by David Rice
Leonara smirked at Mrs. Tork. “Then I’ll have to settle for a fancy officer, I guess. Just like you did.”
Mrs. Tork’s face reddened and she opened her mouth to respond.
Arundy raised his voice. “Stop that. child Without manners, you won’t rate a fishmonger’s hut. And with a spirit like yours, you should be strong enough to stand up for yourself rather than settle for someone to support you.”
“I am standing up for yourself,” Leonara snipped.
“Oh, that’s what you call it?” Mrs. Tork’s reply was caustic.
Arundy grabbed his whip and snapped it once in the air. “You must learn how to do so wisely.”
Leonara stepped back and lowered her head. “I’m—sorry,” she offered slowly. “But I just can’t go back on the trail.”
“You were such a good worker for me,” Robi softened. “I haven’t seen this side of you for quite awhile now.”
“Of all the people who might accompany me,” Arundy stated, “You must come. You cannot stay.”
“You never listen,” she yelled. “No one listens to me.” Leonara’s eyes filled with tears. Then she screamed. It echoed from the battlements and sent some sheep scurrying. When her voice returned, it burbled through a lifetime of her perceived loss, “Why?”
Arundy’s skin shivered. “I can’t tell you,” he answered gently. “Not yet.”
“Why?” the girl’s voice broke as she melted into sobs.
Robi reached out and gradually gathered in the stricken girl. For once, Leonara did not resist.
“Come with me, and I promise I will tell you.”
Leonara whispered through her tears. “When?”
Arundy looked east towards the promise of shadowy foothills. “When it’s safe for you. When the time is right,” he declared.
Leonara pressed her face into Mrs Tork’s shoulder and quivered. “We’ll never be safe enough.”
“You’d both better get ready,” Arundy added.
“You, too,” Robi replied softly as she led Leonara away.
Once they were far from earshot, Arundy let out a long sigh. “I’ve been ready ever since I sent those messages to Graniteside.”
***
The flickering light on the hillside was coming into clearer view. Balinor stopped the cart and hopped down to get a better look. Above, a flock of carrion birds circled warily. Partially hidden in the dark stained grass was a bright silver shield that caught the sun whenever it was lifted and dropped by small gusts of wind. Balinor knew there would be a body attached.
He could tell by the stink and the swarms of flies.
Alain drew his sword and advanced. Balinor circled along the flank.
“No sign of an ambush,” Balinor announced.
Alain’s sword arm dropped and the soldier took a knee.
Balinor approached cautiously. “What is it?”
Alain held up a hand. “It used to be a dwarf. You might want to prepare yourself.”
Balinor’s skin crawled. “I’m a skinner by trade, I don’t think there’s much—” Then he saw the body.
“We’ll take the remains to Thunderwall,” Alain stated. “I’ll get a blanket.”
Balinor nodded. “Can we bury it for now and come back for it after we’ve warned the Duke?”
“Co—co—cold,” the corpse whispered. “No bu—bury. Bl’kt. Gutt.” Alain and Balinor jumped like startled cats.
“How?” Alain pointed his sword at the wreck of a body.
Balinor leaned down. The head was intact although an eye had been pecked out. The neck had been torn and was crisscrossed with angry pink flesh. The stomach was exposed and his entrails buzzed with flies. One thigh was open to the bone and his entire body was stuck to the ground on a carpet of clotted blood.
The figure strained to speak clearly, “Sh—sh’ld woan let meh die.”
Alain studied the shield more carefully. Dazzling silver metal that reminded him of Ashak’s swords. Concentric rings of Dwarven, Elven, and Rajalan surrounding a gaping hole. And somehow this shield was helping this poor fellow cling to life?
Balinor swabbed a wet cloth against the dwarf’s cracked lips. He tried to suck in some moisture but even that effort was too much. He tried to smile but a wave of pain made it impossible.
“If we keep the cursed birds away and take you to Thunderwall?” Balinor began to suggest.
The dwarf winced as he raised a frail shaking finger and poked Alain once. “Know you. Couldn’t walk. Better now.”
Alain bit his lip and nodded. “If this shield is healing you then we’ll keep away the birds and get you back home soon enough.”
The dwarf’s one good eye widened. “No. No. Night worse.”
“What’s worse at night?” Alain prompted.
The dwarf coughed up some red bubbles and passed out.
Balinor frowned. “My guess is thornwings. You can see their talon marks all over the ground. And there’s some of their feather’s stuck in the blood. He’s right. We can’t be here at night.
Alain nodded slowly. He studied the hills and the pointed towards a shadowed dell. “Maybe we could find some shelter, but then I have to get to Arundy before Egrant does. Help me get him in the cart. Then you can take the horse. I’ll find a spot away from the reek of this blood and hunker down until you can return.”
“You sure you can fight off thornwings?”
“No,” Alain replied. “But I can always share that shield if I have to.”
Balinor suppressed a smile. “Were you this singleminded before the dwarves took you in or was it something you picked up along the way?”
Alain chuckled and spread the blanket beside the dwarf. “Let’s roll him carefully to get the blanket under him.”
Balinor mirrored his companion’s movements and they soon had the dwarf in the cart.
Alain regarded the dwarf once more and then his eyes focused on the distance. “I can’t believe the pain he must be going through.”
“I can’t believe he was able to speak,” Balinor added. “Strong bugger.”
Alain nodded. “I think he helped me during my recovery. I wish I could remember his name.”
Carefully maneuvering over the next hill, they soon found themselves sheltered in a dell between two rolling ridges. Balinor patted his companion on the shoulder and then hurried to release the horse from the cart. As he saddled it for the ride, his mind kept comparing possible routes. No matter which he chose, Balinor recognized that there was quite the distance to
Wyntress Keep and he was afraid the effort would kill his horse before he could warn Duke Arundy. A dark thought skipped across his heart and he swallowed. He wouldn’t fail this time, he told himself. Not like he had failed Helba. Or Kirsten. “By the One,” he whispered.
“Please.”
Ensuring he had enough water and a few extra pouches of hard corn, Balinor nodded once to Alain where he crouched under a grass covered tarp with the stricken dwarf. Then he pushed his knees into his horse’s flank and they were away downhill at a canter, heading west.
***
Wyntress’s incessant smile taxed the muscles of his face until pleasantry became just another agony to endure. Across from him, sipping at some chilled beer and enjoying a footrub from one of the house staff, Baron Egrant returned the smiles with even greater vigor.
“This is a marvellous ale, Your Grace.” Egrant smacked his lips slowly and plunked the mug down firmly where it was instantly refilled. “A true pleasure after such a long ride. And my entire company appreciates your willingness to provide so much hospitality on such short notice.”
“Your work is the greatest burden of all, Baron,” Wyntress exclaimed. “You keep the roads safe.”
“Indeed,” Egrant replied while reaching into his vest for a golden scroll case.
Wyntress gasped when he recognized the pattern. His skin chilled. Only the King used those cases, and only for the rarest of communications. Had they been found out?
“It’s my pleasure to be delivering this directive on behalf of King Lornen himself,” Egrant casually announced. “Which is why I would like you to summon your peoples in their entirety to hear this read in person.”
Wyntress took a long calming breath to fight down a surging heart. “Of course,” he suggested amiably, “You’ll do me the courtesy of informing me of the nature of this directive so that I may best anticipate how to utilize our talents for the benefit of the King?”
Egrant offered the scroll case with a languid stretch of his arm. “By all means, Your Grace. I think you’ll be pleased.”
Wyntress almost dropped the scroll. With hands a little too firm, he broke the seal and withdrew the parchment. His eyes skimmed the short note too quickly and he forced himself to read it several times.
His eyes wide and his voice clenched, Wyntress murmured, “How can this be possible?”
“Oh, you know how the King is,” Egrant laughed then drained a second mug. “He wants an heir. Once upon a time, she impressed him.” Egrant enjoyed watching the perplexed seizure transforming the Duke’s face. “Congratulations, Your Grace. My orders are to escort your daughter and the necessary components of her household staff to Eastfork.”
Wyntress rumbled, “Eastfork?”
“Graniteside’s had its share of noise recently,” Egrant replied. “Eastfork is central in the realms. I imagine the King will want every loyal subject to attend.”
Wyntress did his best not to scowl as Egrant lingered over the word loyal. “Shall I tell my daughter this happy news?”
“Of course.” Egrant burped softly and accepted a third mug of ale. “Enjoy the moment, Your Grace. And I’ll look to address your people at your dinner hour.”
Wyntress started to bow and then caught himself. “For the King,” he declared hastily and then hurried from his chambers. How was he going to get Arundy off his property before a careless act spoiled everything? And how exactly was he going to tell his daughter that she was going to be the future queen whether she liked it or not?
***
Arundy looked towards the sun where, through wisps of fast travelling cloud, it stared down upon them all. Runners were quick to inform him that Baron Egrant had just arrived at the Keep. There could be no more waiting. He looked upon the two dozen people who had gathered in the yard. A score of goats bleated and squawked the unspoken thoughts of all. Upon the horses, the donkeys and a few wagons were all of their worldly possessions. The smith, Baris, was there with his family. Thankfully, the drover Collswell and his family were also coming. Robi and Leonara were in the wagon where he would ride. He knew them all, and was grateful for their continued service. If it was one day in his power, he swore that he would reward them all.
What troubled Arundy most was not the return to the trail, it was the recognition that Lieutenant Hollis was nowhere to be seen. Arundy hoped that it was a noble gesture of service being made by the young officer, to stay with the majority who chose Wyntress Keep as their new home. However, he had been disappointed too many times before to truly believe it. He would lead them west and, if the One willed it, they would find refuge until the realm was ready for a just ruler once more. Just where, he didn’t know. Perhaps that small mining enclave named after the gryphons? It was south of Thunderwall and pushed high into the mountains, wasn’t it? Oh, how his tired brain struggled with recalling the once familiar.
Arundy greeted their loyalty with a warm smile. “Thank you,” he said. “No need for inviting trouble by being tardy or noisy.” He pointed to the southwest. “There’s two lines of hills hiding a long valley a league or so away. I’ll need two volunteers to ride ahead and find us the nearest way to that valley. One that keeps us from being spotted too easily.”
Two of Arundy’s former footsoldiers raised their hands. Arundy did a quick count and realized that only five troopers accompanied him. What a long way he had fallen. But these five were something to behold, he told himself. He’d have to raise them in rank and start to rebuild— Ahh, no time for that. Focus, Arundy strained against his old habits. Breaking from all traditions, he saluted his soldiers and with a hand signal waved them off.
Stepping up to the bench of his wagon, he looked back once more and attempted to project confidence. They all understood that there was no way to avoid being spotted in this landscape, but once in the valley they’d be better off.
“Tally ho,” he called out softly and sat down as the wagon lurched forward towards new dawns.
“Wait,” Baris called out.
Emerging from the shadows of the keep were more riders and carts. Lieutenant Hollis smiled shyly at Duke Arundy as he led another three score troopers and families to join the column.
“I am happy to have you along,” Arundy nodded.
Hollis snapped a quick salute. “A few are staying behind, Your Grace. I tried to talk some sense into them but they wouldn’t budge. I’m sorry.”
Arundy’s eyes were full of gratitude as they met each of his people while they rode past. Despite their hardships, his heart tickled with thankfulness. “You’ve done well, Lieutenant,” he said softly. “Very well indeed.”
XXXVIII
Under the ever-present pressure of mountains above, their travel crushed a score of days into a single musty unending night. When the pale light of green lichen shone round the final switchback of rough corridor to reveal the intricately impassable lowgate of Thunderwall, the party blinked with disbelief and could not find the strength to cheer.
“Told you I knew the way,” their Flintedge guide, Norin, wheezed before collapsing on his pack. “Now all we hafta do is exchange the greetings an’ hope someone is on the other side ta hear it.”
Grumm could manage little more than a grunt of acknowledgement as he lowered Olaf from his shoulders. The gnome’s boots had been made for the streets of Halnn not the rough edges of the Yarrol Maze. They were shreds of leather now and his feet were blistered beyond measure. Olaf gave his friend an appreciative pat on the arm and then dropped prone as if the stone before the lowgate was as soft as a feather bed. At his waist, the blue glow of the gem began to overpower the glimmering green of the lichen.
The largest of the dwarves, Pell Stonewall, stomped up to the gate where a small indentation masked a winding crystal-filled tube that allowed speech to penetrate the thick granite.
“Hello? Thunderwall Lowgate Watch?” A long pause chilled the hearts of all.
“Speak the greeting,” a distant voice rumbled.
What passed as truncated coughs and cheers of relief followed.
“Ahem,” Pell began, “Earth has roots far deeper than sky.”
“Earth moves when it wills and mountains rise,” came the response.Pell grinned and continued, “Earth cradles oceans and when earth breathes, islands rise.”
Hesitation was followed by a deeper voice, at first cross, and then filled with relief. “It’s islands live, ye daft bugger. Stand off so we don’t pinch yer toes.”
Grumm and the rest jeered and teased Pell while the resonance of the Lowgate’s opening filled their hearts.
***
Jarl Volsun was quick to visit the survivors in the infirmary. The aroma of slanachaidh tea filled the room and revived the exhausted spirits of the survivors. Beaming from ear to ear, he hugged each dwarf in turn and even slapped Olaf on the back with a chuckle.
“Tell us yer tales, lads. How fares Beru at The Crossing?”
Grumm cleared his throat. “We left them in good spirits. The Crossing is secure, my Jarl.”
Volsun nodded. His smile drifted away. “I expected more te come back. Why come by the maze? What has befallen ye?”
“There were two score of us,” Grumm responded gruffly. “We were attacked by a drake. We’re the only survivors. Only lived because we found an entrance to the maze quick enough.”
“An’ the gem kept the drakefire from roasting us,” Olaf added.
Volsun weighed the news of the losses alongside the potential of th
e gem then he pointed a thick finger at Olaf. “What is that stone about again? I’ve never heard of something that powerful outside of the Mysteries—” The Jarl’s voice trailed off and he squinted harshly at Olaf. “How’d ye get it?”
“I stole it from Halnn,” Olaf blurted. “But it wasn’t theirs, you see.”
Volsun scowled. “Ye all know how I feel about thieves.”
“But they stole it from the Rajala,” Olaf continued.
“Then who’d the sand folk steal it from?” Volsun snipped.
Grumm sighed. “Jarl, we think it belongs to a shield that the sand folk still have, a shield that they used ages ago to subdue the drakes.”
