by A. Giannetti
“Do not stare at me like that, Dacien,” he said with a smile. “I am still the same Elerian who escaped with you from Calenus!”
“You are the same,” replied Dacien, “but I know now the true extent of your power and that of the ring that you carry.”
“Be wary of dispensing such praise, Dacien,” said Ascilius suddenly in his deep voice. “It will only swell his head and encourage him to exercise that misguided sense of humor of his.”
“Ascilius must be feeling better if he is insulting me again,” observed Elerian to Dacien. Wordlessly, he and Ascilius eyed each other, each relieved that the hard feelings between them had apparently been left behind in the dark realm from which they had just escaped.
“I must tend to your wound,” said Elerian gruffly to the Dwarf as he helped Ascilius strip off his chain mail and leather undershirt. “See where he was been bitten,” Elerian said to Dacien as he pulled aside the collar of Ascilius’s loose linen shirt, exposing four wide spaced puncture marks on Ascilius’s left shoulder where the Gargol’s fangs had penetrated through his chain mail and into the flesh beneath. The area surrounding the two larger punctures was dead black now, as if the flesh was slowly dying from whatever substance the shape changer had infused into the wounds. “His wounds were poisoned, but I think the venom was only meant to immobilize him so that the creature could enjoy his death at some later time,” continued Elerian. “The creature used a different kind on me when it injured my face,” he added wryly. Both Ascilius and Dacien looked with concern and sympathy at the left side of Elerian’s face where the flesh had been eaten almost through by the Gargol’s venom.
Elerian now took up his ring which had cooled. With his third eye, he saw that an enormous dark band of energy shot through with threads of gold swirled around it like a cloud, for his ring had not only closed the portal, but had also captured the forces which had kept it open, leaving him with a vast reservoir of power at his disposal. A half-formed plan to reach Anthea immediately began to take shape in his mind, but Elerian resolutely set it aside.
“First things first,” he advised himself silently as he closed his magical eye. Ignoring his own wounds, he laid his right hand on Ascilius’s bare shoulder, covering the punctures in it with his palm. To Dacien and Ascilius nothing more seemed to happen, but Elerian, with his mage sight, saw a dark flow of energy, drawn from his ring, spread from his hand into Ascilius’s shoulder as he sent his healing powers deep into the wounds beneath his palm, destroying the remnants of the poison which had kept Ascilius immobilized and restoring the flesh and muscle which it had destroyed. When Elerian came back to himself and took his hand away, his companions saw that Ascilius’s wounds had healed over, marked now only by four small circles of new, pink skin.
Elerian now turned his attention to his own injuries. Seating himself on the floor, his eyes took on a distant look as he healed the burns on his fingers. Next, he raised his left hand, laying it over the wounds on his cheek. When he took his it away many minutes later, Dacien was amazed to see that every bit of raw, damaged flesh on Elerian’s face was mended. The only remaining evidence of his terrible wound was the new pink skin which covered it. Being more familiar with Elerian’s powers than Dacien, Ascilius was not surprised at all at the results of Elerian’s efforts. It had crossed his mind more than once that Elerian’s power to heal was his most potent and useful ability.
“Let us talk and rest a bit before returning to the others,” he suggested to his companions. After replacing his clothes, he seated himself wearily on the floor of the cave next to Elerian. As Dacien sat down, too, Ascilius lit a small mage fire with a wave of his left hand, for his time in the Gargol’s realm had left him cold and shivering. Dacien and Elerian basked in the heat given off by the leaping, twisting red flames of the magical fire along with Ascilius, for they were similarly chilled. Reaching into his pack, Elerian took out his water bottle, silently and unobtrusively changing, with a transformation spell, the water it contained. As he lowered his left arm after taking a long drink of the strong, bitter ale that now filled the container, Ascilius, who had slyly observed Elerian’s actions with a sidelong glance, reached over and deftly snagged the bottle from his companion with his right hand. As he fended off, with his powerful right arm, Elerian’s attempts to recover his property, Ascilius sniffed the neck of the container with his substantial nose. Detecting the pleasing, hoppy smell of beer, he immediately took a long, seemingly endless swallow from the bottle.
“I thought you disliked water, Ascilius,” observed Dacien in a puzzled voice when the Dwarf finally came up for air.
“I do indeed,” replied Ascilius, “but you will find that this container no longer contains that bland substance. He passed the depleted water bottle to Dacien, who promptly drained it when he, too, had identified the contents.
“What happened to me after I was bitten?” Ascilius now asked of Elerian in a contented voice “Give me the whole tale with nothing left out,” he added sternly. “I want none of your usual bare bones accounts.”
UNANTICIPATED TREASURES
With a regretful look at his decimated water bottle, Elerian began to relate what had taken place after Ascilius was abducted.
“After you fell unconscious from the bite you received, Ascilius, you were carried off by the creature that you pursued. When I followed your abductor to this chamber, I discovered the portal. Concluding that the creature had taken you through it to escape me, I also passed through the gate and found myself in what I believe was an alien realm, for it was a cold, barren place with a strange, bitter air and a sky lit by unfamiliar stars.
“I have always wondered if the tales which claim that other realms surround our own have any truth to them,” interrupted Ascilius.
“I can attest to the fact that there is at least one other realm besides our own, but I do not think I would ever visit it willingly again even if the gate was still open,” replied Elerian grimly. He paused a moment as his mind’s eye recollected again that bleak place from which he had rescued Ascilius.
“What happened next?” asked Ascilius impatiently when Elerian remained silent. At the sound of the Dwarf’s deep voice, Elerian pushed his grim memories away and began his tale again.
“Your captor revealed itself briefly before running off with you again. I followed the both of you for miles across an empty plain under the light of strange stars before it turned to confront me, assuming a more powerful shape at that point which I suspect now was its true form. When we were face to face, the creature spoke to me, naming itself the Gargol,” continued Elerian. “We fought then, and I was able to drive it off after wounding it. Although I had succeeded in freeing you, I was now in desperate straits, for I had no idea where the gate to our realm lay, and you, Ascilius, were still unconscious from the creature’s venom. Fortunately, I had a bit of rowan wood which I was able to enchant. It led me in the right direction and eventually, I saw a light in the distance. I guessed at once that Dacien had followed me through the gate and proceeded to where he was waiting for us. The rest of the tale the two of you know,” concluded Elerian.
“You left out a great deal as usual,” said Ascilius dryly as Elerian finished his account. “What about the part where you carried me on your back while crawling on your hands and knees?” he asked sternly. “I will not forget that.”
“You have done as much for me,” replied Elerian dismissively. “If anyone is worthy of praise it is Dacien, for I judge that he was the most courageous and hardy of the three of us. Alone, with only a lantern to light his way, he followed me through the cavern and into the realm of the Gargol. Were it not for his light and skillful use of Acris to defend us, neither you nor I would be sitting here now, Ascilius.”
“He is indeed a worthy companion,” agreed the Dwarf warmly.
“I did nothing more than what I should have done,” protested Dacien modestly, but secretly he was pleased with his companions’ praise because of the high esteem in which he held
both of them.
“One thing still puzzles me greatly,” said Ascilius to Elerian when Dacien fell silent. “If this Gargol creature was so powerful, then why did it bother taking the weak form I pursued in the cavern?”
“I can only guess,” replied Elerian, “but I believe it assumed the form of a Dwarf to lure and at the same time lull the suspicions of its prey. Many of the Gargol’s victims were Trolls. What better form to lure a Troll than that of a Dwarf?” Elerian’s explanation at once elicited a vigorous objection from Ascilius.
“No one could have mistaken the horrid creature I saw for a Dwarf,” he asserted positively.
“You thought it was a Dwarf,” replied Elerian, his gray eyes gleaming in the glow of the firelight as a bit of his old humor shone through for a moment like a sunbeam between dark clouds. Ascilius frowned and was about to reply when he noticed out, of the right corners of his eyes, the riches gleaming redly in the light of his fire.
“Treasure!” he cried excitedly. Forgetting his mage fire, he leapt to his feet and ran over to the glittering hoard, which he then began to eagerly examine.
“Dwarves and treasure,” said Elerian tolerantly to Dacien as he hastily took control of and extinguished Ascilius’s mage fire before it could spread out of control.
“Most of this came from my own people,” commented Ascilius just then over his right shoulder as he fingered gold rings and jeweled necklaces. “It was most likely garnered from those who fell to the Gargol when it pursued them through the passageway. Other pieces look to have been made by human hands and even elvish ones. If the Gargol gathered this trove then it must have plundered far and wide indeed.”
“I believe it ventured at least as far as the Broken Lands,” Elerian replied in a thoughtful voice. “I am certain that I saw elvish bones near the entrance to its abode.”
“It must have relieved each of its victims of their wealth before taking them through the portal,” speculated Ascilius.
“But why leave their treasure here?” wondered Elerian aloud.
“It was meant to be a lure, I think,” replied Ascilius somberly. “When the Broken Lands were settled, it was common knowledge among the inhabitants that a great deal of treasure was lost in this passageway. Because the western exit to the passageway was never closed off, I would imagine that more than one poor soul ventured through it hoping to recover the lost wealth of the Dwarves. Any treasure hunters who entered this cave would have been drawn through the portal by the Gargol which had only to crouch unseen on the far side of the gate, waiting for its next victim. Now that you have closed the opening, however, this treasure is ours,” concluded Ascilius firmly. “When this quest is over, you and I and Dacien can return and claim it. We will share it in three parts.”
“I do not think anything will ever tempt me into these tunnels again if we succeed in passing through them alive,” replied Elerian with a shake of his head. “The treasure can lie here forever for all I care.”
“I will return here even if you will not,” said Ascilius determinedly, “and not just for the treasure. There is no longer any reason to fear these recesses now that the Gargol has been vanquished and the gate closed. If some defense can be made against the Trolls that inhabit the Trofim, a road to the west can be built through the main passageway and mines dug into the walls.” At that moment, Ascilius, who was still searching through the pile of treasure, gave a glad cry and took up a curved horn that had been buried in the glittering heap. The body was shaped from silvery argentum, but yellow gold formed the mouthpiece and a wide band of the metal adorned the rim of the horn. Graceful characters were scribed into its rounded sides, written in yellow gold.
“The bucinae of my house,” shouted Ascilius, holding the horn aloft in both hands. “It has been lost for over seven hundred years.” Without warning, he set the mouthpiece to his lips and blew a blast that echoed and reechoed endlessly through the chamber and down the dark passageways that connected to it. Both Elerian and Dacien leaped to their feet, overwhelmed by an irresistible urge to follow that clarion call no matter where it led them. As Ascilius prepared to blow the horn a second time, Elerian ran to his side and snatched it from his hands.
“Does this madness overtake you every time you come near a horn?” he asked sternly. “In Ennodius you brought a dragon down upon our heads by blowing a horn. Who knows what dark thing you may have roused this time in the tunnels and caves that surround us?”
“It was excitement that swept away my good sense,” replied Ascilius looking embarrassed. “Return it to my hand Elerian, and I promise that I will not wind it again. As you have no doubt noticed, there is a powerful enchantment on this horn. No one who hears it can resist its call.”
“Keep it then but do not blow it until there is need for it,” warned Elerian, handing the horn back to Ascilius. As the Dwarf stowed the gleaming artifact in his pack, something in the shining heap of treasure caught Elerian’s eye. With his right hand, he brushed aside gleaming chains, rings, and brooches to expose a small, golden harp strung with strings of silver argentum. As soon as Elerian laid his left hand on it, his third eye revealed that the harp had taken on a silvery glow, a sure sign that it was under an enchantment. When he plucked the taut strings with the fingertips of his right hand, a succession of dulcet notes filled the chamber, holding both of his companions silent and still.
“Have you any knowledge of this harp, Ascilius?” asked Elerian.
“I have never heard any such thing mentioned by my father or uncles,” replied Ascilius as he curiously eyed the instrument in Elerian’s hands. “It has the look of Elven work about it. Perhaps it found its way here from Fimbria.”
“I will take this one thing with me,” said Elerian, “for I have never heard a harp play such notes before.”
“Take it and anything else you wish,” replied Ascilius, “but be careful when you play it, for it seems to have a strong enchantment on it.” Having satisfied his curiosity about the Gargol’s treasure, Ascilius now took up his pack, as did Dacien. When Elerian lit a mage light, Dacien put away his lamp and then offered to return Acris to him.
“Keep the sword a little longer,” replied Elerian. “You may have need of it, once we leave the passageway and enter Troll country.” They left the small cave then, Ascilius leading the way with a mage light of his own hovering above his head.
“Do you think the Gargol will be able to open another portal and follow us?” asked Dacien apprehensively of Elerian as the two of them followed Ascilius.
“I think not,” replied Elerian reassuringly. “The creature told me that it had not yet solved the mysteries of the gates between realms.”
“Lies come easily to the wicked,” said Ascilius grimly over his right shoulder. “We had best go on cautiously in case Dacien is right about the creature’s powers.
Despite Ascilius’s warning, a conviction grew in the minds of all three companions as they walked that the Gargol was truly gone, for the dark tunnels they traveled through no longer seemed as menacing as before when the shape changer hid in their shadows plotting their destruction. With his limbs unencumbered and his sense of direction restored, Ascilius confidently retraced his steps toward the cavern where they had left the rest of their companions. When they entered the vast chamber, they immediately saw the glow of lights in the distance.
“Those fools have lit every lantern instead of saving their fuel!” said Ascilius in disbelief. “I shall give the three of them a good talking to when they are within earshot.”
“Say nothing to them, Ascilius,” begged Dacien. “It must have been a sore trial for them to remain behind in the dark. We should not grudge them a little light.”
“Dacien is right, Ascilius,” seconded Elerian.
“You are both too soft,” replied Ascilius with a frown, but when they reached the circle of lanterns he did not rebuke anyone as he had threatened, and there was a happy reunion between the six companions. The lanterns were then extinguished and stowed
into the packs once more against future need. As he and Dacien rested for a bit and refreshed themselves with some of the food and drink they carried in their packs, Elerian was pressed by Triarus and Ascilius’s two cousins to repeat his tale once more.
Having heard the story already, Ascilius left to explore the cavern for an exit. Elerian had no sooner finished his tale than a shout echoed through the chamber as Ascilius summoned everyone to his side. Packing up their gear, the five companions hurried toward Ascilius’s mage light which shone off to the east. When they arrived, they found that he had discovered a tunnel leading west that was wide enough for all six of them to walk abreast. The floor of the passageway proved to be fairly level and free of obstructions, allowing them to walk at a good pace through a darkness that seemed less threatening now that the Gargol had been confined to its own world by Elerian. After what seemed hours of walking, a breath of fresh air briefly fanned the faces of the company.
“We are nearing the exit,” Ascilius warned everyone. “We had best proceed quietly and cautiously from this point on. There is no telling what we will find when we reach the valley that lies at the end of this tunnel.” Ascilius had barely ceased to speak before stopping suddenly in his tracks. “What do you make of this Elerian?” he asked pointing to the floor of the tunnel before him.
With a silent, light step, Elerian walked from the back of the company to stand by Ascilius’s right shoulder. His keen gray eyes carefully examined the grisly scene illuminated by Ascilius’s mage light and his own. A horrific battle had taken place in the passageway, for the remains of what could only be lentuluses were scattered across the floor of the tunnel. Although the creatures were torn limb from limb, Elerian guessed that they had numbered three in all, for he saw three heads lying on the ground, their hideous features frozen into snarling masks.
“These kills are fresh, not more than a day old,” said Ascilius thoughtfully. “Three of the most fearsome creatures that walk our realm were torn apart here as easily as I would dismember a roasted partridge. Only the Gargol or another of its kind could have done this.”