by V K Majzlik
As soon as the last tents were up a peace fell about Loreandril as gold and bronze leaves began falling from the sky. Nechan was speechless. He held out his arms, feeling the leaves brush softly against his skin before landing silently on the floor.
Esil laughed, as if sensing Nechan’s thoughts.
“Where we go, our magic follows!” he explained.
Nechan just stood watching Loreandril turn to shades of gold and bronze before his eyes. Soon there was the deep, familiar leaf litter covering every inch of the ground.
“Nechan!” The voice was familiar. He turned to see Jaidan and Gaular heading towards him. Shaking himself from the mesmerising effect of the leaves he greeted them, unable to stop himself from embracing them both. Jaidan returned the hug, but Gaular went stiff like a board and tried to resist. It was clear Dwarves were not an emotional kin.
“It’s good to see you, Nechan. How are you?” asked Jaidan, patting the boy on the back.
“Well, apart from my entire body aching, I’m fine!”
“It will help build up your strength.” Gaular laughed, watching as Nechan massaged his arms to ease the sore muscles.
“Come, let’s walk. It is important you are kept informed.” Jaidan led the way.
“Informed?” Nechan turned to wave goodbye to Esil, but he was too busy to notice. The three comrades began walking through the paths between the tents. The Elves seemed too engaged to take any notice of them, busily adding the finishing touches to the abodes and communal places.
“Is it Nymril? Is she…….”
“She’s all right, as well as she can be,” replied Jaidan, trying to put a stop to Nechan’s worst fears.
“So, she’s conscious now? The Elves healed her?”
Jaidan shook his head. “No. They will not be able to, not without….”
“The Spirit Star.”
Jaidan looked at him, surprised.
“Neornil told me. I just hoped he might have been wrong.”
A short distance further Jaidan pulled aside a curtained door of a tent to the left, and holding it up, motioned for Gaular and Nechan to enter. He followed them in.
It was dimly lit with faint orange glow-lights and a sweet musty aroma filled the air. Nechan’s eyes quickly adjusted and he was pleased to see Eilendan, as sombre-faced as ever, seated at an elegantly carved round table. Jaidan and Gaular quickly took their seats and pulled out a third for Nechan. For some reason his stomach was filled with nervous anticipation, as though tiny butterflies were trying to escape.
“It’s good to see you again, Eilendan.” Nechan pulled his seat closer towards the table.
“And you also, my brave, clansman friend!” Eilendan smiled and for a moment the stern look disappeared, only to return quickly.
“I’m afraid you have an important decision before you. How easy it is to decide depends on your state of mind, my friend.”
Nechan swallowed hard as he felt small beads of sweat start to form on his forehead. The air was filled with an intense silence.
“What is it I have to decide?” he asked nervously.
“We are on the brink of war,” replied the elf.
“A dark war,” continued Jaidan.
“One that will determine the fate of all kin, Elves, Dwarves and Clansmen alike,” finished Gaular.
“You need to decide what part you wish to play. Do you want to continue on this path lain before you when you took into your protection the Aeonorgal, or do you wish to escape this war while you still can? The Council of Elders has begun calling all allies to their cause. Messengers have been dispatched to seek out our friends from ancient times. We are preparing for war!”
Eilendan’s words were to the point, and struck a cold cord in Nechan’s heart. The boy studied his shaking hands on the table before him, feeling his palms sweat.
Jaidan stepped in. “But you do not need to be apart of this, if you so choose.”
“You mean, I could leave?”
Jaidan nodded. “But time is short. You would need to leave in the next day or so. Although you may not feel the effects in Loreandril, winter is drawing in all around us in the outside world, closing your opportunity.”
“But I can’t go home.” Realisation suddenly dawned on Nechan. “War is the reason I left there. If I returned I would end up being drafted, or worse still, killed as a traitor.”
There was silence around the table as his comrades assessed his words. It was true that if he tried to return home he could end up being forced to fight on the other side. The only other option would be to wander the wilderness by himself, but even that could prove as dangerous as going to war. Perhaps his only real option was to stay and finish the journey he had started.
“I don’t know that I want to - I mean - I,” Nechan stumbled with his words, too many emotions coming into his head at once. It was such a hard decision and one unexpectedly thrown down before him. He had not had the slightest thought of leaving Loreandril. Although he longed to see his family he had constantly told himself he could not return for many years, almost reaching the point of accepting it. Besides, he could not bear the heart-wrenching thought of returning without his brother.
“If I were to stay, what would that mean?”
“You would have to fight, like the rest of us,” Gaular replied, patting the hammer that leant against the table.
“But I don’t know how to! I can shoot a bow, but my aim is quite poor!”
“We will teach you!” Jaidan responded. “We will not let our friend face the dark armies without the skills necessary to defeat them.”
“Do you need tonight to consider? Perhaps Esil would be able to give you counsel about this? It is not a decision to be made lightly.”
Nechan breathed deeply, focusing hard, trying to steady his mind. “I cannot go home, especially without my brother. And, I do not want to spend the rest of my years wandering through the wilderness by myself.”
“But you would be safe……at least away from the immediate dangers of war.” Jaidan, a look of kind concern on his face, watched the boy agonise.
“Jaidan, even I know that I cannot escape this war. No one can. Perhaps it is time I became a man and lived up to my father’s expectations.”
“The boy speaks wisely and bravely.” Gaular smiled. “You have the heart of a true warrior!” He slapped him on the back, almost winding the boy.
“You are right in what you say. There can be no escaping this, only postponing,” agreed Eilendan.
“Then, it is decided………I will stay and finish what I started.”
Chapter 50 – Kingdom Tour
Movement was starting to become easier, although Cradon still could not lift his left shoulder and arm past mid-height without the searing pain causing his eyes to stream. The healers had forced him to stay two more nights, concerned about his lack of movement, fearing the limb was more deeply damaged than they realised. It had disappointed him to the core, so he had spent the rest of his time exercising, determined to demonstrate improvement.
The nurses began their rounds, pottering between beds, fussing over the occupants, applying new bandages, checking for fevers, remaking the beds and so on. Cradon could not wait to show them how his shoulder had improved. It still hurt, but he could force the movement, gritting his teeth through the pain. He was determined not to stay another night.
“Do you think the doctor will let me leave today?” The boy’s voice was almost squeaking with anxiety.
The nurse declined to answer, saying she could not speak for the Healer.
Much to Cradon’s surprise and delight he saw Gomel trundling down the corridor towards him accompanied by the Healer.
“Good morning, my laddie! How’s that battle wound fairing?”
“It feels much better today!”
Gomel leaned in. “Omph! Have you been practising?”
Cradon nodded, smiling.
“Ahh, that’s my boy! With any luck we’ll have you out of here today!” He
ruffled the boy’s red hair, flopping it in front of his eyes.
“Good morning, Cradon. How are you feeling?” The Healer, despite being a gnome, had an appearance of grandeur and height about him.
“I feel well, sir! Ready to leave!”
“Let’s not be too hasty. That nasty wound would have stopped any gnome, or clansman. If you would allow me to have a look for myself.”
With Cradon’s approval, the Healer began unwinding the bandages. This time there was no smell of decay, and thankfully no maggots to remove. The Healer breathed in and out slowly, inspecting the wound thoughtfully. “Very good,” he finally said, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “Yes, that is healing quite nicely now.”
“So, does that mean he can come home with me today then?” asked Gomel, also inspecting the wound in between glances at the Healer.
He did not reply, but instead applied a new set of clean, white bandages, winding them painfully slowly, taking his time and contemplating his answer. “I just need you to demonstrate your mobility of the limb. If you’d please…….” He gestured to Cradon to begin.
Sitting up tall in bed, the clansman stretched out his arm before him, lifting it until it was horizontal. He began drawing circles in the air, progressively larger with each revolution. The Healer showed no response, not wanting to be too hasty, allowing Cradon to continue for a few more revolutions, then put up his hand as a sign to stop. Pleased with how well he had done, Cradon nestled back down into his pillows, waiting for the Healer’s comments.
The Healer rubbed his finger up and down his nose, finally coming to rest on his pursed lips, his eyes staring intently at the floor, deep in thought. “I believe……..ummm….”
Gomel leaned forward in anticipation.
“Yes!” the Healer nodded his head. “I believe you can leave us today.”
“That’s my boy!” Gomel sprang up, laughing, and punched Cradon joyfully in the shoulder, forgetting it was the one that was injured.
“As long as no harm comes to the shoulder…….” warned the Healer, looking at Gomel down his nose. Gomel paused, nodded, and then continued congratulating Cradon.
The Healer turned and clapped his hands. Two nurses came running over. “If you would be so kind as to fetch this young man’s clothing, his visit with us is concluded.”
At once the nurses trotted off down the corridor and disappeared. The Healer, happy to let Cradon go, shook his hand, claiming it was a pleasure to meet such a nice young clansman, a first for the hospital, and then took his leave to continue with the other patients. Gomel and Cradon were still beaming, almost speechless when the nurses returned.
Cradon was so pleased to have his belongings back. His clothes had all been washed and ironed and smelt so clean and fresh. He put them on quickly, still sitting in the bed, requiring some help to ease the shirt over the dressing. Taking a deep breath, he swung his legs off the bed, feeling the cold tiled floor under his feet, and slipped on his socks and boots. He was amused to find even his boots had been polished, the leather softened and buffed and the soles replaced.
Cradon paused for a moment. It had been quite a while since he last walked.
“Here, take my arm,” offered Gomel, understanding Cradon’s nervousness.
For a moment he wobbled, feeling light-headed but thankfully it passed quickly and with a small amount of help from Gomel, the clansman walked down the corridor. Cradon’s head almost brushed the arched ceiling in places. He had never felt so tall.
The streets were beautifully paved and lined with small, decorative homes and buildings, each with glowing windows peeping onto the street. Cradon could not help but marvel at the amount of work that must have been required to build such a kingdom. He kept checking with Gomel to make sure he was telling the truth about an entire kingdom lying under the mountain chain.
Gomel explained that there had originally been a vast system of caverns and caves, carved out by water, most of which had now been diverted to form one large river, the Gholibin, which ran straight through the centre of the Kingdom, their main supply of water. Over many centuries it had carved out a deep chasm and tremendous waterfalls, forcing the people to build an elaborate system of pipes, pulleys and waterwheels to pump the water.
Although it was not far to Gomel’s home, the walk took a long time. Cradon had to keep stopping for many minutes at a time to catch his breath. It gave Gomel more time to ramble on about the place he loved some much.
At each rest stop he would take great care to point out what each of the surrounding buildings was and who lived there. Cradon had to admit, Ghornathia was a truly remarkable place and far larger than he ever imagined. He tried to take note of all of his surroundings, finding it fascinating how some buildings stood alone, while others were carved directly out of the cavern walls.
The whole kingdom was built on many levels and Cradon could see small windows twinkling high above him, almost like stars. Each level could be reached by an intricate maze of tunnels and ladders, or by lifts that ran up and down the sides of the caverns. The lifts themselves, spaced periodically along the walls, were powered by concealed water wheels, carrying several people at a time in decorative, metal cages.
As they walked, the pair could not avoid being swamped by curious gnomes, many of whom had only ever imagined Clansmen in their bedtime stories. Cradon shook each hand offered, greeting every face with a smile. He began to feel like royalty. Each female gnome seemed to bring out freshly bakes pies, cakes and bread, offering it to them to eat then and there or to take away with them. They could have eaten a meal several times over, and taken many baskets of treats home with them, but Gomel finally had to start refusing.
Some way down the main street they climbed into one of the many lifts. Gomel pulled the large brass lever. They waited, hearing water gurgle somewhere behind the wall, and slowly the lift began moving upwards. It struggled at first, the metal cage groaning, but then gained momentum until they were being powered at quite a speed. Cradon was mesmerised, captivated by the Kingdom lain out before him as they gained elevation.
They reached the top with a judder and Gomel slid open the cage door, helping Cradon step out.
“Omph, we are nearly home. You will get to meet my family, finally.”
Gomel tottered off down the path with Cradon in tow, until he stopped at a beautifully carved door, with a large, brass handle.
“Here we are!” Gomel began turning the brass knob, but someone from the other side was eager to greet them.
The door swung open and a gaggle of smiling faces greeted them. The doorway seemed full of round faces of all ages, each eager to meet Cradon. There were even squeals of delight from somewhere.
“Come now, let us in! There will be plenty of time to get to know the boy!” Gomel ushered the congregation back until the doorway was finally cleared. He bowed low to Cradon, showing him the way in.
“Welcome to my humble house, Cradon. It truly is a pleasure!”
Cradon stooped under the low doorway into the front room, finding he had to keep his knees bent in the low-ceilinged room.
“Please, please have a seat.”
A plump, grey-haired gnome curtseyed and offered Cradon a chair by the fireside. Thankfully, gnomes are generally quite wide, so he was easily able to fit into the chair.
Introductions followed. There were far too many names to remember, and in his excitement Gomel was running through them very quickly. There seemed to be a mixture of immediate family, distant relatives, neighbours and family friends, all piled into the one room just to meet him. The clansman, somewhat overwhelmed by the attention tried to make a mental note of the most important people.
Eventually, after Cradon had exhausted himself answering the bombardment of questions about everything under the sun, Gomel asked people to leave until only the closest family members remained.
The three children sat at Cradon’s feet, just staring at him, their mouths open and eyes wide, as if waiting for him t
o speak or do a magic trick. Cradon squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, occasionally smiling at them, hoping this would do the trick. They just kept smiling and staring back. Gomel’s son and daughter in law were only slightly better. They had at least positioned themselves in chairs a small distance away. While Cradon was always happy to be the centre of attention, this was encroaching on being uncomfortable, even for him.
“I’m sorry, Cradon, you must forgive my family and friends!” grovelled Gomel, offering the boy a cup of steaming herbal tea. “As you know, it’s been a long time since a clansman, like yourself, has entered our Kingdom. It’s something a bit out of the ordinary for us folk.”
Cradon chuckled. He sat back in the chair, quite dazed by the day’s events. A wave of tiredness soon hit him and it became clear he no longer had the energy to answer any more questions. Gomel helped him up, minding his head on the ceiling, and showed him into one of the backrooms that the family had made up into a bedroom for Cradon.
The ceilings here were even lower and Cradon was forced to stoop very low. He was grateful to lie down onto the soft mattress, smelling the lavender-scented sheets. Unfortunately his feet hung over the edge, as they had done in the hospital. Gomel closed the door quietly behind him to leave Cradon to sleep.
Cradon yawned. He blinked and stretched a few times, careful not to tear his wound, before swinging his legs out slowly. He stood up, banging his head, forgetting how low the ceiling was.
At first he had been kept awake by the incessant snoring of what seemed like a choir of gnomes, but when he did eventually drift off, he slept well on the comfortable, feather mattress and smooth, cotton sheets. Apparently, snoring was a common problem for gnomes of all ages and the walls in their houses were not sound insulated.
After pulling on his clothes he made his way out into the kitchen. Gomel and the rest of family were already up and had clearly been pottering around for several hours.