And as they passed down the way, Thork retrieved all three of his crossbow bolts from among the ashes of Sun-slain Spawn, while Elyn took up one of the Guul spears, to be used as a lance, should the need arise. Feeling the heft and balance of the bared pole arm—Had I my own spear, I would not use this thing. Spikes get lodged. Poison is a coward’s way. Had I my own, then would I fling this one to perdition. “Let us return to the Wizard’s holt when we come to Black Mountain. Get some of the things left behind: your hammer, my spear, a good saddle, more grain for the gelding. . . .”
Thork nodded his agreement, and southward they trudged, the Dwarf still favoring a leg bruised in the chariot crash.
That night they camped in the bleak grey mountains as a light snowfall fluttered down. There was no wood to make a fire, and to stay warm they huddled together ’neath both their blankets, as well as one of the two they had taken from the slain brigands; the other blanket they draped over the gelding.
And there was a hammering deep within the stone as they slept, though only the horse sensed it.
The next morning, cold and sore, aching from the battering that they had taken from the chariot spill, bruises growing, they groaned awake, wishing that they had a fire so that they could have some hot tea. And as Thork stumped back from relieving himself: “Would that I had jumped from that careening rig when I first thought of it, rather than letting the thing hurl me to the ground.”
“You thought of jumping?” Elyn was surprised.
“Aye, to lighten the load so that you could escape the hounding Khōls,” came his answer, “but I decided that they would overtake anyway, and I thought of their spears and your unprotected back and knew I would serve you better within the chariot than without.”
A stricken look came upon Elyn’s face at his answer. Adon! He would sacrifice himself for me. The thought of him doing so caused her heart to clench, yet she maintained her poise. “That you did not jump was wise, for it will take your hand to wield the Kammerling ’gainst Black Kalgalath; my knowledge of warhammers is limited to a brief training session when I was but a youngling.” She took a bite of crue and chewed thoughtfully. “And had you leapt, then the mission ’gainst Black Kalgalath would have come to nought, and our two Nations would continue to war.”
Her mind following that line of thinking to its end, Elyn continued: “Yet mayhap you should teach me in the ways of the hammer in the days to come, for then should you again take it in your head to do something foolish, then still will the Drake fall.” Elyn paused, then: “Aye, Thork, train me; we double our chances of success: one can carry on should aught happen to the other.”
Thork nodded. “Aye, Princess, I can teach you; there will be time: the journey back is long, particularly if we cannot come across a pony for me.”
It took another day and a half for them to come to their destination upon Black Mountain, yet when they arrived, there was no iron gate standing at the dead end of the stone fold where they had last seen it. Yet throughout Thork’s entire being, there burned the path that they had taken, a path that his feet could not lose, and he knew that once here was a door. Yet no door, no portal, no gate loomed before them, only stern black stone frowning.
“Princess, I know that this is the place where stood the door. As a Châk, I cannot be mistaken. Aye, it has snowed since we left, yet this is the place. See the fold in the land. See the wall where once there was an iron gate. Faugh! This be another trick of the Wizards. If they wanted us back in, then the door would be here.”
“If there be a portal here, Thork,” responded Elyn, “then mayhap it exists only for those bearing a token of power, or those in dire need . . . as were we when first you found it.”
“Just any token of power, nay,” said Thork, “for we bear the Kammerling in hand. Yet mayhap the silveron nugget was the key, or as you say, our dire need.”
They turned to leave, but as they started away, Thork faced about once more and again confronted the stone. “Adon,” he said firmly, yet the stone yielded not, no gate swung open. He stood a moment more, then said in Châkur, “Sol Kani, den vani dak belka, [Friend Wizards, for our lives we thank you,]” and turned and caught up to Elyn.
They went down the slope, Thork’s unerring steps leading the way, passing by the place where Digger had fallen, and farther down slope, where Wind had died; but the new-fallen snow was deep, burying the storm-slain below, showing no sign of their bodies. And tears blurred Elyn’s vision as down and down the wayfarers went, leaving Black Mountain behind.
It took six more days to come out through the col between thumb and forefinger, six days of trudging through snow in bleak grey mountains, five cold nights spent in the lee of stone boulders rimed with frost, meagerly sheltered ’gainst the icy winds. And each night, deep within the stone below a rhythmic hammering sounded, but the exhausted twain slept the sleep of the dead and heard it not.
And they came down the high saddle between the peaks and in among other, lower mountains, where at last there was wood. That night, for the first time in weeks, they built a fire. And Elyn cooked the small bag of beans that she had borne all the way from Andrak’s holt. They sopped their crue biscuits in the liquid of the soup, and it was as ambrosia to them.
Two days later, in midmorn, ere exiting the range, they came upon a mountain village, one that they had passed on the way in without stopping. Yet now they went up the snowy path and in, striding up the muddy street toward village center, for they needed provisions—food and other staples, and a pony for Thork, if one could be had—and dogs ran yapping at their heels, causing the gelding to snort and shy and skit. And they were not unexpected, for the villagers had seen them from afar, coming down the trail from the east, whence no one came but bandits, or perhaps demons. For had not the townsfolk heard the signalling deep within the stone this past week, heralding the arrival of something or someone, and what else would the earth talk of, if not demons moving about? And so the villagers peered out from their huts and hovels, wary of these strangers, holding children back from running to see, and scribing signs of warding in the air. And in the town square, braver than most, for it was expected of him, stood the portly headman of the village, ready to greet these strangers, though he, too, thought that perhaps they were demons with their odd white skins, not yellow; but even if they were, villagers need be polite to demons, for who knows what would happen, what they would do, if they were met with rudeness. And so he stood in his finest clothes—red robe with gold trim, black hat that announced his office, blue sash—his canted dark eyes watching as they approached. But once Heido had seen their hands, noting that each bore four fingers and a thumb, and their legs, noting that the knees bent forward and not backward, then he relaxed, for they could not be demons with such . . . probably . . . even though now that they came closer, he could see one of them had red hair and green eyes, while the other was squat with shoulders twice as broad as a Man’s should be. And he noted they wore armor, and bore sword and bow and spear and sling and black horn and long-knife and dagger and axe and hammer and shield, and thought that whether they were demons or not, one should not make them angry.
But he spoke not a word of their language; nor did they speak his. This was going to be most difficult, for clearly they had come to trade, and the village could profit, and gather in much fine goods, perhaps a wood axe or two, or hatchets, though he had not seen any; perhaps instead in their saddlebags they bore perfumes, amber, beads, thread and needles—though it was obvious that they had no bolts of cloth for sewing; perhaps, since they had walked, perhaps even the horse could be bargained for. Hence, it was important that he and they find a way to communicate, especially since he wanted the horse for his own—if they would trade it—for none of the villagers owned such a steed, neither here nor in Kaito, nor even in Béjan. To have such a great animal under him, well, that would add exceedingly to his standing among all the mountain dwellers.
And so Heido called for old Tai to attend him, for Tai had been
a trader in his youth, learning parts of many tongues, travelling far from the mountains before he discovered the error of his ways. And while waiting for Tai to arrive, Heido escorted the two visitors into the village hall and sat them down at a small square mat and offered them tea, which they gratefully accepted. While outside, villagers gathered to crane their necks to see these people who, in spite of the earth signals, perhaps were not demons after all, and to examine the great steed, also probably not a demon, though from a respectful distance, just in case.
At last Tai came: old Tai, dressed in his yellow robe and black trader’s boots—no one else in the village had boots, not even the hetman—for Tai had reckoned that he would be needed for his knowledge of tongues. And he stroked his thin beard, looking as wise as he could, as he shuffled along the lane the villagers made for him through their ranks, to come into the building, where he took his place at the mat, and received the tea presented. And after he had taken the ceremonial sip, frail Tai dredged through his mind for tongues long forgotten, the words slow and rusty, his voice reedy, the strangers shaking their heads No until at last he came upon a patois used by some traders far to the sunset, a patois that the bearded one spoke.
[Welcome to Doku,] he said, sweeping his trembling arm in a gesture to indicate the entire village outside. [I am Tai, and this is Heido, our hetman.]
[I am Thork. My companion is Lady Elyn.]
There ensued a round of smiling, and of bobbing heads to one another.
[The weather is cold this time of year,] said Heido through Tai, choosing a safe subject. [Not a likely time for travellers.]
[Aye, cold,] agreed Thork, [and though we would rather be before our hearth, we are on a pilgrimage we could not avoid. Our journey ahead is a long one of many days, and we have come to your village to trade for that which we will need in the weeks before us.]
[Coming from the east as you did, you are fortunate to have reached our village at all,] said Heido, Tai translating, [for there are evil bandits living in a dark tower atop a black rock within the Grey Mountains.]
[No more, Heido,] responded Thork, [The black rock fell in an earthquake, and all the bandits perished.]
Tai’s eyes flew wide, and when he translated Thork’s words to Heido, the headman leapt to his feet and danced a jig. Then he stepped to the door and shouted out the news. And a babble of sound rose up as the villagers heard of this good fortune. Then, regaining his composure, he returned to the mat and took up his tea, once again staid and proper.
[You bear bright news, Bearded One, and my village will sing tonight,] said Heido through Tai.
“What is happening, Thork?” queried Elyn, sounds of rejoicing coming from outside. “Why the clamor in the street?”
“I told them about the fall of Andrak’s holt,” answered Thork. “Other than that, it is small talk, about the weather, about our journeying through the winter, about our need for provisions. The real bargaining hasn’t begun.”
[Your Woman interrupts her betters, Bearded One,] said Tai. [Is she always this rude?]
[Aye.] grunted Thork, not translating the words for Elyn.
[Then I think you must beat her with a stick,] opined Tai, [three times a day, till she learns her place.]
Thork choked on his tea, spluttering, covering his mouth with his hand while Elyn pounded him on the back, Thork concealing his smile, while pitying the fool that would try to lay a rod upon the Warrior Maiden.
Heido, who also had not been privy to an understanding of the words between Thork and Tai, said in translation, [Your Woman, I have never seen red hair on a Woman before]—he smiled at Elyn—[or on anyone, for that matter—just black, like mine. And green eyes. Hair like fire, and eyes like emeralds. Do you wish to trade her? She would fetch a high price, I am sure: a pony or two, at least.]
Thork made a negating gesture with his hand, No, Heido nodding his understanding, for surely a green-eyed redheaded Woman was special, in all ways.
And once again Elyn spoke up: “Thork, I am going mad, sitting here without comprehension. What are they saying now?”
“They have opened the bartering,” answered Thork, without telling her just what they had asked for, or what they had offered in exchange.
Tai dourly shook his head at this unseemly interruption, upset that this Woman of the Bearded One did not know her place.
[What have you to trade, Bearded One called Thork?] asked Tai. [Perhaps we can find a common ground. Have your Woman bring in the goods.]
“They have asked that you bring in what we would barter,” said Thork, not looking the Princess in the eye.
Elyn, already nettled that she could not understand a word, balked. “What do they think I am, a thrall?”
Exactly. “We do not know their ways, my Lady,” responded Thork.
“Send someone else,” sniffed Elyn, thoroughly miffed. “Or get them yourself.”
“Elyn, you must go, for if I do,” growled Thork, sotto voce, “then I will lose face before them, and we’ll not get what we need.”
“You can tell them for me to go to Hèl!” responded Elyn, now the proud Warrior Maiden. “Tell them to have one of their own go fetch the gear.”
“They are afraid, for the horse might be a daemon.” Now Thork’s own temper began to rise. Yet, what he would have done—
“Daemon, faugh!” But Elyn jolted to her feet and angrily strode from the room.
Till this moment, Tai had never seen her standing. [My, she is a tall one, that Woman of yours, Master Thork; you will need a big stick.]
Glumly, Thork nodded.
Minutes later she returned, flinging the goods to the floor: tulwars, ring-mail leather armor, dagger, long-knife, helm, flint and steel, and other such . . . all the gear that they had taken from the slain brigands.
At sight of these goods, Heido’s face fell, for what did any villager need with these things of War? What good were they? They couldn’t be eaten. They would not keep one warm on a cold night. They wouldn’t bring a Woman to one’s bed. They could not be fondled and admired for their beauty. And the small items—flint and steel, copper pans, knives and such—though useful, well, they just weren’t perfumes, jade, beaded necklaces . . .
But Tai, ever a trader, got to the business at hand, and so the haggling began in earnest, Elyn often interrupting to ask what was happening, what they were saying, and old Tai urging Thork to [Beat her with a big stick, three times a day, then will your Woman stop all this chatter.]
Finally, Elyn gave up, and stalked from the chamber and out into the street. Once more the villagers gave back before her, for not only was she armed and armored, she also had flaming hair, and green eyes, and white skin. And surely a green-eyed one with a red head and white skin must be a demon, and must be treated with deference, else the demon might get angry; then would her knees turn backwards and her hands become many-fingered and clawed, and she would grow and fire would come from her nose and her great mouth would be filled with sharp fangs and . . .
Elyn walked about the village, past brick huts and wood, and some of mud and wattle. And wherever she went, she was followed by villagers, remaining at a discreet separation. And she stared off into the distance, sighting along the vale through these low mountains, back toward the way they had come—grey ramparts rising up—and toward the way they were going—mountains falling to foothills and plains. Yet in the end, she came back into the square, to sit upon a log by the village well. And even though it was the afternoon-time to dip water, none came forward to do so.
After a long while, someone brought Elyn a bowl of rice, and a pair of small sticks, and a clay cup of goat’s milk, setting it down a goodly distance from her, then beckoning her forward while backing away. Elyn smiled when she saw, and nodded in gratitude, receiving bows in return from every one in the square. And when the Princess discovered that it was food, she gratefully dug in, with her fingers—What are these sticks for?—wondering why they had brought no spoon.
And once more the
people drew back, for surely it must be an uncouth demon who eats with her fingers as would a child.
After the meal, Elyn strode about again, while villagers rushed to the well with buckets. She found a stable filled with ponies, their hair grown long with winter shag; and she led the gelding into the shelter, unsaddling and watering him and feeding him some grain. And while the steed munched upon oats, Elyn rubbed the beast down with handfuls of straw, then took the currycomb from a saddlebag and combed the knots from the mount’s winter coat, the shag thick and stubborn; but Elyn persisted, as she had done every evening on the trail.
She had just finished when Thork and Heido and Tai came in, and still angry, Elyn stomped out, returning to the square.
Perhaps an hour later, the three traders crossed the square and went back into the central building.
Again, someone brought the redheaded demon a meal, cooked snow peas, once more without a spoon, and now the mysterious small sticks were missing as well.
The Sun slid down the remainder of the sky and began to settle behind the mountains; and in the winter twilight, Thork came unto the porch with Heido and Tai. There ensued a round of bowing, and the two villagers bustled off into the gloaming, Heido waddling, Tai hobbling, bowing to Elyn as they passed, smiles upon their faces.
Thork motioned the Princess to him, holding the door for her as she stepped in. The chamber smelled of spices and tea, and a fresh pot simmered upon the small clay brazier, glowing charcoal within.
“They will be bringing us food, Princess,” said Thork, “and pads for us to sleep upon, and blankets.”
Elyn was no longer angry, having had all afternoon to set her rude treatment aside. Besides, Thork was right: they didn’t know the ways of these villagers, and she had finally called to mind an old Jordian saying: When in Rhondor, be Rhondorian. “What did you get from them?—The trading, I mean.”
Dragondoom: A Novel of Mithgar Page 45