by TP Keane
Chapter 17
The inferno that erupted around Aramus sent a heat wave so intense toward Ol?rin and the dwarfs, that Ol?rin had no choice but to raise his staff and conjure a shield around them. But even with that, some of the heat from the flames still made its way past and singed his long beard. Ol?rin truly felt his weakness at that moment, his stomach ached with a desire to wretch, and his muscles quivered wanting to collapse. But he refused to listen to either of them. He couldn't listen to them, for to do that would spell the end to life in Naretia and see Aramus die. No memory of happy times was strong enough to pull Aramus from his father's grip now, and Ol?rin felt the panic rise up in his chest.
"We have tae get him outta there," the king roared. "Before he melts the seal and sets loose the monsters beneath."
Without needing another word, Angus turned to Ol?rin.
"Keep that shield up and protect the king," he ordered. "Or believe you me, I'll end yer friend's life myself."
The intent look in Angus's eyes told Ol?rin that he meant every word.
Reaching behind him, Angus retrieved his shield and brought it in front of his face. It glowed with the same blue hue as his armour. With it firmly strapped around his forearm, the dwarf stepped beyond the safety that Ol?rin's magic provided, and into the cavern. Ol?rin was helpless and could only watch.
The sweat ran freely from the dwarf's brow and down his neck as, step by step, he edged closer to Aramus. Still on his knees, Aramus's fiery wings flapped wildly as he writhed with pain. He clenched his fists and, time after time, a searing ball of flame would shoot out from inside them. The projectiles slammed into the obsidian walls around him, shattering some of the entombed statues into pieces, and scattering their ancient bones across the cavern. On more than one occasion, Angus had to use his shield to redirect one of the fireballs away from him.
Ol?rin prayed to the Goddess, with every fibre of his being, that his quest would not end here. He prayed that Edwina would grant Angus whatever strength he would need to reach Aramus and save him. It was all he could do. If he had more strength, perhaps he could have conjured a small ocean to suddenly appear in the cavern, cooling it for long enough to retrieve his friend. But as it was, he was finding it difficult just to keep the shield up, and the irony was not lost on him.
'With all the power granted to the Supreme Wizard,' Ol?rin thought, 'the fate of Naretia now relies on a half-man, a mortal, with no discernible magical ability, or power, other than his bravery.'
With his heart leaping in his chest, Ol?rin gasped as the dwarf fell to his knee just as he reached Aramus. 'Goddess, no! Do not falter now, not when you're so close.' As though he heard the old wizard's thoughts, Angus reached out his armoured hand toward the young man, keeping his shield raised with the other. The metal of his gauntlet burned bright blue before turning crimson. His fingers wrapped around Aramus's flaming wrist and the dwarf let out a sudden cry of pain. A wisp of smoke danced on top of Angus's fiery red hair.
With gritted teeth, and one stubborn foothold in the Etherium disk, Angus stood up and started to back toward Ol?rin and the king. Aramus's flaming body fell limply to the ground and Angus had no choice but to drag him. They reached the edge of the disk, and the flames, which had engulfed Aramus, extinguished; along with most of the searing heat.
Ol?rin's shield dropped and he rushed to Aramus's side, helping Angus drag him the last few feet into the tunnel. His clothes had been all but burned off him, save for a few charred leather patches. Ol?rin examined him for injuries as he lay gasping and choking on the floor. However alarming his appearance might have been, there were no burns, no scars, blisters, or any evidence of the fire on the young man's body, save for the black soot that covered him from head to toe.
"Aramus, speak to me," Ol?rin whispered, brushing aside some hair that clung to his ashen face.
Aramus shivered like he was cold. His teeth chattered as though he had been plunged into icy water, despite the fact that his skin still burned at the touch. His blackened arms clenched next to his chest, and his jaw muscles firmly clamped his jaw shut. His only response, a distressed grunt.
Ol?rin rummaged through his hat, desperation making his fingers clumsy, and produced a flagon of water. He poured it over Aramus's face, chest, arms, and legs until the young man's convulsions subsided. He was only half aware of Angus's gauntlet falling to the floor, his hand blistered from the heat.
"Aramus, why did you go in there?" Ol?rin asked.
"I? don't? know," Aramus managed to reply. "A? dream."
Ol?rin was only too aware of how Dantet could call his other children. Years of examining Dark Ones, in the keep of Lothangard, had given Ol?rin this insight. For the most part, the Dark Ones would reply willingly to Dantet's command, and only hear his whispered orders in their heads. But for those defiant few, and there had only been a few that Ol?rin knew of, it was as if they were locked in a deep trance; unaware of what they were doing or where they were going until the deed was done. Such was the power Dantet held over anything which his blood had given life to.
So concerned with what this meant for Aramus, Ol?rin didn't hear the many sounds of metal sliding on metal, as the guards swords unsheathed at the king's silent command. It wasn't until the points of those swords made their way into Ol?rin's periphery that he knew the dwarven king had lost his sense of hospitality in the events he had just witnessed.
"Ye must leave," the king said with a deadly tone.
"Please, Your Majesty, he is hurt and needs help," Ol?rin begged. "He was not aware of his actions."
"We will clothe ye, and give ye some supplies, but ye must be gone wih'in the hour," the king replied, ignoring Ol?rin's requests. "I will no' have thas creature in my kingdom no more. 'Tas a bad omen, and we are too close tae the Dark God tae flirt with omens like thas. I had hoped that my right arm wouldnae have brought such a threat so close tae his king and his kind, wi'hout knowing more about it. But I see now that there are some things even my right arm is blind to."
Ol?rin glanced with pleading eyes between Angus and King Thrais, but he was met with an expression of regret from one and an unrelenting hardness from the other. There was nothing else for it, they would have to push on whether Aramus was fit for travel or not. Ol?rin only hoped that his young friend would recover enough to be able to walk under his own steam, because between Angus's burnt hand and his own weakened state he knew there was no way they could carry him. The wide eyed stares of the king's guard, told Ol?rin that there wouldn't be any volunteers to assist them either.
With some persuasion from Ol?rin, Aramus managed to stand. He was still weakened, but under the unwavering point of Angus's sword, the young man had stumbled his way back through the tunnels. He leaned heavily on Ol?rin as they ascended up to the underground city. Ol?rin tried his best to support the young man, but he himself had not recovered as well as Aramus; his limbs still felt like a young sapling in a tornado, unable to do anything but wilt.
In one of the many small stone cottages, Aramus and Ol?rin were given the opportunity to wash, change clothes, and gather some supplies, much to the disgruntled looks of its owner. The stout woman, with a blond moustache, piercing green eyes, and more chest than torso, glared at them from the corner of her living room whilst she tended to Angus's burnt hand. When her job was done, she tersely crossed her arms in front of her large bosom. She said nothing to the two strangers, content that Angus's pointed sword was enough of a deterrent.
It was obvious, by the looks that followed them through the streets as they were led away, that the sight of the king's right arm leading two tall strangers from the city would be the topic of conversation for many months to come. Whispers of tall tales, about how they had come to steel the king's riches, had begun to stir already and made their way to Ol?rin ears as they walked the obsidian streets. The further they travelled, the more elaborate the stories became. This was another talent the feisty half-men were known for. Ol?rin overheard one passin
g dwarf insist that he had personally seen them hold a knife to the king's throat.
"You! I have a bone tae pick wih' you."
Ol?rin heard Bernard's heavy footsteps before he saw him. His rotund figure waddled from side to side as his gait made way for his size and heavy armour. More alarmingly, his fiery red beard, which had now been tied into neat plaits leaving no sign of past meals, was less red then his face. Two steel eyes contrasted brightly against all the crimsonness, and they stared, with fury, in Ol?rin's direction.
"Whot manner of poison did ye pander tae me?" he asked, huffing and puffing as he reached the travellers, pointing a short stubby finger at the old man. "I drank that stupid potion, and fer me troubles I got promoted tae First Guard, me wife is pregnant wih' twins, and me stupid cousins transferred ownership of that blasted sausage business tae me, wih'out even asking. There was nothing good about that potion of fortune, and I demand a refund."
"Ah! Bernard, how lovely to see you again," Ol?rin replied calmly. "I would gladly give you a refund, my friend, but seeing as how your payment was our entry to Balbuldor, and we are currently leaving it under guard, I fear that your refund has already been paid, even without your knowledge. May I ask though, did you drink the entire potion in one go as I had told you not to?"
"I? well? maybe, but that dinnae matter. When thas is all over ye'll be righting the horrendous wrong yev hexed on me house, ya hear me?"
"Indeed," Ol?rin replied.
"Brother," Angus interrupted, extending his free arm to Bernard.
"Brother," he replied, embracing Angus with a rugged hug that would have taken the wind out of most humans. "It's been too long since we last met. That king has hoarded you like he has hoarded his gold, the same gold that our hands dug from the soil fer him."
"Do no' speak unkindly of King Thrais, brother. Wih'out him our lives would be a lot less fortunate."
Bernard spluttered and sounded like he was trying to hold in vomit.
"Dinnae speak tae me about fortune. I've had me fill."
"I see good fortune has finally tamed that beard of yours?" Angus laughed.
"Pomp and circumstance see me wih' such a travesty of facial hair as thas, no' good fortune," Bernard replied, then looking somewhat sheepish added, "and Ravina."
Angus laughed hard, and Bernard threw him a dark scowl.
"I hate to interrupt this reunion," Ol?rin said, eyeing the nervous villagers around them. "But shouldn't we get moving? The hour the king granted us has long since passed, and I would loath to test his patience any further."
"Aye," the two brothers said in unison, clapping each other roughly on the back.
With Bernard leading the way, and Angus and his sword taking up the rear, Aramus and Ol?rin were escorted through the city, over a precariously thin obsidian bridge that traversed the lava river, and into a nearby tunnel. It took some time before the obsidian gave way to stone and dirt, and Ol?rin knew that they had gone beyond the safety of the dwarven lair.