by Brad Clark
He looked to his left. Princess Nikki was sitting against the wall near him. Her head had dropped to her chest, and her eyes were closed. He waited for a moment to be sure she was alive. A heartbeat later, her chest slowly rose up and down. To his right was an empty spot where chains and shackles lay strewn about. Past the empty spot was Glaerion. His head was up, and his eyes were open, staring straight ahead.
“Glaerion!” Conner said, trying to keep his voice low.
Glaerion slowly turned his head towards him. “There is no reason to be quiet,” Glaerion said with a loud voice. “We are many levels below the surface, and I do not think there is anyone that is watching over us.”
“How long have we been here?”
“I have been awake for a few hours. But before that, I do not know.”
“Where is Ryshak?”
Glaerion let out a soft sigh. “He is why I awoke. They took him. His shouting and fighting woke me up. I feigned sleep to watch what would happen. My head was spinning, and I could not focus and concentrate on casting any spells. If there were any way for me to help him, I would have.”
“Who took him?”
“The men that attacked us outside. They have imprisoned us.”
“Men? Those were Humans?”
Glaerion slowly shook his head. “No. Not Human. Another race. We called them the Dahwarvinhollikan.”
“The what?”
“Elvish names tend to be long-winded. They are commonly known as Dwarves.”
Conner returned a blank look. “Never heard of them.”
“Of course not. They are an ancient race presumed to have died out thousands of years before even I was born. But it seems they have been living in this hidden valley in the mountains. Apparently, they are the Hurai Ghosts, killing any that come to their land to protect their secrecy.”
“Then, why are we still alive?”
Glaerion glanced down at the empty spot where Ryshak had once been. “I am sure our time will come.”
“Can you?” Conner asked waving his hands to mimic the casting of a spell.
“Can I what?” Glaerion asked, even though he was sure he knew what Conner was talking about.
“You know, magic our way out of this?”
“My head is still spinning, and there is a pounding going on up there that I cannot get rid of. If I could, I would have done so a long time ago.”
“What do we do then?”
“Patiently bide our time. We can only hope that at some point, the pounding in my head will go away and I’ll be able to focus on casting a spell.”
The door creaked open just as his words ended as if their captors were waiting for the right moment to make an entrance. Three walked into their cell. They were all clad in loose robes that hung on their shoulders as if their clothes had been made for larger men. Their hands were long and boney. The leader held a ring of keys in one hand and a small ax in the other. The two men who trailed behind each held large twin-bladed battle-axes that had seen better days. The metal was spotted with rust, and the edge didn’t seem quite razor sharp, but the blades were likely still sharp enough to cause permanent and fatal damage. Their eyes were dark and sunk deep into their skulls, giving them a sinister appearance.
All three walked up to Conner and looked down at him.
“What do you want?” Conner growled with anger. “Where is Ryshak?”
“They do not speak your language,” Glaerion said. “They have their own that is similar to Elvish.”
Glaerion repeated Conner’s question using Elvish words that the man might be able to understand.
The lead man shook his keys and pointed at Conner’s shackled wrists.
“It appears he wants to release you,” Glaerion said. “The three do not look that strong. Do you think you could take them?”
“If I had my swords,” Conner said. “I’d have them all dead in a second. But they do look weak, so I think I can take them.”
The lead Dwarf snapped his head towards Conner and said, “That would not be wise.” His voice was deep and gravelly. Although the words were spoken clearly, there was a hint of an odd accent that Glaerion could not quite place.
“You speak Commoner?” Conner asked, looking at Glaerion, wondering how much of their conversations they had heard.
“I understand much of what you say,” the leader replied. “The words of Humans are taught to us so that we may know them when they come. It has been many, many years since Humans have come.” Then the man turned to Glaerion and said, “And even many more years since Elvenkind has infested our forest.”
Glaerion raised an eyebrow at the insult, but he did not respond in kind. Instead, he asked, “So you could understand us out in the forest?”
“I was not with the group that captured you,” the leader said. “But yes, they would have understood your words if you spoke Commoner.”
The leader kneeled down to unlock Conner’s shackles. A putrid stench drifted over Conner, and he jerked back. The two men with battle-axes stepped forward, their blades hovering near Conner’s head.
“I would not startle them,” the leader said, his eyes glancing back to his companions. “They would just as soon slice you in two, but you are needed whole. If you fight us, we will kill you. All of you. But if you go with us peacefully, then we will not harm you.”
Once the shackles were removed, the man stood up and took a step back to allow Conner room to stand. Conner stood and let out a low moan of discomfort. He must have been sleeping for much longer than he thought as nearly every muscle in his back and lower body protested.
“Where are you taking him?” Glaerion asked, his voice hovering between anger and fear.
“The other failed in his task. Now it is up to this one. If he fails, then I will come for the female. You will be last. But if he succeeds, then all who remain will be set free.”
Glaerion pulled on his chains and tried to stand up. “Failed? What do you mean? Where is Ryshak?”
“I won’t go unless you tell us what is going on,” Conner said.
“You will go, or you will die,” the leader countered. “If you resist or fight back, we will kill you. It is that simple.” His eyes looked down at Glaerion and Princess Nikki, who was still not moving. “All of you. You will do as I ask, or they will be slaughtered where they are chained.”
Conner sized up the three Dwarves. They were skinny with hardly any muscle on their bones. He actually wondered how the two other could be carrying heavy battle-axes when they appeared to be so weak. They were shorter than him by a head, which also meant his reach was longer. If he had his swords, it would be an easy fight. But without them, it would take some quick planning. The one who spoke only had a small ax, but had stuffed it into his belt where it was not readily accessible. He knew small weapons could be dangerous, as he had seen Elves fight with daggers many times. It was a close-in fighting weapon, unlike the battle-axes. He only needed to stay a good pace away to avoid getting struck. The other two with their battles axes would be more of a problem. Their reach with the weapons would be long, and even though the blades of their axes were rusty and worn, they would still easily slice through skin.
“You will go, now,” the leader said, growing impatient at Conner.
Conner did move, but with a suddenness that he hoped would catch the Dwarves off guard. He knew his muscles were tired and sore from being chained up, but he knew that wouldn’t slow him down. With one bounding leap, Conner landed right in front of the leader and pushed him into one of the battle-ax-wielding men. Twisting on his right foot, Conner ran at the other Dwarf, who had started to come at Conner, weapon ready to strike. But Conner was too fast and was inside the arc of the swing before the blade came anywhere near him. Using techniques that his old friend Master Goshin had taught him, he drove a fist directly into the man’s nose. Blood and mucus exploded as the man stumbled backward and fell onto his back. The other two had recovered. The leader scrambled away while the Dwarf with the battle
-ax stepped forward.
“We don’t have to do this,” Conner said, his eyes following the blade of the ax.
The man moved forward cautiously, two hands on the long wooden handle of the weapon. His eyes were narrow, and his face was crinkled with focused anger. The only answer Conner got to his question was for the man to rush forward, swinging his battle-ax.
Deftly, Conner dodged out of the way. He had hoped to get inside the swing of the ax, but the man kept his swings short and tight. If Conner even attempted to rush him, the blade would surely cut him deep.
Glaerion watched in frustration desperation. There was little that he could do with his hands and feet bound. One-on-one, he knew that Conner would be able to quickly handle the armed man, but the one that had spoken to them had run out of the cell, presumably to get help. Adrenaline was pumping through his body, and his mind was beginning to clear. Several spells that would likely be useful swam in his head, and he prepared himself to cast them when appropriate.
Conner jumped back as the man swung his ax to try and cut him vertically in two and then with one quick jump back, he grabbed the man’s arm. The man was so skinny, he was certain he would be able to take the ax away and quickly turn the tide of the fight. But the man’s arm was hard as a rock and didn’t budge when Conner grasped and pulled. In fact, the man easily pulled out of Conner’s grasp.
Conner took a step back, surprised. “Stronger then they look,” he said over his shoulder to Glaerion. “They are skinny, yet their muscles are hard and strong.”
Just then, the man who had spoken to them came running into the chamber followed by a half dozen more Dwarves all bearing battle-axes. Glaerion was able to cast a shield spell that blocked them. The leader bounced off the invisible barrier and fell to the floor. His half-dozen companions began hammering their axes at the shield. Glaerion did his best to keep it up, but he did not have the energy to last too much longer. Eventually, those Dwarves would knock the spell down and then they would rush in.
Conner’s opponent came at him again, but this time with an overhead strike. With fast feet and superior quickness, Conner stepped forward towards the falling ax. With two hands, he caught the handle of the ax before the blade struck his skull. Conner was now prepared for their unexpected strength. Rather than trying to wrestle the ax away, Conner pulled the ax down, bringing the Dwarf with it. As the Dwarf’s face came near, Conner swung an elbow across his jaw, dropping him straight to the hard stone ground. Conner was left holding the ax and stood over the fallen Dwarf.
He put a foot on the chest of the Dwarf and put the blade of the ax against his neck. He felt nothing and could easily just drawn the blade across the skin. It would have been an excruciating death, but he didn’t really care. Anyone, or anything, that got in his way was inconsequential. It seemed that at every turn some roadblock came in front of him, threatening to keep him from his goal of reaching the Spear. With each delay, he was also kept him from seeing Elissa. The anger and frustration were exacerbated by a pounding in his head that felt like was going to cause his eyes to explode.
“What’s going on?”
Conner glanced to his left to see that Nikki had awakened. She sat up, yanking at her chains just as he had.
“Conner?” she asked again.
“It seems that we are prisoners, but not for long,” Conner replied. He looked over at the Dwarf leader and his half-dozen men. They had paused hammering at the magical wall once Conner had put a blade to one of their own’s neck. “Release us, or this one dies!”
The leader replied, “His heart and soul are prepared for death. Your threats will do you no good.”
Conner pushed the blade into the neck. It didn’t draw blood, as the blade was not razor sharp. The Dwarf on the ground shouted out some words. Conner looked down, expecting to see fearlessness in the man’s face, but instead, he saw fear. His heart and soul might be ready to die, but his mind certainly was not ready. Conner pushed down a little more, and the man’s eyes were pleading for him to stop. He released the pressure just a little.
“What do you want from us?” Conner asked. “I will not hesitate to cut his head off.”
The Dwarf leader looked at the others and spoke to them in their native tongue. Reluctantly, they all lowered their weapons and withdrew from the room.
“Shall we talk?” the leader said.
“You chain us up, take away one of us, try and take me away, and then you want to talk? No, the time for talking is past. You will release us.”
The Dwarf leader held up his ring of keys. “If you allow me to pass, then I shall.”
Glaerion canceled the spell. The leader put his hand in front of him to be sure that the invisible wall was no longer there, then stepped forward. He went straight to Glaerion and unlocked his shackles, then he went to Nikki and unlocked hers.
Slowly, the Dwarf pulled out his small ax and held it by the blade towards them. “My name is Hemli. If you allow my other two men to depart, you may hold me as your prisoner.”
Conner glanced at Glaerion, who gave him a quick nod. He took his foot off the fallen man’s chest and stepped back. Quickly, the man scrambled up and helped his companion out of the cell.
Nikki stepped over next to Conner. “What is going on?”
“They took Ryshak, and they were going to take me,” Conner replied.
“Where?”
Conner turned to Hemli. “What do you want from us? And where is Ryshak?”
Hemli looked from one to another. His eyes dropped to the ground and slowly shook his head. “Like I said before, he failed. Failure means deaths.”
“You killed him?” Conner said, stepped forward, bringing the ax up.
Glaerion put a hand on Conner’s shoulder to keep him from killing the Dwarf.
Hemli looked Conner square in the eyes. There was no fear, but there seemed to be something else. It might have been sorrow.
Slowly, Hemli shook his head and said, “It was not I that killed him. The creature killed him, I would surmise.”
“What creature?”
“The creature that cursed the land and holds us as slaves.”
***
Nikki looked the skinny Dwarf over with disdain. “So, these are the Ghosts of the Valley? And they are actually a long lost race called Dwarves?”
Glaerion spent a few minutes catching Nikki up with what they knew about the Dwarves and their predicament. Hemli offered them fresh bread and water to satisfy their hunger and thirst. The bread was steaming hot, having come right from the ovens. The water was cool and refreshing. Conner thought of many better meals he could have had, but the moment the scent of fresh bread filled their cold cell, his stomach rumbled, and the thought of eating hot, fresh bread was the only thing on his mind.
“There are not many of us, anymore,” Hemli said. “At one time the Dwarf civilization was expansive. We tunneled under the earth, digging for gems, jewels, and ore. All the precious jewels that exist were once dug from one of our mines.”
“How come we’ve never heard of you?” Conner asked.
“Much of our history has been lost,” Hemli said. “Buried in the mines that we once called home. Our histories have been passed down by word of mouth from generation to generation, changed and altered with each telling. I think it’s impossible to know the absolute truth. However, what I do know is that at one time the Dwarves were one of the great civilizations and now we number only in the hundreds.”
“Why did you leave your mines?” Glaerion asked. “If you were so prosperous there, you should have stayed there.”
“Legend has it that a plague struck our people, killing most of us. We left our mines to escape this plague and start fresh elsewhere. Seeking refuge, the survivors of the plague traveled halfway across the world looking for mountains that we could live in. We found this valley and built our homes here in the forest. The first thing we built was the castle, cutting stone from the mountain and erecting it to protect us. It has stood for thousand
s of years, but there is likely not one stone left from the original construction. Over time, stone crumbles, and we must rebuild, which is what we did to the castle. We passed the art of masonry and construction down through the generations so that we can keep the castle strong.”
“The castle is very beautiful from above the trees,” Nikki said. “But below the trees, it is crumbling and falling apart.”
“Just as is the rest of the forest,” Glaerion said.
“The curse,” Hemli said. “It afflicts the whole valley, infesting the roots of the land and slowly moving upward. It started almost three hundred years ago. Our people had been living peacefully in the mountains, digging their tunnels, mining for precious metals and gems. Unfortunately, we cut right through rock that had hidden a secret chamber. In that chamber was the creature and once released, he laid claim to our valley. He demanded tribute, and we refused. In turn, he placed a curse upon our land and our people. We were once proud and strong. Our bodies were large and powerful, able to move rocks half our size and treble our weight. But, the curse has left us a shell of ourselves. You saw what it has done to the forest. It is a slow progression, slowly killing the forest and everything in it. Eventually, it will overcome the whole valley, and all the animals and vegetation will die. With no animals to feed us, we will die out as well.”
“Then why don’t you just leave?” Nikki asked. “The world is very big. I’m sure you could find another place to live.”
“It is the curse,” Hemli replied. “It is not only slowly killing the forest and making us thin and weak, but it has also caused us to be a victim of it. It binds us to this valley. Those who have tried to leave have died a painful, agonizingly slow death. As long as we provide the creature our tribute, it allows us to live.”