As Jonas spied the man the Disciple fell to his knees and prostrated himself before the figure. “Forgive me, Prophet—” Jonas said from the floor. “I had no idea you would be laboring in the Room of Realms today.”
“Duty finds us all, Jonas,” the old man replied. “Today mine brings me here. We have been waiting to hear from you for some time—I am glad to hear your report firsthand. Who is that with you?”
“I apologize for the delay,” Jonas responded as he rose. “This world is far larger than we had supposed, but before we speak of it, let me introduce Empress Yaneera of the Andara.”
The prophet nodded, but offered no salutation of his own. It was evident that in the hierarchy of heaven a prophet outranked an Empress.
Sensing the prophet’s impatience Jonas continued: “I have news. We have found the pretender at last. This world bows before a being they refer to as the Allfather. I have seen their shrines and chapels. All of them bear the mark of the smiling sun.”
“Well done, Jonas. The Master will be pleased indeed. For many years we have sought him across the stars. If you have indeed found one of his worlds then we draw near to our goal. Do you think it possible that he resides on that world?”
“I do not believe so,” Jonas answered. “While there is much of this world I have not seen, those who serve him here know little of him. While I am confident this world lies in his domain, I do not think he has been present here in many years. The people here appear to worship a memory more than a being whose existence they have witnessed with their own eyes.”
“Intriguing,” the Prophet mused. “Let us commence bringing them into the fold. You mentioned that the world is larger than we supposed. How many Disciples shall we send?”
“Five should be sufficient, Your Excellency,” Jonas replied.
“Five, you say? Converting such a populous world to our cause will bring great strength to us, not to mention the loss the ‘Allfather’ will suffer at their departure.” Turning away from the portal he began calling loudly, “Belamir, Karesa, Alsarius, Talan and Rauger—come here.” Once the Disciples had entered the chamber, several of them visible in the image, the Prophet continued: “Brother Jonas has need of your assistance. You will travel to this new world and assist him in spreading the word of Mythos.”
For a moment there was a commotion on the other side of the portal as the Disciples responded to the call. Soon there stood before the open portal five Disciples. Their appearances varied but each wore the same uniform—the black and red robes of discipleship. In unison the Disciples moved towards the portal.
As the Disciples stepped through the portal Yaneera felt both wonder and fear in equal measure—wonder at the notion that the Disciples had just moved between worlds in the blink of an eye, but fear at the thought of the power that each of these Disciples could wield.
As the last of them stepped through the portal the Prophet nodded and waved his hand and the portal vanished without a trace. Jonas embraced the Disciples eagerly before turning and gesturing towards the Empress. “My fellow Disciples, this is Empress Yaneera of the Andara, first to join the fold of Mythos. Her Empire is struggling under severe drought but we will prosper them.
“In time they will regather their strength and help us to bring all the inhabitants of this land into the guiding light of Mythos. In the meantime you will bear the word to her neighbors and persuade all you can to join the cause. All who do not will be ground beneath our feet as we usher in a new and glorious age for this world. Now listen carefully—we have much to discuss.”
The Disciples gathered around Jonas and were soon lost in deep discussion. When it became apparent that she was being ignored, Yaneera excused herself. In the gallery outside the Throne Room she looked out at the landscape of the Empire. The newly-fallen rain had changed everything. It was a blessing beyond belief, but in spite of the bounty it would bring, Yaneera couldn’t help but feel troubled over the price the Disciples seemed determined to exact.
Chapter 10
The foothills of the Everpeak
Rauger, Disciple of Mythos, made his way steadily up the hillside. The journey had been comfortable at first. Within the borders of Andara, the Empress’s seal had made life simple—wherever he ventured he was granted supplies and safe passage. At first he had traveled south with Talan, enjoying the companionship of his fellow Disciple, but the two had parted ways almost a week earlier. Talan had continued on to Khashish as Rauger ventured into the rocky foothills surrounding the Everpeak.
The rocky mountainside was difficult to traverse, an unpleasant contrast to the rolling pastures of Andara. In spite of the strain Rauger continued on undeterred. He had little doubt in his mind Jonas had selected him for this task on purpose. Rauger was tall by any standard, almost seven feet, and his Disciple’s robes hid a well-honed physique. Jonas had clearly chosen him for his strength, and the thought gave satisfaction and pride to the Disciple as he struggled over the treacherous terrain.
His instructions had been clear—this route was a steep ascent but overall a much shorter route to the Everpeak. If he followed his current course he would arrive at the outskirts of the dwarven realm by nightfall. If he had traveled through the easier southern road of the Vernaldhum it would have taken him an additional two weeks to reach the Dwarven Kingdom. Rauger was not one for dallying about, and he had quickly decided upon the harder but more direct passage.
As Rauger continued up the rugged path, the mountains seemed to be closing in upon him. Soon the path was little more than a rocky canyon winding its way through the mountainside. As he followed the narrow canyon, Rauger considered how difficult it would be to lay siege to such a location. The narrow path and high walls would make it murderous terrain for any ambushing force.
After several hours of negotiating his way through the canyon, he found himself at an abrupt end. Perhaps I have taken the wrong path, Rauger considered as he examined the canyon wall that lay ahead. The stone surface was smooth, and he soon made out a seam in the stone that ran from the ground up to his shoulder, then in a straight line a little wider than his body before returning to the ground. In its center were a series of hewn markings—the inscription was completely foreign to him but its presence suggested he had reached his destination.
Placing two hands on the slab of stone, Rauger pushed for all he was worth. At first he thought he felt it shift, but after a minute of heaving against the stone he realized he had made no progress. Lowering his shoulder against the slab he threw his weight against the stone as if he were a battering ram. The impact jarred through his body and yet the slab remained unmoved. At length he collapsed heavily against the wall and sank to the stone floor of the canyon.
I have not traveled all this way for nothing, Rauger thought as he fumed in frustration.
As he angrily contemplated his next action he heard a husky voice call out from above. “Do you suppose a man, however strong or able, can move a mountain?”
“Who said that?” Rauger shouted angrily, standing up. He looked up the wall in search of the source of the voice. He could make out several figures peering down at him from a ledge perhaps thirty feet above where he was standing. The figures were small, perhaps a little taller than his waist, but broad and stocky and clad in heavy armor. Their faces were almost invisible at this distance, concealed as they were behind heavy braided beards and helmets. Dwarves, Rauger thought. At least I’ve come to the right place. Clearing his throat he called up to the Dwarves, “I am Rauger, emissary of Yaneera, Empress of Andara. I come bearing a message of great importance.”
The voice called down from the wall again. “I asked you a question, human—do you suppose you can move the mountain?”
Flustered at the defiance Rauger responded sharply, “I wasn’t trying to move the mountain—I was simply trying to gain entrance to your Kingdom to deliver my message.”
“The mountain moves for no man. Best you remember that,” the Dwarf chortled. “No one enters the Everpea
k except by the leave of the Iron King.”
Undeterred, Rauger seized the reference and continued: “It is Iron King I have come to speak with and I have traveled a great distance to do so. While he is not expecting my visit, your neighbor the Empress of Andara charged me to deliver it as soon as I am able. To this end I have come here that I might do so.”
“It is not common for men to travel the Narrow Way, and we are not accustomed to receiving guests here. Throw down your weapon and prepare yourself for inspection,” The Dwarf ordered.
“It is not a weapon—simply a staff of office.” Rauger held the staff aloft so that it could better be seen.
“All the same, you will throw it down and prepare for inspection if you wish to enter the Everpeak. Otherwise you can stay out there for all we care. It gets mighty cold in the mountains—we’ll see if you are more willing in the morning.”
“Very well.” Rauger responded, suppressing his frustration. He bent down and placed the staff gingerly on the canyon floor, taking care not to damage it on the coarse stone. The Dwarves disappeared from the ledge above. After what seemed an eternity there was a dull grinding noise, and Rauger could see the seamed piece of stone sinking into the mountain. As the stone receded Rauger marveled. The slab must have been at least a two feet thick—no wonder he had been unable to shift it. The stone continued to slide back into the mountainside until it sank into a wall behind the entryway, leaving a small portal into the mountainside.
Without warning the two Dwarves appeared. They were stouter than Rauger had perceived—easily as broad as the large Disciple, albeit much shorter. Both wore fine steel armor, and each had in one hand a well-wrought steel axe—in their off-hands they bore shields. Emblazoned across the shield was the image of a hammer striking an anvil, and lines depicting sparks broke away from the point of impact. The craftsmanship was some of the finest Rauger had ever seen. Slung across each Dwarf’s back and visible over his broad shoulder was a large two-headed axe. These are well armed for a simple border guard, a far cry from the simple peasants Rauger was often called to preach to.
“Stand as you are and don’t move,” The leader stated simply. Rauger nodded his understanding and the Dwarves approached. The two Dwarves inspected the tall Disciple in his robes of office. Cautiously they ensured that he was not carrying any additional arms. Lastly the leader picked up and examined the long staff topped with the silver crescent moon.
“A wicked weapon if ever I’ve seen it,” the warrior said appreciatively. “Not as thick and sturdy as an axe blade, though definitely serviceable.”
“It’s not a weapon,” Rauger stated defensively. “The crescent moon is the symbol of my master—it is merely decorative.”
“Not a weapon,” snorted the Dwarf with a grin. “I don’t believe you for a moment. You will be allowed to keep your walking stick, human, but rest assured—if you wield it with malice in the Everpeak you will be cut down without question. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” the Disciple nodded soberly.
The lead Dwarf handed the staff back to the Disciple and beckoned him to follow. “Follow us—we will lead you to the Iron King. He is expecting you.”
“Expecting me, how so? I only just arrived.”
“Our scouts have followed your progress for several days. They have been watching you ever since you entered the low country.”
“If you knew I was coming, why were you not waiting when I arrived?”
“Oh, we were waiting—we just thought it would be amusing to watch you struggle, and you didn’t disappoint.” The Dwarf looked happily to his companion.
“I see,” Rauger responded, reddening.
“We don’t get many visitors here,” the Dwarf explained. “We have to do what we can for amusement—you’ll have to excuse our sense of humor. The Narrow Way is a dull posting at the best of times.”
Rauger’s face turned red with indignation, but the Dwarf held up a hand. “Easy there, stranger—we have a ways to travel before we reach the Iron Court. In the meantime what shall we call you?”
“I am Rauger,” the Disciple responded as he battled to control his emotion.
“Well, I am Hodik, and this is Yarrig—we are of the House of Stonehand. Follow us, and we will lead you to the Iron Court.” The Dwarves turned and plodded off into the darkness. As Rauger reached the door he needed to stoop to pass through. It had clearly not been built with humans in mind. Once they were inside Hodik grasped a large lever and pushed the steel beam until it swung and locked. There was a whirring of cogs and humming of motion. As Rauger glanced upwards he could see a series of pulleys and cogs with counterweights. As the cogs spun the heavy stone door slid out of its alcove and back into place. Rauger watched the contraption at work and marveled. No wonder he had been unable to move the stone. The slab must have weighed over a ton. The dwarven engineering was indeed ingenious.
The Dwarves led onward into the Everpeak. At first the pathways were simple and rudimentary, tunnels hewn out of the mountain. For hours the party walked with little in the way of conversation. Rauger had been tired when he had reached the gateway into the mountain, but after several further hours of travel he was exhausted. In frustration he called out, “How far is it to the Iron Court?”
“Perhaps a day’s march from here,” Hodik responded. “We have not even entered the Everpeak yet.”
“A day!” exclaimed Rauger. “Do you intend to break at all?”
“We have no need for a break,” Yarrig responded. “Dwarves are made of sterner stuff than you frail humans. Besides, you said your message was urgent, so we thought it best to bear you there at once.”
“Indeed it is urgent Yarrig, but I must be alive to deliver it. Is there somewhere we might rest? I have traveled many days to reach the mountain.”
“There is a way station ahead. We can rest there for the evening. There will be food and lodging and we can continue on to the Iron Court in the morning.”
“Rest and a meal would be greatly appreciated.” Rauger replied eagerly. “How far are we from the station?”
“A couple of hours,” Hodik responded cheerfully. “More if we have to carry you.”
“You’re jesting with me,” Rauger responded.
“Of course we are, Rauger . . .” Yarrig slapped him on the back. “There’s no way we’re lugging a bloody human all the way to the station.”
Both Dwarves broke out into fits of laughter as they continued up the corridor. Rauger let out a deep sigh and trudged heavily after them.
Chapter 11
The Palace of the Shahs, Khashish
Talan strode boldly through the majestic palace that lay at the heart of Khashish, jubilant that his journey was almost at an end. Fortunately, shortly after parting company with Rauger he had crossed paths with a Khashishian caravan that was heading south. What might have been a long and tiresome journey became one of comfort as the caravan welcomed him into its midst.
As he traveled south the caravan was set upon by bandits. The highwaymen were fierce but had no defense against the arcane might of Mythos that Talan wielded with grim efficiency. In minutes the bandits lay dead or dying as divine flames tore through their ranks.
The victory brought him great favor with the master of the caravan, Amir. As thanks the rotund merchant gave the Disciple his own camel so that he would no longer needed to walk. With the merchants’ favor the balance of the journey to Khashish passed in relative comfort with sumptuous meals and all the comforts the caravan could provide.
As they traveled Talan and Amir passed their time in conversation. It soon became apparent that Amir knew nothing of Mythos, so diligently the Disciple strove to win the merchant to his cause. Amir listened intently but was non-committal. At length the discouraged Disciple determined that the appetites of the flesh were clouding the merchant’s judgment.
Amir served as one of the Shah’s merchant agents, and upon their return he would need to present himself to the Shah and report on
his journey. The day after they arrived in the city, Amir was summoned and Talan gladly accompanied him.
The Disciple smiled widely, eager for his audience with the Shah. A Disciple’s mandate was to bring people into the fold. Talan knew that if the Shah were converted, his people would soon follow. This direct approach brought risk, but it was certainly more effective than preaching from a soapbox in the market square.
The pair made their way through the palace, an armed escort at their side. As they entered the Grand Hall Talan gasped. The large chamber seemed to radiate with light. Talan cast his eyes upwards and realized the large minaret he had seen from the street must have been made of a translucent substance. Light was pouring through the spire and reflecting downwards from a series of mirrors, bathing the room in light. The Hall itself was splendid, beautiful mahogany timberwork covering the walls, and etched into the beautiful warm surface of the timber a rich gold inlay.
The space was grandiose and unlike anything Talan had seen before in his travels on many worlds. At the head of the chamber was a large throne that appeared to be fashioned of gold, its large armrests golden likenesses of large hunting cats, perhaps the beasts that Amir had described fearfully as the caravan traveled across the arid plains.
The Shah was an august figure, adorned in an emerald robe of silken luster that served to complement his ebony complexion. The Shah appeared to be of Talan’s own age, perhaps fifty summers old. His long beard was carefully braided and finished with emerald accoutrements, and it was immediately apparent that Shah Songrilah was a ruler possessing both wealth and power.
As Amir approached the throne he knelt down and stretched forth his arms in obeisance to his Shah. Unsure of the local custom, Talan stayed a few paces back and likewise knelt before the Shah and bowed his head, not wishing to give offense, his timid nature a strong contrast to his fellow Disciples.
The Shah raised a hand, gesturing for the pair to rise. “Rise, Amir—by all accounts you have served me well. The Vizier reports that your journey was a grand success, your wares sold, your camels return laden with precious goods—even mahogany from the forests of the Diadri. You have indeed done well.”
When The Gods War_Book 2_Chronicles of Meldinar Page 8