by A. Giannetti
“A masterful performance, Ascilius,” said Falco cheerfully. “You have broken the back of the enemy!”
“Indeed, you have proved yourself a cunning and brave commander,” added Durio gruffly.
“Eonis should receive some of the credit,” replied Ascilius modestly. “Without his help, we would never have gained a foothold on the dike.”
“The archers were my idea, not your uncle’s,” replied Durio dryly. “He and Herias were against taking such a risk, but I overruled them. Eonis was beside himself with anger, but I think he grew ashamed when he saw even the lytlings going bravely off to join the battle. In the end, he decided to lead the attack and forced Herias to accompany him. I do not think that sat well with Herias, but he took a crossbow like the rest when your uncle threatened him with his staff,” concluded Durio with a grim smile.
“The staff of a king can be a perilous weapon in the right hands,” interjected Elerian, his eyes sparkling with laughter. All three Dwarves looked at him quizzically with their dark eyes, especially Ascilius, but Elerian remained silent, refusing to explain the source of his amusement.
“You are best served by ignoring him,” suggested Ascilius to Falco and Durio. “He is not all there at times, you know,” he said sadly as he suggestively tapped his right temple with his right forefinger.
“This is no time for levity, for there is much still to be done,” said Durio disapprovingly, his stern gaze falling on both Ascilius and Elerian. “I have set traps and erected barriers inside the city to delay the Goblins from reaching the back gate, but there is no telling how long they will delay the enemy host. I must set our warriors to building a ramp as quickly as possible before the dike so that we can empty the city, but order also needs to be restored to the battlefield. That task must fall on you Ascilius. Falco and perhaps your capricious companion, too, can aid you.” With Tonare by his side, Durio immediately set off for the dike.
“Gather what help you need and bring all our wounded to a safe place near the road,” Ascilius said quietly to Falco. “All of the enemy dead and our own slain warriors are to be burnt in two separate pyres so that if the Goblins or their allies return here searching for meat after we leave, they will find only ashes to sustain them,” he concluded grimly.
“What of the enemy wounded?” asked Falco.
“Kill them and burn their bodies too,” said Ascilius in a voice cold as winter, his hatred for the Goblins lighting a fire in his dark eyes.
After Falco walked away to carry out his orders, Elerian followed Ascilius as he sought out the captains of the Dwarf host, ordering them to burn the Goblin camp in order to destroy the great store of weapons and food that the enemy had left behind. The battlefield had just begun to take on a more orderly appearance when Eonis walked up to stand before Ascilius, a sullen Herias trailing along behind him.
Elerian was astonished at the transformation in the old king. His mail shone brightly in the afternoon sun, and a fierce light burned in his dark eyes, lending a younger more vigorous look to his lined face. The spring in his step did not surprise him quite so much, however, considering the energetic manner in which the old fellow had battled the illusory spider Elerian loosed in his sitting room.
“I have earned my keep today nephew as have all of our old warriors, our muere, and even our lytlings,” said Eonis cheerfully to Ascilius. “Your assault on the Goblins would have foundered on the dike without my help.”
“The old fraud,” thought Elerian indignantly to himself as he listened to Eonis’s boasting. “He is taking credit for Durio’s initiative, which he opposed, and demeaning Ascilius all in the same breath.”
“Your help was certainly invaluable,” conceded Ascilius generously. “Your archers broke the back of the enemy.”
“Yes they did,” said Eonis swinging his staff fiercely. A gleam of laughter appeared in Elerian’s gray eyes as Herias involuntarily ducked his head, and it was all he could do not to smile as he recalled the unintended drubbing the sullen Dwarf had received from his uncle’s staff.
“I must say that it made my old bones young again, seeing our enemies fall before us,” continued Eonis. “Even Herias has turned into a warrior,” he added, pointing to his nephew who stood by his left side looking surly and ill at ease in the trappings of war.
“Yes, it is truly amazing what a little encouragement from a stout stave will accomplish,” thought Elerian to himself, making no attempt to hide the amusement in his eyes from Herias. The Dwarf glowered back at him but held his tongue after a quick, sidelong glance at Eonis.
“I was wrong not to listen to you from the first, Ascilius,” continued Eonis after a moment, speaking slowly as if he must force each word past his bearded lips. “Even though it would have failed without my help, your plan was well conceived and executed, although I still do not understand how you left the passageway without being discovered.”
“Elerian hid our forces behind an illusion spell, uncle,” said Ascilius, his voice reflecting his pride in Elerian’s magical abilities.
“Well, that was certainly clever of him,” replied Eonis, his tone seeming to imply that he valued cleverness rather less than strength of arms. “I am sure though that one of our own mages could have done the same had you bothered to ask.”
Ascilius frowned for a moment at the slight his uncle had directed toward Elerian before smoothing his face into more agreeable lines.
“Be that as it may, uncle, I think Elerian is still deserving of some small reward for his part in the battle,” he suggested in a casual voice.
“He has my thanks,” replied Eonis sharply. “That should be reward enough.” As if even the suggestion of parting with some of his wealth had unduly distressed him, he suddenly hastened away as if he had urgent business elsewhere. Casting a last sullen look at Elerian and his uncle, Herias followed after him.
Elerian suddenly felt sorry for Ascilius. “If the rest of his family treated him like this close-fisted, caustic old fellow, it is no wonder that he left home as often as he did,” he thought to himself sympathetically.
“Well, I tried Elerian,” said Ascilius with a sigh when Eonis was out of earshot. “I think my uncle would sooner give up an arm or a leg than a gold coin. He ought to at least have been more generous with his praise for your help.”
“I require neither his gold nor his compliments,” Elerian assured Ascilius. “Now that Anthea has freed me from the burden of gaining a treasure, I need only wait until you and your people are safe before departing for Tarsius.”
“You may wait a long time then,” said Ascilius, his mood suddenly turning somber. “We are still a long way from Iulius and the safety it offers.”
“What a gloomy fellow you are at times, Ascilius,” observed Elerian as they walked north along the road which led through the enemy camp. All around them, orange flames were consuming the black tents of the Goblins, sending up clouds of dark smoke into the still air. “Even you must admit that our condition is much improved. A few hours ago we were trapped beneath the mountain behind us. Now we are free of that stony tomb with at least a chance of reaching safety.”
“A very slim chance,” replied Ascilius refusing to be roused from his gloomy state of mind.
Well used by now to his companion’s volatile nature, Elerian gave over trying to lighten Ascilius’s mood, concentrating instead on the rough wooden pens that now appeared before him. A crowd of newly released slaves was gathered before them. Men made up the greater part of the wretched group, but there were also a few Dwarves. Together, they had provided the labor which had raised the dike before the back gate. With their usefulness at an end, they had been waiting their turn to serve as food for the Goblins and mutare stationed in the nearby camp.
A thin Dwarf with white hair and a snowy beard standing near the outer edge of the throng of freed slaves suddenly called out to Ascilius who immediately rushed forward and caught up the old fellow in a joyous bear hug.
“What of the others, Kozma?
” Elerian heard him ask and guessed from the question that Kozma was one of the Dwarves taken prisoner with Ascilius in Tarsius.
“I have not seen them since we entered the mines,” replied the old Dwarf sadly. “I have no idea if any of them survived. When I grew too old to labor in the Dark King’s smithies, I was sent here to work on the dike. Like the other slaves, I would have ended my days on a spit over a low fire. Torquatus does not value Dwarves as much now that his war has begun. He believes that soon he will have no end of Dwarf slaves.”
“What he wishes for and what he receives may be entirely different,” replied Ascilius grimly. “For now you are safe, old friend,” he continued warmly. “When I have less to do we will talk but for now, I must leave you.” Calling over a Dwarf warrior, Ascilius charged him with caring for his old friend.
“We will take the freed Dwarves with us to Iulius,” said Ascilius to Elerian when the pair walked away, “but I do not know what to do with the human slaves. The Hesperians might be welcomed into Iulius, but the Ancharians would never be allowed past the front gate.”
Because of the cruel treatment the Ancharians had directed at the Dwarf race in the past, Elerian knew that they now held a strong antipathy for all Ancharians.
“Perhaps it would be best if I talked to the men we have freed,” he suggested to Ascilius. “Gather them all in one place where I can address them, and I will see if some solution presents itself that is agreeable to everyone.”
Relieved that he would not have to deal with the Ancharians, Ascilius immediately ordered some of his Dwarves to bring all of the human slaves together near the base of the hillock that stood to the west of the Goblin encampment. When they were all assembled, Elerian walked a little way up the side of the hill until he gained a vantage point from which he could see all of the men standing silently below him. Many were Hesperians, easily distinguished by their short stature. Elerian examined them closely, but saw only the faces of strangers among them. The rest of the slaves were Ancharians who, no doubt, had in some way offended the Goblins. Tall and dark, grim and wasted from their labors, they retained a proud, haughty look on their lean features that was entirely out of keeping with their wretched condition. Long ago, Elerian would have felt uncomfortable under the cold, still arrogant looks they cast in his direction, but he found himself unaffected now.
“The regard of all other creatures is reduced to insignificance after one has endured the dreadful gaze of the Dark King of the Goblins,” he thought grimly to himself, remembering his near fatal encounter with Torquatus in the dungeons of Calenus. In a clear, penetrating voice, he began to address the freed slaves.
“The Dwarves are abandoning Galenus. Do you wish to accompany them to Iulius or go your own way?”
The Hesperians in the gathering remained silent, their spirits broken and made fearful by their harsh treatment by the Goblins, but one of the Ancharians, a man with an air of authority about him, suddenly spoke.
“How is it that a Tarsi speaks for the little people?” he asked in a suspicious voice. Because of the illusion which disguised him, he had mistaken Elerian for a rider of the plains.
“My authority comes from the commander of the Dwarf host,” replied Elerian patiently. “He will honor whatever choice you make.”
“In that case we Ancharians will return to our homeland,” replied the freed slave. His response did not surprise Elerian in the least, given his past experience with Ancharians. “The Hesperians may accompany us if they wish,” continued the Ancharian. “Once we reach Ancharia, we will give them guides who will take them as far south as Lascar.”
“The Goblins control all the country to the south,” Elerian warned the Ancharian. “You may have a difficult time avoiding them all.”
“The wood craftiness of my people far exceeds that of both the Tarsi and the Dwarves,” replied the Ancharian proudly. “It will more than suffice to guide us past any Goblins we encounter, for they will be intent on hunting your Dwarf allies and will pay little heed to anything else.”
“Even if you reach Ancharia, you may not be safe there,” cautioned Elerian, for he was not sure how long the Ancharians had been absent from their homeland. “Many of your people have renewed their old alliance with the Goblins.”
“There will still be remote places where my people still rule themselves,” replied the Ancharian arrogantly. “If you give us arms and a little food, we will have no trouble reaching one of these havens.”
“Wait here then while I will bring your request to the commander of the Dwarf host,” Elerian replied.
“I have done all that I can to apprise them of the dangers that lie in their path,” he thought to himself as he sought out Ascilius to arrange for supplies to be brought to the freed slaves. “Their fate now lies in their own hands.”
Elerian soon returned with Ascilius by his side as well as several wagonloads of provisions and arms. The two companions waited side by side as the freed slaves silently equipped themselves. Despite having been made free men, they all seemed subdued to Elerian, even the Ancharians. There was no laughter or talk among them or even a smile.
“Perhaps their wasted condition and the daunting journey that they face have both affected their mood, reducing them to a melancholy state,” thought Elerian to himself as they formed themselves into a column. Led by those Ancharians experienced in woodcraft, they disappeared into the forest to the west of the Goblin encampment. Elerian had not been apprised of the route that they would follow, but he guessed that they would travel west for a bit before turning south, a course which would take them around the western flank of Celsus and the Goblins who might be lurking there. The Ancharian who had first spoken to Elerian was the last in line.
“Good fortune to you,” said Elerian as he passed by.
“Save your well wishes for yourself,” advised the Ancharian with no hint of gratitude in his voice that Elerian could detect. “My company stands a better chance of returning to Ancharia than you do of ever seeing the walls of Iulius,” he said sardonically before walking away, his haughty bearing more suited to a prince of the realm than a freed slave.
“A pleasant day to you, too,” muttered Ascilius scathingly as the Ancharian disappeared into the forest.
“Not all Ancharians are as unappreciative as that one,” said Elerian to Ascilius, thinking back to his meeting with Tomas many years ago in far off Ancharia.
“Perhaps not, but every one of them that I have ever met has been stiff-necked and proud beyond all reason,” replied Ascilius heatedly as he turned to face Elerian
“Just like Dwarves,” suggested Elerian innocently.
“Exactly,” replied Ascilius. “Wait, I mean no, confound it,” he said indignantly when he noticed the laughter in Elerian’s gray eyes. “Dwarves are proud, with good reason I might add, but we never betrayed our allies to the Goblins in return for some vague promise of immortality. The Ancharians more than deserve all the enmity and misfortune that has befallen them since the Great War,” he concluded in a passionate voice entirely lacking in any sympathy for a race that he intensely disliked. Ascilius suddenly frowned when he realized that Elerian was only half listening.
“What shall we do with this fellow behind you, Ascilius?” asked Elerian suddenly, his bright gaze focused on a point behind the Dwarf’s left shoulder. “I have not met anyone like him before in all of my travels through the Middle Realm.”
THE AFTERMATH
Ascilius immediately spun around on his left heel and saw that one prisoner had not followed the others. He was short like a Hesperian but had black hair and eyes like an Ancharian. Through the rips in his worn, dirty tunic, his lean body seemed reduced to skin and bones by hunger and toil. Seeing that he now had the attention of both Ascilius and Elerian, the freed slave began to speak in a voice that was both hesitant and apprehensive.
“My name is Triarus, great lords,” he said anxiously in the common tongue, a strange accent giving an odd inflection to his words. “I
do not wish to accompany the others south, for my home lies far to the west, over the Murus and close to the great western sea.”
“You are from Tritica, then,” said Ascilius in a kindly voice.
“You know my country, Lord,” replied Triarus happily. “Perhaps you can help me return there.”
“Possibly,” said Ascilius gravely. “For now, you may accompany us on our journey to Iulius. If we reach there alive, I will see what can be done to return you to your homeland. How are things in the west of the world?”
“Not good,” replied Triarus somberly. “It has been years since I was enslaved, but even then the Goblins were growing ever more bold, raiding and killing almost at will. Who knows what things may be like now?”
“Who indeed?” said Ascilius sadly.
Followed by Triarus and Elerian, he walked back to the dike to see what progress had been made on the ramp. When they reached the summit, they found swarms of Dwarves frantically casting dirt and stones into the trench on the far side, intent on building up an incline as quickly as possible so that the Dwarf wagons which were already emerging from the back gate of the city could travel over the barrier. Durio labored among them, carrying stones with the rest.
“There is still much to be done,” said Ascilius worriedly to Elerian when he saw that the ramp had barely risen above the lip of the trench.
“We had best help then,” said Elerian setting aside his shield and helm. Together with Ascilius and Triarus, he labored under the hot sun until early afternoon carrying stones and dirt until the ramp was completed and roughly surfaced with hastily laid flagstones. Covered with grime and sweat, Ascilius paced impatiently back and forth before the back gate of the city until the last Dwarf and wagon emerged. Behind them came the rearguard.