The Fall of Neverdark

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  In this case; it was an Outlander who had the honour of dying by the blade of Asher.

  Alijah side-stepped the charge and drove the point through the man’s chest. One sharp cry escaped the Outlander before he fell to his knees, dead.

  Vighon drew his single-handed sword and stole Alijah’s attention as he jumped into the path of the chasing savages. The northerner’s blade slashed left and right, opening guts and arteries with every strike. Alijah could only watch as his friend ran into the last of them and thrust his sword through the man’s stomach until he met the hilt guard.

  Through laboured breath and a curtain of hair, Vighon turned to regard Alijah. “We should really get out of here before more arrive.”

  Alijah sheathed the silvyr blade and resisted the urge to simply slump against a tree and fall asleep. They had been running all day and were close to collapsing from exhaustion.

  “The Bovadeer bridge isn’t far north of here,” he replied. “We can cross The Unmar there and make for Lirian.”

  Vighon eyed the scroll on Alijah’s back. “That piece of bloody parchment had better be valuable.”

  Alijah joined him in jogging to the tree line. “It’s valuable to us. And it’s not parchment. It’s human skin…”

  6

  A Dark New World

  Inara looked from the body lying on the cart to her mentor. “An orc?” she repeated, her tone as incredulous as Gideon’s expression.

  Ilargo held his head over the cart and sniffed. His facial expressions were hard for most to interpret, but Inara could see the disgust clear as day.

  “What is an orc?” King Rayden’s question was echoed by his peers.

  Gideon met the eyes of all three Galfreys, they being the only ones present who knew of The Great War, five thousand years past. Inara suddenly regretted not reading enough about it in the library on The Lifeless Isles. She had always been far more fascinated by flying with Athis.

  In fairness, Inara thought, the Dragorn didn’t believe she would ever come face to face with a real orc, dead or alive.

  “Five thousand years ago, long before mankind left The Wild Moores,” Gideon explained, “the dwarves of Dhenaheim called Vengora their home. So too did another race: the orc.”

  Inara followed his gesture and examined the creature in greater detail. Its skin was pale grey and marred with ravine-like scars. Its face had all the features of the goodly folk of the world, but its brow was a solid piece of ridged bone that led to a head of horns not dissimilar to a dragon’s.

  “They ultimately went to war over the territory,” Gideon continued, “but the orcs outnumbered them, running the dwarves out of their home and into Dhenaheim, farther north.”

  “But, they didn’t stop there…” Reyna added.

  “No,” Gideon agreed. “The orcs relished in their victory and sought more from the land. They soon attacked the elven nation and plunged all of Illian into war. It took the combined efforts of elf and dwarf to beat them back.”

  “Beat them back?” King Jormund of Grey Stone asked. “Where have they been for the last five thousand years?”

  Inara caught Gideon gripping the hilt of Mournblade a little tighter. “The war finally came to an end in The Undying Mountains,” he answered. “Elandril, the first of the elven Dragorn, led the charge south astride his dragon, Nylla, driving them into the mountains. Through the will and efforts of both races, the mountains were sealed and the orcs left to die.”

  Tauren Salimson threw the tarp back over the dead body. “I would say they didn’t die.”

  Nathaniel cupped his jaw, his eyes still fixed on the body beneath the cover. “If they’ve been in The Undying Mountains all this time, how is it we haven’t heard from them? They don’t exactly sound friendly.”

  Gideon shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Syla’s Gate perhaps?” Weymund Harg, king of Lirian, offered, referring to the massive gates that once cut off the world below The Arid Lands, to the south. “They were brought down thirty years ago, were they not? During the war.”

  “Indeed, good King,” Gideon nodded along. “But Lady Syla erected the original gates two thousand years ago, after driving the Darkakin out of Illian. The orcs had a few millennia in between to return north and trouble us once more and yet they didn’t…” The Master Dragorn looked to Ilargo, as he often did.

  “If they were sealed within The Undying Mountains,” Inara said, working it through, “how could they be here, now, in the northern lands?”

  “They must have found a way out,” Tauren replied. “It sounds like they were already adept at life underground.”

  Reyna shook her head. “If the elves, dwarves, and the Dragorn sealed them under those mountains then they would still be there.”

  “Then what?” Nathaniel asked. “We know that they did seal them in, so how is there an orc lying right there in front of us?”

  Inara heard them all, but she knew to keep her eye on Gideon, who always knew more than anyone, no matter what room they were in. His subtle expressions and body language often told her what to expect or how serious a situation was. Right now, she could tell that he wasn’t agreeing with anything that was being suggested, leaving her just as clueless as everyone else.

  “I’m sorry for the loss of your men,” Gideon said to Tauren. “I promise the Dragorn will investigate the appearance of this creature. I will look into it myself.”

  Tauren bowed in appreciation, but Inara could see the ethereal expressions of intrigue on the other rulers. It wasn’t very often these days that Gideon Thorn himself looked into matters, though, in truth, Inara knew he just deliberately avoided matters personal to the kings and queens of the realm.

  Gideon looked to Inara. “We shall leave for Syla’s Gate immediately and—”

  Yelifer Skalaf cleared her throat, cutting Gideon off and drawing everyone’s attention to the end of the table, where her ethereal form was still seated.

  The queen of the north met all of their inquisitive expressions with a steely gaze of her own. “Since we have been summoned to Dragons’ Reach for no more than a history lesson and a monster hunt, I shall present a situation worthy of this council.”

  Gideon turned to face her. “I assure you, Queen Yelifer, the appearance of an orc is not to be taken lightly. Had it not been for the alliance, they would have consumed all of—”

  “I’m sure they were wicked, Master Thorn,” Yelifer interrupted again, “and I have no doubt that the Dragorn will get to the bottom of it, but Namdhor, nay the entire north, is under threat of war.”

  That silenced the room. Inara called upon her years as a Dragorn to control her face and hide any sign of shock, an effort not easily achieved when a monarch talks of war.

  “War?” Reyna asked.

  “Yes, Ambassador Galfrey, war.” The older woman shot Inara’s mother a challenging stare.

  King Rayden glanced at the other rulers, his bewildered features matching their own. “Of what war do you speak, Yelifer? I am not aware of tensions between any of us.”

  The queen of Namdhor pursed her lips, exaggerating the lines around her mouth. “That is because you share a border with all of us, as do you all,” she added. “My kingdom occupies the north of Illian and therefore shares a border with foreigners.”

  There was a pause in the room before Reyna said, “Dhenaheim? You are under threat of war with the dwarves?” she asked skeptically.

  “I would say the possibility of war with Dhenaheim is of far more consequence than the appearance of some long forgotten… What were they called?”

  Gideon ignored the question and pressed the queen for answers. “What could cause a war between Orith and Dhenaheim?”

  “As you know, the mountains of Vengora are all that separate their kingdom from mine. It would seem we have both laid claim to the same mine.”

  “You’re mining in Vengora?” Nathaniel asked with disbelief in his tone.

  “It is my right, is it not?” Yelifer re
torted. “As Master Thorn has just pointed out, the dwarves left Vengora thousands of years ago. They are part of Orith, my kingdom.”

  King Jormund’s ethereal form stepped forward. “That has never been established. Vengora is neutral land.”

  Yelifer raised her thin eyebrows. “To reach them you would have to cross my land.”

  Jormund shook his bushy head. “The southern curve is in my territory!”

  The queen of Namdhor was quick to reply, “I thought you just said the mountains were neutral?” That was enough to fluster the king and prevent him from furthering his protest.

  Thankfully, Gideon stepped in between them. “This is not the time to debate lines on a map. Courting war with the dwarves is folly, Queen Yelifer. What mine could be of such value that you wouldn’t simply withdraw and leave them to their ancient home?”

  “The affairs of Namdhor are private, Master Thorn. I do not have to tell you anything, even if you do fly around on a dragon. All this council needs to be concerned with is the fact that a foreign people are threatening a kingdom of Illian. Whether the mountains of Vengora are to be claimed or not, it is certainly not within the land of Dhenaheim as carved out by the dwarves.”

  Inara wanted to question the queen herself, but it felt inappropriate, even as a Dragorn. She was in a room with several other rulers, two ambassadors and Gideon Thorn. There weren’t many places Inara had such insecurities regarding her status, but inside Dragons’ Reach wasn’t many places…

  “What actions have you taken? Nathaniel asked.

  “The mine has been reinforced with extra guards from our end,” Yelifer explained. “My scouts tell me the dwarves have done the same on their end.”

  “Has there been any bloodshed?” Reyna inquired.

  Queen Yelifer shook her ethereal head. “Blood has been spilled, but no deaths… yet. I am officially asking this council for support.”

  A decidedly awkward pause befell the room as the kings, ambassadors, and High Councillor pondered the exact meaning of support.

  In the end, it was Reyna who spoke on behalf of those gathered. “What exactly are you asking for, Queen Yelifer?”

  Namdhor’s ruler had a simple reply. “Soldiers, of course. I have already called upon my bannermen to rally my forces. Soon they will march on The Iron Valley.”

  “March on The Iron Valley? For what purpose?” Gideon asked.

  “To flank my enemy and locate the northern entrance created by the dwarves,” the queen replied casually. “Claiming a foothold on both sides of Vengora will secure the mine. It would also stop any dwarven army from marching south through the valley and invading Illian.”

  “Invading Orith,” King Jormund corrected.

  “Yes,” Yelifer agreed. “Orith, the only land between them and the rest of you.”

  The king of The Ice Vales laughed, disturbing his ethereal body. “I will not supply your ranks with my soldiers, Yelifer, not over a damned mine! It is said that the dwarves have armour and weapons of pure silvyr. Nothing can beat that!”

  Inara could see that King Weymund and Rayden were moments from agreeing with King Jormund, all responses that would see the beginning of a rift between their kingdoms.

  Speak, Inara, Athis encouraged from the base of the tower. You are Dragorn!

  “Perhaps a line of dialogue needs to be opened between Namdhor and Dhenaheim?” she finally suggested, much to her mother’s approval.

  “Agreed,” said Gideon. “I would ask, Queen Yelifer, that you hold off from marching your forces through The Iron Valley. At least until contact has been made with the lords of Dhenaheim.”

  Nathaniel added, “Avoiding war with the dwarves should be our priority at all costs.”

  Yelifer waved the notion away. “I fear the time for words has passed. As we speak, the dwarves in that mine are being resupplied and preparing for an assault that will see Dhenaheim lay claim to Illian land. I assure you all, I will not let that happen…”

  Inara was inclined to believe the queen of Namdhor. The war-witch, as she had been known, had personally spearheaded the battles in Orith, spilling blood across the northern lands for thirty years as she took over the throne, claiming the right to rule through violence alone. Now, the lords of Skystead, Dunwich, Longdale, and Darkwell feared her wrath, preferring to bend the knee rather than revolt.

  “Let us try,” Reyna pleaded.

  Beside her, Gideon said, “I will send two Dragorn to Dhenaheim at once.”

  Having already spoken up once, Inara was gaining confidence in her ability to offer advice, even if it wasn’t in agreement with her mentor. “That might not be such a good idea,” she said. “The dwarves haven’t seen a dragon for centuries. Seeing two with Illian riders astride might be taken as an act of aggression.”

  Gideon’s smile wasn’t quite as prideful as Reyna’s, but he certainly agreed with her statement. “Then a lighter touch, perhaps?” he said, looking to Inara’s parents.

  “You want us to go?” Nathaniel asked, barely able to keep the excitement out of his voice.

  “You have long proven yourselves as ambassadors between Illian and the elves of Ayda,” Gideon replied. “If you are willing and those present agree that this is the best course of action, I don’t see why you can’t prevent a war from breaking out.” Inara caught the wink her mentor threw at her father. “Queen Yelifer, will you agree to this?”

  The old queen blinked slowly as she considered her reply. “Be swift, Ambassadors. If the dwarves attack, I will not retreat.” With that, Yelifer Skalaf’s ethereal form lost its cohesion and dissipated into wisps of blue smoke.

  “Thank the gods for that!” King Jormund bellowed. “I thought the old war-witch would never leave.”

  Inara once again looked to Gideon for guidance on what to do next. Her mentor had already turned from the rulers of Illian, however, and returned his attention to the dead orc. She recognised the glances he threw Ilargo’s way, understanding that a conversation was taking place between them. It was clear to see that he was more disturbed by the presence of the creature than any dispute between Namdhor and Dhenaheim.

  King Weymund of Lirian turned to Tauren. “It is a great loss that your men have fallen to these beasts, High Councillor. I hope that Master Thorn roots out the cause of their emergence as soon as possible and prevents further deaths in The Arid Lands.”

  Tauren bowed his head in appreciation. “Thank you, King Weymund.”

  “Yes, terrible business,” King Jormund of Grey Stone chipped in. “I would also appreciate any update from the north, Ambassadors. War with the dwarves would be bad for all of us.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Reyna replied in her best diplomatic tone. Inara could always hear the difference.

  A moment later, the kings of Lirian and Grey Stone disappeared, returning to oversee their own countries. King Rayden offered his own condolences to Tauren and wished everyone luck in their separate errands before making to leave with his entourage and Magikar Caliko.

  Inara felt as if she could breathe again when all who remained could be counted among her family. Tauren ordered his aides to remove the cart, a sight that saw Gideon’s gaze linger, his thoughts too distant to guess.

  Her mother took advantage of the moment and embraced Inara once more. Her father, however, kept his mind on current events.

  “Should we be worried about that?” he asked Gideon, gesturing to the departing orc.

  “I’m not sure yet,” he replied honestly.

  Inara pulled away from her mother’s embrace. “What is it?”

  Gideon looked to see that he was alone among friends. “I can’t shake the feeling.”

  “What feeling?” Reyna asked.

  “That the world is turning,” he replied softly. “Though, for better or worse I cannot tell.”

  Nathaniel planted a heavy hand on the Dragorn’s shoulder. “Whatever’s happening here, I’ve no doubt that you’ll get to the bottom of it. You always do.”

 
“And you have a war to prevent, it seems,” Tauren added with a lighter tone.

  “I know,” Nathaniel said with a smile. “I might even pack my sword…”

  Both Inara and Reyna looked to respond to his inappropriate glee, but Gideon spoke first. “The road to Dhenaheim will be treacherous, no doubt. Not to mention the dwarves themselves. Perhaps a guide would be of use, someone who knows the path and the dwarves. An old friend even…” he added with a smile.

  Nathaniel nodded. “I think I know just where to find him.”

  “Say hello from me,” Tauren said.

  “What are we to do?” Inara asked, catching Gideon’s eye.

  The Master Dragorn glanced at Ilargo before replying, “We shall leave for the ruins of Karath and investigate.”

  Inara could see that her mother wanted to offer cautioning words, telling her to be careful, but Nathaniel subtly nudged her elbow, a silent message that reminded the elf their daughter was a Dragorn. Inara was thankful for the intervention, especially while in the presence of Gideon.

  “I’m sorry there isn’t more time,” Gideon added, seeing Reyna’s longing look at Inara.

  Reyna waved his apology away. “We all have our duty to the realm. I only hope these orcs are a lonely few, lucky to have found a way back to the surface.”

  Gideon made to leave, falling into a huddle of farewells among the men. Inara gravitated to her mother, sensing Reyna’s need to speak to her. It was impossible to avoid another embrace and Inara squeezed her tightly, wondering when they would see each other again.

  Reyna pulled back, keeping Inara held by the elbows. “Have you heard anything?” she asked, stealing a glance at Nathaniel.

  Inara couldn’t help but lose her smile. “Nothing,” she replied quietly. “Whatever he’s up to he isn’t leaving tracks.” She could tell by her mother’s eyes that she was fearing the worst. “Alijah is still alive,” Inara said firmly. “I would know otherwise.” There was no explanation for that fact, but the Dragorn was sure that she would know if anything ever happened to her twin brother.