by Damon Alan
“What a terrible design,” Miller lamented to Harry.
“Same thoughts,” Harry agreed. “But it looks like we’ll be carrying some of our own.”
“That’s why it’s that way,” Cylethe interjected. “To respect the animal, to keep unthinking souls such as yourselves from overburdening the poor creatures.”
Harry nodded. That was how the dek tended to think.
“Into the yoglik, lads, we’re leaving our uniforms here.”
“What?” a few exclaimed.
“The dek have given us armor and weapons, and they’re built a lot like us. They should fit well enough. If we dress like the locals, we’ll attract less attention.”
The men stared at him. A few of them tugged at their uniforms.
“It’s not a request,” Harry said.
That was enough. They filed inside and he listened to them grumble as they changed. He moved to the doorway and looked at Cylethe. “Should we expect trouble on the way?”
“Always expect trouble, Harry, you’ll live longer,” she replied. “But I’ll be in your group with a drakon as my mount. Only the strongest enemies would dare… or desperately hungry animals I suppose.”
“That beast you ride looks dead,” Harry commented, finally saying what he’d wanted to say for hours. He’d been afraid of insulting her.
“The drakon live on the edge of life and death,” she replied. “They see both worlds.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re born from eggs that dragon mothers reject from their clutch. The dragons have figured out that they can sell the unwanted for items to increase their hordes.”
“You got that,” Harry waved at the beast lounging in a grass field at the edge of town, “by bargaining with a dragon?”
“Isn’t that what I just told you?”
He shook his head. Just when this world seemed to make any sense, the reality swept it all aside into confusion once more. “And it’s part dead?”
“No, it’s alive. But it sees into the world of the dead just as you and I see our world.”
“Ghosts?” Harry marveled.
“Among other less pleasant things.”
The men filed out of the yoglik at that point, moving to and standing in a semicircle around Harry and Cylethe.
They actually looked pretty smashing. “My turn.” Harry went inside and changed into the armor he’d picked out for himself. He looked at the bassinet helmet that he’d left on his bunk, then decided not to wear it. He kept his infantry helmet instead. That way the men would be able to identify him during the chaos of any battle.
He slung a long sword across his back, not that he knew how to use it.
Stepping back outside, he nodded at his men. “This is me,” he told his men, pointing to his helmet.
“You ready to go?” Cylethe asked. “The last of my people departed an hour ago. We are the last in the village.”
“More than ready,” Harry said as he looked at the now empty yogliks. A week ago, the space between the buildings was swarming with activity. Kids playing, merchants, cooks, guards. Now they were empty, and the effect was haunting.
As they marched out of town, Harry on his horse, Cylethe overhead on her drakon, and the men walking the pack horses, they passed the dead half-horses. The beasts were too heavy to move, so were left where they lay. Next summer the Undek would return to a field of bones, ready to be made into tools or jewelry.
It was the harsh reality of this world. The weak, even if they believed they were the strong, didn’t last long.
Camp that first night was in a place obviously meant for it. A fire ring already in place, the men built a fire and cooked a few chickens they’d gained as reward for saving the tribe. A pot of wild rice simmered, and each soldier had a share of meat and rice for dinner.
They were going to need more food. Hunting was going to be a priority.
“We have rice, beans, and even some potatoes,” Harry said. “But if we’re going to have meat, that means hunting.”
“She could hunt better than all of us together,” Garrett said.
“I do not eat animals most of the time,” Cylethe said. “My drakon is discomforted by the taking of animal life.”
“With those teeth? You don’t eat meet?” Burke said, grinning.
“Burke!” Harry chided. “Manners.”
“Burke is it?” Cylethe asked. “I should say, you’re onto something. I don’t eat meat unless it’s the only choice. I don’t hunt animals.” She looked at Burke and grinned, baring her teeth. The firelight cast shadows on her face and made her teeth look even more deadly. “But I do hunt, I assure you.”
Burke audibly gulped.
“That’s enough,” Harry said. “My point is that we need to learn to use these bows and crossbows we have. We’ll hunt with those.”
“Ah cannae skelp a barn wi' they hings!” Lars protested.
Cylethe nodded her agreement. “I suspect he can’t. You humans are weak without your noise sticks.”
“Guns,” Harry advised her. “And you’re right. We’re going to fix that. If you want meat, you’ll learn. I suppose we’ll see how much you want something to eat other than rice and beans.”
The men groaned for a bit, but campfire talk quickly returned to laughter and the sense of brotherhood they’d developed since their first days together. Harry let them talk, even with the topics growing a bit coarse now and then. This was a new world. None of them had to follow him anymore, but they did. A matter of trust and faith, Harry suspected. Something he’d earned, but also something he had to keep alive with his actions.
He’d get them home. He promised himself that much.
Chapter 13 - The King’s Sister
Irsu stared at the dwarf before him. She didn’t look anything like what he’d expect from the King’s sister. Unkempt, eyes darting, the beads in her beard were uneven and mismatched. Her armor was unpolished. He thought he even spied rust forming at the edge of the joints.
“You say my brother wants you to investigate the attack on Iron Mountain Hold?” Hevreg repeated for the tenth time.
She was insane. He had no idea what to do about it. He needed her to see to the defense of the Underway entrances. Could she be trusted to do so when she couldn’t even remember a conversation for five minutes? “Yes, princess,” Irsu stated. “I’m Irsu Crackstone, Iron Commander and Amblu-gane of King Scorriss Bloodstone. He sent me to find where the sick dwarves came from and discover why they attacked.”
“Lies!” she screamed. “Arrest these dwarves!”
“It is the truth!” Irsu protested.
Hevreg’s eyes burned with insanity, and spittle flew from her mouth as she screamed orders. “Banish them to the East Underway they so wish to see.” She pointed in entirely the wrong direction with a shaking finger. “Along with the soldiers they brought with them.”
The guards in the royal chamber, the same ones Irsu had stood in after meeting Kordina almost five years prior, lowered their pikes or drew short swords and axes.
“He’s the Amblu-gane,” Coragg protested.
“The King himself ordered that Princess Hevreg was to be obeyed in all things,” the guard captain stated. “We can see what’s going on here, but there is no choice in the matter.”
“I’m beginning to like the way you question orders,” Coragg muttered to Irsu.
The guard captain gestured toward the exit. “Come along, we’ll see you’re on your way.”
“GET THEM OUT! GET THEM OUT!” Hevreg was screaming. “TRAITORS! BANISH THEM!”
Did she have the sickness?
The guards led them from the room, and away from the royal stronghold. Once outside the captain was apologetic. “I’m sorry, Irsu, but I have no choice.”
“We dwarves have believed we have no choice of our own for far too long,” Irsu replied. “You have a choice. You’ve just forgotten how to make it.”
“Easy for you to say,” the captain replied. “Sh
e hasn’t threatened to lop off your head.”
A hundred and fifty soldiers escorted Irsu’s team to the East Underway. The massive doors had not been opened in half a decade. Thick stone with an ironwood cladding, they were thousands of years old. Five stories tall and probably unmovable without the machinery behind them, a retractable iron bar rested in hoops on the back of both doors.
“What’s the status of the Underway?” the captain asked the dwarves manning the tower on the right side of the door. The other side of that tower would look down the passageway from murder holes to scout the situation.
A minute later an answer came. “The East Underway is clear as far as a flaming bolt can shoot.”
A platform several stories off the floor housed the levers and chains that controlled the doors. The guard captain yelled up. “Retract the bar and open the gates!”
“You don’t have to do this,” Numo said to the man.
The Royal Guardsmen in Irsu’s contingent were silent. They probably thought there was no choice either.
“He’s right,” Irsu said. “If I’d followed my orders blindly, I’d not be Amblu-gane.”
“If I don’t follow my orders, I’ll not be alive tomorrow,” the response came.
The doors swung open. Moist subterranean air rushed in from the deep highway that appeared before them. A few tenths of a kadros away a bolt burned on the floor, flickering flames trying to cling to life as the pitch on the bolt burned away. Shadows danced above it, wreaking havoc with Irsu’s ability to see into the darkness.
The soldiers of the hold lined up to create a living hallway to the door. Several had large bags, and the two who were last in line before the exit held a pack lizard each.
“What’s this?” Irsu asked.
“She said I had to banish you,” the guard captain said. “If you’re the Amblu-gane as you say, then I expect you’ll live. These materials might help.”
Irsu clasped the captain’s arm. “You did what you could. I bear no ill will toward your family.”
“I can’t hope for more than that.”
Irsu looked at Coragg. “It looks like it’s an investigation whether we like it or not.”
“Life is never boring as your second,” the grizzled warrior answered. “What now?”
“In this case there is no choice,” Irsu replied. The flaming bolt had expired. He thrust his axe toward the beckoning darkness. “Onward.”
The fifteen dwarves marched resolutely in line down the corridor of soldiers. As Irsu’s squad passed the soldiers with bags, those soldiers handed them over to the banished warriors. Finally, at the end of the guards, the last two handed over the pack lizards.
“Ekesstu preserve you,” one of the last two said to Irsu.
“On your way,” the captain bellowed. “You are hereby banished from Iron Mountain Hold unless reprieved by King Scorriss Bloodstone. If you are seen again without such reprieve, you will be tried and executed in accordance with Dwarven Law.”
Irsu nodded. He didn’t feel like being very noble at the moment to his tormentors.
“You heard the captain,” he said to his lot. “On our way.”
Chapter 14 - Crossover
July 18, 1940
Ernst thought it ironic that the plane he chose for the flight to Jangik was named the Seedrache. The Blohm and Voss BV-138 Sea Dragon could land on water, solving the problem of no runway in Jangik. There was room for the pilot and copilot, three turret gunners, and five more people.
Elianna would be on board, as would Herta at the sorceress’s insistence. Of course, he’d be there. That left seats for two soldiers. Ernst contacted Werner von Krosigk, who still had some pleasant thoughts toward Elianna. The young officer assigned guards for the mission, SS troopers who were trained in several forms of combat.
Ernst knew that would do nothing to save Herta or himself if Elianna turned against Germany. But the Germans wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Elianna had been tolerable since humiliating him at the hands of a dragon. Not that she couldn’t use her own horrible methods, but something about losing his bladder control really irked Ernst. So while Elianna seemed to sense that she’d actually damaged his psyche, he felt less likely to cooperate with her if he could get away with it.
A new noise drew him back to the present. The plane’s diesel engines fired up as Ernst waited. Sitting on a trolley designed to be pushed into the water and float the plane, the passengers would get on board first.
“Director, you can board at your leisure,” a young lieutenant said.
“Danka,” Ernst replied, and pushed gently in the small of Herta’s back to urge her to board.
Ten minutes later they were all on the plane. A truck pumped in the last bit of fuel, departed, and then the plane jolted as a small tractor pushed them toward a ramp into the water. Soon they’d be in the air over Hamburg, and not too long after headed west to the Rotterdam gate.
Rotterdam.
How he wished he’d shot Gustaf Meckler before the fool had the gate open, when Ernst had let the eager fanatic have his way. France would now be German, and probably much more of Europe. Damn Hitler and his lust for power in any form, the occult had thwarted Germany, not helped.
“What are you thinking,” Elianna asked him over the roar of the engines.
“How different life would be if the gate hadn’t opened,” Ernst answered, honestly. He handed her a pair of headphones to wear, then one for Herta. The soldiers were on their own, they didn’t need to hear this conversation anyway. He put headphones on his own ears.
“That’s better,” Elianna said. “Although these are clearly not made for elven ears.” She winced as she adjusted the phones.
“We can talk among ourselves,” Ernst told her. “The pilots will break in to advise us on approach to the gate. Those are their instructions.”
“For once I will sit back and let you run things,” Elianna said, again, unusually agreeable.
“I am both excited and terrified,” Herta blurted out in confession. She was squeezing Ernst’s hands so hard that both her fingers and his were drained of blood and shock white.
“I promise you that you are under my protection,” Elianna swore. “Both of you.”
Ernst wondered if Herta was aware that Elianna was forcing him to sleep with her. Not that it was a terrible burden, but it was hardly worth all the other nonsense he had to bear from the mad elf.
“You told your friend to make sure to turn his overbearing presence off?” Ernst asked Elianna.
“You mean Rodimikari’s fear?” She laughed. “I’m in this flying machine too. Of course I did.”
“Let’s hope he listens.”
“Let’s hope he does,” Elianna agreed. “Dragons can be temperamental.”
“I will be able to look at him without terror?” Herta asked.
“You will have natural fear.” Elianna answered. “But magic will not be the cause.”
That seemed to please Herta substantially.
“Why are we making this trip?” Ernst asked Elianna, staring at her face. “Would it not be easier for this Hagirr to magic himself to us?”
“Hagirr doesn’t inconvenience himself for the likes of a diplomatic visit,” Elianna replied. “That’s my job. And now that I’ve determined your people are worthy, you will meet him in Jangik. Together we will explain the failure to secure the Ark of the Covenant, as you call it.”
Ernst swallowed. That’s the first time he’d heard that. Would this Hagirr wish to hold someone accountable? Maybe. He looked at the two SS soldiers. Were they in Ethiopia with Werner’s command?
“If he’s displeased, these two men are part of the contingency that failed to find it,” Ernst said.
Herta started to speak, probably in protest. Ernst squeezed her hand until she exclaimed her pain.
Elianna looked over at the soldiers, who were looking out of their window. She stared back at Ernst, expressionless. Ten seconds later she smiled broadly. �
�I understand. If it comes to that, I will provide that information.”
Ernst nodded at her. At least they understood each other on some level. Elianna needed Ernst, and to a lesser degree Herta since she was Ernst’s wife.
For the next hour the three of them exchanged conversation, Elianna learning more about Earth and Germany, Ernst and Herta about Aerth and Jangik. The elf didn’t speak about Hagirr, even when pressed.
“Director, we are over the gate,” the pilot broke in.
“Start a slow, loose spiral descent,” Ernst instructed. “Hold at two thousand meters but continue the spiral if our escort hasn’t arrived.”
Ernst respected these pilots. They knew a dragon was coming but flew the mission anyway. They certainly could have been unavailable if they wished. But some men wanted to experience things for themselves. These aviators were such men.
Elianna closed her eyes for half a minute, then opened them. “Rodi is nearby. Give him a few minutes.”
He blinked rapidly remembering the last encounter. That Elianna had a pet name for such a terrifying monster was an indication of how fearsome she was.
“I see it,” one of the pilots said.
“Him,” Elianna corrected with a bit of a growl.
“Sorry, madam.”
“Follow me,” the dragon said outside the plane. The rumble of the beast’s voice vibrated the skin of the aircraft, everyone inside heard it… him quite clearly.
“Director?”
“I think you should do as the dragon says,” Ernst said into his microphone.
The BV-138 rolled out of the perpetual bank it was in and followed northward. A moment later they were through the gate and instead of a circle of unfamiliar terrain, there was something else. Europe was gone, replaced with a much drier land of scrub and ravines.
“This is the path to take,” Rodimikari told them. “If I leave you, straight flying will take you to the wizard. The human. Hagirr.”