The Complete Darkwar Trilogy: Flight of the Night Hawks, Into a Dark Realm, Wrath of a Mad God

‘The castle of the Black Sorcerer,’ answered the man.

‘Who’s the Black Sorcerer?’ asked Tad.

The man looked over his shoulder, grinning. His face looked young, perhaps only a few years older than the boys, but his blond hair was shot through with grey. ‘Pug’s the Black Sorcerer when he’s here. If he’s not, then sometimes Nakor, or Magnus, or Miranda, or someone else. It’s whoever’s handy.’

Tad said, ‘I don’t understand,’ and he stopped, to catch his breath. ‘Can you wait a minute?’

The man stopped and said, ‘Winded? At your age?’

Zane also stopped. ‘That was a long climb.’

‘That was nothing,’ said the man. ‘Wait until I get done with you; you’ll be running up and down those paths without thought.’

‘The Black Sorcerer,’ said Tad between breaths, pointing at the castle.

‘Well, you boys know about the Black Sorcerer, of course …’

‘No,’ interrupted Zane. ‘We don’t. That’s why we’re asking.’

‘I thought everyone on the Bitter Sea knew about the Black Sorcerer,’ said the man.

‘We’re not from the Bitter Sea,’ said Tad. ‘We’re from Stardock.’

‘Ah,’ said the man, nodding as if he understood. ‘Stardock.’ He turned. ‘Come along; rest is over.’

The boys took deep breaths and hurried after the rapidly walking man. ‘There used to be a man who lived up there,’ he said, ‘by name Macros. He started the legend of the Black Sorcerer so people would leave him alone. He left this island to Pug, who continues the legend, so that ships are not likely to put in here. It keeps things relatively quiet.’

As they headed down towards the beach, they came to a path leading from the castle that intercepted their own. ‘If you go that way,’ said the man, ‘you’ll go straight to the castle. It’s empty. It’s a pretty drab and uninviting place, though we brighten up the windows with some interesting lights if we think someone’s spying on us.’ He looked back grinning. ‘Good show.’ Turning his attention downhill, he said, ‘Now, here’s what I want you two to do,’ as they reached the sand. He pointed to a distant point on the beach where large rocks hid the curving shoreline. ‘Run that way, very fast. Go to that rock. Then run back here.’

Tad could barely stand. ‘Who are you?’

The man put his hands on his hips. ‘Tilenbrook, Farsez Tilenbrook. I am to be your tutor in all things physical for a while. You two have grown lazy and are unfit for the rigours you may face as Caleb’s apprentices.’

The boys exchanged glances. ‘We’re to be his apprentices?’ asked Zane.

‘Perhaps you are. Now run!’

The boys set off at a slow run, still fatigued by the hike over the ridge. Farsez stood patiently waiting as they half-ran, half-stumbled down to the distant rock, then turned and started running back. When they reached his position, both boys fell to their knees on the sand, Zane then half-rolling, falling onto his back as they panted for breath. ‘My,’ said Tilenbrook, ‘you two are in the most deplorable condition for boys. Comes from lazing about all day with nothing to do, I wager.

‘Now, get up!’

The boys staggered to their feet. ‘A quick march back to the villa!’

He set off at a brisk pace, not looking backward, and the boys groaned as they moved after him.

Nearly an hour later two very tired boys, drenched with perspiration, stumbled down the hill to the village, where sat Tilenbrook waiting on the low stone garden wall, a large mug of something in his hand. He sipped at it as they came to stand before him. He glanced at the angle of the sun and said, ‘Very well. We are done for today. We shall do this again tomorrow, and every day after until I think you’ve achieved a speed to and from the rock that I deem appropriate.’

Tad and Zane looked at one another, then Zane closed his eyes as he leaned forward, hands above his knees. Tad tried to ease his aching body by just walking in circles.

As Tilenbrook dismounted the wall, he said, ‘I will see you two as soon as you’ve finished your morning meal, right here.’ He then left without another word.

Zane looked over at Tad and said, ‘I think I’ll just kill myself now.’

Tad nodded and started slowly walking back towards their room. When they reached their room, Tad made a show of sniffing and said, ‘If you’re meeting one of the sisters after the meal, I suggest you bathe.’

Zane groaned. ‘I forgot.’ He stood while Tad threw himself across his bed. ‘Let’s go to the lake, now.’

‘What about supper?’

‘Are you hungry?’

‘Not really,’ said Tad.

‘Good. Then teach me to swim and let me wash the stink off.’

With an audible protest, Tad forced himself upwards and said, ‘Get clean clothes, at least.’

Both boys did and headed out the door of the room, Tad saying, ‘Grab a bar of soap at the bathhouse.’

They reached the bathhouse and found it empty as they expected this close to the evening meal. It was a three-chambered structure with a room of very hot, warm, and cold water. There was some ritual of bathing Nakor had explained to them, but both boys just washed off in a bucket and then soaked in the hot tub when they cleaned themselves off.

Looking at one another, Zane said, ‘The lake can wait until tomorrow.’

They quickly stripped off their clothing, filled buckets with warm water, and washed off the grime of the day. When done, they both stepped into the hot water and with audible sighs of relief let the heat sink into their tired muscles. The water was kept hot, as the centre room – the tepidarium – was kept warm by running water pipes through the kitchen, where fires burned day and night as cooking was a constant undertaking for the population of Sorcerer’s Isle.

Within minutes both boys dozed off.

Abruptly Zane came awake to see a beautiful face inches from his own. Eyes that looked white in the distance, but this close revealed pale green flecks, set in a darker green face lit up with delight as an exotic voice whispered, ‘There you are. I was looking for you.’

Zane ran his hand over his face and said, ‘I must have fallen asleep.’ His eyes widened as the girl’s hand ran down his chest and stomach and she leaned in to kiss him.

Over her shoulder he could see one of her sisters – he had no idea which one – and saw she was likewise giving Tad what could only be called loving attention. Closing his eyes as he started enjoying sensations that were new and wonderful to him, he silently thought, I hope this is Zadrina and not one of her sisters.

For weeks their training followed no pattern that was clear to them, save it often seemed arbitrary, pointless, and exhausting. After two weeks of making the daily run to the rock and finally doing it without slowing the entire way, Tilenbrook sent them back a second time, and then demanded they run up the ridge and back to the villa.

Zane was forced to admit it was getting easier to do and also found he was sleeping better at night. Tad complained he had to find someone to take in the waist of his trousers.

The only happy aspect of their lives were the sisters – Zane with Zadrina and Tad with the one named Kalinda. After the night in the bathhouse, Tad now claimed he had no trouble telling them apart.

Still most of their day was taken up with running, and while they were getting better at it, they saw little purpose to the constant exercise.

Three weeks after the daily running began, they were returning from a run that had to be more than five miles each way, to an outcropping of rocks Tilenbrook had described to them, and found their instructor waiting for them, along with another man. As the now only slightly out-of-breath youths slowed and walked the last few yards, Tilenbrook opened a bundle and threw two swords to them. ‘Defend yourselves!’ he shouted.

Tad grabbed his sword out of the air but Zane missed his. The second man came at him like an on-rushing bull, holding a wicked looking curved sword. Before he could react, Tad was knocked over by the man’s shoulder, while Zane was slapped across the side of the head with the flat of the blade, a blow that sent him to his knees.

‘Your enemy will not care if you are tired,’ said the bearded man as he grabbed Zane by the tunic, jerked him upright, and put his sword to his throat. With a flick of his wrist, he slapped Tad on the shoulder, hard, with the blade’s flat, and said, ‘You both are now dead.’

Tilenbrook said, ‘This is Bolden. He will be your instructor for a while. My work is done now that you two are no longer a pair of slugs.’