“We won’t wait for the elf,” shouted one of the guards. “If she can’t keep up, we’ll leave her behind.”
“Attend to yourself, human,” Keira responded. “You needn’t worry about me.”
Ethan offered to let her ride with him, but she refused.
“You don’t like horses?” he asked.
“I think they taste marvelous,” she replied. “They make particularly good jerky. But I prefer to travel on foot.”
Ethan wasn’t sure if she was joking, but decided not to pursue the matter.
To his astonishment Keira had no trouble whatsoever keeping pace. Even when the horses needed rest, she still looked fresh and ready to continue. However, the soldiers only eyed her with more contempt than before, commenting on her ears and making unsavory remarks about her feminine attributes. Keira though, remained unaffected by it all, occasionally even smirking at the childishness of their behavior.
Their approach was spotted by the tower sentries, so by the time they arrived, Kat was already standing outside the gates waiting for them. King Yularian was at her side, a deep frown carved on his face. Surrounding them both were more than twenty palace guards.
The three men escorting Ethan broke off as soon as they were able, and headed toward a nearby stable, spitting curses at Keira from a distance. Ethan was furious and wanted to call them back to make them apologize. Keira, seeing his anger, stopped him.
“You cannot combat the words of a fool with fury,” she said. “I am unhurt, so let it be.”
It took a moment to calm himself, but once he had, he turned his attention to Kat and her father. The large number of guards around them was unsettling, but the relaxed look on Kat’s face assured him that there was no treachery.
“I had hoped I would have the full four days,” Yularian remarked sourly.
Ethan did not respond to this. Instead, he said: “Your Highness, may I present Keira, daughter of King Lotheri.”
Keira bowed. “We were already on our way here when we spotted Ethan.”
“On your way to do what?” asked the king, suspicion springing into his eyes.
“To free him, of course,” she replied. “We were unaware of the situation at the time and had intended to mount a rescue.”
Yularian huffed. “Is that right? And do you think your attempt would have been successful?”
“Possibly,” she replied. “My people are quite adept at moving about unseen. But now that I've been informed by Lord Dragonvein as to the current situation, such an action is unnecessary.”
“I’m afraid Lord Dragonvein has spoken out of turn,” the king shot back quickly. “I have yet to tell him of my intentions.” His fists tightened until his knuckles turned white. For a moment, the tension was almost palpable.
“That’s enough,” Kat interjected. “You’re just being difficult.”
The king turned to his daughter. “I thought we had at least two more days. And now you’re leaving already.”
She took him gently by the hand. “It's not forever. I promise.”
Yularian’s hard features gradually softened until a loving smile eased its way up from the corners of his mouth. “I know. But it's still so painful to see you go.”
All at once, his eyes moved over at Ethan. His tone was now brisk. “I have discussed Martok’s plan with my commanders, and we all agree. Tell the elves and the dwarves that we will be with them when the time comes.”
He snapped his fingers and a soldier stepped forward carrying Ethan’s pack. Another led a horse with Kat’s supplies fastened to the saddle.
Ethan bowed to the king. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“You can thank me by bringing my daughter safely back home,” he said.
Kat embraced her father, who only released her when she gently pushed him away. He kissed her cheek and whispered into her ear. “Remember. A princess always pays her debts.”
“I’ve never forgotten that, father,” she told him, a tear falling down her cheek.
As they rode off, Ethan could see that Kat was quietly weeping. When she noticed him watching her, she smiled and wiped her eyes. “I’m happy, that's all,” she explained. “It’s like years of my life have just been given back to me.”
“Indeed the will of Ashura can be a strange and wondrous thing,” remarked Keira.
Ethan cocked his head. “Ashura?”
“The spirit of Lumnia,” she said. “The will who guides us. Perhaps one day you will have the chance to learn our ways. Though as a human, you will never be able to experience them as we do.”
“I’d like that,” he said.
“I could take time to teach you a little as we journey, if you like,” she offered. “It is many miles to Gol’ Shupa.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
Soon it became dark, but they pressed on at a decent pace. Keira informed them that they would need to release the horses once they entered the forest. They would be passing through areas too narrow for such a large animal. Also, should they need to use stealth, a horse would make that virtually impossible. Ethan groaned inwardly. He was far from relishing the idea of traveling hundreds of miles on foot. Kat, however, seemed untroubled by the prospect, merely noting that she had walked everywhere she went for most of her life anyway.
It was well into the night when they approached the forest and found the rest of Keira's party waiting for them. “My kinsmen will stay with us until we reach the border,” she said. “From there, they will leave us to go aid our brothers and sisters gathering in the southernmost part of Traxis.”
After releasing the horses, they entered the forest and made their way to where the elves had set up camp less than a mile from the tree line. Ethan found them to be pleasant enough. Though they did not say very much to either he or Kat, they were polite, and there was no contempt on their faces that he could see.
When they bedded down, he could once again hear Martok’s voice. This time it called out to him with increased urgency. He closed his eyes and took a long cleansing breath.
Just make sure that get enough rest to travel in the morning, he instructed his ancestor.
* * * * *
Kat felt herself drifting. Ethan was lying just beside her with a strange half-frown on his face. Already dreaming, she thought. And judging from his expression, he was probably having a nightmare. Hating this idea, she reached over and touched his hand.
“I don’t need comforting, my dear.”
She sat bolt upright, at once knowing who was now speaking.
Martok opened his eyes and rolled onto his side. “It is time.”
His face was intense and his tone serious; so unlike the arrogant, flippant manner that Kat had heard from him previously. “It is late already, so tonight we will work for only an hour,” he continued. “Otherwise Ethan will fatigue too quickly tomorrow.”
He rose to his feet and addressed the elves who were gathered in a tight circle near the fire. “My friends. I must ask that you leave us to our work and do not disturb us in any way.”
The elves stared at him, first with confusion, then with utter astonishment. As one, they leapt to their feet. Keira was the first to speak. “Am I addressing Martok the Great?”
He laughed. “The Great? I was unaware that the elves had titled me so. But yes, I am Martok. And I am pleased that Ethan chose to tell you of my existence. Now, perhaps you would be so kind as to inform your kin of this while Kat and I are away.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Not far,” he said, pointing deeper into the forest. “I will be instructing Kat in the ways of magic. She in turn will instruct Ethan Dragonvein, so it is vital we are left to our work. I assure you that, regardless of what you may see or hear, I will not endanger any of you.”
The elves looked at one another nervously.
“How can this be Martok?” asked a tall, elder elf. “Is this some sort of trick?”
“Can you not see it for yourself?” Keir
a retorted, waving aside his doubts. “Our people have clearly marked him. There is no way to forge this.”
Martok gestured for Kat to follow him. “Come. The elf woman will set their minds at ease, I am sure. We have much to do.”
Chapter Eleven
King Ganix rubbed his eyes and groaned. His joints were aching badly from the chill of the early morning; a condition made considerably worse by night after night of sleeping on unforgiving rocky ground. It seemed that no matter how thoroughly he cleared away an area in preparation, a multitude of small stones still managed to find their way beneath his bedroll and dig spitefully into his back. Though he had no mirror with which to see, he knew he must be covered in tiny bruises.
With the vigor and resilience of youth as their ally, the rest of his party appeared to be dealing with the conditions much better.
“Do you need more time, Your Highness?” Hanvir called over.
Ganix forced a smile and waved. “I’m old. But not yet feeble.”
Hanvir unrolled the map on the ground beside him, placing a rock on each corner to keep the increasing wind from blowing it away. This had already happened once, resulting in Ganix receiving a deep cut to his knee when he stumbled while chasing after it.
“We should be very close,” Hanvir told him.
Ganix pushed himself to his feet, his joints cracking loudly in protest. The salve they had brought with them had dulled the pain from the cut, but it did nothing to remedy the stiffness. Two of the other dwarves rushed over to assist him. At first he tried to wave them off, but their insistence finally overcame his objections. And the uncomfortable truth was, until it reached mid-morning and the heat of the day had begun to set in, he did need help. He crossed over to where Hanvir was sitting and eased himself down.
Hanvir pointed to a spot on the map where a tall spire had been drawn. “We saw this two days ago. Which means that the scale is properly proportioned.’ He moved his finger across a few inches. “We are here – more or less – so we should reach our objective sometime today.”
Ganix heaved a sigh. “Thank the spirits.”
“Don’t thank them just yet, Your Highness. Finding the location on the map is one thing. Finding the ship itself may be another matter entirely.”
“Don’t remind me,” the king grumbled. “If I wasn’t such a stubborn old fool, I’d be in Elyfoss right now, waking up in a soft bed.”
Hanvir smiled. “Rakaal would be glad you came. Especially if we find something.”
“We’ll find something, sure enough” Ganix told him. “Even if I have to dig up the entire Dragon Wastes by hand.”
A hollow howl carried on the wind. The call was quickly joined by at least a dozen others.
“Foul beasts,” said Hanvir.
Since leaving the safety of Renald’s wards, they had been constantly plagued by packs of deformed, doglike creatures. At first it had been possible to frighten them away with bursts from their weapons. But as each day passed, the beasts became ever bolder. Recently, they had come so close that Ganix could clearly see into their pitch black eyes, and smell their rotting flesh.
The king guessed that they were once wolves, corrupted by Shinzan during the time he laid ruin to the land. It was a mystery what they ate to stay alive though. None of his party had seen a trace of any other life form in the Wastes. Not even insects buzzed about – the lone saving grace of the journey.
“Normally I would say they should be pitied,” remarked a young dwarf named Ryhol who was standing nearby. “But each time I hear their unnatural howl it sends nothing but fear into my heart.”
Ganix was glad they'd been able to convince Poul to remain behind with Renald – though it had taken nothing short of a royal command to do so. The turning point had been when Markus agreed to teach the boy how to use a sword while they were away.
“You told me you want to fight,” Ganix had pointed out. “Now is your chance to learn. Don’t worry about us. Renald says the danger in the Wastes is not great. And when we return, I’ll tell you all about it.”
Hanvir took his time preparing to set off. Ganix guessed this was a subtle way of allowing his king more time to recover. The dwarves of Borgen were as efficient as they came, and meticulous to a fault. Only the brightest minds were sent to work there, though many of these were unable to remain for very long. Most didn’t want a life of nothing but research which in all likelihood was destined to lead nowhere. Others simply became homesick and were allowed to return. Up until now, those who did choose to leave were sworn to absolute secrecy. Though if the true origin of their people was indeed about to be disclosed to all, such measures may soon no longer be necessary.
The howls continued well into the morning, putting the entire party on edge. Hanvir led the way forward, pausing periodically to examine the map and gauge their location. Then, as it neared midday, the howling abruptly ceased. Startled by the sudden eerie silence, everyone stopped in their tracks and drew their rods ready for instant use.
With eyes flickering around in all directions for signs of danger, the tension was high. But after several minutes of nothing happening, Hanvir cautiously waved them on again.
It was a short-lived advance. He had made no more than a dozen paces when he pulled up again, this time fixated on something just ahead. Without warning, he burst into a dead run. For a moment Ganix had no idea what had excited the dwarf so much. But when Hanvir slid to a stop twenty yards away, he caught a flash of sunlight reflecting off a piece of metal.
Instantly, the soreness in Ganix's limbs evaporated. By the time he and the rest of the group caught up, Hanvir was on his knees and had thrown his pack aside. In front of him, protruding from the ground, was a rectangular piece of metal about six inches long and half as wide. It gleamed brightly, as if freshly polished.
“What is it?” asked Ganix, kneeling down to touch the metal with the tip of his finger. It was as cold as ice and flawlessly smooth.
“I don’t know,” Hanvir replied. “But even in such a dry climate, it should be showing some signs of weathering. I know of only one metal that can resist age and the elements.”
Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a small folding shovel and extended the handle. He smiled up at Ganix excitedly. “Let’s see what we’ve found.”
He had dug down only a foot when they saw the start of identical lettering etched into both sides of the metal.
“A marker perhaps?” suggested Ganix.
The rest of the party enthusiastically joined in with the digging, and despite the hard rocky soil, they had soon cleared out an area four feet deep and wide enough for a dwarf to stand in. As they brushed away the clinging dirt, it soon became apparent what the letters spelled out.
Sichean.
“We’ve found it,” said Hanvir in a half whisper.
“Well, we’ve found the marker for it, at least,” corrected Ganix.
Unconcerned by the king’s mild pessimism, Hanvir crawled from the hole and laid on his back, rolling from side to side and laughing with exhilaration.
Ganix ordered everyone to make camp and unpack their gear. Hanvir, still giddy, jumped back into the hole and continued digging.
“You’re wasting your time,” Ganix told him. “It’s not there.”
Hanvir paused to look up at the king with tight-jawed determination. “What are you talking about? We found the marker.”
“Yes, and it was buried,” Ganix pointed out. “Which means the ship is likely buried as well. And I don’t think they would have planted the marker directly on top of it, do you?”
Hanvir opened his mouth to argue, but the king’s assessment was clearly right. With an irritated snort of acceptance, he threw the shovel from the hole and clambered back out. “Then what should we do?”
Ganix squeezed his shoulder fondly. “You and I are going to eat and rest. Then I will prepare to find our ship.” Hanvir's expression told him this was not a satisfactory answer, so he added: “What do you intend to do? Carry on
digging hole after hole until you eventually find it?”
“We brought mining equipment.”
The king shook his head chuckling. “And do you know how to use it?”
“I…well I mean…of course I do,” he stammered.
Ganix raised an eyebrow, then rummaged through his pack until producing a thin blue rod with a small gold ball fastened to the end. “Then you would know what this is for.”
Hanvir took the object and examined it. After a few seconds, his shoulders sagged. “I don’t know.”
“It’s all right,” Ganix consoled him. “You’ve spent your life in Borgen. Mining is not something you have learned. And though I was no miner myself, I did work as one for a short time in my youth. My father insisted upon it.” He took back the rod and shoved it into the ground. It pierced the hard soil as if it were merely loose sand, letting out a hiss as it entered. After a few seconds, the rod turned clear and a light pulsed slowly from its core.
“There is the proof,” he said. “Nothing is down there.”
“What is that?” asked Hanvir.
“It’s a lothseer,” the king told him. “It locates and identifies metals and minerals. It’s how miners know where to dig.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Rakaal had it in his effects. I thought it might come in useful.” Ganix smiled. “Come, let’s eat. Then I will teach you how to use it.”
He could tell that Hanvir was feeling a bit embarrassed over not knowing what a lothseer was. Dwarves took a great deal of pride in their knowledge of their mountain home. And mining was an important part of that. Regardless of your talents or what your plans for the future might be, nearly all dwarves spent at least some time learning about mining. Hanvir, however, along with many of the other researchers at Borgen, had been sent there before he was old enough to take part in any such tutelage.
Dragonvein - Book Three Page 16
