"Aye, 'twas a sight indeed," DoHurley agreed, grabbing his fifth helping of roast yak from a mounded platter. "But ye gotta admit, our own jaws was droppin' a bit there after comin' all this way in such a rush, jist to find that we'd been beat to the punch by you four ruffians!"
"Yes, it is being quite truth, Sir DoHurley Dwarf-person," Hufferrrerrr hissed with laughter. "You were of the looking quite in surprisedness indeed."
"'Cept yer fergettin', there was not four but five o' us on them steps, DoHurley," DoHeney corrected, patting the leotaur soundly on the back. "Without our furry friend here, we may ne'r o' come down them steps at all."
"Aye, o'course yer bein' right there, lad. We owe yer people a great debt indeed, if all the stories this laddybuck has told me are true, Mr. Huffer." The elderly dwarf stood and bowed deeply to the leotaur, whose stealth and sharp senses had been indispensable in their headlong flight from the lower levels.
"This is all very pleasant," Avari broke in, her tone penetrating the mood like a spear point, "but what about Zellohar? The only way we made it out was by running like thieves whenever we met any of that stinking Nekdukarr's troops. There still may be hundreds or thousands of them down there. Who knows what mischief they're cooking up!"
"A point well made, lass," DoHeney agreed reservedly, "but not somethin' ye need ta be losin' any sleep over. We've got a good watch set on the stairs, and there'll be a near flood o' dwarves comin' in from Boontredk as soon as they hear. There's more'n enough o' us here ta hold the top level until they arrive." He looked at his elderly kinsman with a familiar squint of mischief, then continued.
"What's more dire a question is, who'll be leadin' these dwarves once they return? Should be a dwarf with military experience, I'd venture. And someone with intimate knowledge o' the keep and an eye fer quick action, not some weak-minded old fart that'd sit on his duff while an army beats at his door."
"Now laddie, don't be gettin' any ideas. I'm far too old ta—"
"Nonsense!" Yenjil Thallon barked, surging to his feet. "Your people need decisive leadership, DoHurley, that much is obvious. They need someone who’s not afraid of a little head bashing to gain results! If you hadn’t decided to follow your own good judgment and lead troops out to take on Darkmist’s army, my troops and I would all be dead now outside the gates of Beriknor. If they truly want to take back Zellohar, let the dwarves follow the one who had the vision to take the bull by the balls and do it!"
The throng howled in approval, drowning out the ancient dwarf’s protests. DoHurley knew Zellohar needed him, and the love he bore for his ancestral home was more than evident as he looked up to the clan standard above the keep doors. Deep behind that one steely eye, the realization finally congealed that he, also, needed Zellohar.
So wrapped up in celebration were those gathered, that only one among them noticed the lone figure who detached himself from the mob to climb the nearby stair to the parapets of Zellohar. Lynthalsea quickly disengaged herself and followed.
"Why so quiet?" she asked Shay, wrapping an arm around his firm shoulders more for love than warmth, though the biting breeze made the embrace welcome. "They are forging a new kingdom down there. You deserve to be a part of it."
"I was merely wondering if my part in it all was so deserving, Lynthalsea." Shay held his new sister closely, staring out into the crystalline moonlight of the winter's night. "I have gained more in this... adventure, I guess you would call it, than I ever dreamed of having. I know my magical studies have not interfered with my faith. I have seen Avari's wounds of the heart healed more completely than I ever thought they could be. And, most cherished of all, I have gained a sister whom I never knew existed." He barked a short laugh. "I would say I have been paid more than my share for my efforts."
"And you've also gained a bit of white to your goatee," she added playfully, tugging the priest's disheveled beard. "But why so quiet?" she asked again, knowing something was troubling him. "If, as you say, you have been rewarded enough, why not join in the merriment?"
"It is because... I am afraid that..." Shay stammered in uncharacteristic uneasiness.
"What?" Lynthalsea pleaded. "Surely you're not afraid your new friends will desert you?!"
"No, no, it is not that. I know they—and you—will never abandon me. But... what do I do now?" His free arm swept in an all-encompassing gesture to the starlit sky and snow-covered cliffs. "When evil is purged and the victor gains everything he wanted, what does he do next?"
"We build a home," Lynthalsea answered simply, looking not at the impressive vista, but rather into the limitless depths of her brother's amethyst eyes. "Right there, in the valley below. A place where you can study and pray as you like; a place where people won't frown at your two devotions, or my strange abilities; a place where we can do as we wish without interference from civilized folk."
"A refuge."
"Yes, a refuge." She smiled up at him, tears of joy freezing on her cheeks. "A place where we can be a family."
"Yes," he agreed, knowing already how his plan would unfold, "a family."
Szcze-kon turned and hugged his sister with all his might, his soul fairly bursting with love and thanks to all the Gods of Light for bringing her to him.
EPILOGUE
Calmarel laughed at Jundag's discomfort, pacing back and forth in front of his inverted form like a lioness in front of her kill. He was suspended from the ceiling by his feet, like meat hung to age, his face level with her own, his arms chained snugly to the floor. He had hung like this for hours, his only other torments issuing from Calmarel's mouth. But they were torments he would have willingly exchanged for any physical anguish she could have dealt.
"And while the dwarf and the half-elf lay there," Calmarel boasted, "impaled on spears which I personally drove into the ground, I lent my attentions to the two females.
"I was truly surprised at how long the tall human woman lasted after the evisceration. And it was absolutely astounding how far she crawled, trying to hold herself in, screaming every inch of the way." She jerked Jundag's head around, forcing his eyes open with her sharpened nails and boring her gaze into his. "But before she died, I told her of you, Jundag!"
"No!" he screamed. He wished with all his heart that she would let him, finally, die for good. "She would never believe you!"
"Oh, she didn't believe me, at first," the dark priestess teased, "but then I showed her this." She held up Jundag's ivory medallion. "She screamed and cried like a wailing child, especially when I told her how much you enjoyed life down here with me. I healed her just enough to keep her alive while I explained how you lavished me with gifts such as this little trinket, praising me for not leaving you to die in that accursed dwarven keep... as she left you."
A feral cry of sorrow tore from Jundag's throat, lamenting his lost friends and the lies they had taken to their graves. He only wished he could somehow explain to Avari and the others that he had not forsaken them, that he did not blame them for leaving him in Zellohar.
"Don't worry, Jundag," Calmarel consoled, caressing his broad chest with her sharp fingernails, "I will never abandon you. In fact I have a long and profitable relationship planned for us... my pet."
"Jun—!"
Darkness...
Cold linen stuck to her sweat-drenched skin. Plush pillows and a thick featherbed... A lithely muscled form stirred next to her.
"Damn!" Avari hissed, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes in a vain attempt to score away the horrible, recurrent visions that plagued her dreams. But her hands were shaking, and the visions persisted, as she knew they would.
"What's wrong, my dear?" Yenjil consoled her, easing her back onto the pillow with a firm embrace. "More dreams?"
"Yes," she sobbed, taking some comfort in his presence. "The same damned one again. I can't seem to get it out of my head. I don't know whether it's a dream anymore, or a memory. Gods, you don't suppose—"
"No, I don't!" he interrupted, knowing where her hysterical th
oughts were leading. The same dream had plagued her over a dozen times since their return to Fengotherond. "It's absolutely impossible, do you hear me? There's simply no chance that Jundag is alive."
"I know how crazy it sounds!" she cried. "But I can't get that vision out of my head. I swear one of those women wore Jundag's ivory medallion. I would stake my life on it!"
"Even if she did, it means nothing," Yenjil said. "She might have gotten it some other way. Probably it was given to her by her brother before they betrayed one another. Just try and get back to sleep, my sweet. Try not to think of it."
"You're right," she agreed, snuggling back under the covers as if to hide from the offending dreams. "I know you're right."
Several minutes later, even as Yenjil's breathing returned to its deeply resonant cadence, Avari still lay awake, staring into the dark, one thought repeating over and over in her mind until it finally resolved into a hoarse, terrified whisper.
"Oh, dear Gods of Light, I pray that you're right!"
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Continue the Adventure
Jundag
Book 3 of The Cornerstones Trilogy
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About the Authors
Chris was born and raised in Oregon, Anne in Massachusetts. They met at graduate school in Texas, and have been together ever since. They have been gaming together since 1985, sailing together since 1988, married since 1989, and writing together off and on throughout their relationship. Most astonishingly, they have not killed each other, or even tried to, at any time during the creation or editing of any of their stories...although it was close a few times. The couple has been sailing and writing full time aboard their beloved sailboat, Mr. Mac, since 2009. They return to the US every summer for conventions, so check out jaxbooks.com for updates and events. They are always happy to sign copies of their books and talk to fans.
Preview Chris and Anne’s novels, download audiobooks, and read the writing blog at jaxbooks.com. Follow their cruising adventures at www.sailmrmac.blogspot.com.
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Novels by Chris A. Jackson and
Anne L. McMillen-Jackson
From Jaxbooks
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Deathmask
Weapon of Flesh Trilogy
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Weapon of Fear
The Cornerstones Trilogy (with Anne L. McMillen-Jackson)
Zellohar
Nekdukarr
Jundag
The Cheese Runners Trilogy (novellas)
Cheese Runners
Cheese Rustlers
Cheese Lords
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Scimitar Sun
Scimitar’s Heir
Scimitar War
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From Privateer Press
Blood & Iron (ebook novella)
From The Ed Greenwood Group
Dragon Dreams (November 2015)
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