Beyond the Edge of Dawn

by Christian Warren Freed

  “Don’t worry about your friends. We’ve been watching them for some time,” the older Gnome said.

  From the edge of the forest, screams and cries could be heard as battle commenced in the distance.

  THIRTY

  Creidlewein

  “Why are you with these outlanders, Geblin?” the Gnome pressed.

  They were alone. All of the knights were being guarded around a small cook fire. Confused, they hadn’t put up a fight and were secretly grateful for the Gnomes’ interference.

  Geblin sighed. “That is a long tale. It all began in the Kergland Spine.”

  “Where are the others you left with? How is it you alone managed to survive?” the older Gnome said with barely contained anger.

  Geblin jabbed a finger at the other. “Don’t you dare accuse me, Flade! I did what needed to be done, as any of us would.”

  Flade rose, hand dangerously close to his weapon. “You are wrong! My father never would have left his friends to die! You abandoned him, Geblin. You abandoned him and left him to die.”

  “Flade, listen to me,” his voice dropped low. “I did not leave your father to die. Let me tell my tale, and you’ll see.”

  Geblin returned to them as the sun started to set. He had a defeated air. Aphere moved over to him, offering a canteen of fresh stream water. He took it wordlessly and drank deeply.

  “I’m sorry,” he told them all.

  She gave a short smile. “For what?”

  He looked into her soft eyes and felt pangs of regret. “I tried talking to him. I tried, but Flade wouldn’t listen.”

  Pirneon, from atop a large boulder, looked at the Gnome and asked, “What are you talking about? Who is Flade?”

  “He and I grew up together. We were never really friends, more like childhood rivals. Both of our fathers were on the council at Creidlewein. Flade never had the temperament to get along with others. When his father chose me to be his apprentice, it devastated Flade. Our friendship, what little there was, ended that day, and we’ve been rivals ever since.”

  Kavan fought off a yawn. “Why should he be so accusatory towards you now? Didn’t he realize you were trying to save us?”

  Pirneon shot him an angry glare.

  “It goes far beyond that. Flade’s father was the head of our expedition into the east. I watched the Ogre spear him to a tree and rip him in half. Flade blames me.”

  A great uproar disturbed the hasty encampment. Scores of Gnomes returned from the deepening gloom of the forest. Fists pumped in the air. Gnomes howled and shouted war cries. Logs were heaped into the fires as the last of the warriors slipped through. A celebration was in order.

  The Gaimosians watched the Gnomes with inspired interest. All of those returning bore weapons too large for them to use. Swords and spears fit for Human cavalry were carried in numbers. Kavan was the first to spy the strange flag carried to the camp center. Pirneon followed the flag until he felt his mouth drop open. It belonged to the Fist.

  “Geblin, can you find out what happened? That banner is the Fist. I’ve seen it once before, and if my guess is right, these Gnomes just ambushed them,” Pirneon said. His voice contained a twinge of excitement.

  If the Gnomes did, indeed, beat back the mercenaries, their chances of reaching Rantis improved dramatically. Geblin rose and approached the nearest guard. They spoke in hushed tones in their native tongue.

  “What are you thinking?” Kavan asked.

  Pirneon explained his plan. He’d developed several courses of action, all driven towards their same goal. Unfortunately, all of them put Geblin in integral roles all the way to Aradain. The oracle had told them how important all of them were to stopping the foul power rising. If Pirneon used the Gnome like he wanted, it would turn Geblin into an outcast and leave him hated for the rest of his days. That was provided any of them actually survived the coming struggle.

  “We can’t ask him to kill his own people,” Aphere said, aghast.

  Pirneon’s gaze narrowed. “We may have no choice. Time is running out. How long can we truly be expected to remain their prisoners?”

  “But his own people? That’s like one of us being asked to kill another,” she persisted.

  “We all have difficult choices to make,” he snapped, louder than he wanted. “You spoke with the oracle. Remember his words, Aphere. We are all necessary and have but days left to us.”

  Seventeen days remained until the next eclipse. Aphere dropped her argument and sat back down. An eerie premonition bothered her for reasons she couldn’t explain. Geblin returned moments later. His eyes were livid with rage.

  “They caught the Fist just inside the forest. They claim they killed all twenty of our pursuers,” he told them.

  Barum said, “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “Not really. Now we’re being taken to Creidlewein and the council. They’ll decide what to do with us.”

  Creidlewein was a quaint city nestled in a wide gorge in the northern part of the forest. The iron-grey mountains of the Crags could be seen in the distance. City streets were paved in cobblestone, adding homeliness to the stone and thatch houses. Men and women went about their business, pausing to stare at the Humans being escorted down the main boulevard. Children played in a nearby park. None of the knights expected to find a city so tranquil and organized this deep in the forest.

  “This is amazing,” Aphere told Geblin.

  He snorted. “You Humans are all alike. How does it feel to find your prejudices empty? You thought we’d be grubby and cave-like, didn’t you? Ha! We’re just as civilized as any other race in the east. Don’t be foolish enough to think differently.”

  “Where are they taking us?” Pirneon asked. He was tired of bickering.

  “To the council chambers. Pray they are reasonable.”

  Kavan asked, “Will they be difficult to persuade?”

  Geblin shrugged. “Depends on how much Flade tells them before we are seen. I’d say our chances are slim.”

  “We can’t afford to be prisoners.”

  There was no mistaking Pirneon’s tone. He’d kill as many Gnomes as necessary in order to escape. They walked on in silence until a burly Gnome in forest greens stopped them at the foot of the red stone steps leading up to the council hall.

  “They’ll wait in the guard room until Flade is done speaking,” told the Gnome in charge. Then he spied Geblin and frowned.

  Locked in the tiny room, the knights were fed and given the chance to sit, such as they could. Pirneon longed for a carafe of hot tea — without the desert, of course. Kavan folded his legs and sat on the floor in the corner. This was a familiar situation, and there was nothing to do but remain calm and conserve his strength. He rested his head in his hands and drifted to sleep.

  The warden returned and brusquely ushered them down the hallway a short time later. More Gnomes dressed in the same livery lined the way. All were armed with daggers and ceremonial swords that Pirneon doubted were capable of cutting much. They appeared professional and impressive. None of them bothered looking the prisoners in the eye, giving the Gaimosians the feeling of already being condemned. Heads held high and marching with pride, they followed the Gnomes into the foyer.

  The warden faced them just beyond a double set of doors carved from white oak. “Do not speak unless you are asked to. Make no threatening gestures, or you will be cut down. These are the elders of the Gnome people. Treat them as such.”

  He jerked his head at the pair of guards flanking the doors. They pushed the massive doors open and waited for the knights to pass. The floor was marble tiled, sunlight reflecting from tall stained glass windows depicting scenes of ancient Gnome heroes and battles.

  Gnomes were consummate craftsmen. This was evident in every aspect of the council chambers. They were naught but fairy creatures from book and legend to the majority of the world, but the knights were learning differently. The wood paneling was clearly done by masters, as were the chairs and half moon-shaped table d
ominating the room. Made from dark cherry trees, the table had served as the symbol of Gnome leadership for hundreds of years. Tonight, it would be used again. Twin fire pits added warmth on the chill spring evening. The tender flames licked up from the smoothly polished stone.

  A chamberlain tapped an oak staff on the marble floor twice and stepped to the center of the chamber. On cue, the warden stopped his prisoners and arrayed them in a line facing the elders. Six wizened faces stared back at them. Each had a long, white beard. Deep lines creased their sun-darkened skin. Arthritic hands curled around scepters of office. One by one, the elders turned their attention to Geblin.

  “Who speaks for you?” asked the oldest.

  Pirneon eased forward half a step. The act was natural — so much so, he didn’t put thought in it. “I do.”

  “You are accused of invading our lands with the intent of beginning a war.”

  The Knight Marshal clenched his jaw. “We have done no such thing. Yes, we entered the forest, but it was in fear for our lives. All we wish is to be sent on our way north.”

  “Lies,” accused another. Streaks of red ran through his beard. “You’ve even brought a spy.”

  All heads turned to Geblin. The Gnome stood firm, refusing to give in to their brand of humiliation.

  “Who is that one?” Aphere whispered from the corner of her mouth.

  Geblin glared at the elder. “A relative of Flade.”

  The elder continued, “We all know of Geblin’s treachery. Flade has spoken of this traitor’s deeds.”

  The chamberlain tapped his staff on the floor.

  “We,” emphasized the eldest, “know nothing of the kind. Geblin’s innocence or guilt remains to be determined, Tordin.”

  Tordin fumed from his chair.

  “How shall I address you?” the eldest asked Pirneon.

  “I am Pirneon of Gaimos. Once Knight Marshal of the army.”

  “Vengeance Knights!” wailed a female elder on the end. She was small, even for her kind. “No good will come of this!”

  The eldest raised his hand, clearly irritated at the constant interruptions. “Be silent, Slon. There’s never been trouble between our two peoples. This is no cause to start.”

  “You remember the troubles Gaimos caused the world,” Tordin hissed.

  “Those days are long past.” He returned his attention to Pirneon. “What were those men doing hunting you?”

  Pirneon smiled inwardly. He’d been hoping for a sign of division; now all he had to do was exploit it. “We’ve been hunted by the Fist since leaving Hresh Werd and the Oracle of Wenx.”

  Pirneon went on to detail their adventures, omitting key elements that wouldn’t work in his favor. The Gnomes devoured his tale while casting suspicious glares not only at the knights but at each other as well. He deliberately avoided any discussion of Aphere’s magic, loathing the subject but was wise enough to know it might be their only tool of escape. By the time he finished, only Tordin continued to glower in hatred.

  “More trouble from Gaimos,” Tordin spat once Pirneon fell silent. “Their country has been vanquished for a normal lifetime, yet even now they bring the world to the edge of ruin. Notice how they said next to nothing of Geblin and how he came to be in their service?”

  “Step forward Geblin,” the eldest commanded.

  Geblin did. The firm defiance he’d shown since being rescued in the Kergland Spine was all but gone.

  The eldest looked down sternly. “Geblin, son of Thil, you are accused of betraying your people. What do you say to this?”

  “There is no betrayal. Flade’s father led a small band east to find new trade relations with the other kingdoms. We fell into darkness crossing the mountains en route to the great desert. A Mountain Ogre ambushed us and killed all but me. I was kept in his lair while he feasted on the dead. I was to be eaten next, but these knights rescued me first. I can’t say why I chose to remain with them, but something compelled me.

  “Either way, the journey led west and brought me closer to home. Only then did we learn of the dark gods and their demons. Think and do with me what you will, but do not hold them accountable,” he ended with a shrug.

  Tordin asked, “And why not? You’ve brought war within our borders. Why should we trust you?”

  Geblin had had enough. “I don’t care what you think of me. Your affiliation with Flade is well known by all. Keep these knights from completing their task, and none of your accusations will matter. We will all die.”

  The chamberlain slammed his staff with power.

  “Order!”

  The eldest rose. His impassive features successfully concealed his thoughts. “You shall remain here until we decide what is to become of you.”

  The Gnome elders filed from the chamber, leaving Pirneon and the others standing humbly. The warden was the last to leave. He paused at Geblin’s side and clasped his shoulder with a sympathetic look.

  “Don’t you worry too hard, lad. The Eldest won’t be fooled by Tordin’s bias.”

  Then he, too, was gone. The Vengeance Knights stood and waited, knowing all too well the fate of Malweir rested on of a handful of Gnomes.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Breaking Point

  Corso howled in rage and heaved his crystal goblet at the wall. Glass shattered. A guard flinched to avoid being sliced. Corso began to pace. The vein on his forehead pulsed with anger. He couldn’t understand the sudden incompetence of the Fist. Once again, the mercenary regiment had failed him. Once more, the most feared, and expensive, killers in the world had been thwarted by lesser foes.

  He supposed he should take some small measure of satisfaction. The Gaimosians were resilient, proving themselves worthy of any accolades. This group was certainly stronger than the last few he’d experimented on. Even so, the hour was almost upon him. Corso now had two problems impeding his task. Fifteen days remained before the eclipse, giving him little time to get the Gaimosians funnels into Gessun Thune and activate the key. The second was the Fist.

  They’d done their part, to be sure, but it was sloppy and ineffective. Pharanx Gorg already knew too much, making him a liability. They would need to be dealt with before Corso could continue much further. It seemed each time he felt he was getting a grasp on the situation, another issue arose. The death of the lich was a setback. Put there when the world was young, Corso had been counting on the creature to thin out the Gaimosians. Not even the Gnome had died. Corso cursed. The Gaimosians were proving more his damnation than aid.

  “Leave me,” he snapped.

  The palace guards filed out silently. Alone, Corso stalked to the back of his expansive office. An ornate orb sat upon a shelf, nestling high above a seldom used fireplace. A small section of the floor opened to reveal a dark and winding staircase. The steps were wide, dust free. He used it more often of late. He had to get to the dark tower quickly and undiscovered. Underground passages crisscrossed the city, giving him fast egress to his safe house. Corso saw an opportunity while the Gaimosians were captive. Fuming, he might just be able to rid himself of one problem now.

  They waited in the council chambers until late into the night. Twice, the warden came with fresh fruits and water. He didn’t speak, lest he be denounced as a traitor as well. Pirneon didn’t like it at all. His thoughts were focused on Rantis.

  “This is a waste of time,” he snarled.

  Kavan yawned. Pirneon’s ravings were growing tiresome. More and more, he was losing control yet it was decided that by virtue of rank that Pirneon would retain the mantle of leadership. Kavan prayed he kept it together long enough to see the task through. They were so close.

  “Patience, Pirneon,” he said with a slow exhale. “We have time yet. The Gnomes will let us go.”

  “Will they?” he snorted. “Nothing has gone right since leaving Groskus. We have been hounded halfway across Malweir by men and monsters. For what? So we can wage war against a forgotten evil? This quest is getting out of hand. Our talents are better used else
where.”

  Kavan finally snapped. He rose to confront his one time friend and mentor. “Are you listening to yourself? You rave!”

  “I rave? I speak only what is on all our minds. Tell me this is what you envisioned when you came to find me in the desert. Between her unholy magic and our pursuit, I’m surprised we’re not all dead. Come what will this night, I am leaving,” he barked.

  Incensed, Aphere fired back. “We’d all be dead if I didn’t take action. Consider it a boon I am here.”

  “A travesty of our people, I call it. You mind your own affairs, and I’ll be sure to do the same,” Pirneon threatened.

  Geblin hung his head in disbelief. They were on the very brink of imprisonment or worse and were attacking each other instead of finding a solution to their problem. More than anything, he wanted to be done with them. He was about to say so when the door creaked open, and the chamberlain entered. The Gnome slammed his staff twice on the aged marble, and a dozen guards filed into to herd the knights back to the center of the chamber. The elders soon followed.

  The eldest looked down on his prisoners. “Step forward, Geblin. It is the decision of the council that…”

  His decree was interrupted by a series of bone-chilling howls. Screams followed. Guards drew their swords and crowded around the elders. Geblin felt his knees give way. Only Kavan betrayed no reaction. He knew all too well what sounds disturbed the night. It was a sound he’d hoped never to hear again.

  “We need our weapons, now,” he stepped forward and demanded.

  Tordin gave him a wild look. “Prisoners don’t make demands. You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

  A beast had broken into the building, rampaging through the meager Gnome defenses. Loud crashes echoed dully from behind the heavy doors. The werebeast was going to kill them all if Kavan didn’t act.

  “Listen to me,” he said in a calm voice. “You are under attack by creatures you can’t hope to defeat. Give us back our weapons, and we can at least give you a chance of surviving.”