In A Time Of Darkness

by Gregory James Knoll

  * * * * *

  "Finally home again." Gort said, allowing his nose to take in the scent of sulfur and kerosene.

  Everyone else tried to block it out.

  "Are you staying for a while, Lanyan?" Lornya rode up to the Elf, who was already looking west.

  "For a while. I'd like to make sure everything is settled, and I'd also like to return to Rasonius with at least part of a solid plan."

  Lor held out her hand to lead the way. "Perhaps we should meet with Javal first, so you can be on your way."

  "Aye, that sounds best."

  "If he's awake!" Gort chimed in, a toothy grin on his face.

  Ristalln couldn't help but chuckle, though everyone else looked upon the Dwarf questioningly, unknowing if he was serious. Not one got the chance to ask him before he rode ahead to the closest ladder, tying Pony to the barricade before it. The rest followed behind him, climbing up to the second level and working their way past the miners, eventually moving to the ladder that would lead them up one more. When they arrived, they found Gort waiting for them at the front entrance.

  Gort held his hands up, advising them to wait. "I'll go in first. Make sure he knows we're here."

  For the second time today, each other member looked confused immediately after the Dwarf's response. He was gone before any could question or argue the fact. His stature, his approach and manner seemed formal, and far too strange. Most ignored it, and seemed content to only wait for his return, but a certain, curious elf wanted to know exactly why Gort had left them behind. He crept up to the tunnel's edge, and turned his ear inward.

  "Lanyan... what are you doing?" Ristalln walked up next him, the Elf immediately bringing his finger to his mouth. "Oh..." The Knight muttered, understanding. He decided not to interrupt on the eavesdropping. After all, he was just as curious as Lanyan.

  Far down the hall, deep within the chamber, Gort's voice echoed off the cavern walls, projecting it clearly into his ears.

  "Sire. We have returned as promised. Tha rest of tha group waits outside when ye're ready."

  Javal's voice was next to be heard. "What have ye got them waitin' out there for? And what's with tha Sire title?"

  "I was... I was announcing them." Gort tried to speak, but trailed off timidly.

  "Announcing? Ha! Ye’ve taken one too many rocks on tha head, old fella. Go get yer friends so we can talk."

  "Aye. As ye wish." Gort grumbled.

  "Stop with tha as ye wish and go get them."

  Lanyan took a step back, then two, leading away from the entrance as not to get caught.

  "Anything dire?" Ristalln asked, trying to look as innocent as possible.

  The Elf looked almost honored. "He... he was announcing us."

  "Announcing? Does he do that often?"

  "Never, actually." He quieted though, as did the Knight, when the Dwarf stepped back into the light. He stood at the entrance, cordially waving them all in, the Elf staying until all others were well down the hall, a slight smirk on his face. "You announced us, Gort?"

  "How'd ya..." But then he remembered who he was talking to. "I just imagined how you would have done things and I tried it." Gort tossed his shoulders.

  Lanyan could only laugh in response as he entered the King's chambers.

  "Light’s Awakening!" Javal erupted up, grabbing and hugging each one of them, even poor, frantic little Gnert. "Well met again, team!" He first seemed eager and excited, but a disappointment lingered once he realized Lanyan and Gort were the last to enter. "Where's the rest of ya? Where's the vixen?"

  "Merial is in Davaina with Jeralyle and Elryia attending to something. Carsis... has turned away from us." Gort answered.

  "I could have told ye that was going to happen. Never liked that fella one bit. And where's yer leader, Grahamas?" Javal glanced around, after watching Gnert scurry off.

  "Grahamas has... he's passed." Ristalln spoke, bowing his head.

  "My friends, I'm sorry. Truly I am." Javal made it a point to press his hand to the shoulder of each one, but then turned to Gort, Ristalln and Lanyan. "Ye still want to fight, aye?"

  Gort spoke first. "Aye. Now maybe more than ever."

  "Good. I've been preparing since ya left. Come with me." Javal lead each of them out of his chambers, along the wall and down to the second level. From there they passed by three caves heading west, then turned and entered the fourth. The long tunnel led them to a large room filled with six dwarves each standing at anvils and their own private kilns. The right side was pounding diligently away at long thin strips of metal, shaping and sharpening it, melding it into a point, then cooling it to place it in a metal container right next to half a dozen more. The left side worked with wider, broader pieces of metal upon their slabs, rounding the corners and smoothing the sharp edges, the complete opposite of the other three. "I've got the right side working on blades we'll make swords out of later, the left side on breast plates and eventually bracers."

  Lanyan looked between the two groups. Each individual dwarf was sweating profusely, their eyes red and weary, but not one ever showed signs of stopping, or even slowing down. It was enough to impress even the proud Elf, both at their resolve and Javal's initiative to begin this before they even returned. "You certainly hold to your word, King."

  "Aye. Yer lass impressed me a great deal."

  "Because she out drank you?" The Elf perked.

  "Aye."

  Lanyan, again, was left in wonderment. Javal's nature, when it came to diplomatic matters was simple, almost non-existent. He seemingly ran his part of the world with his heart and his spirit rather than his head and his stature. Yet when it came to their daily lives—their work and their duty—he was nothing but regimented and stern. It was the complete opposite of what Lanyan came from, but it impressed him none the less. "Not how Rasonius would have decided, but it works."

  "It works well,” Javal slapped Lanyan on the shoulder “but that's not all I have to show you. Come."

  Javal led them out of the chambers, the echoing of steel upon steel ringing in their ears well after. Back to the platform he guided them to the first ladder. When they had reached the ground, the dwarven King took them even further west then turned abruptly into another tunnel. This one much longer than the first, wooden braces shoved against the wall every few feet. The group walked deeper than any of them would have imagined. Behind them the light pouring in from the massive entrance was now only a tiny speck of white against the murky yellow given off by the lanterns.

  The orb had almost completely disappeared before another could be seen on the opposite end. Javal escorted, and the group continued to follow, the light in front of him growing wider and higher until they stepped out of it, now finding themselves on the other end of Forgas.

  "This is yer training ground." The King said, waving his arm directly in front of himself. It wasn't much to look at, simply long grass with patches of weeds and dirt mixed in. "I left this place empty for now. I know little of training an army and I imagine ye would like to set it up as ye see fit." Most of his words were directed at Ristalln, Lanyan and Gort. "I hope it will do.

  "It will... I imagine." Lanyan turned his gaze, a questioning one meant for Ristalln.

  First wanting to survey the area, Ristalln held his words. It was large enough to hold at least three to four-hundred soldiers. The grass would serve as suitable stuffing for targets and dummies, and he imagined that burlap wouldn't be too hard to find here. But the most important thing was the cover that Forgas provided. The mountain was far too high to see over, and its edges—as far off as they were—curved north to form a crescent, creating cover from the view outsiders may have. "It will."

  "It needs a little work but I was hoping it be what ya need." Spoke Javal.

  "Even more so, Javal." Ristalln uttered, holding his hand out to the King. "Thank you."

  "It's my pleasure. My people are just as oppressed as any and it's about time someone stood up to Idimus. I'm just happy I could be a part of
it."

  "I only hope Rasonius feels the same way. Speaking of which, this should be enough for you to bring to him, Lanyan." The Knight turned, gazing upon the surveying Elf.

  "Aye. It should be." Lan turned his eyes up to the mid-setting sun, the morning now well behind him. "Thank you for bringing me along, your Highness, but I must now inform my own King."

  "Good luck, Lanyan. We'll be waiting for your safe return." Ristalln was the first to hold his hand out.

  "Say hello to everyone for me." Lornya hugged Lan briefly.

  "I will. Goodbye Gnert."

  The Gnome smiled, sniffing as he crawled his way over. He had stuck out his left hand. Lanyan, though shocked, believed the Gnome wanted to shake, but the instant their palms met, Gnert yanked the Elf's forearm forward with unfathomable strength, turning it upright and examining the crossbow. His head turned this way and that, his tiny fingers pulled at the strings and cranked the weapon from its locked position. Once he had made sure everything was in working order, he smiled one final time, let go and crawled back to his position next to the Dwarf.

  "Lanyan." Gort huffed, barely looking up.

  "Gort." He replied, giving a quick bow, first to the Dwarf then everyone else.

  "Be safe." Javal called out as Lanyan worked his way to the tunnel.

  He glanced back and gave one final, quick wave, trying to ignore the suffocating feeling he feared looming when he entered into the tunnel. When he was all the way through, a heavy sigh left his mouth as his mind prepared for a long, boring journey. His horse was nearly untied, his trek ready to begin when a faint, graveled voice caught his attention. He waited for a fair amount of time after he heard it, finally to discover who the owner was. Waning, and seemingly out of breath, Gort bolted out of the tunnel, looking around frantically. "Gort?"

  The Dwarf walked up, shaking his head and untying Pony before he answered. "I hate riding, I don't like sunshine and I can think of anywhere else I'd like ta be rather than yer lush, green homeland. But if I let ya go by yerself, I might miss out on a fight. So I'm not letting ye."

  Lan stammered. "Thank you, Gort."

  "Eh..." Was his only response as he mounted his ride then positioned it west.