The Weight of a Crown (The Azhaion Saga Book 1)

by Kaeden, Tavish

  From his belt Isic unslung a huge silver hammer, grabbed a rod of black metal from the cart, and threw the rod on the fire where it started to glow a vivid green.

  "We begin!" hissed the smith, his voice echoing from all the corners of the barracks as he brought his great hammer down on the glowing metal.

  The next few days were a blur, as Isic instructed the women of the mining camp in their duties. There was a great wooden trough that was brought in, which had to be kept continuously filled with mountain snow. Into this pile of snow Isic would throw each new link of the chain he had forged at his anvil, still glowing bright green as it flew through the air. When it made contact with the snow a sharp hiss could be heard, and the snow would be instantly vaporized, creating great clouds of steam within the barracks. When the links had cooled, it was the responsibility of another set of girls to intertwine the open links, and assemble them to be hammered shut by Isic.

  The smith moved with inhuman dexterity, his enormous hammer expertly bending the rods of thin metal into small chain links. As he worked, he muttered continuously in a language Jeina could not understand, and every so often he would give a small shout, and the fires of his anvil would flare up momentarily.

  Though the glowing green links looked like something ghostly coming off of Isic's anvil, they cooled and hardened into an unremarkable, dark black chain. This chain was piled in great coils near the doorway, where small parties of soldiers occasionally came to collect them.

  Once again, sleep became a rarity for Jeina, and the green fire of the anvil burned long into the night as Isic worked tirelessly at his forge. Though the metal began to glow as soon as it came into contact with the smith's anvil, Jeina still never felt any heat emanating from the forge, nor the metal of the chains. And though the forge fires burned all day, it was still cold as ever as the mountain winter crept slowly forward. Isic was never without his huge bearskin cloak, and the girls all wore their warmest clothing as they scurried around the barracks at their duties.

  Because the barracks remained so frigid, many of the girls began to be less cautious around the strange green fires until one evening, an exhausted girl whose job it was to collect the chain links after they had come into contact with mountain snow, closed her hand around a link just a few moments after it had left the anvil. Instantly, Jeina saw the girls eyes widen, and her face contort in a scream of pain. She tried to drop the still glowing piece of metal, but it had become fused to her palm, and she cried and shook her hand frantically in an effort to dislodge it. For once, Isic stopped his hammering, seized the girl's arm, and plunged it elbow deep into the pile of snow. The girl's screams eventually softened to whimpers, and when she removed her hand Jeina could see that the link had come unstuck from her palm, but had left the skin around it a pale and lifeless white.

  "It will never heal," said the smith, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Let that be a lesson to any of you who underestimate the dangers of the grüwnflame."

  To Jeina's knowledge, none of the girls ever made the same mistake again.

  On those rare occasions when Jeina did get to rest, she would lay exhausted upon her cot and sleep a leaden, dreamless sleep. She was surprised, therefore, when for the first night in weeks she was awoken by the sound of a door creaking. Her dull senses could just make out a figure silhouetted by the moonlight, slipping out of the barracks and into the snows outside. Fool, thought Jeina groggily, for if the campmaster caught whoever it was leaving the barracks, he might just make good on the threat he had made every day since the mines had been shut down. Jeina rolled out of bed, her body groaning at the effort, and stumbled over to the door.

  "Get back in here, the campmaster will kill you if he finds you out of barracks!" she hissed into the evening air at the figure who was slowly making her way through the snows ahead. The figured halted for a second, and Jeina caught sight of the face of Laiti, as she looked back briefly, but then pressed on away from the barracks.

  The words 'Oh, Jeina, I think I want to go back,' suddenly reverberated in Jeina's head, and she gasped as she guessed where Laiti intended to go. This was madness. The girl wasn't in her right mind. She had to be stopped. Jeina began to start after the disappearing figure, when she felt an icy jolt in her leg as the freezing mountain snows made contact with her bare skin. Swearing, she realized she wouldn't survive two minutes outside in her nightclothes, and hurried back inside to bundle herself up in the warmest gear she had. By the time she was ready to leave, Laiti was nowhere to be seen in the darkness outside. It didn't matter though, as Jeina had a good idea of where the girl was headed. For one second, Jeina thought of the campmaster's threats, and the possibility of just leaving Laiti to her death in the freezing mountain snows, or worse at the hands of some terrible monster in the mine. She pushed all those thoughts from her mind, however, and plunged into the darkness.

  It was a relatively calm night, and though the very top layer of the mountain snows spiraled into the air with every gust of wind, Jeina could see Laiti's small tracks well enough in the moonlight. Moving as fast as she could, Jeina hoped to overtake Laiti as quickly as possible and return inside without anyone noticing. Yet, every time she reached the crest of a small hill or a clearing in the trees, all she could see in the distance ahead was a line of shadowy footprints in the silvery white snow, leading into the darkness. Before long, she could tell that she was nearing the mine entrance, and it was then that horrible thoughts began to creep into her brain.

  It had been one thing to risk the campmaster's fury and brave the cold of the mountains, but to actually go into the caverns…the mere prospect seemed to tie Jeina's stomach in knots. Images flashed before her eyes of being trapped in the confines of a tunnel as she heard something terrible crawling towards her in the darkness. As more and more of these nightmarish visions flooded her thoughts, she slowed her walk, finally coming to a halt near a massive pine tree a short distance away from the entrance to the mine. The torches which sometimes burned along the walls of the mine entrance were out, and the tunnel was a patch of pure darkness floating in the gray of night. Suddenly, however, a small light flared up somewhere not far from the surface, and a warm glow slowly flickered to life. It was Laiti, it must be. Jeina was only a few hundred feet from the mine. If she mustered all her speed now, she might be able to catch Laiti, or at least call out to her. Her voice would echo loud and clear along the tunnel walls, she knew, and if Laiti could hear her she might be able to persuade… But, no. Jeina's body refused to move, refused to even breathe as she considered what else might hear her voice and come shambling or slithering to the surface. Not many things could scare Jeina senseless since she had become accustomed to living on her own in the slums of the Iron City. The harsh realities of survival had left her no time for a little girl's fears of ghosts and goblins. Yet, though she knew that without her help, Laiti might soon die or suffer unspeakable horrors, all Jeina could do as she watched the flickering light slowly dim in the entrance of the cave was stand stone-still beside the huge tree, and hug herself to keep from shivering uncontrollably.

  As she stood there in despair, bitterly cursing herself for her cowardice, Jeina's ears picked up the faint sound of snow crunching. She glanced around wildly. It sounded like it was coming from the direction of the camp. Damnation! Had the campmaster seen her or Laiti? Had he followed them out all this way to make good on his morbid promise? Yes, now she could definitely make out the sounds of feet tramping through the snow—many feet, to be sure, and also the clink of something metallic. Had the campmaster brought guards with him? Had they formed a search party? Jeina's thoughts were panicked. If she tried to go back the men would find her. If she fled into the woods she knew she would get lost and probably wouldn't last the night unprotected from the bitter winter's cold, and if she went into the mine…Jeina did not let herself think about that. As the footsteps grew closer, she looked at the great pine beside her and decided that the best direction for now would have to be up. With some difficul
ty, she pulled herself up into the branches of the tree, and began climbing. Her fingers were stiff with cold, and more than once her grip slipped on a branch which had been covered in ice by wind, but eventually she was up in the heart of the tree, pressing herself closely to its stout trunk. The warm blaze of several torches became visible from the direction of the camp, and as the sound of footsteps grew louder and louder Jeina could see that it was not the campmaster who came, but a host of about twenty men, all clad in armor and laden with weapons which glinted in the torchlight.

  One figure loomed above the rest, and as the men approached Jeina could see the light illuminate the pelt of a giant black bear. Unlike the other men, the giant blacksmith wore no armor, but with every step he took Jeina could hear the heavy clink of metal, for coiled around each of Isic Magmar's shoulders was a huge mass of black chain. Rekon save me, thought Jeina incredulously, do they plan to seek the creatures out? She watched as the column of men approached the entrance tunnel to the mine. One of the men lit the torches on the wall, while several others produced lanterns and set about lighting them as well.

  "Remember," called out the smith, "that without light you will be easy prey for these creatures. They are spawn of the darkness, and it is said that they can locate your position from more than fifty strides, just by listening for so soft a sound as your own beating heart. This is why you must stay near to me. Wind and water may douse the light of your earthly lanterns, but it will take much more than that to put out my grüwnflame." So saying, he unslung a great iron staff from his back, traced several archaic characters in the air above its head, and soon the night was filled with the same eerie green glow that Jeina had become accustomed to in Isic's forge. The smith stood before the mouth of the tunnel waiting until all the men had readied themselves for the descent, and when all was set, he motioned to the man at the forefront of the line and said, "This way, my King. The hunt begins."

  The familiar dampness began to creep into Jeina's bones as she cautiously made her way down the steep entrance to the mine. It was as if she was having one of her nightmares again, her body slowly moving through the dark tunnels even though she wished with all her might that she was somewhere else, anywhere else. Why she had followed the men into the caves she did not know, but when she had heard the smith address one of the men as "my King," her heart had momentarily faltered in in her chest. Was it Tobin Isic had addressed? If so, what was he doing here? Were these gröljum really so dangerous that it required the presence of the King? But if they were so dangerous, why had Tobin not brought more men? There must have been no more than twenty soldiers she had seen.

  Jeina's curiosity was mixed with a sour fear that had taken root in her belly. Yet, she could hear the soft tread of the men's footsteps ahead of her, and see the faint glimmer of Isic's grüwnflame reflected in the damp walls of the tunnel. At least, she thought to herself, if something were to happen, she would not be alone.

  For hours she followed the men as they made their way through the winding tunnels, breaking their silence only a handful of times to issue brief directions. As the tunnels narrowed, however, and they reached the areas which had not yet been widened for mining, the soldiers, with all their weapons and armor, began to have a difficult time making further progress. Eventually going any deeper into the tunnels became impossible, and Jeina heard the smith call a halt.

  "This is as far as we go. Now we must wait for the creatures to come to us. Soldiers! The bait, if you will."

  Jeina heard the sound of bottles being uncorked, and then the steady trickle of liquid being poured over stone. A faint smell began to drift towards Jeina which seemed vaguely familiar, though she could not identify what it was.

  "And now," said Isic, his voice little louder than a whisper, "we wait in the darkness. I want no movement, nor sound from any of you."

  Then, the faint green light which had been illuminating the caves was gone, and all was darkness.

  It seemed to Jeina that they waited for a small eternity. The muscles in her back began to ache from sitting against the hard stone of the cavern walls, but she dared not move about too much, in case the men would hear her. They were most definitely on the hunt, and Jeina did not want to be the target of their efforts. She sat still, ears straining to hear anything, but nothing came. Hours passed by in absolute silence, and just when the chill in her bones was becoming unbearable, and Jeina was sure that the men would have to give up for the evening, she heard something—a faint scuffling noise in the distance. At once, a blazing green light flooded the tunnel she was in, and she heard Isic's voice boom, "This way!"

  A rush of metal and footsteps soon followed, and then a piercing wail cut through the air. Confused shouts rang through the tunnel, and Jeina could make out the roar of the smith above them all. "Stop!" he shouted, "STOP!" The men were silenced, and Jeina could just make out the faint sounds of sobbing and whimpering—it did not sound like a creature of darkness.

  "A girl?" asked a man's voice, loud and annoyed. "What is she doing down here?"

  Jeina's heart sank. It had to be Laiti.

  "I have no idea, your highness," replied the smith. "Why anyone would be down here is beyond me. She can't have been here long, though."

  "Well, who is she then?" demanded the other voice, which Jeina took to be Tobin's.

  "She wears the clothes of a silver seeker," said Isic. "She must be one of the girls from the mining camp."

  While Isic and Tobin were speaking, Jeina took the opportunity to stand up and quietly walk along the cavern walls in the direction of the voices.

  "Well girl," she heard Tobin's voice say, "who are you and why are you down here?"

  Jeina heard no reply, only a continuation of the soft sobbing and whimpering.

  "Answer me, damn you!" yelled Tobin.

  "Your Grace," interjected Isic, "I think I recognize this one. I believe she is one of the girls who originally reported sightings of the gröljum."

  "Is this true?" Tobin questioned the girl. Again, there was no reply.

  "Well, whoever she is, I don't care," said Tobin, disgusted. "I'm not going to waste more of my time on her. She is a fool to be down here in the first place, and has seen far too much for me to let her live."

  Jeina heard the sharp sound of steel being drawn from a scabbard, and Laiti's whimperings grew louder. As she cautiously rounded a bend in the tunnel, she caught a glimpse of a figure with his sword drawn and raised, standing over a small quavering figure on the ground. The unnatural green light of the smith's staff blazed in Tobin's eyes, and his thin lips frowned in disdain as he prepared to drop his blade.

  "Your Grace! A moment!" said the giant smith, and his huge hand shot out to restrain Tobin's arm. Tobin whirled around and glared at the smith.

  "You dare to touch me? To issue commands?" demanded Tobin.

  "My apologies, your Grace," demurred the smith. "I was just thinking of a particular passage in your brother's research. It occurs to me that this girl presents us with a most unique opportunity to accomplish your goals."

  "She has seen too much," snapped Tobin, eyeing Laiti's crumpled form. "She must die."

  "After we are done with her, she will be…better than dead," said Isic. "On this you have my word."

  Chapter 9: Xasho

  As he walked through a small village a few miles from the outskirts of the city Xasho did his best to remain hidden and unnoticed. He knew that as soon as word of his survival got back to the Marshland commanders in Sidhira, they would send men to search for him, most likely with orders to kill on sight. The search parties could not yet have caught up with him, for it must have taken the old soldier who had fled the grotto some time to make his way back through the tunnels and give his report. Still, Xasho had a strange suspicion that he was being followed. Many times he had stopped momentarily to linger in a dark corner or doorway in the hopes that he might see someone tracing his footsteps, but he could never wait long, for he knew he had to find some place to hide, and quickl
y.

  Xasho had intended to seek out a healer for fear that he had been afflicted with some unknown poison. His condition did not seem to be deteriorating, however, and asking about town for a healer would draw too much attention, so he decided against it. The wounds themselves did not bleed nearly as much as Xasho would have expected, leaving only a neat circular stain of blood on his makeshift bandages. His hands did throb painfully, though, and Xasho worried that his wounds would sour if he left them untreated. Short on time, he resolved to find somewhere out of sight where he could stop for a few minutes and wash his palms with wine.

  After observing the few establishments the town had to offer, he settled upon an inn which was very dark, very shabby, and particularly noisy. The only light inside the inn came from the glimmer of thick wax candles which dripped from the edges of the bar and a few tables. The air was heavy with smoke and the sounds of people laughing, snoring, and arguing. The proprietor, easily identified by the thick golden sickle which hung from his left ear, gave Xasho a bored, unfriendly look when he approached, but asked "What do you need?" and made ready a glass.

  "Some wine, please," said Xasho, "and a private room for a few moments, if you have one."

  The proprietor raised his eyebrows and looked behind Xasho.

  "Do you need a girl, too?" he asked.

  "No," said Xasho.

  "A boy, then?"

  "No. Just the wine and the room," said Xasho as he lay down five coppers in front of the barkeep.

  "Suit yourself," said the man who pointed vaguely through the haze. "Down a bit and to your left. If you can't find an open door, I'd recommend knocking before you try any handles."