In the dark, Trianuc silently ate his food as he watched his mother and listened to the sounds of the tribe packing, before he left to wash and find Caderyn. But as he left the hut, what he didn’t see in the darkness was his mother silently crying.
He was deep in thought as he approached the hut where the Roman was being held, when out of the early morning shadows walked Rianna. She was wearing a dark purple cloak wrapped around her shoulders, her hair had been brushed and several polished bronze rings carefully woven into it as decoration. She stood close to him and placed a small object in his right hand, smiling as she leaned forward, gently whispering in his ear.
“Look carefully at what I’m offering you, but don’t think too long on it. Time is one thing the gods are not going to give us.”
Rianna left without saying a further word, leaving Trianuc feeling slightly stunned. He opened his hand to look at the gift he’d just received and saw that it was a small piece of polished wood. Carefully carved into this was a picture of a cauldron standing beneath the sign of the triple goddess. He knew this to be a love token that should be treated with great respect. As he walked on he found Caderyn already waiting for him outside the Roman’s hut.
“You’re late!” Caderyn greeted him. “Did you oversleep? And why do you look so happy when everyone else is thinking about their death and a place in Tir Na Gog?”
“Oh, no reason,” Trianuc answered quickly. “Someone just cheered me up. Let’s go round to the entrance so we can tell the guards we’re here to take over the watch. Then we’ll check on the Roman. I’ve brought his food with me.”
Move Swiftly
A time for preparations - and warnings...
It was late evening as Teper the dwarf stood before the hot forge; his bushy hair, short beard and moustache were now completely grey. When he was younger it had all been jet black. His eyebrows were still black but they’d grown together and were now showing tiny flecks of grey. He was wearing a black jacket and trousers, and heavy black boots that protected him from the hot sparks and the molten metals. Around his corpulent waist there was an old brown leather apron. He was wearing a white flat-peaked cap that had now turned a dirty grey with the smoke of the forge.
In his youth he had tried many types of jobs, until his entire family, finally losing patience with his restlessness, had at last decided to take action. They had held a family gathering where they all agreed that as a last resort they would send him to see a dwarf seer. The seer had looked deeply inside Teper then insisted that he would have to take the traditional way for dwarves to find their true purpose in life. This meant that Teper would have to go on a vision quest. The conditions of the quest were very strict. He was to be alone and given food and water for eight days, and then he was to be sent down into the depths of the earth.
Once there he was to wander the tunnels and caverns of his home mountain as the dwarf god tested his fear. Only if he passed the test would he be given a vision of his talent. On entering the caves, he had wandered through the mountain, searching, always looking and waiting for someone or something. He had found that in some of the caves crystals were growing downwards from the roof, meeting other crystals growing upwards from the floor of the cave. The light from his candle shining off these crystals created many shadows that seemed to flicker around the cave and hunt for him in the darkness.
After days of searching through the caves and tunnels he had found nothing and was feeling exhausted. Then, on the floor of the deepest cave, surrounded by the crystals, he had laid out his bedroll and fallen into a deep sleep where he found himself dreaming of himself constantly falling. In his dream, he finally stopped falling and found himself standing in the middle of a deep cavern, where he was visited by the shapeless forms of elements and the spirits of the stones and ores of the earth. They swirled around him, each of them whispering in his mind. They told him where he had come from, who and what he really was, and that if he was brave and faced his future, what it was possible for him to grow and become. On waking he realised that he had at last uncovered his true life talent. This was the moment when he knew what his life’s purpose was. He had been guided to become a master blacksmith, to serve, work and craft deeply with the spirits of the ores of the earth.
The blacksmith stared into the hot forge and felt the glowing heat on his face. He pumped the air bellows with his foot several times to boost the heat of the fire a little higher. As the coals burned brighter, he noticed a small piece of coal had split into four pieces of dust before sparkling and burning up in the hot flames. Teper thought on the omen as he stepped back from the fire.
“It seems that I’m going to have some visitors,” he muttered. “I wonder who they could be. Let’s hope they bring some silver with them. I could do with some silver. It helps to put food on the plate and I always say you can never have too much silver.”
Grasping a heavy pair of iron tongs, he deftly picked up the large double-sided axe head that was glowing yellow and red in the heart of the fire. While the axe head was still glowing hot, he laid it onto the anvil and with several fast hammer blows deftly worked on both edges. This showered the anvil’s head with a spattering of fine orange and yellow sparks as he put a sharp finish on the blades. He plunged it into a shallow bath of acid to harden the metal and the axe head sizzled as it cooled. Next he placed it into another bath of clear, cold water to quench it before finally placing it on the floor by the side of the hot forge.
Looking at the axe head, he could see that it still needed a lot of work; the magic sigils still had to be engraved and there was a final sharpening and burnishing to be done. Then he could fit the hardwood shaft to the axe head; this final ritual would be done in the back courtyard of the forge, in the light of the full goddess, before he could consider the axe to be finished. A bell then clattered noisily, announcing the arrival of some visitors at the front door. The noise broke his concentration; he looked over at the solid door that was set into the rough stone wall of the smithy, and the bell clattered again.
“All right, all right, I heard you,” Teper called out as he carefully made his way to the door of the forge, stepping over several old bits of twisted metal he’d left lying on the paved stone floor. On reaching the door he opened a small panel placed half-way up the heavy oak door. Peering through, he looked out to see who was calling at this late time. “Stand back a bit so I can see who it is. Oh, it’s you! I was sent an omen that someone was coming to see me. It’s good to see you again, hang on there now for one moment, while I get this door open.”
Shutting and locking the small panel, he slid back two heavy bolts and pulled open the heavy wooden door, standing to one side as his visitors entered the forge. Teper then looked outside at the grey and damp of the empty street. His sharp eyes studied the street and, seeing no-one else there, he quickly shut the door behind him, locking it fast by sliding one of the greased bolts home with a dull click.
“Well, Charrideen and Sirarch, what brings you to my forge so late? I see you’ve brought someone pretty with you at least!”
“Let me introduce you to a good friend of mine,” said Sirarch. “Her name’s Rronish.” He turned to her. “This is Teper, a very good friend of mine. He’s also a master blacksmith who can make and mend anything from the finest intricate gold broach to heavy-edged weapons. Some say his skill is so great, he must be a magician.”
Rronish lowered her head slightly towards Teper in acknowledgement.
“Teper, why is it always so dark in here?” asked Sirarch. “Why do you only have two small lamps alight - surely you can’t see much at all?”
“We dwarves are able to see in the dark better than most people can during the daylight. The reason is that I need to see all the different colours in the metal as it changes with the heat. Now, do you want to know any more of my secrets?”
“No, I don’t want any of your secrets, Teper, I was just in
terested why it seemed dark in here. What I do need from you, though, is some new arrows, heavy ones. My old ones have been used several times and are beginning to warp now. I reckon about one grasp-full would do, and it would be good if they could pierce armour.”
The dwarf scratched his chin as he thought deeply for a moment before answering.
“Um, pierce amour, eh? I don’t personally like too heavy an arrowhead - the extra weight can lose you a lot of range.” He reached over behind Sirarch and picked out an arrow from a black leather quiver, handing it to the elf.
“Take a look at this one. It’s black iron-tipped, the shaft is smooth and coloured black, and the fletching is from an owl. These are night arrows. I’m sure you’ll find they’re also just the right length for you. I made them as a special order, but the warrior who ordered them was killed. Luckily, he’d paid a large deposit.
“If you were to put a dab of honey on the tip they will dig in and cut through armour without loss of any range. They’re well-balanced and accurate, and much lighter to carry than normal arrows. As yours are old it’s probably better that you change them all. There are only so many times an arrow can be used. As you’re a trusted old friend, I’ll supply you with a full quiver of these arrows at only seven silver pieces. And for that price, you can have the quiver as well.”
Sirarch carefully studied the arrow then carefully placed it back into the quiver.
“Yes, these are good arrows, Teper, I like them. I accept your offer of a full quiver of these.”
“You’ve made a good choice, Sirarch. Seven silver pieces please,” replied Teper, his face lighting up with a broad smile as he held out his hand to take the coin.
“I’ll pay for that, Teper,” said Charrideen, “but at the moment I don’t have any silver on me. Put the cost on my tally. My friends here deserve the best. Oh, and Shallmar asked if his new axe is ready yet?”
Teper’s smile changed to a frown, as he put his hand back into his pocket.
“You’re carrying no silver, you say? Oh well, I’ll put it on your tally board then. And Shallmar’s axe is here, just as you see it. There, over by the forge. I’ve nearly finished it. But I’ve yet to fit the handle to the axe head. Tell him I’ll deliver it to him after the goddess has smiled upon it.”
“Master smith,” said Rronish, “could you please give me your opinion on my sword? I bought it on impulse.” She carefully withdrew the sword from its scabbard, proffering the hilt of the weapon gently towards the dwarf.
As Teper took the sword from Rronish, he weighed it in his hands then placed one hand on the blade, feeling a strange warmth to his touch. He studied closely the picture of the slumbering dragon. Then he shook his head, as just for a moment it seemed that the beast’s eyelid opened and then closed again.
“I’ve only seen one of these before. Yes, this is a dragon-scale blade, a very finely crafted sword. I sense that magic has been forged deep into the heart of this blade. This sword will obey your mind faster than you can think! It’s a sharp blade, treat it with great care and it will look after you. Hmm... could you tell me where you traded it from?”
“Yes,” Rronish smiled, “it was in a little shop on the edge of town, a pelt store. I traded for it with some hats.” Teper gave the sword back to her.
“You traded this sword in a pelt store with some hats? Hmm, this is a very strange story, a mystery indeed. It’s not the usual place to find a sword of quality. Who was the smith that made it? And where could it have come from? You have indeed been most fortunate with your trade. Look, if you’d like to part with it, I have many other good swords here I could exchange for it. I’ll give you a good offer of cash silver too.”
“No, thank you Teper, this is such a beautiful sword that I feel it would be very wrong for me to sell it.”
Teper held up his hands.
“Well, if you ever do want to trade, do remember me - Teper the dwarf, master metal smith of Camulodunon. So, all trade here is now done, let’s seal the bargain. I’ll put the water pot on for some blackberry tea. You must try this tea, it comes all the way from my home mountain. The dwarf wives make it when the blackberries are in season. They lay the berries out to dry in the summer heat on the mountainside.”
He busied himself filling up a black iron pot with water and put it on the hot forge to heat. Then he carefully put some small, fine china cups on the anvil as he waited for the water to the boil. The clattering sound of the bell for the front door rang again.
“Another visitor?” Teper muttered to himself as he walked to the door. “I am popular tonight. I’d better go and see who it is.” He opened and looked out of the small flap. “Stand back a bit so I can see you. What’s your trade here? Who are you, what do you want?”
Standing in the street was a little grey-haired, ageing dwarf who was dressed in black clothes with a dirty grey fur cap.
“I work at the Four Paths, and it’s urgent! I must speak with Charrideen - I was told he was coming here.”
“There’s an old dwarf here,” said Teper, looking across to Charrideen. “He says he knows you and it’s very urgent.”
Charrideen walked over to the door and bent down, peering through the low flap.
“It’s fine, Teper, I know him. It’s old Penbert, a recent chance purchase. He works in my stables as a horse mucker. Let him in.”
Teper slid the bolt back and opened the door, allowing the old dwarf to enter the forge. Again Teper studied the street, but seeing no-one else there he firmly shut and bolted the door. The old dwarf was grim-faced as he shuffled into the room, taking off the dirty grey cap and holding it close to his chest, looking down at the floor as he stood before Charrideen.
“Master, there’s been a fight at the hostel. Shallmar has been attacked. Five men broke into one of your rooms and he was wounded. They’d started a fire in the stables at the back as a diversion. While we were all busy fighting the fire, they rushed into Shallmar’s room. They must have been trying to kill him. But he managed to kill four of them - the fifth man was wounded but he escaped with the aid of magic.”
“How badly was Shallmar injured?” asked Charrideen. “And is the fire out? Tell me, how much damage has been done to the hostel?”
“When I was sent to find you, the town guard had just arrived and they were helping to fight the fire,” said Penbert.
“Thank you, Penbert,” said his master. “Now, go to the healer who lives near the slave exchange. Wake him up, drag him out of bed if you have to, and tell him he’ll be well paid. I need him to come to the hostel with all speed. Sirarch, we have to get back now and see what our enemies have done to me. I swear I shall have vengeance for their work this night!”
They ran, heading back towards the hostel.
“Follow me,” said Charrideen, “I know a shortcut that will save us some time. But it will take us through the temple area.”
Sirarch and Rronish followed silently behind him. The streets were quiet and deserted, and the night was dark now with only the dim light of the goddess to guide them. The temple area was in the centre of Camulodunon, circular in shape and surrounded by a low palisade wall inside a small ditch. This sacred ditch ran completely around the outside of the temple area.
As they approached the entrance, a large stray black dog began to snarl and growl at them as a warning, before its courage failed it and it cringed before running back into the town. The access across the ditch was by a narrow rope and plank bridge that swayed a little as they crossed it. Once inside, the noise of the town began to fade away and they could smell an aroma of burning incense. The area was completely deserted and eerily silent.
Not wishing to offend the gods, none of them spoke as they travelled through the temple area. Rronish noticed that the temples were arranged in a circle. They were large, round huts made of smooth limestone stone blocks and their roofs ha
d all just been recovered with a fresh layering of thatch. The doorways of the huts were all facing towards the skyline, where they would catch the early morning light. Outside each hut there was a low wall and fixed at its entrance was a burning oil lamp that cast its light on a carved stone plinth, on top of which stood a large silver offertory dish. A patterned stone pathway weaved its way from each temple, leading into the centre where in the ground was set a great labyrinth pattern. As they crossed the area, they could hear the sound of every footstep that they took.
Just as they had nearly finished crossing the main temple area and were about to walk past the last hut towards another small bridge that was the only other exit over the surrounding ditch, a sudden chill breeze sprang up, making the light from the temple lamps flicker. A large, imposing man dressed in heavy dark clothes with a large wide-brimmed brown leather hat walked out of the hut. He stood directly on the pathway to the bridge, blocking their way. There were also four birds perched high up on the roof of the hut; strangely, these birds were awake at night and seemed to be watching them.
“Friendly travellers you may be,” said the stranger, “but you must know that it’s unwise to cross a temple area without making any offering. The gods are never to be just ignored and quickly walked past. They would consider that behaviour at the very least to be bad manners!”
Charrideen studied the man carefully before answering him.
“You must be a priest of a temple here, and you’re also quite right, it was wrong of us to do that. We have been very remiss, and of course we must make a donation to the gods. Is this the temple of the god that you serve? We’re in such a hurry tonight that we just took a shortcut to save some time. I’ve received some very bad news that my hostel is on fire.”
The man seemed to ignore Charrideen’s explanation as he looked deeply at each of them and then answered slowly.
Pathways of the Druids Page 14