Tahr (The Days of Ash and Fury Book 1)
Page 26
“Well ye need not,” Garlan continued. “He spoke his mind, and he were right. His rafts held. And even if they didn’t, this ain’t his fault. It ain’t yours neither, J’arn.” The prince moved to speak, but Garlan did not allow it. “Don’t say it, Prince J’arn. The world’s gone to Fury. We’re doin’ a job. Best we can. Might be we all die, but ain’t a one of us ‘fraid to. I’ve lost dwarves. Brave dwarves. Hard workin’ dwarves. Made choices I regret. But they were the choices I thought best. Ye can’t know what’s comin’, and ye can’t change what’s come. I ain’t worried about Starl and Jender. They be half drunk in Stonarris already, ye can bet a bag. These,” he motioned to the bodies, “these ain’t Starl and Jender. Not no more. We gotta bury ‘em, bury our guilt with ‘em, and get on with it.”
No one spoke for several turns.
J’arn broke the hush. “We must bury our friends, and continue on to the Grove. Rocks, will you untie our boots and bring them? Kelgarr, can you travel?”
Boot took a step tentatively. He nearly fell, Shyla catching him.
“No, me prince. Ye can leave me a bit of food, and I’ll catch up. Won’t be more than a day behind.”
Garlan shook his head and spoke forcefully. “We’re already leaving two, no more. Narl, Fannor, with me. We’ll make a stretcher, and we’ll march. Not a word, Boot.”
Boot nodded.
“Shyla. Will ye help us bury our friends?” J’arn asked.
Shyla nodded. “Aye.”
Wolf padded up to Boot, and sat at his feet, sullen. Boot sat beside him, pulled him close, and began to cry silently as the grey light of day faded to black.
---
Starl and Jender were laid to rest, their own waraxes used to chop markings into the nearby trees, so that their graves could be found later. The company vowed as one that their bodies would be retrieved, and returned to their families. J’arn slung Starl’s axe over his back, and would carry it until they returned to Belgorne. Boot insisted on carrying the other, but it was impractical, as he would need to be carried himself. Rocks carried it in his stead, for the time being.
J’arn took the lead, and Shyla and Wolf stayed on his heels, followed by Garlan, Rocks, Narl, and Fannor, the four carrying Boot’s stretcher. As much gear as they could transport was tied atop Boot, and the eight companions trudged arduously northwest, roughly following a narrow outlet from the pond that would serve as a directional guide, at least throughout the night. There was no trail, and the march through the dark forest was made with difficulty, but the eight managed.
The forest was eerily silent. No wind, no howls of wolves or other nocturnal creatures. It seemed to J’arn that the entire world held its breath in anticipation of the coming clouds of smoke and ash, for there was no doubt, when the easterlies again blew, the ash would reach the Grove and beyond.
Paces became miles, miles became hours, and the light of dawn began to glow. J’arn called a rest, and the company shared what remained of their dried meats and nuts. No banter was exchanged, all sensing that idle chatter would be an insult to their fallen comrades. With a word from J’arn they resumed their journey, and they marched several more hours before another rest was called.
“We’ll make the Grove before nightfall,” J’arn declared. “Relieve yourselves, and let us complete this march.” The dwarves and Shyla all sought a moment of privacy.
“C’mon, Boot. I’ll take ye to empty yerself,” Garlan offered.
“Aye, Garlan. Thank ye.” The forgemaster helped the engineer limp a few paces into the forest. He propped Boot up against a tree and made to leave.
“Garlan.”
Garlan turned. “Aye, Boot.”
“The trouble between us. I…I was wrong.”
Garlan shook his head and ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “No, Kelgarr, ye weren’t wrong. I lied from shame. Blamed my failures on ye. Ye weren’t wrong.”
“I know yer shame now, Garlan. Know it well.”
“But ye won’t lie about it, will ye?”
Boot considered. “I might if I could, Garlan. I just might.”
Garlan stared at his feet, then walked back to Boot.
“We got a job to do, Boot. Ain’t no room for anger between us.”
“Ye saved me life, Garlan. That ain’t the reason I be sayin’ all this, but it ain’t fer nothin’, neither.”
Boot held out his arm. Garlan grasped it. The feud between the forgemaster and the engineer died forgotten in an unnamed wood in the forests of Tahr.
“Now get, forgemaster, before I foul me pants.”
“Thought ye already had.” Garlan deadpanned.
---
The eight marched on, the going becoming easier as the trees became taller and more sparsely rooted. The canopy of broad leaves and thick branches nearly blotted out all light, an unbroken, dusky, greenish glow filtering down from overhead. Shyla was in awe, but Wolf was spooked, and walked beside her with flattened ears and a tucked tail. A mist had thickened as they walked, and the formerly challenging march became a monotonous plow, easier on the legs, but harder on the heart. They walked for hours, and just when the remaining light began to fade and the company began to fear that they had lost their sense of direction, the mists thinned, and the eight broke free of the forest’s grasp.
They battered and weary company emerged from the wood and onto an embankment. A hundred paces from the ridge lay a steaming spring, the inviting glow of candles within cabins, a small stable, and a scattering of busied elves.
They had reached the Grove.
Shyla grinned and took J’arn’s hand. “Thank yeh, Prince J’arn. Yeh be good as yer word.”
Wolf sprinted down the embankment, sensing food.
XXXIII: THE GROVE
Lucan felt the nightmare sliding away. For days, he had dreamt of wars and terrors, battles and beasts, sliding from one scene of horror to the next. There had been moments that he knew he was not here, that he was elsewhere, somewhere, asleep and unable to wake. Those moments fleeted, returned, and fleeted again; the nightmares ebbed in and out like a tide. He now stood upon a rise, overlooking a grand scene of combat, and beside him, stood the Elf. The woman he had fought alongside in these delusions. The woman he sensed he knew, yet knew he did not. The woman he had come to expect at every scene, the ever-present, silent Elf. Now, she faded, his dream faded, and he knew that he was returning to the place he was from. He was not sure he wanted to. He sensed that he was important here, that he was needed. Unlike in his true life, his real life…
Lucan opened his eyes, and the firelight flickered on a pitched log ceiling. He blinked, and inhaled, and was surprised that there was no pain. Slowly, he turned his head to the side to survey his surroundings.
Beside him lay the Elf.
At the same moment, Aria stirred from her own dream, the princess returning to consciousness and leaving the Man that had stood beside her to stand alone, the Man that she knew, yet did not.
Aria opened her eyes, blinked, and inhaled. She heard a stirring beside her, and turned her head. Gazing back at her was the Man. The two beheld one another silently for a moment, then spoke in unison.
“Hello.”
END OF PART TWO
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Tahr is my first book, and from the moment I wrote the first scene with Barris standing before Halsen, I have been obsessed with the story at the expense of all else. I first wish to thank my family, Emily, Joey, Sean, and Bella, for not o
nly tolerating that fixation, but encouraging it. Without exception, my repeated calls from my office of, “Who wants the next chapter?” were met with enthusiasm. You guys are the best, and without your inspiration, Tahr would never have been finished.
I also wish to acknowledge Amers – you know who you are – for always being the very first to like my posts about Tahr on Facebook, and unfailingly having something kind to say. The same gratitude goes to my best bud Scott, who read every word of Tahr within hours of it first being written, providing feedback throughout the composition of the book.
Mostly, I thank Emily, the smartest person I have ever met, for always knowing when to gently criticize a style decision, and when to hit me over the head with a brick to ensure my obedience to conventions of grammar. This book is as much your work as mine, and I love you more than I could ever express.
Finally, I thank you, my first readers, for embarking on this adventure with me. Like you, I cannot wait to see how it ends.