“Not all of them,” Joseph replied.
Everyone watched with wide eyes as Dolanas stepped up next to Joseph, his halberd held firm, his face hard as stone, his stance straight and strong like a fine-cut statue. For the first time, the eyes of all those present were opened, and they saw Dolanas’ short stature, his wide girth, his long beard. They saw him not as the man they had always known, but as the dwarf he had always been.
“I’m sure some of you have suspected for some time,” Joseph continued. “But you know our history with Dolanas’ people, and so I will not bother to explain why this was kept secret.”
The room was silent as the troop stared on in shock. The quietness was broken by another soldier’s voice.
“All due respect, sir. One dwarf does not an army make. We know our history indeed. The dwarves were driven back into their mountain, which was made to collapse upon them. They could not have survived.”
Dolanas spoke up.
“You’ll find that it takes a lot more than collapsed rock to kill a dwarf.”
“What I am about to say, you must all hold within your hearts and tell no one,” Joseph continued. “Dolanas assures me, his people do live. They sleep under the mountain into which they were sealed. They are of a number great enough to challenge the numbers of the orcs. Their memories are as old as the mountains under which they sleep. They have had much experience fighting the orc and are so structured in their form as to make a formidable opponent to the size, bulk, and savagery of the orc. Of any race of beings upon Sylrin, none have had so great a success at a frontal assault upon orcs as the dwarves. With their help, we can attain victory.
“However, you are no longer held to the Knights of Realm, and so to me. Those of you who wish to leave or to save your family and flee to a land of safety, I will not hold you, nor blame you. You are now free men. It is your choice.”
“Sir,” the man called Phren spoke again as he stood, drew his sword and placed the tip on the floor, his hands on the pommel. “I believe I speak for all of us when I say that we are ready to follow you to the heart of the Dark Land itself, were that our path. Assign us our duties. We are ready.”
The rest of the knights also stood and copied his action. Joseph smiled at the declaration of loyalty. He couldn’t have been prouder.
“You are all knights indeed,” he told them. “Very well. The place in which you now stand was once a dwarven outpost in days long past. By Dolanas’ lead we will travel the dwarven roads to avoid being seen by any scouts of the Knights. Those who have family will head north to Sithrain and then sail under guise to Dorlain. You will take your families to a safe land. I suggest Thoral Island or somewhere on the continent of Valencia. But I will leave that to you. Make haste and return to Galantria. You should not be harassed if traveling under guise. From there head for the North River Mountains. One of Dolanas’ kinsmen will meet you and lead you to us. If none meets you and you have been in the mountains many days, flee to the safe lands where you have taken your families. Either we could not get the dwarves to help us or we are dead. Either way, there is no reason to waste your lives there. There may be hope yet in other lands. But let us hope it does not come to that.
“The rest of us will take the dwarven roads west and attempt to enlist the help of Dolanas’ kinsmen. Gash and his kin will update them and us of any changes in the orcs fighting habits that are unknown to the dwarves. Their help will be invaluable, as it has been thus far.”
Joseph directed the last statement towards Gash and the others. He then turned back to his men.
“Let it be said now who will go north and who will go west. Dolanas and I will go west.”
The knights, having again taken their seats, glanced at one-another, sly smiles on their faces. Their captain wondered at this but nonetheless waited for an explanation to present itself. Shortly, Phren stood and addressed him.
“Sir, as you have said, the Generals suspected the treachery for some time. I dare say they knew of it. Before we were sent on this mission, we were instructed, each one privately, to quietly do just as you have ordered us. My son and his family by now have reached Thoral Island and have sought refuge there. King Lithos of the Greys has been aware of our plight for some time and agreed to give our families haven. Our loved ones are safe. We are with you.”
The other knights voiced their confirmations of Phren’s words. Only two and Sergeant Ballister seemed as shocked as the captain. But at last, Joseph smiled and gave a chuckle.
“By the sword,” he said. “I should have known as much. They were nothing if not prepared. So be it. Let us all travel west. But what of you, Lady Marian?”
“I will travel west with you. Perhaps Sir Dolanas’ people know of a path to the dwarf holding near my abode. I will return to it thereafter.”
“You may not be safe at your cabin, lady. Perhaps it would be wiser to stay with the dwarves would they accept you.”
“Perhaps, Captain, but the townspeople of Galantria know me and will not allow any harm to come to me. It matters not what strange things I do. In their minds, I am not to be touched. And truth be told, my wood is the safest place for me.”
Joseph nodded and then looked to Mara.
“I need not ask where you will go.”
“Just understand that I am going with Gash, not you.”
Joseph could not help but smile.
“Indeed,” he said. “Then let us be off.”
Without a word, Dolanas replaced his helm, turned and walked to another section of the wall. Pushing on it, a section previously hidden swung open into a dark passage. Cold, stale air blew in. Some covered their mouths or waved their hands in front of their faces. Dolanas breathed in a deep breath and smiled.
He then stepped inside the passage and emerged a moment later with three torches in hand. He handed them out to whom he knew would need them, waited for them to be lit and stepped down into the passage that reminded him so much of home.
XIII. History
H’ruk crouched low. He could see his target through the thick weeds not twenty yards away. It would be an easy catch. It was a fast creature, but so was he. Or so he thought. Suddenly, the wind shifted. The creature looked in H’ruk’s direction. H’ruk rose and threw his sword with what he thought to be lightning speed. The jagged blade flew through the air, missing the deer by inches as it bounded away. H’ruk’s rage grew within him. He allowed what little there was to take him over and he charged after the creature. He caught sight of it just in time to see it collapse and Grak’s relatively short frame stand up in the place where it fell. H’ruk stopped short and allowed his rage to ebb away as he watched Grak sheath his double scythes. Grak then bent down and picked up the eviscerated deer. He walked up to H’ruk with the animal over his shoulder and looked up at him.
“State your triumph,” H’ruk said angrily.
“I did not triumph over you,” Grak replied calmly. “It ran my way because it did not smell me. Your sword is too heavy to hunt. It is better for fighting.”
H’ruk, still angry, turned away and began walking, searching for his sword. Grak followed.
“Why are we hunting for these un-orcs in the first place?” he spat. “Let them fetch their own food.”
Finding his sword, he bent over and picked it up.
“We are better hunters than they,” Grak responded. “We are closer to beasts.”
H’ruk straightened and looked at him, a fire in his eyes.
“You know it’s true,” Grak responded without passion.
H’ruk turned his head away and then looked to the blade of his sword. His hand tightened on the leather-wrapped grip and he resolved never to let his weapon go.
“Did you catch?” came Gash’s voice.
They both turned to see Gash walking towards them with two deer slung over his shoulder.
“We caught,” answered Grak before H’ruk could speak.
“Where is Trogla?”
“Here, G’uar,” Trogla respo
nded. “I did not catch.”
Gash nodded.
“Day coming. We return.”
He then led them back through the thick weeds toward the boulder in which the rest of the party was waiting and resting. Dolanas had led them a day north through the singular tunnel, or so he said. None but him could ever tell in which direction they were headed. Hitting a juncture a day out from Galantria, the party turned west and traveled three days to where they now rested, Dolanas again leading them on a path that only he seemed to know, though it was not known how or why he knew it so well.
As the orcs approached the boulder, they could see Mara’s diminutive form in the twilight. At the sound of their steps, she moved to a fighting stance. She relaxed when she saw who it was. Mara knocked on the rock with her stick in the manner which Dolanas had prescribed. The door opened and the five entered in.
The knights and Marian had been sleeping but woke when the others entered in. Quickly, the animals were skinned. Dolanas inserted a lit torch into a slot beneath the slab in the center and, like the others they had encountered, the slab took on the properties of the fire. While the animals roasted, the knights busied themselves with cleanup, depositing the skins outside lest there be a stink, and burying them, being careful to set a watch. Eventually, the food was cooked and all sat down to meal. They passed the time mostly in silence, none really desiring to speak, but rather just to fill their bellies. A small sense of foreboding had begun growing in their minds since the start of their journey. It was not large now, but each could feel it quietly lurking in their hearts. Finally, if for no other reason than to distract his thoughts, one of the knights spoke up.
“How much farther is our path, Dolanas?”
“Another day west and we’ll hit the North River Mountains. After that, we head two days along their path to the Collapsed Mountain. We’ll stop there. I’ll take Gash and travel another day into the mountain to where we can contact the rest of my people. Once we do, we’ll return with news.”
“Why Gash?” asked Thomas in an accusing tone. “Why can the rest of us not go?”
“Because I said so,” Dola replied, unemotionally.
That was all the explanation Dola offered and it seemed to be all that the knights needed or would dare ask.
“How do you know these paths so well, Dolanas?” Mara asked, breaking the momentary silence. “Have you traveled them before?”
Dola shook his head.
“My father did,” he replied, “back before the times of our war with the Knights, before I was born. By the time of the war, these roads weren’t used much. They were prepared in case the orcs of the Northlands ever invaded and overran the country. Our people could still survive and even make small raids against the invaders if need be without ever being found out.”
Mara stared confused as she chewed her meat.
“Dwarves retain memories from generation to generation,” Marian chimed in. “Each individual’s memories are passed on to their children at conception. Or do I speak out of turn, Sir Dolanas?”
Dolanas shook his head.
“You are a very learned woman, Lady Marian,” The knight who had spoken before addressed her. “How do you know so much, if I may ask?”
“You may. And I know so much because I have had many travelers in my home over many years.”
She seemed about to say more but refrained.
“What happened to the Dwarves?” Mara asked.
Marian turned to Dolanas.
“With your permission, Sir Dolanas.”
Dola nodded. Marian then looked around the group as she told the tale, for none would know it as well as Dolanas and herself.
“Many years ago, this land bore the name that it yet still sometimes bares: the Wild Lands. For it was indeed untamed wild, with naught but pixie and fairie inhabiting the wild forests and groves. A clan of dwarves whom, it is said, explored and wandered far from their home on the continent of Valencia, ventured through natural caverns that stretched across the sea to this very land, where their path at last ended. There they found grand caverns and halls, all of natural rock. It is said they remained there many days simply admiring the natural landscape they had discovered and felt increasingly as though they had been drawn to it. Yet it was not until they had again picked up their tools and tunneled out to see the sun once more that they found they were on the side of a mountain, a vast, unknown land about them. It was then they gave both the mountain and the land their names. The mountain they named Drudem Kunjar, the Hollow Mountain.
“The dwarves then decided that the Hollow Mountain would be their home. The immense caverns within, already suitable for a great society to exist within with some difficulty, were refined and converted by hammer and chisel into great meeting halls, throne rooms, treasure keeps, look-out posts, intricate passageways, and large cities filled with modest, yet well-suited homes. As their new home was mined out, the dwarves multiplied and began to spread out and explore the land before them. In their travels, they made great roads and outposts like this one in order to protect the land from invaders, as Sir Dolanas has said. They discovered the elves already living in the forests to the south. The elves were content to stay in their forests and not settle the open-air country. But they were friendly to the dwarves and so traded with them willingly.
“Eventually, the humans came and began to settle on the coasts. The dwarves had no intention of ruling the lands, merely protecting them, and so they did not hinder the humans’ settling. Galantria and Sithrain on the eastern coast, and the two kingdoms of Mahar and Elaria in the Northlands were established.
“One day, scouts came from-“
“A moment, lady.”
Marian looked to the knight who had spoken.
“Is it not so,” he asked, “that the dwarves had confrontation with orcs before the time of the human settlements?”
Marian glanced at Dolanas and the orcs.
“It is so,” she said. “However, that is not a subject for current company. ‘Passions run deep as blood and old wounds linger long,’ as they say.”
She then looked about to see if any would give further objection. None did, though she could see the interest in the eyes of all, the orcs included. She continued.
“One day, scouts came from Dorlain up the Ocean Path, the lengthy strip of land that connects our two lands. They stated their intentions to the dwarves that stood guard at the entrance to the Wild Lands of policing the whole realm of Sylrin. The dwarves forbade them, stating that these were free lands and they would have none rule them in totality. The scouts returned to Dorlain but made it plain that they did not need the dwarves’ permission to do as they intended. Wisely, the dwarves gathered, counseled and agreed that in order to protect the land from these Knights, they would construct a wall unlike any other that would keep the Knights from entering the Wild Lands. Any ships that attempted to land a force would be met with equal resistance.
“The Knights did indeed return to find the land fortified. They threw all their might at the dwarven-built wall. But as it was made by dwarven hands, even their best siege weapons could not bring it to ruin. So they returned to Dorlain defeated and with many losses while the dwarves suffered none.
“But this did not dissuade them. That which they could not take by force, they would take by subterfuge. They came in silently and secretly, a few at a time. Some came by ship. Some came through the gate which the dwarves had constructed within the wall. For they were yet determined not to rule, but only to protect and many they allowed to pass freely to and fro through those gates.
“When the Knights of the Realm had sufficiently gathered their forces, they began their assault on the dwarves, hitting them in raids when the dwarves were few in number and easier prey. Then they would slink back into hiding to await their next opportunity for an assault. In this way, the Knights reduced the dwarves numbers until few were left outside the Hollow Mountain.
“The elves, though they suffered no Knights to enter
their realm and live, did nothing to stop these raids nor aide the dwarves, but withdrew into their forests, never to be heard from since. It has caused much bad blood to brew between them and the dwarves. Neither did the humans offer any help, too afraid to upset their quiet ways of life. The dwarves were utterly alone.
“The Knights, thinking the dwarves’ numbers reduced enough for a direct assault, gathered their forces and marched upon Drudem Kunjar. By the time they arrived, the dwarves had retreated into their mountain. The Knights pursued them, entering every possible passageway that lead into the mountain and filling them with their forces. But in the midst of their assault, the mountain and every passageway collapsed in on itself, killing the knights that had entered and crippling their forces. The dwarves, presumably, had been killed as well. After all, who could survive a mountain collapse, though it be only a partial one? They were presumed dead because if they weren’t, they would be without air and essentially buried alive. Or so it was believed.
“Decimated by their losses, the Knights attempted to rally what was left of their forces and begin subjugation of the Wild Lands. However, an army from the kingdom of Elaria appeared marching east from the Valley of the Maw. Having heard of the plight of the dwarves, King Peloras had sent his forces to drive back those of the Knights of the Realm. They arrived too late to help the dwarves, but in time to stop the Knights without further bloodshed. They forbade their presence in the Wild Lands, bidding them return home, never again to set foot beyond the dwarven wall. And thus they remained until the recent ravaging of the Northlands by the orcs, when the peoples requested their aide.”
“Your pardon, lady,” said a knight when she had finished, “but I heard it differently. To my knowledge, the Knights caused the dwarves’ mountain to collapse upon them, thus gaining victory. We- they- then returned home to Dorlain out of necessity. For a great war had broken out on our home continent and every available man was needed.”
“A lie that has been perpetuated by your order’s members since that time, I’m afraid,” Marian answered him.
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