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  He turned to the others who stood ashen faced and still.

  “Do not be fearful, for the Gods are with you!” His staff seemed to glow as he drew the sign of the Gods in the air above their heads, and he raised his voice to say, “In the name of Otec, Notomok and Takatifu Roho; Advance!”

  The travellers all stepped forward.

  Chandor turned back to the beetle, raising both staff and Symbol he shouted, “The Gods are with me. I am not afraid!”

  He slammed the butt of his staff into the ground, “I am not afraid!”

  Lander’s trumpet blared. Chandor took a bold step forward. From the corner of his eye he saw the others advance as well.

  “Repeat after me,” Chandor bellowed, “I. Am not! Afraid!”

  “I am not afraid!” The companions shouted, clapped and stamped with increasing volume and pace. “We are not afraid!” they chanted. “We are not afraid!”

  Chandor could sense that they were now like hounds on a leash, just waiting to be let loose. He knew that if he yelled, “Charge,” they would rush to attack the creature regardless of the consequences. Instead, Chandor held the line as the chant grew louder. He stepped forward sharply and yelled, “Forward, step!”

  The others followed as if they were a well drilled army rather than a rag tag bunch of travellers.

  “And agaaaaain, step!”

  The giant insect half turned. The line stepped forward once more, shouting even louder. A moment later the beetle turned and trundled away.

  Chandor threw back his head and roared his delight to the heavens.

  There were back slaps, hugs and handshakes all round. A skin of heavy red wine was brought out and passed around with much relieved laughing.

  “That was too close,” sighed Kurt. “I thought it was all over until Chandor stepped in.”

  “I knew he had it in him,” cackled the old man. “I could see it in his eyes the first time I met him. You’re solid gold, boy.”

  Lander punched Chandor on the shoulder, “That was awesome! You were great!”

  Chandor shook his head and pointed to the sky, “To the Gods be the glory and power, for ever and ever!”

  Gelarey who was nearby chuckled, “Well, I don’t know what the Gods had to do with it, but it took real courage and leadership.”

  “It was a miracle,” insisted Chandor. “The Gods stood at my side and gave me strength, so that through me their message would be proclaimed.”

  “A miracle? Let’s not make this more than it was.”

  Chandor was about to snap back an angry retort but Deborah stepped in, “Whatever we each choose to call it, you did the right thing at the right time, and for that we are more grateful than you can know.”

  “Definitely,” said Casanath. “Some might say it was your training, others that we were lucky, and others that it was the Gods. So what? The important thing is that no one got hurt, and that’s worth celebrating.”

  There were nods all round and the wineskin was passed around again. Soon the celebrations ended and those not on watch returned to their sleeping sacks. Chandor flopped down on his mattress next to the fire, spiritually and emotionally exhausted, but content. He lay on his back gazing at the moon. He tried to think about what Gelarey and Casanath had said, but instead passed out.

  The next morning, while the others were breaking camp, Chandor moved to one side to do his morning meditation. Thank you, Holy Otec, for answering my prayers last night. Takatifu Roho gave us supernatural courage. It was a miracle! I know it was, regardless of what the others think.

  His jaw hardened with determination. I’ll show Gelarey something she can’t dispute. He thought of all the miracles he had heard of, and it only took him a moment before he decided to pray for light. Many priests had sufficient faith to make objects glow with light like a lantern. Those with exceptional faith could make items shine brighter than a torch for months at a time, like the orbs at the Cathedral. Chandor was comfortable that even a weaker miracle would be sufficient for his needs.

  Despite his impatience, Chandor decided to wait until it was dark before praying. He wanted the miracle to be as clear as possible and that meant waiting until his watch.

  The day passed agonisingly slowly. They rode through grassy plains, over rocky hills, and through the occasional Kraktun forest. Chandor was certain that his prayer for light would be answered. He could barely wait till nightfall, and was tempted numerous times just to do it during the day.

  The sun was still well up when Deborah called a halt.

  “Come on,” cried Casanath, exasperated. “There are still hours before night.”

  “Tonight is full moon,” stated Kurt, as if that settled it.

  “I don’t care. There is no reason to stop so early.”

  “Then don’t. Deborah and I are stopping. We intend to hunt tonight, and we need to eat before then. You can carry on if you want to, we are stopping here.”

  “You are the most selfish people I have ever travelled with!” shouted Casanath.

  “Maybe you have no idea what you’re talking about,” growled the dark-haired woman, “Did you ever consider that we might be doing this for your own safety?”

  “Calm down, Deborah,” interjected Kurt. “You don’t want to be angry with her.”

  The dark-haired woman swallowed hard and Chandor could see her visibly trying to calm herself.

  Although it only late afternoon they made a fire and quickly ate dinner. As soon as they were finished Kurt gathered their hunting equipment from their wagon.

  “Right. We’re off. We’ll see you at first light. Wish us safe hunting.”

  The rest of the group shook their heads in wonder as the pair walked away from the camp into the wilderness. The remaining travellers built up the fire and began preparations for their own meal. The afternoon dragged towards evening, and Chandor itched for it to be dark so he could prove his new-found faith.

  The entertainers used the light to practice their performances, and although Chandor watched, his heart was not in it.

  The sun inched towards the horizon and darkness gathered. Watches were posted and torches lit. Sandy and the other horses were tethered within the circle of wagons.

  “It’s going to be a low sleep night,” commented Lander. “There are only five of us, and we probably need three on watch at all times.”

  Chandor nodded. He didn’t mind. He didn’t expect to sleep.

  As soon as they had eaten, everyone went to their posts.

  Chandor sat cross-legged facing out into the darkness. Over the horizon, the full moon rose. Nearby, a torch flickered in the chill breeze. He took out his Holy Symbol. His heart was beating fast, as if he were about to go into battle. May the Gods be with me, he prayed. He held the Symbol out, its solid metal cold in his hand. He started by praying to the Gods, thanking them for his mission and his new-found power. He asked for their blessing on his mission but he knew he was putting off the moment of truth. He took a deep breath and, staring at the Holy Symbol, started to pray for light.

  “Otec created the heavens and the earth – all we see and all we don’t see,” he recited, pointing his Symbol to the sky and ground.

  “Earth was a soup of nothingness, a bottomless emptiness, an inky blackness.” His empty left hand circled the Symbol cradled in his right. “Takatifu Roho brooded like a bird above the watery abyss.”

  He covered his heart with his left hand, and held his Holy Symbol still before him.

  “Otec spoke: “Light!” And light appeared.”

  Chandor could feel the power of the Gods surging through his body. Before he had even finished the first line of the prayer, he had known it would work. By the end of the second line, the Symbol was glowing dimly. By the time he finished praying, his Holy Symbol was blazing with light, as if it were a lantern. It was even brighter than the torch that flickered a few feet away.

  Filled with wonder, Chandor stood. He wanted to jump and shout with joy. He swung the glowing Symbol
around his head. I don’t care what the church or anyone else thinks – this is proof that the Gods favour me. They are blessing my mission and honouring my faith. I will be a knight; If not of the church, then of the Gods themselves!

  He knelt and bowed his head. “I dedicate myself to You, Otec. I give my life to You, to destroy evil as You have commanded me. Thank You for this power!”

  With a sigh of contentment, he sat comfortably. I’ll leave it a while before I go and show Gelarey, I want to savour this moment. He felt at one with the universe and did not feel like having a religious argument with the sceptical traveller.

  The Holy Symbol glowed continuously for almost two hours, neither flickering nor wavering, and then suddenly dimmed and went out. With the comforting light gone, Chandor suddenly felt low and exhausted. The cold night air seemed to have penetrated his cloak and he shivered.

  No long afterwards Casanath offered to take over from him. He accepted and trod wearily to the fire where he dropped his staff to the ground and flopped down, not even bothering to take off his chain mail. In an instant, he was asleep.

  He awoke feeling refreshed and hurried to his morning meditation. His back to the rising sun, he sat facing the fire and closed his eyes. As he prayed he felt as though he was being filled with energy. He focused his mind on his mission. I no longer need fear the undead. Next time, I will pray and step forth boldly! He stood, filled with exultation and fierce joy, ready to do battle.

  A flicker of movement caught his eye. He leapt up onto a nearby wagon. It was Kurt and Deborah approaching, dragging something behind them.

  “A stone-horn buffalo?” exclaimed Lander. “The two of you killed a stone-horn buffalo by yourselves?”

  “Help us carve it up,” called Kurt. “It’s a small one, but there’s enough here for everyone.”

  “You don’t need to. It’s your prize.”

  “Consider it a thank you for your understanding last night, and for looking after our horses while we were away.”

  They distributed the meat between them, with everyone getting a generous portion. Deborah offered salts and spices so that it would keep. Once they were done the caravan set off for Bronsverj.

  CHAPTER 15

  Home

  The sun was still high when the caravan rounded a corner and the travellers saw the first sign of civilisation; a herd of sheep spread out grazing over a grassy hill. The shepherd watched them pass with interest, his crook leaning casually on his shoulder. Chandor’s stomach started to tighten with trepidation as they neared his old home town. Soon he would be able to start his quest in earnest. Will I find the answers I need to avenge my family?

  They rode over a small bridge from which he had fished with his father and brother. A lump rose in his throat. The road into the town was achingly familiar. Chandor fought back the tears that threatened. I must be strong. I cannot let sentimentality get in the way of my mission.

  Chandor recognised the Vanburen farm, where he and his brother had played and picked ripe fruit off the neat rows of citrus trees. The road wound its way down towards the town gate past low stone walls that marked out the well-tended fields. To his right, the quarry had grown in the time he was away, leaving a wide scar of bare rock on the nearby hill. He scanned the hill on his left, and it took him a moment to find the mine on which the town had been founded. Its dark entrance looked smaller than it used to, and a new mine entrance had been dug a little further from the town. The town was expanding. The start of a new cluster of stone houses was evident just near the main entrance.

  The main gates were open, and the portcullis raised. A guard stood at the entrance while another watched them from on top of the wall, his heavy crossbow loaded but not trained on them.

  “Come forward one at a time and state your name and business,” called the guard.

  They dismounted and lined up, proceeding in an orderly and efficient manner into the town. When Chandor reached the gate, the guard’s face split into a grin.

  “Chandor? Is that you?”

  Chandor peered at the young boy in front of him, who looked to be about twelve years old. “Yes, I am Chandor.”

  The guard took off his helmet. “It’s me, Viktor, son of Thomas.”

  “You’ve grown,” stated Chandor with a bow. He squashed the surge of pleasure he felt at seeing the familiar face. I cannot afford be softened by kindness, or distracted by friendship. I must be hard as steel if I am to complete this quest. He had thought endlessly about his arrival on the way back, and had decided that the only way to remain focused on his quest was to keep his distance from the people he had grown up with. Without my family this is not home, just the place where I was born.

  Viktor laughed. “I’d hope I’ve grown a bit. I last saw you, what, four years ago? I was only nine then. I’m thirteen now, doing my first apprenticeship here with the Fistorian Army, Bronsverj Company. My mom will be glad to see you again. Let me finished signing everyone in and I’ll take you to her.”

  Viktor signed each traveller in, directing those who asked to the inn and stables. When he was done, a short chat to the other guard confirmed that Viktor could take the time off work.

  Chandor led Sandy through the familiar entrance. The village seemed small and quiet compared to Tinsley. The main square was particularly quiet, although Chandor knew that inside the clusters people would be working in their smaller communal courtyards. He recognised faces, but kept his face down since he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. He was not ready to greet anyone. Viktor led him the short distance to 2nd Cluster, and through the smaller iron gates. Chandor’s heart stopped as he looked across the courtyard to his old home. He half expected his mother to open the door and walk out, and he bit his lip to try and hold back the tears.

  “Mom!” Viktor shouted across the courtyard, “Look whose here. It’s Chandor!”

  The plump woman sitting outside Number 3 laid down her handwork. She stood, but Chandor remained motionless, staring at the entrance to his old home. Memories flooded back; Racing his brother Tiaan across the square; His mother shooing their goat out of the open doorway; His father’s strong voice drifting out to them on the cool evening air; Playing ball with the other kids from the cluster. Images of flames and the charred body of his brother lying dead on the ground outside the house flooded his mind. He sank to the floor. Although it felt as if an icy hand were squeezing his heart, he forced himself to continue staring at his old home, praying that the sight would jog his memory. But the agony subsided leaving him with nothing new. It would have been worth it, he thought, for just one more clue.

  Taking a deep breath, Chandor pushed himself to his feet and led Sandy across the square. Viktor’s mother hurried forward and gathered him in a strong hug. Chandor felt tears rise and his heart begin to break. He held back a sob, I cannot afford the luxury of love. Weakness will not help me get revenge. He pushed the woman away gently but firmly. “I am not a boy anymore, Sandra. Hugs won’t make me feel better.” He bowed deeply. An adults’ greeting.

  Sandra wiped tears from her eyes, and bowed back. “Welcome back, Chandor. It is good to see you again.”

  Chandor nodded, clenching his jaw as he fought to control his feelings. “I am not here for pleasure. I am here on business.” Chandor pushed back his cloak to reveal the chain armour and the sword hanging at his side.

  “Oh, Chandor.” Sandra sniffed and pulled herself together. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

  Chandor shook his head, suddenly uncertain. He had spent lots of time thinking about his return but accommodation had never entered his mind. “I was, uh, I was…”

  Sandra interrupted, “You’ll stay with us, of course.” Her eyes moved past him and a smile spread across her face. “Is that Sandy?”

  Chandor nodded.

  “Look at her, as lovely as ever.” Sandra stepped forward and rubbed the horses’ neck. “What a good, faithful girl you are. Let’s go and get you settled.” She turned back to Chandor. “And
as for you, young man, it looks like you could do with some home cooked food, and I want to look at those cuts and bruises on your face. Come with me now.”

  The house was typically Vandish; a low stone rectangle, with a single door opening onto the cluster’s courtyard. Sandy was stabled near the door with the sheep and chickens. Further into the house, Chandor sat at the square table near the fireplace which was situated halfway along the long wall. Beyond the table, woollen curtains hid the family’s sleeping quarters.

  News had spread quickly and by sunset there was a stream of visitors entering Sandra’s house to see Chandor. The meetings were awkward and brief. Although Chandor was polite, his cold demeanour drove people away as planned. Unwilling to talk about his time at the church, uninterested in any news of the village that did not pertain to the murder of his family, the conversation quickly died and nobody stayed long.

  Dinner was quiet and subdued. They ate well, although the grilled chicken, vegetables, and good red wine were all tasteless to Chandor. When they were finished, Victor’s father brewed strong coffee and Chandor could finally ask the only question that mattered to him.

  “Thomas, what happened that day?”

  The weathered iron miner paused, his coffee close to his lips, and set it down without drinking. He sighed, “Chandor, I don’t know. Nobody does.”

  Chandor gritted his teeth, and unclenched the fist which longed to punch the table. “You were there. You must have seen something.”

  Thomas shrugged, “I can tell you what I saw, although it won’t do you any good. I’m sure you know everything of importance.”

  “I want to hear it from your perspective.”

  Thomas sipped his coffee and screwed up his eyes. “I had returned from the mine before sunset as usual. Sandra and I were settling down to dinner, same as we did tonight. Suddenly, we heard screaming – real screams rather than the shouts of children playing in the courtyard. I grabbed my mining pick and ran outside. The screams were coming from your parents’ house.” Thomas swallowed, his face a mask of pain. “Vanbelsen from next door met me outside. He had his spear with him. The two of us ran across the courtyard and threw open the door. Inside, it was horrible. Your mother and father lay dead and motionless on the floor. The traveller stood in the centre of the room, his face covered in blood. In one hand, he held a bloody sword, in the other he held you by the front of your sleeping tunic. He looked at us, smiled, and then threw you across the room into your brother, as if you weighed nothing. Vanbelsen and I ran at him, but he grabbed the oil lamp from its stand and threw it onto the ground. The flames leaped up and we were driven back. He stood there, amongst the flames, and grabbed two more bottles of oil from the shelf and smashed them on the table and the wall.”