Mortal Consequences
Page 28
“Yes, I know,” Sunbright said. He had visited the future, had seen the ingrown shambles the empire would become, before Karsus finally destroyed it. “I’ve known for a while, and fear the empire’s collapse might harm our people. That’s why I must announce the rest of my plan.”
“Plan?” Slow-thinking Magichunger frowned. “What plan? You’re not going to meddle with tradition again, are you?”
“Yes and no,” he said. Sunbright smiled at his oblique answer. He wasn’t done fighting yet, not with the future at stake. “Hand me my sword, please?”
“Eh?” The war chief took Sunbright’s scabbard from a peg on the wall and said, “Who will you bash now? I can’t imagine a fair fight. This enchanted sword is a dragon killer!”
“True. Too much sword for me. Can you summon Drigor, please?”
A fuddled Magichunger left while Sunbright nodded off.
“What is it?” A gruff tone woke him. Drigor stood in his stained apron, gnarled hands bunched at his hips and said, “I hope this’s important. With new folk streaming in and a mighty heap of weapons to turn into tools, I’m busy night and day.”
Sunbright smiled at the crusty dwarf and said, “And you’re happiest when busiest. So I’ve another task, if you will. Take my sword please. Take Harvester of Blood back to the forge.”
“To the forge?” Drigor asked. Stunned, the dwarf propped the sword beside him, tall as himself. “What shall I do there?”
Slowly, Sunbright gave instructions. Before he finished, the dwarf was hopping in place, face red as an apoplectic fit. “Are you mad?” Drigor growled. “Stark, staring crazy? This sword is a legend! It’s history! It’s—it’s never been done before, dwarves sharing secrets with elves to forge this—a blade fit for a king! An emperor! A conqueror!”
“But I’m none of those,” Sunbright returned mildly. “Just a simple shaman trying to guide his people. And they won’t listen unless they see me sacrifice as much as they do. Please, do it.”
Grumbling, cursing, stamping pitchy boots, the dwarf dragged the sword as he stalked out. Over his shoulder he bawled, “I don’t expect humans to make sensible decisions!”
“Neither do I.”
Sunbright snuggled down to sleep in carefree warmth.
* * * * *
Three nights later, Sunbright was strong enough to leave the council hut.
“But mind,” Monkberry warned, “there’ll be a few surprises.”
“Did everyone move away while I was asleep?” Sunbright joked.
He limped, stiff, bruised, raddled with scabs that itched and cracked, clumsy with one eye, and muzzy from a bandage swaddling his skull. Monkberry propped one side, Knucklebones the other. Then he jumped, startled.
For as Sunbright appeared at the lodge’s door, a thunderous cheer exploded in the frosty winter sky. Humans, elves, and dwarves hooted, applauded, sang, hollered, and laughed. Sunbright just stared, stunned, while the cheering rang on and on. He shook his head like an old man chiding children, but with a smile.
Slowly, he was eased into a wicker chair at the council fire pit. Sunbright breathed slowly to clear his head, then looked around. Stretching into the darkness, hundreds of barbarians packed the hollow around the council ring. Salted amidst them were elves like bright green flowers, including Knucklebones’s new family, and Drigor’s dwarves, hunched like stones. There were many strangers, mostly humans, but also gnomes and even half-ogres, all refugees who’d found safety in this pacified pocket of a chaotic empire. Among them were Hilel’s horse wranglers in wool shirts and leather trousers and caps.
When the crowd grew silent, Sunbright talked. He greeted many by name, thanked all for coming to council, and talked of the weather and how peaceful and beautiful the land looked from their hard work. The crowd strained to hear his weak voice. Finally, he got to his main point.
“My friends, I’ve bad news, but also a hope. We know the tundra is dying, and may be dead entirely. All the empire’s lands suffer, and the most fragile die first. So we are banished from our ancestral hunting grounds, cut off from the old way of life. So my bad news is, we must change again.”
A rustle shook the crowd, but a minor one. Everyone knew the truth. Their question was: What next?
Sunbright told them, “We’ve prospered here, on the edge of the forest that the elves graciously lent us. And the dwarves revel in the mountains, now almost clear of monsters and renegades. And, too, our ancestral prairie lands beckon, though they too suffer a shortage of game.
“Lacking the tundra, I propose we stay put for now: elves in the forest, dwarves in the mountains, barbarians on the plain. We work well together. Our mighty triangle can stave off threats from any direction in wartime. Peacetime will be even better. From this triangle, we can cross the plains to link with coastal towns and the Narrow Sea and the south, establish trade routes through the forest in the west, build bridges over the northern mountains. Everyone, every race, can benefit by the alliance, and everyone can eat well.”
He let the words sink in. There were no objections, for already combined parties of humans, dwarves, and elves had spoken of building trading posts, arranging caravans, cutting roads and bridges. And Sunbright saw other alliances being formed, for the barbarian Blackblossom held the hand of elven Starvalley.
He went on, “But for our own, personal change. We Rengarth Barbarians cannot subsist on six miles of trees and a day’s walk of grasslands. We’d scrimp all our lives just to eat, always be poorer cousins of prosperous ones around us. Yet if we can’t trek the tundra after herds of reindeer, can’t spear the seal through the ice, can’t smoke the white bear from his cave, can’t trap salmon in weirs, how shall we live? I’ve thought on this a long time, and have a proposal. I only ask you consider it. Drigor, the bag, please.”
Hundreds of barbarians and friends watched the stumpy dwarf set a large leather bag by Sunbright’s feet, for the shaman was still too weak to hold it. With clumsy fingers Sunbright untied the leather while hundreds held their breath. Yet when he finally plucked something from the bag, a puzzled buzz arose.
Sunbright held up two large rings joined loosely by a metal bar. He jingled the steel to catch the firelight. Then he flung the object across the circle. Hilel, the refugee hostler, jumped as it landed in his lap. The shaman called, “Hilel, what is it?”
The horse wrangler held it up. “A horse bit. You put it in the nag’s mouth to attach a bridle.”
“It’s that, and our new way of life.”
Over the rising buzz, Sunbright explained, “Barbarians don’t ride horses, I know. I’ve heard it a hundred times. They walk, and follow reindeer. Such is tradition. But the reindeer are gone while horses run wild on the plains. And who here hasn’t mounted a reindeer as a child and taken a ride?” His smile brought chuckles, but most faces bore mixed emotions: curiosity, fear of change, hope, doubt.
“Always the Rengarth roamed the tundra. Now I would amend that. Now we can roam the plains on horseback. There are antelope to round up, and cattle, and bison, and deer. By learning to ride, the Rengarth could journey all over our ancestral plains—not just a day’s walk out and back, but a hundred miles in a week! We’d not be penned to this six-mile strip of forest, but have all the grasslands under our feet and hooves!”
He called in a confident tone over the babble, “I know ’twill take time to learn new skills, to learn to ride and rope and drive livestock, but it’s worth it! And we have good teachers, for Hilel’s family has run horses for generations. Now, who’s willing to try this new style of roaming?” Sunbright reached into the bag, pulled out another jingling horse bit.
“Wait!” Magichunger scratched his shorn temple. “Where’d you get all those—what’d you call them—horse bits?”
“Ah,” Sunbright said and leaned back, tired but happy. His work was almost done. “Drigor’s doing. I gave him my sword, Harvester of Blood, you see, and he cut it up, reforged it into twenty-odd horse bits.”
A chorus of
protests welled, barbarians stunned at the news. That legendary sword, a sword of kings, chopped into scrap metal? Sunbright cut off the protests by jingling the steel bit.
“We needed steel for our new way of life, so I gave up my enchanted sword. I hope some enchantment lingers in these new tools. Harvester of Blood has become many Harvesters of Horses! Now, who wants one?”
A rush like wind in the trees swept the audience. Above the noise, Blackblossom let go Starvalley’s hand. “I’ll take one!” she called.
“Good!” Sunbright flung the glittering metal over the crowd.
The elf Starvalley raised an elegant hand and called, “I, too, please.”
“Elves join us in riding!” Sunbright crowed, and flung another horse bit.
“Hang on!” bellowed Magichunger. “I want one! I can watch better from atop a horse!” Metal pinwheeled by firelight.
Then most everyone wanted one. The dwarf Hachne yelled he’d learn to ride a pony. Goodbell would teach her children to ride. Mightylaugh needed to stay close to Magichunger. Firstfortune and other hunters could track and hunt from horseback. And so it went, people flinging up hands and grabbing for flying steel, until Sunbright’s bag was empty and he slumped, exhausted.
He hollered, “Drigor, you might switch to making horse tackle. You won’t lack for customers! Oh, I’m so tired!”
Knucklebones left her new family to join her lover. Kneeling, she kissed his cold hand and said, “I’m so proud of you, Sunbright. You’ve done so much for so many. But you sacrificed your beautiful sword!”
“That suits me fine,” he said, and squeezed her hand. “I’ve had enough fighting to last a lifetime. From now on, I’ll work to heal, and keep peace. We’ve many warriors, but only one shaman, and I’ll be busy. And happy. But will you be?”
The thief smiled and kissed his cheek. “I couldn’t be more happy, Sunbright. I’ve a new family. I’m back in the thick of busyness, just like in Karsus, and it’ll be busier from now on. We’ll be a city before long! And—”
Warmed by the fire, wrung out by healing wounds, Sunbright nodded, but jerked awake.
“And what?”
“And—” Knucklebones blushed. “And I’ll be busy tending our first child.”
“Our first …” Suddenly awake, Sunbright hugged her till she squeaked. “Oh, Knuckle’! The first of many, we hope. Some to ride the plains, and some to walk the woods. Others to work the mountains, or follow trade routes.”
“And one child to become shaman,” Knucklebones added.
“Shaman?” Sunbright slumped again. “Oh, no. It’s such a burden, I wouldn’t wish it on any child. But I suppose.…”
“It will be so,” Knucklebones smiled. “It’s tradition.”
Epilogue
The tundra never did heal, for the empire lands, drained of life by the alien Phaerimm and exhausted by the greed of the archwizards, declined slowly like a forest of dying redwoods. After the End of the End, the last vestiges of the Netherese Empire were swallowed by sand to become Anauroch, the Great Desert. The Narrow Sea dried year by year, eventually disappearing, so the High Ice and Sunbright’s tundra receded into a rocky wasteland.
With the tundra died the Rengarth Barbarians’ way of life, but under the guidance of Sunbright and Knucklebones, and their descendants, the Rengarth lived on, though they eventually changed into—
But that’s another story.…
About the Author
Clayton Emery has been a blacksmith, a dishwasher, a schoolteacher in Australia, a carpenter, a zookeeper, a farmhand, a land surveyor, and a volunteer firefighter, among other things. He was an award-winning technical writer for ten years. His novels include Tales of Robin Hood; Shadow World #1: The Burning Goddess and Shadow World #3: City of Assassins; the Whispering Woods trilogy for Magic: The Gathering®; the Robin & Marian stories in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, and other works. He lives in New Hampshire with his wife and son, and has played the DUNGEONS & DRAGONS® game since forever.
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