by Dave Dickie
“I see,” replied Stegar. “And what happens when we get to the Nuffiok mountains?”
“Then you move to a safe distance, I give Hurrdrl the password, he communicates it to Brufuldor, and if Brufuldor unlocks the gate with it, I go free.”
“Communicate it to Brufuldor how?” asked Stegar, curious.
Daesal touched the amulet hidden under her dress. “These apparently have many uses. I noticed both the great trolls have them. I think they allow all great trolls to communicate over distances like a Nitheia communication ring, except it is some kind of group communication, not person to person. The trolls know I understand them when they speak and they are circumspect in their conversation about it, but I have gleaned that much. The great troll we killed in the city must have hidden his before he arrived. He did not need it, since he is--was--the only great troll on this plane.”
Stegar shook his head. “I see. I do not like the idea of leaving you alone with them. They could take you hostage, make you tell them the password.”
“But with you at a safe distance, there would be no point. What we know would get back to the elves, to Kethem, even if they take me. And there would be no one to try to find records of what the old Empire did to their gate for them.”
Stegar frowned. “I still do not like it.”
Daesal smiled. “I do not either, and I appreciate your concern, but running before the wind is the way to beat the storm. It is the best arrangement that everyone would agree to. Beldaer is unhappy. He wanted to port to elvish lands, but the trolls will not activate any of the teleportals linked to elvish destinations. I think that is good.”
“Yes. Beldaer is worrying me. He looks at you in a way I do not like.”
“We have been with Beldaer long enough that I can tell his mood from his scent. I sense it as well. He is thinking of doing me harm, but he keeps pulling back from a decision to do so.”
Stegar’s head snapped up. “You know this? Then we should confront him while he is indecisive. I fear that if his thoughts go the wrong way I will not be fast enough to stop him.”
“We owe him our lives, and we owe him for for his efforts on our behalf. Let it play out. If it seems like he has made a choice one way or the other, I will let you know.”
Stegar laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Trapped between trolls and elves, either of which could be our enemy or our friend, and they could say the same about each other. You have led us into precarious circumstances, my liege.” Then Stegar’s cheeks reddened. “I mean, my lady.”
Daesal was staring at him. While women held positions of power in a Hold, no woman had ever been made Lord Holder. “Trapped between many things, my friend. I know you think I lead this group, but I do not. We all have a say in where we go and what we do.”
But Stegar’s face had gone hard and pale. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, some little spark of pain that always floated behind them had gone out. He went down on one knee and lowered his head to touch his other knee. “I swear myself to you, to your service and your cause, your Hold and your lands. I promise on my soul that I will in the future be faithful to you, will never cause you harm, and will observe my homage to you completely against all persons in good faith and without deceit.” It was a variation on the Hold Ring ceremony, enacted when someone became a member of the hold or was promoted from Copper to Silver or Silver to Gold.
Daesal was taken aback, but then she grabbed his shoulders and tried to make him stand up. “Stegar, please. I am not your liege, I am your friend. Even if I could grant you a position in my Hold, you would owe no special allegiance to me. I am a Silver Ring, and truth be told an odd one at that, one that has wandered away from my Hold and my responsibility to it. I have no position, no standing that you should make an oath to me.”
Stegar stood and looked at her. His eyes were determined. “Daesal, I promised to see you and the others home, and I intend to. This is not about that, and it is not about your Hold or your position in it. You are someone I admire, someone I trust, and more than that, someone I choose to serve. I do not trust my judgement, Daesal, but I trust yours. I have spent the better part of three years lost, rudderless, afraid to face the day or myself. I may not be able to put all that behind me, but now I have a direction and a reason to be glad when I see the sun rise. I do not know what path you will lead us down, but I know it will be a just one, a worthy one, and I choose to walk it with you, one step to the right and one step behind you.”
Daesal stood quietly for a moment, stunned by his words. Finally, she shook her head and said, “Then let us walk it together, Stegar, as equals.” Stegar could see conflicting emotions running across her face. Concern was the foremost among them, and he thought he knew why. She had leaned back a little, like she was worried he was going to kneel and kiss her hand, a sudden concern about physical contact that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
He shook his head. “Daesal, do not be confused by what is happening here. I am not doing this out of some romantic fantasy about being in love with you. I need something to give my life meaning, I need a goal, a mission, something more than the next task that makes me enough coin to buy a few drinks. That goal is not you. It is what you do. You think you are trying to find out who and what your are, but that is just the beginning of something more, something worth serving. It is you trying to bind together races that have been fighting for centuries. It is you learning how to control world gates, not for power, but to see that when they are used they are used for the greater good. It is you trusting someone who is not human to do the right thing, even if it puts your life in peril.”
“And who would that someone be?” said Beldaer. Daesal jumped while Stegar whirled to face the elf, who had approached in the sudden gloom unnoticed. Stegar’s hand was on his sword. But Beldaer stood there empty-handed, apparently unconcerned.
“I was speaking metaphorically,” said Stegar. He willed his hand to let go of the pommel of his sword. Every instinct was telling him to draw and attack, but Daesal had made her decision clear.
Beldaer smiled. “I see.” He bowed to Daesal. “I must say that winning such devotion from your team speaks very highly of you.” He paused. “That, and many other things. I have not spent much time with humans, and then only on Lentella Holden, with merchants who are, perhaps, not the best representatives of your species. You, my lady, have made me realize my knowledge of your race is sadly lacking, and if we do make our way back to our respective places, I am going to remedy that. I hope you will do me the honor of being my guide to the human lands, with the good Stegar along to protect you from whatever dangers that might entail.” He looked back at the building, where glow disks had come on to light the area around the entrance. “I think it is, perhaps, time to retreat inside and rest. The paths of blood will be an arduous journey, and it would be best if we began it well rested.” He bowed again to Daesal, did the same to Stegar, then turned and walked toward the entryway. The trolls were already at the door, moving inside.
Stegar looked at Daesal apologetically. “I am sorry. I should have been paying more attention, should not have let Beldaer close enough to overhear us without warning you.”
Daesal was watching Beldaer’s retreating back. “Don’t. I believe Beldaer has made his decision. I do not think we need to worry about an attack from that quarter any longer.”
Stegar tipped his head to her. “I will watch in any case, but will do as you wish.”
Daesal shook her head ruefully. “As I wish. Stegar, the road we are on is going to be long if you begin treating me as your captain. This conversation is not over, but we will continue it at a later time.”
“As you wish,” said Stegar, grinning a little, then laughing openly when she stamped her foot. “After you, my lady,” he said, making a flourish toward the door. Daesal gave an exasperated sigh but turned and marched toward the building. Stegar walked just behind and to the right of her, hand on his sword, watching carefully.
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nbsp; Chapter Twenty Three
They were in no man’s land, rugged terrain making every mile they covered feel like ten. Mountains reared above them, gray cliffs broken by dark pine forests where the slopes were shallow enough that vegetation could take hold. It was majestic and drew the eye, but glancing away from where you were placing your feet was asking for a broken ankle or scratches from the small, thorny plants that grew between the rocks. As it was, Daesal had several cuts, since they grew along with just enough grass to make them hard to see. Occasionally, there would be something that attested to the constant skirmishes that had been fought up and down these valleys during the fall. Pieces of rusting metal, barely recognizable as armor, scorch marks burned into rock from heat beams and lightning bolts, rock that had turned molten and run like water where it was hit, occasional piles of rotting wood that had been a wagon of some kind.
How someone could have navigated through the broken field of rock with a wagon was beyond Daesal. Maybe it was something else. There was too little left to know for sure.
Hurrdrl was with Daesal. The group had strung out in a long line over the course of the day. Stegar was not far behind, but Daesal had given him a sign to leave her and the great troll some room, which he obeyed instantly, which irritated her. She needed to finish that conversation with him and stop this foolishness once and for all. But they hadn’t had any time together when others were not in earshot.
Daesal had signaled Stegar to hang back because she could smell Hurrdrl, a strange scent, coppery and flowery at the same time, like blood poured over a rose bush. She was getting better at reading troll scent’s nuances, and she could tell he wanted to ask her something. That, and he was obviously trying to stay close to her. With his enormous strides, he could cover the same distance she did in half the time. He had to work to maintain the same pace.
Finally Nyjha, who was in the front and flanked by lesser trolls, jumped up on a tall rock and waved for a rest stop. There were lesser trolls in the back as well, but they were carrying supplies. The ones in front carried weapons.
Daesal sat down. She could see Stegar wiping sweat off his forehead, the scrambling over broken rock difficult enough to beat the cooler temperatures in the mountain passes. Daesal wished she could sweat. It would make her more normal. She pretended, like she did back in Kethem, to be wiping her brow, but it was just for show.
Hurrdrl cleared his throat, and Daesal looked at him. “Gruggrul. What happened to him?” asked the troll.
Daesal paused for a moment, not sure what she should say, but she finally sighed. “He died. We tried to talk to him, much as we did to you, but he would not listen. He was going to kill Beldaer. We had no choice.”
Hurrdrl nodded, grimacing. “I had suspected as much. I did not want to ask where Brufuldor could in turn ask me.”
“Why?” asked Daesal. “I would think you would trust one of your own kind.”
Hurrdrl looked pained. “Because the elf is right--the sword is affecting us. Brufuldor is one of the ones that checks on it. Recently, we have had a hard time stopping those that do from checking on it ever more frequently, like they are drawn to it. And they have become angry, and volatile. Brufuldor’s judgement is questionable.”
Daesal digested that. “And your judgement?”
Hurrdrl shrugged. “Possibly impaired as well. It is hard to say. Even though it has only been a short time for us in the shallow time, it is still a shock to have lost Vrargron Mard Chazun. And the ones that have been out here,” and Hurrdrl waved at the surrounds, “they come back when they are old, and they seem broken. They have lost hope. Do you blame me for being angry?”
“I do not,” said Daesal. “But you have overcome it. At one time, all our races were at peace. I hope that that can be the way of things again. But no matter, friends or enemies, I cannot stand by and watch a race be extinguished. I will do my best to find what I can. Not many records survive from before the fall, and what was not destroyed in the fighting was discarded in many cases as worthless during the interregnum. But there are libraries in Kethem, in Pranan, that still hold pre-fall texts. There may be an answer in there that no one knew to look for.”
Hurrdrl sighed. “It gives me hope. Not only that we can regain Vrargron Mard Chazun, but that our races can once again find a way to co-exist. Even the elves.”
“Yes. The elves,” said Daesal thoughtfully. “I will say Beldaer seems honorable. I know he has some agenda that is not entire aligned with ours, but he has done what he can to help us at great personal risk.”
Hurrdrl snorted. “All elves are honorable. But they all have hidden agendas, and secrets, and rules. They are the oldest of the four races, the most knowledgeable of the gates and how they work. They share when we share, and yet somehow they always learned more from us than we do from them. We say, you can trust what an elf says, but you cannot trust what he means.”
Daesal laughed and said, “I see, and I will keep that in mind. But we owe Beldaer a debt. He helped us when there was no benefit to him.” Then she realized Hurrdrl had shifted to great troll in his last sentence, and she had flipped on the amulet automatically and responded to the translation the amulet was showing her without thinking about it. She grimaced. “It seems the elves are not the only ones who can be tricky with their words.”
Hurrdrl was frowning at her. “I did not mean to do that. But I do wish to know how you speak our language. We did not allow it back before the fall, and I do not think it has become commonplace some five centuries later.”
Daesal tentatively reached out to touch the amulet hanging from Hurrdrl’s neck. He drew back a bit before her finger connected. “What is this?”
“Cha Harrud. The vote. It is a gate-created artifact. You humans still use a political structure based on land ownership?” Daesal nodded. “In the troll republic, everyone votes. This,” and he tapped on the amulet, “allows those who hold an opinion to be heard, open debate that all can read. At some point, there will be a motion to vote, and then all vote as they see fit. It has other capabilities as well, including transla…” and the troll stopped. He looked more carefully and saw the chain around her neck, running down under her dress. “No. You cannot be wearing the Cha Harrud. It is designed to be safe only for a great troll. Any other race that wears it… it would drive you mad.”
“It tries when I use it, but I have learned to deal with it.”
Hurrdrl looked at her strangely. “What are you? Human, elf, or orc, any of them should be reduced to a gibbering madman within minutes.”
Daesal smiled. “I am human, I assure you.” Then she thought about it, about the things she could do that no human could, and the smile slipped. But she continued, “Humans are different, and I have always been the far end of different, that is all.”
Hurrdrl cocked his head. “I do not think so. You are strange, Daesal. And yet I do believe you mean what you say.” He reached out with a finger the size of a thick branch and touched the spot over the amulet on her dress. The little nut of madness the amulet created disappeared at the same time. “I have deactivated it. You understand there are records of things that we do not want shared encoded on the Cha Harrud.”
Daesal felt a sense of loss. The ability to read and listen to great troll had opened doors that had been closed for centuries. She had done some minimal experimentation with the amulet’s other functions, but had not gone far, worried about it running out of mana, but even those short glimpses hinted at secrets from back before the fall. But she nodded in agreement. “It was almost drained anyway. I swear to you that I did not see anything you would be concerned about.”
Hurrdrl nodded. “I take you at your word. Where did you find this?” Daesal told him about the cave that had started their little adventure. Hurrdrl said, “A forward listening post. Destroyed by humans. It must have been a fast death for the wearer not to have time to deactivate it. We do that to prevent injury to others,” he explained.
“I see,” said Daesal.
/> Hurrdrl looked up. “Your scout is signaling that it is time to move again.”
Daesal groaned a bit. “Then I supposed we should be about it. How long is this trip again?”
“Seven more days. Longer than I thought. I did not take into account that you would move so slowly compared to us.”
“Well, given your mistake, I expect you to entertain me for the length of the march with stories of the pre-fall days, Human or troll. So much of it was lost during the fall.”
Hurrdrl nodded and smiled. “We have stories much like yours, but they are meant to be sung in our tongue.”
Daesal laughed. “Sing then, and then tell me what it means, and perhaps I will sing for you, although I make no promises about the quality of my voice.” And in a low, vibrating baritone that Daesal could feel in her bones, Hurrdrl did sing, and it was beautiful and somehow moving even without knowing what the words meant, and Daesal suddenly found the journey much less arduous than it had felt before.
Chapter Twenty Four
The trolls clustered around Hurrdrl and Daesal. The mountains had grown shorter and rounder and finally turned into foothills covered in grass. There had been one mighty river to cross. Fortunately the remains of the old ring road that had connected the human-controlled parts of Tawhiem, Pranan, and Kethem travelled through the area. A mostly intact bridge that had survived the fall made it relatively easy to cross the river.
Nyjha was nodding. “This, I know. I can guide us back from here, to Nol, the bartering grounds. Kethem ships will be there, trading with the Ibisi tribes under the peace sign.”
So they had camped for the night, and now it was time to part ways. Daesal took Stegar aside and said, “Take Nyjha and the others. I will give you four hours to put distance between us. That will put you outside the range of tracking spells the trolls may have. Then hide. I will follow. If there are trolls, stay hidden.”
Stegar nodded. “As you command.”