Fortress of Radiance

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “I know not that word,” Amarra said in Latin, shifting her staff from one hand to the other. “I think it might be name.”

  A gentle gust of wind blew by them, causing the grass to rustle. It was a little welcome relief to the heat.

  “Amarra speaks better Common than I,” Karus said to Torga. He did not trust his Common enough for this discussion. “She will speak my words, so there are no mistakes between us.”

  “That is acceptable.” Torga gave a nod, but kept his attention fixed upon Karus. Both dvergrs’ expressions were far from friendly, bordering on outright hostility. That bothered Karus not at all. He was accustomed to dealing with barbarians who did not like him and despised, if not hated, Rome with every fiber of their being.

  “Ask him the meaning of this word, or if it is a name?” Karus said.

  Amarra asked.

  “Shoega of the Ironbound Clan,” Torga said and pointed at the city walls behind them. “He was here in this city. We’ve had no word from him. I demand to know what you did with him and his dvergr.”

  Amarra translated the reply, mainly for Flaccus’s benefit.

  “A person, then,” Flaccus said, with a glance thrown to Karus.

  “Tell him we do not know of Shoega,” Karus said. “Make sure he understands this city was empty when we came here. There were none of his kind present, nor did we come across any in the surrounding countryside. This is the first of his kind we’ve ever seen.”

  “Seems like he was expecting to find a garrison here,” Flaccus said.

  “Maybe,” Karus said.

  “I wonder where they wandered off to?” Flaccus said. “If they were nearby, I’d think our cavalry scouts would have stumbled across them.”

  Karus gave a nod of agreement as Amarra translated what he had asked her to relay.

  A deeply suspicious look stole over Torga’s face as she finished. His jaw clenched, the beard flexing a bit. It was immediately apparent to Karus that he was disbelieved. Karus saw no way to prove to Torga the truth other than invite him into the city to poke around, and he was unwilling to do that. If the dvergr proved hostile, Karus would be potentially giving an enemy information on the legion’s strength and dispositions. Or worse, the legion’s potential weakness due to the sickness that was eating up his effective strength.

  “You have never seen dvergr before?” Ontho asked, speaking up. “Come now, how can that be?”

  “Who are you people?” Torga asked before Karus could respond, his gaze flicking to Fifth Century. “I do not recognize your armor or your standards. What land do you hail from?”

  Karus waited for Amarra to translate before replying. He wanted Flaccus to follow as much of the conversation as possible.

  “We are of Rome,” Karus said. “It is an empire far from here. I would be surprised if you’ve heard of us.”

  Amarra translated.

  The dvergr turned to his son and said something in their rough, harsh tongue.

  “We fight the Horde,” Karus said. “I understand your people do as well.”

  Amarra once again translated.

  Torga looked back on Karus and his face hardened once again, as if it were made from stone. To his side, his son gave a low chuckle and spat on the ground. The message was clear.

  “We do not fight alongside your kind,” Torga said, pointing at Fifth Century with a whole hand, “and never will. Forget even the thought of doing so.”

  “Why?” Karus asked. It made no sense to him. A terrible enemy was sweeping across the face of this world. It was incomprehensible that these dvergr would rather go it alone.

  Torga did not wait for a translation but had clearly understood the question, even though he did not speak Latin. He pointed squarely at Karus, and his face twisted with disgust and barely concealed rage. “You are weak, all of you. Humans are pathetic creatures. To us you are nothing more than manure to be scraped off our boots. We are the strong ones.”

  Amarra sucked in a startled breath. She looked quite irked, her dark eyes flashing with her anger. She tightened her grip upon her staff.

  Karus had never before been called weak. Torga’s attitude rankled him immensely.

  “What did the bastard say?” Flaccus asked.

  Karus glanced over at Flaccus.

  “He just called us weak.”

  “Did he?” Flaccus asked, barking out a laugh that drew Torga’s full attention. “Cheeky bastard, isn’t he? What say we give him an education on Roman strength, eh? Let’s send them on their way with a new appreciation for their betters.”

  “It is shared thinking by them,” Amarra said, anger trembling her voice. “Dwarves don’t like our people. I not sure they like anyone but dwarven people. Every dwarf I knew was same.”

  “What did you call them?” Karus asked. “I thought you said they were dvergr?”

  “They are,” Amarra said, with a glance thrown to Torga. “My people call them dwarves, too. He a dwarf.”

  “A nickname, then?” Flaccus asked.

  “What?” Amarra asked, clearly not understanding the word.

  “We are dvergr,” Torga said. He had gone red in the face, his eyes bulging. He held up a clenched fist, which he shook slightly at Karus and Amarra. Torga spoke rapidly in Common, most of which Karus could not follow.

  “He says …” Amarra hesitated a moment, gathering her words. “We not give insult by calling them dwarves.”

  “Tell him we meant no offense,” Karus said. He had hoped things would go better than this. If anything, both sides were simply insulting each other. Nothing productive was being accomplished. Worse, Karus now had the feeling he was wasting his time.

  Amarra spoke, and as she did, Karus saw a look of disdain and pure hostility sweep over Torga. Perhaps it was disgust? Karus wasn’t sure, but it was clear his apology had been taken for weakness. Karus had had enough.

  “If he does not wish to consider working with us, we have nothing more to discuss here,” Karus said to Amarra. “Tell him to be on his way and bother us no more before he tries my patience.”

  Amarra seemed surprised by his sudden attitude change. She looked over at him and arched an eyebrow in question.

  “Are you sure?” Amarra asked. “Dwarves tell others what to do. They get way more than not.”

  “Not today,” Karus said.

  “I don’t like him either,” Flaccus said. “He’s too full of himself. The pompous bastard needs to learn some respect.”

  “Tell him what I said.” Karus gave her an encouraging nod. “I am just establishing that we will not tolerate his attitude or disrespect. Nor shall I permit us to be bullied. This will set the stage for future talks as equals, is all. At least, I hope it will.”

  Amarra hesitated a moment, took a resigned breath, as if she thought it a bad idea, and then translated.

  Torga and his son both stiffened as she finished. Ontho’s hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.

  “That’s not a good idea, son,” Flaccus said in a low tone, his own hand gripping his sword hilt and looking Ontho meaningfully in the eye. “Draw that and you die.”

  Thunder rumbled. Torga frowned, for it was a clear day with no hint of any storm on the horizon. The thunder grew louder and turned into a steady rumble. Karus could feel the vibration of it through his sandals and almost smiled—almost. He could not have asked for better timing. The sound came from the direction of the dvergr formation.

  Torga and his son turned around and looked. Just behind the dwarven formation, on the rolling hill over which the paved road traveled, the cavalry had finally made their appearance. It was the entirety of the legion’s cavalry, all of them, nearly four hundred horses moving in a line of battle four ranks deep.

  Valens rode several yards to their front. A standard-bearer kept pace alongside the prefect. The standard flapped in the wind as they galloped forward toward the dwarves. The tips of their lances, held upright, flashed and glittered with reflected sunlight.

  A horn call from
the cavalry ripped across the air. It was a perfectly clear single note. With it, Valens brought his cavalry to a halt just over the crest of the hill, perhaps one hundred yards from the dwarven formation. The low rumbling of the hooves ceased almost instantaneously. Karus heard Valens shout an order. The cavalry began dressing their ranks, closing up on their spacing and becoming better ordered.

  Karus had to admit, Valens had put on a good show, even better than earlier with the refugees. The cavalry looked intimidating. For several moments there was much disruption in the ranks of Torga’s formation. Then, part of the dwarven formation turned about to face the cavalry and locked their shields, with spears held at the ready and pointed outward.

  Torga said something quietly to his son. Ontho replied with a shake of his head.

  “Who are you people?” Torga asked, swinging back, his eyes searching Karus’s face. The poor attitude and hostility had gone, vanished as if it had never been. In its place was something else. Karus wasn’t sure what that was. Torga pointed a finger at the cavalry. “I’ve not seen a hervach since before we came through the maktalon. Where are you from?”

  “I do not know hervach,” Amarra said. “Or maktalon.”

  “I believe he means horse,” Karus said to her, before returning his gaze to Torga. “I’ve already told you where we come from. We are Romans and we’re far from weak. Now, I tire of your insolence. I think it is time for you to go”—Karus paused—“unless you have something of interest to us that you wish to discuss?”

  Amarra translated.

  Torga’s jaw flexed, the anger and hostility returning. He ran his gaze over Fifth Century, studying Flaccus’s men and then the cavalry, before returning his attention to Karus.

  “You will not tell me what’s happened to Shoega and his dvergr?” Torga asked.

  “I know nothing of him,” Karus said in Common. “If I did, I would tell you.”

  “He was charged with holding this city,” Torga said. “You being here tells me you either forced him out or took the city from him.”

  “He is not here, and was not when we came,” Karus said again in Common. “We did nothing to him.”

  “I make no threats,” Torga said, “only promises. Our army is near. We will come in search of Shoega. Nothing will stop us from finding out what happened to him, not even your soldiers or”—Torga pointed back at the cavalry—“them, if you had something to do with it.”

  “We, too, have an army,” Karus said. “Do not test me.”

  Torga hesitated a moment, as if about to reply. He apparently thought better, for he turned with his son and stomped back toward his soldiers.

  “I assume he just made a threat?” Flaccus’s expression was sour.

  Karus nodded.

  “They are missing a force of their own,” Karus said. “It was charged with holding this city. He suspects we had something to do with that. Heck, if I were in his shoes, I might think we were responsible as well.”

  “There’s nothing like making new friends, is there?” Flaccus’s gaze followed Torga and his son as they stomped back to their own. “Wanna bet the supplies we found belong to those that are missing?”

  “That is one wager I will not take,” Karus said, his eyes lingering on Torga. “Still, we need allies in the fight to come, and I can’t help but think they potentially could be it.”

  “They don’t seem like they’re looking for allies, let alone friends, sir,” Flaccus said. “Arrogant bastards.”

  “No more arrogant than us,” Karus said.

  “But we’re Roman, sir,” Flaccus said, “we’ve earned the right to be arrogant. Those short little bastards can’t hold a candle to us Romans when it comes to arrogance.”

  Karus gave a laugh to that and his mood lightened slightly.

  “I think Karus be right,” Amarra said, turning to face both of them. “If stand chance to fight darkness, we must do together. We must show them we be friends.”

  “Against what we’ve seen and already faced,” Flaccus said, “we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

  Karus was surprised by the conviction in Flaccus’s tone. Then again, he knew he should not have been. In the prison under the palace and then in the temple district, Flaccus had seen firsthand the face of evil in this city.

  Karus watched the dwarves as they formed up for a road march and departed. They moved up the hill, directly toward the cavalry, which parted to allow them through. Karus had given orders for Valens to detail scouts to tail and follow them back to wherever they were going. With luck, it would tell him how far their army was from Carthum and whether or not the threat Torga had made was real. He rather suspected it was. Karus’s feelings were deeply troubled as he watched the last of the dwarves march out of sight.

  Chapter Four

  Kneeling down upon one knee, Karus finished securing the pack to one of the many spikes that ran from the back of the dragon’s head to nearly the tip of her tail. He was at a point on Cyln’phax’s back where the spikes were thicker and longer. When Karus stood next to them, most were chest-high. The spikes appeared to be bone covered over in thick skin that was extremely rough to the touch.

  The spot Karus had chosen for himself and the packs was just ahead of the dragon’s wings. Cyln’phax’s wings were folded back along her side, reminding Karus of a bird. However, the dragon was no bird. She was more lizard-like than anything else. A great, big, fearsome lizard at that. Karus was man enough to admit the dragons unsettled him something terrible. They were true-to-life monsters, something out of a nightmare.

  Putting such thoughts from his mind, he continued his work. He grabbed another length of rope and looped it around the pack and the spike several times, pulling it as tight as he could before tying the knot. In the darkness, the task of securing the packs had proven more difficult than it should have been. He had had to do it mostly by feel rather than sight.

  After tugging on the pack some, Karus decided it could be better secured. This particular pack carried their food. He was loath to have it fall off in flight due to a shoddy job on his part. Grabbing his last length of rope, he tied it to the pack and then to another spike, making certain to tuck the rope under the edge of one of the rock-hard metallic red scales that covered the dragon’s back and entire body. He tugged the pack again and was satisfied with his work.

  Karus stood up and found the dragon had snaked her head around. She was watching him carefully, head cocked slightly to the side. Cyln’phax’s muzzle was so close that when she expelled a hot breath of air, it came out as an explosive hiss that washed over him. Startled, Karus took an involuntary step backward and almost tripped. He grabbed at a spike and just barely managed to keep himself from tumbling off her back and to the ground below.

  Eyes intently focused on Karus, the snout of the dragon moved closer until it was just two feet from him. Her nostrils flaring, the dragon sucked in a deep breath. Through his sandals, Karus could feel the beast’s lungs fill and expand. The dragon exhaled violently. Intense, hot air reeking of an ash-like stench gusted over him. It lasted but a moment and then passed.

  The dragon’s jaws parted slightly. A thin, red tongue snaked out, almost as if the massive creature were intent upon tasting him. Karus could see rows of white, serrated teeth, each as thick as his thigh and nearly as tall as a man. Then the tongue retreated and the mouth snapped closed with a clap.

  Karus became irritated, for the dragon had likely intended to startle him. The irritation grew to a mounting anger. With all of his headaches and problems, he did not need this.

  By my sacred ancestors, Karus thought to himself as he clenched his jaw and stiffened his back, I will not back down from you, beast.

  “Cyln’phax,” Karus said after a moment, his voice trembling, not from fear, but rage. He met her gaze as best he could, looking into the depths of the dragon’s red eyes. The anger helped. He found them incredibly deep, almost mesmerizing. Despite his rage, it took all of his willpower not to look away.
>
  And you are Karus, favored son of the High Father. The dragon’s tone sounded somewhat mocking.

  “That’s right,” Karus said, hardening his voice. “What of it?”

  Karus heard the dragon in his mind as a menacing hiss. Were you anything less, I would certainly not defile myself by allowing you to ride upon my back. After this journey is done and we retrieve Rarokan, I will be forced to have my mate cleanse me with his fire, a humiliation for my kind.

  “Humiliation? Cleanse you?” Karus asked. “Whatever for?”

  Your kind is known to be infested, the dragon said in a tone that reeked of utter disgust. Cyln’phax shook herself slightly, which Karus felt as a giant tremble. You will undoubtedly leave me with vermin.

  “Vermin?” Karus asked indignantly, having difficulty believing the dragon was serious. He wondered for a moment if he was being toyed with. “You think I have vermin? I’ll have you know I am most certainly not infested. I bathe regularly.”

  The dragon brought her head closer, coming to within a couple inches of his. She sniffed at him. Karus found his willpower sorely tested as Cyln’phax tilted her head and gazed at him with a single baleful eye.

  You could have fooled me, the dragon said. She held his gaze a moment more, then snaked her head away to look at her mate. Amarra was in the process of securing her own packs to Kordem’s back a few yards away.

  Karus let out a relieved breath. Should the dragon wish it, he knew she could easily tear him limb from limb or burn him with her fire. That said, he seriously doubted she would do it. They were allies of a sort, and yet he still found it troubling to feel so helpless and small in her presence.

  Dio and Pammon waited fifteen yards away, a healthy distance to be sure, standing well clear of both dragons. They looked more than a little uncomfortable with their proximity to the two fearsome creatures. He could well understand their feelings.

  Shaking his head, Karus began climbing down off of the dragon’s back. As he was working his way down, Karus spotted Felix emerging from the palace. Felix paused, gazing at the dragons a moment before starting down the steps and moving toward Dio and Pammon.