The Grim Wanderer (46 page)

The blue Ironstone team met the Claymore team in the centre of the coliseum, where every player congratulated each player on the opposing team. Taem was struck by the humility of the Claymores in defeat. Taem watched the Rhungars smacking each other’s forearms as they shook hands, and he realised that this was an important part of the ritual of Gaunt Ruck. After all their bravado, the opposing teams praised and consoled each other with dignity and respect, as the crowd clapped a thunderous round of applause. Taem could at last see what Forgrun had meant, when he said how Gaunt Ruck brought the Rhungari people closer together.

That evening, a great feast took place in a massive dining hall. The chamber held a hundred long-tables, each one capable of seating forty Rhungars, and all the players and spectators were shepherded in. Taem had never seen the like of the feast that was put on. It must have been the Rhungari idea of heaven.

As Taem followed the other Ironstone players, he passed musicians and entertainers wearing clothes that were the colours of
all
the clans at the
same
time. Past the merry strumming and tapping of the Rhungari musicians, Taem went and sat with both the Ironstone and Claymore teams, on a huge table close to the Citadel Lord’s head table. The other companions came and sat with Taem, whilst Hirandar sat up on Drogal’s right hand side.

Taem was amazed to see the afternoon’s combatants were all now getting on well, and even Forgrun and Sturad were slapping each other on the back, and thumping each other in the shoulder.

‘That be a great punch,’ one Ironstone Rhungar pointed to his shining black eye, as if it were a badge of honour. Taem could see that eye would not be opening again for some time.

‘So do be this,’ the Claymore Rhungar pointed to the cut lip the other Rhungar had given him. Taem saw how the Claymore had needed stitches to put his lip back together.

‘Cheers!’ They both raised and clunked their tankards together, and gulped down some beer, whilst Taem shook his head in disbelief.

Taem saw Logan was not drinking beer, so he did not either. His stomach rumbled, as he gazed over the dishes of roasted wild boar, venison steaks, sirloins of beef and ribs of mountain bison.

‘It surprises me the tables of Khan Zhen have such wondrous variety,’ Taem gestured to all the different meats.

‘There be lots o’ animals do livin’ in mountains,’ Pendran sat next to Taem, ‘if yhee knows where ter look.’

‘What are these?’ Taem pointed to the roasted birds that were as big as small boars.

‘Gollys,’ Pendran ripped a huge leg off the roasted bird, and dumped it on Taem’s plate. ‘They be giant an’ flightless birds that do live in huge flocks in ye mountains. What else do take thy fancy?’

‘Steak is my favourite,’ Taem felt his stomach rumble again, as he set eyes on the pile of giant mouth-watering steaks. Pendran speared a great slab of steak with a serving prong, and slapped the meat down on Taem’s plate.

Taem ripped into the succulent steak, and had to make sure he did not drool everywhere, as the meat’s juicy red centre was revealed. As Taem savoured each chew of the delicious steak, he caught the frown on Baek’s face and smiled. The Aborle watched with disdain, as the Rhungars on either side of him ripped off strips of roast boar with their bare hands, and stuffed the meat into their mouths in between swigs of ale.

With the meats, Taem feasted on puddings and stuffings, and the perfect gravy. Needless to say, there was gallons of strong Rhungar beer to wash it all down with.

Taem marvelled at the towering dishes of roast potatoes, parsnips, carrots, suede, green peas, turnips, and steaming cabbage, leak and broccoli. Despite them being up in the mountains, Taem was surprised to see the full range of vegetables on the Rhungari tables – courtesy of Clan Browen Dal – but vegetables were merely secondary to the meats. Taem saw many Rhungars had plates stacked only with luscious flame-grilled or roasted cuts, and nothing else. Taem could certainly get used to eating like this!

‘Be tryin’ a wee bit o’ mountain boar,’ Pendran slammed a great chunk or wild boar on Taem’s plate.

‘I’m too full!’ Taem held up his hand in protest.

‘Go on,’ Pendran and the other Ironstone players encouraged him.

‘I cannot!’ Taem puffed.

‘Yhee be too skinny!’ The Rhungars chortled, as they piled yet more steaks on his overloaded plate.

Luckily for Taem, Ragad nodded at him, and he managed to pile most of the meat onto the Croma’s plate, whilst none of the Rhungars were looking.

After a drawn out dinner, during which Taem saw some Rhungars put away more food than he could manage in a week, the main course was cleared by the serving Rhungars to be replaced by cheeses, breads and biscuits, and then a huge selection of mammoth desserts. Taem’s eyes watered as he saw the sponge cakes, cheesecakes, apple pies, custard, treacle pudding, a range of nuts, fruit tarts and cream to dollop all over it. But he had eaten so much already, he could not manage any dessert.

Beer flowed freely, and Rhungars sang rousing choruses of their battle songs, always followed by a toast and the downing of entire tankards of Rhungari ale. Taem loved the cordial atmosphere of the Rhungar party. Rhungars became more forthcoming and friendly once they had each sunk twenty tankards of beer. He thought how there was no other people in Hathlore that could match the Rhungars for merrymaking, as he wearily headed for his bed in the early hours, whilst the party was still in full swing.

By chance, the next day was another day of celebration for the Rhungars, called The Moon-Lantern Festival. The Rhungars needed little excuse to continue their merrymaking into that following day.

Forgrun showed the Hand of Fire around parts of the Rhungari city. Forgrun took the companions to the temples, where Rhungars could come any time of day to say prayers or give offerings to the Ancestor-Gods.

Taem saw how the temples were always watched over by a giant statue of their patron Ancestor-God. He found them tranquil, spiritual places, where numerous sticks of incense were always burning. Taem sighed as he inhaled the soothing aroma that lingered over the temples. These shrines were areas of calm in the otherwise hectic Under City. Taem watched as Logan and Forgrun lit a stick of incense each, and knelt down in front of a statute of Odrin. He decided to join them.

‘You are unusually quiet, Baek,’ Hirandar murmured, as the other companions watched Forgrun, Taem and Logan praying.

‘I am ashamed,’ Baek looked down at the floor. ‘I had assumed the Rhungars were just brutes and savages – but, as I look over this spiritual place, I know I was mistaken.’

‘Do not think too harshly of yourself,’ Hirandar placed a hand on Baek’s shoulder, ‘it takes a good man to admit when he is wrong.’

‘The Rhungars
are
savages,’ Ragad said.

Baek and Hirandar stared at the Croma with surprise.

‘But no more than I am,’ Ragad’s keen gaze turned to Baek, ‘or you are, Aborle.’

‘Well spoken indeed,’ Hirandar raised an eyebrow.

‘The Rhungars are not the only ones,’ Jvarna nodded to Ragad, ‘who are deeper than they seem on the surface.’

‘Evidently,’ Hirandar mused to herself, as Forgrun got up from praying, and made to lead the company on.

As they walked through Khan Zhen, Taem noticed the prayer tables by the sides of the streets, or within buildings. These stone tables were spectacular carvings with harsh edges, with a detailed statue of at least one of the Ancestor-Gods. Taem could see Odrin and Gromm were the prime choices, but other popular options were Decu, Joga, Claune the god of children and merriment, Nyna the god of the home, Karlstrom the glutinous god of beer and food, and Pfynere the god of wisdom and common sense.

Often, Taem observed there was some small food or drink offering placed under the statue, or maybe some coins, or a small item of treasure.

‘Are these offerings for the Gods?’ Taem gestured to the pile of coins and mug of beer, placed on a nearby prayer table.

‘Aye,’ Forgrun nodded. ‘Ter bring ye favour o’ ye Gods an’ ye Ancestors.’

‘Unlike the church of Men,’ Hirandar said, as the company walked down the street, ‘the Rhungars do not have religious services. They just take a few minutes of quiet prayer, from time to time – whenever they feel it right.’

‘Fascinating,’ Baek said, as Forgrun led the Hand of Fire on. ‘We Aborle pray to the Light, like other Men. But who is praying to the right gods? Us or the Rhungars?’

‘Who can say?’ Hirandar murmured. ‘None can say for sure. Wars have been fought over such things.’ Hirandar shook her head. ‘But I believe there are many forces for good in this world, and there is more than enough room for the Light and the Ancestor-Gods.’

Forgrun could not let their tour pass without a visit to a rowdy Rhungari alehouse. As the Hand of Fire entered, every Rhungar in the alehouse called them over to take a seat. Taem knew Rhungars had a reputation for being sullen and unfriendly; however – in their own city at least – Taem could not imagine a more welcoming people. Ragad, in particular, was embraced by the Rhungars. The barbarian demonstrated such a fondness for their ale that, to the Rhungars’ open astonishment, the Croma could match them in the number of tankards they drank down.

‘Master,’ Taem whispered to Logan, ‘is it wise for all the soldiers to be getting drunk, with the enemy still so close to the stronghold?’

‘It is foolish beyond words,’ Logan shook his head, as two Rhungars lined up five tankards each along the bar, and raced each other to down them all, whilst the rest of the alehouse cheered them on.

‘But try telling that to a Rhungar,’ Hirandar smiled, as the two Rhungars finished their five tankards, and howled as they smashed each other in a Rhungari handshake.

That night, the Moon-Lantern festival was held inside the Under City. It normally would have taken place on the plateau, but the stronghold was still on alert. All the lights inside the citadel chamber were put out, until only Moon-Lanterns lit the chamber with their eerie yellow glow. The company were honoured to join Lord Drogal and Captain Harnan, on the citadel battlements, from where Taem gaped at the enchanting view of the darkened Under City.

‘But how can they loose fireworks
inside
the cavern, Forgrun?’ Taem asked.

‘Be on shortened fuses,’ Forgrun grinned at Taem’s amazement. ‘Such miracle do be simply elemen’ry fer ye Rhungar engineers.’

Taem felt the tingle of anticipation in the air, as the usually loud and frantic Under City waited in a hushed quiet. Taem could see the Rhungar children all held Moon-Lanterns, and were brimming with barely contained excitement – some of the adult Rhungars were no different either.

‘It be long ago,’ Forgrun told the Hand of Fire, as they stood up on the battlements of the stronghold, ‘when a single Rhungar warrior be ye sole survivor from group o’ messengers sent from ye eastern outpost, ter ye capital stronghold, Kaladoon. His duty do be ter warn agains’ ye biggest Krun army do ever be assembled, heading ter attack ye High King’s stronghold. The messenger be bloodied an’ wounded, but did nay stop his relentless journey – as he do knew, if ye citadel were ter be saved his message had ter get through.’ Forgrun held up a clenched fist. ‘It do be a dark night – as black as ye pitch – an’ ye messenger be lost an’ all but finished. So ye messenger, as his last chance, do pray ter ye Ancestor-Gods fer help.’ Forgrun brought his hands together in prayer. ‘When he do open his eyes a huge full moon do reveal itself in ye night sky ter guide his steps. He could now be seein’ where ter walk, but he still do nay know ye way ter Kaladoon. By chance, that night do be ye High King’s birthday, and ye citadel walls be lined with party lanterns that only do give off ye weakest o’ dull glows.’ Forgrun gestured over the battlements, at the hundreds of Moon Lanterns in the city. ‘These faint yellow lights do allow ye messenger ter find his way home, and alert ye citadel ter ye impending threat o’ Krun invasion. Because of that brave messenger, ye defences be prepared in time fer ye onslaught.’

‘So, ev’ry year,’ Harnan said, ‘ye messenger’s courage be celebrated in ye festival fer Moon Lanterns, which do be lightin’ his way.’

With a whoosh the first rocket launched up into the mountain roof, and everyone looked up. Taem saw the rocket fly up, tracing a trail of sparks over the dark city, and explode into a burst of green stars.

Soft cries of, ‘Oooohhh!’ and ‘Aaaahhhh!’ whispered through the lamp-lit Under City, and Taem heard how the cheering emanated from where the Moon-Lanterns were concentrated.

Taem watched as rocket after rocket zoomed up towards the mountain roof, hissing as they blazed a trail through the air, until there was a great bang. Scintillating colours exploded in great blasts, which stayed for a few seconds on this giant canvas in the air, and faded into nothing. More starbursts of gold and silver, purple and blue, red and orange zoomed into the air. Taem looked at his friends, and saw how all the companions gazed overhead, enchanted.

With the fireworks still going on, and fire crackers being set off all over the city, one of the Citadel Guard came up to Harnan.

‘Lord Molboroth,’ the Citadel Guard bowed. ‘Ye Grey Rangers be returned. They do follow ye Krun horde as they be fleein’ east, ter entrance ter ye high passes.’ The guard snorted. ‘Here, ye Krun do stop ter regroup, an’ steady thyselves. Neveryeless, they do had their rest now, an’ be comin’ back toward stronghold. Rangers estimate, by morning ye Krun be returned ter our gates.’