Winterhorn (Tokens Of Benevolence Book 1)

by Nicolae Ovidiu Baiculescu

  I could not take it anymore, and from where I was perched on the flat rock, I rolled to one side and finally my breakfast made its escape.

  “You have a very sensitive stomach; did you know that?” Naghnatë closed in to share her criticism.

  I had only to admit it; since I have met her I have vomited more intensely than I have in the past.

  “I’m sorry, I could not hold it in anymore.” My weak reply came between long draws of air.

  She came closer and before I knew it, she splashed water on my face. The cold sensation made me dart to a sitting position.

  “You had something on your mouth!” She tossed me her waterskin.

  As odd as it looked, it helped. I pampered myself in long gulps of the herb-scented water, loathing how weak and unprepared I felt. If I could not hold back irritable puking sensations and risk revealing our location, how could I dare hope that I could leave unscathed from a place where orcs and dragons roamed?

  I corked the waterskin and took Winterhorn from my belt. The need to calm myself directed my every thought at the only thing that could aid soothe the revolting weakness; touching the knife. With my hand tight about its shaft, and another finger on the blade, it took me only the blink of an eye to start feeling better. The wretched air seemed not to affect me so much, though the most obvious change was the drop in intensity of the sounds around us.

  As if something was covering my ears and allowed me to carefully listen for the noises that mattered, I became capable of identifying and isolating each sound with ease; the growling of the orcs was blunted; I could hear the wind move every tussock behind the witch, where she was sitting, just like I could hear every shrub shake, all the way up the path we had created when we arrived. The river, that we had long abandoned somewhere near the edge of the forest and the wet brambles, was sharply singing in my ears with its fast-moving waters, delineating every rock and dead tree trunk it hit as it travelled.

  Feeling much revitalised by the clarity and calmness Winterhorn gave, I smiled at the sky, daring not to open my eyes. A small beam of sunlight, escaping through the dense leaves of the tree above, was warmly and amusingly caressing my face.

  Though the blissful moment was soon shattered when, from the depths of the forest, the birds’ chirping and chanting was silenced by a thick, guttural snarl.

  I jumped straight from the rock on the ground, landing on my knees, assuming that both of us had heard the sound. I was mistaken; Naghnatë was startled by my gesture.

  “There is a big something in the forest!” I whispered and pointed to where it came from.

  Without a word, she lowered herself on her knees and joined me on the lookout.

  A couple of nervous shrieks resonated in the forest, motivating all the birds in the vicinity to scatter away with haste. This time Naghnatë understood my concern and directed her face towards the same spot, where, at any moment, I was expecting to see a creature that lived in the foliage above. If that was the case, the beast must be really big, to be able to move thick trunks with such vigour.

  We did not know what to expect and our anxiety was rising as more trees started to move and shake erratically. Our glances pounced from side to side with the same speed the beast was changing course and, before any of us could say anything else, a green and yellow spiked-tail came out from behind the branches, revealing itself in all its might, thick as a tree trunk.

  “A Drakhahoul!” we said simultaneously.

  Though the dragon soon disappeared behind the dense foliage, making our eyes strain with the effort of trying to find it again. A moment of silence followed, too long for my liking and when it passed, the beast leaped outside from behind the trees into the opening, revealing what his purpose had been all along.

  A fat, colourful horned-deer of some sort was hanging lifelessly between its jaws. Still with the prey between his fangs the dragon checked his surroundings, making sure there was no one else to share his meal. Yet he appeared quite nervous, his body gave that away. He secured the tender deer in his powerful mouth and, with a leap and a couple of wing beats, he took to the air leaving a spiral of dead leaves and dirt in his wake. His bright green scales sparkled in the sun’s light for a fleeting moment before he was completely out of sight.

  “That was very strange.” Naghnatë lifted herself from the wet ground, letting out a rich exhale of anxiety. “I don’t know the youngling. He must’ve hatched somewhere in the past seventy years –” she interrupted herself. “Oh my! Has is really been that long?”

  I only hummed, still following the speck that was the dragon.

  “I just remembered, it’s been around seventy years since my last visit.” She smiled, though I could not share her elation.

  If she hasn’t been here for seventy years who knows what else has changed in the meantime?

  “I wasn’t able to sense him, and I’m most certain he wasn’t able to identify us either, not even from that close. We would have known if he had. Previously, with the white dragoness I knew she was around. But, not him,” she continued.

  “I have no experience with dragons,” my voice made her turn towards me, “still, to me he did look a bit scared.”

  “You did very well to hear it, I was quite oblivious.” She ignored my remark and patted my shoulder.

  “Thank you!” I appreciated her smile.

  “I suggest we start moving. And, Lorian, if you will, please keep the knife with you at all times!” She took her robe and moved behind the boulder I had previously rested upon.

  I was a bit slower to reach her and, as soon as I turned behind the rock, she was not there. I panicked, thinking she might have gone another way, even if I could still hear steps in the vicinity. When I had completely circled the big boulder that extended to almost touch the wall, I really started to think she was gone. There was no other way she could’ve gone unless she shifted.

  “This way,” her voice sounded a bit distorted as if from below, “circle the rock and bend where it almost reaches the wall. There’s a small entrance, you’ll have to kneel to see it.”

  I followed her direction and, when I knelt, I saw what I had previously failed to spot; a small entrance, a little wider than a fox’s hole. It was also properly obfuscated by the rock’s sharp corners, the wall and the shadow of the big oak tree.

  “Watch your head once you get in! It’s quite tight and dark in here…” her voice trailed from underneath.

  Feeling her voice closer, only encouraged me to crawl through the small opening which, although it was quite narrow, still allowed in a good amount of light.

  The cave’s entrance brought back pleasant memories of the many times I had ventured into some of the caves of mount Velka, near Sallncoln, in the search of ancient tools; stone knives, arrow heads, pots. It made me smile now, how my two brothers would always wait outside, dreading to crawl in, awfully afraid of getting stuck. Luckily, I was smaller and braver for such things – though, on a couple of occasions, I got properly stuck and feared I’d bite the dust right there; only a mere miracle had made me wiggle my bones out.

  What I was currently undertaking didn’t seem that bad. The cave was actually quite wide and it appeared that further down it became even wider. The downside to it was that the sun’s rays decreased rapidly, leaving a small hint of a blue haze to delineate some pointy shapes into its depths. What I minded more however, was the damp smell and soggy air that bit at my skin as I went deeper. I clenched my teeth and hoped it would improve further ahead. Maybe with some luck we wouldn’t have to stay inside for too long.

  I pushed harder to complete the few feet of crawling I still had to do before the wide opening. Once there, I realised it was tall enough for me to stand, and that I had to say goodbye to the last usable light from outside. With both hands cupped on my face, I turned my back to the entrance and took my time to accustom my eyes to the cold darkness before moving again. I could hear Naghnatë’s steps closer and, once my sight familiarised with the lack of daylight
, I crept inside the tunnel. When I finally found her, she was on one knee rummaging through the small bag she kept with her.

  “What are you doing?” I asked her quietly.

  “You’ll see soon enough!”

  She stood with a shiny, blue stone the size of an apple, tightly clutched in her right fist. Without a word nor a glance towards me, she placed her bag back on the shoulder and started to search the space we were in. From left to right and right to left, she moved her hands over the wall.

  I followed at some distance, curious to see what she could possibly want to find in a tunnel that fashioned the same dull-coloured rocks all around. It was only after some slow minutes in the dark tunnel that her mumbling stopped.

  “There you are!” she announced.

  I rushed closer to where she had stopped.

  In the dark-blue glare I could still make out shapes and appreciate the wideness of the tunnel, but I failed to properly identify the long shaft she had just pulled from a fissure in the wall.

  “It’s a stick you were locking for? I could’ve brought you a sturdier one from the forest if I knew you’d need one!” I could not mask the disappointment in my voice.

  “This is not a stick, it’s a bone!” She turned and softly hit my forehead with its end, making me scratch the itching it procured.

  “A bone? Why would you need a bone in this tunnel?” Now that she faced me, I could see what she held.

  “What is this, what is that? Why do this, why do that? Do you draw pleasure from pestering elder people with your endless questions? Eh?” She moved her face as close to mine as she could, her face neither too serious nor too amused.

  “I’m sorry!” I said, though I wasn’t.

  I wanted to know her every move and intention and if I could, to offer my help. Yet she seemed to measure her words like pounds of gold as she seldom imparted her reasons for anything.

  In the dim light her hand looked like a claw of a desiccated lizard as she took the stone and wedged it in an aperture at the very tip of the rod. With a twist, and her tongue out of her mouth moving against the upper lip, she pushed the rock inside even more. Once she made sure it would not fall, she turned her head towards me.

  “Mind your eyes, will you?”

  I hesitated not sure of her intentions, but it was too late. She swung and briskly struck the rod on the wall to her right.

  A blinding glow emanated from the stone and lit the tunnel for as long as we could see before it curved ahead, leaving me temporarily stunned and blinded.

  “I did tell you to mind your eyes.” She giggled.

  When I recovered, I was more impressed than upset about the stone that could create light.

  “It is not of magic nature,” she anticipated my question, “or better, not a magic that one wields. Here!” She handed me the bone-lantern to keep and indicated for me to step ahead.

  I could only appreciate, having a chance to inspect the item.

  “There are dormant items of magic as well, Lorian,” she told me. “One has only to know how to use them to make the most of their hidden powers. This one’s made of a rare stone that can be found in the depths of the mountains. Dwarves found them first and they are very jealous of their possessions. Luckily for me, I just happened to meet the right kind of dwarf at the right time to be able to get my hands on this one.” She seemed happy and proud of her exploits.

  “I see,” my eyes were half on the way ahead, half on the shiny stone, “and why does it have to be bone?”

  “Well, it doesn’t! I just like it better on a bone.” another snicker followed.

  She’s certainly a witch, if I ever doubted it!

  The tunnel seemed endless as it wound left and right with sharp corners. The only things that disturbed the same plain, brown rock formation were fleeting trails of water, that had been interrupted when the cave had been formed and had to descend to the floor. They were slowly and unceasingly eating at the hard rock as they drifted on the walls, only to hide beneath a crease or a crack in the rough ground.

  There was no sign that tools had been used to create such a wide opening in the ground and I concluded it was a natural formation, one that hadn’t seen many living beings nonetheless.

  After many minutes of decent progress, the wide tunnel narrowed and became dangerously steep. The tricky, narrow part was also very slippery and often I had to stop and make sure the witch could manage. I gathered it was better to keep my eyes straight ahead when I saw her follow my steps just as swiftly.

  Many minutes later, we were still descending. Although my bad knee hadn’t disturbed me of late, the good one started cracking and snapping whenever I shifted my weight to the right. My muscles were sore and warm and I knew I couldn’t continue much longer without a break, yet I did not want to be the first to ask for one.

  I hoped that she would soon let out a whine of physical exhaustion, and when the feeblest of sighs arrived, I stopped and checked her again. “Are you well?”

  “I’m not that young anymore, I need to catch my breath!” Naghnatë let herself down onto a protruding boulder.

  I retraced my steps and joined her.

  “It is quite steep!” I said as I took my waterskin and drank a long mouthful.

  “We should be pretty close. Once there, it will become a bit better before we reach the citadel’s shortcut,” she said.

  “How did you find this place?” I took her tiredness as a good omen for starting a conversation.

  “Ha!” Her laughter bounced on the narrow tunnel. “Find it? I made it!”

  “What?” I was dumbfounded. The tunnel would require an entire battalion of strong men years to make, how could she have done such a thing alone?

  “How did you do it? It must’ve taken you years!”

  “It did take me years but only because I had to do it bit by bit whenever magic was safe to use. It was only a rabbit hole when I’ve found it, and it didn’t go that deep. I had to ensure I had a safer way to travel outside and inside of the citadel!”

  “Was it a long time ago?”

  “A very, very long time ago! I was a young and foolish novice, new at finding my ways with magic. Still, it didn’t take me long to realise it was not a safe place for those like me. I had to make do for a few years before starting to think about a safer way in and out. I even tried training a couple of Arpileè creatures big enough to carry me and fly me over the walls, alas with tragic ends for the poor beasts.”

  “Harpies?” I interrupted startled.

  “They’re merely misunderstood creatures, Lorian, don’t believe everything that’s told about them,” she quickly replied.

  My expression of awe allowed her to continue.

  “When every other plan revealed itself a disappointment, I thought why not make a tunnel of my own where I could quickly escape at my convenience when things turned nasty? It wasn’t until many years after I’d begun my apprenticeship that I felt prepared enough to start the actual digging. I also planted the giant oak.”

  A short exhalation of admiration escaped me.

  “At first, I had to do very few steps at the time, and with very long breaks in between, afraid that someone might find out what I was up to. Little by little and stone by stone, whenever the use of magic was intense in the premises, I could advance my way deeper and more safely. In the meantime, I was doing my best to learn whatever it was given me to learn, and more – often I’ve renounced the things that those my age would do just to be able to read another book or try another spell.” She paused, clearly hoping I was taking notice.

  The mental note I made, was actually something similar to what Nana had once said.

  Easy to remember, hard to put in practice.

  “It’s impressive to say the very least, Naghnatë. Does it lead to the citadel?”

  “Yes, it leads right underneath.” She then lifted herself and incited me to do the same.

  She was right; we had already walked the hard part and it didn’t take us more
than a quarter of an hour to reach the very bottom of the tunnel. The deepest point had a wide opening the size of the hall in Sallncoln, mysteriously lit by unseen sources of light. It felt disorientating after such a tight, narrow tunnel to reach the extensive aperture. Inside the space of the gallery, multiple drops fell from the high ceiling and landed in small puddles in a never-ending array of soft, pleasant, musical sounds.

  I accidentally kicked a loose pebble, which made a disturbing sound as it bounced away. My clumsiness earned me a stern expression from the witch as a reminder to pay extra attention from there on.

  When I directed my observation from the ceiling to the walls and to the floor, I found, to my complete bewilderment, what I missed at first and what made the entire place even more extraordinary. The pointy boulders and pillars, that sprouted upwards from the ground, were hiding something on the floor; holes of various dimensions, scattered all over the place revealing another level, deeper beneath the stony floor where the unnatural light seemed brighter.

  I propped the bone-torch on the first boulder I considered safe, and leaned over a low rock of a flatter nature. It allowed me to safely insert my head inside one of the biggest apertures.

  “Whoooaaaa!” I gasped in total awe, letting my sound of amazement bounce lengthily under us.

  I could not believe what I was seeing. A deeper gallery than the one we were inside of, was laying beneath our feet. Its rock-walls had been partially and dexterously sculpted and chiselled into a tall building of some sort, similar to a tower with many pointy and curved apertures, which I soon gathered were windows. Some of them were fashioned into sculptures of unusual looking creatures with wings and beaks but no tails. The yellow tint of light that issued from below, gave the entire structure a dream-like quality. It made me long to see more. I could barely see the bottom and attempted to count all the levels by their windows. I estimated there were twenty-three levels.

  “Did you make this as well?” I asked Naghnatë when I heard her moving closer to me.

  “It was already here, and it has been for longer than even I have lived. It is the most ancient structure I know of and I believe it stretches before King Arkhan’s time. I doubt many know of its existence since it’s still intact!” She sat close to me.