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

  “Let's come back to the pass,” Fodaj ventured after a while. “What did you say about why you were up there? Where you found the letter?”

  “I was on my way back from Hymal,” Nikko said. It felt as if his mouth answered automatically.

  “You were in Hymal?” Fodaj raised his eyebrows. “What were you doing over there?”

  “First he wanted to go to … Skingár, then to Hymal. He wanted to find the outpost,” Nikko jabbered, not thinking about what he was saying. He took another long draft of his beer.

  “Who?”

  “What?”

  “Who wanted to go to Hymal?” Fodaj asked patiently.

  “Thorodos, of course. But they found him … in Hymal … and they shot him dead.” Nikko realized that he was slowly having difficulty making sense.

  “Who found him?” the trader probed.

  “The black … the stranger with the … black robe. One of them had a … strange … bow. I wanted to find some wood … for a fire,” Nikko slurred. He had already finished his third tankard.

  “And then you came back over the pass by yourself?”

  But Nikko's head was feeling woozy and all he could do was nod apathetically. He was more interested in catching the last drop of beer on his tongue.

  Some time later, Nikko awoke to find Fodaj shaking him gently. Apparently, he'd fallen asleep. The merchant's two sons had joined them, and their dinner had already been set out on the table. He must have been passed out for quite a while. There was a large bowl of stew in front of him, and three more for Fodaj and his sons. There was plenty of bread and butter, and an apple for each of them.

  “Didn't want you sleeping through the evening meal,” the portly merchant laughed. “But no more beer for you tonight.”

  Nikko was still feeling quite giddy, and his skull felt like it was buzzing. The oily stew, however, did his stomach good and his head cleared somewhat. He suddenly realized how much he had told Fodaj.

  “No need to worry,” said the trader, who had obviously seen Nikko's uneasiness. “You really can trust me. But let me give you one piece of advice. If you find that you have to tell your story in Hocatin, don't breathe a word about Thorodos.”

  Nikko just nodded. Fodaj's words certainly put his mind more at ease, but he was still ashamed at how garrulous he had been.

  After a while, Nikko worked up the courage to ask, “What do you know about Thorodos?”

  “Only what most people in Hocatin know about him,” Fodaj replied. “The old man was a sorcerer in the Order, but had been banned. Like many others, it seems. He sought out Hocatin as a place of exile. But no one knows why he moved up to Vyldoro.”

  “What kind of Order?” Nikko asked. He was feeling excited all of a sudden; he had not dared to hope for so many answers.

  “My lad, I have no idea about sorcery or suchlike,” said Fodaj. “The sorcerers are all united into a kind of guild, and that's what they call the Order.”

  “Did the Order … I mean … the stranger … Thorodos,” Nikko stammered.

  “I'm the wrong man to ask, kid. Really. Of course, it's a possibility.”

  “Keep out of the sorcerers' business!” said one of Fodaj's sons then. His voice sounded hoarse. “It's even murkier than high politics, and you'd better keep your nose out of that, too.”

  “Absolutely right,” Fodaj agreed. “Don't get involved in anything to do with the Order. That's why I advise you to keep your mouth shut about Thorodos. I don't want to see you wake any sleeping dogs by accident. Nasty dogs. Sharp teeth.”

  Nikko nodded and bit into an apple for dessert.

  “And one more piece of advice,” the trader added. “Don't let anyone fill you up with beer, like you did just now. You've got nothing to fear from me. But who knows what would happen if beer were to loosen your tongue in Hocatin.”

  “Fill me up?” asked Nikko in disbelief.

  “Kid, drinks like beer and wine really do taste wonderful, but they have their side effects, too,” Fodaj lectured, at which his two sons were unable to suppress a chuckle. Soon, Nikko and Fodaj were laughing along with them.

  Nikko slept soundly, sharing a room with Fodaj and his sons on the upper floor of the guesthouse. After all four had polished off a quick breakfast, they set off for Hocatin with all three heavily laden wagons. Nikko sat proudly on the lead cart, which Fodaj himself controlled, his two sons following behind.

  They spent the next night at a clearing that Fodaj told him was frequently used by traveling merchants. Fodaj even had a kind of hut made of cloth with him; he and his sons had it set up in minutes, and none of them had to sleep under the stars.

  The vegetation changed as they made their way down the long road into the valley. The dark spruce trees in the mountains gradually gave way to broadleaved trees, on some of which the first pale-green leaves were growing. Others, however, were still bare and dead looking. It seemed that spring had not come to the valley on this side of the mountains as completely as it had over in warmer Hymal.

  They spent the second night of the journey to Hocatin at a site beside the road, which a little further on became a cobblestoned street and was joined by more roads coming in from the many side valleys.

  When they lumbered out of the valley on the morning of the third day, the forests gave way more and more to the meadows and fields of the high plains of Hocatin.

  At around midday of the third day, Hocatin itself finally hove into view. The weather had turned bad and they had been riding in drizzle the entire morning, and Nikko could make out little through the haze and rain apart from a high stone wall and many towers. But after a life spent among the farms of Vyldoro, even such a vague impression filled the peasant boy with awe. Further down, beyond the town, he thought he could see a large lake.

  “My boy,” said Fodaj, when they came to a junction not far from the town, “we have to make up for some of the time we've lost and pay a visit to a few of the villages around here. But you should not keep the landgrave waiting any longer for his letter. From here, it's maybe half an hour to the town gate on foot.”

  “Thanks again,” said Nikko. “For everything.” He smiled and jumped down from the wagon, eager to see Hocatin for himself.

  “We'll probably be at the marketplace ourselves in three days time,” the trader said. “Come by if you're still here.”

  “I will,” Nikko promised. Then, feeling excited, he set off along the cobblestone road, drawn by the allure of the town, while Fodaj and his sons turned off to the right and rolled away.

  Chapter 5: A Great Service to the Landgrave

  By the time Nikko reached the enormous gate in the wall surrounding Hocatin, the skies had grown even murkier and a light rain had begun to fall. The high wall, with its towers and battlements, still impressed the peasant boy. Now and then, he saw the threatening tips of spears carried by the soldiers who patrolled the wall-walk inside the fortress. He was still gazing up in awe at the towering arch over the entrance as he tried to pass through into the town.

  “Hold yer horses, lad!” a fierce looking man snarled at him. The man's huge hand dug hard into Nikko's shoulder and pinned him to the spot with brute strength. “Where do you think you're off to?”

  Nikko looked in fright at the man glowering at him and realized it was a sentry that he had completely failed to notice. The man's leather doublet flaunted the large crest with the tower rising in front of the mountains. His angry face half hidden by his helmet, the fearsome soldier held the young man with his left hand and his weapon, a kind of axe with a long shaft, almost as big as the man himself, with his right.

  “I'd like to enter the city, sir,” Nikko answered tentatively. He noticed other guards, then. Suddenly frightened, the naïve youngster wondered if there were conditions attached to entering Hocatin.

  “We don't let beggars like you in,” muttered one of the other guards, bored, as the first guard, with a violent shove, hurled the skinny lad back out through the archway.

  Ni
kko, down on his hands and knees in the muck, was completely bewildered. He had not imagined that things would go like this.

  “Move along, vagabond!” the grim soldier ordered loudly.

  Although intimidated, Nikko remembered how important his mission was, to get the long overdue letter to the landgrave. He summoned up all his courage and approached the guardsmen again as cautiously as he could, but the men reacted even more aggressively than before.

  “I've got a letter,” Nikko said, speaking fast, before the soldiers pummeled him again.

  “Oh, a letter,” taunted the guard who'd pushed him in the mud, then he went on in a spiteful tone, “So who's it for? Let me guess. For the … Landgrave of Hocatin?!” he quipped, winning a hearty laugh from the other guards.

  “Uh … yes. To his Serene Highness, the Landgrave of Hocatin. That's the address,” Nikko replied, baffled at what the soldiers found so funny.

  “Push off, you little …!” barked the soldier, raising his weapon threateningly.

  Nikko quickly backtracked a few steps, then put his backpack down on the ground. He pulled out the leather satchel, wanting to show the guards the letter as proof, when his eye fell on the magic wand. For a moment, he thought about using it to teach the obnoxious soldiers a lesson, but dropped the thought again just as quickly.

  He held the leather satchel in front of him like some kind of entry permit. And the looks on the faces of the guardsmen changed from mockery to amazement.

  “Where did you get that?” asked the soldier in front of Nikko, his eyes narrowed.

  “What's going on here?” barked another voice then, before Nikko could give the soldier an answer.

  “We … uh … are establishing the facts of a matter, sergeant,” stammered the soldier, snapping to attention, now much less sure of himself.

  “Ah, my dear soldier,” said the newly arrived man, who was also a soldier, but wearing chain mail. His voice dripped sarcasm. “No doubt this is your very own idea—genuinely refreshing, to be sure—of a PROPER and ORDERLY REPORT!”

  “Sergeant, east gate guard reporting! Suspicious subject engaged! Suspect claims to be delivering a letter for his Serene Highness,” the soldier rapped out.

  “Better, better,” said the sergeant. Then he turned to Nikko. “Is this true?” he asked, at which the lad merely nodded.

  “Show me!” the sergeant commanded, and Nikko handed over the satchel without a second thought.

  The soldier opened the satchel for a moment but did not take the letter out. Then he gave a nod.

  “Good. You,” he said to one of the guards. “Take a four-man escort from the tower. Hop to it!”

  The guard saluted snappily and jogged off. Nikko had a chance to look more closely at the sergeant, who stood bolt upright with his hands clasped behind his back. He did not entirely understand what was going on, but it looked as if he was about to be escorted to the landgrave. The sergeant was middle-aged, with a wiry build. He was clean shaven and his hair was cropped close to his scalp. In contrast to the guardsmen, he wore no helmet, but his armor was certainly of better quality.

  In a minute, the guard reappeared with four additional soldiers in tow.

  “Good. Follow me!” the sergeant said to Nikko, handing the leather satchel back to him.

  Walking through the town with an escort like that made Nikko feel special. The sergeant led the way with the boy just behind him. One soldier marched on the left, another on the right, and two more brought up the rear. Unfortunately, it started pelting with rain, which seemed to make no difference whatsoever to the soldiers; even when the heavens really opened, not one of them let anything show.

  Nikko could not make out much of this new town in the miserable weather, except that the houses were built high and had decent walls. There was no comparison to the crooked huts of his home village. But the escort kept up a fast pace as they marched through the gray streets, and Nikko's impressions were no more than fleeting.

  After a few minutes, they came to a wide, stone bridge that led out to a large island in a lake. A huge building had been constructed on the island, with many high towers, but Nikko could not make out many details through the teeming rain.

  On the other side of the bridge, a second group of soldiers guarded a gate built directly over the bridge.

  “The duty officer?” the sergeant asked in a harsh tone that showed that he had no intention of dealing with the simple guards.

  One of the soldiers nodded and another trotted away, returning a short time later with a young man in chain mail, with a breastplate made of polished metal. A short sword dangled at his side; even a farmer's boy like Nikko knew that swords were expensive.

  “Miserable weather!” the duty officer moaned the moment he arrived. “For your sake, sergeant, I hope you have not disturbed me for nothing.”

  “Lieutenant, I report a messenger for his Serene Highness. I hope sincerely not to be importuning you unduly,” the sergeant said brusquely.

  “That bumpkin? Are you trying …” the lieutenant sneered. “Oh, whatever. Come with me, bumpkin, this –”

  “Messenger duly handed over, Lieutenant,” the sergeant interrupted.

  “What?” the officer said. Then, peevish, he replied, “All right, all right. If that's how you want it. Now back to your gate …” In an undertone, he added, “… or whatever mudhole you crawled out of.”

  Nikko took no more notice of the sergeant, and followed the lieutenant through the rain and over a second bridge, where they came to an abrupt halt at another gate.

  “A present for the cap'n,” said the lieutenant to the guards there. Then he sneezed magnificently and turned around, marching back over the bridge without another word.

  One of the guards sauntered off, presumably to announce to the “cap'n” that he had a present for him. Nikko found the whole process amusing, and wondered how many times he would be passed up the line. But when the guard returned, he brought with him an imposing man in glittering armor—armor that far outshone even the lieutenant's gleaming plate. The other soldiers immediately snapped to attention.

  “Lagró of Briscár, captain of the landgrave's bodyguard and commander of Hocatin castle. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” the high-ranking man said. He radiated a dignity that Nikko had never experienced before.

  “Um … Nikko,” he stammered. He was suddenly acutely aware of how wretched he must look, wearing a farm boy's clothes filthy from long days of travel and soaked by the rain.

  “Ah …” the captain replied, confused. “My pleasure, I'm sure. On what mission has he come?”

  “I'm delivering a letter to … uh, to his … his Serene … to the Landgrave … the Landgrave of Hocatin,” Nikko stuttered, suddenly mortified that he might say the wrong thing.

  “Well. And I am sure he would not be standing before me if he were not telling the truth, would he?” the captain replied in an extremely haughty tone. “He would do well to hand over the letter.”

  Nikko, who had carried the leather satchel hung around his neck since leaving the city gate, took out the thick envelope hurriedly and was overjoyed to find that it was still dry. He handed the sealed missive to the officer, who nodded and took it from him, then inspected the seal closely.

  “From where does he have this?” the officer asked sharply.

  “From up in the pass,” Nikko replied, feeling more and more uneasy. More than anything, he had no idea why the man was always referring to him as “he.”

  “The Vyldam pass, he probably means,” the captain murmured to himself. “Long-awaited news from Hymal. Delivered by a farm boy. How ironic, how ironic …” After a pause, he abruptly said, “Servant?”

  “My lord?” replied a gaunt little man who bustled over to the captain, bowing deeply.

  “See to it that our … guest … is taken care of. He is to wash, his clothes are to be cleaned, and his hair cut. I have no doubt that the seneschal will want to speak to him later, and perhaps even the landgrave
. Is that clear?”

  “Certainly, my lord, every word,” the obsequious figure replied. Then he turned to Nikko and, in a gentle voice, said “Come with me, little man.”

  Nikko sat in the servants' kitchen in the landgravial castle and felt on top of the world. He had taken the first hot, foamy bath of his life and was probably cleaner at that moment than he had ever been before. Several attendants had made sure that he presented a much more acceptable figure than he had when he'd arrived. They had cut his hair and his nails and dressed him in the clothes of a page; his own things had been so filthy that they first had to be thoroughly washed, and would only be finished the next day. Now, a chubby cook in a bright white bonnet was plying him with as much food as he could possibly eat.

  He was beginning to wonder if anyone would still be needing him that day when the servant he'd first encountered stepped humbly into the kitchen. “The seneschal has sent for you. Please follow me,” he said in his quiet voice, and Nikko obeyed.

  “What is a seneschal, exactly?” he asked the servant as they climbed a narrow, spiral staircase.

  “His Serene Highness's left and right hand,” the servant replied.

  They passed through more stairways and corridors and eventually arrived at a large, heavy wooden door with two bored-looking sentries dressed in colorful tunics.

  “The courier, as ordered,” the servant said to the sentries, then he bowed slightly and returned the way he had come.

  “Arms out to your sides!” one of the sentries ordered Nikko, but without much enthusiasm.

  Nikko was terribly excited. The huge castle with its magnificently furnished rooms, corridors and stairways was the most impressive place he had ever seen. Daylight fell through small but artfully decorated windows, and even where no light penetrated into the interior, there were countless torches and lamps. Paintings and fine tapestries adorned the hallways, and soft carpets lay underfoot. Now that he was so close to talking to such an obviously important man, the sentries' orders made him feel even more insecure than he already was. But he obeyed, and the guard felt him over from head to foot without a word. Nikko found the search uncomfortable, and it didn't help that he had no idea what it was all about.