow in which several trees formed a copse. The hollow lay well-protected between the path on one side and the stream splashing past on the other. A good place for a rest, it seemed to Nikko, and apparently he was not the only one, for the old man, who was still walking ahead, suddenly stopped.


  “I think we've earned ourselves a little rest,” Thorodos murmured, and he sat down in the soft grass. Nikko, grateful, did the same.

  The light was already going slowly from the day when Nikko awoke. He must have fallen asleep. Though he hadn't realized it while they were hiking, the restless night the night before had left its mark on him. He hoped that Thorodos would not be angry with him, but then he saw the old man sitting peacefully by the stream. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

  Nikko stretched, trying to put a little life back into his stiff limbs. A good bath would do him the world of good, but the day had grown too cool for that. Still, he pulled off his boots and waded barefoot into the stream. The cool water felt good and refreshing as it splashed around his feet, battered from the journey, and tickled him between his toes.

  “Sleep well?” Thorodos enquired, his voice cool. “We'll spend the night here. Who knows if we'll find a better spot before it gets dark?”

  Nikko rejoiced inwardly at the old man's words. Only then did he realize how hungry he was. This time, he ate not only bread and an apple, but decided to treat himself to a little sausage and salt meat as well. He felt too good just then to spoil the mood by eating too meager a dinner. A decent drink from the crystal clear stream capped his evening meal.

  With a full stomach and feeling confident, he began to wonder if they would reach their objective the following day. Nikko did not feel much like spending any more days wandering. But the old man seemed not to know himself exactly where they were heading.

  A little later, the air had grown cooler still, and it was starting to look as if the night would be a chilly one.

  “Find some firewood, lad!” Thorodos suddenly commanded, then added, “Make sure it's dry.”

  The idea of a warm fire seemed extremely attractive to Nikko, and he immediately went off in search of dry brushwood. But on the ground, all he could find were moldering branches. It looked as if it had rained a lot there in the past few days. He had no choice but to push deeper into the underbrush to try to find better firewood.

  “Truly a strange place you've chosen, old man,” Nikko suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice say. He stopped and turned, making his way back toward their camp cautiously. “Where are you off to?” the voice went on, then the tone became more mocking. “One might almost think that you were … on the run?”

  From the cover of the thicket, Nikko now had a clear view of their campsite. He saw a tall man with a gaunt face and curly brown hair. He wore a black cowl embroidered in red, and was looking Thorodos up and down.

  “It would be in keeping with good manners to introduce yourself before you speak,” the old man said calmly.

  “My name is not important, Thorodos. The only thing that should interest you is why I am here,” the black-robed man replied.

  “Master Thorodos!” the old man corrected him sharply. “If you don't mind. Now what is it you want?”

  “Master? You forfeited that title long ago, apostate!” the stranger sneered.

  “Neither you nor the Council has the right to revoke a Mastership. You should know that,” Thorodos lectured the man.

  “One doesn't have a right, one takes a right!” the man laughed, then went on, taunting, “But the Council is no doubt prepared to hear what you have to say in this … matter. In fact, as I hear it, they have a great craving for your presence. That, or … your death. The decision is yours.”

  “A simple decision,” Thorodos laughed, glaring darkly at the man.

  “Oh, what a favor you're doing me! Punishing apostates as they deserve to be punished is truly one of my most pleasant duties. A privilege, even, you might say. But punishing you will be a particular pleasure.”

  “You speak of right?” Thorodos laughed bitterly.

  “Hocatin can't protect you any longer, traitor.” The man sounded peevish. “Unfortunately, I am required to ask you a final time whether you will come of your own free will. Well?”

  “Never!” the old man barked. “I hope, for your sake, that the Council sent someone who knows what he's doing.”

  “You bore me, old man,” the stranger mocked, then went on in a serious voice. “I take it you haven't forgotten how one duels honorably?”

  “Not at all. Although I am surprised that the word honor finds a place in your vocabulary at all.”

  Nikko felt himself rooted in place as he watched the two men. He was too confused even to wonder what was going on in front of him. The two men now stood directly opposite one another and raised their hands in front of them, each gesturing toward the other.

  “Ready?” the black-robed stranger asked.

  Everything happened very fast. Nikko heard a distant click, followed by a whirring sound! Then there was a muffled thump, and with an agonized groan, as if the last breath of life was leaving him, Thorodos collapsed! Horrified, Nikko pressed one hand firmly over his mouth to choke a scream trying to escape. With wide, terrified eyes, he stared at the place where Thorodos now lay, a pool of blood spreading scarlet beneath him.

  “Old fool!” the stranger laughed aloud.

  He was joined then by three more figures. All three were dressed in dark clothes, but in leather and linen, not a cowl. One carried a large shooting weapon, something like a bow, but arranged horizontally. The other two carried long knives.

  “Where's the other one?” one of the men asked, his voice hard as stone.

  Nikko's breathing stopped when he realized that the question probably related to him. Should he run for his life? He did not know. But it made no difference: he could not move a muscle, so frightened was he.

  “Makes no difference,” the man in the robe said flatly. “Get ready for the return.”

  “Master, we're not supposed to leave any witnesses alive,” one of the other men protested, but a sinister glance shut him up.

  The man in the robe then produced a bag from inside his robe and, with great care, he strew white powder around the entire campsite. Finally, he indicated to the other men to gather inside the marking. Then he joined them, and gestured with his hands. Nikko could not see what exactly happened next, because the cowled man turned his back to him. But from one moment to the next, the group simply vanished, as if they had dissolved into the air!

  Nikko had no idea how long he stood there without moving. After some time, however, he shook himself free from his petrified state and moved out into the camp, as if in a trance. It was dark, now, and bitterly cold, but he could not think clearly. So he crouched down and stared helplessly into the darkness, which seemed to him then almost as black as the hole in his head that was swallowing all his thoughts.

  Chapter 3: Horrors Without End

  Next morning, Nikko finally snapped out of his dazed state with a terrible headache, chilled to the bone and shivering. He felt miserable, physically and mentally. He could not think clearly, his head throbbed, and he felt barely able to hold a single clear thought in his mind.

  It was already light, and with some relief he saw that at least his bag and the backpack were still there. He quickly pulled out his two blankets and wrapped himself inside them, which at least helped against the chills. They also gave him a slight sense of security and safety in the midst of this merciless, alien place. For a long time, he sat there barely moving, staring into nothingness.

  Some time later, after a listless breakfast that he could hardly taste, he began to feel a little better physically, but his mind was still as if in a trance. So he went down to the creek and washed his face in the ice-cold mountain water to clear his head once and for all.

  What was real? And what dreamed? His mind was a tangle of confused impressions. He tried to focus the disconnected thoughts and took a closer look around the campsite. The ground looked as if it had been burned, at least inside a square marked on the ground, probably what the stranger had marked out with the powder. There were no traces left, however, of what became of Thorodos, not even the spreading pool of blood that Nikko recalled in that mo
ment.

  Thorodos is dead. For the first time, Nikko became truly aware of that fact, and the images of his violent death replayed clearly before his mind's eye. There was no sign, now, of the body, but what he had seen the day before spoke for itself. No doubt the man with the strange bow had shot him in the back, Nikko concluded, with tears in his eyes.

  Thorodos is dead, he thought again, and this time the repercussions of the old man's death were much clearer to the lad. He had to sit down, and could do nothing but let his tears flow. Somehow, he had taken the crotchety old man into his heart, quirks and all. And his own future had been completely in Thorodos's hands. What's supposed to become of me now? he wondered, and for the first time real fear came over him.

  He was alone! Alone in this foreign land full of unforeseeable perils. Only then did that really hit home. What was he supposed to do now? For a moment, Nikko wished he had never set off on this accursed journey. Life as a goat herder was tedious, that was true, but he would never have found himself in such a spot in his home in Vyldoro.

  Think, he ordered himself. Think! Think through all the options, then decide what the best course of action would be. That was the only way he would have any chance of surviving this disaster.

  He knew he had only two choices. It was actually very simple. Either onward, or back!

  Back … that would mean crossing the dangerous pass a second time. And this time all by himself! Although the thought of returning quickly to Vyldoro seemed very appealing to him in his desperate situation, he was afraid of attempting the snowed-in mountain trail by himself. It was not at all unlikely that he would freeze to death up there, in the merciless ice.

  But going on meant traveling deeper into Hymal. Deeper into that unknown country, at the very threshold of which he had already had to face such horrors. How could he possibly proceed? And anyway, the old man had told him that the landgrave's expedition would have set up an outpost close to the pass. Should he perhaps try to find that outpost, and seek protection there?