The Mercenary Code

by Emmet Moss

  Intrigued by the wolf’s behaviour, Alessan watched as she flopped down on her belly and settled her head timidly on her front paws. “Is she afraid?” he asked with some disbelief. Greiyfois had battled the Gath without ever once showing signs of fear, and yet here she was in obvious discomfort.

  Greiyfois and her descendants have never felt comfortable in P’haerin Vale. I believe her acute senses make her far more attuned to the spirits present in the valley. She will remain our rearguard, but not one step further will she venture towards our destination.

  “Is it that bad in there?” Alessan pointed to the partially collapsed archway. “And what exactly do you mean by spirits…?” he asked nervously.

  The restless spirits of my ancestors have been known to walk the ruins of this place. They hold no sway over the lives of the living, but still do they wander, still do they seek out visitors to P’haerin Vale.

  “Are you speaking of ghosts?” Alessan frowned.

  They could be called such, yes, but the spirits you see here in the Vale can often take on their true forms, so much more than the discorporate phantoms of which you speak.

  “But they aren’t… real?” Alessan replied with obvious hesitation.

  No harm will come to you, Alessan, C’Aelis touched him lightly on the shoulder. But it is for you to decide whether you would feel more comfortable awaiting my return here at the entrance.

  Shaking his head, Alessan braced himself. “I’ll be fine, C’Aelis.”

  Even after speaking, he was unsure whether the words had been spoken for the Gorimm’s benefit, or his own.

  The sure-footed Gorimm led the way beneath the crumbling arch, picking his way carefully through the jumbled boulders and cracked flagstones. The mist swirling around the base of the entrance into the Vale thickened as they proceeded downward towards the valley floor. From wispy tendrils blown about by the light breeze, to heavy clouds of fog that seemed to weigh down the very air itself, Alessan fought to keep his breathing under control. The mist was anything but natural, of that he was sure.

  It is one of the defense mechanisms of this hallowed ground, Alessan. The mist does contain some degree of sentience, but it is only concerned with those who harbor ill intent when entering the Vale.

  The revelation that the strange fog had some level of consciousness only increased Alessan’s nervousness. The mist refused to dissipate, even as they reached the lower valley.

  Standing where few humans had ventured before, Alessan’s wide-eyed gaze lingered on the rows of ornate marble tombs that lay before him. They were each protected by a shelter made of black wood that appeared to glow in the faint morning light, weakly penetrating the deepening fog. The wood itself was decorated with arcane glyphs and symbols. Open on all four sides, it was a wonder that the shelters had not yet succumbed to the elements.

  The sorcerers of my people have long protected P’haerin Vale from the harsh climate of the seasons. C’Aelis’ voice suddenly sounded in Alessan’s mind. The weather never changes here, nor does the rain or snow fall and damage the resting place of my ancestors.

  “I understand,” Alessan answered. He cringed as he was struck by how loud his voice sounded among the tombs of the dead. “Is this where your Elders lie?” he asked in hushed tone.

  C’Aelis nodded. Yes, our Elders lie here in honour, as do the members of the royal line and other celebrated Gorimm.

  “A royal line? So the Gorimm once had a king?”

  There was a time when my people were ruled solely by a king and queen, although those were not exactly the titles our leaders used, C’Aelis answered, continuing to lead the way through the rows of carefully preserved tombs. Now, the descendants of that great line act as advisors on our Council; their voices carry more weight than most, but no longer wield absolute power.

  C’Aelis made his way unerringly through the maze of sarcophagi and to the middle of a small grove of trees still shrouded in mist. How the trees could grow so strong in the gloom of the Vale was difficult to comprehend, but Alessan had already accepted such oddities about the otherworldly place.

  In the center of the clearing was a small raised dais with four black columns of varying sizes. Two were tall, thin, and sat upon a thick bases of stone. The second pair were short and squat, standing barely above three feet. Alessan noted that their positioning matched the four cardinal directions.

  The warding columns, as C’Aelis called them, were not carved out of stone as Alessan had expected them to be. The pillars were crafted out of the same strange black wood used in the construction of the ancient tomb coverings they had just passed.

  Intrigued, Alessan curiously inspected each ward pillar. The smooth black surface felt as if a heat source lay hidden beneath the outer layer. Gingerly running his hand along the length of the tallest of the four posts, Alessan traced the intricately carved runes. He tried to discern some sort of pattern in the numerous whirls and curved lines, but found none.

  C’Aelis joined him beside the smallest of the four columns. Tracing the contours of the runes almost lovingly, the Gorimm’s eyes took on a faraway look, as if lost in some poignant memory.

  “Is there any reason why they aren’t all identical?” Alessan asked after some time had passed. Crouched upon one knee, he was still carefully inspecting the column.

  The mages who helped in the creation of these artefacts claimed that each direction — north, south, east and west — contained a different set of magical energies that could properly align the forces of the earth, and in so doing, channel the Aer to warn of incoming danger, the Gorimm replied.

  “And there are always four, then?”

  That’s correct, C’Aelis nodded. If one of the four columns were ever to fail, the magic would be dispersed into the surrounding forest. Long did our scholars study the effects of the Aliendal wood before the proper alignment was perfected.

  “Aliendal wood?” Alessan asked, running his hand lightly across the heated surface of the nearest pillar.

  The black wood is said to be imperishable. The Aliendal trees are very rare, and found only in the deepest regions of the Aeldenwood. There are places that remain closed even to the Gorimm; where the Aliendal trees grow is one of them. Few have been the times we’ve been granted leave to cultivate the wood. Many have ventured to find the rare Aliendal wood, only to never be heard from again. C’Aelis replied, the thoughts carrying a serious note of warning.

  “Fascinating…” Alessan murmured.

  I must apologize, Alessan, but I will need some space to perform the rites of activation, C’Aelis said, moving to the largest of the pillars. I am oath bound by my heritage to complete the ward activation in the manner I have been taught. To do so I will need to remain alone upon the dais. You are welcome to watch, or if you prefer, to walk the grounds on your own. Be at ease here in the Vale as no harm will come to you.

  “All right,” Alessan shrugged. “Will it take long?”

  It is not a long incantation, although I am somewhat out of practice.

  “How many are there beyond this one?” Alessan asked, stepping down off the dais.

  There are sixteen in total, C’Aelis replied. Of those, I have activated only six. It was my intention to visit those that lay near the remains of the Gorimm capital city first, but the Gath were simply too alert and too numerous. I cannot face those infernal creatures too often, or I will eventually be overwhelmed.

  “I could always go with you,” Alessan offered, surprising himself.

  The Gorimm’s face glowed at the comment. You continue to surprise me, Alessan Oakleaf. For someone who often speaks of his shortcomings, you possess more courage than many more accomplished men.

  Unable to find the right words to express his gratitude, Alessan was content to lean against the nearest tomb and watch C’Aelis begin his incantations.

  Stretching his arms high above his
head, C’Aelis closed his eyes and began to sing. It was the first time Alessan heard the Gorimm’s voice. The notes carried beautifully in the tranquil clearing, and he was instantly captivated. With eyes firmly closed, C’Aelis began to sway as he turned east to face the smallest pillar.

  In response to his quiet chant, the top of the pillar slowly opened, not unlike a flower coming to bloom. Eight triangular petals blossomed, and a number of glowing beads, each the size of a pearl, hung suspended in the air directly above the point. With one arm outstretched, C’Aelis placed a hand over one of the runes, this one a bright sun carved into the Aliendal wood, and sang a new string of arcane words.

  A bright light erupted from the center of the pillar, and one of the smaller glowing pearls spinning around the greenish glow flew upwards into the sky. Smiling briefly, yet keeping his eyes closed, C’Aelis breathed a deep sigh of relief and began to chant once again, this time slowly turning to face the western column.

  The next ward pillar reacted in much the same way, and Alessan remained transfixed by the ceremony. No one will ever believe the things I’ve seen, he thought to himself.

  As the Gorimm moved on to the third portion of the incantation, Alessan caught a whisper of sound, like the murmur of voices, coming from somewhere behind him. Apprehensively tearing his gaze from the spectacle, he turned and scanned the shrouded Vale, straining to catch a glimpse of what he had heard. Nothing appeared in the mist, and yet as he was about to blame the sound on his imagination, there again came the quiet murmur. Spinning around, he was sure the voices had come from directly behind him and on the other side of the large trees that encircled the clearing.

  Careful not to interrupt C’Aelis, Alessan walked slowly into the mist, intent on determining the source of the sound. The fog parted as he walked past a series of sarcophagi, the mist enclosing his small form immediately as he made his way forward. For a brief moment, an inexplicable fear alerted his senses, but remembering his companion’s words, he trusted that no harm would come to him. Finally, with the sheer walls of the northern edge of the valley slowly materializing through the mist, Alessan’s breath was suddenly caught in his throat.

  Not ten paces from where he stood, the solid forms of two Gorimm sat quietly between two of the tombs. Blinking his eyes in disbelief, Alessan stared at the two figures, positive that they could be nothing more than a trick his mind was playing on him. The two figures, one a woman with silvery long hair, fiddled absently with a pair of wickedly curved long knives, while the second, a Gorimm male, quietly read from a thick tome held reverently in his long, slender fingers. In sharp contrast to the woman’s military garb, the male wore a red robe decorated with gold symbols along the sleeves and hood.

  The two Gorimm were holding a conversation, neither particularly focused on the other. The scene was so lifelike, so intimate, that Alessan believed it must be real. Were these a pair of the restless spirits that C’Aelis had mentioned?

  Deciding to circle the pair and seek refuge behind the nearest sarcophagus, Alessan carefully picked his way through a jumble of cracked stones and fallen boulders. As he passed behind what he believed to be ghostly apparitions, he caught a smattering of the conversation as it drifted through the air.

  “If you had charged D’Arios with protecting your flank, the Gorann would never have reached the Hinforth Heights and caught you unawares,” the robed man was saying.

  “How was I to know that M’Erian would be slain that morning, and his company fall so swiftly into disarray?” The woman was angry. Her response had been curt and bereft of any kindness.

  It took a moment before Alessan realized that the two Gorimm had spoken aloud. Once again he was captivated by the speech of C’Aelis’ people. Puzzled, he continued to watch the two with interest. Edging a little closer in the hopes of overhearing more of their conversation, he stumbled as his foot caught a piece of stone jutting out crookedly from the ground. Falling against the nearest coffin, he stifled a curse.

  Alessan immediately felt a chill settle over his shoulders. Hurriedly glancing up, his eyes looked directly into a large pair of luminous green orbs. The female Gorimm was staring intently at him; her large emerald eyes seemed to bore into his very soul. With trepidation he realized the warrior woman had risen swiftly whilst her companion was just now rising to his feet and also turned to stare in his direction.

  Who are you!? Her threatening voice ripping into his mind.

  “I… I…” Alessan could do little but stutter. Backing away with haste, his left heel caught the very same stone. With a cry of alarm, he lost his balance and fell backwards. Alessan flailed his arms and fell much further than he had anticipated.

  The air burst from his lungs as he hit the bottom of a shallow pit. Somehow, as he slipped around the two spirits, he had failed to see the gaping hole. With some embarrassment, he realized he must have been standing at the lip of the pit as he observed the two Gorimm. Alessan reached back to push himself to his feet, all the while keeping his eyes trained up at the opening of the small pit.

  As his left hand reached to brace himself, his fingers closed around what felt like polished wood. Risking a quick glance at what he had found, Alessan’s eyes opened wide in disbelief, all concerns about the Gorimm spirits instantly disappearing from his mind.

  His hand gripped the shaft of a gleaming silver axe.

  How long he remained transfixed upon his discovery, Alessan had no idea. But it took numerous sendings by C’Aelis to break his shock and remind him of where he was. Within a few moments of replying to the urgent summons, the Gorimm’s head leaned over the edge of the pit.

  “Incredible!” Alessan breathed, holding up the axe. “It’s a Lumber’s weapon, that’s for sure, just look at the carvings along the hilt,” he said.

  C’Aelis recoiled from axe as it was held out in front of him, and Alessan could see that the Gorimm was uncomfortable being so close to the glittering blade.

  The hilt was decorated with a series of etched runes, all familiar to Alessan. The words ‘hearth’ and ‘home’ figured prominently along the length of the long wooden shaft, while a symbol reminiscent of a coat of arms decorated the base of the handle. A carved pair of matching vines finished the display, the leafy coils curling up and around the whole length of the wooden handle and disappearing into the bright steel of the double blade. But beneath the carvings something appeared amiss. Unsure of an uneasy feeling that tickled the back of his mind, Alessan stared intensely at the axe haft. He was convinced that something lay beneath the symbols. Shaking off a sudden chill, he tried to calm his racing heart. Regardless, it was without a doubt, the legacy of a Lumber. But how had it come to be lost here in the hallowed grounds of a Gorimm ancestral burial vale?

  Alessan and C’Aelis had returned to the clearing next the warding pillars. In a jumble of confused words and unorganized thoughts, Alessan recounted what had just transpired. C’Aelis followed as best he could, asking questions when needed, but after each response, the frown on his face seemed to only deepen.

  You are positive that female Gorimm actually acknowledged your presence? C’Aelis asked again.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Alessan exasperated. “She turned and looked right at me, and then spoke directly in my direction.”

  The spirits have often been seen, but never have they conversed with a visitor to the Vale… and to be speaking aloud?

  “But how often have men visited P’haerin Vale?” Alessan responded.

  You speak truthfully on that note, Alessan, but that only means more questions. I wonder if your burgeoning power is connected to all of this? C’Aelis suggested.

  Alessan shrugged and continued to finger the sharp edge of the axe. “I have no idea, but I know one thing, this axe shouldn’t be here, not without a body, at least. A Lumber never parts with his axe - never.”

  Within these woods, the presence of that weapon of e
vil is a travesty all its own, C’Aelis said bitterly.

  “Now wait a minute, the Lumbers were only protecting themselves and their homes in the only way they knew how. If you want to lay blame on the doorstep of another, look to your own people first, C’Aelis. The Lumbers simply do a job, a dangerous one at that, and without the Gorimm’s disappearance they wouldn’t have needed to,” Alessan retorted angrily.

  C’Aelis sighed heavily. I apologize, Alessan. Sometimes it is difficult to confront the fact that my people have failed those we once cared for. The fault is our own, but it is nonetheless a bitter failure to accept.

  The pair sat quietly for a few moments. As Alessan continued to trace the carved vines with his fingertip, C’Aelis suddenly reached out a hand.

  Could I see it, just for a moment? He asked politely.

  Alessan shrugged in return, passing the weapon over with one hand. As the Gorimm grasped the outstretched handle, he cried out as it pulled his arm down and fell to the ground, the metal clanging loudly off the flagstones.

  By the gods that’s heavy! How do you manage to hold it like that?

  “Heavy?” Alessan looked up in surprise. “It weighs almost nothing”.

  Well, if we thought our day could get no stranger, we were mistaken. That weapon would take both my hands to wield…

  Not quite convinced by what C’Aelis was saying about the weight of the axe, Alessan reached down and grasped the weapon with both hands. It came off the ground with ease. Startled, Alessan grinned. “It’s like it was made for me…” he said nervously. Again, that tickle shivered in the recesses of his mind.

  Suddenly, a loud howl of alarm echoed off the valley walls. C’Aelis leapt to his feet, his twin swords already withdrawn and in hand. Alessan, to his credit, was only a moment behind the extremely nimble Gorimm.

  Greiyfois is in trouble. I must go ahead, Alessan. Don’t tarry, we may have a long chase ahead of us this morning!

  Alessan ran after the fast disappearing form of his companion. Even on the best of days, the young man from Briar would have found it impossible to keep up with the fleet-footed C’Aelis. Nevertheless, he clenched his teeth in concentration and forced his aching muscles to push harder. A second plaintive howl added to his frantic pace as he left the eerie burial vale behind and raced upwards along the sloping path.