In the morning, they found themselves buried in snowdrifts. They stood and brushed the snow away from themselves and their horses. Another small fire heated some water for hot tea and the mush for their horses. Once the horses were fed and brushed, their tea drank and the fire extinguished, they mounted up and rode on.
This was their routine for almost a full week before they reached a small cleft in the side of one of the peaks. Shrouded in fog, the peak vanished above them. Arianna took the lead as they entered the cleft, the war axe held across her saddle in front of her. They had traveled about one hundred paces when one of the snow-covered rocks moved, revealing it was really a dwarf.
Rory had seen dwarves before at his coronation but hadn't really paid attention to them in the course of events that day. The dwarf stood only about five feet high, yet was almost three feet wide. A long red beard hung down past his waist and his red hair was braided into several braids tucked into his belt. He wore a helm of dull steel and matching steel chain mail that hung past his knees. His feet were bare despite the nearly twelve inches of snow on the ground. The massive war axe he carried was nearly as tall as he was, but he hefted it as if it were a feather.
"Be ye lost?” he growled. “Wait a minute. I know that axe. Who are ye?"
Arianna slipped back her hood, revealing her face. “I am Arianna, friend to the dwarves of the Guild. I have come to seek advice and counsel from the Guild."
The dwarf grumbled as he mulled over her statement. He didn't much care for the Forest Lords, but the axe she carried made assisting her a matter of Guild honor. “Do ye know the way from here? ‘Course ye do, else how would ye be here in the first place! Well, go on. The Guild doors are open to ye.” As they rode past, the dwarf was still grumbling as he settled himself back against the rocks.
"Are they always so cheerful and open?” Rory asked quietly.
Arianna chuckled. “He's fairly typical. Most dwarves don't like being outside. They much prefer being in their deep mines and workshops. The Guild has to maintain a rotating roster to schedule the guards for the entrance or no one would do it."
"You keep talking about the Guild. What is that?"
"The dwarves don't have one ruler. Instead, they created the Guild which controls just about every aspect of their lives, from which claim they work to who has to guard the doors. They set the wages for labor and the prices for goods and services. The members of the Guild board are elected by the dwarves by a process that could charitably be described as unruly, involving lots of beer, lots of speeches, and lots of fighting."
Arianna led them back deeper into the cleft, finally reaching the opening to a cave. She dismounted from her horse and strapped her cloak to the saddle. “We won't need the cloaks inside the Guild Hall.” She reached into her saddlebag and removed her circlet of rank, placing it on her brow. “Dwarves love titles and such so we might as well use what we have to our advantage.” Rory quickly found his own circlet and tied his cloak to the saddle. They left the horses in the corral inside the cave, and walked deeper inside to a set of huge carved doors made of stone.
"How in the world do they hang such doors, let alone open and close them?” Rory asked.
"Guild secret,” came a reply from the darkened doorway. “Who be ye and what business do ye have with the Guild?"
"I am Queen Arianna of the Forest and this is Crown Prince Rorrick. By this axe, we seek the Guild's advice and counsel."
"Queen Arianna? Prince Rorrick? Strange times indeed when elven royalty comes to call on the Guild,” grumbled the wizened old dwarf who stepped from the doorway. “When did ye move up in the Forest, girl?"
"Guildmaster Barwin, I did not expect to find you sitting at the door!” Arianna replied.
"As ye may have risen, so have I fallen. I be Guildmaster no more,” said the old dwarf. At least Rory assumed he was old since his hair and beard were white and his face had more wrinkles than a spoiled apple. “Some say I be fit for nothin’ but sittin’ here at the door. They be wrong, o’ course, but that's the problem with the young ones. They think they know all there is and that the old ways are best left in the past."
"It is about the past that I seek the Guild's wisdom."
Barwin eyed the axe she held in her hands. “The Guild's honor requires that we assist ye, Arianna, but I know not whether they will have the answers ye need. I will take ye to them but have me doubts."
Rory had been expecting the tunnels under the mountain to be small and cramped since the dwarves were so short, but he was surprised to find them soaring high above his head. Instead of torches, the tunnels were lit with the glow of phosphorescent rocks that gave the ceilings and upper walls of the tunnels a soft radiance.
"Aye, look around, boy. ‘Tis not often a Forest Lord is permitted past the door,” said Barwin. “The Guild guards its secrets well. See those great doors ahead? Past them lies the Guild Hall. That room and this tunnel is all anyone other than the Guild gets to see."
The doors soared thirty or so feet in the air, and were intricately carved in strange runes, trimmed in mithrail. They hung so perfectly counterbalanced that Barwin opened the left door with the slightest push of his hand. He led the two Forest Lords into the Guild Hall, past the rows of empty benches to the high table where the Guild Board sat, waiting.
"Why do ye bring these surface dwellers before us, Barwin?” demanded one of the board members.
"A matter of Guild honor,” Barwin replied.
"What would a Forest Lord know of Guild honor?” sneered another board member.
"I know much of this Guild's honor, as I have been here many times before assisting it in negotiating with the men of Kendrahl and with the Lords of the Forest. I am Queen Arianna of the Forest and this is Crown Prince Rorrick."
"The slayer of ogres and orcs himself, is it?” said the first board member. “What happens on the surface is of no matter to us."
"Yet without the surface trade, your Guild would become useless,” Arianna countered. “How long would you retain your seats if the Guild members found out you dishonor the Guild and its commitments?"
"Speak yer request, Queen Arianna,” said the dwarf seated in the center.
"Guildmaster, long ago the Guild assisted the Forest Lords in defeating the fell forces of the Dark. At a time all was thought lost and a demon threatened to devour the Forces of Life, the Guild fashioned a weapon to vanquish the demon. The fell creatures arise once more. A demon has been raised in Eastfell, along with goblins, ogres, and orcs, and soon they will move against the Forces of Life again. Will the Guild sit idle while the struggle resumes?"
The board members muttered among themselves for several minutes before the Guildmaster spoke again. “The Guild does not involve itself in the petty squabbles on the surface. We can do nothin’ to help ye."
Rory said, “If the Dark conquers Life, the Guild will also fall. Neutrality will only mean your death will be longer in coming, but it will still come. These fell creatures care not whether you are on the side of Life or merely sit on the fence. You exist and therefore your essence will draw the demon here to consume you. There can be no neutrality with death."
Barwin spoke up. “Guildmaster, she speaks o’ the lance."
A hiss of disapproval sounded from the board. “Yer words reveal a Guild secret, Barwin. For that, ye can be banished."
"Aye, ye could try. But the failure to support Guild honor in request o’ the axe ‘tis a far graver betrayal than openly discussing what the Forest Lords already know. Queen Arianna, ‘tis true the Guild fashioned a great lance and a suit of mithrail for the rider of Blue Death so he could defeat the demon and drive back the Forces o’ the Dark. ‘Twas the failure o’ the Forest Lords to pursue the minions o’ the Dark afterward that allowed them time to regain strength and power to challenge ye once again."
Arianna said, “What you say is true. I understand why this happened as the Forest Lords and their allies were exhausted from the battle and the devastation of the l
and was so widespread, they no longer had the heart for war. They only wanted to start the long road to recovery for both themselves and the land. Now we must fight the same battle again and even more shall die unless we work together to prepare in time.” Seeing the reluctant agreement on the faces of several board members, she pressed the point. “We know the lance disappeared after the defeat of the demon. Did the Guild take it?"
Rory could see the internal struggle waged inside the Guildmaster as he pondered how to answer her question. Finally he said, “Aye, the Guild recovered what remained o’ the lance."
Barwin said, “Not even an enchanted mithrail lance could withstand the concentrated fire from Blue Death. All that remained twas the hilt and a length o’ the shaft, blackened and scored; the end melted away."
Rory said, “Then we must make a new one."
"And a new mithrail suit,” added Arianna.
"Who shall ride Blue Death and bear this lance? The young prince here?” the Guildmaster jeered. “Has anyone even asked Blue Death if she be willin’ to bear another rider or even to fight the demon once more? Of course not, because no one has seen Blue Death in a millennium. She flew away after the last battle and has not been seen since."
"I've seen her,” Barwin said. “I know where she lives."
Chapter 36
In the end, the Guild Board decreed that a new lance and suit of armor would be fabricated to fit Rory. They took careful measurements for the suit which required that Rory take off his current mithrail mail.
Barwin exclaimed, “What happened ta this mail? ‘Tis all ragged at the ends!"
"What? Oh, that. I used a small bit of the mithrail to make a pendant and chain for my wife."
"Ye what? How in the blazes did an overgrown, muscle-bound oaf manage ta undo the careful work o’ many dwarven craftsman and mages? Did ye use brute strength ta tear it away?” Barwin mumbled.
"No, good Barwin. I used the power of life to strip away only a little bit at a time until I had what I needed."
"Next time, give her flowers or candy! Ye weakened the enchantment with yer meddling. An arrow could go right through this now, just push itself right through the links.” Barwin shook his head. “Whole thing's ruined. Have ta be melted down and done over again. What a waste."
"You mean that mail has not been any good since I took part of it?” Rory blanched as he thought about the battles he'd fought and the risks he'd taken since the day he'd made the pendant for Bethany. The entire trip to Solange had been after he'd done that.
"Oh, it might stop somethin’ slow and dull, like a hammer, but then, anyone usin’ a hammer would likely hit ye on yer head. Of course, judgin’ from what ye did ta this mail, hittin’ ye on the head isn't likely ta cause any noticeable damage. Just as well, though. The shirt was made for someone smaller than ye are. How long have ye had it?"
"Less than a year. My father gave it to me just before we came into the Kendrahls after the ogres."
"By the beard of the First Mother! Are ye still growing? What do they feed ye? Are ye sure you're an elf? I mean, Forest Lords be tall but they sure donna have shoulders and arms like ye do. Maybe a little frost giant somewhere in the family tree?"
"Not that I know of, Barwin.” Rory laughed. “My father is King Brightblade and my mother was Abigail of Westfell."
"Westfell? Nice place. Keep's built o’ good stone. So that would make ye..."
"...The Heir of Westfell, yes. And I am the Crown Prince of the Forest since Brightblade was made king after Alaric was murdered by the demon."
"Ye have a busy future, lad, providing ye live that long, which ye won't runnin’ about in bad mail.” Barwin eyed the twin swords riding Rory's shoulders. “I remember those blades. I wondered who carried them. Seems like there's a matchin’ dagger, too."
"Yes, there is but the dagger is carried by my grandfather, the Duke of Westfell."
"Ye'll have it some day, then. Complete the set. That's good."
"So how long is all this going to take?"
"'Bout three weeks for the suit and almost twice as long for the lance, assumin’ we can find a big enough diamond for the tip. Maybe Blue Death will have one we could use."
"That long? What are we going to do while all this is being made?"
"We be payin’ a call to Blue Death to see if any o’ this be even necessary."
* * * *
"How can Blue Death still be alive after a millennium?” Rory asked as they moved through the lower tunnels in the Guild mines.
"Dragons are not creatures of this world, Rory. They are denizens of a higher plane of existence. When the war between the Dark and the Forces of Life began, a rift was torn between several of the planes. It is through this rift that demons can be summoned to this world. Several dragons were also ripped from their plane and brought here by the dark sorcerers to be used against the Forces of Life,” Arianna explained. “The dark sorcerers were not powerful enough to control the mighty dragons and they rebelled, but only a few of them escaped back through the rift and home. Those remaining have hidden themselves away. According to our legends, the rift will be sealed forever once the last dragon returns to its plane of existence and thus, end the war."
"Barwin, how is it that you know where to find Blue Death when everyone else does not?” Rory asked.
"'Bout a century or so ago, back when I was but a mere worker in the mines, there was this major earthquake. Me Guildmaster sent me ta the lowest levels to see what damage had been done. The quake had opened a fissure in the side walls of an abandoned shaft so I crawled in ta see whether the fissure had exposed anythin’ that might be useful. That fissure went on for a very long time and, just when I was about ta give up and turn back, I came to a vast cavern so I slipped inside ta have a bit of a look around. Lucky for me, the spot I emerged was behind a stalagmite ‘cause I saw Blue Death before I fully exposed meself. I quick like returned to the fissure and crawled back to the safety o’ the mines. Since there were no useful ores exposed in the fissure and the last thing the Guild needed was ta awaken the wrath of Blue Death, I just posted the shaft as unstable when I filed me report.” Barwin shuddered as he remembered his encounter. “Blue Death be unlike anything ye've ever seen before or ever will again."
"Why is she called Blue Death?” Rory wondered aloud.
Barwin answered as though the question had been meant for him. “She be called Blue Death because that be what she is. The touch o’ her skin will suck the life force from yer flesh. Her maw drips corrosive acid, and she breathes liquid flame. Her gaze can freeze ye in yer tracks while makin’ yer mind abandon reason. ‘Tis a cobalt blue color she be, with large wings like a bat, yet she has a serpent's neck and tail. Her claws are like some large raptor's with talons bigger than a man."
"If she is all that, how did the Forest Lord ride her?"
"'Tis the purpose of the mithrail suit, lad, ta protect the rider from the touch o’ her flesh, the bite o’ her acid, and the searin’ heat o’ her flames. Protectin’ the rider's mind be beyond our skill and is solely up to ye, Prince Rorrick. Ye must make peace with her or destroy ye she will and all will be lost."
It took almost two days to crawl through the narrow fissure that led from the shaft to the cavern. In many places, the passage was too narrow for Rory and Arianna to pass without making the openings larger. This was how Rory learned about the affinity between dwarves and stone. Barwin would examine the blockage at some length and then he would extend his hand in just the right place. His hand would actually pass inside the rock, gripping it along some unseen fracture, and he would pull the obstruction free. Most of the obstructions would be reduced to small enough parts that they could be passed behind them, but one stubborn boulder could not be fractured and had to be pushed ahead of them along the fissure. This actually proved to be a boon since anywhere the rock would pass through was large enough for Rory as well.
When they reached the entrance to the cavern, they left the boulder in the passage as a bar
rier while they curled up to sleep one final time before confronting Blue Death. Barwin admitted his terror and Rory relented, telling the dwarf to remain hidden in the tunnel.
As they each tried to sleep, Arianna crawled over to Rory and put her head on his chest and her arms around him. “Just hold me. I find I am quite afraid, and that is something I have never felt before,” she said.
Rory settled his arms around her shoulders. He remembered holding her like this the night before they fought the orcs, and realized she had come to him that night not to calm her fears but his. He had spent the night being stoic and brave for her, and had calmed his own fears at the same time. He'd not known fear since. Even now, he was not afraid, although he knew he should be. He could very easily die tomorrow but he knew that some part of him would go on in his son and the memories of those who loved him. He whispered, “Arianna, I want you to stay in the fissure with Barwin. Should I fail, the Forest Folk must know so they can find someone else to try again. Promise me!"
"I promise, Rory.” She leaned her head up and kissed him. “That's for luck and for love. I have never stopped loving you, you know. Even being married does not change the heart of an elf, Rory."
"Yes, I know and on many levels, I love you, too. It does not diminish my love for Bethany any more than my love for Duke Richard or Swiftstalker does. Had we the privacy, I would be tempted to do more, as an affirmation of life in the face of the uncertainty of tomorrow."
Arianna smiled in the darkness. “I know exactly what you mean, and I feel the same way. Now, go to sleep. You will need your wits about you tomorrow."
Chapter 37
Rory slowly walked around the edge of the cavern until he was opposite the fissure from which he had crept. Dignity had been abandoned as he had occasionally crawled around the various obstacles so he would be as far away from Arianna and Barwin as he could be when he confronted Blue Death. The dragon was aptly named and Barwin's description had fallen short of the reality, perhaps because mere words could not describe the creature before him.
The Heir Of Westfall [The Alurian Chronicles Book 1] Page 32