Five days later, Judd and his companions reached the top of the final rise and beheld the behemoth fort that was Mavour. Only in size and grandness was it surpassed by Fort Verion. That alone boggled the minds of those who looked at the fort which was the size of a city.

  Judd didn’t think anything could dwarf the wall yet Fort Mavour gave it an excellent run for its reputation. There were fields outside of the fort walls where civilians worked but were guarded by patrols of soldiers on horses whose grim expressions showed they took their work seriously. However, there were no stables, no houses or buildings of any kind outside the walls of Fort Mavour, unlike Fort Omra. And, unlike Fort Omra, the wall around the city was twenty feet high, not far short of the original height of the wall when it was first built. Everything, the village, the stables, the residents of the civilians were all contained within the fort’s outer walls.

  Judd rode Xenon ahead of his party. He resented and resisted the superiority he displayed but everyone insisted it was necessary.

  “If you’re going to protect everyone, especially Suvau, you have to have the composure and authority of a knight.” Caste had argued.

  This meant that, rather than arriving at the turn of dusk the day before, they had chosen to camp out of sight of Fort Mavour to discuss and prepare their party.

  Judd wore his armour and was girded with both swords. Aalis had tousled his hair and promised his unshaven chin was giving him a roguish and dangerous air.

  “I think I would have accepted, mildly good looking, as a compliment.” He murmured, feeling embarrassed at the attention.

  “I’m with Aalis on this,” Giordi had said, leaning against Zeke, “you are really starting to cut a knightly figure.”

  “I hate that knightliness seems to go hand in hand with arrogance…” Judd groused.

  “Those who know and love you know that you are not arrogant.” Aalis reassured him.

  Judd chose to fuss over his appearance rather than allow himself to look at Aalis hopefully at the word ‘love’. He knew she meant it generally, no matter what he might wish for.

  Judd was not the only one who had to adjust his appearance. Aalis wore her nomad outfit which was a wordless explanation as to why she had dreadlocks and to help with her fear of crowded places she wore the shawl over her head and veil across her face, lining her eyes with kohl like the women of the clans were known to do.

  Suvau removed his boots and made sure his tunic and trousers were the worst of all his clothing. Several packs had been bound together to form a large and intimidating weight for him to carry on his shoulders and he walked at the back of the group, head down, trying to suppress the smile at their dramatic antics.

  “Suvau, would you stop looking so pleased at being a slave?”

  “I will do my best to look downtrodden and hopeless.” He promised with a wry grin.

  “And do not speak unless you’re spoken to.” Giordi reminded him.

  “That goes for all of us,” Caste looked at the minstrel, “you’re going to have to walk soon.”

  “I’m not a servant. I’m a minstrel.”

  “I’m not saying you have to change your appearance but Judd’s first impression on Fort Mavour will be in contrast to the rest of us.”

  “He’s right,” Verne nodded, “the more subservient that we look, the grander he does.”

  Judd closed his eyes and groaned. “I really wish there was a better way to find a minotaur.”

  Just before they headed over the rise to Fort Mavour, Giordi dismounted Zeke with Suvau’s assistance. While he was a great deal improved, Giordi’s mobility was temporarily decreased. Caste had remarked that at least they could keep an eye on him now because he couldn’t run off.

  “As true as that might have been in the past, little cleric,” Giordi said with a touch of his old bravado, “I won’t be engaging in any womanising…unless she comes to me.”

  Verne rolled his eyes and strode on ahead.

  Their party garnered plenty of attention, the workers in the fields looking up at them curiously and the soldiers whispered to each other but until they reached the gates of Fort Mavour, no one questioned their approach. However, Judd saw archers and lookouts on the two towers on either side of the gates and three soldiers approached, two already with their hands on their swords while the first, probably the captain of the guard with impressive ginger red sideburns, stood without fear in front of Xenon’s tempestuous tossing head.

  “State your name and business in Fort Mavour.”

  “I am Judd LaMogre,” Judd said as proudly as he could muster, “I am from Astaril and have come to pay my respects to Sir Donimede.”

  “LaMogre?” The captain turned and looked at one of the soldiers behind him. “Sir Egrette’s report, sir…”

  “From Keenstone Isle?” The captain asked and the soldier nodded. He turned back to Judd. “Are you the same Judd LaMogre who slayed the monster plaguing Fort Sol?”

  “I killed both giant spider and an orthros.” Judd replied, sensing the captain’s test.

  “By all means, Judd LaMogre,” the captain led the party through the gates, “I’ll have Sir Donimede made aware of your presence and my guards will escort you to the upper bailey.” He paused, studying Judd’s companions. “You travel with interesting company, Judd LaMogre…a nomad and a Maul…unbound at that.”

  “He can’t protect me if his hands or feet are bound.” Judd replied firmly.

  “Very good, sir.” The captain bowed then gestured for the guards to come forward. “Lieutenants Arsch and Kipre will show you the way.”

  “Please, follow us.” Arsch nodded sharply, almost bowing and he and Kipre walked ahead of Judd. He had been told to stay on the horse which was common practice for knights and men of rank. Arsch and Kipre seemed to be expecting him to do so and spoke to him respectfully. “Is it true, sir, that you killed a spider as big as an ogre?”

  “It wasn’t as big as an ogre,” Judd protested then heard Giordi clear his throat, “at least, its body was not. If you include the span of its legs then yes, it was as big as the ogre I killed up in the north of Terra.”

  “You’ve killed an ogre too?” Kipre gushed. “They’re bull-headed monsters. Sometimes they just ram the wall over and over until they’ve bashed their brains out and turned the stone green.”

  Atop Xenon, Judd had a clear view of the city at Fort Mavour’s base. He had to duck to avoid some of the lines strung between the two lines of buildings he was being led down. There were many people in Fort Mavour carrying baskets, boxes, sacks, herding animals, selling wares and soon Judd realised that the main thoroughfare was actually a marketplace, a bustling hive of suffocating bodies, each with their own agenda and business. Thankfully, inside the walls of Fort Mavour, the frigid wind was thwarted but the air was still cold. This far south, Judd wondered if it was not always this way.

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  “Make way, make way for Judd LaMogre!” Kipre cried out and the people dutifully shifted to the sides of the road, well trained to recognise the voice of authority when it came to soldiers.

  With Kipre’s declaration, Judd felt all eyes on him. He took a deep breath to fill out his armour and kept his chin high. He could hear men and women whispering, asking who he was while others gossiped, assumed and made up downright lies.

  “Whoa,” he heard a young boy gasp, “it’s Judd LaMogre!”

  “Who?” His friend with the wooden sword asked.

  “LaMogre…he killed a hydra! Father said so! At Fort Omra.”

  “Your father’s full of cow dung.” His friend mocked. “There aren’t any hydra in the north.”

  “Cleric Caste!” Judd suddenly called, drawing Xenon to a halt. Caste scurried forward, sensing a disaster. “Could you please furnish these young gentlemen,” he said as he looked at the boys, stunned at being addressed by a man on a fine stallion, “with the truth about the hydra at Fort Omra?”

  “Yes, Judd LaMogre,” Caste cleared his throat, “over a month ago, a hydra emerged from the chasms of Maul, climbed over the wall at Fort Omra and was going to advance northwards if not for Judd LaMogre gouging at its chest and cutting its heart to ribbons.”

  The jaws of both boys dropped open.

  “And as a cleric of the Order of the Grail,” Judd added firmly, “Caste Undern’s word is infallible.”

  “Yes sir!” The boys saluted him.

  Judd nodded and smiled, urging Xenon forwards to re-join Arsch and Kipre who had watched the interaction with interest.

  “I think you might be drawing a crowd.” Arsch nodded and Judd swivelled to see the civilians of Fort Mavour gathering behind him. Judd trembled and hoped it wasn’t noticeable. Thankfully Xenon tossed his head, possibly sensing his master’s unease and Judd could concentrate on soothing him, calming himself at the same time.

  The claustrophobic cluster of the marketplace opened into the lower bailey, accessed by another gate which was a metal monstrosity. At the back of the lower bailey were archways and large windows. A young lad, probably a squire, approached, looking at Xenon somewhat fearfully.

  “Luik will take charge of your mounts,” Arsch explained, “as we ascend to the upper bailey.”

  Judd slid his left foot out of the stirrup, swung his right leg over and dropped as lightly as he could. His armour was capable of nimble movements but he knew from previous experience that if did not extricate himself from the left stirrup before dismounting, he ended up hopping around on his right, trying to get his foot out.

  “Here you go, lad.” He offered the reins to Luik. “Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s a pushover.” Xenon glowered at him and Judd put his hands on his hips. “Do you want me to start spreading rumours how you abandoned me to that wild cat?” Xenon huffed and hung his head. Judd would have sworn the stallion understood every word he said.

  “Did you really kill a wild cat?” Luik asked in awe.

  “No, actually, I didn’t,” Judd leaned down and winked, “my minstrel did.”

  Luik’s eyes went from round to bulging as he looked at Giordi. “Could you make sure Quell and Zeke are also fed and watered?” Giordi asked, unhooking the reins as everyone removed their packs from their backs. “They’ll follow wherever Xenon goes.”

  “Yes sir!” Luik nodded and walked Xenon into the stables, Quell and Zeke following dutifully.

  Arsch chuckled. “This way.” He started leading Judd to the base of the steps then paused and turned. “Your entourage can wait here.”

  “I would appreciate it if my entourage accompanied me.” Judd replied firmly. “I’d consider it a favour.”

  “Of course.” Arsch bowed and he and Kipre took to the steps.

  Judd wished desperately that he could look behind and get either an encouraging nod or approving smile from any of his party but Giordi had been very clear.

  “Don’t look at us for approval. You are your own master and we exist in your wake.”

  So Judd strode up the steps without a backward glance. Fort Mavour’s upper bailey was not just the courtyard that was closer to the fort itself. It really was ‘upper’, reached by two flights of stairs that were wide enough for six to walk abreast on the first flight and four on the second. There were no handholds or railings so by the time Judd was close to the top of the second flight, he was tempted to hug closely to the wall. Fort Mavour loomed over him, dozens of small arched windows, the kind most monsters could not squeeze through, gazed onto the marketplace and the fields beyond the wall that he was now higher than.

  Rather than a gate into the fort, there was a set of doors which were already open and a rather rangy knight approached him dressed entirely in black. Though he was not in armour, he did wear a sword on the belt that was cinched around his waist. His hair was black but unlike Verne’s it didn’t gleam with health. Probably helping to hide this fact, the knight had it tied back from his angular face which was clean shaven, a first amongst the knights Judd had seen.

  Behind him was an older man, immediately identifiable as an officer of the Order of the Grail by his cappa clausa. He leaned on his cane but it seemed to be an affectation rather than a need and he pushed his spectacles up his nose, perusing Judd and his company. To Judd’s surprise, he was not the only cleric stationed at Fort Mavour as a much younger man with a decidedly handsome face stood just behind the older cleric.

  “Judd LaMogre?” The knight asked.

  “I am. You must be Sir Cantor Donimede,” Judd immediately gave a strong bow, “thank you for being so gracious as to meet me in person.”

  “Well, I’ve been hearing a great deal about you.” Sir Donimede nodded. “Your deeds are becoming quite the talk of the soldier’s mess. My guards are gossiping about you like old women and nobility…isn’t that right, Arsch?” The lieutenant cleared his throat and looked aside. “You are proof that competence does not have to come from nobility…a terrifying thought to the overweight, out of shape buffoons in Astaril.” Sir Donimede’s eyes glanced behind Judd and he sensed the invitation to introduce his entourage.

  “Allow me to introduce my cleric, Caste Undern.” Judd gestured for Caste to step forward.

  “My deacon who will be promoted to archdeacon upon his return to Astaril,” the elderly man puffed himself up, quite pleased and Donimede almost rolled his eyes, “Augrum Alast and his protégé, Cleric Rodel.”

  “Welcome to Fort Mavour, Judd LaMogre.” Augrum nodded. “You as well, Cleric Undern.”

  “Thank you.” Caste bowed and stepped back.

  “When you set out from Astaril, I believe you were only furnished with a cleric,” Sir Donimede remarked, “yet you travel with a larger than expected entourage…”

  “There is my archer, Verne Sachon,” Judd announced, “and my minstrel, Giordi Gavoli.”

  “Well met, gentlemen,” Sir Donimede lifted his chin, “understandable, even commendable companions for a knight…but a nomad?” Judd was able to turn to look at Aalis as Donimede walked towards her, looking down at the top of her head. “Your cleric should have warned you about endangering your knighthood, either before or afterwards, by becoming entangled with someone of the lower classes, especially a nomad,” Sir Donimede clutched Aalis’ chin and forced her face up so he could study it, “no matter how lovely they appear.”

  “We are not entangled.” Judd protested, on the edge of his control as Aalis’ eyes were filled with fear. Donimede studied her for a moment, unable to see past the veil and not worrying the slightest about her dreadlocks. He turned to Judd, somewhat sceptical.

  “She is dressed as a bride.” He pointed out.

  “It was a gift.”

  “Judging by the make of her outfit, the chief’s daughter no less,” Sir Donimede turned to Judd, letting go of Aalis so that she could step back and lower her head once more, “how did you manage that? Those nomads are impossible to impress.”

  “I killed several unicorns and my archer and I took down a centaur.” Judd explained but Sir Donimede was less than convinced. Judd fumbled for an explanation that would appease him. “And…my party was instrumental in saving the chief’s son.”

  “Well, that explains it.” Sir Donimede nodded and Judd let out the tension filled breath he was holding. “A son’s worth is incalculable.” He looked at Suvau who kept his head down. “I must say…your Maul is a fine specimen.” He walked around Suvau, clucking in appreciation. “Quite the brute really but he seems docile enough. Probably about as smart as an ogre.” Judd’s hands clenched and he had to relax his fingers. “I pay good coin for Fereak’s best only to find he’s been holding out on me. However did you manage to secure him from Fort Omra?”

  “It was a trade.”

  “Trade?”

  “A hydra kill for a Maul.”

  Sir Donimede’s eyebrows rose. “So you’re the one…well, Judd LaMogre, perhaps you will dine with me this evening?”

  “As long as I’m not an inconvenience.” Judd blurted, suddenly desperate to be anywhere other than at the same table as Sir Donimede.

  “Come now, false humility does not become a potential knight.” Sir Donimede slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve already given orders for a room to be made up for you. Your entourage may sleep in the room next to it. Your Maul will have to be housed with the others of his ilk.”

  “My Maul is to stay with me…” Judd said firmly and a flicker of irritation coursed across Sir Donimede’s face.

  “Master,” Suvau said as dully as he could, “I go with my kind.”

  Judd sighed and nodded. “Very well.”

  “Kipre, take LaMogre’s Maul to the others.” Judd’s heart sank in his chest, hearing Suvau lumber away as mindlessly as he could. Cantor Donimede waved to the doors of the fort. “Shall we?”