by kubasik
Around J'role the dwarfs subtly hefted their weapons, waiting for the conversation to suddenly break out into a brawl.
But Garlthik shook his head; and tried again. This time he did better, his words running more smoothly than the first time, though there were still starts and stops. He gestured to the group behind him, and specifically to J'role. This is concerned J'role, and his concern only increased when the ork leader turned to look directly at him.
The conversation continued for some time, with Garlthik gesturing in the air with his hands. J'role saw Borthum watching the conversation on as if he suspected some kind of trick, but the dwarf held his ground and said nothing.
Then came a long pause, and it seemed as if the raider leader was weighing out much more than whether or not to go into battle. Finally he nodded, and shouted commands in the ork tongue to his followers. The spiral quickly broke up and the group sprinted off into the darkness.
Garlthik stood for a moment, then his shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh He turned and came back to the group as Borthum crossed toward him.
"You spoke for a long time."
"No thanks? They wanted to kill you.”
“Tank you. What did you talk about all that time?"
"My background. They wanted to know who my family was. I lied and connected it to distant relations of theirs. That part was lucky. I might well have connected it to their most hated enemy."
Borthum paused, looked at Garlthik carefully. "Lucky."
"Yes."
Borthum turned from Garlthik and announced that they would make camp for the night.
A sound woke J'role. Without thinking abut it, he rolled from where he lay, then stood straight up. Garlthik knelt beside where J'role had slept, and he looked up at J'role with a grin. His one good eye caught the dying light of the fire's embers and turned it solid red.
He raised a finger to his lips, then crooked it, signaling for J'role to approach.
J'role examined Garlthik carefully. The dwarfs had tied him up again, and the ropes still seemed to bind him. Garlthik had crawled or rolled over to where J'role slept. He did not appear to be armed. J'role approached, and knelt down near Garlthik. They faced each other, as they had on the day Garlthik had initiated J'role at the tavern. The red light framed them, flickering, shifting from red to black to red again.
"Are you all right, then?"
J'role shook his head, cutting off the ork's friendly, concerned tone, not wanting to hear any more pleasantries. He pushed at Garlthik, hoping the ork would simply leave him alone.
But Garlthik spoke again, this time with a seriousness in his voice. "I know, I know. You think I turned on you. But I didn't, you know. I'll tell you honestly, I would have killed the others. And though I can see you're upset about your father's death, him too. I would have, and I say it with no shame. I don't feel shame, that's what gives me my strength.
But you? No, lad. Not you. You're still weak." He smiled gently once more, his large teeth sticking out over his lips. With a concerned, comforting tone, he went on, "You're my student, you see? We're bound."
J'role turned his face toward the ground. He wanted to take the words into his heart, but they frightened him.
"Think just of this then, lad. Dig deep inside yourself and give my questions some time to take root. Do you think you're incapable of doing what I did? Would you have done anything different?"
J'role knew the questions all too well. They had already taken root and he didn't want to think about them anymore. Hadn't he killed his own father? There was no need to contemplate the matter. He lay back on the mat the dwarfs had given him for sleeping and turned his back toward Garlthik.
"Very well," said the ork quietly. "Yes, I understand. see. Well, good night."
J. 'role heard him crawling off. After watching the embers dying- for half an hour, he finally fell asleep.
The gloom that weighed on J'role lightened as they traveled around an outcropping of large rocks and then reached the entrance to Throal.
Three giant arches had been carved into the flat face of the mountain; the center arch stupendously large, the ones on either side only astoundingly large. Even the mountain that towered high above the arches could not make them seem small. Massive stones had been fitted around the edges of the archways, and they glittered gold in the sunlight. A long train of pack animals was leaving the kingdom along a road that rolled out from the mountain. Compared to the arch, they looked like no more than insects.
J'role's group approached, and reached the road that led south from the mountains. On the road they met some other travelers, mostly dwarfs, but also elves—without thorns—
orks, obsidimen, the strange creatures made of black stone, thick-bodied lizard-folk with powerful tails, and humans. Some carried baskets filled with beautiful statues or cloth.
Two or three had wagons, well protected by a complement of guards who looked sternly at J'role when he eyed their goods.
As he approached the gate J'role was certain he would pass out from fear as he walked under the arches. It seemed impossible that such arches would be able to support themselves.
Releana stepped up beside him. "It's beautiful, isn't it?”
J'role almost turned and answered, feeling a warm desire to join her in her amazement.
He caught himself, and faced forward, with not even a nod. He was aware of her walking beside him for a moment longer, felt strongly her desire to be with him, just to show she cared. But his coldness won out, and he saw her shadow on the ground fall back in me entourage.
Better, he thought to himself. It's better this way.
They walked up to the arches, and J'role saw that the gold-plated stones that framed them carried inscriptions, just as the entrance to his own kaer had stones with inscriptions.
J'role realized that once all these gates had been bricked up, to shut out the Horrors, and only in the last few decades had the dwarfs torn the walls down and opened the kingdom to the world.
He could not understand the glyphs on the stones, of course, but they fascinated him just the same. Pictures of griffins and strange, three-headed men and the sun and the stars and all the things of the world seemed etched out in the gold plating. Though he could not understand them, he knew that the Horrors, in some strange, magical way, could. They read the glyphs and turned back.
The creature in his thoughts snickered and said " Most of us turned back.”
The entourage passed under the arches and then into a large cavern beyond them that stretched as high as the arches themselves. The sunlight reached only so far into this massive antechamber, and the air cooled suddenly.
Around the cavern stood dozens of stalls, all displaying wares yet these took up only a small portion of the massive chamber. The rest of the area was kept clear, as if the space were being reserved for others who might wish to set up shop at the gates of the city.
Travelers from the road haggled with the merchants, trading their wares or trying to purchase goods with coin and jewelry. The merchants were as varied in face as the travelers on the road—elves, t'skrang, dwarfs, stone men, thick-bodied lizard folk. He even saw a few tiny winged people selling delicate silver jewelry. After all the groups he had seen thus far, the elves and the t'skrang and the ork scorchers, all of whom had stayed with their own kind, the racial mix at the kingdom's entrance startled J'role. Everyone seemed pleasant and cooperative. Despite his dour state, the sight had the odd effect of lifting his spirits.
All throughout the bazaar area were many dwarven guards who stood by the archways and walked around the booths. They wore metal armor of polished silver and carried heavy axes and maces. Like the dwarfs J'role's group had traveled with, their beards were neatly trimmed, though their demeanor was grimmer. They eyed everyone carefully. And again, like the floor space for the bazaar, there seemed to be more guards than were needed, all in expectation of more merchants and travelers.
Borthum called three of the guards over, instructing them to
take Garlthik to the prison and lock him in a cell with magical locks. The guards looked with some awe and trepidation at Garlthik, who smiled down at them with his toothy grin. Then the dwarfs nodded and led the ork away. It seemed possible to J'role that he might never see the ork again. But something stirred within his soul, and he felt that his time with Garlthik One-Eye had still not come-to an end.
28
He is seven. There is something crawling in his thoughts. His mother stands beside him, breathing heavily. Weeping.
"Hello, J'role" the creature in his thoughts says. "You're a good boy, aren't you?"
J'role is afraid. He thinks nothing. He says nothing.
"Yes, yes, you are. And do you now what good boys don't do? They don't upset their parents. You know that, don't you? Look what you did to your mother: She's crying. You should feel terrible."
Several corridors, each forty feet tall, each with an arched ceiling coming to a point, led out of the huge antechamber. The dwarfs led J'role and Releana straight ahead, down a corridor that in turn branched off into smaller corridors. Their guides took one of these, and it led to more corridors. The dimensions of this final one was the standard for the rest of the kingdom: some ten yards wide and twenty feet tall. Glowing moss grew on the walls and ceiling, filling the corridors with a pleasant yellow light. Doorways stood on the right and the left, and many, many dwarfs passed them as they moved along the corridor.
Soon they came to the base of great steps that led up hundreds of feet. They climbed them, and arrived at a landing that connected with several other stairways, all of which rose up into the mountains of Throal. On the landing were benches and strange, red-leafed trees, and waterfalls that fell into a pool from which the dwarfs drank, urging their guests to drink as well. When he did, J'role found the water delightfully sweet, unlike anything he'd ever tasted. After only a few minutes of rest on the bench, he felt completely refreshed and ready to ascend more stairs. Everyone reacted to the water the same way, and they climbed on.
They came to a corridor where few other dwarfs walked, and their guides led the two young adventurers to some rooms, indicating that one room had been prepared for each one.
Borthum said, "I will have Merrox, Master of the Hall of Records, come and get you on the morn. He can help you find any information you seek about our stonecutting." The dwarf extended his thick, stubby hand to each of them. "Thank you both for your help."
J'role entered his room and found it decorated with glowing flowers and moss. A large, soft bed waited within. On long poles hung clothes in the dwarven fashion—square and heavy—but big enough to fit him. On a table at one end of the room sat a bowl filled with fruit and sweetbread.
But of everything he saw it was the bed that most drew his attention. He shut the door behind him, stripped out of his clothes and walked toward it. The covers were smooth and light, and when he slid between them, the mattress was like drifting on a cloud. He pulled up the covers and their comforting warmth enveloped him.
The magical plants in the room dimmed as he drifted off, and soon J'role was asleep.
The next day he awoke to find his clothes gone and an iron tub filled with warm water waiting for him. It took him a moment to understand what the water was for, then he slipped into it. It smelled of flowers as the suds floated up around him. He bathed and soaked, enjoying the smell of the water and its soothing warmth against his skin.
J’role felt relaxed, but it was not only because he was safe within the heart of the dwarven kingdom. He had successfully pushed thoughts of his father's fate from his mind. It was a tenuous moment of peace, but he would take what he could.
J'role smiled ruefully. Being a thief, what other choice did he have?
When the water cooled he climbed out of the tub and spotted a thick towel resting on the clothes rack. He padded across the smooth stone of the floor and dried himself off. From the rack he then chose a brown tunic with golden spirals, baggy golden pants, and a pair of sandals.
He went over t o the bowl containing sweetbread, dates, bananas, and oranges. He ate for a while, and then a knock came at the door. J’role went to open it, and found Releana standing behind an ancient-looking dwarf. Dressed in a robe of blue and silver, the dwarf wore his long silver hair flowing down over his shoulders. Like the other dwarfs he had a neatly trimmed beard.
"Greetings, J'role, the Honorable Thief. I am Merrox, Master of the Hall of Records. If you are ready?"
J'role nodded, and they set off.
Merrox opened the great wooden doors to the Hall of Records, and J'role stepped into an enormous chamber that went on and on. The walls spread out into an enormous valley with a tall dark ceiling. Shelves towered overhead and ran the length of the hall, stacked with scrolls and parchments and books, so thickly packed that in the distance it all seemed a solid mass of paper. Dwarfs sat at heavy tables recording data from one book to another, or sliding tall ladders on wheels along the shelves, climbing up and down them, removing and pulling innumerable records from the shelves.
"We're doomed," said Releana, oddly brief in her summation of the situation.
"Not exactly," said Merrox, with a chuckle that suggested anything from good-natured encouragement to ill-conceived dark humor. "Our codices are quite ordered, and with information from you we should be able to cross-reference the records and find exactly what you are seeking." He paused and cocked his head to one side. "Just exactly what are you looking for?"
Sounding very pessimistic, Releana said, "A forgotten city, hidden from all memory with magic strong enough to blind even the Horrors to its presence; a city no one knows of, no longer marked on any map, and not mentioned for over four hundred years."
Merrox raised an eyebrow. "Well. That is a challenge."
J'role had no patience with any of them anymore, for he had worn the ring, and now the longing came full and strong. He had reached the dwarven records. He would persevere.
He strode into the hall. Chandeliers with thick wax candles burned overhead. Pools of light flickered on the floor.
He turned back to Merrox, who returned his gaze with one eyebrow lowered and the other raised, "Ah, well," he said. "If you're willing to press on ..." He led them to an empty table, "Here, we'll use this table as our work area. Now. What information do you have?"
“It's a city to the northeast," said Releana. "Theran, perhaps. Invisible to the eye, but somehow present. There is a magic ring that lets the wearer see the city. However, you can only penetrate as far as the city walls, and no further ..."
"So you suspect the walls are a key element of the city's wonders."
"Exactly," said Releana. "It's our hope that we can find the designs for the stones of the walls, and thus find the solution to bringing the city back. There might be some clue hidden within the design. Perhaps your people included a secret device to release the city from its hiding place. I don't know for certain. I have only heard of all this from J'role, and our communication is limited ..."
Merrox listened carefully as Releana spoke, nodding all the while. Then he said, "I find it hard to believe such a city—"
J'role held up his hand, his face set with determination. He nodded.
"Very well then," the dwarf said with a forced smile. “Is there anything known? Perhaps the name of the person or persons who ordered the stones? I expect the name of the city was hidden as well. What about—"
J'role suddenly raised his hand again. The elf queen had spoken the name of the city.
What was it again?
Parlainth.
J'role nodded.
"What?" asked the dwarf. "You know something. What?"
"The people that ordered the stones?" suggested Releana. "The name of the city?"
J'role nodded.
They looked at him expectantly. He stared back and shrugged. Were they expecting him to tell them the name?
"Yes, yes," said Merrox, "you're mute ... mute." He turned toward the table, gathering up paper and ink. "But can
you write? Could you write the name of the city?"
J'role turned away, shook his head. He blushed; never had he been so ashamed of his inability to communicate. Here he was, possessed of the key bit of information to fulfill their quest, and he could not speak a simple word, nor impart it in any way to the others.
"If we had the name of the city," began Merrox. "There's no guarantee, of course, given the scale of the magic involved ... But it might give us exactly what we're looking for."
"All right then," said Releana. "Let's do it."
J'role looked at her, perplexed.
"Let's sound it out, like we've done for other words. That's how our written language works anyway. I'm sure we can do the same now."