Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  “How long have you been running?” she asked.

  “Probably a few miles.” He leaned over and rested his hands upon his knees, trying to catch his breath.

  “Why? What has happened?”

  “Dwarven armies are camping south of the Highvale Plains.”

  “I heard the drums.”

  Trevor released a long breath, wheezing. “There are hundreds of them. More are marching down the snowy slopes as we speak.”

  “What were you doing in Highvale Plains?” she asked.

  “I was hunting a frost giant.”

  “Alone?”

  Trevor nodded.

  “Why be so foolish?”

  “I can handle myself.”

  Sarey shook her head and started down the ladder.

  “You don’t think that I could kill one alone?” he asked.

  At the bottom of the ladder she frowned back up at him. “No human ever has. What possessed you to even attempt such a feat? Was it because I beat you in our tournament games?”

  His eyes narrowed as he peered down at her. His jaw tightened. He looked away.

  “It is, isn’t it?” She shook her head. “Admit it!”

  Trevor sighed, turned, and descended the ladder. “Not entirely, Sarey. Honest. But I was offered a hundred gold pieces to bring back one’s head.”

  “You’re a fool,” Sarey said.

  “I actually did it . . . for us.”

  She faced him. “What do you mean for us?”

  He shrugged. “That’d be more than enough for us to settle down and start a family.”

  “You mean leave Esgrove?”

  “Yes.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Because of the tavern?”

  “Partly. My father needs me, and this is where I’ve grown up.”

  “You don’t want children?”

  “Eventually. One day, but not now.”

  “Why not?”

  Sarey pointed toward the forests where the drums continued beating. “Because war is at our doorstep.”

  “What does the Dwarven armies have to do with us?”

  “Hoffnung was attacked by the Vykings. Queen Taube was killed.”

  Trevor’s eyes widened at the news. “I didn’t know.”

  “How long have you been away?”

  “Ever since I left here. I traveled to Hangman’s Rest. That’s where I learned about the reward for the frost giant.”

  “And you didn’t hear of Queen Taube’s death?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Right now, my top priority is to be ready when this war begins. First to help protect our hamlet. And should that mean that I need to head directly into the heat of the battle, I will. I’m the best archer in Esgrove. I will use my skill to kill as many Vykings as possible. If you think you have the necessary skill to kill a frost giant by yourself, let’s see how well you fare against the Vykings. They’re not anywhere nearly as big, and if you can handle several of them at once, a frost giant will be less of a challenge.”

  Trevor’s mouth dropped open.

  “That was harsh, I know. But you ran out of Esgrove like a spoiled brat because I bested you in all of the challenges, and you want to come back to marry me? Why would I even consider it? Should I ever seek a husband, he will be a brave, honorable man. Rather than congratulating me for my skills, you skulked away because some of the older men teased you.”

  “I was childish. I admit that.”

  “I’ve already killed several Vykings. How many have you taken out?”

  Trevor gave an incredulous stare and slowly shook his head.

  “None, I know,” Sarey said. “To shoot at targets is one thing. They aren’t a threat and cannot retaliate. To kill an angry deadly enemy is something altogether different.”

  “You’re right. There’s nothing more I can say. I just thought—”

  “That I’d be pining away for you?”

  “I didn’t think you’d be so angry at me. I thought maybe you might have missed me and that I still had a chance to win your heart.”

  Sarey stared into Trevor’s eyes. “I did miss you terribly at first, but the more I thought about the situation, the more I understood that I was better off with you gone.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “I see.”

  “Now, go visit your family, but forget about returning to talk to me. I’ve said all that I wish to say to you.”

  A look of sadness and bitterness loomed in his eyes, but Sarey found herself not caring about his feelings. He hadn’t cared enough about her to tell her good-bye when he left. Why should she?

  She didn’t realize just how calloused she had felt toward him until she was face to face with him. As he shambled away with a confused disoriented expression, she suddenly felt a lot better, lighter, and proud that she had told him everything that she felt deep inside.

  Sarey opened the tavern door, shaking her head. “A frost giant? Really?”

  She’d rather finish out the evening serving drinks than carrying on any further conversation with Trevor. She looked toward the table where she had last seen Bausch. Her heart grieved.

  ***

  Zauber stared into a crystal mirror. Deep in thought, he twined a long strand of his black beard around his right index finger. The mirror rippled, breaking his trance. It was the first he had blinked in hours.

  He peered through the crystal, and his eyes beheld three Dragon Skull Knights riding away from Glasslyn Lake. A fourth rider was behind them and immediately caught his interest. At first glance he thought the rider was a boy, but the rider had to be more than that for the mirror to summon him to full attention.

  His detection spell indicated that this rider was indeed Lady Dawn.

  Zauber smiled and released a low rumble of a laugh.

  “Brilliant!” he said, raising his fists above his head. He could never have thought of a better disguise.

  By the direction the group traveled, he knew their destination was the City of Woodnog. He grabbed his staff and looked out his tower window. Blackness covered the sky. The protective mists that concealed his tower had shrunk back. At first he became concerned because he thought something had broken through his protective magical barrier. Instead, his magic cut an opening to reveal to him the occurrences in Aetheaon.

  Drums thundered lightly on the wind.

  Instead of being apprehensive, hope suddenly sprang up inside him. War was usually something that brought despair, but not today.

  Lady Dawn was alive. Armies across Aetheaon were marching toward Hoffnung. The land would have a new queen should everything fall properly into place.

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  Dwiskter stood with Nordun near a roaring fire pit on a level snowfield in Highvale Plains. Hundreds of dwarves busily added dry wood and alcohol saturated planks from busted whiskey and ale barrels to keep their dozens of fire pits burning as dusk settled upon them. Others were driving wooden stakes deep into the snow to set up tents.

  Cold winds howled fiercer than a band of angry hungry wolves, blowing loose snow in narrow bands across the plains. Only thin rows of stubby scrub pines allowed a minor barricade to keep the harshest winds flowing around them instead of cutting right into them.

  “Aye,” Dwiskter said, placing a plank onto the fire and watching the flames lick higher. “There you go. Fires are good to keep our outsides nice and toasty. The whiskies toast ye on the insides.”

  “Well said,” Nordun replied with a wink. “Looks like we’re bunkered down for a while.”

  “Tis a shame, too. I’ve been itching to put me ax to good use and not by chopping more firewood, either.”

  “It’s a restless time, waiting for the battle to begin,” Nordun said.

  “That it is!”

  Hooves crunched through the snow at a rapid approach.

  King Staggnuns and Prince Luxille finally arrived to the battlefront on their giant ram mounts
. Staggnuns blew his horn three times. “Blasted!” Staggnuns said. “How long we gotta wait for Odessa before we paint the snow blood red with Vyking blood?”

  “She awaits word from her two sisters,” Dwiskter said. “Could be a few weeks.”

  “Weeks?” Staggnuns brow creased. “Luxille, rally our warriors to begin cutting more firewood and assign our best hunters to find us ample amounts of meat during our stay here. With the chance that we’re going to be camping for a long period of time, we need to unload our supply wagons and send them back for more. Our rations must not deplete.”

  “Yes, father.”

  The king rubbed his stubby thick hands together over the fire. “I don’t understand the need for our rapid march if we needed to wait several more weeks in these heavy blizzards of snow.”

  “Hail! King Staggnuns!” a dark skinned dwarf shouted from the saddle of the giant dire wolf that he rode.

  “King Ulthor!” Staggnuns shouted back. “I see Nagdor’s fierce king does leave his throne room!”

  “You couldn’t keep me away from an opportunity such as this!” Ulthor replied. He swung off his mount, grabbed his axes, and sheathed them on his back.

  “Come warm yourself and drink with us.”

  “Hope you brought plenty of kegs! Couldn’t pass up the opportunity of drinking all your ale for free,” Ulthor said with a broad smile. His graying beard was covered with white specks of fresh snow. “Though you could ‘ave found us better shelter.”

  “We brave the elements, for now.”

  “Why’s that? Aren’t we going to storm the gates and show the Vykings a good what for?”

  “In time. We have troops riding from the southern kingdoms.”

  “Ah, now, what dwarf be needing human and elf reinforcements?”

  “We wait for our alliances, Ulthor, as was agreed,” Staggnuns replied.

  “Bah!”

  Staggnuns looked at Dwiskter. “Bring King Ulthor a keg.”

  “Aye.”

  Ulthor smiled. His impatience faded slightly. He rubbed his hands together. “Ahh, I remember many hunts through these rugged snowy plains killing snow panthers and white grizzlies, but none were better than the mountains when we had dragons to hunt.”

  Staggnuns’ brow rose.

  “I lost a huge one on the mountains years back. One of the most splendid ones ever.”

  “She got away?” Staggnuns asked.

  Ulthor’s face wrinkled tightly. “No, I killed it, but the battle was furious between us. Oh, the rage that lived inside that fiery lizard. Damn near killed me.”

  Dwiskter set down the keg and hammered a spigot into the side.

  Staggnuns grinned. “This dragon you speak of. What trophy did you take from the kill?”

  Ulthor filled a tankard and shook his head. He chuckled. “That’s the funny thing. I don’t have anything.”

  “No trophy? Nothing at all? Any dragon hunter prizes something. A dagger made from a dragon’s tooth or a shield made from a breast scale. Something.”

  “Like I said, it was a furious battle. The beast rendered me unconscious.”

  “If so, and you never found its body, how do you know that you even killed it?”

  “Oh, now, the amount of blood left behind . . . nothing survives that kind of blood loss.”

  “Without a body or a trophy, ye have no proof,” Staggnuns said.

  Ulthor frowned. “You saying that I lie?”

  “It’s easy to boast a tale when you have proof of what you have killed. The trophy speaks for itself. My walls are covered with the heads of my trophies over the many years of battling strange creatures that thrive on killing dwarves, elves, and humans.”

  Staggnuns tapped tobacco into his pipe, held it up, and his dragonkin pet swooped from a tree branch to blaze a breath of fire to light it. Staggnuns puffed the pipe without taking his eyes off of Ulthor.

  Still brooding, Ulthor finally looked away, downed his tankard, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Aye, this is the good stuff.”

  Staggnuns smiled with the pipe in his mouth. Little puffs of smoke dispersed into the cold wind. “Best in Aetheaon.”

  “It is.” Ulthor nodded. “I hate that we wait out here in the cold when we could be killing the giant nasty ol’ Vykings. Thieving plunderers, they be. Once we cut through their flanks, word will spread throughout all of the continents about our glorious victory. Although they outsize us in height, we have the numbers to outlast them.”

  “Chop them off at the knees so we’re more evenly matched, I say,” Dwiskter said with a wink.

  Ulthor and Staggnuns chuckled.

  Staggnuns said, “We have a few other surprises of our own.”

  “That being?” Ulthor replied.

  “The best thing about waiting for our southern alliances is that it gives us time to pull our cannons into place.”

  “Ah,” Ulthor said. “I be hearing blasts echoing through the mountains for months now. I thought that you were carving out new mountain passes.”

  “We are. But we’re also testing these,” Staggnuns pulled a blunderbuss from the side of his saddle and handed it to Ulthor.

  Ulthor’s eyes showed his admiration of the polished brass weapon as he examined it near the fire’s glow. “Impressive. Does good damage?”

  Dwiskter grinned. “From a distance, the shot scatters and can injure several enemies at once. Close up, it blasts a deadly hole.”

  “Me axes do quite the damage close up,” Ulthor said unimpressed. He placed his hands on the jewel-crested hilts of his two double-edged blades. The emeralds shone like a cat’s eyes in the light of the roaring fire, causing the inscribed runes to become even more prominent.

  “As do mine,” Staggnuns said. He took the blunderbuss from Ulthor and slid it back into its holster on the saddle. He pulled a rifle from the other holster. “This one shoots at a longer range. Quite accurate if you have a marksman shooter.”

  Ulthor took the rifle and stared down the barrel. “This makes more sense to kill an enemy at a greater distance. Not like the other one.”

  “The blunderbuss is effective as a means to thwart the rushing attack of a group. It injures many at once, which gives our warriors a better chance to finish off the enemy with a sword or ax before they get reorganized. An enemy that has never seen such a weapon is perpetuated by surprise and fear. It gives us greater advantages.”

  “I imagine so,” Ulthor replied. “But I still prefer me axes.”

  Another horn blasted. A grizzly roared, causing over a half dozen dwarves to scramble out of its way.

  Dwiskter turned and readied his ax. “Bear?”

  “Calm yourself, Dwiskter. That’s King Thorgum from Damdur,” Staggnuns said. “He rides a grizzly.”

  “Ahh,” Dwiskter said, shaking his head. He seemed disappointed.

  Ulthor gave Staggnuns a stern glare and then laughed. “Best be careful or his grizzly will eat your ram.”

  “One head-butt from my ram’s horns and that bear will be toothless,” Staggnuns replied.

  “Brethren!” Thorgum shouted as he slid off the grizzly. “It’s been a long time since our three clans have all been on the battlefield together.”

  “It has,” Ulthor said.

  Staggnuns nodded. His hand clasped around his neatly knotted beard that spiraled to his ankles. “Indeed.”

  “I see we’re drinking as the night matures, eh?”

  “Help yourself,” Staggnuns said.

  Dwiskter handed Thorgum an empty tankard.

  “Appreciated, brother,” Thorgum said, lifting the tankard in a toast after he filled it.

  “Last time we all met here,” Staggnuns said solemnly, “we were headed toward Snowloch to fight the Dredgemen.”

  “What a battle it was, too,” Thorgum said. “I’ve wanted to return for many years.”

  “Why?” Ulthor asked.

  “As we passed through the rough ridges, ore veins with exposed seams were most plentiful.
Gold, silver, and mithril. Enough to keep our miners busy for years.”

  Staggnuns’ brow rose with keen interest. “Why haven’t you done so?”

  “The terrain is too craggy. I doubt mules and burros would survive pulling the wagons back.”

  “Perhaps we could perform a joint effort,” Staggnuns said.

  “How’s that?” Thorgum asked.

  Ulthor awaited the answer as well but he seemed agitated.

  “We stage camps to swap our burros along the way, so they don’t get over exhausted.”

  “That might work,” Thorgum said.

  Ulthor shrugged. His brow creased with uncertainty. “Bah! I don’t know. That’s a lot to risk by contributing miners and burros. I’ll have to think about it awhile.”

  “One other thing I’ve been wondering about since I arrived earlier,” Staggnuns said.

  “What’s that?” Ulthor asked.

  “You ever imagine what gems and artifacts might be buried beneath the layers of snow and ice where we stand?”

  Nordun stepped near the fire and said, “Ancient magical runes might well be down there as well. Our great ancestors once crossed this icy barren to settle in the mountains we now call home. As legend tells it, many died here fighting against the Dredgemen, goblins, and Orcs.”

  Thorgum filled his tankard again, lifted it, and took a deep gulp. “Ore reserves along the ridges, and possible treasures beneath our feet. Perhaps our joining together for this battle was destined.”

  “Aye,” Staggnuns said. “But if you recall, Hoffnung took the spoils from the war against the Dredgemen and divided it amongst the kingdoms of Aetheaon. These were gold and silver bars smelted by the beasts that lived in the caves of Snowloch. And Thorgum tells of the vast amounts of ores yet to be mined. Shall we join our brotherhoods together to exploit our exploration?”

  The three Dwarven kings placed their right fists together and swore their oath with one another. In unison, they said, “So be it.”

  The earth rattled and shook beneath their feet. Their eyes widened as they searched one another at what was happening. All along the line of blazing campfires, the dwarves scrambled to their feet. Upon the hillside the icy terrain crackled and broke open.

  A giant roar echoed and boomed through the night sky.