“Who?” Dwain asked.
“The wolves. The winter wolves,” Erik replied. “They kept calling someone their mistress, and I finally figured they were speaking of the dragon.”
“Dragons are evil. Winter wolves are evil. But working together,” Dwain said, shaking his head.
“Is that so hard to imagine?” Balzarak said slowly. “Is it so hard to imagine that the Shadow has a hand in all this? That the Shadow rules over a dragon, who in turn rules over more minions of the Shadow, who might even rule over more minions of the Shadow?”
Dwain just stared at Balzarak.
“If the cursed ones are present,” Balzarak said, “the dwomanni, we know the Shadow is present.”
“Are they just simply evil dwarves?” Erik asked.
“Aye,” Balzarak replied. “Evil and twisted and bent by the Shadow, turned against their own people, taught to love the darkness. That is what happened to Orvencrest—the Dwomanni. That is what is happening to the Southern Mountains.”
“Are they allied with the Aztûkians as well?” Wrothgard asked. “Are they allied with Patûk Al’Banan?”
“No.” Balzarak shook his head. “The dwomanni are xenophobes. They hate anything that isn’t them and will only serve something that isn’t dwomanni if it is powerful enough to bend them to their will. They despise men, but they hate us even more so.”
“They were there, in Orvencrest,” Erik said.
“Once, maybe,” Dwain said, thinking Erik had asked a question.
“No, they were there,” Erik said, “when we were there. They were serving the dragon.”
“Well,” Wrothgard said, “the dragon is dead, so what does that mean for the dwomanni?”
Erik knew differently but said nothing. Balzarak just shrugged.
“These are dark times,” Dwain said. “Makes me glad I am nearer the end of my life than the beginning.”
“Sometimes, ignorance seems easier, doesn’t it?” Demik said to Erik in his native language.
Erik didn’t answer for a while, and then nodded.
“I think at first, yes, ignorance is easier,” Erik replied, also in Dwarvish. “I have often thought that, as a farmer, I knew none of this … this world. My father probably wouldn’t believe me if I told him everything I have seen. Everything I have experienced. But, given what I know now, would I still want to be that ignorant farmer, toiling away at the earth, unaware of all of this around me?”
“And,” Demik said when Erik didn’t answer his own question, “would you want to remain that ignorant farmer?”
“I would trade all this to have my brother back,” Erik replied. “But, despite that, no, I don’t think I would want to be an ignorant farmer living out all of my days knowing nothing of the world around me.”
“And why is that?” Demik asked.
“I have been tested,” Erik replied, “my faith has been tested, beyond what I thought I could handle. I am plagued with dreams every night—dreams of my tortured family, dreams of the dead, dreams of darkness. I have lost my brother. My relationship with my cousin has almost turned deadly. And through all of that, my faith is stronger—mostly my faith in the Creator, but also my faith in myself, my faith in others. It is because of these trials that I have become the man I am. It is because of these experiences that I will be the man I will be, and, hopefully, that will be a good man.”
“Those are wise words … coming from a man,” Demik said with a smile, and he and Erik shared a quiet laugh.
Chapter 22
Erik sat outside the space where his companions had built a fire, relishing the chill in the air for a moment. He sat there, head back against the rock, eyes closed. He held the scroll case, the Lord of the East’s treasure in his hands. As he decided to sit outside, and Switch decided to move farther back into the old den, he thought it prudent to take the treasure with him.
“Just one more day,” he said, thinking of Befel.
He sat there for a while, watching the stars and the blackness of the mountain forest, listening to the wind pass through tall branches and sucking in the smell of wet pine needles. Then, the hair along his arms and the back of his neck rose. He knew something watched him, hidden in the darkness of the forest. Then he saw them. Those red eyes.
Are you going to try me again?
No reply ran through his head. It wasn’t the leader. He wouldn’t hang back in the darkness of the mountain night.
Then why are you here? To scare me? Foolish dog.
He heard growling at that, and the hair on his arms and on the back of his neck seemed to stand a little taller. He shook his head again.
Keep growling, I know you won’t attack. You’re just watching us. And you’ll keep watching us until we reach Thorakest. And then you’ll scamper back to your hidey hole somewhere just wishing and hoping and praying that one day you’ll meet me again.
Erik smiled when he heard another growl. A pretend show of strength.
I hope we do meet again, someday, because that will be your last day.
Erik heard, in the far distance, a deep, long, angry howl that was unmistakably the leader’s. And the eyes were gone.
“You should come inside,” Turk said.
Erik hadn’t seen his friend there.
“I will in a moment.”
“Didn’t you hear that howl?” the dwarf asked.
“I did.” Erik nodded. “I’m not worried about it.”
“Do not tempt the Shadow,” Turk said. “It is a powerful force.”
“I understand,” Erik said. “I just really appreciate the chilled air and the stars.”
“All right, Erik,” Turk said, concern evident in his voice. “Just be careful … and don’t be too long.”
Erik closed his eyes and could sense that Turk wasn’t there anymore.
When Erik fell asleep, the dead were there, waiting for him. This time, two dead wolves waited for him too, one scarred and bent and broken and the other pink and red, its fur all burned away. They snarled and snapped as he moved past them, but he still sensed their animal instinct to accept him as their leader.
Erik wandered through the mountain forest for a while until he came to a wide field of waist high grass. The dead were always behind him, threatening, cursing, spitting, but there were no altercations, not like in the tunnel of Orvencrest, and then he saw it, the hill with the single willow tree.
“It’s been a long while,” the man sitting under the tree said as Erik sat down next to the man to await the rest of his dream.
When Erik awoke, he knew he had talked to the man about different things, new things, but he couldn’t remember now. Something else had happened in that dream, but he couldn’t grasp, as if it was being dragged back into his subconscious. It seemed important but remained elusive.
“Did you sleep out here?” Turk asked, coming up beside him.
“Yes,” Erik said, standing and stretching. “I meant to come in last night, and I suppose I was just too tired.”
“You must be more careful,” Turk said.
“I wasn’t worried.” Erik shrugged.
“I suppose I knew you wouldn’t be,” Turk replied with a smile. “Be careful not to get overly confident, Erik.”
“How is Threhof?” Erik asked, getting to his feet.
Turk shook his head. “Not good. He struck a fever last night. His arm is infected. I am doing what I can, but I am tired. It takes a lot out of me, you know.”
“Then we must hurry back,” Erik said, turning towards the den. “I am sure Thorakest has other healers, yes?”
Turk nodded. “Aye. And far better than me.”
Chapter 23
Patûk’s men marched slowly. As they moved deeper into the mountains, the trees and creepers and bush becoming so thick, at one point, Patûk could no longer ride and had to dismount and lead his warhorse, Warrior.
More of his men joined them as Bu’s scouts brought word that they were marching.
“How many do we num
ber now?” Patûk asked Captain Bu, who rode next to him, astride a destrier the general had hand selected for his new officer of officers.
“We numbered six thousand when we broke camp,” Bu replied, “and maybe two thousand more have joined us.”
“How many men does Captain Kan have?” Patûk asked.
“Close to one thousand, my lord,” Bu replied.
“So we have another four thousand away,” the general said.
“Yes, my lord,” Bu replied.
“And trolls?” Patûk asked.
“Two dozen, my lord,” Bu answered, “but …”
Bu stopped. General Patûk Al’Banan gave his captain a hard look.
“What is it, Captain?” Patûk Al’Banan asked. “It isn’t wise to withhold information from me.”
“Two of our trolls are gone,” Bu replied.
“Is that so odd,” Patûk replied, “that little more than wild animals driven more by their stomachs than anything else would leave?”
“They are well trained, my lord,” Bu replied. “My scouts … they found the remains of one of the trolls.”
“The remains?” Patûk asked.
“Yes, my lord,” Bu replied. “It hadn’t been eaten, but it had been chewed upon. Disemboweled. Tortured even.”
Patûk stopped Warrior, pulling back on his horse’s reins so hard that the animal began to stamp backwards.
“Tortured?” momentarily, Patûk looked taken aback. “Something tortured a troll?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Antegants?” the general asked. “I know they roam—sparingly—these parts of the Southern Mountains.”
“I don’t think so, General,” Bu replied. “I think antegants and trolls avoid each other. And if not, I don’t think an antegant would chew upon a troll.”
Bu sounded as confused as Patûk felt.
“Wolves? A cougar?” Patûk asked.
“I thought of those too, sir,” Bu replied, “but they all avoid trolls. A pack of wolves, especially the ones that grow up in these woods, might be able to take down a troll, but at what cost?”
Patûk shook his head. He looked over his shoulder. He hadn’t realized his whole column of men had stopped, waiting for him to move once again. He nudged Warrior’s side, replacing his usual heel with an elbow, prompting the destrier to walk on.
Patûk Al’Banan wondered if something followed them. Perhaps dwarves. Agents of Golgolithul. Agents of Gol-Durathna even. But why would they bother with trolls. He didn’t like this place. He didn’t like these mountains or these forests. Patûk shuttered.
“There are men that live in these mountains,” Patûk mumbled to himself, so softly, his captain could not hear him. He dipped his chin to his chest. “Certainly, they wouldn’t bother to kill a troll, let alone torture it. But I wonder if they would know anything about this, of such a thing that could torture a troll.”
Patûk Al’Banan lifted his head.
“Men live in these mountains, yes?” Patûk asked Bu, although he knew the answer.
“Yes, my lord,” Bu replied.
“Do you know where, in these cursed mountains, they live?” the general asked.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Would it be worthwhile to question one of these …” Patûk thought for a moment, “mountain men what could have done such a thing to a mountain troll?”
“Yes, my lord, I do,” Captain Bu replied. “These men—and their families—have lived in these mountains for generations. I do believe the only creatures that might know more about these mountains than them are the dwarves, my lord.”
“Then lead us, Captain,” General Patûk Al’Banan said. “Lead us to these mountain men. Lead us to the answers we seek. And, then, lead us to General Abashar so we might join forces.”
Chapter 24
Once they left the den, Erik found the company of dwarves and men moving at a pace much faster than he had expected. Balzarak and Gôdruk had buried Thormok and spent a little more than a moment praying over their fallen kin. And Threhof seemed more than willing to push the pace to get home to Thorakest.
“Do you recognize any of this?” Erik asked Turk.
The dwarf shook his head. “No. I don’t think we are anywhere near the way we came.”
“At least it isn’t raining anymore,” Erik said, and as he spoke, the sky darkened with gray clouds, and they let loose their contents on the mountains.
“You were saying,” Turk said.
It must have been about midday when Erik suddenly stopped and looked, almost causing Wrothgard to run into him.
“Did you sense something? Wolves again?” Wrothgard asked, the tension in his face already obvious. Erik shook his head, still looking around.
“I recognize this area,” Erik said.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” Dwain said, moving up beside them. “We didn’t come this way, so unless you have somehow been here before you met any dwarves, I think that would be quite impossible.”
“No,” Erik said, shaking his head, “I don’t know why, but I recognize this place.”
He looked around, taking in the trees, the rocks, the steepness of the mountain, the pattern of the moss and grass. He was certain he had never been here before, but it was somehow familiar. How could that be? Then he understood. He had spent all morning trying to remember his dream. It seemed so important when he woke and yet, until now, he couldn’t remember a thing.
Now the images came to him, a cluster of dwellings near here, a dozen or so, each separated by a league. But what was so odd about these dwellings, these stone and thatch homes with little more than primitive stables and an outhouse besides a single room hut? That was it. In this land of dwarves, they were occupied by men. Men and their families.
“Do men live in these mountains?” Erik asked.
“Aye,” Dwain replied. “Rarely, but a few. Some call them wild men, mountain men, homesteaders, whatever you want to call them. They are men who shun society and wish to brave the harsh life and many dangers of the uncharted parts of the Southern Mountains. Why do you ask?”
“There is a settlement of men near here,” Erik said.
“Flaming sheep’s guts,” Switch cursed. “And how would you know that? Oh don’t tell; you saw it in a dream?”
Erik nodded. “Aye.”
“Oh, to the Shadow with you and your dreams.”
And what about these men and their families? Besides the fact that they lived in the remotest parts of the Southern Mountains? Erik closed his eyes to concentrate. He tried to remember, to relive his dream. And then it came to him.
“That’s it,” he muttered.
“What, Erik?” Turk asked.
“They were attacked,” Erik explained, “in my dream. Winter wolves ravaged each dwelling, one by one, eating man and woman and child. There are a little less than a dozen such dwellings near here, and each one will receive a visit from those monsters.”
“If there truly are homes near here, may An have mercy on them,” Balzarak prayed, touching an index finger and thumb to his forehead and then heart.
“We can have mercy on them,” Erik said, “with the Creator’s help, we can save them.”
“What are you talking about?” Dwain asked.
“They are near here. I know this area. I spent … it must have been hours here … in my dream,” Erik said. “It would take the rest of today but—”
“What are you talking about, Erik?” Wrothgard interrupted.
“You are speaking as if we truly know these mountain men dwell here,” Beldar said. “You are a good man, a noble man, Erik, but you are asking us to trust a dream.”
“We are tired,” Balzarak said, “and we are injured. Look at Threhof. Look at your cousin.”
“It would only take a day,” Erik said. He found it hard to voice why this was so important to him. “What is another day? We go to each home and offer to take them with us, back to Thorakest. I am sure your king would welcome people forced
from their homes by something so evil.”
“Another day could spell the end for Threhof and Bryon,” Balzarak said. “Turk?”
“It is true,” Turk said with a nod of finality.
“We are talking about lives,” Erik said. “We saw those beasts, eye to eye. Can you imagine what they would do to unsuspecting men? Their wives? Their children?”
“And for that, I am sad, but …” Balzarak began to say, but Erik cut him off with a raised hand.
“You are sad, but not sad enough to do anything about it,” Erik accused.
“You wish to sacrifice more for men,” Threhof said. “More dwarvish blood for men, for the Lord of the East.”
“What would you have us do?” Dwain replied with as much sternness in his voice as he could muster. “Would you have us traipse around these mountains, hoping to find wild men—wild men, let me emphasize. And when we do find these wild men—ones who have settled here because they wish to abandon society—you expect them to willingly go with us?”
Erik shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Clearly not,” Dwain replied.
“Cousin,” Bryon said, “I don’t feel well. In fact, I have never felt this badly. My whole body aches and burns.”
“They will die,” Erik said. “And we can help. Is it not enough if we even save one family?”
Why was he so convicted of this? Why was he so certain this was something they needed to do? How did he know these attacks were even truly going to happen? Because, in his dream, the old man from the hill spoke to him—even though the hill wasn’t there, in the dream forest. It was just his voice, telling him … no, asking him to help these families. Pleading with him, even. Because he saw the winter wolves, their muzzles red with the blood of innocents. They laughed at Erik and howled.
“Listen to me,” Erik said. He walked to the front of the party, even in front of Balzarak, “I know we are tired, and I know we are burdened with injury and fever and loss of loved ones. But I know that those things, those … those minions of the Shadow are following us. I saw and heard one last night and that was not a dream.
I know that they are going to take revenge for their losses on anything and anyone they can. I know that there are men out there—my people, whether they have shunned society or not—oblivious to the fact that they are going to lose their lives and families in the most horrific way possible if we do not do something. It will take a day. We lose only a day for just trying.”
Breaking the Flame Page 17