by Robert Day
“The Hall of Kings!” instructed Alric, obviously more at ease than Kyle in the strange room. The Dwarf pointed towards the central sarcophagus in the far wall, beyond the stairs, while behind him, two of the Dwarves closed the doorway with a dull thud that reminded Kyle of a coffin closing. “There lies King Daraesmar, Ruler of the Clan of the Tiger: Second Age. He ruled for twelve years, and was slain by a War Troll in the Second Age after boasting he could kill twelve of them in the space of a day while drinking a barrel of ale after each kill.” A smile lit Alric's face as he gave a wry chuckle. “He had ten before he was finally slain!”
Not knowing whether to believe the Dwarf, Kyle gave the deer inscribed sarcophagi an incredulous look, wondering what sort of man would have even thought of such a thing, let alone attempted it. From what he had seen of Thorgast, the barbarian appeared level headed and sane, though he had yet to see him drink several barrels of wine. Alric rattled off some of the other rulers, but Kyle decided it might be best if he paid no heed. Best not to get a one sided opinion of the Urak’Hai before he met any who were actually alive, other than Thorgast.
The room above was much of similar size and appearance to the first, though the roof was not as high and the braziers did not seem to give off imposing shadows. The niches here were smaller, square with the sarcophagi inserted length ways to conserve space, as there were four times as many niches as below. Each bore a tiny silver plaque, giving names and details of those contained within. Once again, Alric paused to read several of the plaques; his actions making Kyle wonder whether the Dwarf had actually read any of the plaques previously.
“Edaril of the Lion Clan. Could run down a deer and holds the record for the longest Spear throw ever recorded at one hundred fifty seven paces.” Alric's disbelieving chuckle mirrored Kyle. The deer must have been half dead or an old buck to be run down, while the paces must have been those of Dwarvenkind. Such a throw Kyle could not credit, having seen a few in his time at village Festivities, and none had come even close to breaking a hundred paces.
“No surprise this is named ‘The Hall of Champions!’” smirked Alric as he joined Kyle following the other Dwarves up the stairs. “Men of legend whose feats earned them great honor and rank among the clans. Many are linked with battle, but a few, like Edaril, are not.”
The upper level covered more than twice that of the lower two rooms. The ceiling was raised half again as high as the chambers below, while triple the braziers gave the room an almost uncomfortably bright glow. Niches were set one atop the other, sarcophagi filling almost all, the number too many for Kyle to count without pausing overly long.
“The Hall of Heroes!” Alric said nothing more, and surprisingly did not move about the room reading from plaques. It was almost as if the Dwarf held too much respect for those buried there, which was surprising because those buried below had almost all been Clan Leaders or nobles. Kyle silently read a few he passed, finding the plaques commemorating bravery and courage in combat or hunting. One spoke of a young warrior who saved a family from death by holding up the burning supports of their house while the family escaped the conflagration, though the warrior died in the blaze. If such were the case with all buried here, Kyle could appreciate Alric's solemnity.
Even wider stairs rose towards the ceiling. Spiral stakes of silver and bronze held aloft blazing braziers, to cast dancing images over the dust free stone. A set of tall, slender doors rested atop a high landing, banded with silver and hung on dark hinges shaped like slender trees. Two bronze handles were set here on the inside, towards the center seam, both crafted in the form of leaping tigers. There was no visible keyhole or bracket for locking from the inside.
Realizing he still held his own brazier, Kyle secured it and handed it to Alric who had turned to look back over the great room. Alric placed the brazier in one of the folds of his heavy coat and hefted Kyle's axe, looking as if to hand it back to Kyle. Reaching out to take it, Kyle missed taking a hold as Alric spun sharply and rapped the hilt against one of the heavy silver rimmed doors.
The echo reverberated through the room, sifting down into the lower rooms and returning, though seeming to carry with it some of the grief and depression Kyle had felt when passing. The sudden noise seemed like an intruder, trespassing where nothing had been for many years.
As long as it doesn't wake whoever is down there!
A muffled thudding of what sounded like wood and chain was followed by a protesting groan of one of the large doors beginning to swing outward, but for a moment, Kyle's fancies made him think the sarcophagi below were opening together. His relieved and embarrassed grin made Alric shake his head in confusion, only adding to Kyle's humor.
Though his humor passed and he soon wished Alric had handed him his axe as figures quickly lined the narrow doorway, silhouetted by the harsh afternoon sun, blinding Kyle for several moments. There were shouts and orders from the men, all of whom were armed and armored, but calm ensued as the Dwarves were recognized.
For Kyle, it was his first look at a Urak’Hai other than Thorgast, and he was impressed. Four had pressed forward, backed by others outside, and all he could see were similar in size to Thorgast. Thick leather armor consisting of skirt and vest did little to cover heavily muscled arms and legs. Weapons were varied, though all heavy and meant for brutal combat rather than hit and run tactics.
An older Urak’Hai pushed through from the rear after Alric made it clear who they were, though the younger guards parted easily and with obvious respect at his passing. He was armored as the others, though his scales were of silver rather than grey, and his weapon, a huge sword, remained sheathed at his back. He appeared middle aged, stone faced with the grizzled, expressionless look Kyle had always imagined an officer would look like in any army, though he appeared even more dominating by his physical presence. Not that he was any taller or muscled than the others, but there was something about him that spoke of competence and readiness.
“MasterSmith Alric, you have returned, though I admit through less conventional means. When I received word there was the possibility of you returning through the Tunnels under the Ancestral Vault, I still did not expect you. Are you followed?” The man's voice was stern though loose, the hard edge that could bring a man to order in an instant merely waiting at the periphery. Kyle suspected the lightness might pass as humor for this man, and he wondered if all Urak’Hai were alike.
“We passed many Haruken and Dark Brothers back past the Outpost. From my calculation, at least a hundred Haruken and ten times as many Hrolth.” Kyle gaped incredulously and let out a thankful breath. He believed Alric's words, but would have liked to have known about these dangers earlier. With numbers that large, they were lucky not to have fought a constant battle through the whole of the undercity. He missed the end of Alric's response, but heard him address the man as 'Commander Jaelsen'.
Jaelsen mustn't have liked what he heard, first sending one of the guards off with a brief message for the King telling of the arrivals, and the possible need for reinforcements, while he ordered four other guards into the Vault. The four disappeared to the lower levels, probably to stand guard over the doorway to the tunnels.
“How fares the city, Commander?” At Alric's question, it did not take Jaelsen's concerned frown to indicate things in the city were not well. It was perhaps two hours until dusk, the sky littered with wispy cloud that could not protect against the oppressive heat and power of the sun. The Ancestral Vault lay in a small clearing atop a shallow rise, surrounded by sun burnt grass littered with leaf from the sparse trees, along with other refuse. Around the clearing, stone and clay dwellings rose up, some high and obviously spacious, others of a size where any more than one person would be cramped. It looked like a mismatched sea of dwellings, some two or three levels and with arched wooden roofs, others flat and thatched. Tarps and sheets of heavy cloth created breaks from the sun's intensity amid the wide, dust caked streets, and everywhere Kyle looked, people were crammed. Scarcely clothed p
eople of all age rested or stood or passed slowly through the press of people, some shouldering possessions or bundles of clothing if not already weighed down with children.
At first glance, the obvious destitution was visible, though it took a moment longer to realize the depth of these people's need. Many of the young appeared frail and undernourished, while old men with more bone than muscle and flesh reclined facing the sun as if already dead, and Kyle wondered if some were not already. Flies and other insects were an obvious nuisance, though there was little complaining of such.
“These people, they look like they have lost everything they ever owned and are waiting to die.” He had spoken softly, but did not realize how his voice had carried until Commander Jaelsen gave a heavy sigh and nodded.
“Aye, though most have nothing left, lad. Many of these people are farmers or crafters, common people with all too common needs. For many, the clothes on their back are all they own, and the next meal they receive a feast. Many think there can be no reprieve from this.” Jaelsen sounded rueful, though at times his voice became more harsh and critical, as if condemning these people for such weakness. There was no doubting his concern however, and Kyle could see the commander knew the problem did not lie with the people. He had been like them not too long ago, so he could empathize with their feelings. Lonely and shattered, driven from his home by the barbaric death of his family, friends and neighbors, he had made the pilgrimage from Tyr to Thorhus in Ariakus. Some days he had gone without food so that his only companion, Natasha, could have enough to sustain herself, and then only on wild plants or berries scrounged from the harsh surroundings, or the heart felt donation of a meager meal from the rare person who believed their tale was something more than the chance to earn a feed without paying for it.
He had known hunger and he had known loss, but to see it in these people as a whole made him both sad and angry. However much you read about war and battle, never do you hear about those who suffer from its consequences or those who die not from a blade or an archers' arrow.
After a brief discussion with Alric, Commander Jaelsen decided to take them directly to King Thorgar. On command, the other guards returned to their post surrounding the vault. The Doors were closed, the four guards remaining inside, and Kyle did not envy them their jobs one bit.
As the strange group made its way through the city, South by the position of the fading sun, Kyle almost burst from the desire to ask whether or not Thorgast and the soldiers had made it to the city safely, but a part of him wanted to wait, just in case they had not. Some might have considered it childish, but if none of the others had made it through to the city, he would have been the only one to survive, something that returned all of his previous misgivings about his courage. It would also make him a complete stranger in a strange land seemingly ravaged by war, though he had given his word he would help, and he would.
Alric must have had the same thoughts, concerning Thorgast at the least, turning to Commander Jaelsen, whose eyes still following the crowds they passed, furrowed with concern and obvious pain. “This lad, Commander, Kylaran by name, was with a group making for the city when they were attacked at Jhaerren's Gap. Perchance do you know if the others made it through to the city?”
Jaelsen nodded greeting to Kyle at mention of his name, and a tightening around his eyes and a pursing of his lips made Kyle think the worst before he answered. “Aye, if it was the wagons sent by Prince Thorgast, Crael that you refer? Pursued to the very gates of the city they were, yesterday at dusk. Sixty four Soldiers there were after they were bustled inside, guards offering protection, along with twelve wagons, seventeen guards and fifteen wagoners.”
Kyle was both sad and overjoyed so many had made it, yet it seemed too many had died already, without even having made it to Chul’Haka. He felt terrible thinking it, but he wondered if the lost wagons would prove more costly than the lost lives. Supplies were obviously at a minimum here, especially food, a lot of which Thorgast had insisted on bringing, and now Kyle could see why.
Suddenly Jaelsen's words struck home and his heart felt suddenly encased in lead and his limbs froze, causing him to skid a few steps struggling for balance. “What about Thorgast?” Alric turned from one to the other before his gaze settled questioning on Jaelsen. Obviously he realized what Kyle was thinking. “You mentioned the group had been sent by Thorgast, but you did not include him amongst those brought inside by the guards.”
Jaelsen's grimace was answer enough, and it was all Kyle could do to listen to the news. Thorgast was a friend, not only to him but also to Val, and also a figure of both strength and power. For him to be gone was almost beyond belief. The reason he was here in Chul’Haka was to help Thorgast and his people, and now he felt as if one of the links holding him to his promise was severed.
“He would have been the last to enter the city, fighting a rearguard action so the others could make it through.” Jaelsen's bitter tone left little doubt as to which of the two he would have preferred to have made it safely. “He was overwhelmed, though the toll was high. His body was not recovered, so we assume he has been taken. I fear he is as good as dead.”
“Then we must go after them! If he is still alive, we can rescue him, right?” Alric's steadying hand on his shoulder made him wonder how loud his voice had raised, and by the looks of startled alarm on several bystanders, he knew he had been shouting, but the pained fury he felt could not be quelled so easily.
“The Haruken and Hrolth outnumber us more than two to one, lad. It is only through the protection of these walls and buildings we have managed to keep from being overrun months ago. It would be suicide to mount an assault on them on their own terms.”
“So you do nothing!” Voice thick with emotion, Kyle felt Alric's hand tighten on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off angrily. “After all Thorgast went through to return here, with the soldiers and the weapons, you would leave him to be tortured and killed by these Haruken. He deserved better, at least from his own people. If you won't help him, then at least tell me how to leave this city, and I will do what I can.”
Jaelsen's face was dark with anger, and Kyle wondered dimly if the officer meant to strike him, but the towering Urak’Hai's face softened slightly as he turned away, looking out towards the east.
“Commander, he did not mean “
Jaelsen’s words cut off Alric's appeasing apology, the big man turning back, face now set with determination, not anger. “The lad was right, Master Smith. Thorgast is in need of our help, but we are too weak to do anything. I know if the positions were reversed, Thorgast would be the first to organize a rescue.”
“You said yourself Commander, the Haruken outnumber you two to one. It would be foolish to strike at them.”
“Perhaps, but is it wiser to strike when you are strong, even against the odds, or wait while your numbers whittle away like leaves in Autumn? At least we would die fighting our enemy, like true Urak’Hai, rather than fighting hunger and poverty.”
“Sometimes subterfuge can conquer where force fails, Commander. Why send lambs to the slaughter when several may be able to bring back Thorgast safely? Tell me, are the Haruken still encamped at Black Rock?”
Jaelsen nodded, and Kyle began to suspect what Alric had in mind, even as the Urak’Hai began to shake his head. “It would be madness. Even if you got in, there are thousands of Haruken in the camp, not to mention the Hrolth. Even if you did get Thorgast, you would be pursued every step of the way back through the Tunnels. King Thorgar or I could not ask you and your kin to risk your lives for Thorgast. Even he would not risk that.”
“Your king has already decreed that my men and I have free rein to come and go as we please, as long as we do not endanger the city. I will let it be known any who go with me do so at their own decision, but I will go alone if necessary.”
Jaelsen was still shaking his head, but when it became clear the Dwarf would not be swayed, he gave a sigh, though only a little disapproving. “Let it be so, but I mu
st let the King know. Perhaps we can help also. A diversion of some sort would definitely aid you in escaping from the camp.”
“I will go, Alric, if I may.” Kyle spoke softly, perhaps knowing the Dwarf would not accept, but he was still disappointed when the Dwarf shook his head.
“We cannot take any unnecessary risks, lad. Any light will only be a beacon for the Haruken. Best for you to stay here, and to pray.”
Kyle’s disparaged nod caused the Dwarf to give a rueful frown before turning quickly to his men. There was a quick discussion in their alien tongue before Alric turned back to Jaelsen.
“Six of us will go, while the others will stay and continue working the forges. With the metal and weapons Thorgast was able to bring, our work there will be needed even more.”
That the Dwarves were all smiths took Kyle a little by surprise, and he remembered Jaelsen calling Alric 'Master Smith'. The dwarf had mentioned his people were great craftsmen, and he had all but forgotten Dwarves were reputed to be among the greatest smiths in the realms.
“Well, at least I can be of some service there, Alric. I can work the forge. I am no Master, but I have been an apprentice for eight years. I can make blades and fashion armor.”
If Alric was surprised, he showed it only a little before nodding and turning back to Jaelsen. “It is agreed, then. We will let the King know, and make hasty plans. It will be best if we begin as soon as possible. I do not think the Haruken will keep Thorgast alive for long if he does not tell them what they want to know.”
“I hope you are wrong, but I agree. A fast strike before they have time to prepare would be best. They may not know who Thorgast really is; therefore they would not expect a rescue. How long to Black Rock through the tunnels?”