Into Vushaar

by Robert M Kerns

  Gavin shrugged. “I wish I knew. I woke up in the southwestern warrens of Tel Mivar a little over a year and a half ago. I know nothing of my past, beyond my name and that I have a daughter.”

  “You have my sympathy; it cannot be a comfortable situation,” Xask said.

  “I’ve grown used to it.” Gavin turned and motioned for the others to approach. When they stood around him, he said, “The dracons have asked for my help. They want us to travel with them to Qar’Zhosk.”

  The wide eyes facing him and little gasps he heard informed Gavin something in what he said was notable.

  “Okay…what am I missing?”

  “Gavin,” Mariana said, “Qar’Zhosk is the capital and largest city of the dracons. No outsiders have seen it since they withdrew from the world shortly after the death of Bellock Vanlon.”

  Gavin turned to face the Dracons, saying, “Do we have your guarantee of safe passage? I understand your people have been…unforgiving, let us say…of trespassers in recent decades.”

  Xask’s eyes widened just enough to notice before she said, “No Dracon would dare raise a hand against you! It is part of our oldest traditions.”

  “Fair enough,” Gavin said and gestured at his friends, “but my friends not me. I would be displeased should anything befall them. Guys, show them.”

  Lillian, Mariana, Wynn, and Braden pulled their medallions from inside their clothes and let them fall to rest against their sternums.

  “These are my apprentices, as was in the old ways. The female elf is Elayna, one of the T’Eleren, and the male elf is Sarres, a Sentinel of Nature. The last young lady is Kiri.”

  “Before my clansmen, I name these souls Drak’Thir,” Xask said. “The closest meaning in your tongue is ‘Friend of the People,’ and it is a rare honor among us, even before our withdrawal. Any who raise arms against you may be struck down without concern for reprisal.”

  Gavin turned to his friends, saying, “I’m inclined to help them. You know me; I have a tough time refusing anyone who asks me for help.”

  The others nodded, Lillian and Braden smiling at Gavin’s description of himself.

  “We’d be the first outsiders to see Qar’Zhosk in centuries,” Braden said.

  Mariana grinned, saying, “I’d love to sit with one of their scholars and discuss their history.”

  Gavin turned back to the Dracons and said, “We will help you. If you give us a few moments to strike camp and collect our things, we can leave at once.”

  The dracons set the pace at what was an easy jog for them and a fast trot for the horses. The longer they traveled, the more Gavin felt both unsettled and amazed by what he was witnessing.

  They traveled deeper into the foothills of the Godswall Mountains, and the overgrown path they’d been following turned into a wide road paved with smoothed stone.

  “The road is radiating Transmutation and Tutation,” Gavin said as he trotted along at Xask’s side.

  “Yes. The Clan Elders long ago saw no need to repave our few roads, so they requested the arcanists to build protections into the roads that would protect them from wear and decay because of the elements. Should a paving stone ever be damaged, the Transmutation you’re feeling would draw some of the underlying strata deep underground to repair the paving stone,” Xask said, the measured cadence of her speech the only sign of her exertions.

  Just then, a mounted figure leaped into view over a small hillock to their left. The figure closed at a ferocious pace, and soon, Gavin could see the rider was a dracon in half-plate and carrying a vicious-looking halberd in his right hand. The rider’s left hand held the reins of a creature unlike anything Gavin had ever seen.

  The mount bore a very slight resemblance to a dog or a wolf, but it had no fur. Scales covered its body, and what would’ve been claws on a canine were talons that glinted like metal in the sun and tore small grooves in the rocky terrain as the creature closed the distance at a rate that would’ve foundered even the most tireless horse. A scaly tail weaved side to side, helping the creature keep its balance and maintain its great stride and pace.

  When the mounted rider was just a few yards away, he leaned back in the saddle, squeezed the creature’s sides with his legs, and pulled back on the reins. The creature responded by stopping its charging run and leaning back against all four legs locked at full extension. The talons dug into the rocky terrain better than a plow and tore furrows the width of the creature’s feet as it skidded to a stop no more than five feet from Gavin’s party. The creature’s eyes had a faint red hue to them, and it didn’t even look winded.

  “What the hell is that?” Gavin said, staring at the new arrival’s mount.

  “It is a rock wolf,” Xask said. “The dwarves use them as mounts and guard animals, and they gifted the original breeding pairs to us when we settled this region. It took several decades, but we soon bred our rock wolves to suit us as mounts…and their greater size and musculature improved their efficacy as guard animals.”

  At seeing Gavin’s medallion, the rider’s eyes widened just enough to notice, and he bowed so low his snout almost touched his mount’s neck.

  “Matron Xask, forgive me, but we have trespassers on the old trade road from Tel Mivar. They ride their horses hard and travel with remounts.”

  “Vossk is one of our finest scouts and border guards,” Xask said, before turning back to the rider. “Were you able to identify them?”

  Gavin heard a low rumble from Vossk’s general direction, and he realized it was a growl when Vossk spoke in a harsh tone. “Yes, Matron. They are a deq of the Blighted Ones.”

  Xask pivoted on her heel to face her escorts. “Go with Vossk. See that none of the Blighted Ones live, and leave the corpses rotting in the sun. Let the carrion-eaters have them if any are that desperate.”

  “But why are they here?” Vossk said. “The Blighted Ones have not been seen since they murdered Bellock Vanlon.”

  “These Blighted Ones,” Gavin said. “Do you mean they’re Lornithrasa?”

  The Dracons hissed.

  “We do not speak that word,” Xask said. “Like all things connected to their master, it is an affront to all decency and goodness.”

  Gavin lifted his right arm and drew back the sleeve of his tunic, revealing the Void-scar and saying, “They hunt me.”

  Xask’s eyes narrowed at seeing the Void-scar, and she said, “Not for much longer.” She turned to her fellow dracons and gestured toward the northeast. “Go.”

  Xask’s escorts took off at a sprint, little more than a fast jog for Vossk’s rock wolf.

  Gavin watched them go, saying, “I hope they kill the Lo—er, Blighted Ones—before any Void-blades are drawn. I’d rather none of your people die.”

  “It would not matter if they draw a Void-blade or even possess a Void-lance,” Xask said. At Gavin’s curious expression, she said, “Their master never conceived that we might choose a path other than His service and made us immune to his most potent weapons.”

  Gavin blinked as he processed Xask’s explanation, saying, “Wait…what?”

  Mariana nudged her horse up to Gavin’s right side. She said, “Forgive me, Xask; I don’t intend offense. Gavin, the dracons are not a natural race of this world. Lornithar created the Dracons during the final years of the Godswar, because He was losing and thought powerful shock troops would turn the tide. Their heritage is Draconic for the most part, obviously, but Lornithar also mixed portions of Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and perhaps even Minotaurs into their creation.”

  “Wow,” Gavin said. “That’s impressive.”

  “The females of my people were being held in a series of prisons, a closely guarded secret among His forces,” Xask said. “The males serving as shock troops were told they existed only to win the Godswar for Him and that there were no others. When the Liberator informed them about the females, they recognized Him for the liar He is and rebelled. With the help of the Liberator and his people, those earliest males freed the females a
nd chose freedom and to be a sovereign, self-determining people. We owe the Liberator much.”

  Gavin smiled, saying, “Xask, I only had a short time with my mentor, but I feel as though I came to know him to a certain extent. He didn’t believe in debts…at least collecting them…and if you were to speak to him about what you or your people feel you owe him, I feel he would respond something like this. ‘Take care of yourself and your people. Do right by them, and stand against injustice and those who would do evil. By doing that, you will repay any debt you feel you owe me and then some.’”

  “That does sound like something the Liberator would say,” Xask said, “but we have tarried long enough. Vossk and the others will catch up to us. Qar’Zhosk awaits.”

  Chapter 5

  The old trade road led deeper into the foothills until they reached a tunnel wide enough for three large, caravan wagons to pass side by side without touching. Metal gates that looked like wrought iron but with streaks of a strange red hue blocked entrance to the tunnel, and two massive Dracons stood behind the gate, halberds in their hands and swords strapped to their backs. Deeper into the tunnel, Gavin could see sconces much like those in Tel Mivar lighting the space.

  As Gavin drew close to the gate, he dismounted and approached the gate at Xask’s side. The Dracons behind the gate took one look at Gavin’s medallion and unlocked the gates in haste. The gates unlocked, the Dracons then swung them back against the tunnel walls and dropped to one knee, acting as impromptu gate stops.

  Gavin sighed. “This is going to get old…fast,” he said, not even bothering to whisper. “Please, stand. I won’t have people kneeling to me.”

  “They are only-” Xask said.

  “I know, following the oldest traditions. I respect that you feel you should honor my family, but not even my mentor—the man you term the Liberator—would have tolerated this for long. Neither of us are the type of people who seek personal aggrandizement. Like I said when we met Vossk, if you want to honor what my mentor helped you achieve, make the best of all you can. It’s a far better memorial to him than everyone kneeling every time I approach.”

  “I understand your position,” Xask said, “but to change such an ancient tradition is unheard-of and must be brought before the Council of Clans. We should address this matter with them.”

  Yay…more politics, Gavin thought, though he was careful to keep his reaction from showing in his expression.

  Gavin thought they would have a challenging time getting the animals to enter the tunnel, but the horses and pack-mules didn’t seem to give the matter a second thought. The tunnel was just the right size for their shod hooves to make an odd echo as they trotted along.

  “How far is it to Qar’Zhosk?” Gavin asked as he walked beside Xask.

  “We have some distance to go yet. The cavern that became my people’s home sits under the spine of the Godswall Mountains. There has been talk down through the centuries that we are another line of defense, making sure they do not tunnel through. The filth that has overrun Skullkeep has likewise learned not to delve too deeply.”

  “From what I’ve seen, I imagine your people can be fierce warriors.”

  Something in Xask’s demeanor changed, and to Gavin’s estimation, the air took on a slight chill.

  Xask directed a sidelong look to Gavin as they walked, saying, “Those who have not seen us do war do not understand. Your apprentice, Mariana of Cothos, had it right when she said Lornithar made us to be shock troops…and we were well-made.”

  The moment passed, and Xask returned to her pleasant, welcoming self.

  “We have not had to do war since the time your people call the Founding, but every child goes through training that provides a basic level of skill and competency across our entire society.”

  “What can you tell me about your society?” Gavin asked.

  “When we settled here, in Qar’Zhosk, we were fifteen clans. We lost one clan, Qar’Nyskyx, during a fierce raid into our lands by the filth from Skullkeep. Another, Qoh’Leskahl, betrayed us all to those exiled beyond the Godswall Mountains. To this day, we remember them in every Council chamber. One Clan Seat stands empty and another shattered.”

  “So,” Gavin asked, “you rule yourselves through a council?”

  “Yes,” Xask replied, adding an affirmative nod. “Each city has its own Council of Clans, and all cities send representatives to Qar’Zhosk four times per year to address and consider any matters pertaining to us all. Otherwise, each city’s Council of Clans is trusted to handle routine matters, but each city may call for a Grand Moot, during which every Council and many representatives of the people gather to discuss matters of emergency or great importance. In my life, I have only seen one Grand Moot.”

  “Really? May I ask what it discussed?” Gavin asked.

  “We withdrew from the world during our last Grand Moot.”

  Gavin stopped, blinking. “But…I thought your people withdrew from the world shortly after the last Archmagister died.”

  “Yes,” Xask said. “Your understanding is correct. After a year passed without Bellos naming a new Archmagister, the leadership of my people decided that the naturals transgressed in some major way, causing the gods to abandon the world.”

  “Wasn’t that something like 600 years ago?” Gavin asked.

  Xask nodded once. “I am 1,246 of your years old, and it is common for one of my people to live well into their second millennium. In fact, most consider dying at 2,000 to be dying before one’s time.”

  Gavin felt like he’d been punched in the gut at the enormity of what Xask said.

  “So…on average…it’s been between three and four generations for you since the Godswar?”

  Xask nodded. “Yes. It is not ancient history for us, as it is for you naturals. Many of our current elders spoke with the survivors of that horror.”

  Gavin took a deep breath and let it out as a heavy sigh. “I think I need time to process that.”

  “As you will,” Xask replied. “I shall be here when you are ready to resume conversation.”

  After almost an hour of travel, the tunnel opened into an immense cavern, filled by a city. The cavern itself seemed to be an ellipse, somewhere between a compressed circle and egg-shaped, and it was enormous. The only way Gavin had an indication of the far side of the cavern was by looking at the city’s lights far off in the distance.

  On the left side of the cavern—from Gavin’s perspective, a massive waterfall cascaded down to a pool in a raging cataract of white water and soft green light. From the pool, the water became a river running through the city before it disappeared into the cavern wall.

  “Wow…why does your water glow?” Gavin gazed at the distant falls.

  “Ah, yes. Erin’s Falls continue to be a mystery to our people still yet today. We could never learn why it glows the way it does, but it does not appear to harm us…as the pool and river are our primary source of water.”

  “Erin’s Falls?”

  “Yes. We named the waterfall for the arcanist who helped us divert the underground river to become our water source. She was very accomplished in her craft.”

  “This is amazing,” Gavin said, his voice just above a whisper.

  “Gavin,” Lillian said, her voice full of awe and wonder, “look up.”

  Gavin glanced at Lillian and, taking in her expression, lifted his eyes to the cavern ceiling…and gaped. A massive illusion effect covered the cavern’s entire ceiling. It was faded and flickering, and there were patches where the illusion broke down and showed stalactites hanging far above. From what Gavin could see, it looked as though the illusion was supposed to mimic the sky outside the cavern, but that made little sense, unless….

  “You guys need sunlight for Vitamin D, don’t you?” Gavin asked, turning to Xask.

  Xask turned to face Gavin, and though her features were the most alien Gavin had seen since waking up in the world, he could tell she was confused.

  “What is Vitamin D?�
� she asked, glancing from Gavin to his apprentices and back. “I’ve never heard of that.”

  “It’s…well…” Gavin took a deep breath to keep from showing his frustration. The gray mist had enclosed his mind once more, and he no longer understood what Vitamin D was.

  Lillian was quick to step into the moment, saying, “Gavin says things, sometimes, that we don’t understand. We can’t really explain it.”

  The mists in his mind faded, and Gavin smiled. “A person’s body needs specific compounds to survive and thrive. It gets most of these from food, but some, the body can make. Vitamin D is one the body can make, and exposure to sunlight is crucial to its production. I don’t know anything about dragons, but if your people are indeed part human, I would imagine the sunlight requirement came from that.”

  Xask nodded. “I am glad to have found you. You understand the problem. Many of our young were ill until we cycled them outside the cavern on camping trips. Even if you correct the city’s sky, we will continue the camping trips. The young ones seem to enjoy them very much.”

  Gavin closed his eyes and concentrated on the resonances he felt from the illusion through his skathos. He knew at once what the problem was; the effect was breaking down from imperfect anchoring.

  “Who made your sky?” Gavin asked.

  “The arcanists who taught my people to wield the Art, along with a few of the more promising students,” Xask said. “If you want specific names, we must examine the archives.”

  “But it wasn’t my mentor? The one you call The Liberator?”

  “Oh, no. As far as we know, he was never aware of the problem. The records show that, by the time we started feeling ill, he had already moved south with the Army of Valthon to relieve the siege of Vushaar.”

  “I thought so,” Gavin said. “It doesn’t feel like his work.”

  “May I ask what you mean?”

  “Well, first off, you need to understand that I’m not even close to the level of mastery my mentor displayed, but one of the things I’ve seen about long-term, perpetual effects like this is that the effect needs to be anchored to something permanent. The protections built into Mivar Estate back in Tel Mivar are anchored to Lillian’s bloodline; if the Mivar line ever dies out, those protections will cease to exist as well. I imagine it’s the same with the other estates of my friends’ families. Now, keep in mind this is just after a brief examination, so I could be totally wrong here. It feels like the effect used to produce your sky wasn’t anchored well, and that’s why it’s breaking down after all these years.”