And were all stories so hungry?
I dreamed again, but mostly in images. Goblins marching and dwarves drawing up battle lines. A village falling to flame and frost as a Blue Rider passed through. An elven rainforest being overrun; a Blue Rider was there as well. I heard a rasping, whispering laugh.
When dawn came, I was not as rested as I should have been.
We found a stone stair buried beneath a few inches of snow. I was the only one of us accustomed to travel under such conditions, so I led the way. The wind bit into my face, and I welcomed it as an old friend. It was good to feel the frigid air again, though I knew it could turn deadly quickly. As long as the sun was up and we kept moving, our danger of exposure was limited. No, the thing we most had to worry about was keeping to the stair and not slipping and falling down chasms and pits.
The stair was steep and slick, causing me to move at a painstaking speed. The others did not complain. Neither they nor I wished to fall off the mountain.
We skirted a deep chasm. Wind whipped up from it, scattering flakes of snow and stinging our eyes. Snow gathered on my beard. Condensation froze on the hair below my nose. This was the part I hated most about the cold. It made me feel as if my nose were constantly dripping filth onto my face.
Of all the companions, Abani seemed to be affected most. I offered her my fur-lined cloak, but she refused. “I have too great a respect of elders to accept something that may cause them harm.”
“Would you offend your elder by refusing a gift?”
“If it meant he was that much safer and warmer at night, yes.”
So I kept my cloak, though unwillingly.
Galatea wrapped Korah’s white fur cloak tightly around herself.
I was surprised that Daragen seemed unaffected by the cold, though he wore little compared to the rest of us, merely pants and a vest over a shirt. He appeared nearly cheerful.
Lazul was largely unaffected by the cold as well. He put out his hand if he was not using it to climb and ran his fingers through the snow, a smile on his dark face. Flakes gathered on his beard as he raised his face to accept the wind.
Yolian did not enjoy the weather nearly so much. Like Abani he appeared very cold, and he struggled to keep up with the rest of us. I could see his mouth moving, and words covered him from head to toe. Yet he shivered, and his lips were blue. For his sake as well as Abani’s, we had to reach whatever was in that pinnacle soon.
We reached the bottom of the drifted valley. The sun hung high in the sky. I tried to move faster. It would not be good if we were still here when the sun sunk below the horizon; true cold would descend quickly. As blue and stiff as Abani appeared now, she would be far worse after dark.
The snow had long ago packed into my boots, freezing my feet. I never stopped moving my toes, getting blood to them so they would not freeze. Many of my warriors had lost feet to the cold of the North, and I did not want to join their numbers here.
The stair reaching the other pinnacle was cut even steeper, making it necessary to climb with both hands and feet at times. My hands were still raw and bloody from our climb the day before, and I felt no small amount of pain every time I pressed them against the harsh, cold stone surface.
None of us talked much on our journey. The wind screamed at the heights of the mountain. We were buffeted from time to time, forcing a stop as we clung to the rocks around us.
At last we reached the end of the stair. I faced a blank wall of stone. I saw no door, no hinges, nothing that would indicate an entrance. I searched for a path leading from the stair, perhaps around to an entrance or shelter of some sort. But no, the stair led here.
The others crouched against the wind, gathering their cloaks about them for warmth as I continued searching along the wall.
“Is this a Northerner trick you use on enemies? Carve a stair to follow that leads to nothing, so they die in the cold?” Lazul did not seem in any danger of dying, but he gestured to the elf and the Parvian.
“No, this is not a Northerner’s doing, though it might be something I suggest to my council. I suspect that there is some sort of device here that will allow us entry; it’s just that we must find it.”
A voice called down from above. “Ho there! Step away from our door!” I looked and saw an archer taking aim at us from above, peeking over the edge of a ledge. He wore the helmet of a Spireman.
As I obeyed his command, the bare rockface grew a seam. Two doors swung open at us. Several Spiremen waited inside, watching with harpoons raised. “Are you coming in, or do you prefer the cold outside?” one asked.
None hesitated in entering.
Once we were all inside, the stone doors swung shut again. The room was small and dry, and torches blazed on all four walls. Around us stood six Spiremen dressed in furs and armor.
I turned to one. “What are Men of the Spires doing this far south? I thought the mountain here was owned by dwarves, with Parvian lands beyond. It’s a pleasant surprise, though.” I braced for the rib-crushing greeting that was surely coming.
The Spireman smiled. “You’ll get whatever questions you’ve got answered once you see the Attendant.” With that, he turned and led the way to another stair.
Daragen whispered to Galatea, “They’re not going to search us? Take our weapons?”
Galatea punched him.
The Spireman who spoke to me turned and answered, “Where would you go? We are well armed and rested, while you are, well…” He glanced us up and down before concluding, “We have nothing to fear. Come now, the Attendant is waiting.”
Thankfully, the stairs here were easy to climb, even with sore muscles. They were also well insulated from the wind and cold outside; I could not hear any roaring through the stone walls, and I felt only the heat of the torches.
As we walked on, these quiet Spiremen disturbed me. Were they so far and so long from home that they had even ceased to jest amongst themselves? It seemed the only bit of the Spires left to them were their cloaks and boots. Yet I could sense no malevolence in them, whoever they were. And for that I was thankful.
At last we came to a bright room. Glassed windows looked down onto the mountains around us. A fire crackled in a stone hearth. I was surprised to find myself standing on thick carpet. All around, silk hangings and stuffed chairs decorated the room.
A man laughed, and my eye found him. He was dressed very much like Abani, all in silks, but the color of amethyst, which marked him as Chariisi. He fell to one knee, bowing his head. “Donara kis, good friends. Please, sit, relax. My men shall bring you food and drink.” He stood and waved to the Spiremen behind us, who left.
I replied automatically, “Saynam votara.” I spread my hands wide.
The dark-haired man rushed to me, grabbing a hand. “You are injured. Forgive me for not seeing it sooner.” He muttered the same language that Yolian and Cerulean used in their spell-stories. Before my eyes, the wounds healed. It was an odd sensation, to feel the skin and muscles moving. At first it was painful, but then a warmth spread over my newly healed skin. The man looked into my eyes. “There. Does that feel better?”
I nodded. “It does, but I’m not the only one with torn hands.”
He understood and moved to the others, healing their wounds as well. He then returned to me. “Now, please, sit.” At this, several Spiremen, less their helmets and fur cloaks, came into the room. They bore trays of steaming food and goblets of cooled blue wine.
“Ah, yes. I was about to say my men should be here soon with food and drink with which to revive yourselves.”
I looked up at the man who offered me a tray. His face had not the bold, simple lines of a Northerner. Rather, his skin appeared soft and smooth, even tanned, and his nose was much too subtle to be a man from the North. Like our host, his hair was dark.
The amethyst-robed man laughed. “Yes. Many visitors, well, we do not have many, but those that do find their way here are often as surprised as you are. These are not Spiremen. These are simply Parvia
ns, dressed for the weather we must endure here. We find that the armor of the Spiremen is most fitting for the wind and the snow, and we pay good money to make sure we have it.”
This explained how I had felt about them earlier. They had not the heart of Spiremen because they weren’t Spiremen.
I turned to my food, drinking first from the wine. It was sweet and cool in my mouth. The food was steaming, and that, too, was excellent to my tongue. The others expressed as much, though I noticed that Yolian was eating a bit more slowly than the rest of us, his eyes on Abani.
Our host turned away all questions with a wave of the hand. “No. A meal should be enjoyed fully without the distraction of hasty conversation. What needs to be said shall be said when you have finished.”
I smiled as I ate. This was a normal thing in tales from Parvia. Nobles would refuse to talk during meals. They were to enjoy the respite from sun and sands, an oasis from the day of work. In more than one story, a man would find himself dead of poison because his mouth was the center of the meal: not what came into it, but what flowed out of it.
Our meal concluded, and men came to take our trays away. At last, our host introduced himself. “I am Athusi, Attendant of the Tower, sent by my lord in Parvia, trained by my lords in Chariis. You are welcome here, all of you, though I see you come from many places.”
“We are at the Tower?” Abani’s quiet voice was tinged with fear.
A smile played across Athusi’s lips. “Yes.”
Abani leaped to her feet. “We must flee!”
Athusi spoke quickly, “No, you must be calm. You will not be imprisoned here; no bird heralded your arrival. We know you are not to be kept here. No, you are guests. Nothing more, nothing less.”
My eyes were on our host, but my words directed at Abani. “Sit down. If we are to be imprisoned, there is little we can do about it now.”
Our host agreed. “He is correct. Now you know where you are.”
Lazul broke in, “We most certainly do not! What is this Tower? Why are you on Graz lands? Is this the forward post of some human invasion?” He did not leap to his feet, but his hand was close to his axe.
Athusi held up his hands. “No, no. We have been here for generations, and we care for all who come out the tunnel you yourselves emerged from. We have had an agreement with the Graz for many, many years.” He paused, looking around. “I see that most of you do not know of this place. Very well.”
He explained. “The Tower is where the Parvians send their noble criminals, those who are deemed beyond worthy of death. They are escorted through Graz lands until they come to the rock chimney, and then they climb, as you did. If they make it to the Tower here, they are granted a place to stay. They may attempt to escape over the mountains at any time, and we will not stop them. We let those who created them decide their fate. Until they decide to try and venture forth, they are kept here, away from the sky. These windows are the only ones in the entire Tower. The guards usually spend much time here when they are not on duty. We Parvians are not made to be away from the sun.”
I understood.
Athusi continued. “Now you know who I am and what we are doing here. Who are you, and how did you come to be climbing the tunnel?”
I glanced at the others and explained. “We were traveling through Graz lands when a goblin army came from the other side of the mountain. We were trapped, and rather than flee back to the dwarves, we climbed this tunnel. We did not know where it might lead, only that by it we might escape death at their hands.”
Athusi’s full attention rested on me. “A goblin army? There? But to reach this mountain, they must have passed through our lands. Are you sure?”
“I know I saw many goblins pass through the cavern below, and I suspect the Graz are under attack even now.”
Athusi stood. “I must send notice to my lords in both Chariis and Parvia.”
I also stood. “If you would, I would like to add a letter to yours. If you have parchment I could use, and ink?”
He nodded. “I believe a bird might carry two parchments as easily as one.” He provided what was needed before he left us.
Yolian was the first to speak. “You are warning Chariis of the incursion into Graz lands?”
“Of course. They need to be ready.”
My messages were brief. I outlined our journey thus far, our losses, and what we had learned. I labored over what to tell of the Blue Riders but in the end only wrote what we had witnessed.
Athusi returned a few minutes after I had finished my writing and accepted the parchments, sealing them before me with wax. “Do you have a seal?”
I took mine out. I had not expected to use it on this journey. Gayala always packed it with my things when we went to train with our armies. She told me to write. I never did. Every year we continued the pattern.
Now I placed my insignia upon the wax.
Athusi whisked out of the room. “I shall return from the aviary shortly. Until then, I bid you all relax.”
I turned to the others. “What shall we do now?”
Lazul leaped up at last. “What shall we do, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you! We shall continue on to the dark lands and take Garethen’s head from his shoulders—that’s what we shall do!” He fairly roared the last, and I suspected the Graz below might have been able to hear him.
Yolian spoke. “Though I do not agree with the end result, I also believe we should move on. If the Tower here has a means to communicate with Chariis, we can send back a full report of everything we’ve seen, not just the missive you’ve written.”
After a moment’s thought, I concurred. “So we stay here and make a full report. After a day or two, we should be rested enough to press on.”
Lazul was resistant to the idea of delaying, even to recuperate, but accepted it when the others all agreed with the new plan.
Athusi returned. “The ravens are away with the messages. They should reach their destinations in a few days’ time, depending 0n the weather.” He gestured. “So, now, there must be a tale to tell for such a group to come together!”
“Indeed, there is. It is one that must be kept in your heart, though,” Yolian answered.
Daragen interrupted, “Perhaps we should not burden our host with so many dark thoughts.”
Abani stepped in. “This man is Parvian, and trustworthy. And besides, he has been trained in Chariis, as you yourself saw. The Chariisi only train trustworthy people with their magics. You know that. This man should know our reason for coming here.”
Yolian nodded. “That was my thought. If this man is Chariisi, as we have seen him to be, he has as much right as any to know our plans. He will keep them within his heart if asked to, and besides, he may have much to tell us here, perched so high.”
Our host answered, “It is true. I know many tales, and in my training, I learned how to tell such things to only my own heart. If you tell me this is a sacred trust, I will keep it as such.” He looked at Daragen. “I know the Parvians and the Garrendai are not always fast friends. I can remember marching on your people in my youth. But here, it does not matter. We may be a Parvian outpost, but in the mountain wastes, people are people, no matter their nation, as long as they have not pledged their hearts to the Fallen Lord.”
His honest words and open face won Daragen over.
The group turned to me, expecting me to speak the necessary words. I sighed and explained as best I could in but an hour’s time.
At the end of my speech, the sky outside was dark, and I could see the fire reflected in the glass. Still the wind roared.
Athusi was quiet for a time before speaking. “You are on a mission of great import. I think I should give you a resource of ours to use to your end. It will speed you on your way, and perhaps in that speed aid to all the world.”
We all awaited an explanation, but none was forthcoming. Our host stood. “Well, it is late, and you must be exhausted. You may sleep here and make use of this room as if it were your own. You may sta
y here as long as you wish, but give me two days’ warning before you leave so I may prepare a gift for all of you.” He bowed and turned to leave, but I stopped him.
“We should make ready to leave as soon as we can. Please prepare this gift as soon as you are able.”
“As you wish.” He disappeared down the staircase.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
We were silent as we readied for sleep.
I chose one of the padded couches. It was luxurious. We had nothing like this in the North. It was a hard land. Anything that could be conceived of as a luxury would eventually be put to use. Instead of a couch like this, we’d have more firewood or building materials. The fabric would be used for cloaks and the like. Ah, but for old bones like mine, perhaps a little luxury would be better.
As I drifted off to sleep, I began to wonder how all these supplies had come to be here, so far from human habitation.
Once again in sleep dreams came to me.
I saw a white goblin approach a creature of monstrous size. It bowed to the beast and spoke with it.
I watched Thesairh release Delia from her cell. His long blade dripped dwarven blood. Delia had a look of ecstasy upon her face as she reached up to kiss her lover. She knew that she would rule here until he had conquered the Fabled City.
I glimpsed a Blue Rider on a hill overlooking Chariis.
A warmth in my hand woke me. The blaze in the fireplace had burned low. I looked to my hand and saw nothing there, but the warmth remained. It coiled up my arm, slowly. It took a moment, but I recognized the warmth as a story. I offered my other hand for it to slide into, and it accepted the offer.
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