by J H G Foss
‘It’s like being buried alive. Where is Roztov?’
‘Looking for the others.’
They talked in whispers for a while longer, then some of the earth parted above them and Meggelaine dropped from the ceiling, landing lightly in their midst. She looked around at everyone. ‘I met Roztov and he sent me here. Stand aside please everyone, I’m going to drop Floran and Tankle down.’
Salveri grunted, clutching his tender stomach, and he stood up to join the others at the side of the chamber. Meggelaine gently woke up Ophess in order to move her as well. She then used her magic to open a hole above them and Floran and Tankle were dumped without ceremony on the burrow floor.
Floran stood up and held out his hand to help up Tankle. He then brushed earth from his robes.
Awake, and not being fully sure where she was, Ophess started to panic, trying to scream, but choking on her own sobs. Meggelaine did her best to calm her down.
Floran approached the group and said, ‘Roztov is still looking for Broddor. The dwarf will have got very lost again I should imagine.’
They all sat again to wait. Conversation was made difficult by the constant barely contained noise coming from the other end of the burrow as Meggelaine tried to keep down the squeals and sobs of Ophess, so the others gave up on talking and simply sat in silence. Salveri shut his eyes and leaned against the burrow wall. Arrin notice that Tankle had quietly slipped her hand into Floran’s as they too sat with their backs to the wall and dozed.
Eventually Roztov returned, with Broddor in tow, and lifted them all out of the land womb. They gently rose into the cold morning light, roots and earth moving up and to the side to deposit them again on the forest floor. The druids had also drawn in some of the bushes with their magic to make where they were even more hidden from view. The trees crowded in over their heads to hide them from being seen from above. The hide was almost like a little house, the bushes and branches were so tightly packed. It was dark, gloomy and the air was damp and cold, their breath hanging about them in white clouds.
‘I think we are in the clear for now,’ said Roztov, sitting down on a pile of brown leaves and leaning against a tree. As he rubbed his tired eyes he continued. ‘I led them away for a while, in the end they gave up. Then I found Broddor. Why didn’t you run when I told you?’
The dwarf shrugged. ‘I held them off so that everyone else had more time to flee.’
‘Which accounted for you being not much more than a heap of blackened armour and cooked meat when I found you.’
‘This armour, laddie,’ said Broddor clonking a gauntleted fist onto his breastplate, ‘was made by the ancient master-smith Gart Bellmorrow himself. One of only twelve. It is guaranteed dragon proof.’
‘My arse. There was one breath left in you when I found you. How you have ever lived this long is a mystery to me.’
Ophess was asleep again and Meggelaine held her head cradled in her small lap.
‘Why did you take her?’ asked the fressle, addressing Roztov.
‘It was a split second decision. I thought she’d be safest with me I suppose. She would have been a bit heavy for you to carry and well, I didn’t see Ghene at the time.’
‘I see,’ said Meggelaine with a sigh, ‘We are all alive anyway, we can be thankful for that, but we lost everything. All the camping gear, the food, most of the weapons and all of the tools.’
‘We can go back for it though lass,’ said Broddor.
‘I’m not sure about that,’ said Roztov. ‘There are dragons everywhere. I think we should stay here and rest for now. This is a good spot. We can light a small fire.’
‘Then go back for the stuff?’
‘One of us can go and take a look. Maybe I can go as an owl or fox or...’ Roztov stopped, his mouth opened and he yawned, a process that went on for some time.
‘Well anyway,’ said Ghene. ‘I will go gather some food for us all.’
The slight elf then stood up and silently ducked through the entrance of the hide and walked into the gloom of the forest.
‘We will miss all that gear if we don’t go back for it though,’ sighed Meggelaine.
‘What have we got with us? I’ve got all the gear I was carrying, my sword and armour. What about you?’
‘Not much. I’ve everything in my pockets and my dagger, everything else was in my pack.’
‘What about you, Tup?’
‘Just my own gear,’ replied Floran. Like Roztov he was used to keeping everything he needed on his own person. ‘Nothing else.’
Roztov asked all the others and it was much the same story, apart from the clothes on their back and a dagger or two they had nothing.
‘I’ll go back later then,’ said Roztov. ‘And see what I can salvage.’
The sailors were sombre and silent, the only ones talking, as they lit a small fire and huddled around it, were Roztov, Meggelaine, Broddor and Floran.
‘No offence to you druids, but how did the dragons find us in the forest?’ asked Broddor.
‘They are just everywhere,’ admitted Roztov. ‘Travelling in such a large group, perhaps it draws attention somehow. Whenever I go up and fly about I see some in the distance. And as we go north there are more of them.’
Roztov was tired though, and Meggelaine took over.
‘We are doing our best Broddor. I think they found us the first time, because of the shipwreck. They were probably searching the whole region.’
‘But what about this attack we just had?’
‘I’m not sure, chalk that one up to bad luck perhaps? You were the one that saw them first Roz.’
Roztov was sat cross-legged at the fire and nodding off. He revived enough to say, ‘when I first saw them, they were searching about randomly. I did think about trying to lead them away, but I wasn’t too sure it would work. So I watched them, then when they were about a hundred yards away the dragons seemed to pick up a scent and come directly towards the camp.’
‘No manhunters?’
‘No,’ Roztov continued, ‘That seemed odd. Floran never, oh I should have asked, maybe you never asked the people at Vine Street? I had the impression they always hunted with human beaters. This lot was about twenty dragons, no humans. Large, but young.’
‘There were dragon-riders though. Floran scared them off.’
‘Right. I don’t know then. Maybe the dragons had already dropped them or something.’
‘What about Dreggen?’ asked Broddor. ‘Could he have led them to us?’
Ghene was back now, with two dead rotroks and a collection of root vegetables.
‘Never,’ he said. ‘He doesn’t know anything about the forest. I’m still keeping track of him. He’s away north of us by about five miles, just bumbling about. If it looks like he is going to starve to death we can go get him again.’
Floran who had had his eyes shut up until now opened them then said, ‘Nac told me there was a settlement in this direction. Is this true?’
Meggelaine poked Roztov who was mostly asleep. Not even the smell of the parsnips, potatoes and turtle meat being roasted on the fire was keeping him awake.
‘Oh, ahem yes. I think I’ve seen it. Well hidden, but you know, when you have the eyes of a hawk…’
Meggelaine tutted and woke him up, ‘How far away, Roztov?’
‘Oh, about twenty miles maybe…’
He was asleep again.
‘Well never mind about him then. I would say we should head in that direction anyway. We can maybe trade for more camping gear if need be. From what I’ve seen - pay attention Floran, this is for your benefit – from what I’ve seen, the gorge is north of us. It runs south-west to north-east. The settlement he thinks he’s seen must by north-east of here. There is an inlet over in that direction so maybe it is near there. Also in that direction, about fifty miles away, is a huge spire. We should probably avoid that.’
‘Spire?’ asked Broddor.
‘Very tall, lone mountain. Stupidly tall, very probably magical.
’
‘Oh aye.’
They spent the rest of the day resting, staying either in the hide or close to it. Mostly they slept or talked over their plans. After a few hours rest Ghene and Roztov went out to scout. Meggelaine would have gone too if it were not for Ophess.
Ghene returned after a few hours and sat down by the fire. He then shut his eyes, awake, but taking no further part in the life of the camp.
‘What is he doing?’ asked Ophess of Meggelaine.
‘He’s attuning. Ah, becoming friends with the forest I suppose you could say. Drawing power from it, but also learning its secrets.’
The sailors had relaxed somewhat and the druids had allowed the fire to be built up a little more and after they had all eaten well from the food provided they lay back and talked. Broddor was telling them a tale from his younger days. It had been prompted when Arrin, who was becoming a great admirer of the dwarf’s heroism and practicality, had asked what exactly the Kardane Company had been.
‘Back when even Roztov was a young man, the King of Styke was leasing mountains and vales to the dwarves. The barons all got paid in dwarven gold for letting us live in mountains that they had up until then no use for at all. In about a decade there were nearly a hundred dwarven strongholds in the Spidertooth Mountains alone.
The largest in the Vale of Adders, that’s Roztov’s father’s barony by the way, was Kardane. Well, we started off small, but more migrants came from the east. Maybe eight hundred or so by the last count. Aye well, back then Styke had a real goblin problem so the King, among other things, allowed bands of young dwarves to form up and roam the valleys to look for trouble and treasure. As long as we stuck to fighting goblins it was all tolerated. Soon, many of the war bands became so successful that other races wanted to join them, for gold or just for adventure. Humans joined, fressles, even elves.
Well, I was the son of Kardane’s gejstlig... ah, like a head cleric, in the lands of men he’d be called a bishop I suppose and I was already one of the temple guards. We put together a band, there were seven of us to start with, all dwarves from Kardane. No one else wanted to be the leader so it was down to me as the bishop’s eldest. Our numbers began to grow and we took on non-dwarves from the local area. Meggelaine and Floran, then Ghene and Roztov were among them. You know, Roztov’s father was the baron, as I said, we would have never have taken such a soft young boy otherwise…’
Broddor glanced over at the others.
‘Oh that’s right, he’s still out scouting. Just a joke there, he was already a druid…’
Meggelaine coughed.
‘… he was soon to become a druid,’ continued Broddor, ‘And knew his way around the country well enough to be not totally useless to us, even though he had the build of an axe handle.’
Tankle, who was the self appointed dwarf expert amongst the sailors asked, ‘you are still a templar? I remember seeing some when I visited my friend in her fortress. They looked really tough in their silver armour.’
‘Not really no. Sort of. I’m a bit beyond that now, to be honest. I’m a Knight of the Holy Order of Aerekrig.’
Salveri sat up in surprise and studied the dwarf as if seeing him for the first time. He’d seen dwarves like him before, in his travels. Freelances and sell-swords. Dressed in plate armour and carrying axes, with tough faces and tough attitudes and in that respect Broddor appeared no different. To Salveri’s eyes the dwarf looked middle-aged by dwarf standards, his skin was rugged and weather beaten, his long white beard looked like it needed a wash. His armour was dirty, but it looked of excellent quality and the sword he carried on the scabbard on his back had an ornate and jewelled hilt. Seeing that neither of the younger sailors understood, Salveri explained, ‘Aerekrig is the chief god of the dwarves and his Order is the highest in the dwarven nations. There can only ever be twelve knights in the Order. That’s right isn’t it?’
‘That is correct,’ confirmed Broddor.
‘Where are the others?’ asked Tankle breathlessly.
‘Oh, here and there,’ said the dwarf keeping a straight face.
‘Is that the dwarves that killed the evil witch-troll Huntrod?’ asked Arrin, suddenly realising he knew something about the discussion after all.
‘That was before my time, but yes, that was my Order.’
‘We heard those stories in the taverns back in Tullis,’ said the young man. ‘Dwarven tales. Oh, how about the Hellhounds of Bargke?’
‘Never heard of them.’
‘The King of Dotguld?’
‘Nope.’
Arrin pulled on his bottom lip, ‘Oh, the Ghosts of, um...the Ghosts of...’
‘No ghosts of anywhere.’
Salveri looked down at the ground. He wanted to tell Arrin to shut his mouth as he could see that Broddor was getting a little impatient with the lad. If Arrin was about to ask “Well what monsters have you slain, then?” he wouldn’t blame the dwarf for chopping his head off with that huge sword there on the spot.
‘There was another,’ mused Arrin. ‘Oh, the man-eating giant Kampestor?’
‘Yes! Haha, yes!’ laughed the dwarf somewhat relieved. ‘That was us. A long time ago though. Up north that was, Nulbro I think. How did you get to hear about it?’
‘A bard sung a song about it in a tavern back in Tullis. He was there for a few months. A half-elf, he was pretty good.’
‘Oh really? Do you remember how it went?’
Arrin thought for a while but eventually said, ‘only... something something something, then they rolled his head down the hill...’
‘Knusmig!’ said Broddor as he bellowed with laughter.
‘For Etruna’s sake be quiet you idiot!’ scolded Meggelaine from her side of the hide.
‘Oh yes, my apologies,’ said the dwarf stifling his mirth. ‘It’s a small world after all then.’
Arrin nodded and smiled at the dwarf, his admiration of Broddor now fixed forever.
The all slept in the hide that night. Roztov returned in the small hours, while Ghene was on watch.
‘How is it?’ asked the elf.
‘They are bloody everywhere, but I think we can get this lot to the next settlement.’
Their talk woke up Meggelaine, which in turn woke up Ophess. They both came over.
‘How far?’ asked Meggelaine.
‘If we don’t have to detour or hide, most of one day. Interestingly, if it’s where I think it is, it is near to an inlet. We might find a boat.’
‘A sea-worthy boat?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not. Well, we can buy some more gear maybe.’
Out of nowhere Ophess said, ‘I saw Tuppence and Tankle kissing today.’
There was a long pause then eventually Roztov said, ‘really?’
‘They stopped kissing when they saw me, but I could see them doing it. They were kissing with their tongues!’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘It is!’
‘Very well,’ hushed Meggelaine. ‘It’s true then, but keep your voice down or you’ll wake everyone else up.’
Ophess crossed her arms and harrumphed.
‘What about our stuff?’ asked the fressle.
‘All gone. They took everything, down to the last spoon.’
‘Bugger,’ groaned Meggelaine. ‘Oh well, nothing can be done about it now. Come on Ophess, let’s get back to bed.’
The next day they arrived at the runaway settlement they came to know as “Moletown”. It was very well hidden in a deep part of the forest and mostly underground. Ghene and Floran went ahead at first to make contact and persuade the runaways to allow them all to come up to the entrance. This took a couple of hours, but with reassurances and the offer of a deer carcass they had hunted on the way they were permitted entry.
Roztov, ever taking mental notes of all the places and people he encountered on Tanud, estimated there were about a hundred and fifty people here, living their lives for the most part underground. The settlement was ma
de up of one main narrow and low-ceilinged corridor that went round in a rough circle. From it about a dozen rooms of various sizes joined on, most having a thick curtain rather than a door for privacy. Ventilation was provided by narrow stone-lined pipe-ways, which also gave a little light. Other bunkers which were not connected to the main tunnel were positioned here and there throughout the area fitting into the gaps between the trees as best they could. There were twenty or so of these and not all of them seemed to be occupied. Some of them had up to four rooms.
Someone walking past would have had to be standing right on top of the settlement to notice it, it was so artfully concealed amongst the bushes and tree roots. Hunters, food and wood gatherers and the like were careful to hide their trails to and from the settlement and carried out their business miles away. The sea was only about a mile to the east and sometimes they went there to catch fish, but as Roztov had suspected earlier they had no boats.
The druids offered to heal and treat all the sick and injured which made the people of Moletown very happy indeed. In fact, a much loved child was on the verge of death from septicaemia and it was seen as a miracle by the populace when she was back up on her feet and running around after only an hour with the druids. The children of Moletown were used to being underground and were chronically agoraphobic, but were otherwise happy, friendly and greatly interested in the newcomers. As Ghene and Floran sat to talk with the people of the settlement and after they had healed everyone that needed healing, Roztov and Meggelaine were treated to a feast in one of the larger rooms. It was a strange silent affair as everyone habitually talked in whispers.
In the evening they were assigned a couple of dwellings, one for the men and another for the women. Roztov, Ghene, Floran and Broddor shared a room in which they lit a fire and boiled a kettle for tea.
‘This stuff doesn’t taste at all bad,’ said Roztov as he took his first sip.
‘They make it from a local root. It has a sort of gingery taste doesn’t it?’ said Ghene.
‘How about tobacco? Do they have any of that?’ asked Roztov, who had lost his pipe and tobacco in the dragon attack.