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

  He slept better that night than he had for some time. Indeed, he dreamed again of Thorodos's murder, but over the course of the night, his sleep was calmer and more restful. He woke with the first rays of dawn in the east, and ate a sparse breakfast.

  Then he set off quickly for the high pass. The earlier he finally had it behind him, the better. It wouldn't be easy to get back to his home in Vyldoro by evening, but it was possible. There were the ominous scraps of cloud high in the mountains, and that worried him. He hoped he would not have to face a thunderstorm, and that there would be no new snow up there.

  The ascent was harder and took longer than he had counted on. The toils of the last few days had taken their toll on him, physically and probably mentally, with the terrors of Hymal still fresh in his mind. His meager provisions were slowly running out, to boot. At midday, having made it up to the plateau where he and Thorodos had spent their first night in Hymal, he ate a few paltry morsels.

  Nikko was feeling more and more dismal the higher he climbed. He felt nothing but tired, and was growing weaker. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself on the ground and bawl his eyes out. The endless drudgery of the climb made him angry and drove him to the edge of despair. To top things off, the clouds had gathered overhead, dropping occasional showers on the unhappy wanderer. Soon, too, his path would lead him back into the cold snow.

  Fortunately, however, Nikko's fear that it would be difficult to find the trail in the snow proved unfounded. True, it was not easy to see the actual path under the white blanket, but fresh footprints showed him the way. It must have been the trail left by the black-robed man and his henchmen, who had apparently followed them over the pass. But the haggard lad suffered in the growing cold at that altitude, felt it creeping into his limbs, and his clothes were still wet from the rain showers further down in the valley.

  At the highest point on the eastern side of the pass, Nikko decided to rest briefly. Recalling their journey just a few days before, he estimated that, from there, it was still an hour or two to the highest point in the west. It was already late in the afternoon, and he would have to get a move on if he didn't want to spend a cold mountain night up there in the unprotected pass. The clouds were low above him now, dark and heavy. Occasional flakes of snow did not bode well, and a bitter wind had sprung up.

  Not much later, Nikko found himself in the middle of a whirling squall of snowflakes that nearly blinded him. The wind had turned into an icy storm that whipped the snow into his face without mercy. He could still just make out the footprints that showed him the way back west. Without them, he would probably have gotten lost long before.

  Every part of his body shivered. The icy chill had penetrated his clothes long before. He had lost almost all feeling in his hands, feet and face, and it was growing harder to see the trail he had to follow. The fierce snowstorm had transformed the once-deep footprints into no more than shallow dents in the white carpet, fading marks that blurred before his tired eyes.

  And now it was growing dark, and Nikko could see practically nothing at all. The snow was hip deep, and the footprints impossible to see. The lad could hardly even keep himself upright. He had fallen several times already, which had just caused more snow to find a way into the chinks and tears in his clothes. Soaked to the skin, unprotected, he was at the mercy of the bitter cold.

  Nikko was moving slower and slower. As if in a trance, he pushed on aimlessly on all fours, barely even feeling the cold anymore. Lethargy came over him, and he was on the verge of giving in to it. Then, suddenly, he felt stones. Stones? A wall! Wide awake again, Nikko ran his numb fingers over the stonework. It was dark, and whatever sight he might otherwise have had, the snow robbed him of. So he felt his way along the wall, for where there was a wall, there had to be a door, too!

  After a few moments, he felt his way to the entrance. With his last reserves, he dug his way through the snow and found the door. He worked his way up to the door handle and, with a huge effort, pulled down on it until the door swung inward. With the absolute last remnants of his strength, the half-frozen youth dragged himself inside to safety, and was just able to push the door to behind him.

  Next morning, when Nikko woke up shivering and chilled to the bone, every breath he took made his lungs burn. His throat was parched and scratchy, making him cough incessantly. He had a splitting headache. Still, he gathered his strength and made an effort to clear his head. Where was he? He remembered digging his way through the snow into a building. But wasn't he still in the pass? The broken-down hut on the western side! That had to be it. That was good news, because from there the trail down was easy to find, and Vyldoro only a few hours descent away. But in his weakened state, could he risk the attempt?

  He looked around inside the ramshackle building. He couldn't see much, however. The windows were sealed with wooden shutters. The only light inside came in through the roof that had collapsed over one half of the place. Nikko could make out a little blue sky, so at least the weather had improved. Then go, fast, before it gets worse again, he thought to himself, and reached for the door handle. When he pulled the door open, glaring daylight instantly brightened the spartan hut. It must already have been late in the morning.

  When Nikko was about to step out into the snow, his eyes swung to the right of the door. What he saw there made him cry out sharply in shock. Dead eyes stared back at him from an ashen face! The sight terrified the lad so much that, panicking, he tried to barge out through the door. Without warning, though, he found himself lying on his stomach in the snow. Scrambling to his feet, he tried to get away again, but discovered that his right foot was caught! He tried to pull free, and fell again. Lying there, he managed to calm himself a little, and realized that his right foot was caught in the strap of a satchel. He reached back and freed his foot, then stood and ran away as fast as he could through the deep snow.

  Despite his shock at seeing the frozen body, Nikko recovered quickly, and the sight had given the sick lad some much-needed energy. Once he had calmed down, though, the throbbing in his head and burning in his lungs returned. Nikko, coughing, pushed ahead slowly in the direction of home.

  He could hardly think clearly anymore. His wobbly legs carried him automatically down the path. Many times, he collapsed, and had to regather his strength before he was able to get to his feet again.

  The pain grew worse and worse. His head felt like it was pounding itself apart. His lungs and throat burned and stung from all the coughing. He had no idea anymore where he was. The snow was gone, and it was still daylight. But he was dizzy and everything around him blurred. He had to sit, just for a little while. Then he would get going again.

  Chapter 4: The Second Departure

  Nikko awoke briefly, then decided—still half-asleep—to doze a little longer after all. Just a few minutes, that's all, he said to himself, snuggling back into the soft down cover. But wait a second, it suddenly occurred to him. Where am I now? Slowly, in a semi-daze, the lad opened his sleepy eyes and looked around, blinking. He saw a room and a large picture on the wall. The picture showed a goat herder and his flock, and Nikko knew it. Wasn't this his grandfather's bedroom? Had it all just been a terrible dream? Or was he dreaming then, in that moment?

  Nikko tried to concentrate, to gather his thoughts. What was the last thing he could remember? The desperate descent from the snow-covered pass! Had he actually made it back to his village? His head ached slightly, but that was all. His lungs also felt better, though his throat still felt rather raw.

  When he finally swung his feet over the side of the bed and reluctantly got out of the comfortable bed, he was overcome by an incredible feeling of hunger. How long had he been lying there? It was time to go and find his family! His clothes lay on a chair by the bed, neatly folded. To his joy, he discovered that they had even been freshly washed. No traces of the horrible blood splatters remained. A chill ran down his back at the thought of those fierce creatures. He could hardly believe that he had escaped from the
hell of Hymal. But how he had made it from the high pass back down to the village remained a mystery.

  Once he had pulled on the fresh clothes, Nikko set off in search of something to allay his enormous appetite, and answers from his family. He came across nobody inside the house, on his way down to the kitchen. There was nobody down below, either, but he was not really surprised because it looked like it was already late morning, and everyone had their duties on the farm to attend to.

  Nor was it a bad thing that no one was there, because Nikko could fill his belly undisturbed. Greedily, he wolfed down fresh bread with lashings of butter, delicious sheep-meat sausage, two crispy chicken legs and an apple. In the past, he would never have dared to simply help himself like that. But the special circumstances vindicated his gluttony.

  Nikko had been sitting and spoiling himself in the large kitchen for quite a while before his mother finally stamped in noisily.

  “Sleep well?” she asked, feigning sarcasm rather poorly. “Well, it looks as if the young master has been helping himself. I guess that means he's feeling much better.”

  “Thank you, mother. I'm fine,” Nikko replied, breaking into a broad grin.

  “Then perhaps you can explain how you came to be found half dead on the road up to the pass,” the stout woman said in a reproachful tone that could not hide the concern of a loving mother. “No, wait. Tell your story when Gimu gets back,” she said quickly, dismissing her curiosity.

  “Who found me? Where?” Nikko wanted to know exactly.

  “A couple of the boys from the westside farm were up hunting in the mountains. They saw you lying on the trail, which was lucky for you,” his mother answered, shaking her head. “A little bit longer and you might have died! What were you doing, boy?”

  “When was that?”

  His mother thought for a moment. “Six or seven days ago,” she finally said. “You've been asleep ever since. We weren't sure you'd even make it. You were chilled to the bone and running a high fever.”

  “So why did you put me in grandfather's room?” Nikko probed.

  “So you could heal in peace, of course,” his mother replied. “And besides … my boy, your grandfather passed away. Just after you left us. His heart just gave up on him. I'm so sorry.”

  Tears welled in Nikko's eyes. He had his problems with everyone in his family, certainly. But he didn't wish for any of them to die, not even Gimu. Gimu … Nikko realized that, after the death of their father three years earlier, Gimu—as the oldest brother—was now the designated successor of his grandfather. Of all people, Gimu was now the head of the farm. So it was no surprise, really, that his mother wanted Gimu there where Nikko told what had happened to him.

  “But now that you're feeling better, you'll go back to your own bed. Gimu wants to move into grandfather's room,” his mother added. “Your bags are still in grandfather's room. Go and get them and stow them next to your bed. Where did you get all that stuff anyway, my boy?”

  Nikko did not reply, but wondered what his mother meant by “all that stuff.” Thorodos's backpack—that had to be it. The heavy book, the strange wand. His memory of those things came back.

  “In an hour or so it'll be midday. Though I find it hard to believe you'll be hungry again by then, you'll be there and you'll answer Gimu's questions! Understood?” his mother said, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Yes, mother,” Nikko answered plainly.

  “Now shoo! Out of my kitchen! I have to get the food ready,” she ordered.

  Nikko had no interest in bumping into any more of his relatives before the midday meal, so he decided to stay in the house. The first thing he wanted to do was inspect his things to make sure everything was still there. He was especially concerned about the magic wand; it had saved the otherwise defenseless lad's life several times over.

  In his grandfather's room, he found his things beside the bed. It was good that they had not yet been taken to the children's sleeping quarters. There was no way his curious siblings would have been able to keep their fingers away from them.

  First, Nikko checked on old Thorodos's backpack. The massive old book was still inside, as were the trusty wand and the arrow from the forest. In his other bag, he found only the remains of the sausage and salt meat he'd been saving and the small leather sack of copper coins. But after a week, and no doubt soaked by the snow before that, the old provisions reeked. Soaked, Nikko thought, as he once again inspected Thorodos's mysterious book. Good. It was dry and showed no signs of mold. He tried again to open the massive work, but again without success. The pages still seemed to be glued together tightly.

  But what was that? A third bag! Where did that come from? It was a satchel made of polished leather and had a long strap. A strap, he remembered. The frozen body and the strap that had caught his foot! That was it. Had he unwittingly carried the satchel down from the pass with him? As hard as he tried to organize his thoughts, he had no memory of that at all. But that's what must have happened.

  He took a closer look at the unfamiliar bag. It was emblazoned proudly with a brightly colored emblem. A kind of tower from which a road led. Mountains in the background. Wasn't that the same emblem that the expedition to Hymal had worn? It was probably the insignia of the Landgraviate of Hocatin, of which his own village of Vyldoro was a part.

  He opened the beautiful satchel carefully, and inside he found a thick envelope with a gleaming red seal. Beneath the seal, in flowing handwriting, he read: His Serene Highness, the Landgrave of Hocatin. A letter to the landgrave! That had to be extremely important. How long had it lain up there in the pass?

  A short time later, Nikko went back down to the kitchen to face his family's questions over their midday meal. On the way down, he thought about how things would go on from there. With his horrible brother Gimu in charge, the work-shy lad could hardly imagine slaving away on the farm.

  “Aha, the great traveler has returned,” Gimu said in a mocking tone the moment Nikko stepped tentatively into the kitchen.

  Nikko felt that his best course of action was to ignore his older brother. He wondered whether Gimu had actually grown even more unbearable now that the entire farm was his responsibility.

  “Now let the lad sit down before you start in,” said Nikko's mother, accustomed to the daily task of keeping her brood under control. “Then he can tell us the whole story from the start.”

  But Nikko had already lost all interest in that. Over the mountains in hostile Hymal and up in the pass, he had certainly looked forward to getting back to his home on the farm. But now, after just a few waking moments, he'd already had enough of the place.

  “If you'd like to know, then ask,” he finally said, not sounding enthusiastic.

  “How gracious of you,” Gimu prodded, then interrogated him in a stricter tone. “Let's start with this: why did you lie so brazenly?”

  “Lie?”

  “You were off to Skingár, right?” Gimu asked, his tone reproachful.

  “I don't know exactly. Yes, Thorodos said Skingár,” Nikko answered truthfully. “But I'm not sure if that wasn't some kind of ruse.”

  “I see. Then they got their hands on the old man?” Gimu laughed spitefully.

  “They?” Nikko asked with foreboding.

  “Thorodos is a wanted criminal. Luckily, little Simoj saw you heading for the pass instead of Skingár. So we could show the guards from Hocatin which way to go. So, did they arrest him?”

  “No, they didn't arrest him. They murdered him!” Nikko blurted. “And if you think those scum were guards, then you're stupider than you look!”

  “Murdered?” his mother intervened in fright, but trying to prevent the conflict between the brothers from escalating. Some of his siblings around the table were visibly shocked.

  “They nearly killed me, too,” Nikko added drily, hoping for some sympathy, or at least a little understanding.

  “How did you get away?” asked Tamo, one of Nikko's younger brothers, his large eyes full of curiosit
y.

  “I was off looking for firewood, in a thicket, when they came. They … overlooked me.”

  “What happened then?” little Tamo asked.

  “Then I … I came back over the pass,” said Nikko, cutting his story short. He wanted to say as little as possible about his miserable trip to Hymal. “A snowstorm took me by surprise up in the pass. You know the rest.”

  “So why did they kill old Thorodos?” his little brother pestered him, but Nikko just shrugged.

  “How did they kill him?”

  “They shot him. In an ambush.”

  “Enough now!” their mother interrupted.

  “You think we believe this rubbish?” Gimu said, coming back into the conversation.

  “Believe it or not, it's up to you,” Nikko said, unruffled, while his brother glared at him.

  “You better get used to a different tone, and fast, little brother,” Gimu said in a decisive voice. “You know who's in charge around here now.”

  “Or what?” Nikko shot back, openly provocative. He was more fed up with Gimu than usual, he realized, and felt that he must have matured somehow on that journey. He'd nearly died, more than once, and had proven himself in unknown territory. And he had survived. Gimu's lack of respect was more than he was willing to accept!

  “As long as you sleep and eat under this roof, you'll respect me and obey my word! Is that clear?” the new master of the farm demanded in a loud voice.

  “Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'm going down to Hocatin,” said Nikko, on the spur of the moment. He had nothing better with which to defend himself against Gimu, and did not want him to win.

  “Good. The only people we need around here are those willing to work hard,” his brother laughed spitefully. But Nikko did not feel himself hurt in the slightest by his brother's hard words.

  After their midday meal—for Nikko, no more than a bowl of soup—he set off on the path to Thorodos's old hut. What he expected to find, he did not know. A clue that might help him, perhaps. Something to answer the myriad questions he had. For now, the main thing was to get away from the farm, away from his miserable brother.