by RG Long
How in the world can you run and talk at the same time? Ealrin thought as he listened to Roland speak without hardly any difficulty at all.
"...of course that was after we had to round up that group of dwarves who claimed an ancient stronghold on the mountains. Ha! I've seen those mountains and the only living thing inside them are rocks. Ancestor's hall my foot! They were looking for an excuse to settle and mine for gold without going through the Republic's paperwork. They only put up a little fight when they saw my posse and me coming after them!" relayed Roland. Ealrin was jealous beyond measure. Roland had hardly stopped for a break from the jog. Yet he was still relaying past stories from adventures in and around Good Harbor. The man had yet to break a sweat, let alone become short of breath.
Though he ached with every step now, Ealrin certainly took in the beauty of the island as they pursued the thief. All of the villagers or farmers who had been watchful of the roads had pointed them continually towards what they referred to as "Lonely Pass." Spring had come beautifully for the island. Trees were exploding with the colors of their blossoms and the ground was giving forth life in all directions. To look in one direction would give you a fantastic view of a small mountain ridge rising up to meet the majestic reds and oranges of the setting sun in the west. The other would show you the land as it gradually sloped down to the sea. Night was beginning to fall in earnest and the deep blues and purples of the night sky were taking the place of the daytime's burning sun.
It was truly beautiful here.
Not a bad island to crash land on, Ealrin thought.
Holve finally stopped them upon coming to the entrance of what Ealrin guessed was Lonely Pass. It certainly looked lonely. At the base of the mountain grew a forest coming to life in the spring. Two of the mountains split ways at some point long ago to form a pass between them, covered in trees yet still allowing for a path to grow between. Only the desperate would take such a route in the night. Again, as Ealrin thought of the creatures of the darkness, some fog in his mind cleared. Traveling through a forest without light would not be ideal; least of all for someone who was as tired as he must be.
"If we head a bit to the east we can see if Old Soltack will allow us to stay the night with him. I wouldn't want to travel much through the woods while..." Holve cast a quick look at Ealrin, who was desperately trying not to breathe as heavily as he wanted to through his burning ribs. "Well, while we can't see our hands in front of our faces."
Ealrin knew they were truly going to stop for him and he was grateful for the break, but a small bit of pride was stirring up inside of him, pushing him to protest.
"Suppose we lose our man?” he asked through gasps of air. He wished he would start breathing normally again so he could seem like he was better fitted for the chase.
“With all the kindness Elezar has shown me I would certainly like to retrieve this locket of his to repay him. Don't you worry the thief might..." Might what? The island was, in fact, surrounded by sea. No land was visible from Good Harbor. Was there something within swimming distance on the west side of the island? Or a boat waiting for him?
Roland finished Ealrin's thoughts for him.
"I doubt the thief plans to steal away from the island. He'd have had a better chance of that slipping onto a boat in Good Harbor. No boats sail from the west either. Much too dangerous. Goblin waters."
"I think we'll be safe letting him sleep in the woods tonight,” Holve continued, brows furrowed as he surveyed the landscape ahead of him. “If we're well rested I'm sure we'll have the advantage over him tomorrow."
Ealrin thought the best way to have the advantage on the thief would be to sneak up on him while he slept. Yet, knowing his body had taken enough punishment from the chase so far, he conceded.
"So who is old Soltack?" asked Ealrin as he followed Holve along the edge of the mountains. The trio was now walking off the beaten road and onto a narrow path that led to a house, just visible in the failing light.
Holve and Roland exchanged sly smirks. Roland answered.
"Crazy old coot doesn't quite do him justice. He's dependable and quite good company. But let's just say he's lived by himself 20 years too many. He's full of odd stories and rants every now and then."
"Has anyone turned him into a chicken?" Ealrin asked Roland, smiling a bit himself.
Roland let out a laugh that was much too loud for a group trying to hunt down a thief, but was genuine and rang over the field and off the mountain.
"Holve, I've met many a man in my adventures and half of them were those that you've introduced me to in our many years. Some I haven't thought much about or like, but this one is growing on me!"
6: General Rayg
In the coolness of the dawn, he could see his own breath mist in front of him, as well as the breath of the four hundred souls behind him. The bursts of fog were the only telltale sign that they occupied this spot, covered as they were by several barriers of protective magic.
The mountain of the dwarves loomed before them. For generations dwarves had dwelled in and mined the mountains of the Southern Republic without fear of their precious bounty being claimed by another, thanks to the treaty of peace signed nearly one hundred years ago.
That treaty ends today, thought Rayg, general of the Mercs.
He stood taller than any other man around him. He was broader as well. The sword he carried was nearly the same size as his own body. It would have been impossibly heavy to lift for any other man, but not Rayg. He was more than just a man.
"I don't like the idea of raiding the dwarves," spoke Gileon in his ear. Typically the short, squat man would not be able to whisper to him so because Rayg would simply ignore the words coming from the height of his torso. As the company was kneeling down to remain in the barrier, Gileon could talk directly into Rayg's ear.
This displeased Rayg greatly.
"You heard how they plan to attack Conny and usurp power from the elders so that they can mine the plains!" Rayg directed back to him in a harsh tone. "They must be dealt with swiftly if we are to maintain peace!"
"Peace," the word echoed in Rayg's ear. Yes. All would be done for peace. Or so the common man would believe.
Preparations for this day were four years in the making and all players had to be in the correct spot, ready to pounce as one. Some of the lesser races would play their own role. But it would all be for the rise of man.
"The age of man is come," said Rayg out loud, yet barely audible to any but himself and possibly Gileon. No matter.
The morning sunlight would cast out any doubt or darkness from their plan, Rayg thought.
He rose above the protective barrier, effectively breaking it and revealing the four hundred men in red robes under battle armor standing at the base of the mountain. A dwarven horn blared in the distance.
It begins, thought Rayg with a smile.
"Torch the mountain!" he yelled as he felt the energy around him begin to condense and burn hot.
In unison, four hundred fireballs shot from staffs bearing precious stones and blasted the mountainside. As expected, war machines cranked to life along the cliffs, but as they had not used them in such a long time, several groaned and protested.
The pause was all the Speakers needed.
Rayg mumbled the language of the stones. His sword began to emit a purple light that shone oddly around the red and orange flames near him. Fire erupted from where the war machines were creaking, and the screams of dwarves echoed along the mountain.
"What sweet music," said Rayg. "Advance!"
As one, they began to march up the mountain. Using the ancient road constructed by the dwarves themselves, the men advanced towards the stronghold known as Cardun-Adush. This dwarven city would fall before first light.
***
AS RAYG LOOKED AROUND the great hall where the dwarven leaders kept court, he smiled at the devastation. Bodies of dwarves littered the halls. Every now and then a Speaker's words would echo throughout the cave turned int
o a city, signaling another burst of orange or red light, a scream, and then silence.
The dwarves had for too long mined the mountains and kept their bounty as their own, thought Rayg.
Now it would be put to good use. A noble cause. Not made into any crude sword or ax, but fashioned into the rod of magic needed to bring peace to Ruyn.
"Peace," spoke Rayg as he surveyed the destroyed great hall and bodies strewn all about. He chuckled. Yes, peace would come in time. A peace that would surpass all expectations.
"By the blessed gods of light," Gileon shuddered as he walked into the ancient hall.
He and three others had emerged from a side room. Gileon was pale and ashen, adding to the impression Rayg always got that the man resembled a gourd more than a man.
"All dead, Rayg," he said through trembling lips. "We've checked every room we could find. Every dwarf is slain. By the gods, it didn't need to be like this.”
Gileon was surveying the damage done with wide eyes. Rayg looked at his feet and saw a dwarf, or at least, the charred remains of one, still clutching his ax. He bent down and wrestled it from its former owner. It was a beautiful ax, though now the fire of the Speakers blackened it. The handle and blade were one magnificent piece of metal, shaped with care and the skill of a master craftsman. Rayg, who detested the dwarves, could tell that this was a great weapon and that its owner must have been someone of importance. At least to the dwarves. He kicked the carcass for good measure and turned to face Gileon, who was still rambling about the needless shedding of blood and violence.
“Where was the council that was sent to bring about a peaceable agreement for the dwarves? Is this really what the elders had asked of us and our order? Are the Speakers meant to burn the mountains down to appease the leaders? This isn't putting down a rebellion. This is genocide. This is..."
His words were caught in his throat. More specifically the dwarven ax Rayg had hurled at him was caught in his throat. Rayg had heard enough from the sorry excuse for a man.
Gileon tumbled to the ground in a pile of robes and blood. The three speakers around him backed away as they watched their master twitch as he slowly died. Rayg allowed his blade to glow intensely as they recovered and turned their gaze at him.
“To the mines speakers. We still have work to do,” he said as he turned from the great hall. These speakers would follow him for sure, for they feared him above all else. But Rayg would not allow them to tell of how their master died. He would ensure an ‘accident’ claimed them while searching the mines for what they sought. The dwarves would be blamed for the death of the Master Speaker of the Southern Republic.
The golden inlaid columns were stained with blood and ash. The floors were charred and dented. As he walked from that place, Rayg could feel an elation rising up within him. This was why they had come. To end the dwarves. To take from their mines that which would serve men in the coming struggle.
This was his purpose.
To cleanse the world of the blight of the lesser races.
There was still much work to do.
7: Old Soltack
As the last few rays of the double suns faded into the mountains, Holve, Roland, and Ealrin came upon the house that Ealrin assumed belonged to Old Soltack.
The house looked older than the hills themselves.
The thatch roof had holes that could be seen in this fading light. A window with a pane knocked out of it long ago had several faded rags stuffed into the hole to keep out the critters and the wind. What may have once been a garden was now overgrown with weeds that threatened to move right into the old house, should the walls ever collapse due to the weight of plants crawling up its mud and log siding.
A dim light could be seen from the crack in the door, as if a single candle was all the light that was on inside the home.
Holve approached the door and knocked hard.
"Don't bang the door down! I saw you coming from a league away!" said a voice from the shadows of the side garden. "I may yet be 70 winters, but I'll not be snuck up on by the likes of vagabonds and pickpockets."
Ealrin nearly jumped out of his skin. The old man stood behind a bush to the right of the doorway. He hobbled out on a cane, hunched over, yet still demanding attention. His beard grew all the way to his navel, perhaps to compensate for the hair that no longer resided on his head. He walked up to the trio and looked each of them in the face.
There was a fire behind those old gray eyes.
"Holve Bravestead, I'll be waggered if you think you can come calling at this hour expecting a feast and wine!" he said as he opened the door and motioned for them to come in.
Three men followed the old one into his home. Holve came last and closed the door tight as he replied to Soltack.
"Your hospitality hasn't changed much in the last year, Soltack! We're chasing a thief, old friend, and simply need a place to lay down our heads tonight. I've brought some provisions for us in my pack, and we'll not intrude on your stores, you old greedy guts."
Holve's tone was sarcastic and harsh, but Ealrin could sense a playful tone in the gruff man’s voice. All it warranted from Soltack was a simple "Bah!" as he led them into the first room of the house and then disappeared into another. A cloth that served as a door fell behind him, signaling to Ealrin that they were not to follow.
The floors were rough and uneven wood that may have once been straight and fine. Years of erosion under the house and what looked like much abuse had caused them to bend and warp.
A single candle stood on a table in the center of what could have been a common room for cooking and eating. Ealrin wasn't sure what anything was, as there were books, clothes and all manner of odds and ends stacked to the ceiling. Everything was a shelf to Soltack, though for most it was not its original purpose.
The old man returned to the room with a loaf of bread, a pitcher of water, and a small wedge of cheese set upon a wooden plate. He threw it down on the table (on top of various books and parchments), and let out a "Humpf" as he seated himself on a crate that was overturned next to the table.
"Sleep where you can, you and your friends. Just keep any thief you chase far away from my house!" Soltack said as he placed both hands on top of his staff and stared square at Ealrin. He felt uneasy as he moved a book from a chair in order to sit down himself.
Roland stood at the window and watched the night sky as Holve also moved to sit next to the old man.
"You're too kind to allow us some floor and a roof, Soltack," he said as he tore off a piece of bread, spread a bit of cheese on it and offered it to the white bearded fellow. He then did this again and handed a piece to Ealrin.
"And since you won't stop staring at the boy here, I'll be the one to have manners and introduce him. This is Ealrin Bealouve. I believe you've met Roland before?"
Soltack grunted a response, which Ealrin supposed meant yes. Roland threw Holve a smile and a wink, and then went back to looking out the window.
"I doubt we need a watch tonight, Roland, as the man would be outnumbered three to one."
"Four!" interjected Soltack through a mouthful of bread.
"My apologies," said Holve giving Soltack a mock salute. "And if you continue to stare at the boy like that, Soltack, you'll burn a hole right through him. Come on, you suspicious old goat, he’s trustworthy."
Boy. Ealrin wanted to fume at Holve for calling him young again. He wasn’t young! Well, at least he didn’t feel young. He felt experienced and... and what? Some other word tugged at him, but he couldn’t quite call it to mind. But then Holve had also called him something else. Trustworthy. What on earth had Ealrin done to earn that kind word? Sure, in the last week he had stolen no food from Elezar and made small talk with Holve about the various visitors to the Rusty Hook.
Did Holve already consider him someone worth trusting?
"Perhaps if I told you my story you could try to enlighten us, Master Soltack," said Ealrin meeting his gaze.
At being called 'Master,' Soltack's e
yes softened a bit and the slightest turn of his mouth indicated a smile on his bearded face.
"So far, I like him," he said as he finished his bread and returned his hand to his staff.
The tale took Ealrin only a few moments to tell, but then Soltack began asking questions to which he didn't know the answer. Holve would fill in where he could, but then every now and then he himself couldn't find an answer to the old man's questioning.
"Which direction did it appear the boat was headed? How many bodies did you find along the shore? Were there other things that washed ashore that could help ascertain the origins of the vessel? Did any scrolls or parchments appear as well? What did the sails have on them? Were there any signs of a battle? Had the magic gone wrong? Storms? A mutiny?"
Several questions to which Ealrin had not given much of a thought to. Holve, who had been unable to answer the last round of questions entirely at one point, said "We found little else on the shore save for Ealrin, some debris from his vessel, and a few other bodies. Whatever caused his ship to sink, it must have been catastrophic."
After some time, the man relaxed a bit on his old crate, satisfied with the tale.
"You say you're chasing a thief, eh?"
"Stole something off of Elezar," said Roland, speaking for the first time in a while. His gaze was fixed outside and he had not yet sat down to eat. He seemed determined to watch the darkness for any signs of the thief.
Or is he looking for that man at all, Ealrin thought.
He had said he had news of goblins. Was that his concern as the darkness enveloped the land before him? Ealrin could not remember anything about his past, but he remembered goblins.