by Rutger Krenn
“You’re right,” said Talon, “but I wouldn’t feel good just leaving them there. They were once different from what you see now. There was a time when they were just young boys, full of ambitions and dreams. They’re not wholly evil and it would be proper to show some mark of respect.”
“I suppose so,” said Arell, who obviously didn’t feel as generous toward them as he did. They would only have killed him but would have done much worse to her.
Together they brought the bodies to one spot and laid them out neatly. He gathered some stones and marked out a symbol on the ground near their heads, then he mounted the sorrel and circled the bodies three times. He spoke as he did so, chanting in a foreign language; the tongue of the Chung which Arell would not be able to understand. No doubt she wondered why he was carrying out some ritual practiced by them in honor of their dead. She would think it strange that he should go to so much trouble over people who had tried to kill him, but he had his own code of honor and if it was different from other men she knew, men like Mecklem, that was just too bad.
He brought his horse up level with her. “These were Chung warriors. There are always certain words spoken at a funeral in their homeland. And here, far from the lands where they were born, they must rest for eternity. No one will say the words unless I do.”
Arell didn’t answer but placed her hand briefly on his arm and they turned and left.
“We have yet another problem,” he said soon after.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t think that Engar found us by accident. It was tracking us. I’ve never heard of one this far north before. They’re creatures of Eruthram and it must have found our trail somewhere between here and Thromdar. That means it was sent to Aren Daleth. The Goblin armies aren’t acting on opportunity and trying to benefit from random chance. This has all been carefully designed and it bodes ill for Thromdar.”
This idea wasn’t comforting. The situation at the fortress was bad enough, but should there be a Turgil involved as well how much harder would it be to hold? What dark powers would be used against the defenders, what sorcery against which they had no protection?”
He caught a worried look on Arell’s face. “It may not be quite as bad as it seems. Don’t forget the old man. I still think he was a Wizard, and now, even less than before, do I think his coming was an accident. He knew what was happening and he was travelling to Thromdar to help.”
“That could be true,” said Arell. “Though you seem to have a lot of faith in one old man, who may or may not be a Wizard, but I guess it’s out of our hands. We’ve got our own problems and must let Aren Daleth get by as best it can for the moment. Soon we may be able to bring them the help they need, but there’s something else troubling me.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“If there was one Engar, why couldn’t there be more?”
He nodded. “I know what you mean. We must still be very careful. The Chung may no longer be a problem, although Wu Chin is still out there somewhere, but a second Engar would be a greater danger by far.”
They grew quiet after that as they continued to ride. Frequently they scanned the sky looking for any sign of another Engar but they knew, just as the last one had not shown itself openly, so would another one catch them by surprise.
He thought of his fight with Wu Chin. There was no way to escape what he knew. The Chung warrior was better than he. Had the fight gone on he would have been killed. Wu Chin was faster, stronger and more skilled. He did have a floor though. He could be provoked; his mental balance could be upset and he took risks when he though victory was his. Talon pondered what he’d learned from Chow. Clear like the sky, cold like the winter. That was his saying. It was what he must use when fighting Wu Chin, as he knew that someday he would, for the Chung would never give up the hunt. He must be the opposite of Wu Chin and think of ways that his weakness could be exploited.
They moved on and the land upon which the rode swelled upwards. It was the beginning of their climb into the mountains, the homeland of the Dwarves. The range lifted up before them, curving from north to south in a sickle shape. In the clear air it seemed so close, so large that they could almost reach out and touch it. The peaks glistened with snow and the lower slopes were swathed with forests of pine and fir.
Talon studied the view. He had been here before. He thought of the Dwarves and those among them that he knew. In particular the lord Arohdstan and his son, Beorhtstan. It was with this lord that Chow had primarily dealt. It was in his home that Chow, and Talon when he was older, stayed during their trading trips to the Stone Mountains. They had become friends as well as trading partners.
Talon remembered being shown around the underground caverns. Who would have believed that there could be such beauty underground? Who would have guessed at the diligence and skill of the Dwarves who had carved masterpieces that few ever saw?
There were other things too. Deep, dark tunnels that led further into the earth. Tunnels that even the Dwarves had not yet explored. There were chasms, falling none knew whither as no rope had ever been long enough to plumb their depths.
They rode on and began to climb higher. He headed toward a valley that was somewhat steeper-sided than the others. Spruce and pines clustered along its slopes but they were sparser than some of the neighboring valleys.
“This is the valley we need,” he said. “An old road is still intact along much of its length, though if any roads are being watched this will be one of them. We must take that risk though. Time is running short.”
True to his description they soon found the remnants of the road. It was much neglected and steep and winding, but it led where they wanted to go and would get them there quickly.
They continued along and the chalk downs dwindled in size as they climbed. Beech trees gave way to pines and spruces as the path rose higher and the peak to their left drew closer, though it was still some way off.
“I’m approaching an area I used to know,” he said, “but I’m coming from a direction that I’ve never been before.”
“We must be getting close,” said Arell.
On and upward they went and the downs grew smaller and greener. Beyond them they could see other lands stretching away, flatter and larger. Amid one such area was the glint of a long stretch of water.
“Do you see that?” asked Talon pointing at the faraway ribbon. “That’s the Cardil Nissen. We’re close to the source of the greatest river in Andoras.”
They looked at the bright band of silvery water as they went but soon both it and the plainlands through which it ran were lost to sight. The sides of mountains now hemmed them in; the trees grew scanty and the clattering of their horses’ hooves echoed loudly between bare ridges.
The warmth of the sun diminished. The road steepened suddenly as it veered away from the center of the valley and began to wind closer to the leftward peak. It soon narrowed until it was little more than six feet wide.
The side of the mountain rose shear upon their left and to the right was a steep drop to the end of the valley they’d left. They were now above the tree line and their breath was hard to catch.
“I don’t feel very well,” said Arell. “I’m short of breath.”
“I don’t feel good either,” admitted Talon. “It’s because of the height. We shouldn’t go much higher today. A sudden change in elevation can do funny things to you. It’s time to find a place to stop for the night. Hopefully we’ll feel better in the morning. Take some deep breaths and drink some water. It’ll help a little bit.”
They pushed on a little more until he found a place where the side of the mountain was slightly hollowed out. It wasn’t really a cave but it offered some protection against the chill wind that was beginning to blow and sufficient space for both themselves and the horses to rest. It was only halfway through the afternoon but they didn’t want to risk mountain sickness.
They sat down and leaned back against the cold stone. Looking out across the gulf to
the peak on the other side they saw that they were nearly level with its summit. The peak of the mountain they now climbed still towered far above.
He was glad to stop. Even now he found it hard to get his breath though he wasn’t exerting himself.
“I better make something to eat,” he said. “We’ll feel better after that.”
Arell smiled at him. She watched as he quickly built a fire out of some deadfall that he’d collected lower down the mountain. His movements were sure and precise, not wasting any effort.
Soon a little fire was burning brightly and when it had reduced to hot coals he cooked a meal from their dwindling provisions. There wasn’t much left but they fared well enough on a small amount of braised meat in a gravy filled with dried vegetables and thickened with flour.
“That wasn’t too bad, you know,” said Arell when they had finished. “You’re a bit of a cook.”
“I guess I like my food,” said Talon, smiling. “When I lived with Chow we used to share the cooking. We both enjoyed our food and after I’d prepared dinner a few times, rather badly, he decided that cooking was one of the many things I needed to learn. I guess it was a little selfish on his part, but then again, I really cooked some pretty bad things before he took a hand in it. I would have made cooking lessons a priority too!”
Talon was relaxed after the meal. He thought of old times and faraway places.
“It’s nice to hear you talk about Chow,” Arell said. “You usually keep everything to yourself. You were happy with him, weren’t you?”
“I suppose I was,” said Talon. “I didn’t realize how happy until recently. I wish I could go back and thank him for all the things he did for me, but it’s too late now.”
“I’m sure he knew how you felt,” said Arell.
“I suppose,” nodded Talon thoughtfully, “but it’s not quite the same. It’s too late to tell him some of the things I wish I had, but it’s not too late to tell you. You saved my life back there. I would have slowed them down but they would have got me in the end.”
Arell looked pleased. “That’s all right. We’re in this together now. We have to look out for each other.”
Talon nodded. “And that’s another thing. I know I said at the beginning that I didn’t want any help, and then when you showed up I opposed it but it was too late to go back. I just want to say that you’ve surprised me. You’ve got skills I never thought you had and courage too. I’m glad you came.”
Arell seemed lost for words. “It seems you know what to say to a girl when you want to!” she laughed. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
“Maybe,” said Talon.
It was growing rapidly cold and a wind had picked up. They took out some blankets and soon drifted to sleep.
The next morning they continued. They led the mounts by hand now as the trail was narrow and perilous.
At least the road began to show signs of use. Once again it was a bright clear day but they felt little warmth from the sun. The weather could change at any moment and Talon knew they were in some danger should the temperature plummet.
Mid-afternoon found them a long way up and around the side of the mountain. The valley to their right was blocked from sight and to the north they could see a chain of jagged peaks and summits march away from sight. To the west another valley opened and far below they could make out green forests and a river that flowed swiftly at its bottom.
Talon pointed. “That’s the Cardil Nissen again,” he said. “This is from the other side of the mountain than before. It plunges beneath the range and comes out near its roots.”
“Remarkable,” said Arell. “Do the Dwarves know the places beneath the mountains where the river runs?”
“There are a few places they told me of. Some of them are beautiful to see. In one place the river opens out into an underground lake. It’s very large and the ceiling of the cave is far above. That was one of my favorites.”
Talon knew he was close to the entrance. This was a place that he’d been before, albeit briefly. He soon discovered what he was looking for. The door wasn’t hidden as many of them were. This one had been used by the Elves who dwelt by the northern sea and it was meant to be found with ease. Several roads from the north led directly to it.
They studied it for some time. It was made of plain stone, seven feet high and of similar width. To each side, carved into the mountain was a larger than life aspect of a Dwarf, fierce eyes glinting above long beards. They were depicted wearing closely-knit chain mail that hung down to their knees, and a belt, bejeweled and finely decorated was clasped about their waist. From this hung several daggers and each held in their hands a mighty axe. These were poised above the door, seemingly ready to strike at anyone who intruded.
In front of the entrance were many boot tracks. The road split in two before the doors - one branch heading down into the western valley and the other following the ridge northward between the western and eastern valleys. It was along this ridge that the tracks led.
He turned his attention back to the door and studied it for some time without detecting the mechanism for its opening. The Dwarves were renowned for secret doors and hidden locks and if they didn’t want anyone to enter something they’d built, it was nearly impossible to do so. He pushed in various places and hammered with his fist, but it didn’t budge. Worse still, he doubted that any of the noise he was making could be heard within.
“Last time I was here the doors were open,” he said. “I guess there’s only one thing to do. There’s normally a guard somewhere near all the entrances. I’ll have to make a loud enough noise for him to hear me.
Talon looked around the road near the doors and soon found what he was looking for, he picked up a large stone, twice the size of his fist.
“They’ll certainly hear that,” said Arell.
Talon hefted the rock a few times and was about to put it to use when a deep voice came from behind.
“Now then,” said the voice, “What do you want to go and do that for?”
Talon and Arell turned. Behind them was not only the owner of the voice, but a dozen or so of his companions. They all carried axes; lethal looking blades that gleamed wickedly and they had hard flinty eyes that peered at them from beneath silver helms. Whatever else these people were, they were warriors first and foremost. Talon recognized instinctively how dangerous they could be.
Chapter 18
Kenrik nodded. Cadrafer was telling him that Barad had returned to the hospice after the fight with the Kraken and they were going in search of him. Apparently he’d left it when the attack started, much to the dismay of the healers who’d tried to restrain him, but not for long. Wounded though he was they decided to leave well enough alone.
They found him lying in a small bed and his large frame filled it to overflowing. He was lucky to have one at all though as there was a shortage of just about everything at the moment. Beside the bed was a rickety table carrying some goblets, a pitcher of water and another of red wine.
“You’ve got the life!” said Cadrafer and his hazel eyes twinkled.
Barad frowned at him. “Those dammed healers threatened to knock me out with a drug and bring me back here unconscious if I didn’t return myself. And it’s not as comfortable as you obviously think. As soon as I feel like going to sleep one of them comes to poke and prod me and check my bandages. I think they do it deliberately. Anyway, they reckon there’s no serious harm done. Just the loss of blood making me feel weak.”
Kenrik was relived. Barad’s injuries were much worse than what he was making out otherwise he’d never have returned to the hospice, but at least he expected to fully recover.
He poured himself a goblet of watered wine and offered to do the same for Cadrafer.
“Not for me, my friend.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t do to get roaring drunk, although that would have some advantages at the moment,” said Kenrik.
Cadrafer chuckled. “There’s nothing like a few drinks to calm you
down when you’re under pressure. It helps while you’re waiting for bad things to happen. But when they do you don’t need it. The moment you have to draw your sword all the worry goes away. There’s no time to think; it’s just kill or be killed. The wine’s not so good then. One mistake and you’re dead.”
“That’s right lad,” said Barad. “It doesn’t matter how good you are, one slip and your time’s up.” He looked at Kenrik expectantly. “Seems as though I’m not fighting just at the moment though I’ll have a swig or two if you don’t mind.”
Kenrik went to poor water in his goblet first.
“None of that, lad! Just the pure stuff for me. Nothing like wine for replacing blood.”
Kenrik noticed this was rather loudly spoken and directed at one of the healers attending a patient nearby. The healer looked over and frowned but went on with his work silently.
It was good to talk to Barad. He was straightforward and said what he thought which was something some of his advisors could learn from.
His thoughts drifted to Mecklem. He was in many ways the opposite of Barad and he felt a brief flicker of irritation. What did Arell see in him? It was annoying but she was old enough to make her own decisions and Mecklem had a few good points as well. When he came over from the Seamark he was obviously in trouble. There had been problems with his father, the Duke, which he had never got to the bottom of, and then Mecklem had become somewhat of a fixture. Arell’s presence probably had something to do with that.
He felt his spirits rise after a few more drinks. “What do you think the Goblins will do next,” he asked.
“That’s hard to say, lad. My feeling is that it’s not the Goblins you have to watch out for but the Turgil.”
“That’s a good point,” said Kenrik. “He’s been stymied now by Arandur and will soon strike back. But what will he do? I’d dearly like to know that!”
“Who’s to say? What man can understand the mind of a Turgil, or even a Wizard for that matter? They’re all a strange bunch. It’s bound to be bad though.”