Black Rim

by B A Fleming

  They would be released as the invaders moved on, and even after a few days of occupation several had convinced their captors of hidden stores enough to be released under guard to go and find them, especially if fine wines were involved.

  Many of the remaining working women knew that if they stood their ground initially, there would be plenty of scope for work.

  By the middle of the first night more than a few of the invaders had started knocking on their doors, whilst others burst into random houses looking for somewhere warm and comfortable to sleep, the first since they had left Kogu, as rain poured down outside.

  Chapter 22

  “These are the fogous,” almost murmured the dwarf as they approached the valley wall.

  The deep underground tunnels meandered a labyrinth throughout the Har-Koln almost up to the Great Turmoil in the north and through to Imuhagh City in the west and under the Aïr Mountains to the south.

  The steep, hidden valleys in the middle contained rich fields and an innovative trolley system through its mines in the mountains to bring the harvest to the rarely used Dwarven stronghold, that sat above the main halls.

  Jotnar stared longingly at the nearby grazing Gozioxy, before focusing back on the small opening.

  “Shall I ask the garrison soldiers to bring some Gozioxy meat to tonight’s’ feast?”

  The dwarf smiled. “That would be appreciated.”

  Jotnar had met his visitors at the garrison before dawn. He knew that the soldiers would put on a fine layout for their royal guests and hoped to be able to join in. As much as the dwarves were well known for their ales, they were also for their love of foods. This was considered to be the result of living off jerky for more than half of the cycle after their summer supply of bread and cheeses had run out.

  Casperi smiled to the dwarf. “You still owe me Prince,” he grinned. “Although that breakfast this morning went part of the way.”

  Casperi nodded at him, glancing across to the Vasa royals. Canute turned to their entourage.

  “Please slaughter and prepare four Gozioxy. Dwarves will await you at this door in three hours. The cave dwellers smiled to each other. Everyone dismounted as they made their way on foot into the opening.

  The dwarf lit the torches for each and handed to every second member. Casperi held the torch out and marginally behind him, allowing his eyes to slightly adjust to the darkness, and shortly after the other Hardular did the same. The first hour of the tunnel was uneven and winding, as it was obviously unused for generations. The tunnel finally opened out to a larger, round cut tunnel with a small though flat base.

  “Just like the other ones were,” mentioned Casperi to Aryz Coun, who nodded to him. Thais looked around, and then back to her brother. Until now she could not imagine what he had gone through when she lost him for the first time.

  Several hours later, Nathe squinted as he looked around as the new torches were lit. Their first set of torches had run out, although ample were in supply along every tunnel they crossed. He was, alike all except for the dwarf, completely directionless. The darkness was also slowly killing his spirit. He could not remember being in profound complete darkness for such a period of time any other time in his life. Although the Dwarves had carved a solid and even road through the mountains, the journey would take the better part of two days to traverse from one realm to the next.

  Jotnar stopped and raised his gnarled finger and pointed to spot by the wall. “This was the end of a narrow cave when I was a boy. The worms lived through a hole that we made through. Everyone that entered those tunnels never returned,” he looked sorrowfully towards the spot where the hole would have been. They had been travelling through the worm tunnels for most of their journey since leaving the Dark Forests. Both Jotnar and Casperi had regaled tales of their own experiences of the worms.

  “Did you lose someone close to you?”

  “I, I did. My brother and his mate made a dare to hop in and out of the hole when we were youngers. It happened so quick. My brother was gone.”

  He stood and stared for longer than was comfortable for those around him, eventually glancing at Casperi and Aryz Coun before turning to move away.

  “I believe that I have you to thank princess, for removing the worms,” he added as he turned to leave. She nodded, still uncomfortable with his meditation of the place.

  They now travelled at twice the pace and by midafternoon entered different tunnels, now wider and more suited to a group travelling through them. They passed several parties of dwarven miners and one party of farmers moving down from the summer meadows with produce.

  Not long after they turned into a larger twin tunnel. One was carved well with paintings upon the walls. Only well-dressed dwarves travelled upon this path. The next was still roughly hewn with small alcoves where fires and occasionally bars were situated. Several dwarves lead goat drawn carts along this route.

  They finally turned at a large crossing into a very large, oak lined doorway. The two guards bowed as they opened the doors, instantly recognizing Jotnar.

  The Dwarven King, Foras, stood in the middle of a large hall, whose ceiling arches seemed to disappear into darkness far above. Large tables circled the outer edges of the space, covering more than half the area. Scrapgryke stood to the side of his King, just near the Queen.

  “Welcome, Princes and Princess of Hardular!” beamed Foras, bowing as best he could with his large belly and thick clothes. His red beard rolled down his torso and as he bent down it extended almost to his knees. His stubborn resolve was reflected in his dark brown eyes, and gruff smile. As clan leader, everyone awaited direction from him, even his son, Jotnar, who stood solemnly next to the guests.

  Foras had politely extended his hand towards Prince Canute, who Jotnar lightly signaled to be the highest ranked of his guests. Duke Birger was then introduced, followed by Lord Casperi, Princess Thais and the knight Nathe.

  “You owe my family much, but then your sister has given us freedom,” remarked Foras to Casperi as he strongly shook the young Lord’s hand.

  Casperi noticed the gold ring on his finger that Scrapgryke had been given and he turned momentarily, taking a bag of gold from Nathe and presented it to the King.

  Aryz Coun received a haughty welcome, as the King slightly grumbled something towards him. Soze stood solemnly to the side, although Foras purposely turned to him, even though he wasn’t introduced as no one seemed to know his name. The big man smiled as Canute grumbled something and Thais nodded to Soze. Daak was the last to be introduced. The King then offered an ale to everyone, smiling and rambling in dwarven before indicating for his guests to join him at the main table. They sat as others were seated at their assigned tables.

  Some hours later, after all the cheese, nuts and bread had been devoured, and seemingly most of the ale, several sword smiths arrived and stood in the middle of the room, carrying thick rugs. Scrapgryke rose and stood before them, bowing to his King and Queen. The room quietened as Foras made his way to the center.

  He spoke for a few moments in dwarven before looking towards Casperi.

  “My Lord Casperi. Firstly, thank you for your presence and that of Princess Thais. My King would like to thank you for the gifts of the Black Rim, and the gold that you have brought with you. You and your peers please join me.”

  King Foras indicated for them to rise. Casperi stood next to the dwarven warrior.

  “My Lord Casperi, we have crafted some swords and weapons for your nobles. They have been forged using their own magical properties by our best craftsmen, using an almost lost art that has been passed on through generations for over five hundred summers by my own clan masters. The darkness of a Black Rim blade enables it to become incredibly sharp, light, and strong, and beyond all measure of any other sword.

  Until this moon, we of the Har-Koln have only carved two blades as fine as these. The treasured “Hand odf Dumathoin” carved for our first King, and when we fought the Great Battle of the Plains against the Her
ula, the “Hand odf Hanseath” led us into battle. Although the blade was lost, we still revere its power,” he half grumbled.

  Everyone uncomfortably glanced around at each other.

  “But I digress on the past. Now I would like to present these new blades to our guests. We have carved six blades, one of which we have stayed for our own. I am now the keeper of the “Hand odf Tharmekhûl”, our god of the forge and fire, blessing the creation of these historic swords for you, our new Hardular friends.”

  A pleasant applause lapped the room. Although most had drunk quite their fill, the speaking of Hardular tongue was foreign and for the most part those in attendance understood nothing of what had been said. Scrapgryke spoke for a few moments in dwarven and then everyone erupted, as King Foras and the guests bowed in response.

  “Firstly” now continued Foras, “would you please present these swords to Duke Canute. The first is for your father, King Daikin, as representative I present to you the “Hand odf Mauri”, or “hand of Friendship”.”

  Canute stepped forward and bowed, as he had been taught by his mother. He held both arms out, palms up. The sword was laid on his forearms and he then straightened, nodded to Foras and considered the blade.

  Everyone clapped loudly.

  The sword glimmered as he drew it from the sheath. The Black Rim sparkled with slight white marbling through the blade. As much as it looked like stone, it was light, and sharp.

  Scrapgryke stepped forward to hold the ceremonial sword for him as another was uncovered and handed to the King of the Dwarves. Both nodded to each other and Canute again bowed in the correct position.

  “Prince Canute, I understand that you are considered a strong and willing warrior. The second sword is for you, “the “Hand odf Fisst” or “Hand of strong fist” to add to the strength of your warrior status.”

  Foras turned to Prince Birger. The dwarves had been briefed as to the backgrounds and strengths of all of those that would be in attendance. One dwarf had been assigned that very morning to accompany Jotnar to the Dark Forest garrison and he gathered this information before quickly departing. Birger was now presented with a short sword, ”Hand odf Ddan” or “Hand of the Noble” and a dagger. Nathe and Casperi gave a half smile. The dwarves were not known for their imagination.

  “Prince Casperi and the knight Nathe, please step forward.”

  Both men bowed to King Foras.

  “Prince Casperi. You already carry with you the Black Rim, finely carved by our own Scrapgryke. In honor of your service to the realm of Har-Koln, and your status as Lord of your duchy, I present to you the “Hand odf Muamman Duathal” or “Hand of the traveler.” A ceremonial sword for your castle or for battle, whichever is worthy.”

  Nathe was presented with a sword as well, in the colors of the House of Catheridge, “Hand odf Skilami”, “Hand of the Master”, slightly less beautiful than a ceremonial sword that Casperi received, but nonetheless exquisite. They all stood there, mesmerized by their gifts.

  “This blade is very tough,” observed Nathe to Soze who examined the weight and movement of the blade as he stepped back towards his peers.

  “No steel could be polished to this color,” mentioned Nathe and Canute came over to him to compare blades. Birger stood nearby with Thais, looking at the Mauri.

  “It has a sharpness unmatched by anything I have ever seen, and though I struck it more than twenty times against steel and stone, it remains unblunted, as if the blade would never by troubled,” offered Scrapgryke, stepping forward. The Hardular had started to mill and King Foras coughed slightly. They looked up from their distracted conversations, stepping back into line.

  “Princess Thais,” continued King Foras. “We dwarves have been fascinated by the stories of your triumphs and battles. We, the Har-Koln, are enthusiastic by your visit to us. We would be pleased to present you with this Black Rim dagger “Ulaa”, arrow heads and arrows.”

  Scrapgryke translated and the whole room exploded with applause. Thais curtsied, as she had learnt since a child. Scrapgryke thanked his guests, who all bowed to King Foras, just as the main course of Gozioxy with potatoes and carrots started arriving into the hall.

  “Oh Mimir, I love these swords!” almost shouted Canute, swinging the blade as they walked back towards their chairs. Casperi smiled at Aryz Coun, who now held and did the same with the ceremonial sword, Muamman Duathal.

  “You guys are weird,” commented Thais as she turned away from them to inspect her new arrows. Foras and Scrapgryke approached her.

  “The fletcher has heard of your battles and is privileged to make these for you, my lady,” half bowed Scrapgryke to Thais. Most the royal guests mingled behind the main table whilst the main course was laid out.

  Jotnar approached Casperi, smiling. “We have business to attend to, young prince. I wish to join your quest as I feel I might help some along the way,” offered Jotnar.

  “That’s Lord Casperi,” half whispered Birger. The dwarf shifted uncomfortably at the insult.

  “We do not need you dwarf as we are already well rationed,” suggested Canute with a gruff voice that matched his look. The dwarf stood firm.

  “I fear that you underestimate my abilities, sire,” he replied, looking between Canute and Casperi.

  “No, not at all, for maybe it is you who underestimate your abilities. I believe that are more than capable,” finally commended Casperi. “Canute, I believe that Jotnar will be entirely useful.”

  The prince considered him for a moment.

  “I trust your judgement on this, Casperi.”

  Birger nodded, thinking a moment about what had been said. Belief was what is came down to. More ale arrived.

  *****

  The dawn arrived outside of Mountay with shadows from both sides scurrying through the darkness, small individual skirmishes breaking out as spies tried to returned to their commanders with their intel.

  The Morean General barked out an order in a fractured voice as the soldiers formed up in line. Many had laid on the wet ground dozing for half an hour as they stared into the grey clouded sky.

  It had been an exhausting night without sleep and fourteen hours on constant marching had taken their toll on everyone. The young or less experienced of them sweated nervously. One let himself go and warm liquid ran down the inside of his leg. A short time later they moved forward into battle, the infantry carrying large, rectangular red shields with the emblem of the Morean Empire brazened upon them. Pike and swords drawn, they marched in regimented steps towards their opponents.

  Both of the Narthal forces had now combined south of Mountay, near Nair. The Narthal soldiers took turns in battle, with Shigeru and Ocolan both aware of ensuring their troops had time to recover.

  Ocolans’ troops were tired, having battled their way from Bhagshau, being in the field for almost a month, and only resting for one night in Waterfall for those that could find a comfortable bed.

  All the remaining commanders were well aware of the strength left in their troops. Their tactics had changed throughout the campaign as thick mud now interrupted every footstep. They now fought shorter battles with more focus on smaller ambush and skirmish attacks affording the Moreans less opportunity for open battlefield confrontations, where they would easily gain the upper hand.

  The sides seemed evenly matched, especially in the northern Morea environment where the mild fall days gave no advantage to either across the flat landscapes.

  That said, the tiring Narthal took more benefits of small rivets and slopes around roads and minor gullies, preferring to join battle with their opponents in these insignificant areas of uneven ground than the open fields, that churned quickly into a muddy mess.

  Farmers had raced to remove their crop as best they could before the invaders had arrived. Even now, they could be seen in the fields north of Agrippa, stripping fields and carting whatever they could carry towards Banias, or further south or west. The roads had become busier as the Narthal troops moved south,
and rumors had spread of bandits slaughtering whole families south of Waterfall, ahead of the invaders. The towns towards Corpea, Veii and even out to Masterstone had started to fill with families fleeing either the ongoing invaders or the troubles of the capital that always seemed to follow the fall of an Emperor.

  *****

  Tethys looked at his prisoner who quietly sat, eating breakfast in her loosened restraints.

  “I hope that you realize your value, your highness,” he offered.

  “Like in a cliché? Stealing the princess? My knight will come and save me and kill you, just like in the fairytales that parents tell their children?”

  “In our children’s stories, the Imuhagh princess is killed in battle by the young Despotate.”

  “Your children’s stories were written by madmen.”

  “That may be, but then every Morean child grows up wishing to be the Despotate.”

  “And what becomes of him?”

  “He wins of course, in the end. We are taught from a young age that the journey to success needs adversity in order to create resilience. In order to be strong enough to win.”

  She stared at him.

  “Am I really that bad, Princess? Have I harmed you upon this journey? Taken you for myself? I have done merely the opposite.”

  “Yet you keep me in chains, like a mucky goat.”

  He smirked at her answer.

  “We could have been good friends if we had stayed in the valley, if your young prince had chosen to leave without you.”

  *****

  Zador rode into Masterstone. He had been on the road west for almost a complete day. He had visited the town several summers before, and as a decorated soldier thought of his options. Temar Bolyl wouldn’t be easy to find, and a secret mission from Despotate Trajunus would raise suspicion. He had left during the night almost without a word. “Secret mission,” he whispered to Lentulus who had vaguely stirred as he snuck through the shadows.