“Even though you are stonechosen, Ghile, you still feel pain and can be hurt. Broken legs are going to leave you in agony. I cannot heal you and it will slow us while we wait for your powers to mend you,” Gaidel said.
The two valehounds bounded up to greet Ghile.
“I'm fine,” Ghile said. He reached down and gave both Ast and Cuz a good scratch in turn.
“That is not the point,” Gaidel said, crossing her arms for emphasis, ”there is no point in protecting you if you take every opportunity to risk yourself.”
Ghile was about to respond, a lopsided smile on his face. He looked to Riff and Two Elks for support. Both were staring at him in silence. He could feel the weight, like dwarven stone, behind those stares. He would not get reinforcements from either of them. His smile dissolved along with his rebuttal.
“Alright, I'll be more careful. But try to understand Adon said I have to use my powers if they are to improve.”
Ghile saw the uncomfortable look come over Riff's visage at the mention of Ghile's older brother. Adon was culled by the dwarves many years ago back in the Cradle. Adon was also Riff's good friend. Adon now appeared in Ghile's dreams and taught him how to use the powers the soulstones granted him. It all sounded ridiculous to Ghile if he truly thought about it.
“Well, try to practice your powers when you have both feet planted on the ground,” Gaidel said.
Gaidel motioned for Two Elks to lead the way. “We should continue.”
She didn't wait to see if the others followed, as she struck out behind the barbarian, her eyes scanning the sky.
“Well, we better go, her greatness has spoken,” Riff said with a wink.
Normally he would have smiled and winked back, but he only nodded. The idea they were protecting him didn't sit too well with Ghile. He was the youngest of them. He wouldn't hesitate to admit they were all more capable at defending themselves. But, Ghile thought of them more as his companions and guides on this journey, not his protectors. Apparently, he was the only one who saw things that way.
“Come on, boys.” Ghile motioned and Ast and Cuz splashed through the reeds in great bounds, with little care for the amount of mud they sent flying with each leap.
Riff gave a half-hearted kick after them as they passed, before following. The two valehounds paid him little heed. Their once white coats were covered in mud, their shaggy fur hanging limp from their thick frames. Ghile trudged into the fens after them, his mood now as damp as the rest of him.
2
The Knight Captain
“I thought I would find you here.”
Finngyr did not look up from his prayers at the words of the visitor. He was not surprised when he heard the sound of metal on stone and the grunt of accepted pain as the visitor knelt down beside him. Finngyr also made that sound when kneeling to pray. The heavy thud of a hammer was followed by the clink of its handle. He waited, when the visitor didn't speak further, Finngyr returned to his prayers.
A short time later Finngyr opened his eyes. He had chosen one of the smaller chapels which lined the outer walls of the Temple of Truth. They were more conducive to private prayer. A single shaft of light, let in from a high placed window, lit the simple altar and the room's only other two occupants.
Finngyr looked at his uninvited guest, who knelt next to him, eyes still closed. Finngyr bowed at the waist, without rising.
“His word is law, Knight Captain Danuk,” Finngyr said.
The older knight justice did not respond, but continued with his prayers. Finngyr waited, watching the knight captain's lips moving beneath his tightly braided beard. There was almost as much gray as red in the beard and receding hair. Dust motes floated around him and settled onto the polished steel of his shoulder plates.
The Knight Captain's hammer rested before him, identical to Finngyr's except for the wear and unique scratches, marks it earned through centuries of use. He wondered at how many other Knights in service to Daomur wielded these two relics, resting before them. How many would after they were bones and dust?
Finngyr looked up and found Knight Captain Danuk studying him with a calm expression.
“It is good to be back, is it not, Finngyr?”
“Yes, Knight Captain, it is.”
The two of them knelt there in silence, both staring at the carved altar. The hammer and scales, the symbol of their god, coaxed from the stone long ago.
“Come. We will go to my quarters and I will have some food brought up from the kitchens. You can give me your reports,” the Knight Captain said.
“Sir, there is something I must tell you. I-”
“There is much you must tell me, Knight Justice. We received a message from the Cradle shortly after you left. But by Daomur's beard, I will hear it over full plates and fuller tankards.” Knight Captain Danuk grasped his hammer and worked his way up slowly, accompanied by more than a few grunts.
He took four respectful steps backwards before turning and leaving the chapel. Finngyr rose, repeated the four backward steps and followed.
“Then, I have some news for you, Finngyr. There are interesting happenings on the Nordlah Plains.”
“Stonechosen, you say? You are sure?” Knight Captain Danuk said. He leaned into his highback oak chair and shook his head.
The Knight Captain had changed into a simple white tunic, thick with embroidery around the neck and sleeves, and a wide woven leather belt. His armor on its stand near the hearth. The two pages, adolescent dwarves who saw to the armor's polishing and starting the small hearth fire, sprinkling it with incense, now stood to either side of the table, waiting to fill a tankard or collect an empty plate.
“I am sure,” Finngyr said.
He too had changed into a tunic like the Knight Captain's. They were favored in the mountain city. Even here, at the summit, the ocean breeze carried a touch of warmth.
The Knight Captain's quarters, like most officers' quarters in the temple, had an open easterly facing balcony to take advantage of the trade winds.
“It was a tall and gangly whelp. Seemed as surprised as I was. The hammer put off a bright light and almost vibrated out of my hand.” Finngyr shook a leg of ham to demonstrate. A rogue piece of meat escaped to the floor, only to be scooped up by one of the attentive pages. Finngyr never noticed.
“And you smote him, you say?” Danuk asked.
“I do say! The force of the blow threw me back. The flash was blinding. Felt like I struck stone.” Finngyr brought the leg of meat down with both hands in front of him. “I rolled with the force of the blow and came up with my side axe in hand. I was still blinded when I called for support from the poor excuses for what that backwater settlement calls guards.”
Danuk nodded at this statement as if it was well known.
“But, then all the bonfires from the human's festivities exploded with flames that soared into the sky and then back into themselves, throwing fire and ash everywhere,” Finngyr finished.
“That has the sounds of ancient human magic like in the stories of the Great Purge, that does,” Danuk said. He held out his tankard over the arm of his chair to be refilled.
“Exactly! The local magister kept a pet sorcerer, so I naturally had him arrested and took control of the settlement's guard.”
“Naturally,” Danuk said.
“But, I could not find the boy. I even razed its village in hopes of drawing it out.” Finngyr leaned back in his chair, moving to take a drink from his tankard and then stopping. He stared off into the late afternoon sky and the gathered shadows on this side of Daomount. Off in the distance, he could see the sun almost resting on the waters. The shadows of the mountain city reaching out for the retreating light like a drowning dwarf.
“Ahem,” Danuk said.
Finngyr continued. “It was then the Magister quoted the Book of Hjurl to me. A passage concerning the trial of the vessels. “Now marked, his chosen must gather, where once his progeny thrived-”
“His hunger compels them to journ
ey,” Danuk intoned.
“In his cities they survive,” the two finished in unison.
Finngyr set his tankard down and leaned forward over the table. “I need to consult the Prophecies, Knight Captain. I need to see if there is any clue as to which of the forbidden cities Ghile Stonechosen might go to. I let him escape once. I seek redemption. I must find him and bring him here.”
The Knight Captain held up a finger to stop Finngyr, his face lost in thought.
Finngyr felt his temper bubbling below the surface. He swallowed it back down like bile. It would serve no purpose to show the Knight Captain how much his emotions held sway over him. Daomur taught control over one's emotions, to ponder his laws with a clear mind.
“Finngyr, you might have just helped answer something which has been puzzling us. You remember I said I had news concerning the Nordlah Plains?”
The Knight Captain was also leaning forward now. “If you encountered a stonechosen in the Cradle, that means there are others.” He paused for a moment, letting those words sink in. “To think the Time of the Stonechosen has come during our lifetimes. It makes sense. The plains barbarians do not follow their normal migrations. Where we expect to find the various tribes there are none. Where they would normally gather in force to fight against their culling, the pathetic few we do find throw themselves into combat. The few who survive tell us nothing of the location of the others.”
Finngyr could not push down the feelings of jealousy at the thought of his brother knights diving into battle. He should be there, performing the Rite of Attrition on their chosen, culling those who stood in his way. This was the first time in all his years of service to the Temple he was sent anywhere but the plains.
“Sir, if I may ask. Why did you send me to the Cradle?” Finngyr said.
The Knight Captain shook his head. “I was not the one to make that decision, Finngyr.”
Finngyr stared across the table. That did not make sense. As his superior, the decision of who to send should have been Knight Captain Danuk's. He would have been ordered to dispatch a knight justice, but which particular one would have been left to him.
“You are my captain,” Finngyr said.
“True. But the order to send you to the Cradle of the Gods came from the Lord Knight Justice Gyldoon himself.” Danuk raised an eyebrow and watched Finngyr.
Finngyr stared at his superior officer. The Lord Knight Justice was the head of their order and sat on the Judges Council of Daomount. He was the oldest member of the order and one of the only dwarves still alive who recalled the last Time of the Stonechosen.
“It appears our Lord Gyldoon has the gift of prophecy, Knight Justice,” Danuk said.
Finngyr couldn't explain why the Lord Knight Justice himself would give such an order. Different thoughts were spinning in his mind, each fighting to move forward and to be given attention before being pushed aside by others. The gift of prophecy was not among them.
“No. It doesn't make sense. If he knew or even suspected that the Time of the Stonechosen has come, then why would he not tell us? Tell the Judges Council?” Finngyr said.
“I do not know. Nor is it my place or yours to question that decision,” Danuk said.
Finngyr thought to respond and caught himself. “Of course, Knight Captain.”
The Knight Captain appeared mollified by the response. “But if it is the Time of the Stonechosen, then maybe others have arisen among the barbarians and they travel to the cities as well? We hunt in the wrong places.”
The two sat there, the gentle wind and the crackling of the small fire the only sound. Occasionally one of the pages would scuff a sandal on the floor.
“I will seek an audience with the Lord Knight Justice,” Danuk finally said.
“Might I accompany you, Sir?”
Danuk shook his head even before Finngyr finished his request.
“That would not bode well for you, I should think. That brings me to the other news I meant to share with you this day. The Magister from the Cradle sent word via runesmith a few days ago. Most likely right after your departure. It seems they have a rebellion on their hands there. A rebellion they are placing the responsibility for firmly on your shoulders, Knight Justice.”
Damn you, Obudar!
“They are requesting troops be dispatched to their aid and had the forethought to mention the annual tithes have not left their Bastion.”
Twice damn you, Obudar!
“The Judges Council has been hearing your name on the lips of more than a few high merchants who will feel a personal loss in their purses from this rebellion in the Cradle.”
Finngyr closed his eyes and leaned back. He could see his chance of catching Ghile the Stonechosen slipping through his fingers like so much sand.
3
Predator and Prey
It was all Ghile could do to concentrate on his next step. The muscles in his legs screamed in protest as he waded through the chest deep water. He pulled his boot free from the sucking mud, only to stagger forward and force it back down into its clutching grasp once more.
On it went. He had no idea how he kept going, pull, step, pull, step. Behind him, he could hear Riff's heavy breathing and occasional curses as he cleared the air around him of swarming insects. In front of him, Daughter Gaidel held her staff over a downturned head, plodding along. Even Ast and Cuz panted nearby, tongues lolling as they paddled to keep up.
Only Two Elks seemed unaffected by the exertion. The barbarian had cut a winding route through the night, trying to keep to higher ground whenever possible. That too was tiring, since what little ground rose out of the fens was bordered by reeds and every bit above water choked with plants.
At least Ghile's new powers allowed him to see where he was stepping when they were not in the glowing water. Riff had fallen on more than one occasion when they moved across land at night.
Two Elks almost had to separate Riff and Gaidel when Riff once again pulled his everflame from one of his many pouches. Everflame was the symbol of a sorcerer. Only they could transform a regular flame, causing it to lose all heat but give light for months, though nothing fueled it. It could even act as a source for the sorcerer's magic. Ghile had seen Riff use it to deadly effect against the worgs in the battle on the Horn.
Gaidel would not suffer anything that increased their risk of being seen and confronted Riff each time he drew it out. It was only when Two Elks added the light could attract the Ghost Fen's nocturnal predators that Riff finally put it away.
They had descended the last tier of the Ghost Fens the previous morning and camped along its base that day. It was much warmer here, out of the mountains. Ghile's hope the perpetual mist would clear was short lived; it clung stubbornly even here at the fen's lowest level.
With the heat came the insects. Though, they didn't seem to appreciate the way he tasted, they apparently considered sorcerer a delicacy, having swarmed Riff incessantly.
After a morning of more weapons training with Two Elks, Ghile slept like the dead. They set out with dusk and had been trudging along ever since.
The ghostly mist painted everything in its bluish glow, overpowering the dull yellow of the rising sun. Ghile almost wept with relief when Two Elks called for a rest on a wide hillock. With the coming dawn, Daughter Gaidel had permitted a small banked fire. It licked the stuffy morning air. Ghile and Riff huddled nearby, enjoying the reminiscent comfort of its crackling flames more than the resulting heat.
Riff moved among them, mumbling the incantation to draw the moisture from their clothes. It was only a little time later the four travelers and two mud covered hounds rested on the dark hillock, surrounded by the mist and ghostly blue waters, the tiny yellow flames of the banked fire flickering between them.
Ghile's boots hung upside down on sticks as close to the fire as he dared. Though they were dry, he liked the warmth when he pulled them on in the evening. He was still picking at bones from the last of the fish Gaidel had caught earlier as he eyed Two Elk
s.
Two Elks was already asleep, his chest moved in a slow easy rhythm. His arms cradled the stone axe. His kite shield, the sign of a shieldwarden, was laid over him like a turtle's shell. The night's march must have tired him more than Ghile first thought. Normally they would have worked on weapons training right after eating. Ghile gave thanks for small blessings and quietly made himself comfortable.
Gaidel sat across from him, her legs folded beneath her, eyes closed. She spent most mornings in this state, humming softly to herself as she communed with the All Mother. He listened and noticed, not for the first time, how her humming followed along with the sounds of the fens.
He closed his eyes and felt dull throbbing in his chest, like a muscle which had been strained by a long day's toil. But it was no muscle, the throb came from the two soulstones embedded deep in the bone, just beneath his skin.
Ever since the other stonechosen, that young girl made of smoke, had appeared in his dreaming, he could sense her direction. He knew he could follow the throb and it would lead him to her. The problem was it would lead him over any mountain or across any canyon in his path. He could use this strange attraction between the stones to find her, but he couldn't follow it blindly.
He wondered if she could feel the strange “stonecalling” as well. If so, was she trying to find him? If she was, what would happen when she did? The only other time he had encountered another stonechosen, the goblin Muk, they had fought to the death and now the goblin's soulstone resided in Ghile's chest.
“What do you know of our destination?” Ghile asked Riff.
Riff leaned on one elbow, a hand absently held toward the fire. He smirked before answering. “To which do you refer: the Fallen City, the Deepwood, or this Dagbar character?”
Ghile hadn't realized his question was so open ended. Riff had a tendency to make light of most situations and rarely was straightforward in his answers. He would drag his responses out and try to leach every ounce of humor he could from each one. Ghile found it enjoyable in times like these. It was good to have someone to remind him things were only as bad as he wanted to see them.
Time of the Stonechosen (The Soulstone Prophecy Book 2) Page 3