by Jak Koke
“We need to go now,” said Celagri, her arm on his shoulder. The tone of sadness in her voice brought Pabl out of his trance.
He turned and looked at his friends. “All right,” he said.
“Let’s go.” Pabl ignored the pain in his muscles and lifted Reid’s body with Chaiel’s assistance. They carried it up over the mountains and began their journey to Tepuis Garen — their journey home.
This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Chapter Forty-One
Sarbeneck’s camp was packed up and ready to leave in six hours. Even in the early light of dawn, the tepuis glowed with lines of fire which traced an intricate web across the cliff face. The lava flow from the tunnel had slowed once the cavern was completely filled.
All that purified orichalcum . . . wasted. It was almost enough to make him cry.
Still, Sarbeneck had his secret reserves, and he wasn’t about to stick around and see if the obsidimen wanted any of it back.
“Gingreth, is the cavalry ready to depart?” he asked.
The ork nodded. “Yes, sir. They are all eager to leave this jungle.”
“As am I, my friend. As am I.” Sarbeneck smiled at the ork.
“Let’s move out then.”
“As you wish,” Gingreth said. Then he stuck his tongue between his two jutting fangs and blew out a loud whistle. The caravan moved forward, heading toward the village of Rabneth. It was Sarbeneck’s intention to pass through Rabneth as quickly as possible and make good headway before nightfall.
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Rabneth was too close to this accursed rock.
They had made half the distance to the village when Pontin and his guards rode up beside him. “I see that you have mobilized quickly,” Pontin said.
“Such keen powers of observation,” Sarbeneck said. I am going to enjoy this conversation immensely.
“I hope you don’t plan to carry out your threat against my village. You must know that I had no way of knowing that the chamber would be destroyed like that. You can still stay and re-mine it after the rock cools. That is what you were contracted to do, was it not? It’s not my fault if you ignore our agreement.”
“I take it, Pontin, friend, that you expected me to strip the orichalcum off the walls after the obsidimen were finished.”
“Um –”
“Well?”
“I assumed your bonus would be enough to cover the cost —”
“About that half-million silver, Pontin; I’d like that now, please.”
“You know I don’t have it.”
“Then my threat remains —”
“Please try and see it from my side, Sarbeneck. Those obsidimen deceived me, too. They promised me more. Plus, I know that you have a stash of the magic metal. I know you’re trying to get away without giving me my share.”
They caravan had passed into the outlying fields of Rabneth by this time and were rapidly approaching the village.
Sarbeneck looked around, wondering how much of all this land belonged to Pontin. Sarbeneck knew that Pontin owned all of the shantytown in the village including the slave-trad-ing rackets and the gambling houses. He also had his own private magician’s laboratory somewhere in that vast expanse of polluted and rundown huts.
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“Oh, you will get your share all right,” Sarbeneck said.
“Don’t worry about that, friend.”
“Are you serious? You intend to give me part of that orichalcum?”
“Oh no, not at all.”
“What then?” Pontin sounded worried now.
The caravan arrived at the village, the outlying houses nestled neatly into the eaves of the jungle. The crystal waterfall fell a few hundred yards behind them, roaring in the early morning light. The fiery filaments on the tepuis caused the water to sizzle and steam away into the sky. The stream flowed out from the pool below the waterfall and made its way through the shantytown.
They came upon the central clearing before Sarbeneck called Gingreth to him. “I want you to hold Pontin,” he said.
“Then burn the shantytown. Make sure everyone is outside first, of course.”
Gingreth smiled. “The cavalry will love you for this, sir,”
he said. Then he turned and bellowed some orders in orkish.
Pontin spurred his miniature horse and tried to make a run for it. He started to cast a spell, but an arrow hit him in the side before he could finish it. Pontin doubled over, grabbing at the arrow as blood welled a deep crimson against his white-and-green-checkered waistcoat. The red really did clash, Sarbeneck thought. Pontin must be terribly embar-rassed.
Gingreth said something to the horse and it stopped running.
“Make sure he watches the fire before you string him up,” Sarbeneck said. “It has not been a pleasure doing business with you, Pontin.” Then Sarbeneck moved up to him and ripped the beetle scarab from his cloak. “This I will take as partial payment,” he said. “Because I know it has value.”
“Yes, that is a powerful item. I can cast illusions through it.
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It belonged to one of the Tepuis Garen obsidimen a long time ago and was given to me by my employers. Please take it in exchange for —”
The rest of Pontin’s reply was lost as Gingreth clamped a hand on his mouth and began tying a gag over it.
Sarbeneck moved away to let Gingreth do his job. He hated watching the gruesome details. Pontin would be forced to observe a lot of very obliging, happy orks burn his precious buildings to the ground. And afterwards, Gingreth would hang him upside down from the branch of a tall tree.
Perhaps he will die, perhaps not. I don’t care. If he lives, which he most likely will, he’ll think twice about trying to cheat me again.
Sarbeneck decided he wanted to see Nancri. He had been spending many nights with her, and had come to miss her company when they weren’t together. A shiver of excitement passed through him as he rode up towards her. In his many years, he had never felt this way about a woman. Perhaps he would ask her to marry him.
Not here of course. Not in this accursed jungle. He would wait until they reached civilization — the glorious kingdom under the mountains. Throal.
I will take no more jobs outside the kingdom, he decided.
That is where I belong. Then he tossed the beetle scarab into the air and caught it again. Maybe I’ ll take some time off.
Maybe this magic bug will make a nice gift to Nancri.
Maybe I will get married.
The future abounded with possibilities, and when the caravan made it out of the forest and into the civilized world once again, Sarbeneck would explore those opportunities.
When this job was finally over and he was back home in Throal, he would be very happy. Ecstatic. And that was something he had not felt in a very long time.
This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Chapter Forty-Two
Pabl’s journey back to Tepuis Garen passed slowly. The group made little headway during the first few days because Pabl and Chaiel had to carry Reid’s body. The corpse hardened, growing denser as its flesh slowly turned to stone. The skin hardened and cracked, the muscles and bones solidifying into rock, smelling like a hot, dry wind.
Several days later, Celagri spotted a caravan of Dinganni nomads. As before, the tribe welcomed them, and the humans were more than willing to exchange a cart for a few gems and a promise from Jan to tell the story of their encounter at Sangolin. The itinerant people traveled north with them for five days and nights before heading east. Again, Pabl was sad to see them go.
Even with the cart, it
took the four of them almost a month to make it back around the jungle and through to the tepuis from the north side. A few days after they had left the Dinganni, Jan and Celagri grew bored with the unchanging terrain and the mild weather. Soon they tried to draw Chaiel into verbal combat, goading him with comments which used to throw him into a tirade. But Chaiel ignored their taunts for 281
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the most part, staying out of the bickering; something had happened to him at Sangolin.
Pabl had tasted that something. And a tiny part of him yearned for it. Sangolin is no more. The temptation, forever gone. But he pushed those feelings out of his head. He wanted to believe that those desires had died with Sangolin. He wanted to ignore the tiny emptiness in his soul.
By the time they had reached the village of Rabneth, nestled up against the imposing cliff wall of the tepuis, Jan and Celagri had started bickering with each other again. It was almost comforting to Pabl; everything was back to normal.
At Rabneth, Chaiel and Pabl said temporary goodbyes to Jan and Celagri. The two obsidimen passed through the small village without so much as a rest; they wanted to get Reid’s body to the Deathstone, his hardened bones and flesh returned to the liferock. Pabl noticed that the shantytown which used to pollute the riflev stream had been removed.
Only a few burned shacks remained; the rest of the buildings had been cleared away.
Pabl and Chaiel carried Reid’s body directly to the cliff face and merged with the spirit of Ganwetrammus. Pabl fell into the embrace of his liferock, buoyed by the rock’s new strength. The brotherhood welcomed him — Gvint and Hagnit and Ywerk and the others. Since Jibn Sra had died during the Ritual of Protection, Bintr Aar had become the new Elder.
And despite the tragic loss of Jibn and Reid, the brotherhood pulsed jubilant through the merge. Everyone glowed; the collective roared with energy.
Pabl soaked it in, letting their enthusiasm fill his tired spirit. Gvint and Bintr sent him images and sensations of what had happened at the liferock during his absence. They showed him the construction of the orichalcum-lattice chamber and the creation of Vecrix’s spell. Pabl experienced their memories of the Ritual of Protection.
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Likewise, Pabl and Chaiel shared their journey with the others and Ganwetrammus. And after some time had passed in the Dreaming, when they were ready to emerge several days later, Hagnit and Tidre came down the cliff face to help take Reid’s body to the top.
Gvint and Bintr greeted them in the temple with instructions to lay Reid’s body next to that of Jibn Sra where they both would be prepared for final rejoining. Gvint had led the search for Jibn’s body himself, and now it lay next to the Alqarat in peaceful repose.
When the two bodies rested side by side on the tile, Bintr covered them each with a heavy black funeral cowl embroidered with gold thread, showing the rites of reclamation — a scene where the body split into its four constituent elements, each flowing towards an elemental whirlwind stitched near the corner of the fabric.
The funeral cowl suits Reid, Pabl thought. This is where his body belongs.
Pabl approached Gvint. “I return your Mynbruje pendant, Elder. It has been my salvation on more than one occasion.”
He held the small jade statuette out.
Gvint smiled, reaching his hands toward Pabl. “I am glad,”
he said, “that it kept thoughts of us in you.” He touched Pabl’s hand, then closed Pabl’s fingers over the pendant. “But it no longer belongs to me, young one. It is yours now.”
Pabl felt a rush of love for his Elder, and a deep resounding sadness for the memory of the other owner of the pendant, Reid Quo. “You honor me,” he said.
“It is the least you deserve, brother.” Then, turning to Chaiel, Gvint said, “Welcome home, my brothers.” He touched palms with Chaiel. “We have missed you.”
Chaiel nodded. “You don’t know how good it feels, Elder.”
Bintr, the new Elder, lifted the funeral blanket to look at Reid’s head. “You found no horkla?” he asked.
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“None of the Sangolin obsidimen wore them, Elder,” Pabl said. “Nor any items of a personal nature.”
Chaiel gave a sad sigh. “The horklas were burned,” he said.
“Vecrix revealed it to me in a fit of hubris. About fifty years ago, they made a huge bonfire and destroyed them.”
Gvint lowered his eyes. “A dire loss,” he said.
Bintr shuddered. “Indeed,” he said, releasing the funeral cowl to fall back over Reid’s head.
Later, after they had moved the two bodies to the Deathstone, they held a short ceremony. The entire brotherhood in the long ceremonial robes of indigo and magenta formed a wide circle around the Deathstone. It was a fitting showing for the saviors of their liferock.
Jibn and Reid were placed in the center of the scarred rock, and their bodies slowly disintegrated over the days and days of chanting. The brotherhood sang rejoice at their return to Ganwetrammus. Celebrating each moment of their lives in the universe.
The rains came and went as they sang, washing away the remains of Jibn Sra and Reid Quo. The mud of their flesh channeled down the deeply etched chasms in the surface of the Deathstone until nothing remained, and the two elders existed only in memory.
Pabl spent the days after the funeral merged with Ganwetrammus. Sangolin was all but a distant memory, incon-sequential now. His life was here for a while. He only wished he could see Jan and Celagri more. Soon he would go down to Rabneth to visit.
About a week later, Gvint approached Pabl in the temple. “Bathe now, young one,” he said. “For tonight you shall be Named.”
Pabl looked up at Gvint’s sharply peaked head, his black eyes. “I’m in no hurry,” he said.
“That is good. Nevertheless, your Fire Bath will be tonight.
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Bintr and I have agreed.”
Pabl smiled. “May my friends join us?”
“The elf and the dwarf?”
“Yes, I —”
“Chaiel has taken it upon himself to make sure they come.
He professes that he was wrong about them, that they have proven themselves loyal to us.”
“More than a few times,” Pabl said.
“They will be quite welcome. Now go, prepare yourself.”
Pabl turned and walked outside into the gentle rain. He made his way down the erosion steps to the riflev pool. He stripped off his cloak, folding it into his pack, and walked into the water. Cold and clean, it tightened his skin as he sat on the last step and washed the dirt and the grime from his body.
It was evening by the time he was finished. The rain had stopped, and the high clouds had dissipated. The sky was a pale, pale blue, darkening to a deep violet in the east. Cold air dried the water from him as he climbed the steps to the temple, refreshed and new.
The entire brotherhood had gathered inside by the time he entered, each dressed vividly in the fancy robes and horklas of the sacred ceremonies. He stood at the entrance to the temple, naked and shivering with excitement.
It wasn’t until his brothers sat cross-legged on the tile floor that he noticed the presence of Jan and Celagri, standing near the Alqarat next to Gvint and Bintr. The dwarf had cleaned his patched magician’s robe for the occasion, and his beard was combed. And Celagri wore her usual black leather, but over the top was a brilliant red cape which Pabl had never seen before. They smiled at Pabl briefly before sitting.
Bintr and Gvint did not sit. They stood on eit
her side of the Alqarat. “Come, young one,” Gvint said. “Ganwetrammus awaits you.”
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from the Alqarat seared the air with a steady crackle, and the obsidimen began a low droning harmony. Pabl walked towards the Elders, noticing the changes which had come over the Alqarat. The spur-shaped stone seemed to be moving; its sharp tip glowed a deeper red. Ripples passed along it as Pabl approached.
Bintr raised his rich, brown eyes to look into Pabl’s. He spoke, “The time of your Awakening has come to an end.
Now you join the collective. Your experiences during your wanderings outside will determine the name Ganwetrammus chooses for you.” He touched Pabl in the sternum.
Pabl felt a slight pain, then noticed a spot of blood there.
The droning grew in volume and a chanting melody emerged. The chant filled the space of the temple around Pabl until he lost focus of everything except the Elders and the Alqarat. Gvint plunged his hands into the molten tip, scooping out a palm-full of the liferock, whispering under his breath. Pabl felt a palpable rush of magical energy flow around him.
Gvint shaped and stretched the lava, lengthened and rolled it into a conduit. Bintr attached at one end to Pabl’s bloody chest, and Gvint put the other into the tip of the Alqarat. His blood mixed with the core of the rock, and Pabl felt his grasp on the here and now dissipate in a wash of fire and pain. A mosaic of red flares filled his vision as the lava seeped into his veins, burning his insides, searing his flesh.
He tried to cry out from the agony, but time slowed down, the single moment stretching longer and longer. His scream never came.
Memories flashed into his mind, vivid and tangible. Real.
He emerged from the rock, famished and thirsty, guzzling water from the riflev while his brothers gathered around him.