by Adams, David
For the visitors, the first look at the hall was enough to steal their breath. Around the bases of the great pillars that were spaced at forty foot intervals, torches were liberally placed, so that the floor and lower portions of the hall were well lit, and mixed with the comings and goings of dwarves at work and play, the place had something of a welcoming feel, despite being carved from cold, hard stone. But so great was the hall that the light from the torches could not reach the ceiling, nor could one see the far end of the chamber. This umbrella of darkness and the way even hushed noises echoed softly created a reverent atmosphere, and stood as a stark reminder of the great mass of rock that hung above them. The weight of all that rock, and the shadows that hid it, could make one’s skin crawl with a hint of claustrophobia, regardless of how huge the hall was.
Their arrival was expected. A dwarf stood squarely facing them, with a set of three guards to each side. He raised his axe in salute and said, “Welcome fellow warriors, to Amon Val, our home. Its hospitality is yours. I am Durlag, king of this realm. I grieve for your loss.”
“Thank you, King Durlag, for your welcome and your kind words,” said Barlow. He unsheathed Gabriel, touching the flat of the blade to his forehead in recognition of their host.
“I would be honored if you would join me for dinner. In the meantime, you will be shown your quarters.” He glanced toward the litter-bearers and Luke. “My people will prepare your friend for burial, as is our custom, if you’ll allow it.”
Barlow turned to Darius, who cleared his throat, nodded, and said, “Thank you, King Durlag.”
The king gave a quick bow and with a few gestures started everyone in motion. The dwarf that was to show them their rooms said, “Follow me,” while those bearing Luke started in a different direction.
Darius paused, torn between where he needed to go and where he wanted to go. He felt like he was abandoning his brother, although he knew such was not the case. He was not yet grieving, was still in shock over what had happened, the suddenness and finality of it. Some irrational part of his mind still expected Luke to sit up, to laugh at the joke he had played on his big brother, but as the dwarves moved away with Luke’s broken form, that fantasy faded like a dream upon waking.
Adrianna took his arm. “Come on, Darius.”
Done resisting, he let her lead him away.
The king’s table, in size, was as impressive as his hall, although on this night it was little used. The king sat at the head, with his guests to his right and left and a few other dwarves, his captains, seated beyond them. The food before them was hearty, and there was more than enough, although Durlag felt led to apologize for setting such a sparse feast before his guests. The crops and hunting had apparently been little better in the north than in the south. While the food and those enjoying it were huddled at one end of the room, the enormous table stretched off into the distance. The visitors guessed over two hundred of the dwarves could be seated there when times called for it.
Durlag let his guests eat in relative peace, his questions not too probing, wanting to hear how things fared in the south, and taking particular interest in the giants’ attack. He shook his head and cursed these wicked days, fearing that the war might move into the north, but he wore a mask of grim satisfaction upon hearing the giants had been cast back. “Serves ’em right, the brutes.”
“Do they trouble you often?” Adrianna asked.
“More of late. Everyone seems to be in need these days, of food or land or something else. We’re safe enough here, as they are high in the rocks above, but our scouting parties often meet one of theirs and… Well, we’re both meant for fighting. Got it in our blood.”
After the food was cleared they were left nursing their chosen beverages—water or thin ale, another sign that things were tough—and Durlag lit his pipe. Through the smoke that curled around his head he said, “Well, you’re not spies, nor do I think you’re a raiding party or even scouts checking the giants’ defenses. You’re not dressed the part. From the way my people tell me you were moving, my guess is you’re headed further north.”
Silas smiled. “Your perceptive abilities are quite keen.”
Durlag winked. “Helps if you’re going to be king. I’ll not force it from you, but I’d love to know where you’re heading.”
“Were trying to reach Queen Aerlos.”
Durlag’s eyebrows shot up. “The Ice Elves? Are you sure she’ll want to see you?”
“Well, we’ve not been invited,” Silas admitted.
Durlag let out a low grumble. “You’ve got that in common with the rest of Corterra. I don’t suppose you’d like to share what business you might have with Aerlos.”
“I’d prefer not, with all due apologies. You’ve been a most gracious host.”
Durlag waved the apology away. “As I will continue to be. Person’s got a right to keep their business to themselves if they want. As long as you don’t mean harm to me or mine, then you can be on your way whenever you’re ready.”
“I can assure you that you have nothing to fear from us,” Barlow said.
“Thought not,” Durlag replied. With a sigh he looked at Darius. “But you do have a bit of business here. He was your friend and more, if I’m not mistaken.”
“He was my brother,” Darius answered with a nod.
“That’s a hard thing. I’ve lost a brother to those giants, years ago, as have many here. That won’t lessen your pain, I know, but I do understand what you’re going through. What was his name?”
“Luke Stoneman,” Darius said, the words almost sticking in his throat.
“ ‘Luke Stoneman,’ ” Durlag repeated. “A fine name. Do you and your kin work rock for a living?”
“Perhaps distant ancestors. We’re farmers.”
“No shame in that. Just thought you might have something in common with my kind,” Durlag said wistfully.
“Afraid not,” Darius said. He was able to add a soft smile.
Durlag grew more serious. “Regardless, we can lay your brother to rest here, among our honored dead for as little or long as you like.”
“Thank you,” Darius said. “You offer a great honor, to him and to our family.”
Durlag nodded once, a simple bow, then said, “All will be ready tomorrow. Take your rest tonight, under the shelter of our roof. You’ll not be bothered by giants or anything else this night.”
“We are very grateful for your hospitality, King Durlag,” Adrianna said, “but one thing troubles me. As you are now aware, we are looking to go north. Unfortunately, these mighty mountains above us, even without the giants that call them home, are barring our way. We were going east, but once we reach the sea…we believe even there the way north may not be easy.”
Durlag made a show of deep concentration while Adrianna spoke, then tugged on his beard as if stumped by their quandary. “You are correct to worry about the passage around the mountains. The sea coast is all cliffs and rocks and is quite treacherous. And the passes over the mountains, of which there are two that you might attempt, are well-guarded.” He shook his head slowly, but then a grin spread across his face. “Of course, over and around are but two options, and the poorest if you ask me.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Under, lass! Under the mountains. A few hours passage at most.”
“You’ve a path clear through,” Silas said with unconcealed awe. “That must be a long tunnel.”
“Tunnels,” Durlag corrected. “And they’ve been here for as long as our history records. You’d be surprised where some of our tunnels might lead.” He added a wink to this last comment, and if they thought him ill-disposed toward the human race, they would have considered it a slightly-veiled threat.
When they had said their farewells for the evening, Darius took the initiative to thank the others for their concern, but let them know he preferred to be alone. He thought he meant it—he did to a point—but after several hours stranded with his own thoughts he sought out Silas.<
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The cleric opened the door to his room, smiled, and invited Darius in. “I’m afraid my hospitality can go only so far as to offer you a seat and an ear. If your room is like mine, you already know the dwarves’ living quarters tend to be a bit…uncluttered.”
“A seat and an ear is all I need,” Darius said.
Once they were settled, Silas simply waited patiently. The silence stretched out for several minutes.
Darius laughed at himself, and he was soon wearing an embarrassed smile. “Not sure where to begin.”
“It’ll come to you.”
Darius nodded his agreement, whether he thought so or not. “Did you ever lose anyone close?”
“Several people, actually. Some very dear friends, and my parents, long ago. I know the pain of loss, but I can’t say I know what losing a sibling is like.”
“How did you deal with it?”
“My mother was frail for years before she passed, so it was not unexpected. My father…we were never close. He didn’t appreciate the path I chose for my life, wanted me to work the soil like he did. Now some of my friends…that was harder.”
“And?”
“And I dealt with each loss in my own way. My faith gives me a certain perspective, which has helped me in good times and bad.”
“So that’s the answer? God can get me through this?”
“Faith is something personal, Darius. It helped me. Whether you feel turning to God right now is your best option is solely up to you.”
Darius pondered things for a moment. “I don’t know that I’ve come to grips with God or His role in this world or my life. Guess death makes you think about such things. Anyway, I appreciate you not taking the opportunity to preach. Didn’t think you would, but…well, no offense.”
“None taken. Comes with the robe, people thinking I’m trying to score points with the Big Guy by converting them.”
“I…” Darius rubbed his face and sighed. “Before all this happened with the book, I still had dreams for the future. Some day the war would end, and I’d get some land of my own and settle down with a good woman, maybe have a few kids. Not much of a dream, really, but as bad as things have gotten in Corterra, not one easily realized either. But now…”
“That dream need not die with your brother.”
“But how can I have the ‘happily ever after’ when the memory of Luke dying will always be there to haunt me. How can I forget him?”
“You can’t. And you shouldn’t. Mourn now, Darius, but don’t think you need to punish yourself forever for what happened today.”
“I didn’t say I felt I needed to punish myself—”
“But that’s what you’re thinking.”
Darius looked away. “I shouldn’t have let him come.”
“None of us should have, in that case. We were all trying to look out for one another, Luke in particular, being the youngest. But he was with us because he wanted to be, and because he knew it was the right thing to do.”
“But I was his older brother. I should have stopped him. Sent him away.”
Silas put a hand on Darius’ shoulder. “Sasha’s older than you, right?”
“That’s not the same.”
“But how will she feel if something happens to you?”
“The same as I feel now,” Darius was forced to admit.
“So, are you going to turn back?”
“You know I won’t, although maybe I should.”
“That’s entirely up to you, as was Luke’s decision to be here with us. Don’t let guilt be a burden. We have enough problems without that.”
Darius thought for a time, then took a deep breath. “Thanks,” he said, rising. “I guess I better let you get some sleep.”
“I hope you can get some rest, too. And I’m available anytime you need to talk.”
After Darius had left, Silas lay down and tried to settle his own mind, but sleep was slow to come. The picture of Luke’s mangled body was still fresh in his mind, and despite his advice to Darius, he couldn’t stop thinking of all the things he could have done differently, subtle changes that might have kept Luke alive. He replayed the conversation with Darius, hoping he had said the right things. Still troubled, he did what came naturally to him at such times. He prayed.
*
Dwarven funerals were rumored to be somber rites followed by raucous wakes, usually attended by the whole clan. As one would expect, the ceremony for Luke was a small, brief affair, attended by only his companions and the members of the scouting party that had fought the giant that had felled him. Durlag officiated, reciting ritual dwarven prayers that the deceased be embraced by friends and family in the afterlife. When he finished, he offered the opportunity for Luke’s friends to speak. After a nod from Darius, Silas said a short prayer, as did Barlow. Adrianna simply went to the tomb where they had laid him out and whispered a private goodbye.
Darius followed Adrianna. As he approached, he took a long, slow breath to steady himself. Luke had been laid out in a plain tomb of gray stone. The dwarves had fashioned a white tunic as his burial robe, and had provided him a large shield to go with his own weapon. They had done a good job of covering his injuries, and if not for the paleness of Luke’s face Darius might have thought he still lived. Words refused to come, but not tears. Darius bent low and kissed his brother’s cold forehead, then brushed away the wetness that he had left behind. As he turned away several dwarves stepped forward, closing the tomb by placing a great stone slab. Darius winced at the thudding sound of it slamming shut, a reaction not to the noise, but rather what it symbolized. Luke was gone.
Durlag had privately inquired of Barlow, Silas, and Adrianna as to the arrangements to be made after the ceremony. A small meal was provided, which the humans took in silence. As they finished, Darius said, “When can we be off?”
“As soon as we like,” Silas answered. “Durlag told us he would provide a guide.”
“Then let’s be away. Time presses.”
“We can wait a day or two,” Adrianna said.
Darius caught the sympathy in her tone. He shook his head. “Not necessary. We should move now.”
“We could all use a rest,” Barlow put in.
Darius smiled softly and sighed. “No doubt. But it’s a luxury at this point. I appreciate what you’re all trying to do, but I’d rather move on than pace in my room. The dwarves have been fine hosts, but this whole place feels like a tomb to me now. I’d rather put it behind me.”
Adrianna met his steely look, nodded and said, “I’ll tell Durlag we’re ready to depart.”
They thanked the king and were given provisions that would last them several weeks if they rationed them smartly, as well as advice to move as swiftly as they could. “Winter can arrive early, and be cruel,” Durlag warned. He made a gift of four warm blankets, with an apology that he could offer no garments of value. “Our clothes won’t exactly fit you tall folk.”
A dwarf named Kelsten was their guide to the northern side of the mountains. The tunnels of the dwarves often crossed one another, sometimes even seeming to double back, and they soon realized they would be hopelessly lost without him. After a time the tunnels were not even lit, and Kelsten had to hold one of the torches he had brought along to illuminate the way. Despite the contorted paths that appeared to be little used and the lack of light, Kelsten never hesitated or wavered in his chosen direction.
Just over four hours after they had set out, they rounded a tight bend and came to what seemed to be a dead end. Before anyone could comment on Kelsten’s apparent mistake, the dwarf touched some unseen lever with his outstretched hand, and a crack appeared in the stone wall before them. He leaned into the doorway and pushed it open, the late afternoon light flowing in to welcome them to the surface world once more.
Kelsten held up an open palm, asking them to wait. He peered outside, then shouldered his way into the opening. Once he was convinced they were unseen, he led the way out.
The sun’s light see
med unbearably strong after their time in the dwarven underworld, and they each held a hand up to cover their eyes. Kelsten did the same, but laughed anyway. “At least on this side we’re in the shadows of the mountains. On the south side the sun beats right down on you.”
Their dwarven guide did not linger long, knowing he had a long hike back. Once he was sure they needed nothing else from him, he advised them to move away from the mountains as quickly as they could—giants were more prevalent on the southern faces, but were known to dwell in the north as well—and wished them well. He waved once in recognition of their proffered thanks, then stepped back inside. A few seconds later he had triggered some mechanism which caused the heavy stone door to draw shut.
Barlow was careful to watch the door close, then eyed its edges closely. “Truly remarkable,” he said. “I can barely find the door’s outline, even now, when I know exactly where to look.”
They all took a moment to study and marvel at the skill the dwarves had used in the creation of the secret door, but realizing their task was still before them, and that the sun was westering swiftly, they set out to see what progress they might make before nightfall.
With the mountains at their back they could see deeper into the north now, although the terrain here was little different than that on the other side of the mountains. If they hoped to see any indication of the great wood the elves called home—and they each knew that realistically it was still a week’s march away—they were disappointed. Once they had put some distance between themselves and the giants’ mountain home, they breathed a bit easier, and allowed themselves quiet conversation, always wary for passing patrols or other as-yet-unthought-of dangers.
“Is it just me,” asked Adrianna, “or is it much cooler than it was a few days ago?”
“Probably just the shadow of the mountains,” Silas said without much conviction.
“And it is getting on toward evening,” Barlow added.