by Dave Skinner
“Please, Your Majesty, I—”
The blade surged forward. The man arched his back, and then toppled from the balcony to the sands of the training yard below. “Sand is where blood should be spilled. It keeps the floor cleaning to a minimum,” the King said. “Did you wish to see me, Barimus?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. A message has arrived through my spies. It seems that Aramas, one of the men we thought had been lost, is in the company of your son’s murderer. The message states that the killer is headed north to Nadia to assassinate you. Aramas will lead him into our hands.”
Chapter 45
So the topmost point of the world is flat, Ran had thought many days ago as he broke out of the woods to view the expanse of mountains ahead. Not all were flat, just the highest. It must have been huge before it lost its top because even now there were none around it taller. It had looked like a climb to end all climbs and was proving to be as expected. At first the mountain slopes were not steep, but the boulders and rocks strewn about were difficult to traverse. Ran’s legs ached after a few hours, and there had been many hours, many days, of climbing over and around the obstructions of the torturous terrain. Eventually he reached snow, which he had traversed for four days as the temperature dropped. Dressed in the under outfit the Skyriders had given him, his Tawshe cloak, and his bearskin, he had endured. The other Skyrider gift, the small pendent that was worn close to his skin, had helped to overcome the cold, but it was not protection against the falling snow. Two days before, when the snow started, he lost sight of the pass he was headed for. The lack of shelter, the wet snow, and the biting temperature that came with nightfall kept him moving forward without rest. Through a second day he struggled upwards with only brief glimpses of his destination, but enough to allow him to keep his course. Now, as night was falling again, the sky cleared and he found himself crawling across the rim of the saddle.
Before him, the mountain fell away slightly to become a field of broken ice. There is nothing more to this world. The thought flitted across his numb mind, making him angry. What did you expect? He chastised himself. You have run as far as possible. There is nowhere else to go. Off to his right, the flat-topped mountain continued a stone’s throw into the star-filled sky before it leveled off. Would the world look different from up there? He doubted it, but where else should he go. He needed shelter. Maybe there was something up over the crest. He pushed himself erect and struggled forward. Lowering his eyes from his destination to what lay in front of him; he was heartened to see an opening into the mountainside. A natural cave perhaps, whatever, even a shallow depression would give him shelter from the bitter wind, and allowing him to build a small fire with the little bit of wood strapped across his shoulders. He was close to exhaustion and crossing the distance to the entrance seemed to take forever, but eventually he staggered in. He stood for moments, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. It was a cave and it was deep. The back wall was lost in a darkness his sight could not penetrate. Standing silently he let his nostrils sense the space before him.
Finding nothing, he slipped his pack from his back and removed his precious supply of wood. He cut the thongs holding it to the pack and then struggled to pry away the frozen hide he had used to protect the wood. The exertion helped to warm him slightly. Retrieving flint from his pouch, he sparked a fire into existence. The feeble glow was enough to light up the cave around him, and he was happy to see a store of firewood beside one wall. He used some to build up his fire. As he knelt above it, soaking in the heat, wet snow fell from his shoulder almost undoing his efforts. Struggling up, he walked back to the cave entrance and brushed the snow from his bearskin and cloak. The moon had risen throwing the landscape beyond into stark relief. He looked at the top of the world, the final destination of his journey.
He stood staring out and looking in at the same time. The fire behind him, and the Skyrider pendent, radiated heat. The ice that clung to his bearskin and to his cloak started to thaw and drip. T’Ran of the Tawshe, the consummate warrior, the hero, the bringer of death and pain, the friend killer, the hollow man. He had thought Manda could fill the emptiness in his heart, but he had failed her, as he had failed Shawn, Nefty and Afra. He had tried to bury his pain with alcohol, drugs, and fighting, but even that did not work. He was saved by Mara and Tom only to lose another friend because he was never quite good enough. Managing to save Tamican had made him think better of himself, but he had been a fool to think so. Death found him again. Death followed him everywhere, but not death for him. Death for his friends, his companions, and the people he tried to help; but never for him. He stood for a long time in the mouth of the cave lost in his misery as the Mother’s frozen tears fell from his person. Eventually he shook himself, sending the last of the water droplets to the ground.
He built up the fire again and, when he had a good brand flaming, took it further into the cave to scout. The nature cave went deeper than he was prepared to go immediately. He returned to the fire and settled for the night.
***
The next morning the fire was still glowing, so he heated snow and drank the water with a mouthful of hard tack before gathering up his pack and setting off to explore the cave. It was the obvious thing to do, considering that he had found a number of torches in a bundle beside the firewood. The cave was smooth on the walls and underfoot as if the stone had been worked at some point. Not like any cave he had seen before, but still a creation of the Mother, until it changed. At a narrow opening there was evidence of the outcrop of rock being chipped away, but only down closer to the floor. Ran pulled his knife before he tossed his pack through the low opening and followed it on hands and knees. The cave was too narrow for sword work, so he kept his knife readily at hand, but not in hand. The height of the chisel work suggested Little People, some branch of the Faerie folk, so Ran did not want to arrive carrying a drawn weapon, but, then again, he had been too trusting before and friends had paid the price.
His stomach told him he had been travelling for most of the morning before the cave ended. There had been a number of places that required him to crawl through but, all considered, the walking had been reasonable easy and the temperature had risen considerably. For some time he had been able to feel a warmish breeze brush his face. He had removed his bearskin, attached it to his pack, and opened his cloak, but now the air had taken on a cooler feel again. He closed his cloak and moved forward. Within a few steps he encountered two openings in the cave walls: one going left, one going right. Neither was natural. Holding his torch into one opening he discovered ascending stairs. The other opening revealed the same, but both were too short in height to explore comfortably, so he continued to follow the main cave. Similar openings were revealed before light showed ahead. He was relieved as only one torch from his supply remained. It was not strong sunshine, rather a filtered softness reminiscent of the deep woods in autumn with the light picking up the colours of the changing leaves. But this glow contained no colour. He could also see that the cave ended. Ran crept forward quietly until he stood on a ledge cut into the side of a large round opening. The top of the world is also hollow, he thought.
“Hello, Traveller,” a small voice said from off to his right.
Ran turned and smiled. “Hello, Gnome. Am I welcome here?”
“Most certainly. How do you name yourself, friend?”
“My name is Ran.”
“And mine is Garnock,” the little man told him.
Garnock was the first Gnome Ran had ever seen. The Tawshe had legends about them, but they were not often seen above ground. Immediately Ran could see that the story of them having pointed heads was wrong although he could see why they were described that way. Garnock’s head had a large, rounded protrusion at the back of the skull. The rest of him was similar to other Little People Ran had seen, however, he was shorter and squatter than Hobs and their like. A short black beard covered his face. A red bulbous nose showed above a mouth of strong white teeth apparent because of his smile.
The smile lit Ran’s heart.
“What is this place, Garnock?” How long has this work been going on? I know that Gnomes like to tunnel, but hollowing out the inside of a mountain is a task I cannot comprehend.”
From his position at the mouth of the cave, Ran saw a huge, circular space. The Gnomes had cut stairs, ledges, and openings into the walls. Doors and windows into houses was his guess. The areas around the openings were intricately carved to emulate flowers and growing plants. Stairs ran from his left and right to service the many entrances. Stairs also descended from the cave opening onto the floor of the chamber a few steps below. Ran could see several pools in the floor; some close to the walls emitted steam. The floor appeared to be ice. The curved roof, maybe the height of three tall men, also appeared to be made of ice. The filtered light came from there. It was the contents of the floor that drew Ran’s eyes. The complete area except for the centre contained carvings of spectacular design and workmanship. The centre space was dominated by a huge block of ice that reached the ceiling. Many Gnomes were working in that area chipping away at the block.
“This is an ancient volcano, friend Ran. At some point in the distant past, the hot blood of the Mother spued forth into the world from here. It probably happened many times, but eventually it stopped, leaving a large empty cavern that, over time, filled with ice and snow. The Mother brought my people here many generations ago. We carved our homes into the stone, and harvested the ice, for drinking and for the gems and ores it contains.”
“It is impressive,” Ran told him. “The statues are amazing. What is being carved in the centre?”
“It will be what it is.” Garnock told him. “But tell me, friend Ran, how do you come to the top of the world? We see few of your kind here.”
“I suppose I am looking for solitude. I took refuge from the storm. I will move on as soon as the weather allows.”
“You are welcome to our hospitality for as long as it is required. Come, I will lead you to a place to rest. It will be your home while you are among us. I am sure we can find something large enough for a giant like you.”
***
After finding a place for Ran to stay, Garnock lead him into the mountain to a common eating area where they partook of an excellent fish and mushroom meal.
“Where does your food come from?” Ran asked.
“There are tunnels that lead deeper into the mountain. We cultivate mushrooms there, and there is a river below which contains fish. There are goats and sheep on the mountains which our hunters bring in occasionally.”
“Would it not be easier to capture the animals and keep them yourselves?”
“We do not have the feed. It is better to let the Mother supply for them.”
The deep boom of a drum sounded and Garnock arose. “It is time for me to work, friend Ran. I must go.”
Ran stood and accompanied the Gnome back towards the light. “What work do you do, Garnock?”
“I carve.”
“May I accompany you?”
“Of course, I will teach you to carve if you like. It is peaceful and meditative.”
Ran followed Garnock out onto the floor of the cavern. They walked slowly allowing Ran to appreciate the details of the ice sculptures. At times he was close enough to run a hand along a carving and marvel at the workmanship demonstrated by the Gnomes.
“We are going to the centre,” Ran stated when he realized their destination.
“It is all that remains,” the Gnome told him.
As they crossed the ice floor, Ran became aware of... stillness, a peacefulness that seemed to muffle the sound of clinking hammers. Many Gnomes were working, quietly chipping away at the ice. Garnock stopped.
“Speak not at all or in whispers from now on, Ran. We enter The Quiet. I will answer all questions at a later time,” he explained in a low whisper.
Ran nodded his understanding and they continued. The front of the ice was being shaped into steps and platforms leading to the roof. There was a suggestion of a shape buried deep within. As they circled to the rear, Ran realized that the sculpture was much further advanced on this side than the other. Now he could see the outline of a massive beast breaking free of the ice. It was a creature he had never seen before although legends said they had once existed. A long tail curved into the yet uncarved ice and disappeared from sight. One huge clawed foot extended from under a massive back leg. The curved back rose high above his head. He could see a row of rounded protrusions almost ready to be freed. They extended along the back ridge and ran all the way up the long neck to the head which rested on the front feet which were connected to the body by powerful front legs, not as thick as the rear legs, but large enough to feed a village for weeks.
Garnock pulled on Ran’s arm and guided him to the tail area where he handed him a hammer and a chisel. The gnome demonstrated how to chip away the ice. Ran tried. Garnock corrected. Ran tried again and received a nod of approval. Garnock grabbed another set of tools and set to work alongside of Ran. They have put me at the back where my inexperience should not matter, he thought, but I am sculpting. I am sculpting a dragon. The peacefulness that surrounded the worksite settled on his shoulders and seeped into his being. Many hours later, Garnock’s hand on his arm pulled him back from wherever he had been.
“Time to stop, friend Ran,” he whispered. “Tomorrow is another day.”
Ran slept well that night, without nightmares for the first time in ages.
Chapter 46
Mearisdeana stood beside Manda by the helm of the Red Witch.
“It will not help,” Manda told her.
“What?” she replied, not understanding what she was being told.
“Tapping your foot. The place will not appear sooner because you tap your foot,” Manda told her with a smile.
Mearisdeana smiled back and tried to look someplace other than the shore that glided by so slowly. They were looking for a bay with a small river running into it that Manda knew of. It seemed to be taking forever although she had to admit they had reached the area in good time. They should be ashore before dark tonight, one day ahead of the original four day estimate. Tomorrow, if they could find an ideal site, she would set up the crystal and bring her people here. She would not sleep tonight, but what did it matter? She had not slept for days.
“There,” Manda said as she pointed to the shore. “It looks like someone is here.”
A large campsite was set up a little way back from the shore. Tripods with large black pots hanging from them stood above smoldering fires. She could see people at the fires and more milling about.
“Do you see the wagons?” Manda asked. “They are Travellers, lots of them.”
Manda guided the ship into the small bay. The sail drooped. The anchor dropped. Mearisdeana tapped her foot more. Eventually the small dingy was lowered and Andoo Toran, Mearisdeana and Nailmoe were ferried ashore. A Traveller was waiting for them as they stepped to land.
“Hello, Wizard,” the man said.
“Hello, Tinker,” Andoo answered. “What brings you to this place?”
“You do. We are here to help. I came on a supply ship from Waysley yesterday. Others have brought their caravans from the Points and from Gore. More are coming.” He led them up the sand to the flat ground away from the water. Mearisdeana realized the encampment was much larger than she had thought. The Tinker turned to her.
“This is the best place for your people to arrive. Fair harbour, good water, flat ground, good campsite, and easily defended. The large cats prefer the farming areas closer to the Points, but there are still some animals that you have to watch for. I helped set a perimeter today. When will you start?”
“Tomorrow, I think. I will make contact as soon as all is ready. But why are you doing this? It is greatly appreciated, but how is it possible?”
“Waycan sent a bird suggesting it. I am surprised he did not mention it. Did he not find you?”
“Yes he did, Tinker,” Andoo Toran told him. “Unfort
unately there was much to be discussed before we parted company and little time. Let me tell you the tale over a mug of wine while the others disembark. You do have wine available, do you not?” The wizard’s voice died out as he led the Traveller away. Mearisdeana watched them go with tears spilling down the scales of her face.
“I never expected anything like this,” she told Nailmoe.
“These are the people you stayed with the first time you came, are they not?”
“Yes, but I have never met these particular ones.”
“Then the ones you met are true friends of great influence. The others are coming ashore. We should help them,” Nailmoe said. “Then we can find a location for the crystal.”
***
The sound of knocking and calling pulled Adamtay from sleep. “Your Majesty, Your Majesty,” the insistent voice continued. Adamtay dragged his body from the bed and stood.
“I am coming,” he called while trying to rub some freshness into his face. He finally stepped to the door and pulled it open. The young page had his dayskin activated already.
“Your Majesty, forgive me for waking you, but the scouts have arrived back. They say the enemy is advancing.”
Adamtay felt tightness in his shoulders. So it begins, he thought.
“I will come,” he stated softly, trying to suggest a lack of urgency. He pulled on his boots, buckled on the Sword of Sacrifice, and threw on his cloak. He met his father in the hallway and they advanced together. Words between them were not necessary. They had held against attack before, they would do it again.
