“They really are dangerous?” Pixus sounded extremely skeptical. “I’m sorry, but I am having difficulty believing that.”
“I’ve seen them fight,” Stiger said, “and, centurion, you don’t want to be on the receiving end of a pissed-off gnome.”
“You fought alongside gnomes?” Theo turned, clearly surprised. “Wha—?”
The gnome, looking at the humans, spoke again. Theo’s head snapped around and away from Stiger. The dwarf’s expression turned murderous.
“You little piece of goblin dropping,” Theo said to the gnome in dwarven, taking a half step forward, “keep your mouth shut before I rip out that filthy tongue.”
“What did it say?” Sabinus asked.
In the face of Theo’s rage, the gnome held its ground. It cocked its head to one side.
“You don’t want to know,” Theo said in a heated tone, switching back to common. “They are unpleasant creatures who once worshiped a dark god. You could say in a way we adopted them in the hopes they would become more pleasant. After a couple thousand years, they may never be fully redeemable, nor do I think they even care to be.”
“Filthy half-man,” the gnome spat back, switching to Theo’s language. It pointed a small finger at the dwarf. “You tarnish your legend by—” The gnome spoke a series of words that Stiger didn’t understand, but since it gestured at the legionaries he assumed it was referring to the humans. “I even question your—” The gnome spoke another word Stiger did not know. “You should shave now. Save your relatives the time and become a beardless wonder.”
Going red in the face, Theo uttered an animal-like roar and lunged at the gnome. It nimbly danced out of reach, laughing wickedly at him, which seemed to enrage Theo to new levels. Head down, he began chasing the gnome around the fire pit, swearing in dwarven. At least Stiger assumed the words were curses, because he didn’t know them.
Dog padded up to Stiger and sat down. The dog, like the rest of them, watched the show, as did the gnomes from the next fire pit. They hooted and hollered, seeming to encourage their mate along.
The gnome, for its part, intentionally slowed, just enough for Theo to make a grab, and then sped up out of reach. It was clearly playing with the enraged dwarf. The third time around the fire pit, Stiger doubled over in laughter at the comical scene, as did Sabinus and Pixus. The men had also stopped and were watching. After a bit, it occurred to Theo that he could not catch the gnome, as the creature was faster and nimbler than he was. Theo was also wearing his heavy armor, which restricted his movement and slowed him down significantly.
Theo came to a stop, chest heaving and out of breath. Sucking in great gulps of air, he rested an arm on the wooden cart carrying firewood. The gnome turned its back on Theo and hiked up its tunic, exposing a small buttocks, which he joyfully wiggled about. The gnomes at the other fire pit died with laughter, as did the humans.
“Oh,” Theo said, with a black look at the human officers, “I see. You seem to think this very funny?”
“It was,” Stiger said, recovering, “at least until you stopped chasing him.”
Pixus and Sabinus exploded into another bout of laughter.
“Ha, ha, ha,” Theo said with disgust.
“Theo,” Stiger said and wiped a tear from his eye, “I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in years.”
The gnome had stopped its mooning of the dwarf. It glanced over at its fellows before turning back to face Theo. An evil smile formed on its face. It too began to laugh and point at Theo in obvious mirth, clearly poking the bear further.
Theo’s eyes swept unhappily over the gnome and then the others on the work detail. The dwarf’s eyes narrowed. His hand casually slid over the firewood and gripped a largish piece. Before Stiger could react, Theo hurled it with near perfect accuracy. The gnome moved to dodge, but had reacted too late. The piece of wood connected solidly, knocking the small creature down hard.
Everyone stilled, staring at Theo in shock.
“Now that,” Theo said with a great hearty laugh, “was funny, and how you deal with the ungrateful little bastards.”
Laughing, the dwarf turned his back on the appalled humans and returned to where he had left his pony. Picking up the reins, he started down the tunnel, whistling loudly and seemingly greatly pleased with himself. Not once did he glance back.
None of the other gnomes moved to assist their injured mate, but quickly went back to what they had been doing, as if such violence was a regular and expected occurrence. Bruised and clearly battered, the gnome picked itself up. It dusted off its hands.
There was an ugly cut that ran along its cheek, bleeding freely. The gnome’s blood looked almost black in the firelight. Its eyes followed as Theo continued on, then it turned a malevolent look upon the human officers and held it for a long moment. The gnome spat bloody spittle on the ground.
“I think . . . we may wish to keep moving,” Sabinus said, glancing back at the men. “Brogan will have gotten ahead of us again.”
“Who gave you permission to halt?” Pixus roared at his century, suddenly enraged and stomping toward them like an erupting volcano. “Who gave you that bloody order? I certainly didn’t. There is nothing to see here. Get your sorry asses moving.”
The men instantly began moving again.
Stiger started after them, leading Misty. Sabinus walked alongside. Stiger couldn’t help but glance back at the injured gnome. Heedless of its injuries, the small creature had returned to its task of tossing the wood into the fire.
“I understand the gnomes are allies of the dwarves,” Sabinus said. “Yet, from what I’ve seen, they don’t seem to get along all that well.”
“I don’t pretend to understand it myself,” Stiger said, “but it seems their relationship is rather a complicated one.”
“I would agree with you there, sir,” Sabinus said, gaze sliding over to a pair of gnomes pulling an empty cart along in the direction of the entrance. “Perhaps Theo can explain it better to me, after he calms down.”
“Maybe,” Stiger said, though he harbored his doubts. From what he had seen, the gnomes appeared to be slaves to the dwarves, but he understood that was not the case. They were unsteady allies that worked together for some common purpose.
“Sir.” Sabinus lowered his voice a little. “I feel I must caution you about revealing too much to Pixus. He may become curious about when and where you fought alongside gnomes. It could lead to some uncomfortable questions.”
“Noted,” Stiger said, irritated with himself for slipping. “I will have to watch myself.”
Passing the second set of massive stone doors that guarded the inner side of the mountain, they entered the unbelievably giant cavern that housed Grata’Jalor. Stiger and the legionaries came to a stop, thoroughly amazed at the sight that greeted them. Pixus said nothing about his men coming to an unordered halt, as even his jaw dropped.
Hundreds of rounded support columns, each the size of a house, climbed upward toward the ceiling and disappeared in the darkness above. The roof of the cavern was perhaps a thousand feet in height. Massive open skylights admitted shafts of daylight that beamed straight down into the cavern, almost like rays of blessed light from the heavens.
Stiger’s eyes settled upon the fortress of Grata’Jalor, almost a quarter mile distant. It was ringed by a wide, dark chasm, much like an aboveground castle might have a moat. Yet Stiger knew that there was no water in this moat, just an impossible drop into darkness.
Torches glittered as pricks of light from the citadel’s walls. Sentries could be seen walking their rounds along the perimeter, appearing small in the distance.
A drawbridge spanned the chasm to the castle. Three wagons were moving across, traveling in the direction of the citadel. From this distance, they looked like children’s toys. On the other side of Grata’Jalor lay Old City, a place Stiger knew would be all but abandoned in a few years.
“Sir,” Sabinus said, drawing his attention. “Heads up.”
&
nbsp; The thane, Jorthan, and Father Thomas were walking his way, along with Theo.
“Pixus,” Sabinus said, half turning toward the other centurion. “See to your men.”
Pixus took the hint and stepped away, ordering his men to fall in.
“From here . . .” Brogan said and gestured off to the left on their side of the chasm toward another gate about half a mile away. This gate, one big door, was closed and half the size of the main gates that led in and out of the mountain. In the gloom, Stiger had not seen it. “ . . . we will take the Haritan Road. This will see us to Stonehammer Hostel, where we will spend the night.”
“We won’t be staying in Old City?” Stiger was surprised by this and had assumed they would. At least before moving on to wherever the summit was being held.
“No,” the thane said, “that would take us well out of our way.” Brogan turned to Jorthan. “How far would you say it is to the Stonehammer?”
“I’ve not been there in nigh seventy years, but if I recall, the hostel should be a good three, maybe four hours’ walk,” Jorthan replied and then turned to Stiger. “From the Stonehammer, we will take the Kelvin Road, which will bring us most of the way to our destination.”
“So,” Stiger said, thinking it through, “we will climb up out of the mountain then and onto this Haritan Road?”
“The road,” Jorthan said, “is not aboveground, but under. It makes negotiating your way through the mountains in these parts easier. The Kelvin Road takes us under several mountains and then down into the foothills and finally the forest. Where we are going, there are no aboveground roads or easy trails that travel from here to there. This is the quickest way.”
Stiger recalled that he had been told the dwarves had completely tunneled out this area. He’d forgotten that they had such roads. He could see the advantage of going straight from point to point, without having to worry about mountains, hills, and forest or winding difficult trails. Still, it must have been difficult work to construct a road like that. His eyes moved around the cavern. The dwarves seemed very good at digging.
“I’ve been meaning to ask. What is the name of the place where the summit will be held?” Stiger asked.
“Garand Kos,” Jorthan said. “It was one of the first settlements when our people and yours came to this world. It has long been abandoned, but its ruins stand as a monument to cooperation. I feel—”
“Yes, yes,” Brogan said impatiently. “Thank you for the history lesson, Jorthan. Your ancient stories are doubtless of little interest to him.”
“Yes, my thane,” Jorthan said and bowed his head respectfully, though Stiger thought he detected a twinge of well-concealed irritation in the advisor’s tone.
“We travel underground for at least three days,” the thane explained. “The Stonehammer will be our last stay in civilization, at least until we return. After it, we will camp along the way, but I promise it won’t be that bad, as I have arranged for supplies to be brought with us.”
Stiger wasn’t too terribly keen about spending the next three days underground. The mountain was cold, damp, and dark. Had there been an easier way, he would’ve gladly taken it. Unfortunately, the dwarves had selected the site for the summit, and they were the only ones who knew how to get there.
“Right,” Stiger said, eager to be on his way. “Let’s get a move on, then. The sooner we start, the quicker we will be there.”
“If only it were that simple.” The thane balled his thick fists. “Tell him, Jorthan, for the thought of their slight irritates me much.”
“I am afraid we must wait a short while,” Jorthan said in an unhappy tone. “It seems the gnomes bringing us our lanterns are slightly delayed. I’m told they will be here within the hour.”
“Gnomes,” Theo grunted, “always going out of their way to make simple things difficult.”
“Bah!” Brogan spat on the stone at their feet. “I should have just sent some of our own people to the storehouses to avoid giving them such an opportunity.”
Jorthan’s tone was patient. “As I said, they are undoubtedly making a statement with this as an inducement to reconsider their latest offer.”
“Statement.” The thane fairly seethed with anger. “I tell you it is an insult. I will give them a statement. I should replace their entire council. See how they like that as an offer. Ha!”
“They would not dare offend you, my thane. This is nothing more than a negotiating tactic and was, I can assure you, not meant as an insult,” Jorthan said somewhat apologetically. He turned back to Stiger, ignoring his thane. “We are negotiating a number of important contracts with the gnomish council. Usually they choose other means of delay to make their point, a slowing of metallurgic coal deliveries, for one. They do not typically play games that affect the thane directly.” Jorthan shot a glance over at Brogan. “I fear they may have miscalculated this time.”
“Miscalculated,” Brogan said, turning on his advisor and speaking in dwarven. “After this, we lower our latest offer and stick with it. See how that settles with them.”
“My thane,” Jorthan said, “perhaps it is best to consider a subtler response.” Brogan and the Thane started speaking about the specifics of an agreement, or lack of one, in their own language.
“Waiting again, it seems,” Stiger said to Sabinus.
“Looks like we will be taking a break then, sir,” Sabinus said. “Shall I pass that on?”
“Would you see that Pixus has the men fall out?” Stiger said. “Make sure they do not wander. This is not our mountain and I do not wish to cause offense by some unintended slight.”
“Yes, sir. I will see to it.” Sabinus drew himself up, saluted, and stepped away.
Stiger turned back to the thane and Jorthan to find Brogan studying him with a critical eye.
“You have them listening to you, already,” Brogan said in dwarven. “Thoggle told me that might take a little longer, at least for the ones who know you are not Delvaris. It seems you do indeed have a commanding presence.”
With that, the thane turned and walked abruptly off.
“An hour, maybe more, then we shall be on the road,” Jorthan said and followed, leaving Stiger with Theo and Father Thomas.
“Brogan is warming to you,” Theo said. “That is the closest I have ever heard him come to complimenting a human, and he doesn’t like your people. Then again, I could be reading into it.” He paused and sucked in a breath, looking Stiger hard in the eye. “My cousin appears a simple enough fellow, but he is as complicated as getting water out of a deep mine without using pumps. That bit with the gnomes and their contract negotiations was purely for show. I warn you now. He is a sly one, a user of people. He can be devious to get what he wants.” Theo stopped and glanced around before returning his attention to Stiger. “It is why I try to avoid the family gatherings and, when I am compelled to go, cause trouble. I don’t care to be used either. You may, as you humans say, desire to stay on your toes.”
Theo patted Stiger on the back. What should have been a friendly pat, coming from a dwarf, was actually more of a pounding. Stiger was thankful for his armor as Theo walked off after his thane.
“I am inclined to agree with Theogdin,” Father Thomas said as they watched Theo move in the direction of the other dwarves. “Brogan would not have served as long as he has without being very intelligent and crafty.”
“And how long is that?”
“Jorthan tells me Brogan has been thane for nearly two hundred years,” Father Thomas said.
“A long time.” Stiger whistled. A few feet away, Fifth Century were setting their yokes down.
“That,” Father Thomas continued, “is close to setting a record amongst their kind, and he’s only middle aged for a dwarf. So, he has many more years to go.”
“How old is he?”
The men began sitting down, grateful for the unexpected break. They started to rummage through their haversacks.
“Three hundred and twenty-two,” Father Thomas an
swered and then rubbed his hands together for warmth. “He came to the throne at what the dwarves consider a young age and was able to hold it. I am told he is also a warrior of uncommon skill, matched with a keen intellect. You should heed Theo’s advice and watch yourself with him.”
“I will,” Stiger said. It seemed everyone wanted to use him for something. Perhaps that was just how the things worked and he had not realized it ‘til now.
Father Thomas rubbed his hands together again. “It certainly is chilly.”
Stiger agreed, but said nothing. He had only been gone a few hours but was already missing Sarai, and the simplicity of the life they had shared together. He had come to find comfort in her presence.
“My son,” Father Thomas turned, “I know you are unhappy with your role, but what you do is for the greater good.”
Stiger breathed shallowly in and out, his eyes on the paladin.
“We will find a way to defeat the minion and Castor’s efforts,” Father Thomas said. “We do that and we can set things right.”
“Has it occurred to you that Delvaris never killed the minion?” Stiger asked. It had been on his mind a lot lately. “What if it was me? What if I was the one who took the mortal wound in battle and not Delvaris? Have you thought of that?”
Father Thomas appeared troubled and hesitated before replying. The paladin glanced down at his feet before looking back up.
“I have,” the paladin said in a voice that was almost whisper. “We have, yes.”
“So,” Stiger said, realizing that the paladin was speaking of Thoggle too. They had both come to the same conclusion. “I may very well die setting things right.”
“That is a possibility,” Father Thomas admitted. “But I will do my utmost to keep that from happening.”
“If I die,” Stiger said and paused, following the logic through to its natural conclusion, “I am the High Father’s champion, and Restorer of the Compact. If I die, then who will make the decision when the time comes? Have you and Thoggle thought of that, too?”
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