Slathbog's Gold

by M. L. Forman

  “And if we should return to claim payment,” commented Bregnest with a slight smile. For several minutes Bregnest remained silent, then he spoke again. “Your story is a good one and worth the price.”

  “You are most kind,” said Eric, bowing slightly. “I will take my leave of your company then, as it is late.”

  Bregnest nodded to the old man and handed him five gold coins, motioning for each in the company to do the same. Eric moved around the room, collecting his fee and bowing to each of the adventurers in turn.

  “Where will we find you, if we return?” asked Bregnest as Eric moved toward the door.

  “Here at the inn,” answered Eric. “I oversee the stables for Tantic, though there is little to do these days.”

  “And if we do not return for many years? Who shall we pay in your place?” Bregnest questioned as Eric opened the door to leave.

  “If it takes you that long, you may keep the payment,” Eric replied with a smile. “You still have far to go before ever reaching Varlo, and you may never get there. I will wait for your return as long as I can.”

  Bregnest nodded as Eric left the room, closing the door behind him.

  “I don’t trust him,” said Halfdan after several minutes of silence. “How did he know we were going to Varlo at all?”

  “He believed the story,” commented Arconn in a thoughtful tone. “It may not be a true story, but he believes it.”

  “True story or not, Bregnest is right: a secret entrance once used is no longer secret,” said Thrang sounding as angry as Halfdan. “Though the old man was right to say it’s better than the front gate.”

  “Not better if it leads us straight to the dragon’s den,” said Tayo.

  “Better to surprise the dragon in his den than to have him surprise us some place else,” said Skeld with a smile.

  “And do our youngest members have nothing to say on this matter?” Bregnest asked.

  “Youth should speak when spoken to,” replied Andy with a bow.

  “That may do in your father’s house,” said Bregnest with a slight smile. “You and Alex are part of this company and may speak or remain silent as you see fit.”

  “I have little to say,” said Andy. “Though if there is a secret way, it would be worth a look.”

  “But if it’s blocked, we may waste time looking,” said Alex, following Andy’s lead. “And if the dragon knows about it, won’t he watch it closely?”

  “All have made good points,” said Bregnest, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “We have a long road before reaching Varlo. We will have time to consider Eric’s story and what course we should take as we travel. Though I am of the opinion that we should at least look for this secret path.”

  “How far is it to Varlo?” Alex asked.

  “A good distance,” Bregnest answered. “If we take the straightest road, we must still ride to the Brown Hills and then past the ruins of Aunk.”

  “And then there is the dark forest. We must pass that no matter which road we take,” Thrang added.

  “The dark forest should not be difficult to cross if we take the right paths,” Arconn commented.

  “And meet the right people,” said Bregnest, looking up at Arconn. “But nothing is sure, except that tomorrow we must ride on. We will discuss this again when we are closer to Varlo.”

  “To Varlo,” said Halfdan, raising his mug.

  “To Varlo indeed,” Bregnest replied without toasting.

  chapter thirteen

  Dwarf Realm

  Morning came sooner than Alex would have liked after the company’s late night. It was wet and windy outside, though surprisingly warm. Skeld laughed at the weather in his usual manner, but the rest of them did not feel so happy. Halfdan complained loudly and asked more to himself than to his companions if it would be better to stay another day. Alex looked around the stable as he saddled Shahree, but there was no sign of Eric Von Tealo.

  “A poor day to start, as Halfdan has noted,” Bregnest commented as they led their horses out of the stable.

  “Poor or fair, Halfdan would rather have another drink than ride,” said Skeld, laughing merrily as he looked up at the sky.

  Halfdan gave Skeld an evil look. The others saw the look and smiled at each other, knowing that Halfdan had consumed a large amount of the fine spiced ale of Techen the night before. Now his words and mood showed he was paying the price for his over-indulgence.

  Ignoring the weather, they mounted their horses and Bregnest led them back to the city’s gates. The guards allowed them to pass with only a nod, obviously preferring their dry watch hut to asking questions in the rain. The company headed east, leaving the mud-colored city of Techen behind.

  The rain continued to fall all day, but as night approached, the rain finally slowed to only a few drops. There had been little talk on the road, and Alex had spent the time thinking about his studies. He had learned the elfin letters and could read most of the book Iownan had given him.

  Arconn was pleased with Alex’s progress, but each night, he insisted Alex spend some time with the magic book. Alex did what Arconn told him to do, though he worked much slower with the magic book than he did with the book Iownan had given him.

  Alex had mixed feelings about magic, and a lot of questions as well. He didn’t doubt that magic worked; it was more that it seemed too easy. He worried that if things were too easy he wouldn’t appreciate them, that he might start to think of magic as a common thing.

  Of course he was pleased that he could start fires and put them out with a simple command, and he was also pleased that the same magic had allowed him to defeat a troll. He could see that magic might be very useful, and he knew that learning more magic would be helpful. The voice at the back of his mind, however, warned him that magic could also be dangerous. Alex thought he should understand magic better before learning too much of it.

  By the next morning, the rain had stopped completely, though the sky was still cloudy and dark. The winds had died down as well, and even Halfdan seemed to be in a better mood. The road was slick and muddy so they moved slowly. Arconn continued his practice of riding ahead or off to the side, returning with some item for Alex to identify.

  This routine went on for a week, and on the eighth night after leaving Techen, Alex finally asked Arconn, “How much further is it to the Brown Hills?” He was supposed to be studying his magic book, but his heart wasn’t in it.

  “Tired of the journey already?” Arconn asked with a smile.

  “No,” Alex replied. “I was just wondering how far away the hills are. Bregnest made it sound like the journey might take years, but I don’t see how it could.”

  “If we could journey directly and without incident from the great arch to Varlo, it would take us four months, maybe five,” said Arconn. “However, we cannot ride directly to Varlo, and as you know from our encounter with the bandits and the troll, we cannot go far without meeting some kind of trouble.”

  “Then why would it take years to travel from Techen to Varlo and back again?”

  “As I said, we cannot go untroubled,” answered Arconn. “Though trouble might not be the best choice of words.”

  “Is there a better word?” Alex asked, closing the magic book.

  “Burdened might be better. After all, I would not call our visit to the White Tower trouble, but it was a burden.”

  “How can you say that?” Alex questioned. He didn’t consider their visit to Iownan a burden.

  “The Oracle gives knowledge, and with knowledge comes responsibility,” said Arconn. “Knowledge and responsibility are always a burden, even if we accept them willingly.”

  “I understand,” replied Alex. “And will there be other places, like the tower, where we must stop before we reach Varlo?”

  “Indeed there will be, though to say we must stop is not entirely accurate. Perhaps it is better to say that we choose to stop. There are many places ahead of us where we may choose to stop—not least of which is the dark forest. M
any of my kinsmen still live in this land after all and the dark forest is their home.”

  “Your kinsmen?” Alex asked, surprised and delighted.

  “Of course,” replied Arconn with a smile. “And we shall meet some of Thrang and Halfdan’s kinsmen as well when we reach the Brown Hills. Though dwarfs are not always as friendly with other dwarfs as elves are with other elves.”

  “Dwarfs aren’t friendly with their own families?”

  Arconn laughed happily. “Are you so friendly with your own family?”

  “I have no real family,” Alex answered softly. “I only have a stepfather and a stepbrother.”

  “Are not all men of the same family?” Arconn questioned thoughtfully. “Men live but a short time in most lands. They soon forget their own past.”

  “Is it different with elves and dwarfs?”

  “It is very different, especially for elves,” replied Arconn. “Dwarfs live many hundreds of years. Elves do not grow old at all, as I have told you.”

  “So you remember your own past better,” Alex said.

  “Yes, we do. Perhaps it is because we live so long that we remember so much more.”

  “Will you live forever?”

  “Perhaps,” Arconn replied thoughtfully. “Though as I told you, elves can die as surely as any other living thing.”

  “It seems sad, in a way, that you go on living for so long,” said Alex.

  “To many of us it is. And many of my race have left the known lands to find peace.”

  “I remember you mentioned fading,” said Alex, thinking back to when he and Arconn had talked about this before. “Is fading like asking to die?”

  “Nothing like that,” answered Arconn, his smile flickering slightly. “Those who choose to fade . . . well, it is hard to explain. I would say they seem to sleep and slowly vanish from the land. They are waiting for the lands to be renewed, and then they will wake once more.”

  “And the dwarfs, can you tell me about them?” Alex asked.

  “Ah, well,” Arconn began. “Perhaps Thrang or Halfdan should tell you about their own people, as I see things as an elf and not as a dwarf.”

  “Please,” Alex persisted.

  “Very well, I will tell you as I see it,” Arconn consented. “As I said, dwarfs do not live forever and to an elf their lives seem short.”

  “But much longer than a man’s.”

  “Much longer than most men,” Arconn corrected. “The dwarfs were once one people, living in one land. As time passed, they have spread to most of the known lands, and perhaps to a few lands that are not known to any but themselves.”

  “So they have forgotten that they are one people?”

  “Not at all,” Arconn replied, pausing for a moment to think. “Dwarfs know that they are one people, unlike men. However, they do not give their trust easily to strangers, even of their own kind. They are true in their friendships, but it is a hard-won friendship.”

  “Will the dwarfs in the Brown Hills be unfriendly to us?”

  “Perhaps. Though I think they will be kind enough. I don’t think they will hinder our journey.”

  “How closely are Thrang and Halfdan related to the dwarfs here in Vargland?” Alex questioned.

  “Closer than they might think. Though it has been a long time since any of Thrang’s people have come to Vargland.”

  Alex and Arconn sat in silence for a time, watching the campfire burn down. It seemed incredible to Alex that elves could live forever, provided they weren’t killed. He wondered what it would be like to live so long, but it was hard to imagine.

  “Your watch has passed,” said Arconn as the last flames of the fire fell into glowing embers.

  “One more question, please,” said Alex, getting up.

  “What more could you ask?”

  “You said that dwarfs live longer than most men,” said Alex. “Are there men who live longer than dwarfs?”

  “A few.”

  “Can you tell me about them?” Alex pried.

  “There are some men and women scattered through the known lands who live much longer than others. It is said some of them are like the elves. I have met a few of them myself, but I do not think they are like elves,” answered Arconn, his smile fading to a frown.

  “Do you know why they live so long?” Alex asked.

  “You said one more question, and now you have asked three,” said Arconn, his smile returning.

  “But this is so interesting,” Alex argued. “I know so little, and things I thought I knew now seem to be wrong.”

  “Very well,” Arconn replied. “I will tell you this one last thing for tonight, then you must sleep.”

  “I promise.”

  “The men who live so long are not like other men,” said Arconn. “Most of them are wizards of great power. A few are oracles like your friend Iownan. Others . . . others are neither wizard nor oracle, but live on just the same. Some of these men and women are good, some are evil, and some simply are.”

  “Do all wizards live so long?” Alex asked, forgetting his promise.

  “No, not all,” answered Arconn, his troubled look returning. “Only the most powerful, or the most evil. Now you must rest. We will talk of this again tomorrow if you wish.”

  Alex left his friend sitting beside the glowing embers of the fire and made his way to his tent, his mind buzzing with additional questions. Alex’s feelings about magic were no longer as confused as they had been. And a part of him was actually beginning to like the idea of magic, even if he didn’t really understand it yet.

  * * *

  The next morning dawned clear and bright, and the company made good time across the open grasslands. By mid-

  afternoon, they could see the outline of the Brown Hills on the far horizon, and seeing the hills seemed to please both Thrang and Halfdan.

  “A few more days and we should reach the dwarf realm,” said Thrang while they ate dinner that night.

  “I hope the stories of its greatness are true,” Halfdan added, a strange light in his eyes.

  “And what are these stories?” Bregnest questioned.

  “It is said that the halls of the Brown Hills are a wonder among dwarfs,” Halfdan replied reverently. “There are great halls carved from the living rock, and vast cities hidden from view. It is rumored that some of the old dwarf magic remains here in Vargland and that true silver is still found here in abundance.”

  “Halfdan!” Thrang said loudly, an angry look on his face. “You should learn to hold your tongue.”

  “Keeping secrets from the company?” asked Skeld, smiling slyly at Thrang.

  “Not at all,” Thrang replied, embarrassed. “It’s just that . . . well, we don’t speak openly about the true silver of the Brown Hills. Not even among ourselves.”

  “There is great wisdom in that,” said Arconn. “If half of what I have heard is true, the dwarf cities would soon be overwhelmed with traders seeking true silver.”

  “And I daresay you’ve heard less than I have,” replied Thrang.

  “What is true silver?” Alex asked.

  Thrang looked around nervously before answering. “True silver is different than common silver. For one thing, it is much harder to find and thus worth much more—even more than gold. Once found and polished, true silver will never lose its shine.”

  “It doesn’t turn black like normal silver?” Alex asked.

  “No, it doesn’t,” answered Thrang. “But that has little to do with the value of true silver. It can be worked and forged into armor and weapons that are harder and stronger than any iron or steel. I suspect your wonderful sword is made of true silver, though it is difficult to tell. I don’t know why the blade is so dark, but I would guess it has something to do with the elf magic in it.”

  “Dwarfs are keen on keeping true silver to themselves,” said Halfdan as Thrang fell silent. “Not so much for its value, but because of its beauty.”

  “That’s true enough,” said Thrang with a smile. �
�True

  silver can be shaped into wonderful things that never tarnish or break. It can also be used in cunning ways that others sometimes call dwarf magic.”

  “Dwarf magic?” Alex questioned.

  “Nothing like a wizard’s magic,” Halfdan said quickly. “Dwarf magic is more for making things like strong doors and tools that won’t break.”

  “There are other kinds of dwarf magic as well,” Thrang added. “And not just any dwarf can do magic. Like starting and putting out fires, you have to have some magic in you to make it work.”

  “But magic is magic, isn’t it?” Alex asked.

  “Perhaps it all comes from the same place,” replied Thrang. “But dwarf magic is just used for things that dwarfs find helpful or pleasing. It’s normally not as strong as, say the magic in your sword or anything like that.”

  “Do you think we will be able to see some true silver when we reach the Brown Hills?” Andy asked in a hopeful tone.

  “Perhaps,” Thrang replied, sounding slightly worried. “But I would ask that none of you mention it to the dwarfs there. They’ll not be happy if they knew how much information we’ve shared. Too many questions will test any friendship they may offer us.”

  “Then I will make it a command,” said Bregnest, looking at each member of the company in turn. “When we reach the dwarf realm, none of us will speak of true silver—except of course Thrang and Halfdan, who will know what to say and to whom.”

  “A kind gesture,” said Thrang, getting to his feet and bowing to Bregnest.

  There was little more talk before Bregnest and the others began rolling into their blankets for the night. Alex sat with Arconn by the campfire to keep his watch.

  “You seem much more interested in your magic book tonight,” Arconn commented.

  “A bit,” Alex replied with a smile.

  “So you’ve decided you like the idea of magic now?”

  “I’m still not sure,” answered Alex slowly. “I’ve been a little afraid of it. You know, after what you said about power and responsibility. I’ve also worried that magic can be dangerous if you don’t really understand it.”