Jundag

by Chris A. Jackson

  Finger by stiff finger, DoHeney loosed his grip, then turned and slumped against the hull. Hundreds of soggy dwarves and humans—his troops—littered the deck. Several glittering mounds shielded the unconscious and wounded who were too weak to maintain their own holds on the ship. One by one, the shelters winked out as the summoners released their shielding spells.

  Pulling himself up to look over the side, DoHeney gazed at the placid waters. The wreckage of the enemy fleet littered the lake, and bodies floated everywhere. Already, pale shapes cruised beneath the surface, roiling the water as they struck at the dead, pulling the corpses down into the depths. He sighed gratefully when he saw that none of the dead were dwarves, then realized that their heavy armor would drag them under; he would not know the extent of his casualties until a count was taken. That thought reminded him of their foe and he quickly scanned the air above, but the destruction of the city seemed to have crushed their opponents’ will; the beasts were hurriedly flying toward what was left of the city.

  The city...

  The entire bottom half of the hourglass was gone; shattered and sunken beneath the dark waters of the lake. The enormous stalactite of the upper half hung from the cavern ceiling, its glow greatly diminished, as light shone only here and there from its windows and portals. Gazing at the desolation, DoHeney could barely find it in himself to exult: how many of those who died in the cataclysm had been innocents, slaves or others trapped by the greed and wickedness of the Dark-God worshipers? And his own troops... He dreaded having to face the widows and children of those who hadn’t survived. DoHeney tasted salt, and realized that not all the dampness on his face was from the lake. He started when a strong hand clapped him on the shoulder.

  “It may seem like ye failed right now, boyo,” UrMae said in a subdued voice, “but most o’ yer troops’ll be marchin’ home wi’ ye. Ye done good! It’ll jist take ye some time ta understand that.”

  Prael joined them, leaning wearily against the ship’s stone bulwarks.

  "I presume that Shay and the others have succeeded," he said as he nodded at the decimated city. "I don’t know what force other than Void essence would have such a dramatic effect!"

  DoHeney thought of the cornerstones—the beautiful diamond, sapphire, emerald, and ruby—and opened his mouth to disagree, then reconsidered. Some things were better left unsaid. He murmured a short but fervent prayer that his friends had survived their mission, then turned his back on the ruined city and surveyed his troops. The strain of the battle and subsequent tidal wave was evident in their slack faces, blank eyes, and slumped shoulders. DoHeney felt the same way, but realized that he did not have the luxury of exhaustion. He was their leader, and had to act like one. It took a moment, but he managed to twist his mouth into a wide grin.

  "Well, I think we’ve done all the damage here that we can do!" he called out in a jocular tone. "What say we jist point this ship back where we come from and head home, eh? I think all ye heroes deserve some celebratory ale, an’ the sooner we’re home, the sooner you'll get it!"

  Smiles appeared on a few faces and, after several false starts, a hearty cheer rang out, echoing across the water and throughout the cavern. Some started clearing debris from the deck, while others tended to the wounded.

  "That sounds right nice ta me, DoHeney!" UrMae said before turning to Prael. "If one o' you wizardly type's'd be kind enough ta turn the wind round the other way, we’ll git goin’!"

  Prael crooked his head up at the ragged sails. “I’ll have to re-rig her first,” he said, then looked down at his tattered clothing, “but I am afraid I have no handkerchief to use for my spell.”

  “Ah, but that’s easy!” UrMae dug around in a small bag that hung from her waist, and extracted a white piece of cloth. She blew her nose vigorously in it, then held it out to Prael.

  With a polite smile, the wizard grasped the corner of the cloth between his red-gloved fingers, and cast his spell. The cloth dissolved into shimmering sparks that flew to the masts and tumbled down as gleaming white sails. Marris limped up, her sodden robes dragging behind her, and began her own incantation. The sails billowed, then filled with a magical breeze. As she twirled her hands, the breeze shifted direction, pointing them away from the chaos and death. DoHeney's Dream sailed toward home.

  The skies above the Ironwall Mountains exploded with the brightness of a hundred blazing suns, and a thunderclap that shook the mountains to their roots. Far off in Beriknor, Tinarre stood atop a tall tower watching the violence. He shaded his eyes until the brilliance had faded...and smiled. The swirling black storm that had darkened the eastern sky was gone. He bowed his head and quietly sang a song of thanks to the Lady of the Forest. Then a brief frown twisted his lips, and he prayed for the safe return of his mistress and her companions.

  His supplications complete, he descended from the tower, fetched their horses, and started toward Refuge.

  Deep beneath Zellohar Keep, DoHurley woke with a start. The ground shook violently beneath him, and small stones fell from the ceiling.

  It’s the end, he thought. He closed his eyes and sighed; he had done all he could for his people, and it had not been enough. They had sung and danced and gorged themselves on food and drink until they could take no more. Then one by one, dwarves and humans had left the glow of the fires, retreating to their blankets to stave off their chill and exhaustion. Finally the fires themselves had died down, their fuel consumed. Only the gleam from the cavern’s vents remained, but the glow was a false promise; the frigid air blanketed the ground and allowed no life-giving warmth to rise above the crevice edge.

  DoHurley smiled as he thought of his dearest pleasures in life: the feel of solid granite beneath his feet, the taste of spicy meat fresh off the fire, the bite of freshly brewed ale on his tongue. He recalled the blazing heat of a coal-fired hearth, his feet toasty warm as he reclined in his favorite chair.

  I’ve heard, he thought, that freezin’ ta death brings comfortin’ sensations, and damned if I can’t feel the heat o’ that hearth now. If I didn’t know better, I’d actually think I was sweatin’.

  He felt an odd sensation; something trickled down the side of his nose. Then another trickle down the back of his neck.

  “What the—"

  His eyes flew open and he jumped up, tossing aside the heavy cloaks and blankets that had covered him. The cavern’s air was absolutely balmy. The stench of sulfur had never smelled so sweet as he rushed to the nearest crevice and leaned over, inhaling the searing air until he could feel the nose hairs burning within his nostrils.

  "By the Maker's hairy knees, they done it!" he yelled. Overjoyed, he ran here and there, shaking the bundles of blankets until ruddy faces looked out at him. Surprisingly, many turned away, while others grinned, and a few women winked.

  A little confused, but too happy to care, he made his way back to his own blankets...and remembered the final event of the evening. Irielnea lay there, just pulling the blankets back up over her beautiful bare breasts.

  "DoHurley," she said with a sly, intimate smile as she gazed up at him, "does the king have no clothes?"

  He dove back under the covers with a yelp. From the corner, he could already hear MurFindle and BoRindall whispering harshly about what a disgrace it was to be subjects of a king without the sense to dress before prancing about. But the rest of the folk just laughed with delight as they crawled from beneath their heavy blankets and embraced one another, joyful to have survived. Irielnea pushed close to DoHurley, her skin soft against his, and kissed his nose.

  Ah, yes, he thought contentedly, ‘tis good to be alive.

  EPILOGUE

  Avari cradled the warm bundle in her arms. The baby’s blue eyes—So like Jundag’s, she thought—peered up at her anxiously, then the entire face scrunched up and started to turn pink. Avari quickly handed the child to the nursemaid she had hired in Fengotherond. A brief twinge of jealously plucked her heartstrings as she watched Jundag’s daughter clamp onto the woman’s br
east and happily suckle, but she shook it off and turned back to her friends.

  It had been two weeks since they had escaped from the citadel. Feldspar had immediately confronted Belregash and demanded to use his scrying mirror, holding the Starstone hostage until they had seen for themselves that the citadel was no more. Now they were assembled at Refuge, sharing stories with DoHeney and DoHurley.

  She smiled when she looked at the dwarf king and Irielnea, sitting side by side and holding hands. War certainly makes strange bedmates, she thought, then blanched, realizing that this was Shay and Lynthalsea’s mother she was thinking about.

  “Drink up, lassie!” DoHeney said as he slapped her backside and handed her a mug of ale he had just filled. “Have yer fun while ye can, cause ye’ll be busy fer the next twenty years.”

  "What?" She accepted the ale and looked at him quizzically.

  "Well, I think it's clear that Jundag wanted ye ta care fer the babe," DoHeney said. "Ye got the perfect place to raise the lass: a nice, cozy house out in the woods wi' lots o' smart and lovin' people to see she learns what she needs ta learn."

  Avari looked around and saw similar expressions on everyone’s faces. It suddenly occurred to her that soon she would be travelling home, leaving her friends once again to resume her life at Searest. She looked at the baby and felt a wave of panic as she considered the daunting responsibility.

  “But I know absolutely nothing about raising children!" she protested. "I was an only child. I didn’t even have any cousins!" She shook her head. "Now if she was a horse..."

  “No hitchin’ her up wi’ a bridle and reins,” joked DoHurley, “even if ye think she needs restrainin’.”

  Avari smiled nervously as the others laughed, then Irielnea seemed to take pity on her. “Laugh as you will,” she said as she shook her finger in mock anger at them, “but note that the only two not laughing—Tinarre and me—are also the only ones here who have actually raised children. Avari,” she said solemnly, “how would you proceed if she was a horse?"

  "Oh, that's easy." She counted off the ancient formula that her father had taught her as a child. "Make sure it knows who's boss, make sure it knows what you want, and make sure you treat it well, with lots of love and affection."

  "That sounds like a winning formula to me," Irielnea said, raising her wine glass in toast. "Though I will tell you, regardless of how good the child is, there is no end to a parent’s worry and aggravation. At least, that’s what I’ve found with these two whelps." The others laughed as she cocked a wry eyebrow at her children, and both Lynthalsea and Shay blushed.

  The attention off of her, Avari recovered the child from the wet nurse, boosted her to her shoulder, and began to pace while patting her back and murmuring softly. After two circuits she turned to find Yen standing before her, watching her and the baby with warm eyes. The baby wiggled and Avari turned her around to lay in the crook of her arm, grateful for the distraction. She and Yen had not talked much since their return, and the silence between them was awkward.

  “You look quite natural with her,” Yen said as he held out his finger so the baby could clutch it with her tiny hands. After a long moment, he continued softly. “Avari—"

  "Please, Yen," she interrupted, putting her fingers to his lips, "don’t say it. I'll never be able to repay you for what you did for me. I loved being with you in Fengotherond, but once I got away from it, I saw how much I missed the wilderness and open spaces. I can’t live in your world. I hope you understand that."

  It tore her soul to say these words; she had been rehearsing them for days. But despite their passionate kiss in the citadel, she knew Searest was her home now. To leave it would be to abandon the life she loved, and that she would not do. So she would wish Yen well as he returned to his life in Fengotherond as captain of the guard, perhaps to marry Elestia. Her gut twisted, but she had to get through this.

  Yen surprised her by taking her raised hand in his and kissing each of the fingers, one by one. He smiled.

  "Searest is where you belong. I do understand that. But," he hesitated, then gazed into her eyes earnestly, “you have taught me much: to follow my passion, to dedicate my life to a cause I love, regardless of what anyone else says. I, too, tire of the city and war. Perhaps—” He faltered, cleared his throat, and continued. “Perhaps you will allow me to visit you at Searest.”

  “Yes,” she said, returning his smile and feeling the heat of her blush, “I’d like that very much.”

  She turned back to her friends, pleased to feel Yen’s warm hand on the small of her back. DoHurley and DoHeney talked and gestured emphatically while Irielnea looked on with a contented smile. Lynthalsea reclined in Brok’s arms, and he gently caressed her dark hair. Tinarre nodded as Hufferrrerrr enthusiastically showed him his new scars. And Shay, Feldspar, and Voncellia argued about the best way to choke down a newt when casting a spell. Then the baby belched resoundingly, and all eyes turned toward her.

  "Well, since I’ve got everyone’s attention, I need to ask for your help," Avari said. Grasping the baby with both hands, she held her out. "What do I name her?"

  The quizzical looks she got mirrored her own, then the room erupted as everyone called out their favorites and lambasted each other for their foolish choices. Avari smiled. Now this was a problem....

  Phlegothax stirred and squinted into the light. This was not the garish green light that had washed over him as he fell, but rather a pearly white light that pacified his embittered thoughts.

  I failed, he thought morosely.

  “You did not fail.” Onnowarr’s voice filled the air around him, soothing him with its music even while fortifying him with its strength. “You spent your life to save your world, and to rid mine of an abhorrence. You are favored in Draco’s eyes, and deemed a fit companion for his daughter.”

  Phlegothax opened his eyes wide and beheld a lush green forest sweeping down the mountainside upon which he lay alone. Beyond the forest were the open skies of Pytt, and in the distance, dragons flew free. He huffed and stood, stretching his wings—both whole and hale—and twitching his tale. Even in his prime, he had not felt as strong and vigorous as he did now.

  Apparently, he considered, I was correct in assisting those puny beings with their task. He thought of the tall warrioress—Avari—and his eye gleamed. It would seem like no time at all before she, too, arrived. He looked forward to meeting her again, sharing tales of their lives, perhaps hunting together. She would be a fit companion for a dragon.

  He huffed again in amusement, then leapt off of the peak and soared into eternity through the crystal air of Pytt.

  Calmarel woke slowly; her arms ached. She tried to shift them but...she could not move. Her eyes flew open, and despair enveloped her like a shroud. All about her—above, below, to the sides—stretched the infinite lattice of Xakra's web. Here and there dangled grey bundles of silk, some dripping vile fluids, others shriveled and dry. Calmarel herself was suspended, naked and spread-eagled, by thick, sticky strands. Now, she realized fearfully, she truly knew what it was like to feel vulnerable.

  She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and Xakra came into sight. Although the Dark Goddess was in her feminine guise, her form seemed to shift and waver. One minute her legs were long and lovely, the next they were jointed and chitinous. Now her body had the voluptuous curves of a woman, but soon the skin swelled and turned black as the bulging abdomen of a spider emerged, then she transformed back again. Only one thing didn’t change: Xakra’s multiple eyes stared into Calmarel’s, and they blazed with displeasure.

  Calmarel’s mind begged for her to close her own eyes, rid them of the horrific spectacle, but she dared not. Her violent trembling shook the silky strands of the web, and the grey bundles bounced up and down.

  Snarling, the Queen of Webs raked her fingernails across Calmarel’s bare torso. Searing pain lit her nerves, and Calmarel screamed until her throat was raw. The Dark Goddess smiled.

  "CALMAREL DARKMIST,"
she hissed as she towered over her, black ichor dripping from her fangs onto Calmarel’s skin, burning her flesh. "IT IS TIME, MY REBELLIOUS DAUGHTER, THAT YOU LEARN OBEDIENCE. UNFORTUNATELY, I AM TOO BUSY TO ATTEND TO YOU MYSELF. HOWEVER," she continued as she peered into the web, "I HAVE FOUND ANOTHER WHO IS EAGER AND READY TO TEACH YOU."

  From the direction of Xakra’s gaze, a figure wound her way through the twisting maze: Lysethra! Calmarel’s heart leapt. Her sister would help her! Her sister would... Calmarel’s newfound hope withered in her breast, and she quailed under her sister’s malevolent gaze. Lysethra’s neck was twisted where Jundag had broken it, and her eyes still bulged from their sockets. One hand flopped at the wrist, while the other held a small, curved knife. In the back of her mind, Calmarel absently recognized the knife, having used one like it many times herself. She understood quite well the slow, painful damage it could inflict.

  "ENJOY YOUR ETERNITY, CALMAREL DARKMIST," Xakra taunted as she crawled away through the endless web. Her unearthly laughter pealed loudly, resonating off of the web, sending vibrations through Calmarel’s body.

  I’m dead, Calmarel thought wildly, and nothing can harm me! She squeezed her eyes shut and repeated her mantra again and again, as if trying to convince herself that it was true. But she screamed when the cold, keen blade parted her skin, and realized that no words were sufficient to abate her torment. She barely heard Lysethra’s satisfied chuckle.