by Dave Dickie
Daesal turned to Hurrdrl and called out more loudly, “The others are ready to depart. I will stay and give you the password when they have put some distance between us.”
Beldaer said, “I would like to stay with you and the trolls, Daesal. There is no more risk with two of us here than one.”
Stegar looked like he was going to object but Daesal held up her hand and he desisted. “I would welcome the company,” she said.
Stegar stood for a moment, then said with a grimace, “I leave Daesal in your hands. Do not make me regret it.” Beldaer just nodded.
With that, the humans gathered their things and moved off into the waist-high grass. Twenty minutes later, they were too far away to see. Hurrdrl had the lesser trolls flatten an area of the grass and lay out blankets and food. “Might as well make it a pleasant four hours,” he said. When the lesser trolls were done, they retreated far enough from the flattened area to be out of hearing range.
Hurrdrl, Daesal and Beldaer chatted for a while over a simple meal of cheese and bread. In the time they had spent marching, Daesal had come to like the troll. When he relaxed, he was quick with a pun, which had to be hard in a different language. He had done his best to sing some of the troll stories in common, which threw the rhyme and tempo off, but his deep sonorous voice had nonetheless given it an epic, magical feel. He had been courteous and kind, helping Daesal and others when the terrain became broken enough to have a good chance of a bad spill, which he navigated with a grace that belied his size.
She thought that he had come to like her as well.
The four hours passed quickly, and finally Daesal sighed and said, “I have enjoyed our time together, Hurrdrl, but it has been long enough. Thank you for everything you have done. I will do what research I can, and I will meet you here in six months’ time, the day on which the small moon rises at the same time as the large one. You have my word.”
“I have enjoyed our time together as well,” said the troll, sounding sentimental, “and I look forward to seeing you again, regardless of the outcome of your search.” He turned to Beldaer. “You, too, friend elf. I am sorry for some of the things I said in the past.”
Beldaer turned away and his head hung down. Daesal and Hurrdrl glanced at each other. Daesal asked “What is it Beldaer?”.
Beldaer turned back. His expression was grim. “You do not need to apologize, Hurrdrl, for what you said is the truth. You have acted in good faith, you and Daesal. I have not.”
Hurrdrl looked alarmed. “What do you mean?”
“I know how to determine the location of your secondary gate.”
Hurrdrl frowned. “How?”
“When I was attempting to use your console, the timer gave me enough information to decipher your numbering system. The gate transfer commands were locked out, but I saw the distance to the three elvish gates and have memorized them. With that information, it is possible to triangulate a location.”
Daesal stood, shocked and unsure what to do. But Hurrdrl did not become angry. Instead, he looked thoughtful. “Why are you telling me this? You would have been free to go. Now--”
Beldaer nodded. “Now you cannot allow it. I understand. I would like to offer my services to you in the same way Daesal has, although not by sifting through human records, but by working with the gate panel to try to find a solution. But if that is not what you wish, so be it. I will abide by whatever decision you make.”
Daesal finally shook herself free of paralysis. “But why, Beldaer? You could have just kept it a secret from the other elves and from us. There was no need to exile yourself.”
“D’Eruanna,” said Hurrdrl. “He could not keep it a secret.”
Beldaer nodded and said to Daesal, “we have a telepathic link to each other, we elves. What one knows, others will as well. I could hold myself apart, but it would be apparent I was doing so, and I would be forced to join the racial mind matrix. The others would pick the information from my brain, that and other things.”
“Other things?” asked Daesal.
“You have learned gate commands, Daesal. Even what I showed you might be enough to be an issue, but you went far beyond that. For a human to have that knowledge today is a death sentence among my people. The D’shar, the night squad, they would find you, and they would kill you, and anyone else they thought you might have taught. If I return… you are dead.”
Daesal grabbed the elf’s hands. “Why are knowing these commands so serious an offense to the elves? You have been so circumspect about the gates, but I do not understand why.”
Beldaer closed his eyes. “Before the great war, everyone but the orcs had a gate. The low orcs, at least, did not. The Ohulhug, the high orcs, might have had one, but if so we saw no indication of it. The humans, as far as we knew, had one, a secondary gate with many of the main functions locked out.” He opened his eyes. “The gates are dangerous. We were… complacent, because we did not think the human gate could use any of the more powerful features. But you are a determined and surprisingly clever race. We have sophisticated scrying spells and ways to combine them with magical artifacts to collect and review information. Somehow the humans of that time learned to block them. They created the eleven master swords using the gate’s ability to bind living things and raw chaos, the most powerful substance in the universe, with us unaware of them doing it, or how they did it.”
“A process like the one you use to create the salsenahain?” asked Daesal.
Beldaer looked sharply at her. “You have found more than just gate commands, I see.” He sighed and continued. “Not like the salsenahain. That is a method by which we reshape them from what they were to what we need them to be, but they are fundamentally human at the start and finish of that process. But there is one aspect that is very much like the salsenahain, and that is why what the humans had done was so wrong. Salsenahain make this transformation willingly. This is even more important when you bind a life and raw chaos. You create an artifact, because a living body cannot hold the result. You must put the soul of the individual and the chaos in something more durable. A sword, a stone, something inorganic. But like the salsenahain, the life must be voluntarily given. If it is done by force, the result is something dark and twisted. And that is just the beginning. The power of chaos can corrupt the living around it. It can bend the rules that make the world work, the laws of nature that allow us to live in this land, and that can have consequences that are far worse.” Beldaer turned to Hurrdrl. “You know this, and yet you keep one of those abominations.”
Hurrdrl nodded. “Yes. Because if we fail to find a solution to the corruption of the gate at Vrargron Mard Chazun, it may be our only hope of surviving as a race. You know the gates work by tapping chaos directly. The twelfth major sword, the elvish one, you know what it was capable of.”
“So there were twelve major swords,” said Daesal, “just like the legends said.”
Beldaer nodded. “Yes. Well, yes, for the gathering that ended up starting the great war. The elves have others, although not as powerful as the one in your legends. But at the time, the humans had let it be known they were unveiling eleven gate-forged swords. We agreed to bring one of our most powerful as a demonstration of our own capabilities in gate binding. That was Tordynnar Miarel. It means ‘maker of change’ in your tongue.”
Daesal turned to Hurrdrl. “And the great trolls?”
“Combining a soul and raw chaos is one of the gate commands the elves chose not to share with us,” said Hurrdrl dryly.
Beldaer looked pained. “It is knowledge that would have upset the balance of power. Binding the living and chaos is a difficult task, and it often goes wrong. There are not many elves, and we do not have many children, so we only do it if there is great need, and there have been more failures than successes. A more prolific race would be able to try again and again. We have long experience with it, an advantage, but it would disappear quickly if another race could learn by constant trial and error.”
“And
if this binding fails, what happens?” asked Daesal.
“The person dies.”
“I am not sure there would be many volunteers under those conditions,” said Daesal thoughtfully.
“There would be enough. But it was worse than that. Humans hadn’t found volunteers, they had forced others into the joining against their will. At the gathering, it became clear that the humans had infected themselves with the dark spirit of their eleven swords, were twisted in ways that would forever taint them. And the humans that were corrupted were the ones in power, the ones that controlled access to the gate, that ruled the human empire.”
Hurrdrl nodded in agreement. “The elves told the great trolls, and together we decided to take action. The humans were turning feral, turning on themselves. If they had not, the power of their swords would have won the day. Instead, we took control of the gate, just for a minute, but a minute was long enough.”
“Long enough for what?” asked Daesal, but there was a pit of fear in her stomach.
“Long enough to open a portal to a universe known to us that is almost pure chaos, to pull some through. When raw chaos is physically combined with matter it creates a release of energy. An explosion, a large one.”
“The destruction of the Lanotalis Island. That was you,” said Daesal, horrified. “You destroyed the emperor and his scion, caused the war of the two houses!”
“Yes,” said Hurrdrl. “It was not intentional. We needed to destroy the swords quickly. The human leaders were what you call collateral damage, although by that time they were so tainted by the swords it was a mercy to kill them all. There was no way to know that the human empire would split in two and each side would wage war on each other.”
Beldaer spoke up again. “There was no time to evacuate anyone from the island. Many elves died, and my race lost of some of our greatest leaders. Many great trolls as well. We decided there would be no further opportunity for humans to use the gates until they were deemed worthy of our trust. For a human to learn how to use the gates would be met with death.”
“But knowing how to use the gates is pointless if you do not have one,” said Daesal.
“We do not know where all of them are. We learned the humans had another gate, one that was and remains hidden to us. Possibly more than one.”
“How?” said Daesal. “How do you know this?”
“We do. I do not want to make you more of a target for the D’shar than I already have. We know. It has not been activated in many centuries, or at least not in any significant way, but it is still out there.”
Hurrdrl said, “You tell her this, and tell me that you know where our gate is, and you know I cannot let you leave with that knowledge. Why?”
Beldaer paused for a moment. Finally he said, “I do not know, but it is not in me to betray you or Daesal and her friends. With Gruggrul, I saw the mistrust between our races and what it does to us when it is unbridled. But I have also been shown what might be accomplished if we can put that mistrust aside. I find myself hopeful that there is a better way, a better future for all of us, if some are strong enough to take the first steps down the road toward peace.”
Hurrdrl looked at Beldaer curiously. Finally, he nodded. “I accept your offer of help and I thank you for it. Your people know things about the gate we do not. Perhaps we have been foolish not to look for help after so many fruitless years of trying on our own.”
“Perhaps,” said Beldaer. “It is all behind us now. Let us hope for a better outcome in the future.”
Daesal struggled to find words and failed. Finally she moved closer to Beldaer, pulled his head down to hers, and pressed her lips to his. It wasn’t a passionate kiss. She had done that once when she was younger, and it still gave her nightmares. So this kiss wasn’t passionate, but it was warm. It was the only way she could say her thanks strongly enough. He tasted of new mown grass and cold spring water, not like a human at all. But she could still read things, confusion, a tinge of regret, a dash of hope, and most of all, a sense of peace, a decision having been made after a long period of questions with no clear answers. He looked down at her, clear blue eyes staring into hers. “Go, join your friends. Warn them not to speak of what you know.”
She turned back to Hurrdrl. “The password is Hediro. I will wait for you to confirm it with Brufuldor,” she said.
Hurrdrl shook his massive head. “No need. There is a time to confirm, and a time to trust. I judge this the latter.” Daesal nodded and, not trusting herself to speak, turned and headed out into the grass, following the trail Stegar and the others had left.
Chapter Twenty Five
Stegar waited with the others on the hill, kneeling to keep everything other than the top of his head below the level of the tall grass. His stomach churned. He tried taking deep breaths, tried his old technique of methodically going through his wounds, his equipment, his surroundings, taking stock of his current situation. He couldn’t keep his mind on it. Hantlin touched him on the shoulder. “It has not been long enough,” he said. “She will be here. Do not worry.” Stegar just grunted. He’d left her with Beldaer, and while Daesal could take the high ground and give people her unconditional trust, it was not in his nature to do so. It was, in fact, his job to do the exact opposite.
So he waited and worried.
Nyjha had found a good spot, five hills looking down on the flatter grasslands they had been tramping through. At Nyjha’s direction, they had gone from pushing through the grass in a random grouping, trampling things flat as they moved forward, to walking single file with Nyjha in the back, obfuscating the trail. They had then made their way to one of the hills. From there, they could see anyone following their trail, but anyone trying to find them would have to pick from five different locations when it vanished. Of course, the great trolls could have spells to find them, but Stegar had Gruggrul’s artificer’s weapon, and while he did not know how many charges it had, Daesal had promised him it had at least one. One was all he needed. If he took Hurrdrl down, the lesser trolls might kill him, but they had no magic and the others could scatter and escape.
Stegar had taken off his armor and retrieved Daesal’s notes from his buckler. If they had to run, the armor and shield would be a hindrance, and he very much doubted they would be of much use against a troll. Gyeong had the right of it; against trolls, you need to be nimble, quick, and more than anything else, not let them land a blow. Not that he intended to get into combat with them, but if things went south he was better off with agility than protection.
When the clock hit the four hour mark his heart began beating heavily, and he couldn’t stop himself from continuously scanning the grasslands, but it was Nyjha with his sharp eyes that saw Daesal first. “She is coming, alone,” Nyjha said. Stegar strained his eyes and still could not see anything, but he trusted the Ibisi scout and felt himself relax for the first time since they had left.
“She and Beldaer?” Stegar asked.
“No, just Daesal.”
That caused a little knot of worry to return, because that was not the plan, but it was lost in the flood of relief that Daesal was back. Still, he signaled for everyone to hold positions. Daesal finally came into view and continued to the end of the trail they had left, then raised an arm, clenched her hand into a fist, and waved it back and forth three times. That was the signal that all was well. Stegar stood up and waved back. She started moving toward them, but Stegar ran down the hill and was standing in front of her before she was a third of the way there. He grabbed her hands, looking into her eyes. “What is wrong?” he said. She didn’t look worried, or like she was in pain, but there was something there in her eyes, something grey and sad.
“Beldaer stayed behind,” she said. She explained what had happened when she parted from the great trolls.
Stegar nodded. “It seems you judged him correctly, then, and it seems I owe him a debt. One that I doubt I can repay in this life. Perhaps the next.”
“Perhaps the next,” said Daesal. “Or
perhaps this one. Hurrdrl was open to the suggestion of letting him help, which means that he will let Beldaer access the gate control panel. They may only unlock the things Beldaer is experimenting with, but it still implies a trust that I find encouraging. Perhaps what started here as a gesture of friendship can take root and grow. Some day, all three races may be at peace again.”
Stegar sighed. “Optimistic to the end. I have little hope that will happen. But we will see. Certainly the things I have seen on this trip seemed equally improbable. But in the meantime, we need to move. While everything may be as you say, I do not want to assume that Hurrdrl has not been following you with a plan to attack when we reunited.”
Daesal nodded, and they made their way back to the top of the hill, where Nyjha, Gyeong, Hantlin and Grim were already prepared to move. Stegar looked at his armor. It wasn’t particularly good armor, and while it had been well-maintained, it was showing signs of wear. If he abandoned it, it would be expensive to replace, used and basic as it was. But Nyjha had said it was two weeks’ travel to Nol, and on a trek that long it was going to be a burden. It would slow the group down. While there would be other opportunities to purchase replacements, it still felt wrong, like he was leaving a piece of himself behind. He touched it for a moment, then stood and walked away from it.
Grim glanced at the armor, then at Stegar. “Leaving it behind?” Stegar nodded but didn’t look back, his face expressionless. Grim flashed a brief smile that Stegar could not see. While Stegar might still think of himself as armored against the world, physically and emotionally, Grim had watched that self-imposed isolation slowly crumble in the last few weeks, and he thought Stegar a better man for it. Grim looked one more time at the armor. It wasn’t particularly fine armor, but Grim was not a man that liked leaving copper coins on the floor. But it looked heavy, and Stegar might find it offensive if he found out Grim had scavenged pieces of it. With a sigh, Grim turned and followed Stegar, leaving the armor where it sat.