Stiger stepped over to the nearest body. The orc was an impressive creature. Standing up, it must have been at least seven feet tall. Intricate tattoos covered the animal-like face, head, and arms. The tattoos appeared to continue under the leather chest armor. The orc was bald, and had likely shaved its head, giving it a sinister look.
“You’re right,” Stiger said, looking up as Theo joined him. “There may be more out there that we don’t know about, and we know they can use bows.”
Theo gave a satisfied nod that smacked of intense relief.
Stiger shot a sudden grin at Theo. “You know, until they started shooting at us back at the pond, I never knew you could move that fast.”
Theo seemed about ready to reply and then looked back toward the pond. “They could still be out there, as you say . . . How badly do you want your fishing pole?”
Stiger glanced back toward the pond and chuckled. He suddenly looked around at the dwarves.
“I thought there were ten of you?” Stiger said. “I only count eight, excluding Theo.”
The dwarves became immediately concerned. A quick search found the missing two no more than twenty feet away. Both had been brutally cut down, with one having had his throat slit. It looked to Stiger as if the orcs had gotten the jump on them and taken them by surprise.
“They were good boys,” Theo said sadly as he closed the eyes of one.
“The best,” the corporal said, before turning to his dwarves. “Make litters. We shall not be leaving them here.”
A long distant howl rang through the woods. Dog was still on the hunt.
Chapter Six
Stiger stepped out of the barn. The air was comfortable, not too hot or cold. The sky was gray and overcast, and it looked as if they might get some rain later in the day. His dwarven guard stood just a few feet away, looking more diligent and determined than ever. The nearest glanced in his direction, and when their eyes met, the dwarf’s expression hardened. Stiger eyed him for a prolonged moment, feeling the stirrings of anger.
It had been two days since the ambush at the pond. Upon Stiger’s return, he had discovered oversized boot prints around the farmhouse, larger than a man’s and slimmer than a dwarf’s. Farther away from the house, some of tracks appeared to be several days old. This had led to a heated argument between him and Captain Aleric. It had almost come to blows, with both Stiger and the dwarven captain becoming apoplectic. The dwarves had clearly not been performing their duty, at least up to Stiger’s standards. The captain had been hard-pressed to defend himself, especially with some of the tracks coming right up to the house and barn, where his dwarves had been posted.
The orcs had been watching the farm. That much was certain, and there had been no denying it. Worse, they had likely followed Stiger’s party to the pond. Since the argument and the attack, the guard around the farm had been doubled. A second dwarven infantry company had also arrived to provide additional security. There were dwarves everywhere. Stiger was watched even closer than before, though it was now clear they were more invested in protecting him than worried about Stiger escaping. Captain Aleric had even wanted to station his dwarves inside the farmhouse at night. Stiger liked none of it. His anger at both the attack and the lapse had left him simmering. This had all frightened Sarai terribly.
Stiger’s hand strayed to the hilt of his sword, which he had taken to wearing at all times. He felt the welcome tingle that came with direct contact and was comforted.
He removed his hand from the hilt as he shifted the bucket from one hand to the next and continued on into the henhouse, where he collected nine good eggs and returned to the barn. He diligently mucked out the stalls. As he was finishing, Theo arrived, limping from the wound he had received.
“How’s the leg?”
“Hurts,” Theo admitted with a shrug. “I’ve had worse.”
Stiger eyed the dwarf as he limped into the barn. His limp seemed more pronounced than it should have been for such a shallow cut.
“You are playing it up,” Stiger accused. “That cut on your leg wasn’t all that bad.”
The edges of Theo’s beard curled slightly. He lowered his voice and switched to common tongue after a careful glance at the nearest of his comrades. “I’m on light duties until it heals.” Theo shot Stiger a wink.
“I see,” Stiger said. “Then what are you doing here?”
“Official business, I’m afraid,” Theo said. “Unfortunately, my captain considers walking here from camp light duty.”
“That’s, what, a two-hundred-yard walk?” Stiger looked at Theo, faintly amused.
“About that.”
Stiger grunted, took hold of the cart and wheeled it outside. Theo limped along behind him, putting on a show for his comrades.
“I think he might be on to me,” Theo said with a shrug.
“Why did he send you over?” Stiger suspected that Aleric was still smarting after their argument. Hence the dispatching of Theo. He likely carried bad news.
Theo switched back to dwarven. “I am to inform you that you will be getting visitors today.”
Stiger stopped and turned to look back at Theo. “Who?”
“The senior tribune from the legion. The captain told me his name, but honestly, I forgot it,” Theo said without any hint of embarrassment. “Father Thomas and . . .” A frown washed over the dwarf’s face. “Apparently Thoggle too, maybe even that Centurion Sabinus. I don’t like him. He’s too serious and is always checking up on you.”
Stiger stopped the cart midway to the compost pile. “Checking up, how?”
“He comes by regular-like to get reports on you from the captain,” Theo said. “You’re going to have a lot of company today. It should be pretty exciting for you.”
“The attack at the pond likely got their attention,” Stiger said, thinking that his definition of exciting differed greatly from Theo’s.
Theo glanced around at the extra guards. “It may have escaped your notice, but it got everyone’s attention. If rumors can be believed, the thane has even ordered the clans to assemble their warriors. They are marching to the valley. That’s not happened since we first came to this world.”
Stiger resumed wheeling the cart over to the compost pile. Theo followed, his limping causing him to move slower. He looked at Stiger for a long moment.
“Well, my duty here has been done. I’ll be off, then.” Theo huffed out a breath and started back toward the dwarven camp, hobbling along. “Back to relaxing before a fire with a mug of good spirits, or whatever I can mooch at camp that doesn’t involve me laying out silver.”
“Any idea on when they might arrive?” Stiger asked Theo.
“Soon, I was told. Sometime this morning.” Theo stopped and half turned back. “My advice as your friend . . . is to be civil to Thoggle.”
“To one without legend?” Stiger almost laughed. For some reason Stiger could not fathom, the dwarves despised their wizards, but here he was being told be polite and respectful to one.
“I mean it,” Theo said, tone sobering. “True, he is without legend, but he does have the ear of the thane.” Theo glanced around the farm in a meaningful manner. “I do believe this arrangement is much better than having you secured in Old City. The population of the city has been slowly declining over the years, and . . . well, let’s just say it’s not as nice as it used to be. There are only a few hundred dvergr remaining, and those are an unfriendly lot, especially to humans. They’d happily lock you in a room, for your own safety, and then forget where the key was.”
“Is there much chance of that?”
“After your little spat and the attack at the pond, Captain Aleric wrote the thane about it,” Theo admitted. “He feels it may be best to move you to a more secure location. So perhaps it is best for you to be polite and not disagreeable to one of the few that the thane listens to. I don’t know about you, but I think that may be a wise course of action.”
With that, Theo turned and left. Stiger watched him go. He let out a long br
eath and grabbed the shovel to begin emptying the cart. Stiger paused after dumping a shovel full of manure onto the pile. He spared a quick glance around the farm. He felt an odd attachment to the farm, almost as strong as what he had with Sarai. Stiger’s eyes lingered on the small house. He had fixed the roof. His gaze slid over to the barn, which he had helped fix up, patching its age-worn boards and then rebuilding or repairing much of the interior. Stiger’s eyes returned to his growing pile of split and stacked wood. The farm was now home. Theo was right. This was indeed better than being locked up in Old City, even with all of the guards constantly underfoot.
Stiger returned his mind to the task at hand. He worked quickly and efficiently, shoveling out the manure. As he was finishing up and scraping the cart clean, something made him turn to look back at the barn. Like a ghost, Dog had appeared. Stiger stopped what he was doing and eyed the animal carefully. Dog spotted him and padded his way leisurely over. The dog sat down and gazed up with unblinking eyes, long tongue lolling out from the right side of its mouth. Dog wagged his tail in the dirt and grass, as if to say, Hello there friend. Stiger wasn’t sure, but he thought he detected a satisfied air about the animal.
“Where’ve you been?” Stiger asked, tossing the shovel into the cart. He had not seen Dog since the day of the attack and had wondered if the animal would ever return. After seeing the other side of Dog, Stiger had even half hoped he would never see him again. No luck there, he decided.
“So, are you going to answer me?”
Dog gave a small, clipped bark followed by a whine and looked guiltily away, breaking eye contact.
“I hope you got the rest of them buggers,” Stiger said, and he meant it.
Dog turned his gaze back to Stiger and gave a single bark, tail wagging enthusiastically. Stiger felt himself frown as he looked on the animal. He talked to a sword and now it seemed to an animal as well.
Was he going insane?
Stiger shook his head, glanced toward the heavens, and then wheeled the cart back into the barn. Dog followed along like an obedient pet, looking nothing like the animal who’d ripped out the throat of an orc at the pond. The dog’s sad appearance had returned, and the fearsome, vicious killer was absent, as if it had never been.
Returning the cart to its place, Stiger emerged from the barn, Dog still walking along at his side. He noticed the nearest guard, one of the dwarves who had accompanied him to Bowman’s Pond, take a careful step away. The dwarf’s eyes fell uneasily on the animal. Stiger almost laughed but restrained himself, for he had seen firsthand the true killer nature the animal had displayed. Stiger did not understand how, but he sensed the animal was no threat to him—only his enemies.
Stiger made his way over to the woodpile, intent upon working out some of his frustration. The dwarves followed at a discreet distance and set up positions within ten to fifteen feet of him. There was another larger cordon just out of sight and roving patrols even farther out. The orcs would have a difficult job of sneaking back up to the farm.
As Stiger reached to pick up the axe from where its head was embedded in the chopping stump, Dog gave a low growl. He glanced at the animal, who had lain down in the grass. Dog’s head was up and he was looking intently in the direction they had just come.
Stiger turned and froze.
Menos, otherwise known as Sian Tane, was standing no less than thirty paces away and looking squarely at him. Stiger straightened and let out a long breath. This was not how he had expected his day to go.
Menos was a tall, thin, and pale man. Though describing him as a man was far off the mark. Menos was noctalum, the first race the gods had created. He was fair with near perfect features, much like those of an elf. His ears were even pointed as well. His pupils were silver, as was his beard and long straight hair that ran down his back. Menos wore a long gray robe that was well cut with rich, smooth fabric. A delicate black and gray crown rested upon his head. Despite the silvery hair, he had the appearance of being in his prime.
Stiger felt suddenly uneasy, for he knew the true nature of this creature. Their eyes met, and Stiger felt his mood abruptly sour. Here was trouble, and Stiger hated trouble. They regarded each other silently for several moments, then Menos moved forward. He seemed to glide across the ground as he approached. Stiger’s dwarven guards took one look at the newcomer and almost as one fell to a knee, bowing their heads. The nearest trembled in the presence of the noctalum as he brushed by. Menos paid them no mind. He strode up until he stood within four paces of Stiger and stopped.
Dog’s growling ceased as Menos’s eyes fell upon the animal. A slight hint of a smile twitched the noctalum’s beard, and even managed to touch his eyes. He held out a hand, palm upward. Dog stood, approached, and sniffed cautiously at the proffered hand, then emitted a soft whine. Using the same hand, Menos brought it slowly around and up to the top of Dog’s head, where he scratched affectionately.
The dog’s tail began wagging happily. Stiger had the uncomfortable feeling that the two recognized each other.
After a few heartbeats, Menos withdrew his hand. Dog seemed disappointed for a moment, then shook himself and padded back to Stiger, where he sat at his side and stared at the noctalum. Menos turned his gaze back upon Stiger.
“You are lucky to have been blessed with such a companion,” Menos said, eyes returning to the animal only briefly. “Lucky indeed, for a human.”
“I know what you are,” Stiger said. He was no mood for small talk. Though the dwarves bent knee before the noctalum, Stiger refused to do so. He realized he should show some sign of respect, but Menos’s condescending manner irritated him deeply.
Menos raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing.
“Should I call you Menos, caretaker of the World Gate, or is it Sian Tane, the noctalum, the dragon?” Stiger cocked his head to one side as he regarded the other and waited for a response.
Menos let slip a raspy chuckle that betrayed no hint of surprise or actual amusement.
“You are as bold as the paladin let on you would be,” Menos said. “Impudent too, especially as you know me and I not you. One would think you would show more respect and deference to one of my kind.” Menos fell silent for a number of heartbeats. “It has been a great long time since someone challenged me as openly as you do.”
Stiger said nothing to that and just waited. The dwarves remained kneeling, almost seeming to hold their collective breaths.
Menos gave a slight shrug. “However, I prefer you address me as Menos when in this form.”
“Then that is what I shall call you,” Stiger said, and inclined his head slightly. “Welcome, Menos.”
“I cannot read you,” Menos said plainly.
“You mean you tried invade my mind?”
“I made an attempt,” Menos admitted without any hint of guilt or surprise. The noctalum gestured toward Stiger’s sword. “But that insult to life you carry has prevented me from learning more about you.”
Stiger felt himself scowl.
“You and the paladin told the wizard everything, but he tells me little,” Menos said. “I do not like that.”
“I was warned against revealing too much,” Stiger said, “by Thoggle and another wizard.”
“It seems you keep interesting company.”
“I have been known to,” Stiger said, “and it has included a pair of noctalum.”
Menos fell silent, though his gaze did not waver. Stiger returned it.
“I wonder who this other wizard is?” Menos wagged a delicate finger when Stiger declined to answer. “It matters little. The advice you were given is wise. Though I must admit I am sorely tempted to learn more of my future. Curiosity is a fire that is hard to extinguish amongst my kind.” Menos paused and shot a glance toward the house, almost as if a thought had occurred to him. “Perhaps you shared more than just a home with the woman who lives here? Is it possible you told her more than you should?”
Stiger felt his eyes narrow. He became alarmed at the prosp
ect of the noctalum invading Sarai’s mind. She deserved no such thing.
Menos gave a cold laugh. “I see my intuition is quite correct. Your kind has its predictable weaknesses.”
“You will not search her mind,” Stiger said firmly, his anger building at the thought of such an invasion. “Do we understand each other?”
The noctalum regarded Stiger for several heartbeats and then gave a nod, perhaps more to himself than to Stiger’s demand.
“You have nothing to fear,” Menos said. “Though my desire to do so is strong, I will not probe her mind, nor will my mate. You have my word on that.”
“Thank you,” Stiger said.
“I do it not for you,” Menos said.
“What do you want?” Stiger had seriously tired of the noctalum’s game. “Tell me or be gone.”
“Know that I tolerate your disrespect because it serves my interests.” Menos’s tone became hard. “One day that may no longer hold true.”
Stiger clearly understood his meaning. Still, his anger was up and he had difficulty caring, especially after the creature had threatened Sarai. How dare he? It was odd, for deep down Stiger knew he should fear the noctalum with every fiber of his being.
“Thoggle very much desires me to stay away from you,” Menos said. “My mate, Currose, feels as he does. So naturally I thought I would come anyway . . . to offer you a warning,”
“A warning,” Stiger said. “About what?”
“I am sure you know this already. The blade that protects you is a very dangerous weapon. But you probably do not know that it is just as dangerous to you as it is to those you face in battle, if not more so,” Menos said with a slight gesture toward the sword. “You are the one destined to wield Rarokan, but if you’re not careful, the sword will wield you.”
Stiger did not enjoy the thought of that. Ogg had warned him of the same thing. Though surprisingly, now that Stiger thought of it, Thoggle had said nothing on the subject.
“I have had another give me similar advice,” Stiger said.
“Good,” Menos said. “You are somewhat aware of the dangers, then.”
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